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Paaaaat-!
A bright light slowly filled Cale’s gaze.
Blink blink.
He blinked a few times until he could see clearly.
The first thing Cale noticed was the smell of salt.
The second was the movement beneath his feet.
The third was the fact that several dozen men were pointing weapons at him.
Cale Henituse stared blankly at the men.
Some held swords.
Others had guns.
A few had weapons Cale couldn't immediately identify.
There were also several men who looked like they could break a tree in half with their bare hands.
Cale's gaze slowly moved past them.
Wooden deck.
Masts.
Sails.
A vast blue sea stretching endlessly in every direction.
And, most importantly—
A very large ship.
Cale's expression remained calm.
'Ah.'
He had a bad feeling.
Not the ordinary kind of bad feeling.
This was the kind of bad feeling that made him want to go back into the light, and politely ask whatever bastard god was responsible for this situation to send him somewhere else without prior knowledge nor information.
Cale signed inwardly.
- Cale, we're here.
His ancient powers were present.
That was good.
"Who the hell is this guy?"
"How did you get on the ship?!"
"Did anyone see a boat?!"
"No!"
"There's nothing around us!"
There was nothing around them.
Cale frowned.
'This is troublesome.'
Very troublesome.
He preferred situations where he knew at least one thing about his surroundings.
"I don't intend to cause trouble."
...
A low voice echoed across the deck.
"That's enough."
"But Pops–"
"I said enough."
The murmuring stopped.
Cale looked toward the source as the crowd parted.
Clear tubes ran from the bottles toward his arms and body, disappearing beneath bandages. The bottles moved slightly whenever the ship rocked with the waves.
Cale stared at them.
'He has a lot.'
That was his first thought.
And yet—
Cale felt no sense of weakness from him
Rather, the opposite.
He towered over almost everyone around him, his massive body covered by a white captain's coat draped over his shoulders.
A crescent-shaped white moustache framed his face.
His presence alone made the atmosphere change.
"Gurararara! You have some nerve appearing on my ship without an invitation."
The enourmous man stared down at him.
"I wasn't bought here with my permission either."
'That damn God of Death.'
Cale clicked his tongue internally.
Whitebeard's eyebrows raised.
"Young man."
Cale immediately disliked the way he said that.
There was nothing threatening in the words.
That was precisely the problem.
"Yes?"
Then—
The air changed.
A tremendous pressure descended upon the room.
The weaker people nearby stiffened.
Some stopped breathing.
One person's knees buckled.
Cale's red hair moved slightly in the invisible pressure.
Cale internally sighed.
So he's that type.
Whitebeard's Conqueror's Haki wasn't being released completely.
It was only a fraction.
A test.
Cale's eyes slowly narrowed.
He could have endured it.
That would have been the simplest choice.
But Cale Henituse had never particularly enjoyed being tested without permission.
Something inside him stirred.
The Dominating Aura emerged.
The pressure surrounding Cale became strangely still.
Whitebeard's eyes changed.
"Hoh."
The two forces met.
They didn't feel the same.
Cale's aura was different.
It was like standing before a cliff.
It simply existed.
And crossing it felt like an extremely bad idea.
Whitebeard laughed.
"Gurararara!"
Cale's eyebrow twitched.
'Why is he laughing?'
Whitebeard withdrew his Haki.
The room immediately became easier to breathe in.
Cale released his aura as well.
Silence followed.
Whitebeard stared at him for several seconds.
"What's your name, brat?"
"My name is Cale Henituse."
A few pirates exchanged glances.
"Henituse?"
"Never heard of him."
"He's not from around here."
Cale silently agreed with the last statement.
Whitebeard rested one hand on his bisento.
"How did you get onto my ship?"
"I don't know."
Silence.
Marco raised an eyebrow.
"You don't know?"
"No."
"You just appeared?"
"Yes."
"Out of nowhere?"
"Yes."
Marco stared at him.
Cale stared back.
Marco sighed.
"That's a pretty suspicious story, yoi."
"I agree."
That answer caught Marco off guard.
"You agree?"
"Yes. If someone suddenly appeared on my ship without explanation, I'd be suspicious too."
A few of the pirates snickered.
"And where are you from?"
"Somewhere very far away."
"How far?"
"...Very."
Marco laughed.
"That's not helpful, yoi."
"I know."
Marco's mouth twitched.
"You're pretty calm for someone surrounded by pirates."
Cale glanced around.
"Am I supposed to panic?"
"Usually."
"I don't see how that would help."
Marco looked toward Whitebeard.
Whitebeard grinned.
"Gurararara! He's got guts."
"It seems like we're not gonna get any information from you anytime soon."
Izo walked over.
"Then tell me, brat."
Whitebeard leaned forward slightly.
"What kind of man are you?"
Cale paused.
He looked at the enormous pirate in front of him.
Then at the people still recovering from the pressure.
Finally, Cale answered.
"...A person who wants to live quietly."
Whitebeard stared at him.
Cale stared back.
Neither spoke.
Then—
Whitebeard burst into laughter.
"Gurarararararara!"
Cale's expression darkened.
I knew it.
This old man is troublesome.
And, for some reason, Whitebeard seemed to have reached the exact opposite conclusion.
He liked this young man.