In the Grand Line, at the Sabaody Archipelago, Area 13, a worn sign hung on the front of a quiet bar: Closed Today. Few would have guessed that the Pirate King himself, Gol D. Roger—missing from the seas for more than a year—was inside.
Within Shakky's Rip-Off Bar, Roger sat at a table with Silvers Rayleigh. A woman leaned against the counter, cigarette in hand, but sensing the weight of their talk, she slipped away, leaving the two legends alone.
"Roger, have you made up your mind?" Rayleigh asked, swirling the wine in his glass.
Roger nodded, his expression calm. "Yes. My time is short. This is the last thing I have to do."
Sadness flickered in Rayleigh's eyes, though trust outweighed it. He had followed Roger for years, and he believed him still.
"I'm just an old man now," Rayleigh said with a wry smile. "I'll stay here from now on."
Roger laughed warmly. "Not a bad place to retire. You'll be able to watch the new era rise with your own eyes."
They both knew this parting was final.
"Let me see it then—the future you spoke of. The new era." Rayleigh raised his glass, staring at the rippling wine before taking a slow sip.
Roger's face broke into a brilliant grin. He finished his own drink in one gulp, set the glass down, and strode toward the door. At the threshold, he paused and called back:
"Haha! Don't worry, my friend—I won't die."
It was the last thing he ever said to Rayleigh.
At Marineford, headquarters of the Marines and symbol of justice across the world, the sea was never still. Fleet Admiral Kong, Admiral Sengoku, Hero Garp, and Zephyr of the Black Arm stood as the pillars of an age, while a younger generation rose behind them; three prodigies who had each eaten Logia Fruits—Sakazuki with magma, Borsalino with light, Kuzan with ice. The Marines were entering their golden era.
And yet, ever since Roger conquered the Grand Line and claimed the title of Pirate King, his shadow loomed over them. His very name had become a nightmare.
The Marines had searched desperately for him, but after his crew disbanded, Roger vanished. That silence weighed heavier than his presence ever had.
Until today.
"Hey, what's that?" a Marine lookout muttered, pointing to the sea.
Another peered through a telescope. "Someone… standing on a small boat, heading this way."
"Probably shipwrecked," another guessed. Such things happened often.
Two Marines headed for the shore. As the boat drifted closer, one frowned. "Doesn't that guy look… familiar?"
The other nodded slowly. "Yeah. I've seen him somewhere, but I can't…" His voice trailed off.
When the boat reached the shore, both men froze. Their bodies trembled violently as recognition struck.
"P-P-Pirate King… Roger!" One Marine's voice cracked as he fumbled out a wanted poster. The image matched perfectly.
"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!" the other shouted, slamming his hand on a red alarm trigger.
Sirens wailed across Marineford.
Fleet Admiral Kong rose sharply. "What's happening?"
"Headquarters under attack?" Sengoku snapped, already on his feet.
Garp stopped mid-bite on his doughnut. "This aura… feels familiar."
Moments later, an officer burst into the conference room. "Report! The invader is… Pirate King Roger! But… he came alone!"
Shock swept the room.
Within minutes, the strongest Marines assembled: Kong, Sengoku, Garp, Tsuru, Zephyr. All others stood on guard, surrounding the pier where Roger waited. Even unmoving, his presence suffocated them.
"Roger, what are you planning?" Sengoku barked, fists clenched, body taut.
Garp gritted his teeth, a storm of killing intent radiating from him.
Kong's aura flared, heavier than steel, as he prepared for battle.
And then Roger spoke. Calm. Clear.
"Gentlemen, I'm here… to surrender."
The gathered Marines nearly fell over. Sengoku's eyelid twitched. Garp's jaw hung open. Zephyr froze mid-swing, his fist suspended. Even Kong's aura faltered.
Roger offered no resistance as they bound him in seastone cuffs. Garp and Sengoku themselves escorted him to the prison cells of Marineford—the greatest honor any captive pirate had ever received.
Later, in a war council, Kong posed the question: "Any thoughts?"
Tsuru frowned deeply. "Too simple. This has to be a trap. Why would Roger surrender?"
No one had an answer. Finally, Kong said, "Inform the World Government. Let them decide."
In the Holy Land of Mariejois, the Five Elders convened.
"Roger surrendered. A trick?" one mused.
"It doesn't matter. He's in our hands now," said another with a smirk.
"Then let's execute him publicly," said the bald Elder with twin mustaches. "Make an example. Break the pirates' arrogance."
"Where?"
"In Loguetown—the East Blue, his birthplace," said the Elder in a kimono, hand resting on his katana. "The world will watch him die where it all began."
The decision was unanimous.
That same day, news thundered across the seas: 'Pirate King Gol D. Roger, with a bounty of 5,564,800,000 berries, had been captured by Marine Hero Garp. He would be executed publicly in Loguetown three months later.'
When Shiki the Golden Lion heard, his face twisted in disbelief. "Roger? Captured? Impossible!" His aura exploded like a storm, forcing his crew to their knees.
"Admiral, calm down," said Rhein, his level-headed second-in-command. He offered a Den Den Mushi. "I received word about Roger before, but didn't believe it until now. Someone asked me to pass this on."
The snail-phone clicked to life.
"Zehahahaha! Is that Shiki?" The voice was young but mocking, full of sinister confidence.
Shiki scowled. "Who the hell are you, brat? Speak—what do you know about Roger?"
The voice laughed again. "Zehahaha… Roger wasn't captured. He surrendered. He's dying as caught an incurable disease years ago—only two years to live when you fought him in the Ed War. Ask Whitebeard, he'll confirm it."
Silence. Shiki's fury cooled into grim realization.
"Why tell me this?" he asked quietly.
"Consider it a gift," the voice said. "I've already helped you twice. Don't waste your strength fighting the Marines. Keep the New World chaotic. When I arrive, we'll meet."
The line went dead.
Shiki stared at the Den Den Mushi. And then he laughed, long and wild. "Hahahaha! So that's it. You're Whitebeard's little cub, aren't you? Interesting… very interesting."
He remembered two years ago, when a storm nearly crippled his fleet—only thanks for Whitebeard's sudden move and Rhein's instincts to spare him. Whoever this mysterious man was, he had already shaped Shiki's fate twice.
Now Shiki could only grin with anticipation. "Come, brat. I'll be waiting."