When the Roger Pirates' ship returned to the port of Water Seven, the air aboard felt utterly different from when they had first arrived.
Gone was the noisy awe and excitement. What remained was a silence heavy with the embers of anger and the steel of resolve. Sunlight struck the massive timbers lashed to the deck, and Adam Wood glowed with a warm, sacred radiance.
The crew busied themselves with their tasks, but their eyes kept flicking back to that pile of wood. And then, as if drawn by instinct, their gazes drifted toward Roger's back at the prow.
The captain's figure was as reliable as ever, but his usual boisterous vigor had condensed into something deeper, something heavier.
"We're back," Rayleigh said softly, breaking the stillness.
Roger didn't turn around. He only gave a low grunt, eyes fixed on the great shipyard ahead.
When they carried the immense beams into Tom's Workers once more, the hammering and hearty laughter inside stopped dead.
Every shipwright froze where they stood, staring wide-eyed at the pirates and the unmistakably divine timber they bore on their shoulders.
"Hey, you " A young shipwright started forward, but a massive hand clamped down on his shoulder.
Master Tom walked slowly toward them. For once, his bell-like voice was subdued. "Boys… what have you "
The words caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the wood.
The world's greatest shipwright, whose broad smile was his very trademark, suddenly went solemn. He stepped closer, stretched out one rough hand, and gently touched the Adam's smooth grain as though it were holy.
He tapped it with his knuckles, pressed his ear against the echo, closed his eyes. It was as if he were listening to the soul of the timber.
The shipyard held its breath.
Then Tom's booming laughter shattered the hush.
"Wah ha ha ha! You bastards really did it! You brought it back! DON!" He hammered a fist into his chest with a thunderous thud.
His eyes locked onto Roger, blazing. "Well done! You've proven yourselves worthy of a ship built by these hands!"
Turning fully to Roger, his expression hardened with conviction. "You got it, kid. You earned it. As I swore, I'll build it for free. DON!"
He broke into a wide, eager grin. "But listen well! A ship made from Adam Wood can't be some ordinary craft. It has to be one of a kind, fit for a king! Now tell me what kind of ship do you want?"
The question lit a fire under every pirate. Tom led them to a vast workspace where a huge sheet of white paper was spread across a drafting table.
"It's gotta be big! Big enough to fit all of us, big enough for the greatest feasts!" Roger slapped the table, spraying spit.
"With the sturdiest bulwarks and deck, so I can train anywhere, anytime," Rayleigh added, thumb rubbing his hilt as always.
"The kitchen! The kitchen has to be massive! And a storm-proof wine cellar!" Gaban's eyes gleamed.
"I need a proper workshop for my inventions!" Ponclo barged in.
"I… I'd like a bed where Miller's snoring won't wake me…" Nozdon raised a timid hand.
"What was that?!" Miller Pine roared.
Voices clashed, ideas flying from armories to toilets. Chaos reigned. Tom crossed his arms and listened, amused.
"Quiet!" Roger's roar cut the air, silencing them all. His eyes burned as he faced Tom. "What I want isn't a pile of planks and rooms. I want a ship that can laugh with us. A partner that carries our dreams through every storm, all the way to the end of the world!"
The words held no technical detail, yet they stilled the room.
Even Tom's grin faded. He studied Roger as if seeing him anew.
"…A ship that laughs?" he murmured, then his eyes flared. "Interesting. Too damn interesting! DON!"
"A ship to conquer the sea must first know how to dance with it," came a calm voice.
It was Kael. He stepped forward, dipped a fingertip in water, and traced across the tabletop.
The water smears stirred to life beneath his touch, forming gentle ripples, then swirling eddies.
"The keel is its spine, the hull its muscle. If its lines follow the sea's flow instead of fighting it, then the ocean ceases to be resistance and becomes strength."
He traced a sweeping, elegant curve that captured both grace and speed.
No jargon. No diagrams. Yet everyone understood at once.
Tom's eyes lit like lanterns. He slapped his thigh. "That's it! Exactly right, boy! Harness the waves themselves wah ha ha!"
"Not just dancing." Kael smiled faintly, glancing at Roger. "The captain wants a ship that laughs. And laughter needs a voice. For a king's ship, its roar should be unlike any other."
He tapped the bow of the sketch. "Why not fuse the figurehead with the main cannon? Every shot would sound like the ship laughing at the sea itself!"
"Mount the cannon on the prow?!"
The audacious idea set imaginations alight.
Roger blinked, then roared with laughter. "Ku ha ha ha! Perfect! That's it, Kael! A ship that laughs with cannon fire! That's the one for us!"
Tom's breath came hard, his whole body burning with creative fire.
He snatched a massive charcoal stick and slashed it across the paper. Bold strokes took form. Roger's dream, Kael's spark, the crew's desires all poured into the design.
On the paper emerged a ship like no other. A broad deck fit for giants, a sleek hull shaped to race the waves, a proud golden prow crowned with twin maiden figureheads.
"It looks alive…" Nozdon whispered.
The crew stared, struck silent by the sheer life and majesty radiating from the sketch.
Roger gazed at it, eyes shining as never before. His hand stroked the golden-hued Adam Wood at his side. He could already see it sailing, breaking the sea wide open.
"We'll call it…" His voice rang with power and joy. "The Oro Jackson! Our golden ship that carries every one of our dreams!"
"Oro Jackson…" Rayleigh repeated, lips curving into a smile.
The crew roared, their cheers shaking the beams.
"Good! A fine name!" Tom slammed his charcoal down with a crack. "Then it's decided! I, Tom, the world's greatest shipwright, will forge this kingly vessel with my own hands!"
He seized a mighty hammer and a long spike, marched to the empty berth prepared for the keel.
"Watch closely!" he bellowed, raising the hammer high. "This is the first heartbeat of a king! DON!"
CLANG!
The ringing strike sang across all of Water Seven, as if proclaiming to the world that a new legend had begun.
At the back of the crowd, Kael stood in silence, heart pounding.
He knew this ship would one day bear these free souls to the greatest voyage of all through the Grand Line, to the final island, and to the world's buried truth.
And he wasn't only a witness. He had laid a hand on the legend itself.
Damn… it was exhilarating.
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