The sea beyond Paradise was cruel that season — storms raging across the horizon, swallowing ships whole. But even in chaos, legends were born.
Far from the Oro Jackson — far from Ada, Roger, and the warships now descending upon Sabaody — another story began to unfurl on the other side of the world.
The Moby Dick, pride of the Whitebeard Pirates, was being torn apart by the New World's wrath.
The wind howled across Wano's storm-torn coast. Waves the size of palaces crashed against the cliffs, tossing a massive ship like a toy in the hands of the gods.
The Moby Dick groaned against the fury, its hull scraping coral and stone before the storm finally broke.
Thunder split the skies. Waves hammered against her hull. Ropes snapped like gunfire as men shouted, struggling to keep her afloat.
"Starboard rig's gone, Pops!" Marco yelled through the storm, wings flicking seawater.
Whitebeard, standing tall at the bow, gripped his bisento with one hand. "Hold fast! We've weathered worse seas than this!"
But even his words couldn't tame nature's fury. A monstrous swell lifted the ship — and then hurled her downward toward an unfamiliar coastline.
The Moby Dick struck the shallows with a crash that shook the cliffs. Wood splintered, anchors screamed, and the once-mighty vessel came to rest in the jagged bay beneath mist-shrouded mountains.
When the rain finally eased, Whitebeard stood ashore, surveying the wreckage. His men worked tirelessly behind him, hauling timbers, securing ropes, shouting orders. The scent of cedar and blood filled the air.
On the shore, a tall, broad-shouldered figure stood unmoved by the storm — a man whose mere presence seemed to part the air around him.
Edward Newgate — Whitebeard — planted his bisento into the ground and surveyed the strange land.
"Land of Wano," he muttered. "Heard of it… never thought I'd wash up here."
Vista grunted, wiping rain from his beard. "Closed borders, ancient laws. They say no one enters or leaves alive."
Whitebeard chuckled. "Then we'll be the first."
"Pops!" shouted Marco, his feathers drenched. "The keel's cracked — we can't set sail anytime soon!"
Whitebeard grunted. "Then we fix her. No one touches our ship but us."
Before anyone could reply, a rumble tore through the ground — not thunder this time, but something alive.
A figure charged down from the forested cliffs, swinging two massive blades, his voice booming louder than the sea.
"Are you the ones from outside?" Oden called out, his grin wide and bright.
The pirates scattered, alarmed — and in a single heartbeat, the man leapt onto the deck, landing between the crew and their captain.
His hair was wild, his robes half-burnt from the storm, his grin wide as fire.
Kouzuki Oden.
Whitebeard didn't move. His hand merely shifted on the bisento's handle.
"You've got guts," Newgate said evenly, his tone almost amused. "But swinging at strangers without asking names… that's poor manners."
Oden laughed — loud, reckless, almost joyful. "Then tell me your name, giant of the sea! You've washed into Wano without permission, and only the strong walk out alive!"
Whitebeard's grin widened. "Strong, huh?"
In a blur, Oden lunged.
The clash shook the entire cove — bisento against twin blades, sparks raining across the deck. Waves surged outward, splitting open the shore.
The crew gaped as their captain didn't budge an inch — Whitebeard's sheer strength grounding him like the mountain itself.
When their weapons parted, Oden staggered back, panting — but laughing all the while.
"You're no ordinary pirate," Oden said, eyes gleaming. "You've got the spirit of a storm."
Whitebeard tilted his head. "And you're no ordinary samurai."
"I'm Oden!" the man declared, planting his blades in the sand. "Daimyo of Kuri. And I've decided — I'm going to the sea! Take me with you!"
Murmurs spread among the crew. Some laughed. Others stared in disbelief.
Marco muttered, "He just… asked Pops for a ride."
Whitebeard scratched his chin, amused. "You barge in here, swords drawn, and demand to join my crew? You've got some nerve, Oden."
Oden grinned wider. "Call it what you like. I've lived my whole life in this cage of a country. I want the world — the smell of the sea, the taste of freedom! If you won't take me…" His gaze sharpened, voice rising. "…then I'll force you to!"
Whitebeard's grin split wider. "Show me what you've got, samurai!"
Oden's twin blades crossed in a brilliant X, slicing through the air with raw, explosive power.
"Togen Shirataki!" he roared, his voice booming across the shore like thunder.
The ground split as twin waves of compressed air tore forward. Whitebeard didn't move until the last second, his muscles coiling with monstrous strength. He raised his right hand, the air around it warping and cracking.
With a single swing, his fist met Oden's blades — and the air broke.
The shockwave shattered the beach, split the cliffside in half, and sent a pillar of seawater spiraling into the sky. Men were thrown from their feet, the ship rocked, and thunder roared as if the heavens themselves had joined the clash.
Oden's blades locked against the quake's force — for a heartbeat, he held, muscles screaming — and then he was sent hurtling backward, crashing into the surf with a roar of displaced air.
Steam rose from the fractured sand where they had clashed. Whitebeard lowered his arm, the tremor of his power fading into silence.
When Oden rose again, soaked and bleeding, he was grinning.
"That was incredible!" he shouted. "I've never felt anything like that!"
Whitebeard chuckled, shaking the seawater from his beard. "You're still standing after taking one of my punches. I'll give you that."
With a roar, Oden lunged again forward, blades flashing.
Whitebeard met him head-on. The bisento's sweep split the sand, the shockwave cracking trees along the shore. Oden's twin swords clashed against the steel, sparks raining between them like falling stars.
The crew stumbled back from the sheer force.
When the clash ended, Oden slid several meters backward, feet digging trenches in the earth — but his grin never faltered.
Whitebeard didn't move an inch. His laughter rolled like thunder.
Whitebeard's eyes softened with reluctant amusement. "You've got spirit, Oden. But you're the kind of man that doesn't take orders."
He turned his back, planting his bisento into the ground. "Men like you… I've seen what they do to a crew. Rocks had too many of them."
He turned slightly, his back to the young daimyo. "I sailed with men like you once — men who thought the world should kneel before their strength. Rocks D. Xebec was one of them. So I'll say this once — I don't take aboard those who carry that kind of will."
The crew tensed at the name Rocks. The memory of that crew — that war — still haunted the seas.
But Oden only grinned wider. "Then I'll prove you wrong."
Weeks Later
The Moby Dick sat anchored near the shore, newly repaired and gleaming under the midday sun. Seabirds wheeled overhead, and the laughter of pirates echoed across the sand.
Oden had refused to leave since his clash with Whitebeard. Every day, he came down from the hills with a grin and a bottomless stomach, drinking, feasting, and sparring with anyone willing to face him.
"Hey, Oden!" Marco called, perched lazily on a barrel. "You've eaten half our stock again!"
Oden tore into a fish bone, grinning. "You can't sail on an empty stomach!"
Jozu groaned. "You're not sailing anywhere. You're freeloading!"
Whitebeard stood at the rail, watching with a faint smile. "He's a wild one. That kind of fire… reminds me of someone else."
Jozu raised a brow. "Someone else?"
Whitebeard's smile faded slightly. "A woman I once knew back on Rocks' crew — Nyx D. Ada. People like her… like him—they don't follow orders easily. They make their own storms."
The deck went quiet for a moment. The name hung in the air, heavy and unfamiliar to most, but Whitebeard's tone made them feel its weight.
Oden stretched, rolling his shoulders, then looked up at Whitebeard, his grin sharp. "Then let me make storms with you. Take me to sea, Whitebeard!"
Whitebeard turned his gaze toward him, thoughtful but firm. "You're not the kind to be led, samurai. Men like you steer their own path—and drag everyone else with them."
Oden laughed. "Then I'll steer from the front!"
Before Whitebeard could reply, a voice shouted from the cliffs.
"Lord Oden!"
The crew turned as Kin'emon, Denjiro, and Kanjuro descended the rocky slope, panting, with Izo close behind.
"Lord Oden, you can't leave the country!" Kin'emon's tone was sharp, desperate. "You're the heir to Wano! The people—your father—!"
Oden clicked his tongue. "Don't start this again, Kin'emon."
Whitebeard raised a hand, stopping his men as the samurai approached. "So, these are your retainers, huh?"
Kin'emon bowed low but didn't meet his eyes. "We're grateful for your mercy, Whitebeard-dono. But our lord cannot go with you."
Whitebeard regarded him for a moment, then chuckled softly. "Heh. Don't worry we have no plan on taking Oden."
Kin'emon then smiled. "Then you understand why he can't leave."
Whitebeard smiled faintly. "Aye. That's why I won't take him. Men like Oden… they're meant to choose their own chains."
Oden's expression hardened. "Shut up, Kin'emon."
The samurai looked stunned. "My lord—!"
"I've heard enough!" Oden shouted, his voice echoing across the shore. "I'm done living for Wano's walls! I want to see the world with my own eyes! The seas, the islands, the people beyond these damned borders!"
The Moby Dick's crew fell silent. Even Whitebeard's grin faded into something quieter — respect.
He took a step forward, the moonlight cutting across his face — fierce, unyielding.
"The seas, the islands, and the world itself! — I'll see them all, even if it kills me!"
The retainers fell silent, their protests dying in their throats. Even Kin'emon, eyes wide, could find no words.
The crew of the Moby Dick watched from the deck — Marco, Jozu, Vista — faces lit by torchlight, murmuring among themselves.
Marco exhaled softly. "He's serious, Pops."
Whitebeard said nothing at first, the wind tugging at his long white hair. Then, quietly — with a hint of pride behind his gravelly voice —
"A man who speaks like that… he's already left his country, even if his feet are still on its soil."
Oden's gaze met his, the wild fire in his eyes reflecting the old man's steady flame.
Kin'emon took a trembling step forward. "If you go, my lord… you'll be branded a traitor."
Oden smiled faintly. "Then let them brand me. History only remembers the fools who dared to leave."
Whitebeard threw his head back and laughed, the sound rumbling like thunder across the cliffs. "GURARARARA! You've got guts, samurai!"
The two then locked eyes — one a legend of the sea, the other a storm still finding its shape.
Behind them, the waves crashed harder against the rocks, as if echoing the tension that hung between them.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Oden turned toward the horizon, his voice low but certain. "One day, I'll see it all — the world beyond these borders."
Whitebeard's grin softened into something almost proud. "We'll see, samurai… we'll see."
The night wind howled through the cliffs, carrying with it the scent of salt, steel, and something far older — the promise of adventure.
And beneath that vast Wano moon, two destinies quietly collided — one bound to the sea, the other to the will of the world itself.