Chaton never expected Shiro to strike so fast.
Caught completely off guard, he relied purely on battle instinct to twist his body aside—escaping a fatal blow by the narrowest margin.
But Shiro's slash was far too quick… and far too sharp.
Though it missed Chaton's chest, the blade sliced cleanly across his left arm.
"AGHHH!!"
A scream tore across the harbor as his arm spun into the air. Blood surged from the wound, and Tea Dolphin toppled helplessly into the sea below.
The water instantly turned crimson.
Just then, a figure rushed in from the port—none other than Aokiji, who had been chasing Chaton.
His expression froze the instant he saw the scene.
Without hesitation, he raised a hand.
"Ice Age."
The seawater around Tea Dolphin froze solid in an instant, stopping the bleeding from spreading and preventing him from sinking beneath the surface.
Only after the Virtue had sailed far into the distance did Aokiji crouch down, carefully lifting the half-conscious Vice Admiral onto the ice. His brows knit tightly, eyes filled with a complicated mix of frustration and regret.
Meanwhile, on the Virtue's deck, Moria watched the distant figures and let out a low, mocking whistle.
"Captain, that slash was brutal. You cut off his other arm! That guy probably can't even hold a sword anymore."
"Who said that?"
Shiro turned casually, wearing a teasing smirk.
"He still has a mouth and two legs, doesn't he? If he trains hard enough, he can hold the sword in his teeth and kick it around with his legs. Who knows—maybe he'll invent an entirely new style!"
Moria opened his mouth… then closed it again.
He couldn't think of a single comeback.
The crew burst into laughter.
After escaping the chaos of Ohara, the Virtue Pirates finally shook off the Navy's pursuit and returned to their voyage toward the New World.
But Robin… remained uneasy.
Perhaps it was guilt.
Perhaps fear.
Perhaps simply feeling like a burden.
Every day she would quietly approach Shiro and ask:
"Captain Shiro… is there anything I can do? I don't want to just stand around being useless."
Shiro thought deeply.
Robin was perceptive and mature, but still a child—physically delicate, not suited for hard labor.
Helping in the kitchen would expose her to smoke and heat, which wasn't good for a young girl.
Handling sails required too much strength.
After considering everything, Shiro made a decision:
Robin would be responsible for cleaning the ship—light work that would still allow her to feel helpful.
From that day on, little Robin could be seen carrying a broom almost as tall as she was, tiptoeing around as she swept every inch of the Virtue.
When the broom was too heavy, she gripped it with both hands.
When she encountered stubborn stains, she knelt and cleaned them bit by bit.
Sweat soaked through her clothes, yet she never complained.
During breaks, Robin would curl up in a corner of the deck with a thick history book, quietly reading.
Sea breeze lifted her hair, sunlight warmed the pages—her eyes full of longing for her mother, Olivia, and the scholars of Ohara.
Shiro watched her from afar, heart heavy.
He knew the truth she sought.
He knew the secrets of the Poneglyphs.
He knew everything—including the story of the Void Century.
More than once, he wanted to tell her.
But if he revealed the truth now, would she still chase her dream?
Would she still search for her own answers?
In the end, he swallowed the words.
She deserved her own journey.
One afternoon, Shiro happened to pass by the deck… and stopped.
Robin stood beside a trash bin.
Her arm flicked lightly—
and several pink arms bloomed into existence, sprouting from the air itself, picking up every piece of scattered trash with precision before tossing them neatly into the bin.
The Hana Hana no Mi.
Shiro watched quietly, thoughts swirling.
Robin's Devil Fruit had tremendous potential.
If trained properly, it could protect her—and someday become one of the crew's greatest strengths.
He stepped forward, gently placing a hand on her head.
"Robin… do you want to get stronger?"
Robin's head snapped up. Her eyes widened with hope.
"Of course! I want to be really, really strong! I don't want everyone to keep protecting me—I want to protect the people I care about!"
"Getting stronger means hardship," Shiro said seriously.
"You'll train every day. You'll get hurt. You'll get tired—so tired you can't even stand. Can you handle that?"
"I can!"
Robin clenched her fists, voice firm and unwavering.
"I'll endure anything!"
Her mother's smile flashed through her mind.
The faces of the Ohara scholars followed.
Their sacrifice.
Their fire.
Their hope.
Her eyes brimmed with tears—but she forced them back.
She wouldn't cry.
She would become strong.
For them.
"For their sake… I will."
"…Good."
Shiro's smile softened as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a notebook and pen.
"I'm writing you a personalized training regimen. It's going to be tough. Much harder than cleaning. You'll need to push through every day. Understand?"
Robin nodded fervently, eyes shining.
"I understand, Captain Shiro! I'll keep going, no matter what!"
Shiro continued writing, mind replaying his own training under Rayleigh.
He halved the intensity—Robin was a young girl, after all—but preserved the structure: gradual increases, foundational strength training, and eventually controlled development of her Devil Fruit powers.
Enough to challenge her.
But not enough to break her.
The notebook filled with lines of carefully written instructions.
Robin watched Shiro's serious expression and felt warmth spread through her chest.
For the first time since Ohara… she felt hope.
And she felt she belonged.
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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