Meanwhile.
Somewhere in the New World.
In the lawless zone of a neutral island.
A tavern.
"Hahaha!! It's rare that Pops is treating us tonight—let's drink till we drop!"
Marco, pineapple-haired and already flushed with drink, stood atop a table, raising his beer high in the air.
"Roar!!"
The other members of the Whitebeard Pirates cheered along, their laughter echoing off the walls as they clinked their cups together.
"Oi, oi, you lot—!"
Whitebeard himself called out with a weary smile, but in the next moment, he was surrounded by his rowdy sons, swept up in the merriment as if he had never tried to protest.
The tavern pulsed with life—people singing at the top of their lungs, some laughing until they were bent double, others drowning in drink and bursting into tears. A few simply sat back, quiet smiles on their faces as they watched their brothers revel.
"Hey, Oden! Don't just sit there daydreaming—everyone's having a blast! Come drink with us!"
Marco's sharp eyes caught the sight of a lone figure in the corner. With a sudden grin, he stumbled over, draping an arm around the samurai's shoulders.
"What's got you so lost in thought?" he asked, his breath reeking of alcohol.
Kozuki Oden blinked, startled from his reverie. He looked up at Marco's flushed, boisterous face and gave a wry smile.
"It's nothing."
Marco's eyes narrowed, curiosity gleaming.
"You're not homesick, are you?"
Oden threw back his head and laughed, the sound rolling out warm and clear.
"How could I be? Ever since I was young, I dreamed of setting out to sea—of becoming a pirate who would roam the world, tasting all the beauty this ocean has to offer. Staying in Wano would have been… too small a life for me."
Marco frowned, his brow furrowing.
"If you're not homesick, then why do you spend so much time alone, staring out at the sea like that?"
Oden waved a hand dismissively.
"It's nothing, really. Just… lost in thought."
Marco gave him a long, searching look, suspicion glimmering in his eyes.
"Could it be… you're still brooding about losing to that Marine—Darren, was it?"
He let out a low whistle.
"That guy's no joke. He even managed to destroy Kaido's stronghold and take down monsters like Byrnndi World… losing to him isn't shameful. You'll have a chance to beat him next time."
Oden just laughed, a bright, easy sound.
"Of course I know that. If anything, his strength proved to me that I was right to set out to sea. If I'd stayed in Wano, I would've spent my whole life never meeting someone that strong."
His hand drifted almost absently to the hilt of the Ame-no-Habakiri at his hip. His eyes gleamed with fierce determination.
"The next time we meet, I'll win. And I'll take Enma back from him."
Hanging at his waist alongside his beloved blade was a black scabbard that gleamed in the lamplight.
Marco watched the samurai's proud, unbowed expression and found himself even more puzzled.
If it wasn't the defeat to Darren that weighed on him… then what was it?
As the Whitebeard Pirates' "caretaker," Marco was always the one who paid attention to the little details the big, rough Pops might miss.
He watched Oden take a long pull of his drink, a frown furrowing his brow. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he leaned in, his voice low and teasing.
"Tell me… you're not pining after a woman, are you?"
Pfft!
Oden spat a mouthful of beer straight into Marco's face.
His face flushed crimson, and he started coughing and sputtering, eyes wide.
"I-I am not!!"
Marco wiped the beer from his face, a look of resigned exasperation twisting his lips.
Come on, man… you're not fooling anyone.
"It's that girl, isn't it? The pretty one… what was her name—Amatsuki Toki?"
Oden hesitated for just a moment, then let out a long, quiet sigh.
"I don't even understand it myself…"
He scratched his head sheepishly.
"She and I were barely acquaintances. But when I saw her being taken away by that Marine… it felt like I'd lost something important. Something I didn't even realize I'd been searching for."
…
The bedroom was in disarray.
White socks, a discarded kimono, a purple sash—all scattered across the floor, the air itself heavy with a languid, intoxicating heat.
Darren dragged himself upright, one hand pressed against his lower back, the other gently pulling a blanket over the peacefully sleeping Toki.
He took a long look at the contented smile that curved her lips even in sleep, and let out a quiet sigh, his voice a tired murmur:
"Talk about a trial by fire…"
In nothing but a pair of shorts, he slumped down onto the wooden doorstep, lighting a cigarette as he leaned forward, chin resting on his hand.
"Maybe… maybe I really do need to go see Yamakaji."
But he shook his head almost immediately, a shiver running down his spine.
No. Absolutely not.
Yamakaji might not be the sort to gossip, but a guy that mild-mannered and sweet? There's no way he could keep something like this to himself.
And if word ever got out—he'd never live it down.
Not that his reputation at headquarters was all that stellar to begin with.
Still… there was no way he could let this be the thing that defined him. A man had his pride—no matter what.
"I'll have to think of something else… Life Return? Nah, that's more about injuries, not… this."
He took a thoughtful drag on the cigarette, fingers absently stroking the stubble on his chin.
"How about… infusing it with Armament Haki?"
The thought lit a spark in his eyes.
That… that might just work.
Heh. If the founder of Armament Haki could see what it was being used for centuries later… they'd probably be turning in their grave.
The idea brought a faint smile to his lips.
He let his mind drift, smoke curling around him as he gazed up at the starlit sky.
From the bedroom behind him came the steady, peaceful rhythm of Toki's breathing. The sound wrapped around him, a gentle balm to the turmoil in his heart.
Under the soft glow of the lamplight, he found himself smiling.
How long had it been since he'd felt this kind of quiet, contented happiness?
He couldn't even remember.
Battle, bloodshed, desire, ambition, wealth, schemes… his past life lay before him in fragments, a blur of memories that once burned bright and now seemed impossibly distant.
The cigarette burned down to a stub.
He stubbed it out and rinsed his mouth, then slipped back into the room and into bed, pulling Toki close in the darkness.
Looking down at her sleeping face—so peaceful, so full of joy—he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and whispered:
"Happy New Year."
---
To be continued…