During the busy hour of the day, a small, sneaky figure scurried out of the village's main road. This smooth criminal was none other than Sear.
As had become a norm for him, Sear "borrowed" a newspaper from the old shopkeeper.
Its contents immediately grabbed attention.
"It's finally time. Since their discovery of the legendary One Piece treasure, there hadn't been any news on the Roger Pirates, but it appears today is different."
The newspaper wrote:
[After around a year of speculation by the general public, Gold Roger, against all odds, has been found; captured by the Marine hero: Monkey D. Garp. The world has been turned over its head with this single biggest plot twist.]
Though Sear obviously knew the real truth of the matter—which was that Roger had actually turned himself in, out of his own volition...
The King of the Pirates, having discovered long ago that he suffered from an incurable disease, would soon be dying anyway; therefore, he planned to make a grand spectacle out of his own death.
The greatest pirate in living memory was set to be publicly executed, in his own hometown no less. Sear had just the right plan to witness this event firsthand.
A week and a few more days went by as the boy patiently waited for the appropriate time to come.
He didn't have to wait longer, as the person he was waiting for arrived.
It was none other than Mashaku, the Marine who had previously come to fetch Jacob.
He regularly visited the village every few months. The reason being so as to personally deliver the government allowance to Sear.
It was the money allocated to the families of dead soldiers who were of and above the rank of lieutenant; Sear barely met that requirement.
At the courtyard in the middle of the dojo, Mashaku cheerfully greeted the boy.
"How have you been?"
"It's been fine," Sear replied, smiling rather awkwardly, not yet accustomed to exchanging regular conversations with people.
"I am glad!! Just being fine is already very nice... Oh! I nearly forgot, here you go!! This is for you." Mashaku took out an envelope from his pocket.
"Sorry for the trouble."
"Haha! Really, it's nothing of that sort. In the past, when I was a rookie, Jacob-san saved my hair multiple times. This much from my part is nothing worth mentioning. Besides, I have other errands to attend to while coming to these parts."
Saying so, he handed over the money envelope to the boy. The money he received wasn't much, and besides, there was little to spend it on in this small village, thus he was saving it for now.
. . .
After paying his respects at Jacob's gravestone, Mashaku was about to leave, but before the man could enter his sailboat, Sear abruptly asked him to stop for a moment.
"What's the matter? Is there something you want to say?" The man halted to hear the boy out.
"Umm!! I do have a request... This time, when returning to Loguetown, could you please take me along with you? You see..."
Having been prepared with made-up reasons beforehand, Sear expressed his keen interest in wanting to see the Marines in action firsthand for himself—how the Marines operated.
Adding his fake desires to join the organization in the future, even conjuring up lies on the spot, he conveyed how Jacob had always wished to show him around Loguetown, but sadly couldn't do so.
In fact, his father had indeed brought up the topic, but Sear had flat-out refused.
'Sorry Dad, but I had to use your name this time... I promise I will make up for it by placing some extra flowers for you.'
Mashaku, after thinking for a while: "Well, I suppose temporarily it should be fine. Something like a short stay at the Marine base for a soldier's family isn't unheard of."
Thus, he allowed the boy to hop onto the boat.
The sailboat seemed to have a capacity to accommodate around half a dozen men.
His first mission on the high seas went rather comfortably.
Loguetown, the entrance to the elusive Grand Line; it turned out the journey from the village wasn't as long or arduous as Sear had initially anticipated, being that they reached the island in only a week of travel with a few stops in between.
Deep down, as much as his heart desired an adventure, he understood reaching their destination unharmed was very much a far better outcome.
Loguetown, located on the larger Polestar Island, was a place bustling with the activity of people and goods alike. There was much to see and much to do there.
Yet the lively atmosphere wasn't without its underlying waves. Occasional Marines and other security personnel could be seen scurrying about at every corner.
Mashaku and Sear quickly moved to the Marine base.
The base smelled damp and rusty. The walls and floor were likely as old as the town itself; still, it appeared to be well-maintained. Except for the depressing impression it gave off at first glance, everything was neat and orderly.
Sear was accommodated in one of the rooms in the base. Inside, he had a warm bed along with a desk. It was a little dusty, but he could manage.
It was already evening by the time they arrived at the island, so Sear took a quick nap, only to wake up when someone knocked at the door at night.
Eating dinner, he returned to sleep.
The next day he toured the town; the Marines who were once acquainted with his father, along with Mashaku, showed him around while they made their way downtown to a grand open plaza, right at its heart.
Walking further to the other end, they reached the execution platform where Gol D. Roger was supposed to be executed.
It was a raised platform, intentionally elevated to a height for all to get a better view—a way to send a message to every single one of those who dared to raise a pirate's flag. No opposition to the order created by the government was tolerable.
Here, many soldiers kept watch over the execution spot. The Marines who came with him took over the shift from those already tired soldiers who had been there the entire night.
Then, they told him to comfortably sit at a nearby bench. Readily complying, he did as told. He stayed there all day looking at the hustle and bustle, getting to know the people and the place.
Thus, after days passed by in this same manner, the fated hour approached.
At the moment, an enormous gathering of all kinds of people were in attendance at the plaza.
Minutes neared as the atmosphere turned stifling, almost suffocating.
The preparations for today were extensive.
A long, freely walkable pathway divided the rabbling masses. Every few meters on the empty path, disciplined soldiers had been deployed to keep a close watch. The tight security measure ensured not a single soul was allowed to barge onto the restricted path.
"Hey, don't push!" Sear, all thanks to his prior arrangements with some of the guards, had been able to get a front view of the path through which Roger would walk shortly.
Though it was hard just not to get crushed by the people behind him, pushing relentlessly.
Soon, at exactly noon, with the chorus of bells, sounds of chains rattling across hard stones came from the very back of the long, cleared pathway.
Without most even noticing, a man had exited a big prison cart drawn by an equally large dog, not horses.
Compared to the raw ferocity emanated by the wild-looking man, the dog appeared meek. It seemed to be sweating, which for a dog should normally be impossible.
In the case of the spectating crowd, Sear could hear people struggling to get a better view. With each passing second, the tension in the air was palpable.
But the enigmatic Pirate King remained unbothered by the attention. His steps were heavy yet carefree.
Guards totally flanked him from every side, blocking his every potential escape—not that they could actually hold a candle against him if it came to that.
Sear stared right toward the incoming figure. "It won't be easy to get an up-close view," he lamented, having a sense of disappointment wash over him.
"Right!!" A silver-haired boy standing near him nodded in agreement.
Seemingly interested as to who it was, Sear turned to look at the older boy next to him.
"You!! Aren't you—" He was about to say something but was cut off by the clanking and rattling sound getting ever so closer.
Dragging the chains against the stones, Roger was approaching the patch of path in front of them. A small window of time would be their only chance to get a proper look.
The two boys, like everybody else, had their eyes locked onto the man. It was not a certainty...
However, to their astonishment, it happened. At that split moment when he walked past them, the man, the legend himself, turned his head toward them for a split moment, his enigmatic expression clearly visible.
He laid his gaze at the two and then smiled, revealing a wide set of teeth.
It was that passing grin that would forever be ingrained in them. Nobody could discern what he had in his mind at that moment.
Time waits for none.
Roger had now been brought up to the platform. There was no resistance as he willingly took the last steps of his life on those inclined wooden staircases.
Comfortably at the top, he flopped cross-legged on the spot.
"All right, let's get this over with, quickly," Roger nonchalantly stated. No announcement of his crimes was to be made; there was no need. He was to be executed immediately and effectively.
When the two guards brandished their spears, each of the two individual sharp ends met in front of him, criss-crossing while glinting radiantly under the sun.
Some in the crowd brazenly questioned Gold Roger regarding the mysterious treasure that he supposedly found. For these daredevils, repercussions be damned.
When those questions were put forward, for some reason the surroundings literally plunged into a pin-drop silence; if anything could be heard, it was only the sound of people uncontrollably grinding their sets of molars in anticipation.
"My wealth and treasure?" Roger's voice reverberated, loud and clear. "It can be yours if you want it! Search for it! I left everything in that one place!"
There was a trance-like silence among the crowd. The Marines were no different; they were similarly in a stupor. Quickly, when they came to their senses, the order to carry out the execution was given immediately, but it was a tad bit too late.
Simultaneously, as those orders fell and Roger breathed his last with his heart being skewered by the spears, a fuse went off. The serene silence transformed into a deafening frenzy. A surreal herald for the future that was to come.
Today, here at Loguetown, the island of the beginning and end, a single man died. At his departure, a few cried and a few laughed, while many cheered, euphoric because of the possibilities he left behind.
For better or worse, that is life at its finest.
The sky started drizzling, almost like even the heavens were shedding tears.
In no time, a light rain turned into a massive downpour. Most people scrambled to find shelter while others, a select few individuals, leisurely strolled out, separating them from the herd.
An invisible tide had started to grow, and by the time anyone notices, it will have already drowned the world in its madness.
The annals of history will soon immortalize this place—this occasion today—for it turned out not an execution, but a coronation.