The Vivre Card in Ornn's hand was a relic of a different era.
It was an anchor. One of three specially crafted for Izō and the Mink leaders when Oden first departed for the sea. When Lady Toki returned to Wano, she left those connections behind. Denjiro had guarded them for twenty years—scraps of charred paper that twitched toward a home that was no longer there.
Now, on the deck of the Moby Dick, Izō stared at the fragment in his palm. The paper shivered toward his chest. A silent, physical confirmation of a bond the New World hadn't managed to break.
"Denjiro..." Izō whispered. The name was a prayer. "Then... they're still there. Still holding on."
"Waiting," Ornn corrected, his voice flat. Practical. "But the board is changing. They sent us out to find the pieces they can't reach."
Izō hadn't heard a whisper from Wano in over a decade. Learning that Denjiro and Ashura Doji were alive—and that Hiyori was well-protected—shattered his composure. He didn't ask for a report. He asked for a drink.
...
As it turned out, the 'Forge God' had a constitution that extended to his liver.
In his previous life, Ornn had been a lightweight. In this one? His body processed alcohol with the same frightening efficiency it used for magma. He matched the commanders bottle for bottle. He didn't get drunk; he simply grew more focused while the air around them filled with the boisterous, violent camaraderie of the Whitebeard Pirates.
With every clink of the glass, the invisible wall between the runaways and the crew thinned.
Yamato, however, didn't need alcohol to bridge the gap. She possessed a terrifying level of social momentum. Within the hour, she was dancing. A wild, chaotic mimicry of the festival dances she'd read about in the journal. It was awkward. Funny, even.
But no one laughed. Not in mockery.
Many joined in. A massive, black-haired man with a gap-toothed grin was among the loudest, his laughter rolling across the deck like heavy stones.
Marshall D. Teach.
Ornn's hand hesitated mid-air. The wine glass suddenly felt heavy.
He looked at the future 'Blackbeard.' The wolf in the fold. For a fleeting, impulsive second, the urge to strike surged in his chest. To warn Whitebeard. To end the threat before the first betrayal could even be conceived.
He forced himself to drink instead.
'Not now.'
Teach had been on this ship for nearly twenty years. Ornn was a guest of a few hours. A refugee. If he pointed a finger now, he wouldn't just be ignored; he would be cast out. Credibility was a resource he hadn't yet accumulated. Besides, the Dark-Dark Fruit wouldn't appear for another four years.
'Four years.'
Four years of forging. Four years of stacking constitution via the Heart of Steel. Four years to master Haki and craft gear that defied the logic of this world. By the time Teach found his 'dream,' Ornn intended to be a mountain the man couldn't climb.
Confidence. It wasn't arrogance; it was the arithmetic of the Creation Illustrated Book.
...
"By the way, boy... and Kaido's daughter."
The voice rumbled like a tectonic shift. Ornn looked up.
Whitebeard was reclining on his side, propping his head with one hand. His gaze was lazy, but it had the weight of lead.
Yamato stopped dancing. She puffed out her cheeks. "I told you, Old Man Whitey! Don't keep emphasizing that. If I could choose, I wouldn't want anything to do with that bull-headed gorilla!"
"Oh?" Whitebeard's golden eyes narrowed. "Is being Kaido's daughter such a burden to you?"
The levity died.
Yamato's fists clenched. Her knuckles went white. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps it was the sheer presence of the one man who could truly stand against her father, but the dam finally broke.
"Of course it's a burden! Because of him, I have no friends. I have no freedom."
Her voice shook. Raw. Jagged.
"Oden-sama—a man who was truly indomitable—was murdered by his hands! My father and that snake Orochi are trampling over the country Oden died to protect. Every samurai who fought for the honor of the Kozuki died by his weapon."
She stepped forward. Her eyes were burning.
"For the last month, I've seen people who are so hungry they can't even find a drop of clean water. That is his legacy. I am deeply, wretchedly ashamed to carry his blood!"
Dead air.
A heavy, suffocating silence descended over the Moby Dick. Hundreds of pirates stared.
Whitebeard poured himself a bowl of wine. A vessel larger than most cooking pots. He drained it in a single go and set it down with a dull, hollow thud.
"Well then," the Old Man said. "Why do you continue to live?"
Ornn's heart skipped. He instinctively started to rise. He couldn't let Whitebeard break her.
Before he could speak, a hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"Stay back, yoi," Marco whispered. "Pops knows what he's doing."
Ornn froze.
He knew Marco was right, but the tension was agonizing. He realized then that he wasn't just worried for her; he was afraid of losing the only person who had stood by him in the dark. He didn't want her poached by a legend. Not yet.
...
Yamato stood paralyzed. The question had struck her like a physical blow.
'If I hate being his daughter, why am I here? My father tried to kill me... why didn't I just let him? Why haunt Onigashima like a ghost? Why find Ornn?'
Just as her gaze began to flicker, Ornn's voice cut through.
"Have you forgotten the dungeon? Have you forgotten the warriors you gave your food to?"
Yamato's head snapped toward him.
The memory flooded back. The three samurai. The sacrifice. The promise she had made to them to become stronger and fight for Wano's dawn.
And the agreement she had made with the man sitting by the railing: 'To protect him until the last second of his life.'
The confusion vanished.
Yamato stood tall. She spoke clearly—of the three warriors, of her bond with Ornn, and of her dream to fulfill Oden's will by tearing Kaido down.
"Is that so..."
Whitebeard glanced at Ornn. The old pirate shook his head silently, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He reached out and flicked Yamato's forehead.
"But you still can't be Oden," he said.
Yamato winced, rubbing her forehead. "Why not? Just because I'm a woman?"
"Gurararara! You're even stupider than Kaido!"
Whitebeard looked over at Izō. "Izō. You were Oden's retainer. You're a man. Do you want to be Oden?"
Izō shook his head. No hesitation.
"Why?" Yamato asked, bewildered.
"Because," Izō said, his smile soft but firm, "I am Izō."