South Blue — Baterilla Island
The fading glow of the setting sun washed over the quiet island town, painting the white eaves of a small house—set away from the town's center—in warm shades of gold.
Not far away, gentle waves lapped against the shore, their soft rhythm soothing, as if comforting everything that lived upon this land.
Roger sat on the steps before the house, his gaze tender as he looked inside.
Rouge stood with her back to him in the kitchen, busy at work, humming a light, cheerful tune.The spatula in her hand stirred the ingredients in the pan, and a rich aroma slowly filled the room.
Light freckles dotted her cheeks, and when she smiled, her eyes curved like crescent moons.
"Roger, wait just a little longer—dinner will be ready soon!" Rouge turned her head and winked at him."And while you're waiting, don't sneak any drinks!"
"Haha." Roger grinned and nodded. "Alright, alright. I won't drink."
Yesterday, Rouge had told him she was pregnant.
In that instant, it felt as though something had slammed hard into his chest—joy, shock, and complexity crashing together.
He had never imagined that after a lifetime of drifting across the seas, he would gain a "home" at the very end of his life.
Yet this happiness felt like sand slipping through his fingers—the tighter he held it, the faster it escaped.
"Cough… cough, cough!"
Suddenly, a violent fit of coughing burst from deep in his throat.
Roger clamped a hand over his mouth as his body trembled uncontrollably.
A warm sensation spread across his palm. He looked down—bright crimson seeped through his fingers.
"Roger?!"Hearing the sound, Rouge dropped the spatula and rushed over, worry filling her eyes."Are you alright? Shouldn't we go have you checked?"
"I'm fine!"Roger quickly hid his hand behind his back, wiping the blood from his lips with his sleeve, forcing a reassuring smile."Probably just been sitting in the sea breeze too much these past few days. My throat's a little dry."
"Really?"Rouge frowned and reached out to feel his forehead."But your complexion looks awful. Why don't you lie down for a bit?"
Rouge knew who Roger was—but she didn't know about his terminal illness.In fact, only the Roger Pirates knew Roger was sick.Of course, Gern knew as well—but only because of his ability to foresee the story itself.
"Sorry for worrying you."Seeing the concern on her face, Roger gently took her hand and shook his head."I want to go out for some air. I'll be back before dinner."
Rouge hesitated, wanting to say more, but when she met his resolute gaze, she sighed softly instead.
"Come back early. Food doesn't taste good once it gets cold."
"I will."Roger stood, rubbed her hair affectionately, and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
Then he stepped outside and closed the door behind him—and in that instant, his smile vanished.
He opened his left hand and looked down.
His palm was soaked in red, the blood glaring beneath the dying sunlight.
"Looks like…" Roger muttered with a bitter smile,"I might not live to see you born."
The disease was progressing faster than he had expected.
Each cough was like Death whispering in his ear, reminding him how little time he had left.
Roger lifted his head toward the sky. The last trace of sunset was fading, swallowed by the deepening night.
"Just give me one more week…" he whispered, as if pleading with fate itself."One week, and I'll leave."
He didn't want Rouge to see him grow weaker by the day.He wanted even less for her to bear the pain of watching him die.
He had already decided—one week from now, he would leave quietly and return to his homeland to turn himself in.
As the "Pirate King," his life was never meant to end peacefully.But at the very least, he could choose how to face the ending.
From inside the house, Rouge called out, "Roger, the soup's ready!"
Roger gathered his thoughts, washed the blood from his hands, and turned back toward the house.
The moment he opened the door, warm lamplight and the scent of food enveloped him. Rouge stood there holding a bowl of soup, smiling brightly.
"Come try it. I added a new spice," she said.
Roger sat across from her and took the bowl. Steam fogged his vision.
He took a sip. The rich flavor spread across his tongue—but it couldn't drown out the bitterness in his heart.
"Is it good?" Rouge asked eagerly.
"Yeah. It's great."Roger smiled and nodded, his eyes soft as they fell upon her still-flat belly."Our child will definitely love your cooking someday."
Rouge's cheeks flushed slightly as she gently touched her stomach."He'll be brave… just like you."
Roger didn't answer. He simply looked at her in silence, engraving this warmth deep into his heart.
He knew these days were numbered—but he would treasure every single second.
Night fell.
The sea breeze brushed softly against the window, making faint sounds.
Lying in bed, Roger listened to Rouge's steady breathing beside him, his thoughts drifting far away.
He thought of Laugh Tale's secret.Of his companions.Of the fate awaiting him.
"The next era…" he murmured,"I'll leave it to you."
Slowly, he closed his eyes.
...
Several days later — The shores of Baterilla Island
Fishermen hauled in their nets and sailed home. Children chased one another across the beach, laughing—utterly untouched by the turmoil of the outside world.
Yet atop the rocks along the coastline, a lone figure stood quietly.
It was Roger.
He wore a fisherman's cap, hands tucked into his pockets, the familiar red captain's coat draped over his shoulders. His gaze stretched far across the horizon.
The sea breeze ruffled his hair—and carried away the ever-present smile from his lips.
"So this is where you were, 'Pirate King.'"
A low voice sounded from behind him.
Roger turned slightly and saw Gern Reginald Sigmar approaching at an unhurried pace, the black blade Eight Desolations slung at his waist.
"Yo, Tremor kid."Roger grinned broadly, his tone casual, like running into an old friend."I thought the first one to find me would be Garp! Hahaha!"
Gern stopped beside him, also looking out at the sea."Vice Admiral Garp is still trying."
"Oh? Guess Garp's getting old too!"Roger raised an eyebrow, then turned to look at Gern more closely. His lips pressed together before he spoke again."Thanks… for this past week.
"Because of you, CP agents haven't infiltrated the island. Rouge hasn't been discovered."
Gern paused, surprised."You knew I was here the whole time?"
"My Observation Haki isn't bad, you know." Roger chuckled. "Especially against someone like you."
"I only cut off the intelligence leaks," Gern said in a low voice."I just wanted to make sure… neither you nor I were disturbed."
"I see…"Roger smiled instinctively.
"So," Gern turned to face him, black eyes locking onto Roger's,"you disbanded your crew and hid here alone… waiting for that moment, right?"
Roger's smile slowly faded.
Waves crashed against the rocks, splashing water onto their boots.
After a long silence, Roger finally spoke, his voice hoarse and heavy.
"Gern… do you believe in fate?"
"Hah. Fate?"Gern scoffed."Of course I do. My very beginning was favored by fate."
"Favored by fate, huh?!"Roger laughed loudly, yet there was a trace of desolation in his voice."Some things… just can't be changed by human will."
He raised his hand and pointed toward the horizon."Look at this sea. It's given birth to countless legends—and buried just as many secrets.
"And me?"Roger smiled faintly."I'm just the one who lifted the curtain."
"So…" Gern narrowed his eyes."You really plan to do it?"
Roger was startled by that question—almost as if this man truly knew what he intended to do next.
He didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked softly,"Gern… what do you think 'justice' is?"
Seeing Roger dodge the question, Gern frowned slightly."Justice? Justice is just two words written on a Marine's coat."
"And if one day," Roger continued,"you discover that this so-called 'justice' is nothing but a lie—what would you do?"
Gern was silent for a moment before replying slowly,"Then I'd tear it apart with my own hands—and rebuild it."
"…Is that so."A spark of admiration flashed through Roger's eyes, his lips curling upward."As expected of you."
With that, he turned away and waved his hand, his tone light, as though saying goodbye to an old friend.
"Go back, Marine Tremor brat.I'm grateful for your help this past week… and for what you did at Edd War, but—"
His voice lowered, filled with a certainty that felt almost like destiny itself.
"The next stage… doesn't belong to you yet."
"Roger, stop pretending."Gern didn't move. His gaze stayed fixed on Roger's back."That sense of twilight clinging to you… you can't hide it anymore."
Roger's steps faltered.
Seeing him stop, Gern continued,"If I'm not mistaken… you don't have much time left, do you?"
His voice was quiet—but it struck the silence between them like a hammer.
"If I hadn't appeared today, you were planning to board a ship from here…and return alone to your hometown—Loguetown in the East Blue—to turn yourself in."
Gern narrowed his eyes slightly."I'm right, aren't I, Roger?"
"Heh."Roger fell silent for a moment, then let out a low chuckle."Looks like… you know more than I expected…"
Slowly, he turned around and faced Gern—no longer forcing that bold, carefree façade.
He removed the fisherman's cap and lifted his head.
In that instant, Gern's pupils contracted sharply.
The man before him was nothing like the Roger who had once clashed with him at sea.
That Roger had been powerful, confident—his eyes burning with an undying flame.
The man standing here now was someone approaching death.
And yet—
That "death" carried an almost insane obsession, as though not even death itself could halt his will.
"Heh…" Roger's voice rasped."I just want… people who still have dreams…"
He raised his head, gazing toward the horizon, where the light of dawn was beginning to form.
"To search.To hear.To see…the 'truth' of this world."
"In that case," Gern was silent for a moment before suddenly smiling,"then I've got a little dream of my own."
"Your dream?"
"That's right."Gern looked away, a nearly friendly smile appearing on his face, his tone as casual as chatting with an old friend."Since you're turning yourself in anyway…"
He paused, then grinned."How about… I take you there myself?"
Boom!A powerful gust of sea wind swept through the rocks.
Roger's pupils shrank violently.
The wind scattered his hair—and blew away the last trace of pretense between them.
He stared at Gern for a long time.
Then he laughed—softly, with sudden clarity and relief.
"So that's it…"
"You were waiting for this moment."
"You… absolute madman!!"