The port bustled with activity.
Dalton was at the docks, directing men as they loaded a shipment of frost mushrooms onto a vessel bound for the Grand Line. Farther out, Viera trained recruits in the handling of a steam-powered warship, the hiss of pressure valves echoing against the snowy cliffs.
Meanwhile, the crew Jin had taken to G3 Base for special training had returned. Now they were spread across Winterhan, Aska, and Hannabal, drilling militias. The drills were… different from the Marines' rigid regimens. Jin had made alterations, molding the marching patterns, the shouts, even the basic formations into something that better fit his taste.
Military growth was never a matter of a day or two. Discipline took time. But even raw conscripts, "trash soldiers" as some might call them, had their uses when ordered with precision.
Then the crowd gasped. A giant figure lumbered into view—a hulking bear in a heavy coat. Panic surged among the townsfolk. Soldiers raised rifles.
Before they could fire, Maya darted in front, arms spread wide.
"Hold your fire! This is a wise bear-king, like Chopper. He's here by order of His Majesty—the newest crewman of our fleet."
The people hesitated. A command from the king? Then so be it. Their shoulders dropped. Weapons lowered.
Behind the bear-cloak, Bartholomew Kuma listened silently. From their voices, from the way tension dissolved, he could feel it—the people's trust in their king. That faith wasn't feigned. It was real.
A happy country…
From Chopper he had heard stories of Winterhan's past. Of King Wapol, a tyrant no better than Sorbet's Bekori. Of how this new king had descended from the sky, slain the old monarch, and forged a new order from the ruins.
Jin hadn't been joking, Kuma realized, when he'd spoken of killing kings. He had done it.
He had given rebirth to a nation.
Created wealth where there had been none.
Given the people hope.
Kuma's heart stirred.
He had run from his own crown, convinced revolution could never bring more than ruin. Yet here was proof. Proof that the road existed, that it worked.
"This man…" Kuma thought, staring at the ship anchored offshore. "He is like Dragon. A true king, and a true warrior."
He boarded the vessel.
At once, pressure closed around him—an unseen weight, suffocating, oppressive. Kuma froze. The ship… it felt alive. He glimpsed it in a flicker of illusion: a yawning maw, drool spilling, ready to swallow him whole.
"What…?!"
Kuma stiffened, every muscle taut.
"Don't be restless."
Jin's voice cut the tension. He stepped from the shadows and patted the hull as if stroking a restless beast. The Carrier rumbled low, its hunger soothed.
Kuma's eyes narrowed. "This ship… is alive?"
Jin grinned. "Very much so. Special, isn't it?"
He gestured. With a crack of air, a towering doorway split open in the hull, leading into impossible darkness. "Go on. Inside."
Kuma hesitated, but stepped through.
The interior shocked him. Cavernous chambers stretched where no space should exist. Even he, a giant compared to most men, felt no constraint. A Devil Fruit ability, Kuma thought.
Outside, Jin watched him walk deeper. A temptation crossed his mind. Now, while he's here. Kill him, take the Paw-Paw Fruit for myself…
But he shook it away. He wasn't that sort of petty schemer. Soldiers were easy to find. Generals—true generals—were rare. A fruit without its perfect bearer was wasted. Kuma and his power were symbiotic.
Then Little Ai's voice rang in Jin's mind. "Master. Try assigning him a position."
Jin raised an eyebrow. "Position?"
"Three posts exist aboard the Carrier," Little Ai explained. "Boatswain, Gunner, Cook. If assigned, he binds with the ship. His fruit may even integrate."
Jin's eyes lit. "Let's test it."
He stepped inside. "Kuma. Choose a role."
Kuma blinked. "A role? Then… may I be the cook?"
Jin nearly choked. Still timid! "You cook?"
Kuma nodded seriously. "As a pastor in Sorbet, I often cooked for the elders. I studied cuisine."
"…Fine. Cook, then. But listen carefully—something unusual will happen. Do not resist."
Kuma gave a single solemn nod.
Jin willed the interface open. His will fixed upon Kuma's towering frame. He filled in the role: Cook: Bartholomew Kuma.
The ship moaned. Plates and rivets pulsed, melting into fleshy walls that slithered around Kuma, enclosing him. He flinched, arms rising instinctively—then remembered Jin's words. He let himself be consumed.
Moments later, text flared before Jin's eyes.
[Position: Cook]
[Name: Bartholomew Kuma]
[Authority: Level 3]
[Height: 689cm]
[Ability: Paramecia – Paw-Paw Fruit]
[Lineage: Buccaneer race]
[Haki: Armament, Observation]
[Comprehensive Power: 24,000 – 58,000]
[Evaluation: Possesses giant like bloodline, immense physique, Devil Fruit mastery near awakening, top-class combatant. Values peace, submissive by nature—easily exploited. Potential: catastrophic.]
Jin whistled low. "So strong…"
Here was a man who straddled the line: a floor of Yonko's lieutenants, a ceiling near Yonko themselves. If only he had the will.
Yet the numbers told the truth: Kuma was powerful beyond reckoning. And far, far too mild.
The Carrier's walls slackened, spitting Kuma back out. The experience left him dazed but unharmed.
"How was it?" Jin asked.
Kuma exhaled slowly. "Comfortable. Lighter. The unease I felt before… gone. And… something entered me."
He pulled his coat aside. On his chest, a glowing sigil burned into being. A circular emblem, the grinning skull in its centre.
Jin's eyes narrowed. Through that mark, he could feel Kuma's presence. His thoughts, his emotions, even his exact location. He could speak through it.
Kuma pressed his hand to the hull. The steel groaned. Jin felt it at once: Armament Haki flooding through Kuma into the ship, coating its frame. Observation Haki followed, sharpening every creak of steel. Then even the Paw-Paw power bled outward, etching itself into the Carrier's skin.
Not consumed, no. Not like a fruit wholly absorbed. But shared. Accessible. Strengthened.
Jin's laugh echoed through the hold. "Good. Very good!"
Kuma wanted peace? Then let him refine the Carrier daily. Let his Haki wash the hull until it gleamed black as obsidian. If swords could become black blades, Jin would forge a black ship.
When preparations were complete, the Carrier raised anchor. Its outward form still that of a harmless sailboat. The bulk was illusion, the body an empty shell—its true might hidden in the spatial belly within.
"Next upgrade: two thousand tons of refined steel," Jin mused aloud. "When that day comes, we'll see something glorious."
He imagined it. The Carrier as a ten-thousand-ton titan. A ten-thousand-ton monster. A ship that could challenge even the seas themselves.
But for now, his eyes fixed on a log pose glinting in his palm.
"Destination—"
He smiled.
"Alabasta."
.........
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