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Scar, the pirate captain, was dead.
The lieutenant commander's final slash had shattered his will to fight. At that moment, Scar understood his strength simply didn't measure up.
Even so, in a last burst of desperation, Scar had taken down two marines with him before his bullet-riddled body collapsed.
He had dreamed of pulling off one big score of making a name that would echo across the East Blue.
Instead, he died not far from his birthplace.
That island was where he had first become a pirate. His loot had been stashed there some in taverns, some in a gambling den run by his old crew.
He'd taken a million Berries from that den to hire new hands.
They joined him for fame, for gold, for women seduced by fantasies of pirate glory.
They didn't even make it past day one.
Now they were corpses floating in the sea, just a few miles from shore.
The Marines didn't mourn. They beheaded Scar and mounted his head on the bow of their ship. The rest of the bodies were dumped into the sea as food for the monstrous man-eating fish swarming around the wreckage.
Even the marines had lost over a dozen men, and the ship itself was half-ruined.
But the lieutenant commander didn't see it as a loss. He'd taken down a 3 million Berry pirate and avenged the comrades who'd fallen in earlier failed pursuits.
And with Scar gone, the East Blue had one less devil to fear.
The remaining marines were tending to their wounds, repairing what they could of the ship, and stripping the pirate vessel for supplies.
The lieutenant made a call via Den Den Mushi to headquarters, calmly reporting the situation.
As for Aero...
He was long gone from the fighting.
The moment he saw the slash that tore the air in half, he knew he didn't stand a chance.
Who the hell could cut the wind like that?
So, Aero ran.
Fast.
Like wind in a Storm.
He made his way below deck, slipping through the corridors. The battle had stayed topside. Lucky for him.
He had planned to steal a lifeboat and flee, but none were accessible. Out of options, he ducked into a storage hold and bolted the door behind him.
The air here was different. Thick with the scent of supplies.
It was the ship's food storage.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through a small porthole, casting warm streaks across stacked crates.
Panting, Aero dropped the chipped long sword beside him and got to work. He hauled heavy crates to the door, stacking them high. Creating a blockade.
When he was done, he slumped against the boxes, gripping his short blade the one the captain had thrown him.
The warmth of the sunlight reminded him of home.
He remembered his old life. Earth. His apartment. The landlord nagging about overdue rent. His parents waiting back in the countryside for him to return home for the holidays, he was there last hope for taking them out of the poverty!
then... the Kidnapping
And that Crazy Scientist, the reason for his death!
Waking up in someone else's body.
Someone else's life.
Who was he now?
Aero?
James Walker?
Or both?
He buried his face in his hands.
The memories of both lives tangled inside him neither one fully his, yet both undeniably real.
After a while, he calmed himself. From his belt, he unsheathed the short blade.
Scar's blade.
Why had Scar give it to him?
Was it mockery? A dismissal?
Or… was it mercy?
A way to help him survive while others died?
Most pirates didn't use short swords. Not unless they were very good.
Like Dracule Mihawk who once used a dagger to nearly destroy Roronoa Zoro.
This one was beautiful.
The hilt was wrapped in red thread. The sheath matched. The steel glimmered with twin wave patterns one silver, one deep blue.
It was around 40 centimeters long. Elegant. Deadly.
Aero let his mind drift until the shouting and gunfire above finally faded.
The battle was over.
He didn't feel relief just guilt.
Was it guilt for surviving?
For not stopping Scar?
For not trying harder?
Or maybe just for being here at all.
Back on Earth, he had been a nobody a gutsy slacker who knew a bit of fencing. And now?
He was a fugitive stowaway hiding in a crate room on a half-destroyed Navy ship.
I don't want to die again.
The words echoed in his mind.
He stood up, re-sheathed the short blade, and scanned the crates.
Food.
He grabbed an apple ripe and red.
I bit into it.
Sweet. Juicy.
He popped open another crate.
Meat.
But Raw.
He tried a bite, instantly gagged, and spat it back into the box.
He did, however, found milk, Actual milk.
He chugged it.
Gulp... gulp...
His stomach was full, and Aero curled up in the corner of the hold. The fear hadn't gone away but hunger was sated.
He'd live.
For now.
Knock. Knock-knock.
His entire body tensed.
Someone was at the door.
He gripped the short blade.
They found me.
He had killed marines. Fired cannons. Maybe even taken lives.
There was no way they'd let him live.
He crept slowly toward the door, footsteps silent.
"Hey, anyone in there?"
A voice. Casual.
"I'm grabbing some ingredients. Gotta cook dinner!"
Aero froze.
"Anyone? Hellooo?"
BANG. BANG-BANG.
Silence.
Then another voice.
"Sir, the storeroom door's jammed."
"Jammed?"
The lieutenant tried the door. Nothing.
"Did you lock it this morning?"
"No, sir. We never lock the food hold."
"Strange… Go get any marines still standing. Bring weapons."
"Yes, sir!"
Aero held his breath.
Trapped.
Discovered.
And surrounded.
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~Support with 200 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter
~Thank you for reading!