**Fifteen Days at Sea**
**New World — Aboard Whitebeard's Ship**
Argus had never set foot on a ship in his previous life.
But now? He was experiencing the sea in full.
Fifteen days.
They'd been sailing for fifteen days straight.
To be honest, Argus didn't hate it. His physique—tempered through hardship—was leagues above the average sailor. Even among pirates, he stood out. But the constant sway, the salt in the air, the ever-present dampness…
It was miserable.
"Do people actually enjoy this?" he wondered, staring at the churning ocean.
One morning, after spitting out a mouthful of saltwater from the latest wave, he turned toward the masthead where his brother stood proudly, hair whipping in the wind.
"Brother," Argus called out, squinting, "Where are we actually going?"
Newgate didn't miss a beat.
"Robbery!" he roared, as if declaring the most obvious thing in the world.
"…"
Argus exhaled slowly.
"Okay… but where specifically are we robbing?"
Not that he didn't already know. Pirates don't hold tea parties. They raid, plunder, and raze. Still, it felt surreal hearing it said so bluntly.
Newgate grinned and pinched his nose dramatically, voice rising in pitch like a showman.
"The Platter Kingdom! Fruit-rich, modestly wealthy, and best of all—not affiliated with the World Government. I also heard the princess is a stunner. Perfect candidate for giving you your first kid!"
"…What."
Argus stared at him like he'd grown a second crescent-shaped mustache.
He couldn't decide if it was Newgate's logic he couldn't follow—or just pirate logic in general.
Rob the gold.
Take the food.
Steal the princess.
It was a simple three-step plan. And disturbingly effective.
Newgate took a deep breath, eyes locking on the green silhouette of land ahead.
"There it is. Argus, stay on board and watch. That's the Platter Kingdom."
Argus turned his gaze just in time to see his brother leap off the deck like a cannon shell, body tearing through the air toward the island.
Boom.
The raid had begun.
Argus leaned on the railing, watching the kingdom come alive with chaos.
The Platter Kingdom wasn't large—about the size of Sphinx Island—but it was fertile. Lush with citrus orchards, especially oranges.
Smart target.
Citrus was a sea necessity. Scurvy wasn't just a myth. Entire crews had vanished to vitamin deficiency. Any pirate worth his Jolly Roger wouldn't pass up a stockpile of fruit like this.
The kingdom had grown rich off trade. But not rich enough—or useful enough—to earn protection from the World Government. Unlike what the world believed, paying tribute to the Celestial Dragons wasn't enough. You needed leverage, utility, or political sacrifice.
The Kingdom of Vodka had once tried to sell Kaido to the World Government just to join.
Platter? Still on the outside.
Argus crossed his arms, listening to distant screams and falling masonry.
"He's already knee-deep in the chaos. But… just how strong is my brother now?"
"Twenty years old…" he muttered. "He hasn't eaten the Gura Gura no Mi yet. No Murakumogiri either. But he's still terrifying."
A voice broke his thoughts.
"Young Master Argus!"
He turned. A crewmember jogged up, a wiry sailor with a sun-scorched face.
"You know how strong your brother is now?" Argus asked directly.
The man scratched the back of his head.
"Hard to say, sir. I've been with Lord Whitebeard five years now. Never seen him lose. Only time someone stood equal to him was the Golden Lion."
"Golden Lion…" Argus muttered.
That lined up. Shiki was no joke—even back then.
A draw with him meant Newgate was already dancing in Admiral-tier waters.
"Platter won't last an hour," Argus said flatly.
At this stage, the Whitebeard Pirates weren't officially formed. But Newgate had handpicked thirty to fifty promising men—fighters, thinkers, survivalists. The ship they were on could carry far more, and that was the goal.
A real crew needed more than brute force. They needed cooks, shipwrights, navigators, doctors. In the New World, death didn't just come with a sword—it came from the wind, the waves, and the map.
These early companions? If the crew became formal, they'd be the founding generation. The future elders of the Whitebeard Pirates.
But with Argus now in the mix, the timeline was already bending.
"Still…" Argus murmured, looking toward the island.
"Brother hasn't touched the Gura Gura no Mi yet. And he doesn't have Murakumogiri either."
Two iconic pieces missing.
The Gura Gura no Mi—the Tremor-Tremor Fruit—was one of the most devastating Paramecia ever recorded. Capable of sinking islands. A force of nature packed into human flesh. Its value on the black market would easily match the Ope Ope no Mi—five billion berries, minimum.
Murakumogiri was another matter entirely.
One of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades. A national-level treasure. If it ever appeared for auction, it would trigger war before the bidding even started. Seven billion? Easy.
Right now, Newgate had neither.
No quake fruit. No legendary blade.
Just raw power. Bone-breaking, kingdom-toppling power.
And he was out there—tearing down a nation in broad daylight.
All for a future neither of them could yet see.
---
**On Deck — Before the Raid**
The wind howled around them, thick with salt and anticipation.
As Argus leaned against the rail, arms crossed, two figures approached, side by side.
One was a tall, dark-haired man with a wild glint in his eye and a blade strapped carelessly to his back. *Hiroshi* — the first to swear loyalty to Whitebeard when he set sail.
The other was shorter, stockier, with a thick beard and a mace slung over his shoulder — *Doma*, quick with a laugh and quicker with his fists.
"Argus, right?" Hiroshi said, grinning wide. "The boss's little brother. Or cousin. Or… something."
"Brother," Argus corrected automatically.
"Close enough," Doma chuckled. He threw an apple from hand to hand, casually eyeing the island. "You coming ashore with us?"
"No," Argus replied coolly. "I'm apparently on 'observation duty.'"
Hiroshi snorted. "Consider yourself lucky. Last time I landed first, some bastard stabbed me with a fork. A *fork*, man!"
"Because you were trying to flirt with his wife," Doma pointed out dryly.
"It was a *compliment*! Pirates gotta spread joy, right?" Hiroshi protested with mock indignation.
Argus couldn't help but smirk slightly.
*'These idiots are somehow supposed to become legends.'*
Whitebeard's voice cut across the deck.
"Hiroshi! Doma! Stop wagging your tongues and move your asses!"
The two straightened immediately, grinning like schoolboys caught by the headmaster.
"Aye, Captain!" they chorused.
Doma clapped Argus on the shoulder as they passed.
"Watch the loot for us, young master. We'll bring you a souvenir!"
"And maybe a princess!" Hiroshi cackled, ducking the slap Doma aimed at his head.
Argus shook his head, half-amused, half-exasperated.
*'This is my future family, huh?'
He watched them vault off the rail, weapons flashing, joining the chaos below.
---
**Mid-Raid Reflection (Argus's Internal Monologue)**
As the raid raged, Argus found himself strangely reflective.
*Hiroshi — wild but loyal. Doma — rough but steady. Others, too: men and women willing to bet their lives on a madman's dream.*
This wasn't just a pirate crew forming.
It was the roots of something deeper. Something that, in time, would shake the world to its foundations.
*And now I'm part of it.*
*Or maybe... I'll build something even greater atop it.*
Argus tapped the railing thoughtfully.
*Blood. Bonds. Legacy. If Newgate sees them as sons already... then maybe it's time I start planning how to raise my own dynasty.*
He narrowed his eyes at the island burning in the distance.
*First, survive. Then conquer.*
---
**Sudden Shout — Starboard Side**
"Man overboard!"
Argus's head snapped around.
A young deckhand had slipped, foot caught on a coil of rope, now flailing in the water.
No hesitation.
Argus vaulted over the rail in a blur, hitting the sea like a spear. Cold. Brutal. Alive.
The sailor was going under — panic written in every movement.
Argus wrapped an arm around his chest and kicked hard, breaching the surface just in time to see a rope thrown.
He caught it.
They were hauled up by the crew — wet, coughing, but alive.
The rescued sailor sputtered, staring at Argus with awe.
"T-Thank you, sir...!"
Argus didn't respond immediately. Just nodded, then turned away, wringing seawater from his shirt.
*This is what it means to lead,* he thought.
Not just strength. Not just glory.
But *responsibility*.
*Newgate leads through fear and love. I'll lead through blood and legacy.*
And maybe… just maybe… one day, they'd see him not just as Whitebeard's brother.
But as a *Father* of his own.
--
(CHAPTER END)