Chapter 26: The First Chase
The Oro Jackson slid through the water like a blade.
She was faster than any ship Kyle had sailed on, her hull barely disturbing the surface, her sails taut with wind. The crew was still finding their places—Jabba at the galley, Rayleigh at the helm, Nozdon already stretched out on the forecastle. Roger stood at the bow, one foot on the railing, watching the horizon.
"She's perfect," Roger said, not looking back.
Kyle leaned against the main mast, feeling the vibration of the wood beneath his palm. The adam wood hummed with a low, steady song. "Tom did good work."
"We did good work." Roger turned, grinning. "Your idea with the cannon. The hull shape. Tom said you helped with the final plank."
Kyle shrugged. "I just listened to the wood."
Roger laughed. "You're modest. That's a good quality. For now."
He was about to say more when Pittam's voice rang from the crow's nest. "Ships ahead! Many ships! Marines!"
The deck exploded into motion. Mu Gulian was at the rail with his spyglass in seconds. Spencer's hand went to his sword. Miller hefted his hammer.
Kyle closed his eyes, sending out a vibration pulse. The returns came back fast—ships, at least a dozen, arranged in a wide crescent. And at their center, a presence he knew.
"It's Garp," Kyle said.
Roger's grin widened. "Kuhahaha! He came to see the new ship!"
The lead warship was already closing, its deck crowded with Marines. Garp stood at the bow, coat billowing, a rice cracker in one hand. Beside him, a younger captain Kyle didn't recognize—but he recognized the rank. This wasn't a small patrol. Garp had brought a fleet.
"Roger!" Garp's voice boomed across the water. "You think a new ship is going to save you?"
"Kuhahaha! I think she's going to leave you in the dust!"
Garp laughed. "Let's see about that! All ships, fire!"
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The first volley came in a wall of iron.
Rayleigh didn't flinch. "Hard to port!"
The Oro Jackson heeled, her hull cutting a sharp turn that would have shattered a lesser ship. Cannonballs screamed past, close enough to spray the deck with seawater.
Kyle planted his feet, focusing. He couldn't block the cannonballs—not against a full fleet. But he could make them miss.
He sent a low, wide vibration through the water, creating a pattern of conflicting currents beneath the nearest warships. Their aim wavered. The next volley went wide.
"Keep moving!" Rayleigh called. "Jabba, get us out of this line!"
Jabba took the helm, spinning the wheel. The Oro Jackson responded instantly, darting between two frigates before they could adjust their formation.
Garp's ship was bearing down on them. The man himself was at the rail, his fist already black with Haki. "You're not getting away that easy!"
He leaped.
Roger met him mid‑air, sword drawn. The clash sent a shockwave across the deck, rattling teeth.
"Kuhahaha! You're getting slow, Garp!"
"I'm just warming up!"
They traded blows on the deck of a Marine frigate, neither giving ground. Kyle watched for a moment, then turned back to the battle. The rest of the fleet was closing in.
"We need to break through," Rayleigh said, appearing beside him. "Can you give us an opening?"
Kyle looked at the water ahead. Two frigates were moving to block their path, their cannons already tracking.
"I can make them hesitate," he said. "Not long."
"Long enough."
Kyle moved to the bow, placing his hands on the figurehead. He sent a focused vibration through the water—not a wave, but a pattern, a false signal that made the sea between the frigates look rougher than it was. The helmsmen on both ships hesitated, adjusting course.
The gap opened.
"Now!" Rayleigh shouted.
Jabba threw the helm hard. The Oro Jackson shot through the gap, her hull clearing the frigates by bare meters. Cannonballs tore the air behind them, but they were through.
Garp saw them breaking away. He shoved Roger back with a heavy punch and vaulted onto the rail of the frigate. "You think that's enough?!"
He grabbed a cannonball from a crate, coated it in Haki, and threw. The ball screamed toward the Oro Jackson's stern.
Kyle saw it coming. He couldn't block it—not directly. But he could deflect it. He sent a shockwave from his palm, meeting the cannonball at an angle, just enough to change its course.
It hit the water ten meters off their port side, sending up a tower of spray.
The Oro Jackson surged forward. The Marine fleet fell behind, their formation broken.
---
On the deck, the crew was cheering. Miller was laughing, slapping Nozdon on the back. Jabba had the helm, a grin splitting his face. Roger vaulted back aboard, landing light.
"Kuhahaha! She's fast!"
Rayleigh was already at the chart table, plotting their course. "They'll regroup. Garp won't let us go that easily."
"Let him chase." Roger leaned against the main mast, arms crossed. "He'll never catch us."
Kyle sat on a crate, his hands shaking slightly. He'd pushed himself hard—the vibration pattern, the deflection, keeping the crew coordinated. He was tired, but alive. The ship was intact.
Spencer appeared beside him, a cup of water in hand. "You did well."
Kyle took the water. "I almost missed that last cannonball."
"Almost doesn't count." Spencer's voice was calm. "What matters is you didn't."
Across the deck, the crew was already settling into the rhythm of the ship. Miller was checking the ropes. Mu Gulian was cleaning his pistols. Nozdon was climbing the rigging, testing the new lines.
The Oro Jackson sailed on, her wake a white line across the blue.
Kyle watched the horizon. Somewhere behind them, Garp was regrouping. Somewhere ahead, the Grand Line was waiting.
He finished his water, set down the cup, and went to find Rayleigh. There was work to do.
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End of Chapter 26
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