As the world became increasingly aware of the emerging threat known as Shimotsuki Taiyo, the man himself sat silently on the deck of the Marine warship he had claimed. His legs were crossed, his blade resting beside him, untouched, as his presence seemed to dissolve into the world around him. His breathing was slow—calm—and his presence was practically nonexistent.
Taiyo had fully entered his Selfless State, an advanced form of concentration and awareness that made him nearly invisible to anyone not looking at him directly. Even his Haki signature was nearly erased—something that only a handful of people in the world could claim mastery over.
Beside him, Van Augur sat with his rifle placed across his lap, trying to emulate his captain's state. He closed s eyes, feeling the wind and sea, focusing on his breath and his heartbeat. But even now, the sensation escaped him.
"You make it look so easy…" Van Augur muttered under his breath, frustrated.
He had once asked Taiyo how to enter that state, but the method Taiyo provided had felt… unreachable. So instead, Van Augur diverted his focus to the second-best technique aboard this ship—the infiltration art of Laffitte. With quiet, calculated discipline, he continued to practice manipulating his presence—making himself harder to sense, lighter in step, smoother in motion.
Above them, Kuro stood atop the mast, Huginn and Muninn perched on either side of his shoulders. Their eyes scanned the Calm Belt with eerie precision as Kuro acted as the ship's lookout. He barely spoke, preferring the company of silence and shadows.
Inside the helm room, Jango sat with Laffitte, both men watching the quiet ocean ahead. Jango looked more serious than usual, his brows furrowed, the usual rhythm in his movements absent. He gripped the wheel with one hand and adjusted his sunglasses with the other.
"…What do you suggest I do?" he asked, breaking the silence. "I've hit a wall. No matter how much I train, I feel like I'm just… spinning in place. I want to be more than a clown with a ring and a dance."
Laffitte, surprisingly, didn't mock him. He leaned against the side of the helm room, eyes on the horizon.
"Then stop dancing in circles," Laffitte said evenly. "When your routine becomes too easy, intensify it. Then break it. Burn it down and rebuild something harder. Fight opponents stronger than you. Let death itself teach you. When it's close, you'll feel something awaken inside you. Something real."
Jango blinked, startled by the seriousness in Laffitte's voice. The man was usually flamboyant, cryptic—even sadistic—but ever since they started traveling with Taiyo, something about him had shifted. He was still dangerous… but no longer directionless.
"…Thank you," Jango muttered.
Laffitte then smirked and laughed. "You should also stop hypnotizing yourself every time you try a technique. It's beginning to look like self-sabotage."
The mood lightened slightly, and the two began exchanging notes about their hypnotic abilities. Jango was eager to learn, and Laffitte, for once, didn't mind teaching. Somewhere between their comparisons of suggestion depth, vocal resonance, and ocular focus, the two began to laugh. They were different, yes, but slowly becoming more of a crew.
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As the crew sailed, they regularly encountered sea beasts at the surface, prime catch for their meals. On days when nothing took the bait, Taiyo dove beneath the waves, training under immense water pressure, much like Oden did before boarding Whitebeard's ship, though Taiyo practiced in the Calm Belt rather than the New World's stormy seas.
During one such underwater session, an opportunistic band of pirates attacked, mistaking the stolen Marine warship for an easy target. Before Taiyo could even break the surface, Van Augur, Kuro, and the others had already repelled the boarding party—just a ragtag group of small‑time brigands looking to make a name for themselves.
A few days later, they reached their first South Blue island: the famed Briss Kingdom, where the legendary Saint Briss had once sailed. As they dropped anchor, Taiyo released Huginn and Muninn to scout the island's dense forests, while he and the rest of the crew headed for the town square to gather information and supplies.
What Taiyo and his crew didn't know was that they weren't the only ship in port. At the far end of the island, another vessel rested at anchor—its crew nowhere to be seen, as if they'd all vanished into the island's undergrowth. A pirate flag snapped in the breeze atop its mast, and if Taiyo had seen it, he would have recognized that emblem all too well from his past life.
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Smoker slowly opened his eyes to the sterile white ceiling of the Loguetown Marine hospital. Stitches crisscrossed his torso and limbs, but even the Marine doctors couldn't explain why his wounds healed so slowly. As consciousness returned, the last image he remembered flashed across his mind—Taiyo's terrifying silhouette, gone in an instant.
That was a monster wearing human skin, Smoker thought grimly, still reeling from his defeat. He tried to sit up, only to wince at the pain.
A tall figure filled the doorway, and Smoker's heart sank—it was Admiral Aokiji.
"Why are you here, Admiral Aokiji?" Smoker managed, forcing himself upright out of respect.
"Ararara, it seems Taiyo really did a number on you, Smoker-san," Kuzan replied, taking in Smoker's battered condition. Smoker remained silent, too ashamed at how thoroughly he'd been bested.
"Anyway," Kuzan continued, "Garp's vacation days have run out, so he asked me to get your account of what happened. And—possibly—hunt Taiyo myself."
Smoker frowned. "You want my report directly?"
Kuzan nodded. "Plus, the higher‑ups are considering filling the seventh Warlord seat. They need to know if this Taiyo is truly as formidable as you claim. Especially since there are only six seats filled right now."
His words hit Smoker like a cannon blast. He struggled to remain standing under the weight of both his injuries and the news.