The rain over Loguetown had stopped.
Puddles mirrored the sprawled silhouettes of men and women as those felled by Conqueror's Haki began to stir. They sat up in a daze, rubbing aching foreheads, minds still ringing with the image of a man carrying an era on his back and walking away.
Marines scrambled to restore order. Pirates, still shaken, had the embers of greed reignited by Roger's final words. They hunted for ships, ready to fling themselves at that vast, unknown Grand Line.
In a quiet corner of town, far from the din.
Shanks and Buggy sat shoulder to shoulder on a damp stair, neither speaking.
Buggy's sobs had stopped, though his shoulders still hitched without warning.
He was not like Shanks, who crushed his feelings down until they would not move. What filled Buggy now was a lost man's empty drift.
Shanks kept his head lowered. The shadow of the straw hat hid his face, making his expression unreadable.
After a long silence, Buggy spoke, his voice thick with a stubborn nasal twang.
"Hey, Shanks."
"Yeah."
"Big Brother Kael took the captain away."
"Yeah."
"What do we do now?" Buggy turned, searching Shanks's profile with a flicker of hope. "We had a plan, remember? We form our own crew, then we go again, all the way to Laugh Tale."
Shanks said nothing.
He did not answer at once. He just lifted his head slowly and looked toward the direction Kael had gone, where the sea met the sky.
His silence made Buggy uneasy.
"Shanks?"
"Buggy," Shanks finally said, voice gone a little hoarse, "I am not going. Not for now."
"Huh?" Hope froze on Buggy's face. He thought he had misheard. "What did you say? What do you mean, not going?"
"I will still be a pirate. I will still go to sea." Shanks turned fully to him and spoke with care. "But Laugh Tale, not yet."
Buggy lurched to his feet, jabbing a finger at Shanks in disbelief. His voice climbed sharp. "Say that again. Do you even hear yourself, Shanks?"
Shanks stood too and met the outburst calmly. "I did not say never. I said not now."
"Enough." Buggy cut him off, chest heaving, eyes flushing red again.
A surge of anger and hurt, the kind that feels like betrayal, ripped through the last of his restraint.
"I already made up my mind." His hands shook. "When you start your crew, I will be your first mate. We go together and finish what the captain could not…"
He broke off and clamped his mouth shut, but the bitterness had already spilled.
He had thought they would be each other's surest support, inherit the same dream, take the same route.
Now the friend he trusted most was telling him at the starting line that their paths would split.
"So you figure the captain is dead and Big Brother Kael is gone, which means no one can keep you in line, is that it?"
"You think that dream does not matter anymore, is that it?"
"That is not it, Buggy." Shanks's brow tightened. He tried to explain. "That road is not mine. Captain Roger is Captain Roger. I am myself. I need my own way."
He reached out a hand, as he had done countless times before.
"Sail with me, Buggy. We will still be the best of partners."
"Your way?" Buggy stared at the offered hand as if it were the punch line of a cruel joke. A frayed laugh escaped him. "Your way is to betray the captain's dream?"
The laugh cut off. Ice settled where the hurt had been.
Buggy yanked a dagger from his coat.
It was a simple old blade with a tiny ruby set in the hilt. Roger had given it to him years ago. He had treasured it ever since.
Shanks's pupils narrowed.
"Buggy, you "
Buggy ignored him. He gripped the dagger. Pain flickered in his eyes, then resolve smothered it.
He raised the blade high and slashed down with everything in him.
The point shrieked across the wet stone, carving a harsh line and leaving a clear scar.
A boundary, clean and merciless, between the two of them.
"The captain really did misjudge you, Shanks." Buggy flung the words like stones. His voice shook with tears he refused to let fall.
He looked at the cut in the stone, then at the friend standing frozen in place, and spun away.
"Doesn't matter." He shouted with all he had, as much to Shanks as to himself. "You watch me. Even without you, I will build my own crew. I will find One Piece and inherit the captain's will."
"I am the one who will become the Pirate King."
He bolted into a side alley and vanished around the bend without looking back.
Shanks stood alone.
He lowered his head and stared at the blinding white scar at his feet.
The friend who had shared his years had chosen a different road at the place where both had begun.
After a time, Shanks raised a hand and settled the straw hat more firmly on his head. The brim's shadow deepened.
He did not chase. He said nothing more.
Only the fist at his side, clenched tight, betrayed the storm inside.
…
An unnamed island.
No charts recorded it. On every map it was a forgettable dot.
The sea wind tasted of salt and freedom. It combed the grass and brushed a simple grave.
No headstone. No epitaph. Only a flat stone to mark the spot.
Kael sat on the grass before it with a bottle of fine rum dangling from his fingers.
He twisted the cap free. The rich burn of alcohol mingled with green scents and spread on the air.
He poured a slow ribbon onto the earth. Amber soaked into soil as if he were sharing a drink with an old friend sleeping beneath.
When he finished, he leaned back against the stone and looked up into a sky cleaner and clearer than any other.
Scenes rose unbidden.
"Little Kael, I like your spirit. How about it? Come to sea with us. See what this ocean really looks like."
"Kael, stop frowning. Look at you. So young and already acting older than Rayleigh. Come on, smile."
"Kael, your bounty went up again. Let's throw a banquet."
"Kuhahaha. I don't know either. That is the point. Not knowing is what makes an adventure worth it."
"The Pirate King's brother is free."
"Thank you, Kael."
Kael's lids lowered, masking the swell of feeling beneath.
He tipped back the bottle and took a long pull. The bite burned his throat and did nothing for the empty place in his chest.
He spoke to the grave like a man talking to an old companion, lazy and familiar.
"Honestly, if I had known you'd go and die this clean, I should have asked Kuzan to freeze you, diseases and all."
He paused, made a face, and answered himself. "No, wait. I kicked him in the kidneys at Marineford last time. He is probably still sore about it. Not likely to help."
The wind moved the grass with a soft shush, as if answering.
"You too. Leaving so dashing without saying where you wanted to be buried. Out in the wilds like this. What if someone digs you up?"
There was a thread of mock annoyance in his tone, like a man scolding a captain who never stopped giving him trouble.
"Really now. Do you have any idea how hard Shanks and Buggy cried in Loguetown?"
"Me?"
He brushed a thumb under the corner of his eye.
He snorted and turned his head aside. "A real man does not cry."
The wind stayed gentle. The sunlight was kind.
It was quiet. Only his voice wandered the open space.
After a long while, he drained what was left and tossed the empty bottle aside. He stood.
He dusted grass from his clothes, took one last look at the plain grave, and let a small smile bend his mouth.
"Good night, Roger."
Kael's back was as straight as ever. Under the bright sun it looked a little alone.
His journey was not over.
The captain's blood, he would guard.
"Baterilla Island."
His gaze drifted to the far horizon. The calm of remembrance faded from his golden eyes.
"Here's hoping I get there before that old goat Garp does."
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