Namor McKenzie In One Piece

Namor's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the faint orange glow of torches flickering along damp stone walls. The air was thick with moisture, every breath tasting like salt and despair. His muscles ached faintly, though he noticed something odd—he felt no weakness, no draining sensation he'd expected from such a dismal place.

Across the cell, Arlong groaned as he stirred awake, rubbing his head with a scaly hand.

"Where... where are we?" Arlong muttered, glancing around with a mix of confusion and unease.

Namor stood, stretching his arms, noticing the sturdy iron bars that encased them. "I don't know," he replied, his voice calm but edged with irritation. "But I don't appreciate waking up in a cage."

The sound of faint, raspy laughter drifted from a nearby cell. Both men turned their attention toward the noise, spotting a figure slumped against the wall of the opposite cell. The man had long, messy hair, a sunken face, and wore tattered clothes.

"You two must've ticked off someone important to wind up down here," the man said, his tone dry and mocking. "Welcome to Level Six of Impel Down—Eternal Hell."

"Impel Down?" Namor repeated, his sharp eyebrows knitting together.

The man chuckled again. "The prison of prisons. A place where the World Government throws away the worst of the worst. Pirates, revolutionaries, traitors... anyone too dangerous to leave walking free."

Arlong stepped forward, gripping the bars. "Eternal Hell? You mean we're at the bottom?"

Another person spoke, there was someone else in their cell. "That's right. Level Six, where they keep the ones so dangerous they don't want the world to even know we exist." His gaze flicked to Namor. "Judging by the way you carry yourself, you must've caused quite the stir to end up here."

Namor's lips curled into a smirk, but his mind was racing. 'The World Government... A prison beneath the ocean itself. And the bottom floor, no less. What kind of place is this?'

Arlong frowned, his sharp teeth glinting as he sneered at the man. "Who are you supposed to be?"

The figure stepped closer, the dim light revealing his face. "They call me Jinbe, Knight of the Sea."

Namor's eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze analyzing the blue-skinned fishman before him. "Another fishman... You're different from him," Namor said, motioning to Arlong with a flick of his head.

Jinbe nodded slowly. "And you're no ordinary human. Those wings on your ankles... I've never seen anything like them."

Namor folded his arms, the faint glimmer of respect in his tone. "I'm no human. I am Namor, king of the seas. You'd do well to remember that."

Jinbe's expression didn't falter, though his eyes darkened with intrigue. "A king, huh? We'll see if your title means anything here."

Arlong growled. "Jinbe... What are you doing down here?"

Jinbe sighed, leaning back against the wall of his cell. "Oh Arlong! How times change. Decisions are made. And sometimes, those decisions land you at the bottom of the world."

Namor stepped closer to the bars, his piercing gaze locked on Jinbe. "If this is truly the prison of the worst, then why are you sitting here, wasting away?"

Jinbe chuckled dryly. "Because breaking out of Impel Down isn't something you do lightly, even for someone like me." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "But someone like you... You don't seem like the type to sit idle."

Namor smirked. "You're right about that. I won't rot here."

Arlong glanced at Namor, his expression a mix of skepticism and hope. "Do you have a plan?"

Namor turned his gaze toward the dimly lit corridor beyond the cell. "Not yet. But I don't intend to stay long enough for the sea to forget me."

Jinbe watched them both carefully, his tone growing serious. "If you're serious about leaving, you'll need more than strength. Impel Down isn't just guarded by jailers. The Warden is a monster in his own right, and even the sea is against you up above."

Namor's smirk widened. "The sea is never against me."

Jinbe raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his interest in the strange newcomer growing. For the first time in years, a flicker of possibility stirred within him.

"Let's see if you're truly the king you claim to be," Jinbe said, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Namor's gaze lingered on Jinbe, the strange fishman who radiated an air of calm power despite the despair of their surroundings. Something about him seemed grounded, steady—qualities Namor recognized in those who had truly mastered themselves.

"You seem capable," Namor began, his tone commanding but laced with curiosity. "You mentioned the Warden and his strength. And yet, you sit here unfazed. Why?"

Jinbe's eyes narrowed slightly, studying Namor. "Because strength alone doesn't win every battle. Knowing when to act, and how—that's just as important as brute force. I've learned that over a lifetime of conflict."

Namor folded his arms, his sharp features cutting through the dim light like a blade. "Interesting philosophy. But I don't have time for lifetimes, fishman. There's something I need."

Jinbe tilted his head. "And what would that be?"

"Haki." Namor's voice echoed through the cell block, firm and unyielding. "I've seen it used, and I've used it sparingly myself. Conqueror's Haki comes naturally to me, but I don't fully understand it. And this... Armament Haki," he continued, gesturing to his hands. "It allowed me to strike down one who claimed to be untouchable. I need to master it."

Jinbe's expression softened, though his gaze remained sharp. "Haki isn't something you pick up like a weapon. It's a manifestation of will, of spirit. If you're looking for shortcuts, you'll only find disappointment."

Namor stepped closer to the bars, his presence commanding the space between them. "Shortcut or not, I don't care. I need to master it to accomplish my goals."

"And what goals might those be?" Jinbe asked, his tone skeptical but not dismissive.

"To rebuild my kingdom," Namor said simply, his voice carrying the weight of his ambition. "To find followers strong enough to stand with me. And to ensure no force, no 'Warden' or celestial being, can ever imprison me again."

Jinbe studied Namor in silence for a moment, his gaze piercing as though weighing the sincerity of his words. Finally, he sighed.

"Haki isn't taught as much as it's awakened," Jinbe said, his tone steady. "But I can guide you—show you the basics and help you understand its nature. Whether or not you grasp it will depend on your will."

Namor's smirk returned, faint but resolute. "Then guide me. You'll find my will is unshakable."

Arlong, who had been leaning against the bars silently, glanced between the two. "Haki, huh?" he muttered. "If you're teaching him, then you better teach me too. I refuse to be left behind."

Jinbe turned his attention to Arlong, his expression hardening. "Arlong... You've always been impulsive. Reckless. Haki isn't something that comes to those who act without thought. You'll need to change if you want to learn."

Arlong growled, baring his sharp teeth. "I can change if it means becoming stronger. Don't underestimate me."

…

Namor sat on the cold ground, his sharp eyes locked on Jinbe, who had just finished explaining the basics of Haki.

"You say Haki comes from the spirit," Namor repeated, his voice calm but firm. "Then I'll bend mine to my will, just as I've bent the oceans. Show me."

Jinbe crossed his arms and studied Namor for a moment before nodding. "Very well. First, we'll start with Armament Haki. It's the power to manifest your will as a shield or a weapon. It's not just about strength—it's about focus and determination."

Namor flexed his hands, already envisioning the power Jinbe described. He thought of the times he had instinctively used Conqueror's Haki, commanding others to kneel before him, and the time he had broken Enel's Logia form with a burst of his will.

Arlong, leaning against a crumbling wall, scowled. "Enough talk. Show us how to use it already. I don't have time for lectures."

Jinbe's gaze hardened as he turned to Arlong. "If you can't be patient, you won't learn anything. Haki isn't brute force—it's refinement. Understand that, or you'll get nowhere."

Arlong growled under his breath but didn't argue further.

Jinbe picked up a small stone from the ground and held it in his palm. "Watch closely," he said. Slowly, his hand darkened, the stone crumbling into dust as a faint black sheen coated his skin. "This is Armament Haki. It can harden your strikes or let you bypass defenses like a Devil Fruit's powers. But more importantly, it's an extension of your spirit."

Namor nodded, already standing. "I see. Now, how do I unlock it?"

Jinbe stepped forward. "Focus on your will. Think of something you want to protect—or destroy. Let that thought consume you and flow into your body. Channel it to your hands or your weapon."

Namor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He thought of Atlantis, his people, and the kingdom he had lost. His desire to rebuild it burned in his chest, fierce and unwavering. As he extended his hand, he felt a strange warmth course through his body, pooling in his fingertips.

When he opened his eyes, his arm was coated with black and faintly outlined in a turquoise glow. It wasn't the deep black of Jinbe's Haki but something different, something uniquely his.

Jinbe's eyes widened slightly. "That's... unusual," he muttered. "Haki typically only manifests as black. I've never seen one with a glow like that before."

Namor examined his hand, smirking. "Of course. I'm not like the rest of you. My power reflects who I am—a king, unyielding and unmatched."

Arlong, frustrated but inspired, clenched his fists and tried to mimic Namor's focus. For a moment, his knuckles darkened faintly, but the sheen quickly faded. He cursed under his breath.

"Don't rush it, Arlong," Jinbe advised. "It will come in time."

As Namor tested his newfound ability, his mind wandered to his trident. It had been missing since their capture, but he felt no panic. "My trident," he said suddenly, looking at Jinbe. "It's gone, but I'm not concerned. It's bound to me. It won't work for anyone else and will return to me when I call for it."

Jinbe raised a brow. "That's a powerful weapon, then. You're fortunate it's loyal to you."

Namor chuckled. "Fortunate has nothing to do with it. The trident knows its master."

Jinbe shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Your confidence is something else, Namor. But confidence alone won't carry you far with Haki. You need control. Let's see how you handle a practical test!"

He gestured to Namor and Arlong. "Try to strike me with your Haki. Use everything you've learned so far."

Namor smirked, stepping forward. "Prepare yourself, Jinbe. I won't hold back."

The two squared off, Namor's turquoise-armored hand meeting Jinbe's hardened black fist in a thunderous clash. Sparks flew from the impact, the sound echoing through the desolate halls of Impel Down. Arlong watched, his frustration slowly giving way to awe and determination.

For the next hour, Jinbe guided them through the nuances of Armament Haki, pushing Namor to refine his unique abilities and encouraging Arlong to find his own strength. By the end of their session, Namor's confidence had grown even stronger, and Arlong, though exhausted, had managed to manifest a faint but solid Haki coating.

As they rested, Namor leaned back against the cold stone wall, a faint smirk on his lips. "This power will serve me well. With it, I'll take back what's mine—and more."

Jinbe nodded approvingly. "You've got the potential, Namor. But remember, Haki is tied to your spirit. Lose focus, lose conviction, and it will fade. Keep that in mind as we plan our escape."

Namor's smirk widened. "Oh, don't worry about me, Jinbe. My will is unshakable."