After two days of smooth sailing, the merchant vessel finally anchored at the Sabaody Archipelago. The sea had been mercifully calm, and not a single pirate flag had appeared on the horizon.
Roy stepped onto the dock and lifted his gaze.
Seventy-nine colossal Yarukiman mangroves pierced the sky, their roots forming natural bridges and platforms that carried entire districts upon them. Bubbles drifted lazily through the air. Even after seeing it in person, Sabaody still felt unreal.
Once the cargo was unloaded, Roy declined the captain's warm invitation to remain aboard.
He waved as the sailors departed.
"Good luck out there!"
Then he turned toward the island.
Grove 36.
With the Berries the captain had paid him, Roy bought a clean, well-tailored suit and visited a barber named "Tony," who gave him a sharp, fashionable haircut. When he looked into the mirror, Roy smiled with clear satisfaction.
Handsome. Perfect.
Munching on a freshly cooked takoyaki skewer, Roy strolled through the lively street. His arrogant, carefree gait made pedestrians unconsciously give him space.
After all, this was Sabaody — just one step away from Marine Headquarters. Anyone who walked with such confidence was either a Celestial Dragon, a noble, or a dangerous pirate.
Yet the young man before them didn't quite look like any of those.
Roy's eyes suddenly narrowed. Interest flickered across his face. He shoved the rest of the takoyaki into his mouth and turned into a side alley.
Inside, three thugs were beating a green-haired boy on the ground. Wooden batons and fists rained down as they searched his pockets.
"Tesoro," one of them sneered, "hand over the money."
Tesoro curled into himself, clutching a small pouch tightly against his chest, refusing to let go.
"Yo."
"Hello."
Roy's voice echoed casually from the alley entrance.
The thugs froze, turning around. When they saw it was just a young boy, they smirked and raised their sticks.
"Beat it, brat. This has nothing to do with you."
"Yeah. Don't go looking for trouble."
Roy lifted a finger and wagged it side to side, wearing a cocky grin.
"No, no, no. I actually enjoy bullying bullies."
For a moment, the thugs blinked.
Then they charged.
Swish!
Roy sidestepped the first swing, twisted his torso, and drove a short, clean punch into one attacker's ribs. A rising kick followed immediately, sending another thug crashing into the alley wall.
The last thug skidded to a halt.
He stared at his unconscious companions, then at Roy — who stood casually brushing dust from his sleeve.
Cold sweat poured down the thug's face. His legs trembled as he lifted his stick defensively.
"W-we work for Wolves Dokley! If you mess with us, Boss Dokley will—"
"Oh?" Roy tilted his head. "Dokley? Never heard of him."
He stepped closer, smiling pleasantly. Too pleasantly.
Roy leaned down and whispered beside the thug's ear.
"If I finish you here… how exactly will your boss know who did it?"
The thug's resolve shattered instantly. He dropped his stick, turned, and fled, abandoning his friends without hesitation.
Roy burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.
"Hahaha… hahahaha!"
When he finally calmed down, he turned to Tesoro — who was still lying on the ground, staring at him in disbelief.
Roy squatted beside him.
"You alive?"
Tesoro coughed and nodded.
Their eyes met.
Tesoro had been born into poverty. A gambling father. An alcoholic mother. From childhood, he'd been scorned, beaten, and forgotten.
After his father's death, his mother's bitterness drove him away. Wandering alone, Tesoro learned one undeniable truth:
Money ruled everything.
When he lost what little he had, even those he called friends disappeared. The world only respected wealth.
Later, he would meet a girl at a slave auction — someone he would swear to save, no matter the cost. That vow would shape the rest of his life.
And today, the slavers' hired thugs had come to take the money he'd gathered.
Until Roy appeared.
Tesoro finally spoke, voice quiet but steady.
"Why did you help me?"
Roy blinked. "Hm?"
"Why?" Tesoro repeated. "You didn't know me."
Roy chuckled.
"No big reason. Let's call it… fate."
Tesoro's eyes widened slightly.
"Fate…"
A strange warmth filled his chest.
Then, suddenly—
"Take me with you."
Roy raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
In his mind, Roy recalled the future.
The man who would become the 'Golden Emperor.' The mastermind who would one day control a vast share of the world's wealth. Ambitious, ruthless, brilliant.
Not a bad investment.
Roy turned away, hands in his pockets, strolling out of the alley.
"Think carefully," he said lightly. "Once you get on my ship, getting off won't be easy."
Behind him, Tesoro scrambled to his feet, excitement overtaking everything else.
"I'm coming!"
They walked side by side along the bubbling streets.
"Boss," Tesoro asked, "you said 'my ship.' Are you a pirate?"
Roy glanced ahead.
"Not yet."
"Then where are we going now?"
Roy rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Let's head to Grove 13. We'll find what we need there."
"Ah! Boss, that's—"
Roy shot him a sharp glance.
Tesoro immediately swallowed the rest of his sentence.
Roy hadn't expected the future cold and calculating Tesoro to have once been such a chatterbox.
A moment later, Tesoro cautiously raised a hand.
"Um… boss… Grove 13 is actually… the other direction."
Roy's expression froze.
"…Then lead the way."
Grove 13 — the lawless zone.
The infamous bar that even pirates whispered about.
Shakky's Rip-Off Bar.
A cigarette hung from the lips of a short-haired woman with sharp eyes and an effortlessly dangerous aura. With one hand, she lifted a pirate by the collar, emptied his pockets, and tossed him out the door like trash.
The body landed at the feet of Roy and Tesoro just as they arrived.
Inside the doorway, the woman sat back down, smoke curling lazily upward.
Silence filled the air.
Roy smiled, raising a hand in greeting.
"Yo~"
Then, with casual familiarity—
"Long time no see, Shakky. Former Empress of Amazon Lily… and one of the surviving legends of the Rocks Pirates."
Shakky's eyes narrowed slightly.
Interest sparked.