"Grandpa Rowan, Grandpa Rowan, whose story are we hearing today?" one of the children asked, noticing the satisfied look on Rowan's face after his drink.
"Tell us about Mr. Garp's big battle with the Pirate King, Roger!" another boy suggested, his small fists clenched and his face flushed with excitement. "It's so cool that Mr. Garp could chase the legendary Pirate King all over the ocean! One day, I'm going to be just like Mr. Garp—a powerful Marine who punishes evil and promotes justice!"
"Hmph, what's the point of being a Marine?" a different boy countered. "If you're going out to sea, you have to be a pirate! I'm going to be a Great Pirate just like Ace-niichan, the freest man on the ocean!"
"With that skinny body of yours? You haven't even learned how to swim yet!"
This retort triggered a wave of laughter from the group.
The boy's face turned beet red, and he argued back hotly, "Who says you have to swim to be a pirate! Just you wait—sooner or later, I'll be a legendary pirate like Shanks or Whitebeard, just like Ace-niichan!"
"Maybe Grandpa Rowan could tell us about the Whitebeard Pirates? The 'Strongest Man in the World'... his stories must be incredible!"
"And why exactly are the stories of the Whitebeard Pirates so 'cool'?" Rowan asked with a smile. As a former Vice Admiral, he didn't take offense at the children discussing pirates; instead, he found their enthusiasm amusing.
Whitebeard, Edward Newgate.
A name that certainly brought back memories. When Rowan had first heard that name, the man had been nothing more than a brat in his teens. Now, he was one of the "Old Guard" of the sea.
And Rowan himself? He was practically one foot in the grave. Time truly spared no one.
"Hehe, it's because Ace-niichan joined the Whitebeard Pirates not long ago! He even became the Commander of the Second Division. I heard he even turned down a position as one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea! That's the Shichibukai—pirates personally recognized by the World Government!"
"He's been at sea for less than a year and already has a bounty of over five hundred million Berris. Ace-niichan is just too cool!"
"Any man Ace-niichan respects must be someone truly charismatic!"
As they spoke of Ace's exploits, the older boys wore looks of pure longing, wishing they could instantly age to seventeen or eighteen so they could throw themselves into the embrace of the ocean.
Rowan didn't say much to discourage them. Boys would be boys; having a little wanderlust was a good thing. In this world, what young boy didn't long for the freedom of the sea?
Of course, once most of them grew up, they would be bogged down by the realities of making a living, eventually becoming just another face in the crowd. Even those who clung to their dreams and set sail as Marines or pirates would find that only the most gifted geniuses ever truly made a mark. The sea was simply too vast; those qualified to leave even a few strokes in the ledgers of history were far too few.
As for Ace, whom these little rascals idolized... he carried the bloodline of the Pirate King, Roger, and his mother was of the 'D' lineage. He had awakened Conqueror's Haki at the age of ten. In a world governed by the laws of lineage, how could he ever be "ordinary"?
That brat... he actually dared to sneak off to become a pirate behind my back.
If Rowan weren't nearly a hundred years old with his stamina fading, it wouldn't matter if the boy was a Division Commander or the Captain himself—Rowan would have personally seen to it that the kid tasted a "Fist of Love" from his great-grandfather.
As for Whitebeard, Edward Newgate...
An Emperor of the Sea ruling the New World? The Strongest Man in the World?
To Rowan, Whitebeard wasn't some untouchable legend. After all, in this world, Rowan had personally had a hand in creating several such legends himself.
"So, you all want to hear about Whitebeard?"
"Yes! Yes!" Almost every child nodded in frantic anticipation.
"In that case..."
Rowan pulled out his long-stemmed tobacco pipe, the wood polished to a shine from years of use. He stuffed the jade bowl with aged tobacco leaves gifted by the Village Chief, struck a match, and took two deep puffs.
He slowly exhaled a cloud of thick smoke before continuing. "Then I shall tell you the story of the Rocks Pirates."
"The Rocks Pirates?" The children paused, looking puzzled.
"Grandpa Rowan, weren't we talking about Whitebeard? Why the Rocks Pirates?"
"Yeah, I've never even heard of them..."
Several faces fell with disappointment. In particular, the boy who wanted to be like Ace pouted openly.
Rowan remained unfazed. "That is because you are still young. Do not look down on the Rocks Pirates; their captain, Rocks, was a terrifying man. Before Whitebeard founded his own crew, he was merely a member of the Rocks Pirates."
"The Rocks Pirates were that strong? Even Whitebeard was just a crewman...?"
The disappointment vanished instantly, replaced by intense curiosity. Seeing the change in their expressions, Rowan began to weave the tale.
"The matter of the Rocks Pirates begins over fifty years ago. Back then, Kaido was just a snot-nosed brat, and Whitebeard was a rookie who had only just started making a name for himself..."
While he was telling a story to the children, Rowan was also revisiting his own past. He had a gift for narrative; with just a few sentences, he had the children spellbound.
Before long, the only sounds on the Foosha Village coast were the rhythmic crashing of waves, the distant cries of gulls, and the steady, resonant voice of Rowan. The children were silent listeners, their eyes fixed on him, terrified of missing a single detail.
The old man did not notice that, as he spoke, deep within his consciousness, an illusory status panel—one he hadn't glanced at in decades—flickered. The progress bar, which had been stagnant for over thirty years, suddenly ticked upward.
The number jumped from 98.9% to 99%.
...
Time flowed steadily.
Without anyone noticing, the sun hanging high in the sky dipped toward the horizon. Under the golden glow of the setting sun, the tale of the skirmish between the Rocks Pirates and the Marine warships finally came to a close.
While the children were still immersed in the aftermath of the story, Rowan stood up and took a long, comfortable stretch. As he twisted his slightly aching waist, his old bones popped and crackled like roasting beans.
"I suppose there's no fighting old age..."
Though he had trained his body into a temple in his youth and his physical strength hadn't significantly plummeted even at nearly a hundred, sitting for a single afternoon was enough to make his back stiff. In his younger days, he could have trained for three days and nights straight without breaking a sweat, let alone feeling sore from sitting.
To be young again...Rowan thought with a quiet sigh as he looked at the vibrant, energetic children before him.