Chapter 92: Goodbye, Oro Jackson
Oden was the second to leave.
He stood at the gangplank, his swords at his waist, his grin as wide as the day he had boarded. "Everyone! This is where we part! Sailing with you has been the greatest honor of my life!"
Shanks and Buggy rushed forward, clinging to his legs. "Oden‑san! Are you sure you'll be all right alone?"
Rayleigh's brow furrowed. "Wano isn't what it was when you left. Orochi has taken the country. It's dangerous."
Oden laughed, waving away the concern. "A trifle! I'll set things right."
Kyle watched him—the man who believed so completely in his own strength, who could not imagine betrayal from those he trusted. He waited until the farewells quieted, then spoke.
"Oden."
Oden turned. Kyle's voice was calm, his eyes steady.
"Samurai honor is a fine thing. But some enemies won't respect it. When you face those who play without rules, don't let your pride become a trap."
Oden frowned, chewing the words. He did not fully understand, but he trusted the man who spoke them. He bowed.
"I'll remember." He straightened, looked at the crew one last time. "Until we meet again!"
He strode down the dock, his back straight, his steps sure. The crew watched until he disappeared into the trees.
---
The Oro Jackson sailed on, lighter now. The laughter that had filled her decks had quieted, but the silence was not empty. It held the weight of the years they had shared.
At Sabaody, Rayleigh prepared to leave. He had changed into simple clothes, his sword the only thing he carried. The crew gathered at the rail, and for once, the farewell was not somber.
"Mister Rayleigh," Shanks called, a grin breaking through his sadness, "going to see someone special?"
Buggy caught on immediately. "That bar owner! The one with the expensive drinks!"
Jabba leaned against the mast. "Do you have enough money? I hear she charges a fortune."
Rayleigh's composure cracked. A red flush crept up his neck. "Enough nonsense! I'm just looking for a quiet place to retire."
Kyle smiled and said nothing, but his eyes said enough. Rayleigh fled down the gangplank, and the deck filled with the first real laughter in days.
---
The last port was a small island, unmarked on any chart. Jabba stood with his axe across his shoulders, his gaze on the horizon. Kyle had his naginata, a small satchel tied to its shaft.
"This is it," Jabba said.
Shanks and Buggy stood before them, their faces tight, their eyes dry only because they had used up their tears on earlier goodbyes.
Jabba grinned. "The future's yours now. Don't shame the Roger name."
Kyle stepped forward, resting a hand on each boy's shoulder. "No long faces. We'll meet again."
He looked at Shanks, then at Buggy. "You've learned what we could teach. Now you find your own way. If you slack off, I'll know. And I'll come find you."
He raised his fists. A faint vibration hummed around them, and he tapped them gently against the boys' fists.
Shanks's eyes were wet, but he smiled. "We won't let you down."
Buggy rubbed his nose, defiant. "I'm going to be the richest pirate in the world. You'll see."
Kyle and Jabba exchanged a look, then turned and walked down the gangplank. They did not look back. The anchor rose, and the Oro Jackson drifted away, her deck nearly empty now, carrying only the two boys who would one day shape the seas.
At the rail, Shanks pulled the straw hat low over his eyes. Buggy stood beside him, Roger's dagger tucked into his belt, his face set against the wind.
The ship grew smaller, then vanished.
On the dock, Kyle watched until the horizon swallowed her. Jabba stood beside him, his axe a familiar weight.
"What now?" Jabba asked.
Kyle slung his naginata over his shoulder. "Now we find out what comes next."
He turned from the sea and walked toward the island, and Jabba followed.
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End of Chapter 92