South Sea, Baterilla Island.
Unlike the treacherous islands of the Grand Line, this place enjoyed spring-like weather all year round. The sun lazily spilled onto pristine white sand, warming the fine grains. Smoke curled from the rooftops of the small town, where the streets echoed with the laughter of children and the casual chatter of housewives. Everything was tranquil and peaceful.
Iron Kyle, dressed in ordinary casual clothes, walked along the cobblestone path. The naginata on his back was visually distorted by a trick of light and shadow to look like a simple travel bag. His golden pupils, usually sharp and intense, were reined in, making him look like an ordinary traveler on vacation—completely harmless.
This really is a place suitable for retirement, he thought to himself as he walked. The air carried no scent of gunpowder or blood, only the faint fragrance of flowers and the salty taste of the sea.
Ever since he had taken Roger's remains from Loguetown, he had been carefully hiding his tracks, taking several days to reach this remote island. His previous actions had, thankfully, provided the perfect cover. If he hadn't torn Marineford apart, leaving Marine Headquarters scrambling with reconstruction, the World Government would likely have its agents frantically searching for everything and everyone related to Roger. As it was, the Marine high command was stretched thin, their main focus consumed by the chaos of the new "Great Pirate Era." No one would notice this inconspicuous little island, nor would they know that Roger's wife, Portgas D. Rouge, lived here.
Kyle's footsteps stopped in front of a detached house facing the sea. The walls were painted a warm, off-white, and several bedsheets were drying in the yard, billowing in the sea breeze. Pots of blooming sunflowers sat on the windowsill, vibrant in the sunlight.
This was it.
Kyle stood at the door, but his raised hand hovered in mid-air, hesitating to knock. On the way here, he had imagined this meeting a hundred times. What should he say? How should he start?
"Hello, I'm Roger's younger brother. He's dead, and I'm here to take you away."
"My condolences. Roger… passed away peacefully."
No, that's terrible, Kyle thought, irritably running a hand through his hair. This was more mentally taxing than invading Marineford. Invading Marineford only required swinging a naginata, but comforting someone… that was far more complicated. He dreaded dealing with situations like this. If Rouge burst into tears at the sight of him, what was he supposed to do? Offer a handkerchief? Awkwardly pat her shoulder and say some empty words he didn't even believe himself? "The dead can't be brought back… You must be strong… Life goes on…"
Just as he was lost in his mental struggle, the door in front of him creaked open a crack.
Kyle's thoughts instantly stalled. He froze in place, looking exactly like a child caught off guard by a house full of unfamiliar relatives. An eye peeked out from the crack in the door, a hint of wariness in it. Their eyes met. Kyle's mind went blank. All the opening lines he had prepared vanished completely. After a long pause, he squeezed out a few dry words.
"Um… I…" he stammered, his gaze drifting to the nearby sunflowers. "The weather… is really nice, isn't it?"
The woman in the doorway had beautiful, soft pink hair, a few gentle freckles on her face, and clear, warm eyes. Seeing her, Kyle finally found his tongue, though his tone was still a bit unnatural.
"I am… Roger's younger brother, Iron Kyle. I'm here to… take you to a safer place." After he finished speaking, he didn't dare to look at her expression, bracing himself for the sadness and tears he was sure would follow.
However, the expected crying didn't happen. Rouge was only slightly surprised, and then a hint of realization appeared in her warm eyes. She looked Kyle up and down, her gaze lingering on his unique golden pupils for a moment before she nodded.
"So you are Iron Kyle," she said, her tone sounding as if she had been expecting him. "Please, come in."
"Huh? Oh…" Kyle, a bit bewildered, followed her into the house. The furnishings inside were simple but spotlessly clean, full of the warmth of life. Rouge invited him to sit on the sofa, then turned to the kitchen to pour tea. This was not the reaction he had imagined at all. He sat awkwardly on the sofa, watching her busy back, not knowing what to say.
"Don't be nervous," Rouge said, walking over with two steaming cups of tea. She placed one on the coffee table in front of him. "When he was home, Roger talked about you often." She sat down in the chair opposite him, holding the warm teacup in both hands, a soft smile on her face. "He said he had the most outstanding and reliable younger brother in the world. Every time he got a newspaper with your new bounty poster, he would act like a child, constantly showing it off to me, saying, 'Look! This is my younger brother!'"
Rouge's voice was soft and gentle, like the sea breeze outside the window. She wasn't hysterical, nor was she in tears. She spoke as if she were simply recounting an ordinary memory. Only when Roger's name was mentioned did the fleeting sadness in the corner of her eye betray the deep sorrow hidden in her heart.
But the calmer she was, the more uneasy Kyle felt. The bitterness he had forcibly suppressed in Loguetown, the grief he had tried to numb with alcohol at the grave on that isolated island, now seemed to find an outlet, surging up uncontrollably.
Kyle's eyes reddened without warning. He lowered his head, looking at the rising steam from the teacup, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, Rouge." His fists clenched tightly at his sides. "I… I couldn't bring him back."
A brief silence fell in the room. Then, he heard a gentle sigh.
"It's okay, Kyle." Rouge put down her teacup and looked at him gently. "This isn't your fault. That was the path Roger chose for himself. It was his will as the 'Pirate King.'" She, in turn, was now comforting the man who had brought the World Government to its knees. "He definitely wouldn't want to see you like this. He was smiling when he left, wasn't he?"
Kyle suddenly looked up, meeting her clear and strong eyes. In them, there was no resentment, only acceptance and understanding. In that instant, he seemed to see again that foolish captain who always grinned widely and had the word "freedom" on his lips. They were so different, yet so alike.
Truly, he thought, like attracts like.
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