Standing face-to-face with his former master, Shimotsuki Kōshirō, and the man seated cross-legged beside him—his face still showing bruises from Kyūjō’s earlier not-so-gentle greeting—Tachibana Kyūjō’s voice rang out calm and unwavering.

“The world’s most dangerous criminal, Monkey D. Dragon… You’ve got some guts showing up before me. Did you really think I wouldn’t try to arrest you?”

Dragon, unbothered, simply raised a cup of warm tea, his lips curling into a relaxed smile.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Vice Admiral Seiryu.”

“First of all, I owe you my gratitude for saving my son, Luffy. As for your question… whether you’ll arrest me?”

He paused briefly, then continued with absolute conviction in his voice.

“I don’t believe so. Based on how you operate, your values, and your past actions… I don’t see you as the kind of man who’d blindly serve the World Government or those Celestial Dragons.”

“Come now, Kyūjō. Join us—join the Revolutionary Army. Together, we can bring down this rotten system that’s clung to power for over 800 years, built on the backs of slaves by the hands of the Tenryūbito.”

“I believe with your strength and clarity, our revolution could finally gain the direction it desperately needs.”

Once Dragon had finished his offer, he said no more. He simply met Kyūjō’s eyes, waiting for an answer.

Beside them, Kōshirō silently refilled the tea cups. He didn’t speak—he didn’t need to. Yes, Kyūjō was his student. And yes, he supported the Revolutionary cause. But that didn’t mean his disciple had to follow the same path.

The choice of one’s path… had to come from within.

Even arranging tonight’s meeting was already the greatest push he could offer the revolution.

Because no, Dragon’s presence at Isshin Dojo tonight was no coincidence.

Everything had been set in motion long before.

After all, the news that Vice Admiral Seiryu had returned to East Blue wasn’t exactly a state secret—not to the Revolutionary Army, at least.

And if Kyūjō really had come back, then visiting his master was inevitable.

— — —

A few moments later, Kyūjō finally gave his answer.

And while it wasn’t hostile, it wasn’t what Dragon had hoped for.

“You’re right. I don’t plan to oppose the Revolutionary Army. I have no intention of arresting you,” Kyūjō said flatly, shaking his head slowly.

“But I still refuse your offer.”

Dragon narrowed his eyes, then asked, still burning with conviction.

“Why?”

“Kyūjō, I thought you were someone who believed in justice. Can you honestly say that the justice the Navy preaches is real justice?”

“No—it’s not! It’s a hollow ideal twisted by the Celestial Dragons, enforced by a rotting government! That kind of justice… that’s not what people in this world truly want!”

“True justice should serve the common people! The countless ordinary lives in this world!”

But Kyūjō, ever composed, shook his head again.

His gaze sharpened as he returned the question with questions of his own.

“And what about the Revolutionary Army, then?”

“Do you really understand what justice means?”

“Do you truly understand the structure of the World Government?”

“Do you even grasp what it would take to tear it down completely—and what happens afterward?”

“Let’s say you succeed in toppling the Celestial Dragons… what guarantees do you have that you won’t become just as corrupt? Or worse?”

“What makes you so sure the Revolutionary Army won’t become the next generation of Tenryūbito?”

“In my homeland, there’s an old saying—’The hero who slays the dragon eventually becomes the dragon.'”

“If you can’t even answer that, then why would you want me to walk beside you?”

Dragon froze.

For a long moment, he sat in silence, processing every word that Kyūjō had laid bare.

And the bitter truth was—he didn’t have an answer.

Not one that he could give with certainty.

Where, then, did the road to revolution truly lie?

His eyes lingered on Kyūjō.

If this man could so clearly pierce the heart of the issue…

…Could he also hold the key to the solution?

But Kyūjō simply let out a breath and calmly began to speak.

He laid out his own understanding of revolution—not just as a rebellion, but as a systemic shift.

He spoke of resistance against hegemonic rule, the principles of power transition, and the dangers of ideology becoming dogma.

He described how real change must go deeper than toppling leaders. That revolution needed structure, vision, and above all… restraint.

— — —

That night, for the first time…

The embers of a new revolution were lit.

And Kyūjō believed…

Someday, those embers would grow into a firestorm strong enough to burn away the old world.

Even without him.

Even without Monkey D. Luffy.

Even if there were no Poneglyphs, and no one left searching for the lost Void Century…

— — —

The conversation between Kyūjō and Dragon continued late into the night.

For the most part, Dragon asked the questions—and Kyūjō answered them.

As the night wore on, the topics became heavier, more abstract. Until even Dragon, known for his sharp mind, had to pull out a small notebook and start scribbling notes.

By the time the moon began to fade, even the ever-serene Kōshirō had joined the discussion.

He sat beside them, quietly listening, occasionally chiming in with thoughtful insights.

And so the three of them—warrior, rebel, and teacher—spent the night deep in debate.

— — —

By the time the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon…

Kyūjō had finished his thirty-sixth cup of tea.

He set it down gently, then cleared his throat.

“That’s enough. I’ve said everything that needed to be said.”

“What happens next… is up to you.”

“If the Revolutionary Army ever needs something, you can reach me through a Den Den Mushi. But don’t expect me to clean up your mess.”

“And one more thing—don’t ever leak my involvement to your people.”

“Everything you’ve heard tonight? Just say it’s your own idea. That’s all. I’m heading out.”

With that, Kyūjō rose and gave a respectful bow to his master.

“Kōshirō-sensei, I’ll be taking my leave now. Please take care of yourself… and of your wife.”

Kōshirō looked up at the towering figure before him, his expression filled with quiet pride.

“Go, Kyūjō.”

“Having you as my student has been the greatest honor of Isshin Dojo.”

Kyūjō smiled, then turned and walked away with steady steps.

A moment later, he launched into the sky with Geppo, his silhouette soaring toward the horizon where the Azure Dragon, his personal warship, waited in the open sea.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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