Rhett watched this absurd yet harmonious scene and couldn't help but chuckle. If the World Government saw this, they'd probably go mad.
Rayleigh appeared beside him, holding a cup of sake. Garp's troops have always been like this. They chase us not out of hatred, just duty.
Just then, a deafening "boom" echoed from afar—the shockwaves from Roger and Garp's battle collapsing another cliff.
Everyone glanced up, then went back to what they were doing without missing a beat.
Rhett shook his head with a smile and turned back to preparing the ingredients.
"Mr. Rhett..." a young voice called out.
Rhett looked down to see a Navy apprentice who appeared no older than seven. He couldn't really be a Navy soldier—there were age restrictions. Garp must have picked up this talented kid somewhere during his pursuit of Roger. Garp was practically treating chasing Roger as a Navy training exercise.
The young sailor was staring longingly at the barbecue in Rhett's hands.
"Want some?" Rhett raised an eyebrow.
The young sailor nodded vigorously.
Rhett chuckled and used the crimson mist to lift a perfectly grilled steak, handing it over. "Careful, it's hot."
"Thank you!" The young sailor took the steak and eagerly took a bite, closing his eyes in bliss.
Rayleigh watched this scene and murmured, "Sometimes I wonder what this world would be like without opposing sides."
Rhett glanced at the two still battling in the distance, then at the strange peace before him, and softly replied, "Probably just like this."
Six days later,
The sea was painted gold. The barbecue racks were replenished round after round, and barrels of sake were emptied one after another.
As the last rays of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, the sounds of battle finally ceased.
A bruised and battered Roger and Garp walked back arm in arm, both sporting injuries but wearing satisfied smiles.
"Starving!" Roger shouted, charging toward the barbecue.
Garp snatched an entire roasted lamb leg from the Navy cooks. "This is mine!"
After the feast,
Garp stood on the gangway of the Navy ship.
He glared back at Roger, who was gnawing on a fish bone, and growled through clenched teeth,
"Next time... I'm definitely throwing you into Impel Down!"
Roger, mouth full of food, laughed indistinctly. "Kuahahaha! You've said that many times!"
Garp clicked his tongue and turned to leave, but suddenly stopped, patting his chest—his expression changed abruptly.
"Roger!!!" he roared, spinning around. "Where's my senbei?!"
Roger blinked innocently and spread his hands. "What senbei? I don't know? Maybe you left it on the ship, hahahaha!"
But the bulging package in his arms gave him away completely.
Garp's veins bulged on his forehead, his fists clenched with a cracking sound, but in the end, he just let out a heavy "hmph" and jumped onto the ship.
"Set sail!" he ordered angrily.
The Navy soldiers scrambled to pull up the anchor, and the ship slowly drifted away.
Rhett stood by the ship's railing, watching the receding Navy vessel, when he noticed—the Navy soldiers on deck were secretly waving at them.
The young Navy apprentice even shouted with teary eyes, "Mr. Rhett! Next time—next time I'll treat you to the Navy's special barbecue sauce!"
Rhett couldn't help but laugh and waved back, though he didn't respond.
Rayleigh stood beside him, gazing at the distant ship, and murmured, "Garp's soldiers really are just like him. But then again, that's Garp for you, hahahaha."
Sanbel was tallying today's "spoils"—a few Navy uniforms (to be used as rags) and a crate of seasonings (pinched along the way).
Elio strummed his instrument, humming an improvised tune: "Navy and piratesgrilling fishtomorrow's headlinesutterly ridiculous~"
Rhett wasn't worried, because he'd already killed all the seagulls near the island. That's why the World Government had never noticed anything amiss all these years.
After all, the fights were real, and the injuries were real.
Roger cheerfully approached, pulling out half a pack of senbei from his pocket. "Here, here, everyone gets some! Garp's such a cheapskate, asking for half a pack of senbei."
Rhett looked at the joyful crowd. This was how it should be. This damn world, these damn Celestial Dragons...
...deserved to burn.
Roger's laughter cut through the salt-stiff air as he tossed senbei crumbs at a seagull. The bird squawked, wings flapping indignantly.
Rhett exhaled through his nose. The bastard even made feeding scraps feel like a celebration.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, Celestial Dragons lounged on velvet cushions. Here? Salt, sweat, and the sharp tang of freedom.
He'd take this filthy deck over their gilded cages any day.