The sound of hammering filled the shipyard for several days and nights. Under the shipwrights' skillful hands, the deep scars on the Oro Jackson gradually began to heal. Life for the crew returned to its familiar rhythm of drinking, playing cards, and telling tall tales, as if the world-shaking sea battle was nothing more than a hazy memory from a bad hangover.
Only one person was an exception.
Douglas Bullet, the man who always gave off an aura that kept people away, had become even more silent than before. He no longer tried to provoke anyone. Instead, he spent most of his time sitting alone in the shadow of the ship's figurehead, quiet and still like a hibernating beast. The rest of the crew gave him a wide berth, either on purpose or by instinct, turning the patch of shadow where he sat into an invisible forbidden zone.
Kyle leaned against the railing on the second deck, the sea breeze rustling his clothes. He looked down at Bullet below and sighed softly.
Damn, did I go too far with him?
He knew he couldn't completely blame Bullet. In that man's world, there were only the strong and the stronger. He believed in the simple, primitive law of power. Captain Roger didn't have much time left, and in Bullet's eyes, that was a sign that the "strongest" was about to fall, and the crew was destined to decline with him. He couldn't understand the bond on this ship—a bond that went beyond life and death—just like someone who'd never been to sea couldn't understand its magic.
What about Kyle himself? He had followed Roger on these seas for over twenty years. He had gone from a naive kid to one of the most important members of the crew. This ship held all the memories of his youth. After weathering so many storms together for two decades, even a cold stone would have been warmed by the camaraderie. Roger, Rayleigh, Jabba… they were more than crewmates; they were his irreplaceable family.
But Bullet had joined the crew too late. He didn't have that shared history. His eyes only saw Roger's incredible power, but he couldn't see the unique charisma behind that strength—the kind of leadership that made everyone willing to smile and follow him to the very end.
"Brother Kyle…"
A hesitant voice pulled Kyle from his thoughts. He turned to see Buggy and Shanks. Buggy was half-hiding behind Shanks, peeking out at him.
"Uh… Brother Kyle," Buggy said, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. "That move you used on Bullet the other day… the one that made him twitch all over the ground… what's the secret to it? Can you teach me? If I knew that, I wouldn't be scared of Sea Kings anymore!"
Shanks smacked Buggy on the back of the head. "You idiot! That's Brother Kyle's Wave-Wave Fruit ability! How are you supposed to learn it with your Chop-Chop Fruit?"
He then turned to Kyle and scratched his head, his eyes full of admiration. "But seriously, Brother Kyle, you were so cool when you were controlling that storm! Even cooler than the Captain!"
"Hey! Shanks! How dare you say the Captain isn't cool?!" Buggy immediately forgot his fear and jumped up to argue with his friend.
Looking at the two young clowns, the tension in Kyle's face softened. He reached out and flicked both of them on the forehead. "Stop thinking about useless stuff. If you have this much free time, you should be practicing with your swords or working on your Haki."
"Ouch!" Buggy cried, covering his head while still managing to make a face at Shanks. "This is all your fault!"
Shanks just ignored him, rubbing his head and giggling. The two of them ran off, chasing each other, and the deck was once again filled with their noisy energy. Although Kyle's words had been stern, he felt a warmth spread through his chest. It was this simple, pure trust between everyone that formed the true foundation of the ship.
"Don't be too hard on them. They're just kids, after all."
Rayleigh had appeared behind him at some point. He tossed an unopened bottle of rum in his hand before throwing it to Kyle.
"Catch."
Kyle caught it easily, bit the cap off with his teeth, and took a long swig. The spicy liquor burned a trail from his throat down to his stomach, chasing away some of the gloom that had been lingering in his heart.
"I was just thinking," Kyle said, his voice a little low. He gazed at the shipyard, where the craftsmen were carefully hoisting a massive new mainmast onto the ship. "We're going to all this trouble to replace the mast. Is it really necessary for a ship that's about to reach its final destination?"
Was he talking about the ship, or about something else?
Rayleigh leaned on the railing beside him, looking out at the setting sun as it cast a long shadow across the water.
"It's because it's the final voyage that it needs to be perfect, don't you think?" He pushed up his glasses, the lenses glinting in the light. "You handled the situation with Bullet very well."
He paused for a moment before adding, "There are some things that I, as the First Mate, can't easily say. But you're different, Kyle. You're one of this ship's 'parents.' Words from family mean more than any order."
"Family, huh…" Kyle repeated the word, and his gaze drifted back to the lonely shadow under the figurehead.
"Kuhahaha! What are you two old-timers secretly drinking over here?!"
A booming laugh echoed across the deck. Roger strode over, his huge hands clamping down on Kyle's and Rayleigh's shoulders, nearly squeezing the air out of them. He snatched the bottle from Kyle's hand, tilted his head back, and chugged it down.
"Ahh… Good rum!" Roger wiped his mouth. He showed no signs of being sick at all; instead, he was full of a fiery energy, as bright as the sun. "I heard you gave our 'Demon Heir' a good lesson, Kyle. Well done! That kid needed a good beating! All he does is talk about being the 'strongest.' He has no idea what real strength is! If being the strongest means rotting away by yourself in a corner, then I don't want any part of it!"
Roger didn't say a single word about comforting Bullet, treating the whole incident as just a minor event on their long journey. He let go of them and pointed excitedly at the new mainmast being lowered into place, his eyes shining brighter than the setting sun.
"Look! Our ship is almost fixed! After this, it's time for the final voyage!"
Looking at Roger's infectious smile, the last trace of gloom in Kyle's heart melted away. Captain Roger's greatest strength wasn't his Conqueror's Haki or his swordsmanship. It was his incredible talent for making all his followers forget their worries and fears, making them want to laugh with him until the very end, burning their lives as brightly as they could.
Clearing out the noise and protecting this crew's unique spirit until the end of the voyage. That, Kyle realized, was the most important thing he could be doing right now.
"Hey, Roger! You trying to die faster by drinking that much?!"
Kyle snatched the rum back from him, tilted his head, and drained the rest of the bottle in one go. He then threw the empty bottle far out into the sea, where it landed with a satisfying splash.
It was the perfect final note to their time of rest.
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