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When do humans actually die?
The question left Kyle stunned.
When breathing stops? No.
When the heart stops beating? That didn't feel right either.
When the body is placed into a heavy wooden coffin, buried beneath the earth amid the cries of loved ones?
Still wrong.
So what exactly is death?
The very next moment, Roger laughed, tilted his head back, and looked at the sky as he gave his answer.
"When does a man die?"
"When his heart is pierced by a bullet?"
"When his body is hanged on an execution platform?"
"When he's struck by an incurable disease?"
"When he knows his time is short, his dreams unfulfilled, and his heart gives up?"
"No. None of those."
Roger grinned.
"A man dies when he is forgotten."
"So you ask me if I have regrets?"
"I can answer that."
He paused, then turned his smiling gaze toward the woman walking over from the yard behind them, carrying a steaming bowl of pork rib soup.
"I have no regrets at all."
"Because I'll live on forever."
With that, the man stood up and strode toward her, laughing the whole way. When he took the bowl, he yelped about how hot it was, drawing a reminder from her to be careful.
Kyle turned to watch the scene and found himself frozen.
What was death? What were regrets?
Or perhaps more importantly.
What did it mean to be alive?
Was it eating well every day and waiting peacefully for death? Or was it fighting with everything you had for your dreams, charging straight toward the moment death arrived?
Maybe both counted as living, as long as you followed your heart and pursued the freedom of your own will.
"Kyle, come eat."
Rouge's laughter rang out, snapping Kyle out of his thoughts.
He shook his head, brushed aside the unanswerable questions, smiled, and got up to join them.
For five months now, he had lived almost constantly with Roger and Rouge. Crocodile, Bullet, and the others had built him a small courtyard next to the couple's home.
Every so often, Evans and the rest would bring ingredients.
And Rouge took on the role of cooking.
"I've always been curious, Kyle. What do you do?"
"Are you married? There's a girl named Nico in the village. I could introduce her to you."
"Don't end up like Roger, waiting until he's old to get married."
"Honestly, I'm the only one who could ever put up with him."
Rouge laughed as she spoke, teasing Roger beside her, who could only grin foolishly.
"I'm not in a hurry."
Kyle declined awkwardly, lowering his head and eating quietly.
From the outside, the Roger couple looked like genuinely good people. Just ordinary civilians, living each day calmly and without drama.
Aside from sword training, this period was one of the rare peaceful stretches of Kyle's life.
The training continued, but he knew in his heart that it would one day end.
In the blink of an eye, nearly a year had passed on Baterilla Island.
"This is Divine Departure."
Roger withdrew his blade and spoke softly.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he suddenly doubled over, coughing violently. When he slowly straightened and pulled his hand away, his palm was stained a vivid red with blood.
Kyle turned toward him, eyes narrowing.
Over the past two months, Roger's condition had visibly worsened. His vitality seemed to be draining away, as if something unseen were rapidly siphoning it off.
And yet, when he faced the sea, he could still unleash a slash that cleaved everything apart.
Ahead of them, a massive chasm stretched who knew how far, splitting the sea clean in two.
Just now, Roger had been teaching him one of the few techniques of his lifetime. Divine Departure.
A terrifying slash that perfectly fused Conqueror's Haki with his swordsmanship.
"I've taught you everything I can."
Roger said with a smile.
He paid no mind to the blood in his hand.
Kyle nodded, then suddenly swung the saber in his grasp, slashing hard toward the sea ahead.
A deep hum echoed.
The powerful slash shattered everything in its path. The boundless sea was torn apart, revealing a bottomless chasm beneath.
At the same time, the words "Divine Departure" appeared on the system panel.
This was not just the name of a technique. It was the ultimate condensation of Roger's entire life of swordsmanship.
"Your talent is astonishing," Roger said softly.
"I don't have much time. I thought I wouldn't be able to teach you very much."
Roger looked ahead at the sea split open before them and nodded with quiet satisfaction.
Kyle said nothing. A sudden heaviness settled in his chest.
"It's time," Roger said softly.
He suddenly gripped the sword in his hand—Ace—raised it high, and pointed it straight at Kyle.
"This may be the final duel of my life."
"Show me how much you've truly learned from me."
Kyle stood still, unmoving.
"Hesitation won't move you forward," Roger said with a smile. "Doubt and indecision are the greatest obstacles of all."
"Kyle, that's a lesson I don't need to teach you, right?"
His face was pale. The sea wind swept over him, and he swayed like a willow branch in the breeze, as if he might fall at any moment.
Kyle took a deep breath and slowly raised his military saber, leveling it at Roger.
"My stamina won't last long," Roger said calmly."So let's end this with the swordsmanship you've learned over the past year."
"Alright," Kyle replied, nodding.
The next instant, a dazzling burst of light erupted along the coast of Baterilla Island. The sea itself recoiled, and time seemed to freeze for several breaths.
"Divine Departure!"
The same words. The same technique. Their voices echoed between sea and sky.
The waves exploded, churning into a boiling, roaring storm of water that crashed down like a torrential rain.
Splash.
A figure collapsed limply to the ground, the sword slipping from his grasp.
"You've graduated," Roger said.
"Kyle."
Kyle stood quietly, looking down at the man sitting on the ground before him, blood flowing freely.
Crack.
The military saber in Kyle's hand suddenly shattered, breaking apart into countless fragments that scattered into the air.
After a long silence, he smiled.
"You won't die," he said softly."And neither will I."
Roger burst into laughter. "That's right!"
"I'm not dying!"
He forced himself upright and slowly stood.
"Please allow me to say goodbye to some old friends. And to my family."
Kyle nodded, his expression complicated.
He knew it. A vast, turbulent new era was about to arrive.
The old age would pass. A new one would begin.
The elderly would fall. The next generation would be born.
The gears of history were starting to turn, right here and now.
That afternoon, Roger bade farewell to Portgas D. Rouge. He didn't tell his wife much, only that he needed to go out for a while.
Rouge smiled as she always did. She didn't stop him, only said gently, "Come back early."
Kyle stood quietly outside, waiting.
He watched them embrace. Watched Roger caress her cheek. Watched him kneel down, press his ear to her belly, listen to the heartbeat within, and then laugh with pure joy.
After a long, long time, Roger finally turned and walked away.
As they left the courtyard, both men heard the faint sound of sobbing behind them.
When they boarded the warship, Bullet, Crocodile, and the others froze in shock at the sight of the shackles around Roger's wrists.
Everyone knew exactly what that meant.
Kyle said little, only instructing them not to spread the news for now.
Then he turned to Roger, his face heavy and solemn.
"She's pregnant."
Roger smiled. His gaze fixed on Kyle with a seriousness he'd never shown before.
"Then I'll leave her to you."
"Kyle."
Kyle frowned and sighed. "That's a troublesome responsibility."
Roger didn't care in the slightest. He grinned widely.
"I'm giving you Ace."
Kyle's headache worsened. He lowered his head and looked at the sword at his waist, the blade named Ace.
"..."
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