Beneath the clear blue sky, a nameless island thrived with greenery. A stream trickled from the depths of the jungle and wound its way toward the pristine white beach.
The Oro Jackson lay anchored quietly in the bay, while crew members bustled about, hauling barrels of fresh water aboard.
"Oi! Move it, you slackers! If you don't hurry, Roger's gonna start whining about running out of booze again!" Gaban strode along with two massive water barrels balanced on his shoulders, his booming voice echoing across the shore.
"Yeah, yeah, we know! But isn't the one most desperate for booze you, Gaban?" Nozdon teased as he staggered alongside Sunbell, the two of them struggling to lift an oversized barrel together.
Kael Grylls didn't join the heavy lifting. Instead, he climbed onto a high rock outcropping and closed his eyes, letting the sea breeze play through his tied-back black hair.
His "waves" spread silently outward, feeling the pulse of the island wind direction, the whispers of water, the breathing of creatures hidden in the woods.
But the tranquility soon fractured. A familiar, troublesome presence rippled across his senses.
Kael's golden eyes snapped open, narrowing toward the horizon. A black dot swelled in the distance, the shape unmistakable: a warship with the snarling dog-head figurehead. Recognizable even from miles away.
"…Persistent as ever," Kael sighed, though the corner of his lips tugged upward in spite of himself.
Almost simultaneously, Rayleigh lowered his cup on deck, his gaze sharpening. "All hands, attention! An old friend's come calling."
The crew instantly froze mid-task, turning toward the direction Rayleigh indicated. The newer recruits like Elio tensed up as soon as they recognized the figurehead.
"A Marine ship! And… that's… Vice Admiral Garp?!"
"You've gotta be kidding! We run into him here of all places?!"
While the rookies paled, the veterans Gaban, Spencer, and the others merely exchanged looks of resigned amusement, wearing expressions that screamed, "Here we go again."
Before anyone could react further, a figure launched skyward from the dog-headed warship, tearing through the sky with overwhelming force.
Even before he landed, a thunderous voice boomed across the island like rolling thunder.
"ROGER!! You bastard, I've finally caught you!!"
Roger, one foot propped on a barrel as he barked work orders, grinned wide at the sound, utterly unbothered.
"Kuahahaha! Garp! You always did have the most 'unique' way of saying hello!"
Before his words finished, Garp's fist clenched midair. Black Armament Haki coated his hand like ink, a devastating pressure swirling within his palm.
A punch not of apology but of destruction.
Kael, sipping the moment from afar: Big move right from the start, huh? Showing respect in his own way.
"Haki ka, you maniac…"
"Cut the crap! This time I'm hauling you to Impel Down! GALAXY IMPACT!"
A colossal, spherical shockwave blasted forth, compressing and ripping the air as it tore across the island. It was like an invisible meteor, large enough to erase the island and everyone on it from the map.
"Ohhh! Now that's merciless!" Roger only laughed louder, not a shred of fear in him.
He drew his sword Ace in a fluid motion, surging with Conqueror's Haki. Black and red lightning snapped across the blade in a storm of sparks.
"Catch me? You'll need a hundred more years! Divine Departure!"
When the two powers collided, space itself seemed to freeze.
A moment later, annihilating energy erupted outward. The shockwave split down the middle, cleaved apart by Divine Departure, bursting into twin streams of raging force that blasted past the island and shredded open the sky in two massive scars.
"Boom!!"
Garp crashed into the beach, gouging out a crater, but his grin only widened, his teeth flashing white. "Not bad, Roger. Your Haki's leveled up again."
"You're not too shabby yourself, Garp. That fist of yours is still unbreakable!" Roger's sword rested on his shoulder, his eyes brimming with fighting spirit.
The next instant, both men vanished from sight, colliding as streaks of blurred motion.
Explosions rocked the island as their clash tore it apart. Birds scattered into the skies, forests collapsed in swathes. The battleground drifted deeper into the island, leaving behind nothing but earth-shaking booms and their occasional roars of laughter.
On the beach, Marines and pirates stared at each other awkwardly.
The rookies, both pirate and Marine, fumbled nervously, unsure whether to draw blades or simply stand in place.
"Um, Rayleigh, sir…" Elio swallowed hard. "Shouldn't we… help? The captain "
Rayleigh dusted off his coat and replied calmly. "Forget it. Those two won't stop for at least three days and nights. Spencer, round up the crew and bring down our best rum."
"Eh?" Elio and the other rookies froze, stone statues of disbelief.
On the other side, a seasoned Marine officer with the insignia of a field officer barked his own orders.
"All hands! Make landfall! Bring down the spare rations, grills, and medkits! Move fast before those two idiots burn the whole island down!"
"Yes, sir!" the veterans shouted, moving with practiced efficiency.
The fresh-faced Marines who had just graduated from boot camp looked utterly lost, their very worldview crumbling.
And so, the beach became a scene no newspaper of the World Government would ever dare print.
On one side of the island, the heavens split apart as black-red lightning and raw violence carved mountains and churned seas.
On the other side, bonfires blazed, the scent of roasting meat mixing with spilled rum.
Pirates and Marines sworn enemies now sat shoulder to shoulder around the flames.
"…So the point is, you'll get used to it," Spencer explained to the wide-eyed rookies, pushing up his glasses as calmly as ever. "The captain and Vice Admiral Garp share a… special relationship. Their battles are both duels of sworn enemies and greetings between old friends. Interfering would be rude."
Nearby, a grizzled Marine veteran slung an arm around a nervous recruit, slurring through his drink. "Listen, brat! Garp said until he personally hauls Roger in, that bastard doesn't get to starve on our watch! So eat! Stuff your face! You'll need the strength to catch pirates!"
"Y-yes, sir!" the rookie stammered, picking up a hunk of meat. He glanced nervously at the notorious pirate with an 80 million bounty clinking mugs beside him, feeling his sense of justice implode.
Gaban arm-wrestled a hulking Marine rear admiral, while both sides shouted and roared encouragement for their champions.
Max cornered a poor Marine scribe, spitting philosophy about the relationship between Haki and the economic superstructure until the poor man's eyes glazed over.
Kael found a quiet crate, orange juice in hand, watching it all with amusement.
Damn it all, family. The Gorosei totally set this up.
Ten-plus years of orange juice, and now I can't live without it.
He tilted his head back, staring at the distant sky dyed black and red by Haki, feeling the earth tremble beneath him.
"Really now," he murmured with a helpless smile, "every time they raise hell like this, who's footing the repair bill for the island?"
Shaking his head, he turned back toward the party, cupping his hands around his mouth.
"Oi, Nozdon! Leave some orange juice for me, don't drink it all!"
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