Chapter Text
Hammered In
The galley was chaos—the good kind. The kind where laughter was loud enough to rattle the plates, and the floorboards seemed to hum with the pounding of boots and the slamming of mugs. Someone in the corner was singing horribly off-key, a half-drunk chorus egging him on, and somewhere else Lucky was cursing because someone had stolen his last meat skewer.
Aegis, tipsy but not quite drunk, leaned against the long table, giggling at the chaos until Marco’s voice cut through it like a lazy but sharp scalpel.
“That’s enough for you,” the phoenix said, plucking the mug from his hand before he could protest.
“Hey—!”
“No.” Marco didn’t even look at him as he passed the drink to someone else. “Listen to your doctors. And we can't have Hongo threatening more of your crewmembers, yoi,”
And Hongo had been doing exactly that. He’d already threatened at least three people with medical exile if they tried to top off Aegis’ drink again. Apparently “recovery” meant “sober” in their book.
So Aegis surrendered and slipped out of the chaos, swaying a little as the floor shifted under him. The cool night air hit him like a welcome splash of water. The stars were sharp and bright overhead, the smell of salt heavy in the air, the sound of the sea steady and deep below.
He made it to the railing, leaning back against it, letting the breeze wrap around him. His silver hair danced immediately in the wind, strands whipping against his face, into his mouth.
“Phhhht—” He spat, scowling as he fumbled with it, trying to push it out of his eyes.
“Wow. Aegis the Mirage, caught making an ugly face?”
He didn’t have to look up to know that voice. “I never make an ugly face,” he sniffed dramatically, only to swipe a hand at Thatch’s ridiculous hair the second the taller man stepped closer.
Thatch dodged back with a gasp, clutching his head. “Hey! Careful with the goods!”
“What goods?” Aegis looked around theatrically, scanning the deck. “I don’t see any goods here.”
Thatch lunged without warning, his big hands catching Aegis around the head.
“Thatch—! You bastard, not my hair—!”
“That’s what you get!” Thatch laughed, dragging him into a noogie until Aegis was screeching and shoving at him.
By the time they broke apart, breathless with laughter, they were both leaning on the railing, the easy, familiar quiet of old friends settling over them. Thatch slung an arm around Aegis’ shoulders, pulling him close in a way that might have made him complain on any other day. But not now. Not with Thatch.
“How ‘ya feeling, gorgeous?” the cook asked, voice softer now.
Aegis smiled faintly, eyes drifting out to the black stretch of sea. “Better. Stronger every day.”
“That’s good,” Thatch murmured, rubbing his arm in a slow, absent gesture. “You really scared us.”
“I’m sorry,” Aegis said quietly.
“It’s not your fault. It was just—” Thatch sighed, eyes on the horizon. “When Ace came back that day without you… man. Marco and I practically begged him every day to tell us where you went. If you’d been captured by the Marines. But he never said anything.”
Aegis’ head snapped up. “He didn’t say anything?”
Thatch shook his head, smiling a little sadly. “I don’t blame him. It was… obvious he was pretending everything was fine. Kid loves you.”
“I know,” Aegis mumbled, his chest tightening. He did know. And he loved Ace back. That was what made all of this so damn complicated.
Thatch let the silence hang for a moment before asking, “What actually happened? I know the gist, but the details…” He shrugged. “Don’t gotta tell me if you don’t want to.”
“It’s okay,” Aegis said after a pause. “You guys deserve to know. And you’re my friend, idiot.” He gave Thatch a small smile. “It’s… a long story.”
Thatch waited.
“You know Ace and I lied to Marco to get permission to head out? Called it a recon mission or something? Honestly, I barely remember the cover story now.”
“You were looking for his brother, right?”
“Yeah. Good, saves me explaining that part.” He huffed a little laugh. “We tracked a lead about a Revolutionary Army guy on a nearby island. Got there late, stayed at an inn for the night and…” He hesitated, leaning his head against Thatch’s shoulder. “I kissed him, Thatch.”
Thatch didn’t flinch. “You kissed him,” he repeated, no judgement in his tone.
“Yeah. My fault. Not his. He’s not… experienced. With romance. He told me recently he was aromantic and asexual before me.” Aegis gave a small, shaky laugh. “That night, he asked me to show him a glimpse of what I could give him. So I did. I kissed him. And he—” his throat tightened “—he laughed. This broken little laugh. Told me he wanted me so much he was gonna die.”
“...Oh,” Thatch breathed, squeezing Aegis’ arm. “He’s really in it deep for you.”
“He is. Was. Still is,” Aegis said softly. “He told me he was jealous of Shanks. And I couldn’t stop myself. I kissed him again. I basically told him I felt the same. I cheated, Thatch.”
A bitter little laugh escaped him. “And then, two days later, Shanks found me. Hauled me back to the ship. Kissed me. Told me he missed me. And then—” His fingers brushed lightly at the side of his throat, as if the memory still burned there. “He saw the hickey. Used his Conqueror’s Haki on me. Found out I’d been with you guys for months while he was losing his mind looking for me.”
Thatch’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Aegis…”
“He figured out it was Ace. And then… the seastone cuff.” Aegis’ voice dropped to a whisper. “The rest… you know.”
The sea below whispered and churned, the quiet stretching between them. Thatch didn’t say anything right away—didn’t tell him he’d made a mess of things, didn’t lecture him, didn’t pity him. He just stayed there, arm still slung around his shoulders, a solid, grounding presence against the swell of the ocean and the weight of the past.
“Do you regret it?” Thatch finally asked, voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
Aegis kept his eyes on the waves. “Regret cheating? Yeah… yeah, I do. I hurt Shanks a lot with what I did, Thatch. I can still remember the rage in his eyes, and the hurt. The way I just… accepted that punishment like I deserved it…” His voice dipped into a mumble. “But I… I love Ace.”
And he did. He loved Ace.
“I know. He loves you too,” Thatch said with a short chuckle. “The pirate kind of love’s messy as hell, huh?”
“It fucking is,” Aegis snorted.
“Speaking of Ace, where is he? We tried looking for him earlier but got distracted with the—” Thatch waved a hand toward the distant noise of the galley.
Aegis blinked, then remembered. “Shanks and Ace are hanging out.”
Thatch choked on his own saliva, jerking away from Aegis to stare at him. “ Hanging out?! ”
“That’s what I said!”
“Listen, I trust Shanks juuuuuust about as much as I trust a sea king—”
“You trust a sea king?!”
“I don’t! That’s the fucking point, you beautiful idiot!”
Aegis rolled his eyes and started walking briskly toward the hatch. “I’ll fetch Ace.”
“Please make sure he’s alive!” Thatch called after him.
Aegis shot him a mock-offended middle finger over his shoulder before vanishing below deck.
He power-walked through the corridors, turning corners with a growing sense of unease. It was probably fine—probably—but the idea of Shanks and Ace “hanging out” unsupervised was enough to make his stomach knot.
He reached the meeting room door, hesitating only a moment before raising his hand to knock—
The door swung open, and a very flushed, very wobbly Ace grinned down at him. “Aegis!”
Before Aegis could react, Ace draped his full 6”1 frame over him like a weighted blanket. Aegis staggered under the sudden weight, knees buckling. “Ace?! Are you drunk?!”
“Nooooooo,” Ace grinned, his cheeks the color of a ripe tomato.
Aegis’ eyes darted past him to the table inside—and froze. The circular table was covered in empty rum bottles.
“Shanks!” he barked, his voice sharp.
Shanks was lounging in a chair, looking far too innocent, chin propped on his hand. “Yes, my love? Did you have fun with the crew?”
“I did have fun with the crew,” Aegis snapped as he wrestled Ace back into the room, “but that’s not the point!”
Ace immediately dropped into the nearest chair, letting his head thunk onto the table. He giggled to himself as Aegis tapped at his cheek. “Aegisssss… I love you,” he mumbled, nuzzling into Aegis’ palm.
Before Aegis could answer, Shanks leaned forward and ruffled Ace’s hair with his only hand. “Are you gonna say ‘I love you too’?” he asked quietly, smiling just enough to make Aegis’ pulse jump.
Shanks didn’t look angry—but that didn’t mean anything. Aegis didn’t want to tempt fate.
“Why’d you let him get this drunk?” Aegis demanded instead, frowning.
“What? He’s an adult. He liked the drink, so he drank it,” Shanks said with a casual shrug, still idly toying with Ace’s hair while the younger man mumbled nonsense.
“Yeah, but I doubt his alcohol tolerance’s anywhere near yours,” Aegis muttered. “Why did you two suddenly decide to hang out today anyway?”
Shanks’ lips quirked. “Why? Are you suspicious of me?”
“That’s not it,” Aegis said automatically, but his voice wavered.
“Songbird,” Shanks said, tone light and almost playful. “your lack of trust in me is… upsetting.”
“I trust you—”
Shanks rose from his chair, closing the space between them. His fingers cupped Aegis’ cheek, leaning down as his lips brushed his in a slow, deliberate kiss. Aegis’ eyes fluttered shut, already distracted—until Shanks pulled back just slightly, enough that their foreheads almost touched.
“I never realized you were so manipulative, Songbird.”
Aegis froze. “Huh?”
“I mean, I’ve always known you’re manipulative,” Shanks continued conversationally, his gaze locked on Aegis’ face. “I’ve seen you haggle, distract people. You do it like theater—big, obvious flourishes. Almost like you want people to notice.” His thumb brushed across Aegis’ jaw. “But I didn’t imagine you’d do it to me. Subtly.”
Aegis’ stomach sank. “What are you talking about, Shanks?”
“Last night,” Shanks said smoothly, “when you had Ace call Luffy… you were counting on me letting you go with him because of how I feel about Anchor, weren’t you?”
Aegis’ mouth went dry.
Shanks smiled faintly. “It hit me then. Made me look back. The way you distracted me when you got sick—when you were on your way to dying. The little ways you push things where you want them, so I don’t notice what you’re really doing.”
“Shanks, why—”
“Why am I bringing this up?” he finished for him, his voice cooling. The playfulness drained from his expression, replaced by something sharp. “Why don’t you tell me, Aegis…”
His gaze pinned him in place.
“How did you come to meet ‘Sabo’ when you’ve never had the chance to be saved by him from the Marines before you met the Whitebeard crew?”
What?
What?
Why was Shanks asking this? How did he even think about that?
How would he know? How did he know?
Aegis’ pulse roared in his ears. “I—I did! I got in trouble and he came to—”
“I know you met Thatch and Marco almost immediately after you—according to Buggy—disappeared onto that island,” Shanks cut in, his voice deceptively calm. “And in that short time, you expect me to believe you crossed paths with a Revolutionary Army member? Who just so happens to be Ace and anchor’s ‘dead’ brother?”
“...Shanks… that’s—”
“What,” Shanks stepped in closer, the low timber of his voice more dangerous than any shout, “are you hiding from me, songbird? That you’re lying about—not just to me—but to Ace? Why are you hiding it from me? ”
Aegis’ mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he forced a weak laugh. “You’re making it sound like I plotted the whole thing, Shanks. I didn’t.”
Shanks tilted his head, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Didn’t you?”
“No,” Aegis said quickly, too quickly. He wet his lips, forcing his voice softer, careful. “I didn’t lie to Ace. Sabo really did save me.”
For a long moment, Shanks simply studied him, that unreadable stillness in his gaze. It made Aegis’ skin prickle.
“Mm,” Shanks hummed noncommittally, leaning back slightly but not giving him an inch of space. “You know… you’ve always been a good liar, songbird. Charming enough to make people want to believe you. But you’re at your worst when you lie to me.”
The words landed like a weight in Aegis’ gut. He kept his face neutral, or at least tried to, even as he felt his pulse climbing.
“Shanks—”
“Don’t get me wrong,” the redhead interrupted, voice quiet but steady. “I’m not angry. Not yet.”
That yet coiled like a snake under Aegis’ ribs.
Shanks’ gaze softened just slightly, though it didn’t lose its sharpness. “I’ve been… trying. You know I have. Letting Ace hang around you without throwing him overboard the first chance I get. I don’t even react when you two disappear off somewhere. I’ve seen the marks, I know what you do, because it’s what we both do too.” His mouth curled in a humorless smirk. “I even suggested we hang out, didn’t I? Bonding. Being civil. You should give me some credit, sweetheart.”
Aegis swallowed. “I noticed. I… appreciate it.”
“I’m sure you do,” Shanks murmured. “But while we were drinking, Ace told me all sorts of interesting little stories. About how you spent your time on the Moby Dick. About how you partied. About how you came to mention Sabo .”
The implication hit cold in Aegis’ stomach.
“Ace doesn’t notice what’s wrong, because he trusts you. A lot. And I do too, Songbird, I trust you. I love you,” the redhead leaned in again, then his voice dropped to something dangerously calm. “So. I suppose when you go with Ace, Thatch, and Izo to look for Sabo… the man will recognize you right?”
The words hit like a cannonball.
Aegis froze. His mind went white, then roared with the realization— shit . He’d built this elaborate little lie to spark Ace’s hope, and never once considered that, if they actually found Sabo, the man wouldn’t know him from a random passerby.
Well, he’d probably know of him. Bounty poster and all, even if his face was blotted out by light.
And Shanks knew it.
That tiny, knowing glint in those red eyes told him everything—Shanks had caught the scent of the lie and wasn’t going to let it go.
“I—of course he will,” Aegis forced out, summoning a shaky smile. “Why wouldn’t he?”
Shanks didn’t answer right away. He just watched him for an uncomfortably long moment, as though waiting for the mask to crack on its own. Finally, he leaned back, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
“If you say so, songbird.”
That was worse than outright disbelief—it was dismissal. Shanks didn’t believe him, and he wasn’t even pretending to anymore.
Aegis wanted to protest, but his throat was tight. Every instinct screamed to change the subject, to spin something, anything , to throw Shanks off the trail.
Shanks’ fingers brushed over Aegis’ silver hair, deceptively gentle in the way they sifted through the silken strands. His touch lingered at the nape before sliding forward, the roughness of calloused fingertips contrasting with the softness of the motion. Then, with an easy firmness that brooked no refusal, he tipped Aegis’ chin up.
The redhead leaned down again, his shadow cutting across Aegis’ face, and kissed him.
It wasn’t one of those heated, claiming kisses Shanks often favored when they were alone. No—this was slow, unhurried, almost lazy in its pace. His mouth moved against Aegis’ with languid certainty, as if Shanks had all the time in the world. Any other time, it would’ve made Aegis melt into him without a second thought.
But right now? Right now it only made the knot in his stomach tighten.
Because he could feel it—that quiet, simmering undercurrent beneath Shanks’ affection. That awareness that he was being handled, not just kissed.
Shanks hated when Aegis hid things from him. Always had. And yet, what was Aegis supposed to do? There was no way he could tell him the truth. Not the real truth. Not about Sabo, not about how he knew things he shouldn’t, not about how this entire world had once been nothing more than a piece of fiction to him.
Hell, wasn’t there some unwritten universal rule for reincarnators? Especially to the ones who reincarnated in some existing fictional world? The kind where talking about your past life—or worse, the future of the people you met—was a big, red flashing “do not”?
Shanks pulled back with infuriating slowness, his red eyes heavy-lidded. “Looks like I don’t have it today,” he said lightly, almost teasing.
Aegis blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”
That smirk curved over Shanks’ mouth, dangerous in its subtlety. “The ability to make you melt,” he answered, quoting the little quip he said yesterday.
Before Aegis could respond—before he could even think of a deflection—Shanks leaned in and kissed him again. Brief, almost chaste this time, but no less deliberate.
When he pulled away, his voice was warm enough to almost fool him. Almost. “You’ve had a long night, baby. Why don’t you head to our room first?”
“Our room…” The words nearly snagged in Aegis’ chest.
“I’ll drag Ace back to theirs,” Shanks went on, his tone easy, unhurried, “then I’ll follow after you, okay?”
The softness in his voice nearly worked. Nearly. Aegis could almost let himself believe Shanks had dropped the whole thing… if not for that flicker in those red eyes, like a poker player holding all the cards and just waiting for his opponent to make the wrong move.
“I said,” Shanks murmured, the warmth in his tone thinning ever so slightly, “ okay? ”
“Okay,” Aegis breathed out, quieter than he meant to.
Shanks’ mouth curved. “Good boy.”
With a single, smooth motion, he slid his hand from Aegis’ chin, reached for Ace, and hauled the freckled man upright. Even with just one arm, Shanks balanced his deadweight effortlessly, Ace’s head lolling against his shoulder, too far gone to know where he was.
Aegis stood rooted in place as Shanks carried him toward the door.
“Sleep well,” Shanks tossed over his shoulder, the words soft as silk and just as dangerous.
Then the door shut, leaving Aegis in the empty meeting room with nothing but the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
Fuck.
He raked a hand through his hair, staring at the polished wood of the table where minutes ago Shanks had sat, smiling and cutting through him like a blade.
What was he going to do?
The Captain’s quarters were too quiet.
The ship itself still hummed faintly beneath him—groaning wood, distant waves against the hull, muffled laughter somewhere far off—but inside here? It was oppressive. Thick. The kind of silence that swallowed every sound you made and then handed it back to you, louder, more conspicuous.
Aegis sat cross-legged on the massive bed, elbows on his knees, fingers curled loosely around a glass of water that had long since gone warm. He hadn’t touched it since he got here, which was like 10 seconds ago.
The door was shut, the lanterns dim, and the faint smell of Shanks lingered in the air. Salt, spice, rum, and something warm he couldn’t quite name—something that had, once upon a time, made him feel safe.
Now?
Now it was just making him hyper-aware of the fact that this was his space. Their space. That any minute now, Shanks would walk in, lean on the doorframe, and look at him in that way—calm, unhurried, like a predator that didn’t have to run to catch its prey.
Aegis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
God, what the hell am I doing?
He rubbed a hand over his face, dragging down hard enough to feel the skin pull. He knew Shanks wasn’t stupid. The man had survived decades in the New World, carved out a place for himself among monsters, and smiled while doing it. If Aegis thought for one second that he could just… toss a lie in Shanks’ direction and have it stick? That was his ego talking. His theatrical , overconfident, “I can charm my way through anything” ego.
And to be fair—nine times out of ten, that ego wasn’t wrong.
He could charm his way through most things. Distract people. Misdirect. Weave a story so pretty they forgot to check if it was true. It was how he’d survived this long. How he’d made himself valuable. How he’d kept his secrets.
But Shanks?
Shanks didn’t always chase you down when you lied to him. Sometimes, he just… waited. Sat there, patient as the tide, letting you wrap yourself in your own rope until you couldn’t tell if you were wearing it or hanging from it.
And now Shanks had a question hanging between them. Not just what are you hiding? but the sharper, quieter, infinitely more dangerous version: Why are you hiding it from me?
Aegis’ stomach twisted.
Because the truth wasn’t just messy—it was impossible. He couldn’t tell Shanks that he’d been reborn here. That once upon a time, this world was nothing more than a colorful show he’d watched. Not even its entirety, and One Piece wasn’t even finished when he died. That he knew how things were supposed to go —who was supposed to die (some of them anyway), when battles were supposed to happen, what Sabo’s life had been before amnesia had scrubbed it away.
He couldn’t say any of that.
Not because Shanks wouldn’t believe him—though, okay, there was a pretty big chance the man would laugh in his face and call him insane—but because the moment that knowledge left his lips, it wouldn’t be his anymore.
No, the only way to keep control of it… was to keep it to himself.
He shifted on the bed, pulling one knee up, resting his chin on it.
The problem was—Shanks didn’t do well with being kept out of things. He’d tolerated it before, sure, when Aegis could spin it into something harmless. But lately? With Ace here, with Whitebeard’s ship on the way, with Sabo now in the conversation? The man’s patience had a ticking clock strapped to it.
Shanks was patient, but he was not infinitely patient. Especially when it comes to Aegis.
And Shanks had already started poking at the edges.
That comment earlier, about Sabo recognizing him… It had been a knife disguised as a joke. One he wasn’t supposed to flinch at. But he had . Because it was true—Sabo wouldn’t recognize him. There had been no dramatic rescue from the Marines. No heartfelt moment under enemy fire. That whole story had been bait for Ace, a way to plant the seed in his head that his brother was alive, and to get him moving in the right direction.
And he did. He now knew. He was steps away from meeting Sabo.
God, if Shanks didn’t already know that was a lie, he was damn close. And once he was sure…
Aegis shook his head, running both hands through his hair until the silver strands fell like a curtain around his face. He didn’t like thinking about what “once he was sure” looked like.
It wasn’t that Shanks didn’t love him. He did. Deeply. Maddeningly. That was half the problem. Shanks’ love wasn’t gentle. It was the kind that claimed you, planted you somewhere in his territory, and fought to keep you there whether you wanted it or not.
He was trying —Aegis could see that. Trying to be civil with Ace. Trying to play nice in front of Aegis. But that didn’t erase the truth of who Shanks was. Possessive. Territorial. And the fact that Aegis had shared something with Ace had been a thorn in his side from day one.
The whole “let’s hang out” thing with Ace? Sure, maybe there was a shred of genuine effort there. But Aegis wasn’t naive enough to think that was the whole story. Shanks clearly wanted clues. He wanted to know what had happened between them, what words had been said, how deep the connection went, how he dangled Sabo to Ace’s face. And he’d gotten Ace drunk for a reason.
Probably ordered the rest of the crew to distract Aegis as well. Hopefully not, because Aegis genuinely had fun earlier and it would suck if his crewmembers only demanded his time because their captain ordered them to.
The glass in Aegis’ hand trembled, water rippling faintly.
He set it down before it could betray him, curling his hands into the sheets instead.
The question wasn’t if Shanks was going to circle back to this Sabo thing—it was when . And when that moment came, he’d need to be ready with something airtight. Something that wouldn’t just deflect suspicion, but make it feel absurd to even question him.
Except…
Except Shanks had already seen him flinch once.
Aegis exhaled sharply, dropping backward onto the bed. His hair fanned out over the pillow, the scent of salt and Shanks settling over him like a reminder he couldn’t escape. He stared up at the ceiling beams, feeling the faint sway of the ship beneath him.
One wrong move, and the whole thing would come crashing down.
And maybe—just maybe—Shanks already knew exactly where to push.
Echoes
Aegis had no idea how long he’d been lying there staring at the ceiling, but the shadows in the Captain’s quarters had shifted twice and the faint sound of footsteps outside kept making his chest tighten.
Shanks was still out there somewhere—probably escorting Ace to his quarters, probably walking back down the hall in that unhurried way of his, probably ready to step inside and look at Aegis with that face .
Nope. Absolutely not.
He wasn’t going to have another conversation tonight. No “baby, let’s talk.” No casual-but-not-really-casual probing questions. No sharp little verbal hooks disguised as playful teasing.
If Shanks came in and Aegis was asleep, then he’d be spared all of it.
Which was why he’d rolled over, buried himself in the blankets like he was trying to physically cocoon from reality, and forced his breathing to slow. He shut his eyes tight and willed his brain to shut the hell up.
Counting sheep? Too boring. Counting gold coins? Tempting, but distracting. Counting the number of times Shanks had looked at Ace tonight like a puzzle piece he was fitting into place? …Yeah, okay, that was just self-sabotage.
Eventually, the sway of the ship and the warmth of the blankets got the better of him. His thoughts tangled, slowed, and blurred—until the Captain’s quarters faded away.
And when he opened his eyes again…
“Oh, for—”
The horizon was endless and wrong, the sky streaked in colors that didn’t belong to any real sunset. The air was warm, humming with something alive. He knew this place.
Aegis whipped around—and sure enough, standing there with his hands on his hips like he’d been waiting all night—
“ROGER?!”
“Aegis!” The Pirate King’s grin was the kind of wide, fearless thing that could probably light up a whole fleet. “We meet again!”
Aegis stomped up to him without hesitation, jabbing a finger in his chest. “You—! I have questions! So many questions! Actually, no, I have problems, Roger. Problems. And you’re going to tell me how to fix them—don’t you dare start laughing!”
Roger immediately started laughing.
Aegis groaned so hard it was almost a scream. “Why— Why are you laughing?! I’m drowning over here! I have Shanks sniffing around my business, Ace drunk and unaware, Whitebeard’s ship practically on the horizon, Sabo , Luffy—god, Luffy—oh, and let’s not forget the fact that I told a massive lie that’s about to blow up in my face, AND YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!”
Roger bent forward, hands on his knees, wheezing between laughs. “You’re—hah—you’re just so dramatic about it—!”
“I am dramatic about it because it’s a disaster!” Aegis flailed both hands wildly, silver hair spilling around his face. “I am this close —” he pinched his fingers together, no space at all, “to being cornered by my own web of lies! Do you understand how hard I’ve been working to keep this all balanced?! It’s like juggling flaming swords blindfolded while a Sea King’s trying to eat me!”
“That’s oddly specific,” Roger said, still grinning.
“It’s oddly accurate, too!” Aegis snapped. “Shanks knows something’s off, Roger. He’s already testing me. He’s patient—he’ll just wait until I slip. And I will slip. Do you know why? Because—”
Roger cut in smoothly, “Because you’re hiding the truth.”
That stopped Aegis cold. His throat tightened. “…Yeah. That.”
Roger’s smile softened, but it didn’t lose its edge.
“You can’t tell him. You can’t tell anyone .”
Aegis’ arms crossed instinctively, shoulders tight. His tone came out sharper than intended.
“I wasn’t planning to, but why ? Why is this some big cosmic secret? You’re the one who dumped me here—” his voice faltered, “—or… whatever the hell that was. You could’ve told me the rules from the start!”
Roger chuckled under his breath, the sound infuriatingly calm. “Some things, Aegis, aren’t meant to be told. Not because I want to be cryptic, but because the world itself won’t let you get away with it.”
Aegis narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like bullshit.”
“Maybe,” Roger said easily, “but bullshit’s still dangerous if you stand downwind of it. Listen—fate doesn’t like being tampered with. It’s one thing to nudge the path… to step left instead of right, to shout when you should’ve stayed quiet. You can change pieces. You are changing pieces. But telling people outright?”
He shook his head slowly. “That’s not a nudge. That’s kicking the whole damn board over in front of the players.”
Aegis stared at him, skeptical but unsettled. “…What happens if I do tell?”
Roger tilted his head like he was appraising him. Then, with a faint smirk: “Do you want to find out?”
The quiet weight behind those words made Aegis’ stomach drop.
Roger went on, his tone deceptively casual, like he was talking about the weather instead of cosmic mechanics. “You start running your mouth about being from another world, about knowing the story? You’re not just telling them . You’re telling the world. And the world listens, whether you want it to or not. It notices. And when it notices, it… adjusts. Hard. The kind of ‘adjustment’ that makes sure you can’t talk anymore—if you’re lucky.”
Aegis’ lips parted in disbelief. “…You’re serious.”
“Dead serious,” Roger said, smiling like he’d just told a great joke. “And here’s the kicker—living people aren’t supposed to know they’re living inside a narrative. Break that rule, and you’ll draw attention you really don’t want. Not just from the World Government. Not just from the Five Elders. From… older things. Bigger things. The kind of things that make even them nervous.”
Aegis sat in stunned silence, his fingers curling into his arms. “…So why can you know?”
Roger grinned, leaning closer. “Because I’m dead. I’m not in the game anymore. The living timeline? I’m outside of it. Out here, in the Crossroads, the rules are… softer. Looser. I can hear your truth without the world throwing a tantrum, because I’m not part of the active script anymore. Hell, I saw the truth, through you,”
Aegis’ mouth twisted. “Great. So I can only confide in a ghost who shows up in my dreams. Fantastic.”
Roger’s laughter rang out over the water. “Cheer up! At least you’ve got someone . Most poor souls who know what you know? They die before they can even explain why they’re scared.”
Aegis looked down, “…So what you’re saying is—I can change the future. I can try to save Ace. I just can’t say why or how I know it.”
“Exactly,” Roger said. “Play your cards, change the hand. Just don’t ever let them see the deck you’re pulling from.”
Fantastic.
Aegis paced a few steps, throwing his hands up. “Okay, so—fine—truth stays locked up in my pretty little head or between our bubble. But how the hell do I salvage this Sabo mess? I made it up , Roger! Shanks is already circling me like a damn hawk, and Ace—” he dragged his hands through his hair— “Ace believes me. He trusts me. I can’t just say, ‘Oops, my bad, I lied’!”
Roger chuckled, “Of course not. You’re not going to tell them it was a lie.”
Aegis narrowed his eyes. “…Go on.”
“You lean into it,” Roger said simply. “But you twist the source. When they press you—when Shanks presses you—” he tapped Aegis’ chest, “you make it personal. Vulnerable. Something they can’t easily call you a liar over without looking like bastards.”
Aegis tilted his head warily. “…Like what?”
Roger smirked. “A dream.”
“A dream ?”
“Not just any dream,” Roger continued, pacing in a slow circle around him. “Say you dreamt of Ace—dying. And in that dream, Sabo was there. Regretting. Grieving. You woke up shaken, and you… just knew it wasn’t just a dream. You felt it in your bones. Something so vivid it couldn’t be fake.”
Aegis blinked, brain already spinning. “…That’s… not bad. So I’m supposed to play the… one-time fake clairvoyant?”
Roger shrugged, “Not the first time it happened in the world. You just have to say it right, ”
Aegis stared at him, then let out a short laugh. “…You want me to cry, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Roger said brightly. “Cry, shake, look haunted. You’re a performer—make them believe you woke up terrified of losing Ace, and that the dream was a warning. Play it so well they’ll comfort you instead of interrogating you.”
Aegis groaned into his hands, but there was a spark of reluctant admiration in his voice. “…You’re diabolical.”
Roger just shrugged. “I didn’t make you a songbird so you could sing the truth . I made you so you could survive .”
Aegis dropped his hands, muttering, “Fine. I’ll do it. But if this blows up in my face—”
Roger’s laughter rolled across the dreamscape, warm and maddening.
“Okay, great, I have my fake tragic dream plan. Now you —” he jabbed a finger into Roger’s chest, “are going to tell me something else.”
Roger arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“My Devil Fruit,” Aegis said, voice hard. “What the hell is it really? I’ve been calling it the Mirage Mirage Fruit because—y’know—illusions, distractions, all that, but every time I think I’ve hit its limit, it does something else. Something bigger. So… what is it?”
Roger gave him a look like he was watching a child misname a priceless artifact. “…Illusion? Well,” he drawled, “I guess you could call it that.”
Aegis froze. “…What do you mean, ‘I guess’?”
“It’s not just illusion,” Roger said, tilting his head as if trying to decide how much to give away, before deciding to just say ‘fuck it’. “You’re not conjuring tricks out of thin air. You’re pulling… echoes.”
Aegis frowned. “Echoes?”
Roger’s grin was sharper now. “Fragments. Imprints. Little shards of other timelines . Things that existed—or could have existed—bleeding through into this one. Sometimes they’re people. Sometimes they’re objects. Sometimes,” his eye sharpened, “they’re devil fruit powers. ”
Aegis’ mouth went dry. “…You’re saying when I make something appear—”
“You’re not just making it appear or happen, tangible or not,” Roger interrupted, eyes glinting. “You’re borrowing it. A memory that belonged to another version of this world. A ghost of a path not taken. You pull it here for a moment, let it breathe, then it fades back where it came from.”
“That’s—” Aegis swallowed, trying to process it. “That’s not just illusions, that’s—”
“Dangerous,” Roger finished for him. “And that’s why you should not use it too freely. Because sometimes, Aegis, echoes don’t like being just echoes. And the more you pull… the more the boundaries thin.”
Aegis stared at him, chest tight. “…So you’re telling me my Devil Fruit doesn’t just look like magic, it’s basically… poking holes in reality?”
Roger grinned, infuriating and warm all at once. “Congratulations. You’re finally catching on.” He leaned forward just enough that Aegis could feel the weight of his stare.
“During that time, you felt weird, didn’t you?”
Aegis blinked. “What time?”
Roger smirked. “Oh, don’t play dumb with me. The dress-up stunt.”
The words hit like a slap. “…What?”
“Dante Sparda. Cloud Strife. Naruto Uzumaki. Gojo Satoru,” Roger listed them off casually, like he was reciting names from an old wanted poster. “Ring a bell?”
Aegis’s mouth went dry. “That— that was a joke. I was just— it was funny .”
A cosplay.
“Funny?” Roger chuckled low, shaking his head. “You didn’t make those men up, Aegis. Somewhere, they’re real. In other timelines, other worlds. And you didn’t just ‘pretend’ to be them.”
Aegis’s breath caught, his arms falling to his sides.
Roger’s grin widened. “You borrowed them. Took an echo of who they are and wore it like a second skin. That’s why it felt different.”
Aegis’s mind flashed back—the way it hadn’t just been an illusion . When he’d been Dante, he’d felt the weight of Rebellion on his back. He knew how to fight those marines. As Gojo, his vision had sharpened unnaturally, like infinity really was right there. It had been fleeting, a shimmer of something he’d laughed off at the time.
He felt weird after those days.
“…You’re saying… they’re real ?”
Roger shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Not here. Not in this world. But somewhere? Absolutely.”
“That’s—that’s impossible.”
“Is it?” Roger shot back instantly. “And you should be asking yourself a more important question: if you can pull from places that aren’t even connected to this timeline… what’s stopping you from pulling more?”
The thought made Aegis’s head spin.
He swallowed hard. “…Are there limits? To what I can pull? To what I can… echo?”
Roger finally leaned back, eyes glinting with something that wasn’t quite mirth anymore.
“Limits? Of course there are. But they’re not where you think they are. You’re not bound by what this world knows. You’re bound by connection. ”
“Connection,” Aegis repeated slowly.
“Everything you’ve pulled so far—people, weapons, even little details — you’ve been able to call them because somewhere, somehow, you’ve brushed against the thread that leads to them. Sometimes it’s direct, sometimes it’s through memory, story, or even instinct.”
Aegis thought of the anime, the games, the stories he’d known before waking up here. “…So because I knew about them before…”
Roger snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “Bingo. But here’s the thing—you keep pulling from echoes that strong, and eventually, they might start pulling back. ”
That sent a cold shiver crawling down his spine. “…Pulling back?”
Roger’s grin softened into something more dangerous. “You think you’re just wearing their skin, but what happens when they start noticing you from their side of the glass?”
Aegis was still reeling. The whole “pulling back” thing was already gnawing at his brain like a worm, and Roger’s grin wasn’t helping.
Echoes that could notice him? That could reach for him? Just the thought made his stomach knot.
But somewhere, buried under all the unease, was a dangerous, stupid, reckless idea.
“…What if…” Aegis started slowly, his own voice almost alien to his ears, “what if I borrow the echo of you?”
Roger’s grin faltered just enough for Aegis to notice. “Me?”
“I mean, I haven’t done it before. You’re—” He gestured vaguely at Roger, who raised an eyebrow. “—technically dead in this timeline. You’re here , in whatever this dream-space is, so there’s something to pull, right? And if there comes a day where I…”
He hesitated, but the thought of it made his pulse pound in his throat.
“…if something like Marineford really happens, and everything goes to shit, and I have no other choice—”
His golden eyes locked with Roger’s dark ones. “Will you… allow me to pull you?”
For a long moment, Roger didn’t answer. He just stared at him, unreadable, like he was weighing something heavier than words. Then, slowly, the grin returned.
“Aye,” Roger finally said. “If that day comes, I’ll let you borrow me. No hesitation.”
Relief washed through Aegis, but it was short-lived.
Roger tilted his head, and his tone shifted—not cruel, but heavy. “But you need to understand something. If you pull me—truly pull me—it won’t just be pirates and marines you’re dealing with. You’ll be painting a target on your back so big the World Government itself will want you gone. The Five Elders will put your name higher than any bounty they’ve ever posted. Your devil fruit will be outed as very dangerous, because you could “be” the long dead Pirate King. They’d start asking—’what else can he do? Who else could he be?’”
Aegis’s lips parted, but no words came out.
“And maybe,” Roger continued, his grin sharpening into something almost wolfish, “just maybe, you’ll catch the eye of someone with… greater power.”
“Greater—” Aegis began, but Roger didn’t let him finish.
“Wouldn’t want you pulling an echo of gods long dead now, would we?” Roger asked lightly, as though he hadn’t just dropped something that made Aegis’s skin crawl.
The words hit like a gut punch. “G—gods?” he echoed, his voice cracking with disbelief.
Roger chuckled, but there was something in his eyes—an ancient kind of caution, like he’d seen too much to laugh it off entirely.
“Don’t look so shocked, kid! You’ve already brushed close enough to the stories to know which ones aren’t just bedtime tales. Gods have walked this world before. And some of them left footprints big enough to still feel.”
Aegis’s mind spun, grasping at the implication. “Are you—are you talking about—”
“Sun God Nika,” Roger said it so casually that it made the name sound heavier, not lighter. “The warrior of liberation. The one Luffy now harbors, well, technically.”
Aegis’s breath caught. His eyes widened until they almost hurt.
“You…” He swallowed hard. “…you’re saying I could—?”
Roger shook his head sharply. “No. Don’t even think about it. Don’t borrow echoes of gods. Keep it out of your head, Aegis. You’re clever, and I know you think about possibilities more than you should, but that one? Let it go.”
Aegis blinked, stunned. “Why?”
“Because your body—” Roger’s voice was steady, but there was no humor left in it now, “—wouldn’t survive it. Not as you are now. Maybe not ever. These ‘echoes’ you pull, they’re shaped to fit you. Probably barely for dead people like me, who are strong. But Gods? They were never meant to fit into mortal bones. You’d burn yourself out before you could blink.”
The dream-space felt colder somehow, and Aegis’s mind was an unsteady mess of questions and horrible images.
“What about—”
Roger cut him off with a pointed look. “I know you, kid. You’ll ask me a dozen ways, try to loop around my answer, but the truth’s the same. Pull me if you have to, for emergencies, but don’t even entertain the thought of touching a god’s echo. Especially that one.”
Aegis stared at him, still processing. “…So if I did…”
Roger’s smirk was small now, almost sad. “If you did, you’d die. And if you didn’t die right away, you’d wish you had. And you wouldn’t be the only one—you’d be putting a lot more than just your own skin on the line.”
He stepped forward, resting a hand on Aegis’s shoulder, solid and grounding despite the unreal place they stood in.
“You’ve already got the whole damn ocean looking your way, Aegis. Don’t give the heavens a reason to turn their heads too.”
It was silent for a moment.
Aegis’ brow furrowed, another thought gnawing at the edges of his mind.
“Okay, let’s… let’s go back to that conversation another time. If all this is just… echoes, not illusions… then what about me ? My sickness?” He gestured vaguely to himself, the memory of rattling lungs, blood, and weakness still raw under his skin.
“I’m not healed. The second you slap a seastone cuff on me, I’m right back to square one. So what happens to the echo I’ve been constantly borrowing from to keep me like this? Does it… I dunno, burn out? Die? Get used up?”
Roger’s smile faded to something more thoughtful. “You’re not borrowing it.” He tapped two fingers against Aegis’ chest. “You’re sharing.”
Aegis blinked. “…Sharing?”
“The echo you’ve tied yourself to—it’s not some passive image you pull out of a hat. You’ve formed a link. That link flows both ways. The echo feeds you its strength, its health, its resilience… and in turn, it carries the strain of keeping you alive. It’s not healing you, not in the way a doctor would. It’s holding you up. Carrying your weight. Always.”
Aegis felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. “…So if I stop?”
Roger tilted his head, a shadow of sympathy crossing his features. “Then the tide goes out, and you’re standing on your own again. And we both know what happens then.”
Aegis stared in space, processing Roger’s words, but something else started clawing at his mind.
“…Then—whose echo is it?”
Roger’s eyes crinkled, like he’d been waiting for that question. “Yours.”
“What?”
“Not you-you,” Roger said, swirling a hand in the air like he was stirring smoke. “A you from somewhere else. I told you, you pull from different timelines. It’s another thread, another tide. Healthier. Stronger. A version of you that never had that sickness to begin with. That’s who you’ve been sharing with all this time.”
Aegis’ stomach flipped. “You mean… I’m tethered to myself ? But… not me?”
Roger chuckled quietly. “The closest thing to you that isn’t you. And it’s a strange bond, isn’t it? Every time you draw from them, you’re not stealing—you’re leaning against their strength. They’ve been carrying your weight for as long as you’ve had the fruit.”
“…Do they feel it?”
Roger didn’t answer right away. When he did, it was slow. “I’d like to think they do. That somewhere out there, in their own tide, they pause and wonder why they’re suddenly just a little more tired than usual.”
Aegis’ fingers curled against his own. “Okay… but—what if they die?”
Roger glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, as if checking whether he really wanted to hear the answer. “Then the tether will look for another.”
“Another… me?”
“Another you,” Roger confirmed, voice low. “Somewhere else. Another echo strong enough to hold you up.”
Aegis swallowed, the idea somehow both comforting and deeply unsettling. “And if it doesn’t find one?”
Roger’s mouth curved in that way it always did when he was dancing around saying something too heavy. “Then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Aegis froze. “…So I’m only alive because—”
“Because the fruit keeps you tied here,” Roger said, cutting in with the calmness of someone stating the weather. “Because the one who pulled you into this tide wanted you to stay. And because,” his eyes sharpened in the moonlight, “I keep you anchored.”
For a moment, Aegis didn’t know whether to thank him or to be terrified.
The dream didn’t spit him back out right away.
Instead, the scenery shifted—or maybe they shifted—until the two of them were perched on the edge of a weathered dock, their bare legs dangling over the side. Beneath them was an ocean too calm to be real, the surface glassy and black except where the tips of their toes broke it. Ripples spread outward, perfect circles that never seemed to end.
Roger sat beside him, loose and at ease, arms draped over his knees. No coat, no hat, no captain’s mantle — just a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a man who looked entirely at home with the sea.
Aegis was not at home.
He sat stiff at first, shoulders tight, mind still rattling with the words don’t borrow echoes of gods . But slowly, the tension bled away, because Roger wasn’t staring him down anymore. He wasn’t pushing. He was just… there.
The silence stretched, broken only by the faint lap of dream-water against wood.
“You’re the only one who knows, you know,” Aegis said at last, voice low. “About… me. Me me . The real me. The before-me.”
Roger glanced at him, one eyebrow lifted. “And here I thought you didn’t trust me.”
“I don’t,” Aegis said without thinking, then winced. “…I mean, I do. Just—not all the way.”
Roger laughed, loud and warm, the sound rolling over the water like it had weight. “Good. You shouldn’t trust anyone all the way. Especially not a dead pirate captain with too much time to think.”
Aegis let out a short, bitter laugh. “And yet here I am, telling you everything I can’t tell anyone else. Not Ace, not Shanks, not…” He trailed off, picking at a loose thread on his pants. “You’re like my… what’s the word? Confession booth?”
“Priest?” Roger supplied, smirking.
Aegis snorted. “You? In a collar? Please.”
They lapsed into another stretch of quiet, but it wasn’t heavy this time. Aegis leaned forward, letting the cool dream-ocean wash over his calves.
“You ever feel like… even if you keep it together, it’s only ‘cause you’ve got someone to spill to? Even if it’s just dumping it all into the void?”
Roger hummed, tilting his head back to look at the endless, star-pocked sky. “Aye. Though I never had the luxury of a void that talked back.” He grinned, but it softened quickly. “You’re carrying too much in that head of yours, kid. Even for a liar, you’re letting it pile up.”
Aegis rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the therapy session, doc.”
But he didn’t deny it. Because it was true. Every day felt like he was balancing plates in his hands while someone kept tossing more into the air. Shanks’ suspicion. Ace’s love. The Whitebeard crew’s friendship. His own stupid heart trying to split itself in two. And under it all, the truth he could never tell without ripping the whole world sideways.
Here, though—in this dream-space where time didn’t mean anything and the sea didn’t pull at him—he could admit things.
“I hate that I can’t tell them. I hate it and I’m scared and I don’t know what’s gonna happen when the lies stop working.”
Roger didn’t answer right away. He leaned back on his hands, legs still idly kicking in the water. “Then make the lies work longer,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Aegis shot him a flat look. “You’re a real moral compass, you know that?”
Roger just grinned again, wide and careless. “Better than letting the truth kill you. Or them.”
That shut Aegis up. Because for all his snark, Roger wasn’t wrong. And maybe that’s why he kept talking to him, why he didn’t mind sitting here like this. Roger was the only one in this entire, ridiculous, dangerous world who could look at the truth and not flinch—and then still tell him to keep it buried.
“You’re the worst,” Aegis muttered.
“And yet,” Roger said, bumping his knee lightly against Aegis’s, “here you are.”
The longer they sat with their legs dangling in that impossible, mirror-smooth ocean, the more the tightness in Aegis’s shoulders began to loosen. It was strange—Roger wasn’t doing anything, wasn’t probing him with pointed questions or that kingly pressure he’d felt the first time they met in this dream-space. The man was just there, grinning at nothing in particular, letting the quiet roll by until Aegis started talking again.
And of course, when Aegis’s mouth ran on autopilot, it didn’t take long before it found its favorite subject.
“You know,” he began, leaning forward so that his hands could describe the shape of his words, “Ace is… impossible. In the most frustrating, endearing way.” He huffed out a laugh, and Roger’s smile sharpened just slightly.
“He thinks he’s stealthy, right? Always creeping around the galley at night when he thinks no one’s watching—but the way he moves, you’d think he’s got bells sewn into his damn pants. Thatch started hiding snacks from him, which only made him more determined. I caught him one night halfway inside the pantry, stuck like a cork in a bottle, mumbling curses while his legs kicked uselessly—”
Roger chuckled, the sound deep and unforced. Aegis took it as encouragement.
“And don’t even get me started on his stupid overconfidence. There was this time—oh my god—he bet Izo he could out-dance him during one of the crew’s parties. Said something about ‘having natural rhythm.’” Aegis snorted at the memory, throwing both hands up. “The man lasted four songs before collapsing face-first on the deck, drenched in sweat, while Izo looked like he’d just taken a casual stroll. And Ace still insisted he’d won, because apparently ‘the point’ was to have the crowd cheer loudest, and all his buddies were practically screaming their lungs out for him.”
Roger leaned an elbow on his knee, chin propped on his fist, just watching him with that damned amused gleam in his eyes.
“Oh, oh, and his cooking. Absolute war crime. I mean, I’ve seen bad—I’ve made bad—but Ace? Ace has this… this rare talent of taking perfectly fine ingredients and making them taste like betrayal.” Aegis clutched his chest dramatically. “One time, he tried to make me soup. Soup . Harmless, right? No. NO. Thatch had to throw the pot overboard. I swear the fish wouldn’t even go near it after.”
Roger laughed outright at that, his head tipping back. The sound bounced over the water, and for a moment Aegis basked in it, feeling a little absurdly proud of himself.
But as he kept going—stories of Ace’s sparring mishaps, the way he’d nap anywhere with zero shame, the times he’d step in without hesitation if someone looked at Aegis the wrong way—he started to notice the change.
Roger’s grin softened. It wasn’t amusement anymore, not entirely. There was something else there, a warmth that wasn’t loud but settled deep, like a candle burning in the center of his chest. Aegis’s words slowed, his hands dropping from their constant gesturing.
“…And then, y’know, he’s just—” He stopped, eyes narrowing slightly at the look on Roger’s face. “What? Why’re you smiling like that?”
Roger blinked as if pulled from a thought, but the softness didn’t leave. “Nothing. Just… listening. It’s good to hear someone talk about him like that.”
Something in Aegis’s gut twisted—not in a bad way, exactly, but in that prickly, awkward way when you accidentally step over a line you didn’t see. The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
“Doesn’t it… bother you?”
Roger tilted his head. “Bother me?”
“That Ace… y’know. Thinks of someone else as his dad.” Aegis’s gaze darted away, suddenly unsure. “Whitebeard, I mean. He’s so close to him. Talks about him like—like he’s the only father he’s ever needed. And you… well… he hates…” His voice trailed off, realization catching up to his own bluntness. “Shit. That was—sorry. That’s too forward. Forget I said anything—”
He didn’t get to finish. A heavy clap landed between his shoulder blades, nearly knocking him forward into the water.
Roger was laughing again, big and unrestrained. “Forward? That was honest , Aegis!” He grinned, shaking his head. “You think I’d get all twisted up ‘cause the boy found someone who gave him what I couldn’t? I’m glad he’s got his ‘Pops’. I’m glad someone’s there for him, steady and stubborn as an anchor.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Roger cut him off, though his tone stayed light. “Would I have liked to be the one he saw that way? Sure. But the sea didn’t give me that chance. And Whitebeard… well, he’s a good man. Even I can admit when I’ve been outclassed in one department.”
Aegis stared at him, caught between disbelief and reluctant admiration. “…You’re weird.”
Roger laughed. “Takes one to know one.”
Aegis wasn’t sure why the thought even bubbled up—maybe it was the quiet, or the way Roger’s laughter had faded into something softer again, or maybe it was just because for the first time in weeks he didn’t feel like every word out of his mouth had to be guarded.
It slipped out before he could think better of it.
“You know,” he began, tracing little ripples in the water with the tips of his toes, “if it gets… I dunno. Lonely. You can, uh—” He faltered, glancing sideways at Roger, who raised an eyebrow like he’d just been offered a secret. “You can… call for me. When I’m asleep, I mean. Like you did the first time. And this time. Just—just show up in my head or whatever the hell this is, crossroads, and—”
Roger’s brows shot up, but he didn’t interrupt, just let him stumble through it.
“And we can talk. Or sit here. Or, I dunno, make fun of Ace or Shanks for an hour straight. I just…” He paused, the tips of his ears going warm. “I figure it must be boring as hell here, with no one to talk to. So if you need someone, I—”
He cut himself off with a half-laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “God, listen to me. Offering visitation rights to my brain. I’m losing it.”
Roger’s chuckle was low, rumbling in his chest. “You think I’m lonely?”
Aegis glanced away, suddenly self-conscious. “…Aren’t you? This place is—I mean, it’s gorgeous, sure, but there’s nothing here. Just you. And the ocean. And maybe fish ghosts or something.”
Roger smirked faintly. “Never met a fish ghost.”
“Yeah, well, give it time,” Aegis muttered, then looked back at him, more earnest. “Point is, I don’t mind. If you wanna… I dunno, have a buddy sometimes.”
For a moment, Roger just looked at him, head tilted, like he was trying to decide whether to laugh or take it seriously. Then he leaned back on his palms, the corners of his mouth curling up in something gentler than his usual grin.
“Y’know,” he said slowly, “I didn’t expect that from you.”
“What, me being nice?”
Roger’s eyes glinted. “You offering it without a single string attached.”
Aegis rolled his eyes, kicking at the water. “Please. I’ve got plenty of strings with people who are still breathing. You’re dead. You’re a safe investment .”
Roger barked out a laugh, the sound bouncing off the endless horizon. “You’ve got a mouth on you, kid.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Aegis muttered, but there was a smile tugging at his lips.
They sat in companionable silence for a while after that. Aegis realized, somewhere between counting the rhythm of the waves and the feel of the cool water lapping at his calves, that Roger was the only person in this world—living or dead—who actually knew everything . Not Whitebeard, not Marco, not even Ace.
And maybe that’s why the offer had come so easily. Because while Whitebeard had taken him in, loved him like one of his own, Aegis had always been aware of the distance. Pops was busy, always surrounded by his sons, and though they’d welcomed him warmly, he’d never felt like he could just… unload everything onto the old man.
But Roger? Roger didn’t have a crew to run anymore. Didn’t have anyone else here at the Crossroads. And Aegis… well, maybe he didn’t want to admit it out loud, but the idea of having someone to talk to—someone who wouldn’t judge him for knowing too much, someone who couldn’t spill his secrets even if they wanted to—was comforting in a way he hadn’t realized he’d been craving.
Roger broke the quiet again, voice lighter now. “Careful, Aegis. Keep this up and I’ll start thinking of you as family.”
Aegis snorted, leaning back on his palms too. “What, like a son?”
Roger shot him a sidelong look. “More like a son-in-law.”
That startled a laugh out of him, and he shoved Roger’s shoulder. “That’s even weirder.”
“Maybe,” Roger said, grinning, “but I think I could get used to it. Ace and Shanks adore you, kid.”
And for once, Aegis didn’t have a snappy comeback. He just let the warmth of it settle in, a quiet ember against the cold stretches of the ocean around them.
Roger wasn’t saying anything, just leaning back on his palms with that faint, amused smile that seemed permanently carved into his face. The silence should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. If anything, it felt… safe.
Without thinking, he began to hum. Quiet at first, as if testing the sound in the air between them.
Roger tilted his head. “You’re holding out on me, kid.”
Aegis shot him a side-eye. “Don’t get used to it.” But he kept humming, the melody curling into actual words before he could stop himself.
“Love of mine, someday you will die,
But I’ll be close behind.
I’ll follow you into the dark.”
His voice was soft, carrying just enough to blend with the sea breeze, but still clear in the quiet night. Roger didn’t interrupt, didn’t even move—just listened, that soft smile deepening with something gentler, heavier.
“No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white,
Just our hands clasped so tight,
Waiting for the hint of a spark.”
Aegis’ throat caught on the last word, but he pushed through, glancing quickly at Roger before looking back at the horizon.
“If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied,
Illuminate the “No”s on their vacancy signs,
If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks,
Then I’ll follow you into the dark.”
When the chorus faded into the sound of the waves, he let the silence take over again. His hands were fiddling with the hem of his pants, partly to keep them busy, partly because if he looked at Roger now, he wasn’t sure what he’d see.
“Pretty,” Roger said finally, his voice quieter than Aegis expected. “Not just the song. The thought behind it.”
Aegis rolled his eyes, though it was half-hearted. “It’s not that deep. Just something I remembered.”
Roger chuckled. “Everything you remember is deeper than you pretend it is.”
The compliment made Aegis’ chest feel weirdly warm, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just let his legs keep swinging in the water, the song still humming faintly at the back of his mind.