Days slipped by one after another amidst the clash of swords, hearty laughter, and endless ocean waves.
The Oro Jackson carried this group of the world's freest souls, riding the wind and waves through the New World seas.
Each adventure was fresh and interesting, the crew's faces always bearing curiosity about the unknown and joy in conquering it.
Yet in this ocean of happiness, only Kyle's heart harbored a reef zone that sunlight could never illuminate.
He stood at the bow, sea wind tousling his black hair, golden eyes reflecting the magnificent sunset in the distance, but the glass of orange juice in his hand remained untouched for a long time.
On deck, Roger was arm-wrestling shirtless with Scopper Gaban while surrounding crew members loudly placed bets, creating quite a commotion.
Roger's signature "Gu ha ha ha" laughter pierced through the noise, clearly reaching Kyle's ears.
Once upon a time, this laughter had been Kyle's most reassuring background music on this sea.
There was nothing a "Captain, save me!" couldn't solve—if not, then two would do!
But now it felt like an invisible needle, occasionally pricking Kyle's taut nerves.
Nearly thirty years had passed.
From being a transmigrator who knew One Piece inside and out, to becoming a pirate truly living on this sea, time's torrent had mercilessly washed away Kyle's memories.
He had tried to meticulously record and preserve future events, but no matter how he documented them, the records would mysteriously disappear, as if corrected by some mysterious force.
Those once crystal-clear plot details now remained only as vague outlines.
He remembered Roger would contract an incurable disease, remembered he would surrender himself, remembered he would start the Great Pirate Era... but the crucial details had long been covered over by day-to-day real adventures, becoming ambiguous and unclear.
This unknown hung over Kyle's heart like the Sword of Damocles.
"Hey—! Roger! Are you slacking off?! Your strength is so weak!" Gaban's face was red with effort, veins bulging on his arms, though his mouth showed no mercy.
"Gu ha ha ha! You're the one getting old, Gaban!" Roger laughed even more cheerfully, suddenly exerting force with his arm and instantly pressing Gaban's hand down onto the wine barrel.
"Ooooh! The captain won!"
Amidst the cheering, Kyle set down his glass and casually walked over.
He circled behind Roger, pretending to watch the excitement while seemingly casually placing a hand on Roger's shoulder.
"Captain, not bad energy. Want to try with me?" Kyle wore his usual mischievous smile.
"Oh? Kyle? Bring it on! Let you see how formidable I am!" Roger was completely unconcerned, turning around enthusiastically.
The moment their eyes met, invisible ripples quietly spread from the depths of Kyle's golden pupils.
Weak penetrating electromagnetic waves emanated from Kyle's palm and eyes, silently scanning Roger's body like the most precise instrument.
This wasn't the first time he'd done this.
Every so often, he'd find various excuses to give Roger a "physical examination" this way.
Roger could naturally sense Kyle's little movements, but assumed he was looking for weaknesses.
Weaknesses, my foot!
In Kyle's "vision," Roger's body structure was revealed in minute detail. The image was quite explicit (literally)!
His strong heart beat powerfully like war drums, each contraction pumping vibrant blood throughout his body; his lungs opened and closed steadily, filled with the sea's salty, humid air; his bones were tough, muscle fibers tight as the finest steel cables... Every cell throughout his body overflowed with life force so vigorous it was almost savage.
Healthy—frighteningly healthy.
No lesions, no signs of weakness, not even a single hidden injury.
Standing before Kyle was undoubtedly Roger in his prime—few on the entire sea could match him!
"Hey, Kyle, why aren't you talking?" Roger looked at the suddenly silent Kyle, shaking his head strangely. "Scared by my haki? Gu ha ha ha!"
Kyle's tense shoulders quietly relaxed. He withdrew his ability, his face resuming that carefree expression.
"Nothing much, just confirming whether this single-celled organism captain really has a different structure from the rest of us."
"Bastard! Who are you calling a single-celled organism! Can't tell a king from an ace?!" Roger made as if to punch him, and the two rolled around laughing and fighting.
Nearby, Rayleigh held his wine glass, his gaze deep behind his glasses as he watched the two fight, thoughtfully taking a sip.
Recently, Kyle had been staring at Roger a bit too often, with eyes that didn't look at a comrade but rather seemed to be confirming some fragile treasure.
Late at night, waves gently lapped against the ship's hull.
Kyle sat alone in the crow's nest, gazing up at the starry sky.
Really... nothing?
He'd checked more than once, always with the same result—there wasn't a trace of "plot death" foreshadowing in Roger's body.
Could it be because of me?
This thought emerged uncontrollably.
A butterfly flapping its wings in South America could cause a tornado in Texas.
As a massive "variable" who had intruded into the One Piece world, living and dying alongside the Roger Pirates for thirty years, participating in countless battles and adventures where he shouldn't have existed... could he really have inadvertently changed Roger's fate?
This thought made Kyle's heart leap, an indescribable wild joy nearly bursting from his chest.
If Roger wouldn't die... did that mean this ship could sail forever? They could go to Laugh Tale together, witness historical truth together, and then... then what?
Kyle imagined that future, that future without regrets, his mouth unconsciously curving upward wildly.
But reason quickly doused him with cold water.
Perhaps it simply wasn't time yet.
The timeline in the original work was vague to begin with—maybe Roger's illness would suddenly erupt at some future point. Current health didn't represent eternity.
Two possibilities battled repeatedly in Kyle's mind, making him feel like soaring in clouds one moment and standing at an abyss the next.
This feeling was more torturous than simultaneously controlling hundreds of different frequency waves.
"What are you thinking about? Sitting here grinning to yourself."
Rayleigh's voice came from below. He'd somehow climbed up to the crow's nest and sat down beside Kyle.
"Pondering life's mysteries, the true meaning of existence." Kyle spouted nonsense casually.
Rayleigh smiled without exposing his poor lie. He handed Kyle a bottle of rum and opened one for himself.
"Sometimes thinking too much makes you miss the scenery right in front of you." Rayleigh looked at the stars, speaking slowly. "We're pirates, Kyle. Living freely in the present is our creed, isn't it?"
Kyle fell silent, accepting the bottle and taking a large gulp.
The harsh liquid slid down his throat into his stomach, bringing a wave of fiery warmth.
Not as good as orange juice, but...
Right, living in the present.
What good did it do for him to worry unnecessarily here, being anxious about gains and losses?
Whatever the future held, it wasn't something the current him could control. All he could do was treasure every day with this group of idiots, become stronger—strong enough to be one of the masts supporting this ship when any storm came.
Having figured this out, the boulder that had hung in Kyle's heart for so long finally seemed to settle.
Though future fog remained thick, his eyes became clear and determined once again.
"You're right, Rayleigh." Kyle grinned, showing white teeth. "Rather than thinking about useless things, it's more practical to think about where to rob... I mean, where to resupply next?"
"Gu ha ha ha! Now I'm not sleepy when you mention that!" Roger's booming voice suddenly came from below. This guy had somehow snuck over and was hanging on the crow's nest edge. "I heard there's a 'Gourmet Island' ahead where the ingredients fight each other! Sounds interesting, right?"
"Hey! Captain! That kind of place sounds dangerous just from hearing about it!" Buggy's terrified voice also rang out.
"It's only fun when there's fighting!" Shanks excitedly chimed in.
The deck became noisy again.
Kyle watched those endlessly energetic companions below, listening to their loud planning of the next adventure, his face showing a long-lost, heartfelt smile.
Forget it, whatever.
At least for now, this trouble-making captain and this group of hopeless idiots were still alive and kicking beside him.
That was enough.
He raised his bottle toward the night sky, and toward his own heart, in a distant toast.
To this damn freedom!