The aftermath of Kuro's defeat left the mansion in controlled chaos. Marines were called—reluctantly—to take custody of the unconscious pirate captain. Kaya provided testimony, her voice shaking but firm, about how Klahadore had confessed to poisoning her father.
The local Marine captain, a nervous man who clearly hadn't expected to deal with a 16-million-beli bounty, kept glancing at Luffy and the crew with barely concealed fear.
"You're... you're pirates too, aren't you?" the captain asked, his hand hovering near his sword.
Luffy grinned. "Yep! I'm Monkey D. Luffy! I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"
The Marine captain went pale.
Shiro stepped forward smoothly, his tone calm and diplomatic. "We stopped a dangerous criminal from murdering an innocent woman. I'd suggest you focus on that part of the story when you write your report."
The Marine captain swallowed hard, looking at the unconscious Kuro, then at Kaya's tear-stained face, then back at Shiro.
"R-right. Of course. Thank you for your... assistance."
Zoro smirked. "He's terrified."
Nami whispered, "Can you blame him? We just took down a pirate captain worth sixteen million like it was nothing."
As the Marines hauled Kuro away in heavy chains, Shiro's awareness swept outward, tracking presences in the surrounding area.
Something was bothering him.
Kuro had been here for three years. He'd been meticulous, patient, calculating. A man like that didn't work alone—not completely.
And if he'd planned to kill Kaya and inherit her fortune, he would have needed a crew standing by to help him escape afterward.
Which meant the Black Cat Pirates were still out there.
Waiting.
Shiro's eyes narrowed. They'll come. The question is when.
That evening, in a secure room at the Marine outpost, Shiro stood outside the cell where Kuro was being held. The pirate captain sat on a stone bench, his wrists and ankles shackled, his face bruised and swollen from Luffy's final assault.
But his eyes were still sharp, still calculating.
Shiro stepped into the cell alone, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
Kuro looked up. "Come to gloat?"
Shiro shook his head. "Come to ask a question."
Kuro's lips curled into a humorless smile. "And why would I answer anything you ask?"
Shiro pulled out a small roll of paper and tossed it onto the bench beside Kuro. It was a cigarette—expensive, well-made.
Kuro stared at it, then at Shiro.
"I don't smoke," Kuro said.
"Then consider it a gesture of respect," Shiro replied evenly. "Pirate to pirate."
Kuro's eyebrow arched. "You're surprisingly polite for someone who just destroyed three years of planning."
Shiro sat down on the opposite bench, his posture relaxed. "Your crew. Where are they?"
Kuro studied him for a long moment. "Why would I tell you?"
"Because they're going to attack the village," Shiro said calmly. "You had a plan. Kill Kaya, forge documents to inherit her fortune, and have your crew extract you before anyone realized what happened. But now you're in chains, and your crew doesn't know."
Kuro's expression didn't change, but his silence was confirmation enough.
Shiro continued, "They're going to come for you. Or they're going to come for the fortune anyway. Either way, innocent people will die. So tell me: when?"
Kuro leaned back against the stone wall, his chains clinking softly. "You're perceptive. I'll give you that."
"Answer the question."
Kuro's smile returned, cold and sharp. "Three days. I told them to wait three days after my signal. If I didn't give the all-clear by then, they were to assume something went wrong and proceed with the backup plan."
Shiro's jaw tightened. "Which is?"
"Raid the village. Kill everyone who might testify against me. Burn the mansion and disappear with whatever treasure they can carry." Kuro's eyes glinted with malice. "By now, they know something's wrong. The clock is ticking."
Shiro stood, his expression hardening. "Then we have three days to prepare."
Kuro chuckled darkly. "You can't stop them. My crew has over fifty men. Trained fighters. Jango the Hypnotist. The Nyaban Brothers. You have what—four people and a coward with a slingshot?"
Shiro's eyes met Kuro's, and for a moment, the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"Five," Shiro corrected quietly. "And we're more than enough."
He walked toward the door, then paused. "One more thing. How many of your crew are worth keeping alive?"
Kuro's smile faded. "What?"
Shiro glanced back. "How many are there because they believe in you, versus how many are there because they're too afraid to leave?"
Kuro was silent.
Shiro nodded. "That's what I thought."
He left the cell, and Kuro sat alone in the darkness, his mind racing.
Who is that man? He talks like he's seen a thousand battles. Fights like he knows exactly how everything will end.
And his eyes...
Kuro shivered despite himself.
Those are the eyes of someone who's already buried you.
The next morning: Training begins
The crew gathered at the edge of the village, in the same clearing where they'd trained before arriving at Syrup Village. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.
Luffy was still tired from using Gear Second, but his energy was already returning. He sat cross-legged, munching on a rice ball Kaya's staff had prepared for them.
Zoro stood off to the side, his three swords laid out in front of him, his expression dark and focused.
Nami leaned against a tree, arms crossed, watching the others with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
Usopp fidgeted with his slingshot, his hands still shaking slightly from yesterday's events.
Shiro stood in the center of the clearing, his awareness spread wide, making sure no one was listening.
"Alright," Shiro said, his voice cutting through the morning quiet. "We have three days before the Black Cat Pirates attack. That's not a lot of time, but it's enough if we use it smartly."
Luffy perked up. "Training?"
Shiro nodded. "Specialized training. Each of you has strengths we need to develop and weaknesses we need to cover."
Zoro's eyes locked onto Shiro. "I want to learn that technique Luffy used. Gear Second."
Shiro shook his head. "You can't. Gear Second only works because Luffy's body is rubber. His veins and arteries can stretch to handle the increased blood pressure. If you tried it, your heart would explode in seconds."
Zoro's jaw tightened. "Then what can I do? I watched Luffy fight yesterday. He moved faster than anything I've ever seen. If I can't match that speed—"
"You don't need to match his speed," Shiro interrupted. "You need to become more efficient. Faster cuts. Better footwork. Stronger core. And most importantly, you need to start developing Armament Haki."
Zoro's eyes sharpened. "I'm ready."
Shiro's smile was approving. "Good. Then let's push you harder than you've ever been pushed before."
He turned to Usopp, who immediately tensed.
"Usopp," Shiro said, his tone gentler. "You're going to become our mobile artillery."
Usopp blinked. "Mobile... what?"
Shiro gestured to the slingshot. "You're a sniper. That means you don't fight up close. You fight from a distance, where your enemies can't reach you. But to do that effectively, you need three things: accuracy, power, and mobility."
Usopp swallowed. "I... I'm not very accurate yet. I mean, I can hit targets, but—"
"You shot at Kuro yesterday," Shiro said. "You missed, but only because you panicked. Your form was solid. Your aim was true. You just need confidence."
Usopp's eyes widened. "You really think I can do this?"
Shiro's expression was serious. "I know you can. And by the end of these three days, you'll know it too."
Usopp felt something warm settle in his chest. Someone believed in him. Really believed in him.
Finally, Shiro turned to Nami, who straightened instinctively.
"Nami," Shiro said. "Your training is going to be different."
Nami frowned. "Different how?"
Shiro's expression was carefully neutral. "You're not a brawler like Luffy or Zoro. You're fast, agile, and smart. So we're going to focus on evasion, counterattacks, and fighting dirty."
Nami raised an eyebrow. "Fighting dirty?"
Shiro nodded. "In a real fight, there are no rules. Your enemies won't hold back because you're a woman or because you're weaker than them. So you need to learn how to exploit their weaknesses—pressure points, joint locks, disorientation tactics."
Nami considered this. "That... actually makes sense."
Shiro's eyes glinted. "And I'm going to teach you how to fight against opponents who are physically stronger than you. Much stronger."
Nami tilted her head. "Like who?"
Shiro hesitated for just a fraction of a second. He couldn't tell her about Arlong directly—not yet. But he could prepare her.
"Like fishmen," Shiro said carefully. "They're ten times stronger than normal humans underwater, and still several times stronger on land. If you ever have to fight one, you need to know how to survive."
Nami's expression flickered—something dark and painful crossing her face for just a moment before she forced it away.
"Fishmen," she repeated quietly.
Shiro noticed the reaction but didn't push. She knows about them. Probably has a history.
Good. That means she'll take this training seriously.
"I'll teach you their fighting patterns," Shiro continued. "How they move. How they attack. How to avoid their strongest hits and exploit their blind spots."
Nami's hands clenched into fists. "Fine. Teach me."
Luffy, who'd been listening to all of this while eating, suddenly grinned. "What about me?!"
Shiro smiled. "You rest. Gear Second puts a huge strain on your body. You need to recover fully before the fight."
Luffy pouted. "But I wanna train too!"
Shiro's tone was firm. "You can spar lightly with Zoro in the afternoons. But no Gear Second until the real fight. Understood?"
Luffy sighed dramatically. "Fiiiine."
Shiro clapped his hands once. "Alright. Let's begin."
Zoro's training: The weight of ambition
Shiro led Zoro to a section of the clearing where large stones had been placed in a circle. Each stone weighed at least fifty kilograms.
"You're already strong," Shiro said. "But strength without control is wasted. Pick up two stones."
Zoro grabbed two stones, one in each hand, lifting them with visible effort but managing.
"Good. Now hold them at shoulder height. Don't lower them. Don't let them drop."
Zoro's arms trembled as he held the stones steady.
Shiro walked around him slowly. "Swordsmanship isn't just about swinging hard. It's about endurance. Precision. The ability to maintain perfect form even when your muscles are screaming."
Sweat dripped down Zoro's face. "How long... do I hold this?"
Shiro's smile was merciless. "Until I say you can stop."
An hour passed.
Zoro's arms shook violently, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might crack.
But he didn't drop the stones.
"Good," Shiro said finally. "Drop them."
Zoro let the stones fall, gasping for air, his arms hanging limp at his sides.
"Now pick up your swords," Shiro said. "We're going to work on your cutting speed."
Zoro's eyes widened. "My arms are dead."
Shiro's expression didn't change. "Then you'll learn to cut with dead arms. Because in a real fight, you won't get breaks."
Zoro stared at him for a moment, then grinned—fierce, almost feral. "You're insane."
"I know," Shiro said. "Now draw your swords."
For the next two hours, Shiro drilled Zoro relentlessly. Single cuts. Double cuts. Triple cuts. Each one had to be perfect—same speed, same angle, same power—even as Zoro's muscles screamed in protest.
"Faster," Shiro commanded.
Zoro's swords blurred.
"Sharper."
Zoro adjusted his wrist angle.
"Again."
By the time the sun reached its peak, Zoro collapsed onto his knees, breathing like he'd just run a marathon.
But his eyes were bright, burning with determination.
"Tomorrow," Zoro said between breaths, "I want to go harder."
Shiro smiled. "Good. Because tomorrow, we start Armament Haki training."
Zoro's grin widened. "Finally."
Usopp's training: The art of distance
Shiro set up a series of targets at varying distances—some stationary, some hanging from trees and swaying gently in the wind.
Usopp stood beside him, slingshot in hand, nervousness radiating from every pore.
"Alright," Shiro said. "Shoot the farthest target."
Usopp pulled back, aimed carefully, and released.
The pellet flew wide, missing by at least two meters.
Usopp's shoulders sagged. "I told you I'm not good at this."
Shiro's voice was patient. "You're not bad. You're just thinking too much. You're aiming with your eyes, but you should be aiming with your instincts."
Usopp frowned. "What does that even mean?"
Shiro picked up a small stone and tossed it into the air. "Watch."
He didn't look at the stone. He just flicked his finger, and a telekinetic pulse shot out, knocking the stone out of the air before it could fall.
"I didn't aim," Shiro explained. "I felt where it was. Your body knows where the target is. Your eyes are just confirming it. Trust your body."
Usopp stared. "That's easy for you to say. You have psychic powers."
Shiro smiled. "And you have talent. You just don't believe in it yet."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of goggles. "Put these on."
Usopp took them hesitantly. They were heavily tinted, almost opaque. "I can barely see through these."
"Exactly," Shiro said. "Now shoot the same target."
Usopp's hands shook as he pulled back the slingshot. He couldn't see the target clearly. He could only see a vague shape in the distance.
He released.
The pellet flew—
—and struck the target dead center.
Usopp's jaw dropped. "I... I hit it?!"
Shiro's smile was genuine. "Your body knew where to aim. Your brain just needed to get out of the way."
For the next three days, Shiro drilled Usopp relentlessly—shooting while moving, shooting while running, shooting with obstructed vision.
And slowly, Usopp's confidence began to grow.
By the third day, he could hit moving targets from fifty meters away while sprinting.
"I'm doing it," Usopp whispered, staring at his slingshot like it was made of gold. "I'm actually doing it."
Shiro clapped him on the shoulder. "You were always doing it. You just needed someone to show you."
Usopp wiped his eyes quickly, trying to hide the tears. "Thank you, Shiro."
Shiro nodded. "Don't thank me yet. Wait until after the fight."
Nami's training: Dancing with sharks
Shiro led Nami to a section of the clearing near a small stream. The water was shallow but fast-moving, creating unpredictable currents.
"Fishmen are faster in water," Shiro explained. "But even on land, they fight differently than humans. They use their strength to overwhelm opponents—heavy strikes, grabs, throws."
Nami crossed her arms. "And how do I fight someone ten times stronger than me?"
Shiro's smile was sharp. "You don't fight them head-on. You kite them."
"Kite?"
"Stay out of reach. Move constantly. Attack from angles they can't defend. Tire them out until they make a mistake, then exploit it." Shiro stepped into the stream. "Come at me."
Nami hesitated, then stepped forward, staff raised.
Shiro moved—not fast, but powerfully, mimicking the heavy, straightforward attacks of a fishman.
Nami blocked with her staff—
—and the impact nearly knocked her off her feet.
"Don't block directly," Shiro said. "Deflect. Redirect. Use their momentum against them."
He attacked again.
This time, Nami angled her staff, letting the strike slide past her instead of meeting it head-on.
"Better," Shiro said. "Again."
For hours, Shiro attacked her with fishman-style movements—heavy punches, grabbing motions, charges meant to overwhelm.
And Nami learned to dance around them.
By the third day, she could evade Shiro's attacks for minutes at a time, landing quick counterstrikes to joints and pressure points before darting away.
"You're fast," Shiro said, genuinely impressed. "Faster than I expected."
Nami panted, sweat dripping down her face. "I've had... practice. Running from people stronger than me."
Shiro's expression softened. "Well, now you don't just run. Now you fight back."
Nami looked at her staff, then at Shiro, and for the first time in a long time, she felt something other than fear when she thought about facing strong opponents.
She felt ready.
The calm before the storm
On the evening of the third day, the crew sat around a campfire near Kaya's mansion. The tension was palpable—everyone knew tomorrow would be the real test.
Kaya had provided them with food, supplies, and a promise: if they protected the village, she would give them a ship.
Not just any ship.
A caravel. Sleek, fast, and designed for long voyages.
Luffy's eyes had lit up like fireworks when she'd shown them the designs.
Now, as they sat around the fire, Luffy stared at the stars, his expression unusually thoughtful.
"Tomorrow's gonna be fun," he said quietly.
Zoro smirked. "You have a weird definition of fun."
Usopp fiddled with his slingshot nervously. "There's going to be fifty of them. Fifty pirates."
Nami's voice was steady. "And five of us."
Shiro added, "We have terrain advantage. We know they're coming. And we're stronger than any of them individually."
Luffy grinned. "See? Easy!"
Zoro chuckled. "You really are an idiot."
But despite the jokes, despite the bravado, they all felt it.
Tomorrow, the Black Cat Pirates would come.
And the crew would show them exactly what it meant to mess with the Straw Hats.