it's a selfish wish to want a child you know you can't watch grow.
although many years had passed since that fateful day, roger still remembered the conversation well; early on into his rookie years, while starting to build the foundation of what would one day become the roger pirates with rayleigh at his side, the two of them had crossed paths with a rather peculiar individual. with notably white hair and an all-too-familiar middle initial, morga d. salvadí was as strange as the tales said : little was known about the man themself, only that they'd supposedly been causing small uprisings wherever they went with their devil fruit, but also that he was allegedly the cause of his own deafness. he wasn't a pirate, wasn't a marine, but he could hardly be called a civilian, either—even just hearing of them, roger had wanted to meet them for himself, just to see what he was actually like.
it was chance that he got his wish, but a chance he gladly accepted all the same; although, were you to ask him, roger might have considered it another flash of destiny, of proof that there was perhaps something greater guiding his way. [ it wasn't any sort of god or divine power which lead him, but surely there must be a reason for things to happen as they did. ] the memory of sidling up next to him at the bar remained fresh in his thoughts even as time went on, the "conversation" the three of them had managed to cobble together by relying on pen and paper borrowed from the barmaid passed between. although he couldn't hear, salvadí could still speak, but he'd explained his reasoning for keeping quiet; due to the nature of his devil fruit, a paramecia-type called the kiku kiku no mi, commands uttered by salvadí would force those listening to follow, which lead to him being extremely cautious in what he would actually say aloud. more often than not, they'd use writing or sign language to communicate, although the world government seemed to enjoy painting them as someone to be especially wary of, as though he were going out and giving orders to everyone he came across.
certainly wasn't the first time the world government took a story and ran. [ wouldn't be the last, either. ]
as the night went on and the three got deeper into their cups, roger remembered it was salvadí who brought up the subject of family : he wrote about how he'd had quite a few children across his travels, but he never stayed long, always leaving the children and mothers behind. even while drunk, the thought struck roger as almost jarring; at the time, he couldn't imagine it, as he wanted nothing more than to gather people around him to keep alive, to live with them, to laugh—to celebrate the wonders of the world together. he'd lost enough already … he hated the thought of losing more. it wasn't until many years later, as he was certain to be dead one way or another soon enough, that he felt like he finally understood what salvadí meant.
it's a selfish wish. roger recalled saying once how he'd like to have a child, one who might be the one to reach laugh tale when the time was right—but now, sitting next to rouge, a large hand resting comfortably on her stomach, roger didn't care just what the child did. he knew he wouldn't be alive to see just what sort of person they'd become—if they too would become a pirate, maybe even the king—or if they'd chart their own course and find a treasure to seek out and protect all their own. they'd have that freedom, after all. a child you can't watch grow. this wasn't about legacy. this wasn't even about what roger wanted. hell, even if by some miracle he could survive to see their child grow, the child would surely fight whatever wishes he may have and kick against his dreams and claim their own—and even just the thought of it made roger laugh.
" i want you to live. i want you t'sail yer own seas, find yer own family, and never let go—i want y'to be safe, but considerin' y've got my blood in yer veins, maybe that's a waste of a wish. " he laughs, covering up the cough that follows, thumb brushing over the fabric of rouge's dress, a soft smile spreading upon his face. " whether yer ann, or ace, or y'choose a name all yer own—i'm sure you'll make somethin' great of it. " head comes to rest against rouge's shoulder, face burying against her neck, his eyes slipping closed— [ how ridiculous he could get so tired so quick as of late. ] he knew he wouldn't be there for their child. but he also finally knew just what salvadí meant by what he said. [ perhaps meeting odé all those years ago too helped that understanding grow—one of salvadí's own children whom they had left behind— ] even if the two hadn't met since salvadí left their home island ages ago, during that coversation with him, here was no denying just how he felt about the child he knew nothing about.
it is a selfish wish to want a child you know you can't watch grow. but it's also a wish filled with love.
