As news of Rocks' resurrection spread, a silent storm brewed across the sea.
Though few still remembered Rocks, there were old-timers who hadn't forgotten the terror he once represented.
In a dim tavern nestled in a lawless zone,
an old, drunken pirate stood wobbling on a table, gripping a bottle and rambling loudly about Rocks.
He praised Rocks endlessly. From the way he spoke, it was clear he had firsthand experience with the man. But when it came to describing Rocks' personality or appearance, he rambled on without saying anything meaningful.
In short, Rocks was powerful—so powerful, he dwarfed even the Four Emperors of today.
Suddenly, someone in the tavern asked,
"How does he compare to Marine Admiral Purple Kirin?"
"Cough, cough, cough!"
The name Purple Kirin had become a taboo among pirates, to the point where even hearing the word "Kirin" would cause unease.
The old pirate choked on his drink at the mention of the name, his face turning deep purple. The surrounding pirates burst into laughter. They'd long grown tired of his boasts, so naturally, they enjoyed watching him embarrass himself.
Still coughing, the old pirate slammed the bottle down and barked,
"What the hell are you laughing at!? Aren't you scared of Purple Kirin!?"
"…"
The tavern went dead silent. Not a single pirate could honestly claim they weren't afraid of him. Even the old man himself slumped over in defeat.
They were, for the most part, failures among pirates. In recent years, ever since Chiga had emerged, pirates who survived off pillaging small villages lived on edge. Their "career success" had plummeted. The ragged patches on their clothes told the story.
In a shadowed corner of the tavern, a cloaked figure sat quietly, face hidden. He finished his drink, stood slowly, tossed some Berries on the table, and turned to leave.
But his calm demeanor and unfamiliar presence drew everyone's attention.
The man ignored their stares. As he stepped toward the door, he paused and muttered to himself,
"If you're that terrified of Purple Kirin, maybe you shouldn't be pirates."
"Nani!?"
His words crashed into the room like a boulder dropped into still water.
The pirates shot to their feet. Some even drew pistols, pointing them at the stranger's back.
"What did you say?! You're not scared of him? You're a pirate too, right?"
The figure slowly turned around.
Just then, a flash of lightning lit the sky, momentarily illuminating the dark interior. Beneath the hood, the man's face was revealed—fierce and distinctive. He had no eyebrows, and red tattoos ran along the left side of his face, giving him a villainous appearance.
If Chiga had been present, he would've recognized the man instantly:
Monkey D. Dragon, father of Luffy.
The pirates were stunned, not because of his looks—they'd seen stranger—but because of the aura around him. A suffocating pressure, the unmistakable presence of someone powerful.
Dragon lowered his hood completely, revealing his face.
He swept his gaze across the stunned crowd, smirking coldly.
"Why would I fear Purple Kirin?" he said. "I'm not a pirate."
Gulp.
A collective swallow echoed in the room.
If not a pirate, then what was he? A bounty hunter?
Suddenly, the old drunk, long forgotten, raised a trembling hand and pointed at Dragon, eyes wide with disbelief.
"You… you're Dragon, the leader of the Revolutionary Army!"
For all his bluster, the old man clearly knew his history—more than these greenhorns.
The color drained from the pirates' faces. Legs gave out. This was the man the World Government had dubbed the most dangerous criminal alive.
Dragon glanced at the old pirate, faintly surprised, then shook his head, clearly disappointed.
He turned toward the door once more, walking calmly away. But just as he stepped through, he lifted one arm and gave a slight wave, as if in farewell.
In the next instant, his figure disappeared completely.
The pirates collapsed, overwhelmed with relief.
But was it really over?
A powerful gust exploded down the street, howling toward the tavern.
Boom!
The tavern was obliterated.
The violent wind carried wood, glass, and even limbs into the sky.
On a nearby rooftop, wind currents twisted and formed a humanoid shape—Dragon once again. He looked down at the ruins of the tavern, unreadable.
From his pocket, he pulled out several newspaper clippings, each showing Chiga's image.
He stared at them for a long while, then tucked them away carefully.
Turning his head, he gazed into the distance—straight toward Marineford, as if he could see it with his own eyes.
In a low voice, he murmured,
"Uchiha Chiga… what kind of man are you?"
---
Marine Headquarters – Marineford
It was raining. The sky loomed dark and heavy.
Chiga, dressed in a black suit, stood silently beside Zephyr, both facing two gravestones—one large, one small.
Today was a memorial. Zephyr's wife and his three-year-old son rested beneath the earth here.
Rain poured down, soaking the two men.
Chiga made no effort to shield himself. He knew better. This moment belonged to Zephyr.
Perhaps, to the former admiral, the rain was his family's love, falling from the heavens to comfort him.
Zephyr's face was unreadable, caught between the blur of rain and silent grief. He placed a few offerings in front of the graves, wiped the stone clean with care, then gave Chiga a quiet nod before walking away.
Moved by Zephyr's pain, Chiga felt the weight of sorrow in his chest. It reminded him of his friend Minato from another world—Naruto's.
He touched his Rinnegan. These eyes, said to govern life and death, now shed silent tears.
Bowing slightly to the graves, Chiga turned and walked away.
He had a purpose.
He was going to find a Devil Fruit that could mend the regrets in his heart.
---
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