"We still have proper etiquette," Shirogai said with a faint smile, flicking his finger.
A miniature black hole shimmered open above Whitebeard's head.
"Hmph! What is this?" Jozu stepped forward instantly, his diamond-coated arms raised, ready to defend Whitebeard at any moment.
"Relax," Shirogai replied, his tone calm and casual.
From the black hole, ten wooden barrels floated out and landed neatly on the deck with soft thuds.
"Hm?"
Whitebeard sniffed the air, his broad grin returning. His nostrils flared as the rich scent wafted up.
"Gurarararara! Kid, I smell fine wine!"
Shirogai smiled lightly. "These barrels contain a special brew I made myself — using a method unique to my homeland. When you drink it, it burns like a blade running through your veins, so I call it Shaodaozi."
"Shaodaozi? Strange name," Whitebeard laughed heartily, his voice booming across the deck. "But my nose never lies! This scent is the real deal."
He turned toward two of his commanders. "You two, prepare a feast! Let this fine young man taste what it's like to drink with the Whitebeard Pirates!"
"Yes, Pops!" the men replied, grinning as they hurried off.
Marco frowned slightly. "Pops, your body—"
"Gurarararara! Don't worry, Marco!" Whitebeard's laughter shook the air. "I won't be taken down by some illness. I'm still Whitebeard!"
Shirogai's sharp eyes caught the subtle flush of Whitebeard's face and the quick rhythm of his heart through his open chest.
"Your pulse is racing too fast from our earlier clash," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps… I can help with that."
Whitebeard raised a curious eyebrow. "Oh? You a doctor too, kid?"
"I know a little," Shirogai replied with his usual calm. He turned to Marco. "Captain Marco, may I borrow some medical equipment?"
Marco hesitated. "Pops…"
"Let him," Whitebeard said with a grin. "If he's confident enough to say it, let's see what he can do."
Marco sighed. "Alright." He didn't fully trust the newcomer, but Pops rarely misjudged people — only once before. Teach…
"Follow me," Marco said finally.
---
Inside the medical room, shelves lined with glass bottles and labeled jars filled the space. The air smelled faintly of herbs and alcohol.
Marco crossed his arms. "What do you need?" His voice was flat, testing the stranger.
If this guy was bluffing, he'd freeze up here. There were too many medicines, too many instruments. Even real doctors paused before this much material.
"These will do," Shirogai said simply.
Click. Click. Click.
Several cabinets swung open by themselves, and a handful of bottles floated into his hands.
Marco's half-lidded eyes flickered blue for an instant. He picked them instantly…? Blood purifiers and detox agents?
"Oh, and this too," Shirogai said casually, flicking his finger. A sliver of silver — a needle — flew from Marco's coin box straight into his grasp.
Marco's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you planning? I'm not letting some random quack touch Pops."
"Relax," Shirogai said lightly. "I studied medicine under Crocus."
Marco froze. "Crocus? The ship doctor from the Roger Pirates?"
"That's right."
Marco hesitated, then sighed. "Fine. But I'm staying with Pops the entire time."
"Understood."
---
In Whitebeard's quarters, several of the crew's nurses — brightly dressed women — hovered around, whispering curiously as they eyed Shirogai and the thin silver needles between his fingers.
"Kid, you really know medicine?" Whitebeard rumbled, his expression skeptical as he lay back on the reinforced bed.
"You're telling me those tiny needles will fix me?"
If this weren't the man who had just fought evenly with him, Whitebeard would've thought it was a joke.
Shirogai smiled faintly. "This won't restore you completely, but it'll ease your heart and release a bit of vitality back into your body."
"Pops," Marco interjected, studying the needles carefully, "I think I know what he's doing. It's a form of acupuncture — an ancient medical art. I've seen it mentioned in old texts."
Whitebeard nodded once. "Then let's do it."
He stretched out on the bed, his chest bare, muscles like rock beneath his scarred skin.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Shirogai moved like a phantom, his hands a blur as silver needles pierced several key points across Whitebeard's back.
In moments, hundreds of needles shimmered across the old pirate's frame, glinting under the lantern light.
Marco adjusted his glasses, scribbling notes rapidly. "These acupoints… incredible precision. Each one connects to cardiac flow and toxin pathways."
"Hmm… feels oddly warm," Whitebeard muttered, surprise creeping into his voice. "It's been years since my body felt this light."
Shirogai smiled slightly. "Glad to hear it."
"Kid, your medical skills aren't bad," Whitebeard admitted, settling deeper into the bed.
"The next part might sting a little," Shirogai said calmly. He lifted one hand, Haki faintly flickering across his fingertips. The silver threads around each needle began to glow as he channeled heat through them, flames dancing softly along their edges.
Normally, the String-String Fruit would be vulnerable to heat — but with his [System], the power had evolved. Fire no longer burned the strings, nor did cold freeze them. They adapted — merging with his will.
If Doflamingo knew about this evolution, he might die of jealousy on the spot.
The nurses looked on, uneasy but silent. Marco's sharp eyes stayed fixed on the needles, ready to intervene if anything went wrong.
Soon, the needles turned red-hot. A faint scent of scorched flesh filled the air.
Whitebeard's muscles tensed — then relaxed.
"Kid, this what you call pain?" he chuckled, yawning. "Wake me when you're done. Then we'll drink!"
Shirogai smirked faintly. "Understood."
As Whitebeard drifted off into a peaceful slumber, the faint shimmer of red needles continued to pulse rhythmically — stabilizing the heartbeat of the world's strongest man.
---