The girl stared down at the revolver lying in the dirt, then up at the pirates dangling like grotesque fruit. Her throat bobbed, lips parting—but nothing came out. Just silence and the sound of ropes creaking as the beaten men swayed in the morning breeze.
Finally, her voice cracked, small and uncertain. "…You're not serious."
Gale arched an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Is that a trick question? You wanted revenge. Well, congratulations—there it is. All gift-wrapped and tied up. Literally."
Her eyes darted between the bruised faces of her enemies and the weapon at her feet. "But… they're tied up. And beaten black and blue."
Gale's frown deepened, irritation flickering across his face. "So let me get this straight. You said you wanted revenge—but now that it's right in front of you, you can't do it?"
He stepped forward, boots crunching over dead leaves, and bent to pick the revolver back up. Spinning it lazily around his finger, he added flatly, "What? You were hoping I'd do it for you, or something?"
Before she could answer, his arm snapped up.
Bang!
The shot echoed through the trees, sharp as a whip crack.
One of the pirates jerked. The bullet punched clean through his forehead, and for a moment he just swayed limply before the blood started dripping, pattering down into the dirt below.
The girl shrieked, her voice cracking into panic. "What are you doing!?"
Gale blew out a slow breath, lowering the revolver. His expression was stone. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm doing your dirty work." He scoffed, shaking his head. "Don't thank me all at once."
Her hands clenched into fists against the dirt, her glare blazing. "Not like this! This isn't what I wanted!"
Gale let out a short, humorless laugh, raking a hand through his hair. "Oh, what, you were expecting a fair duel? Some grand clash at dawn with honor on the line? Please."
He gestured at the pirates' dangling, battered bodies. "Revenge is a dirty business, sweetheart. You don't go through with it and come out smelling like roses."
Her eyes burned into him, teeth grinding audibly. "And what the hell would you know about it!?"
That one made him pause.
For just a heartbeat, Gale's smirk cracked and slipped away. His eyes narrowed, and for once there was a heaviness there—something foreign to his usually sarcastic, devil-may-care face.
His voice came quieter, but sharper for it. "Like you, I've got my own scores. And it just so happens I settled one… not too long ago."
The girl blinked, caught off guard.
Gale crossed his arms, staring her down. "Like you, I thought it'd be simple. Get in, get even, walk away with a smile and a story to tell. I underestimated the whole thing. And in the process? I ruined a bunch of lives."
His jaw tightened, the words grinding out between his teeth. "Some dead. Some rotting in a cell."
He took a step closer, the firelight flickering across his face as he looked her straight in the eye. "There was a time when pulling the trigger—when shooting someone dead—was unthinkable to me. And yet…" he gestured toward the limp pirate, blood trailing down the man's temple, "…here we are."
Her eyes widened, whatever defiance she had folding into silence. She didn't have a comeback this time.
The quiet stretched long, heavy enough that the forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
And then—
"Uuugh…"
A groan cut through the tension.
Both of them whipped their heads toward the sound.
The pirate. The shot pirate.
His head lolled forward, a weak mumble slipping out of his lips, something about not wanting to get up for work, like a schoolboy grumbling into his pillow.
The girl blinked once. Twice. Then her face twisted into pure horror.
"U—U—UNDEAD!!!" she shrieked.
Before Gale could even roll his eyes, she lunged at him with all the desperate enthusiasm of a dog who'd just spotted its owner holding a stick. Her arms locked around his torso with shocking strength.
"AAAH! HE'S CURSED! WE'RE CURSED!"
Gale let out the loudest, most exhausted sigh of his life and slapped a palm against his own face. "Relax. He's not even dead. Just unconscious."
Her grip only tightened, nails digging into his coat. She gawked at him like he'd just told her the ocean wasn't wet. "B-But I saw you shoot him!"
"Yeah, and?" Gale muttered, peeling her off him like she was a particularly clingy octopus. He gave her a flat look and shrugged. "Trick of the light."
Of course, that was a complete lie.
The truth was a little more complicated: a neat little devil fruit trick, the kind he'd practiced until it was second nature. All he had to do was tweak the bullet's density before it took flight, make it light enough to shatter on impact while still drawing blood.
From a distance, it looked like a kill shot. Up close, it was just a really mean headache, and some bleeding. Maybe concussion too.
The girl's wide eyes lingered on the groaning pirate for a moment longer, then slowly slid back to Gale. He could almost see the gears turning in her head—grinding, screeching, maybe missing a few teeth.
Confusion hardened into fury. She jabbed a finger at him, practically vibrating with rage. "You lying, thieving, son of a bitch!"
Gale tilted his head, unimpressed. "Hey, I was trying to make a point—" Then his grin spread slow and malicious, teeth flashing in the firelight. "But if you'd like, I can still shoot the guy dead."
He casually raised the revolver, thumb flicking the hammer back as he aimed once more at the swaying pirate.
"W-Wait!"
The girl lunged at him, clinging to his arm and dragging the barrel down toward the dirt. "No! You've made your point! I get it already!"
"See? Progress." Gale twirled the revolver once around his finger before sliding it neatly back into its holster, all showmanship. "Glad we got that out of the way." He jerked his chin toward the shadowy path ahead. "Now then… how about you lead me to that map."
He gestured broadly for her to take point, like a gentleman telling someone to step into a guillotine first.
"And while we walk, do me a favor: think about what you really want… and what you're willing to give to get it."
Her glare could've burned holes in the trees, but she spun on her heel and stomped forward. "You look way too scrawny to be giving life lessons," she muttered under her breath.
Gale's eyebrow twitched. His voice came low, dangerous. "And how exactly is my frame related to educating a stupid little girl?"
She didn't even look back. Just gave a sharp huff. "You're a stupid little girl. Your whole family's a stupid little girl."
For a second Gale froze, thrown completely off balance. Then he barked a laugh. "That's the dumbest insult I've ever heard." He shook his head, chuckling to himself as he followed her. "Points for creativity though. Ten outta ten for commitment."
He shoved his hands in his pockets, strolling after her until a thought popped into his head like an unwanted guest.
"...Hang on." He squinted at her back. "I don't even know your name. What am I supposed to call you? 'Little Girl' works, but it gets repetitive after the tenth time."
She hesitated for half a step, then tilted her chin up with a smugness that felt entirely unearned. "It's Risa. Remember it."
"Risa, huh?" Gale rolled the name around in his mouth. "Alright. Risa the Bat. Fits."
Her shoulders stiffened, and she shot him a glare over her shoulder. "What?! Why Bat?!"
"Because not long ago, you were hanging upside down in a tree screeching like a bat," Gale said without missing a beat. "Also, the ears. Kinda pointy."
"They are not pointy!"
"Sure, sure," Gale drawled, smirking as he stretched lazily behind her. "Come on, Bat. Lead the way."
Inside, his inner voice sighed: 'Great. Another traveling companion. Just what I needed. Hope she at least knows where she's going.'
...
The underbrush rustled. Twigs snapped.
The two mutts came barreling back into the clearing, tails wagging, tongues flopping—only this time, they weren't alone.
A ragged crowd of pirates followed close behind, stomping through the brush like a drunken parade. They carried torches, blades, muskets—whatever scraps of weaponry they could call their own.
At their head walked a middle-aged man, broad-shouldered and mean-eyed, his heavy coat marked with a single bold paw print across the back.
The dogs bounded up to him like they'd just fetched the world's greatest prize.
The man squatted, scratching behind their ears with an absentminded fondness. His gaze, however, swept the clearing, sharp and cold, until it landed on the half-dozen pirates still dangling upside down from the trees.
Their swollen faces twitched awake at the sound of footsteps. "B-boss… boss, help us!" one of them croaked.
A younger pirate behind the leader pointed at the dangling wrecks. "Should we cut 'em down?"
The middle-aged man's lips curled into a slow, humorless grin.
"No." He straightened, turning his back on the whimpering men without hesitation. "The pack needs no weaklings."
The hanging men groaned, desperation bleeding into their voices. "Boss, wait—!"
But the leader was already crouched low to the ground, pressing two fingers to the dirt. He brought them up to his nose, inhaling like a hound. Then his head lifted, eyes narrowing in the direction of the faint trail leading out of the clearing.
"They were here," he murmured, voice low and dangerous. "They're far now, but not far enough..."
His dogs barked once, eager, straining at the leash that didn't exist.
The man's grin widened into something feral. "Hunt."
The pirates behind him straightened, weapons ready, and surged after their captain as he set off into the forest.
The clearing fell silent once again.
The only ones left behind were the groaning, forgotten men swaying like sad ornaments in the morning breeze.
Far ahead, Gale and Risa were already long gone, their voices faint echoes in the distance—one griping, one mocking, both blissfully unaware of the hunt now on their trail.
...
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