"Become a pirate?"
Issho gave a dry chuckle, his cane-sword tapping the floor with a heavy thud.
"You sound no different from these swindlers. Do you really enjoy taking what belongs to others that much?"
"You've got it wrong."
Shiro straightened, one finger tapping his chin, a sly gleam flickering in his dark eyes.
"I know you value justice and compassion. That's why my crew is called the Virtue Pirates. We follow the code of honor—virtue above all. It's not so different from your way of life."
"A pirate crew… that speaks of virtue?"
Issho lowered his head in thought, long pale lashes casting faint shadows across his closed eyes.
"So," Shiro pressed, eyes bright with anticipation, "are you interested in sailing with me?"
Issho stayed silent for a moment. Then he turned toward the gambling table, his finger rapping the wooden surface.
"Not impossible. But… you'll have to gamble with me. Win, and I'll sail under your flag."
"Deal."
A confident smile spread across Shiro's face.
"What's the wager?"
"Whoever grabs this coin first."
Issho picked up a single beri, rubbing it gently with his thumb before suddenly flicking it skyward. The coin tore through the air, whistling as it punched a hole clean through the roof, a silver bullet soaring into the heavens.
Almost before the coin had left his hand, Issho leapt, cloak sweeping in a sharp arc through the air.
Shiro remained on the floor, his eyes closed, letting his Observation Haki surge outward like a tide, tracking the coin's path.
Just as Issho's fingers were about to brush the coin, Shiro tapped his chest lightly—and in the next instant, he vanished. Space warped, and he reappeared in midair, his fingers closing around the shining coin a heartbeat before Issho could.
"You lose," Shiro said coolly.
He shook the coin between his fingers, sunlight streaming through the hole in the roof to paint his grin in gold.
"Not yet," Issho's voice came with quiet amusement.
With a flash of steel, his cane-sword unsheathed, slashing toward Shiro's wrist.
"The coin isn't yours until it hits the ground."
Shiro twisted gracefully in midair, dodging the blade—only to feel a wave of blistering heat from above. His gaze shot upward.
A burning meteor hovered high above, flames licking its surface as it threatened to fall.
He tried to activate his Paw-Paw powers, but space itself had been shackled. Gravity crushed down like iron, freezing his ability.
"Spatial lock!"
With a low growl, Shiro forced his own power outward. A shell of white energy cocooned around Issho, breaking his grip on the battlefield. Gravity's chains shattered, and Shiro dropped safely back to the ground.
"Damn… almost lost to my own overconfidence." He wiped cold sweat from his brow, then opened his hand to reveal the coin clenched firmly in his palm.
Issho studied the coin for a long moment, then suddenly swung his blade skyward.
"Shhhhk!"
The burning meteor split in two, crashing harmlessly into a distant clearing with an earth-shaking roar. Smoke billowed to the ceiling, shrouding the sky.
Sheathing his sword, Issho finally gave a quiet laugh.
"You're strong. Strong enough that I'll admit defeat. From this moment, I'm your crewmate… Captain."
"Then come with me," Shiro said warmly, turning with a flutter of his white coat.
Issho followed, footsteps lighter than before. "Captain, should we meet the rest of your crew?"
Shiro scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
"About that… you're the first. We'll recruit the others as we go."
"...Nani?"
Issho's lips twitched. He stopped dead in his tracks.
"And our ship? Don't tell me—"
"Oh, the ship?" Shiro's eyes sparkled as he gazed at the distant horizon. "Still being built. Give it three months—it'll be magnificent!"
Issho: "…"
And just like that, Issho became the first official member of the Virtue Pirates.
In years to come, their crew would be known for a legendary sight: Issho, face calm and eyes closed, muttering to his comrades—"Follow my lead."
Shiro shouldered his coat and motioned toward the swordsman beside him.
"Come with me. There's someone we need to find. A helmsman, to be exact."
With a slap of his paw, the two were sent hurtling across the seas—until the watery glow of Fishman Island rose up to meet them.
On coral-paved streets, mermaids pushed carts brimming with pearls, while fishmen bartered with merchants. Unlike the wary stares of a year ago, now the islanders' eyes held a touch more calm when they looked at humans.
It was Captain Roger's decision back then—allowing Fishman Island to sail under his flag—that had stayed the hands of slavers. That had granted this island its fleeting peace.
But peace was fragile. With Roger's crew disbanded, the vultures circled once again.
In the shadows, cloaked figures watched passing mermaid girls hungrily. At the docks, slavers' sails stirred in the moonlight.
In the palace, King Neptune's tail slapped the coral floor in frustration, carving cracks into his throne armrest. Yet even he was powerless.
Thus Fisher Tiger rose, vowing to rebuild the guard—even if it cost him his last drop of blood.
Behind him, Jinbei clenched his fists, blue skin stretched taut with veins. In his eyes burned a fierce oath: to protect his home at all costs.
So when Shiro and Issho stepped onto the coral streets, spears instantly leveled at their throats. The tension was thick enough to choke.
But Issho only placed a calm hand on his sword, his quiet aura pressing outward. Several guards faltered, taking involuntary steps back.
Before the clash could spark, a towering figure strode forward, red hair streaming like fire in the current. Fisher Tiger.
His eyes widened at the sight of Shiro. He thrust up a hand, ordering his men to lower their weapons.
"Stand down! He's one of us!"
"Long time no see, Tiger!"
Shiro spread his arms wide, his laugh echoing like rolling waves, sweeping the tension away.
"Jabal Shiro of the Roger Pirates!"
Tiger engulfed him in a bear-crushing hug, his rough palms pounding Shiro's back with affection. Then his sharp gaze slid toward Issho, studying the stranger.
"And this one? I don't recall him on Roger's ship."
…
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