Three hours later, Atlas stood in the middle of Loguetown's marketplace with his hands on his hips, surveying what he generously considered his "first successful pirate raid." Behind him, a growing pile of purchased goods towered precariously: fresh fruit, quality rope, navigational charts, and what appeared to be an entire bakery's worth of bread.
"I don't think you're doing this right," observed the grease-stained woman from earlier, who had been following him around with the fascinated horror of someone watching a carriage crash in slow motion.
"What do you mean?" Atlas asked cheerfully, his hazel eyes currently a bright green as he admired his haul. "I've acquired supplies for my voyage! Just like a proper pirate!"
"You paid for all of it."
"Well, yes, but I negotiated the prices down! That merchant practically gave away those oranges at only 200 beri each!"
The woman—who had grudgingly introduced herself as Marina Blackwater, ship mechanic and apparently Atlas's self-appointed piracy instructor—buried her face in her hands. "Those oranges cost 50 beri each everywhere else on the island."
Atlas's face fell. "Oh. That's... that's not good, is it?"
"And you tipped him."
"He was very polite!"
"Pirates don't tip!"
"But good service should be rewarded!"
Marina looked like she was developing a headache. "Okay, new plan. We're going to teach you how to be an actual pirate. Step one: put down the merchant's receipt that you're trying to organize by category."
Atlas reluctantly released the carefully sorted stack of papers. "I was going to file them alphabetically."
"Of course you were." Marina rubbed her temples. "Look, your heart's in the right place, but if you keep this up, you're going to be the politest, most well-budgeted pirate who ever got laughed out of the Grand Line."
His white hair caught the late afternoon sun as he nodded seriously. "You're absolutely right. I need to learn proper pirate technique. Will you teach me?"
"I didn't say—"
"Please?" Atlas's eyes shifted to that warm gold color, and his expression became so earnestly hopeful that Marina felt her resolve crumbling. "I know I'm terrible at this, but I want to learn. I want to be worthy of the title 'pirate captain' before I actually try to captain anyone."
Marina stared at him for a long moment. Despite herself, she was starting to believe he might actually be serious about this whole crazy venture. "Fine. But we do this my way. No more shopping. No more paying. No more being nice to merchants."
"What about being nice to potential crew members?"
"That's... actually okay. Being nice to your crew is important."
Atlas beamed. "Excellent! So what's my first real pirate lesson?"
Marina looked around the marketplace, her engineer's mind already calculating angles and escape routes. "We're going to steal something."
The color drained from Atlas's face so quickly that his white hair seemed to gain more contrast. "Steal? Actually steal?"
"Pirates steal things. It's literally what we do."
"But that's... that's wrong!"
"Yes, it is. Welcome to piracy."
Atlas shifted nervously from foot to foot, his hazel eyes flickering between green and gold as his Devil Fruit responded to his internal conflict. "Couldn't we just... ask to borrow something?"
"NO."
"What if we left an IOU?"
"Absolutely not."
"A very nice IOU with decorative borders?"
Marina grabbed him by the shoulders. "Atlas. Listen to me very carefully. You cannot build the world's strongest pirate crew if you're too polite to commit crimes. Pirates are criminals. It's the whole point."
Atlas considered this seriously. "What if I only steal from bad people?"
"That's... actually not a terrible start," Marina admitted. "Okay, fine. We'll steal from someone who deserves it. But you have to actually steal, not purchase with extreme politeness."
They wandered through the market until Marina spotted their target: a fruit vendor who was clearly shortchanging customers and pocketing the difference. She'd watched him cheat three different people in the last ten minutes.
"Perfect," she whispered to Atlas. "That guy's a crook. Stealing from him is practically a public service."
Atlas studied the vendor with the intensity of someone preparing for battle. His eyes flickered gold as his Devil Fruit began automatically analyzing the best approach, mapping exit routes, and calculating the optimal theft trajectory.
"I can do this," he murmured to himself. "I can be a proper pirate."
He approached the fruit stand with what he clearly thought was a casual swagger but looked more like a noble trying to imitate a swagger based on written descriptions.
"Good afternoon, fine sir!" Atlas called out in what was supposed to be a gruff pirate voice but came across more like a butler with a head cold.
The vendor looked up suspiciously. "Yeah? What do you want?"
"I'd like to... uh..." Atlas glanced back at Marina, who was making urgent 'just grab something' gestures. "I'd like to perpetrate a theft upon your establishment!"
Marina smacked her forehead.
The vendor blinked. "You'd like to what now?"
"A robbery! I'm robbing you!" Atlas announced, clearly proud of himself for using proper pirate terminology. "Please don't be alarmed, but I'll be taking some of your fruit without payment!"
"Are you... asking permission to rob me?"
"Oh no, that would defeat the purpose! I'm just being courteous about it!"
The vendor started laughing. "Kid, you've got to be the most polite thief I've ever met. Tell you what—you seem like good entertainment. Take an apple, call it a successful heist, and come back tomorrow if you want to 'rob' me again."
Atlas's face lit up like he'd just discovered treasure. "Really? Thank you so much! You're incredibly kind for someone being robbed!"
"Don't mention it, kid."
Atlas carefully selected the nicest apple from the display, held it up triumphantly, and called back, "This has been a lovely robbery! I hope your business prospers!"
As they walked away, Marina struggled between laughter and despair. "That was... that was the most wholesome theft in the history of crime."
"Did I do well? I felt like I was getting the hang of it toward the end!"
"Atlas, he basically gave you that apple."
"But I didn't pay for it! That's progress, right?"
Before Marina could respond, a commotion erupted from the direction they'd just come. Shouts, screaming, and the distinct sound of a building being demolished echoed through the marketplace.
They turned to see a massive figure in Marine uniform throwing vendors' stalls around like toys, apparently searching for something. Or someone.
"Where is he?!" the giant Marine bellowed. "The runaway World Noble! I know he's here somewhere!"
Atlas's blood ran cold. His eyes shifted to gold as his Devil Fruit automatically began adapting to the threat, enhancing his senses and preparing his body for conflict.
"Atlas," Marina said quietly, "please tell me you're not who I think you are."
"Depends," Atlas replied, already calculating escape routes. "What do you think I am?"
"A former Celestial Dragon who's in way over his head."
Atlas sighed. "Then yes, that's exactly who I am."
The giant Marine's gaze swept the crowd and locked onto Atlas's distinctive white hair. A grin spread across his scarred face.
"THERE YOU ARE, LITTLE SAINT!"
"Well," Atlas said, his polite facade finally cracking to reveal something steelier underneath, "this should be educational."