The salty wind swept across the deck of the Moby Dick, carrying more than just the familiar scent of the open sea. There was something heavier in the air — an undeniable promise of battle. The Whitebeard Pirates were no strangers to storms or bloodshed, yet even the most hardened among them shifted uneasily at the sight looming on the horizon.
Thriller Bark.
A monstrous, floating fortress shrouded in perpetual twilight. Its silhouette rose from the waters like a decaying corpse, crooked towers piercing the sky, the eerie stillness making it feel more ghost ship than war vessel. And at its helm stood a figure as grotesque as the ship itself: Gecko Moria.
The Warlord's hulking frame cast a long, jagged shadow against the darkening sky. His grin was sharp and uneven, exposing teeth like shattered glass. Sunken eyes glinted with a bitter, festering fury. When he spoke, his voice boomed unnaturally loud, reverberating through the mist.
"Newgate!" Moria bellowed, his voice carrying like a blade through the night. "I didn't come here for pleasantries, old man. I came for blood. Kaido butchered my crew in Wano. I want vengeance. And I want to fight at your side. Not as a nameless ally — but as your son."
The word 'Wano' hung in the air like a curse. Rumors of that isolated land's suffering had reached the Moby Dick over the years — stories of Kozuki Oden's fall, of Kaido's unrelenting grip. To hear it spoken aloud, in a voice thick with rage, stirred old wounds in every man on deck.
Whitebeard's massive shoulders tensed, his expression darkening as long-buried memories flickered in his sharp gaze. The loss of Oden had scarred him more deeply than most knew. And Moria's words kindled a fire he'd kept buried for too long.
"You've got guts, Moria," Whitebeard rumbled, his voice like distant thunder. "But no one joins my family just by asking. You'll have to earn it."
Before another word could be spoken, a figure stepped forward from the crew.
Lupin.
His revolver rested at his hip, calm resolve written across his face. The reckless upstart of months past was gone — replaced by a man forged in fire.
"Let me test him, Oyaji," Lupin said quietly, his voice steady. The air seemed to still around him, the sea itself holding its breath.
Moria's grin widened. "A challenge? From one of your pups? Fine. Let's see what you've got."
The crew quickly cleared a space on the deck, forming a loose circle around them. Tension rippled through the air, thick as the moments before a storm. Lupin's hand brushed the grip of his custom Smith & Wesson XVR 460 Magnum, the polished steel gleaming under the fading light.
Without another word, the duel began.
Lupin moved first — a blur of speed, his revolver barking near-silent shots into the dusk. Thanks to his Calm-Calm Fruit, the bullets tore through the air without a whisper, invisible and lethal. It was a ghost's attack, precise and deadly.
But Moria wasn't an easy mark. Shadows erupted around him, writhing tendrils intercepting the bullets mid-flight. The dark limbs lashed at Lupin, forcing him into a relentless, weaving dance. Moria laughed, a harsh, guttural sound.
"Not bad, brat. But you'll need more than cheap tricks to bring me down!"
Lupin pressed forward, every move sharp and calculated. Weeks of duels against Whitebeard's best had honed him into something dangerous. But Moria's monstrous strength and battle-hardened instinct proved formidable. A shadow tendril finally caught him mid-dodge, slamming him hard onto the deck.
The ship rocked faintly from the impact. A tense hush fell over the crew.
Then, Whitebeard's booming laugh shattered the silence.
"Gurararara!"
The old man stepped forward, extending a massive hand. "You fought well, boy. Strength's not about never falling — it's about standing back up."
Bruised but grinning, Lupin grasped the hand. "He's tough, no doubt. But give me three weeks, Oyaji. I'll take him down next time."
Moria snorted, then chuckled darkly. "Three weeks, huh? I'll be waiting."
The tension between them ebbed, replaced by the spark of mutual respect. In the days that followed, Lupin and Moria trained together, their fierce sparring sessions echoing across the deck. Moria's lieutenants — Absalom and sharp-tongued Perona — begrudgingly warmed to Lupin's blunt honesty and relentless spirit.
As the nights stretched on beneath star-smeared skies, the commanders gathered to confront the subject they'd long avoided.
"We've confirmed it," Marco announced somberly, eyes fixed on the dark horizon. "Wano's under Kaido's heel. Oden… he's gone."
A silence heavier than the sea itself settled over them.
Whitebeard's expression hardened like stone. "Then it's settled. I won't let Oden's land suffer anymore."
Moria's voice was tight. "Kaido took everything from me. I'll see his head roll for it."
Whitebeard gave a grim nod. "Then we move together. Next month, we gather every ally we have. We storm Wano — for Oden. For your fallen."
A roar of approval followed. Lupin felt a tightness in his chest — not fear, but fierce purpose. He wasn't chasing fame anymore. Not fortune, either. He fought for the forgotten. For justice. For vengeance.
In the weeks ahead, Moria trained like a man possessed, forcing his bloated frame back into battle shape. The years of decay and bitterness burned away under sheer force of will. The Warlord who once challenged Kaido wasn't dead yet.
And neither was Lupin.
He clashed daily with division commanders — from burly Rakuyo to relentless Blamenco. Though he still fell short of the strongest, each fight sharpened him. Victories didn't matter. The climb did.
One evening, after a brutal sparring match with Fossa, Lupin sat nursing a drink beside Moria. The two men stared out at the rolling black sea, the lull of waves and distant seabird cries filling the silence.
"You've got fire, kid," Moria muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Reminds me of myself… before I lost it all."
Lupin chuckled, raising his cup. "Then I'll surpass you soon."
Moria barked a laugh. "Good. This world needs stubborn bastards who don't know when to quit."
Their nightly duels continued, brutal enough that the Moby Dick itself seemed to shudder at times. Lupin's Calm-Calm Field muffled the chaos, leaving only the hiss of waves and the cool night air.
And so, as the Moby Dick sailed toward its reckoning, with Thriller Bark a dark shadow at its side, the Whitebeard Pirates prepared for war. Wano lay ahead, its fate soon to change.
At the bow, revolver at his side, Lupin stood tall, the calm field rippling softly around him.
No fear in his heart.