"Ah—"
"Ah—"
Makino's soft voice carried across the cabin as she lifted a grape delicately and pressed it against Jin's lips. He obliged with a lazy "ahh," letting her feed him as though he were a child.
It had been three days since the battle with the World Government's warship.
The morning after, Makino had woken and nearly burst into tears. Kuma's enormous frame was covered in wounds from muzzle to paw. The great bear looked more like a shredded rug than a warrior. She had pressed both hands to her mouth, eyes glistening, before bolting to Jin's side.
Her hands fluttered all over him—left shoulder, right chest, back, arms. She checked him again and again, desperate to find nothing broken. Only after confirming he bore not a scratch did she let out a shuddering sigh of relief. "You scared me half to death," she whispered, tears trembling at the edge of her lashes.
Jin had only smiled, slipping an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close until her cheek pressed against his chest. His hand stroked her dark green hair slowly, soothingly. "Kuma's injuries look worse than they are. And me? I told you—I don't fall so easily."
Makino clung tighter, letting herself believe him.
Tina's way was different. She didn't weep, didn't cling. She stood straight before him, lips tight, and said with a sharpness that only half-masked her worry: "Why didn't you let Kuina and me fight? What were you trying to prove, acting like the lone hero? Next time, drop the act—don't make us worry like that."
Her amber eyes lingered on his chest, on his arms, scanning for hidden injuries she pretended not to search for. Jin only chuckled and let her stew in her own contradictions.
Three days later, Kuma was already back on his feet. His healing was monstrous, flesh knitting at a pace that defied common sense. By the third day, he was diving overboard to fish, returning with catches clutched in his paws.
"Boss!" Kuma boomed, voice rumbling like a drum. "During that fight… I think I touched something. Like a thread, hard to catch but real. It keeps slipping away…"
Jin lay on a deck chair, Makino perched beside him with fruit and wine, and raised one eyebrow. "Hoh? So you felt it too. That rage of yours… you're starting to bend it, not just be bent by it. Keep sitting, keep grinding. One day you'll master that storm inside you. I'm counting on it, Kuma."
The bear grinned wide, chest swelling. "Okay!" He dropped into a cross-legged seat at the prow, beginning his silent breathing practice.
Jin watched him thoughtfully. In his mind, the math was already clear. In that last fight, with rage unleashed, Kuma had reached the threshold of a Vice Admiral. An elite Vice Admiral, even. The kind stationed only at Marineford, not scattered in the Blues. CP0's "lizard man" had been no weakling—Jin had gauged his strength at the same level. And Kuma had torn through that squad with bloody, brutal efficiency.
As for Jin himself… he allowed himself a small smile. He had tested something. Hell of Blood. That mercenary-world killing art, combined with the raw pressure of his Conqueror's Haki, had not only worked but blended. Imperfectly, yes, but enough. The possibility thrilled him. And, perhaps more importantly, Sengoku and Garp hadn't even recognized the nature of his Haki.
He stretched luxuriously, spine cracking. "Ahhh… enough thinking. Tonight, fish."
Makino giggled, already moving to fetch a bucket.
Another three days passed.
The Eternal Life drifted across calm waters, sails full, never docking. East Blue was vast—far vaster than the stories made it seem. Jin found himself scoffing quietly at the idea of a merry little ship crossing it in months, let alone sailing to the Grand Line in record time. The map in his head told him the truth: East Blue was an ocean kingdom, broad enough to lose whole lives in.
By the sixth day, he held a folded newspaper in one hand, skimming lazily. As he'd suspected, no bounty notice bore his name. Sengoku had contained the story. The papers sang of "justice" and "compassion," hollow praises of the World Government. Not a word about the massacre at sea.
A smirk tugged at his mouth. "Impressive, old fox. You kept the pigs quiet."
He flipped to the last page. There, a smaller headline caught his eye. "Amazon Lily's Empress Sets Sail."
Jin let out a low chuckle. "Boa Hancock, is it? Now that's interesting." He folded the page carefully. "The Seven Warlords plan must be starting soon. Another current pulling tight. The seas will grow noisy."
His thoughts drifted. He had planned to find a great beast in East Blue, to forge his blade's soul. But so far, no monster had satisfied. Information was everything, and he lacked it here. Without it, even foreknowledge was a blindfold.
For a mad instant, he considered CP9. In another life, another story, they might have been turned. Loyal assassins, remade. But the truth was harsher—World Government tools carved from childhood, bones soaked in doctrine. Breaking them free would take more than charm. He shook his head. "Another puzzle for another sea."
He closed his eyes and let the sun warm his face.
The peace broke with Kuina's voice. She landed on the deck in a single fluid leap, blood-red sword in hand, her expression unreadable.
"Enemy ahead," she reported. "A warship. Dragon-headed prow. Five minutes out."
Jin sat up slowly, violet eyes narrowing.
"Oh?" He kicked once, bounding up the mast until he stood atop the lookout perch. From there, the horizon opened wide. His gaze locked on the shape cutting through the waves—a ship, yes, dragon-headed like his own Eternal Life. But grotesque. Misshapen. An ugly caricature, all jagged teeth and warped scales carved in wood.
And yet Jin's lips curved.
"Well, well. Fate does love its games."
He could feel it—an aura, subtle but immense. The kind of presence that bent men's wills, not through terror but through conviction. This was no marine, no pirate. This was something else.
A revolutionary.
"Monkey D. Dragon," Jin murmured. "So we meet."
On the deck below, the women gathered, tension crackling. Makino clutched the rail, unease in her green eyes. Tina rested one hand on her hip, the other near her sidearm, calm but alert. Kuina simply stood, sword loose at her side, watching the horizon.
Jin remained at the mast's peak, cloak snapping in the sea wind, gaze never leaving the approaching warship.
"Let's see what surprise you bring me, Dragon," he whispered.
The Eternal Life and the ugly dragon-headed ship closed the distance, wave by wave. And in Jin's chest, anticipation burned.
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T/N :
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