Who Said I'm Unarmed?

The air thickened, charged with the palpable tension between the two formidable men. Whitebeard's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't detect a trace of deceit or malice in the younger man before him. A momentary silence stretched, giving both the time to measure each other.

At this moment, a man with blue, flaming wings floated down from the sky and landed gracefully next to Whitebeard. The man was Marco, a youthful figure with striking blond hair, his eyes radiating the light of burning blue fire. In this arcane light, he appeared almost ethereal, like a creature of mythology.

Whitebeard turned to him. "Marco, what did you find out?"

"Father," Marco began, his voice tinged with regret, "Bloodbeard acted against your orders. He was trying to kidnap mermaids quietly. A mermaid escaped and alerted the guards. When the bells rang out, the Pirate Hunter arrived and dealt with Bloodbeard and his crew."

Whitebeard's eyes met Jack's. With a jarring thud, he slammed the butt of his naginata into the ground. The entire area shook, as if the island itself had been slapped awake. Yet, Jack's stance remained unyielding, his gaze unwavering.

"Why are you protecting this island?" Whitebeard asked.

Jack smiled, a glint of something inscrutable in his deep blue eyes. "For the same reason I'm the Pirate Hunter."

Whitebeard's eyes crinkled in curiosity. "For goodness?"

Jack shook his head, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "Because I feel like it."

Whitebeard looked momentarily surprised, then a hearty laugh erupted from his chest. "Gurararara! So, if I were to attack?"

Jack's eyes became as turbulent as a stormy sea. "I'd fight to delay you. But let's not kid ourselves. I know I can't beat you."

Whitebeard nodded solemnly. "But you wouldn't die to protect this land?"

Jack's expression remained level. "If I die, I die. If I live, I'll fight another day."

For the first time, Whitebeard looked genuinely taken aback. The logic seemed cowardly at first glance but, on deeper reflection, it revealed an astute pragmatism. Jack wasn't running from a fight; he was calculating the odds and planning for the future.

"So you're not here on some lofty principle?" Whitebeard probed, studying Jack's serene face for a trace of idealism.

"No, just practicalities," Jack answered, his eyes still locked onto Whitebeard's. "I have my reasons, and you have yours. If those men had followed your orders, they'd still be alive."

"An eye for an eye, then?" Whitebeard grumbled.

"Justice, as I see it," Jack replied, his eyes turning stormier with each word.

Whitebeard sighed deeply. The air between them seemed to ease, as if some unsaid agreement had been reached. "You are indeed not what I expected, Pirate Hunter. But perhaps, that's a good thing."

Jack's eyes returned to their calm blue hue. "Expectations often lead to disappointments."

The tension that had gripped the air began to dissipate. Whitebeard picked up his naginata and pointed it skyward. "Then let this be our first and last meeting as potential adversaries."

Jack nodded. "Agreed. May your seas be ever calm, Whitebeard."

"And may your hunt be ever successful," Whitebeard returned, turning away to rejoin his crew.

Whitebeard then turned back to Jack, his eyes piercing through the night like two lanterns ablaze on a ship's bow. "Boy, you should know Observation Haki can see through facades. I can tell you want to protect this land, but your strength, fame, and crew are insufficient. Let my flag fly on this island, and you can continue to protect it as you wish."

Jack considered Whitebeard's words. His fame was not widespread, and his crew—though dearly loved—was not sufficient to protect Fishman Island like Whitebeard could. Above all, he understood that his own strength was not in the same league as the man before him.

"Agreed," Jack finally nodded, his eyes back to their calm blue hue. "Your flag can offer what mine currently can't."

Whitebeard grinned, the corners of his eyes creasing in satisfaction. "Wise decision. Marco, make arrangements."

Marco nodded, his blue flames flickering like ethereal birds as he moved to carry out the orders.

"But," Jack continued, locking eyes with Whitebeard once more, "if your men act against your principles again, it won't matter whose flag they're under. I'll deal with them. Are we clear?"

Whitebeard considered this, his eyes scrutinizing the man before him. Finally, he nodded. "Crystal. Men under my flag don't disobey orders twice."

"As long as that holds true, we won't have an issue," Jack replied, his voice unwavering.

For a moment, both men stood in a mutual understanding, their auras intermingling like converging tides. Whitebeard turned to his crew, signaling them to board their ship.

Whitebeard turned to look at where Roger and Rayleigh were hiding but didn't say anything as he and his crew boarded their ship. As the vessel set sail, Roger and Rayleigh emerged from the shadows. Roger's grin was infectious as he looked at Jack.

"You didn't fight with Whitebeard, so now we can fight," Roger said, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Jack sighed, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. There was no talking Roger out of this; the man lived for battle as much as he did. "I suppose some action wouldn't hurt," Jack admitted, his eyes flickering into the stormy blue that signaled his readiness for combat.

Roger's laugh filled the night air as he took his battle stance, his own eyes shining with excitement. "Then let's make it a memorable one!"

As Jack and Roger squared off, a subtle grin crossed Roger's face. The tension in the air seemed almost like an electric charge, crackling between them.

Roger unsheathed his cutlass with a flourish, testing its weight in his hand as if it were an extension of his arm. "Are you sure you don't want to use a weapon? Fists against a blade may not be the best idea."

Jack chuckled lightly, flexing his knuckles. "Who said I'm unarmed?"

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