When the Roger Pirates returned to Water 7, the mood on deck was completely different from before.
There was no noisy excitement this time—only a heavy, simmering resolve.
Sunlight fell upon the massive logs of Adam Tree stacked at the center of the deck, their warm golden glow almost sacred.
The crew worked quietly, but their eyes kept drifting back to the wood… and then to the man standing at the bow.
Roger's back looked as steady as ever—but the wild, carefree aura he usually carried had condensed into something far deeper and more powerful.
"We're back," Rayleigh said softly.
Roger only nodded, eyes fixed on Tom's shipyard in the distance.
When they carried the Adam Tree logs into Tom's Workers, every hammer fell silent.
All the shipwrights froze, staring at the pirates—and at the wood on their shoulders.
"Hey—!" one young worker stepped forward, only to be stopped by a massive hand.
Tom walked slowly over.
"Kids… what is this—"
His words died the moment he saw the logs.
The world's greatest shipwright went completely still.
He stepped forward, placing a huge, calloused hand on the Adam Tree, gently—almost reverently.
He tapped it, listened to its tone, closed his eyes as if hearing its soul.
The shipyard fell dead silent.
"…Wahahaha… WAHAHAHAHA!"
Tom suddenly burst into roaring laughter.
"You crazy bastards… you actually got it! DON!"
He slammed his fist against his chest.
He stared at Roger, eyes blazing.
"Well done! You've earned a ship made by my hands!"
"I keep my word!" Tom declared.
"This ship—I'll build it for you for free!"
Then he grinned wildly.
"But a ship made from Adam Tree can't be something ordinary. It must be a king among ships! So tell me—what kind of ship do you want?"
They gathered around a huge drafting table.
"I want it BIG!" Roger slapped the table.
"Big enough for everyone—and for the best parties on the sea!"
"Strong decks and hull," Rayleigh added.
"A huge kitchen! And a stormproof liquor vault!" Gaban shouted.
"A workshop for my inventions!" Punkro cried.
"I—I just want a bed where Miller's snoring won't wake me up…" Nozdon muttered.
Chaos erupted.
Roger raised his voice.
"Tom! I don't just want a ship made of wood and rooms. I want a ship that can laugh with us! A partner that will carry our dreams to the end of the world!"
The room fell silent.
Tom stared at him.
"A ship… that laughs?"
Then his eyes ignited.
"Interesting! DON!"
That was when Kyle stepped forward.
"A ship that conquers the sea shouldn't fight the waves—it should dance with them."
He traced water across the table, shaping flowing curves.
"If the hull moves with the ocean, the sea becomes power instead of resistance."
Tom's eyes lit up.
"Yes! That's it!"
"And if the captain wants a ship that laughs…" Kyle smiled.
"Why not make its roar unforgettable?"
He pointed to the bow.
"Put the main cannon into the figurehead. Let every shot sound like the ship laughing at the sea!"
Roger froze—then burst into laughter.
"Kuahahaha! Perfect!"
Tom seized a charcoal pencil and began drawing wildly.
A new ship was born on paper—wide, elegant, powerful, crowned with a golden lion and twin maiden figureheads.
Roger looked at it.
"Her name will be—Oro Jackson. Our golden ship."
"Oro Jackson…" Rayleigh smiled.
Tom raised his hammer.
"This is her first heartbeat! DON!"
CLANG!
The sound echoed through all of Water 7.
A legend had begun.
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