After finishing his food, Gojo quietly sat down in the darkness once again. He crossed his legs and began waiting calmly, his senses focused entirely on the faint sounds coming from beyond the locked door. The room itself was sealed tightly, without a single crack or window to peek through, leaving him completely blind to what was happening outside. So the only way for him to understand the situation was through sound—by carefully listening to the movements, footsteps, and voices echoing from the deck.
From the noise outside, it wasn't hard to tell what was going on. The pirates were clearly in high spirits, their rough laughter and drunken shouting mixing with the clatter of cups and plates. They were still celebrating the huge haul they had obtained from the village they plundered two days ago. Apparently, the celebration had continued from the previous night into this one. But that wasn't surprising. Pirates lived their lives like this—drinking, laughing, and indulging themselves until their pockets ran dry, and then setting out once again to loot another unlucky village to refill them.
As Gojo listened closely, the pattern of the noise gave him a rough understanding of their state. Judging by the constant bursts of laughter, the off-key singing, and the sound of mugs clashing, it seemed that almost everyone on the ship was either eating, drinking, or already far too drunk to care about anything else. This, for him, was excellent news. The more they drank, the easier it would be for him to make his move later.
He stayed still, breathing slowly and evenly, letting the time pass as he listened to the rhythm of the pirates' merrymaking. Eventually, the noises began to fade. One by one, the loud voices disappeared, the laughter turned into murmurs, and the clinking of mugs fell silent. The ship gradually sank into a heavy stillness, broken only by the soft creaking of the wood as waves rocked it gently.
But even then, Gojo did not move immediately. He continued to wait in silence, his eyes closed as he focused on every faint sound that reached him. The more time passed, the more certain he became that the pirates outside were deep in their drunken sleep. The longer they remained in that hazy, alcohol-soaked stupor, the easier it would be for him to slip away unnoticed.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, Gojo sensed that the time had come. The silence outside had grown so thick that even the soft creaking of the ship's hull sounded loud to his ears. He slowly stood up, taking a deep breath to steady himself. His heartbeat quickened, but his expression remained calm. It was time to move.
He shifted his footing and took a stance in front of the wooden gate that imprisoned him. Drawing upon the strength of his young body, he clenched his fists tightly, feeling the raw power coursing through his muscles. He exhaled once and lowered himself into the boxing stance he remembered—shoulders relaxed, eyes forward, weight balanced on his legs. Every fiber of his body was ready to strike.
But before he could throw his punch—
Boom!
A deafening explosion suddenly echoed through the ship, shaking the entire structure with violent force. The floor beneath Gojo's feet lurched, throwing him off balance. He fell hard to the ground, his hands instinctively catching himself as loose splinters and dust rained down from the ceiling.
"What just happened?" he muttered, eyes wide in confusion.
Before he could even process it—
Boom!
Another explosion rocked the ship, even stronger than the first. The floorboards groaned, and the walls trembled as if the entire vessel was about to split in two. Gojo's instincts sharpened instantly, and he clenched his jaw.
Are they under attack? he thought quickly. Is it another pirate crew—or maybe the Marines?
Whatever the case, it didn't matter. To him, this chaos was a gift. "Whatever's going on," he whispered under his breath, "this will be the perfect chance to escape… the best opportunity I could ask for."
Outside, the Minnow Pirates, who had been in a drunken stupor moments ago, were thrown into complete disarray. The powerful explosions had jolted them awake, sending panic rippling across the ship.
The sound of frantic footsteps and shouting filled the air. The captain's furious voice rose above the chaos, roaring, "All of you, wake up! We're being attacked by the Marines!"
After the deafening explosions and the furious shout of Finn, the captain of the Minnow Pirates, the entire ship erupted into chaos. The pirates, still half-dazed and hungover from their night of drinking, began stirring from their drunken slumber. Groans and curses filled the air as they stumbled to their feet, rubbing their eyes and trying to make sense of the sudden commotion.
Weapons clattered as the pirates grabbed their swords, pistols, and rifles, which they had conveniently kept within arm's reach. Being pirates, they were used to sudden fights breaking out at any hour of the day or night. It was a part of their brutal lifestyle—never being able to truly rest, always keeping one hand near a weapon. Within moments, the deck was filled with movement and noise as they hurried to their positions.
Finn's commanding voice cut through the chaos like thunder. "Prepare the cannons immediately!" he barked, his eyes fixed on the enemy ship just ahead. "Aim and fire at the Marine vessel—now!"
The pirates obeyed at once. Some ran toward the cannons, others hauled ammunition from the storage hold, their movements clumsy but fueled by panic and adrenaline. The marine ship was close—too close. Barely thirty or forty meters away, its white sails stood stark against the moonlit sea, and the glint of its iron hull reflected the flashes of cannon fire.
Finn's expression darkened. He turned sharply toward Juno, his vice-captain, and growled, "Where the hell are the guards I assigned to keep watch for enemy ships? How could the Marines get this close without anyone noticing? What were those useless bastards doing!?"
Juno, who looked equally frustrated, scratched the back of his head and replied, "I checked a while ago… Those idiots must've snuck off to the back deck. They probably took the food and wine with them—guess they got drunk and passed out there."
Finn's face twisted with rage. He slammed his palm hard against the wooden railing with a loud crack, leaving a visible dent in the wood. "Bastards! I'll deal with them myself after this is over!" he shouted.
Meanwhile, on the Marine ship that was now exchanging cannon fire with the pirates, one of the uniformed soldiers approached his superior and reported in a firm voice, "Captain Smoker, sir! The ship ahead has been identified—it belongs to the Minnow Pirates. Their leader is Captain Finn, currently holding a bounty of five hundred thousand berries. We've confirmed they were responsible for the Holloway Village raid just two days ago."
The Marine soldier saluted sharply, awaiting his captain's orders as the waves rocked the ship under the booming echoes of cannon fire.
Smoker, who had recently been transferred to the East Blue, stood firmly on the deck, the wind whipping his white coat as he watched the chaos unfold before him. His sharp eyes narrowed on the pirate vessel in the distance. "Very well," he said in his deep, steady voice. "Keep firing at that ship—sink it to the bottom of the sea."
Before the order could be fully carried out, one of the marine soldiers stepped forward and saluted. "Captain Smoker, sir!" he called out. "We've just received additional intelligence regarding the Minnow Pirates. Reports say they've captured a young boy—most likely to sell him off as a slave. The boy should still be aboard their ship!"
Smoker's expression hardened immediately. His jaw tightened, and his cigar flared brightly in the dark as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "Tch…" he muttered, his brow furrowing. He stayed silent for a few moments, weighing his decision carefully amidst the sounds of cannon fire and crashing waves.
Finally, he spoke. "Change of plan. Continue firing—but aim for their mast and the outer hull. Disable the ship's movement without sinking it. Once they're trapped, we'll close in and board them ourselves. I'll personally make sure that child is rescued—if he's still alive."
"Yes, sir!" the marine soldier responded immediately, turning and shouting the revised orders to the crew. Within moments, the cannons began to thunder again—each shot calculated, not to destroy, but to cripple the pirate ship. Smoker watched silently from the bow, the glow of his cigar burning like a small ember in the storm of smoke and gunfire.
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