Sabaody Archipelago.
Sunlight filtered through the massive branches of the Yarukiman Mangrove, casting dappled patterns on the lush grass below. Dreamlike, iridescent bubbles floated through the air, reflecting a rainbow of colors as they slowly rose before silently bursting. On this secluded island, far from the bustling numbered groves, two men leaned against the roots of a giant tree, casually drinking.
Several empty wine bottles already lay scattered on the grass. Gol D. Roger held one of them, tilting his head back and guzzling the contents down. His Adam's apple bobbed, and liquor spilled from the corners of his mouth, soaking the front of his pink shirt.
Silvers Rayleigh, sitting beside him, was far more refined. He quietly held his wine glass, watching his captain's boorish display with a hint of helpless amusement in his eyes.
"Burp—" Roger let out a hearty belch, tossing the now-empty bottle aside where it clinked against the others. He wiped his mouth, his gaze sweeping around as if searching for someone. "Hey, Rayleigh," he said, nudging his first mate with an elbow. "Where's Shakky? How come she's not around?"
Rayleigh's body tensed instantly. He subtly shifted his position, conveniently blocking Roger's line of sight towards the small bar not far away, his expression suddenly wary. "She's busy."
Roger stared at his friend's overly protective stance, a look of surprise on his face that quickly melted into a snorting laugh. He bent over, shaking with mirth. "Tch! I was just asking after an old friend, and you're acting like I'm some kind of thief!" he chuckled, clapping Rayleigh on the shoulder. "My Rouge is the best woman in the world! No one even comes close!" He puffed out his chest, his expression like a man showing off his most precious treasure to the entire world.
Rayleigh looked at him, and the wariness in his eyes softened into a warm smile. He knew his captain was speaking from the heart.
Just then, the smiles on both their faces faded. They simultaneously looked up at the azure sky. In the distant horizon, a small white dot had appeared. That dot was tearing through the clouds at an unnatural, impossible speed, heading straight for their island.
"Kuhahaha…" Roger's lips curved into a smile filled with anticipation. "Looks like he made it."
Rayleigh also put down his glass and stood up. The lenses of his glasses reflected the rapidly approaching dot. It wasn't just a dot anymore. It was a long, white streak of disturbed air, a wake in the sky, as if something was splitting the heavens in two. At the very front of that streak was a pitifully small fishing boat.
The boat's wooden hull groaned under the immense strain of its super-high speed, yet it was held together by an invisible wave of force, keeping it as steady as a rock.
"That guy…" Rayleigh watched the fishing boat being propelled through the sky by a massive shockwave, his mouth twitching slightly. "He's getting on in years, but he still loves to show off."
Roger, however, just burst into loud, joyous laughter. "That's our Kyle, alright! Kuhahaha!"
As he spoke, the "flying boat" arrived directly above the small island. The circular shockwave propelling it forward suddenly dissipated, its mission complete. Losing its momentum, the fishing boat traced a graceful parabola through the air, falling towards the grassy clearing where they stood. Roger and Rayleigh simply watched, showing no intention of moving out of the way.
Just as the boat was about to crash, a figure on its deck lightly stepped down.
Buzz—
A gentle, invisible ripple spread out from the bottom of the boat, acting like an air cushion. The fishing boat, which looked like it could fall apart at any moment, landed softly on the grass without a single scratch.
At the bow stood a figure, his clothes slowly settling around him after being whipped by the wind. Black long hair, sharp golden eyes, and a defiant, handsome face were now clearly visible in the sunlight. It was Kyle.
He glanced down at the bow of the boat, a slight frown on his face. "Tsk, still too slow," he muttered to himself. The light complaint was carried by the sea breeze to the shore, making Rayleigh's eye twitch again.
Roger only laughed even louder. He stood up and waved vigorously. "Hey! Kyle! Any slower and I would've finished all the booze!"
"You two bastards," Kyle grinned, revealing two rows of stark white teeth. "I bet you didn't save a single drop for me, did you?" He jumped off the boat and strode towards them.
"You scoundrel! I'm surprised you didn't bring a few Sea Kings with you for the party!" Roger slapped Kyle on the back with a force that could have shattered a boulder.
Kyle swayed, the grass beneath his feet sinking a few inches. He grimaced, rubbing his shoulder as he shot back, "Well, maybe you should've saved me some alcohol. What else was I supposed to serve them?"
He boldly sat down on the grass between his two friends, casually picked up an unopened bottle of rum from beside Roger's feet, bit the cork off with his teeth, and took a long gulp, his actions just as crude as his captain's.
"Kuhahaha!" Roger's laugh grew even more hearty. "That's right! The three of us, together again! This is how it should be!"
Rayleigh just looked at the two gleeful idiots and shook his head helplessly. He pushed up his glasses and asked, "Where's Jabba? Haven't you contacted him, Roger?"
Roger's laughter paused. He scratched his messy black hair, a troubled look on his face. "I tried, but the Den Den Mushi couldn't get through! That guy's probably run off to some deep-sea trench to arm wrestle with Sea Kings again, or he's meditating in some godforsaken mountain range." It's normal for the signal to be bad in a cave, Kyle thought with an inward chuckle.
The atmosphere among the three of them was relaxed and joyful, a reunion years in the making. It was just like countless days and nights in the past, drinking and chatting freely, whether on the deck of their ship, around a campfire, or in the middle of enemy territory. Sunlight filtered through the mangrove leaves, casting a golden glow on them. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.
After the laughter died down, Roger suddenly fell silent. He sat cross-legged, his wide smile gradually fading, replaced by an unprecedented calm. He picked up a new bottle of wine, but instead of guzzling it, he slowly poured himself a glass, then refilled Rayleigh's and Kyle's as well.
The shift in his aura was unmistakable. The smiles on Kyle's and Rayleigh's faces slowly faded. They knew this look. In taverns, on battlefields, in the middle of raging storms—whenever Roger wore that expression, it meant he was about to make a decision that could never be undone.
"I've decided," Roger said. His voice was low, but it cut through the sound of the wind and the chirping of insects with absolute clarity.
"I'm going to turn myself in to the Marines."
The air seemed to freeze. The bottle in Kyle's hand stopped halfway to his lips. Rayleigh's knuckles tightened around his wine glass, the veins on the back of his hand standing out.
"…What did you just say?" Rayleigh's voice was dangerously low, as if he was trying to restrain a powerful emotion. He didn't look at Roger, staring down into the swirling wine in his glass.
"Roger!" Rayleigh suddenly looked up, the emotions he'd been suppressing finally breaking through. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?! We are pirates! If we're going to die, we die on our own terms, at sea! What is this nonsense about surrendering?!"
"This isn't a surrender, Rayleigh," Roger said, shaking his head. His gaze swept over his two most trusted friends, his eyes softening. "This is the best ending I can think of. My time is short, you both know that. I refuse to waste away on some sickbed, tormented by this illness until I'm unrecognizable, just to die silently in the dark. I can't stand such a pathetic end."
He straightened his back, and the immense, overwhelming aura of the Pirate King surged from him once more, powerful enough to punch a hole in the sky.
"I won't just fade away," he declared, his lips curling into that familiar, fearless, and wild smile. "No, I'm going to use my death to light a fire. I'm going to make the entire world hear my voice and use my final moments to usher in a brand new era!"
Kyle remained silent. He looked at his captain's face, which seemed to burn with the last, brilliant flames of his life. The sadness and protest he felt in his heart transformed into a bitter understanding. Gol D. Roger was never a man who would let fate dictate his end. His life had been as brilliant and explosive as a supernova, and he would make sure his death was just as magnificent.
"I want everyone out there—all the people who are lost on this endless sea, confused, hesitant, and afraid—to know that the end of this journey is not nothingness," Roger raised his glass, his eyes sparkling as if he could already see the magnificent future. "I'm going to tell them. I'm going to tell them all that I left everything this world has to offer in that one place."
"My curtain call… will be the prelude to the Great Age of Pirates!"
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