Another image show a damaged Marineford plaza.
At the center of the frame stood a black-haired young man covered in bandages and dried blood, gripping a damaged sword in one hand.
Beside him, Vice Admiral Garp laughed uproariously while Fleet Admiral Sengoku looked as if he had aged another decade.
Half-hidden by smoke and dust behind them stood Admiral Akainu, his red suit scorched at the sleeve and his expression glacial.
Marco's fingers tightened, wrinkling the edges of the newspaper.
Noticing the sudden shift in his First Commander's aura, Whitebeard paused with his wine bowl halfway to his mouth.
"What's wrong, Marco?"
Jozu and several other division commanders gathered around in curiosity as Marco raised his head with a complicated look.
"Pops... I think you might actually see Sengoku make a fool of himself today." He turned the newspaper around to show the crew, his voice dropping low.
"Golden Lion Shiki reappeared in the East Blue."
The laughter aboard the Moby Dick died instantly.
That name alone was enough to silence the crew—a monster from the old era who had once stood beside Roger and Whitebeard at the pinnacle of the sea.
Whitebeard's eyes narrowed. "Shiki?"
Marco nodded, scanning the text. "The report claims he attacked Loguetown and was repelled by Marine forces. His status is unknown, and Headquarters hasn't confirmed his death."
Vista frowned. "'Repelled by Marine forces' sounds suspicious."
"It gets worse." Marco's gaze dropped to a smaller subtitle. "An unidentified young Marine trainee connected to Vice Admiral Garp was seen returning to Marineford with two damaged famous blades believed to be Oto and Kogarashi."
The ambient noise of the crew vanished, making the crashing waves against the hull sound unnaturally loud.
Jozu's expression shifted. "Aren't those..."
"The Golden Lion's swords," Marco finished quietly.
The commanders exchanged grim glances.
A pirate could lose treasure or territory, but a great swordsman losing his blades meant something far more fatal.
Whitebeard stared at the photograph for a long moment before his booming laughter rolled across the sea like thunder.
"Gurararara! So that old lion finally got bitten by a younger beast?"
Uneasy chuckles rippled through the crew.
One of the younger pirates scratched his head. "But Pops, the paper says his status is unknown. Maybe the Marines are just exaggerating."
"Maybe," Whitebeard rumbled, his crescent mustache lifting into a smirk. "But if that brat really brought back Shiki's swords, then something major happened up there."
Marco nodded, unfolding the paper further.
"There's more. Marine Headquarters placed the trainee under special observation and is considering an exceptional combat evaluation."
Thatch leaned closer. "Special observation? Not a promotion?"
"No official rank," Marco replied. "He isn't even formally enlisted."
Stunned disbelief gave way to raucous laughter across the deck as the pirates mocked the absurdity of a mere trainee fighting the Golden Lion and taking his swords.
Whitebeard chuckled again, though the humor didn't reach his eyes.
"Gurararara! Sengoku must be having a massive headache."
At the edge of the crowd, a heavy-set man missing several teeth was stuffing cherry pie into his mouth.
Marshall D. Teach had hidden in Whitebeard's shadow for over twenty years, and he laughed along with the rest of his crew.
"Zehahaha! A trainee connected to Garp? Maybe that old hero finally found another monster to raise! The Marines sure love making trouble for themselves!" He shamelessly licked the sweet jam off his fingers.
Marco didn't join the laughter.
His lazy gaze sharpened as he pointed to a blurry section of the photograph near Zaraki's hand, where the air distorted strangely.
It wasn't clear enough to identify—it could have been Haki, smoke, or a camera glitch—but the darkness around his fist seemed to swallow the ambient light.
"Look here," Marco murmured. "The underworld notes attached to the delivery mention rumors from Marineford. Witnesses claimed this brat released a strange pressure after his return. Some described it as gravity, while others said it felt like being dragged into an abyss."
Vista's expression shifted. "Gravity?"
"That doesn't sound like normal Haki," Jozu said, crossing his arms.
"No, and it doesn't sound like an ordinary Devil Fruit either," Marco agreed as the surrounding laughter faded into tense silence.
He took a slow breath. "The Marine headquarters clearly suppressed the details, but the underworld brokers mentioned one specific speculation regarding that power: The Dark-Dark Fruit."
Plop.
A half-eaten cherry pie slipped from Teach's hand to smash into a dark-red mess on the wooden deck.
His honest smile vanished for a fraction of a second as his pupils contracted.
The Dark-Dark Fruit?
The sole prize he had spent twenty years searching for, the cornerstone of his dream, currently resting in the hands of some Marine brat? No. Impossible!
It has to be a mistake, a rumor, or some frightened witness exaggerating Haki.
His heart pounded violently against his ribs, but he forced his jovial mask back into place before anyone noticed the slip.
"Teach?" Thatch patted him on the shoulder, looking confused. "Why'd you drop your favorite pie?"
The touch snapped Teach back to reality, his spine slick with cold sweat.
Relying on decades of acting, he bent down, scooped up the ruined pie, and stuffed it messily into his mouth, using the chewing motion to hide his twitching jaw muscles.
"Z-Zehahaha... scared the hell out of me!" He laughed, the sound almost too loud. "The Dark-Dark Fruit? Come on, that has to be fake! If the Marines really found that kind of power, they wouldn't let a trainee run around half-dead. They'd lock him in Mariejois covered in chains!"
A few pirates chuckled in agreement, reasoning that the World Government would definitely hoard a power like that rather than risking it in the field.
Marco didn't respond, keeping his eyes fixed on the blurry darkness in the photo.
"Maybe," he said, his tone lacking conviction.
Whitebeard held out a massive hand, taking the newspaper from his commander.
The strongest man in the world stared silently at the bloodied, grinning swordsman whose eyes looked like they were still searching for a neck to cut.
"Gurararara." Whitebeard's laughter was quieter this time. "Sengoku picked up a troublesome brat." He tossed the paper back to Marco.
"Keep an eye on him."
"Because of the Devil Fruit rumor?" Marco asked.
"No," Whitebeard said, picking up his wine bowl. "Because whether that rumor is true or not, a brat who can make Sengoku hide the truth and force Shiki to give up his swords... is not ordinary."
At the edge of the crowd, Teach lowered his head and continued chewing.
His jovial smile and boisterous laughter remained, but hidden beneath the shadow of his brow, his eyes had turned pitch-black and cold.
If the rumor was fake, nothing changed.
But if it was real—if that Marine brat truly possessed the fruit Teach had spent his entire life waiting for—then it didn't matter who protected him.
It didn't matter if he stood behind Garp, Sengoku, or the entirety of Marine Headquarters.
Marshall D. Teach would confirm it with his own eyes.
Teach's eyes darted rapidly, sweeping over a small notice in the corner of the newspaper.
An idea instantly sprang to his mind.
"Pops!"