The glade on Whale's Rest had been transformed. The solemn air of the vote was gone, replaced by the crackling energy of a grand feast in the making. Roasting sea kings turned on massive spits, and barrels of ale were lined up like soldiers awaiting their call to battle.
In the center of the clearing, the allied captains stood in a formal line. Before them, Marco placed a massive, overflowing bowl of sake, the same one Pops had used for decades. It steamed gently in the cool air.
Behind it stood Gunnar, flanked by his commanders. He looked profoundly out of place, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, more comfortable holding a weapon than being the center of attention.
Marco, acting as master of ceremonies, gestured to the allied captains. "You have heard the decision. You have seen the will of our crew. Now, you must make your own choice."
Doma, speaking for the forty-odd captains gathered, stepped forward. He looked not at Marco, but directly at Gunnar. "We came here seeking a shield. We found a captain." He bowed his head slightly. "We, the allied pirate crews of the New World, wish to pledge our loyalty and serve under the flag of the Whitebeard Pirates and its new captain, Gunnar!"
A roar of agreement went up from the other captains.
Marco nodded and began distributing the smaller sakazuki cups to each of them. Thatch and Vista moved down the line, filling each one with sake from a large gourd. The ceremony was set. The cups were filled. All eyes were on Gunnar.
Gunnar stared at the giant bowl before him. He could feel the weight of every gaze, the gravity of the moment pressing down on him. He reached out and placed his hands on the sides of the bowl.
"This bowl," he began, his voice a low, rough baritone that carried across the clearing, "it belonged to my father. He used it to forge bonds, to create the greatest family the seas have ever known."
He looked up, not at the allied captains, but at his own crew, his brothers and sisters. His gaze swept over them, a silent promise in his eyes.
Then, he turned back to the allies. His expression wasn't one of a ruler accepting tribute, but of a man laying down his own terms—terms of the heart.
"I will accept your pledge," he said, his voice growing stronger. "But there are things you must understand."
He let go of the bowl and took a step forward, closing the distance between them. "Don't call me 'Captain' like I'm some distant king on a throne. Don't bow your heads to me. I am not my father. I will not rule from above."
He locked eyes with Doma, his gaze intense and unwavering. "My name is Gunnar. And I am your brother. That is all."
A murmur of confusion and surprise rippled through the allied captains.
"I will not give you grand orders or intricate plans," Gunnar continued, his voice resonating with raw honesty. "My promise is simpler. If you are in trouble, I will be the first one to charge in. If you are hungry, we will share my plate. If your home is threatened, it becomes my battlefield. I don't want subordinates who follow orders. I want a family that fights alongside each other."
He stepped back to the massive bowl and gripped it firmly. He looked at every man and woman before him, his golden eyes burning with sincerity.
"So don't drink to me as your new commandere," he declared, his voice rising to a powerful roar. "Drink with me... as your brother who you all chose to lead to greatness!"
With a mighty heave, he lifted the colossal bowl to his lips, tipping it back and drinking the sake in deep, resounding gulps.
A beat of stunned silence, and then the clearing exploded.
"BROTHER!" Doma roared, a wide, fierce grin splitting his face as he drained his own cup.
One by one, the other captains followed suit, their cheers echoing through the trees. "TO GUNNAR! TO OUR BROTHER!"
"That's our captain!" Thatch yelled, tears of pride in his eyes. Jozu let out a booming laugh, and Vista smiled, a rare, genuinely warm expression.
Off to the side, seated in his chair with Iris on one knee and Smoothie on the other, Edward Newgate watched it all. A broad, peaceful smile stretched across his face. He saw Gunnar set down the empty bowl and get swarmed by his new and old family, clapping him on the back, ruffling his hair. He saw the genuine, unforced bonds being forged in fire and sake.
Iris, bouncing on his knee, giggled at the happy noise. "Papa is so cool!" she said.
Whitebeard chuckled, his great laugh rumbling through the clearing. "Gurararara! Yes, little one. He is."
He watched the roaring fires, the clashing of mugs, and the unbridled joy. His era was over. But his family… his family was eternal. He took a sip from his own small cup of sake, a silent toast to the son who had finally, truly, come home.
***
A day Later
The celebration over Gunnar's new leadership had barely subsided when the lookout's call sliced through the air, sharp and urgent.
"Ship approaching! Starboard side! It's... it's the Queen Mama Chanter!"
A wave of tension instantly washed over the deck, dousing the festive mood. Mugs were set down. Hands instinctively moved towards weapons. The Queen Mama Chanter, Big Mom's flagship, was a symbol of a rival Emperor, an enemy they had clashed with for decades.
The ship that limped into view, however, was a ghost of its former self. Its candy-striped sails were shredded and torn, its hull was scorched black in great patches, and the grinning, singing face on its figurehead was cracked and silent. It was a vessel of the defeated.
Gunnar stood at the railing, his expression unreadable as he watched it approach. Beside him, Smoothie's hands were clenched into fists, her knuckles white.
"Captain," Jozu rumbled, stepping up behind him. "Your orders?"
Gunnar didn't take his eyes off the approaching ship. "He wants to meet his in-laws," he murmured, a strange, wry twist to his lips. He then spoke louder for all to hear. "Hold your fire. Let them come."
The Queen Mama Chanter dropped anchor a short distance away, and a smaller vessel was lowered. A handful of figures were aboard. As it drew closer, their identities became clear. At the forefront stood a towering man with sharp, crimson eyes and a massive scarf covering the lower half of his face: Charlotte Katakuri. Beside him, her three eyes wide with exhaustion and fear, was Charlotte Pudding.
They docked, and Katakuri stepped onto the shores of Whale's Rest alone, his presence immediately commanding a wary respect. He walked with a heavy weariness but an unbroken pride, stopping a respectful distance from the new Emperor.
"Edward Gunnar," Katakuri's voice was deep and muffled by his scarf. "I see the news of your ascension was not an exaggeration. Congratulations."
"Katakuri," Gunnar replied, his tone even. He gestured slightly to the woman at his side. "It has been a while, brother-in-law."
The title, he acknowledged the tangled relationship between them.
Katakuri's gaze flickered to Smoothie, a storm of emotions crossing his face before he looked back at Gunnar. He wasted no time. "I am not here for pleasantries. I am here to ask for your help."
He stood tall, the strongest of Big Mom's children, now forced to beg from a rival. "Mama is dead. Blackbeard... that monster, he took her soul, her power. He laid waste to Totland. Most of my siblings—Perospero, Cracker, Oven, dozens of others—they've been captured. They are being held captive."
His voice was tight with suppressed fury and desperation. "I know we have been enemies. But we now share a greater one. I am asking for an alliance. Your strength, combined with what's left of ours. We can strike back. We can save our family and avenge our mother. You must want revenge on Teach as much as we do."
Gunnar was silent for a long moment. He looked at his own crew, many of whom were still nursing wounds from the war Teach had started. He looked at his father, sitting peacefully in his chair. They were not ready.
"We will take on Blackbeard," Gunnar stated, his voice firm. "His debt to this family will be paid in blood. But not now. My crew has just survived one war. We are not in a state to begin another against a man who now wields two of the most devastating powers on the seas. We need a few months. To regroup, to train, to prepare."
"Months?" Katakuri's composure finally cracked. "We don't have months! They'll be dead by then! He will make an example of them to the world! My family will die!"
Gunnar's jaw tightened. He looked at Smoothie. "This is your family he's talking about."
Smoothie met his gaze, her own eyes filled with pain, but also with an unwavering trust in him. "And you are mine. This is your decision, Gunnar. You are the captain now. I will follow you, no matter what you choose."
"Papa?"
A small voice cut through the heavy tension. Iris, having wiggled free from her mother's side, came to stand by Gunnar's leg, looking up at the tall, strange man with the scarf. "Who's that?"
Gunnar's entire demeanor softened. He knelt down, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Iris," he said gently, "this is your Uncle Katakuri. He's Mama's brother."
Iris's golden eyes widened with pure, uncomplicated delight. "Uncle?" The word was a happy chirp. Without a moment's hesitation, she broke away from her father and trotted right up to the fearsome, 16-foot-tall pirate commander. "Hello, Uncle!" she said, smiling brightly up at him.
Katakuri froze. His crimson eyes, which could see seconds into the future, were wide with utter shock. He looked down at this tiny, fearless girl—his niece. His family. A piece of his sister, standing before him. Slowly, as if his joints were rusty, he knelt down, bringing himself to her level. His intimidating aura vanished, replaced by a raw vulnerability.
"Hello," he managed to say, his voice softer than anyone had ever heard it.
Gunnar watched them. He saw the future his daughter could have—a world with uncles and cousins, a massive, chaotic family she had never known. And he saw that future being snuffed out by Blackbeard before it could even begin. He looked at Smoothie, at the tears welling in her eyes as she watched her brother and her daughter.
In that instant, the choice became clear. It wasn't about strategy, or revenge, or timing. It was about family.
He stood up, his decision made. "An alliance is temporary," he announced, his voice ringing with a new, unshakeable conviction that silenced the entire clearing. "It's a contract, easily broken. What you need... what we need... is something stronger."
He looked directly at Katakuri. "We won't be allies."
Katakuri's face fell, thinking it was a rejection.
"We will be one crew," Gunnar declared, his voice booming. "Let the Charlotte Family and the Whitebeard Pirates put aside their old rivalries. Let us merge our flags, our strengths, our families. From this day forward, there is only one crew. One large pirate family. Your brothers will be my brothers. Your sisters, my sisters. We will save them not as allies, but as family."
Shock rippled through both crews. Marco's jaw dropped. Jozu stared in disbelief. This was unprecedented. To absorb the remnants of a rival Yonko crew? It was insane. It was brilliant.
Katakuri looked up from the ground, his eyes wide with disbelief and dawning, overwhelming hope. He saw the absolute sincerity in Gunnar's face. He stood up, towering once more, and gave a deep, formal bow.
"We accept," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "My Mochi Mochi no Mi, my strength, my life... it is all at the service of our new family. Of my captain."
"Brother," Gunnar corrected him firmly.
Katakuri looked up, a rare, small smile touching his eyes. "...Brother."
Gunnar glanced back at his father. The old man was grinning from ear to ear, his great laugh beginning to build. He didn't mind at all. His son wasn't just leading a crew. He was building an empire of family, grander and more powerful than even he had ever imagined
Gunnar's declaration hung in the air, as radical and earth-shattering as a Yonko declaring war. For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of the feast fires and the whisper of the sea breeze.
Then, the murmurs started.
"Merge? Is he insane?" a Whitebeard Pirate whispered to his crewmate.
"The Charlottes? We've been fighting them for years!" another hissed back.
On the deck of the limping Queen Mama Chanter, the remaining Big Mom pirates stared in wide-eyed disbelief. Hope, an emotion they thought had died with their mother, was blooming tentatively in their chests.
The core commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates, however, were gathered in a tight, stunned knot near the center of the clearing.
"He can't be serious," Jozu said, his voice a low growl of disbelief. He wasn't questioning Gunnar's authority, but the sheer audacity of the move. "We absorb them? Just like that? After all the blood spilled between us?"
Isshin, ever the optimist but now looking completely floored, ran a hand through his hair. "I mean... it's one way to get new recruits? But this is like inviting a den of rival wolves into your cave! We don't know them. We don't trust them."
Vista, usually the calmest among them, had a hand on the hilt of his sword, a nervous habit. "The strategic implications are... immense. To instantly bolster our numbers with former soldiers of another Emperor... it would make us the single largest force on the seas. But the internal friction could tear us apart before we ever face Blackbeard."
"He didn't make a strategic decision, yoi."
All eyes turned to Marco. The First Commander was staring at Gunnar, who was now watching Iris shyly show Katakuri her seashell collection. There was a look of profound understanding on Marco's face.
"This wasn't a captain's move," Marco continued softly. "It was a father's. He looked at Iris and Katakuri, and he chose family over everything else. Over old grudges, over strategy, over common sense. That... is the heart of this crew. It's the will of Pops."
As if summoned by the mention of his name, the commanders turned to look at the old man. Edward Newgate was still seated in his chair, a small, knowing smile on his face. He watched them with amusement, as if observing a flock of fledgling birds arguing over which way the wind was blowing.
Izo, ever direct, stepped forward and bowed slightly to his former captain. "Pops... what do you think of this? To merge our family with... hers?" The disdain for Big Mom was still evident in his voice.
Whitebeard's smile widened. He took a slow sip of his sake before answering, his voice raspy but full of mirth. "What do I think? I think it is a fine mess he is making!" He let out a low, rumbling chuckle. "Gurarara... It is bold. It is reckless. It is exactly the kind of thing a young man trying to protect everything he holds dear would do."
He gestured with his cup towards Gunnar. "Look at him. He is not me. He will not lead as I did. He will forge his own path, make his own mistakes, and build his own legacy."
His expression turned serious, and he looked at each of his oldest sons in turn. "I told you to choose the man who would protect this family above all else. You did. Now you must let him do it, in his own way."
His eyes twinkled. "Besides," he added, a mischievous glint appearing. "I have not decided my retirement place. It will be amusing to be in Toto Island, where all race's live, maybe in peace if Gunnar plays right. And my son has made Charlotte Linlin's children his own. I can think of no greater, final insult to that wretched woman."
He leaned back in his chair, a picture of contentment. "He is the captain now. Let him be the captain. I, for one, quite like it."
His words, full of finality and unwavering support, settled over the commanders like a warm blanket. The last vestiges of their doubt began to melt away. Pops approved. Marco understood. It was a crazy, impossible plan, but it was their captain's plan.
Marco nodded slowly and turned to face his brothers. "Pops is right. Our captain has made his decision. We are one family now." He straightened his shoulders. "Jozu, get our healers ready to tend to their wounded. Thatch, find more plates and more barrels; our family just got a lot bigger. Vista, Izo, we need to organize berths for them. We have work to do."
The commanders, their purpose renewed, broke apart to carry out their orders. The transition from rivals to family wouldn't be easy, but it had begun. Gunnar, seeing his commanders moving with purpose, gave a small, grateful nod to Marco from across the clearing.
His gamble had paid off. The two crews, once bitter enemies, were about to take their first, faltering steps as one. And under the watchful, smiling eyes of the old whale, a new, unprecedented pirate empire was being born.