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"Oh? Someone wants to see me?" Arthur, about to leave the bar, paused, turning back to Shakky, his brow furrowed.
He racked his brain, but couldn't think of anyone he knew in the New World who would seek him out.
"Could it be Roger?"
This was Roger's territory, and they had met briefly... but Arthur couldn't imagine why Roger would want to see him.
The bar was still bustling, filled with the boisterous laughter and exaggerated tales of drunken pirates.
But the noise didn't reach Arthur and Shakky.
"Yes—Captain Roger heard you killed Whitebeard's son. He wants to talk to you." Shakky, leaning against the bar, her chin resting on her hand, took a drag from her cigarette, her gaze steady.
"I'm interested in meeting him again, too." Arthur sat back down, accepting the drink Shakky offered and downing it in a single gulp.
He wasn't particularly interested in Roger himself, but rather—in Roger's motivations. What drove him to ignite a new era, even at the cost of his own life?
Arthur sensed a kinship with Roger—though their paths diverged, their shared determination, their unwavering commitment to their goals—it resonated with him.
He had been on Risky Red for three days, enjoying the relative peace. Shakky had contacted the Roger Pirates immediately.
——
The Oro Jackson, having departed Whitebeard's territory, finally reached Risky Red. Its Jolly Roger flapping in the wind, the ship approached the docks.
"Roger, that kid, while reckless, hasn't earned your attention yet, has he? Why are we rushing here?" Scopper Gaban, steering the ship, his ponytail swaying, his small sunglasses perched on his nose, asked casually.
"Captain Roger's time is—limited." Crocus's voice was tinged with sadness. No one wanted to see their captain waste his remaining days on trivial matters.
Roger, standing at the bow, simply grinned, saying nothing.
"Arthur is unpredictable. Probably not the easiest person to reason with—" Shanks commented, his recent encounter with Whitebeard, the sheer force of his presence, having a sobering effect on him. He was learning to think strategically.
"He's back?! My Gold! My beautiful Gold!!" Buggy wailed, still mourning the loss of his imagined treasure.
The Oro Jackson docked. Leaving a few crew members behind to guard the ship, Roger, Rayleigh, and the others disembarked.
The pirates on the docks quickly stepped aside, making way for Roger and his crew. Those who lived under Roger's protection, like Whitebeard's allied captains, held him in awe, their loyalty bordering on reverence.
Surrounded by a crowd of admirers—they made their way towards Shakky's bar.
——
Arthur sat on a plush sofa in the bar, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, his gaze fixed on the entrance.
He spotted Roger, surrounded by his crew, approaching from a distance. He observed the Pirate King more closely this time.
Roger possessed an undeniable charisma, a magnetic personality—like Garp, his smile genuine, infectious.
Garp had described Roger as impulsive, prone to fits of childish anger, yet fiercely loyal to his crew, valuing their friendship above all else.
Arthur, however, having studied Roger's exploits, recognized something more—an unwavering determination, a refusal to back down, even in the face of overwhelming odds—a quality Arthur shared.
Roger, Rayleigh, Gaban, Shanks, Buggy—they entered the bar, closing the door behind them...
Shakky poured them drinks, then retreated behind the bar, watching them silently.
"Seabury D. Arthur. We meet again." Roger sat down across from Arthur, his crew taking the remaining seats.
Arthur, remaining seated, his expression calm, continued swirling his drink. "You mean—until we meet again, right?"
Roger laughed. "You see right through me, kid. After you were captured—I thought I'd never see you again."
His words were blunt, but without malice—a refreshing honesty.
"Shakky said you wanted to see me. And...?" Arthur wasn't interested in pleasantries.
Roger grinned, emptying his mug. "You're not much for small talk, are you, kid? Alright, then. Straight to the point. You killed Whitebeard's son. I suggest you leave the New World—before his crew finds you—"
Arthur scoffed. "You mean those two on the ship that's been tailing you? I'm not afraid of them. Bring on an entire fleet—I don't care. If you called me here just for that—then I've wasted three days. I don't have time for this."
A ship had appeared on the horizon, its crew's conversation easily overheard by Arthur's enhanced hearing.
"OI, Arthur! Our Captain Roger came all the way here for you! Where's your gratitude???" Buggy piped up, always eager for attention.
"BUGGY, GET BACK HERE!" Gaban grabbed Buggy by his clown hat, pulling him back.
Arthur glanced at Buggy, then at Shanks—Buggy, a clown who relied on luck and theatrics, would always be a step behind Shanks, whose quiet strength was far more dangerous.
Roger laughed, unfazed by Arthur's dismissive attitude. "Relax, kid. I'm not here to warn you about Whitebeard. I just wanted to offer some advice—You're too young for the New World... Why not wait a couple of years? Let the old pirates fade away—The new era is your time to shine."
Arthur's gaze sharpened, his eyes meeting Roger's, a sudden understanding dawning on him.
Two years? That would be 1498—the year Roger would usher in the Great Pirate Era.
Roger had a plan—He'd returned to the Grand Line to set it in motion.
Arthur stood up abruptly, his laughter echoing through the bar. "Roger, You think you can change my mind? Manipulate my destiny? DON'T BE RIDICULOUS!!"
"You want different things... I want excitement! Thrills! What could be more thrilling than challenging the strongest pirates in the world?"
"This 'new era' you're planning...It might make things more interesting, more chaotic, but I can't stop you. And you can't control me. Don't impose your ambitions on me."
"You're a fool, Roger—A well-meaning, but ultimately foolish, idealist."
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