The joyful feast filled with laughter and celebration came to an end late that night, and by the following morning, Little Garden's coastline had returned to its usual tranquil peace.
The Black Star Pirates continued sailing westward toward their next destination, leaving behind the prehistoric island and its friendly giant inhabitants.
Apart from a new skill appearing in Jerry's ability roster and extensive notes about Little Garden and Elbaf culture filling Deuce's research journal, yesterday's adventure seemed to leave few tangible traces of their visit.
After completing his random quest, Jerry had gained Enhanced Weapon Mastery, which replaced his previous basic Weapon Mastery skill. This improvement allowed him to think more strategically when facing enemies armed with various weapons, and also significantly enhanced his effectiveness when fighting with his beloved fishing rod.
As time passed, Jerry felt increasingly confident that whether he used his fishing rod or his fists against opponents, his power would gradually approach that of truly skilled fighters. More importantly, the enhanced understanding of weapon principles would allow him to develop new techniques through creative adaptation and comprehensive strengthening of his existing abilities.
After departing Little Garden, life aboard their ship continued following its usual routine during their westward voyage. The crew maintained their training schedules, shared meals together, and enjoyed the peaceful ocean journey that would soon come to a dramatic conclusion.
"Are we there yet? How much longer?" Brook paced frantically back and forth across the deck like a caged animal, his hollow eye sockets scanning the horizon every few seconds while his jaw moved constantly with nervous muttering.
"Brook... I understand you're anxious, but try to stay calm," Jerry said, enduring the skeleton's repetitive questioning with admirable patience. "Based on current weather conditions and our navigation, we should arrive very soon."
If it weren't for Brook's distinctive afro hairstyle, Jerry might have mistaken him for some kind of obsessive monk reciting endless mantras.
Ever since leaving Little Garden, they had sailed directly toward Twin Capes without stopping at any other islands. Brook had been displaying this level of nervous energy since noon, when Deuce had mentioned they were approaching their destination.
"Also, didn't you say you wanted to perform that song properly with everyone?" Jerry asked, attempting to redirect Brook's anxiety toward more constructive preparation.
Hearing this reminder, Brook snapped to attention as if awakening from a trance. He smacked his skull dramatically and began speaking in a rush of excitement: "Ah! Yes, yes, yes! I need to prepare formal performance attire! And my instruments! And..."
Before he could finish his scattered thoughts, Brook threw his hands up and ran toward the cabin, nearly colliding with the innocent mast pole during his frantic rush to gather supplies.
The other crew members who witnessed this display exchanged silent, understanding glances. They all recognized the overwhelming mixture of anticipation, hope, and terror that comes with a long-awaited reunion—especially one that had been fifty years in the making.
For Brook, this represented the culmination of decades of solitary waiting, enduring unimaginable loneliness while clinging to a promise he had made to a friend who had never stopped waiting for his return.
"What should the rest of us do?" Skull asked, scratching his head to break the contemplative silence.
"I can see the shadow of the Red Line appearing ahead," Deuce announced, his voice taking on an inspiring tone. "Let's all get ready to give Brook the best support we can!"
Everyone agreed enthusiastically with Deuce's rallying words, then dispersed to make their own preparations for what would undoubtedly be an emotional occasion.
A gentle breeze swept across the deck, leaving only Jerry and Ace standing together, looking at each other with uncertain expressions.
The two remained silent for several moments before Jerry spoke hesitantly: "Well... should we prepare something special?"
Ace scratched his head thoughtfully. "What kind of preparation did you have in mind?"
Jerry recalled celebrations he had witnessed before, considering the options carefully. "Well... you could create some fireworks displays, and I could arrange fountain water curtains?"
After hearing this suggestion, Ace thought for a moment and nodded in agreement. After all, neither of them had much experience with formal ceremonies, but they both wanted to contribute something meaningful to Brook's reunion.
The two began discussing specific details and timing for their planned contributions to the upcoming celebration.
"Is that really the entrance to the Grand Line?" Carrot asked with obvious fascination, her gorgeous outfit carefully arranged by Carina making her look particularly elegant as she stood on the bow deck.
The majestic peaks of Reverse Mountain towered into the clouds before them, with turbulent waters rushing down from its heights to converge and flow into all four seas. At the mountain's base, two distinctive lighthouses marked the legendary Twin Capes.
Suddenly, a thunderous crash echoed across the water, drawing the attention of every Black Star Pirates crew member.
When they looked toward the source of the sound, they saw an enormous whale—larger than most small islands—repeatedly slamming its massive head against the Red Line itself. The creature periodically released anguished cries that were both heartbreaking and shocking to witness.
"That's him! That's Laboon!" Brook immediately recognized the whale he hadn't seen for nearly fifty years.
Witnessing this incredible but devastating scene, Brook felt as though endless guilt and self-blame crashed over him like a tidal wave. The weight of half a century's broken promises seemed to press against his chest, threatening to overwhelm him completely.
Brook lost all emotional control, tears pouring from his hollow sockets like waterfalls as his uncontainable grief transformed into a heart-wrenching cry that echoed across the ocean:
"Stop it, Laboon! Please stop!"
Whether it was because Brook's voice remained unchanged despite his skeletal transformation, or simply because Laboon heard his own name being called, the massive whale's self-destructive impacts suddenly ceased.
Laboon turned his enormous body around slowly, confusion evident in his intelligent eyes as he began searching the surrounding waters with growing urgency.
His gaze quickly locked onto the bow of the rapidly approaching Black Star Pirates ship, focusing intently on the assembled crew members.
However, in the next moment, Laboon seemed to hesitate, his massive eyes filling with uncertainty and bewilderment.
The Black Star Pirates gathered at their ship's bow, and under Laboon's watchful gaze, they began cheering enthusiastically for Brook, their excitement and support clearly evident despite the emotional weight of the moment.
Both Brook and Laboon recognized each other instantly, their long-awaited reunion finally at hand after decades of separation.
However, Skull suddenly noticed something unexpected about the giant island whale's attention. "Wait... is he looking at me instead?!"
As Skull moved to one side, Laboon's eyes clearly followed his movement—or more precisely, they followed Skull's distinctively prominent afro hairstyle.
"Kotatsu says Skull is right," Jerry observed, stroking the enhanced lynx's head while turning toward Brook with amusement. "Is this going to turn into some kind of afro identity crisis?"
"No! Laboon, it's me—Brook! I'm the one with the afro you remember most!" Brook's tears suddenly stopped as panic replaced his grief. He leaped from the ship's deck onto the ocean surface, pulling dramatically at his signature hairstyle while jumping back and forth in front of Laboon's enormous eyes.
"Ah! That's right! I still have this!" Brook exclaimed with sudden inspiration.
Under the speechless gazes of his crewmates, Brook lifted his skull cap and retrieved a very old, carefully preserved Tone Dial from within his afro.
He operated the device with practiced skill, and gradually a cheerful, deeply moving melody began playing from the ancient shell.
The song was "Binks' Sake," recorded on that very Tone Dial by the Rumbar Pirates fifty years ago, before they had been poisoned and destroyed during their final voyage.
The familiar melody resonated across the water, seeming to awaken shared memories and deep emotional connections between Brook and Laboon.
The moment he heard those opening notes, Laboon released a deafening roar that carried complex emotions—nostalgia, joy, and overwhelming excitement all blending together in his whale song.
After the recording slowly faded away, Laboon's eyes remained fixed on Brook, now filled with tears of recognition and happiness.
"Laboon! You do remember me, don't you?" Brook gazed hopefully into the whale's massive, tear-filled eyes.
They stared at each other across the water, endless longing and affection flowing between them as if they were trying to bridge fifty years of separation through simple eye contact. Time seemed to stop as the whale and skeleton musician shared a moment that validated decades of patient waiting and unwavering friendship.
The reunion that had seemed impossible had finally come to pass, proving that some bonds transcend even death itself.