Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a hot day in the city of Loguetown, where the sun was beating down on the wood of the boats and the smell of salt and fresh fish permeated the air. Garp, just 22 years old, had left my native island of Down to formally enlist in the Navy and still retained the youthful arrogance of someone who believes he can handle any situation without getting his hands dirty. What he didn't know was that his world was about to become completely ridiculous and, incidentally, very dangerous.

Gol D. Roger, captain of his own pirate ship and with that unwavering confident smile that seemed capable of melting an entire continent, ran tirelessly through the streets of his hometown.

“Roger, come back here right now!” The owner of the fish stall shouted. "You come home and the first thing you do is steal, you damn pirate!"

"Wahaha, sorry but I need supplies if I'm going to travel through the Grand Line!" 

The pirate continued to run through the familiar streets, avoiding the main ones, full of people who could recognize him. Turning a corner, he found himself face to face with his current companion, the first man who had decided to accompany him on his adventure: Silvers Rayleigh.

"You know when you said you wanted to go home, I didn't expect it to be to steal from them." The older man reproached him. “At least you brought fruit, right?”

“Fruit, fish and lots of meat, enough for four people for at least a week. Now you can't tell me we'll starve on the trip.” The young captain replied, who had decided to continue his adventure along the ocean line that separates the Blues.

A few blocks away, one of the owners who had been a victim of the robbery was talking to the young recruits who patrolled the island.

"His name is Roger, he's a 20-year-old kid who thinks he's a pirate. He stole the food we were going to sell this afternoon." 

"I understand, sir, black hair and a straw hat, right?" The man nodded. "Perfect, we will find him and return what was stolen, don't worry."

Garp intended to hunt down this rogue pirate and have the best first day in the world. First he had to follow the clues he had. If the thief was a native of the islands, then he knew their hiding places perfectly. He just had to be smarter. He would check each and every one of the alleys in the city, taking the thief by surprise, who would have hidden to stay out of reach.

What he didn't expect was to see four pirates eating different pieces of fruit on his first try. It seemed he hadn't run much either.

"Stop there, thief. Give back all that food immediately!" The pirates suddenly turned around with their eyes wide and started running.

"I thought you knew the best hiding places in this damn city, Roger!"

"Hey, this was my best hiding spot when I was a kid, I don't know how they found us." The young man shouted to his companion, Gaban, a fighter who used axes as weapons and whom he had needed in his crew since the first time he saw him.

The chase did not last long, the group headed to the port where Rayleigh's ship was still waiting for them. They all jumped on top and began to separate from the mainland when suddenly, the marine who was on their heels jumped as well. 

"Very well pirates I have caught you, now you are going to return everything." The young recruit tried to intimidate them.

"Hey you're on our ship, if you stay here you're technically our hostage, marine." Spencer, the newest member of the crew, commented.

“Oh, that's right! Hey, what's your name? I'm Gol D Roger, why don't you join us." He didn't seem to be asking a question, although he was anxiously awaiting the new addition's response.

"Monkey D Garp, and you're crazy if you think I'm going to join a silly group of pirates." Garp looked around and saw that this time he had lost, but he would not give up so easily so before jumping into the sea he said: "We will meet again Roger! And next time I'll catch you."

"Wahahah, okay Garp! See you soon!" 

Chapter Text

The bar smelled of rum, sweat and old wood.

It was the kind of place where the air could be cut with a knife, although no one would have the strength to do it after the third barrel. Gol D. Roger leaned back in his chair, laughing so hard that the table was shaking. Around him, his crew was doing what they did best: drinking, shouting, arguing about nothing and celebrating everything.

Gaban was right in front of him, with his feet on the table and a bottle in each hand. "I'm telling you, the fish was bigger than the boat!", he insisted, while Rayleigh looked at him skeptically.

"Sure, sure... and then what did you do? Did you apologize for catching it?," said the vice captain, with that mocking calmness which so irritated Gaban.

Taro let out a laugh and hit the table so hard that the bottles jumped. “Ha! C’mon Scopper, stop exaggerating! If that fish was that big, it would have eaten you by now!”

The whole bar burst into laughter. Roger lay back, enjoying the feeling of the alcohol coursing down his throat like fire. He liked those kind of nights: no fights, no mysterious maps, no Navy nipping at their heels. Just laughter, rum and the distant roar of the sea.

But peace was a brief luxury.

The door of the bar burst open. An air colder than rum swept through the room, and the murmurs died away. A thin man, with a blue uniform and a tense face, entered looking at everyone as one who enters enemy territory.

Roger knew instantly.

"Marines," he murmured, with a half-smile.

Rayleigh noticed it too. “Again? We did not last one night quiet.”

The innkeeper, a nervous guy with a greasy mustache, approached the newcomer. "Is something wrong, Officer?”

“A vessel has just docked at the port. We are looking for a group of pirates known to have stopped here," the marine replied, in an authoritative tone. “If they hand themselves over to the marines this can be resolved peacefully.”

Roger sighed theatrically, getting up slowly. "Well, guys... it looks like the party is over.”

Rayleigh rolled her eyes. "Don’t do anything stupid Roger. Let’s just get out of here without causing much chaos, today we’re too tired.”

“You always make me miss the fun?", Roger complained playfully, winking at him.

They went out the back door, sneaking through the alleys. Roger was moving forward with a light step, but before turning the corner, he could not help but take a look at the harbor.

And he saw him.

Standing next to a small group of Marines, a young man with black hair, a firm jaw and a big scar around his eye. The same one who months ago had tried to arrest him in Loguetown, ending up with half the city destroyed and a desire to see that man on his boat.

"Monkey D. Garp..." whispered Roger, smiling with that crazy glow that settled in his eyes every time he focused on a challenge.

Rayleigh noticed it instantly. "Roger... no.”

“What?” His captain asked, with a too innocent smile. The man gave him a knowing and tired look. ”Rayleigh, please, you offend me. It’s just… I really wanna fight him again.” He crossed his arms, looking at the young marine again.

Rayleigh glared at him. “Right, sure. You're not going to do it.” The first mate knew that when Roger became obsessed with something — or in this case, someone — there was nothing that could stop him, but he could try. “Fighting him would attract all the marines in the island and right now we don't have the strength, or the numbers, to deal with that. Let’s go.”

During his reasoning Roger had already started walking towards the port.

"Captain! I’m going to kill you!", Gaban shouted, running after him. Rayleigh just couldn’t care less at this point, he’d wait for the idiots back at the ship, or not, he had yet to decide.

The harbor was lit by torches, the wind waved the Navy's blue flags. Garp was talking to other Marines, probably around his age that had also joined less than a few years ago. Roger approached from behind, crouching in the shadows, until he was a few steps away.

“Oh, wow!” He suddenly exclaimed, raising his arms. “What a coincidence, cruel and wonderful fate! We meet again!”

Garp turned sharply. "You again?!”

“Yes, me! You remember my name right? It’s Roger." the man smiled. "How's the government dog life going?”

Garp frowned. “I'm here to arrest you, pirate.”

“Yes, yes, the usual. But look, why don't we have a drink first? You look like you need one.”

Before Garp could react, Roger had already taken him by the arm and was dragging him with surprising force towards the dock. The rest of the marines, although shocked at first, started running behind them.

"What the hell are you doing, Roger? Let go of me!”

"Friendly invitation! No violence!"  Roger shouted with laughter, while Gaban covered his face in the distance, knowing that it was already too late.

Garp tried to break free but with the help of his crewmates Roger managed to grab a rope and tie it around his body.

“Are you seriously kidnapping me right now?” Roared Garp, bound hand and foot to the center mast of the ship, his face red with fury.

Roger leaned against the railing, laughing out loud. "Oh, come on! I call it 'temporary recruitment'.”

Rayleigh, standing idly by, exhaled in resignation. “You are impossible. Literally impossible.”

"See?" Said Roger, pointing a mocking finger at Garp. "He has fire in his eyes. Spirit. Just what my crew needs.”

“I'm a marine, you idiot.”

"Details.”

Garp struggled with the ropes, managing to break free of them with ease. “Who taught you idiots how to tie ropes? That was pathetic! Bwhahah! Anyway, now I’m going to arrest you all.”

"Ah, that will be interesting. But for now...” Roger threw a bottle at him. "Drink up. We are celebrating your incorporation.”

“I'm not going to drink with you!”

Rayleigh snorted. “You can’t fight us, it’s all of us against one of you. Also, we’re in the middle of the ocean now. Damaging us would mean damaging the ship, we’d all drown, you included.”

Garp looked at him, confused, “I’d just swim back to the island, or to the closest one.” All the pirates looked at him with their eyes open. “Don't tell me you've never swum from one city to another at least once? Pirates are so weird…”

Roger raised his arm, excited. "Oh, oh, I have! That means we enjoy the same hobbies, Garp! We’re destined to be friends!”

“No we aren't you damn idiot!”

Over the next few hours, the crew dedicated themselves to make sure the ship survived the fight between the two — with Garp shouting threats mixed with insults. Roger never left his eyes off him ever once, the look a mixture of amusement and genuine curiosity. There was something about this man... something different. It was not only the strength—which he had already verified in their previous meeting—but the conviction in his gaze. They were so similar and he was determined to make Garp see it.

"Do you know, Garp?”, he said finally, as the moon reflected in the sea and both of them had stopped their fight, at least for a couple of minutes. “You could be a great pirate.”

"Not in a thousand lifetimes!”

Roger let out a laugh. “I knew you’d say that. But I won’t stop asking!”

Gaban, leaning against the mast, looked at him wearily. “And what's the plan, Captain? Shall we release him on the next island?”

”Hmm..." Roger put his hand to his chin, pretending to think. "Or maybe we'll take him for a spin around the Grand Line. Let’s see the world together.”

Rayleigh came closer, lowering his voice. "Roger, really. You can't go around the sea with a marine like he’s a souvenir.”

“Why not? He's good company. Also he’s practically part of the crew, he gives life to the ship.”

“He gives the ship problems.”

The sea was calm while Roger turned to watch the horizon, feeling the wind hit his face. By his side, Garp was still ready for another round, although less furious and more excited. It was just then that he spotted another ship following them.

"Navy flag," one of the lookouts shouted.

Roger smiled. "Wow, what punctuality. They must come for him. Well..." He stretched out his arms. "I guess the game ends here.”

Rayleigh nodded. "Yes, if you don't want us to be sunk.”

But Roger did not move. He was looking at the horizon with a calm smile. "You know, Garp… Next time I’ll make sure you join my crew.”

"Stop talking nonsense.”

“I mean it seriously." Roger looked at him with an intensity that left no room for arguments, he was convinced. "You and I are going to change the world. In our own way. Marine and pirate, or pirate and pirate.”

“You're a fool.” Garp finally said.

“And you’re a party pooper.”

Later, standing on the deck of the Marine ship, Garp was watching the direction the pirates had disappeared. One of his coworkers approached.

“Are you alright?” Sengoku asked. “Sorry we couldn’t come sooner, it took a while to convince the higher ups.”

"Yea I get it, we’re just nobodies right now," he growled. Then he smiled, barely, without noticing. "That idiot... someday I'll catch him.”

Weeks after the incident, on another island, Roger and his crew were laughing remembering the adventure.

“I can’t believe we really did that, do you think we’ll ever see him again?” Gaban asked.

"Of course! I have to make sure he joins the crew.” Replied the captain loudly. “Also, he promised to arrest me, which means that he’ll be looking for us, I’m sure of it!” He added with a smug smile.

Rayleigh shook his head. "You are the only pirate in the world who’s excited about having a marine going after him directly.”

Roger raised his glass. "To new friends and old enemies! May the seas remain big enough for our follies.” The drinks splashed and the group erupted in laughter. “We’ll see each other again, Garp,” he murmured. “This game has just begun.”

The most absurd kidnapping was over. But no one said it couldn't happen twice, or honestly, many more times.

Chapter Text

The sunrise over the small island they had decided to stop by did not bring much brightness to their camp– with the giant dark trees covering the skies. The only thing that shined at that hour was a table covered with glitter, red, blue and yellow paint, and a concentrated Roger with his tongue out, as if he were about to discover the truth of the world.

"Rayleigh, pass me the strawberry glue, please." Roger said without looking up from the paper.

The first officer, with his typical expression between bored and resigned, scratched his beard. “Are you sure this is necessary?” He asked.

“Of course!” Roger exclaimed, making a grandiloquent gesture with the brush. “If I'm going to convince Garp to join my crew, I need an introduction worthy of his greatness!”

Rayleigh sighed. The floor around him looked like a kindergarten: cut-out papers, glued-on shells, a letter "G” that had been done three times because Roger kept forgetting how to spell 'Garp' ("with B or with P?”).

“Roger, the man has tried to arrest you dozens of times.”

“And that shows his commitment!” The captain replied, with a bright smile. “He's passionate, determined, with fists that could break mountains. What he needs is to channel that energy... to a good cause.”

Rayleigh folded his arms.

“And you are the good cause?”

“Who else?” Roger replied, spreading gold glitter over the letters. “The sign will say 'JOIN THE CREW OF THE BEST PIRATE IN THE WORLD(in process)'!”

Silence. Just the sound of glitter falling, like ridiculous snow. Rayleigh rubbed his temples.

“Roger, you hardly qualify to–”.

“Details!” Roger made a dramatic gesture. “The important thing is the vision. What would a dream be without glitter, without color, without a little strawberry adhesive?”

To the side, Jacksonbanner (the crew musician, who had been dragged to help) was observing the scene with a mixture of professional curiosity and resignation. “Captain, I admire your creativity but glitter is not good for the lungs.”

“Neither are prison bars for dreams!" Roger replied, in a heroic voice.

Rayleigh snorted. “And... how exactly do you plan to find Garp?”

Roger looked up, his smile taking on an almost childlike glow. “I've already found him.” He pointed to a map spread out on the table, covered with breadcrumbs and paint stains. “Garp is on this island. Resting. Drinking tea. Fate is smiling on us, Rayleigh!”

The crew frowned, starting to regret letting their captain indulge in this foolish adventure.

“And what's the plan?”

Roger puffed up his chest, holding the glitter-filled poster as if it were a flag.

“Simple. I will convince him with my charisma, my friendship and my enthusiasm.”

"And if that fails..." Rayleigh added, arching an eyebrow.

“I have a backup plan.” His smile became devilish. One that could just only mean... drama.

“What kind of backup?”

"The kind that has… abandoned buildings," Roger whispered in a sinister voice.

In hindsight Rayleigh knew he shouldn’t have asked, he shouldn’t have even joined the plan in the first place. However, here he was, walking through the empty corridors of the old hospital. The windows were broken, the grimy curtains moved like spectres, and the echo of the waves mingled with the creaking of the rusty doors.

It was a place that any sensible person would avoid.

Gol D. Roger, however, was happy.

He was wearing a kitchen apron (which said "Captain in Style”), a toolbox, a megaphone and the glitter sign under his arm.

“Perfect!” He said while inspecting a room. “It's the ideal setting for the big reveal!”

Gaban, who was following them with a flashlight, muttered:

“This is a trap, Roger. You're literally planning an ambush.”

“Not a trap, guys.” Roger snapped his fingers. “An immersive experience!”

Around him, several crew members were working putting up posters and colored lights. Spencer was installing a luminous sign that flickered awkwardly with the phrase: "Welcome, future comrade Garp." And some of the newest members, who still didn't quite understand why they were there, were helping to paint hearts on the walls.

“Captain, are you sure Garp won't kill us for this?” Sencer asked.

“Of course not!” Roger said cheerfully. “He’ll probably find it hilarious.”

"Yes, but his idea of fun also consists of throwing cannonballs at our faces—" Rayleigh replied.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the island Monkey D. Garp was yawning on the terrace of a small inn. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and a rare expression of peace on him. For the first time in months he wasn't chasing after pirates (Roger, mostly Roger), or dealing with incompetent Marines, or listening to sermons from Sengoku about “the importance of well-written reports.”

“Haaah…” He sighed. “Finally some relaxation.”.

And just at that moment, something fell from the sky and landed right in front of his table. It was a huge brick with a letter attached to it, decorated with glitter and with a badly drawn heart.

"For the strongest and most adventure-worthy future partner: Monkey D. Garp”

Garp opened it suspiciously.

Dear Garp:

Surprise! I'm on the island too.

I have prepared a humble but epic invitation for you.

Come to the abandoned North Cliff hospital.

Your destiny awaits you there (and cookies).

 

With love and pirate spirit,

Gol D. Roger.

Garp looked at the letter for a long minute, focusing on the sparkles all around the words. Then, without a word, he put his hand to his face. A waitress passed by him and sneezed, bathed in glitter. Garp got up with a grunt.

“That idiot…”

Roger was hidden behind a pile of boxes, spying on the entrance.

"Rayleigh, you remember the plan, right?," he whispered.

"For the fifth time, Roger..." Rayleigh began with forced patience. Garp was supposed to come in, then the lights would turn on and Roger would make his speech. This wasn’t gonna work but at least they’d had an entertaining weekend. "I just don't understand why it has to be in a closed space."

Scopper Gaban intervened from a corner. “What if he doesn't accept?”

Roger smiled. “Then I'll improvise.”

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway. Garp was coming. Roger could hardly contain his excitement.

“It's him! It's him!” He whispered, waving the sign.

The hospital door opened with a squeak. A gust of wind swept away the dust, making the hanging lights flicker.

“Roger!”  roared Garp. “Get out of wherever you are!”

Roger straightened up slowly, the jacket over his shoulders moving dramatically.

“Ah, Garp, old friend! Welcome to the Hospital of Destiny.”

Garp looked at him, incredulous. “Hospital of what?”

"Of Destiny," Roger repeated, holding up the sign. “And you, dear friend, are the patient who needs a cure for his boring marine life!”

Only the sound of the poster falling from Roger's hands to the ground was heard, leaving a trail of glitter that magically floated in the air.

Garp arched an eyebrow.

“Are you telling me that you brought me here to... recruit me?”

“Exactly!” Roger said, pulling out a megaphone. “Listen to my ideas before using the fist, please!”

Garp had already started cracking his knuckles.

“Roger... I'm going to bury you under this hospital.”

Roger held up his hands to stop him and with a snap of his fingers, Jacksonbanner banged a drum, Spencer turned on colored lights, and Gaban threw confetti.

The poster lit up, blinking between pink and gold tones.

'WELCOME, GARPIE.'

Garp blinked.

"Do you like it?," said Roger, proudly. “It's an affectionate nickname. Combines your rudeness with your inner tenderness.”

Rayleigh was already looking for a place to take cover, he was not going to stay for whatever happened next. He’s out.

Garp sighed deeply.

“Roger.…”

“Yes?” Roger asked, with a charming smile.

“Did you fall overboard and hit your head, or is this some kind of trap?”

Garp walked towards him, his boots clanking with every step. Roger stepped back a little, but he didn't lose his smile.

“Think about it, Garp. You and me, together. The sea would shake! History would be rewritten! Imagine Sengoku's face!”

"I'm picturing it," Garp said. “And I'm also imagining yours after I throw you into the sea.”

Roger held up the sign as if it were a shield. “But there are cookies.” Garp just started walking faster, for each step one of Roger’s crewmates left out the door, following the First Mate and deciding to watch everything from the outside. “We also have cake!” The captain continued with his proposal.

Rayleigh peeked out, muttering: “This is going as well as I expected.” Resigned, also began to check what medical equipment they had at the moment.

Roger decided to double down on his bet. He took a step forward, thrusting his sword into the ground. “Garp, listen to me. The world needs our duo! We’d be the invincibles of the sea!”

Garp folded his arms, getting tired of his rival's perseverance. “The world needs you to stop making a fool of yourself. I am not going to join your stupid crew, I am a marine, and forever will be!”

Roger didn't give up.

“If you join me, I promise a crew full of justice, fun and... muscles!”

Garp arched an eyebrow.

“Muscles?”

“Yes, of course. Full daily training, we’ll fight before and after every party! I'll make you vice-captain in a week!”

Rayleigh appeared by the door, an incredulous look on his face.

“Excuse me, what did you just say?”

"Hush, Rayleigh, it's part of the speech," whispered Roger.

Garp let out a laugh so loud that the echo echoed through the halls.

“Roger, if you wanted a beating, you just had to ask me directly.”

Roger smiled from ear to ear.

“So that's a maybe?”

Garp looked at him.

“That's a 'run'.”

And with a leap, his fist shot out towards Roger, who started to run deeper into the building. Garp's blow was so powerful that the air seemed to vibrate. The impact went through one wall, then another, and ended up causing a rusty lamp to fall from the ceiling.

Roger jumped back, dodging by inches, while the glitter of his posters flew in a bright cloud giving an even more ridiculous tone to the scene.

“Plan B, Plan B!” Roger shouted, running down the hallway.

Rayleigh followed after them, sighing so hard that he seemed to be exhaling years of accumulated patience.

“And exactly what is Plan B, Roger?”

But they were too far apart, and his captain disappeared after turning a corner. Behind him, Garp was advancing with a firm step, his fist still burning with energy. “Get out of there, Roger! I swear I'm going to bury you under this hospital!”

All of Roger’s crewmates were staring at the dusty hallway, wondering if it was the right time to run away. Rayleigh and Gaban decided to follow the two madmen into the rooms, to make sure their captain didn’t do anything even more foolish.

“Just stay here, make sure no one gets in or they’ll end up injured.”

Roger slipped into a darkened room, where old medical instruments covered with cobwebs were stacked. His closest companions appeared behind one of the broken walls, perks of having investigated every corner of the hospital during their stay. “Oh, good, you’re here.” From a trunk he took out a couple of cups, a thermos of warm milk and a tablecloth with a teddy bear print. "Rayleigh, set the stage," he ordered solemnly.

“Captain, with all due respect, Plan B is… a snack break?”

“Not just any snack!“ Roger held out his arms. “It is a ceremony of union between combative souls. If we share milk and cookies, Garp won't be able to refuse to be my comrade!” Rayleigh looked at him as if he had grown another head. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. It works with children!” He added, pouring milk into the cups. “Why not with stubborn marines?”

Meanwhile, Garp was moving forward like a force of nature. Every step made the ground shake. As he passed, the doors were slammed open, and the rats fled in terror.

“Rooogeeer!” His voice rumbled through the corridors. “I swear you’re not running aways this time!”

Gaban peeked out from a corner, talking in a low voice. “Rayleigh, are we really going to leave him alone?” 

"We're not leaving him alone," Rayleigh replied. “We are leaving him with the consequences of his own actions, which is different.”

At that moment, the sound of a door being violently opened was heard. Garp appeared on the threshold, a look of anger painted his expression. “I found you, Roger!”

The man, instead of running away, held up his cup of milk.

“Garp! Sit down, please! Let's have an adult conversation!”

Garp stopped, confused for a moment. “...What the hell are you doing?”

"This is a friendship ceremony," Roger replied with the most serious smile he could fake. “Before you decide to break my jaw, let's share some milk and cookies!”

The silence that followed was so thick that you could hear a drop falling from the ceiling.

Rayleigh, hiding behind the door, muttered:

“If this works, I’ll start to believe in miracles.”

Garp narrowed his eyes.

“Are you... offering me milk?”

“Exactly!” Roger handed him a cup and a plate. “Did you know that it’s a symbol of peace and strength? When you drink it all your bones become stronger! Whahaha!”

The marine watched him for a long time, trying to decide what he should do, either continue his pursuit and try to break his face or accept out of pure curiosity. Finally, with a grunt, he sat down in front of him.

Roger smiled triumphantly and held up the drink.

“Here's to the shared adventures we haven't had yet! For the seas we have not yet travelled together!”

Garp interrupted him. “For your burial, after I finish my share and arrest you.” Roger laughed, bumping his cup with Garp's.

They drank in silence, enjoying the food before them. The wind crept in through the broken windows and some birds had started to sing in the nests they probably had in the ceiling.

Garp lowered the cup slowly and put it aside, sighing.

“You're an idiot.”

“An idiot with vision!” Roger replied, pointing upwards. “Imagine what we could do together! Your strength and my charisma! No one would dare stop us!” He put on a serious face. “Let's admit it, we are like two polar opposites trying to join, like water and oil. But that makes us the best companions, we compliment each other!"

Garp glared at him.

“That was the most ridiculous sentence I've ever heard.”

‘And yet, you didn't get up to hit me again,’ Roger thought, smiling to himself. That's what one could call progress! If he continued talking to Garp, warming him up to the idea, he’d eventually agree and they’d leave the island together. A plan without fail.

For a few minutes, there was peace. Garp even tried a cookie while Roger talked non-stop, gesticulating enthusiastically, telling impossible plans: conquering islands, defying emperors, building a base that served pancakes every day.

"And then," Roger was saying, with a twinkle in his eye, "we could explore everything there is to see in the world, we’d own the biggest treasure. Fighting whoever tried to take it from us!"

"Something like that doesn't exist, no treasure is that important for everyone" growled Garp.

“That's why it has to be created!” Roger replied. “You and I would be the keepers!”

Garp took a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Roger, do you have any idea what you’re even saying? It sounds–”

"Like freedom," Roger replied matter-of-factly. “Pirates are free to do whatever we want. I know you understand the beauty of this dream!”

At that instant, a metallic noise resounded. The hospital door slammed shut, any resemblance of tranquility shattered in a moment. The group ran towards the entrance, sounds of distress could be heard from the other side.

“Captain, are you there?... I think it got stuck.”

Roger blinked.

“What?”

"They said we're locked up," Rayleigh repeated, pulling the doorknob unsuccessfully. “And the windows are too small for us to escape through them.”

For the next few minutes, all of them tried to open the door. Garp was pounding the metal with his fists, while Roger, Rayleigh and Gaban tried to force it with their blades. The result: noise, dust and even more lamps falling on the ground. ‘What even was that door made of?’ was what they were thinking.

"Captain," Spencer screamed, from the other side, "we could try to knock down the outer wall."

“Excellent idea!” Roger shouted.

"That will destroy the hospital—" Rayleigh added.

“Even better! It will be symbolic! The birth of a new friendship between pirate and marine, leaving their past behind, in ruins!”

Garp sighed, leaning on a wall. “Why are you still trying to convince me? Don't you understand that we are natural enemies?”

Roger was silent for a moment, something strange about him. Then he smiled, softer.

“Because I think you understand the sea like I do, Garp. You're not a man who follows orders... you're one who follows his own sense of duty.”

"That sounds nice," Garp replied, "but it doesn't change the fact that I'm a Marine."

“And I’m a pirate but we’re looking for the same thing, aren’t we?”

There was a heavy silence. Garp stared at him, trying to find the mockery or the lie in his words. He couldn’t deny it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying it but you're still an idiot, Roger.”

“And you a fist with body! But what a great combination, don't you think?”

Garp scoffed; a brief, husky, but genuine laugh.

“Aha! I knew I could make you laugh! That's a sign of eternal friendship!” Roger celebrated his self-proclaimed victory.

"That was a reflection, not friendship," Garp growled, although no longer so furious.

Suddenly, a crash shook the building. The roof fell and a cloud of dust covered the place, the men leaving the former building behind while coughing. The rest of the crewmembers had used dynamite to open a hole in the wall, destroying the foundations in the process.

Roger, covered in glitter, held up a thumb.

“We got out alive! That's teamwork!”

Garp looked at him, his face black with soot.

“Yes, I'm going to arrest you now.”

“And I'm going to run away in style!”  Roger shouted, running towards his ship. everyone else following him

“Come back here, you damn pirate!”

Rayleigh watched as the captain threw himself into the sea, swimming around and laughing, leaving a bright trail of glitter – that still remained in his shirt– floating in the water.

“We’ve definitely abandoned all th remaining common sense in this crew. There’s no going back.”

Chapter Text

The Icy Island, a name quite fitting for the location, was just a small chunk of land covered by freezing winds in the Grand Line. Under a dark and chaotic sky, an exchange of destruction between two men could be heard, although one of them would soon be reduced to a simple punching bag. Monkey D. Garp, vice admiral of the Navy, was immersed in his favorite pastime - demolition, this time focused on a poor little devil known by the alias of “Bluebeard”. The pirate was a simple loser with failed ambition, a man whose only real merit was a beard so vast and cowered in seaweed that, ironically, had earned him the nickname by which he was recognized.

Anyone who knew the Marine could see that Garp wasn't fighting; he was playing to pass the time. Every fist he unloaded on the pirate was an impact that shattered the landscape, releasing invisible shock waves that shook the ground. Bluebeard was retreating, his movements desperate and pathetic, the soot covering his face from the close explosions, while Garp yawned shamelessly, moving with an insulting slowness that made him seem untouchable. The vice admiral prepared for the final blow, an Armored Fist that would not only finish off the pirate, but most likely completely rearrange the island.

And then, at the exact moment when the inertia of the blow was about to be released, Garp's body, the Navy war machine, was betrayed by a simple biological necessity. A sneeze. The freezing atmosphere of the island, that cutting wind that he had ignored for hours, had managed to penetrate the marine's body, making him lose concentration. His fist landed on the ground, Bluebeard was knocked out and the battle ceased, but Garp remained kneeling, not because of the effort or the wound, but because of a nasal irritation. He had to use the sleeve of his marine uniform to wipe his persistently snotty nose.

The Marines who came to pick up Bluebeard and his hero found the latter grumbling and shaking, not with anger, but with cold. The truth was that a simple cold had hit the man; however, in the news, the boring truth did not sell. The World Newspaper took the image of Garp kneeling and turned it into an epic of suffering. "THE FALL OF THE HERO! BLUEBEARD USES A SECRET BIOLOGICAL WEAPON THAT WEAKENS GARP'S WILL," the headline said in thick ink. The vice admiral was transferred to the G-2 Base infirmary to receive, reluctantly, soup, hot tea, and a strict order not to touch any mission reports for forty-eight hours. His only real injury was a slight fever and the ridiculous persistence of his nose.

Away from the Marine Base, under a tropical sun that made the accents of the Oro Jackson shine, the atmosphere was anything but calm. Gol D. Roger, with his broad relaxed shoulders and his eternal demented smile, was reading the news. His vibrant laughter died out in a hiss of rage as he saw the exaggerated illustration of Garp kneeling, the image of fabricated defeat. The world believed that Garp had been beaten, or at least compromised, by a nobody. But to Roger this was no simple business: Garp was his rival, his constant and, in the delusional logic of the great pirate, his future comrade. He was as precious as any other crewmates in his ship.

"That miserable Bluebeard!", Roger roared, hitting the navigation table, making the compasses shake. "He dares to touch my Marine! Reduce him to this... this misery! It must have been planned for weeks… When I get my hands on his shit beard…". 

Roger was outraged. In his mind, no one had the right, or the might, to harm Garp except himself, and only in the heat of a fair and epic fight. The idea that Garp had been poisoned by a lowlife was an insult to his own dignity. 

“Captain, don’t you think this is a bit of an exaggeration?” Asked Spencer, picking up the paper. “Here it says that Garp had been occupied with business on the island and happened upon that idiot's base.”

“Yeah, it didn't seem premeditated. Also, if Garp was seriously injured there would’ve been more talk about it. The guy’s a big shot.” Gaban tried to reassure his captain, to stop him from any plan that might be crossing his mind.

However, compared to the rest of the crew, Rayleigh simply was calmly polishing his sword, the very image of stoicism in the face of his captain's madness. Rayleigh, with his infinite patience, knew that in Roger's mind, the only cure for Garp's wound was his ‘captain's’ revenge.

Roger's paranoia consolidated: Bluebeard had used some poison or biological trick to weaken Garp's legendary resistance, and the Navy was hiding him away because of his weakened condition. So the prison where Blueberd had been confined became the immediate target. 

“Alright crew, while I infiltrate,” started Roger, putting on ridiculous pink sunglasses and decorating his hat with flowers, “you’ll keep the ship safe and ready.”

Gaban had agreed to his captain’s plan, because of course he had. “Got it cap, but what exactly are you going to ask that skunk?”

“Where he’s keeping Garp’s antidote, of course!”

The infiltration of the prison was not subtle, at all. Roger was human chaos, leaving a trail of knocked out marines in his search for the cell. And to those a bit more strong willed, well, a soft armored fist landed on their faces. “Tell me where Bluebeard’s cell is or I’ll make sure this is the last time you open your eyes.”

When he was finally guided to the pirate’s cell, Roger didn't even bother with a key. The reinforced steel of the bars gave way at a casual thrust of his hand. The captured man, who was already a nervous wreck, collapsed at the sight of him in person. "R-Roger...", he whispered, his voice broken with terror. "No!.. I didn't do anything, what could you want to do with me? Haven’t I suffered enough?"

Roger entered the cell, eying the prisoner, the fear spreading through the walls. He sat down on the only bed, and on his face was an expression of seriousness, of barely contained fury. 

"Tell me the truth," Roger demanded, his voice low and raspy. "Tell me what you did to Garp. What poison did you use?"

Bluebeard looked at him, completely lost. "Poison? That monster tried to kill me with a punch I was lucky enough to dodge! If Garp is sick, it's because he doesn't wrap up warm enough! I don't have a 'secret pirate bioweapon'! All I have is this beard and a life sentence! I swear!” He shrieked, raising his cuffed hands in supplication.

Roger's frustration grew. His mind refused to process the triviality of a cold. It must have been an attack. A curse. Anything else. "You're lying!" Roger hissed, his clenched fist shining for an instant with haki. "Garp is the strongest marine there is, my future crewmate, and if you've done anything to him, I swear I'll make you wish you'd never been born!".

Just at that moment, while the absurd interrogation was still going on, the cell wall, and not the shattered door, opened in a controlled explosion, revealing Sengoku, another vice admiral close to Garp. He had been informed of Roger's presence through his Den Den Mushi and had come to see for himself if this man was truly stupid enough to infiltrate himself in a marine base and think he was going to leave unharmed.

"Roger! What the hell are you doing here?", Sengoku shouted, the echo of his voice travelling the corridor. "You are harassing a prisoner! It's illegal, irrational and completely unnecessary! Get out of here if you don’t want me to crush you!".

Roger turned around, the flowers in his hat slowly falling to the ground. "Sengoku!," he roared. "I demand that you ask this worm to reveal where he hid the antidote! My Marine is sick and he doesn't want to confess!". 

Sengoku put a hand to his temple, the headache Roger was causing was now a throbbing migraine. "Roger, shut up! Garp's not here. He's in the infirmary of the G-2 Base, with a stupid flu. And Garp is not yours. He's a marine vice admiral, you animal!".

The mention of Garp’s location was all the information Roger needed. He quickly escaped from the Buddha's hands, leaving behind a few cracked walls, to return to his ship and inform the crew of what had happened. "Okay guys, change of plans, we must go to the G-2 base as soon as possible!" His teammates didn't try to question him, they knew there was no way to stop him, so they got down to work. The objective had changed from ‘vengeance’ to ‘health check’.

The G-2 Base was a building of order and discipline, a direct contrast to the chaos Garp used to carry with him. Roger infiltrated again, this time with more delicacy (if Roger could be delicate at all), simply because his mission was quick and personal. In the infirmary, the atmosphere was calm, almost gloomy, until the figure of the pirate, still dressed in his decorated straw hat and glasses, appeared leaning on the door.

There was Garp, a marine legend, reduced to a grumpy lump under several blankets, his face stuffy and red.

Roger wasted no time. He walked up to the bed with a bag brown in his hands, and sat next to Garp’s legs. "Garp! You have snot. This is shameful."

Garp, who had been about to fall asleep, growled, his voice was harsh and nasal. "Roger! Get out! I'm sick and not in the mood for your antics. How the hell did you even find me?"

"A small bird gave me the location. See? If you were in my crew, your captain would take care of you!", Roger leaned in, his face close to Garp's, and his voice took on a soft tone, caring. "Look, now that your defenses are down and you know that a cold can knock you out like this, why don't you do it? Join the Roger's Pirates! You could be one of my commanders. We will keep you away from the cold winds and close to the treasures."

Garp stared at him, his eyes narrowed with fever and irritation. Then he gathered all the strength he could and threw one of his pillows at him. Roger dodged him with a smile.

"You know the answer, idiot. I can't join you. And the next time I see you, I'll beat the crap out of you for whatever you’ve done while I was out! Now get out of my sight, pirate!", Garp hissed, before dropping back down on the bed, coughing.

Roger laughed out loud, genuine happiness spreading over his face. "All right, all right! But take care of yourself, man. Someone has to be healthy for me to have a good challenge. Here, for you." Roger put the brown paper bag on the bedside table, bowed one last time and, with impressive speed, jumped out of the open window.

Barely a minute later, the door slammed open, and Sengoku appeared, panting, his eyes bloodshot. He had run from the prison to the G-2 Base, fearing the devastation.

"Garp! Did Roger come? What did he do to you? Where is he now?", Sengoku demanded, scanning the room for structural damage or any stolen valuable equipment.

Garp, ignoring his friend, opened the bag and the aroma of sugar and cinnamon filled the infirmary. It was a dozen doughnuts from the best bakery in the closest town, still warm. Garp's face lit up.

Garp grabbed one, took a loud bite and then looked at Sengoku, whose expression was a picture of anger, confusion and defeat. Garp lifted the doughnut in a silent toast, wiping his nose with a handkerchief.

"You know, Sengoku," he said, his mouth full of glazed dough. "At least this time, the idiot didn't try to kidnap me or lock me up in an abandoned asylum. He only brought provisions. And a little fun. A little bit of progress, don't you think?".

Sengoku slumped against the wall. Gol D Roger had risked his life, infiltrated a high-security base and evaded a rising vice admiral, all to deliver treats to his arch-nemesis with a cold.

"This relationship," Sengoku whispered, closing his eyes in resignation. "It's the stupidest and most ridiculous thing in the Grand Line. And I always have to deal with the messes it leaves behind."

Chapter Text

Fortuna Island was a holiday archipelago known for its fine sandy beaches and, more important for Monkey D. Garp at these moments, for its strict code forbidding any act of violence beyond the throwing of a coconut. Garp, forced to take a week off because of the insistence of Sengoku, had chosen this place as his ultimate refuge. His mission was not to catch pirates, but to recharge by eating doughnuts, taking monumental naps and, crucially, spending time with his son.

Thirteen-year-old Monkey D. Dragon was a tall boy with a remarkably serious expression. Although his heart was beating with the innocence of his age, his mind was already observing the world with its injustice. Garp longed to see Dragon's rare, fleeting smile, an expression of simple happiness that the Marine treasured more than any decoration. For that reason, at that moment, his only concern was the weather and the location of the best sausage stand.

"Dragon, remember," Garp instructed, as they walked along the boardwalk, where the air vibrated with the music of a piano and the aroma of caramelized sugar. "One day, a whole day, without thinking about the World Government, without questions about Haki and without mentioning that horrible pirate."

Dragon nodded, holding up a map of the fair that Garp had given him. "Understood, dad. Maximum concentration on having fun." His voice was calm, but his eyes wandered through each post with curiosity. Garp puffed up his chest, convinced that he had finally won the battle against chaos and nothing would ruin this day with his son..

On board the Oro Jackson, discreetly anchored in a remote cove, Gol D. Roger was suffering an existential agony. The lack of adventure, for the man who had sailed countless islands, was a physical torture. He had tried to polish the cannons, had challenged his cook to a meat-eating contest (and lost), and had forced Rayleigh to read romance novels aloud to him.

"Rayleigh! Boredom is the real enemy!," roared Roger, hitting the deck so hard that the wood creaked. "I need action! I need fights! I’ve started counting the letters in the newspaper! Let's go to the fair! Let's find something to break!".

Silvers Rayleigh, with his usual stoicism, did not even look up. "I’m pretty sure there are rules against violence on this island, and even pirates follow them. I guess vacation is vacation for everyone"

"Aghhh! What nonsense…", Roger pouted against the table, awaiting for any time of entertainment to come their way.

Gaban watched the scene with a pitying smile. “I mean, we can always just go to the fair normally. A friend of mine runs one of the food stands.” As long as the crew behaved, and their captain didn’t accidentally cause any disasters, there shouldn’t be any problems. “As Rayleigh mentioned, pirates can be spotted near the island, while marines usually don’t stay for long because of the lack of chaos.”

Roger did not wait for his crewmates to agree. He jumped out of the ship and started running towards the center of the island. "Come on, guys! We're going to spend the rest of the day having fun!".

Garp was feeling humiliated at the hoops stand. He had failed miserably in his attempt to win a small stuffed duck, his mind too busy on the strategy of how to crush a pirate to concentrate on the simple physics of a children’s game. Dragon, having also failed, was waiting for his father to win which only irritated Garp more.

"Dad," Dragon commented in a calm voice. "If you threw the hoop with less impact force, the trajectory would be more predictable. I think it’s a game about aiming."

"Aiming is for gunners Dragon, we are fighters! And shush, you lost as well ," growled Garp.

At that exact moment, Gol D. Roger's laughter, a sound that the marine had started hearing in his nightmares, burst out over the noise of the festival.

"Garp! My favorite marine! Fate brings us together once again!", Roger burst on the scene, his red coat fluttering, like a hurricane of joy. "I looked for entertainment, and here you are! What a beautiful coincidence! And look what you're doing! Trying to conquer glass bottles! Should we play together?".

Garp felt the heat rise to his face, his blood boiling from the fury. He grabbed Roger by his shirt, keeping him at arms length.

"Roger! You followed me, you bastard! I'm on vacation! That means that if you see me in town, you have to leave, not join my walk!" The marine was about to start a fight when the looks of the other attendants made him stop. “You’re lucky we are where we are, if not, I would be arresting you right now! Now scatter.”

Roger let go with a simple movement, his smile unchanging. "Nonsense, Garp! I came for churros and excitement.” His eyes wandered to the kid looking at the scene, “And who is this cute young man? Another one of you marine cadets?".

"I’m Dragon. His son. You’re Roger, right? My dad says that you are the most annoying man in the world," Dragon declared, without a hint of fear.

Roger let out a powerful laugh, making the flowers on a nearby stall shake. "And your father is the most boring! But he has good taste in friends…”, said Roger smiling to himself, “and in children! Tell me, Dragon, do you prefer the boring hoops game or the loud adventure?".

Dragon looked at the useless hoops in his hand and then at the pirate, whose sole presence felt like trouble. A hint of excitement flashed in his eyes. "The adventure sounds... more instructive," Dragon admitted. “Can we win the duck first, though?”

Roger looked at the stand, grabbed the hoops and started throwing them one by one, all landing in the most far away bottles. The owner of the stand looked at him with surprise while handing Dragon the toy. “Alright, now let’s go. Garp, don't stay behind!”

Garp was not about to acknowledge what just happened. However, he had come to this island with the intention of making his son happy and seeing the genuine spark of enthusiasm on his face… The decision was instant and humiliating. He could not deprive Dragon of the opportunity, no matter how dangerous the guide was.

"One hour, Roger!," Garp hissed, banging on the counter. "Just one hour, and if you try to do anything else other than make my son enjoy his day, I swear I'll break your hideous ship in half and use it as wood for a bonfire!".

Roger cheered jubilantly. "It's a deal! Friends, today we will explore the chaos of capitalism!".

Roger dragged father and son to the House of Mirrors, convinced that the altered reflections would let Garp join in the fun.

"Look here, Garp! This is the truth!” Roger shouted, pointing to a mirror that made him look twice as big. "I am a giant Pirate!".

Garp was reflected as a short, broad figure, almost a cube. "Giants are way bigger than that, you know that. I look like a box, I think"

Dragon stopped in front of a mirror that made him incredibly thin and tall. He looked at himself and let out a genuine little laugh, amazed by the ridiculous image. “Dad, I look like a stick! Come try this mirror."

Garp’s happiness was short-lived.

On the way out, he found himself face-on with the most absurd mirror in the entire building. The reflection show a version of himself that had a tiny head and an exaggeratedly fat body, almost a caricature. Roger burst into a deafening laugh.

"Whahahaha! Look, Dragon! The cannon ball of the marines! That's your final form, Garp! That's why you need the freedom to stretch!"

Garp, red with fury, could only grunt, feeling the humiliation burn his throat. Dragon, however, merely shook his head, trying to hide a smile and save his father the embarrassment.

Their next stop, following Roger’s mental list, took the group to the Force Hammer stand, where they were to hit a platform to make a bell ring. The stall owner was a sturdy, confident civilian who didn't know what he was up against.

"Me first!," roared Roger, grabbing the hammer. But he didn't hit the target. Instead, he unloaded a Haki wave next to the pole. The air itself compressed and then exploded, creating a silent shock wave that made the stand vibrate. The weight shot up, not only shattering the bell, but completely tearing apart the structure of the platform.

The owner screamed and ran to hide. Garp covered his face with both hands.

"Roger! You are a shameless cheater! That's not playing, it's sabotage! And you used haki! That is forbidden on this island!" Garp was on the verge of implosion.

Roger laughed, victorious. "Haki can't be banned, Garp! It’s part of your soul, freedom! Now, give me the prize!". Roger handed Dragon a giant lion stuffed animal that had fallen from the top of the shattered shelves.

They sat down to lunch. Garp finally had his doughnuts, Roger was eating a whole beef thigh and Dragon was looking at the sea. Their day had gone better than expected, no one was dead and all three were enjoying the peace and quiet of a good day coming to an end. Or that would be the case if Roger weren’t a wanted man, whose bounty was high enough it could change lives.

In an instant, a group of low-stewed bounty hunters spotted Roger and charged towards the table.

"Roger! You're surrounded!," roared the apparent leader. "Come with us, we won’t harm anyone! The reward is ours boys!"

Garp sighed with the resignation of a man who has run out of his last doughnut. The interruption was the last straw. He stood up and, with impressive speed, moved around the six bounty hunters, unloading a light and precise punch at the base of each one's skull. Enough to knock them out instantly.

Dragon, observing the feat, dropped the fruit in his hands and ran towards his father in admiration. "That was so cool, dad! When are you going to teach me how to do that?"

Roger clapped his hands loudly. "That's technique, Garp! That move will be of use when we need to get rid of opponents fast in the New World"

"Shut up, Roger. We are not sailing together."

When the sun began to turn the sea orange and purple, they sat on top of the lighthouse. The view was beautiful, families returning to their homes after an exhausting day of never ending entertainment, the children long asleep in their parents arms.

"Garp," Roger said, his voice, for once, missing its common mocking tone. "We had a great day. Your son is fantastic. The adventure, the laughter... This could forever, forget vacation, each day would feel better than the previous. Don’t tell me your life in the marines satisfies that." He turned his body, facing Garp directly. “Join me. Come back with me to the Oro Jackson, both of you.”

The tension was palpable. Garp stood up, his shadow casting giant over Roger's figure. He looked at the ocean, the temptation. He looked at Dragon, who was staring at him with silent expectation.

"Roger," Garp began, his voice deep and steady. "I know what I want in life. I follow my own justice. I chase chaos, and you are chaos. If I join you, the world loses its balance, and my work, my purpose, disappears." He took a deep breath, remembering Dragon's small smile. "My son will follow in my footsteps, we will be the strength of the marines, bringing pain to the scum of the seas!"

Garp ended his speech bringing his fist towards the wall of the lighthouse. A promise.

Roger did not flinch. His face lit up with a manic and sincere smile. "That's the passion I like so much! Couldn’t expect less! You never let me down! Until we meet again, Garp!".

Chapter Text

The air over God Valley was thick, covered with the ashes of a battle that had consumed the island. The colossal mountains that used to tower over the island had been reduced to small pebbles scattered over what used to be a lively town. A deafening silence that marked the end of the great pirate Rocks D. Xebec and the birth of a legend.

Monkey D. Garp was on his knees, his legs, lacerated by rock splinters and trembling from the use of such a brutal amount of Haki, had simply refused to hold him any longer. His Marine jacket returned to his shoulders while a thread of dried blood ran from his temple to his jaw. His breathing was shallow and agitated, each breath requiring a stinging effort against his bruised chest.

A few meters away, leaning against a giant fragment of ground that had been ripped from the earth, was Gol D. Roger. The smile, that insignia he always wore in his face, had faded away, replaced by a mask of pale exhaustion. Blood stained his red coat, not only his own, but that of countless fallen enemies that had dared try to go against him. His sword, Ace, lay near, the blade steaming. Roger could barely move a finger, the weight of the last hours finally catching up to him, leaving his reserve of energy completely empty.

For a long and endless moment, there were no words, only the pained gasps of two men who had fought together against doom and now faced reality. They had won, but the victory had cost almost their very existence. The alliance, necessary to survive, had come to an end.

Garp tried to get up, a pathetic attempt that only managed to bring him into a hunched position with his hands on his knees. The idea of walking to a Den Den Mushi or finding a Navy ship to pick it up seemed as monumental a task as confronting Xebec again. The island was deserted of civilians and surviving Marines, leaving only him and Roger.

Roger cleared his throat, a rough and dry sound that broke the heavy silence. He slowly raised a hand, pointing to the sea where the Gold Jackson, despite having also been punished, waited patiently, the proud silhouette of his visible mast against the grey sky.

"Garp," Roger whispered, his voice missing his usual excitement . "We have to get out of here. If the fight didn’t kill us, the World Government definitely will when it sends a patrol to 'clean' the mess."

Garp barely nodded. The logic was irrefutable. He didn’t know he was going to deal with everything that had happened but for now the priority was leaving alive. However the thought of boarding the pirate’s ship was an offense to every fiber of his being. It was the last line he had ever dared cross.

Roger made an effort to push himself and sit upright. His smile returned, but it was faint. He looked at Garp.

"I have a couple of good emergency boats," Roger continued, speaking slowly, measuring every word. "I can take you on a route, drop you off near a Marine base in the West Blue, or wherever it suits you best. You’ll be safe, Garp. You can... rest. And eat your ridiculous donuts."

Garp straightened up a bit, his expression hardened into pure suspicion. Despite his exhaustion, the Vice-Admiral’s mind was immediately put on high alert. Roger, the man who had asked him to join his crew in every fight, every encounter, every birthday and every holiday, was offering him safe passage on his ship. Garp had learned to distrust any act of kindness from Roger, as it usually came with a lifetime contract.

"What’s the trick, Roger?" Garp spat the words, feeling the salty taste of the ash in his mouth. "You know I’m not joining your ridiculous pirate ship. Is this an attempt to soften me? A new recruitment strategy? If so, I’d rather swim to the Grand Line with one hand tied behind my back."

The mocking tone  was common, the automatic reaction of years of rivalry. But this time, Roger did not laugh with his usual loudness. He smiled, and it was different: it was genuinely sad.

The pirate ran his hand through his hair soaked in sweat and mud. The movement was slow, painful. He looked Garp straight in the eye, and for the first time, there was no mockery, only respect and understanding.

"You know, Garp," said Roger, his voice barely audible. "I’m not going to ask. I won’t ask again. It’s not a trick, and it’s not a recruitment plan. It’s just... a favor. An offer, because even if you’re a marine and I’m a pirate I don’t want to see you go down, not today, and not without me doing it."

Roger paused, gazing at the smoky horizon. "I remember what you said to me during the fight.”

If I quit! Who will protect the marines?

"I would not respect your truth if I asked you to join me now. So I won’t. I just want you to get home, Garp. I want you to recover, so that the next time we see each other, you can at least raise your fists."

Garp looked down at his broken fists. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was harsh.

"Shut up, Roger," Garp interrupted, and the strength in his words made Roger stop. The vice admiral was not angry, but exposed. It was the moment of truth, freed by the exhaustion and honesty of his rival.

"Shut up and listen to me, 'cause I’m only gonna say it once, not even the sea will hear me repeat this." Garp straightened up again, gathering the little dignity he had left. "I... I considered it. Just now. For a split second, I thought about joining you."

Roger’s expression froze. The faint smile faded, leaving a blank of pure wonder.

Garp continued, the words coming out as painful confessions. "Look at this world, Roger. The Celestial Dragons, those idiots who believe themselves gods, using others for their entertainment and pleasure. The World Government rots with corruption. I have seen it. I see it every day. And I’ve seen it here, where this island was used as a hunting game."

Garp hit the ground with his fist. A simple blunt blow, full of frustration.

"And you say you offer me freedom. The freedom to burn everything. The freedom to sail without rules. I’ve been hearing it for years, and it sounds good, Roger." Garp’s eyes locked with his rival’s.

"The Navy is corrupt, yes. But justice isn’t. And as long as justice exists, I am the fist that will defend it. For the weak, for those who cannot. It is my duty, and it’s because I care. And you know it. So even if for a mere second I considered getting on that ship of yours for good, I would never do it. Because I could never forgive myself. Because there’s people who look at our flag, our uniforms and hope– know, they know we’ll help them. And I want to be there."

Roger heard every word from Garp. He didn’t laugh, he didn’t interrupt, he didn’t even make a move. And when he finished, his response was deep and slow, filled with emotion.

"I understand," Roger said. "Whahaha! Damn it, Garp! Who am I kidding? You’re the most honorable and stupid Marine in the world!" Roger hit the ground with his fist, but it was a blow of joyful frustration. "You’re right. I won’t say I share your perspective but I get your duty. I respect it, I respect you. And gives you reason to continue chasing me."

Roger's smile was pure happiness, the first one since they set foot on this island.

Roger managed to stand, stumbling. He approached Garp, who was still sitting and gave him a painfully affectionate pat on the shoulder.

"But hear me well, Marine," said Roger, his voice regaining some of its usual din, though it was still rough. "You need to get out of here now. I’ll get you in the Oro Jackson, and my crew will give you medical attention. Don’t worry, they won’t brainwash you. But as soon as we can both stand for more than a couple of minutes without vomiting..."

Roger smiled, full of challenge and life. "I’ll be waiting for you to recover, Garp. Because as soon as you recover, I’ll be ready to escape. And you will come after me. The Grand Line wouldn’t be the same without you, Garp. The world wouldn’t be the same without that Fist trying to hit me in every port. So get your strength back, and I’ll do the same."

Garp was forced to stand up, feeling the burning pain. He looked at Roger, and for a moment, rivalry, friendship and duty mingled into one powerful emotion.

"Roger," grunted Garp, a glimpse of his own fierce and tired smile crossing his face. "Thank you. Now take me to your stupid ship. And if I see a single skull in my blanket, I swear I’ll burn it."