The birth of the Pirate King was a storm that swept across the world, pushing the tide of the era to its peak. A few days later, a familiar bow broke through the morning mist and quietly appeared on the horizon.
"It's the captain and the others! They're back!" Shanks was the first to spot them. He threw down his wooden sword and bolted toward the port.
"Hey! Wait for me, you red-haired bastard!" Buggy followed closely behind, terrified of being a step too slow.
Kyle walked unhurriedly after them. He watched the Oro Jackson slowly approach, seeing the familiar faces on deck. Their exhaustion was hidden behind an incredible radiance—the kind of glow that only shines on those who have reached the shore of their dreams.
The port instantly erupted into a commotion as townspeople poured out to witness the legendary ship slowly dock. As soon as the gangplank hit the pier, the crew rushed down in a noisy wave.
"Kyle! You really missed something incredible, you scoundrel!" Jabba's loud voice was the first to reach him, followed by a solid bear hug.
"Hahahaha! Are you kids feeling better?"
"Where's the captain? Where's Captain Roger?"
Everyone chatted excitedly, surrounding Kyle and the two boys. Roger was the last one to disembark. He looked at the energetic Shanks and Buggy, a warm smile on his face. The crew shared seashells they'd brought back from Laugh Tale, showed off their pictures in the newspaper, and downed glass after glass of celebratory rum.
Kyle didn't join the lively crowd. He leaned against a nearby cargo box, simply observing. His gaze passed through the celebrating crew and landed on a quieter corner at the end of the pier, where Roger was standing alone, gazing out at the sea.
Shanks found him and quickly ran over. The boy seemed to be asking something eagerly, and Roger was answering him patiently. The surrounding noise seemed to fade away, separated from them by an invisible wall. Kyle couldn't hear what they were saying, and he didn't try to.
He only saw Shanks's shoulders begin to tremble. Then, the young man who always boasted about surpassing his captain suddenly threw himself into Roger's arms and began to cry bitterly. Roger smiled gently and patted Shanks's back, the hand that had once gripped the world now filled with a fatherly tenderness.
No one else in the celebrating crowd noticed. Kyle, however, let out a soft, quiet sigh.
Later that evening, on the deck of the Oro Jackson, the party continued.
"Kuhahaha! Look at these guys, making me sound so magnificent!" Roger held up a crumpled newspaper, laughing so hard that tears came to his eyes. "'Pirate King Gold Roger, who owns the entire world'? I like that description!"
"Yeah! Now all the kids around the world will want to come to sea and cause us trouble!" a crewmate slurred, waving a wine bottle. "The World Government must be having a real headache!"
"The Marines have probably already taken action. Garp is likely gritting his teeth and cursing our names right now," Rayleigh said, leaning against the mast as he leisurely wiped his sword.
The deck was filled with a joyful atmosphere.
"However, there's one thing they got wrong," Roger said, pointing his finger at the large name on the newspaper—"Gold Roger." "It's Gol D. Roger! Kuhahaha!"
"Indeed," Rayleigh said, adjusting his glasses. "The World Government, as expected, wants to completely erase the 'D' from your name." Having reached their destination and learned the truth of history, they understood the weight that single letter carried.
Roger casually tossed the newspaper aside, letting the sea breeze carry it away. He looked around at the comrades who had faced life and death with him, his gaze moving from Rayleigh, to Jabba, to Oden, and to every other face, finally landing on Kyle and the two boys who had just rejoined them.
"Speaking of which…" Roger's tone became softer than it had ever been. "Looking back on this journey, it all feels like a miracle. I was told long ago that I didn't have much time left, yet I actually managed to come this far. Truly… I am endlessly grateful to all of you."
A sudden silence fell over the deck. The crew exchanged confused glances, caught off guard by their captain's sudden solemnity.
"Hey, hey, what nonsense are you talking about?" Jabba was the first to break the silence, waving his hand awkwardly. "Why are you getting so serious, Captain?"
"Exactly! You're giving me goosebumps!"
"Are you drunk already, you idiot?"
"Hahahaha! The captain actually said thank you! Is the sun going to rise from the west tomorrow?"
The crew responded to their captain's sincerity in their own unique, rough way. Roger looked at the noisy group, and a smile returned to his face, though there was something different behind it now.
The last rays of the setting sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky and sea a magnificent reddish-gold. The shadow of the Oro Jackson stretched long across the water, a perfect reflection of a glorious era.
The sea breeze stopped. The clamor ceased. Everyone seemed to sense something, and they all quieted down, their eyes fixed on their captain.
Roger straightened up and adjusted his captain's coat. He took a deep breath, and his voice carried clearly to every corner of the deck, striking every person's heart.
"Roger Pirates—"
"—Disband!"
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