Dawn split the clouds and spilled across a beach littered with last night's chaos.
On this tiny strip of sand, pirates and Marines had achieved an unprecedented feat of diplomacy. They had literally slept on it.
Miller Pine's beard still held half a grilled fish. His fearsome spiked maul had become a pillow for a young seaman, the two of them snoring in perfect harmony.Colonel Moguren's cigar lay stubbed in the sand, his pistols stacked neatly to one side, while the man himself slumped against a Marine rum barrel, dead to the world.Not far away, Spencer's nobleman's coat was crumpled into a misshapen cushion. A few Marine officers lay beside him. Judging from the empty bottles, their discussion had wandered from poetry to metaphysics before they all drowned in the sea of knowledge.
The whole beach smelled of meat drippings and sour rum, and beneath it all, a thick reek of sweat that only men in excess can produce.
Kael Grylls was one of the few still awake. With twin dark circles under his eyes, he perched on the figurehead and stared down at the world's ugliest miracle. He had finally accepted a brutal truth. Adventure often meant a pack of hyper-bonded meatheads van, you, see, doing exactly this.
His Wave-Wave Fruit had a peacetime party trick. With the right frequency he could tickle his brain awake. The cost was that he had witnessed the entire saga uncut, from roaring war cries to arms-around-shoulders to a mass collapse of bodies.
His gaze drifted to the central firepit and stopped.There lay the future Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, forehead to forehead with the future Marine hero, Monkey D. Garp. Both were drooling, both arranged in an extremely undignified pose.
Kael felt a pulse begin to throb at his temple.Rivals, huh. More like long-lost brothers.
"Waaater…" Scopper Gaban groaned, cracking the morning's hush. He staggered upright and clawed at his bird's nest hair. When his bleary eyes found a Marine hugging his personal rum barrel like a teddy bear, they went red on the spot.
"Bastard, give that back!"
His bellow sounded the war horn.
"Who is yelling.""My head is splitting.""Ah, my leg is asleep."
Pirates and Marines lurched up like windup corpses, blinking at the uniforms beside them. Last night's fellowship was still foggy, but the muscle-memory of hostility woke fast.
In seconds, the hangover haze sharpened into a crackling standoff.
"Ku ha ha ha, slept like a rock." Roger yawned wide and smacked Garp's back with a meaty thud.
"Oi, you punk." Garp jolted, rubbed his eyes, then broke into a smile that promised violence. "Sun's up. Looks like your time is up too."
"That so. Maybe you are the one who gets left in our wake again." Roger shot back. They rose, locked eyes, and the same wildfire burned in both.
As their "warm greetings" concluded, lines were drawn. Pirates drifted toward their ship. Marines reformed ranks. The harmony evaporated, sparks skittering in the air.
New hands, especially Nozdon and Aizak, felt their brains buckle. They shuffled with their crewmates yet kept looking between Roger and Garp, trying to parse how two men could share a pillow one minute and aim to kill the next.
"All right, you lot. Pack it up. We sail." Roger waved grandly, ignoring the Marine fleet's killing intent.
"Vice Admiral sir, do we commence the attack at once." A young Marine commander skidded to a stop by Garp, voice tight.
Garp picked his nose, glanced from Roger to his own troops. They were bleary, wobbly, and in no shape to die for decorum. He flapped a hand. "Attack what. March to your deaths. Everyone back to the ships. We will pound them next time."
"Yes sir."
So a battle that should have shaken the seas ended because neither leader liked the timing. When the ships had put a hundred meters between them, the ritual resumed.
"Roger." Garp stood at his prow and bellowed loud enough to roll the waves. "Next time we meet I am stuffing you in Impel Down with my own hands."
"Ku ha ha ha ha." Roger answered from his bow, grin blazing. "Try it, Garp. Just do not let some small fry take you out first."
The wind carried their exchange across the water, a pact only they understood.
Kael stood behind Roger and listened, the corner of his mouth twitching. He muttered for himself, "Heard you, heard you. Same lines every time, like a surprise inspection. Impel Down, huh. Sounds more like a wedding hall."
As he grumbled, Garp's voice boomed again, this time aimed like a cannon.
"Hey. You, the little brat over there."
Kael froze. A bad feeling crawled up his spine. He looked up to find Garp pointing straight at him, teeth flashing in a smile that made his skin crawl.
"Next time I am hauling you to Marineford. Wash your neck and wait for me. Ha ha ha."
The Roger Pirates' deck went very quiet.All eyes snapped to Kael.
Old hands fought back laughter. New ones, Nozdon, Aizak, Punklow and the rest, wore faces of baffled awe. Why would a Marine hero single out a pirate kid like that.
"Pfft…" Gaban broke first, roaring with laughter. "Kael, you hear that. Garp called you by name. He wants you back alive."
"A special invitation from the Marines, that is some face, Senpai Kael." Miller Pine boomed, his rough laugh rolling across the deck.
"Why would Garp care about Kael." Nozdon's pointed head tilted like a question mark.
Spencer smoothed his collar and smiled, equal parts refined and sly. "Perhaps to Garp, Kael is the one lamb still worth saving."
Kael's face went black as a kettle.A lost lamb. Old man, worry about your own son. The sweaty-legend is about to debut.
And what was that about washing his neck. Could you not pick a less creepy phrase.
He met every gaze, teasing, curious, or stunned. Somehow, it made his Senpai aura harder to ignore and also much weirder. He drew a breath and shouted at the receding warship with everything he had. "I refuse. Go eat your senbei."
Whether Garp heard it, who knew. The Roger Pirates howled with laughter anyway.
"Ku ha ha ha. Well said, Kael." Roger clapped him on the shoulder until tears pricked his eyes.
Rayleigh shook his head, smiling as he stepped up with a cup of orange juice. "Good work. Fending off both Garp's cannonballs and his recruitment pitch is no light task."
Kael drained it in one pull and felt the knot inside him loosen. He looked over his crewmates, all of them doubled over and grinning, and sighed in mock defeat.
Yesterday he had shredded Garp's shells with Sound-Cleave Phoenix Burst and tangled the fleet with Maelstrom Azure Dragon. Every new recruit had seen what he could do.Today, Garp's long-distance heckling secured his senior status in a different, louder way. Embarrassing, sure, but effective.
"Hey, Kael." Aizak appeared at his side, wordlessly offering a clean cloth.
"Yeah."
"Yesterday. Strong." Aizak's eyes held the simple, pure respect of a swordsman.
"Skoi, Senpai. Bring me next time." Nozdon rumbled, beaming.
There was no trace of condescension now. Only trust. Only recognition. Kael took the cloth, wiped his face, and let his foxish grin return.
Face restored, even if the path there had some potholes.
"Party time." Roger's shout rang out again.
"Captain, we just had one."
"To celebrate slipping Garp's net again. If that is not party-worthy, what is."
"Ooohhh."
Fine. The pop-up banquet tradition was apparently encoded in this crew's DNA.
Kael pinched the bridge of his nose, but the smile tugging at his mouth would not leave.
Damn it. This is happiness.