Garp couldn't win the war of words, and he couldn't resort to force without burying the innocent civilians of Water 7 alongside his target.
He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Helpless and frustrated, the Marine Hero let out a heavy sigh, found a large piece of rubble in the shipyard, and sat down.
Seeing the hostility fade, Dragon voluntarily approached his father and sat down next to him. In a quiet voice, Dragon recounted his specific experiences during the purge of the Sorbet Kingdom. He explained the starvation, the corruption, and the choices they made.
Naturally, Dragon completely omitted any mention of Skypiea. That was the Crimson Harvest's main base, and even though Garp was his father, Dragon wasn't naive enough to hand the Marines their coordinates.
Nearby, Tom the shipwright was finally recovering from the lingering, euphoric aftereffects of York's Holy Light. The massive fish-man looked around at the two opposing forces silently sitting in his ruined yard, blushed deeply, and quietly excused himself to go home, take a cold shower, and change his clothes.
Not long after, the dog-headed warship—which had been pushed miles away by the Haki collision—sailed back into the harbor and docked at a proper Water 7 pier.
Garp's right-hand man, Bogart, disembarked. Currently a stoic young man in his early twenties, Bogart possessed excellent tactical sense. Seeing the situation from afar, he ordered the rest of the Marine soldiers to remain at the pier or patrol the town. He approached Garp alone.
"Vice Admiral Garp... your snacks."
"Oh, it's Bogart," Garp grunted, catching the bag of rice crackers (senbei). "Right on time. I was getting bored."
Bogart stood silently, his hand resting near the hilt of his sword. He looked over at York, who had casually gone back to helping Ivankov move massive Adam Wood timbers.
"Aren't you going to arrest him, sir?" Bogart asked quietly.
"Can't," Garp answered, loudly crunching on a cracker. "You saw the shockwave when we clashed. If we don't want the civilians of Water 7 to suffer massive casualties, we can only sit here and watch that scoundrel build his ship."
Bogart fell silent.
If this had happened a year ago, the young swordsman might have strongly urged Garp to fulfill his duty and strike down the pirate, regardless of the collateral damage. But after witnessing the atrocities of God Valley, Bogart's rigid views on "Absolute Justice" had fractured.
After a moment of contemplation, Bogart found a nearby stone and sat down next to Garp. He unbuckled his sword, rested it across his lap, and simply stared at the pirates working in the yard.
The day passed peacefully in a bizarre, unspoken truce.
That evening, York led his crew into a popular Water 7 tavern for dinner.
As York, Stussy, Dragon, and Ivankov pushed through the swinging doors, they froze. The tavern was already packed to the brim with off-duty Marines.
Hundreds of eyes instantly locked onto the four pirates. The air grew so thick with tension you could cut it with a sword. Right behind the pirates, pushing through the doors, were Garp and Bogart.
Dragon and Ivankov instantly broke into a cold sweat. Even the unflappable Stussy felt a spike of genuine anxiety. Being sandwiched between a tavern full of armed Marines and Garp was a death trap.
York, however, acted as if he had just walked into an empty room. He strolled directly to the bar counter, slammed a massive stack of Berries onto the wood, and turned to the crowd.
"BARTENDER! BRING OUT ALL YOUR LIQUOR!" York roared, grinning wildly. "I'M PAYING FOR EVERY DRINK IN THIS ROOM TONIGHT!!!"
The entire tavern fell dead silent. You could hear a pin drop.
But the next second, a deafening roar almost blew the roof off the building.
"HOW GENEROUS!!!"
"AS EXPECTED OF A THREE-BILLION-BERRY PIRATE! A TRUE BIG SHOT!!"
"BROTHERS! DRINK YOUR FILL! LET'S DRINK THIS BASTARD DRY!!!"
"WOOOOOO!!!"
The Marines cheered enthusiastically, raising their mugs. In that surreal moment, it was as if York wasn't the most wanted man in the sea, but their favorite commanding officer.
Stussy let out a long, shaky breath, her hand slipping away from her hidden weapon. For a second, she thought a bloodbath was inevitable. Fortunately, it was just the chaotic, unpredictable romance of the sea.
Swaying her hips gracefully, she walked over and took a seat next to York. Garp and Bogart shoved their way to the bar, taking the stools right next to them.
Only then did Dragon and Ivankov nervously follow, sitting on Stussy's other side.
They had barely sat down when a burly, scarred Marine soldier walked up, threw a thick arm around Dragon's neck, and dragged him away from the bar toward a crowded booth.
"Dragon, you rascal!" the Marine laughed. "I heard that when you joined the military, you didn't even mention your relationship with Vice Admiral Garp! You started from the very bottom as a chore boy! That takes backbone!"
Dragon was held in an awkward, uncomfortable headlock, but he wasn't angry.
The man holding him was an "uncle" who had watched him grow up. Though not blood relatives, these veterans were Garp's oldest and most loyal subordinates.
Facing the teasing of the men he had once considered family, Dragon smiled awkwardly.
"As my father's son, I'm under a lot of pressure," Dragon admitted, accepting a sloshing mug of ale. "If I had used his prestige to debut as a commissioned officer, I know all of you would have looked down on me."
The old soldiers burst into boisterous laughter, clapping him on the back.
As Dragon looked around the table, however, his smile faded slightly. Mixed in with the laughter, he noticed the gaps. Many of the familiar, smiling faces from his childhood were gone, replaced by young, unfamiliar recruits.
It was a stark reminder. At God Valley, Garp had won the ultimate renown as the "Marine Hero," but his unit had paid a devastating price in blood.
"Hey, Dragon," an old soldier said, his tone turning slightly serious as he slung an arm over Dragon's shoulder. He gestured across the room toward York. "I can understand you getting disillusioned and leaving the Marines... but why follow him?"
The soldier shivered. "That guy's ability is downright nasty. I made a huge fool of myself in front of the new recruits today when that wave hit us."
Dragon smiled again, his eyes softening. "Ability is just an ability. Character is what matters. York isn't a pirate in the traditional sense. He's... he's going to change the world for the better."
The veteran stared at Dragon for a long moment, searching the young revolutionary's eyes.
"I see..." the old soldier finally nodded, a grin returning to his scarred face. He patted Dragon's shoulder forcefully. "If that's your judgment, kid, then we trust it!"
The veteran stood up, raising his wooden mug high above his head.
"BROTHERS!" he bellowed over the noise of the tavern. "TO DRAGON! AND TO FINDING NEW IDEALS!"
"CHEERS!!!"
Glasses clinked, liquor spilled, and the bizarre little drinking party—funded by the world's most wanted pirate and enjoyed by the Marines hunting him—remained lively well past midnight.
The next morning.
The alcohol had worn off, and reality returned.
York, Dragon, and Ivankov were back at the scrapyard, hauling massive beams of Adam Wood alongside Tom.
Garp, Bogart, and a large group of Marines—many of whom were nursing massive hangovers—arrived at the perimeter. They stood in a neat, disciplined line, arms crossed, silently watching the pirates work.
Ivankov's movements grew incredibly stiff. Under the intense, collective glare of the Marines, he felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.
They were natural enemies, after all. It had been easy to ignore the tension while drinking on York's dime the night before, but today, with the Marines back in their crisp white uniforms and acting serious, the psychological pressure was immense.
York noticed Ivankov trembling so hard he could barely walk. He dropped his timber, wiped the sweat from his brow, and turned to look at Garp's group with a deadpan, half-lidded stare.
"I know what you're doing," York yelled across the yard, hands on his hips. "You're waiting for me to finish building the ship so I can set sail. That way, you can attack me out on the open ocean and avoid destroying Water 7."
Garp picked his nose, looking away nonchalantly.
"BUT IF THAT'S THE PLAN," York roared, his voice echoing off the shipyard walls, "WHAT'S THE POINT OF YOU IDIOTS JUST STANDING THERE STARING AT US?!"
York pointed an accusing finger at the baffled Marines.
"GET OVER HERE AND HELP PULL THESE ROPES!"
"The sooner you help me build this pirate ship, the sooner you can try to arrest me at sea! Don't you Marines even understand basic logic?!"
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