Garp's Retirement

On an afternoon in the Okama Kingdom of Momoiro Island, sunlight rarely pierced the pink mist that had long shrouded the sea, scattering golden patches of light across the beach.

The obsidian warship, the Ashen, lay quietly moored in the distant deepwater harbor. Vegapunk's main body and his satellites were huddled inside the Revolutionary Army's underground sterile operating room, wholly focused on performing Kuma's final Reverse Consciousness Reorganization Surgery.

For once, Rain had not remained in the sweltering basement. Dressed in black, with a cigar glowing faintly between his lips and both hands tucked into his pockets, he strolled along Momoiro Island's shore with a cold yet leisurely air.

However, as he rounded a stretch of pink coconut palms along the sprawling beach, the sight before him made his dark gray vertical pupils narrow slightly.

On the warm beach facing the sea stood an enormous wicker lounge chair.

Reclining atop it was an old man built like a small mountain, his head full of silver hair yet his spirit brimming with vigor. He wore a loose floral vacation shirt and sprawled there without a care in the world.

His bronzed, half-bare chest was covered in shocking scars. While basking comfortably in the warm sunlight, he grabbed donuts from the side table and stuffed them into his mouth, eating with great relish, his lips glistening with grease.

Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral, former Marine hero, "Iron Fist" Monkey D. Garp!

The grave injuries he had suffered during the brutal battle against the Blackbeard Pirates on Hachinosu to rescue Koby had long since completely healed under this veteran's monstrous recovery ability. Though he bore the scars of pirates and Marines from the old era, his energy was astonishingly abundant at this moment.

Near the bushes dozens of meters away from Garp's lounge chair,