South Blue, Baterilla Island.
Garp, Gion, and Ortoren stepped off a merchant vessel onto the quiet port.
Looking around at the modest harbor, Gion murmured, "So Roger's really hiding here?"
After a pause, she turned on Ortoren with an annoyed glare. "Do you really see me as someone untrustworthy? You kept all this from me? Do you think I'd actually support that ridiculous 'bloodline is a crime' nonsense?"
Ortoren rubbed his nose awkwardly, speaking with some embarrassment. "Of course not. Otherwise, I wouldn't have chosen to tell you later. I just thought... it was best to tell Garp-san first."
Gion gave a short, sharp huff but didn't push further.
Garp clapped both of them on the shoulders. "Alright, enough talk. Let's go confirm whether the intel on Roger is real."
...
In a small cottage on the outskirts of Baterilla Town, Roger sat at the dining table, reading a newspaper.
Across from him, Rouge was arranging sliced fruit into a neat platter. Every now and then, she glanced at Roger, a gentle smile curling her lips.
Roger lowered the paper and said, "The World Government's CP Agency wiped out one of the Freedom Fighters' secret bases in the South Blue... That Dragon fellow—they say he's Garp's son."
"Seems so. When he left the Marines, it caused quite the stir," Rouge said with a light smile.
"Probably saw through the mess the Marines were in. That stubborn Garp never could. If he'd had his son's decisiveness back then, who knows—maybe he would've been my crewmate. Truth is, I always saw him as a friend." Roger laughed heartily.
After the laughter faded, he set the newspaper aside, stood, and walked behind Rouge. With gentle hands, he massaged her shoulders, smiling. "It's all food to be eaten. If it looks too nice, you'll feel bad spoiling it. And you're carrying a child now—it's better not to tire yourself."
Rouge chuckled softly. "I'm just using my fingers here. How tiring could that be?"
Roger looked at the platter and sighed. "Sometimes, I envy Garp. But now, I'm about to have a child too..."
The truth was... he wasn't sure if his body would last until that day.
Lately, his health had been failing more often. The pains came suddenly, and he didn't know how much longer he could hold on.
He'd even started thinking about how to settle his final affairs.
When would be the right time... to surrender to the Marines?
"I asked you before to think of a name for our child. Have you decided?" Rouge's voice broke through his thoughts.
Roger smiled and tapped his chest. "Of course. If it's a girl, her name will be Ann—so she may live a life of peace. That's my blessing as her father. But if it's a boy... then it'll be just right."
"Just right for what?" Rouge asked curiously.
"Laugh Tale. We reached it too soon, but one day, the answer there will spread across the seas. And if it's a boy, when he sets sail to ride the waves himself, that will be the moment the answer is revealed. Perhaps he'll be the trump card I leave behind on this ocean. That's why... I want to name him Ace," Roger said with anticipation.
"Ace..." Rouge lifted her eyes toward the sword hanging on the far wall.
It was Roger's sword—his trump card. Its name too... was Ace.
Just as Roger was about to say more, his expression suddenly shifted. His face tightened with unease and suspicion, but in the next instant, he composed himself again.
Rouge noticed the sudden pause in his hands and was about to ask when Roger spoke. "Didn't think they'd track me down here. I thought I was hidden well enough... You stay and rest. I have friends at the door. I'll go meet them."
Rouge said nothing, only gripped his hand anxiously.
Roger smiled at her. "I told you—they're friends. There's still room to talk. Don't worry. I know him well."
After leaving those words, Roger drew a deep breath, turned, and walked out the door.
Meanwhile, outside the small house, Garp looked around at the quiet surroundings and muttered, "If he just stays this way, living quietly... it wouldn't be so bad, would it?"
"Then why come here to bother me?" Roger's voice came from inside, and a moment later the door opened.
Roger's eyes swept over the scene, pausing briefly on Garp and Ortoren before he smiled. "The hot-headed brat, and Garp... been a long time."
Ortoren studied Roger for a moment before asking casually, "You look rather weak. Has your health been failing?"
Roger laughed loudly. "So you noticed? Truth is, I don't have much time left."
Garp froze, then asked sharply, "What are you saying?"
"I never got the chance to tell you before, so I'll say it straight. Many years ago, I was struck with an incurable illness. Now my time is nearly up, Garp." His words were heavy, but Roger's face carried a calm smile.
Garp didn't doubt him. Roger had no reason to lie, and his gaze grew complicated as he looked at him.
"Come in. Guests shouldn't be left at the door," Roger said.
Garp blinked, then sighed softly. "All these years of knowing you, and this is the first time we've spoken in such a peaceful place..."
With that, he stepped inside. Ortoren and Gion followed behind.
Before long, the four of them were inside Roger's home, where they were greeted by Rouge, her face showing faint worry.
"This is my wife, Rouge," Roger introduced her, then slipped an arm around her shoulder and pointed at Garp. "That man is the old friend I told you about. And that kid—if not for Garp, I would've taken him aboard my ship myself."
"Even without Garp-san, I doubt I would've become a pirate," Ortoren muttered before adding, "I'm Benn Ortoren. And this is my colleague, Gion."
Though clearly uneasy, Rouge returned the greeting politely. "Please, sit. I'll prepare some tea for you..."
"I'll do it," Roger cut in immediately. He looked at her with concern. "Why don't you rest in the bedroom instead? Your health matters most."
Turning back to Garp and the others, he added, "As you can see, my wife is expecting."
A knowing look crossed Garp's face. He wasn't surprised—he had already considered the possibility before arriving.
Once Rouge retired to rest, Roger brewed tea himself and set it before his guests in the living room.
Each of them sat with cups in hand, but silence lingered heavily. For a moment, no one knew what to say.
It was Roger who finally broke it. Taking a sip, he said, "Your Marines' intelligence is impressive. Even hiding here, I was found. But to be honest, even if you hadn't come, I planned to turn myself in soon."
"If you're terminally ill already, why not just slip away quietly?" Garp asked.
"Because I don't want to leave quietly," Roger said after a pause, then stroked his chin and laughed.
He set his cup down. "Only three of you came, dressed in plain clothes. Seems you're being considerate, Garp."
"Hmph. The intel was vague. We had to come verify first," Garp replied gruffly.
"You're still the same—stubborn mouth, soft heart..." Roger chuckled softly, then his face turned serious. "Things have come this far, so I won't waste words. Garp, one reason I intend to surrender to the Marines... is because I'll definitely get to see you."
"What are you getting at?" Garp frowned deeply.
"Exactly what you're thinking. Though we've fought for decades, Garp, in my heart I've always considered you a friend I could trust..." Roger said earnestly.
But Garp cut him off before he could finish. "Don't say another word. I am a Marine!"
Ortoren set down his cup and turned to Gion. "Looks like they've got a troublesome conversation ahead. I can't stand trouble. Baterilla Island's scenery looks nice—want to take a walk?"
"Sure," Gion said with a small smile, standing without hesitation and leaving with him.
Garp glanced at the two shamelessly slipping out and started to rise himself, but Roger pressed a hand on his shoulder, holding him down. "At this point, I have no choice but to entrust this to you, Garp!"