"Alright, Mister Morca… What do you want from us?" Tod asked, a little more composed now. "You didn't kill us, so there's gotta be a reason."
I looked at him.
"Take me to Loguetown."
They both went silent for a second. I could see the gears turning in their heads, figuring out if it was safer to cooperate.
'I'll use the trip to watch how they handle the ship.' I thought to myself. 'I only know how to pilot motorboats, this kind of sailing vessel was outdated.'
Bob finally spoke. "We were headed there anyway."
"Good." I replied. "Then let's not waste time."
They nodded, and Bob headed toward the helm while Tod scrambled to help with the sails. I leaned against the railing, watching every move they made, how they hoisted the anchor, adjusted the ropes, caught the wind.
During the trip, while Tod and Bob handled the navigation, I took the time to study the map they had laid out near the helm.
Cascara… Belle Isle… Gecko Islands…
I knew these places.
At least, I knew of them, from the stories, the manga, the anime.
Night fell slowly over the East Blue, the sky turning a deep dark. The ship rocked gently on calm waves as we sat on crates around a small lantern, eating what Bob had thrown together. It wasn't fancy, but it did the job.
We ate in silence for a while. The only sounds were the creaking of the wood and the soft splash of the sea against the hull.
Then, Tod broke the quiet.
"So… Mister Morca" he said cautiously. "are you a pirate?"
I didn't answer. Just kept eating.
'Bounty hunter' I thought to myself, chewing slowly. 'It wouldn't be that different from the life I used to live, chasing people down, doing dirty work for money.'
I glanced at the sea.
'Why not go all the way this time? If I'm gonna be hunted either way… Might as well live free. No masters. No orders.
Yeah… Pirate sounds better.'
I didn't look at Tod, just muttered while still chewing. "Not yet."
"Alright, and you two." I said, glancing between Tod and Bob. "You call yourselves pirates… but what do you actually do?"
Tod shrugged, giving a sheepish smile. "Nothing too serious, really. We just steal. But like, with ethics, you know? We target merchant ships, rich folks."
'Ethical, if it were me I wouldn't hold back'
"Yeah, exactly what he said." Bob added with a nod.
I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "And how come the Marines haven't caught you yet? You don't exactly strike me as the clever type."
Tod chuckled nervously. "We pay who needs to be paid. In East Blue, everyone's got a price, you just gotta know who."
Bob winked at me.
"I see…" I muttered.
'Low-tier pirates, but not totally idiots. They survive with connections.'
"And Loguetown?" I asked. "How long until we get there?"
Bob looked up at the stars, then back at the sails. "Less than a day, I'd say. If the wind stays in our favor."
I nodded.
The next morning, we were back on course.
The sun had barely risen when the sails caught a steady wind, and the ship moved smoothly across the East Blue. The breeze was warm, the sea calm, it was peaceful for a world known for chaos.
Hours passed.
Then, from up in the crow's nest, Tod shouted. "I see the island! Straight ahead!"
"Got it!" Bob called back, adjusting the helm.
I stepped to the edge of the deck, my eyes narrowing as the silhouette of the island came into view.
There it is…
The place where the Pirate King was born… and where he died.
A few moments later, we finally docked at Loguetown.
"We're here." Bob called out, grunting a bit as he worked the ropes and tied the ship to the dock with practiced hands.
I stood near the edge of the ship, arms crossed, watching the island grow more vivid and detailed with each second. Stone buildings, people shouting, it was alive.
"Alright." I said, turning toward the two men. "this is where we part ways. We're even."
Bob blinked. "What do you mea-"
Before he could finish, Tod stepped in quickly, giving him a light elbow and a firm look. "Understood." he said to me, more serious now. "Thanks for not killing us, I guess."
I gave them both a final nod and walked down the ramp onto the docks, the wooden boards creaking under my steps.
The port was overflowing with life, merchants yelling their prices over each other, sailors arguing or laughing loudly as they hauled crates, kids weaving between people with fruit or stolen goods in hand. The smell of salt, spices, grilled meat all mixed together.
The market near the docks was massive. Stalls covered in bright tarps offered everything from clothes to fruits and vegetables.
Marines patrolled nearby, lazily keeping order, their rifles resting on their shoulders.
'This place… it's full of energy.' I thought as I stepped deeper into the crowd.
I walked through the busy streets, blending into the crowd as best I could despite standing out like a sore thumb. With my height, my build, and well… being a Fishman, subtlety wasn't exactly on my side.
Still, I kept my ears open, listening in on the conversations around me.
"Yes, yes, I'm telling you, it's happening tomorrow! Right here!" said a woman, her voice sharp with gossip as she leaned toward her friend. They were both wide-eyed, the excitement barely contained.
'So the execution is tomorrow.' I thought. 'That explains the tension in the air.'
As I continued walking, the chatter around me mixed with laughter, haggling, and the occasional hostile glare. I felt eyes on me everywhere I went.
"Look at that… disgusting, a Fishman in broad daylight." I heard a man mutter, just loud enough for me to catch.
I glanced in his direction. He was already looking away, pretending like he hadn't said anything.
'Typical.' I thought.
'Even in a world like this, some things don't change.'
I kept walking, letting the crowd fade behind me as I turned into a narrow alley. The air was cooler there, quieter too.
Eventually, I found myself standing in front of a run-down bar tucked between two buildings. With nothing better to do and nowhere else to be, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The interior matched the outside, dim lighting, scuffed wooden floors, old tables, and a thick layer of stale air. Only a handful of people were present, most nursing cheap drinks in silence.
Then I heard it.
"Oh, that skull? Son that's what's left of a guy they used to call Killer Giant." a rough, raspy voice said from the corner. I turned my head to see an older man, broad-shouldered and muscled, leaning over a table, speaking to a younger man with his back to me.
"Gold Roger dropped him in one strike." the old man continued with a crooked grin. "Guy was famous back in the day, used these absurdly huge blades. Swung them around like they were nothing. That mark right there." He said, pointing to a small cracked skull on the table. "was the wound Roger left him with. Cut so clean, it burned right through."
He leaned back, taking a slow sip from his mug. "Want to hear more?"
I quietly stepped closer. 'This story rings a bell, I think I've heard it before.'
I took a seat at a nearby table, not too close to interrupt, but close enough to listen. Maybe the old man knew more than just bar tales.
But before the old man could continue his tale, he suddenly turned his head in my direction, his sharp eyes locking onto me.
"You there!" he barked, voice rough but not hostile. "Yeah, you. You've got that look, curious, like you want to know more. Come closer, no need to lurk like a shadow."
No point in pretending otherwise.
I stood up, calm and unbothered, and made my way toward their table.
As I got closer, my eyes dropped to the floor beside the younger man, resting near his feet was a sword. Not just any sword. Long, massive… with that unmistakable crucifix-shaped hilt.
Yoru.
My brows furrowed slightly. I knew that weapon. Anyone with even a passing knowledge of this world would.
The man who had been sitting with his back to me turned slightly, his sharp, hawk-like eyes meeting mine.
It was him.
A younger version, no doubt. But there was no mistaking it.
Dracule Mihawk.
The future greatest swordsman in the world…
"Quite the crowd today." he chuckled, motioning for me to sit. "You picked a hell of a time to wander in, Fishman."
I pulled out a chair slowly and sat. Mihawk just went back to sipping his drink and listening.
The man let out a long sigh before continuing, his voice dipping into something softer, almost nostalgic.
"Back in those days…" he began, staring into his drink. "even now, I'd say Roger was the only man who truly didn't fear the Grand Line. It was a sea of devils, and for good reason. No one went near it. But him?"
The old man gave a short, almost disbelieving chuckle.
"He'd come into my bar, this very one, grinning like a madman, telling me he was heading there like it was just another stroll through town. Like it was nothing. And I'd look at him, thinking, you're out of your damn mind, Roger."
His eyes grew distant for a moment, and when he spoke again, the pride in his voice was edged with grief.
"When I heard he'd conquered the Grand Line… even then, I was stunned. But hearing he was going to be executed? That… I never believed I'd live to see the day."
He paused, the weight of old memories settling on his shoulders. His gaze dropped, and his tone turned bitter-sweet.
"Tomorrow marks the end of a good friendship." he said, voice low but steady.
Then, without another word, he raised his mug slowly into the air. The light caught the rim as he stared at it for a beat longer… and then he drank, deep and solemn.
"I hope you lot, the new generation, won't turn out to be a bunch of cowards," the old man said, his eyes sharpening with a spark of challenge. "and that you'll keep that spirit of conquest burning in your blood."
"Hmph. Never." Mihawk replied bluntly, shaking his head, eyes steady and unwavering.
"That won't be the case for me." I said firmly, locking eyes with the old man as I shook my head.
We said at the same time.
He looked at the both of us, really looked, like he was weighing something in his mind… then grinned wide, some wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his eyes.
"With guys like you around… maybe there's hope after all." he said, his tone suddenly lighter. "Hell, drinks are on me!"
He laughed, loud and full of life "Eheheahahaha!" as he grabbed a couple of dusty bottles from behind the bar and poured us each a glass of rum, the liquid glowing gold in the dim light.
He raised his cup high.
"To the next generation!" he cheered.
I lifted mine. Mihawk did the same.
After finishing our drinks, Mihawk and I stepped out of the bar. The streets of Loguetown were still lively, we walked side by side in silence.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye before speaking.
"How about you join my crew?" I couldn't miss such an opportunity. 'He is still young and has not achieved his goal.'
He stopped walking, turning his head slightly toward me.
"Why would I do that?" He asked, calm but sharp.
Then I paused, making sure he was listening. "If you follow me, you will fulfill all your desires."
His expression didn't change but his eyes narrowed.
"If you follow me." I continued, voice steady and convincing.
"I can promise you that. Because I'm aiming for the very top myself...
The pinnacle."