Chapter 19: The Hero Arrives
Kyle stood at the bow, fishing rod in hand, baitless line trailing in the water. The sun was warm, the sea calm, and for once, no one was trying to kill them.
It was peaceful.
Which meant, in Kyle's experience, that something was about to go wrong.
"Island ho!" Pittam's voice rang from the crow's nest. "Wait—there are ships in front of the island. Marine ships. Five of them. The lead ship is flying a Rear Admiral's flag."
The deck erupted.
Miller grabbed his hammer. Mu Gulian's hand went to his pistol. Spencer sighed like a man whose tea had been disturbed.
Roger burst from his cabin, already grinning. "Kuhahaha! A warm‑up before lunch!"
Kyle set his fishing rod aside. A Rear Admiral's fleet was nothing to ignore, but with Roger and Rayleigh on board, it was hardly a threat. He glanced at the newer crew members—Miller, Mu Gulian, Spencer, Pittam. They were eager, still hungry to prove themselves.
Let them watch, Kyle thought. It's time they saw what two years with Roger has made.
"Captain," he said, stepping forward. "A Rear Admiral's fleet doesn't need your attention. Let me handle it."
Roger's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"
"It'll be quick." Kyle rolled his shoulders. "Besides, the new guys haven't seen what I can do."
Jabba laughed, slapping Kyle's back hard enough to stagger him. "Little Kyle showing off! I like it!"
Miller grinned. "Don't fall in the water, kid. That'd be embarrassing."
Mu Gulian said nothing, but his eyes sharpened with interest.
Roger waved a hand. "Fine, fine. Make it fast. The feast's waiting."
Kyle nodded, turned to the sea, and jumped.
---
He didn't fall.
A shockwave bloomed beneath his foot, compressing the air into a solid platform for just a heartbeat. He pushed off, another shockwave, another step. The crew behind him gasped. He smiled.
Two years of training with Rayleigh had honed his control. What had once been clumsy bursts of force was now precise, economical. He could walk on air for short distances, using his Devil Fruit to create temporary footholds. It wasn't flight, but it was close.
The Marine fleet grew larger as he approached. Five ships, the lead one a sizable frigate. On its deck, soldiers pointed at him, shouting. Kyle raised a hand, ready to send a warning shockwave across their bow—
A voice boomed across the water.
"What's that in the sky? A strange bird?"
Kyle's blood went cold.
He knew that voice. Loud, cheerful, completely unconcerned with the fact that he was a pirate and the speaker was a Marine.
He looked down.
On the frigate's deck, a man in a white Marine coat stood with his hands on his hips, staring up at him. Tall, broad, with a scar under one eye and a grin that could belong to a child or a monster. In one hand, he held a rice cracker. In the other, nothing—but that didn't matter. His fists were enough.
Monkey D. Garp.
Kyle's mind raced. Garp. The Garp. The Hero of the Marines. Roger's rival. The man who had chased them across half the Grand Line.
And I just volunteered to fight him.
"Ah! It's Roger's brat!" Garp's grin widened. "You're the one who's always running away! Looking good up there! Want to come down and join the Marines? I could use someone with spirit!"
From behind him, Kyle heard Roger's laugh carry across the water. "Kuhahaha! Garp! Still trying to recruit my crew?"
"He'd look better in white!" Garp shouted back, then turned his eyes to Kyle. "What do you say, kid? Better than hanging around a bunch of criminals!"
Kyle hovered on his shockwave platform, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. Not from exertion. From the weight of Garp's gaze.
Don't engage. Don't let him bait you.
"I'll pass," he called down. "The food's better on our ship."
Garp laughed, a booming sound that echoed off the water. "Your loss! Then I'll just have to knock some sense into you!"
He reached down, picked up a cannonball from a crate beside him, and hefted it in one hand. Kyle's eyes went wide.
Garp's fist darkened with Armament Haki. He threw.
The cannonball screamed through the air, trailing black lightning, faster than anything Kyle had ever seen. He threw himself sideways, another shockwave blasting him to the left. The cannonball passed so close he felt the wind of it tear at his clothes.
It exploded against the sea behind him, sending up a geyser taller than a mast.
"Ha! Dodged it!" Garp sounded delighted. He picked up another cannonball. "Let's see how many you can avoid!"
Kyle didn't wait. He dropped, shockwaves firing in rapid succession to change his trajectory. A second cannonball streaked past his shoulder. A third clipped the edge of his shockwave platform, shattering it and sending him spinning.
He caught himself, another platform forming beneath his feet, but Garp was already winding up a fourth throw.
This is insane, Kyle thought. He's throwing cannonballs like they're baseballs.
He didn't have time for flashy moves. He didn't have time for clever tactics. All he had was speed and instinct.
The fourth cannonball came. Kyle didn't dodge. He met it with a focused shockwave, deflecting it just enough to pass him by. The force rattled his bones, but he held.
"Not bad!" Garp's voice was approving. "Alright, kid. You've got guts. Go back to your captain. Tell him I'll catch him someday."
Kyle didn't need to be told twice. He turned and blasted back toward the ship, Garp's laughter chasing him across the water.
---
He landed on the deck in a crouch, breathing hard. His arms trembled. His ears rang.
The crew stared at him. Miller's mouth was open. Mu Gulian had forgotten his cigar. Spencer looked like he'd just seen a ghost.
Roger was laughing.
"Kuhahaha! He threw cannonballs at you! How was it?"
Kyle straightened, forcing his hands to stop shaking. "He's insane."
"That's Garp!" Roger clapped him on the shoulder. "You did good. Most people freeze when he looks at them."
Rayleigh appeared at Kyle's side, a cup of water in his hand. "He's not wrong. You held your ground."
Kyle took the water, drank, let the coolness settle his nerves. "I didn't do anything. I just ran."
"You survived," Rayleigh said. "Against Garp, that's something."
The Marine ships were turning away, Garp's laughter still audible across the water. The crew's tension faded into excited chatter.
"He threw cannonballs with his hands," Miller said.
"And Kyle dodged them," Jabba added, grinning.
"Senior," Pittam said from the crow's nest, his voice carrying a new respect.
Kyle sat on a crate, watching the Marines disappear over the horizon. He thought about Garp's words—join the Marines—and Roger's easy confidence. Two years ago, he would have been terrified. Now, he was just… tired. And maybe a little proud.
"You'll face him again," Roger said, sitting beside him. "One day, you won't have to run."
Kyle looked at his hands. They were steady now. "I know."
Roger grinned. "Good. Now let's eat. I'm starving."
The crew cheered. The island ahead beckoned. And Kyle let himself relax, just for a moment, in the warmth of the sun and the laughter of his crew.
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End of Chapter 19
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