Three days later, as the first rays of dawn pierced the dense fog shrouding Laugh Tale—
Rhett's fingers tightened on the ship's railing. That bone-deep laugh, familiar as his own heartbeat, cut through the sea mist.
"Yohohoho!" Brook's excited shout rang out. "They're back!"
The ocean's surface began to distort. The white fog swirling around the island, as if stirred by invisible hands, gradually revealed twenty-three shadowy figures.
The straw-hatted figure at the forefront came into sharp focus.
"All hands—" Roger's voice boomed with unprecedented confidence, "Board!"
"We're early!" Roger roared with laughter, clapping Rhett on the shoulder. "First arrivals! So I'm naming it Laugh Tale—pretty damn cool, right?"
On a nearby islet, Roger's crew prepared to depart.
Bonfire embers crackled, sparks dancing in the wind, illuminating each face.
The crew of Oro Jackson sat circled on the beach, barrels of liquor stacked like mountains. Laughter and song intertwined, yet couldn't mask the sorrow of impending farewells.
Amidst this atmosphere, Rhett and Roger erupted into argument.
"Why won't you go for the Pure Gold? Fine, I'll go alone then." Rhett's voice trembled with barely restrained emotion.
Roger sat cross-legged by the fire, his straw hat pulled low, shadows obscuring his expression.
"Rhett... I've made my choice. What we saw—I can't explain it. Just trust me on this, alright?" Roger's rare solemnity pinned Rhett in place.
Rhett slowly sat down. Knowing Roger, he'd never use the Pure Gold.
The younger trio remained unusually quiet, sensing the profound melancholy beneath this feast.
"So, Captain." Rayleigh broke the brief silence with a swig of liquor. "What's next?"
Roger lifted his head, firelight glinting off his trademark grin—yet it carried unfamiliar depth now.
He reached out, ruffling Shanks' red hair before patting Buggy's head. Finally removing his own straw hat, he gently placed it atop Shanks' head.
"Shanks." His voice was low yet firm. "This hat's yours now."
Shanks' head jerked up, eyes rimmed red. "Captain, I—"
"No arguments." Roger's grin widened. "It carries my will, but the future belongs to you. Pass it on to someone worthy when the time comes."
Buggy stood frozen nearby, lips trembling as if wanting to speak, fists clenched white-knuckled instead.
Rhett observed quietly from a slight distance.
He understood—this wasn't merely about passing a hat. It was the changing of an era. Shanks would become one of the future Four Emperors, while Buggy... might walk a different path entirely.
"Captain!" Buggy suddenly sprang up, voice cracking. "What about me? Don't I get anything?!"
This Buggy was no longer the clown living in Shanks' shadow.
Roger burst into laughter, pulling an ornate dagger from his coat—clearly a premium piece—and tossing it to Buggy. "Here, quit whining about favoritism."
Buggy fumbled the catch. Upon inspection, the blade clearly bore traces of long-term Armament Haki tempering.
"This is bullshit!" Buggy's lips twitched upward despite himself. "Total favoritism!"
Shanks couldn't suppress a chuckle, earning a vicious glare from Buggy.
Roger stood, brushing sand off as his gaze swept the crew.
"We achieved our dream—found Laugh Tale." His voice carried on the night breeze. "But a pirate's adventure never truly ends."
"Rayleigh, what's your plan?" Gaban asked with a smile.
"Me?" The first mate took another swig, eyes distant. "Might open a bar somewhere. Gamble occasionally. Watch how the new generation stirs things up."
"And Crocus?"
"Back to Twin Cape." The old doctor patted Laboon affectionately.
One by one, crew members shared their plans—some seeking quiet retirements, others plotting new voyages, a few intending to start their own crews.
Shanks clenched the straw hat tightly. "Captain... what about you?"
After a weighted pause, Roger's expression softened into peaceful acceptance.
"Me? I think... I'll try being ordinary for a while."
But Rhett knew—after barely a year of ordinary life—
Captain Roger would orchestrate his own spectacular finale.
As the bonfire dimmed, starlight showered down. Buggy and Shanks sat shoulder-to-shoulder, unusually free of bickering. Shanks studied the hat in his lap with determined eyes.
Rhett rose and walked toward the shoreline.
Roger followed, nudging him playfully. "Hey now, I gave Shanks and Buggy gifts. No jealousy, little Rhett?"
Rhett shot him a withering look. "I'm not some three-year-old."
The night wind carried whispers of the future—the Summit War, the dawn of a new age, the Will of D...
"Take the Oro Jackson. Have Tom refit her as you please—she's Adam Wood construction, pretty valuable stuff." Roger's tone turned uncharacteristically earnest.
Rhett smirked without turning. "That generous? What's the catch? Some ridiculous prophecy?"
Roger shook his head. "You can practically see the future, yet still ask? You never believed in fate—otherwise you wouldn't have fought so hard to cure me. Just... live well, little brother."
Rhett turned away. Though he'd agreed to Roger's request, he still couldn't comprehend the man's choice. There had to be another way...
His restraint now came solely from respect.
True care meant honoring Roger's decision—not insisting he take what Rhett considered the better path.
"Yahahaha! Enough talk—let's feast!"
During the return voyage, the crew gradually dispersed. First was Roger himself, the younger trio weeping uncontrollably as he left.
Rayleigh disembarked at Sabaody.
When Shanks and Buggy prepared to leave, they approached Rhett quietly. "Big Bro Rhett, we..."
Adjusting Shanks' hat, Rhett ruffled both their hair. "Go on."
"Start your own crews. Next time we meet, you'll be the ones looking out for me. Remember what I taught you—hold to your principles, but never fear stronger opponents..."
Shanks and Buggy departed arm-in-arm, determined not to disgrace their captain's legacy.
Gaban left at some nameless isle.
Rhett had assumed he'd disembark at Elbaf. Crocus returned to Twin Cape, declaring it his retirement home.
As Oden prepared to sail for Wano, Rhett couldn't resist warning: "Don't trust pirates' words. A pirate's promise means nothing."
With the crew scattering, maintaining the Oro Jackson became impractical—Rhett eventually resorted to press-ganging some random pirates.