The New World didn't slow down for anyone.
Since joining the Whitebeard Pirates, Black Rose, Lupin had fought for every inch of respect he could scrape together. Ezo and Fosha didn't hand him anything; he bled for their acknowledgment, and he knew the real war was still out there, lurking just beyond the horizon.
But winning? That wasn't what he cared about.
Victory wasn't the goal out here. Not in the way most people saw it, anyway. He wasn't trying to prove he was the strongest. He wasn't chasing titles or fame. What Lupin wanted was simple: respect. He needed them to see the fire in him, to know he'd stand his ground, bloodied and beaten if necessary, just to earn it. Not with fancy speeches or some show of power, but through the undeniable, raw language of action.
Lupin glanced at the system window flickering in the corner of his vision.
[Monthly Quest Progress: 2/16]
Time Remaining: 27 Days
"Fourteen left," he muttered, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Next up? Speed Jiru. Commander of the 14th division. A living blur, a sword-swinging nightmare that made the wind sing with every cut. People didn't even see him coming. Jiru's blade tasted blood before most could even register his movement. If Lupin wanted to truly test his mettle, this was the guy.
He found Jiru at the training grounds, a storm of motion in the afternoon light, cutting down anyone who dared face him. The air hummed with tension, and the defeated bodies littering the deck were proof of just how merciless the commander was.
Lupin didn't hesitate. His voice rang out clear, cutting through the noise.
"Speed Jiru!"
The swordsman froze, his blade suspended mid-swing, a raised eyebrow greeting Lupin as he turned.
"Yo, rookie," Jiru grinned, the amusement in his eyes sharp. "What's up?"
"I'm calling you out," Lupin stated, his voice steady despite the gnawing tension in his gut. "A duel. You with your sword. Me with my pistol. No Devil Fruit tricks."
A murmur ran through the crowd. Challenging Speed Jiru was the kind of reckless move that usually got a rookie killed.
But Lupin wasn't worried about the odds.
"I don't care if I get knocked on my ass," he added, his eyes locked onto Jiru's. "I'm not here to show off. I'm here to earn your respect."
That caught Jiru's attention. The grin that spread across his face wasn't just one of amusement — it was something else too, something that might've been respect.
"Heh… you've got fire in you, kid. I like that."
The Duel
The deck was cleared, the usual boisterous energy replaced by a tense quiet. Lupin rolled his shoulders, shaking off the weight of the moment as he steadied his breath. Jiru unsheathed his blade with the smoothness of someone who had spent years making this his second nature. The steel sang as it came free.
"Don't expect me to go easy on you," Jiru warned, eyes sharp.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Lupin shot back, trying to hide the tremor in his hands.
And then Jiru moved.
It wasn't just fast. It was like watching a flicker in the air — a blur of motion, and then the sharp whistle of steel. Faster than Lupin could track, Jiru closed the gap in a heartbeat. Lupin acted on instinct, throwing himself sideways, feeling the wind from the blade pass inches above him. His pistol snapped up, firing a shot not to hit, but to force the commander to adjust his attack.
Jiru sidestepped the bullet like it was nothing, his smirk never wavering.
"Not bad for a greenhorn."
"Didn't say I was good," Lupin grunted, already scrambling to get back on his feet.
The fight turned into a chaotic mess of dodging and firing. Lupin weaved through the air, narrowly avoiding the deadly arcs of Jiru's sword, taking shallow cuts where he couldn't dodge fast enough. His shots whizzed by Jiru's coat, never landing, but always forcing the commander to adjust. It wasn't about hitting him — it was about surviving, about standing his ground.
Minutes dragged on, stretching into what felt like an eternity. Lupin's breath came in ragged gasps, his arm bleeding from a shallow cut, his pistol lighter in his hands as the ammo ran low.
Finally, Jiru lowered his sword, the gleaming steel catching the sunlight.
"That's enough," he said, his voice calm, but his eyes were different now. "You've got guts, rookie. More than most. That's worth more than any victory in my book."
He clapped Lupin on the shoulder, the force enough to make Lupin's knees buckle.
[Commander 14th Division: Speed Jiru]
Progress: 3/16
Lupin allowed himself a tired grin. Three down. Thirteen to go.
The very next evening, bruised and sore, Lupin sought out the next commander: Atmos. The 13th division commander was a mountain of a man, muscles bulging, his laughter as loud as thunder. Two massive broadswords, each heavier than Lupin himself, hung effortlessly from his back. They said he could cut through a ship's mast with one swing.
Atmos was halfway through a barrel of sake when Lupin approached.
"Atmos," Lupin called out, trying to keep his voice steady despite the ache in every joint.
The giant turned, a grin already splitting his bearded face.
"Black Rose! What can I do for you, lad?"
"I want a match," Lupin said, keeping his tone even.
Atmos blinked, then erupted into a booming laugh.
"After taking on Speed Jiru? By the gods, boy, you're either the bravest or the dumbest bastard on this ship."
"Probably a healthy mix of both," Lupin quipped.
More laughter rumbled from Atmos's chest, but as the mirth died down, Lupin's face grew serious.
"I don't care if I lose," Lupin said, meeting the giant's eyes. "I just want you to fight me. To see me."
Atmos's grin softened, the humor fading into something deeper.
"That's the kind of fire we respect around here, lad."
News of the challenge spread fast, and before long, a crowd gathered around the two men. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a fiery glow over the deck. Atmos stood, massive swords resting casually on his shoulders, while Lupin checked his pistol, its weight comforting in his hand.
"Whenever you're ready, kid," Atmos rumbled, his voice surprisingly gentle for such a towering man.
Lupin didn't hesitate. He fired first, the shot ringing out and striking Atmos's sword with a loud clang. The giant didn't flinch, didn't even slow down.
The deck shuddered with each thunderous step Atmos took. Lupin rolled to the side, firing again. The bullet bounced harmlessly off Atmos's gauntlet, sending sparks flying into the dimming light.
Atmos grinned, his voice filled with pure battle joy. "Not bad at all!"
Then the swords came down. Two arcs of gleaming steel, like massive trees falling. Lupin dove, barely avoiding the blades as they cleaved through the deck, splintering wood where he'd just been standing. He kept moving, adrenaline driving him despite the pain in his muscles, firing his pistol again and again, not to kill but to show he wouldn't back down.
By the time his gun clicked empty, his coat was shredded, blood trickled down his temple, and every inch of his body screamed in protest.
Atmos paused, lowering his swords, and the deck went silent.
"That's enough," he rumbled, voice heavy with respect. "You fought well, kid. You've got more heart than ten seasoned veterans."
He extended a hand, massive fingers wrapping around Lupin's smaller hand in a grip that could've crushed stone.
"You've earned my respect, Black Rose."
[Commander 13th Division : Atmos]
Progress: 4/16
The crew erupted in cheers, clapping Lupin on the back with enough force to send him stumbling. He grinned through the pain, his chest still burning with defiance.
It didn't matter if he lost every fight from here on out. This wasn't about victories. It was about standing his ground, one brutal, blood-soaked duel at a time.
Tomorrow, he'd pick the next name off his list.