Tanma paused what he was doing and turned toward the approaching ship. His gaze was calm but sharp.
Through his Observation Haki, he could clearly feel it—the man in the straw hat carried a staggering vitality and spirit. It was still raw and unrefined, yet overflowing with strength and life.
"Hey! There's someone already here!" the young man at the bow shouted with infectious energy. He jumped straight into the shallow water and strode onto the beach with a bright grin. "Yo! I'm Gol D. Roger! I'm out here on an adventure! Are you a pirate too?"
His companions followed behind him—among them, a blond man with glasses named Rayleigh, who eyed Tanma cautiously.
Tanma's demeanor was cold, detached—and the lingering murderous aura around him from a recent battle made it clear he was anything but ordinary.
He didn't answer Roger's question. He simply stared at him in silence.
As one of the core members of the Rocks Pirates, Tanma's existence was a top-level secret of the World Government. His name wasn't famous—but his strength could silence entire seas.
"Gol D. Roger…" Tanma murmured, especially noting the "D." in his name. "Never heard of you. For a rookie to come wandering into these waters—you're either brave… or a fool."
His tone was calm, not mocking. Just the plain, merciless truth. The New World was a hunting ground for monsters—the weak were nothing but prey.
"Hahahaha! Don't be such a downer!" Roger's laughter was full and unrestrained. "The sea is meant for adventure! Danger's what makes it exciting! By the way—you're crazy strong, aren't you? I could feel that aura just now!"
His instincts were razor-sharp. Even though Tanma kept his presence suppressed, Roger could still sense the terrifying power beneath that calm surface.
Tanma looked into Roger's eyes—bright, fearless, filled with boundless curiosity—and something in him stirred.
That light… it was nothing like Rocks' darkness, nor like Tanma's own hidden purpose. It was something pure. Something… unfamiliar.
"Interesting," Tanma said slowly. "In a sea filled with maniacs like Rocks and power-hungry fools, someone like you actually exists. Tell me, what's your goal?"
"Goal?" Roger laughed again and patted the sword at his waist. "Simple! To find the greatest treasure in the world—and become the freest man alive! I'll travel every sea, meet amazing people, and see everything this world has to offer!"
A dream so simple and pure—it almost sounded childish. Yet from this man, it carried a strange weight that made it impossible to dismiss.
Tanma was silent.
For a fleeting moment, he considered eliminating Roger here and now—snuffing out this unshaped potential before it grew into something dangerous.
But he didn't.Maybe it was the light in Roger's eyes.Maybe it was because killing him felt meaningless.Or maybe, deep down, Tanma sensed a different future.
"The greatest treasure… freedom…" Tanma turned away. "Then survive, rookie. In this sea of madness, your dream is fragile. Don't die too easily."
He picked up his water bag and started toward his boat.
"Hey! Wait! You haven't told me your name!" Roger called out.
Tanma didn't stop, but his steps faltered slightly as he stepped onto his boat.
"My name isn't important. If you truly become famous in this sea, we'll meet again… provided you live that long."
The boat pushed off, cutting through the waves until it vanished beyond the mist.
Roger stood on the beach, watching the silhouette disappear. His grin faded slightly, replaced by a look of deep curiosity.
"Rayleigh," he said quietly, "that guy… is insanely strong."
Rayleigh adjusted his glasses, his expression serious. "Yeah. The pressure he gives off isn't something an ordinary pirate could manage. The New World really is something else."
Roger's grin returned in full force. He clapped Rayleigh on the back and laughed, "All the better! That just makes our adventure even more exciting! One day—we'll meet him again!"
His laughter echoed across the shore, bright and boundless.
Meanwhile, at sea, Tanma stood at the bow of his small vessel, the ocean wind tugging at his cloak.
The name Gol D. Roger lingered faintly in his mind—leaving a small, curious mark that refused to fade.
Chapter: The Rot Beneath Justice
A few days later, Tanma's ship approached a seemingly peaceful island. He needed to restock on certain rare materials—items difficult to preserve on long voyages. Records suggested this island produced them.
But as soon as he landed, the air felt wrong.
Instead of calm, the island reeked of fear.
Cries, curses, and the sounds of smashing wood drifted faintly from the nearby town.
Tanma frowned and walked inland.
The streets were chaos. A group of Marines, supposedly symbols of order and justice, were looting without restraint—snatching valuables, food, and even small keepsakes from terrified civilians.
Any who resisted were beaten bloody with rifle butts or the flat of blades.
"Hurry it up! Hand over everything worth a damn!"
"What's taking so long? You non-member filth should be honored to serve the Navy!"
A lieutenant colonel—clearly the ringleader—had his boot pressed against an old man's back. Smoke curled from his cigarette as he sneered, spitting out words soaked in arrogance.
"Too poor to pay the heavenly tribute, huh? Then you don't deserve protection! The World Government doesn't waste time on garbage like you! We risk our lives patrolling this dump of a sea—what's wrong with taking some payment for our trouble? Be grateful we're not burning your homes too!"
His laughter was uglier than any pirate's.
The other soldiers roared with approval and became even crueler.
Tanma stood silently, watching it all without emotion. Scenes like this were far too common.
He understood all too well—the hypocrisy of the World Government, the rot festering within the Marines, the cruel law that ruled this world: the strong prey on the weak.
Civilians from non-member nations were no more than insects in their eyes.
He had no interest in getting involved. The world was what it was. His path, his purpose—none of it aligned with the fate of these people.
With a final, indifferent glance, Tanma turned away—intending to collect his supplies and leave quietly.