With a smile—Issho—he had once wandered the world as a blind swordsman seeking justice. He would later join the Marines through the World Military Draft, becoming an Admiral under the codename Fujitora. But Carl hadn't expected to meet him here, in Wanokuni, long before that official history unfolded.
At this point in the timeline, the World Military Draft had only just begun. Issho shouldn't have officially joined the Marines yet.
It made sense why Carl hadn't detected him earlier with Observation Haki. The man before him had refined Kenbunshoku Haki to a terrifying level—able to sense movements beyond the planet's atmosphere and summon meteorites from space. That breadth and sensitivity of perception was something even Carl's current mastery could not rival.
"Solomon Carl," the blind man said calmly, his voice deep and steady. "I didn't expect to meet you here."
"You know me?" Carl raised an eyebrow slightly.
They'd never met before. Not in any battlefield or court. Yet he was recognized with such ease?
"I took the liberty to learn about recent Marine developments," said Issho as he faced forward, though his eyes never opened. "You're quite well-known already. Solomon Carl, rising star of the Marines. The newly appointed Vice Admiral under Admiral Kizaru's faction."
Carl blinked. That information wasn't publicized much. This man must've truly done his research.
"I see…" Carl nodded. "So, brother, who are you really—and why are you here?"
Issho remained silent for a moment, then said solemnly, "My name is Issho. Though I cannot see the world with my eyes, I can perceive its filth all too clearly."
Carl clicked his tongue but said nothing in response.
Fujitora's sense of justice, as revealed later in Dressrosa, closely aligned with Aokiji's—compassionate yet determined to uproot systemic injustice. That explained why the suffering of Wanokuni would be intolerable to him.
"I have not yet decided whether I will join the Marines," Issho continued. "But…" He turned his scarred face toward Carl and gave a gentle smile. "Seeing you here has made up my mind."
Wanokuni, after all, was not a member nation of the World Government. The Marines had no official jurisdiction here. That contradiction between law and justice was exactly what Fujitora despised.
But seeing Carl—a high-ranking Marine—operating here of his own accord, trying to make a difference, seemed to reassure him.
Carl flinched. "Wait, brother. You've misunderstood something here!"
"There's no need to explain. I understand everything," Issho cut him off with a wave of his hand, then turned his attention back toward the gaming table. "Since I'm here, I may as well enjoy a few rounds."
Understand what, exactly?! Carl resisted the urge to shout.
Instead, he turned his focus toward the table. "Well, whatever… I might as well withdraw some cash while I'm here."
In truth, gambling wasn't really his thing. But he'd done this before—back in Rain Dinners in Alabasta. With strong Haki, casinos were no more difficult than open ATMs.
"Place your bets! Big or small!" the dealer barked as he covered the dice cup.
"What are you buying, brother?" Carl asked, his red eyes faintly glinting.
"Heh… I'll go small," Issho said softly, sliding his chips toward the 'small' mark.
Carl shrugged and pushed his chips to match.
It almost didn't matter if Issho used his Haki. The results were consistently in their favor.
"Open!" the dealer yelled.
The dice revealed: two, two, three—small.
"No way!"
"Ah! Lost again!"
Angry cries erupted all around them.
The dealer forced a smile and began shaking the dice again.
Carl casually retrieved his winnings, watching the reactions of the surrounding gamblers with amusement.
"So, are you fond of gambling?" Issho turned his head toward him.
Carl snorted. "No, no. You misunderstand. I'm not gambling. I'm withdrawing money."
Serious gambling? Forget that. Why leave things to chance when you could simply know the outcome?
With their combined Haki, gambling was no different from simple income.
One round, two rounds, three rounds—on and on it went.
Their piles of chips grew taller, and the room's energy more frenetic.
Whether it was Issho placing the first bet or Carl, the other would follow—each time producing the correct outcome. Whether through supernatural instinct, sensory mastery, or simply mutual understanding, they moved like twin juggernauts.
The dealer's hands began to tremble.
The surrounding gamblers were visibly rattled.
"These two are gods of gambling…"
"Follow their bets! We're gonna make a fortune!"
People began pressing in closer, desperate to mimic Carl and Issho's choices.
But just as quickly as the frenzy reached its peak, Carl and Issho both stopped betting. Their hands froze mid-air, and neither moved to place another chip.
"Hurry up!"
"What are you waiting for?! Bet!"
Desperate cries echoed around them. Their inaction was unacceptable to the gamblers, who had placed all hope on riding their streak.
But Carl didn't respond. He sat on the tatami, resting his chin in one hand, and lazily glanced toward the back of the room.
Only then did the crowd begin to sense that something was off. Slowly, one by one, the gamblers turned around.
And froze.
"Lord Madilloman!"
A hush fell over the room.
Standing there in a dark indigo kimono, his massive blue topknot looming like a tower, was Madilloman, one of the high-ranking enforcers of the Beast Pirates in Wanokuni.
His face wore a calm smile, but his presence sent a chill through the room.
He slowly walked forward… each step heavy with authority.
Carl smiled faintly, eyes narrowing.
The casino had just become a battlefield.
You two… You look familiar. Is this your first time visiting?" Kuang Shi Lang's tone was friendly, though a hint of suspicion flickered behind his smile.
In front of him stood a blind man wearing a purple-striped kimono and wielding a shikomizue—clearly not a casual traveler.
Beside him stood a younger man in a crisp white kimono, two slender swords sheathed at his waist, his black hair tied up in a loose knot. There was elegance and danger in his presence.
Kuang Shi Lang squinted slightly. He was sure he had never seen them before.
"Ah, yes. First time," Carl responded with a light smile.
"In that case… would the two gentlemen care to try our VIP lounge?" Kuang Shi Lang's expression remained pleasant and composed.
"There's no need," the blind man—Issho—spoke slowly, his voice gentle yet resolute. "I'm already quite satisfied with the day."
"Really? What a pity." Kuang Shi Lang clapped his hands with mock disappointment. "Exchange the chips for our two honored guests."
"Yes, sir!"
Moments later, the large stacks of chips in front of Carl and Issho were exchanged for bulging purses of Wano gold coins. The staff bowed respectfully, but their eyes were visibly shaken.
When the two finally exited the casino, Kuang Shi Lang followed them to the door, watching their backs with a deep frown.
"These two… must have come from outside Wano," he muttered.
He hadn't sensed any Haki presence when they entered, nor any aura of hostility. Yet, when he stood face-to-face with them, an unexplainable pressure gripped his instincts—like a thin blade held at his throat.
As a skilled samurai in Orochi's service, his instincts for danger were refined. He'd crossed swords with enemies from the Red Scabbards before and knew what real killing intent felt like.
"…Why would people like that appear in Wano?"
—Meanwhile—
Carl and Issho walked leisurely through the vibrant streets of the Flower Capital. The aroma of grilled dango filled the air, and children ran about playing samurai.
"Brother, I still have business to handle," Carl said calmly, glancing to the side. "What about you? What's next?"
Issho tilted his head slightly. "Wano… there's too much darkness. I think it's time I walked straight into it."
His voice was gentle as ever—but carried an unshakable weight.
"Really now?" Carl looked at him for a moment longer, then waved as he turned down a side street. "Don't die, old man. I'm still waiting for you to join the Marines."
He knew. Issho wasn't someone ordinary. His sense of justice would never allow him to leave Wano untouched. He was going to do something bold. Something drastic. Carl could only hope he wouldn't get himself killed before then.
Was he planning to assassinate Orochi? Or take on Kaido's men?
Carl didn't know.
Issho simply watched Carl's back fade into the crowd, whispering softly, "The Marines, huh…"
Then, with his staff tapping the ground, he began walking toward Orochi's heavily guarded shogunate mansion.
Carl, meanwhile, had a different target in mind—X Drake.
Yes, the so-called "Fallen Rear Admiral" who had once crossed paths with Carl in Sabaody Archipelago, only to be sent flying into rubble by him.
What most people didn't know was that Drake wasn't just a pirate—he was an undercover Marine agent planted by the old man Sengoku himself.
Now, he had infiltrated the Beasts Pirates and climbed to the rank of Tobi Roppo—one of the Flying Six, just below the All-Stars in Kaido's hierarchy.
He was reportedly stationed under Jack the Drought and placed in charge of the Kuri region. But intelligence said Drake was currently in the capital, attending a secretive meeting with Orochi's forces.
"Finding Drake is the fastest way to get a permanent Vivre Card or Log Pose to Onigashima," Carl muttered.
The giver he met earlier mentioned Drake's name specifically. So Carl came straight to the capital, relying on his sharpened Kenbunshoku Haki to track unusual auras.
His red eyes flickered as his perception flooded the entire city. Countless strong presences.
A headache brewed behind his brow.
No wonder Wano stood tall even in the New World. Their hidden military power wasn't something to scoff at.
Even that fake name Kuang Shi Lang from the casino earlier—he had a blade aura that rivaled that of lower-ranking commanders in the Yonko fleets.
The shogunate's mansion radiated another formidable presence. Multiple, actually. Possibly even some Oniwabanshu members and Orochi's secret ninja corps.
Carl sighed. "Forget it. Let's look for them one at a time."
He closed his eyes, filtered out weaker auras, and locked onto one particularly intense signal coming from a nearby compound.
Sa!
He vanished from the street in a silent flash.
At that moment, inside the compound, a large figure sat cross-legged, sipping sake alone.
The man wore a red horned helmet, his long pink hair draping behind him like a lion's mane. His tailored suit and polished shoes clashed wildly with Wano's traditional decor.
This man was Fukurokuju's headache—Sasaki, or rather, Fukurokuju's opposite number in the Beasts Pirates—the man known as Fukurokuju of the Tobi Roppo.
But this one?
This was Who's-Who—the masked CP9 defector who now stood among Kaido's elite Flying Six.
His face twitched slightly when Carl landed in the courtyard.
"Who are you?"
His voice was deep and flat, but his body tensed slightly.
Carl blinked in mild surprise. "Tch. Not the right guy."
He had hoped to find Drake here—but instead, he found another of the Flying Six.
"Don't talk. Just die."
Carl raised his right hand, palm outstretched.
[Release—Senbonzakura: Scatter]
Shiiing!
A burst of crimson petals flashed, then vanished into trails of slashing light.
Multiple arcs carved clean lines through Who's-Who's body. His torso, arms, and legs separated instantly. He hadn't even had time to react with his Rokushiki techniques.
A fountain of blood splattered onto the courtyard walls.
Carl lowered his hand and turned away as if nothing had happened.
"Now then… where the hell is Drake?"
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