Before Ozz set foot on Fish-Man Island.
New World. Aboard the Moby Dick.
"Pops, please allow me to leave for a time. Fish-Man Island needs me."
On deck, a figure knelt, bowing his head until his forehead touched the planks. Tears ran as he spoke to the towering man on the throne-like chair.
"Friends from Fish-Man Island have sent word. With the dawn of a new era, the number of pirates has exploded. Many merfolk and fish-men are being hunted, enslaved, tortured, sold. How can I sit and do nothing?"
At the anguished plea of the Eighth Division commander, Namur, the world's strongest man, Edward Newgate, Whitebeard, narrowed his eyes. Around him, Marco and the others clenched their fists. It hurt to see a brother like this.
They had lived so long in the New World that they truly had not realized how dire things had become. Roger's era had brought a flood of challengers to Whitebeard's door. They had not thought the tide would sweep others away too.
Fish-men were, on average, five times stronger than humans. Yet without top-tier guardians, Fish-Man Island found itself at the mercy of crews who could prowl even the New World. The mermaids, whose strength was no greater than any human's, suffered the most. Catch one and you could sell her for a price measured in the hundreds of millions. The more beautiful, the higher the bidding.
So the island bled.
Neptune had once been Whitebeard's friend. In his youth he had offered help more than once. Fish-Man Island was also the homeland of Namur, his son in name and in heart.
Whitebeard made up his mind.
"You foolish son."
He reached out a great hand and pulled Namur into a hug, all benevolent father.
"Neptune's country is in trouble. How could I look the other way? I will go."
He was past his absolute peak, but at this moment he was still the world's strongest man. The declaration rang like thunder and set every boy's soul on fire.
"Pops…"
Namur trembled, tears spilling anew.
A roar rose from the deck.
"Make those slavers learn what it means to cross us."
"Yeah. The Whitebeard Pirates are invincible."
"Great news, Namur."
Fists pumped. Jozu's skin flashed with the hard gleam of diamond. Flower Sword Vista stroked his mustache and smiled.
Only two faces stayed sober. One belonged to the steady man at the front of the captains. Marco. The other hid among the rank and file, a heavyset, dark-skinned sailor with a scar near his neck. Teach.
"What is it, Marco? You look uneasy. Something on your mind?"
A crewmate noticed and asked.
"It is nothing," Marco said, voice low. "Only that our enemy this time may not be slavers alone."
The cheer ebbed. Heads turned his way. Even Whitebeard looked down at his most reliable son.
"What do you mean, Marco?"
"Pops, everyone, think. What sits closest to Fish-Man Island?"
Closest to the island. They pictured its location far below the Red Line. The first thought was Mary Geoise on the summit above. But the Celestial Dragons rarely lowered their gaze to the sea, and from such heights at that. Cross that off. Which left the next place.
Eyes widened. Mouths fell open. They had all thought of the same answer.
Whitebeard said it aloud.
"Sabaody Archipelago."
"Right."
Sabaody. The last stop before Fish-Man Island for those sailing from Paradise. The face of the New World for those coming up. No one on the seas could fail to know what that island now represented.
"You are not saying…"
"The Black Emperor, Dotor Ozz."
The name shifted the air. Veterans who had sailed with Whitebeard for years wore the same grave look. They had crossed paths with that former Roger Pirate before. None could forget the battle in the waters of Wano.
Only a few short years had passed.
The upstart had become something absurd.
Marco himself had been put down with a single shot. Aside from Oden, no one had stayed unbroken before him. In the crowd, Teach's eyes flickered. The scar at the base of his neck stood out dark against his skin.
"And more than that," Marco went on, "as the master of the underworld, a slice of the trafficking trade may very well be in Ozz's hands, perhaps a large slice. If we act, we must be ready to go to war with Ozz."
Ozz was no longer a green cabin boy. He was the sort of giant even a sea emperor measured himself against. No exaggeration. If the Whitebeard Pirates truly clashed with Ozz and his network, the pressure would rival a Paramount War.
Because the forces aligned with him included
Dotor Ozz, the Black Emperor
Dracule Mihawk, Hawkeye, the world's strongest swordsman
Crocodile, the Sand Crocodile
Enel, the Thunder God, a rising terror striking lightning across the seas
Donquixote Doflamingo, the Heavenly Yaksha
possibly Silvers Rayleigh, the Dark King
the Six Giants of the underworld
and fleets upon fleets of hardened crews.
Yet the Whitebeard of this time was not a man to shy from a name.
"Do not worry, Namur."
He wore a bandana now, but he was not old. He was still the man who had traded blows with Roger. Still the world's strongest.
"I am Whitebeard."
Boom.
Murakumogiri's haft struck the deck. His white cape snapped in an unfelt wind. The pressure that rolled off him did not allow him to bow to any upstart. Just as, in his twilight, he had refused to let a young Shanks point fingers at him.
"Set sail."
"To Fish-Man Island."
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