July, 28, 2020

READ THE WHOLE STORY AGAIN! This story had been majorly revised, all the past chapters (six) had sections in them that were changed or rewritten. With the recent chapters (last ch 985) a lot of new things had been revealed in the manga. Thus, I had to make a decision either to ignore all the new information and go on with what I had previously planned OR make some big revisions to the story and the plots that I had planned. As you understood, I chose the latter. Special thanks to Black' Victor Cachat for his enormous help with reversion. I wouldn't have made it without his insight and encouragement.

.

This chapter was beta'd by the wonderful Gerbilfriend and Black' Victor Cachat who both helped me a lot with grammar, paraphrasing, ideas and especially with their endless encouragement :D (*Ace's deep bow*)

.

.

Warnings:

English is my fourth language. Warning may change in the future.

.

.

Please read the notes in the end, QUITE IMPORTANT!

.

.

.

So this was how he would leave this voyage. Watching his son dying in front of him without being able to do anything to protect him. The Strongest Man in the World failing miserably to protect his family as he had never failed before.

His youngest son, the one he longed so much to protect, to embrace, for him to feel real joy and acceptance, dying in front of him. That was the last nail in the coffin, he was old and tired. He felt his own power, the same power he prided himself in wielding to protect his family waning, slipping from his fingers like sand.

Darkness was all around him, trying to swallow him, devouring him but it couldn't stop the memories from filling his head.

Thanks to his sons and daughters, he lived a life of joy, no, he lived his dream every day, hour, minute, second!

They sailed with him on this voyage, giving him all he ever wanted. Yet he left them in the midst of a battlefield, to face the uncertain future alone. His sons and daughters were strong but …

He sighed in weariness and concern.

He lost friends, enemies, sons and daughters who left his sanctuary, home, willingly or were slain in battle defending it, but this wasn't the end he wished for. Not for himself, but for his sons, this wasn't what he wanted them to have to deal with after his departure.

Darkness swallowed those memories too. Shades of black swirling around him.

He knew his voyage was coming to an end for a while now. One couldn't ignore the signs that his body was sending.

But not like this.

The darkness was clearing a little bit, or maybe his eyes were getting used to it, yet his body refused to relax.

"One Piece does exist! Isn't that a little lame for your last words, Whitey-chan. Really, you couldn't find anything more creative and exciting to say as the words you would be remembered by."

He reflexively tried to clutch Murakumogiri, his faithful partner for more than three decades, the weapon had always been within his arm's reach whenever the need to use it arose. Except this time, it was nowhere to be found. It wasn't there to begin with.

He knew that voice, but he hadn't heard it in more than 22 years.

"Roger, you're not the first face I wanted to see at the beginning of this new voyage."

"Tough luck," the voice answered, amused, a smiling face appeared shimmering into existence in front of his eyes. The smile reminded him of Ace, the son he failed.

Roger stood before him, exactly like he remembered him in their last conversation, down to the white cravat around his neck, in his hand was a bottle of sake (as per usual) with 'winds of change' written on the label. It was as if time had frozen still for Roger, appearance-wise.

Hmmm, interesting.

"Did you meet …" he began and stopped.

"Ace," continued Roger for Whitebeard. A simple word yet with so many emotions. Whitebeard discerned Love, regret, sadness, and frustration. The look in the Pirate King's eyes spoke of something much deeper, and a bit sinister. His regrets?

His smile turned sad and melancholic, he merely shook his head, "his mother."

And that was all needed to be said about that.

He wondered briefly how Roger was able to know the happenings of the world, the last words he had said before his death, Ace's death, as a person no longer living in their world, literally. Would he be able to do the same, keep an eye from the beyond on his living sons and daughters? He dismissed the thought for something to ponder about later. He had all the time in the world.

Whitebeard nodded to Roger, who gave a nod of his own back.

Would he get to meet Ace and his mother later? He mused to himself, Ace's mother, the person that greeted his son at his birth, and defied the world and the laws of nature for him. She was without a doubt the right person to welcome his son at the beginning of his new journey. The question was why was he stuck with Roger as his welcomer? Why not one of his sons? Thatch?

"Let me guess, you pissed some deity and your punishment was to become the welcoming wagon?"

Roger let out a thunderous laugh, his whole body shaking with the force of it.

"It isn't that simple," he said vaguely, earning a raised eyebrow from Whitebeard. Before he could question him further, Roger's body tensed and his face turned serious.

"Ace was one of the things I wanted to speak to you about," Roger said solemnly.

Bowing his head, he continued, "Edward," the use of his given name startled him. Roger had always called him either by 'Newgate' or his epithet. Roger had only called him 'Whitey-chan' during their last meeting, imitating his brother, Oden. Edward Newgate can't remember if Roger D. Gol ever called him by his given name.

"Thank you for taking care of him, for giving him the opportunity to call someone father willingly. For healing some of his wounds. For giving him a real family. For letting him know without a shadow of a doubt that he was loved for being himself. Rogue and I are eternally grateful."

Sincerity was screaming from every fiber of the bowed figure of his old rival, as he straightened up and looked back at him. Pain, sorrow, and gratefulness were apparent in his voice. Roger had never been able to hide his emotions. No. he didn't ever try to or care to (if he ever tried it meant trouble was around the corner).

"You should have brought him to me," there was no accusation in his words, but this was his answer. Ace was his son, a thank you wasn't wanted or needed.

Those unsaid words seemed to cross to Roger, because his next words were, "Maybe I should have," he paused looking quite thoughtful, "but then he wouldn't have met his younger brother."

Neither of them mentioned Garp, or his role in Ace's death.

"Your successor," said Whitebeard as matter of fact.

"It seems so, doesn't it? Shanks approves of him; he did give him my hat. Ace loved him to pieces and believed in him completely, Rayleigh also approves, and so do you," He stated, waiting for a denial that never came.

Whitebeard couldn't help but remember him, Luffy D. Monkey, as he last saw him, his anguished cry resounding in his head, his grieving figure full of sorrow and denial at the same time, was engraved in his heart. Probably because it mirrored his own feelings almost exactly.

He heard himself ask despite himself, "Will he survive?"

Roger had a faraway somber look at his face that vanished quickly as he shrugged his shoulders and he said, "If he is the carrier of the true will of D, then he will."

Whitebeard nodded, Then he would indeed.

He was sure that cheeky brat was the one Roger was waiting for. The one carrying both Roger's will and Ace's.

It wouldn't be easy, it would be heart-wrenching, unbearably suffocating, but he would stand up and face the future. His flame would never burn out.

Whitebeard was sure. Teach on the other hand was no true D, the will in him wasn't bright as it was in Roger, Ace, and Luffy. He would get what was coming to him. And it would be horrendous.

Roger motioned for him to sit, and as they did the blackness cleared around them. The place, whatever it was, seemed a bit friendlier than before.

Roger took out cups from his pockets, huge cups. This place was different, he couldn't put his finger on why, but he could feel it in his old bones. He had seen and experienced different and weird places on his own voyage but this place was more than a bit eerie.

Roger poured from the bottle into the two cups and offered one to him.

He felt nostalgic, he felt as if he had drifted twenty-two years back. To their last meeting. When Roger had come to tell him of Oden's decision of going back to Wano. His brother and commander did not even bother to meet Whitebeard himself to say goodbye. What was supposed to be a year of parting where Oden and his family sailed with Roger to find the last island, had turned to more than twenty years. He hadn't seen or heard from Oden since then. Roger had explained what they had found and he understood the reason for Oden's choice, yet, not a word since. Could Oden, Toki, and their two children, Momonosuke and Hiyori, be...

"Have you met… Oden?"

Roger gave him a strange look, and looked at his cup as he hummed and he answered with one word, "No," and gulped his drink in one go.

Despite his sadness at his brother never returning, Whitebeard tilted his head down and closed his eyes for a moment in relief. If anything had happened to anyone from the Kozuki family, surely Roger would have said something by now.

He opened them and eyed his reflection in the cup he was holding. He looked the same as he did the morning before the battle. He just realized he didn't feel any pain from his old scars, or the aches of age. It was as if he lost all sensation in his body.

A thought struck him, and he tried to use his Devil Fruit power, to no avail -not caring if he damaged the place or the person-. How did he summon his power before? Did he do something to call them? It was as natural as breathing, wasn't it? Was it because he had died and the Fruit returned to circulation?

He shook his head, to clear his mind of the dark thoughts and lingering resentment. His journey had ended. Regrets had no place here.

Let the dead rest while the living journeyed. He couldn't remember where he had first heard this saying. But he had always found it to be a reflection of their chosen life.

They both drank in silence; Whitebeard enjoyed his drink (it was somehow familiar) yet missed the sensation of his throat burning as he swallowed. This place was truly eerie.

"Whenever anyone you knew in life dies, you come here to receive them? Met anyone I know so far?" Whitebeard asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

"No, that's not how it works!" Roger exclaimed, splashing the contents of his cup onto himself and the ground.

"What is it that doesn't work like that?" Whitebeard asked forcefully, eyeing him in suspicion. What made him someone so special for Roger to be the one to receive him? As he had wondered earlier, why not one of his sons, like Thatch?

Roger stayed quiet, and cleared his throat. His eyes staring intently on the half-full cup of sake.

"What is this place?" demanded Whitebeard, maybe a simple question would be answered. He eyed the blackness all around that was somehow a bit farther away now. He felt as if his depth perception was screwing with him. It somehow looked clearer yet everything seemed to have a different shade of black in it, even Roger and Whitebeard himself.

A lesser man might have been terrified at being caught out in such an eerie place, and let his fear, uncertainty and shock crumble his composure. But a Yonko had seen many unexplained and terrifying things in his lifetime, and learned to always keep his wits about him. The force of his strong-willed personality, his hardened heart, and his clear and organized mind made this easy to accomplish for Whitebeard.

Roger stroked his beard and answered this time, "It's hard to explain. This is a place but also is not a place, it doesn't exist."

Whitebeard stared at him with an arched eyebrow, telling him yet here we are.

"It's here but not here, hmmm, I am not making much sense, am I?"

Whitebeard snorted, "When did you ever?"

Their last conversation came to mind, Roger never knew how to moderate things, it always was all or nothing, literally and metaphorically.

Roger ignored him, "Let's say it's a crossroad."

"To where?"

"To everywhere, of course!" Roger sounded quite pleased with himself for that one.

Whitebeard sighed, shaking his head in weariness, why did he even bother to ask, he should know better, some things never changed.

Roger cleared his throat again and held his cup near his face, after a small pause to drink from his cup, he said.

"I wanted Ace to have the choice to choose his own life, his own journey like we did. I didn't want him to be burdened by my choices, my sins," The Pirate King was clearly trying to take back control of the conversation, and trying to bring them back on track to whatever he had planned. Mentioning Ace was a good trick to do that. Ace was a precious person for both of them. He would allow it and play along with Roger for now.

Roger looked at him in seriousness that felt very strange on his face. He added softly.

"I wanted him to taste the freedom from his own choices," and downed the rest of his drink in one go.

Whitebeard did the same, raising his cup. He would drink to that. The freedom to choose your own fate.

Roger added, his signature smile back in his face, "still he did find his way to you, didn't he?"

They both laughed at the irony.

"I assume that isn't what you wanted to speak to me about," asked Whitebeard after some time passed with only the sound of them drinking to disturb the silence.

Roger got busy, pouring more sake to both of them. He seemed to be buying time for himself. Why?

"No," he said looking at him straight in the eyes and paused.

Whitebeard was about to open his mouth and demand an answer when he heard:

"If you had the choice to do your journey again, would you take it?"

Whitebeard took the cup from Roger's stretched hand and drank, he frowned, the taste brought a feeling of nostalgia, but even after drinking more than a few cups, he couldn't pinpoint where it was made, or where he had tasted this kind of sake before. Strange, He could usually tell after one sip!

"You are talking about a second chance? Living my life again? Redoing my adventure?" he asked mockingly while raising his eyebrow in time with his cup. Roger didn't react to the light scorn obvious in his tone; he was merely waiting.

Whitebeard took another sip of the sake, and Roger poured him some more. Was he trying to make him drunk? He needed at least 20 barrels. Maybe, just maybe it would work then. Whitebeard snorted inwardly, the idiotic brat, what was he trying to do?

"It is a simple question; would you do it or not?"

The question was anything but simple.

"There are things that I regret but don't we all."

He paused deep in thought taking another gulp.

"I didn't wish to leave my sons and daughters in their hardest hour, some of the things they will face are because of me and my choices..." he trailed off.

"You are saying you wanted to die of old age while your sons and daughters surrounded your soft death-bed," asked Roger in a mocking tone, accompanied by a raised eyebrow of his own.

"Gurararararaarara, fighting is the way to go, you brat." He laughed, "Defending my family, my dream. There can be no better death." But he wasn't able to defend them, as he should have. Did he?

He took another gulp and eyed Roger, "I don't need to explain this to you, Roger."

"No, you don't," agreed Roger, looking thoughtful again.

They both made similar choices. Their makeshift families were important.

Whitebeard had seen him like this handful of times, usually before he announced a bomb in both the figurative and literal sense. This should be good, he thought but a faint feeling of dread wouldn't leave him alone, and with time and experience he learned to trust those feelings, especially when Roger was involved.

Roger poured him more to drink, the small bottle seemed to contain an endless amount of sake. If this was what the afterlife was like, he could get used to it. He still couldn't pinpoint the origin of the sake, and it was grating on his nerves, and he refused to ask the brat Roger, he would only laugh knowingly without answering, infuriating him even more.

"To answer your weird question, no," announced Whitebeard in decisive finality.

He regretted many things, many decisions that he should have taken or not taken. But in the end, he gained from those decisions much more, more sons and daughters, he gained a family, a true one.

He could never regret that; his family was everything he ever wanted.

Roger nodded in acceptance and drank from his cup; his playful smile was back with a vengeance and his eyes were twinkling (Whitebeard's gut was screaming at him that this was not a good sign).

Whitebeard narrowed his eyes, the feeling of dread was intensifying. He wanted to demand to know what Roger was planning or to flatly tell him NO, he wanted nothing with whatever he had devised; because Whitebeard knew from hard-earned experience it was never anything good. Especially if it began with him bowing down -for an unusual length of time- and begging for a favor. The last time he did that, Oden had left with Roger and never returned to the Moby.

Whitebeard was still trying to decide which approach was the best to handle the scheming Roger when he heard.

"Too bad."

Absolute darkness swallowed him.

"Any last words, Whitey-chan?"

Even as he felt himself sinking into an abyss of darkness, he could still hear the bastard mocking voice.

He tried to open his mouth to shout and curse at the bloody cad. But his tongue felt thick and his lips heavy.

"And remember to say something cool next time when you face death… Not 'the One Piece exists,' nonsense."

Whitebeard could hear clear laughter in his annoyingly smug voice. The bloody shit was enjoying this.

His eyes felt heavy. He sensed his eyelids closing, and his efforts to keep them open was futile.

Reality and consciousness were slipping away.

He wasn't sure if what he heard was Roger's last piece of advice or his imagination, but he could swear he heard those softly spoken words.

"His time wasn't over yet … May the sea wind make your voyage a wild one."

.

.

.

.

This story wouldn't be updated as regularly as my other fics. Here is the deal. I am posting three other awesome stories, that I try to update regularly. But I have this awesome plot planned (if I do say so myself ^^) for this story and I began writing this story back in July of last year, and I am stuck, I hardly ever open the file to work on it.

So I am posting it to make it an "official" story and to pressure and motivate myself to write more of it (to put my ass in gear and began writing it, dammit), feel free to help motivate me too.

.

Awaiting your motivation speeches ;)