Chapter 86: Take Me There, Captain
The sea was empty, the sky clear. Kyle set his course by the sun and sailed.
Home. The word had been buried under a year of failure, of chasing ghosts in the deep. Now it surfaced, and he let it pull him. He thought of Roger's laugh, of Rayleigh's steady hand, of the chaos that followed the crew wherever they went. He thought of the ship that had carried him for decades, and he sailed faster.
---
The Oro Jackson lay at anchor in a nameless port, her sails furled, her hull marked with new scars. Kyle stood at the edge of the dock, watching her. The sunlight caught the fresh repairs, the patches where cannonballs had struck, the new ropes coiled on the deck. A year away, and he could still read her like a logbook.
He found the crew in the town's only tavern. He heard them before he saw them—Jabba's laugh, the crash of a bottle, Buggy's high‑pitched shout rising above the rest.
"…and the Marine captain's beard was gone! He didn't even notice until his own men started laughing!"
"That was me! I did that!"
"You threw a bottle and hit a seagull, you idiot!"
Kyle pushed open the door. The light fell behind him, and for a moment, no one noticed. Then Jabba's cup stopped halfway to his mouth. Shanks looked up from the floor where he had Buggy pinned. Buggy, his face red from wrestling, blinked at the figure in the doorway.
The noise died.
"Kyle?" Buggy's voice cracked.
Shanks let go of him, scrambling up. "You came back."
The silence broke. Men rose from their seats, hands reaching, voices rising. Jabba pulled Kyle into a bear hug that lifted him off the floor. Nozdon slapped his back hard enough to stagger him. The questions came from all sides—where had he been, what had he done, why had he stayed away so long.
Kyle let himself be pulled to a table, a cup of juice pressed into his hands. He looked at the faces around him, worn and bright, and felt the year fall away.
"Sorry I'm late."
Jabba laughed. "Late? We haven't even started the real celebration yet."
"We were waiting for you," Shanks said. He had Bugdy in a headlock, but he was grinning.
Kyle smiled. It was the first real smile in a year.
---
Roger found him at the edge of the crowd, near the bar. The captain's face was thinner than Kyle remembered, his hands less steady when he thought no one was watching. But his eyes were the same.
"You came back," Roger said.
"You called."
Roger's grin widened. He did not ask about the year, about what Kyle had found or failed to find. He only raised a bottle. "Then let's finish this."
---
The feast that night was the loudest Kyle could remember. The crew told stories of the year he had missed—the mist that held them for weeks, the storm that nearly tore the mast, the moment they found the final course. In every story, there was a phrase: "If Kyle were here." But there was no complaint in it. Only pride.
Kyle drank and listened. The juice was warm, the laughter was loud, and for one night, the weight of the year lifted.
---
The morning came too soon.
Kyle woke to the sound of shouting. He found the crew gathered outside the apprentices' cabin. Shanks stood in the doorway, his face a mixture of exasperation and concern.
"He's burning up."
Buggy lay in his bunk, his face flushed, his breath shallow. Crocus knelt beside him, a thermometer in his hand. When he straightened, his expression was grim.
"High fever. He's not going anywhere today."
The crew exchanged looks. The final island was close. They could not wait.
Shanks moved to the bunk, pulling the blanket up. Buggy's eyes opened, unfocused, his voice a slur. "The treasure… I'm coming with you…"
"You're not going anywhere," Shanks said, but his voice was softer than usual.
Buggy grabbed his sleeve, his grip weak. "Don't leave me behind. I'll be fine. I just need—"
His body split. His upper half flew across the room, latching onto Roger's leg. His legs stayed in the bunk, tangled in the blanket.
"Take me with you!" Buggy's voice was desperate, his face pressed against Roger's coat. "I'm coming!"
The crew stared. Roger looked down at the half‑man clinging to his leg and laughed.
"Kuhahaha! You're not going anywhere, you idiot. You'd fall in the sea and sink."
"I'll float! My pieces float!"
"They won't."
Crocus disentangled Buggy's legs from the blanket and carried the boy's lower half to Roger, where he reattached himself, still clinging. "I'm coming. I'm coming."
The laughter faded. The crew watched the boy who had spent his life chasing treasure, who had never wanted anything but the next prize, now begging not to be left behind.
Shanks moved to the bunk, pulling Buggy off Roger. He set him back on the mattress, holding his shoulders.
"You're staying," Shanks said. "And I'm staying with you."
The room went quiet. Buggy blinked, his fevered mind trying to understand. "What?"
"We'll go. Together. On our own ship. One day." Shanks's voice was steady. "But you're not going to miss the treasure because you were too sick to stand."
Buggy stared at him. Then, slowly, his grip loosened. He fell back on the pillow, his eyes already closing. "Promise?"
"Promise."
Buggy was asleep before the word finished. Shanks stood, his face calm, and turned to Roger.
"Go," he said. "We'll follow. One day."
Roger looked at the boy who had been with them since he was a child, who had grown into someone who knew when to stay. He reached out and ruffled Shanks's hair, hard.
"Kuhahaha. Don't take too long."
Shanks grinned. "We won't."
---
The crew left the cabin one by one. Kyle lingered at the door, watching Shanks pull a chair to Buggy's bunk, settling in for a wait that might be days. Buggy's face was peaceful now, the fever burning itself out.
Kyle walked to the deck. The sun was high, the sails already set. Roger stood at the bow, his hand on the figurehead, his eyes on the horizon.
"They'll come," Kyle said.
Roger did not turn. "I know."
Kyle moved to his place near the mast, where his naginata still leaned. The crew was gathering, their voices low, their faces turned toward the sea. The last island waited.
The Oro Jackson cast off, her sails filling, her bow cutting toward the unknown. Kyle watched the shore shrink, watched the figure of Shanks still standing at the window of the cabin, watching them go.
He would see them again. They would all see each other again. But for now, there was only the sea, and the end of a journey that had begun so long ago.
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End of Chapter 86