The boy awoke to the creak of wood and the faint rocking of waves. His body ached, heavy and cold, every muscle screaming as if it had been torn apart and stitched back together with frost.
He blinked slowly, vision adjusting to the dim lantern light above. The walls were uneven, patched with rotting boards. A damp smell clung to the air. It wasn't a palace, nor a shrine—it was a low-budget medic cabin, little more than planks and crates repurposed into a sick bay.
The cot beneath him groaned when he shifted. His chest rose and fell raggedly, violet eyes fluttering open.
A pirate, one of Xebec's men, had been slouched lazily in the corner, half-asleep at his post. But when the boy stirred, the man's eyes snapped open. His jaw dropped.
"You—! You're awake!"
The boy just stared blankly, still fogged with exhaustion and cold.
The pirate bolted upright, nearly knocking over the lantern. "I gotta tell the captain!" He sprinted out of the cabin, boots hammering against the deck as his voice carried down the corridors.
In the mess hall, Xebec and Whitebeard sat across from one another, a mountain of empty bottles between them. Xebec was already laughing at some crude joke, slamming his fist against the table hard enough to splinter the wood.
The door burst open.
"Captain! The boy—he's awake!"
Xebec's grin froze. Whitebeard's brows furrowed. For the first time since the battle, silence fell between them.
Xebec rose in an instant, his chair toppling. "Tch. About damn time. Kuahahaha!" His laughter returned, booming and raw. "Let's see what kind of brat survived that."
Whitebeard stood as well, slower, but with a measured weight. His eyes narrowed—not with amusement, but caution.
The medic cabin door creaked open under Xebec's hand. He ducked under the frame, Whitebeard filling the doorway behind him like a looming mountain.
The boy sat upright now, pale, violet eyes dull but steady. His hands rested on his lap, fingers twitching faintly as if still adjusting to having a body again.
Whitebeard was the first to speak, his deep voice filling the cramped space.
"What's your name, boy?"
The boy blinked. His lips parted, but no words came. His brows furrowed, face scrunching in thought. It was as if his mind was reaching into a fog, grasping for fragments that refused to surface.
Xebec grinned wider, crossing his arms. "Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you don't got one, eh?"
The boy ignored him, eyes tightening with effort. Seconds stretched. The air in the cabin thickened as both pirates studied him.
Then, softly, haltingly—
"…Nerona."
The name slipped out like a ghost.
Whitebeard tilted his head, unfamiliar with it. But Xebec—
Xebec froze.
His eyes widened, his grin faltering for the first time. He leaned forward, every trace of drunken amusement gone.
"Say that again, brat."
The boy's gaze sharpened faintly, as though clarity had returned.
"My name is… Nerona Jinx."
The cabin fell into a suffocating silence.
Whitebeard's brow furrowed, confusion plain. But Xebec's expression—his wild eyes, his clenched jaw—spoke volumes. His grin returned, but this time it was strained, manic.
"Kuahahaha… You've got guts, brat, saying a name like that."
Whitebeard turned, his voice low. "What's he talking about, Xebec?"
Xebec's eyes never left the boy, his grin twitching.
"There's only one other soul in this world who carries the name Nerona. And that ain't a name the seas should ever hear."
Whitebeard's chest tightened, his voice dropping into a rumble. "…Who?"
Xebec leaned forward, shadow falling over the boy who now sat silently, violet eyes unblinking. His voice came out like a growl, raw with both awe and rage.
"Imu. The true ruler of the world."
The lantern flame flickered violently as if the very ship itself recoiled at the name.
And for the first time since the battle, even Xebec's laughter sounded uneasy.
The medic cabin was silent but for the creak of the hull and the faint whistle of the storm outside. The boy—Nerona Jinx—sat unmoving, his violet eyes cold but unreadable.
Whitebeard's gaze stayed fixed on him, but his mind churned. Xebec's words had sunk into him like a harpoon, dragging old tales and whispers from the depths of history.
At last, Whitebeard broke the silence, his voice low and measured.
"Xebec… you said there's only one other with that name. Imu. The ruler of the World Government."
Xebec snorted, grinning, though there was a wild edge to it now. "Aye. Hidden above kings and Celestial Dragons alike. The true tyrant. Imu Nerona. The name's cursed—known by only a handful of fools who lived long enough to regret it."
Whitebeard's eyes narrowed, thoughts knitting together. He leaned forward slightly, his towering frame casting the boy in shadow.
"…How long, Xebec? How long has this Imu ruled from the shadows?"
Xebec blinked, his grin twitching. He hadn't expected the question, but he saw no reason to lie. Besides, he wanted to see where Whitebeard was going with this.
"Histories say nine centuries. Nine hundred years of strings pulled by invisible hands. Why? What of it?"
The air seemed to still. Even the lantern flame wavered as though holding its breath.
Whitebeard exhaled slowly, the weight of the thought pressing down on him like a mountain. His voice came heavy, grave.
"If one with that name has walked this world for nine hundred years… then this boy—" His eyes shifted back to Jinx, narrowing as if staring past his flesh into the truth beneath.
"—he shouldn't exist. Not here. Not now. Unless…"
He straightened, the realization crashing into him with the force of a quake.
"…Unless this boy too is from that time. The Void Century."
Xebec's eyes widened, the grin slipping for just a heartbeat before twisting back into something manic. He barked out a laugh, though there was a raw edge of awe in it.
"Kuahahaha! A brat torn out of nine hundred years ago? That explains the storm, the fox, the deathly haki… and that cursed name!"
The boy—Jinx—shifted faintly on the cot, his expression still blank, but the faintest crease appeared in his brow, as though he himself was trying to grasp the truth of Whitebeard's words.
Whitebeard's deep voice rumbled again, quieter now, but heavy with finality.
"If his name is Nerona Jinx… then he carries the bloodline of Imu. That means he doesn't just belong to the Void Century. He's tied to the same curse that still rules the world."
The lantern sputtered. The ship groaned against the waves.
And in that cramped medic cabin, both Rocks D. Xebec and Whitebeard realized they were sitting across from something that history itself had buried—something that should have never awakened again.
The lantern hissed softly, its flame bending with each groan of the ship. Xebec's manic grin and Whitebeard's grim silence clashed in the small cabin, both men processing the weight of what had just been said.
Then—
The boy stirred.
His violet eyes, distant and cold, blinked slowly as he looked at the two titans before him. For the first time since waking, his lips parted. His voice was quiet, raw, but carried a strange clarity that cut through the room like ice.
"…I don't remember much."
Both pirates turned sharply toward him. Xebec leaned forward, his grin sharpening, while Whitebeard's brow furrowed deeper.
The boy's gaze unfocused, as though his mind reached into a fog centuries thick. His tone grew heavier, fragments of memory pressing against his tongue.
"But… I do remember… I had an older sister."
Whitebeard stiffened. Xebec's grin faltered, if only for a heartbeat.
The boy's next words dropped like stones into the silence.
"Her name was… Imu. She was the head of our family."
The name hung in the air, poisonous, undeniable.
Xebec's wild eyes widened. His grin twisted into something darker, edged with awe and lunacy. He slammed a fist against the wall, the wood cracking beneath his strength.
"Kuahahaha! So it's true! The brat's blood runs with the same cursed name as the one who rules the world even now!"
Whitebeard didn't laugh. He studied the boy, his massive frame still as stone. There was no mockery in his gaze, only a heavy, sinking dread.
"…If Imu was your sister… then you, boy, carry the same shadow as her. A shadow from nine hundred years ago."
The boy—Nerona Jinx—said nothing more. His eyes flickered with faint confusion, like a child staring at fragments of a broken mirror, but there was also something else buried in that gaze.
A familiarity with death.
A silence deeper than memory.
The cabin felt colder than before, as though the sea itself recoiled at the truths spoken within.
The cabin remained heavy with silence. Only the creak of the hull and the faint hiss of the lantern filled the air. Jinx's quiet admission still lingered—Imu, older sister, head of the family—and it pressed against the air like the ghost of the Void Century itself.
Xebec leaned back slowly, his grin fading into something rare for him—thought. His wild eyes narrowed, and for nearly a minute the room was filled only with his ragged breathing as he stared at the boy.
Then, with a low chuckle, his grin returned. Bigger. Wilder.
"Kuahahaha… A brat with death in his veins and a cursed name tied to the throne of the world…" He slammed his fist into his palm, shaking the cabin. "Perfect! That's exactly the kind of monster I want at my side!"
Whitebeard's jaw tightened. "Xebec—"
But the captain ignored him. He leaned forward, shadows stretching across his face, and fixed his manic gaze on the boy.
"Listen, brat. You've got two paths ahead. You can waste away as some relic of the past, forgotten and buried again… or you can carve your name into history as part of my crew."
He jabbed a finger toward himself, voice booming with raw command.
"I'm offering you a place, not as some deckhand or fodder—but as my left hand. Newgate is my right. You'll stand opposite him. You'll be my third pillar."
The weight of his words hung in the air like a war drum.
Jinx sat on the cot, unmoving, violet eyes blank. His face betrayed nothing as he stared at the pirate captain before him. Seconds stretched into a minute. His fingers twitched faintly against his knees, as though some deeper part of him struggled with the choice.
Whitebeard's gaze stayed fixed on him, unease prickling his instincts. He didn't speak—because part of him already knew what the boy would say.
Finally, Jinx blinked. His lips parted.
"…I'll join."
His voice was quiet, hollow, but steady.
Xebec's grin split wide, laughter exploding out of him, shaking the cabin.
"Kuahahahahaha! That's it! That's the spirit!"
He thrust out his hand, palm wide, veins bulging with manic pride. His voice roared with triumph.
"Then welcome to my crew, Nerona Jinx—the left hand of Rocks D. Xebec!"
The boy hesitated only for a moment longer. Then, slowly, he raised his own hand. His grip was weaker than a pirate's, colder than a corpse's—but he clasped Xebec's hand all the same.
The shake sealed the pact.
Whitebeard watched the scene in silence, his massive frame still as a statue. The boy's violet eyes met Xebec's for a flicker of a moment—calm, detached, like a shadow waiting for its purpose.
The air felt colder than before.
Whitebeard's thoughts turned heavy.
Left hand… right hand… and the man in the middle. Three pillars strong enough to shake the seas. But what have we brought aboard? A weapon against the World Government… or a curse none of us can control?
The lantern flickered violently, as though the ship itself sensed the storm that had just been born.
Whitebeard leaned against the cabin's wall, his massive frame hunched awkwardly in the cramped space. His gaze flicked between Xebec's manic grin and the boy sitting quietly on the cot. A thought suddenly struck him.
"Boy," Whitebeard rumbled, his deep voice filling the silence, "do you remember your abilities? Anything about what you can do?"
Jinx tilted his head, one pale hand rising to his chin. His violet eyes drifted toward the lantern's flame, distant, thoughtful. Seconds passed in silence.
Then he looked back at Whitebeard—
—and his eyes glowed faintly.
"I don't remember much," Jinx said softly. "But… why does your soul feel… electric?"
Whitebeard's brows furrowed. Xebec snorted in amusement, though even he was confused. Neither of them had ever heard such words before—souls weren't something men could see, let alone touch.
Slowly, Jinx rose to his feet. He had to crane his neck back—Whitebeard was still crouched, his head brushing the ceiling beams, yet even bent, he was easily more than twice Jinx's height.
The boy stepped closer, his bare feet silent on the wood. Without hesitation, he placed one small, cold hand on Whitebeard's massive forearm.
Whitebeard stiffened.
A light blue glow spread from Jinx's palm, seeping into Whitebeard's skin like water soaking through dry earth. The warmth was unfamiliar, alien—yet not hostile. It spread through his veins, into his chest, his heart, his bones. His breath caught. For a moment, his immense strength felt as if it was being mirrored back at him in a different form—like a current of life brushing against his soul.
Then—
CRACK-THOOM!
A sudden clap of thunder boomed through the ship, deafening, echoing in every man's skull. The hull groaned, timbers rattling as the vessel lurched violently beneath them.
"What the hell?!" Xebec barked, pushing past the cot.
The ship rocked harder, as if the sea itself had risen against them.
All three rushed to the deck, Jinx clinging to Whitebeard's neck, his small body draped over the giant's broad back.
When they burst into the open air, the sight that greeted them was chaos incarnate.
A storm of impossible scale raged around the ship. Mountain-sized waves rose like walls of glassy death, crashing down with enough force to drown fleets. The skies boiled with black clouds, lightning striking the sea every few seconds, each bolt so bright it turned the storm into a nightmare of strobe flashes. Rain lashed against the deck like whips, the wind howling as if a god's scream tore through the Grand Line.
Xebec's grin faltered, his eyes narrowing with genuine shock.
"What the hell kind of storm is this?! The Grand Line's seas are wild, aye—but not like this. Not… instant."
One of the crew stumbled forward, pale and drenched. "C-Captain! The storm—it appeared just a minute ago! Outta nowhere!"
Whitebeard's chest tightened, realization dawning. His gaze turned to the boy clinging to him, violet eyes calm even amidst the chaos.
Xebec's own thought struck at the same time, his grin twitching back into place but edged with mania. Both men realized the truth.
The storm had begun the moment Jinx touched Whitebeard.
But the question neither of them could answer was the one that mattered most.
Why?
Why had touching Whitebeard awakened the sea's fury?
Why had thunder and lightning come at the whisper of the boy's hand?
And what did it mean that Jinx saw souls in ways neither man could comprehend?
The storm roared on, as if demanding answers neither captain nor giant could yet give.
The storm still howled when Jinx slid down Whitebeard's broad back, landing softly on the wet deck. The warmth that had surged through Newgate's body lingered for a few minutes more… and then faded.
But something else lingered.
Whitebeard flexed his arm, his eyes narrowing. The skin along his forearm had begun to harden, turning to stone in jagged patches. His breath caught—until Jinx noticed too. The boy's violet eyes glowed faintly, and with a soft snap of his fingers, the stone cracked, crumbled, and vanished.
Whitebeard's arm was whole again.
And just as suddenly as it began, the storm vanished. The towering waves collapsed back into the sea, the black clouds dissolved, and the world calmed. The sea rocked gently once more under a pale sky, as if nothing unnatural had happened.
Whitebeard exhaled, his chest easing. He didn't just feel normal again—he felt… stronger.
Xebec was the first to break the silence. His grin twitched back into place, manic curiosity burning in his eyes.
"Oi, brat. What the hell was that blue light? You poured it into Newgate like rum into a cup. What trick was that?"
Jinx blinked slowly, then turned his violet gaze toward Xebec. His voice was calm, soft, but carried a weight that made even the mad captain pause.
"It's… the energy of the world. I don't know the full name now, but I think my devil fruit lets me access it naturally, more freely than others can."
Xebec's grin widened. "Kuahahaha! The energy of the world, eh? Sounds like a weapon worth keeping."
Whitebeard, still flexing his arm, frowned.
"Then tell me this, boy. Why'd you pour it into me?"
Jinx tilted his head, as if the answer was obvious.
"Because your soul looked like it needed it. It was… unstable. Fractured. Like lightning trying to ground itself. Even now, it feels more… alive than before."
Both men blinked. Confusion colored their faces. Whitebeard scowled.
"Lightning? Boy, I don't have lightning powers."
Xebec barked out a laugh. "Kuahahaha! Now the brat's talking nonsense about souls and storms!"
But Jinx's eyes widened suddenly, his body going rigid. A fragment of memory broke free in his mind, flashing like a shard of moonlight.
Jinx closed his eyes, forcing the memory into words. His voice was low, steady, echoing with something ancient.
"I remember now. Back in my time… a friend of mine discovered two gourd-shaped fruits. One was light blue, the other dark blue with orange cracks. He showed them to me before choosing."
His fingers clenched, faint frost forming at his sides.
"He ate the dark blue one—and gained the power to create quakes. But when he returned years later, after training with nature energy, he had something else too. Lightning. His fruit wasn't just quakes. It was a god fruit… the fruit of Susanoo."
Xebec's eyes gleamed, hunger for power sparking in his grin. "A god fruit… kuahahaha… now that's interesting."
Whitebeard stared, shock flashing across his weathered face. "And the other fruit?"
Jinx's gaze dropped, distant.
"He gave it to his daughter. She too wielded quakes. That's when we named it… the Gura Gura no Mi."
The deck fell silent. Even Xebec didn't laugh right away.
Whitebeard finally broke the stillness, his deep voice heavy with disbelief.
"Susanoo… who is that? I've never heard that name."
Jinx blinked, confusion flickering across his features. "You don't… know him?"
He tilted his head, pale hair dusted with frost.
"In my time, he was a big deal. Everyone knew Susanoo. My family even had a statue of him."
Xebec scowled, impatient. "Enough riddles, brat. Speak."
Jinx closed his eyes, summoning the ancient knowledge buried in his fading memory. His voice was quiet but carried a strange reverence.
"Susanoo was the god of storms, the sea, and the underworld. He could call down lightning, churn the oceans, and split the earth with quakes. He was wild, unpredictable, destructive… but revered as one of the strongest. His name was both worshipped and feared."
Jinx opened his eyes again, the violet glow faint but sharp.
"And your power, Whitebeard… the gourd-shaped fruit you ate… it's tied to him. Not just quakes. It's his legacy. The fruit of a god."
The deck fell silent once more. The sea around them rocked gently, almost respectfully, as if even the ocean was listening.
For a moment, silence pressed heavy over the deck. The only sounds were the creak of timbers and the soft lapping of waves against the hull.
Then—
"Kuahahahahahaha!"
Xebec's laughter erupted like a cannon blast, rolling across the deck and out into the sea. He slammed his massive hand down onto the railing, splitting the wood with the force of his mirth. His eyes blazed with mania, teeth bared in a wolf's grin.
"A god fruit! Hah! And it's been in our hands this whole time! Whitebeard—the brat's saying you're walking around with the power of a god himself!"
Whitebeard scowled, but the weight of the boy's words lingered in his mind. He said nothing, his brows furrowed, thoughts deep.
Xebec straightened, his grin stretching wider, wild curiosity burning now as bright as hunger. He fixed his gaze back on Jinx, who stood pale and calm on the deck, violet eyes reflecting the lantern light.
"You implied there's more, brat. If Susanoo's one… then who are the rest of these gods?"
Jinx blinked slowly, his small hand tightening faintly at his side. His voice came quiet, measured, as though reaching through fog centuries thick.
"…There were more. Gods that ruled over sea, sky, and underworld. Forces of nature, destruction, and life itself. I can't remember all clearly yet, but…"
His gaze drifted toward the horizon, where storm clouds still lingered faintly.
"There was Amaterasu, goddess of the sun. Her fire was said to outshine even the heavens, purifying and burning without mercy.
There was Tsukuyomi, god of the moon, cold and eternal, who wielded illusions and shadows like threads of silk.
And then… Susanoo. Wild, storm-born, breaker of seas, wielder of quakes and lightning."
He paused, eyes narrowing faintly as if struggling with fractured memories.
"There may have been more. But those three… my family remembered them. My family carved statues of them into our estate. Susanoo's stood tallest."
Xebec's grin widened even further, his laughter bubbling just under his breath.
"Kuahahaha… so the brat's saying there's a whole pantheon of gods—and their power lies in fruits scattered across the seas! Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi, Susanoo… and maybe more." He slammed his fist into his palm, eyes alight. "If we could find them all, Newgate, we'd be unstoppable!"
Whitebeard shot him a glare, his jaw tight. "…And what would you do with the power of gods, Xebec? You'd burn the world to ash."
Xebec sneered. "Better ash than chains! Better chaos than the leash of that damn World Government!"
The boy—Jinx—stood silent, his expression blank, though his violet eyes seemed to shimmer faintly, as though he alone knew truths the others couldn't yet grasp.
In the depths of his fractured memory, the gods still stirred.
And on the seas, history was about to awaken with them.
Xebec's grin widened with every word about gods and their powers, his mind already spinning with visions of conquest. But before he could speak, Jinx tilted his head, his voice quiet and cutting.
"Sorry to burst your bubble… but it's unlikely those other two fruits even exist."
Xebec's grin faltered, his eyes narrowing. "Hah? What are you saying, brat?"
Jinx blinked slowly, his violet eyes glowing faintly in the lantern light.
"If they did exist… the concept of their powers would've been split. Scattered across multiple fruits instead of one."
Whitebeard's gaze sharpened, his deep voice rumbling. "And how would you know something like that? No one knows how Devil Fruits came to be."
Jinx's expression didn't change. He lifted his hand and studied his palm for a moment, as if searching for something in the lines of his own skin.
"…I don't remember everything. Not yet." His tone was calm, but absolute. "But I do know this—I once did. Devil Fruits came into being during my era. I can't recall how… but I was there. Somewhere in the middle of it all. Maybe the memories will come back."
The deck went still. Even Xebec's manic grin flickered.
Jinx lowered his hand, his eyes soft but distant. "But why worry about finding those fruits? It would take too much effort… and honestly, it would be boring."
That earned him a bark of laughter from Xebec. "Boring, he says! Kuahahaha! A brat talking down gods like they're tavern drunks!"
Jinx ignored him, his tone sharpening, almost cold.
"If those fruits still exist… we'll only encounter them if fate wills it. Mystical Zoan fruits have wills of their own. Most of the time… they choose their wielders. And if they aren't meant to be claimed… they slip away."
His violet gaze turned to Whitebeard, piercing in its calm certainty.
"For you, Newgate… maybe you showed the traits that aligned with Susanoo's soul. That's why the fruit chose you."
Whitebeard stiffened, his massive hands curling into fists. The boy's words sank into him like anchors, pressing down on truths he'd never considered. The quakes he wielded, the storms he sometimes dreamed of—the things he could never explain. Could they really be echoes of a god's will?
Xebec, meanwhile, tilted his head back and laughed again, raw and manic.
"Kuahahaha! So the brat says fruits have wills, eh? That they choose us! Then let the seas keep their secrets! I don't need to hunt them—if the gods want to bow, they'll come crawling to me!"
The boy said nothing more. He only turned his gaze skyward, violet eyes reflecting the last fading sparks of lightning on the horizon.
And though he seemed calm, something about his presence made both men uneasy—because Jinx didn't speak as if he believed the fruits had wills.
He spoke as if he had seen them do it.
A Month on the Rocks' Ship
The first month of Jinx's life aboard the Rocks Pirates passed like a storm in fragments—a series of strange, unforgettable moments that spread across the crew like whispered legend.
Sleeping – A Hobby of Death
It didn't take long for the crew to discover Jinx's favorite hobby: sleeping.
He could fall asleep anywhere—on deck, against a barrel, or even in the middle of conversations. Once, he stood across from Whitebeard during a discussion about training. Newgate had been explaining footwork when he suddenly noticed the boy hadn't answered in a while.
That's when he realized Jinx was asleep standing up, arms limp at his sides, head tilted forward ever so slightly.
Whitebeard had muttered under his breath, "Brat's hopeless…" But when he mentioned it to Xebec later, the captain only howled with laughter.
"Kuahahaha! Imagine it—death's chosen warrior, snoring through history!"
Gambling – The Fox's Luck
At night, when the crew gathered for dice or cards, Jinx joined in. At first, the pirates were amused, thinking to fleece the pale boy of his meager coins.
But the amusement didn't last.
Jinx's expression never changed, but his hands were precise, his instincts flawless. He cleaned the table again and again, coins sliding into his pile until the other men were broke and sulking. Even Whitebeard, who prided himself on reading men, lost a handful of matches before deciding it wasn't worth the risk.
"Damn brat…" Whitebeard had muttered, retreating.
Xebec, of course, roared with laughter. "Kuahahaha! Look at their faces! The fox robbed you all blind!"
Eventually, gambling nights stopped altogether. The crew refused to play with him. To Jinx, it made no difference—he pocketed his winnings and went back to sleep.
Training – Weak Body, Sharp Eyes
Xebec wasn't amused by Jinx's lazy tendencies, though. After watching him for a week, he barked out, "Your body's too damn weak! You rely on tricks and those flashy techniques. That won't cut it!"
Whitebeard agreed, dragging the boy to sparring sessions on deck.
At first, Jinx's stamina was abysmal—he was winded after a few rounds, often collapsing into the snow-dusted planks with a bored expression. But what unnerved even Whitebeard was how fast he learned.
Jinx would watch Whitebeard demonstrate a technique once—footwork, grip, stance—and then mimic it perfectly, down to the smallest detail. Within days, he was copying forms that had taken Whitebeard years to polish.
When asked how, Jinx tilted his head and answered simply:
"It's something I had in my time. If I see a technique, I can replicate it—if my body can meet the requirements."
Both men froze at his words.
Xebec's grin twitched wider. "Kuahahaha! A copycat demon!"
Whitebeard pressed further, and Jinx elaborated. "I remember… there was a bloodline in my era that could do the same. They called themselves Hanma. They had something called a 'demon back'—a body perfect for fighting."
The name meant nothing to Xebec or Whitebeard. But the weight in Jinx's voice when he said it lingered with them.
Raiding – Davy Back Madness
When boredom struck, Xebec steered the crew toward passing pirate ships. He'd bellow a challenge for a Davy Back Fight, and with his presence alone, no captain dared refuse.
Time and again, they returned victorious—new pirates shackled into the crew, swelling the Rocks' numbers.
Jinx had a different name for them, though. Whenever it was just him, Xebec, and Whitebeard, he'd tilt his head and murmur in that calm, unsettling voice:
"More servants. That means more work done… so the three of us can slack off more."
Whitebeard had scoffed at the wording. Xebec had nearly fallen over laughing.
"Kuahahaha! Servants! The brat's got it right!"
The Impression Left Behind
By the end of the first month, the crew had grown used to Jinx's presence—though few understood him.
Some feared him for the storm that had once followed his touch. Others hated him for draining their purses at gambling. Most resented his constant sleeping.
But all of them, even Whitebeard and Xebec, recognized the truth:
Jinx was no ordinary boy.
Whether sleeping, mimicking, or staring with those starry violet eyes, he carried with him the weight of something unnatural. Something the seas themselves seemed to acknowledge.
And though he moved quietly, lazily, as if the world barely interested him…
Every man aboard the Rocks' ship knew, deep down, that this boy was a storm waiting to break.