Five years passed like a few tides rising and falling on the great sea.
The deck of the Oro Jackson was still bathed in brilliant sunlight, but the source of all the commotion had changed hands.
"Idiot Shanks! I told you the end of the Grand Line is to the north! Don't you even know that?"
"Buggy, you're the idiot! Captain Roger said you can't judge the end of an adventure with common sense! Maybe it's to the east!"
Two little brats, barely half as tall as the ship's railing, were arguing red-faced over a question that had no real answer.
One red-haired, one blue-haired, like two hyperactive fighting roosters.
Kyle leaned in the shadow of the mainmast, slowly polishing his beloved blade. The steel reflected cold light in the sunshine.
Listening to the two kids' argument, the corner of his mouth unconsciously curved into a smile.
Five years—he was pushing thirty now, and Roger had grown his familiar handlebar mustache and switched to his classic look.
After the Battle of God Valley, the world's power structure had undergone earth-shaking changes.
Garp had become a legend in one battle, but stubbornly refused promotion to Admiral. Marine Headquarters ultimately awarded him the title "Hero of the Marines"—a name that now carried more weight on the seas than Admiral itself.
Meanwhile, the former Rocks Pirates who had fled God Valley in disgrace had all become notorious monsters in the New World.
Whitebeard, Golden Lion, Big Mom... They were frantically recruiting followers, transforming from defeated remnants into new kings ruling their own territories.
The sea had become more chaotic than ever—and more interesting.
Rayleigh sat on nearby steps, holding the latest newspaper with a furrowed brow.
"That guy Zephyr... actually stepped back from the front lines," he muttered quietly, his tone tinged with regret. "Having his family killed by pirates—that blow was too much for him."
Kyle's polishing motion paused. The former Marine Admiral, "Black Arm" Zephyr—a pure soldier who had ultimately been betrayed by the very order he protected. Truly tragic.
He set down his naginata and leaned over to glance at the newspaper's corner.
A small, unremarkable news item mentioned two names—Sakazuki and Borsalino, supposedly the most outstanding monster recruits in this year's Marine training camp.
Ah, the future Red Dog and Yellow Monkey, huh?
History's wheel continued rolling forward at its predetermined pace, steady and unhurried.
"Hey! Big Bro Kyle! You settle this!" Red-haired Shanks ran over huffily. "Buggy actually says treasure is more important than adventure itself!"
The blue-haired brat Buggy followed close behind, pointing at Shanks' nose and shouting: "What do you know?! Without treasure, what do we buy good food with?! What do we buy weapons with?! You daydreaming idiot!"
Kyle looked down at these two future "Emperors"—one with "dreams" constantly on his lips, the other treating "treasure" as life itself.
My goodness, an idealist versus a realist!
He extended two fingers and gave each kid a solid flick to the forehead.
Thunk! Thunk!
Two dull sounds, and both kids immediately crouched down, clutching their heads.
"If you've got too much energy, go scrub the deck a hundred times."
"A hundred times?!" Buggy wailed. "That'll kill us!"
"Make it two hundred then."
Buggy immediately shut his mouth, dragging a reluctant Shanks along as they obediently picked up brushes and buckets to begin their punishment.
Watching them scrub in opposite directions—east and west—only to start fighting again over territorial disputes, the crew burst into laughter.
Scopper Gaban leaned over to tease Kyle: "You've really got those two figured out. Back when you first joined the ship, you caused more trouble than both of them combined."
"Cough, cough, did I?" Kyle raised an eyebrow. "I seem to remember a certain someone getting punched flying by Roger the first time he met me~"
Gaban's face reddened as he coughed and changed the subject: "Speaking of which, where exactly did you pick up that Buggy kid? I remember two years ago when we stopped at that abandoned port for supplies, you just came back with this little snot-nose."
Kyle's thoughts drifted back two years.
Back then, Buggy was just a street kid rummaging through garbage for food—small and unremarkable.
Kyle had simply felt sorry for the child and brought him aboard on a whim.
He'd never connected this blue-haired brat who constantly talked about "treasure" with the future Clown Emperor whose luck would be off the charts.
Not until that "accident" shortly after he joined the ship.
That day, Roger had brought back another chest of gleaming treasure, and the crew was gathered around preparing to divide the loot.
Naturally, Buggy was the first to rush forward, hugging a golden goblet bigger than himself, grinning so wide he was practically drooling.
Shanks, meanwhile, had no interest in such worldly goods—he was more concerned with whether there might be weapons or adventure clues at the bottom of the chest.
One was carrying things out, the other diving deeper in. Somehow, the heavy chest lid slammed shut with a bang.
All they heard was Buggy's heart-wrenching scream from the deck.
When everyone frantically lifted the lid, they found Buggy covering his nose with tears streaming down his face.
His nose had been pinched large and round, red as a ripe cherry.
In that moment, seeing that iconic red nose, Kyle's brain felt like it had been struck by lightning.
Holy crap... the great Buggy himself!
"Hey! Buggy! Look what that is!" On deck, Shanks—still scrubbing—suddenly pointed at the sky and shouted.
Buggy instinctively looked up.
In that instant, Shanks moved with lightning speed, splashing all the dirty water from his bucket onto Buggy.
Splash—
Buggy instantly became a drowned rat. After a two-second delay, he let out an earth-shaking roar: "Shanks—! You bastard! I'll fight you!"
The two kids immediately started wrestling, rolling around on the slippery deck.
"Gu ha ha ha ha!" Roger's hearty laughter echoed from the captain's quarters. Watching the two children fight, he laughed so hard he nearly fell over. "So lively! How wonderful!"
Rayleigh sighed and put down his newspaper, looking unsurprised: "Roger, if you don't do something, they're going to tear the ship apart."
"Kids fighting is how they bond!" Roger waved dismissively, then his gaze fell on Kyle, and his eyes lit up. "Oh, right, Kyle! Come spar with me! I feel like my bones are getting rusty!"
"Are you also a kid?!" Kyle stood up helplessly, picking up his well-maintained naginata.
These five years, besides witnessing world changes and babysitting, he hadn't been idle either.
His Wave-Wave Fruit abilities had become increasingly refined, and his physical skills and Haki had improved dramatically through daily sparring with monsters like Roger and Rayleigh.
He shouldered his naginata, looking at the battle-eager Roger: "Roger, if you lose this time, that barrel of your precious rum is mine."
"Gu ha ha ha ha! Win first, then talk! Besides, you don't even drink!"
The two walked to the center of the deck. Shanks and Buggy stopped fighting, joining the other crew members in an excited circle to watch.
Roger drew his sword "Ace" from his waist. With a casual swing, invisible Conqueror's Haki rippled outward like waves, making the surrounding air freeze.
Kyle slowly lowered his naginata, its tip touching the deck.
Instead of releasing Haki, he channeled a strange vibration through the blade.
Without any excess movement, Kyle swung his blade down in a fierce slash.
Where the blade passed, the air wasn't torn—instead, it let out an incredibly sharp humming sound.
Then, along the slash's path, the air violently vibrated and compressed like a pond disturbed by a thrown stone, finally exploding with tremendous force!
A shockwave made of pure sonic booms, shaped like a phoenix spreading its wings, roared toward Roger!
Roger didn't retreat but charged forward, his sword "Ace" wrapped in jet-black Armament Haki as he struck down against the invisible shockwave!
"Divine Departure!"
BOOM—!!!
Two completely different forces collided violently at the deck's center, the resulting shockwave sending the watching crew members tumbling.
Shanks and Buggy were blown around like rolling gourds, only stopping when they crashed into the mast.
"A-Amazing..." Shanks stared at the two fighters with starry eyes, his face full of worship. Captain Roger's signature technique, "Divine Departure," especially filled him with longing.
Buggy rubbed his sore bottom from the impact, looking at Kyle's impressive naginata and Roger's dominating presence, then at the mop in his own hands. For the first time, his eyes showed a tiny spark of yearning for something beyond "treasure."
Kyle gripped his vibrating naginata and grinned.
Sunshine, ocean waves, reliable comrades, noisy brats, and the strongest opponents.
Life doesn't get much better than this!