"Who's that kid?" someone muttered, eyeing the approaching figure with a raised brow. "He's not here to assassinate the old man, is he?"
Marco burst out laughing and smacked the speaker lightly on the back of the head. "Idiot. Who would dare assassinate such a big target like that?"
"More like big idiot," Whitey Bay huffed, her long blue hair shimmering in the sunlight. Despite her youth, there was already steel in her voice.
"Look, he's here," Vista said from the side, smiling as the boy stopped in front of the towering figure of Whitebeard. Even just standing there, the kid exuded a quiet pressure.
Whitebeard leaned forward slightly, his gaze like a storm slowly gathering. "Boy, what do you want?" he asked, his deep voice calm but charged with authority.
Teach smiled, wide and fearless. "Let me board your ship, Pops."
A sudden silence dropped over the deck, as if the world itself paused. Jaws dropped. Eyes widened. Some crew looked at each other in disbelief.
"Did he just call him Pops?"
"Who is this guy? Does he know who he's talking to?"
Whitebeard stared into Teach's eyes, and Teach didn't flinch—not even for a second. For a moment, the sea breeze stilled.
Then, Whitebeard's lips curled into a grin. "Gurararara... come aboard if you've got the guts."
Relief poured through Teach's chest like a crashing wave. Then excitement followed—thick, electrifying. He had made it. This was the first step. In the shadow of the world's strongest man, he could grow. He could bide his time. And one day... overpower them all.
The crew welcomed him with surprising warmth. One by one, they introduced themselves—smirking, curious, already assessing him.
Down below, some members went ashore to gather supplies. On deck, others lounged around or played games, passing the time. Vista, twirling a blade between his fingers, glanced at Teach with a gleam in his eye.
"Hey, Teach—you're carrying two swords at your waist and one on your back. Let's see what you've got. Spar with me."
Teach opened his mouth to reply, but Whitey cut in with a scoff, her sharp eyes flicking to Bista. "Please don't bully the new kid," she snapped. "Teach, show us your strength—but not against Vista. Marco, you're up."
Marco looked up from his card game, blinking in surprise. "Wait, what did I do?"
"You're still an intern," Whitey grinned. "Show some initiative. Don't let a newbie show you up."
Marco sighed and stood, brushing his coat off. "Alright, alright. But don't blame me if he can't keep up."
A crowd gathered quickly, forming a ring around the makeshift sparring ground. Teach and Marco faced off in the center.
Teach drew his twin blades in a smooth, practiced motion. "Don't take me lightly," he said, his grin returning. His breathing began to shift, slow and rhythmic, as the air around him grew warm—almost unnaturally so.
He moved first, lunging with swift, calculated steps, his blade angling toward Marco with surgical precision. Marco's speed was impressive—he weaved and dodged, but Teach's relentless pressure gave him no time to counter. Slash after slash came at him, forcing Marco back on his heels.
"Yo, Marco!" someone called out, laughing. "Did you skip lunch or what?"
"If you lose to the new guy, they'll keep you as an intern forever!"
Teach's attacks flowed like water—measured, precise, unyielding. Some of the stronger crew exchanged surprised glances. The heat Teach generated wasn't natural—it was forcing Marco to burn stamina just to stay in the fight.
Marco grimaced, dodging again. Not good, he thought. There's no room to retreat. If I don't counter now, I'll be the butt of their jokes for a week.
He ducked under a blade, spun, and lashed out with a kick. It connected with one of Teach's swords, knocking him slightly off-balance. In a flash, Marco zipped to Teach's flank and drove another kick into his chest.
Teach went flying back, skidding across the deck before stabbing one blade into the floor to steady himself. He winced, catching his breath, but his eyes remained focused. Too many openings, he admitted silently. Beasts don't fight like this. Real opponents are trickier.
Still, this was good. This ship was filled with monsters—perfect training partners. He sheathed one of his blades and shifted into a more relaxed stance.
From the crowd, someone called out, "He's better with one sword?"
Another chimed in, "Guess he hasn't mastered dual-wielding yet."
The air around Teach shimmered. His breathing changed again—deeper, slower. The temperature spiked. Flames licked along the blade of his sword, crawling up his arm. His sleeves disintegrated in the heat—but Teach didn't flinch.
Marco's eyes widened. "You're seriously insane."
The one-sword style lacked the speed of his dual blades, but each strike came with deadly force. Marco gritted his teeth, narrowly dodging the searing arcs of flame.
They clashed for over ten minutes—flashes of steel, bursts of flame, sparks flying with every collision.
Then, a thunderous voice broke through the fight. "Gurararara! That's enough, you two. Call it a draw. Next round's mine."
Whitebeard's voice was final.
Teach sheathed his sword, panting, sweat dripping from his brow. The crew around him no longer looked amused—they looked impressed. That battle had earned their respect.
They didn't linger long in Asuka. Supplies were packed quickly, and by late afternoon, the Moby Dick was preparing to set sail.
Teach leaned against the ship's railing, watching Asuka shrink behind him—the town he'd called home for twelve years. The port was nearly deserted, its citizens intimidated by the presence of the infamous Whitebeard Pirates.
Then, a familiar feeling tugged at him.
He turned.
From a corner of the harbor, Monica and Modi stood. Monica cupped her hands around a megaphone.
"Goodbye, Teach!" she shouted, tears streaking down her cheeks. "Come back! I'll wait for you—no matter how long it takes!"
Teach's chest tightened. He raised a hand, waving hard. "I'll be back! Modi—take care of her for me!"
"You little bastard!" Modi roared, fists clenched. "If you don't come back soon, don't bother showing your face again!"
"Hahahahaha!"
Asuka faded into a speck on the horizon.
Teach turned, only to find himself suddenly surrounded by a silent crowd of pirates, their expressions unreadable.
"Damn!" Teach jumped back. "What the hell? Don't sneak up on people like that!"
Marco stepped forward, grinning. "So... Monica, huh? 'I'll wait for you'? Sounds serious."
The others leaned in with teasing grins.
"Oi, you're only twelve, right? Got a girlfriend already?"
Teach crossed his arms, puffed out his chest, and scoffed. "Of course. Unlike you single dogs, I have experience already."
That hit harder than any sword. Gasps echoed.
"Single... dogs?"
Teach turned with a smirk, leaving the group stunned and wounded in pride.
Inside, he chuckled. I'm ahead of the game already.
But playtime was over.
He returned to his room—a small one, modest, unlike the open-deck sleeping spots favored by most pirates. His belongings were neatly organized. He strapped on his custom-made weighted wristbands and ankle cuffs—each band half a ton.
He hefted his practice blade. Even with his increased strength, every swing took effort. Sweat beaded down his face as he moved through his forms—his breathing sharp, body heating, the air crackling with residual static from his flame-style training.
He didn't want to show everything yet.
He wouldn't be here forever.
Teach had no intention of spending twenty years in the Whitebeard Pirates like in the story he knew. He would grow, recruit his own crew, and build something better—something greater.
This crew was strong—but too comfortable. Whitebeard's family was powerful, but static. The Beast Pirates thrived on brutal hierarchy. Big Mom's crew expanded constantly. Even the Red-Haired Pirates had gaps in high-end power.
Once Whitebeard falls, Teach thought, Marco won't be enough to hold them together.
He pushed his senses outward, his Observation Haki coating the room like a second skin. Always active. Always refining.
This Haki was his lucky charm—the one edge he had brought with him to this world. The fusion of two souls had amplified his mind, awakening his talent for Observation Haki far beyond the norm.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting deep shadows across the room. Teach's body glistened with sweat. His motions remained steady, relentless.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
"Teach! The banquet's starting!" Marco's voice rang out.
Teach exhaled slowly, setting down his blade. "Coming," he called.
He wiped himself down with a wet towel, dressed in clean clothes, and stepped out into the glow of lantern light. Laughter rang through the night, food and drink filled the air with savory perfume.
The sea stretched ahead, endless and full of promise.
A new journey had begun.