The second half of the Grand Line: the New World.
The giant luxury yacht snatched from the Celestial Dragon Saint Elaine has been officially christened by Captain Seven as the Advancing Titan.
Since entering the New World, however, the weather has turned violent more often than not, forcing the Morning Star Pirates to split up between the east blue emperor and the Advancing Titan.
The two ships are now cutting across half the New World, heading for the pirate paradise of Hachinosu Island.
east blue emperor, Captain's cabin.
Seven sat at his desk, copying the training manual Garp had left behind; once Hachinosu was taken, not only would he ramp up his own regimen, every crewmate would be put through tougher training.
Especially Fujitora Issho and Ginny.
Seven's expectation for Fujitora: at minimum, master the Zushi Zushi no Mi enough to make either the east blue emperor or the Advancing Titan leap the Red Line.
Ginny had to be able to open a spatial gate from Hachinosu all the way to Sky Island.
Anything less would waste those two top-tier Paramecia Devil Fruits.
Of course, Armament Haki, Observation Haki, and hand-to-hand combat couldn't lag behind either.
In training, if you're not moving forward, you're sliding back.
Slow progress is still regression.
As members of the Morning Star Pirates, they couldn't let the Deserter King—training at two-hundred-fold effort—catch up, could they?
That would be mortifying.
As Captain, Seven had to oversee every facet of the crew's course: training, daily life, future goals—the works.
While Seven was scribbling away, Golden Lion Shiki drifted into the cabin, looking like he had something stuck in his throat.
"What's up, Shiki-senpai?"
"I itch," Shiki blurted.
The instant the words hit his ears, Seven flash-stepped ten metres back; he believed in "no women in the heart, sword in hand," but his orientation was perfectly normal.
Baal of Beelzebul liked women—curvy, gorgeous women.
Shiki's old face flushed; he realized why the White-Haired Kid had reacted so dramatically.
Damn it, a lifetime of reputation… but for the sake of his severed legs, he'd endure.
"Beelzebul, ever since you pulled that ship's wheel out of me, the stumps have been itching like they want to regrow—but they won't."
If he hadn't seen a chance of regaining his legs, Shiki would've started a brawl right then over Baal's reaction.
"Won't grow out?" Seven rubbed his chin.
A senzu bean from the Dragon Ball World could heal any wound—except illnesses—and supposedly did nothing for already-healed injuries.
Or maybe one bean wasn't enough?
With that thought, Seven had a plan.
"Shiki-senpai," he began, "you know limb regrowth is unheard-of, and it'll cost me plenty. Frankly, we're only partners."
If Shiki could regrow his legs, then Fujitora Issho's self-destroyed eyes could probably see again with a senzu bean.
Two fully restored Great Swordsmen would be a mega-boost for the Morning Star Pirates.
Picture it—
Seven, Mihawk, Fujitora Issho, and Golden Lion, all flight-capable Great Swordsmen, striking a pose side by side.
Even the three Marine Admirals could only stare helplessly unless they called in Garp and Sengoku for backup.
Shiki squirmed.
"I don't have to stay just partners."
Limb regrowth was nothing short of divine; if Baal could pull it off, joining the Morning Star Pirates meant you'd live as long as you could breathe.
That deal was ten times better than anything the Rocks Pirates had offered.
Worst case, once Baal met the same end as Rocks, he could split off again—profit either way.
Seeing that, Seven smiled.
"Shiki, welcome to the Morning Star Pirates."
Shiki snorted.
"Wait till the legs are back; if you can't manage that, I'm not signing on."
The sole condition: his lost legs had to return; otherwise, Golden Lion would rather die than serve.
With a pang, Seven produced a senzu bean.
He'd originally bought Seven; two had been used against Akainu on Ohara, one given to Shiki days ago, and now another.
Only three left—he had to list the Logia Swamp-Swamp Fruit and the Paramecia Baku Baku no Mi on the trading platform and stock up on more beans.
If tycoons swept the market clean of the precious beans, there'd be nowhere left to buy.
Even in the Dragon Ball World, senzu beans grew scarce later on.
"Open up and eat."
Shiki complied, gulping the bean without a glance; a torrent of life rushed to his stumps.
"Hiss—argh!"
Seven had never felt the agony of regrowing limbs, but Shiki's twisted face said it hurt—
probably second only to childbirth or a kick in the jewels.
Thankfully the pain lasted an instant.
When new feet pressed against the deck, Shiki threw his head back and laughed.
"Gyahahaha—"
"Beelzebul, I knew I had your measure."
Seven spread his hands.
"Shiki-senpai, you won't even call me Captain yet."
Shiki showed no resistance, switching naturally.
"Captain, pleased to work with you."
Whole again, Shiki was elated, demanding a banquet and offering to bring over old Flying Pirate Group subordinates.
"Captain, some of my old men should meet your standards; after we take Hachinosu, I'll fetch them."
"No problem," Seven grinned.
Rebuilding Hachinosu needed manpower; Shiki volunteering his veterans was nothing to refuse.
Worried about being sidelined?
Don't be ridiculous—with Mihawk and Fujitora around, even Kuma alone could quash any stir from the Flying Pirate remnants.
While Shiki prepped the party, Seven found Fujitora Issho and handed him a bean.
"Mr. Issho, try this—maybe it'll give you your sight back."
"Restore my vision?" Fujitora brightened.
He had blinded himself to spare the world's filth and never regretted it—until months ago, when Observation Kill left him helpless in the dark.
He had heard Shiki's scream and sensed the change; his Captain's godlike means amazed him.
"Thank you, Captain Seven."
Fujitora popped the bean without hesitation.
At once, vast life flooded from his gut to his sockets, mending the ruined eyes.
The itch and ache of flesh reborn tormented him, yet he stayed silent, only two bloody tears trailing down.
A farewell to the past, a greeting to the new.
Where once was only black, a glimmer appeared; Fujitora squinted, unaccustomed to light.
Moments later, a youthful face came into view—fair skin, snow-white hair stirred by sea breeze.
Captain Seven… was rather good-looking.
Fujitora bowed slightly.
"Thank you for letting me see the change this world is about to undergo."
Seven slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning.
"Come on, banquet time."