After the defeat of Don Krieg's fleet by Muichiro Tokito, the world faced a number of consequences that affected both the pirate world and the balance of power in the region. These events marked a turning point in history, changing the balance of power and triggering a chain reaction in society.
The destruction of 49 ships out of 50 came as a shock to the pirate world. Muichiro demonstrated unprecedented power, which forced many pirates to reconsider their strategies and approaches to battles. His ability to use cutting ships at a distance showed that even numerical superiority does not guarantee victory if the enemy has supernatural abilities.The pirates began to fear a meeting with Muichiro and his associates. This has led to a decrease in the activity of large pirate fleets in the region, as captains have become more cautious, avoiding direct encounters with unknown threats.
The defeat of Krieg weakened one of the largest pirate threats in the region, allowing the Marines to reallocate resources. The marines, who had previously focused on fighting the Krieg armada, were able to send forces to other pirate groups. This temporarily stabilized the situation in East Blue.However, Muichiro's success also attracted the attention of the Watch. His unique abilities and effectiveness in combat could be the subject of study, and possibly an attempt to recruit into the ranks of the Watch.
WANTED FLYER
ESPECIALLY DANGEROUS
Name: Muichiro Tokito (nickname: "Ghost of the Blade")
Age: 15 years old
Height: 178 cm
Appearance:
Dark, slightly disheveled shoulder-length hair;
Piercing steel‑gray eyes, like ice under the moonlight;
slim but muscular build;
Wears black haori
always with a sword (the blade is black with red inserts, a massive round guard, the handle is wrapped in black and red braid).
The last known route is the strait between the islands of Craig and Veltor (East Blue).
Reward for capture (dead or alive): 50,000,000 Belli
(it is paid by the Marine Patrol upon providing irrefutable evidence of the neutralization of the target).
Tokito Muichiro sat on the bow of his ship, watching the morning rays paint the ripples of the waves in gold and purple. He was holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hand—the same leaflet.
50,000,000 Belli.
He slowly unfolded the paper and read the lines again. The sketch was surprisingly accurate: dark hair, cold eyes, black haori. Even the sword was depicted correctly — with red inserts, with a round guard.
A brief, almost imperceptible grin flashed across Muichiro's lips.
Three months after the defeat of Don Krieg's fleet and a series of high-profile clashes with pirate groups, the name of Muichiro Tokito became known far beyond the East Blue. His reputation as the "Ghost of the Blade" — a young but deadly swordsman — attracted the attention of not only the Marine Corps, but also the World Government.
Through a secret intermediary, a spice merchant with an impeccable reputation, Muichiro Tokito received an offer from the World Government. The sealed scroll, exuding a light scent of sandalwood, outlined unprecedented favorable conditions.:
full amnesty for all committed acts;
monthly maintenance of 10,000,000 Belli;
the right of free navigation in all waters (except the territories of Marijoa);
access to rare sword tempering materials and ancient combat treatises.
There was only one condition: to demonstrate force against those whom the Government indicated.
A decisive refusal
Muichiro read the message by the light of an oil lamp in a local bar. Without hesitation, he folded the sheet, held it up to the flame, and watched as the fire destroyed the golden seals.
His answer was short and unequivocal.:
"I don't need your rules and your enemies. I choose who to fight."
Meanwhile...
The majestic meeting room. Marble columns, black wooden table, dim lights. Five Gorosei in snow-white robes take their places. The head of CP‑0 intelligence stands at the edge of the table, holding a folder with documents in his hands.
"Let's get started. The case of Muichiro Tokito. Tell me the gist," the First Gorosei said coldly, tapping his ring on the table.
"The object is 15 years old. Destroyed the fleet of Don Krieg — 49 ships. He refused the offer to become a Shichibukai. His answer: "I don't need your rules and your enemies. I choose who to fight," the head of intelligence reported, without looking up and flipping through the pages of the folder.
A heavy silence fell in the hall.
"Refusal is not just an audacity. It's a challenge. Someone has to pay for such a liberty," the Second Gorosei stated icily, bowing his head.
"He's not an idealist. Not an avenger. He's an anomaly. A person who doesn't fit into the system. Such people either obey or disappear," the Third Gorosei said thoughtfully, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Raise the reward to 150,000,000 Belli! Let every pirate, every mariner, every merchant know that there is a fabulous price on his head," the Fourth Gorosei shouted sharply, slamming his palm on the table. His eyes flashed with anger.
"It won't solve the problem. It didn't sell for 10 million. It won't sell for 150. We need a different solution," the Fifth Gorosei said softly but firmly, slowly raising his gaze.
"Allow me to suggest: activate CP‑0. The object is dangerous not only by force. He's a dangerous idea. If others follow his example..." the head of intelligence joined the conversation, taking a step forward. His voice was flat, without emotion.
"That's enough," the First Gorosei cut him off abruptly, piercing his gaze. "The decision has been made:
The reward is 150,000,000 Belli (dead or alive).
CP‑0 gets full access to resources for neutralization.
There is a note in the dossier: "Autonomous threat of the highest level.""
"Let him know that no one is above the will of Heaven," the Second Gorosei nodded, pursing his lips into a thin line.
"I wonder how many more such 'anomalies' we've missed?" muttered the Third Gorosei, staring out the window and tapping his fingers nervously on the armrest.
"If it doesn't break, we'll break the system around it," said the Fourth Gorosei, clenching his fists. His voice was trembling with suppressed anger.
"We are creating a myth. And myths are known to live longer than humans," the Fifth Gorosei said faintly but clearly.
"The meeting is closed. Let everyone do their duty," the First Gorosei proclaimed, standing up. His shadow on the wall seemed huge and sinister.
The doors swung open. The head of intelligence went out first, his footsteps were almost inaudible on the thick carpet. The Gorosei remained in the hall, their silhouettes gradually merging into a single dark outline, resembling a symbol of power.
The scent of incense was still in the air, and the sense of impending change was almost palpable.
Muichiro was sitting on an old wooden gangplank in a quiet corner of the East Blue Harbor. The usual bustle reigned around: movers were dragging crates, fishermen were repairing nets, children were running between boats. But he didn't seem to notice it — his gaze was fixed on the sea, where the sky merged with the water in the pale pink haze of sunset.
He was wearing his usual black haori, slightly worn from constant travel. The sword lay nearby, propped against the dock planks. Raven, his silent companion, was sitting on a crossbar nearby, watching with a glittering eye.
He heard footsteps behind him long before the man approached. I could make out heavy footsteps, the slight creak of boots, and the smell of tobacco that always accompanied this man.
"Dreaming again?" A hoarse voice rang out.
Muichiro turned his head. In front of him stood Dine, an old sailor with a gray mustache and a scar across his cheek. He often appeared at the ports where Muichiro was staying, bringing news and sharing his observations. It was said that Dine knew more about the sea than any cartographer.
"Is there any news?" Muichiro asked without changing his posture.
Dine sat down next to him, took out a pipe, and slowly filled it with tobacco.
"Oh, there is news. He struck a glass, lit his pipe, and blew out a puff of smoke. "You're a celebrity now, kid."
Muichiro remained silent.
"There are flyers hanging at all ports. 150 million Belli for your head. Alive or dead. Dine squinted at him. "Do you even understand what that means?"
"So they're serious about it."
"Seriously?!" The sailor snorted. "They're furious! The Gorosei personally ordered it. CP‑0 has been connected. Now every pirate, every mariner, every merchant will look at you askance."
Muichiro ran his finger along the edge of the sword, checking the sharpness.
"And what do people say?"
"Miscellaneous." Dine took a drag and thought about it. "In fishing villages, some whisper, 'He protected us from the Krieg.' Others cross themselves: "Who knows where he will go tomorrow?" Pirates..." he chuckled, "half are afraid, half are dreaming of catching you for a reward. And the marines... they are ordered not to engage without reinforcements."
"That's reasonable."
"That's not the point!" Dine leaned closer. "You've changed the balance of power. Previously, everyone knew: there is a Government, there are Shichibukai, there are pirates. And now you've appeared, the man who said no to Heaven itself. And it's scary."
The raven cawed and shifted its paws. Muichiro looked at the bird, then back at the sea.
"What's in the other villages?"
"It's the same everywhere. Rumors. Fears. Hope. Somewhere they say that you are a messenger of the gods. Somewhere— that you're a demon in human form. But everyone knows that you don't follow the rules. And it's... disturbing."
Muichiro slowly stood up and raised his sword.
"Thanks for the news."
"What are you up to?" Dine was wary.
"Sail away. I'll spend the night here today. Tomorrow — on the Grand Line or further. Somewhere where I'm not expected yet."
"Do you think this will help?" The sailor shook his head. "For 150 million, they'll be looking for you everywhere. Even in the most remote corners."
Muichiro slung his sword on his back. "I'm not hiding. I'm just going to a place where I can be myself."
Dine stared after him for a long time, until the young man's figure disappeared into the twilight. Then he muttered softly:
"Be careful, Mui. The world is after you now."
He liked this guy because of his principles and his actions inspired respect. When they first met, he thought he was just a kid playing pirate games, but the look, as if he had survived several battles before his visit, haunted the old man. Later, when Muichiro bought a boat on his tip, he realized that he was serious then. But then things started happening on East Blue that were difficult to describe.... The mass extermination of pirates to 30 million, then Don Krieg was defeated by his hand. Later, he decided to contact Muichiro and give him information that was transmitted to him through various channels.
And Muichiro was already walking away from the dock, towards the small tavern where he was going to spend his last night in this port. Tomorrow the sea will receive him again — and no one will know where he will go this time.
In a small tavern on the outskirts of the port, Muichiro laid out his simple belongings on the table. An old black haori, battered in battles, lay next to a new one, dark gray, almost ashen, with a wide hood. He carefully folded his old clothes and put them in a travel bag.
From the chest he took out a long scarf made of thick fabric — muted blue, with a barely noticeable pattern. He wrapped it around his neck and face so that only his eyes were visible, two cold islands in a sea of concealing fabric. A slight movement of his fingers and the hood covered his head, completing the image of a stranger.
In a small tavern on the outskirts of the port, Muichiro laid out his simple belongings on the table. An old black haori, battered in battles, lay next to a new one, dark gray, almost ashen, with a wide hood. He carefully folded his old clothes and put them in a travel bag.
From the chest he took out a long scarf made of thick fabric — muted blue, with a barely noticeable pattern. He wrapped it around his neck and face so that only his eyes were visible, two cold islands in a sea of concealing fabric. A slight movement of his fingers and the hood covered his head, completing the image of a stranger.
The road to Logtown
The journey took three days. He moved at night, avoiding major roads, keeping to coastal trails. In the villages, he bought food from silent merchants without engaging in conversation. The raven, his eternal companion, circled overhead like a guardian.
On the outskirts of Logtown, he encountered a gang of pirates who were robbing a fishing boat. The four men, armed with cleavers and pistols, laughed as they saw the old fisherman begging to leave at least something.
Muichiro was in no hurry. He stood in the shadow of the rocks, watching. When one of the pirates swung at the old man, the sword flew out of its scabbard like lightning.
A blow, and the blade barely touched the robber's shoulder, breaking the bone. The second swing and the pistol fell into the sand, split in half. The third one, and the leader, who tried to escape, collapsed with a broken ankle.
He didn't kill. Did not want. But he showed that there is a force here that does not tolerate cruelty.
The pirates moaning on the sand did not even have time to see his face — only the blue fabric of the scarf and the shadow of the hood.
Logtown greeted him with the noise of the port taverns and the smell of salt. At the Three Anchors, an establishment famous among captains, he found what he was looking for: the Scarlet Tide crew, preparing to sail to the Grand Line.
The captain, a stocky man with a dragon tattoo on his neck, eyed the stranger suspiciously.:
"Who are you?"
"The sailor. I can steer and hold a sword," Muichiro replied, his voice muffled by the scarf.
"We don't have room for casual fellow travelers."
"I won't ask for payment. Only as far as the Grand Line. Then I'll go on my own."
The captain chuckled, but noticed how confidently the stranger held the hilt of his sword. After a short thought, he nodded:
Good. But if even one member of the team complains, I'll throw them overboard."
No one recognized him. Not in the port, not on the ship. A scarf and hood hid his features, and silence was a thing of the past.
The first days of the voyage passed quietly. Muichiro was on watch, helping with the sails, avoiding conversations. The captain, seeing his skill, began to treat him with respect.
After 2 weeks, the sky turned black. The wind howled, the waves rose like mountains. The Crimson Tide was tossed from side to side like a splinter.
The crew was rushing around the deck, shouting orders. Muichiro stood at the side, watching the sky merge with the sea in a mad whirlwind. He wasn't afraid. He could feel the rhythm of the storm, just as he could feel the rhythm of battle.
When the mast cracked and collapsed, he rushed forward. The sword, which had escaped from its scabbard, struck the ropes, freeing the sail. With one swing, the debris flew into the sea. The second one picked up the wounded sailor, pulling him away from the edge.
No one saw his face. No one had heard his name. He was just a shadow in the midst of the storm, a figure in a blue scarf and hood, moving with unflappable precision.