Raising Legends in Roger’s Shadow

On the other side of the island, Ritter had set up a makeshift outdoor kitchen using his Blood Fog, with a Navy cook helping on the side.

He used to be the assistant, but honestly, when it came to pirate-style cooking, all they seemed to know was grilling meat. Ritter couldn't take it anymore. He introduced some classic dishes from the Great Dragon Kingdom, and after just one demonstration, he was firmly established as the head chef.

Scarlet mist swirled around his hands with uncanny precision, even allowing him to control the heat of the fire exactly.

"Mr. Ritter, are you sure this red mist isn't poisonous?" a newly assigned Navy mess cook asked nervously.

"I heard it can melt people alive," another muttered. "Is it really safe to cook with that?"

Ritter chuckled and waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. It only looks red it's completely harmless."

As he spoke, he twitched a finger, and the mist carried a mix of spices through the air, scattering them evenly across the sizzling meat. A mouthwatering aroma burst forth instantly.

"Wooooah!" the Navy soldiers gasped in unison.

Sunbell emerged from the sea with several other sailors, each of them hauling a wriggling, still-alive fish. "Good haul today!"

He vaulted easily onto the shore and began processing the seafood with expert ease.

"Wanna try some Fishman-style sashimi?" Sunbell grinned, revealing his sharp teeth. "Fresh doesn't get fresher."

The sailors eagerly crowded around.

"We've seen Mr. Sunbell's knife work before."

"No kidding. When I go home, nothing I find ever compares to what he slices up."

"Well, that's an honor. Don't worry we caught plenty today. I'll make sushi for everyone later."

"Awesome!"

Nearby, Elio sat strumming his lyre, a gentle melody floating across the beach. A few young sailors unconsciously nodded along to the rhythm; one even began humming quietly.

"Hey, don't forget you're Navy!" barked Rotte, his face slightly flushed, still feeling guilty about enjoying the pirate-cooked meat.

"What's the big deal?" Jabba laughed, clapping him on the back. "Music doesn't take sides!"

Farther down the beach, a group of Navy soldiers had gathered around Blumarine, eyeing her strange equipment with curiosity.

"What's that thing?" one asked, pointing to a device on her belt.

"Oh, this?" Blumarine smiled. "It's a custom-built climate regulator. Lets me control wind direction in a small area."

"That's amazing!" the soldiers exclaimed in awe.

Ritter looked out over the absurdly peaceful scene, chuckling softly to himself. If the World Government saw this, they'd probably lose their minds.

Rayleigh had somehow appeared beside him, a cup of sake in hand. "That's just how Garp's crew is. They don't chase us out of hate. It's just about sides."

Just then, a thunderous boom echoed in the distance another cliff collapsing under the shockwaves of Roger and Garp's battle.

Everyone glanced up briefly, then calmly went back to what they were doing.

Ritter shook his head with a smile and turned back to prepping food.

"Mr. Ritter…" a timid voice called out.

He looked down to see a boy maybe seven years old staring up at him with wide, hungry eyes. He was dressed like a Navy trainee, though clearly too young to be enlisted. Probably someone Garp picked up somewhere, thinking he was talented. Honestly, Garp treats chasing Roger like some kind of Navy field trip.

The kid stared longingly at the meat Ritter was holding.

"Want some?" Ritter raised an eyebrow.

The boy nodded vigorously.

Smiling, Ritter used his Blood Fog to lift a perfectly grilled steak and passed it to the child. "Careful it's hot."

"Thank you!!" the boy said, biting into the meat with glee, eyes squeezed shut in happiness.

Rayleigh watched the scene unfold and murmured, "Sometimes I wonder... if it weren't for these divided allegiances, what kind of world we could've had."

Ritter looked toward the distant battlefield, then back to the quiet harmony around him. "Probably something like this," he replied softly.

Six Days Later

The sea shimmered golden in the setting sun. Grilled food came and went, sake barrels were drained to the last drop.

As the final ray of sunlight disappeared below the horizon, the sound of battle at last ceased.

Roger and Garp, both bruised and battered, staggered back arm in arm. Their bodies were covered in injuries, but their faces shone with satisfied grins.

"I'm starving!" Roger bellowed, charging toward the grill.

Garp snatched a whole roasted lamb leg from the Navy cook with a growl. "Mine!"

When the feast was over, Garp stood at the ship's gangplank, glaring back at Roger, who was gnawing on a fish skeleton.

Gritting his teeth, Garp growled, "Next time… I will throw your ass into Impel Down!"

Roger, cheeks stuffed, laughed through a mouthful of food. "Kuhahaha! You've said that sooo many times!"

Garp clicked his tongue, turned to leave… then suddenly froze. He reached into his coat his expression darkened.

"ROGER!!!" he roared. "Where the hell is my senbei?!"

Roger blinked innocently and held up his hands. "Senbei? No idea what you're talking about! Maybe you left it on the ship?"

But the bulging package in his coat betrayed him completely.

Garp's veins bulged with rage, fists clenching so hard they cracked, but in the end, he just gave an angry huff and jumped onto the warship.

"Set sail!!" he barked.

The sailors scrambled to pull up anchor. The warship slowly pulled away from the island.

Ritter stood at the edge of the beach, watching them go. Then he noticed something on the deck, several Navy sailors were discreetly waving back at them.

The little trainee even shouted through teary eyes, "Mr. Ritter! Next time I'll bring Navy Special Barbecue Sauce!!"

Ritter couldn't help but laugh. He raised a hand in return, though he didn't reply.

Rayleigh stood beside him, watching the warship fade into the horizon. "Garp's men, huh? All just like him. Gotta admit that is Garp in a nutshell. Hahaha."

Meanwhile, Sunbell was counting off today's "loot" a few Navy uniforms (relegated to rags), and a crate of spices (liberated through "creative borrowing").

Elio strummed his lyre, humming a made-up tune:

"Navy and pirates grilled fish tonight~

Tomorrow's headline~ will be delightfully absurd~"

("Shut up, Snow Leopard," someone muttered.)

Ritter didn't seem worried. He had already taken care of all the seagulls within a hundred kilometers of the island a quiet little trick that explained why the World Government hadn't caught on after all these years.

The fighting was real. The injuries were real.

Roger came over with a grin, pulling a half-eaten pack of senbei from his coat. "Here, take one! Anyone who saw it gets a piece! Garp's so stingy won't even let go of half a pack!"

As Ritter looked around at the cheerful, laughing crowd, he thought to himself 

This is how it should be. This damn world… and those damn Celestial Dragons.

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