New Job (I)

Well, this was a total shitshow.

Sukiyaki had a couple of broken bones, Otama was knocked unconscious, and Marco was glaring at me like he wanted to incinerate me on the spot. His blue flames were already at work healing Sukiyaki, but that didn't lessen the intensity of his anger. Sukiyaki, however, wasn't as shaken as I expected. In fact, he looked more amazed than anything else.

"You can use the advanced form of Conqueror's Haki," Sukiyaki said, his voice filled with surprise.

"Yes," I replied while inspecting my new sword. "You seem to know about it."

"My son could use it too," Sukiyaki continued, his tone tinged with nostalgia. "Whenever he used it, dark red lightning would emanate from his body and his swords, just like yours."

Marco, however, wasn't in the mood for reminiscing. His voice was sharp as he shouted, "Why the hell did you use it here? There's a kid living in this house!"

I glanced at Otama, her small frame unconscious in the corner, and sighed. "I can't fully control the output when I use the advanced form. Don't worry. I only used it for a fraction of a second. She'll be fine. Besides, your flames can heal the old man, right?"

Marco's glare intensified. "That still doesn't make it okay!"

He nagged at me for several more minutes, but honestly, I wasn't paying attention. My focus was entirely on Nidai Kitetsu. The sword was old—at least 400 years old—but its craftsmanship was exquisite, easily surpassing Sandai Kitetsu. It felt alive in my hands, brimming with a potent bloodlust. This sword was magnificent, but it wasn't my ultimate goal.

My true prize lay with Shodai Kitetsu, the first of the Kitetsu line and the only Supreme Grade katana I knew of. Acquiring it would be infinitely harder. After all, it belonged to Saint Ethanbaron V. Nusjuro, a man standing near the very top of this world's power structure. If my theory was correct, Shodai Kitetsu was likely forged during the Void Century, making it a blade over 800 years old. For now, though, Nidai Kitetsu was a worthy addition to my arsenal. I'd test its full power once we reached the Whitebeard stronghold.

We decided to stay the night at Sukiyaki's home and leave in the morning. As everyone else slept, I slipped out of the house with Nidai Kitetsu and Kurogane. I'd discarded the cheap sword I picked up in Sabaody; it had served its purpose, but it wasn't worth keeping. Kurogane, however, was different. This sword had been with me through thick and thin. It had tasted the blood in my heart and carried me through countless battles. It deserved a proper farewell.

Wano, the land of samurai, was the perfect resting place for such a blade. Infusing Kurogane with my haki, I stabbed it deep into the ground. The ceremony was simple, yet it stirred a storm of emotions within me. I had left my crew, changed my sword, and taken a step further from my past. It felt like I was shedding my old self and becoming someone new, someone different. It wasn't easy to let go, but my resolve didn't falter.

I will give everything I have for my ambition—no matter the cost.

---

The next morning, we set out. Sukiyaki wished us luck, and Otama, fully recovered, urged us to return to Wano someday. Both of them were fine now, but I couldn't help but think about what might have happened if I'd used my haki for even ten seconds longer. The entire house would have been destroyed. The sheer power of advanced Conqueror's Haki was terrifying. I needed to be mindful of my surroundings if I wanted to use it again.

As we left Kaido's territory, Marco finally broke the silence. "Conqueror's Haki, huh? You don't see that every day. The advanced form is even rarer. Seems you weren't bluffing about surviving against a Yonko."

"Don't be so sure of it," I replied with a shrug. "My control is still terrible."

"But your haki is intense—like 'Red-Haired' Shanks," Marco remarked.

I gave him a faint smile. "Thanks for the compliment, but I'm nowhere near that man's level. Besides, I don't think he ever goes all out."

Marco laughed. "You might be right about that." Then, after a pause, he added, "Ace has brought an interesting ally to our side. You should join our crew. With your strength, you could be a commander right away."

I shook my head. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm not joining any crew for the foreseeable future."

"Have it your way," Marco said with a shrug.

We reached Whitebeard's fleet at noon. The Moby Dick was majestic. While the Sunny had a lot of technological features due to the courtesy of Franky, the Moby Dick was a different thing altogether. Its sheer size spoke volumes of the fact that it carried the strongest man alive. A ship that was the beacon of hope for its allies and an omen of terror for its enemies.

It was simply phenomenal.

Marco dropped me off on the deck and returned to his human form. I noticed the division commanders lined up in two rows, their presence radiating power. Marco must have informed them of my arrival beforehand. Their combined aura was suffocating, each one strong enough to stand against a Vice Admiral. But no matter how intimidating they were, their presence paled in comparison to the man seated at the center of the deck.

Edward Newgate—Whitebeard.

Even seated, he towered over everyone else. His body was covered in scars, each a testament to countless battles. His massive naginata, Murakumogiri, stood by his side, radiating the same commanding presence as its wielder. Despite the medical equipment surrounding him, a sign of his declining health, his raw power was undeniable. This was a Yonko. No—this was the strongest man alive.

My instincts screamed at me to run. Every fiber of my being told me to back down. But instead, my lips curved upward, my heart pounded with excitement, and one question burned in my mind.

Can I survive against this man if I give it my all?

Whitebeard noticed the fighting spirit in my eyes and grinned. His booming voice cut through the tension.

"Why are you here, brat?"

I stepped forward, standing tall despite the pressure. "I want to help in your war. For a price, of course."

Izo, the 16th Division Commander, scoffed. "Like a mercenary."

"Mercenary is such an ugly word," I replied with a smirk. "I prefer 'freelancer.'"

"Someone who works for the highest bidder," added Jozu, the 3rd Division Commander, his voice sharp.

"Not necessarily," I said, my tone serious. "This war is personal. There's someone I want to kill. But more importantly, Ace is my friend. I can't sit by and watch my friend die without doing something."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Whitebeard let out a booming laugh that shook the ship.

"Gurararara! Young brats these days sure have big mouths! You'll help in this war, you say? You're too weak to do anything."

With a speed that betrayed his size, Whitebeard grabbed his Murakumogiri and slashed at me, his attack carrying the weight of a mountain. No haki was used in the attack. Just pure raw physical strength. Strength of a man who can stop a ship with just his bare hands.

Well, this was to be expected from him. After all, he had a bit of a bad habit of testing new blood. So, I was already ready.

As the colossal blade came toward me, I flipped my katana and performed a precise vertical draw. Nidai Kitetsu met Murakumogiri mid-swing, the clash creating a shockwave that rippled through the air. My raw physical strength wasn't enough to parry his attack. But that didn't mean I couldn't hold my own. To an observer, it would seem like we were in a stalemate. But it was anything but that. He wasn't even using ten percent of his power. He was underestimating me, and that hurt my pride.

I smirked, my voice tinged with arrogance. "Holding back so much, old man? Aren't you underestimating me quite a bit?"

Dark red lightning crackled around me as I unleashed my Conqueror's Haki, infusing it into Nidai Kitetsu. The slim katana glowed menacingly, its blade a swirling mix of black and crimson. For a moment, I managed to push Whitebeard's weapon back an inch. But then his strength surged, and cracks formed in the air around his blade. Cracks that signified an attack of unimaginable proportion.

Gura Gura no Mi.

Whitebeard's grin widened as he unleashed his devil fruit power. The air vibrated with destructive energy, and I realized this wasn't just a test—this was a symbol of recognition.

Chaos unfolded around us as my haki destroyed everything it came in contact with and the sea itself shook from the quake generated by Whitebeard.

The weak-willed ones dropped to the ground, and the whole fleet went on high alert. The commanders started shouting beside us.

"Color of the Supreme King!"

"Pops, the ship can't take any more damage!"

"Control your strengths!"

Both of us realized that if we continue any longer, there will be casualties. The commanders will be fine; this level of power isn't something that they can't handle. But it can't be said the same for the others.

Whitebeard was the one to retract his attack first, and I followed suit. The sea calmed down, and the red hue around me went away.

Whitebeard didn't infuse conqueror's haki with his attack. No, it wasn't that he didn't; it's just he can't. It seems his health condition is worse than I thought. So much raw strength while not even giving it his all. The admiration for this man intensified in my mind. 

"You still held back, old man." I said with a huge grin plastered on my face.

"Gurararara! I don't want to kill such a promising young star right now. Your haki is certainly intense."

"Yeah. But I can't still control the level I want to release. So, there might be some collateral damage. Sorry for that."

The commanders were still surprised, but not Whitebeard. He seemed amused, almost as if he'd found a new toy. He had seen way too much in his lifetime to be surprised by meager conqueror's haki.

Whitebeard looked at me dead in the eyes and asked,

"So, tell me, brat, what position do you want?"

I had already thought about this question before. And I've come to a conclusion about what my part should be in this war. A position that will give me the most advantage.

"Make me your Chief Tactician."