Naruto's Trash Station

Marco was Whitebeard's first son, and Whitebeard had taught him a great deal. He had passed much of what he knew on to Marco. Unfortunately, Marco had never lived up to his potential.

Marco couldn't accept that. He had once thought little of it, but now, among the One Emperor and Five Emperors, Whitebeard was the oldest. Who knew how much longer he had?

If a great war broke out, how long could Whitebeard hold on?

And once Whitebeard died, what claim would the Whitebeard Pirates have to a place among the Five Emperors?

That was why Marco couldn't accept it. Not at all.

Whitebeard looked at Marco and smiled. "Gurararara... Don't overthink it. Just do your best. If you're really worried, find me someone fit to be a king!"

That piercing gaze brought tears to Marco's eyes. He nodded. "Yes, Pops!"

Whitebeard had no idea that those few words would send Marco searching the world for a promising successor—and that Marco would actually find one. But that was a story for another time.

For now, Whitebeard rose to his feet. "Get ready. In a month, we're going to Ren's Emperor Island for a drink!"

On a deserted island, Red-Hair held his forehead. "Damn it... What's Ren up to now? He's inviting us over. Is he planning to go to war with the Marines?"

Benn Beckman took a drag on his cigarette and shook his head. "No. The Marines establishing a presence in the New World was always expected. Ren should know that. I don't think he's inviting us to fight them. I think he wants to make an announcement."

"An announcement? What's he going to announce—that he's the Emperor? Ren can't be that bored!" Red-Hair pressed a hand to his forehead.

Hawk-Eye, who was drinking nearby, chuckled. "Perhaps