A nameless harbor in a nameless town.
A red-nosed boy was spitting everywhere as he haggled with a slab-faced black market broker.
"Hey. We agreed on three million berries, not a single berry less. Look at his poster. It's printed in black and white."
Buggy jabbed a finger at the pirate captain on the ground trussed like a rice dumpling, face swollen blue and purple. His outrage was righteous and loud.
"Tch." The broker dug at his teeth and cut him a bored glance. "You knocked him out with tricks. Not a proper wound on him. Two and a half million. Take it or leave it."
"You clown. My brilliant plan isn't worth anything to you?"
Buggy hopped with fury, nose redder than ever.
He was just about to unleash his silver tongue and claw the price back when a passerby's newspaper stole all his attention.
The photo that filled the entire front page. That familiar profile. That unmistakable black-and-gold glaive.
Buggy's eyes bulged round. He snatched the paper from the passerby, ignoring the shouting, and all but plastered himself to the ink.
"Marineford… in ruins… the Wave Lord…"
His jaw dropped wider and wider. When his gaze landed on that absurd, finger-numbing string of digits, his brain hard-locked.
"Ones, tens, hundreds, thousands… three… three billion, one hundred and sixty million berries?"
His cracked-bell scream pealed across the port.
People stared like he was possessed. Buggy no longer cared. He clutched the paper with trembling hands, starry-eyed with worship.
"That… that's Brother Kael."
"Sugoi."
"So badass. He turned Marine Headquarters upside down by himself. That's what a real pirate looks like."
He spun in place several times, like he was the one who had flattened Marineford.
The broker grimaced at the display, tossed a sack of cash at his feet, and waved him off. "Enough already. You're loud. Take your money and beat it."
The smell of cash instantly broke Buggy's trance. He stuffed the berries into his sack at a speed that would shame most pickpockets, grinning like a saint of greed, though he still clamped the newspaper tight as if it were treasure.
"Just you wait, Brother Kael. I, Captain Buggy, will build my own crew, and this sea will learn my name."
He hefted the money bag, squared his shoulders against the sunset, struck what he imagined was a devastating pose, and strode off.
…
Grand Line.
A breeze rippled through a sea of flowers. The air was green and clean.
A red-haired youth sat beneath a tree, teasing ants with a blade of grass. A rapier hung at his hip. His gaze was clear and a little too free for his age.
A news coo fluttered by and dropped a paper at his feet.
He picked it up. When his eyes touched the headline, his lazy look froze. He read every word, carefully. The start and finish of the Dragon and Lion Uprising. Garp's tell-it-like-it-is interview. The brand-new bounty with a number that made the stomach dip.
After a long breath, shock melted from the boy's face into a wide, blazing grin.
"Heh… hahahaha."
He could not help himself. He jammed a straw hat down on his head and flopped back into the grass.
"Honestly. Brother Kael never changes. Either he does nothing, or he makes it a spectacle." Shanks' eyes shone with heat and hunger. "Facing Garp and Sengoku alone… just imagining it sets the blood on fire."
He thought of his days on the Oro Jackson. The man who was gentle by default yet more reliable than anyone once blades were drawn. The teacher who showed him the sword, who drank with him, who pulled the most inventive pranks.
"Sugoi."
The word slipped out soft and sincere.
"I can't stay idle." Shanks sat up, brushed the grass from his clothes, and set his jaw. "Time to find comrades I can trust and set sail."
He folded the paper with care and tucked it close to his heart.
A new age was cresting. He would not miss it.
…
Sabaody Archipelago, Grove 13.
Jazz curled through Shakky's Rip-off Bar, woven with the murmur of patrons.
Rayleigh sat in the corner of the counter, rolling amber whiskey in his glass. He looked every inch a humble coating craftsman, a calm that did not match the din around him.
Cigarette between her lips, Shakky slid a paper his way. "Have a look, Rayleigh. Your little brother made headlines again."
"Oh?" Rayleigh pushed his glasses up and took the paper.
He read quickly. His eyes skimmed the sensational text and photos without a flicker. Only when he reached the description of Dragon Deposed, then saw the number three billion one hundred and sixty million, did his fingers pause.
He knocked back the whiskey in one go.
"That guy," Rayleigh said softly, looking down at Kael's calm profile on the page, "he always takes the straightest path to cut down any so-called rule he doesn't accept."
Shakky blew a ring of smoke and tilted her head. "So what is he after? A warning shot at the World Government before Roger's execution?"
"A warning?" Rayleigh shook his head. His gaze seemed to pass through the print into something farther away.
…
Marineford's rebuild was already in full swing.
Twisted rebar was hauled out. New alloy beams poured in from every corner of the world.
The Marines' faces no longer wore the sag of defeat. In its place burned the hard bright heat humiliation leaves behind. They would raise a bastion larger and stronger than before as fast as human hands could move. They would show the world the rampart of justice does not crumble because two pirates rammed it.
"All fleets bound for the East Blue double your patrol grids. Elevate alert to maximum."
A Headquarters vice admiral bellowed from the newly raised lookout. "No petty rat will disrupt the execution in Loguetown."
The Wave Lord's trail was stamped top secret, to be hunted by CP with full priority. Yet more hands, more ships, more time were pulled into preparations for the coming end of an era.
The sea grew more fevered.
"Three point one six billion. My gods, is that real?"
"Do it. One hair from Kael's head and I'm set for life."
"Dream on. He stood against Garp and Sengoku. Let's chase that fifty-thousand-berry big shot instead. He looks kind."
The timid pirate did not finish before the captain cuffed him on the back of the head.
"Coward. This is the age for riding the wind and swimming with the storm."
"Cap… it's clouds rising, not waves swimming."
"Shut up. I'm the captain."
Ambitionists and desperadoes surged to sea like sharks scenting blood. Maybe they would never find Kael. It did not matter. The Dragon and Lion Uprising had cracked the order. The whole ocean felt looser and wilder.
The Government and Marines had their eyes chained to two beacons of risk, the Wave Lord and Roger's execution. Their gaze locked hard on the Grand Line and the East Blue, braced for any ripple.
Under that noise and fever, in a corner where no one was looking, fate's track slid quietly off its appointed rail.
No one noticed a small island in the calm South Blue. Baterilla.
No infamous pirates. No Marine base. Barely a harbor to speak of.
The islanders rose with the sun and slept with it, living a peace untouched by the world's quarrels.
Under warm afternoon light, a pink-haired woman walked the shore. A basket of fruit hung from one hand. The other stroked the rise of her belly. Her face held the quiet, holy glow of a mother.
A discarded newspaper, blown ragged by the wind, skittered to her feet. She bent and picked it up. On the front page was a face both familiar and strange, and beneath it a number like a star map.
Rouge's eyes flickered with worry, and then, slowly, worry softened into something deeper. Gratitude. And gentleness.
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