Chapter 15: The Newspaper
The salty sea breeze swept across the deck of the Iron Anchor, a two-masted caravel that had just changed owners.
Several bundles of supplies were scattered across the deck—the spoils of victory that Kyle and Killua had "confiscated" from the unconscious crew.
"Kyle, what do we do with these guys?" Killua lightly nudged the former captain, "Iron Anchor" Gray, who was out cold. A playful, cat-and-mouse grin was on his face. Gon had hit them with perfect control, ensuring they wouldn't wake up and cause trouble before they reached the next island.
Kyle was counting the last box of Beri. "Just leave them," he said without looking up. "The tide won't reach them here. The Marines will come 'take care' of them soon enough."
He closed the chest with a solid thud. "Supplies are counted. Enough food and fresh water to last us half a month. And most importantly," he stood up, holding a glass instrument. Inside, a small needle was pointing steadily in one direction. "We got a Log Pose."
Killua whistled, his eyes lighting up. "So that's our ticket to the next stage?"
"You could say that." Kyle carefully stowed the Log Pose. "Let's go. Time to get this thing moving."
The three of them boarded their new ship. It wasn't new—the hull was covered in nicks and scratches, and the sails were a bit ragged, but the frame was solid.
Kyle spotted a few old cannons on the side. He walked over, running his hand over the cold metal. An idea struck him.
"Let's leave a little farewell message for our friends, the Marines."
He smirked, skillfully loading powder and a cannonball. Killua and Gon watched with curiosity.
Kyle aimed the cannon at an empty stretch of beach far away.
"BOOM!"
The sound rocked the cove. Fire and smoke erupted from the cannon's mouth. The ball whistled through the air and slammed into the distant sand, kicking up a massive cloud.
"Whoa!" Gon yelled, while Killua stared, fascinated, at the new crater.
The cannon shot was like a rock dropped in a quiet pond. Almost before the smoke had cleared, a sharp whistle and faint shouting could be heard from the direction of Loguetown's distant port.
"The Marines will probably be here soon," Killua said, looking in that direction.
"Perfect." Kyle dusted the black powder from his hands. "Let them handle the cleanup. Gon, Killua, time to set sail!"
"Got it!" Gon, as agile as a monkey, scrambled up the main mast to the crow's nest, shouting down reports about the water ahead.
Killua and Kyle worked together, untying the ropes and hauling on the heavy lines to raise the sails.
The massive sails unfurled. The moment they caught the wind, the ship shuddered and began to slowly pull away from the shore.
When a dozen Marine soldiers, led by an officer in a "Justice" coat, arrived panting on the beach, all they saw was the Iron Anchor catching the wind, heading for the open blue sea.
"Sir! Look, it's... 'Iron Anchor' Gray! What happened to them?!" a young Marine stammered, spotting the unconscious pirates.
The officer narrowed his eyes, watching the ship become a black dot. He glanced at the cannon crater in the sand and understood.
"Hmph. Pirates fighting pirates? Scum, all of them," he sneered. "Cuff them and drag them back to the base!"
His gaze returned to the sea. "As for that ship... report it to HQ. Record its features. It looks like we've got a new, troublesome crew on our hands."
"Yes, sir!"
Out on the water, the Iron Anchor had picked up speed.
"Kyle! Rudder, 30 degrees to the right!" Gon yelled from the crow's nest, his voice carrying on the wind.
"Got it!" Kyle, at the helm, took a deep breath and put his hands on the heavy wooden wheel, pushing it to the right.
This was his first time actually steering a ship this size, and he wasn't used to the amount of force it took.
"No, no! Too far!" Gon shouted. "That's almost fifty degrees! Back to the left, twenty!"
"Roger!" Kyle immediately spun the wheel back, which creaked in protest. Killua leaned against the railing, watching Kyle's clumsy but serious efforts.
"Hey, Kyle," Killua called, "let me try after this!"
Gon checked the Log Pose's direction against the horizon. "Okay, that's it! Hold that course! Lock the wheel!"
Kyle and Killua worked together to fix the wheel in place with the ship's locking pin. With a steady wind, the ship began to cut through the waves on its own.
"So that's it?" Kyle asked, letting go of the wheel and wiping non-existent sweat from his brow. It was a strange, amazing feeling, to just trust the wind and the sea.
"Yep!" Gon slid down the mast, landing lightly on the deck. "According to the Log Pose, this wind should take us all the way to the next island!"
Just as they were starting to relax, a "News Coo" flapped its wings overhead, circling and crying out. It was carrying a copy of the latest paper.
"This world's version of a carrier pigeon?" Kyle grabbed some Beri from the chest and tossed the coins up. The bird skillfully caught them in a small satchel and dropped the newspaper.
Killua, a blur of silver, snatched the paper out of the air.
"This is really how they get news? Talk about old-school," he said, laughing as he unfolded it.
"Yep. That's the World Economic Journal," Kyle said. "It has news, but more importantly," he pointed to a specific section, "it has the new bounty posters. Anyone who gets one—pirates, criminals—you catch them, turn them in to the Marines, and you get the Beri."
To the three of them, from a world of high technology, a newspaper seemed ancient. But its contents were wild.
"Hey!" Gon leaned in, pointing at the front page. "Isn't that the guy I fought? Luffy!"
There, on the front page, was a picture of the grinning boy in the straw hat.
"MONKEY D. LUFFY... 30,000,000 BERI!"