On the deck of the Moby Dick, everyone’s eyes were pinned on Teach.
Teach’s smile froze on his face, the strings in his brain stretched to the limit; no, it shouldn’t be like this.
The Dark-Dark Fruit hadn’t appeared yet, Thatch was still alive and well, and he hadn’t done anything yet.
How did he get called out?
Sweat rolled down from his forehead, dripping down his thick chin onto the deck with tiny splashing sounds.
Ace walked quickly over from the mast.
No flames were ignited, but the expression on his face was hotter than fire.
“Teach.” Ace stopped three paces away from him, frowning, his voice hardening: “Why did you appear up there?
What did you do?” Teach gave a violent shudder.
His body reacted faster than his brain, and the mask he had worn for twenty years was put back on once more.
His hands waved wildly in the air, his expression switching from stiffness to grievance with startling speed.
“I don’t know, Captain!
This Light Screen is just making things up, right?” Teach’s voice rose high, spittle flying everywhere.
He turned around and shouted toward Whitebeard, his voice so loud it made several nearby crew members take half a step back.
“Pops!
I’m your most dutiful and obedient son!
For twenty years I’ve served tea, brought water, and scrubbed the decks; when have I ever had a single crooked thought?
This thing appeared out of thin air in the sky, who knows if it’s just talking nonsense to trick people!
Pops, you can’t believe it!” Tears and snot flowed freely as he cried with genuine emotion.
If the Light Screen weren’t still hanging overhead, any member of the Whitebeard Pirates would have felt that their brother Teach had been wronged.
But the Light Screen was right there.
Austin’s unique narration voice rang out again.
“Marshall D.
Teach.
A nobody with a bounty of zero.” “On the list of the most evil individuals in the entire Great Pirate Era, this person holds a place.” “Not because his strength is the greatest, but because his patience is the most abnormal.” Teach knelt on the deck, the muscles on his back tightening inch by inch.
“In order to find a Logia Devil Fruit, the Dark-Dark Fruit, Teach lurked within the Whitebeard Pirates for over twenty years as an ordinary crew member.” “Over twenty years.” Austin deliberately repeated those words.
“He didn’t strive for fame, nor did he seek profit.
He didn’t become a Captain, nor did he challenge his comrades.
Even when the position of Second Division Commander became vacant, he proactively gave it up to Ace, who joined later.” A timeline emerged on the Light Screen.
From the first day Teach joined the Whitebeard Pirates, to him carrying trays on the deck, to him deliberately holding back in battle, to him putting his arms around his brothers’ shoulders to drink and sing at a bonfire party.
Frame by frame, it was all a disguise.
“What he wanted was never these things.” “What he wanted was Whitebeard’s protective net.
The banner of the Four Emperors covers half of the New World, and neither World Government ships nor Marine warships dare to intrude into Whitebeard’s territory lightly.
Searching for a Devil Fruit under this net is far safer than working alone.” “So he waited.
He waited year after year.
He waited until everyone regarded him as one of their own.” The air on the deck became as thick as glue.
Marco’s blue flames flickered on his shoulders; he didn’t speak, but the expression on his face betrayed his fury.
Jozu clenched his fists, the diamond transformation on his arms spreading unconsciously.
Vista’s right hand rested on his sword hilt, his knuckles making faint cracking sounds.
Thatch stood in the crowd; he hadn’t yet realized that he was the one who should be the most nervous.
He just felt that Teach, who usually ate and drank with him as a close friend, had somehow ended up on the ‘Most Evil List’?
Teach’s mind raced frantically.
What should he do?
Rush out?
Where to?
Pops was sitting thirty meters away; one punch from the Tremor-Tremor Fruit would leave nothing of him but dust.
Explain?
Explain what?
That Light Screen had stripped him bare; any excuse would be nonsense.
He only had one option left: keep acting.
Act to the end.
Bet that the Light Screen wouldn’t be detailed enough.
Bet that Pops would value their old bond.
“Pops!” Teach’s forehead was pressed against the deck, his voice hoarse, “I swear!
What that thing says isn’t true!
Some Dark-Dark Fruit, I’ve never even heard of it!” Whitebeard did not look at him.
The old man held a new cup of wine, his gaze never leaving the Light Screen from beginning to end.
…
Marineford.
Sengoku leaned his hands on the windowsill.
He had accidentally exerted too much force just now, and a corner of the stone windowsill had been crushed by him.
He ignored the debris falling to the ground.
“Zero bounty.” Sengoku uttered these two words, each syllable carrying the force of grinding bone.
“A pirate with zero bounty went undercover on a Four Emperors’ ship for twenty years.
Whitebeard didn’t notice.
Marco didn’t notice.
Not a single one of the sixteen hundred crew members noticed.” He turned his head to look at the three Admirals behind him.
Kizaru was uncharacteristically silent.
He leaned against the doorframe, golden light reflecting off his sunglasses, his mouth tightly shut.
Aokiji had pulled his hands out of his pockets.
He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at the Light Screen, his brow furrowed into a knot.
Akainu stood there, words dropping out one by one: “This kind of person is ten times more dangerous than a pirate who is out in the open.” Sengoku didn’t respond.
He was thinking of something else.
If someone could disguise themselves under Whitebeard’s nose for twenty years, what if they used that same mindset to infiltrate the Marines?
Or to infiltrate the World Government?
A chill ran down his back.
…
New World, a certain sea area.
On the ship of the Red Hair Pirates, Beckman stood at the bow with a cigarette in his mouth, listening to the information about Teach on the Light Screen from start to finish, unaware that a long section of ash had fallen off.
“Captain.” Shanks stood beside him.
He didn’t look at Beckman.
He looked up, his empty left sleeve swaying in the sea breeze, his right hand pressed above his left eye.
Three scars.
Slanting from his forehead across the corner of his eye and down to his cheek.
They were old injuries that had long since scarred over, but the marks were deep enough to have reached the bone.
“You never mentioned the scars.” Beckman’s cigarette tip glowed.
“There’s nothing to say.” “Was it Teach?” Shanks lowered his hand.
The scars were exposed to the sunlight, looking like three centipedes crawling on his face.
“Back then, he didn’t have any Devil Fruit abilities.
With just a set of claws, he left these three marks.” Beckman’s hand holding the cigarette stopped.
“You mean, his true strength…” “Was underestimated,” Shanks said, “underestimated by everyone.
The whole sea thought he was a zero-bounty nobody.
But Beckman, you know I’m no pushover.
There aren’t more people than I can count on one hand in this world who could leave this kind of wound on my face.” Beckman stubbed out his cigarette.
“So that’s why you went to see Whitebeard back then, specifically to warn him about Ace and Teach…” “Whitebeard didn’t listen.” Shanks gave a small smile, “The old man is stubborn; he thinks he can handle his own crew members.” He withdrew his gaze and looked toward the sea.
“He can’t handle it.” …
Past timeline, a tavern.
Roger finally stopped shouting about going to the New World to cut down Whitebeard.
He sat back in his chair, one leg propped up on the table, tilting his head to look at the Light Screen.
“Undercover for twenty years, zero bounty.” Roger smacked his lips, “Interesting.” “What’s so interesting about it?” Rayleigh stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.
“A venomous snake slithered into a bird’s nest and pretended to be a chick for twenty years, and you think that’s interesting?” “I mean this guy’s endurance is interesting.” Roger grabbed someone else’s unfinished half-glass of wine from the table and gulped it down, “Think about it, life on Edward’s ship is so comfortable.
Drinking and eating heartily, warm brotherly bonds; if it were anyone with a less filthy heart, they might have actually been moved.” “But he wasn’t.” “Right.” Roger slammed the wine glass onto the table.
“Not for a single second in twenty years did he waver.
It means that the thing in this guy’s heart is much heavier than the ‘home’ Edward gave him.” Rayleigh was silent for a moment.
“What thing?” “Ambition.” After Roger said those two words, the smile on his face vanished.
He had seen too many ambitious people.
The sea was never lacking such types.
But someone who could hide their ambition for twenty years without showing a single flaw…
In all his life, Gol D.
Roger had never seen one.
“This Teach,” Roger said in a low voice, “is more troublesome than any of the opponents I faced back then.” Rayleigh pushed up his glasses and didn’t respond.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the Light Screen to continue broadcasting.
Because he knew very well that with this Teach’s personality…
The things that followed would only be filthier.
…
The images on the Light Screen did not stop.