About half a minute later, Shiro stepped over a pile of shattered crates on the deck of a wrecked three-masted ship that had split clean in half.
In the dim shadows of the broken hull, he finally spotted Gecko Moria—curled up like a beaten dog.
The man was a mess: his trademark long hair clung to his blood-stained face, his chest rose and fell shallowly—barely alive.
Shiro frowned and strode forward without hesitation. Grabbing Moria by the collar, he yanked him up as if hauling a sack of trash and tossed him onto the deck of his own ship.
The heavy thud of impact echoed sharply across the silent sea.
Before Shiro could even catch his breath, three figures darted toward the fallen man—Issho, whose Observation Haki could sense a heartbeat from miles away; Dracule Mihawk, eyes sharp as blades; and Jinbe, muscles taut and fists clenched.
Without a word, they descended on Moria again.
Fists slammed into flesh. Bones cracked.
Their angry voices roared across the deck.
"Still got the guts to crawl back here, huh?!" Jinbe bellowed, each punch tearing through the air with a whistle. "Didn't get enough of a beating last time? You think the Virtue Pirates are easy to mess with?"
Issho drove a precise kick into Moria's ribs, the impact folding him in half.
"Do you even know why we're called the Virtue Pirates?" he barked. "It's because we conquer people with virtue! But for stubborn scum like you—virtue starts with a beating!"
He punctuated his "lesson" with two more firm kicks.
Mihawk stood nearby, cold and silent as ever. His hawk-like eyes gleamed icily, and when he finally moved, his boot landed squarely on Moria's shoulder.
"His body's surprisingly durable," he said flatly. "I'm impressed he's still alive."
"Hey! Stop! What the hell are you doing?!"
Shiro had just jumped back aboard in time to see Moria reduced to a heap of bruises and blood. Rushing forward, he shoved Jinbe aside and knelt beside the broken man, checking for breath.
A faint wisp of air brushed his fingers. Still alive. Barely.
He sighed in relief—but his expression hardened again, just as Brook's familiar, sing-song laugh echoed through the air.
"Yohohohoho! Wonderful! Thanks to you all, my shadow's finally back where it belongs!"
Brook twirled in place, admiring his now-solid body.
Ignoring Shiro's scolding, Jinbe, Issho, and Mihawk turned away from Moria and walked over to Brook.
"Congratulations, Brook," Jinbe said, clapping him on the shoulder with a rare smile. "It's good to have you whole again."
Issho nodded approvingly. "Truly worth celebrating."
Mihawk gave a silent nod—that was as warm as he got.
Meanwhile, Shiro glared at the battered heap on the deck. With a sigh, he walked over and gave Moria's leg two hard kicks.
"You idiot," he muttered under his breath. "Because of you, I end up playing the villain too."
Still… he couldn't leave him like that.
With a shake of his head, Shiro extended his right hand. A soft pink paw mark shimmered into being on his palm. Gently pressing it to Moria's body, he activated the Paw-Paw Fruit's healing touch—repelling pain and fatigue from the man's body, bit by bit.
A soothing warmth spread through Moria's battered frame. His pain vanished like mist.
He gasped and sat bolt upright, blinking in confusion. His eyes darted around the deck—Jinbe's scowl, Mihawk's glacial stare, Issho's half-drawn blade, and Shiro's unreadable grin.
Then memory hit him.
"W-wait! Hold on, everyone! Let's talk this out!" he cried, trembling, hands clutching his head.
Shiro froze mid-gesture, watching Moria shake like a leaf. Damn, they really beat the trauma into him, he thought grimly.
"Captain," Jinbe rumbled, frowning, "why'd you bother healing this guy? He's bad news. Keep him alive and we'll regret it."
Shiro waved a hand, signaling for calm. Turning to Moria, he said in a steady voice:
"Gecko Moria—you know who I am, don't you?"
Moria bobbed his head rapidly, voice quivering. "O-of course! You're 'Tyrant' Shiro—former member of the Roger Pirates!"
"Good. Then this'll be easy."
Shiro leaned closer, tone casual but carrying an edge that could cut steel.
"Originally, I was going to make you hand over Brook's shadow. But looks like that problem's already solved."
He paused, then added smoothly,
"So instead—I'll offer you a choice. How about joining us, the Virtue Pirates?"
Moria's jaw dropped. "Nani?! Join you?!"
He flailed backward in panic, nearly rolling off the deck.
"What's the problem, Moria?"
Issho stepped forward, resting the tip of his sheathed sword on the deck with a dull thunk.
"You sound… reluctant."
"Yeah," Mihawk added coolly, arms crossed, eyes glinting like blades. "You do remember what we stand for, don't you? The Virtue Pirates—we conquer people with virtue."
Shiro face-palmed, groaning inwardly. Conquer with virtue, my ass. You're all just thugs with fancy words. Why did I ever name us that?
Meanwhile, Moria—still traumatized from his "lesson"—looked at the three towering men before him, their combined aura pressing down like a storm.
His shoulders slumped. His lips quivered.
If "virtue" meant getting beaten to death again…
He wasn't sure he could take any more "virtue."
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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