When the Roger Pirates' ship reappeared at the bustling port of Water 7, the atmosphere on board was markedly different from when they had first arrived. Gone was the initial awe and excited chatter; in its place lay a deep, purposeful silence, mixed with the embers of determination and the faint glow of restrained fury. Sunlight shimmered across the massive timbers stacked neatly in the center of the deck, the Adam Treasure Tree exuding a sacred, almost holy glow that seemed to pulse with life.
The crew moved quietly, each member attending to their tasks with unusual precision, though their eyes frequently flicked toward the golden timber before instinctively darting toward Roger, standing stoically at the bow. The Captain's back was as imposing and unwavering as ever, yet the usual fiery exuberance had tempered into a resolute, commanding presence.
"We're back," Rayleigh said softly, breaking the hushed silence as he stepped beside Roger.
Roger didn't turn. His gaze remained fixed on the shipyard in the distance, where Master Tom's workshop awaited.
As the ship glided into the yard, the familiar sounds of clanging hammers and boisterous laughter abruptly ceased. Shipwrights froze mid-motion, their wide eyes reflecting astonishment at the imposing figure of the Roger Pirates and, most of all, the extraordinary timbers they carried.
"Hey! You…" a young shipwright stammered, about to approach, but a massive hand pressed gently yet firmly on his shoulder.
Master Tom emerged, his usually booming voice now unexpectedly hushed. "Lads… you've…"
He stopped, caught off guard by the sight of the Adam Treasure Tree. The world's greatest shipwright's hearty, carefree smile disappeared. Silently, he advanced, extending his rough, calloused hands with the utmost reverence. His fingers traced the smooth surface of the timber, tapping lightly to listen to its perfect resonance, eyes closed as if speaking to the tree itself.
The entire shipyard held its breath, save for the sound of Tom's heavy, deliberate breathing.
Then, without warning, his laughter erupted. "Wahahaha… Wahahahahaha!"
The sound was louder and more invigorating than ever, echoing across the yard.
"You bunch of… bastards! You actually got your hands on it! DON!" Tom punched his own chest, the thud resonating like a drum of triumph. His eyes burned with intensity as they locked onto Roger. "Well done! You've earned a ship crafted by my own hands!"
Turning more serious, he addressed Roger directly: "Lad, acquiring this timber proves your worth! As promised, I will build this ship for you for free! DON!"
Then his smile broadened, brimming with a creative fire that seemed unstoppable. "But make no mistake! A ship built from Adam Treasure Tree cannot be ordinary! It must be a true King's ship. Tell me, what do you want it to be?"
The Roger Pirates erupted in energy as Tom led them to a massive workshop, gathering around a table covered with a sprawling white sheet of paper.
"First, it must be big! Big enough to hold all of us, and big enough to host the finest banquets in the world!" Roger slammed a fist onto the table, spittle flying with his enthusiasm.
"The strongest gunwales and deck, so I can train anytime," Rayleigh added, fingers unconsciously caressing his sword hilt.
"The kitchen! A wine cellar must withstand storms!" Jabba's eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"My inventions need a dedicated workshop!" Punk Rock demanded, leaning closer to ensure his voice was heard.
"I… I want a bed where I won't be woken by Miller Pine's snoring," Nozdon added sheepishly.
"What did you say?!" Miller Pine's beard bristled as his eyes widened in outrage.
The group erupted into chaotic discussion, debating everything from the armory's layout to the number of toilets required. All the while, Master Tom silently observed, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes.
"Quiet, all of you!" Roger bellowed, silencing everyone instantly. He turned to Tom, his eyes shining with an unprecedented clarity. "Tom, this ship isn't just planks and rooms. I want a vessel that can laugh with us, a companion that carries our dreams, braves every storm, and sails to the ends of the world!"
His words weren't technical, but they commanded attention. The entire workshop fell silent. Even Tom's smile softened, replaced by an expression of reverent curiosity as he studied the man before him.
"…A ship that can laugh?" Tom murmured. Then, a sudden light burst into his eyes. "Interesting! Very interesting! DON!"
At that moment, a calm, clear voice spoke up.
"A ship that wants to conquer the sea must first learn to dance with the waves."
All eyes turned to Kyle. He approached the table and dipped his finger in water, tracing lines across the white sheet. The faint stains rippled like gentle waves, small whirlpools forming where his fingers guided them.
"The keel is the ship's spine, the hull its muscles," Kyle explained. "If the lines flow with the waves rather than resisting them, the sea will no longer be an obstacle—it will become an ally."
He traced the smooth, graceful curves of the hull on the tabletop, a perfect visual for all to see. His demonstration required no technical jargon; the concept was intuitive and immediately understood.
Tom's eyes lit up. He slapped his thigh. "Exactly! The power of the waves… Wahahaha!"
"Not just dancing," Kyle continued, glancing at Roger. "The Captain wants a ship that can laugh. Laughter needs sound. Why not integrate the main cannon with the figurehead? Let each shot echo like a hearty laugh across the seas!"
"Cannon at the bow?!" The idea sparked a flurry of imagination among the crew.
Roger stared for a moment, then his laughter boomed across the workshop. "Kuhahaha! Well said, Kyle! A ship that laughs with cannons! That is worthy of us!"
Tom's breath grew heavy, his eyes alight with creative fire. Grabbing a massive charcoal pencil, he began sketching furiously across the paper. Smooth lines intertwined with bold designs, merging Roger's dreams, Kyle's inspirations, and the crew's chaotic desires.
The blueprint emerged—a masterpiece of pirate engineering: a broad deck for giants, a streamlined yet majestic hull, twin maiden figureheads at the bow, and enough space to hold the crew, banquets, workshops, and more.
"It… it's alive," Nozdon whispered.
The vitality and regal aura of the ship emanated from the blueprint itself, leaving everyone awestruck.
Roger caressed the Adam Treasure Tree beside him, which glowed faintly, as if recognizing its future purpose. "Let's call it…" he began, his voice charged with authority, "Oro Jackson! Our golden ship, carrying all of us!"
"Oro Jackson…" Rayleigh repeated, a small, satisfied smile appearing on his lips.
"Oh oh oh oh!" The crew erupted in a deafening cheer, their excitement shaking the rafters.
"Good! Good name!" Tom slammed the pencil onto the table with a resounding thud. "Then it's settled! I, Tom, staking my reputation as the world's number one shipwright, will build this King's ship for you!"
He strode to the center of the yard, lifted a massive hammer, and held a long nail high.
"Watch closely!" he roared. "This is the King's first heartbeat! DON!"
Clang!
The crisp, prolonged sound echoed across Water 7, announcing to the world that a legend had just begun.
Kyle stood behind the crew, heart racing. He knew this ship would carry these freed souls across the Grand Line, reach the Final Island, and uncover the world's hidden truths. He was not merely a witness to history—he was a participant, shaping the very legend that would be sung for generations.
This was beyond exhilarating.
The Oro Jackson had begun its journey, its first heartbeat a promise of adventures, freedom, and dreams as boundless as the sea itself.
Ãdvåñçé çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)