Two days later, aboard the Whitebeard Pirates' ship.
"Buruburuburu! Buruburuburu! Click!"
"Hey, who is this?"
Beside the Den Den Mushi, Marco yawned and picked it up.
As the Commander of the First Division, Marco always stayed close to Whitebeard.
That's why the Den Den Mushi that could directly contact Whitebeard was kept by Marco's side.
But over the years, this particular Den Den Mushi rarely ever rang.
However, ever since they'd established that so-called "New World Gateway and Fish-Man Island United Front" with Michael, the frequency of calls to this Den Den Mushi had sharply increased.
And the vast majority of those calls were nothing more than Michael's harassment.
This time was no exception.
"Wahahahaha, Marco, how've you been lately?"
"Michael, if you keep talking like that, I'm hanging up…"
"Hey hey hey, what kind of attitude is that?! I'm filing a complaint, damn customer service!"
"You're the one acting like customer service! Who greets someone with 'how've you been' like that?!"
"You're really stingy… But this time, I actually have a big deal to discuss with you guys!"
"A big deal… When have you ever not called something a big deal? And in the end, it's always something like waking up Pops to take a leak! Do you have any idea that day, an entire nearby uninhabited island disappeared?!"
"Cough cough, wasn't that just a small joke with the old man Whitebeard?" Michael's voice had a hint of guilt, but he quickly puffed himself up again. "But today, it's really something big!"
"Tch! I'd sooner believe in ghosts than in you telling the truth!" Marco cursed and was just about to hang up when a large hand stopped him.
"P… Pops?"
"Enough, Marco. Let me talk to this brat," Whitebeard said, nodding at Marco. He then took the Den Den Mushi and looked at the familiar annoying grin on its face. Chuckling, he said, "Michael, long time no see."
"Oh? So the operator got off work early today, huh?" The moment Michael realized Whitebeard himself had picked up, his voice rose an octave in excitement. "Hey! Old man Whitebeard! I've got something to ask you!"
"What is it? Go ahead."
"Do you need a son?"
"…You're not here just to mess with me, are you?" Whitebeard's mouth twitched. "If you're planning to leave the Marines and join the Whitebeard Pirates, I wouldn't mind having another son."
"You old geezer, that's a terrible way to put it! I'm asking seriously — do you need a son or not? If you do, I'll send you one!"
"What do you mean by that?" Hearing the genuine tone in Michael's voice, Whitebeard grew uncertain. "What did you do this time?"
"Cut the crap! I'm just asking if you want one!" Michael's voice suddenly dropped low, and he whispered, "Friendly reminder — it's your biological son. Blood relation and all that."
Those words made the man who'd roamed the seas for decades inexplicably uneasy.
The man who had caused countless earthquakes in battle — today, his pupils actually trembled.
"Biological… son!? I… I didn't make any mistakes, did I?"
"Ha! That wavering tone of yours says it all… I'll be arriving in your territory soon! We'll talk in person!"
Click!
The call ended cleanly, leaving Whitebeard no time to ask where Michael was.
As he set the Den Den Mushi down, a crew member of the Whitebeard Pirates entered with a message.
"Marco! Pops! A small sailboat is approaching! It's about twenty kilometers away!"
Whitebeard and Marco exchanged a glance, and Marco immediately said:
"Inform everyone not to block it. That's an ally."
"Yes, sir!"
The crew member took the order and left.
Father and son sat together in the cabin, and Whitebeard suddenly burst into laughter.
"Kurararara! That Michael brat never planned on giving me the chance to say no! He waited until he was practically at my doorstep to call. That wasn't a request — that was a notification!"
...
After hanging up, Michael turned around to look at Whitebeard Jr., who was rowing hard.
"Hey, come on, Weevil! You'll get to meet your real dad soon!"
"Michael…" Weevil lifted his head, his dumb, round face still dangling a crystal pendant that refused to fall off. "Will my dad… be like Mom? Will he push me out to die when things get dangerous…? I don't want to die. I still want to live."
"You big lug, don't worry about that." Michael stood up, patted Weevil's arm, and reassured him. "If your mom was the worst mom in the world… then you're lucky, because you're about to have the best dad in the world."
"The best… dad?"
"That's right. If the day ever comes when someone wants to kill you, he'll do everything he can to protect his child. And if, unfortunately, he can't save you… then he'll shatter the entire world to bury it with you."
Michael spoke gently, like coaxing a child.
This simple-minded but immensely strong big guy was, in essence, just like a kid who happened to possess terrifying strength…
Confused.
Easily manipulated.
But also… easily satisfied.
Just hearing Michael's words made Weevil flash a wide, goofy, happy smile.
"Really? That's great."
Seeing that not-so-comforting smile, Michael secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Fortunately, this was still the early stage of Weevil being manipulated by Miss Bakkin. He hadn't yet started making a name for himself across the seas by slaughtering Marines.
Otherwise, if Michael had to kill someone who was, at heart, no different from a child…
Even if he could do it, it wouldn't be a pleasant experience.
In Michael's eyes, right now, Whitebeard Jr. was nothing more than a lost child.
After that, Weevil began rowing even harder.
With the monstrous strength inherited from Whitebeard's youth, twenty kilometers was nothing more than the blink of an eye.
Soon, Michael saw the massive Moby Dick.
From the outside, it looked like a gigantic sperm whale.
"Weevil, let's go."
Michael spread his four wings and flew upward.
Weevil dumbly nodded, set the oars down, bent his knees, and leapt into the air like a cannonball.
When Michael landed on the Moby Dick, the first thing he saw was Marco leading the division commanders, and Whitebeard himself sitting on his giant sofa.
"Yo, you guys are looking good."
Michael greeted them casually, but then noticed all their complicated expressions aimed at something behind him.
Michael turned around — and saw Weevil jumping up and falling down again… and again.
"Michael! Why can't I get up there?!"
"Put some force into going forward! If you just jump straight up and down, of course you won't make it!"
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