First Meeting
Several Division Commander on the deck looked up at the same time.
Experienced pirates who have seen much on the Grand Line rarely react with alarm to such reports—there are plenty of things that can run on the sea, such as the Geppo of the Marine Six Powers, certain Devil Fruit abilities, and misidentification of sea monsters' backs; these are not uncommon occurrences.
But the lookout's next words made the air on the entire ship freeze instantly.
"A greyish-white robe! Black hair! Red Eye— "
Marco's Phoenix Flames suddenly rose half a foot high on his shoulder, but he forcibly suppressed them.
He turned around and looked at the Whitebeard.
Whitebeard had already stood up from his chair, the Supreme Grade Blade Murakumogiri tilted slightly in his hand, the cloud patterns on the blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
His Observation Haki detected the figure even before the observer's binoculars.
It wasn't just the figure, but also the undisguised Chakra fluctuations emanating from it—there was no hostility, no sign of weakness, it was simply there openly, like an open letter.
"Don't make a move." The Whitebeard voice quelled the restlessness of the entire ship. He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips, his signature crescent-shaped mustache curling upwards. "It's that brat."
Natsu stopped about fifty meters from the side of the Moby Dick.
Beneath his feet lay the undulating sea, the hem of his greyish-white robe almost touching the crest of the waves, yet not a single drop of water touched it.
He stood steadily on the sea, looking up at the giant ship, which was even larger than the main warship of the Marine Headquarters. The sea breeze made his black hair a little messy, but he did not tidy it up.
The pair of scarlet Three-Tomoe Sharingan calmly swept over the Division Commander who were on full alert on the deck, and finally landed on that ridiculously tall figure.
"Whitebeard." Natsu's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly pierced through the sea breeze and waves, reaching everyone's ears. "I've come to talk about your son."
Whitebeard stood at the bow of the ship, looking down at the little brat standing on the sea.
Uchiha Natsu, the fifth Emperor of the Sea, the madman who wiped Sabaody No. 1 Island off the map and publicly crushed the Celestial Dragons' heads—
Standing there beneath the bow of the Moby Dick, her greyish-white robe fluttering in the sea breeze, she looked up at him.
Thirteen or fourteen years old, younger than he had imagined.
"Gururu!" Whitebeard burst into laughter, twirling the hilt of the Murakumogiri in his palm. The sunlight reflecting off the blade dappled the deck. "Uchiha Natsu? Interesting brat. What do you want to talk about?"
"Ace."
The smile on Whitebeard's face faded slightly, and his fingers tightened slightly around the hilt of his sword.
"Are you here as a mediator?" he asked, his tone slightly more subdued than before.
"No." Natsu's voice was not loud, mixed with the sea breeze and waves, but not a single word was ambiguous. "I can't bring myself to tell you to stop."
Ace helped the Uchiha Clan, and your Whitebeard Pirates taught us Haki — Uchiha never betray their friends. If you want to fight Marineford, the Uchiha will go with you."
Natsu didn't speak again; he was waiting for Whitebeard to process it.
The sea breeze, carrying a salty, fishy smell, passed between the two men. The Division Commander on the deck of the Moby Dick exchanged glances. Jozu frowned as he looked at Marco, while Vista's fingers on the hilt of his sword tightened and loosened.
They all knew whether Uchiha Natsu was friend or foe—back when they were Origin Island, this kid led a group of Red Eye clansmen and fought against Marine Admiral for a day and a night, forcing Kizaru to retreat to Marineford.
When a ruthless person of this caliber actively seeks out your help, anyone would think twice.
Whitebeard didn't keep them waiting long.
"Gurgle la la la la!" His signature loud laughter erupted again, the hilt of the Murakumogiri twirling slightly in his palm, the sunlight reflecting off the blade casting a blinding spot of light on the deck.
"Kid, you just said 'I'll go with you'—do you even know what Marineford is?"
The Marine Headquarters, with the Three Admirals and that old man Sengoku personally in charge, plus the Shichibukai and hundreds of thousands of elite marines.
How many people are there in your Uchiha Clan? How many are you planning to take with you?
"Twenty-four," Natsu said calmly, "Plus myself."
There was a moment of silence on the deck, followed by several barely suppressed snickers.
The captains on the outer perimeter exchanged glances, their meaning clear—twenty-odd men wouldn't even be enough to fill a gap in the navy's cannon fire.
But Marco, standing on the ship's side, didn't laugh, Jozu didn't laugh, and Whitebeard certainly didn't laugh either.
Having spent so many years in the New World, they know all too well the rules of this ocean.
Quantity never determines victory or defeat; quality does.
Since the brat in front of me dared to bring only twenty-four people, it means that the strength of these twenty-four people is terrifying enough, probably not much worse than the ordinary Division Commander on my ship!
The Whitebeard's smile faded as he re-examined the young man before him.
He had lived for seventy-two years and met countless people, but none like Natsu.
"You've come all this way to the New World to find me, you couldn't have just come here to tell me ' The Uchiha are going with you.'" His voice deepened, carrying a sharp, insightful quality. "What else is there? Tell me everything."
Natsu nodded. "Before that, I want to ask a question— Whitebeard, is your body still able to hold up?"
The air on the deck instantly froze.
Marco turned his head sharply, Jozu's fist was clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, Vista narrowed his eyes.
Whitebeard didn't speak, but Natsu didn't need his reply.
"Your Observation Haki has declined by at least 40% compared to its peak, and you can hardly unleash your Conqueror's Haki on your own. The old injury to your left knee causes you pain every time you step onto the deck, and the tremor in your right hand is a sign of damage to your central nervous system, not an age-related issue. Marco's medical skills can help you maintain your condition, but they can't cure the root cause."
Natsu's tone was as calm as if she were stating a medical report, without pity or regret, only facts. "If I'm not mistaken, your original plan was to exchange your life for Ace's."
Marco couldn't help but take a step forward, but Whitebeard stopped him by raising his hand.
The seventy-two-year-old man looked down at Natsu, his sharp gaze undiminished, but now carrying a complex meaning beyond scrutiny.
"What exactly are you trying to say, kid?"