The first grey light of dawn seeped through the dense canopy of Grove 13, painting the mist-shrouded mangroves in shades of charcoal and pearl. Inside Shakky's Rip-Off Bar, the air hung thick with the rich, comforting scent of dark coffee brewing and the lingering ghost of last night's rum and smoke. Shakky leaned against the polished counter, idly wiping a glass, her sharp eyes watching Rayleigh. He sat at his usual stool, a weathered piece of paper held loosely in one hand, the other cradling a near-empty glass of amber liquid. Frost still clung stubbornly to the roots outside the bamboo door, a stark reminder of the unnatural chill that had gripped the grove hours before.
"Offered them the back rooms," Shakky said, her voice a low, smoky murmur that cut through the quiet. "Three days is a long time to be twiddling thumbs, even with a spar like last night's to remember. Figured they could use the shelter." She paused, tilting her head. "What's got your brow furrowed so early, Ray? Rare to see you reading anything besides a betting sheet."
Rayleigh didn't look up immediately. He swirled the dregs in his glass, the liquid catching the weak light. A slow smile touched his lips. "Letter. From an old shipmate." He finally lifted his gaze, his eyes holding a depth that spoke of decades and countless leagues. "Scopper. Mentions the girl."
Shakky raised an eyebrow, a thin stream of smoke curling from her cigarette. "Oh? And what does the mighty Scopper Gaban make of Hawkeye's shadow?"
Rayleigh chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich in the quiet bar. "He called her… 'the dusk before dawn'."
Shakky's lips curved into a knowing smile. She took a slow drag, exhaling a plume that drifted towards the ceiling before looking meaningfully towards the back rooms where their guests slept. "The darkest hour of the night," she mused, her voice thoughtful, "just before the sun cracks the horizon. The moment when everything feels suspended… waiting." She turned her sharp gaze back to Rayleigh. "What do you think, Ray?"
Rayleigh smirked, draining the last of his drink. He set the glass down with a soft clink. "I think," he said, his voice firm with conviction, "she's her father's daughter. Through and through. That stubbornness, that sharp edge… the sheer, terrifying weight she carries without flinching." He shook his head, a hint of genuine wonder in his weathered face. "To think Mihawk managed to keep that hidden from the world all these years…"
Before Shakky could reply, the relative quiet was shattered by the approaching sound of voices – a deep rumble, a lighter chattering, the energetic boing of something gelatinous, and the sharp, quick cadence of analytical debate. The bamboo door creaked open, and the group filed in, bringing the damp morning air and a wave of life with them.
Henrick entered first, his massive frame filling the doorway, followed closely by Fia, her coral-pink hair slightly mussed from sleep. Lulee clung to her mother as she held her in her arms, yawning widely, while Geo peeked out from behind his father's leg, eyes wide and curious. Marya came next, her raven hair pulled back simply, her familiar leather jacket (Heart insignia prominent) zipped over a plain shirt, denim shorts, and tall boots. Her golden eyes scanned the room with their usual calm alertness, lingering for a fleeting second on a sleepy calico cat curled on a high shelf – a tiny, almost imperceptible softening at the corner of her mouth the only sign of her affection. Galit followed, his long neck held in its observant S-curve, already dissecting the bar's layout. Atlas slouched in, stretching with a yawn that showed sharp teeth, blue sparks popping faintly in his drying fur. Jelly bounced in last, wobbling enthusiastically. "Bloop! Smell-y good smells! Food-time!"
Shakky's sharp eyes swept over them, her professional mask slipping easily into place, though a warmth lingered in her gaze. "Morning, sleepyheads," she drawled, tapping ash into a small brass tray. "Coffee's hot. What'll it be for breakfast? Got eggs, some decent bread, fruit…"
Fia moved with fluid grace towards the counter, her coral-pink hair catching the light like submerged treasure. "Please, allow me," she offered, her voice soft but carrying the weight of the sea. "After everything...it's the least I can do."
Shakky's sharp eyes softened, a wisp of smoke curling from her cigarette. "Be my guest, sweetie. Eggs are in the icebox, bread in the tin, and there's fruit from yesterday's market." She slid a cast-iron skillet onto the stove's hotplate, the metal hissing as Fia poured a swirl of oil. Henrick rumbled approval from his stool, the wood groaning under his bulk. "Aye, my Fia's magic with anything edible, land or sea."
Atlas slumped onto a stool beside Galit, his rust-red fur still crackling faintly with residual energy. "Anything that ain't got seaweed sneakin' into it," he declared, eyeing a dartboard hung crookedly on the far wall.
Galit's long neck curved in a thoughtful 'S', observing the kitchen layout. "Nutritional replenishment is paramount after exertion. Protein and complex carbohydrates would be optimal." His gaze flickered to a cluster of empty spice jars, mentally cataloging them.
"Bloop! Jelly wants… pancakes!" The azure jellyfish wobbled dangerously close to the counter's edge, his starry eyes wide with hope. "Big ones! Fluffy ones! Syrup rivers! No sneaky fruity bits!" He shuddered dramatically, the memory of fruit salad seemingly a fresh horror.
Marya leaned against the bamboo-framed wall near the entrance, arms crossed over her Heart Pirates jacket. Her golden eyes, usually scanning for threats, lingered instead on the high shelf where the calico cat had stretched, a patch of sunlight warming its ginger fur. The faintest softening touched the corner of her mouth, gone as quickly as it appeared. The scent of brewing coffee and sizzling fish mingled with the lingering ghosts of rum and tobacco – a fragile peace settling over the bar like the dissipating mist outside.
Fia worked with quiet efficiency, cracking eggs into a bowl with a rhythmic tock-tock-tock. She whisked them with a fork, the sound a counterpoint to the sizzle of fish fillets Shakky had deftly laid in the skillet. Soon, the air thickened with the mouthwatering perfume of caramelizing edges and smoky paprika. Shakky sliced thick slabs of crusty bread, the rasp of the knife loud in the comfortable quiet. Lulee, perched on a high stool beside her father, watched Fia with wide, ocean-blue eyes, kicking her small fin. Geo peeked out from behind Henrick's leg, sniffing the air, his silver-blue hair catching the light.
As plates were set out – golden eggs scrambled with bits of bright pepper, flaky white fish glistening with oil, thick slices of bread, and a bowl of mixed berries – Shakky wiped her hands on her apron. "Alright, sleepyheads, dig in. Ray's gonna need a day or two to get that sub ship-shape," she announced, her smoky voice cutting through the clatter of cutlery. "What's everyone's plan while he's elbow-deep in resin?"
Atlas, mouth already full of fish, swallowed thickly. "Plan? What's to do 'round this bubble bath place 'cept wait?" Crumbs tumbled down his chin.
Shakky chuckled, tapping ash into a small brass tray. "Sabaody's got more wrinkles than Ray's old maps, kitty. Grove 40's your spot if you're after fancy trinkets or sturdy gear – tailors, weapon smiths, the works. Feeling lucky? Grove 20's got gambling dens thicker than jungle vines, though I wouldn't recommend 'em for the light of purse." She paused, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Or, if you're after a bit of racket and flash… Grove 30's got the Amusement Park. Roller coasters that'll rattle your teeth, games rigged worse than a Navy trial, cotton candy bigger than your head."
"BLOOP!" Jelly vibrated with excitement, sending ripples through his gelatinous form. "Roller rattlers! Candy clouds! Games! YES!" He wobbled so violently he nearly tipped off the stool.
Atlas's sharp teeth flashed in a grin, blue sparks popping faintly in his drying fur. "Now that sounds like a proper time-waster! Count me in!"
Lulee tugged on Henrick's sleeve, her voice small but hopeful. "Papa? Can we go? Please?" Geo, emboldened by his sister, peeked out fully, his eyes wide and curious. "The candy clouds…?"
Henrick's heavy brow furrowed. He rubbed his stubbled chin, the sound like sandpaper. The dangers of Sabaody, the Marines, the Celestial Dragons… the memory of cold auction blocks was still raw. He glanced down at Fia, who was carefully plating more eggs. Her gaze met his, sea-green eyes calm but holding a silent understanding. She gave the barest nod – a small, trusting gesture.
Henrick sighed, a deep rumble from his chest. "Aye… alright. But you stick close. Real close." The words were reluctant, thick with paternal worry.
"Someone needs to herd the chaos," Marya stated calmly from her spot by the wall. Her golden eyes swept over the excited Atlas, the vibrating Jelly, and the wide-eyed children. "I'll go with them." Her offer was simple, devoid of overt warmth, but practical – a stoic acknowledgment of responsibility for the situation partly caused by Atlas's lightning.
Rayleigh, who had been quietly observing while nursing a fresh cup of coffee, raised a shaggy eyebrow. "Where'd you moor that contraption of yours, girl?"
"Grove 33," Marya replied. "Near the eastern mangrove roots."
Rayleigh nodded, setting his cup down with a soft clink. "Good. That's on the way. We can all stretch our legs together. I'll head off to the sub once we pass it." He pushed himself off his stool, the old wood creaking.
A ripple of surprise went through the group as Shakky stubbed out her cigarette decisively. "Hold your seahorses, Ray," she drawled, a slow smile spreading across her face. She untied her apron and draped it over a hook behind the counter. "Bar's closed for the day. I'm coming too. Someone's gotta make sure you lot don't accidentally buy a Sea King or gamble away the cat." She winked at the calico, now meticulously licking a paw on its sunny perch.
Henrick blinked. Fia smiled gently, a silent appreciation for the older woman's support. Atlas whooped, slapping Galit on the back. "Hear that, Spaghetti Neck? Park day!"
Galit adjusted his posture, his long neck uncoiling slightly. "The moniker is unwarranted, Atlas. And while the strategic value is negligible, the opportunity for environmental assessment of Sabaody's infrastructure could prove marginally useful."
Jelly bounced towards the bamboo door. "Bloop! Adventure time! Candy cloud quest! Go, go, GO!"
Marya pushed off the wall, the faintest ghost of amusement touching her lips at Jelly's exuberance. She adjusted the collar of her leather jacket, the Heart insignia prominent. "Then let's move before the Marines decide amusement parks are illegal too." Her tone was dry, but the undercurrent of watchfulness remained. As the group filed out into the hazy Sabaody morning, the scent of saltwater and adventure replacing the bar's comforting aromas, the calico cat watched them go, its green eyes half-closed in the warm patch of sun.
The humid Sabaody morning clung to them like a second skin as they navigated the grove's winding paths. Sunlight, fractured by the canopy of impossibly massive mangrove roots, dappled the ground in shifting patterns. Rayleigh strode purposefully ahead, a worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder that clinked softly with the heavy tools of his trade – brushes with stiff bristles, thick resin pots, and rollers that squeaked faintly with each step. Shakky walked beside him, her keen eyes missing nothing, a faint trail of cigarette smoke curling upwards and catching the light.
Galit Varuna, his long neck held in its characteristic observant S-curve, fell into step beside Marya. His emerald-green eyes, sharp and constantly analyzing, fixed on her with intense curiosity. "Your demonstration yesterday," he began, his voice measured but carrying an undeniable edge of fascination. "Against the Ship Coater. The way your form dissolved… flowed. I've studied countless power holders in Sankhara Deep's archives, but I've never witnessed anything quite like it. Was it purely Haki augmentation?"
Marya kept her gaze forward, her boots crunching lightly on the packed earth path. Her hands were tucked into the pockets of her familiar leather jacket, the Heart insignia prominent. "I am a power holder," she confirmed, her voice calm, almost detached. "I ate the Mist Mist Fruit."
"But…?" Galit prompted, sensing the hesitation she hadn't voiced.
She paused for a beat, the only sound the rustle of leaves high above and the distant shouts of dockworkers. Rayleigh and Shakky, a few steps ahead, didn't turn, but Marya felt the subtle shift in their posture – a fraction slower step, a slight tilt of Shakky's head – indicating they were listening without intruding.
"I always believed it was a Logia type," Marya continued, her golden eyes narrowing slightly as she watched a soap bubble drift lazily past, reflecting the fractured light. "Intangibility, elemental control… it fit. But the more I push it, the more it… changes. Evolves in ways Logia shouldn't." She flexed one hand slightly within her pocket, a subconscious gesture.
Atlas, walking slightly behind with Jelly bouncing erratically beside him, perked up. "Changes? Like what, Misty? You sprout extra foggy arms?" He grinned, sharp teeth flashing.
Marya ignored the jab. "Not physically. The nature of the mist. Its density, its persistence… its ability to interact with things beyond simple matter." She glanced down at her own hands, then deliberately pulled one from her jacket pocket. She held it up, turning it slightly in the dappled light. Thin, dark lines traced their way up her forearm beneath the skin, stark against the pale flesh – permanent black void veins, a stark reminder of Yggdrasil's curse and the cursed blade she wielded. "When I was, sailing with my father and the Red-Hair Pirates, we stopped at Nouvèl Orléon." Her voice lowered, taking on a distant quality. "There was… an entity there. Ancient. Like a deity woven into the island's despair. It claimed the mist wasn't mine. It claimed it was the power. That I was merely… channeling it." She flexed her fingers again, staring at the dark tracery. "The Void… it whispers sometimes."
Atlas stopped grinning. "Whoa. Hold up. So you think… what? You're not a power holder? You're some kinda… mist priestess?"
"I don't know what it means, Atlas," Marya said, her tone regaining its usual stoic edge, though a flicker of genuine, deep-seated curiosity shone in her golden eyes. She lowered her hand, tucking it back into her pocket, hiding the disturbing veins. "It's one of many mysteries tangled in this." She gestured vaguely towards her core. "Mysteries I intend to unravel."
Before Atlas could press further or Galit could formulate another analytical question, Rayleigh halted. They'd reached a broad junction where the path forked. Mangrove roots arched overhead like cathedral ribs, giant soap bubbles occasionally detaching and floating upwards. Rayleigh turned, his weathered face serious but calm. "Alright, this is where the paths diverge," he announced, his voice cutting through the heavy air. He hefted the clinking satchel. "Henrick and I head this way," he pointed down the left fork, a path that sloped gently downwards towards denser mangrove clusters and the distant glint of water – the direction of Grove 33. "You lot aiming for noise and sugar rushes," he gestured down the right fork, where the path seemed brighter, and the distant, discordant cacophony of pipe organs, shrieks, and tinny music was already faintly audible, "want that way. Towards Grove 30. Can't miss it – sounds like a shipwreck in a music box factory."
Henrick placed a massive hand on Lulee's shoulder, the other resting reassuringly near Geo. He gave a single, firm nod to Marya, his hammerhead shark features set in an expression of trust mixed with lingering paternal concern.
Rayleigh continued, "When you've had your fill of spinning teacups and rigged ring tosses, just head back this way. We'll meet here. Don't wander off into the wrong grove – some of 'em are less… amusing." His gaze lingered meaningfully on Atlas and Jelly. "Keep the little ones close."
Shakky smiled, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "We will try not to win too many giant stuffed Sea Kings," She gave a small wave.
The path to Grove 30 wasn't just heard; it was felt. The discordant symphony – shrieking pipes, tinny carnival tunes, the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of a massive coaster track, and the roar of crowds – vibrated through the soles of their boots long before the park gates came into view. It was a wall of sound and color erupting from the mangrove roots.
Grove 30 wasn't built; it was bolted onto the ancient trees. Gleaming, slightly rusted steel structures twisted around colossal trunks like mechanical ivy. Gargantuan cogs, repurposed from forgotten ship engines, spun lazily as part of decorative arches. The air hung thick with competing scents: the cloying sweetness of spun sugar clouds bigger than Jelly, the greasy tang of frying doughnuts shaped like Sea King heads, the sharp bite of vinegar from pickled sea cucumbers on sticks, and the ever-present, humid salt tang of Sabaody itself. Neon signs flickered erratically, casting garish glows on faces sticky with sweat and excitement.
"BLOOP! LOOK! CANDY MOUNTAIN!" Jelly vibrated, pointing a wobbly mitten-hand towards a towering pink spire of cotton candy being spun by a sweating vendor whose arms were a blur. Geo gasped, tugging Fia's hand, his missing front tooth making his grin lopsided. "Mama! Can we?"
Shakky chuckled, exhaling a plume of smoke that curled around a dangling sign reading 'Captain Kraken's Krazy Kettle Cups!' "Easy there, sugar rush comes later. Let's get our bearings before Atlas vibrates apart." Atlas, indeed, was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, blue sparks fizzing in his fur. "Rides first! Where's the one that goes whoosh?"
Galit's long neck swiveled, his emerald eyes rapidly scanning the chaotic layout. He pulled out his volcanic glass slate, stylus already scratching. "Initial assessment: The 'Sky Serpent Coaster' exhibits the highest velocity and structural stress indicators. Optimal starting point for thrill calibration. The 'Merry-Go-Sea' features bio-luminescent seahorse mounts – aesthetically pleasing but kinetically negligible. The 'Cannon Drop' utilizes repurposed Marine artillery shells… potentially hazardous." He pointed towards a towering structure where screaming figures plummeted inside a giant, riveted shell.
"Coaster!" Atlas declared, already striding towards the serpentine track that wound high into the mangrove canopy. "Last one there buys the first round of sugar clouds!"
"Cheater!" Lulee squealed, bouncing after him, Geo hot on her heels, momentarily forgetting his usual wariness. Fia followed swiftly, her coral-pink hair streaming behind her. Marya moved with her usual calm stride, but her golden eyes were wide, taking in the sheer, overwhelming spectacle – a mechanical wonderland grafted onto ancient nature. Jelly wobbled after them all, shouting, "Bloop! Wait for Jelly! Don't lose the jelly!"
The Sky Serpent Coaster was a beast of riveted steel and groaning timber supports. As they squeezed into a car – Atlas and Galit in the front, Marya, Fia, and the kids in the middle, Shakky and Jelly (who had morphed into a semi-adhesive blob anchoring himself) in the back – the attendant slammed a heavy iron bar down. Atlas whooped, "Hold onto your tails!"
The initial climb was agonizingly slow, the chain lift clanking loudly, offering dizzying views of the entire grove – the patchwork roofs of game stalls, the shimmering soap bubble lake, the distant shapes of other rides. Then came the peak, a breathless pause overlooking the blue-green haze of Sabaody… before the world dropped away.
"WHOOOOOOOAAAA!" The collective scream ripped from their throats as the car plummeted, twisted, and corkscrewed through the mangrove canopy. Wind tore at their hair and clothes. Atlas threw his hands up, sparks flying from his fur like tiny fireworks. Galit gripped the bar, his analytical mutterings lost in the roar, neck rigid. Fia laughed, a bright, clear sound, one arm wrapped protectively around each wide-eyed child. Geo shrieked with terrified delight, Lulee's mouth a perfect 'O'. Shakky leaned back, a serene smile on her face as if enjoying a gentle breeze, her cigarette miraculously still lit.
Jelly wobbled violently, emitting high-pitched "Bloop-bloop-bloop!" sounds with every jolt. And Marya… a genuine, startled laugh burst from her lips as they whipped around a corner, her stoic mask momentarily shattered by pure, adrenaline-fueled exhilaration. Her knuckles were white on the bar, but her eyes were alight.
Next came the rigged games. At a shooting gallery staffed by a bored-looking fish-man with gills flapping, Atlas tried his luck. "Easy pickings!" he boasted, aiming the cork gun. Pop! Pop! Pop! The targets stubbornly refused to fall. "Rigged!" he snarled, sparks flaring.
Galit nudged him aside. "Allow me. Wind direction negligible. Cork trajectory parabolic. Compensating..." He adjusted his stance, pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, and fired three rapid shots. Clang! Clang! Clang! Three tin ducks dropped. He won a small, slightly lopsided stuffed starfish. He promptly handed it to Geo. "Adequate projectile simulation."
Marya found herself drawn to a different stall: "Kitten Toss." The goal was to land rings around the necks of dozens of tiny, incredibly realistic (and incredibly cute) ceramic kittens. Her usual calm focus settled over her. Coin paid. Rings in hand. Her first toss missed. The second wobbled off. The vendor smirked. Marya's eyes narrowed. She took a breath, her movements becoming fluid, almost like a sword draw. Flick. The ring sailed true, settling perfectly around a black-and-white kitten. Flick. Flick. Two more landed. She won the black-and-white kitten. For a moment, she held the small ceramic figure, her thumb stroking its smooth surface, a softness in her golden eyes that was rarely seen. She tucked it carefully into her jacket pocket near the kogatana.
Jelly attempted the "Strength Test," a giant mallet to ring a bell at the top. He morphed his entire body into a giant, wobbly hammer. THWUMP! The impact was more like a wet sponge hitting concrete. The gauge barely flickered. "Bloop... not squishy enough?" he pondered sadly.
They gorged on food: Kraken-on-a-stick (rubbery but salty), doughnuts dusted with blue sugar that turned Geo's lips azure, and finally, the legendary cotton candy clouds. Jelly managed to engulf one nearly his size, disappearing into a pink, sticky mass with only his starry eyes visible, humming happily.
The Cannon Drop was next. Strapped into the giant, riveted shell, they were winched up, up, up past the mangrove canopy into the open sky. Sabaody sprawled below, groves like emerald bubbles under the hazy dome. Then… release. The stomach-lurching freefall silenced even Atlas for a moment. Shakky just grinned wider. Marya felt the wind scream past, the world a blur, a pure rush of sensation that momentarily washed away the Void veins, the Eclipse, everything but the now.
As the sun began its descent, painting the grove in hues of molten gold and deep mangrove shadow, they stumbled out of the "Haunted Galleon" – a walkthrough attraction filled with creaking floorboards, jump-scares from animatronic ghosts, and suspiciously wet patches on the walls (Galit took samples on his slate). They were sticky, slightly sunburnt, ears ringing, and utterly spent. Lulee was half-asleep on Fia's back, Geo clutched his starfish and a half-eaten kraken leg, Atlas was arguing good-naturedly with Galit about the physics of the coaster's final loop, and Jelly was a shimmering, multicolored mess of sugar residue and dirt, humming a tuneless version of the carousel song.
Shakky surveyed them all, her sharp eyes crinkled at the corners. "Well," she drawled, lighting a fresh cigarette. "I believe we successfully avoided winning any giant Sea Kings. Mostly." She nodded towards Geo's starfish and the slight bulge in Marya's jacket pocket.
Marya adjusted her leather jacket, the Heart insignia slightly smudged with cotton candy. The faint scent of sugar and grease clung to her. The usual guarded calm had returned to her face, but her eyes held a residual warmth, a lightness that hadn't been there at the bar. She glanced back at the pulsating heart of noise and light that was Grove 30, then towards the path leading back to the junction, where Rayleigh and Henrick would be waiting. The memory of the fall, the laughter, the tiny ceramic kitten – fragments of unexpected, uncomplicated joy in a life usually shrouded in mist and mystery. "Right," she said, her voice softer than usual, almost lost in the park's din. "Time to head back. Before the Marines declare fun illegal retroactively." She turned, leading the weary, sugar-fueled, exhilarated group away from the neon glow and back into the deepening twilight of Sabaody.