Ten years was but a fleeting moment in the Grand Line's history, yet long enough for a boy to become a man and for legends to ferment.
The Oro Jackson's deck was livelier than it had been ten years ago, and more crowded too.
At this moment, a unique "strength contest" was underway.
"GRAAAH!"
Sunbell, a blue fishman over three meters tall—the largest crew member aboard—was arm wrestling with Seagull Guns Nozdon. Both men's bulging muscles rose like mountain ranges, and the deck beneath their feet groaned under the strain. Sunbell was a companion they'd "picked up" three years ago on Fish-Man Island, an honest-hearted powerhouse.
Not far from them, a man in a high-collared black robe with flaming red hair shooting skyward—Yui—sat cross-legged in meditation, completely ignoring the surrounding commotion as if isolated from the world. Beside him, a man with a Godzilla-fin haircut, Ganryu, was carefully polishing his club—a weapon taller than himself—with a coarse cloth.
"...So you see, the berries issued by the World Government are essentially invisible exploitation of the labor force in member nations! This system is rotten from its very foundation!" A bearded giant who bore a striking resemblance to a certain philosopher from Kyle's past life, MAX Marx, was waving his arms and spitting as he lectured Spencer on his theories.
"MAX, I admit your point has merit, but you're overlooking the stability of currency as both a measure of value and medium of exchange..." Spencer actually pushed up his glasses, seriously, and engaged in academic discussion.
A tiny winged devil-person named Doringo had taken advantage of the chaos to steal a large piece of roasted meat from the kitchen. Dodging the chef's curses with agile movements, he flew up to the mainmast's crossbeam to feast. Meanwhile, CB Gallant, a burly man in ancient Greek-style bronze armor, was doing one-handed handstands at the ship's rail, his sweat soaking the deck beneath his feet.
The crew now numbered close to thirty—Rowing, Erio, Donquino... Each one was a distinctively individual, powerfully strong monster recruited from around the world.
In ten years, this ship had carried countless stories of laughter and tears, witnessing the formation of deep bonds.
Kyle leaned against the stern railing, quietly watching this familiar chaos with a gentle smile on his lips.
At nearly twenty, he had long since shed his boyish awkwardness. His jet-black, shoulder-length hair was tied back with a simple band, a few strands falling by his cheeks, giving him a casual, carefree appearance.
Those golden pupils shone brilliantly in the sunlight, more profound than they had been ten years ago.
He remained the youngest veteran on the ship, but now both new companions and old crew members clearly understood that this easygoing young man—gentle as a spring breeze—was one of the top-tier monsters aboard in terms of strength.
Sometimes his calm judgment and overwhelming power could bring his crewmates more reassurance than their "hot-blooded fool" of a captain, Roger, who only knew charging forward and seeking adventure.
"Kyle!" Erio, one of the newer crew members, ran over with a trace of worship on his face. "Could you tell me again about how you used that 'Blue Dragon Tornado' move to make everyone fly back at Water 7?"
"Aha ha, a true hero doesn't boast about past glories!" Kyle laughed heartily with his hands on his hips, looking mysteriously profound. "If you want stories, go find Seagull Guns Nozdon—he can give you a hundred different versions."
"Chirp—!"
Just then, a News Coo swooped down from the sky, dropping the latest newspaper and a stack of fresh wanted posters onto the deck.
"Oh! Here they come!"
The deck's commotion instantly found a new outlet. Everyone—including the debating MAX Marx and handstand-performing CB Gallant—swarmed over in a rush.
Roger snatched up the top few posters and, upon seeing the numbers, burst into his trademark boisterous laughter.
"Gu ha ha ha! One and a half billion berries! Those World Government bastards finally decided to put up a decent price!"
Rayleigh took his own poster, calmly glanced at the twelve followed by eight zeros, and smiled faintly, completely unsurprised by the result.
"One point one billion, eh? Not bad at all." Scopper Gaban picked up his axes to polish them, grinning with satisfaction at this bounty that was second only to the captain and first mate.
The crew's attention finally focused on the remaining high-value wanted poster.
"Kyle... one billion berries!" Bankuro gasped, the number making him feel dizzy.
Kyle walked through the crowd and picked up the poster bearing his likeness. The photo showed him with sharp eyes, captured in the moment of wielding his naginata during some battle.
Below that young yet imposing face was a number so prominent it was almost blinding—"1,000,000,000."
He had become the third person on this ship whose bounty reached ten digits.
"As expected of Kyle-san!"
"So cool!"
The newer crew members erupted in amazement and admiration.
Kyle simply smiled, casually folded the wanted poster, and slipped it into his pocket, his gaze turning toward the endless azure sea.
Around him, his companions were still cheering, bragging, and fooling around over the new bounties. Roger was already shouting about throwing a celebration party.
But Kyle's thoughts drifted back to that afternoon over ten years ago.
He remembered his first wanted poster—that freshly printed paper bearing a childish face and what seemed to him at the time like a stingy amount: one million five hundred thousand berries.
From 1.5 million to one billion—between these numbers lay ten years of time, countless life-or-death battles, powerful enemies left in their wake, and a shipful of companions worthy of trusting with one's back.
A sea breeze blew, stirring the band in his hair.
Kyle exhaled softly, those golden eyes holding both slight nostalgia for the past and, more prominently, endless anticipation for the future.
The Roger Pirates had become one of the strongest pirate crews on these seas.
The real journey was just beginning.