Shiro's mind was spinning. The memories of his past life's knowledge of this story tangled with the reality before him, but no matter how hard he searched, he couldn't find even the tiniest crack in this deadlock.
His face grew darker, lips pressed tight.
Seeing his silence, Roger spoke again, his voice soft as a feather, yet carrying the weight of iron.
"Shiro… I've thought about it. Maybe this life of mine still has one last purpose—to use my death to open a new era!"
Shiro didn't answer. He only clenched his teeth harder.
Loguetown's execution platform, the sea of people below, the raised blade of the executioner, and Roger's final thunderous words echoed like a film reel in his mind, stabbing at his eyes.
This… this might truly be an unchangeable fate.
Shiro inhaled deeply, as if settling on a choice. He asked slowly:
"Captain Roger, do you have any wishes left undone?"
"Hmm…"
Roger rubbed his chin. His gaze softened, the Pirate King's aura fading, replaced by the tenderness of a father-to-be.
"There is, Shiro. In the year I left the Oro Jackson, I met a woman. We fell in love. She's carrying my child now… If you can, I'd like you to look after them."
"That's no problem," Shiro nodded, then his lips curled into a sly grin. His eyes glimmered with mischief.
"But when the time comes… you might find I won't need to step in at all."
"Hm?" Roger raised an eyebrow, baffled by the cryptic reply.
"Captain Roger, I should go," Shiro said, lowering his voice as his eyes darted around.
"If the jailers show up, things will get troublesome."
The thought of Magellan's poison-drenched body and constant stomach troubles made his stomach churn.
"Very well, Shiro," Roger nodded solemnly.
"Tell the others for me—no matter what, they must not come to rescue me."
"I will. Take care, Captain Roger!"
Shiro handed Roger the half-finished bottle of rum, still warm from his grip, then vanished in a flicker, teleporting out of the cell.
But he didn't go far. Instead, he slipped back toward Marineford.
The once-mighty fortress was now a wasteland. Walls crumbled like sand piles, fissures split the ground wide enough to swallow men whole, and brackish seawater pooled into muddy craters. The air reeked of smoke and blood.
In the center, Shiki the Golden Lion was locked in battle against Garp and Sengoku. The island itself trembled under the clash of their monstrous power.
"The Float-Float Fruit… terrifying as ever," Shiro muttered from the shadows, watching Shiki hurl boulders and towers into the sky with ease.
But just as he finished the thought, Garp lunged. His fist, drawn back and brimming with power, came crashing down.
"Iron Fist… Galaxy Impact!"
The punch landed squarely. Shiki howled, his body blasted through stone pillars, shattering them like twigs, before tumbling to a stop right at Shiro's feet.
"Ah, this is awkward," Shiro muttered, forcing a smile that looked more pained than amused. He scratched the back of his head.
"Sashi buri dana, Golden Lion Shiki."
T/N: Translation; 'It's been a while.'
Clutching his chest, blood pouring through his fingers, Shiki raised his head. His eyes narrowed, studying the young man before him. Recognition sparked.
"You… you're that brat from Roger's crew!"
Shiro shrugged, his tone playful.
"Didn't expect the great Golden Lion to remember a small fry like me."
Shiki's veins bulged. His eyes blazed, his roar shook the rubble around them.
"You bastard! You stole my Oto! Give it back!!"
Shiro tilted his head, feigning innocence as he slowly drew his blade—the Tetanus Fang. The cold gleam of the black sword reflected in Shiki's furious eyes.
"You must be mistaken. Look at this—does it look anything like your Oto?"
Shiki froze, eyes wide, muttering in disbelief.
"No… impossible… that sword… that's my Oto!"
Seeing Shiki falter, Shiro smirked. Time to push further. He held the blade up and called out,
"Oi, Little Fang! Tell this old man who your master really is!"
From the sword's surface, a small figure shimmered into view—the sword spirit. Its tiny head shook rapidly like a rattle drum, its voice childish yet resolute:
"Jabal Shiro is my one and only master!"
Shiki's jaw dropped. His body trembled as if struck by lightning.
"Wha… What?! Since when does Oto talk?! And why—why would it acknowledge you?!"
The sight of his treasured blade, transformed and sworn to another, shattered him. Rage churned his blood until he spat a fresh mouthful onto the rubble. Already gravely wounded, his body staggered, nearly collapsing outright.
At that very moment, Garp and Sengoku closed in, kicking off the air with Moonwalk. Their figures blurred as they landed nearby, just in time to witness the scene.
"Jabal Shiro—of Roger's crew!"
Sengoku's eyes locked on him, pupils narrowing to pinpoints. His tone dripped with authority.
"That's right," Shiro answered lazily, lips curling into a mischievous grin.
"Admiral Sengoku, Vice Admiral Garp. Sashi buri dana!"
"Oh? So the little brat with Conqueror's Haki finally grew up, eh?"
Garp chuckled, utterly unfazed by the deadly standoff. With a careless motion, he dug at his nose and flicked the result at Sengoku.
The green lump of snot whizzed through the air. Sengoku grimaced and dodged, the mess grazing his Justice cloak before plopping into the sea.
Straightening, Sengoku glared at Shiro coldly.
"Jabal Shiro… Don't tell me you came for Roger. If so, hear me well: Roger stormed Mariejois and is now caged. No one can save him."
T/N: If you would like to read up to 20 chapters ahead for all my works, check out my P@treon: patreon.com/GhidorahWriter
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