"The Roger Pirates?"
Morgans paused, caught off guard by Darren's sudden request.
"If I recall, they've already gathered all the Poneglyphs, decoded them, and are probably hunting for that so-called 'Final Island,' yes?"
His tone turned dry on the last words.
Darren looked over, drew on his cigarette, and said, "Mm. I don't know why, but I have a bad feeling."
Morgans lifted a brow, studying the black-haired youth's profile. After a beat, he ventured, skeptical, "You don't actually believe they can find that 'Final Island,' do you?"
"What's wrong with that?" Darren chuckled. "If anyone on this sea can sail the globe end to end, besides the Roger Pirates, I can't name another crew."
Morgans frowned.
"Their past voyages have been turbulent enough—legendary, even…"
Images from God Valley flickered through Darren's mind, stirring a faint ripple.
Twelve years ago, in that earth-shaking incident, Gol D. Roger was still a fledgling pirate. Yet with iron will and unmatched spirit, he joined Garp to thwart Rocks' bid to become 'King of the World.'
Nothing had shone brighter on the seas—
—until twelve years later, when this former Marine Vice Admiral stood before the Gorosei themselves.
"…But this 'Final Island' is too vague, too elusive. I doubt it even exists."
Morgans snorted. "This sea is drowning in legends—most of them fantasies. If such an island truly existed, my net would have turned up a thread by now."
Darren smiled.
"Not everything is baseless rumor. I can't prove the island exists, but I believe it does—and that it hides a secret big enough to shake the earth."
"A secret?"
At that word, Morgans' eyes lit. "Do you know something?"
"Of course not." Darren shook his head. "But I know this: whatever our enemies fear is worth attention."
"Why else ban the study of ancient texts and the Poneglyphs worldwide? To keep those records buried."
"And now every Poneglyph points to that island. That's enough for me—the island holds a truth the World Government, even the Gorosei, dread."
"Otherwise, why the massive operation against the Roger Pirates? Why send me—a washed-up Vice Admiral content to coast—to intercept the Whitebeard Pirates? In the old days, Headquarters wouldn't have scrambled like that for Roger."
Morgans fell silent, thinking, then slowly nodded, voice low. "You're right. We should watch the Roger Pirates more closely."
"Speaking of the Poneglyphs," he added, turning as if struck by a thought, "I've heard Roger's samurai from Wano can read the old script?"
Darren nodded. "What about it?"
Morgans smiled slyly. "If those stones keep a great secret, perhaps I should find experts of my own. As it happens, I have two rubbings right here."
Darren gave him a look. He didn't buy the coincidence for a second. With a scavenger for secrets like Morgans, Darren wouldn't be surprised if he claimed to have rubbings of every last Poneglyph.
"Forget that samurai," Darren said. "If you can, find a different historian."
A face crossed his mind.
"Why?" Morgans asked, surprised.
Darren laughed. "His missing arm? I'm the one who took it."
Morgans: "..."
"Oh, and my two Meito—Enma and Ame no Habakiri?" Darren added. "Those were his."
"..." Morgans: "What did he do to you?"
"Nothing much." Darren blinked. "If I need a reason, I just don't like samurai."
"…That's quite a reason." Morgans shook his head, half helpless, half suspicious. "Come to think of it, haven't you taken quite a few arms across these seas?"
"You… you don't have some strange fetish, do you?"
The more he spoke, the stranger his look became.
"You're overthinking it," Darren said. "It's coincidence."
"Heh. I don't believe you."
Morgans slipped out a small notebook, uncapped a pen, and began to scribble, a wicked smile blooming. A chill of foreboding ran down Darren's spine.
"Hey, hey—don't tell me you're putting that in the paper."
Morgans' grin turned smug. "The World Economic News has a special column for the private lives of the sea's notables."
"That column is why our circulation exploded to number one—more than half the market."
Darren's eye twitched. "Maybe stop writing that—and focus on something else."
Morgans arched a brow. "Such as?"
---
Half an hour later, Morgans left beaming, more than satisfied.
To keep his "peculiar habits" out of the headlines, Darren had reluctantly betrayed a heap of his Marine colleagues' gossip for the World Economic News Paper's scandal column.
For instance, the Admiral with a suspiciously tender love for his pet sheep;
The Vice Admiral who ranted in private, "Those Celestial Dragons are trash!";
And the Vice Admiral whose underwear came in yellow and white stripes…
"What a headache…"
Darren sighed at the bow, letting the sea wind rake through his hair.
"So, do you finally understand what I had to sacrifice for your spectacular ammunition demonstration?"
To be continued...