A full day had passed since the Marines had begun their retreat back towards Headquarters. The once chaotic battlefield was now eerily still, marked only by the wreckage of war and the memories of countless lives lost. The Marines' great warships sailed away from the battleground, their flags barely fluttering in the solemn breeze.
Aboard one of the largest battleships, deep within the confines of a meeting room, the weight of their defeat lingered heavily in the air.
The room was dimly lit, casting a shadow over the six men seated around the massive table. Garp, Zephyr, Kizaru, Aokiji, Akainu, and Sengoku sat in silence, the mood oppressive, this was one of if not the greatest losses the Marines have had.
No one spoke.
The only sound was the occasional creak of the wooden floor and the distant crashing of the waves outside. Then, finally, a gruff voice shattered the silence.
"…What's the next step?" Garp asked, his deep voice heavy with unspoken frustration.
No one answered.
His fingers curled into a fist as he exhaled sharply through his nose. He glanced toward Sengoku, his oldest friend, the man now burdened with making sense of this disaster.
"If we don't act now…" Garp continued, "If we don't do something about losing Kong... our Fleet Admiral... the Marines will suffer setbacks we can't recover from." His tone was firm, demanding an answer, demanding action.
Sengoku remained still, his eyes shut tightly as if trying to block out the pain. But there was no avoiding it. Slowly, his eyelids lifted, revealing eyes bloodshot from sorrow and rage. The others turned their gazes toward him, searching for some semblance of hope.
Only Zephyr kept his head down, motionless.
Sengoku finally spoke, his voice steady despite the storm within him.
"I'll go to Mary Geoise first," he said. "Then we'll take it from there."
A pause. Then, one by one, the others nodded in silent agreement.
There was nothing more to say.
One by one, they stood and exited the room, leaving Sengoku behind. Zephyr remained, the last to move. He took a step forward, then another, before his knees buckled. His body trembled as he buckled to the floor.
"I… I… I'm sorry…" Zephyr's voice cracked, barely above a whisper. Tears slipped from his eyes, staining the floor beneath him. His hands clenched into fists.
Sengoku's gaze softened. "It's alri-"
"It's all my fault!" Zephyr suddenly shouted, his voice echoing in the chamber.
Down the hallway, Garp stopped in his tracks. His jaw tightened, and a tick of irritation pulsed at his temple. Without hesitation, he turned and stormed back toward the room, his footsteps loud and purposeful.
Zephyr remained on the floor, still weeping when Garp reached him. Without warning, Garp's fist swung forward, slamming into Zephyr's jaw with a force that sent him tumbling back.
"Stop ya damn crying, Zephyr!" Garp's voice was laced with fury, his massive frame towering over Zephyr, an Ex-Admiral.
Zephyr wiped his mouth, tasting blood. He looked up at Garp with wide, teary eyes.
"This is how life is!" Garp bellowed. "Crying won't change a damn thing! Look at me... It wasn't your fault! Kong wouldn't want this! He wouldn't want us sulking in a corner, mourning his death!" Garp's veins bulged as his frustration boiled over.
"He'd want us to stand tall! To keep fighting for justice! For the peace of the world!"
Zephyr could only stare, speechless.
Garp exhaled sharply, unable to bear the sight of his broken comrade any longer. He turned on his heel, storming out of the room. With a powerful swing of his fist, he punched the wall in front of him, cracking it open before disappearing down the hallway.
"Draco…"
That was the last thing he muttered, each step carrying an unshakable resolve.
[Above Deck]
Up on the main deck, away from the tension below, the three admiral candidates leaned against the railing, watching the endless stretch of sea. The wind was calm, the salt in the air doing little to ease their exhausted minds.
Kizaru took a long drag from his blunt, the embers glowing faintly in the dusk. The smoke curled around his face as he exhaled, his glasses reflected the fading sunlight.
Aokiji, standing beside him, turned his head slightly. Kizaru noticed and lazily extended the blunt toward him.
"Want one?" Kizaru asked, his usual sluggish drawl carrying a hint of amusement.
Aokiji chuckled, shaking his head slightly before reconsidering. "Sure… why not?" He accepted it and took a slow drag, letting the burn settle in his chest before exhaling.
Akainu, standing a few feet away, shot them both a disapproving glance before silently reaching into his coat and pulling out a cigar. Without a word, he lit it and took a deep, slow puff.
They stood in relative silence, each lost in their thoughts.
Then, without warning, Kizaru muttered, "I almost died."
Both Aokiji and Akainu turned to him, surprised by the rare candidness in his voice.
"Life's too short," Kizaru continued, his fingers lightly rubbing his neck, almost as if he were caressing it. "Rayleigh… his sword was right here," he motioned just above his collarbone. "A second later and… I would've...," He let the sentence hang.
"I was lucky"
Aokiji raised an eyebrow. "Huh."
Kizaru chuckled, shaking his head. "That's what Rayleigh said."
There was a brief pause. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, all three of them smirked.
A quiet chuckle escaped Aokiji's lips. Akainu, despite himself, allowed the ghost of a grin to form.
Then, in unison, a small, tired laugh broke out amongst the three.
"Hahaha."
Even in the aftermath of tragedy, they remained gleeful.
[Water 7]
The lively streets of Water 7 were filled with laughter and the clinking of mugs, echoing through the night as the Roger Pirates celebrated their victory. Inside the Galley-La headquarters, the energy was loud with pirates, shipwrights, and even some of the locals who had gathered for the grand feast. Alcohol flowed like rivers, and the cheers of men who had just cheated death filled the air.
"Tahahahahaha!" Tom, the shipwright, bellowed, his massive arms wrapped tightly around Roger's shoulders as sake dripped from his mouth. "The Marines suffered a big loss this time! Tahahahaha!"
"Bwahahaha! Damn right they did!" Roger shouted, raising his drink high. The alcohol moved around over the rim of his cup, spilling onto the table, but he couldn't care less. His wide grin stretched from ear to ear as he put his foot on the table, standing tall.
"This is a day for celebration! The Roger Pirates Great Victory over Marines!" Roger roared with infectious excitement. The entire room erupted in cheers, drinks clashing together in a gracious toast to victory!
Though the atmosphere was joyous, the battle had left its marks. Some pirates sat nursing wounds, wrapped in tight bandages. Doringo, in particular, had paid a heavy price, his left arm was gone. Despite this, his spirit remained unbroken. With his one remaining arm, he playfully shoved his crewmates as they laughed and made jokes at his expense.
"Oi, Doringo! At least ya still got one arm to hold your drink!"
"Hah! And now we don't have to worry about you spilling booze with both hands!"
Doringo, drunk off his ass, swayed in his seat before bursting into laughter. "Dohaha! Damn right I do!" He raised his drink with his only hand, slamming it against the table. "I'll just drink twice as much to make up for it!" The crew erupted in laughter again, reveling in their hard-earned triumph.
While the main party raged inside, not everyone could fit in the building. Out in the open air, another group was deep in their own drunkenness.
Draco, with a wild grin plastered on his face, swayed back and forth with Buggy and Shanks, the three of them deep in their drunken stupor. Their laughter rang across the docks as they danced and stumbled around, their faces flushed red from drinking far too much.
On the side, Enel stood with his arms crossed, sipping on a mug of apple juice, looking unimpressed. He let out a small scoff before muttering, "My captain doesn't have a single worry in the world…"
Beside him, Rayleigh chuckled as he watched Draco and the younger pirates celebrating without a care. "Haha… You're right. Your captain is one-of-a-kind."
Rayleigh took another sip, his eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced at Draco. The 9-year-old kid had fought against both Kong and Garp, taking damage that should have left him near death. And yet…
'Crocus examined him… no injuries at all,' Rayleigh thought. 'After all those strong attacks, there should be at least some sign of damage, yet here he is… drinking like nothing happened.'
His thoughts were interrupted when a loud, drunken voice called out to Enel.
"Oi! Lightning Rod! What are ya doin' just standin' there? Ahahahaha!" Buggy stumbled toward Enel, his red nose practically glowing from all the alcohol in his system.
A vein popped on Enel's forehead. "Damn red nose…" he muttered through gritted teeth. Sparks of electricity crackled around his body.
Then, in a flash, he lunged forward.
"AHHHH! AHAHAHAHAH!" Buggy screamed, his drunkenness vanishing in an instant as he scrambled to escape.
ZAP!
Lightning arced through the air, striking Buggy in the back. His whole body convulsed as he let out an exaggerated screech before collapsing into a smoking heap.
"Yahahaha! Too easy!" Enel laughed triumphantly, folding his arms.
"Oof-!"
Enel barely had time to react before Shanks suddenly appeared in his field of vision.
"Lemme join this tag game!" the red-haired youth grinned mischievously.
ZAP!
Another bolt of lightning shot through the air. Shanks let out a short yelp before dropping to the ground, twitching.
Enel smirked and dusted off his hands. "I guess it's your turn now, huh?"
Buggy, who had just recovered, glanced at Shanks before his body suddenly split apart, his dismembered parts flying in different directions. He reassembled himself a few meters away, laughing.
Shanks grinned, his boots digging into the ground as he prepared to launch forward.
"YOUR TURN THEN, BUGGY!"
"EEK-!" Buggy screamed as Shanks lunged, slamming a fist into his face.
A moment later, the game of tag resumed, Buggy, chasing Enel, Shanks chasing Buggy, and the drunken duo and Enel causing absolute chaos on the docks.
Rayleigh, still watching, let out a long sigh and wiped his forehead.
'Aren't they supposed to be injured…?'
His gaze then shifted to Draco, who was completely knocked out, hugging an empty barrel of booze with a content grin on his face.
"AHH! That was the last barrel of booze!" one of the crewmates shouted in distress.
"Sam! We need to get more!"
"Alright!"