The noise inside the tavern slowly blurred into the background. Lamplight reflected off the rum, casting a warm amber glow.
Future Ritter held his cup, his gaze moving beneath the mask from one familiar face to another. Reed and Gaban were locked in a drinking contest, empty bottles already lined up in front of them. Young Ritter stood on a table, loudly bragging to the crew about how he would one day conquer the seas. And Roger…
Reed and Gaban were deep into their contest. Reed, the second brother, unusually had his glasses off, golden hair falling loosely over his forehead.
Ritter thought to himself:
"Tsk. That smug Reed."
"Tsk. That smug Reed."
"Tsk. That smug Reed."
Gaban laughed loudly. Young Ritter puffed out his cheeks and planted himself firmly on the table.
"One more round! I bet Gaban drops first this time! One thousand Berries!"
Gaban wiped the liquor from his beard and roared with laughter. "Nonsense! I could drink a thousand cups and still stand! I'll bet a thousand on myself. Kid, want to join a real man's battle? A future great pirate wouldn't be scared, right?"
Young Ritter's Black Tide greatsword was stuck into the wooden floor nearby. He waved his arms wildly as he shouted, "Hah, who's afraid of who? Just wait! When I become a great pirate, my name will echo across the Grand Line!"
His blood mist gathered above his head, forming an exaggerated crown shape. Then an extremely narrow stool appeared out of nowhere on the table. "By then, everyone will respectfully call me Lord Ritter!"
Ritter knew it instantly. That was the prototype of his later Blood Mist Throne.
"Bah. That stool looks terrible," Samba cut in dryly.
"Damn it, Samba, what are you doing!"
"I might not beat you in a real fight, but when it comes to martial arts, heh, Fish-Man Karate. Even if you throw me into the sea, you wouldn't survive it." He struck an exaggerated Fish-Man Karate stance, but being drunk, he stumbled and nearly fell over, setting off a wave of laughter.
"Samba's too weak! Hahaha!"
At the side, Elio gracefully spun his glass, long blue hair shimmering under the lights. "Little Ritter, want to learn mixology?"
He lightly tapped the rim of the glass and added several strange ingredients. The rum unexpectedly turned into a swirl of vivid colors, dazzling and beautiful.
"That's amazing!" Young Ritter's eyes lit up. "Elio, big brother, teach me!"
Future Ritter watched the scene, the corners of his mouth lifting unconsciously beneath the mask. He remembered this moment clearly. Elio really did teach him later. Three months after that, at another banquet, he used the same trick to dye Reed's favorite rum an eerie pink. Reed chased him for an entire day.
No. Stop thinking about it, or the tears are going to come.
In a corner, Blumarine was secretly pouring liquor into a potted plant, only to be caught on the spot by Reed.
"Kid, wasting alcohol means swimming behind the ship," Reed said sternly.
"Go away. Sit at the kids' table," someone shot back.
Blumarine stuck out his tongue. "I just thought the plant looked thirsty. Drinking with Reed is so boring!"
"You bastard, Blumarine! You think you can drink better than me? You're a lightweight hiding from booze. Who gave you the right to lecture me?"
"Want to fight, Reed?"
"Please! Who's scared now?"
"Bets are open! Bets are open!"
At some point, Roger had sat down beside him. His straw hat was pulled low, only the faint curve of his smile visible.
"Pretty good booze, huh?" Roger said suddenly, his voice low enough that only the two of them could hear.
Future Ritter gently traced the rim of his cup. "Yeah. It packs a punch."
Roger grinned and lifted the barrel, taking a massive gulp. "Hahahaha! I knew it!"
Future Ritter tilted his head toward Roger. Roger was watching Reed and Blumarine wrestling on the floor.
"Reed, poke his kidneys."
"Blumarine, bite him! Hahahaha!"
After the chaos settled, the Roger Pirates went right back to eating and drinking.
"Hey! Masked uncle!" Young Ritter suddenly leaned in, cheeks flushed, clearly drunk. "You said it before. Will I really become that amazing, great pirate someday?"
Future Ritter looked at his younger self, so full of life. For a moment, he desperately wanted to tell him the truth. That he would endure far more pain than he imagined. That he would lose people he cherished. That he would spend countless nights questioning whether any of it was worth it.
And that one day, he would finally understand why.
"Of course you will," he said softly, clinking cups with the boy. "No matter what happens, they will always be your companions."
"Tch, another preachy guy. So annoying. Do you really think I'm a kid?" Young Ritter huffed.
He shook his head, clearly not grasping the deeper meaning. The next second, Gaban dragged him back into another drinking contest, and he quickly disappeared into the madness of the feast.
After several more rounds, the atmosphere grew even louder.
Young Ritter, red-faced and swaying, stood on the table again, cup in hand. "Hey, masked uncle! You really seem to get along with us. We're a great bunch, aren't we?"
"Yeah, yeah!" Gaban slapped the table drunkenly. "We're just missing… uh… missing something."
"You drunks…" Reed sighed helplessly, tapping the rim of his cup as if waiting for something.
Blumarine, half-drunk, leaned against Samba's shoulder. "I vote yes! This guy can really drink. I approve!"
"Hahahaha!" Roger suddenly burst out laughing, his eyes gleaming beneath the straw hat. "This kid feels like he was born to be our crewmate!"
The tavern fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted into even louder cheers.
Young Ritter jumped down from the table, a long trail of blood mist streaming behind him. "Captain, what are you waiting for? Wahahaha, come on! Become pirates with the captain! Let the whole world remember our names!"
He saw Reed raising an eyebrow, Gaban's beard trembling with laughter, and the pure expectation shining in his own younger eyes. It was all so familiar, and yet impossibly distant.
Amid the cheers, Roger suddenly went quiet. His gaze cut through the noise, locking onto future Ritter.
Then Roger blinked.
"Burp."
A loud hiccup echoed as a massive snot bubble inflated from his nose hair.
And he collapsed face-first onto the table, fast asleep.
"Tsk," the crowd groaned in disappointment.
"Snore… snore…"
Young Ritter pouted. "That stupid captain always messes things up at the critical moment. I really don't know if you inherited Garp's bad habits or if Garp inherited yours. If there's nothing suspicious between you two, I won't believe it. This is getting more and more mysterious."
He turned back to future Ritter. "But it's fine! When the captain wakes up, we'll invite you properly. This happens all the time. The food isn't poisoned, don't worry. He's just asleep."
Future Ritter smiled faintly beneath his mask.
"Hey, kid," Reed suddenly said, his tone unusually gentle. "Don't be too disappointed. Some things…"
"Hey, hey, hey. Kid. I'm way older than you," future Ritter said with a grin.
Reed looked surprised. "Haha, really? I couldn't tell. I thought you were in your twenties. Sorry. I'll drink three cups as punishment."
Gaban laughed and cracked open another barrel. "Who cares! Let's drink till we drop! Tomorrow's problems are for tomorrow!"
At last, the feast came to an end. Roger, Reed, Gaban, and a few others who had drunk far too much were laid out early, all arranged at the same table.
Ritter knew it was about time for him to leave.
As he passed the tavern door, he glanced back at the three figures slumped over the table and murmured softly,
"Sweet dreams, Reed, second brother. Sweet dreams, Gaban, third brother."