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Jin didn't linger in Loguetown.
After cleaning house at the Barto Club, he was gone before the sun rose. The trade deal he'd struck with the local merchants had been finalized in a single afternoon, right after the midday battle.
As for the fallout in Loguetown—the evidence Jin had left for Smoker was far more than just a single stack of papers. It was more than enough to keep the Marine Captain busy for a long, long time.
And when Mr. 3 eventually arrived, he would know exactly what to do. Jin didn't need to hold his hand.
Besides, Crocodile was still in the game.
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A few days later. A deserted island.
Explosions rocked the beach, blasting crater after crater into the sand.
On the deck of the demonic carrier, Law, Robin, Maya, and Reiju watched the spectacle with a relaxed air.
Nearby, the Spade Pirates—Skull, Mihal, and a heavily bandaged Deuce—stared in stunned, utter disbelief.
Deuce, wincing against the pull of his stitches, leaned over the rail, determined not to miss a second.
Down on the beach, Ace was in a frenzy, launching every attack he could think of—his Flare-Flare Fruit, his raw physical strength—all of it crashing uselessly against Jin.
Flames and heat erupted from his entire body. He became fire itself.
On the surface, his power seemed unbeatable. Against any other pirate in the East Blue, it would have been. It was this very power that had allowed him and Deuce to escape their first island and make the Spade Pirates infamous across the sea—famous enough to destroy two Marine warships.
Even without his Devil Fruit, Ace's own strength and skill were formidable.
But none of it—not even a sea of fire stretching for hundreds of meters—could touch the man before him.
No matter how Ace chased, how he moved, the man would always vanish just a heartbeat before the flames could connect—effortless.
Ace's relentless barrage of punches always found nothing but air.
It reminded Deuce of being a child, charging at his father in a fit of anger, only to be held at bay with a casual hand, completely dismissed.
That's what this was.
This wasn't a fight. It was a man toying with a boy.
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Shortly after leaving port, Deuce had survived, thanks to Law's surgery.
Ace, immensely relieved, had immediately resolved to challenge the "stronger man" Law had spoken of.
Jin had accepted.
The terms were simple.
If Ace could so much as lay a single hand on him, he would win. They would be free to go.
If he failed, he would lose.
And the price of his loss?
Jin would grant him a "position."
It was a deal entirely in Ace's favor.
Failure meant nothing more than a "position"—what was that?
Ace was brimming with confidence.
"I'm not just going to catch you," he had declared, "I'm going to beat you!"
"Fire Fence!" Ace roared now.
Walls of fire shot up around them, forming a net, shrinking the battlefield. And the net was closing in.
"A little stronger than before," Jin noted with a casual smile.
Ace had a talent for growing in the heat of battle.
Jin closed his eyes. He listened. To Ace's breathing, to the whisper of the wind, to the roar of the flames...
Observation Haki develops in different directions.
Pinpoint tracking, wide-area sensing, even glimpses into the future.
Beyond simple listening, some forms of Observation Haki came with special abilities. There was the kind Roger and Maya had—the ability to hear the Voice of All Things. There was Queen Otohime's power to connect with the hearts and minds of others. And there was telepathy—mind-reading.
Jin's own Observation Haki had come with the ability to read minds from the moment he'd awakened it.
The "flow" he'd mastered was a technique of Armament.
But this—the breathing, the listening, the connection to the world around him—was the way of Observation.
Of course, a technique is just a technique. Turning it into a true ability requires practice.
He'd experienced "future sight" firsthand from Dragon of the Revolutionary Army. He'd also sought advice from Crocus at the Twin Capes. The old man was just a doctor, but he had sailed with Roger. His insights had been invaluable.
Just as everyone thought Ace's net of fire had him trapped, Jin's body seemed to go limp, becoming like a sheet of paper.
He simply "floated" through a gap in the flames.
The Six Powers technique—Paper Art.
No technique was useless, not even Iron Body, which was often joked about as a surefire way to get hurt. It was all about how and when you used it.
When a person could use every technique, every move, with perfect, flawless execution—without a single wasted motion—even a simple punch could become a work of art.
"I'm already waiting for you!"
As the paper-like Jin floated out, Ace was already there, his flames converging, his burning fist swinging.
Had he seen the future?
No.
Ace had deliberately left that opening.
"He's got him!" Deuce shouted, his heart leaping.
But the wind from Ace's punch simply blew Jin farther back.
It was like trying to blow on a piece of paper—the harder you blow, the farther away it goes.
He was so close.
But he just couldn't reach him.
The flames surged.
Jin's foot touched the ground, and with a boom, he vanished, reappearing a dozen meters away.
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From morning to night, and from night to morning again, the chase continued.
Ace was relentless, tireless.
But Deuce and the others were exhausted just from watching.
Ace finally stopped, his hands on his knees, his legs feeling heavier than lead. The flames had all but died out, and sweat poured from his body.
"Is that all you've got?"
Jin stood a short distance away, sipping a cup of tea Robin had brought him. Not a single speck of dirt had touched his clothes.
'A trip to the West Blue really does something to a man,' Jin thought.
Elegance and style... they're a lifelong pursuit.
"Wait... it's not over," Ace growled, looking up, his eyes burning with stubborn pride. "I'm not down yet!"
Flames erupted from his arms again. He channeled them into a propulsive force, launching his fist forward like a rocket.
Ace's fist became a meteor, trailing a long wake of fire, its red glow mirroring the dawn sun.
It was blindingly beautiful.
This time, Jin didn't move. He didn't dodge. He just watched Ace approach. "I suppose that's enough," he said. "I have other things to do. I don't have time to play with you anymore."
They passed each other in a blur.
Ace's fist swung through empty air.
From the side, Jin's fist had slammed squarely into Ace's stomach—a stomach that should have turned to fire.
The impact sent a shockwave through his system. It felt as if his organs had been torn from their moorings.
Ace's face went white. A cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He pitched forward, clutching his stomach, the pain so intense he couldn't even make a sound.
The punch reminded him of his "gramps"—Marine Vice Admiral Garp.
His self-proclaimed "Fist of Love."
Every time he and Luffy had stepped out of line, that fist had found them, bringing with it a world of pain.
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