So the "one-man revolution" in the Sorube Kingdom happened the very same year Shanks rose as an Emperor?
Jin sat down with the paper spread before him, brows drawn. Before crossing into this world, he had been a loyal fan of One Piece. But once the Straw Hats entered the New World, the story had begun to fray—at least in his eyes.
Especially the Wano arc.
A whining Momo, a flashback Oden, and Yamato with her confused identity… It felt like Oda himself had taken the readers' intelligence and dragged it across the floor. And Luffy's ever more absurd power-ups? Beyond ridiculous.
That was when Jin had dropped the series.
These days, he only caught fragments from analysis videos, enough to keep the broad strokes but none of the details. So the exact timeline of events was hazy to him.
Kuma, though—Bartholomew Kuma—he remembered. His story was hard to judge. A man blessed with a fruit that defied the heavens, and yet he somehow managed to play himself into a pitiful wreck.
Oppression from the outside world had been part of it, sure. But mostly, it was his own nature. His choices. His stubborn, tragic foolishness.
The saying came to mind: good men are trampled by all. In Kuma's case, not just himself—his entire family was trampled.
If he had Kuma's fruit? Jin clenched his jaw. He would have marched straight into Mary Geoise and blown himself up. Life or death didn't matter. As long as I take you lot with me to the grave.
Kill one, worth it. Kill two, profit.
——
He continued reading the report.
It claimed Bartholomew Kuma had single-handedly crushed the royal army of Sorube, driving out King Bekori. One man overturning a monarchy.
Later, Bekori had returned with Marine backing to reclaim the throne. And again Kuma had cast them down.
So the Marines had branded him a pirate, slapped a staggering 296 million bounty on his head, and christened him The Tyrant.
One photo told the whole story. Kuma stood amid a burning city, his shadow towering against flame, the headline screaming TYRANT!!! across the page.
It was a masterclass in propaganda. No context, no nuance. Just fire and one man, and the readers would conclude the simplest thing: he caused the flames.
But Jin knew the truth.
Years before, the Sorube King had concocted a twisted policy: split the nation in half to reduce the Heavenly Tribute. The north enjoyed protection—a paradise for the wealthy. The south? Abandoned. A lawless slum.
Kuma, who refused to obey this injustice, had been arrested.
It was only when Dragon and Ivankov arrived with the Revolutionary Army that he was freed, forcing the king to revoke the decree. But the cure was shallow.
And this year, Bekori had turned to fire—literally copying the Goa Kingdom's cruel purge, burning the southern quarter, killing and maiming thousands of innocents.
Kuma, furious, had waded through the flames to rescue them. And that was how the world painted him a tyrant.
The power of narrative. The power of media. Jin exhaled sharply.
He recalled what came after. Kuma, fearing his presence endangered Bonney and his people, had left to sea. He sought a cure for her disease—the sapphire scales. And in the end, he became Vegapunk's lab rat, his soul cored out, turned into a hollow weapon.
Pathetic.
Jin had never read the Egghead arc in his old life, but he'd heard Vegapunk—the "greatest genius alive"—ended up delivering a ridiculous speech. A so-called genius, yet another fraud.
He looked again at Kuma's photograph. Fool or not, the man's power was undeniable. A single strike could change wars.
And Winterhan Kingdom desperately lacked immediate combat power.
So… intercept him?
Kuma's weakness was Bonney. Bonney's weakness was her illness. If Winterhan could produce a cure…
Drum had always been famed for medicine. And with Dr. Kureha, the witch of a hundred years, surely there was a chance.
If even then Kuma would not be swayed, then the solution was simple: kill him, devour his fruit, and feed it to the Carrier.
The only question was—how to lure him in?
Jin tapped the table, then his eyes fell on the advertisement column of the paper. Slowly, a grin spread across his face.
Yes. Advertise.
"Men's and Women's Clinics—difficult ailments, rare diseases, all treated at Drum's Specialty Hospital. With care, with expertise. Consultation: ."
And below it:
"Winterhan Kingdom Recruitment Order: Are you unrecognized? Are you lost? Come to Winterhan and speak directly with the King. The stage is vast; bring your dream. High pay, bright future, all talents welcome!"
——
At the headquarters of the World Economy News, Morgans nearly spat his drink when the delivery bird brought him those words.
"What… in all hells is this? Who wrote this trash? So tacky!"
Drum Kingdom? Winterhan? Ah—the newly crowned king that had just made headlines.
"Print this and my paper loses face!" he squawked.
The news bird tilted its head, scribbling with its wing.
"He's offering double?"
The bird nodded.
"For how long? A month?"
Shake of the head.
"A year?!"
Morgans' eyes bulged. He grabbed a pen, scratching figures. "Twelve months, two ads per issue, double the rate… that's ninety-six million Berries!"
The bird's wings spread wide in triumph.
Morgans slapped his desk. "Print it! Print it on the corner of the front page! The King's coin is good coin!"
——
The next morning, Jin reclined lazily against his pillow, watching Hina rise from the bed. The sheets slipped away, leaving her bare, every soft curve and line of her body clear in the quiet light. For a moment she moved unhurried, unashamed, her skin glowing against the pale morning. Then, with calm hands, she reached for her uniform and began to dress.
From the side, her profile was devastating—elegant jawline, lips that seemed made to be kissed, and a body that moved with unhurried grace.
The curve of her figure, the faint sway of her hips, the smooth, pale skin that caught the light—every detail teased him mercilessly.
Even as fabric slid over her shoulders, covering what had been his to explore only hours ago, Jin felt heat coil low in his chest, a primal urge stirring again.
"Vice Admiral Garp is commanding G-3 Base now. He won't be free to train you for at least a month…," she said, fastening her coat with practiced ease. Her voice was steady, though her glance lingered on him briefly.
Jin's gaze was still wandering, his thoughts far from military schedules.
"Are you even listening to me?" she pressed, arching a brow.
He blinked, straightening against the pillow. "Of course. Of course"
"Headquarters wants me back for debriefing. If you need anything, use this line.", Hina adjusted her gloves, giving the faintest smirk.
"Yes, yes, I will," Jin muttered, forcing his focus back to her words.
Her mission had ended with Hannabal's settlement. Though a part of her was reluctant, duty was duty. The seas brimmed with pirates more rampant than ever. Her sense of justice refused to allow her to linger.
Every night of indulgence left her guilty, lashing herself back into righteousness. But now—she had her orders. One last time, she had given in.
And now the coat was back on. Justice. Stern. Immaculate. She was the goddess of steel once more.
"What? I can't call you unless it's official?" Jin teased. "What about at night, when it's lonely?"
"Dream on. You're insufferable," she snapped, checking herself in the mirror thrice to ensure no trace of last night remained. Then her heels clicked as she strode for the door.
"No farewell kiss?" he called.
"Go find that blonde your new lackey offered you!" she threw over her shoulder, lips curling in scorn.
"Jealous, huh?"
But she was already gone. Cold as steel.
"Ah, women. Ruthless once the clothes are on."
Jin stretched, joints cracking. A breath of mountain air filled his chest. A little indulgence was good—it eased the bloodlust, soothed the violent edges of his soul.
Now, the real work resumed.
"Gasparde's Candy-Candy Fruit. Jalmack Saint's unknown fruit. One more, and the Carrier evolves."
He turned his gaze outward.
"Let's hope Aska's Seven-Star Sword is what I think—a Zoan, perhaps a Mythical Zoan, forged into a weapon."
Not yet. He would not rush. To beat the boss, one prepared the raid. Gather every item. Every material.
…
And so, five days later—
Everything was ready. All materials for the Carrier's evolution were gathered, save for one final resource.
The target was clear.
Aska Island.
- - -
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