Jinbe's Revelation #176

The following day dawned, a fresh canvas for new experiences and unfolding tales. The sun's gentle rays bathed The Silver Gale's deck in a warm, golden light, a tranquil setting for the day's activities.

Cedric's lips curled into a contented smile as his eyes fixated on the scene unfolding before him. Nico Robinstood near the ship's railing, her demeanor gentle and composed. In her hands, a succession of fish was offered to Chuchun, the enigmatic and gigantic super sparrow that had come to occupy a unique place within their crew.

With each offering, Chuchun demonstrated a peculiar pattern. The fish, once consumed, was followed by an affectionate nuzzle of his head against Robin's stomach. A rhythmic chirping emerged from the bird's beak, a sound that resonated with contentment and camaraderie.

Cedric couldn't help but chuckle inwardly, his mind contemplating the enigma of a predatory bird behaving in such an affectionate manner. It was honestly baffling to Cedric how Chuchun had warmed up to Robin so fast, despite wanting nothing to do with Duval and Kieran.

The camaraderie continued, a silent understanding shared between Robin and Chuchun as they navigated this unexpected companionship. The super sparrow's behavior, at odds with his fearsome reputation, made Cedric shake his head in exasperation.

As Cedric's attention shifted, his gaze alighted on Den, the master shipwright and sea forest researcher from Fishman Island. Cedric's curiosity stirred, and he directed his inquiry towards Den, his voice carrying the easy camaraderie that marked their interactions.

"So... how's the ship coming along?" Cedric's words were tinged with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation, his genuine interest evident.

Den's response came in the form of a warm smile, reflecting his pride in the ship's progress. "Quite well, if I do say so myself," he replied. The casual shrug that accompanied his words spoke volumes about his humility despite his impressive skills. "Iceburg really takes after his teacher..."

Den's eyes held a glint of excitement, and he added, "You might want to start thinking about a name already..."

Cedric's response was marked by a good-natured shake of his head, his gaze steady as it met Den's. "Can't rightly name something I haven't seen, can I?" he mused, a playful grin dancing on his lips. "I'll name her when I see her..." His words held a hint of anticipation, a sense that the ship's unveiling would mark a special moment.

Cedric's sentiment found its resonance in Den's understanding. "Fair enough," Den conceded, his tone carrying a touch of agreement. He recognized the significance of a name, its ability to encapsulate the ship's essence and the adventures it would undertake.

With a graceful motion, Den rose from his seat, his movements purposeful and resolute. "But I've wasted enough time dallying about," he stated, his words decisive. The ship awaited its completion, and Den's dedication demanded his presence. "Time to get back to work.."

...

In the heart of Dressrosa, within the confines of a lavish study, Donquixote Doflamingo, the enigmatic and ruthless king of Dressrosa, reposed behind his desk. His countenance was a canvas of amusement, a wide grin playing across his features as he perused an article that detailed an event of utmost significance within the world of pirates.

The article narrated the fall of Sir Crocodile, a former Warlord of the Sea, at the hands of an ostensibly inconsequential rear admiral from the ranks of the Marines. Doflamingo's laughter resonated through the room, a mixture of genuine amusement and an undercurrent of malicious delight. "As expected of the world government," he quipped, his tone laced with a touch of sarcasm. "They're quick to cover their fuck-ups..."

In the midst of this moment of mirth, Trebol, a loyal member of Doflamingo's inner circle, shared in his amusement. His presence in the room was marked by a chuckle, a sound that underscored his loyalty to the whims of the man behind the desk. "They even had to give the credit to some small fry marine from South Blue," Trebol remarked.

"Still," he continued, "that brat turned out to be more troublesome than you thought. He even took down Crocodile, neh, Doffy?"

Trebol's inquisitive gaze rested on Doflamingo, seeking affirmation or perhaps a hint of the larger plan at play. He approached Doflamingo closely, his proximity almost invasive as he inched his face toward his superior. "Maybe I should go after him myself...?" Trebol suggested the eagerness in his voice evident.

Doflamingo's response was delivered with an air of nonchalance. He calmly extended a hand, using gentle force to push Trebol away from him. "Too close," he retorted, his tone carrying an undertone of warning.

Yet, Doflamingo's grin remained steadfast, unshaken by the interlude. He affirmed his stance with a simple statement, the nonchalant dismissal of a chess piece no longer of use. "I'm done wasting my time and resources on that brat," he declared. His certainty reverberated through his words, a sentiment that brooked no argument.

Trebol's perplexed expression only deepened as he regarded Doflamingo's resolve. He tilted his head slightly, his form mirroring his confusion, a line of snot trailing from his nose quivering in tandem with his gesture. Seeking clarity, he queried, "Are you planning on letting him go scot-free, Doffy?"

Doflamingo's head shook, a ripple of amusement echoing in his voice. "Who the hell do you think I am?" he questioned, his grin unwavering as he turned his attention toward a particular item resting on his opulent desk. There, amidst the grandeur of his study, lay Cedric's wanted poster.

With an air of casual confidence, Doflamingo's fingers hovered over the edge of the poster, his touch as calculating as it was nonchalant. "The brat will come to the New World sooner or later," he mused aloud, his words a proclamation of inevitability.

In a seamless motion, Doflamingo's hand stretched out, his palm open and inviting as it gestured toward the poster. His eyes gleamed with an intensity that bordered on excitement, a predator sensing the approach of its prey. "And when that happens..." he added, his voice trailing off with a tantalizing hint of anticipation.

Doflamingo's hand closed into a fist, a motion executed with both precision and intent. The wanted poster that bore Cedric's image responded to his will. A tear echoed through the room, the sound of paper yielding ripping into many pieces.

The remnants of the poster danced through the air, scattered fragments of paper carrying the weight of a promise. Doflamingo's gaze remained fixed on the scattered pieces, his grin transformed into a feral smile—a gesture that hinted at the myriad possibilities that lay ahead.

In the vast expanse of the New World, atop the imposing vessel known as Moby Dick, a peculiar scene unfolded. The atmosphere hummed with a unique blend of camaraderie and anticipation, embodying the spirit of the Whitebeard Pirates.

Jinbe leaped onto the main deck straight from the sea, his presence triggering a ripple of recognition and warm smiles among the Whitebeard Pirates.

He bore a large, spherical container, its contents a potent spirit that was sure to be welcomed among this crew of formidable individuals. As Jinbe moved with purpose toward the heart of the deck, the crew members offered nods and friendly gestures, acknowledging his arrival.

Amidst the familiarity and conviviality, one figure remained distinct—the formidable Whitebeard himself. Unlike his comrades who greeted Jinbe with open warmth, Whitebeard's expression bore a hint of displeasure. As he observed Jinbe's approach, his massive frame seemed to exude an aura of authority that transcended mere physical presence.

With a deep furrow in his brow, Whitebeard addressed Jinbe, his voice carrying a weight that matched his stature. "I tolerate you despite your warlord status because of my friendship with Neptune, Jinbe..." he began, his words measured. His gaze remained fixed on Jinbe, his eyes keenly observing the man before him. "But haven't you been showing up to my ship too often lately?"

Jinbe, undeterred by the imposing aura of Whitebeard, continued his deliberate approach. His expression retained a calm and composed demeanor as he drew nearer to the captain. Placing the container of alcohol on the ground, Jinbe executed a respectful bow—a gesture that reflected both his adherence to hierarchy and his respect for the man before him.

"I don't wish to intrude either, pops," he began, his voice carrying a tone of respect and earnestness. "But I have big news..."

Whitebeard's stern expression softened somewhat, his features relaxing as he recognized the sincerity in Jinbe's approach. "Tne it can't be helped..." He motioned for Jinbe to raise his head, an unspoken invitation for the helmsman to continue. "What do you have to say?" Whitebeard inquired his voice a blend of curiosity and authority.

Jinbe met Whitebeard's gaze directly, his own countenance a reflection of unwavering determination. "Well, one of the seven warlords of the sea, Crocodile, was recently defeated..." he announced, his words punctuating the air with a gravity that resonated even among this assembly of powerhouses.

Whitebeard's reaction was not immediate, his expression shifting from curiosity to a subtle frown. The news of a warlord's defeat was not something he would typically consider significant enough to warrant his attention. If Jinbe had any other name, Whitebeard would have most likely responded by picking him up and throwing him into the sea.

However, as the emperor's thoughts shifted, a memory emerged—of a past encounter with Crocodile, a confrontation that had been far from inconsequential.

Though he stood no chance against Whitebeard at the time, Crocodile was not a pirate who could be easily dismissed or underestimated.

"Oh? That brat was defeated..." Whitebeared asked, to which Jinbe promptly nodded. A smile graced Whitebeard's lips as he asked, "By who?"

...

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