Namor McKenzie In One Piece

Namor and Arlong made their way deeper into Water 7, the city loud with life around them. The sounds of hammering and scraping echoed through the streets as shipwrights worked tirelessly on their crafts.

"We're looking for someone named Tom," Namor said to a passing worker, his tone commanding but not hostile.

The man paused, blinking at Namor and Arlong. "Tom? You mean Tom's Workers? They're on the other side of the city near Dock One. Big place, can't miss it."

Namor gave a curt nod of thanks, and the two continued on their way. As they walked, Arlong glanced around uneasily. The city's energy didn't sit well with him, and he was growing restless.

"Why this Tom guy?" Arlong asked, his voice low. "We could find someone else, someone who doesn't deal with humans."

Namor didn't slow his pace. "Tom built the Oro Jackson, the ship of the Pirate King. If anyone in this city knows the kind of people we're looking for, it's him."

Arlong grumbled but didn't argue further. Namor's logic was sound, even if he didn't like the idea of dealing with a human shipwright.

As they approached Dock One, the atmosphere shifted. The area was alive with activity, workers hauling massive planks of wood, machinery whirring in the background. At the center of it all was a massive workshop, and sitting outside was the largest fishman Arlong had ever seen.

"That must be him," Arlong muttered, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of Tom, a massive, broad-shouldered fishman with a jovial expression and a booming laugh that carried across the dock.

Namor and Arlong approached, and Tom noticed them immediately. His laughter faded, replaced by a curious look as he stood to his full height, towering over most of the workers around him.

"Well, now," Tom said, his voice deep and friendly. "It's not every day I see another fishman around here. And you—" he pointed at Namor, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You're... not… normal, are you?"

Namor smirked. "I get that a lot. You're Tom, aren't you? We're looking for information, and we were told you might be the one to talk to."

Tom crossed his massive arms over his chest. "Depends on what you're looking for. I don't usually deal with strangers unless there's a good reason."

Namor stepped closer, his presence radiating authority. "I need someone who can teach me haki—armament, observation, anything. You built the Pirate King's ship, didn't you? You must know where to find someone with that kind of knowledge."

Tom's expression shifted, a mix of surprise and suspicion. "That's a bold question to ask," he said slowly. "You're not just some ordinary wanderer, are you? And why would I tell you something like that?"

Namor held Tom's gaze, his voice calm but firm. "Because I'm building something greater than anything you've ever seen. And to do that, I need strength. Knowledge. Allies. If you know where I can find someone who can teach me, then tell me."

Tom studied him for a long moment, his gaze flickering to Arlong, who was glaring at the workers around them like they were threats. Finally, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," Tom said. "And yeah, I built the Oro Jackson. But haki... that's not something just anyone can teach. It's rare, and the people who know it don't usually advertise it."

"So you do know someone," Namor pressed.

Tom nodded reluctantly. "There's a man not far from here. Used to be part of the Roger Pirates. He's retired now, lives quietly on a small island. Goes by Rayleigh. If anyone can teach you, it's him."

Namor's eyes gleamed. "Rayleigh..."

Tom held up a hand. "But don't think it'll be easy. He doesn't train just anyone. You'll need to prove yourself."

"I always do," Namor said confidently.

Tom chuckled, his deep laugh rolling through the air. "You remind me of someone," he said, almost to himself. "Good luck, stranger. You're gonna need it."

With that, Namor and Arlong turned to leave, the path ahead of them clearer than it had been in days. Their next destination was set. If this Rayleigh could teach Namor haki, then he would stop at nothing to find him.

As they walked away, Arlong broke the silence. "You think this guy is worth it?"

Namor smirked. "If he was part of the Pirate King's crew, then yes. He's worth it. And once I learn everything I can from him, we'll be one step closer to rebuilding Atlantis."

As Namor and Arlong made their way out of the bustling dockyard, a sudden cry from behind them caused both to stop in their tracks.

"Hey! It's him! It's them!"

They turned to see a scruffy man holding up two wanted posters, one in each hand. His face was pale, his hands trembling as he waved the posters for everyone nearby to see.

The first poster was unmistakable: "Arlong, 20,000,000 Berries." The second, however, was entirely new. Namor's striking face was displayed in bold print, his name etched beneath it:

"McKenzie D. Namor – 120,000,000 Berries – Dead or Alive."

Arlong's jaw tightened as he muttered, "Still 20 million? That's insulting."

Namor, however, barely glanced at his poster. "You haven't really done anything but scream while I fight, 120 million? That's all?" He scoffed, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. "They've underestimated me."

Before Arlong could respond, the sound of boots echoed in the distance, growing louder. The crowd parted as a group of marines charged toward them, their rifles raised and swords drawn.

"Don't move!" one of the officers barked. "You're both under arrest! Drop your weapons and surrender!"

Namor's trident gleamed slightly turquoise as he rested it casually on his shoulder. He looked at Arlong, who seemed ready to rip the marines apart.

"Well, Arlong," Namor said, "it seems your bounty is finally getting some attention."

Arlong growled, cracking his knuckles. "These weaklings aren't worth the trouble."

The marines advanced cautiously, forming a semicircle around the pair. One particularly bold officer stepped forward. "We've got you surrounded! You're not getting away!"

Namor raised an eyebrow, amused by the marine's confidence. "Surrounded?" He planted the butt of his trident against the ground and gazed at the marines with a mix of disdain and boredom.

"Last warning!" the marine shouted.

Namor sighed, tilting his head slightly. "You should've brought more men."

Before the marine could respond, Namor shot forward like a blur. In an instant, he was in front of the officer, his hand gripping the man's collar. With effortless strength, Namor hurled him into a group of his comrades, sending them all sprawling.

The remaining marines fired their rifles, but Namor moved like water, weaving through the hail of bullets. His trident became nothing but the noise of clashing metal, deflecting the projectiles with precise, ringing strikes.

Arlong, not to be outdone, leapt into the fray. His massive jaw clamped down on the barrel of a marine's rifle, snapping it in half. With a brutal swing of his arm, he sent two more marines flying into a nearby wall.

The chaos spread quickly as civilians fled the scene, leaving the marines to face the two alone.

Namor twirled his trident, the air crackling with energy as he attempted focused his haki. With a single swing, he unleashed a wave of dark turquoise force that sent several marines tumbling backward.

One of the officers, trembling but determined, yelled, "Call for reinforcements! We need backup!"

Namor heard the plea and smirked. "By all means, call for more. It won't make a difference."

Arlong stood beside him, breathing heavily but grinning. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Namor glanced at him, his white eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "I didn't come here to play with children, but I'll admit, it's been entertaining."

As the last of the marines fell unconscious or scrambled to retreat, Namor and Arlong stood amidst the wreckage of the street. Smoke rose from shattered buildings, and the ground was littered with discarded weapons and groaning bodies.

Namor glanced back at his bounty poster, which had fluttered to the ground during the skirmish. He picked it up and studied it for a moment.

"120 million," he muttered again, shaking his head. "They really have no idea who they're dealing with."

He tossed the poster aside and looked at Arlong. "Let's go. We've wasted enough time here."

Arlong nodded, though he couldn't help but glance at his own bounty poster with a sour expression.

As they walked away, Namor's voice carried over his shoulder. "Next time, let's see if they bring someone more... formidable."

Arlong snorted. "Next time? You think there's gonna be a next time?"

Namor didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

…

Namor and Arlong swam steadily once again. Their path was calm for the moment, but tension hung in the air as per usual in the grand line. But this time, The horizon was dotted with marine ships—too many to ignore.

"That's not just any fleet," Arlong muttered, his voice low and uneasy. "The one leading them... it feels different."

Namor narrowed his eyes, his body tensing as the lead ship came into focus. It was massive, its imposing sails emblazoned with the Marine emblem, but it wasn't the ship that unsettled him. It was the overwhelming pressure emanating from it—a force so intense that it seemed to press against his chest, even from a distance.

Suddenly, a massive figure launched from the deck of the lead ship, soaring through the air with alarming speed. Before either Namor or Arlong could react, the figure landed on the water with an earth-shaking crash.

Standing before them was none other than Monkey D. Garp.

Arlong froze, his gills flaring in panic. "No... it's him! Garp the hero fo the marines!"

Namor glanced at him, a brow raised. "The hero of the Marines? Interesting."

Garp chuckled, his booming voice carrying easily over the waves. "You've got guts. Not many would dare swim so openly in my waters being a wanted criminal and all."

Namor gripped his trident, his smirk unwavering. "Your waters? The seas belong to no man—only to kings."

Garp's grin widened. "Kings, huh?"

Without warning, Garp lunged forward, his fist swinging toward Namor like a cannonball. Namor barely managed to bring his trident up in time to block, but the force of the punch sent him flying backward, crashing into the waves.

"Namor!" Arlong shouted, only to feel a shadow loom over him. He turned just in time to see Garp's fist coming down.

The blow connected with brutal force, driving Arlong into the water with a thunderous impact. The sea erupted around him, the shockwave spreading far and wide.

Namor shot out of the water, his eyes blazing with fury. He gritted his teeth, realizing Garp wasn't holding back in the slightest.

"Impressive strength," Namor admitted, circling Garp cautiously.

Garp laughed. "Oh, I'm just getting started!"

Garp charged again, his movements deceptively fast for a man of his size. Namor swung his trident in a wide arc, aiming to keep Garp at a distance. The weapon crackled with a dark turquoise force, droplets of water clinging to its sharp edges.

But Garp sidestepped effortlessly, ducking under the attack and delivering a crushing uppercut to Namor's gut. The air left Namor's lungs as he was launched skyward, the force of the blow nearly snapping his ribs.

"Stay down!" Garp roared, leaping after him.

Namor twisted midair, managing to deflect Garp's follow-up punch with the shaft of his trident. The two clashed in midair, shockwaves rippling outward as their blows connected. But it was clear that Namor was outmatched—Garp's sheer power was overwhelming, his punches like battering rams that left no room for counterattacks.

Arlong resurfaced, coughing up water and clutching his side. He watched the fight with wide eyes, his terror growing with every clash. "Namor... you can't win this! We have to run!"

Namor landed back on the water, his breaths heavy but defiant. "Run if you want, Arlong. I'm not done yet."

Garp landed a short distance away, his grin still in place. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that. But stubbornness doesn't mean much when you're out of your league."

Namor raised his trident, the weapon glowing faintly as it absorbed the energy of the sea around him. He had no choice—he needed to tap into every ounce of his power.

"You're strong, old man," Namor said. "Stronger than anyone I've faced in this world. But I'm no ordinary man."

With a powerful thrust, Namor sent a tidal wave surging toward Garp, the water towering high into the sky before crashing down.

Garp didn't flinch. He raised his fist, coating it in Armament Haki, and punched straight through the wave. The impact shattered the water into harmless droplets, leaving him completely unharmed.

Before Namor could react, Garp was on him again. This time, there was no defense—Garp's punch connected squarely with Namor's chest, sending him hurtling into the water with a resounding boom.

Arlong froze, his heart racing as Garp turned his attention to him.

"You're next, fishman," Garp said, cracking his knuckles.

Arlong tried to swim away, but Garp closed the distance in an instant, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him out of the water.

With that, he hurled Arlong back into the sea, the force of the throw sending him spiraling.