One Piece: Surrounded at Marineford? Just kidding!

Chapter 490: Unworthy to be a Father

After Roger said "I know," the room was so quiet that you could hear the flag hitting the metal frame clearly. No one responded; everyone was waiting for him to finish his sentence.

He lowered his head again, the blood and wine on the back of his hand already mixed together, slowly dripping to the ground through his fingers, the dripping sound faint, yet like a knock on the heart.

Roger's voice was noticeably hoarse when he spoke: "I am not worthy." He said these three words very slowly, as if each word was being forcibly coaxed out of his throat.

Zephyr, sitting to one side, glanced at these words. He had known Roger for so many years, seen the guy charge into piles of corpses with a knife and a smile, but he had never seen him so honestly admit that he was unworthy of anything.

Roger continued, "I never thought that kneeling down and saying sorry would erase the past. Those things were too heavy, so heavy that I myself didn't dare to say 'let it go' for you." He didn't look at anyone's face, only staring at the bloodstains on the ground.

Having said that, he finally looked past the horizontal blade held by the white beard and glanced back at Ace. That glance was brief, but it seemed to root him to the spot. His lips moved several times before he finally managed to squeeze out the name: "Ace..."

Upon hearing this, Ace's shoulders tensed abruptly, as if branded with a hot iron. His anger flared up almost instantly, but he remained rooted to the spot.

Sabo noticed Ace's mood darken and immediately stepped half a step closer, his hand already on the water pipe, his eyes fixed on Roger kneeling on the ground, guarding against any sudden action.

Roger didn't stop, his voice growing increasingly hoarse: "I'm sorry to your mother, and I'm sorry to you. I've pushed your name, your blood, your path into this worst of times."

"It's not your fault that others scold you, fear you, or treat you as a source of trouble," Roger said, his chest heaving. "It's because I made you bear those burdens from birth."

When he spoke of Rouge, he finally couldn't hold back his tears, which slid down his stubble-covered face and mixed with the blood on his forehead, making his whole face look disheveled.

Marco watched this scene, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. Even though he didn't want to speak up for Roger, he had to admit that the man wasn't putting on an act; he was genuinely overwhelmed by these truths.

Roger took a deep breath, as if forcing out the last bit of a complete sentence: "I'm kneeling here today not to acknowledge you back, nor to ease my mind with your forgiveness."

"I just can't hide anymore." He put it very bluntly, "I'll admit the debts I owe; I'll accept the hatred I deserve. If you don't acknowledge me, I'll accept it."

After listening, Whitebeard didn't back down, but the anger in his eyes faded slightly, replaced by a deeper scrutiny. He could tell that Roger had finally stopped trying to fool him with those pretty words, but that didn't mean the score could be easily turned over.

Ace's breathing became more and more rapid, as if every extra word Roger spoke stirred up the fire that had been burning inside him for more than twenty years, and instead of healing the old wounds, they were completely reopened.

Roger's tears were still flowing, mingling with the blood on his forehead and splashing into the cracks in the rubble. He didn't wipe them away, nor did he care, as if raising his hand would cause him to miss something important.

He raised his head and looked directly in Ace's direction. His vision was blurred by tears, but he still stared intently in that direction, at Ace's tense shoulders, red-rimmed eyes, and those eyes filled with hatred and struggle.

"I know it's no use saying anything," Roger's voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible. "No matter what I say, you won't forgive me. And I don't deserve your forgiveness."

He paused, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. "I just... wanted you to know that I remember what your mother looked like. I remember her waiting for me in that little fishing village in the South China Sea. I remember her holding her belly, saying she was determined to give birth to this child."

Ace paused upon hearing this.

He remembered the letters Dadan had shown him. Those letters from his mother, with their crooked handwriting. Every single one said, "Mom loves you," and every single one said, "Live well." He read those letters countless times, but in the end, he could only burn them, because reading them would make him cry.

Roger continued, his voice sounding like he was being tortured: "She endured twenty months of hardship for you. No doctors, no medicine, she just clung to life by sheer willpower. She knew she would die, but she still gave birth to you."

As he spoke, tears streamed down his face even more profusely: "I couldn't see her one last time. I couldn't hold you in my arms. I couldn't... I couldn't be by your side for even a single day. I left you all in that cannibalistic world and went to die myself."

Ace's hands were trembling. He wanted to retort, to say, "What right do you have to mention my mother?", but the words stuck in his throat and he couldn't get them out.

Because every word Roger said was true.

Roger seemed to have poured out all his vulnerability in this one night. He knelt there, head bowed, tears streaming down his face, his voice broken: "You must have had a very hard childhood. You must have been insulted and bullied. There must have been people who wouldn't let you live a good life just because you have the surname Roger."

He finally looked up and met Ace's eyes: "I don't know how you got through those days. But I do know that you survived. You survived on your own."

Ace felt a tightness in his chest.

He wanted to yell "What's it to you?" but the four words lingered on his tongue and he couldn't bring himself to say them.

Because Roger said "survived," not "made it through." This disheveled pirate king was acknowledging his existence in the most clumsy way.

The white-bearded man remained standing between the two, unmoving. His eyes were as deep as the ocean floor, revealing nothing of his thoughts. Yet, he held onto Murakumogiri's hand tightly, never letting go.

He knew that this was a step only Ace could take. What others said wouldn't matter.

Roger continued, each word feeling like it was being ripped from his heart: "You don't need to forgive me. You don't need to acknowledge me. I'm not saying all this tonight to make you call me 'Dad'."

He took a deep breath, as if using all his strength to say his last few words: "I just want you to know that you are not alone in this world. You have a life your mother gave her life for. You have a father like Whitebeard. And brothers who would fight to the death for you."

When he mentioned "brothers," he glanced at Sabo out of the corner of his eye. Sabo's hand was still on the water pipe, but his guardedness had relaxed somewhat.

Roger's gaze returned to Ace: "I don't ask you to acknowledge me. I only ask you... not to push yourself too hard."

He gave a bitter smile, a smile tinged with tears and blood that made him look particularly wretched: "The fact that you survived is enough. You don't need to prove anything, you don't need to owe anyone anything. Just live well, that's enough."

Ace's breathing became completely disordered.

He clenched his teeth so hard they ached. He wanted to curse Roger, to say "Stop pretending," to say "What right do you have to say such things?" But every word just lingered in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single syllable.

For over twenty years, no one had ever told him, "It's enough that you're alive."

nobody.

Roger looked at him, his eyes devoid of pleading, only filled with an almost resigned honesty. He knew he had no right to ask for anything, nor to expect anything. He simply offered the last bit of his sincerity and placed it at Ace's feet.

"I've said everything I needed to say," Roger said finally, his voice so low it was almost a soliloquy. "As for the rest, you decide what to do with them."

The square was so quiet that only the sound of the wind could be heard.

Everyone is waiting.

Waiting for Ace to speak, waiting for Ace to take that step, waiting for Ace to give an explanation for this debt that has spanned more than twenty years.

Ace stood rooted to the spot, his shoulders taut as if they were about to snap. His eyes were frighteningly red, tears welling up but refusing to fall.

He wanted to hate Roger. But the man before him had shattered all his pride, kneeling there awaiting his judgment. He wanted to say he wouldn't forgive him, but Roger's words, "It's enough that you're alive," were like a thorn, piercing the softest spot in his heart.

For over twenty years, no one had ever told him this.

No one ever has.

The white-bearded man stood silently behind him, like a mountain. He didn't turn around, nor did he urge him. He simply left the path open, waiting for Ace to decide whether or not to take it.

Roger knelt there, tears streaming down his face, looking at Ace. He had stripped himself bare. Now, it all depended on whether this child was willing to accept him.

A night breeze blew in from the sea, carrying the scent of salt and blood. The banquet continued in the distance, the sounds of laughter and revelry drifting faintly over, making this isolated area seem exceptionally quiet.

The three large flags fluttered and rustled in the wind.

Ace stood beneath the flag's shadow, his body taut like a fully drawn bow. His breathing grew increasingly erratic, his heart pounded faster, and it felt as if something in his chest was about to explode.

He wasn't ready yet. But he knew that this reckoning wouldn't wait for him to be ready.

Roger has already given his life.

Now it's his turn.

Sabo stood not far away, his hand still resting on the water pipe, but his eyes were fixed on Ace. He was waiting, and he was also enduring. Because some paths, only Ace could walk alone.

The captains of the Whitebeard Pirates also fell silent. They looked at their second division captain, at the boy who had been suffocated by Roger's name since childhood, and felt a mix of emotions.