Disclaimer: This narrative and its characters are inspired by the incredible worlds of Naturo and One Piece, which belong to their respective copyright holders.


Under the ethereal glow of Marineford's imposing ramparts, where the ceaseless embrace of the sea whispered tales of dormant power, Itachi stood, a figure both incongruous and striking against such a backdrop. A shinobi, his gaze laden with tales untold and a soul shrouded in enigmas deeper still, he affirmed his determination to traverse paths uncharted by his kin. His eyes, steadfastly cast towards the distant East Blue, bridged the vast expanse separating him from Luffy, his younger brother, whose saga was unraveling in territories far removed from Itachi's gaze. In the recesses of his heart, a tempest of emotions churned—nostalgia, pride, a sliver of apprehension—feelings he rarely allowed to surface.

On a night bereft of moonlight like this one, the heavens served as a canvas for the stars to etch their secrets upon the darkness, secrets discernible only to those whose hearts resonated with the silent whispers of the universe. Itachi, a witness to sights that should remain unseen, lent his ear to the cosmic murmurs.

"The sea, it's a different beast," confided an elderly sailor, his back arched as if sculpted by the very waves he had ridden for decades. "It defies conquest, demanding instead understanding, a symbiosis with its ebb and flow. Perhaps, should you earn its favor, it may unveil its deepest mysteries to you."

And so, Itachi, the shinobi, the sibling, the traitor, embarked upon his journey to Marineford, driven not by a quest for redemption—for certain transgressions are too grave for even the boundless oceans to absolve—but by a yearning for enlightenment, for a vision untainted by the specter of his past deeds.

With each break of dawn casting the sky in hues reminiscent of more turbulent dawns, Itachi undertook his tutelage. His arsenal was not composed of blades or shuriken but of rope and sail, embracing the elements as his new mentors.

His initial voyage toward the New World was marked by trials. The sea, as if to test the resolve of this outsider, mounted a relentless assault. Waves mocked his efforts, ropes ensnared him as serpents, and winds opposed his direction. Nevertheless, Itachi, no stranger to adversity or pain, learned from each misstep, withstood each trial, his gaze unwavering on the horizon, as if capable of glimpsing the secrets it held.

For one unaccustomed to shying away from challenges, enlightenment was only a matter of time. Thus, he commenced to decipher the essence. Understanding the wind's dialect paralleled the anticipation of an opponent's strategy. Navigating the waves transformed into a dance of anticipation and reaction, a reflection of the cadence of combat. And the sea... the sea epitomized life itself, sometimes tranquil, other times tempestuous, but always, eternally, in motion.

Gradually, Itachi became attuned to the ocean's whispers, those secret exchanges between the wind and the waves that recounted ancient enigmas, lost sagas, and the lore enshrined in the abyss. This primordial language, as venerable as time itself, summoned him, an earnest disciple, who dedicated himself to the pursuit of knowledge as a scholar immerses in the study of a venerable, forgotten scripture.

The seasoned mariners, their skin etched by the sun and salt, watched with a mix of incredulity and respect. This youth, whose gaze held the depth of twilight's last gleam, worked tirelessly by their side. He did not aim to conquer the sea but sought harmony with its boundless spirit. And perhaps, in this endeavor, he was reaching for something even more elusive: an understanding not just of the sea but of the core of his being.

As dusk wrapped its arms around the world, the sun retreated beneath the waves, igniting the sky with a tapestry of fiery gold. Itachi found sanctuary at the ship's edge, his eyes closed, allowing the wind's tender embrace to guide him. He had become one with the sea's whispers, each breath of air and swell of tide resonating clear and true, like words scribed upon a page. His dance with the sea had transcended mere movement, becoming a profound lesson in listening.

In that tranquil moment, a voice emerged from the harmony of wind and water, a voice not heard but felt, resonating deep within his soul. It spoke of concepts unfamiliar to Itachi: forgiveness, peace, the promise of a new beginning.

It was then that Itachi understood his journey was not only a quest for the ocean's secrets but an inward exploration. Traveling towards Marineford burdened by the ghosts of his past, he found solace in the sea's vast cradle, a form of self-acceptance not granted by forgiveness but through the realization that even those lost at sea can find their way home.

In the days that followed, Itachi became one with the ship, another shadow among the sails, yet one that had seen the light. When he finally stepped onto Marineford's soil, he did so not as a shinobi seeking oblivion but as a man who had unearthed a purpose beyond the battlegrounds of his former life.

Greeted with a chill reception, the serenity he had known at sea vanished upon setting foot on land. A group of marine corporals, their faces hard with judgment and seasoned by more than just the sun, surrounded him, their spirits soured by harsh hierarchies' cruelties.

"Think you've a place here, boy?" one sneered, his tone sharp as a freshly honed blade. "This isn't a place for children to pretend at being sailors."

Itachi snuffed out the candle and met their gaze, his presence unwavering. "I come to learn and to serve, just like anyone else here," he stated, his voice carrying the calm of the sea.

A corporal, marked by the stories of battle etched into his skin, stepped forward. "Serve? Your presence here reeks of nepotism. You think the shadow of your ancestor ensures your place among us? But the sea cares not for birthright or fame. Here, one's value is forged through endurance and courage, not carried on the laurels of your grandfather."

Amongst the crew, there was a unison of nods, a silent agreement that wove through the air, thick with the tension that heralds an oncoming storm.

Yet, Itachi stood unshaken, an island of calm in the tempest of skepticism and animosity that swirled around him. He had walked through valleys shadowed by hatred, navigated the treacherous currents of fear, and encountered distrust and enmity in measures these Marines could hardly imagine. "I do not seek indulgence through my ancestry," he declared, his voice a steady beacon. "The sea, as you've aptly observed, is blind to such trivialities. It yearns for comprehension, and it is this understanding I seek to master."

The air hung heavy with a reflective pause, eventually shattered by the voice of the youngest challenger, his look a mingling of doubt and challenge. "Prove it then. The sea is rife with trials, and if you truly wish to stand among us, you must face them head-on, regardless of your past or legacy."

With a nod of solemn acknowledgment, Itachi accepted the gauntlet thrown down before him.

In the days that followed, Itachi faced every trial with unwavering fortitude. From enduring the rigorous disciplines administered by his superiors, to whom only rank afforded superiority, to the most humble tasks at the base undertaken with grace. Each bruise he bore and each line he secured not only cemented his place but also began to weave a tapestry of respect amongst those initially draped in doubt.

As time marched on, Itachi's integration and comprehension of this alien yet familiar world progressed at a pace even he hadn't anticipated. A day arrived, thick with the electricity of anticipation. The corporals formed a ring around two figures: Itachi, under the legacy of the illustrious Navy hero Garp, and Dalmatian, a captain renowned for his valor and steadfast pursuit of justice.

Dalmatian, having come to Marineford to evaluate the corporals' progress and upon hearing of Itachi's unique heritage, chose to personally test his capabilities. This confrontation was not driven by disdain or the desire to belittle but by a genuine intrigue to assess the prowess of the youth who had so seamlessly woven himself into their fabric under such unique circumstances.

Itachi met the challenge with a serene readiness, fully aware of Dalmatian's reputation and his ability to transform and battle with the ferocity of his namesake. Yet, instead of apprehension or doubt, Itachi saw this as yet another chapter of learning, an opportunity to measure his own growth.

Dalmatian, a wielder of one of the fabled devil fruits of the Zoan category, had the power to morph into a Dalmatian, enhancing his physical prowess to an almost supernatural level, perfectly suiting his hand-to-hand combat style.

The duel commenced with nothing more than a shared nod of respect. Dalmatian advanced with incredible speed, every movement a tempest, each strike a harbinger of potential demise.

His movements were a blur, each strike a looming threat. Yet Itachi, ensnared in a defensive stance, found himself amidst the cacophony of his peers' shouts, touched by a curious phenomenon—a dilation of time, granting him a preternatural awareness of his environment.

In that expanded moment, Itachi foresaw the captain's imminent moves, feeling the stir of intentions before they even crystallized. This sensation, alien yet strangely familiar, differed from his Sharingan; it wasn't merely about predicting movements or foretelling strikes but about a profound synchrony with the very fabric of reality, a deepened connection to the world he had never before experienced.

As the daybreak scattered the clouds, Itachi reflected upon this serendipitous awakening. On his voyage of discovery, he had unwittingly unlocked Observation Haki, a rare gift that allowed its bearers to sense the essence of those around them, predicting movements, intentions, and even fleeting glimpses of the near future. It was a secret known but to a few, whispered among the echelons of pirates and Marines alike, and Itachi, it seemed, had stumbled upon it as if guided by fate itself.

The battle unfolded, a ballet of thrust and counter, a testament to resilience and prowess. Yet, those who bore witness were not merely captivated by the display of martial skill but by the poise and intuition of Itachi's maneuvers. He moved not as a novice but with the grace of one steeped in the arts of war for lifetimes.

As the twilight drew its curtains around their field of honor, Dalmatian acknowledged Itachi, a gesture laden with respect. Itachi, though wearied and every muscle aching, sought to mirror the acknowledgement, but the encounter had drawn to a close with the last moments of his mystical awareness. Though one might say a victor stood, the true essence of their clash was the mutual respect garnered, a testament to Itachi's fortitude against a veteran of the seas, however fleeting the victory.

Compelled by this enigmatic ability, Itachi poured his every moment into mastering Observation Haki. Similar in demand to the Sharingan, it required unwavering concentration and an introspective understanding of oneself. As days melded into nights, his mastery deepened, intertwining not just with his martial practice but also enriching his perception of the world.

For Itachi, the discovery of Observation Haki was akin to the turning of a page, revealing a new chapter in his saga of self-discovery. It offered him a vision of the world untainted by the veil of conflict, viewed through the wise gaze of one who sees not merely with the eyes but with the soul, understanding the delicate balance of existence, its woven threads of luminance and shade. In this awakening, Itachi found more than just power; he found a peace as profound as the ocean's depths, a solace akin to the embrace of the waves he had learned to call home.

In the reflective quietude of his naval apprenticeship, Itachi became aware of an approach, a presence imbued with both the comfort of familiarity and the surprise of unexpected reassurance. Garp, the storied Marine hero and his grandfather, moved towards him with the silent, assured gait of one who had navigated the sea's capricious whims for countless moons.

"The night lends itself to stargazing and pondering the expanse of our world, wouldn't you agree?" Garp's voice, deep and serene, cut through the silence, a beacon in the darkness.

Itachi, eyes not straying from the abyssal horizon, concurred. " The sky is unclouded tonight. It's a fitting time to reflect upon those we hold dear, yet who are far from our side."

Garp aligned himself beside Itachi, their eyes cast towards the endless, darkened waters. "Your rise to Lieutenant Commander has come to my ears, Itachi. It's a distinguished honor and profound responsibility. My heart swells with pride for you."

Itachi faced his grandfather, the celestial light reflecting in his eyes. "I am grateful, Grandfather. The journey hasn't been without its trials, yet within the Marines, I've found a purpose—a purpose worthy of my utmost protection and effort."

Garp's smile, rich with the history of countless skirmishes and the wisdom of survivals, spoke of a life deeply lived but buoyed by an undiminished hope. "Your destiny was always clear to me, Itachi. In you thrives the essence of a warrior melded with the heart of a mariner. And now, the mantle of leadership is yours to bear. I am confident you will guide with wisdom and strength."

As the sea bore silent witness and the stars observed from their celestial perches, Garp shared revelations of the journey that lay ahead for Itachi in his new capacity. "Your promotion to Lieutenant Commander," Garp began, a momentary shadow of reminiscence crossing his features, "heralds the introduction of Kibin, the captain to whom you will report. He once served under my command, a man of staunch principle and relentless integrity. His time with me revealed not just a formidable combatant but a born leader."

Itachi listened with rapt attention, understanding that Garp's commendations were not mere colleagues, but the genuine respect accorded to a man he esteemed deeply. He recognized that the brand of justice Garp embodied was neither simplistic nor unilateral; it acknowledged the intricate dance of righteousness and malevolence in a realm where such distinctions frequently blur.

A silence, profound and contemplative, followed Garp's revelation, as the sea whispered secrets only the night could understand. "Kibin's path of justice veers from mine," Garp elucidated, his voice carrying the weight of the sea's depth, yet laced with an emotive undercurrent. "He views justice as an entity beyond the grasp of our earthly constraints. For him, laws and codes are not mere suggestions but the compass by which he steers, granting him the clarity to adjudicate with a fairness untainted by personal bias."

To Itachi, the figure of Kibin loomed not just as a superior to be obeyed but he symbolized a fresh perspective on the prevailing ethos of justice in this unfamiliar world. The opportunity to serve beneath such a steadfast figure presented itself as a challenge as exhilarating as the high seas. Throughout his voyage towards self-enlightenment, Itachi had learned to value the anchor of mentorship and the illuminating presence of those who walk their talk with unwavering conviction, their beliefs shining like stars to navigate by.

"To serve under his command will be an honor," Itachi affirmed, his voice imbued with the strength of his commitment. "I eagerly anticipate the opportunity to glean wisdom from him and contribute to his vision of justice."

Garp's nod, slow and meaningful, was a seal of approval on Itachi's pledge. "And so, you shall. Kibin will indeed challenge you, but it's through such trials that he will come to regard you highly. Together, I have no doubt that the both of you will forge changes of significant measure."

In this exchange, a bridge was built between past and future, between the wisdom of the old guard and the promise of the new. Itachi, with the sea's endless murmur as his soundtrack, stood at the precipice of this new chapter, ready to dive into the depths of unknown waters, guided by the stars of conviction and the compass of justice as embodied by Kibin.

In the aftermath of their exchange, a silence bloomed between them, laden with mutual reverence and comprehension. Garp's eyes wandered back to the vastness of the horizon, towards the enigmatic East Blue.

"Luffy, he's always been akin to a ship set sail on the winds of freedom, his heart captivated by the siren call of untold adventures and uncharted paths. In a manner, his path reflects your own. Though the seas you navigate are disparate, both of you are questing for a deeper truth. Of this, my pride knows no bounds."

Within Itachi, a warmth unfurled, kindled by his grandfather's affirmation. "With every ounce of my being, I pledge to shield this world, ensuring that Luffy, and all souls with a thirst for freedom, can chart their own destinies."

The weight of Garp's hand on Itachi's shoulder was a palpable link to their shared heritage, a testament to the age-old epic of tenacity and bravery that bound their lineage. "And in that quest, know that my support, unwavering and steadfast, accompanies you, for the sake of you both."

Their conversation tapered off, signaling not an end but the dawn of a fresh start for Itachi. With each day that passed, his ties to this world of sailors and protectors, though foreign, increasingly resonated with a sense of kinship. He foresaw a path replete with challenges yet also rich with opportunities for growth, for change, and, just maybe, for the healing of ancient wounds.