The Revolutionary Army’s ship left the shore, sailing across the vast ocean.
Dragon stood at the bow, gazing into the distance.
He had taken off his cloak, revealing his imposing long hair and the strange diamond-shaped tattoo on his face.
Hearing footsteps behind him, Dragon spoke without turning his head.
“Kuma?”
Kuma stood behind him in silence.
Dragon turned around.
Seeing that Kuma had put on a replacement bear-eared hat, he grinned.
“So you had a spare.
How rare.
To think you would give your beloved hat to a boy you’ve never met.”
“The Revolutionary Army needs more comrades,” Kuma replied in a deep voice.
“That boy has great potential.
Perhaps we will meet again someday.”
“You’re right!” Dragon looked up at the starry night sky.
“By continuously gathering strength, when the Revolutionary Army becomes as numerous as the stars above, we will be able to ignite an unstoppable inferno!
This process is long; it will take a dozen or even decades.
By that time, we might be old or dead, and all that will be left is their younger generation.”
“Kuma!
I have a task for you.” After his sigh of emotion, Dragon suddenly turned serious.
“This matter might be incredibly difficult, but someone has to do it.”
Kuma remained silent, simply looking at Dragon.
“Eleven years ago, the Pirate King Gol D.
Roger was executed right here in the East Blue, in Loguetown!” Dragon said.
“The World Government originally intended to deter the increasingly rampant pirates.
However, they never expected that Roger’s dying words would completely backfire on them.
Over the years, more and more pirates have appeared on the Grand Line.
Relying solely on the Marines is gradually becoming insufficient.
According to my intelligence, they are currently discussing the formation of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, planning to use pirates to keep other pirates in check.
This is a perfect opportunity.
I want you to become one of the Warlords!”
“Do you plan for me to use the Warlord title to gather intelligence on the World Government?” Kuma asked.
“Exactly.
And if possible, you need to find a way to contact someone!” Dragon said with a stern expression.
“Vegapunk!
That genius scientist of the World Government…
I am very interested in him.”
At this point, Dragon turned back around, gazing out at the sea.
“When the time comes, you must minimize your contact with the Revolutionary Army as much as possible.
You will have to make all your own decisions!”
“When do I leave?” Kuma asked after a moment of silence.
“Soon.
You will disembark halfway.
The Revolutionary Army cannot offer you any assistance; you must rely solely on your own strength to secure a position among the Warlords,” Dragon said.
“Do you need to say goodbye to Iva?”
“There’s no need.” After speaking, Kuma clutched his book and turned back to the cabin, leaving Dragon alone to quietly gaze at the ocean before him.
After seeing off Ivankov, Kuma, and the others, Ian returned to the dojo under the moonlight.
Zoro was also in the dojo.
He was balancing a large boulder on his back, mimicking Ian by doing endless squats while continuously counting out loud, “580, 581, 582…”
Not far from him was Kuina, wielding a bamboo sword and relentlessly striking a standing target.
It was obvious she had been practicing for a long time, as she was drenched in sweat.
Noticing Ian’s return, Kuina called out to him from afar.
“Big brother Ian, where did you go today?
I haven’t seen you around at all.”
Zoro dropped his boulder and walked over to stand beside Kuina.
“Big brother Ian, I went ahead and ate your dinner too…”
Before he could finish, Ian stepped right up to them, and both immediately noticed the bear-eared hat perched on his head.
“Pfft…
Pfft-haha!” Zoro couldn’t hold it in.
He pointed at Ian’s head and burst into roaring laughter.
“Bwahahaha!
What a weird hat!”
It wasn’t just him; even Kuina wore an incredibly odd expression.
She clearly wanted to laugh but felt it would be impolite, so she was desperately holding it back.
Ian was furious.
Kuina was one thing, but how dare this moss-headed idiot Zoro laugh so arrogantly?
“What the hell are you laughing at?!” Without a second thought, Ian raised his hand and delivered a swift, sharp rap to Zoro’s head.
“Ouch!” Zoro’s laughter instantly turned into a yelp of pain as a large lump swelled on his head.
“Why did you hit me?!” Zoro glared fiercely at Ian.
He pointed at Kuina and complained, “She was laughing too, wasn’t she?”
Ian glared right back.
“I hit you because your face annoys me!”
Kuina couldn’t hold it in any longer.
She turned her head away, covering her mouth as she giggled.
“Damn it!” Zoro realized he wasn’t going to get any justice here.
This was a classic case of double standards.
Once they had laughed enough, Ian asked, “Where’s Master?”
Kuina wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye.
“I don’t know.
He hasn’t been around for a while.”
Ian went inside the dojo and searched everywhere for Koushirou.
Having seen off the Revolutionary Army, he needed to report back to him.
However, after scouring the entire dojo, he couldn’t find him anywhere.
Wandering aimlessly, Ian eventually found himself in the woods behind the dojo.
It was only then that he finally spotted Koushirou.
However, the moment he laid eyes on his master, Ian knew he couldn’t disturb him right now.
Koushirou was kneeling motionless in front of a tombstone.
Ian recognized this tombstone; it was the grave of Kuina’s mother.
Kuina’s mother had passed away shortly after giving birth to her.
Ian had been very young at the time and had no memory of what his master’s wife looked like, let alone Kuina.
In everyday conversation, Master Koushirou rarely brought her up, only occasionally sighing and mentioning how much Kuina resembled her.
Ian found it strange.
He didn’t understand why Master Koushirou would come to pay his respects at the grave in the dead of night.
It was highly uncharacteristic behavior.
As he pondered this, his thoughts suddenly drifted to Ivankov and the others who had just left today.
A realization struck him.
Could his master’s unusual behavior be connected to their appearance?
Why would the arrival of Ivankov’s group prompt Master Koushirou to visit the grave at midnight?
Could it be that Kuina’s mother—his master’s wife—was actually connected to the Revolutionary Army?!
Ian was startled by the thought that had just popped into his head.
But as he connected it to Master Koushirou’s various reactions earlier that day, he realized this theory was entirely plausible.
Master Koushirou was a mysterious man.
No one knew his origins, nor did anyone know the true extent of his strength.
However, Ian understood his personality well enough to know he lacked the rebellious spirit of resistance that defined the Revolutionary Army.
His temperament was completely incompatible with theirs.
Yet, despite this, Ivankov and the others knew Koushirou.
Koushirou had greeted them with a smile, but his tone during their conversation had been noticeably polite and distant.
The only bridge Ian could think of that connected the two parties was Kuina’s mother.
Perhaps Kuina’s mother had been a Revolutionary Army soldier, or even an executive.
She might have been one of their earliest members.
Ivankov and the others actually knew Kuina’s mother, and through her, they had come to know Master Koushirou.
That would perfectly explain the underlying attitude between them.
After mulling it over, Ian felt he had hit the nail on the head, so he quietly slipped away.
If Master Koushirou didn’t bring it up, he wasn’t going to ask.
There was likely a hidden story behind all this, and probably not a happy one.
Ian had no desire to tear open his master’s old wounds; it was best to just pretend he had never seen anything.
Returning to the dojo, Ian went to his room.
He looked at the tiny pink Transponder Snail Kuma had given him, which was resting on his desk.
The little creature had already closed its eyes and fallen asleep.
Since he couldn’t even tease it a little, Ian simply washed up and went to bed.
The night deepened.
Under the moonlight, the tranquil Shimotsuki Village appeared completely peaceful.
The events of the day were nothing more than a minor interlude for this village.
When the sun rose the next morning, heralding a new day, everything would return to its usual routine.