"You're back, brat? If you've got something to say, then come in."
A hard-edged voice came from the room—the very man who had watched Rogers leave earlier that afternoon.
Rogers pushed the door open and swaggered in, but before he could even take two steps, he was kicked flying right back out. Along with the blow came a flat, almost casual voice:
"How many times have I told you—don't call me old man. Ever heard of repaying a life debt?"
He slammed into the wall outside. Even though John hadn't used much strength, Rogers still cried out in pain, rolling on the floor clutching his face. A scrape burned across his right cheek.
"Hm? Strange… I used the same strength as always." John glanced at the writhing Rogers and scolded impatiently: "Brat, are you faking it?"
"I'm not! It really hurts…" Rogers sucked in sharp breaths, but still dragged himself up and shut the door behind him as he reentered John's room.
John's room was plain—a table facing the door, a rack of liquor behind it, a bed to the side. He was lounging with a bottle of booze in hand, one foot propped on the table. Clearly, that was the foot that had sent Rogers flying.
It suddenly clicked for Rogers why the pain had felt so unbearable—the Yami Yami no Mi. Not only did it strip him of the Logia's intangibility, it multiplied the pain of every blow. Just like when Blackbeard fought Ace, writhing on the ground in agony.
He'd need to be careful in battle, otherwise he'd be crippled from sheer pain. He'd better hurry and develop new techniques…
John shot him a sidelong glance, sipped his drink, and asked evenly:
"So, brat, what did you come here for this late?"
Still grimacing, Rogers plopped onto a chair across from him, rubbing his sore cheek. He looked at John with a trace of melancholy and said:
"Old man, I'm leaving."
"Is that so? So the time to part ways has come." John grabbed another bottle from the liquor rack behind him and tossed it over. "What's next then? Off to be a pirate? Hahaha, a pirate who already drowned once?"
"Didn't drown though, did I?" Rogers caught the bottle, popped the cap, and took a swig. "Besides, this time, I got the power I wanted."
"Oh? What kind of power?" John's eyes flicked to him. Clearly, Rogers hadn't gone out that afternoon for nothing.
"Look—this!" Rogers activated his fruit. Darkness welled up behind him, coiling around his left arm. His hand, black as pitch, reached out to show John.
"A Devil Fruit ability, huh? So this is the power you wanted?" John didn't bat an eye, completely unfazed.
Rogers narrowed his eyes. John's calmness only made him seem even more mysterious. He pressed on:
"The Logia Yami Yami no Mi—called the most sinister ability in history."
"Oh?" A flicker of light passed through John's gaze, his interest slightly piqued. "So what, you think with this power you'll achieve your dream of becoming Pirate King? If you're that naïve, I'll laugh at you."
"Of course not." Rogers didn't get angry—he was now certain this John was no ordinary man.
"No matter how strong a Devil Fruit is, what matters most is the one who wields it. There are no useless Fruits—only useless people."
He'd read enough novels to know how to say it right.
"Hahaha! Well said." John chuckled heartily. This brat often spouted odd lines, but this time he was spot on. Taking another swig, he asked: "So what's your plan then? Haha, I'm a little curious."
"I'll make a name for myself here in West Blue for a few years, then head to the Grand Line." Rogers grinned, gulping down more booze.
"Idiot. I'm asking for something more concrete!" John's face twisted in disappointment. "Let me put it another way—what's the first thing you'll do after setting sail?"
Rogers felt thoroughly insulted, like his IQ had been called into question. Without thinking, he answered:
"Find people, of course. I've already got a navigator. Next, I'll need at least a doctor, a shipwright, and a cook."
But John responded by flicking a hard knuckle against his skull.
"Fool! A ship, brat! You don't even have a ship—how will you form a crew? How will you set sail?"
"Argh, that hurts!" The pain hit him harder than normal, magnified by the fruit's curse. Rogers yelped, clutching his head.
"As expected, still just a kid. Don't know a damn thing." John shook his head, exasperated. Watching Rogers squirm, though, he muttered curiously: "Strange fruit indeed… multiplies the pain? In a fight, wouldn't that leave you writhing on the floor?"
Rogers wanted to ask the same thing—why the hell was this fruit designed like that? Maybe it was the trade-off for its ability to nullify other powers.
"You're right about one thing—crew matters." John lit a cigar, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Doctor, shipwright, cook, navigator… Navigator? Did you just say you already found one? Who?"
Rogers's face darkened. Damn, he'd slipped. He'd planned to ease into the subject, but it had just come spilling out.
"You mean to tell me you went out this afternoon, came back with a Devil Fruit, and found a navigator? Not bad, kid." John took a drag, praising him with a smirk.
Rogers took a deep breath. No avoiding it now—he'd have to be straight.
"It's Aiqi. Aiqi is my navigator."
John's smile froze. The cigar slipped from his fingers, falling to the floor. His face turned stormy.
"Say that again."
"I asked Aiqi to be my navigator. And she agreed!" Rogers shouted back. Some things couldn't be backed down from.
"Heh… You've got guts, I'll give you that." John's laugh was ice-cold. "So you think you can steal away my precious Aiqi? Haven't I beaten you enough already, brat?"
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