Out on the open sea, the Moby Dick sailed forward in heavy silence.
The deck was no longer filled with its usual clamor and laughter. In their place lay an oppressive quiet, broken only by the occasional cries of pain drifting out from the medical bay.
Grief and rage hung over the flagship like a thick, suffocating fog, pressing down on everyone's chest until breathing itself felt difficult.
The division commanders worked wordlessly—treating wounds, clearing the aftermath of battle—but from time to time, every one of them cast an unconscious glance toward the tightly shut door at the stern.
That door belonged to their father.
Whitebeard—Edward Newgate.
Inside the room.
Whitebeard was not seated upon his massive chair-bed. Instead, he stood with his back to the door, facing the enormous porthole window, gazing out at the endless night sea.
That towering figure—the strongest man in the world—looked unusually heavy now. His tattered coat still hung over his shoulders, unmoved.
Marco stood quietly several steps behind him. The worry and exhaustion etched into Marco's face were impossible to hide.
No one knew how long the silence lasted before Marco finally spoke, his voice hoarse.
"Pops…"
Whitebeard did not answer. He continued staring out at the sea.
Marco inhaled deeply. He knew he had to continue—even if these words were unbearably painful, even if they might provoke his father's anger.
"I know how you feel…" Marco said slowly, carefully weighing every word. "All of us feel the same way."
"Oden's death… none of us can accept it. Every one of us wants to turn back to Wano right now and make that bastard Kaido pay in blood."
Whitebeard's broad back seemed to tense even further.
"But, Pops!" Marco's tone shifted, urgent yet rational. "Not now. Please—calm down and think!"
He stepped forward, forcing his voice to carry more weight.
"We just fought Admiral 'Heaven-Shaker' Gern and his forces for three straight days! Our brothers suffered massive casualties! Jozu, Vista, Blamenco—almost every division commander is seriously injured and needs time to recover!"
"And the regular crew…" Marco clenched his teeth. "We lost too many of them. Right now… we're weaker than we've ever been."
"And Wano…" Marco's expression darkened heavily. "That's Kaido's stronghold—he's been entrenched there for years. It's a natural fortress, easy to defend and nearly impossible to assault!"
"The surrounding seas are filled with strange climates and hidden currents. For a force like ours that relies on large-scale fleet movement, it's an absolute nightmare!"
"And Wano's closed borders mean almost no information flows in or out. We don't even have proper intelligence!"
Marco looked at Whitebeard's unmoving silhouette, his voice thick with anxiety.
"If we drag our exhausted forces to Wano right now, we'll be facing a Beast Pirates crew that's fully rested, entrenched, and fighting on home ground!"
"This would be a war with no visible chance of victory!"
"Even if we somehow won…" Marco's voice trembled. "It would be a pyrrhic victory. More of our family… would never come back."
"And there's something else!" Marco emphasized, striking the core of the issue.
"Why did Gern choose now—this exact moment—to tell us about Oden's death?"
"He could've hidden it. Or told us at another time!"
"This was deliberate!" Marco's eyes sharpened. "He saw how weak we are right now—and he saw how deeply you care about your family!"
"He used Oden's death to provoke us, to enrage us! He wants us to rush straight into a suicidal war with Kaido!"
"A battle where both sides are crippled—or annihilated!" Marco's voice shook harder now.
"No matter who wins—whether we devastate Kaido or Kaido wipes us out—who benefits in the end?"
"The Marines! The World Government!"
"They'd love nothing more than to watch us slaughter each other while they reap the rewards!"
"Pops… we can't—absolutely cannot—walk straight into the script Gern has written for us!"
When Marco finished, the room fell back into deathly silence.
Only the sound of the ship cutting through the waves remained… along with Whitebeard's breathing, growing heavier by the second, as though he were suppressing an immeasurable sorrow.
A long time passed.
Then—finally—
Whitebeard's statue-like figure moved.
Slowly. Painfully slowly.
He turned around.
Marco saw his father's face.
That normally commanding, heroic visage was now carved with deep exhaustion—and a grief so profound it defied description.
Whitebeard looked at Marco. His voice sounded like rough stone grinding together.
"Marco…"
"I know…" Whitebeard said quietly. "Everything you said… I know."
He raised his massive hand and gently placed it atop Marco's head.
"Reason tells me… starting a war now… would be foolish… it would be dragging my children to their deaths…"
His voice trembled with helplessness and self-blame.
"That brat Gern… succeeded…""He gave me pain I cannot endure… yet left me unable to take revenge immediately…"
"But… Marco…"
Whitebeard lifted his head. His eyes glimmered with moisture.
"That was Oden…"
"That was my… brother!!!"
A low, restrained roar tore from his chest—like the mournful cry of a wounded beast—echoing through the room, filled with powerless fury and soul-rending pain.
Marco had never seen his father—always invincible, always dependable—look this broken.
His eyes reddened instantly.
He opened his mouth… but found no words.
Any comfort sounded hollow in the face of losing a brother—a family member.
Whitebeard drew several heavy breaths, forcibly pressing the grief that threatened to shatter his reason deep into his chest.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, that bottomless agony had been sealed away beneath ice.
Only cold resolve remained.
He sat heavily back into his chair, releasing a long, weighty sigh—as though he had aged years in an instant.
"Pass down the order," Whitebeard said. His voice was calm again, yet laced with heartbreaking fatigue and coldness.
"Spare no effort in treating the wounded."
"The fleet… change course. We return to Sphinx to recuperate."
He did not say revenge.
Nor did he say no revenge.
But Marco understood.
His father had made the hardest—and most rational—decision possible.
For the sake of the family still alive… he would endure.
"Yes, Pops," Marco replied softly, emotions churning—relief, guilt, and endless sorrow for Oden all tangled together.
He left the room quietly, closing the door behind him.
Whitebeard was left alone in the vast, empty chamber, shadows swallowing his mountain-like figure—now slightly hunched.
Outside the window stretched the endless sea.
And the man known as the strongest in the world sat there alone, silently swallowing the belated, bone-searing truth… and the wordless lament that followed.
What Marco did not know—
Was that in Whitebeard's hand lay a Marine intelligence file, delivered by Enel at Gern's request.
The documents recorded, in chilling clarity, the complete annihilation of the Kozuki clan.
The time-displacement of Lady Toki had not been recorded.
According to the file…
The Kozuki family had been completely wiped out.