At the heart of the small showdown island lay a circular stretch of grass, surrounded by low hills covered in oak trees, with flecks of sunlight filtering through their branches. Several large reef rocks, rounded by the sea wind, lay scattered along the edge of the grass, forming a natural ring like spectator stands. The sky was blue, and a gentle, salty sea breeze stirred a few dead leaves-compared with the fighting and constant explosions elsewhere on the island, this quiet scene hardly seemed part of the same place.
But beneath that quiet, two presences capable of tearing the sky apart were silently contending, making even the air tremble under their pressure.
Luffy stood on the eastern side of the clearing, bare-chested, his body covered in lean, powerful muscle. The large X-shaped scar on his chest was a remnant of the Paramount War. His straw hat sat low on his head, its brim revealing only his tightly pressed lips and slightly trembling fingers-that was not fear, but intense concentration.
He was not making a racket as he usually did, nor was he laughing. Even his breathing was quiet as he stood firmly on the grass, his entire body radiating a steady intensity.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the man who had changed his entire life.
Waiting for the man who, in a little tavern in Foosha Village in the East Blue, had placed his most treasured straw hat on his head and said with a smile, "Give it back when you've become a great Pirate."
Waiting for the man who had sacrificed his arm to a Sea King without a moment's hesitation to save him, losing his left arm forever.
Waiting for the man he had pursued for thirteen years, who was his beacon, his goal, and, above all, the