Namor McKenzie In One Piece

As Luffy stepped forward, determination etched on his face, Nami's patience finally snapped. She stomped up to him and, without hesitation, smacked him over the head with enough force to make him yelp.

"Luffy, you idiot!" Nami shouted, glaring at him with her hands on her hips. "Don't just pick a fight with someone without knowing what's going on!"

Luffy rubbed his head, looking at her with wide eyes. "But he said this place is his now! And he's holding a big, scary trident!"

Nami groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Luffy, listen to me. Namor fought Arlong. He helped me. He's not here to hurt anyone—at least not me or this village."

The rest of the crew exchanged confused glances.

"So... he's not our enemy?" Usopp asked cautiously, keeping his slingshot half-raised.

"No," Nami said firmly. "If it weren't for him, Arlong would still be running things here."

Sanji stepped forward, his eyes darting between Nami and Namor. "If you say so, Nami-swan. But are you sure you're okay? This guy doesn't exactly scream friendly."

"I'm fine," Nami said, crossing her arms. "He hasn't done anything to hurt me."

Namor watched the exchange in silence, his trident resting casually on his shoulder. He found the dynamic between these people amusing—chaotic, but full of loyalty. Still, their presence was a distraction he didn't need.

"I have no interest in your squabbles," Namor said, his voice cutting through the tension. "If you're done bickering, I suggest you leave. I've already handled the threat here."

Luffy blinked at him, then grinned broadly. "Well, if Nami says you're okay, then I guess you're okay! Thanks for helping her!"

Before Namor could respond, Luffy turned and started walking toward the gate. "Alright, crew! Let's go!"

"Wait, that's it?" Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yep!" Luffy said cheerfully, waving a hand. "Let's go eat!"

Sanji, Usopp, and Zoro sighed in unison, but they followed their captain without further complaint. Nami lingered for a moment, glancing back at Namor.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight of sincerity.

Namor inclined his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

As the Straw Hats disappeared through the gate, Namor turned his attention back to Arlong Park. The courtyard was silent, save for the faint sound of waves lapping against the shore. He exhaled softly, feeling the weight of the confrontation fade.

Arlong dragged himself onto the shore, water streaming from his tattered body as he collapsed onto his knees. His chest heaved, and his sharp teeth, once bared in fury, now only clenched in quiet pain.

Namor's sharp gaze followed the Fishman's every movement. His trident was at the ready, though he no longer saw Arlong as a threat. The mighty shark-man who had boasted of supremacy now looked defeated in more ways than one.

Arlong coughed, spitting out seawater mixed with blood. His massive hands gripped the ground as he slowly raised his head, his yellow eyes meeting Namor's unyielding stare. But instead of the blazing fury Namor expected, there was something else in his gaze—resignation.

"You've... taken everything from me," Arlong rasped, his voice trembling under the weight of his own failure. "My pride... my crew... my dream."

Namor lowered his trident slightly, though his tone remained cold. "You lost everything because you were unworthy to claim it. A true king does not rule by fear and greed."

Arlong flinched, the words striking him harder than any blow. He turned his gaze to the ruined courtyard of Arlong Park, his broad shoulders sagging. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of the waves gently lapping at the shore.

"I thought..." Arlong began, his voice hollow, "I thought I could make a world where Fishmen didn't have to bow to humans. Where we could finally stand above them." He laughed bitterly, a sound devoid of joy. "But all I did was become what I hated most."

Namor's eyes narrowed. He hadn't expected this level of introspection from the Fishman. "You deluded yourself into thinking that strength alone could bring change. True leadership is more than domination."

Arlong looked down at his hands, his claws curling into fists. "I know that now... but it's too late." He let out a long breath and raised his head to Namor once more. "What are you going to do with me?"

Namor tilted his head slightly, considering the broken man before him. He could feel the weight of Arlong's shame, the cracks in his once-unshakable pride.

"You have answers I require," Namor continued, his trident pointed at the Fishman like a judge's gavel. "Tell me about yourself, your people, and this world. I would know what kind of rulers allowed you to rise."

Arlong hesitated for a moment before slumping back to the ground, his shoulders sagging. He let out a low sigh, his voice heavy with defeat. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything," Namor said simply, stepping closer. He stood over Arlong, his presence commanding. "Start with you. Who are you, and what gave you the delusion that you were a king?"

Arlong's jaw clenched, his pride still raw. "I'm Arlong," he said, his tone hollow. "A Fishman, born and raised on Fishman Island. I grew up hating humans and everything they stood for."

"And why is that?" Namor asked, narrowing his eyes.

Arlong's fists tightened as memories flashed through his mind. "Because of the Celestial Dragons. Those... monsters. They enslaved my people, treated us like animals. No, worse than animals. They crushed us beneath their boots and called it justice."

Namor's expression didn't change, but his grip on his trident tightened. "Celestial Dragons?"

"They're the so-called leaders of this world," Arlong spat, his voice filled with venom. "The rulers above rulers. They sit in their ivory towers, controlling everything and everyone. And anyone who doesn't bow to them..." He trailed off, his teeth grinding together.

Namor's brow furrowed. The concept of such self-proclaimed gods infuriated him. "And Fishman Island?"

Arlong nodded slowly. "It is the home of the fish-menand merfolk. It serves as an underwater gateway to the New World for those who do not wish to cross over the Red Line,"

'Like Atlantis…' Namor thought,

"And yet, you turned your hatred toward humans instead of these so-called leaders," Namor said coldly. "Why?"

Arlong looked away, shame flickering in his eyes. "Because I was weak. It was easier to take out my anger on the ones I could control than to fight the ones I couldn't."

Namor scoffed, his disdain evident. "Pathetic."

Arlong didn't argue. He slumped further, the truth of his cowardice weighing heavily on him. "You don't know what it's like," he muttered. "The Celestial Dragons aren't just rulers. They have power. Influence. Armies. And they have the Marines backing them up."

"Marines?" Namor echoed.

"So much for enforcers of justice," Arlong said bitterly. "They protect the World Government and the Celestial Dragons. If you defy them, you're hunted like an animal."

Namor tilted his head, processing this information. The more he learned, the more he realized just how corrupted and fractured this world was.

"What about the Red Line? The Grand Line? Tell me about this world's structure," Namor demanded.

Arlong hesitated before answering. "The Red Line is a massive continent that splits the world. Fishman Island lies beneath it, deep in the ocean. The Grand Line is a dangerous sea that circles the world, filled with islands and strange phenomena. It's where most of the world's strongest pirates and warriors end up."

"And the One Piece?" Namor asked, the term surfacing from the memories he had scoured in this body's mind.

Arlong's lips curled into a bitter smile. "The treasure at the end of the Grand Line. The thing every pirate dreams of finding. They say whoever claims it will become the Pirate King."

Namor's eyes narrowed. "And what of this Red Sun tattoo on your chest?"

At this, Arlong's face darkened. "The Sun Pirates," he said quietly. "They were my brothers once. A crew of Fishmen and humans who fought for freedom. But we all fell apart after Fisher Tiger—our captain—was killed."

Namor raised an eyebrow. "Fisher Tiger?"

Arlong's voice softened, his anger giving way to a deep sadness. "He was the greatest Fishman who ever lived. He freed hundreds of slaves from the Celestial Dragons. He gave us hope... but the world crushed him, too. The Marines hunted him down, and he died because humans wouldn't give him the blood he needed to survive."

The courtyard fell silent, the weight of Arlong's words lingering in the air. Namor stood motionless, his mind racing as he pieced together the fragmented story of this world.

"Your hatred is not without cause," Namor said finally. "But your actions were shortsighted and petty. You turned your anger on the weak instead of facing the true enemy."

Arlong didn't respond. He simply stared at the ground, the fire in his heart extinguished.

As the heavy silence between them lingered, Arlong's weary eyes lifted from the ground and fixed on Namor. His gaze roamed over Namor's imposing form, the trident held casually in his hand, the piercing confidence in his stance—but there was something else.

Those strange, tiny wings on Namor's ankles.

Arlong squinted, his curiosity momentarily overcoming his defeat. "What... are those?" he asked, pointing at the fluttering wings.

Namor glanced down at his ankles, the small feathered appendages twitching slightly as if they had a life of their own. He smirked. "These?" he said, his tone almost amused. "These are the mark of my superiority. My people's gift."

"Your people?" Arlong asked, his brow furrowed. "What kind of human are you? No human I've ever seen has wings on their ankles. Or ears like those."

At the mention of his ears, Namor raised an eyebrow. "Ears?"

Arlong nodded, gesturing at the sharp, pointed tips of Namor's ears. "They're strange. Not human, but not fishman either."

Namor chuckled, the sound low and mocking. "That's because I am neither, Arlong."

Arlong's frown deepened. "If you're not a human, then what are you?"

Instead of answering immediately, Namor lifted a hand to his ear, pulling back the dark strands of his slicked hair to reveal small, slitted gills just behind his ear. The gills flexed slightly, drinking in the air.

Arlong's eyes widened, and for the first time since the fight, genuine surprise flashed across his face. "You—those are gills! You have gills!"

Namor grinned, his white teeth glinting in the light. "Of course I do. How else would I breathe in the ocean, fool?"

Arlong stepped closer, his curiosity getting the better of him. He crouched slightly, inspecting Namor's gills with a mix of fascination and disbelief. "But... you swam like a Fishman. You fought like one. You can breathe underwater. You even look... almost like one."

Namor leaned in closer, his sharp eyes gleaming with a smug amusement. "Because I am something far greater than a Fishman," he said. "I am Namor, King of Atlantis. I am a true sovereign of the seas."

"Atlantis?" Arlong repeated, confusion etched on his face. "I've never heard of it. Is it a part of Fishman Island?"

Namor threw back his head and laughed. The sound was loud and rich, echoing through the ruins of Arlong Park. "Atlantis is no mere part of anything. It is the pinnacle of civilization, a kingdom that ruled over the oceans long before your kind crawled into these waters."

Arlong stiffened, his pride stung. "You expect me to believe that?" he said, his voice edged with skepticism. "A kingdom greater than Fishman Island? That's a bold claim."

Namor smirked. "Believe what you wish. The truth does not change to suit your ignorance."

Arlong scowled, but his curiosity still lingered. "If you're not one of us, then why do you look like us? The gills, the strength, the way you move in the water—it's all too familiar."

Namor's expression darkened slightly. "I am a hybrid," he admitted. "My blood is mixed. Half Atlantean, half human."

Arlong's jaw tightened, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Half human? And you still think you're better than us?"

Namor's smirk returned. "I know I am."

The air between them grew tense again, but this time there was no hostility. Instead, Arlong studied Namor with a strange mix of wariness and admiration.

"You're different," Arlong muttered. "Not a Fishman, not a human... something else entirely. Maybe even something... more."

Namor inclined his head slightly, accepting the unspoken acknowledgment. "Perhaps you're not as ignorant as I thought, Arlong. Perhaps."

For a long moment, neither spoke. The silence was heavy but not oppressive, each man lost in his own thoughts.

Finally, Arlong broke the quiet. "You could be a king here," he said, his voice low. "The Fishmen—if they saw you, they'd follow you. You're stronger than any of us. You could lead us."