Days slipped by amidst the clash of steel, the echoes of laughter, and the endless rhythm of the waves.
The Oro Jackson sailed proudly through the New World seas, carrying the freest men alive.
Every island they explored was filled with wonder. Every encounter brought excitement. The crew's faces shone with the thrill of discovery the joy of conquering the unknown.
But amid all that laughter, deep within Kael's heart lay a silent reef untouched by sunlight.
He stood at the bow of the ship, the sea wind rustling through his black hair. His golden eyes reflected the dazzling hues of sunset, while the glass of orange juice in his hand remained untouched.
Behind him, Roger was arm-wrestling Gaban shirtless, their contest surrounded by a roaring crowd of onlookers.
Roger's iconic laugh "Kuhahahaha!" rang out across the deck, cutting through the noise.
Once, that sound had been Kael's greatest comfort at sea.
Nothing felt safer than knowing that, if things went wrong, he could always shout "Captain, save me!"
And if once wasn't enough, he'd just shout it twice.
But now, that same laugh felt like an invisible needle pricking his nerves every time he heard it.
It had been almost thirty years.
From a One Piece fan who knew every twist of the story to a man who now lived it time had worn away his certainty like waves grinding at stone.
He'd tried writing down the future in detail, logging every key event, every character, every turning point. Yet no matter what medium he used, the records always vanished. As if some invisible force was correcting the timeline itself.
The once vivid details of the story had become hazy fragments blurry echoes of a forgotten script.
He still remembered that Roger would fall ill. That he would surrender himself. That his death would ignite the Great Pirate Era.
But the when and how were lost, swallowed by years of real, living adventure.
That uncertainty hung over Kael like a sword of Damocles.
"Hey! Roger! You slacking off, or are you just weak now?!" Gaban barked, veins bulging as he strained.
"Kuhahahaha! Says the old man who's losing!" Roger roared back, and with one mighty push, slammed Gaban's hand onto the barrel.
"Captain wins!"
Cheers erupted.
Kael set his cup down and quietly stepped closer, blending into the crowd with a lazy smile.
He circled behind Roger, pretending to watch the commotion. One hand casually rested on the captain's shoulder.
"Not bad, Captain," Kael said, grinning. "How about a match with me next?"
"Oh? You wanna go, Kael?" Roger turned, grinning like a kid. "Let's see what you've got!"
As their eyes met, faint ripples shimmered within Kael's golden pupils.
An invisible wave pulsed from his hand and gaze microscopic electromagnetic scans sweeping silently through Roger's body.
It wasn't the first time he'd done it.
Every few months, Kael found an excuse to "test" Roger like this.
Roger, of course, noticed the strange habit but assumed Kael was just looking for openings to exploit in a fight.
If only he knew.
In Kael's inner sight, Roger's body appeared in perfect detail an anatomical model alive with power.
His heart thundered like a war drum, pumping vibrant blood through his veins. His lungs expanded and contracted with the clean rhythm of the sea breeze. His bones were dense, his muscles like coiled steel cables.
Every cell radiated raw, feral vitality.
Healthy.
Terrifyingly healthy.
No tumors. No decay. Not even an old scar.
The man before him wasn't dying. He was in his prime unmatched across the entire ocean.
"Oi, Kael, why so quiet?" Roger tilted his head. "My Haki got you scared? Kuhahahaha!"
Kael let out a small sigh of relief and retracted his ability. His mask of playfulness slid neatly back into place.
"Just checking whether a single-celled organism like you has a different anatomy than the rest of us."
"Who're you calling single-celled, you brat?!" Roger bellowed, lunging at him.
The two tumbled across the deck, laughing and trading mock punches.
Rayleigh watched from the side, swirling his drink. Behind the gleam of his glasses, his gaze deepened.
Lately, Kael had been watching Roger too often not with camaraderie, but with the intensity of someone guarding something fragile and precious.
Later that night, when the ship fell quiet under a blanket of stars, Kael sat alone atop the lookout post, staring at the sky.
No matter how many times he checked, the results never changed. Roger's body was flawless.
No signs of illness. No cracks in fate.
Could it be… because of me?
The thought slipped into his mind like a whisper.
They say the flap of a butterfly's wings in South America could cause a tornado in Texas.
He, a man from another world, had been living among them for three decades sailing with the Roger Pirates, fighting battles he was never meant to fight.
Had his very presence… shifted destiny?
The possibility made his pulse quicken, a thrill of wild hope surging in his chest.
If Roger didn't die… if he lived on…
Then maybe this ship could keep sailing forever.
They could reach Laugh Tale together.
Uncover the truth of the world.
And after that…
Kael's lips curved into a tremor of a smile at the thought of that future a future without tragedy.
But reason quickly doused his optimism like cold seawater.
Maybe the time just hasn't come yet.
The timeline in his memory was never precise. Perhaps Roger's illness would emerge later sudden and unstoppable.
Being healthy now didn't mean it would last.
Two possibilities warred inside Kael's mind hope and dread clashing endlessly.
The mental strain was worse than juggling a hundred wave frequencies at once.
"What's got you smiling up here all alone?"
Rayleigh's voice floated up from below. He climbed the ladder and sat down beside him, holding two bottles of rum.
"Thinking about the mysteries of life," Kael said dryly.
Rayleigh chuckled, not buying it. He handed him a bottle. "You think too much. Sometimes, when you overthink, you miss what's right in front of you."
He looked up at the night sky, voice calm and reflective.
"We're pirates, Kael. Living freely in the moment that's our creed, isn't it?"
Kael said nothing. He took the bottle, lifted it, and drank deep.
The rum burned hot in his throat, spreading fire through his chest.
Not as good as orange juice, but… still not bad.
Yeah. Live in the moment.
What good was worrying? The future wasn't his to control.
All he could do was cherish every reckless, ridiculous day aboard this ship.
Grow stronger strong enough to hold the mast when the next storm came.
The weight pressing on his heart slowly eased. The fog didn't clear, but his eyes regained their sharpness.
"You're right, Rayleigh," Kael said, grinning wide enough to show his teeth. "Instead of worrying, I should be thinking about where we're gonna raid next uh, I mean, restock supplies."
"Kuhahahaha! Now that's the spirit!"
Roger's booming voice suddenly echoed from below. The captain was clinging to the edge of the lookout post, grinning ear to ear.
"I heard there's an island ahead where the food fights back! Sounds fun, right?"
"Captain, that sounds dangerous!" Buggy's panicked voice rang out next.
"That's what makes it fun!" Shanks shouted eagerly.
The deck below burst into chaos again Roger's laughter, Shanks' cheers, Buggy's whining.
Kael gazed down at them, listening to the noise of his crewmates. His lips curved into a soft, genuine smile.
Whatever happens later… doesn't matter.
For now, his idiot captain and these foolish men were alive and laughing beside him.
That was enough.
He raised his bottle to the stars and to his own heart.
"To this damned freedom."
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