Five years can feel like a lifetime, but on the vast, unchanging ocean, it was merely the passing of a few tides. The sun still shone brightly on the deck of the Oro Jackson, but the main source of commotion had certainly gotten smaller.
"You idiot, Shanks! I told you the Grand Line ends in the north! Don't you even know basic geography?"
"Buggy, you're the real idiot! Captain Roger said you can't judge the end of an adventure with common sense! It could totally be in the east!"
Two young boys, their heads barely reaching the halfway point of the ship's railing, were arguing furiously over a question that had no real answer. One had a shock of bright red hair, the other a crop of blue. They were like two overly energetic puppies, constantly nipping at each other.
Leaning in the cool shadow of the main mast, Kyle slowly polished his beloved naginata, its sharp blade reflecting a cold gleam in the sunlight. Listening to the two apprentices bicker, a faint smile curved his lips. Five years had passed in the blink of an eye. He was nearly thirty now, and Roger had finally grown his signature mustache, looking every bit the legendary pirate captain he was.
The world itself had undergone a seismic shift since the battle at God Valley. Garp had become a living legend overnight. He stubbornly refused a promotion to Admiral, so Marine Headquarters had instead bestowed upon him the unique title of "Marine Hero." On the Grand Line, that title now carried more weight and inspired more fear than that of any Admiral.
Meanwhile, the scattered remnants of the Rocks Pirates who had escaped God Valley had festered and grown into notorious monsters in the New World. Whitebeard, Golden Lion, Big Mom… they were all frantically recruiting followers and carving out vast territories for themselves. The former subordinates had become new kings, and the sea was now more chaotic, and more interesting, than ever before.
Rayleigh sat on a nearby crate, his brow furrowed as he read the latest newspaper. "That fellow Zephyr… he's actually retired from the front lines," he murmured, a hint of respect and regret in his voice. "His family was killed by pirates. I suppose that kind of blow was too much for him to bear."
Kyle's polishing motions paused. He remembered the stories of the former Marine Admiral, "Black Arm" Zephyr. He was a true soldier, through and through, only to be betrayed by the very system he dedicated his life to protecting. A true shame. He put down his naginata and leaned over, glancing at a small, inconspicuous corner of the newspaper Rayleigh was holding. A tiny article mentioned two names: Sakazuki and Borsalino, reportedly the most monstrously talented rookies in this year's Marine training camp.
'Well, well,' Kyle thought. 'Aren't those the future Akainu and Kizaru?' The great wheel of history was rolling forward, right on schedule.
"Hey! Kyle-bro! You be the judge!" A fuming, red-haired Shanks ran over and tugged on his pants. "Buggy here says that treasure is more important than the adventure itself!"
The blue-haired apprentice, Buggy, followed close behind, jabbing a finger at Shanks's nose. "What do you know, you idiot! Without treasure, how are we supposed to buy food? How do we buy weapons? You're nothing but a daydreamer!"
Kyle looked down at the two boys—one who would become a Yonko with "dreams" on his lips, the other a future Warlord who valued "treasure" above all else. 'Good grief,' he mused. 'An idealist and a realist, already at each other's throats.'
He extended two fingers and flicked each of them squarely on the forehead.
Thump! Thump!
With two dull thuds, both boys squatted down, clutching their heads in pain.
"If you two have this much energy to spare, go scrub the deck. A hundred times."
"A hundred times?!" Buggy wailed. "That'll kill us!"
"Fine. Make it two hundred."
Buggy immediately snapped his mouth shut. He grabbed the reluctant Shanks by the arm, and the two obediently picked up brushes and buckets to begin their arduous punishment. Watching them, one scrubbing from the east and the other from the west before inevitably arguing again over whose territory was whose, the rest of the crew burst into laughter.
Jabba leaned against the mast beside Kyle. "You really know how to handle those two," he teased. "I seem to remember a time when you first came aboard. You were even more of a handful than both of them combined."
"Was I?" Kyle raised an eyebrow. "Funny, I seem to remember someone getting a beating from Roger the very first time he laid eyes on me."
Jabba's old face flushed a bit. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "Speaking of which, where did you even find that Buggy kid? I remember we stopped at that abandoned port for supplies two years ago, and you just came back with that little snot-nosed brat in tow."
Kyle's mind drifted back. At the time, Buggy was just a skinny, homeless orphan he'd found rummaging for scraps in a trash heap. Feeling a pang of pity, Kyle had brought him aboard on a whim. He never once connected the blue-haired boy who was obsessed with treasure to the ridiculously lucky future Clown Emperor. Not until a certain "accident" occurred shortly after he joined.
That day, Roger had brought back another massive chest of treasure. As the crew gathered around to divide the spoils, Buggy was naturally the first to dive in, hugging a golden cup bigger than his own head with a greedy grin. Shanks, however, had no interest in mere gold and silver; he wanted to see if there were any interesting weapons or adventure maps at the bottom. As Shanks dove in and Buggy pulled things out, the heavy chest lid somehow slammed shut with a loud bang.
A heartbreaking scream echoed across the deck. When the crew frantically lifted the lid, they found Buggy clutching his nose, tears streaming down his face. His nose had been pinched so hard it had swollen up into a big, round ball, as red as a cherry. It was in that moment, seeing that iconic red nose, that Kyle's brain felt like it had been struck by lightning. 'It really is you… Great God Buggy!'
Back in the present, Shanks suddenly pointed at the sky. "Hey! Buggy! Look what that is!"
Buggy instinctively looked up. In that split second, Shanks, moving with lightning speed, splashed the entire bucket of dirty water all over him.
Splash—!
Buggy was instantly soaked to the bone. He stood stunned for two seconds before letting out a thunderous roar. "SHANKS—! You bastard! I'm going to kill you!"
The two apprentices immediately began to wrestle, rolling around on the slippery, wet deck.
"Kuhahahahaha!" Roger's hearty laughter boomed from the captain's quarters. He watched the two children play, laughing so hard he had to bend over. "So much energy! That's what I like to see!"
Rayleigh sighed and put down his newspaper, a look of weary resignation on his face. "Roger, if you don't stop them, they're going to dismantle the entire ship."
"Nah, kids fighting is how they build a strong bond!" Roger waved his hand dismissively. His gaze then fell on Kyle, and his eyes lit up. "That's right! Kyle! Come and spar with me! I feel like my bones are getting rusty!"
"Are you a kid too?" Kyle asked with a sigh, reluctantly standing up and picking up the naginata he had spent years mastering. In the past five years, he hadn't just been watching the world change and raising children. His control over the Wave-Wave Fruit had become incredibly proficient, and his Haki had been tempered to a fine edge through daily sparring sessions with monsters like Roger and Rayleigh.
He rested the naginata on his shoulder and looked at the battle-ready Roger. "Fine. But if you lose this time, that prized barrel of rum you've been saving is mine."
"Kuhahahahaha! You have to beat me first! Besides, you don't even drink!"
The two walked to the center of the deck. Shanks and Buggy stopped their wrestling match and, along with the other crew members, excitedly formed a circle to watch. Roger drew his cutlass, "Ace," from his waist. With a casual swing, an invisible wave of Conqueror's Haki rippled outwards, making the air feel thick and heavy.
Kyle, in contrast, slowly lowered his naginata until its tip touched the deck. He didn't release his Haki. Instead, he channeled a peculiar, high-frequency vibration into the blade. Then, without any warning, he swung the naginata forward with all his might. The blade didn't tear through the air; it made it hum with an ear-splittingly sharp frequency.
Along the path of the slash, the air itself vibrated and compressed violently. A shockwave, composed of pure sonic force and shaped like a phoenix spreading its wings, roared toward Roger.
Roger didn't retreat; he charged forward. His cutlass was coated in pitch-black Armament Haki as he slashed down to meet the invisible attack.
"God Avoidance!"
BOOM—!!!
Two completely different forms of power collided in the center of the deck. The resulting explosion of air sent the surrounding crew members staggering. Shanks and Buggy were blown away like stray leaves, rolling across the deck until they slammed into the mast.
"A-Amazing…" Shanks stared at the two men in the center of the clearing, his eyes filled with stars. He was completely captivated by his captain's famous technique.
Buggy rubbed his sore backside, looking from Kyle's powerful naginata to Roger's overwhelming presence. He then glanced down at the scrubbing brush still in his hand, and for the very first time, a flicker of desire for something other than treasure ignited in his eyes.
Kyle gripped his own numb hands around his weapon and grinned.
Sunshine, rolling waves, trustworthy companions, noisy apprentices, and the strongest opponent in the world to test his skills against. This was the life.
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