The scars carved into the sky by the clash of Conqueror's Haki hadn't yet faded, but the tension on the decks of the two legendary ships was long gone.
Wooden planks now bridged the gap between the Oro Jackson and the Moby Dick, and the crews strolled freely back and forth as if visiting old friends.
Bonfires blazed, roasting massive Sea King meat that sizzled over the flames. Fat dripped into the fire, hissing and popping, while the thick aroma of grilled meat and rum drifted lazily across the sea.
"Hey! Red Nose! That's my leg!"
"Idiot Shanks! Finders keepers!"
In one corner of the deck, Shanks and Buggy were wrestling over a hunk of roast meat, rolling across the floor like kids. Marco, chin propped on his palm, watched them with an amused smile. Compared to the earlier brawl, this was far more entertaining.
Not far away, Jozu arm-wrestled one of Roger's hulking crewmates. His diamond-coated arm glimmered in the firelight, dazzling enough to make Buggy stare dreamily again, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth.
Kael leaned casually against the mast, a fresh glass of orange juice in hand.
His gaze drifted to Vista, who was surrounded by a group of Whitebeard Pirates. The young swordsman's face was red as a lobster, and he was fumbling awkwardly through their teasing.
Kael raised his cup slightly in greeting.
Vista caught the motion, froze, and quickly turned away, pretending to admire the sea instead.
What a "magnificent" ocean indeed.
At the center of the feast, two monsters sat cross-legged before barrels large enough to drown a man.
"Kuhahahaha! Newgate, your men sure have spirit!" Roger roared, downing a massive bowl of liquor as if it were water.
"Gurararara! And yours are an amusing bunch!" Whitebeard replied, matching him gulp for gulp. His stern face softened a little as his gaze swept over his "sons."
After several rounds of drinking, the atmosphere was glowing.
Then Roger, never one to keep his curiosity to himself, nudged Whitebeard's arm and asked, "You know, Newgate, there's something I've always wondered. Why did a man like you ever sail under Rocks?"
The lively chatter seemed to mute instantly.
Most of the pirates kept shouting and laughing, but those nearby Rayleigh, Gaban, and a few senior members of Whitebeard's crew quieted down, turning their eyes to their captain.
Whitebeard's hand paused midair. A shadow flickered across his gaze.
He didn't answer right away. He drained the rest of his drink in one pull, exhaled, and gave a low chuckle.
"Gurararara… because he beat me."
Even Roger blinked at that.
"I was still drifting aimlessly back then," Whitebeard said, voice slow and heavy with memory. "Rocks found me, and without a word, attacked. I lost and I accepted it. Then he invited me aboard his ship."
He paused, his eyes drifting toward the horizon.
"I told him I was searching for the meaning of sailing. He laughed, so hard he nearly fell over, and said that was the dullest, weakest reason in the world. But then he promised he could show me something far more valuable."
Kael sipped his orange juice quietly, ears perked.
So that's how it happened. Hook the idealist with dreams and sell him a grand illusion.
Classic con man energy.
"The Rocks Pirates were a collection of the world's wildest beasts," Whitebeard continued. His tone carried no nostalgia, only a detached weariness. "Everyone had their own ambition. Everyone wanted to climb higher by stepping on someone else. 'Comrades' were just tools to use or discard. You never knew if the man drinking beside you would stab you in the heart the next moment."
The younger pirates shuddered.
"The longer I stayed, the clearer it became," he said softly. "The 'meaning' Rocks spoke of was nothing but food for his own greed. But the thing I sought… never changed."
He stopped there and turned to look away.
Across the deck, Marco was chugging rum in a drinking contest, Jozu was demanding a rematch after losing an arm-wrestle to Gaban, and Vista red-faced but smiling now was earnestly comparing sword techniques with Spencer.
Each of them was loud, earnest, and alive.
For a moment, Whitebeard's gaze softened beyond belief. It wasn't the proud gaze of a conqueror, but the gentle eyes of a father watching over his precious children.
"Gurararara…" His deep laugh rumbled again, but this time, it was warm filled with pride and quiet joy. "But now, I've found it."
He lifted his bowl high toward his sons.
Roger grinned wide and raised his own, smashing it against Whitebeard's.
"Kuhahahaha! Then that's all that matters! Some treasures are worth more than gold!" he bellowed, gulping down his drink. "As for me, Newgate, my goal's simple too!"
He stood, spreading his arms to the sea, the wind whipping through his hair.
"I want to see what lies at the end of this ocean! The hidden history, the truth of the world I'll witness it all with my own eyes! We're setting out to retrace the Grand Line and find the final island, the one no man has ever reached!"
His words carried the weight of conviction, not mere ambition.
The Oro Jackson crew erupted in cheers, their faces blazing with the same reckless excitement as their captain's.
Whitebeard listened in silence for a while, then smiled approvingly. "Gurararara… that's just like you, Roger. But the place we're headed might be the exact opposite of yours."
"Oh?" Roger tilted his head.
"We're sailing to a closed-off country called Wano," Whitebeard said. "I hear they have fine sake and some interesting people."
Wano…
Kael's eyelid twitched. Masaka? Kozuki Oden?!
Whatever happens, Momonosuke must die.
The feast stretched long into the night. By the time dawn broke over the sea, it was finally winding down.
"Roger! Next time we meet, I won't lose!" Whitebeard roared from the Moby Dick's prow.
"Kuhahahaha! I'll hold you to that! But bring some Wano sake next time!" Roger shouted back, hands on hips.
The two great ships drifted apart slowly, their crews waving and yelling across the sea.
"Red Nose! Next time you steal my meat, I'm cutting your hands off!"
"Bring it, Pineapple Head! Next time I'll pry off a chunk of Jozu's diamonds!"
"Flower Sword kid! Next duel, I'm not holding back!"
"'Flower Sword'? Nice name wait, no! I'll be ready anytime, Orange Juice Bastard!"
Kael laughed, raising his empty cup toward the retreating ship.
He watched the enormous white whale figurehead of the Moby Dick fade into the sunrise, the first light glinting off its polished hull.
When he turned back, Roger was leaning on the railing, eyes following Whitebeard's ship with a smile that refused to fade.
For men like them, rivals weren't obstacles.
They were the meaning of the sea itself.
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