Crocus's weathered eyes stared fixedly at Ryoma, the emotions swirling within them complex to the extreme: shock, doubt, ecstasy, and a hint of sorrow.
"Sit down... and talk?"
Crocus hoarsely repeated those words, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty.
His body, which had been tense with excitement, finally slumped at this moment. He promptly sat down on the cold steel platform, his entire body radiating a thick sense of dejection and exhaustion.
"Brook... that guy..." Crocus murmured in a low voice.
He looked up, his red-rimmed eyes bloodshot. "Is he really... still alive?"
"In another form." Ryoma gave a definitive answer.
Ryoma did not rush him, he just stood there quietly, giving the old man enough time to digest this earth-shattering information. He knew very well that if he wanted to gain benefits from this senior of the Roger Pirates, he first had to untie the knot in his heart.
"Then why... why hasn't he come back?"
There was a hint of a sob in Crocus's voice.
This was a question that had plagued him for decades, and it was the root of his transition from trust to disappointment regarding the Rumbar Pirates.
Ryoma's answer was simple and direct. "He can't come back. He's trapped."
"Trapped?"
Crocus chewed on the word, the confusion on his face deepening. "What do you mean? Was he caught by the Marines? Or imprisoned by someone?"
"His shadow was stolen, making him unable to move under the sunlight. He can only be trapped forever in that sea of mist known as the Florian Triangle." Ryoma calmly revealed another cruel fact.
He didn't go into too much detail, as that could easily cause unnecessary trouble and suspicion. Spoilers are satisfying for a moment, but excessive spoilers would only make his existence increasingly suspicious.
"Shadow..."
Crocus was stunned. He had roamed the seas for decades, followed the pirate king to the end of the world, and heard countless strange tales, but this reason was still something he had never expected.
The Grand Line was bizarre. While a devil fruit ability that could steal shadows was rare, it was not non-existent. This reason was far better than "betraying the promise."
All the resentment and bitterness seemed to find an outlet for release at this moment.
Crocus buried his head deep, his broad shoulders heaving violently. There was no loud wailing, only the suppressed, silent sobbing of decades.
Laboon... Brook... Yorki...
Those music-loving companions hadn't broken their promise.
They just... couldn't come back.
Ryoma watched silently, feeling a pang of sighing in his heart as well.
This was the sea—full of passion and dreams, but equally full of regrets and partings.
After a long time, Crocus slowly raised his head. He wiped his face with the back of his rough hand, a glimmer of clarity returning to his cloudy eyes.
He stood up and walked toward his small hut with somewhat staggering steps.
"Follow me."
His voice was still raspy, but the previous hostility and mania were gone, replaced by a calmness born of experiencing life's many changes.
Ryoma said nothing and stepped forward to follow him.
The fish was completely hooked, next was the time for the harvest.
The furnishings inside the hut were very simple: a bed, a table, some medical equipment, and various jars and bottles.
Crocus rummaged a wooden box out of a cabinet and tossed it onto the table with a muffled thud. He didn't open it immediately. Instead, he turned to pour two glasses of rum from a barrel and pushed one in front of Ryoma.
"Now, let's talk about your business."
Crocus sat down, lit a new cigarette, and took a deep drag.
"Being hunted by a Marine Admiral... what exactly did you do?"
His sharp gaze locked onto Ryoma again, full of scrutiny.
He was willing to believe the news about Brook because it was his deepest inner desire, but that didn't mean he would unconditionally trust the mysterious young man before him.
Someone who could escape from an Admiral could never be a simple character.
"It's nothing much." Ryoma picked up the glass, gently swirling the amber liquid inside, speaking nonchalantly.
"Just in Loguetown, I happened to stop a public execution led by a Celestial Dragon, and then I accidentally slaughtered that Celestial Dragon."
Pfft!
Crocus spat out the mouthful of rum he had just taken, coughing violently as he choked.
"Cough, cough... You... what did you say?!"
His eyes widened as if he were looking at a madman.
Slaughtered... a Celestial Dragon?
Is this kid crazy!
Those are World Nobles! Resisting or laying a hand on Celestial Dragons would attract a Marine Admiral and a Buster Call!
Crocus himself had followed Roger in his youth and seen many great storms, but publicly resisting the Celestial Dragons and then slaughtering one afterward was definitely a crazy act that could be recorded in the history books.
"No wonder... no wonder an Admiral would personally take action." Crocus muttered to himself, his attitude toward Ryoma changing completely.
It was no longer the scrutiny of a suspicious junior, but the look one gives a complete and audacious madman.
At the same time, there was a hint of appreciation.
Anyone who laid hands on that scum, the Celestial Dragons, could be considered a real man regardless of the reason.
"So, I need an eternal pose, or at least a log pose."
Ryoma took a sip of the wine, the spicy liquid sliding down his throat as he continued his topic.
"The magnetic field of the Grand Line is too chaotic. I don't want to get lost and crash headlong into Marine Headquarters, Marineford."
"And then?" Crocus pressed.
"And then, I want to ask for some Haki training experience."
Ryoma's expression became serious. "Especially Armament Haki. Being hunted by a Logia user you can't hit... that feeling is very unpleasant."
This was also the primary purpose of his trip.
Crocus fell silent.
He smoked quietly, the blue smoke curling and obscuring his face. After a while, he stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray.
"An eternal pose, I have one here." He slowly opened the wooden box on the table.
Seven or eight large glass spheres lay in the box, the needle in the center of each sphere pointing firmly in a fixed direction.
"These are ones I collected in the past, pointing to some of the more famous islands in the first half of the Grand Line."
His fingers ran over those eternal poses, and he picked up a glass sphere whose needle pointed relatively steadily.
"This one points to Alabasta. It's a massive desert kingdom, rich in resources, and the route is relatively safe, suitable for a newcomer like you."
As he spoke, he prepared to hand the eternal pose to Ryoma.
Ryoma did not reach out to take it, he just looked at Crocus quietly and then shook his head.
"What I need is more than just this."
"You don't look like someone who doesn't understand Haki."
Crocus paused. He looked up, and his gaze met Ryoma's in the air.
"Moreover, that requires talent and persistent, hard training. I can only tell you some basic theories and experiences, how far you can go depends entirely on yourself."
"That's enough." Ryoma nodded.
Crocus's tone shifted. "In exchange, I need you to promise me one thing."
Here it comes.
Ryoma understood in his heart, there was no such thing as a free lunch.
"Please, say it."
"If one day, in that sea of mist, you encounter Brook..."
Crocus's voice became somewhat trembling again, and he clenched his fists tightly.
"Tell him for me... Laboon is still waiting for him."