Sea Circle Calendar 1520.
A boy wearing a straw hat had just set sail from East Blue in a small boat.
And far away, in the turbulent New World—
The sky was bright, clouds drifting lazily above calm waters, as a massive ship with a whale-shaped prow cleaved through the sea.
On the deck of the Moby Dick, the Whitebeard Pirates were in the midst of their usual celebration.
At the centre sat Whitebeard himself.
Even at seventy-two, the great man still laughed with a voice that could shake the waves. But age and old wounds had left their marks. A web of tubes ran beside his chair, medical staff moving quietly nearby—yet none of it stopped him from drinking.
"Gu la la la… drink! Come on, let's see which of you can outdrink your old man!"
The air was warm with laughter. Bowls clinked, meat was passed around, and the sons of the Whitebeard Pirates roared in joy.
Ace sat among them, smiling faintly as he watched the scene.
As the son of sin—born from the blood of that man—he had never known peace like this.
This family, this laughter… he owed it all to him.
His gaze drifted toward the giant figure seated at the head of the table.
Half a year ago, he had been brash and reckless, storming into the New World to challenge one of the Four Emperors. He'd been crushed, of course.
But instead of death, the old man had offered him a place—a home.
At first, Ace had refused to yield.
He tried again and again to assassinate Whitebeard, a hundred times in total. Each time, the old man stopped him with ease and never once struck back.
Somewhere along the way, Ace's defiance had turned into respect.
When he finally revealed his true identity—the son of Gol D. Roger himself—he expected scorn.
He expected to be cast overboard.
Instead, Whitebeard had laughed.
To that mighty man, Roger's blood meant nothing.
But to Ace, it was everything—his curse, his shadow, the weight that made him doubt his right to exist.
Yet the moment Whitebeard accepted him anyway, the chains inside him broke.
From that day on, Ace swore to bear the mark of the Whitebeard Pirates with pride.
He would make Whitebeard the next Pirate King.
Soon after, with his strength and fiery spirit, Ace became the captain of the Second Division—one of the crew's brightest flames.
Whitebeard noticed the young man's stare and grinned.
"Ace! What is it? You want to toast your old man again?"
He raised his bowl toward him.
Ace smiled, lifted his drink, then hesitated. "Dad, you're not in the best shape. You should go easy on the wine."
Whitebeard's laughter thundered across the deck.
"Gu la la la! You think your old man's too frail to drink? Brat, come here and keep me company!"
Ace could only sigh helplessly as a towering man beside him refilled his bowl.
"Come on, Ace," Teach said with his wide grin. "It's rare for Pops to be this happy. Besides, ever since you joined us, his spirit's been brighter every day. That's all thanks to you!"
"Quit talking nonsense, Teach," Ace said, chuckling.
"It's true! You know me, Pops," Teach called over, thumping his chest. "Honest man, never lies! My words are truer than seastone!"
Whitebeard burst out laughing, shaking the deck, and the others joined in. Ace grinned and raised his bowl again.
None of them noticed the brief, sharp gleam in Teach's eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came.
He, unlike most of the crew, knew the truth about Ace's lineage. He'd overheard the boy confessing everything to Whitebeard that night.
Roger's son, huh… Teach mused, the corner of his mouth twitching. Now that's interesting.
The laughter rolled on, the sea breeze carrying their joy across the waves.
And in that moment—amid warmth and noise—Ace looked around at his crewmates and thought quietly to himself:
Even monsters need a place they can call home.
A fleeting thought, but one that lingered
"Because no one is born a monster… the world just forgets how to see their heart."
Then, without warning, a ripple cut through the air.
A black fissure opened above the deck, stretching wider until it formed a vast rectangular screen. From the heavens, an unseen force descended like a net, enveloping the entire Moby Dick.
The laughter died instantly.
The Whitebeard Pirates leapt to their feet, weapons drawn, faces tense.
Something impossible had just arrived.