As Ronn had said,
Whitebeard was a man ruled by sentiment.
An orphan since childhood, he'd always craved one thing — family.
That longing had shaped him into a pirate unlike any other:
a man who valued kinship above fame, gold, or even the title Pirate King.
He'd built a family out of strays and misfits —
and treated every one of them like a son.
Even Teach, who'd broken the iron law of never harming a crewmate,
wasn't someone others were allowed to punish.
That was Whitebeard's right alone.
So even though he was grateful that Rayleigh had ended Teach's betrayal,
there was still a spark of fury in his chest —
fury that he hadn't struck the final blow,
fury at Teach's betrayal,
fury that his age and illness had left Ace vulnerable.
Whitebeard needed an outlet.
And even half-dead, he'd find one.
Back inside, the sounds of fists and shouting echoed through the walls.
Lucoa tilted her head, intrigued.
"You could heal that man, couldn't you?"
"Why not make a deal with him?"
Ronn shook his head slowly.
"I'd love to, but…"
"Even the Buddha doesn't save the broke."
Whitebeard might have been an Emperor of the Sea,
but his pockets were emptier than a beggar's.
Every bit of loot his crew plundered — gold, jewels, supplies —
he quietly sent back to his home island to feed the poor.
And the Senzu Bean Ronn had once given Youtan Zi?
Useless here.
Just as it couldn't cure Goku's heart virus in Dragon Ball,
it couldn't fix Whitebeard's failing body.
"If he's to live," Ronn muttered, "we'll need something stronger."
Lucoa smirked, leaning close enough for her breath to tickle his ear.
"Speaking of strong… how about we 'discuss life' again tonight?"
"Lift that pale-yellow skirt and you might find fluffy secrets~."
Ronn's expression froze.
He hissed under his breath,
"Demon woman— stop testing my resolve!"
(She definitely planned to "skip work" again —
last time she'd slept for an entire day afterward.)
Just then, Marco approached, clearly having overheard part of their talk.
"Boss… you can cure Pops' illness?"
Ronn sighed.
"I could — but it's expensive. Way out of your league."
"How expensive?"
"Not money. Devil Fruits. Three of them."
He glanced at Shendu, then raised three fingers, smiling faintly.
Marco didn't hesitate.
"Deal! If it cures him, you can have the Moby Dick itself!"
He staggered out before Ronn could protest, still dizzy from Garp's earlier punch.
(If he hadn't had that Phoenix regeneration,
he'd already be packed neatly into a 21×21 box.)
Outside the Tavern
Whitebeard's fists thundered through the air.
Every strike vented pain, guilt, and grief.
Rayleigh danced around them easily, smirking.
"Admit it, Newgate — you're old."
"These days, you're good for nothing but snoring by day and failing by night."
"World's strongest man? More like world's saddest grandpa!"
The jabs worked; Whitebeard's punches came faster.
Rayleigh kept talking —
not out of malice, but because seeing Ace fuss over Whitebeard
had stirred a weird jealousy in him.
It should have been Roger being called "Dad."
Then came a gruff voice behind them.
"How's Ace doing?"
Both men froze, turning.
Garp stood there, looking genuinely worried.
Rayleigh grinned wickedly.
"Oh no, no, Whitebeard — wrong target."
"You shouldn't be hitting me."
"You should be hitting him — the grandpa who raised Ace."
Whitebeard blinked—
then nodded grimly.
No hesitation.
The world's strongest man lunged straight for Garp.
"Wait—!" Garp barely got the word out before Whitebeard's massive arm slammed into his neck.
Punches rained down.
"Garp, my friend!" Whitebeard roared. "Thank you for raising that ungrateful brat! Tell me— how should I repay you?!"
"Any ideas, Rayleigh?"
"Oh, plenty." Rayleigh chuckled, kicking Garp twice for good measure.
"Stop— stop! I'm too old for this!" Garp groaned, coughing.
"Do you want Ace calling me Dad now?!"
Rayleigh froze.
Then helped him up, all smiles.
"Ah, my bad. Should've led with that."
Garp's smile twitched into a death glare.
You're dead, old man. The second I can move, I'm dragging you to Impel Down myself.
After a few more rounds of "venting therapy,"
the three limped back inside, panting.
Marco burst through the door, shoving a black chest toward Ronn.
"Here— the Devil Fruits you wanted."
Ronn opened it — three fruits, each gleaming with strange patterns.
"Good. That'll do."
Whitebeard frowned.
"What's this about?"
Marco quickly explained the deal.
Whitebeard's brows knit.
"Don't waste that on me. Give it to Ace."
"He'll need months to heal as it is."
Marco shook his head.
"No. He said you can cure the illness."
The room fell silent.
Even Garp tensed.
If Whitebeard fully recovered,
the balance of power across the seas would shatter.
Ace struggled to sit up, voice hoarse.
"Boss… please. Heal him."
Ronn nodded slightly.
"Shendu, use the Horse Talisman. Cleanse every trace of his illness."
"Whether it works or not, you and your son drink free for a month."
The talisman's virtue — healing and restoration.
If it failed, Ronn still had darker arts: voodoo rites and dragon magic.
If those failed too… well, no refunds.
The room stared.
Wait— he wasn't even doing it himself?
He was just collecting the payment?!
Even Marco's wings drooped.
Three Devil Fruits… for middle management?!
Shendu, however, grinned obligingly.
"No problem. Easy work."
He pressed a glowing claw to Whitebeard's chest.
Brilliant light filled the room.
Whitebeard's body trembled — then eased.
Warmth spread through him; every ache and scar melted away.
He felt young. Whole. Alive.
When the glow faded,
his skin was clear, his breath strong.
The room trembled with his reawakened power.
"It's… gone." Whitebeard stared at his hands in disbelief.
"After all these years… I'm healed."
No doctor, no medicine, no miracle had ever come close.
And yet this strange dragon-man had done it like fixing a bruise.
Garp, wide-eyed, couldn't help himself.
"Hey, uh… mind throwing in a little healing for me and Ace too?"
Shendu, the perfect employee, glanced at Ronn.
Ronn didn't nod.
"Get lost," Shendu said flatly.
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