Be my son.
Whitebeard had extended his hand to Ace after the younger pirate tried to kill him.
It was the way of the pirate life. The commanders of Whitebeard’s various divisions had all shared ritual cups with him, making them father and sons. The captains of the various prominent crews under Whitebeard’s umbrella had shared cups with Whitebeard or one of his commanders, making them brothers or kin as well. That was why everyone in the Whitebeard family called Edward Newgate “Pops.”
The World Government ruled through a legal and judicial system. The pirate world was connected through a system of flags and ritual cups.
And the person at the top of the pirating world was no mere destroyer.
Ace found himself thinking often of the young girls who had brought them flowers. The Four Emperors of the sea were called that because they created their own little empires within the territory they controlled—a fact that Ace gradually came to understand as he traveled around Whitebeard’s territory and fought on his ship.
Be my son.
Father and son cups. In a literal sense, it meant becoming his subordinate, but to Ace, son of the demon named Roger, the idea that anyone would choose to say “I will make you my son.” came as nothing less than a total shock. Even if Whitebeard didn’t actually know Ace’s background.
“And what would happen to that offer of cups if I told him?” he grumbled to himself, sitting on the gunwale.
He hadn’t ever really thought about how Whitebeard might have felt about Roger. The stories told that they were rivals…
“…and that’s why Thatch ain’t coming,” said Teech.
They were on a speedy midsize ship, sailing alone, without Whitebeard’s flag overhead.
“Huh? Why isn’t Thatch coming?”
“Do I need to loosen your jaw to make you listen? Huh?” Teech threatened.
He was a violent man who lost all control in the midst of a fight, but he’d been part of Whitebeard’s crew for decades. Apparently Whitebeard was magnanimous with his ritual cups, if they included a man like him.
“Zeha ha ha ha! We’re on our way to an island! And we’re gonna take care of the scumbag who dared to disrespect Pops’s flag! We gotta beat some lessons into his thick skull about the pirate’s honor code!”
“And it’s up to me to perform that punishment.”
“Zeha ha ha ha… That’s why Thatch ain’t comin’. Pops put this one on your shoulders, Ace.”
It was in order to take a measure of who Ace was. And as his caretaker, Teech was there to observe and report back on his performance. A very simple arrangement.
An island was visible ahead. It was night—a black curtain spanning the sky overhead, sprinkled with dots of light. And glittering off of the black water below was the reflection of bright lights like fishing lures. The town was a big one.
They were on the outskirts of Whitebeard’s territory. There was a problem on this island that could not be ignored. Whitebeard had dispatched Ace to take care of it.
And the price he would pay was their duel. The hundredth confrontation, and most likely the last…
“All right, people, listen up,” Ace said to the pirates around him. “This operation’s under my command: Portgaz D. Ace. But I ain’t your division leader. I’m not even in the Whitebeard Pirates. Some of you might not like that. If you’ve got a problem with following my orders, remove yourself from the mission now.”
His speech had the pirates eyeing one another. But this was all on Pops’s orders, so no one raised any complaints. They decided to see what he could do.
“Then let’s go. Wallace, Banshee,” he said, calling two of his Spade Pirates.
“Captain Ace…”
“You sure you want me?” said Banshee hesitantly.
“This was Deuce’s idea. We could simply raid the place, but I don’t wanna just follow orders, do you? I’m gonna check out the scene first. Help me do that.”
✦ ✦ ✦
The island of Port Chibaralta.
There were many ships moored at the dock of the bustling town. It was a place full of taverns and pleasure halls, a town that indulged all of a sailor’s desires. And not just pirates, but the crews of passenger ships and Navy vessels as well—a place where the payment for completing a dangerous voyage could be spent within a week on booze and women. But such men would never advance from the position of deckhand for the rest of their lives.
This night was the annual Festival of Thanks.
The entire town was lit up with bright and garish decorations. Tourists wore whatever costumes they fancied, and adults and children headed out onto the streets. Photographers offered their services here and there. The roads were lined with merchants hawking all kinds of wares, and every store was packed. It was a vivid example of how money makes the world go round—in both legitimate and illegitimate ways…
“Hey, what’s this glass of suds you’re selling? Piss?!”
Here in a casino, the floor lined with old-fashioned tatami mats, a game of dice was unfolding.
Many sailors, both pirates and Navy alike, came and went from the game. It was an active one, due to the festival. And when the game got lively, trouble tended to follow.
“Dammit, I lost again! Every roll is backfiring on me. I bet it’s your doing, you lowlife cheater.”
“Even a Navy man shouldn’t go accusing people without evidence, Captain,” said the man managing the game, attempting to soothe the drunken gamblers. Swearing and insulting the quality of the refreshments was one thing, but there was no dirtier word than “cheater.”
This only put the inebriated Navy captain in a fouler mood, however.
“What?!”
Things were getting out of hand. The staff of the gambling den stirred to action and began to prepare for trouble when another man appeared.
“How are you, Captain? Makin’ a killing at the game, are we?”
It was…a gorilla.
A figure in a flashy striped suit, rippling muscles…and a gorilla costume mask, to be exact.
“Oh, is that you, Oliva? Your games are the most tightfisted I’ve ever played. They don’t pay out squat!” grumbled the captain to the man in the gorilla mask.
“Ah…you’ve had too much to drink,” said the gorilla man, clapping his hands. “I need you to leave, sir. You’re bothering the other guests.”
“What?” growled the captain, even angrier at this unexpectedly formal treatment.
“Ahh, and I see here that you’ve built up quite a tab. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity to square up,” the gorilla man said, clenching his fists until the joints popped. There were thick rings of pure gold on all of his fingers. A secretary nearby began to slide beads on an abacus to calculate his receipt. He had been losing tremendously—more than several years’ salary for a Navy HQ captain.
“What the hell is this?!”
“I can see why you’re a captain at Navy Headquarters, sir. You even lose like a real man.”
“This is nonsense! I refuse! I won’t pay a single berry to the cheaters trying to rip me off!”
“Captain…I’m sure you know whose flag flies over this town.”
Right outside of the gambling den, next to the swinging sign that identified it to potential customers, was the flag bearing Whitebeard’s skull and bones.
That threat intimidated the captain, but his pride willed him back to his feet.
“Whitebeard? Who cares?! I’m a Navy Headquar—brft!”
Crunch! The man’s mug of sudsy booze went flying.
The gorilla man pounded the Navy HQ captain from above. Just one punch sent the captain to the floor, unconscious.
“Seize his goods.”
The mark of those heavy rings left an imprint on the captain’s cheek. The side of his face was caved in, the bones themselves bent with the force of the blow.
The man took off his gorilla mask to reveal…a gorilla face. His features looked about 30 percent human and 70 percent gorilla.
“Even a Naval officer can’t walk out of my—er, Whitebeard’s gambling den without paying out his losses.”
Oliva wiped his bloody fist on the captain’s cloak, which was embroidered with the word “Justice,” and commanded his employees to clean up the bothersome guest.
Two middle-aged women with sagging bellies and heavy makeup approached Oliva and handed him a midsized leather bag. It was packed with wrapped stacks of bills.
“Hey, hey, hey-hey-hey!” Oliva cried in rhythm, clapping twice. “Apologies for that disgraceful little show! This is the Festival of Thanks and it only comes once a year! It’s time to play big or go home, my friends!”