The golden sphere containing Atlas, Marina, and Vice Admiral Crusher crashed into the harbor with the subtlety of a falling star, sending up a geyser of seawater that soaked half the docked ships. When the spray cleared, they found themselves standing waist-deep in the ocean next to a sleek sloop that had definitely seen better days.
"Well," Atlas said cheerfully, wringing water from his white hair, "that went better than expected!"
"Better than expected?!" Marina sputtered, spitting out seawater. "We just fell out of the sky!"
"But we landed in water instead of on solid ground! That's a significant improvement over my initial projections!"
Crusher, who was standing in water that only came up to his knees due to his massive height, looked around the harbor with professional interest. "Not bad, boy. This ship's got good bones, even if she needs some work."
The vessel they'd landed beside was indeed a study in contrasts. Her hull was solid and her lines suggested impressive speed, but her sails were patched, her rigging needed attention, and someone had painted "THE DANCING MERMAID" on her stern in letters that were already starting to fade.
"Is that... is that our ship now?" Marina asked, hauling herself up onto the dock with Atlas's help.
"Well, we did crash into her specifically," Atlas mused. "It seems like fate, don't you think?"
"That's not how ship ownership works!"
"How does it work?"
Marina opened her mouth to explain legal maritime acquisition procedures, then closed it again. "You know what? For pirates, this might actually be exactly how it works."
A gruff voice interrupted their discussion. "Oi! Get away from my ship, you waterlogged idiots!"
An elderly man with a magnificent white beard and a wooden leg came stumping down the dock toward them, waving a bottle that might have contained either rum or paint remover. His weathered face was twisted in indignation.
"Your ship?" Atlas asked politely, his innate noble courtesy kicking in despite the circumstances.
"Aye, my ship! The Dancing Mermaid's been my home for thirty years, and I'm not about to let some fancy-haired boy and his friends—" The old man stopped mid-sentence, squinting at Atlas's distinctive appearance. "Wait a minute. White hair, those eyes... you're that Celestial Dragon everyone's talking about!"
Atlas sighed. "Former Celestial Dragon. And yes, I suppose word travels fast."
"Fast? Boy, there's Marines crawling all over this town looking for you! And not just regular Marines—there's some kind of government spook with a creepy mask asking very unfriendly questions!"
"That would be Judgment," Marina supplied helpfully. "He's trying to execute our captain."
"Your captain?" The old sailor looked between the three of them with growing amusement. "Let me get this straight. A former World Noble, a ship mechanic, and a Vice Admiral walk into my harbor..."
"This isn't a joke setup!" Crusher protested.
"Could've fooled me!" the old man cackled. "I'm Captain Ezra Saltwind, and I haven't seen this much excitement since the last time Smoker tried to arrest someone in my harbor!"
Atlas's eyes lit up with interest. "Captain Saltwind! That's perfect! Would you like to join my pirate crew?"
The harbor went quiet except for the gentle lapping of waves against hulls.
"Did you just..." Ezra blinked slowly. "Did you just try to recruit me using my own ship as a meeting place?"
"Well, we did sort of crash into it," Atlas admitted. "I thought that might count as an introduction!"
Ezra stared at him for a long moment, then threw back his head and laughed—a deep, genuine sound that echoed across the water. "Boy, you've got more guts than brains, and that's saying something! Most people who want my ship try to buy it or steal it. You're the first to crash into it and then ask me to join your crew!"
"Is that a yes?" Atlas asked hopefully.
"That depends. What exactly are you planning to do with this crew of yours?"
Atlas considered the question seriously. "I want to sail the Grand Line and find people whose dreams are so strong that following them makes me stronger. I want to build a crew where everyone makes everyone else better. And I want to prove that real strength comes from the bonds you choose, not the power you inherit."
Ezra's weathered face had grown thoughtful during this speech. "And what about my ship? You planning to commandeer the Dancing Mermaid?"
"Actually," Atlas said, looking at the patched sails and faded paint with genuine appreciation, "I was hoping you'd let us help you fix her up. Marina's an excellent mechanic, and I have... resources... that could be useful for repairs."
"Resources?"
Atlas reached into his coat and pulled out what appeared to be half the treasury of a small nation. "I may have left my old life behind, but I didn't leave empty-handed. Turns out being a former Celestial Dragon comes with certain financial advantages."
Marina buried her face in her hands. "Please tell me you're not planning to just throw money at every problem we encounter."
"Of course not! I'm planning to throw money at ship problems and use friendship for everything else!"
"That's... actually not the worst pirate strategy I've ever heard," Ezra admitted grudgingly.
A commotion from the direction of the town interrupted their negotiation. Shouts, the sound of splintering wood, and an ominous mechanical humming that was getting steadily closer.
"That doesn't sound good," Crusher observed, his Marine training automatically kicking in as he scanned for threats.
Atlas's enhanced senses were already picking up details that made his blood run cold. "Judgment's coming this way. And he's brought friends."
"What kind of friends?" Marina asked, though her expression suggested she didn't really want to know.
"The kind that hum mechanically and make the shadows move wrong."
Ezra's expression had shifted from amusement to grim determination. "Government spooks with weird weapons, eh? Can't say I'm surprised. The World Government's been getting nastier lately."
He looked at Atlas, studying the young man's face with eyes that had seen decades of ocean storms and human nature.
"Boy, I've got one question for you, and your answer's going to decide whether I help you or turn you over to that masked freak."
"What's the question?"
"When push comes to shove, and your crew's in danger, are you going to fall back on that Celestial Dragon training and solve problems by being more powerful than everyone else? Or are you going to trust your people to have your back?"
Atlas met the old captain's gaze steadily. "Captain Saltwind, three hours ago I would have given you the answer I thought you wanted to hear. But right now, with my friends in danger and enemies closing in, I can tell you exactly what kind of captain I want to be."
His hazel eyes flickered to gold, not with the cold light of overwhelming power, but with the warm glow of protective determination.
"I'm the kind who fights alongside his crew, not above them."
Ezra grinned, showing teeth that had survived more bar fights than most people had hot meals. "Then welcome aboard the Dancing Mermaid, Captain Atlas! Marina, get below and start the engine! Crusher, can you handle dock lines with those big hands of yours?"
"Wait," Atlas said, realization dawning. "You're really joining us? Just like that?"
"Boy, I've been sailing these seas for thirty years, watching the World Government get more corrupt and the Marines get more desperate. If a former Celestial Dragon wants to thumb his nose at the whole system, I figure that's worth supporting!"
The mechanical humming was getting much closer now, and the shadows at the edge of the harbor were starting to move with unnatural purpose.
"Besides," Ezra added, casting off mooring lines with practiced efficiency, "it's been too damn quiet around here lately. Time for some proper adventure!"
As the Dancing Mermaid's engine coughed to life and they began pulling away from the dock, Atlas felt that warm feeling in his chest expand once again. This was what he'd been searching for—not just a crew, but a family of choice.
Even if they were currently fleeing from government assassins while sailing in a ship held together mostly by faith and paint.
It was still the best day of his life.
***
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