Dragon's fingers whitened around his mug.
The eyes that had wandered in fog for so long now burned with a brightness he had never felt, as if something in his soul had been set alight for good.
He looked at Kael and almost blurted out the words come with us. Then he caught the smile in Kael's eyes and swallowed them back down.
"Don't," Kael said, reading him with lazy ease. He lifted his mug and drained the last swallow of rum. "Saving the world doesn't interest me. Too much work."
He set the heavy wooden cup down with a dull thud.
Truth be told, Kael despised the world the World Government had built, yet toppling it held no special pull for him. Maybe Roger had felt something similar, which was why at God Valley he and Garp duo-queued Rocks instead of starting by wiping out Celestial Dragons.
Absolute strength means absolute freedom.
And absolute freedom means you can flip the table or sit in the back and enjoy the show.
Kael wanted to live as he pleased, bound by neither rules nor power.
"Rather than play the exhausted revolutionary, I prefer being a free little pirate. Grilled fish on this island today, a sunset on that sea tomorrow, the occasional scuffle, rob enough for the bar tab. Now that is a life."
It sounded like cold water, but it did not put out Dragon's fire. It clarified him.
Kael was wind and sea. No banner or creed could tether him.
Dragon let it go. He set his mug down, ready to take his leave.
"But," Kael added, idly dipping a finger in spilled rum and tracing circles on the rough tabletop, "since you have chosen, one man with a flag gets nothing done. To start a prairie fire, you need the first fools willing to carry kindling into the flames."
Dragon paused, listening.
"Go to the Sorbet Kingdom in the South Blue." Kael tapped the table. "There is a small chapel there that holds the help you need."
His tone held a private smile. "A big-hearted bruiser as kind as a fool, and a girl who burns like a spark. Tell them you want a world where everyone eats. They will be your strength."
Dragon nodded. He did not press for names. He only looked hard at Kael and sealed the debt in his heart.
He rose and bowed deeply.
"I understand."
No extra speeches. The man who would be a revolutionary turned and strode out in his green cloak.
The doubt was gone. Each step landed with purpose, as if he meant to stamp a new future into the earth.
Just as he reached the door, Kael's easy voice came from behind.
"Hey, little Dragon."
Dragon stopped and turned.
Kael still lounged in his chair. He lifted his right hand across his chest and gave a curious sign.
"Let the winds of fate be your guide."
Dragon's pupils tightened, as if he could see a storm gathering in that palm.
For the first time, his mouth curved into a smile born of belief.
He mirrored Kael, right hand across his chest.
"Understood."
He vanished into the town's night without looking back.
…
After seeing off the man who wanted to jolt the world, Kael slipped right back into his sea-drifter ways.
He kept traveling, or better said, wandering.
In the Food Country of the West Blue he gnawed the locals' stewed bricks for three straight days, then got chased halfway across the island by the taste-proud elder David Dei after he cheated one too many times at the casino.
In the North Blue's Kingdom of Lublune, he heard the Eternal Ice Crystal could cure all ills. He rushed over and discovered it was just an especially pretty block of ice. Useless for medicine, excellent for chilling juice.
Time is the best screenwriter, pity it favors tragic endings.
Kael's travel list grew longer, but the most important item never got crossed off.
His footprints covered all four seas, yet he found no real hope for Roger's illness. Miracle doctors and secret elixirs turned one by one into punchlines.
Without his noticing, the calendar turned to Sea Circle Year 1498.
On that day Kael lay on the deck of a little fishing boat near the edge of the Calm Belt, a foxtail stem in his teeth, lazily fishing.
Sunlight was perfect. The sea lay flat as glass. He was comfortable enough to doze.
Buru buru buru. Buru buru buru.
Click.
The golden Den-Den Mushi at his waist, silent for ages, chose that moment to trill.
Kael did not even lift an eyelid. He fished it out and flipped the line.
"Moshi moshi?"
A laugh boomed from the other side, big enough to rattle eardrums.
"Kuhahahaha! Kael! It's me!"
The Den-Den Mushi even sprouted a perfect mustache and a grin stretched to its ears.
The foxtail dropped from Kael's lips to the deck. He jackknifed upright, all laziness gone.
"Roger?"
"Who else!" Roger's voice crackled with the joy of reunion. "Rayleigh and I are drinking on the Sabaody Archipelago! You bastard, where in the world have you wandered off to? Get over here!"
Hearing that familiar, blazing voice, Kael could not help cursing with a grin. "Old man, not dead yet?"
"Idiot! I am the Pirate King. I don't die that easy!" Roger roared down the line. "Enough talk. Rayleigh is about to finish the barrel. You have half a day. If you are late, next time I tie you to the bow as a ram."
Click.
The call cut off without ceremony.
Kael stared at the Den-Den Mushi for a beat, then smiled helplessly.
He stood, stretched, and his joints crackled like firecrackers.
"Honestly. No sympathy for the youth."
The next heartbeat, the sea under his feet sank into a vast bowl.
Water reversed course like a tantrum and blew apart.
Boom.
A ring of shockwaves erupted from the fishing boat, flinging it forward, tearing a path through the serene sky toward the place of promise.
Behind him, a white wake unspooled to the horizon.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
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