Ryugo turned to Mizukage, Yagura who had been silent all this time.
"Lord Mizukage, stop the ship. Now."
"If we don't, the Land of Water is going to fall."
Obito gritted his teeth but raised a hand. The ship came to a slow halt.
"What's going on?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Ryugo pointed toward the pier, where a group of restrained individuals knelt under guard.
"Those are the mayors, island lords, and top officials of the Land of Water."
"Killing them all won't solve anything."
Obito's eyes flickered.
Whitebeard is a pirate, his first instinct was always the same:
Loot. Seize. Take.
But this time, Whitebeard had gotten there first. He'd been sending pirate crews—real monsters like Ganji and Hoshigaki—to capture the Land of Water's elite and drag them here.
Not for ransom.
But as unwilling witnesses to a spectacle.
The grand opening of a new world.
And for a stage that big, you needed an audience.
Countless officials from the Land of Water's islands had been ambushed and brought here—to the Top Island.
Once, Obito wouldn't have cared.
The past version of him, the one who'd have burned the world down for a single boy, wouldn't have hesitated.
But after everything he'd learned from Mufasa—Obito had changed.
He realized the harsh truth: it's painful to dream big when you're broke.
He needed an alliance—between the Rain and Water countries. And for that, he needed to play smart.
So he didn't charge in.
Not yet.
He looked beyond the hostages, to the towering pirate HQ looming over the dock.
One poor daimyo knelt alone on an execution stand, trembling. Behind him, on a pirate balcony, sat four figures—clearly the big names.
The Whitebeard Pirates' Marshal, three Admirals, the Shichibukais.
Obito clenched his fists.
These weren't nobodies.
And the daimyo wasn't even trying to be brave.
"Help! Somebody help me!" he wailed.
Obito activated his Sharingan and leapt forward, warping space with Kamui.
He was going to pull the entire platform—execution stand and all—into another dimension.
Whoosh.
His eyes lit up—Kamui activated.
The stand vanished.
But then—
FLASH.
To his shock, something interrupted the space-time jutsu.
Kamui had missed. The platform reappeared on the dock a second later, with the daimyo pale and shaking.
Obito blinked.
'Impossible.'
Something—or someone—had moved faster than Kamui.
The only person close enough to interfere had been the Kazekage himself: MuFasa.
"Gurararararararara!" Mufasa's deep, booming laugh rang out.
Obito gritted his teeth behind the mask.
'He beat my Kamui? With raw speed?'
Whitebeard tossed the daimyo aside like a ragdoll, and the guards dragged him into the HQ.
Mufasa pointed at Obito.
"You want to snatch my prey?" he said, grinning. "You underestimate Whitebeard."
Obito's expression darkened.
This wasn't just some pirate.
This man had power—more than he expected.
Mufasa still acting as Whitebeard continued, stepping forward. "If you want to save them, you'll have to go through my sons first."
Obito raised a hand. "Wait."
He tried negotiation.
"I'm Luffy, Mist Village consultant to the Mizukage. With your strength, you could become an honored family under our Hidden Mist—hell, we'll even get the Daimyo to give you a title."
"Why be a pirate?"
MuFasa let out another roar of laughter.
"You're Luffy? I'm Whitebeard. We fought in the past, remember?"
He turned to his right. The Shichibukai and his Admirals stood nearby.
"Hey, you guys. Want to become Mist ninja?"
The Shichibukai scoffed.
"Screw that."
"Mist ninja? No thanks."
"I live for the sea, not for some daimyo's title."
Mufasa shrugged.
"See? Your offer sucks."
He stepped closer, his voice booming.
"How about this: you've got the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, right? Well, I've got my Shichibukai."
"Let's settle this old-school: a duel. Your side versus mine."
Obito's eyes narrowed. "What are the stakes?"
Mufasa pointed toward the sky.
"If we win, you give the Land of Water to the Whitebeard Pirates. If you win, we leave. Simple."
Obito did a quick headcount. Seven Shichibukai. He turned to his own group.
Six.
Crap.
He frowned. "Not fair. We're one short."
"Then add two more fights," he said. "One for Yagura, one for me."
Mufasa raised an eyebrow. "Yagura's a Jinchuriki. Three-Tails, right? He's not just a man—he's a living weapon."
Obito replied calmly. "Then what do you suggest?"
Mufasa grinned. "I'll let my three Admirals take him on."
Obito's gaze sharpened.
"Then you're facing me."
Mufasa nodded. "Of course."
One of the Admirals stepped up, confused.
"Father, let one of us fight him. You should be the one taking on Yagura."
Mufasa shook his head.
"Being a leader means having morals."
"And it's my duty... to teach you a lesson."
Obito stared at him.
"Teach me what exactly?"
Mufasa couldn't let him figure things out just yet.
"You'll find out later," he said casually.
"Then go get ready," Shun replied, glancing over with narrowed eyes.
The lineup of the matches felt strange.
Whitebeard had specifically asked for his duel with Obito to be the last.
"As the Fleet Admiral," he declared, "it's only fitting that I close the show."
Ryugo was puzzled by this.
"Luffy, are you sure about this?" he asked, trying to make sense of it.
Obito didn't respond. His mind was buzzing with questions.
Why would Whitebeard consider himself stronger than the Mizukage, Yagura?
He had never even met Whitebeard before.
Still, that towering figure holding a giant nagatana wasn't someone you forgot after just one glance.
Was this really about teaching him something?
And if so... what?
Obito stayed quiet, but none of it would stop the duel from happening.
Whitebeard's crew quickly cleared out a large area on the dock to serve as the battleground.
Six of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist jumped down from their ship, landing with a heavy thud.
The Shichibukai descended from the platform with quiet confidence.
Before fists even flew, the trash talk began.
Jinbei stepped forward. "Yo! You guys want to fight one-on-one or just go full royal rumble?"
The Mist Swordsmen glanced around.
They were clearly one man short. That put them at a slight disadvantage.
Raiga cracked his knuckles. "Doesn't matter. Whether it's one guy or a hundred, we always fight as seven. That's our way."
"Then let's go! No problem here!" Jinbei shouted back.
He let out a beastly roar. "Brothers! Let's crush 'em!"
Gull's Eye leapt up excitedly. "I'll hang back and cheer you on!"
He was the scout, not a fighter.
Ganji and the others didn't even glance his way. The two forces collided like crashing waves.
Suige Ume barreled forward, wielding a fake Kubikiribōchō that Mist Village had procured to complete the Seven Swordsmen lineup.
Ever since Zabuza lost the Kubikiribōchō, the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist haven't been the same.
Though it looked intimidating—massive and broad like a battering ram—it was only good enough to make him the team's meat shield.
That door-sized sword gave him a false sense of security.
Then came Hachi from the Shichibukai, dashing forward.
His right arm turned into a water and glowed with blue chakra.
"Water Style: Water Amplification Fist!"
He drove his water-charged fist directly into the broad blade.
To its credit, the beheading sword held up.
But Suige Ume wasn't so lucky. The shockwave sent him flying like a rag doll.
His massive blade clattered to the ground, a crack visible on its surface.
Before Hachi could celebrate, a thin, cruel needle came flying at him.
Yuri Satsuba, the sneaky swordsman, launched his attack.
Nuibari — A weapon shaped like an impossibly long needle, its hilt tethered to a nearly invisible thread.
Once it pierces, it binds, paralyzes, and tortures. The threads are sharp enough to slice flesh like piano wire.
Deadly at range, and even deadlier when used to lay trap-like enchantments.
But this blade was dangerous to the user too. Misuse could cut the wielder just as easily.
Yuri tried to sneak in a follow-up attack.
But Doflamingo—Mingo to most—wasn't about to let that happen.
"Five-Color Strings: Bind!"
From each of his fingers, nearly invisible chakra threads whipped out, sharp as razors.
He shaped his hand like a claw, and the threads caught and wrapped around the needle weapon, locking it down.
Mingo's family hailed from a famous clan of sea-fishers, their skills so refined they joked about being descendants of the Celestial Sea Dragons.
They were mockingly called the Ryugu Nobles.
But Mingo didn't care about titles.
There was no real power in being called a noble.
The Ryugu Nobles spent their days fishing, risking storms, only to be robbed by the Marines or taxed to death by greedy merchants.
And if they failed to pay tribute? They were beaten. Or worse.
So he walked away from it all. Became a pirate.
He wanted strength.
In this world, weaklings didn't even get to choose how they died.
"I'm done being weak," Mingo muttered.
His chakra-infused threads wrapped tighter around the Sewing Needle, dragging it toward him.
Yuri tried to recover it. No chance.
A masked shinobi emerged from the fog—invisible, silent, powerful.
He eyed Mingo with suspicion.
"Didn't expect to find someone like you among the pirates."
Mingo just chuckled.
"Fufufufufufu..."
He looked at Yuri, eyes sharp behind his sunglasses.
"Pirates are evil? The Marines are righteous? Heh... These terms have always changed throughout the course of history!"
"A kid like you who have never seen peace and kids who have never seen war have different values!"
"Those who stand at the top determine what's wrong and what's right!"
"This very place is neutral ground!"
"Justice will prevail, you say? But of course it will! Whoever wins this war becomes justice!"
Mingo clearly saw Yuri as nothing more than a brat.
Yuri clenched his teeth. "I might be skinny... but I'm still an adult! You overgrown peacock."
He yanked hard on his thread. The needle whipped around and struck the ground, rebounding toward Mingo from a tricky angle.
But Mingo wasn't fazed.
With a flick of his wrist, he snapped a thread into the ground.
Elastic Thread!
The wire vibrated and bounced the incoming needle off-course.
Around them, the others were already deep in battle.