"Ahhh, this is the life! Those Marines were like hounds nipping at our heels, but now they're finally gone."
Steam rolled off the hot spring, wrapping around the Whitebeard Pirates as they soaked, weary but smiling.
"Three whole months!" another groaned. "They ruined our entire voyage. Next time we see them, we've gotta teach those dogs a real lesson."
Teach leaned back, eyes closed, letting the heat wash away the fatigue.
After their failed operation, Sengoku and the Marines had hounded the Whitebeard Pirates across the seas for three relentless months. They clashed nearly a hundred times; no matter how many times they slipped away, the Marines were always right behind them.
The whole New World had watched. Shiki, Big Mom, Kaido, and other giants of the era took advantage, throwing themselves into the chaos. What should've been a parade of glory turned into a gauntlet of three-way and four-way battles that left even monsters like the Whitebeard Pirates exhausted.
By the time they returned to their own territory, opportunists had already started creeping in. It took nearly another month of smashing small fry and wiping out two pirate crews before things stabilized.
Now, finally, there was peace. And hot springs.
This particular island, famous for its volcanic baths, sat squarely in Whitebeard's territory. No one dared stir trouble with the Moby Dick docked in the harbor. Even the rowdiest pirates hushed when Whitebeard's flag was raised. The main baths had been reserved entirely for the crew.
Today was rest. Tonight, a banquet. Tomorrow, everyone would scatter back to their posts to guard the seas.
Teach sighed contentedly. He hadn't felt this light in months.
But his mind never stopped working. He thought of the two Devil Fruits he'd claimed; the Thorn-Thorn Fruit and the Spring-Spring Fruit. Neither was flashy like a Logia, but in the right hands, they were flexible, deadly tools. The Thorn-Thorn Fruit, controlling thorns. The Spring-Spring Fruit, granting absurd elasticity. Paramecia, of course, this world had no 'plant' category.
Meanwhile, Teach had been sharpening himself.
Armament Haki now flowed on command, his body tougher with every session of brutal training. His Conqueror's Haki could flare at will, though precision still eluded him, allies and enemies alike collapsed under its surge. Observation Haki stretched farther, finer, pushing toward the elusive future sight.
And his new twin pistols? With Haki bullets and his sharp vision, they turned gunfire into art.
"Time flies," Teach muttered, smirking as he glanced at the next pool over, where Whitebeard and Oden laughed like thunder.
He knew Oden's fate. In two short years, he would board Roger's ship, guide him to the One Piece, and then return home to die a hero's death. Already, Wano was rotting from within; Orochi's schemes, Higurashi's Mane-Mane tricks, the Barrier-Barrier fraud, the betrayal of Kanjuro… Teach knew it all.
He liked Oden. Admired him, even. A man so broad-hearted it made you want to follow him and yet doomed by that very trust. It was a waste. And Teach, evil though he might be, found himself itching to interfere.
"Teach! Come join us!" Jozu waved from the next pool, grinning.
Teach waved him off. "I've soaked enough. Pops, any big operations coming up?"
Whitebeard rumbled, amused. "Nah. We'll rest a while. What's on your mind?"
Teach's eyes flicked to Oden. He smiled. "I want to visit Wano. Get my blades reforged by the best smiths, study Ryuo firsthand… and taste real oden stew."
That got Oden's attention immediately. He slapped his thigh. "Teach! That's a great idea! If you're going, I'll write a letter. Been three years since I left. My heart aches to know how my country fares."
"Leave it to me," Teach said seriously.
Whitebeard chuckled. "Gurarara… good training. Go, if you're set on it."
By nightfall, Oden had scribbled pages of messages, carefully sealed them, and handed them over. The hall soon erupted into a banquet, sake flowing, meat roasting, laughter booming.
Marco and Jozu, already drunk, danced in the center like clumsy children, locking arms and stumbling in ridiculous rhythm. The crew roared with laughter.
Teach sat back, tipsy but sharp-eyed. Then, with a sly grin, he pulled out a specialized Den Den Mush and snapped three quick shots of Marco mid-dance, butt stuck out in full glory.
"Teach, what are you doing?" Vista asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Hehehe… when Marco becomes famous in the New World, I'll sell these. Imagine the look on his face."
Vista froze, staring at the incriminating photos. Then he burst out laughing. "Give me a copy. I'll treasure it."
One by one, pirates crowded over, begging for their own copies.
"No need to rush," Teach smirked. "I'll print a hundred. Everyone gets one."
Marco, blissfully unaware, twirled on, sealing his eternal humiliation.
The night roared on in drunken cheer. But Teach's mind was already turning toward Wano and history he just might rewrite.