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The waves lapped lazily at the shores of the Island of Jaya, carrying with them the scent of salt, soaked wood, and something just a little tropical.
The beach he'd picked was in a secluded spot, a ways off the main docks.
The only sounds came from a few gulls overhead, a scattering of driftwood, and the tired scrape of a rowboat being dragged onto sand.
Kain was grumbling the entire time.
"Stupid Enel, stupid pirates, stupid hostage missions, Dumb system penalties—why is it always me? I didn't sign up for this."
His soaked Marine coat clung to his back like a shroud. His boots squelched with each step, dragging furrows into the damp sand.
His oar had snapped somewhere mid-row, now clumsily strapped to the side of the little boat with rope made from a pirate's belt.
He wasn't even sure the boat was floating anymore. Still, it's valiant efforts in helping him escape the Marine ship would never be forgotten.
He gave the thing one last shove and let it flop sideways on the sand. The Transpoder Snail yipped as it nimbly jumped off to avoid getting crushed.
It glared at Kain, made a few unsavory gestures with it's eyestalks and wandered off into the jungle.
Kain never saw it. Or rather he ignored the snail entirely as he sent a final prayer for the Dinghy. They hadn't spent enough time together for the small boat to manifest a Klabautermann, but Kain didn't care.
"May you rest in peace, S.S. Barely Seaworthy."
Then he looked up.
And froze.
Sitting on a boulder just a few dozen meters away, framed like some divine punishment against the clear blue sky, was a man. A very large man.
He wore a Marine coat over his shoulders like a cape, and his arms—crossed casually—looked like they'd been carved out of battleships. His grin? The kind of grin you'd see in your nightmares after surviving a disaster.
Garp.
Kain took a single step back, eyes wide.
"…No."
Too late.
Garp's voice thundered across the beach like a cannon blast. "KID! YOU'RE BACK!"
Kain didn't reply.
He just turned.
And began to walk back toward the water.
Not run—walk. He knew better than to run from Garp. Running would only make it worse.
He was ankle-deep in the surf when the sandy water in front of him exploded.
BOOM.
A fist the size of a cannonball slammed down into the beach, kicking up a wall of dust and pebbles. It missed him by a foot—on purpose.
"Ah ah ah," Garp called, now standing. "No running away this time!"
Kain slowly turned his head, expression blank. "You tried to kill me with a sky punch."
Garp's smile widened. "I calculated it!"
"...You what?"
"I figured out the exact amount of force needed to send your lazy ass to Sky Island." He cracked his knuckles. "You know, Jaya's directly underneath Skypiea. I aimed for efficiency."
Kain blinked. "That's… disturbingly logical."
Garp nodded. "And I figured if a violent storm rolled in or up on Sky Island, and you were napping—which you always are—then BOOM. Wind catches you, next thing you know, free ticket all the way down. Took me three Fists of Love to create a storm big enough."
Kain's jaw dropped. The way he said it...made it seem like that had been the plan all along.
"You threw me into a cloud. As a lesson? And then...you sent a storm that brought me down here?"
You mean...it wasn't Enel that pushed him off? Even the system was fooled? What the hell?!
[Apologies Protagonist. Enel was the most likely option of the suspects. System did not account for Vice Admiral Garp's...monstrosity]
Garp shrugged like he'd just suggested breakfast. "You're stronger now, right?"
Kain didn't answer.
He was too busy watching the notification scroll across his inner vision.
[Side Quest details rectified. No penalties for mission failure. To err is human, protagonist. May we continue working together.]
[System Notification: Mission Complete!]
-Objective: Discover how you fell from Skypiea.
- Reward: +3,000 BSP
- Bonus Note: Garp may or may not be a clairvoyant menace.
Kain squinted. "Wait… does that mean he is psychic?"
The last time Kain was curious about Garp, the price for the information was 15000 BSP. This time, the system was forthcoming.
[System Note: No. He's just terrifyingly good at probability. And has perfect aim.]
Kain groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I knew it. You're not remotely normal Vice Admiral."
[No one from the D family is]
Even the system agreed.
Garp cackled, and it sounded like a mountain sliding into the sea. He gave Kain a celebratory slap on the back—casual for Garp, but it nearly sent Kain face-first into the sand.
"Now come on, we're celebrating!"
"Celebrating what?" Kain muttered, rubbing his spine. "My near-death experience?"
"No!" Garp barked. "Your return! We've got a whole party waiting!"
Kain eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of party?"
Garp grinned wider. "A Marine welcome party."
Kain groaned again, already feeling a migraine coming on. "That sounds suspiciously like a trap."
"Oh, it is," Garp admitted without hesitation. "Let's go!"
The Marine battleship in the harbor looked like it had been built to punch sea kings in the face and win. Towering masts, reinforced hull, and at least ten visible cannons—per side. Even the anchor looked like it had body count.
Kain eyed the vessel from the beach with the weariness of a man approaching his own funeral. His boots squished with every step as Garp practically shoved him up the gangplank.
"Cheer up, kid! You're alive! That's reason enough to party!"
Kain muttered, "So is my funeral."
The moment they stepped on deck, a cheer exploded around them.
"CAPTAIN KAIN!"
"HE'S BACK!"
"THE LEGEND RETURNS!"
Kain's shoulders sagged. "Oh no."
He looked around. Marines of all ranks stood at attention, cheering like he was some kind of war hero. Some were throwing confetti. Others were waving flags with badly drawn caricatures of his face. One had a banner that read:
'WELCOME BACK, NAPPING NIGHTMARE!'
Kain wanted to die.
He spotted a group of young recruits chanting his name like they were at a rock concert. One of them, bright-eyed and clearly delusional, whispered, "That's him… the man who punched a Sea King into a coma just to get more sleep time…"
Kain blinked. "I… didn't do that."
Another Marine spoke up. "Sir, we heard you rescued an entire hostage crew by accident! Truly an inspiration."
"...That part might be true."
Before he could explain—or run—a heavy THUD rattled the deck.
A squad of burly Marines had just hauled a massive rectangular block onto the main deck. Black. Heavy. It shimmered faintly in the sunlight.
Sea Stone.
Kain took a step back. "Wait… is that—?"
The block hit the deck again with a dull, ominous boom as it was positioned dead center.
Then someone dropped a bucket of chalk powder beside it.
"No," Kain said immediately. "Absolutely not."
Garp marched forward, chest out, grin wide. "YES."
He clapped once, loud enough to make a nearby bird explode mid-flight. "Alright, men! You know the tradition!"
The crew roared back as one:
"ARM WRESTLING!!"
Kain flinched like someone had screamed into his soul. "Tradition?! Whose tradition?!"
A grizzled sailor with a crooked hat and a smile missing half its teeth clapped Kain on the back. "Vice Admiral Garp's official rite of return. Every Marine who vanishes or goes on leave and comes back in one piece? They wrestle the old man. It's law."
Kain turned slowly to Garp. "Did you make that law?"
"Of course!" Garp beamed.
Another Marine walked by, collecting bets.
"Fifty-thousand on the Vice Admiral!"
"Hundred-K on Kain—he looks like he might spontaneously explode!"
"Two-hundred-K on the Sea Stone table breaking first!"
Kain's eye twitched. "You're betting on the furniture now?"
The betting Marine shrugged. "Honestly, it has the highest odds."
Then Garp stepped forward, cracking his knuckles like gunshots.
With a grunt, he ripped off his shirt, revealing a chest that looked more like a mountain range than a torso. Veins like cables. Scars like battle maps. A six-pack that probably had its own rank.
He reached into the bucket of chalk and dusted his hands with ceremony, rubbing his palms together like he was preparing to break a continent.
Kain backed away. "Nope. I'm out. I'm going back to the sea."
Garp grabbed him by the collar, spinning him around like a child throwing a tantrum.
"Not until you give these men a SHOW!"
He shoved Kain toward the table. Kain stumbled forward and stared at the Sea Stone surface.
It radiated energy-sapping lethargy the second he got close. His knees wobbled. His eyelids drooped. He hadn't even touched it yet, and already he felt like lying down.
He turned to one of the Marines. "You realize this thing drains people's strength, right?"
The Marine nodded solemnly. "That's part of the challenge."
"You're all insane."
"Maybe. But we've seen him arm wrestle a Sea King once. You're safer than that guy."
Kain slowly looked back at Garp.
"...The Sea King lived?"
"No idea," the Marine replied. "We never found the body."
Kain exhaled through his nose and finally stepped forward. He stared at the Sea Stone table. Then at Garp's absurdly smug face.
And finally, at the bucket of chalk.
"Do I have to use the chalk?"
"Yes," Garp said.
"Can I die instead?"
"No," the crew replied in unison.
Kain pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's get this over with."
He stepped up to the table.
The Sea Stone immediately sapped his stamina. It was like his strength was leaking out of his pores. His fingers tingled with fatigue. His body felt like it weighed twice as much.
He placed his elbow on the table, hand open.
Garp sat down across from him and mirrored the gesture.
Their hands met in the middle.
Their fingers locked.
The deck fell silent.
One of the Marines raised his hand.
"Ready…"
Kain took a slow breath.
"Set…"
Garp's grin widened.
"BEGIN!"