The rain in Loguetown stopped.
In the puddles, the distorted reflections of people swayed as those who had been knocked out by Conqueror's Haki gradually began to awaken. They sat up in a daze, rubbing their aching heads, the image of that lone figure, carrying an entire era on his back as he departed, still fresh in their minds. The Marines got busy restoring order, while the pirates, still shaken, had the greedy flames in their hearts reignited by Roger's final words. They began searching for ships, preparing to rush towards the great and unknown voyage.
In a secluded corner of the town, far from the bustling crowd, Shanks and Buggy sat side-by-side on the damp steps. Neither of them spoke. Buggy had stopped crying, but his shoulders still twitched. Unlike Shanks, who rigidly suppressed his emotions, Buggy was simply lost, adrift without a sense of direction.
Shanks kept his head lowered, the shadow of his straw hat hiding his expression. After a long silence, Buggy spoke, his voice thick and heavy.
"Hey, Shanks."
"Yeah."
"Big Brother Kyle… he took the Captain away."
"Yeah."
"What… what do we do now?" Buggy looked up at Shanks's profile, a hint of hope in his eyes. "We promised, didn't we? We'd form our own pirate crew, and then… go again, to Laugh Tale."
Shanks fell silent. He didn't answer immediately. He slowly raised his head, looking in the direction Kyle had left, toward the line where the sea met the sky. His silence made Buggy feel a growing unease.
"Shanks?"
"Buggy," Shanks finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. "I… I'm not going for now."
"Huh?" The hope on Buggy's face instantly froze. He thought he'd misheard. "What did you say? What do you mean… you're not going?"
"I'll still be a pirate. I'll still go out to sea," Shanks turned his head, looking seriously at Buggy. "But I'm not going to Laugh Tale. Not for now."
Buggy shot up from the steps, pointing a disbelieving finger at Shanks's nose, his voice suddenly sharp. "Say that again! Do you have any idea what you're saying, Shanks!"
Shanks also stood up, calmly meeting Buggy's glare. "I didn't say never, just not now—"
"Enough!" Buggy rudely interrupted him, his chest heaving as his eyes turned red with agitation. A surge of anger and betrayal washed over him. "I had it all planned out!" Buggy's voice trembled. "Once you formed your crew, I was going to be your first mate! We were going to go together, to see the future the Captain couldn't…"
He trailed off, but the immense sense of grievance was impossible to hide. He thought they would be each other's strongest support, that they shared the same dream. But now, at the very starting line, his most trusted friend was telling him they were going their separate ways.
"So, you think now that the Captain is dead and Big Brother Kyle is gone, no one can control you, is that it?! You think that dream isn't important anymore?!"
"It's not like that, Buggy." Shanks's brow furrowed. He tried to explain. "That's not my path. Captain Roger was Captain Roger, and I am me. I have to walk my own path." He extended his hand to Buggy, just as he had countless times before. "Come out to sea with me, Buggy. We can still be the best of friends, just like always."
"Your path?" Buggy looked at the outstretched hand as if it were the most ridiculous thing he had ever seen, and he laughed hysterically. "Your path is to betray the Captain's dream?"
His laughter stopped abruptly, replaced by a cold, resolute silence. Buggy suddenly pulled a dagger from his sash. It was an old-looking blade with a small ruby embedded in its hilt—a gift from Roger. He had always treasured it.
Shanks's eyes widened slightly. "Buggy, you…"
Buggy ignored him. He held the dagger, a flicker of pain in his eyes that was quickly overshadowed by determination. He raised the dagger high and then fiercely slashed it across the ground with all his might. The sharp tip screeched against the damp stone, leaving a clear, deep mark—a line that completely separated the two of them.
"The Captain… he really misjudged you, Shanks!" Buggy choked out the words, stubbornly holding back his tears. He glanced at the mark on the ground, then at Shanks, who stood frozen to the spot. He abruptly turned away.
"I don't care!" he yelled with all his might, his back to Shanks, as if speaking to him, but also to himself. "You just watch me! Even without you, I'll form my own pirate crew! I'll find the One Piece and inherit the Captain's will! I am… the man who will become the Pirate King!"
With that, he took large strides without looking back, rushing into an alley and disappearing around the corner. Only Shanks remained, standing quietly in place. He lowered his head, looking at the glaring white line at his feet. After a long moment, he slowly raised a hand and pressed down on his straw hat, deepening the shadow that covered his face. He didn't chase after him. He didn't say another word.
On a nameless small island, an inconspicuous dot on any sea chart, the salty sea breeze blew across a simple grave. There was no tombstone, only a flat stone serving as a marker. Kyle sat on the grass before it, a bottle of fine rum in his hand. He twisted open the cap, and the rich aroma of wine mixed with the scent of grass. He slowly poured the amber liquid onto the soil, as if sharing a drink with the old friend resting there.
Afterward, he leaned against the stone, looking up at the clear blue sky. Memories flooded his mind.
"Little Kyle, I've got my eye on you! Interested in coming out to sea with us? To see what the true sea looks like!"
"Kyle! Don't always frown! So young, yet you're more like an old man than Rayleigh! Come on, smile!"
"Kuhahaha! I don't know either! But it's because we don't know that adventure is so much fun!"
"Thank you, Kyle."
Kyle's eyelids drooped, concealing the emotions in his eyes. He picked up the bottle and took a big swig, the spicy liquid burning his throat but doing nothing to fill the emptiness in his heart. He looked at the grave, speaking idly as if chatting.
"Honestly, if I'd known you'd die so easily, I would have had Kuzan freeze you solid back then, illness and all." He paused, then pouted. "No, wait, I think I kicked him in the kidney at Marineford. He probably still holds a grudge, so he wouldn't have helped."
The sea breeze blew, and the grass rustled, as if in response.
"You left so freely, without even saying where you wanted to be buried. What if someone digs you up out here in the wilderness?" Kyle's tone was full of disdain, as if complaining about a foolish captain who always caused trouble. "Seriously, do you have any idea how much Shanks and Buggy cried back in Loguetown?"
"Me?" Kyle raised a hand and touched the corner of his eye. He snorted lightly, turning his head away. "A real man doesn't shed tears."
The sea breeze was gentle, and the sun was warm. It was quiet all around, with only his voice echoing softly. After a long time, he drained the bottle, tossed it aside, and stood up. He brushed the grass from his clothes, took one last look at the perfectly ordinary grave, and a faint smile played on his lips.
"Goodnight, Roger."
Kyle's back was as straight as ever as he turned away, but against the brilliant sunlight, his lone figure seemed to carry the weight of the world. His journey was not yet over. The Captain's bloodline… he had to protect it.
"Baterilla Island…" Kyle's gaze drifted towards the distant horizon, and the calm reminiscence in his golden eyes slowly sharpened. "I hope Garp hasn't gotten there before I do."
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