PRESENT TIME—
After the Roger Pirates landed in the village, they stormed into the tavern and partied like madmen—as always. Even the villagers joined in on their wild antics. The celebration reached a fever pitch; laughter echoed through the walls, songs filled the air, and tales of grand adventures flowed as freely as the ale. Smiles stretched across every face, glowing with warmth and mirth.
Robert sat quietly at a table in the far corner of the tavern, separated from the rowdy crew. On either side of him sat his little half-brothers—Shanks and Shamrock—sipping orange juice with childlike delight. Shanks, always the storyteller, was animatedly recounting his travels with the Roger Pirates: their journeys across countless islands, run-ins with rival crews and Marines. But the stories he told most often, and with the greatest passion, were about their clashes with the Whitebeard Pirates—or with Garp.
What truly amazed Robert was not just the strength of Edward Newgate—Whitebeard—but his fearlessness. Even after the World Government placed a massive bounty on his head as a former Rocks Pirate, it didn't stop Newgate from forming his own crew. But what made Robert respect the man wasn't his strength or even the terrifying power of the Gura Gura no Mi. It was his dream—his ambition—to build a family.
Pirates were usually after treasure or glory. Rare ones like Roger and Whitebeard sought something far greater—adventure and belonging.
Even with the looming threat of the World Government and the God Knights hanging over the remnants of the Rocks Pirates, Whitebeard had set sail again after just a year and a half in hiding. None of the other former Rocks Pirates had dared to resurface. A year ago, Roger had told Robert about their first clash with Whitebeard's crew. It happened in the first half of the Grand Line—Paradise. He spoke of how the confrontation unfolded, with a gleam in his eye.
Newgate hadn't come seeking vengeance for Xebec's defeat. He had no interest in grudges. He simply wanted to cross blades with the man who helped bring down a monster. From that moment on, their rivalry began.
Speaking of rivalries, the most famous across the entire Grand Line was that between Roger and Monkey D. Garp. Whenever there was a report of the Roger Pirates, Garp would find a way—any way—to hunt them down. The memory made Robert chuckle. He recalled a time Roger grumbled about how Garp had become a constant headache. In his own words: "Wherever I go, that idiot somehow hears about us and starts chasing me like there's no tomorrow."
Yet despite all his complaints, Robert had noticed the excitement in Roger's eyes every time he mentioned Garp or Whitebeard. He was like a man-child—not in a foolish sense, but someone who lived without regret, revelling in each moment.
Robert's musings were interrupted as a drunken Roger stumbled toward him and flopped into the seat across from his.
"Hey, Bobby. Why don't you join my crew? You know it'd be so much fun."
Shanks instantly lit up. "Yeah, big bro! You should definitely join! We'll have so much fun together!"
Roger pointed at Shanks with a grin. "See? Even your little brother wants you to come."
Shamrock, sitting beside Shanks, scoffed. "Big bro isn't free like you guys. He's got work here. He's Big Sis Rose's advisor, and he looks after the whole village."
At the little redhead's remark, Roger's face dulled. He stared at Shamrock. "Beh… how are you and Shanks even twins? You two are nothing alike." Crossing his arms into an X, he shook his head dramatically. "Look at Shanks—so cheerful. And you? So broody."
Shamrock's eye twitched. "For your kind information, I'm being trained by the best person in the world—my big brother."
"Heh, then that means Bobby is broody too," Roger jabbed playfully.
"Oi! That's not what I meant!" Shamrock shot back, offended.
Watching Roger argue with a three-year-old made Robert shake his head in exasperation. Shanks just snickered at the scene.
As for Roger's offer—it wasn't new. He'd been asking the same question for two years, only to be turned down every time. Any normal person would've stopped asking by now. But Roger wasn't normal. When he set his mind to something, he didn't stop until it was done.
"So, Bobby. What do you say? Wanna come along on our grand adventure?" Roger asked once more, that signature grin never leaving his face.
"As I told you before. I can't. The people here need me. I can't just let Rose and the others take care of the village on their own. So, no."
Roger's grin faltered. Then he pouted like a child. "Ahhh… you're no fun."
Robert shook his head. "That expression doesn't suit your face."
Roger scoffed in mock annoyance. "Meh. Whatever."
Their attention shifted to a commotion across the tavern. Scopper Gaban—Roger's ever-persistent left-hand man—was once again trying to declare his love for Rose.
"Oh, Rose! Why don't you just give me one chance to show you how deep my love runs?"
Watching the self-proclaimed Missionary of Love trying to woo his big-sister figure made Robert's eye twitch. But before he could intervene, a loud smack rang out, and Gaban hit the floor.
Standing above him, smoke curling from his right hand, was Rayleigh.
"Stop embarrassing us, you pervert."
Gaban twitched on the floor before springing up, a fresh bump on his head. He glared at Rayleigh, fire in his eyes. "Oi! Who are you calling a pervert?! Don't lump me in with those freaks! I'm a Missionary of Love! There's a difference!"
Rayleigh shot him a flat look. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Gaban twitched again. "Why you—!" He lunged, and the two started brawling like wild cats.
The rest of the crew laughed, watching the familiar chaos unfold. And just like that, the party continued through the night. By the time everyone was passed out from drinking, it was already four in the morning.
Robert had put Shanks and Shamrock to bed hours earlier. Now, with the village quiet and the stars fading, he strolled through the still streets. Eventually, he reached the port and sat on a bench near the water, staring out at the dark horizon. His eyes moved to the half-moon and the few morning stars surrounding it.
He felt someone sit beside him.
"Not sleeping?" Rose asked, gazing at the sky.
"No," he replied.
Silence lingered.
Then she spoke again. "You know… maybe you should accept Roger's offer."
Robert turned to her. "And why's that?"
She met his gaze. "You've done so much for us, Robert. We never asked for it—but you gave us a home, a place to call our own." She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I think… I think you need a break from all of this. Away from us—for a while."
He looked back out at the sea. "I can't do that. You're all my responsibility. I need to stay."
She squeezed his shoulder gently and made him meet her eyes.
"No, Robert. We're not your responsibility. Saying that… it makes us sound like a burden."
"Rose, that's not—"
She cut him off.
"No. You listen to me. You can't walk beside us forever. You need to let go. Sometimes, to teach a child how to walk, the parent needs to step back. That's the only way they learn to live on their own. You need to step back too."
With that, she stood and walked away, leaving Robert alone in thought.
He watched her fading figure, then turned his gaze to the sky.
"I need to let it go," he muttered.
Without another word, he rose silently into the sky, flying beyond the atmosphere. He looked down at the world—this One Piece Earth, so much larger than his original one. His eyes moved toward the sun. He flew toward it, stopping just a few kilometres from its blazing surface.
"I need to let it go," he whispered again.
He transformed into his adult form and flew directly into the sun. Just as it seemed he would collide with the burning star, a strange ripple shimmered across the space before him—and he vanished into a different time and reality.
He exited the ripple and flew into an alternate One Piece world. The timeline: the Paramount War. He observed the chaos at Marineford from above. And then, in an instant, every single Marine—from low-ranking soldiers to Admirals—was knocked unconscious. Only the Whitebeard Pirates, Whitebeard himself, Garp, Sengoku, and Ace remained standing.
All eyes turned to the floating figure above them.
No one understood what had happened. But one thing was clear: whoever that man was, he had defeated the entire Marine force in the blink of an eye.
Robert scanned the faces below, then vanished before a word could be spoken.
What followed was swift. He traveled the globe faster than light—defeating every criminal, dismantling the slave trade, healing the wounded, and eradicating the Celestial Dragons. At last, he stood before her—the red-haired woman who ruled the world. She stared at him blankly. Before she could speak, Robert snapped his fingers.
She was erased from time and reality.
He stayed in that world for months. Watched. Waited. But nothing good came of it.
Without the World Government, chaos consumed everything. Riots. Bloodshed. Madness. Evil may have been destroyed—but darkness still lived in the hearts of men.
So, he reset the world.
And left.
Again.
And again.
Each time, the result was the same. Chaos followed him, step for step. In one world, he helped the Revolutionary Army. In another, he ruled for millennia—only to become a tyrant. Over and over he tried. And each time, mankind proved incapable of peace.
The only time he truly succeeded… was when he used Mind Manipulation to force the world to obey.
You need to let go.
Rose's words echoed in his mind as he looked upon another burning world. He reset it. Then returned to his original timeline.
Not even a second had passed.
He reverted to his thirteen-year-old self and sat back on the bench.
From all the worlds, all the resets, all the attempts… he had learned one truth:
Sometimes, slow and steady is the only way to make things right.