Should Jack join Red haired Pirates (If he joins he will replace Building Snake.)
•Yes
•No
(The Devil Fruit poll is close I will soon upload the result thank you for those who upload.)
________
Two weeks later
Ryu stood silently on the deck of the stolen black ship, the sea breeze tugging at his ragged clothes. Thick bandages wrapped tightly around his torso, stained in places where fresh blood had seeped through—a testament to the brutal battle he had barely survived.
Despite his battered condition, his grip never loosened.
His right hand clutched Chi Hime with unwavering resolve, the crimson blade resting against his shoulder as its polished edge glimmered beneath the afternoon sun. His sharp eyes remained fixed on the endless horizon, calm yet burning with determination.
Behind him, the dark vessel Jack had stolen cut through the waves like a phantom, leaving a foaming trail across the sea as it sailed forward.
Ryu slowly closed his eyes, shutting out the crashing waves and the creaking of the stolen black ship.
His thoughts drifted back to his life-and-death battle against Francisco.
In the midst of that desperate clash, when steel met the pink crystals and death loomed with every exchange, he had felt it—a strange rhythm hidden beneath the chaos. Different breaths that seemed to flow through everything around him. For one fleeting instant, every movement had become crystal clear, as though the world itself had slowed to match that mysterious pulses.
"Haa..."
He exhaled slowly, his expression utterly tranquil.
With Chi Hime resting firmly in his grasp, Ryu emptied his mind and reached once more for that elusive sensation. Again and again, he searched for the same breath he had touched during the battle, patiently trying to grasp it before it slipped through his fingers.
The sea roared, the wind howled, and the ship continued its voyage across the endless ocean.
Yet Ryu remained perfectly still.
Like a swordsman meditating before an unseen mountain, he devoted himself entirely to mastering that mysterious breath, determined to make the fleeting revelation from his battle a power he could call upon at will.
"BANG!"
"OI, KID!! GIVE ME A BREAK!!" Jack roared, veins bulging across his forehead as he threw his arms into the air. "YOU WERE HALF-DEAD TWO WEEKS AGO, YA BRAT!! YOU LOST ENOUGH BLOOD TO FILL A BARREL!"
He jabbed an accusing finger at the bandages wrapped around Ryu's torso, his face twisted with frustration.
"IF YOU COLLAPSE AGAIN, DON'T EXPECT ME TO CARRY YOUR STUBBORN HIDE A SECOND TIME!!"
Ryu slowly turned his head toward Jack, a faint smile spreading across his face. It was calm and reassuring, carrying the quiet confidence of a Samurai whose resolve had already been forged.
"Heh..."
Without a trace of irritation at Jack's booming complaints, Ryu simply smiled, his eyes reflecting nothing but gratitude.
"Don't worry, Jack," he said with a calm smile. "I'm almost fully healed already."
He tightened his grip around Chi Hime
"I know this body better than anyone…."
Jack let out a long, defeated sigh, his broad shoulders slumping ever so slightly.
"...Tch."
He scratched the back of his head before shaking it with a helpless grin.
"You're one stubborn brat..."
Knowing there was no changing Ryu's mind once he had made a decision, Jack simply nodded in reluctant acceptance, muttering under his breath as the ship continued to ride the rolling waves.
"Fine, kid..." Jack grumbled with a reluctant sigh, folding his arms across his chest.
"But listen up!" he barked, pointing a thick finger straight at Ryu. "The moment I catch you pushing yourself too hard, I'm shutting your training down myself! I don't care how much you complain!"
His stern expression lingered for a moment before softening into a crooked grin.
"So don't make me drag your stubborn hide back to bed, got it?"
Ryu gave a quiet nod in acknowledgment.
Just as he was about to resume his training, his expression shifted. His eyebrows rose slightly as a series of THUDS echoed across the deck.
"THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!"
Four wooden boxes crashed down onto the planks one after another.
Ryu's sharp gaze immediately settled on the four wooden crates. For the first time in a while, a hint of curiosity flickered across his usually composed expression.
"...?"
He tilted his head ever so slightly, silently studying the mysterious boxes as the sea breeze swept across the deck, judging by Jack's smug grin, these boxes hadn't appeared here by accident.
"OI, KID! GET OVER HERE!" Jack bellowed, slapping one of the wooden boxes with a broad grin.
"I found these four Devil Fruits while I was helping myself to Captain Ning's treasure," he said proudly, letting out a booming laugh. "BOHOHOHOHO! Looks like the Captain Ning was keeping 'em hidden for himself!"
Jack folded his arms, flashing Ryu a toothy smirk.
"I'm feeling generous today, brat. Go on... pick one."
He gestured toward the four mysterious fruits resting inside the opened boxes.
"You get to eat one of 'em. Who knows?" His grin widened. "You might just stumble onto a monster of an ability!"
Ryu glanced at Jack, the corners of his lips curling into an amused smile.
A quiet chuckle escaped him as he shook his head ever so slightly, clearly entertained by Jack's shameless pride in stealing the treasure.
"Heh..."
His blue eyes lingered on Jack for a moment before shifting toward the four mysterious Devil Fruits resting inside the boxes.
With an expression of calm curiosity, Ryu finally spoke.
"Jack..." he began, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. "Do you even realize how priceless the Devil Fruits are?"
His eyes narrowed slightly as his expression grew more serious.
"And more importantly... do you understand the risk that comes with eating one?"
For once, Jack didn't laugh.
His usual boisterous grin faded, replaced by an unusual calm as he met Ryu's gaze head-on. The wind carried only silence across the deck as he slowly nodded.
"...Yeah."
His voice was lower than usual, steady and certain.
"I know."
Jack's eyes drifted briefly toward the boxes holding the Devil Fruits before returning to Ryu, his expression serious in a way that didn't suit his usual reckless nature.
"I know the risks, kid," Jack said gruffly, his tone carrying a rare edge of seriousness.
"If you eat one of those, you become an anchor the moment you fall into the sea… helpless, sinking like a stone."
His eyes narrowed as they flicked toward the boxes.
"…But that power we will gain?" he continued, voice lowering slightly. "It could become our trump card when it matters most."
Jack crossed his arms, the deck creaking faintly beneath his weight.
"When I fought Bege…" Jack began quietly, his gaze drifting toward the rolling sea.
He exhaled slowly, as though replaying the memory in his mind.
"…I only managed to defeat him because I caught him off guard."
His grip on his sabre tightened slightly, the faintest seriousness
His gaze remained fixed on the devil fruits for a long moment before he spoke, his voice calm and unwavering.
"If these Devil Fruits can help us survive… then so be it."
He slowly lifted his eyes toward Ryu, a quiet resolve settling in his expression.
"I don't mind becoming an anchor," he said evenly. "If that's the price… for surviving this sea."
Ryu met Jack's gaze directly.
For a brief moment, the noise of the sea and the creaking of the ship seemed to fade away.
Jack's eyes, were—full of resolve, burning like a stubborn flame that refused to be extinguished.
Ryu's expression softened slightly, then gave him a smile full of respect.
His gaze slowly drifted away from Jack and settled on the open boxes once more.
The four Devil Fruits sat there in eerie silence, their strange, unnatural patterns twisting across their surfaces like something alive.
But one of them… felt different.
Ryu narrowed his eyes slightly.
It wasn't sound, nor sight—yet something about it seemed to reach out toward him, as if silently calling his name across the empty air between them.
"…?"
His calm expression tightened just a fraction as that unfamiliar sensation lingered in his chest, pulling at his attention like an unseen thread.
Ryu slowly shook his head, as if trying to cast off the strange sensation clinging to his mind.
"This must be my imagination."
Ryu's eyes returned to Jack, steady and composed once more.
The lingering pull from the Devil Fruit was gone from his expression, buried beneath his calm resolve.
He exhaled quietly, the wind tugging at his bandages as he tightened his grip on Chi Hime.
"…Jack," he called again, voice calm but firm, holding the attention of the deck.
"Before either of us makes any rash decision…" he said calmly, pausing for a brief moment.
"…we should sail to Bing Town first."
Jack blinked, clearly caught off guard.
He scratched the side of his head, his brows furrowing in confusion as he leaned forward slightly.
"…Bing Town?" he repeated, dragging out the words.
Ryu gave a calm nod in response to Jack's confusion.
He shifted his stance slightly, the boards beneath his feet creaking as the ship continued to cut through the sea.
"…Yeah," he began evenly.
"There's a branch of the black market in Bing Town," Ryu continued calmly, his eyes steady as the wind swept across the deck.
His grip on Chi Hime loosened slightly, though his focus never wavered.
"They deal in information… and everything else you can imagine," he added, voice lowering a fraction. "Goods, weapons, services…you just need to name it."
Ryu's eyes narrowed slightly as he continued, his tone calm but certain.
"We might be able to find a way in that black market… to identify those Devil Fruits."
His gaze briefly shifted toward the boxes especially to the Devil Fruit that was calling out to him before returning to Jack.
"If there's any record of what they are… or what they do… Bing Town is the place we'll find it."
At Ryu's words, Jack's eyes lit up with sudden excitement.
"…Heh."
A grin split across his face—wide, wild, and unmistakably thrilled.
Then, without warning, he threw his head back and burst into booming laughter that echoed across the deck.
"BOHOHOHOHO!!"
"Alright, kid," Jack said with a confident grin, crossing his arms as the wind ruffled his coat.
"Leave it to me."
He jerked his chin toward the helm of the stolen black ship, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"This ship's faster than it looks. If the weather doesn't turn on us…" he let out a short laugh, "…we'll hit Bing Town in six days."
______
At the 80th Marine Base
In the base commander office
In the commander's office, a heavy silence hung in the air.
Seated in the large chair at its center was a bulky, muscular middle-aged man. His presence alone seemed to dominate the room, as if the very space had grown smaller around him.
Dark shades concealed his eyes, giving him an unreadable, almost intimidating aura. A thick cigar rested between his fingers, its smoke curling lazily upward as he sat cross-legged with a calm, almost arrogant ease.
He didn't move.
He didn't speak.
Yet somehow, it felt like the entire room was already under his control.
The man's appearance became clearer as the smoke drifted through the dim office.
Wavy dark green hair fell around his head in a slightly unkempt yet deliberate manner, framing a face marked by calm confidence. His fair skin contrasted sharply with the dark tones of his attire.
Draped loosely over his shoulder was a Marine Justice coat, hanging more like a statement than a uniform. Beneath it, he wore a black shirt with its buttons left open around his chest, exposing a relaxed but solid build.
A white tie hung carelessly around his neck, as though formality itself meant little to him. Blue baggy pants and worn brown combat boots completed the look—practical, yet unbothered by appearances.
Resting beside the desk, partially leaning against its frame, was a massive battle axe.
Its blade was wide and heavily worn, bearing countless nicks and scars that spoke of brutal clashes. The metal still gleamed faintly beneath the dim light of the office, as if refusing to lose its edge despite its age.
The sheer size of the weapon made the already cramped room feel even more suffocating—like it didn't belong there, yet dominated everything around it without effort.
At that moment, a sharp knock echoed through the base commander's office.
"KNOCK!, KNOCK!"
"Enter!"
The office door creaked open.
A young Marine stepped inside. A rifle hung loosely over his shoulder, the strap pressing into his uniform as he carefully made his way forward.
The young Marine had short-cropped brown hair, sharp brows, and piercing brown eyes that brimmed with unwavering confident. His fair skin framed a lean, battle-hardened physique, sculpted through endless drills and the unforgiving discipline of Marine training. Though still in his youth, he carried himself with a calm confidence and steadfast composure rarely found among Marines of his age.
The lower half of his face was concealed beneath a plain white mask, leaving only his sharp eyes exposed. It lent the young Marine an air of quiet mystery, making it nearly impossible to read the thoughts hidden behind his calm, unwavering gaze.
In his hands, he held two yellowed posters, their edges worn and slightly curled from frequent handling.
He paused just inside the room for a brief moment, before he made his way towards the base commander.
He handed the posters to him.
The base commander's hidden gaze shifted toward the two yellow posters.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then, a faint crease formed beneath his shades.
"…Tch."
He leaned forward slightly, cigar smoke drifting lazily from his mouth as he studied the posters more closely.
They weren't Marine-issued wanted posters.
Just crude yet precise drawings of Ryu and Jack, marked clearly and unmistakably.
WANTED: DEAD ONLY
And beneath each name…
The base commander slowly lifted his head from the posters.
His eyes, hidden behind dark shades, narrowed with quiet intensity as they fixed on the young Marine standing before his desk.
The cigar between his fingers burned steadily, ash falling without him noticing.
"Pat…"
The base commander's voice dropped into a colder, heavier tone as he tilted his head slightly.
"What is going on?"
He tapped the edge of one of the posters with a gloved finger, the paper rustling faintly under the pressure.
"And what exactly are these supposed to be?"
His gaze lingered on the crude sketches of Ryu and Jack, the cigar smoke curling upward as the tension in the room deepened.
Pat didn't answer immediately.
Instead, a faint smirk crept across his face.
"…Heh."
A soft chuckle followed, low and unhurried, as if the tension in the room meant nothing to him.
"Captain…"
Pat's smirk faded into something sharper as he finally spoke, his tone calm but edged with restrained excitement.
"Our spies within the Capone Family base have just reported in."
He adjusted the rifle on his shoulder slightly, the metal strap creaking under the movement.
"These two pirates… infiltrated Capone Family stronghold and successfully stole Captain Ning's treasure."
The base commander shot to his feet the moment the words left Pat's mouth.
His chair scraped violently against the floor.
"…WHAT?!"
The cigar nearly slipped from his lips as his composure finally cracked, a surge of shock breaking through his usually controlled demeanor.
"You're telling me… those two, infiltrated a Capone Family base… and got away with Captain Ning's treasure?!"
His voice thundered through the office, sharp enough to rattle the air itself.
Pat didn't even flinch at the commander's outburst.
The echo of the shout rolled through the office, but his expression remained calm—almost amused.
"…Yes, sir," he replied evenly.
He adjusted the rifle on his shoulder with slow composure, as if discussing something far less significant.
"According to our patrol units," Pat continued calmly, his voice steady despite the tension in the room, "they're currently on their way to Bing Town."
The base commander's fury slowly subsided.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he straightened his posture, the earlier shock giving way to cold satisfaction.
"…I see."
He gave a slow, nod, cigar smoke curling around his face like a veil.
"So they're heading to Bing Town…"
His voice lowered, calm and deliberate now, as the weight of calculation returned to his eyes hidden behind the shades.
"Good."
The base commander's smirk deepened as he straightened in his chair, the cigar glowing faintly between his fingers.
"Go and prepare our ship, Pat."
He tilted his head slightly, the shades hiding the sharp glint in his eyes.
"We're going to confiscate Captain Ning's treasure ourselves."
A slow, confident grin formed on his lips.
"Our promotion is right in front of us… all that's left is to take it."
He exhaled smoke and gave a firm nod.
"Move."
Pat's smirk lingered as he gave a single, confident nod to the base commander.
"Understood, Captain."
Without another word, he turned sharply on his heel.
The rifle on his shoulder shifted with the motion as he strode toward the door, boots clicking against the floor in steady rhythm.
The office door creaked open… then slowly shut behind him, leaving only the faint scent of smoke and the weight of silent ambition lingering in the room.
Once Pat returned to his office, the atmosphere shifted.
He shut the door behind him with a soft click, cutting off the rest of the base's noise.
Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a white Den Den Mushi. Its shell gleamed faintly under the dim light as he set it on his desk.
Pat's expression turned sharp and focused.
Slowly, he began dialing.
"PRUPRUPRU!"
"GATCHA!"
A faint crackle came through the Den Den Mushi before a voice echoed from the other end.
"Pat… how did things go on your side?"
The line buzzed softly, the tone calm yet carrying an air of authority.
On the desk, the white Den Den Mushi's lips moved slightly as it relayed the question into the silent room.
Pat's expression didn't change as he leaned slightly closer to the Den Den Mushi.
"Father…" he began, voice steady and controlled.
"Everything is going perfectly on my end."
A faint pause followed, the Den Den Mushi's snail-like lips curling as it transmitted his words.
"That greedy Vidal has already ordered me to prepare the ship. We're set to begin the hunt for those pirates."
Inside the dimly lit Capone Family base, a cold silence hung for a brief moment.
Then, a faint smirk slowly crept across Bege's face.
"…Good."
He leaned back slightly, his expression dark and calculating, the glow of a cigar lighting the edge of his jaw.
With a slow, satisfied nod, he acknowledged the report.
"Everything is going exactly as planned."
The Den Den Mushi crackled softly as the voice from the other side grew colder and more deliberate.
"Pat… don't engage those two directly."
A brief pause followed, heavy with intent.
"They're strong."
The tone sharpened.
"If Vidal and the other base commanders end up dead, we'll be able to take control of several Marine bases across West Blue."
The Den Den Mushi's eyes narrowed slightly as the voice continued.
"You and the other spies… must stay alive. No matter what it takes."
The Den Den Mushi crackled softly as the voice on the other end turned even colder, laced with ruthless confidence.
"Those two bastards will die sooner or later. Don't worry about them."
A brief pause followed, the tone sharpening with certainty.
"I've already contacted every known assassin in West Blue… and the Underworld as well."
The voice grew darker.
"I've informed every organization and pirate crew In West Blue that Captain Ning's treasure is now in their possession."
A low, dangerous calm settled in.
"They have nowhere left to hide."
Pat smirked and nod his head.
"I understand Father, I will not disappoint you."
The white den den mushi nodded in approval.
"Good, I will wait for the good news from you pat."
"Gotcha!"
Pat slipped the White Den Den Mushi back into his coat pocket, its faint presence settling against the fabric like a sealed secret.
A thin smirk curled on his face.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the office, the door creaking shut behind him as his footsteps faded down the corridor—leaving only silence and whatever plans had just been set into motion.
_________
In Kano country
Deep within the rugged mountains surrounding Kano Country, an elderly man stood alone atop a cliff, his weathered eyes fixed upon the endless blue stretching across the sky. The mountain winds whipped through his clothes, carrying only silence in their wake. Time had etched countless scars, but none ran deeper than the sorrow lingering in his gaze. It was the look of a man who had lost his dream, endured countless storms, and carried the weight of a lifetime's regrets upon his shoulders.
Without a word, the old man stepped toward a towering mountain nearby. Planting his feet firmly against the ground, he drew back his fist and unleashed a thunderous punch.
"BOOOOM!!"
His fist crashed into the mountainside with overwhelming force, sending shockwaves roaring through the valley. The ground quaked violently beneath him as cracks raced across the massive cliff like lightning. Boulders shattered into countless fragments, and a cloud of dust erupted into the sky, while the echoes of his relentless strikes rolled through the mountains like deafening cannon fire.
Again and again, he swung his fists with every ounce of strength left in his aged body, each blow carrying the fury, grief, and determination of a warrior who wanted revenge.
"BOOM!, BOOM!, BOOM!, BOOM!, BOOM!"
"RAAAAHHH!!"
The old man's roar exploded across the mountains like a raging beast, shaking the valleys and scattering flocks of birds into the sky. Every ounce of anguish, fury, and helplessness he had buried over the years poured into that earth-shaking cry. His bloodshot eyes glowed a fierce crimson, not from fatigue, but from a hatred that had smoldered for decades—a blazing inferno that refused to be extinguished.
"Damn you, Garp…!"
The old man's voice cracked like thunder over the broken cliffs, fury twisting every word.
"You stole it from me… my power… my future… I was so close to claiming my long life treasure!"
His fists clenched with such terrifying force that fresh blood trickled from his palms, staining the skin of his hands. Yet the old warrior never flinched. He felt neither pain nor exhaustion. The only thing coursing through his veins was the seething rage that had burned within his heart for countless years, refusing to fade no matter how much time had passed.
The old man was none other than Chinjao the Drill—a former infamous pirate whose name once shook the seas themselves. Though time had weathered his body but his spirit still burned like an unquenchable sun, defying age, pain, and the passage of time with unrelenting ferocity.
Chinjao was an imposing elderly giant of a man, towering at nearly twice the height of an average human. Despite his age, his presence alone carried an overwhelming pressure. Thick, bushy white eyebrows shadowed sharp, battle-worn eyes, while a long, flowing white beard and mustache cascaded down his chest like a warrior's banner of time.
His head was completely bald, save for the unmistakable mark of his past battles—a deep dent carved into the crown of his skull, a grim reminder of a history filled with brutal clashes. Etched into his left temple was the number "12," a cold symbol of his former life that still clung to him like a scar that would never fade.
He wore a pale green shirt edged with white trim, left loosely open at the chest to reveal his broad frame and round, imposing belly. Paired with dark yellow trousers, his simple attire gave him a rugged, no-nonsense presence—like a man shaped by time, battles, and the open sea.
"Garp, you robbed me of my dream!!"
A wild, venomous glare burned in his eyes as his voice rose to a roar that shook the air itself.
"I will kill you, Garp!!"
Just then, the thunder of hurried footsteps echoed across the shattered landscape.
An anxious young man sprinted toward Chinjao, clutching two wanted posters so tightly they were nearly crumpled in his hands.
"Uncle Chinjao!!"
He skidded to a halt before the furious old man, breathing heavily as he thrust the posters forward.
"I found them! The two pirates you're looking for—Jack and Ryu!"
The wind caught the edges of the wanted posters, making them flutter ominously as Chinjao's burning gaze slowly fell upon the two faces sketches beneath their names.
The young man drew in a slow, steady breath, his chest rising as he forced calm into his nerves. In that brief moment of silence, he braced himself for whatever might come next—especially the furious outburst he expected from Chinjao.
Without hesitation, he stepped forward and extended his trembling hands.
"Here…" he said quietly, forcing the words out. "These are them."
The paper rustled in the wind as he offered them to Chinjao, the names printed on them carrying a weight heavy enough to darken the air itself.
Chinjao's gaze lingered on the wanted posters for a brief, suffocating moment.
Silence.
Then—
His head snapped back, and a deafening laugh erupted from deep within his chest.
"HOHOHOHOHO!"
Chinjao's laughter boomed across the ruins like a war drum.
"Excellent…!"
His grip tightened, the wanted posters crinkling in his hand as his eyes gleamed with feral intent.
"If I can't reclaim my long life treasure…" he snarled, voice dropping into something far more dangerous, "…then taking Captain Ning's treasure from those brats will do just fine!"
A wicked grin spread across his face as the air around him seemed to tremble with renewed hunger, as though his very presence was ready to ignite another storm.
"Meng!"
Chinjao's voice cracked through the air like a whip, silencing even the wind itself.
The young man flinched at the command.
"Go and prepare the ships," Chinjao continued, his grin still carved into his face like a madman's decree. "We are going to hunt those brats down."
The words hung heavy over Kano Country, sharp and absolute—like the start of a war that could no longer be stopped.
Meng smirked and nodded.
"Yes uncle, leave it to me."
Meng was a tanned young man with spiky black hair and sharp black eyes that carried a constant edge of focus. His sharply defined eyebrows gave him a fierce look, while his lean, muscular build hinted at a body honed through relentless training and harsh experience—like someone already shaped by the unforgiving seas.
Meng wore a black shirt lined with white trim, its dark fabric clinging lightly to his lean frame. Black trousers matched the rest of his outfit, tied together by a white sash around his waist. Heavy combat boots grounded his stance, giving him the look of a man always ready for battle at a moment's notice.
He spun on his heel without a single word, his expression unchanged. He vanished into the distance, moving swiftly to obey the command—heading straight for the docks, where the silent warships lay waiting.
Chinjao remained alone for a brief moment.
His eyes drifted once more to the wanted posters fluttering in his hand.
"Tch…"
With a sudden flick of his wrist, he tossed them into the air.
The papers spun wildly, caught by the wind like drifting petals of a storm.
Without a second glance, Chinjao turned and strode after Meng, his heavy steps shaking the ground beneath him—each one carrying the promise of a hunt soon to begin.
_________
In the open sea of West Blue
From hidden ports, forgotten coves, and lawless harbors, pirates raised their sails one after another.
Their ships sliced through the rolling waves in ever-growing numbers, closing in like a tidal swarm. Flags snapped violently in the wind above them, while aboard each vessel the crews armed themselves, their eyes burning with greed, and excitement.
Among them, four renowned pirate crews of the West Blue moved in unison with grim purpose, their reputations alone enough to silence entire West Blue sea. Each captain had heard the same rumor… the same promise of treasure worth tearing the world apart for.
The Chesskippa Pirates, moving with calculated precision, adjusted their formation like pieces on a battlefield, their ship cutting a clean, deliberate path through the sea.
Not far behind, the Byron Pirates roared across the waters, their vessel crashing over the waves with brute force, leaving frothing wake and shattered calm in its trail.
From deeper currents, the West Fishmen Pirates advanced with eerie speed beneath and above the surface alike, their silhouettes slipping through the ocean like predators answering a silent call.
And weaving between them all with chaotic agility, the Raccoon Pirates darted forward, their ship zigzagging wildly as laughter and reckless energy echoed across the deck.
All four crews raced toward the same destination—Bing Town—drawn together by rumor, greed, and the promise of Captain Ning's treasure worth igniting the entire West Blue.
The wind howled through their sails as hulls groaned under pressure, each vessel pushing beyond its limits in a desperate race toward Bing Town.
One of the galleons tore through the waves like a living predator.
Its bow was carved in the shape of a ferocious shark, its jagged edges splitting the sea as if it were flesh.
At the center of the deck stood a towering figure.
A blue-skinned, muscular Fish-Man with the traits of a shark stood imposing among them. His sharp, predatory black eyes gleamed with cold intent beneath a head of gray hair, giving him the aura of a sea beast that had long since learned how to hunt men as easily as prey.
The wind whipped across his frame as he gripped a massive halberd in one hand, its blade glinting coldly under the sun.
Despite the violent speed of the ship and the roaring ocean beneath them, the Fish-Man only smiled—a calm, almost serene expression that contrasted sharply with the chaos around him.
He was no ordinary figure—he was the captain the West Fishmen pirates.
His name is Kisame..
The name alone carried weight across the West Blue, whispered with caution in ports and black markets alike.
A bounty of 20,000,000 B hung over his head like a storm cloud—earned through brutal clashes, sunken ships, and the merciless way he commanded the tides of battle.
His grip tightened slightly around the massive halberd in his hand, but his expression never changed. That faint, serene smile remained as the shark-galleon roared forward at full speed.
Like a true predator of the deep, Kisame was not chasing prey…
He was heading toward a feast.
A calm footsteps approached Kisame from behind when he looked at who it was he gave a smile to his best friend and first mate.
"Gon, what is the matter you looked tense."
Gon was a brown Bullhead Shark Fish-Man, his broad, powerful frame radiating raw strength. Resting across his back was a massive cleaver, its weight no burden to him, as if it were nothing more than an extension of his own will beneath the waves.
"Kisame… I've got a bad feeling about this," he muttered lowly. "If we got the intel from the Underworld about those humans who stole Captain Ning's treasure… then there's no doubt—other pirates must've gotten the same information too."
"I wouldn't be surprised if every Mafia family in the Underworld has already received this intel… including the Happo Navy."
"If the Marines get involved, things are going to get troublesome, Kisame," he said grimly. "We can't predict how they'll react to Underworld intel… and I'm certain news of Captain Ning's treasure has already reached them through their spy network."
Kisame threw his head back and burst out in maniacal laughter.
"HAHAHAHA! Relax, Gon!" he laughed loudly, baring his teeth with confidence. "If those pathetic humans dare get in our way, I'll gladly remind them why we Fish-Men are the superior race!"
Gon let out a low chuckle, a twisted grin spreading across his face as a cold, malicious gleam flickered in his eyes.
"Have it your way, Kisame… but don't act recklessly," he said quietly. "I've got a bad feeling about this. This battle coming up… it won't be like any we've fought before."
Kisame grunted and nodded his head.
Not far away a galley shaped with a carved raccoon figurehead, a fat pirate captain stood proudly. A heavy black captain's coat draped over his shoulders, and a massive hammer rested casually against him, as if it weighed nothing at all.
He was known as Captain Raccoon, Don Jan—one of the four most notorious pirates in West Blue with a bounty of 18,000,000 B.
Don Jan was a tanned, middle-aged man with a bald head and thick black eyebrows that gave him a stern, rough-edged look. His upper body was left bare, revealing a fat frame, while loose brown buggy pants and heavy combat boots completed his rugged pirate appearance.
His eyes glinted with greed as his ship cut through the waves, the bow pointing steadily toward Bing Town.
"Captain Ning's treasure will be mine…" he growled, his eyes burning with greed. "Anyone who stands in my way… I'll kill them all."
Another galleon surged across the sea at full speed, slicing through the waves as it raced toward Bing Town—its hull marked by the unmistakable crest of the Chesskippa Pirates.
At the helm of the ship, the captain worked with unsettling calm, sharpening his daggers with slow, deliberate strokes while meticulously cleaning his pistols. A wide, vicious smirk never left his face, as though the coming chaos in Bing Town was already his to claim.
He was a middle-aged man dressed in a loose green shirt left unbuttoned, the fabric swaying in the sea breeze. Black buggy pants and worn brown boots completed his rugged attire, giving him the unmistakable look of a seasoned pirate who had long since made the oceans his battlefield.
He is a man known across the West Blue as the cruel Dean Captain Chesskippa. With a bounty of 16,000,000 Berries, his name was spoken with unease among merchants and sailors alike—proof of the ruthless path he had carved through the West Blue.
His crew moved with grim efficiency, readying their weapons as the ship surged forward. Sabres were sharpened with harsh scraping sounds, pistols checked and reloaded, and gunpowder carefully prepared—each pirate steeling themselves for the bloodshed that awaited ahead.
At that very moment, another galleon cut through the waves on a parallel course toward Bing Town. Not far from the Chesskippa Pirates' ship, the Byron Pirates advanced as well—its sails billowing as yet another storm of greed and ambition closed in on the same doomed destination.
When their paths finally crossed, silence shattered in an instant—followed by thunder.
Cannons roared from both sides as iron cannonballs tore through the sea air, splashing into the waves and smashing into hulls. In moments, the open waters erupted into chaos, turning the ocean itself into a battlefield as the two pirate ships clashed in brutal, unforgiving war.
"Fire."
"BOOM!, BOOM!, BOOM!, BOOM!, BOOM!"
__________
In Las Camp Town
A large number of mafia members lay scattered across the ground, their bodies marked with deep, brutal cuts. Some had already gone still, lifeless in the aftermath of the clash, while others clung desperately to the edge of death, their breaths faint and fading amid the wreckage of the battlefield.
The man let out a quiet sigh of disappointment as he took in the scene before him. He was Daz Bones—one of the most renowned assassins in the West Blue—his calm gaze unshaken despite the carnage, as if such bloodshed was nothing more than a wasted effort in his eyes.
Daz was a tanned, towering man with long, thin limbs and fingers, his tall frame deceptively wiry yet powerfully muscular. His head was completely shaven, drawing attention to his most striking feature—a thick black unibrow arching sharply above his round, watchful eyes. He had prominent, heavy lips and an archaic tattoo etched across his torso.
He wore a sleeveless dark coat trimmed with gold, its front decorated with white motifs that hinted at a refined yet dangerous taste. Beneath it hung very loose beige pants, secured at the waist by a white sash, with tufts of light brown fur peeking from its folds. The pants were tucked neatly into layers of bandages wrapped around his calves and partially over his shoes, giving him the unmistakable look of a man prepared for movement, combat, and death at any moment.
Daz began to walk forward, his expression completely devoid of emotion, eyes fixed coldly on his prey as he moved in to end it with a single clean strike. But mid-step, he paused.
From the chaos behind him, calm footsteps echoed—steady, unhurried, and entirely out of place on the blood-soaked battlefield.
"You're Daz Bones… the assassin, if I'm not mistaken… am I right?"
Daz narrowed his eyes, his calm gaze sharpening as it landed on the man before him. A strange figure, with long-tongued, he was Bege subordinate.
He stood there, unfazed by the carnage around them, as if the battlefield itself was beneath his concern.
"Who are you… and what do you want from me?"
Without a word, he flicked his wrist and tossed a pair of wanted posters through the air. They fluttered down before Daz each bearing the faces of Ryu and Jack, the inked portraits staring up like targets marked for death.
Daz caught the wanted posters with a swift motion, his fingers closing around the worn paper. His eyes narrowed at first—then suddenly widened as he read the bounties displayed. A flicker of surprise crossed his usually unreadable face, and his eyebrows lifted slightly, betraying a rare crack in his composure.
"20,000,000 Berries… each?" Daz muttered, his tone low and measured. His gaze sharpened as he looked up. "That's quite the surprise… What are you scheming?"
The long-tongued man let out a low, unsettling chuckle, his grin stretching wider—but he offered no answer. Instead, he simply stood there, amused, as if Daz's question was already part of a game only he understood.
"My name is Veto… I'm part of the Capone Family," he said with a faint grin. "You don't need to know our motives, Daz. Just answer me—are you willing to assassinate our targets, or not?"
Daz gave an evil smirk and nodded.
"I'd be a fool to turn down a 40,000,000 Berries reward," Daz said coldly. "I'll bring you both of their heads. Now tell me… where are they? I'll hunt them down immediately."
Veto let out a quiet, amused chuckle, his grin deepening as he regarded Daz with a knowing look.
"According to our intel," Veto said with a faint grin, "they're on their way to Bing Town right now."
Diaz gave a slow, deliberate nod as the information settled in. His expression remained calm, almost indifferent, before he finally spoke.
"Good… I'll go and hunt them down now," Diaz said coldly, his tone calm and unwavering as if he had already decided their fate.
Without another word, Diaz turned and walked away, his footsteps steady and unhurried as he made his way back to his ship. Soon after, he set sail from Las Camp Town, the vessel cutting through the waves as he vanished toward the horizon, already closing in on his next target.
__________
Soja Island
"WIHIHIHIHIHI!"
"BAAM!, BAAM!, BAAM!, BAAM!, BAAM!"
"AAAGGHH!, AAAGGHH!, AAAAGHHH!, AAAGGHH!"
With every heavy punch, the soldiers were blasted away like ragdolls, their bodies soaring through the air before crashing down hard. One by one, they collapsed across the ground, left motionless as the aftermath of raw, overwhelming strength settled over the battlefield.
"WIHIHIHIHIHI!" A young man laughed wildly, his voice echoing with madness. "I am the champion! You think you weaklings can stand against me? Now… it's time for me to finish the job!"
Just as the man raised his arm to crush the unconscious foe's skull, a sudden cough echoed from behind him—calm, deliberate, and completely unfazed by the carnage.
He paused mid-motion and slowly turned his head, his grin still lingering. Standing behind him was a subordinate of the Capone Family, watching the scene without a hint of fear, as if he had arrived exactly when he intended to.
"Jesus Burgass, I presume?"
Jesus raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting with mild surprise as he noticed the purple-haired man standing behind him. His gaze lingered for a moment, measuring the unexpected arrival amid the chaos.
"WIHIHIHIHIHI!" Jesus laughed wildly again, his grin stretching ear to ear. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?"
Jesus was an unusually tall and massive man, his broad chest and wide shoulders dominating his frame, while his lower body appeared comparatively lean. His tan skin and sheer muscular build gave him the presence of a seasoned fighter, honed for brutal close combat. Curly violet hair spilled down to his shoulders, framing a dark brown luchador-style mask adorned with orange patterns. The mask concealed the upper half of his face, leaving only his sharp eyes and nose visible—eyes that carried the quiet intensity of a man used to life and death battles.
"I am a member of the Capone Family," he said calmly. "My name is Getto."
"We'd like you to eliminate some special targets for us," he said plainly, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable undertone of business.
After speaking, Gotti flicked his wrist and tossed the wanted posters of Ryu and Jack toward Jesus. The papers fluttered through the air before drifting down between them, carrying the weight of two marked lives.
Jesus snatched the wanted posters from the air, his gaze immediately locking onto the bounties written across them. His eyes widened slightly in surprise… before a loud, booming laugh erupted from him, echoing through the battlefield as amusement overtook his expression.
"WIHIHIHIHIHI!" Jesus laughed wildly, his voice booming with excitement. "Interesting… I accept this job! Now tell me, Gotti—where are they right now?"
Gotti's lips curled into a faint smirk as he listened, and he gave a slow, satisfied nod of his head, as if everything was proceeding exactly as planned.
"According to our intel," Gotti said calmly, "they're sailing toward Bing Town right now."
"WIHIHIHIHIHI!"
Jesus didn't even bother to finish off his target. With a dismissive glance, he turned his back on the battlefield and began walking away, his footsteps steady and unhurried. Without another word, he returned to his ship and set sail from Soja Island, leaving chaos and unanswered questions behind him as the vessel cut through the open sea.
_________
In a medium size boat
Three figures rode together in a medium-sized boat as it cut through the waves. One of them was a fat, round-bodied man, loudly devouring a rack of meat as if he had no concern for anything else in the world. Goggles rested over his eyes, giving him a strangely focused yet carefree look as the sea wind blew across the deck.
He wore a green T-shirt patterned with white vertical stripes, matched by a bandanna tied around his head. Short white pants hung loosely on his frame, secured with a dark green sash at the waist. Green shoes lined with fur at the ankles completed his outfit, giving him a strange mix of comfort and rugged pirate style.
Beside him sat a man quietly smoking a cigarette, the thin trail of smoke curling into the sea breeze as he watched the waves with a calm, unreadable expression.
He is a tall, muscular man with a commanding presence, his frame built for battle and endurance. His long light-brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, keeping it out of his sharp, focused gaze. A large X-shaped scar marked his left temple, hinting at a brutal past he had survived. Resting casually over his shoulder was a rifle, treated with the ease of a man who never went anywhere unprepared.
He wore a black V-neck shirt with three-quarter sleeves, its dark fabric clinging lightly to his muscular frame. Loose cargo pants, fitted with numerous pockets, were tucked neatly into sturdy buckled boots. A sash wrapped around his waist completed his outfit, giving him the look of a seasoned fighter always prepared for anything the sea might bring.
In front of them sat a red-haired boy wearing a straw hat, his gaze fixed intently on the wanted posters of Ryu and Jack.
The boy appeared to be around Ryu's age, his youthful frame relaxed yet steady. He wore a simple white shirt left unbuttoned at the top, paired with brown buggy pants and worn sandals, giving him an unassuming appearance—though the calm in his eyes suggested there was more to him than met the eye.
The boy leaned his head back and suddenly burst into laughter, his voice carrying freely over the sea.
"DAHAHAHAHA!" the boy laughed loudly, his voice ringing out over the waves. "Interesting… a mafia family putting bounties on those guys' heads. I wonder what they did to get the mafia so worked up?"
The fat man, still chewing his meat, glanced over at the boy. After swallowing heavily, he wiped his mouth and spoke in a rough, tone.
"Shanks, if you're interested," the fat man said after swallowing another bite, "we can head to Lore City. It's not far from here… the Capone Family's base is in Lore City."
Shanks' eyes lit up with interest at those words. Then, with a sudden burst of excitement, he threw his head back and laughed loudly, his voice carrying freely over the sea breeze.
"DAHAHAHAHA!" Shanks laughed loudly, throwing his head back with excitement. "What are we waiting for? Let's go to Lore City and find out what those two troublemakers did to make a mafia put bounties on their heads!"
The man with the rifle let out a quiet sigh as he listened, his grip loosening slightly as he shook his head in mild resignation at the unfolding excitement.
"Why the sudden interest, Shanks?" the man with the rifle asked, exhaling a tired sigh. "You planning to invite them into the crew or something? We don't even know anything about those two."
"DAHAHAHAHA!" Shanks laughed loudly, shaking his head in amusement. Then, with a casual grin, he held up Ryu's wanted poster for the man to see.
"Look, Beck," Shanks said with a grin, holding up the poster, "this might just be a rough sketch… but this guy looks like a true warrior, a swordsman. And the other one… he looks like a shrewd mastermind. They're interesting." His eyes sparkled with curiosity. "I want to know what they did to make a mafia put bounties on their heads."
"My gut's telling me things are about to get very interesting in the West Blue… and those two are at the center of it," Shanks said with a grin, his tone light but certain. "I just want to be there when it all starts… it will be fun.."
Beck let out a low chuckle and gave a slight nod, while Roo burst into laughter beside him. Without another word, they adjusted their course, the crew quickly responding as the boat turned into the wind and set sail toward Lore City.
________