In the split second between terror and impact, Kael Grylls' eyes hardened with resolve.
He bit down, reached back, and his hand closed around a plain, black naginata whose old-fashioned lines belied the menace in its edge.
A low hum trembled through the air.
He poured every drop of the Wave-Wave Fruit into the blade. Along with Armament Haki, a tight sheath of high-frequency vibration crawled over the edge until the air itself whined in protest.
"Come on then, you fossil!"
Kael roared, brought the weapon up, and charged the onrushing black meteors instead of fleeing.
"Sound Slash: Exploding Phoenix Cry!"
He did not throw a single grand arc. He layered the technique, strike after seamless strike.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
The naginata drew a net of blinding afterimages in the sky, each slash landing square on a cannonball wrapped in Armament Haki.
Steel sparked and screamed with every hit.
Stranger still, none of his cuts were simple chops. The instant the vibrating edge touched iron, packed sound detonated.
Boom.
The first shell shattered less than ten meters from his face. The blast kicked a rippling ring of compressed air in all directions.
Kael twisted with the recoil, rode it out of the fireball, and let the naginata's arc carry him toward the second shell.
Boom.
A flower of black smoke and fire opened in the sky.
On the Roger Pirates' deck, the newer hands just stared.
Miller Pine's jaw dropped. His rum barrel hit the planks with a hollow thunk.
Captain Moguren's cigar had gone out without him noticing. He locked on the lone figure carving fireworks into the sky and looked properly rattled.
Spencer had mislaid his usual salon-poised calm, replacing it with the blank look of a man watching something that should not be possible.
"So that's our senior?" Nozdon whispered, his cone head wobbling like a rattle. "Sugoi."
Up above, Kael burst the third shell. Then the fourth.
Each explosion became his next foothold. Shockwaves and pressure rings flung him into fresh angles. Step of Rupture married to swordwork in a clean, vicious loop.
Boom.
The last shell popped closest of all, the fireball swallowing him whole.
"Kael!"
For a heartbeat, even the old hands felt their guts clench. Only Roger and Rayleigh kept their arms folded and their grins wide, eyes bright like kids at a festival.
"Ku ha ha ha. Not bad at all."
The light peeled away.
Kael reappeared, naginata trembling in his grip. Blast shreds had ripped slashes through his clothes and left soot on his skin, but his eyes never left the Marines' flagship. They burned with stubborn, feral heat.
Silence dropped over the deck.
Every new recruit stared at the figure hanging there. He was not tall. Yet for a moment he seemed to hold up the sky.
So the smiling boy who handled chores, smoothed egos, and played the gentleman was not a house steward. He was a monster.
One who could stand beside the captain and first mate as an equal.
Eight years old. Sure.
The words "old fossil" had barely left Kael's lips when the mood on the flagship curdled. On Roger's deck the newcomers' jaws went slack.
Monkey D. Garp blinked, then smiled in a way that set alarms ringing. "Cheeky brat. I'm only in my twenties. Looks like the Fist of Love didn't teach you manners."
Kael knew he was poking a tiger. But he had already peacocked this far. He could not slink away now.
He steadied his shaking hand, drove the Wave-Wave power harder.
My turn.
He spun the naginata. Air howled, the edge drilling a funnel that bit down into the sea.
"Vortex: Azure Dragon Spiral!"
A towering waterspout ripped itself free of the ocean and wrapped around his spinning blade.
Pulse and current braided into a single column that bridged sky and sea, a pale green dragon uncoiling with a shriek, sweeping across the Marine line.
Kael held the core back. It would not pulp ships. But the pull and slam of it were monstrous.
"Waaah!"
"Man overboard!"
"The ship is rolling!"
The formation shattered. Sailors tumbled like dumplings. Masts snapped. Hulls yawed and skidded.
"Damn brat."
Garp had watched long enough.
He stamped once. The deck caved under his heel, and his body became a blur that tore upward.
"Fist Bone: Fallen Star."
Black Armament lacquered his right fist until it drank the light. The density of it warped the air itself.
A meteor of ink fell straight for Kael.
Every hair on Kael's body stood up.
He would die. He would actually die.
One breath ago he had been a cocksure upstart trying to square up to a future hero. Now he ditched all pride and bellowed from the bottom of his lungs.
"Captain, save me!"
It rang across the sea, full-bodied and sincere, heavy with the will to live.
On deck, the rookies' faces whiplashed from awe to blank to lost.
Where had that cool, unflappable senior gone?
"Ku ha ha ha… ha ha ha ha!"
Roger's laugh rolled like thunder.
A figure flickered between meteor and boy.
The red captain's coat snapped in the gale. Roger pressed one hand to his straw hat and laid the other on his saber, Ace.
"Divine Departure."
No flourish. A simple horizontal cut.
Crimson Conqueror's coating crawled along the blade like lightning. It did not meet Garp's fist. It cleaved the air between them.
A deep hum. No sound of clash.
Impact canceled impact in a mute collision that only the skin could feel.
Then the aftershock hit. The sea below dented into a crater hundreds of meters wide. The clouds above tore open like gauze.
My brother Roger bears an emperor's birthright.
"Yo, Garp. Been a while. Still tough as ever."
"Roger." Garp landed lightly on another mast, fist flexing, grin wolfish. "Where do you think you're running this time, you punk?"
Their eyes met and the ocean felt it. No need for speeches. The battle had already begun.
"Crew, to arms." Roger's shout cracked like a whip.
"Oh oh oh oh."
Miller Pine swung his spiked hammer. Captain Moguren's twin pistols barked. Spencer's rapier drew a clean, cold line. The misfits of the Roger Pirates surged like tigers. Across the water, Marine formations steadied and returned the roar.
…
The scene cut.
Sunset painted sea and sky a soft orange.
On the island's beach where blades had just sung, bonfires now thumped and popped. Roast meat and rum perfumed the air.
War cries had become laughter and the chime of cups.
Marines and pirates sat in two neat swaths around the flames, oddly peaceful.
Roger and Garp had their arms around each other's necks, each gnawing a haunch and arguing with flying crumbs.
Rayleigh clinked glasses with a Marine lieutenant commander, comparing notes on vintages.
Gaban and Miller Pine had already found the Marines' stoutest drinkers and launched round two.
Only the fresh faces from both sides stood awkward and dazed, unsure whether to draw swords or nap.
Nozdon's pointy head practically had question marks floating over it. He whispered to Aizak, "Weren't we fighting the Navy?"
Aizak shook his head once, grave as a judge. He had no idea either.
On the Marine side, a fresh graduate watched his idol Garp bantering with the era's rising pirate and felt his world tilt. Break, glue, wobble.
"Get used to it." A stubbled veteran clapped his shoulder and drank.
"Sir, what is happening?"
"That's how Garp and that Roger are." The man hiccuped. "Every meeting is a greeting card in fists. If they don't wreck a few ships and sink an island or two, it doesn't count as saying hello."
"Saying… hello?"
"Yup. If the mood lands right, they throw a feast after." He jerked his chin across the flames. "And for bastards, those pirates can roast a boar."
On the pirate side, Spencer tried to explain with elegant resignation. "The captain and Garp are sworn enemies and, in a sense, kindred spirits. Their fights are a way to confirm the other is still himself. Provided neither comes to kill."
He paused and glanced at the farther fire where Garp had an arm around a scowling boy and was trying to force a cup into his hand.
"And if Kael is within reach, Garp always keeps a little in reserve."
Kael: lies, your honor. He hits like he means it.
"Why?" Nozdon asked.
"Who knows." Spencer shrugged. "Maybe the great Garp truly believes our ship has his future admiral hiding aboard."
Heads turned.
"Listen, brat. The Navy is a man's romance. You've got potential. Come uphold justice with me." Garp laughed and thumped Kael's back.
"Cough. Cough. I refuse. What is this, are you trying to beat me to death to inherit my treasure?" Kael wheezed red-faced.
The absurdity settled into a warm hum. On a timid impulse, a young Marine picked up a strip of roast and held it across the fire to a pirate.
The pirate blinked, then grinned and lifted his cup to clink.