"Hey now, what kind of joke is that?" Scopper Gaban was the first to break the silence. "You finally become Pirate King and the first thing you do is boot your meritorious crew. Stingy doesn't begin to cover it."
"Yeah. I still have not skimmed enough shares to open my bar," another crewman piled on, trying and failing to laugh.
"I have ten dowries on layaway."
"Idiot captain. You drunk-talking or what."
Noise returned to the deck, but it was not the old roaring bravado. It was a hollow clamor, a frantic attempt to plaster over something everyone felt tearing open inside.
They shouted bigger and dumber nonsense, as if volume could fill the hole in their chests.
Roger watched his lot of liars. He saw the flushed eyes and the forced ease and did not offer one more word of explanation.
He only bared his teeth in that trademark grin and lifted a keg.
"Ku ha ha ha. Then drink. Before you all get lost on your own, keep your stingy captain company for one last round."
"Now you're talking."
"Cheers."
Cups struck. Foam flew. Everyone knew.
This ship, this home, had entered its final countdown.
The voyage home became a long goodbye.
The Oro Jackson no longer drove hard for a single goal. She moved slow and stately, like an old parent seeing each child to their door.
At dawn, while sea fog still clung to the water, Roger stepped from his cabin with a small pack on his back, as if he were only going for a stroll.
He walked straight to Shanks.
The boy kept his head down, lips pressed tight. It looked like he had a thousand things to say and no words would come.
Roger looked at him and suddenly smiled.
He slipped the straw hat from his neck, the weather-beaten thing that had ridden out uncounted storms with him, and set it gently on that blaze of red hair.
"This is yours now."
The hat was a shade too big. It slipped and shaded Shanks' eyes.
The boy jolted, hands shooting up to clamp the brim.
"This is our important promise, Shanks."
He did not answer, only nodded hard. His shoulders began to shake.
Buggy watched, envy flooding his eyes until his fists clenched.
He wrenched his head aside, folding his arms, muttering under his breath, "Tch. Just a straw hat. Big deal. Like I would want it."
He told himself the captain saved the best for the one he valued most, that the red-haired leech was just a tagalong, that he himself would rule the seas one day, that he did not need sentimental trinkets.
Just when Buggy had almost convinced himself, Roger slapped his own forehead.
"Right. Nearly forgot."
He turned, and under Buggy's startled stare drew something from his coat.
A dagger, old-fashioned in shape. Its sheath was made from the hide of a deep-sea beast, the hilt set with a tiny gem. Even sheathed it breathed a restrained, razor edge.
"This is for you, Buggy." Roger tucked it into Buggy's arms. "I have been tempering this with Haki for a long time. It is sharp. For picking your teeth… ahem… and for sticking someone who needs sticking. Ku ha ha ha. Suits you, does it not."
Buggy froze with the warm dagger cradled to him.
He could feel it. This was no common blade. Roger's domineering aura still clung to it. Not his breath.
"Who… who wants your stuff." Buggy's face went as red as his nose, mouth still trying to be tough. "My throwing knives are the best. A trinket like this… I will take it off your hands, but only because you insist."
He fumbled to tuck the dagger away, precious as a baby, all the while grumbling "what a hassle." The act took some of the heaviness off the deck.
Roger laughed and went down the line, thumping shoulders.
"Rayleigh, I am leaving the rest to you."
"Count on it." The Dark King only nudged his glasses, the gaze behind as steady as ever. "Worry about yourself for once and try not to start something worse."
"Gaban, drink less. One of these days you really will drown in a barrel and then no one will claim your carcass."
"Idiot. Worry about your own hide." Gaban barked back, eyes very red. "Even if I die, I am taking a few admirals with me. You better not go out like a chump."
Last he faced Kael.
"Kael. Thank you." He said it solemnly. "We did not reach the end together, but without you we never would have reached it at all."
Kael's lips moved once. In the end he gave only four words. "Fair winds, Captain."
Roger nodded and let it lie. He turned and strode down the gangplank onto the quay.
"Hey, Captain. Pirates do not cry. Do not go wiping your eyes in secret."
"Yeah. Cry and you are no Pirate King."
"Get lost already, you bastard."
Catcalls, whistles, laughter, all tangled together and shook the port.
They were saying goodbye as pirates, rough on the tongue and tender in the heart.
They swore the crew of the Pirate King did not shed tears, but whose eyes were not burning, whose voice did not catch.
Rayleigh took off his glasses and scrubbed hard, as if some fog just would not wipe clean.
Gaban tilted his head back and poured fire down his throat rather than let anything spill from his eyes.
Shanks tugged the straw hat lower. Tears fell from the brim and spotted the deck.
Buggy clutched his dagger and bawled like a child, snot and tears everywhere.
Roger did not slow.
He walked on, step by step, away from the ship that was his life, away from the crew who were his family.
At the very end of the pier, just before he would turn the corner and pass from their sight, he stopped.
With his back to the Oro Jackson and to everyone he loved, he raised his left hand high and clenched a fist.
That back was the same as ever, like a pillar that could hold up the sky.
No one could say what expression the Pirate King wore, facing away from the world.