Master Tom slowly straightened his broad frame, thumping his chest with pride. His round face lit up with a craftsman's satisfaction.
"That's right. The Oro Jackson is my life's masterpiece. A hull strong enough to withstand Sea Kings, a propulsion system that sails even the Calm Belt—it was all my design!"
"That's all I needed to hear."
Chaton flicked his hand, and the Marines surged forward. Rifles leveled, shackles clamped tight with a click around Tom's massive arms.
"You're coming with us. The World Government will judge you."
"Take care of the blueprints," Tom said, turning one last, heavy gaze on Franky. His eyes carried the weight of a final request. Then, with head held high, he marched out beside the Marines.
But before they reached the threshold, a sharp voice rang out:
"How low can the Navy sink? Can't catch Roger's crew, so you take a shipwright as your scapegoat?"
Every Marine whipped their head toward the speaker.
He was tall—over two meters—with short golden hair gleaming in the sun, a white coat flaring in the breeze. His handsome face carried a cocky smirk.
Jabal Shiro. The man worth 3.85 billion berries.
"Shiro! You dare obstruct the Navy in its duty?" Chaton roared, jowls trembling with rage. His hand tightened around his sword hilt.
"Chaton, don't make me laugh." Shiro's fingers tapped lazily against his own blade. His grin widened, sharp as a knife.
"Even your Fleet Admiral, Kong, would think twice before barking at me. And you?"
"Impudent brat! Die where you stand!"
Steel shrieked as Chaton drew, lunging with a strike full of fury.
But Shiro slipped aside with ease. His aura exploded outward—Conqueror's Haki. In an instant, the surrounding Marines collapsed like dolls, weapons clattering across the stones.
"Damn you, Shiro! I'll cut you down!"
Chaton pressed harder, his blade flashing like rain.
Shiro's patience snapped. His hand fell to the hilt behind his back—bandages slipping as he drew the Tetanus Fang. Red-black lightning wrapped the edge. He swung once.
"Divine Departure."
The air itself split. Chaton's eyes widened. He seized two fallen Marines, hurling them forward as shields.
The crimson-black slash carved through them before they even hit the ground, bodies torn into fragments. Blood sprayed across the street.
Chaton bolted sideways, desperate to flee before the shockwave landed. Too late.
The strike caught him. With a wet crack, his right arm severed cleanly at the elbow.
"AAAAH!" His scream split the air. Blood poured in torrents, staining the cobblestones.
"You think you can run?" Shiro's voice was ice. He slapped his chest—the Paw-Paw Fruit launched him forward like a bullet. In a blink, he was at Chaton's side, blade raised for the kill.
Terror flooded the Marine's eyes. With only his left arm, he clutched his bleeding stump—and squeezed.
Blood gushed like a fountain, spraying straight into Shiro's eyes.
The burning sting blinded him. He cursed, slapping the damage away with his Devil Fruit's power, but the blood smeared across his vision, blurring everything.
Snarling, Shiro stepped back. He could not risk striking blind. Instead, he turned and vanished into Tom's workshop.
"Water! Quickly!" Tom barked, grabbing Franky.
The boy rushed in with a clay basin. Shiro dunked his face, cool water washing the stinging filth away until his vision cleared.
Blinking, he straightened—and cut down the lingering Marines outside with swift, merciless strokes.
As for Chaton? Shiro no longer cared. Crippled of his sword arm, the Marine was finished. Let him crawl.
Returning to the workshop, Shiro bowed his head slightly to Tom. His voice was respectful, steady.
"Master Tom… I am Jabal Shiro of the Roger Pirates."
At the name, Tom's expression darkened, eyes narrowing with complicated emotion.
"Roger… That man. Is he still alive?"
Shiro lowered his tone, full of apology.
"He's well. In hiding now."
Tom paused, wrench heavy in his hand. At last, he sighed, a weary smile ghosting his lips.
"Good. After decades at sea, a man deserves to rest."
Sensing the shift, Shiro pressed on.
"Master Tom, I came here with a request. I need your help."
Tom snorted. "What help could I give? I only know how to build ships."
Shiro's eyes lit. He bowed deeply, voice earnest.
"Exactly. I want you to build me a ship. I'm setting sail."
"I knew it…" Tom muttered, shoulders sagging. Then he waved a hand, resigned.
"Fine. Tell me—what kind of ship do you want?"
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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