The Dancing Mermaid cut through the waves with surprising grace for a ship that looked like she'd been held together with good intentions and marine paint. Atlas stood at the bow, his white hair whipping in the sea breeze as he watched Loguetown shrink behind them. The golden light of his partial transformation had faded, leaving him looking like nothing more than an enthusiastic young man experiencing his first taste of real freedom.
"Engines are running smooth!" Marina called up from below deck, her voice carrying a note of pleasant surprise. "This old girl's got more life in her than I expected!"
"That's my Dancing Mermaid for you!" Ezra replied proudly from the wheel, his weathered hands steady despite the ship's age. "She's never let me down yet!"
Crusher had positioned himself at the stern, using his impressive height to keep watch on their pursuers. "I count at least three Marine vessels giving chase, plus something that doesn't show up properly on the horizon. Could be that government spook's transport."
"How much of a head start do we have?" Atlas asked, though he seemed remarkably calm for someone fleeing multiple forms of law enforcement.
"Maybe an hour if we're lucky. Less if they've got speed boosters."
"Plenty of time, then!" Atlas declared cheerfully. "Ezra, what's the fastest this ship can go?"
The old captain's grin was equal parts pride and mischief. "Well now, that depends on how much you trust my modifications!"
"Modifications?" Marina's voice drifted up from the engine room with obvious interest.
"Oh, I've made a few improvements over the years! Nothing too fancy, just some custom engine work and a special sail configuration I picked up from a particularly creative shipwright in Water 7!"
Atlas felt his Devil Fruit stirring with curiosity, automatically beginning to analyze the ship's construction and potential capabilities. But instead of letting the adaptation take over, he simply asked, "What do you need us to do?"
"Marina! Can you handle some unorthodox engine management?"
"Define 'unorthodox'!"
"Well, the Dancing Mermaid's got what you might call a dual-propulsion system! Steam engine for reliability, wind power for speed, and a little something extra for when things get really interesting!"
"Something extra?" Atlas called down to Marina. "Are you comfortable with 'something extra'?"
"At this point, Captain, I'm comfortable with anything that keeps us ahead of government assassins!"
Ezra's laugh boomed across the water. "That's the spirit! Crusher, can you handle the special rigging? It's going to require someone with your reach!"
The Vice Admiral looked around at the various ropes and pulleys with professional assessment. "I've worked with ship rigging before, but I've got to ask—exactly how special are we talking?"
"Special enough that we're about to find out if a former Celestial Dragon gets seasick!"
Atlas blinked. "Should I be worried about that?"
"Probably!" Ezra called back. "Marina, engage secondary propulsion on my mark! Crusher, prepare to deploy the aerial assist sails!"
"Aerial assist sails?" Atlas repeated. "Ezra, exactly what kind of modifications did you make to this ship?"
"The kind that seemed like a good idea at the time! Everyone ready?"
"Ready!" Marina's voice carried a note of excited anticipation.
"Ready!" Crusher confirmed, his massive hands gripping unfamiliar rigging.
Atlas looked around at his new crew—a gruff old sea captain with a gleam in his eye, a brilliant mechanic who'd decided to trust him after knowing him for less than a day, and a Marine Vice Admiral who'd chosen justice over orders. His Devil Fruit was offering him a dozen ways to enhance their escape, but for once, he didn't need supernatural assistance.
He had something better. He had people who believed in him.
"Ready!" he called back to Ezra.
"Then let's show those government dogs what the Dancing Mermaid can really do! ENGAGE!"
Marina's modifications to the engine created a sound like controlled thunder, and suddenly the ship leaped forward with force that pressed everyone back against the nearest solid surface. But that was nothing compared to what happened when Crusher deployed Ezra's "aerial assist sails."
Instead of normal canvas, gossamer-thin material unfurled from hidden masts, catching not just wind but somehow managing to provide actual lift. The Dancing Mermaid didn't just accelerate—she began to skip across the wave tops like a thrown stone, spending more time in the air than in the water.
"EZRA!" Atlas shouted over the roar of wind and engines. "WHAT EXACTLY IS YOUR SHIP?"
"MODIFIED FLYING FISH DESIGN!" the old captain shouted back. "PICKED UP THE SPECS FROM A VERY DRUNK ENGINEER IN JAYA!"
"WE'RE FLYING!" Marina's voice carried pure delight as she emerged from the engine room to witness their impossible voyage. "WE'RE ACTUALLY FLYING!"
Atlas felt his heart soar along with the ship. This was everything he'd dreamed of when he'd imagined pirate adventures—the wind, the speed, the absolute impossibility of it all, and most importantly, the shared joy of experiencing something incredible with people who'd chosen to stand beside him.
His Devil Fruit was practically vibrating with the urge to adapt, to enhance, to contribute something superhuman to their escape. But looking around at his crew's faces—Ezra's pride in his ship, Marina's wonder at the engineering, Crusher's surprised laughter—Atlas realized he didn't need to be anything more than what he already was.
"Judgment's vessels are falling behind!" Crusher reported, his voice carrying amazement. "Whatever this ship is, it's faster than anything the World Government's got!"
"Not just faster!" Ezra corrected. "Different! Hard to track something that spends half its time in the air!"
As if summoned by their confidence, a new sound cut through the wind—the distinctive whistle of cannon fire.
"Incoming!" Crusher bellowed, pointing to where several projectiles were arcing toward their position.
Atlas's enhanced vision tracked the cannonballs automatically, his Devil Fruit calculating trajectory and impact points. Three shots, perfectly aimed to bracket their position and force them back toward the water where conventional ships could catch them.
But instead of adapting to counter the threat himself, Atlas made a different choice.
"Marina! Can this ship dodge while maintaining flight?"
"If Ezra can handle the steering!"
"Crusher! Can you deflect incoming fire?"
"Not from this angle, but if someone can get me a better position—"
"Ezra! Trust me and follow my directions exactly!"
The old captain's grin was visible even from Atlas's position at the bow. "Aye aye, Captain!"
Atlas felt something click into place, a sensation he'd never experienced in all his years of overwhelming individual power. This wasn't adaptation—this was coordination. This was what it meant to be part of something larger than himself.
"Hard port, NOW!"
The Dancing Mermaid banked left like a giant bird, her aerial sails catching an updraft that lifted them above the first cannonball's trajectory.
"Crusher, the rigging behind you!"
The Vice Admiral grabbed the indicated line and swung himself up to a position where he could bat the second projectile aside with his bare hand.
"Marina, emergency speed!"
The engine roared, and they shot forward just as the third cannonball passed harmlessly through the space they'd occupied a moment before.
For several heartbeats, the only sound was the wind and the distant splash of failed artillery. Then Marina whooped with joy, Crusher let out a victorious bellow, and Ezra began singing what sounded like a very inappropriate sea chanty.
Atlas stood at the bow of his flying ship, surrounded by his impossible crew, and realized that he'd finally found what he'd been searching for his entire life.
He wasn't just free. He belonged.