Roger's big hand ruffled Shanks's red hair, a proud and fatherly gesture. Shanks didn't dodge, just grinned, letting his captain mess up his hair.
"Kuhahaha! Well said!" Roger withdrew his hand, looking around at everyone in the room—Kozuki Oden, Rayleigh, Jabba—and his gaze finally returned to Kyle. "Did you hear that? These are my crewmates!"
His laughter was as boisterous as ever, but a complex emotion flickered in his eyes: relief, pride, and the subtle melancholy that comes with watching the next generation grow up.
"Alright, stop standing around," Rayleigh said, pushing up his glasses and breaking the brief silence. "Let Crocus take a good look at Buggy. We need to finish our preparations for departure. Time waits for no one."
Everyone dispersed, leaving only Crocus and the sleeping Buggy in the room. The crew once again dove into tense, orderly preparations, checking sails, securing ropes, and tallying the final supplies. The Oro Jackson, a sleeping lion, was preparing to bare its claws.
But misfortunes, as they say, rarely come alone.
A few hours later, as the crew held their final navigation meeting on deck, another accident occurred.
"So, according to the Poneglyph's guidance, after we pass through this sea, we—" Rayleigh was pointing at a sea chart, his sentence cut short by a sudden sneeze.
"Achoo—!"
The sound wasn't loud, but in the focused atmosphere, it was exceptionally clear. Everyone looked over at Shanks, who had been leaning spiritedly against the ship's railing. He was now rubbing his nose, his cheeks flushed with an unnatural redness.
"Hey, Shanks," Jabba narrowed his eyes, a teasing note in his voice. "Why's your face redder than your hair, kid?"
"Nonsense! I… I'm perfectly fine!" Shanks retorted, his voice thick with a heavy nasal tone that was completely unconvincing. He tried to stand straight but stumbled. If a nearby crewmate hadn't quickly steadied him, he would have pitched forward.
"Whoa, you don't look so good, Red Hair," Kozuki Oden said, leaning over to touch his forehead.
"Haha!" Shanks forced himself to stand. "It's just… a bit hot out here on deck!"
His stubbornness didn't last long. He felt the world begin to spin, and the sea chart and his friends' faces started to blur. He shook his head, trying to fight off the dizziness, but his body had other plans.
"Tsk, seriously…"
That was his last thought before he lost consciousness.
When Shanks opened his eyes again, he was lying on another sickbed, right next to Buggy's. The room was filled with the strong smell of herbs, and Crocus was holding a bowl of dark medicine to his lips with an expression that said, I knew this would happen.
"Drink this."
"I… why am I here?" Shanks struggled to sit up but found his entire body ached with a weakness that left him with no strength.
"Why else, you idiot? You caught a fever, too," Crocus said irritably. "And your temperature is even higher than Buggy's was. You two are a truly troublesome pair."
In the next bed, Buggy seemed to hear the commotion, rolled over, and mumbled sleepily, "Red-hair… idiot…"
"Who are you calling an idiot!" Shanks instantly bristled, yelling back at Buggy, which only triggered a violent coughing fit that turned his face crimson.
Outside the room, the atmosphere on deck was even heavier than before.
"Both of them are sick. Now what do we do?"
"And Shanks's fever is worse, so he can't stay behind to look after Buggy."
"Are we… going to have to postpone the voyage?"
Everyone fell silent. They all looked toward the bow, where Roger stood with his back to them, not saying a word. No one dared to ask the captain for his decision. They all knew that Roger's remaining time was more precious than any supply on the ship. Postponing the trip by even one day meant being one step further from the Final Island, and one more minute of their captain's life being consumed.
In the suffocating silence, a calm voice spoke up.
"I'll stay behind."
Kyle walked out from the crowd and stood in the center of the deck. In an instant, every eye was on him, filled with shock and disbelief.
"Kyle?!" Jabba was the first to exclaim, his eyes wide. "What nonsense are you talking about? You just got back!"
"Yeah, Kyle!" a young crewmate added eagerly. "This is it! The Final Island! The end of the journey! How can you not be there?"
"We finally got everyone back together! We can't separate again now!"
"No! Absolutely not!"
Voices of protest rose one after another, the crew's emotions growing more agitated. They had waited a year for Kyle. For him to leave again, right at the very end, was something none of them could accept.
Rayleigh wasn't as emotional as the others. He just watched Kyle quietly, his gaze deep from behind his glasses. "Kyle, do you understand what this means?"
It meant missing the moment they made history. It meant missing the birth of the Pirate King. It meant missing the final chapter of their great voyage.
"I understand," Kyle answered without a hint of hesitation. He looked toward the cabin where he could hear faint coughing, then swept his gaze over the anxious faces of his friends. "Those two need someone to look after them. And…" He paused. "This town isn't completely safe. I wouldn't be at ease leaving two sick kids behind."
"After all," he added with a firm look, "those two are my disciples."
His reasons were sound, filled with a rationality and concern that made it impossible to argue against, which only frustrated the crew more.
"Even so, it shouldn't be you!" Jabba slammed his fist on the ship's railing. "Anyone else can stay, but not you! You're one of the pillars of this crew!"
"He's right!"
"If Kyle stays, we won't go!"
Amidst the growing clamor, Roger, who had been silent this whole time, finally turned around.
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