Morning arrived with a thick sea mist and a gentle, damp breeze. Darian, who hadn't slept well on the hard deck, was rudely awakened by Nami's shouting.
"Darian! Get up, quickly! If we miss the wind, we'll be stuck in this sea area all day!"
Darian opened his gummy eyes, groggily sitting up. Through the dissipating fog, he saw Nami already bustling about, adjusting the sails and checking the compass.
"Nami?" he mumbled.
Seeing that he was still half-asleep, Nami clicked her tongue irritably. "Hurry up! We don't have time to waste."
She tossed a hard, dry pastry and a water bottle at him—rations suitable for long-term preservation at sea, which meant they tasted like cardboard and old copper.
Darian caught them, throwing off the thin blanket covering him. He paused for a moment, looking at the wool fabric. She had given it to him last night after locking him out. She was ruthless with money, but she wasn't heartless.
"Eat fast," Nami commanded, not looking back. "You're rowing later. I wasted a whole day saving you, so we have a lot of work to catch up on."
"Understood." Darian bit into the dry pancake. It was tough, but he was starving.
After a quick breakfast and some manual labor from Darian, the small boat cut through the waves.
The East Blue is vast, covering nearly a quarter of the planet, dotted with islands of all sizes. By the time they spotted a coastline, the sun was already high overhead.
They had arrived at Bahama Island.
It wasn't a large landmass, but it was famous in this part of the East Blue. Situated on a major trade route, it served as a transitional hub for merchant ships. Where there is trade, there is money. And where there is money, there are pirates, followed closely by Marines and bounty hunters.
This complex web of interests had turned the island into a massive black market for intelligence. As long as you had the Berries, you could buy information on just about anyone.
Nami had brought Darian here for one reason: to find their next prey.
The streets were bustling. Travelers, merchants, and sailors filled the thoroughfares. Darian, coming from the 21st century, had seen skyscrapers and neon-lit metropolises, so the architecture didn't impress him. But the atmosphere—the medieval-style chaos, the smell of spices and sea salt—had a unique, gritty flavor.
Carrying a large backpack like a pack mule, Darian followed Nami through the crowd. She moved with purpose, leading him straight into a noisy, dimly lit bar.
The moment the swinging doors creaked open, the noise inside dipped. The bar was a mixed bag of scum and villainy. A group of menacing pirates sitting near the entrance cast sharp, predatory glares at the newcomers.
Nami was used to this. She walked in naturally, ignoring the stares.
Darian, however, stiffened. The pungent smell of cheap alcohol, sweat, and tobacco, combined with the hostile glares of men with swords at their hips, triggered his modern-day survival instincts. He felt utterly unsafe.
Seeing his expression, Nami leaned back and whispered, "Act natural. Don't look so scared. Your nervousness makes you look like a victim. There are Marines stationed on this island; they won't try anything reckless in broad daylight."
"Right," Darian replied, forcing his shoulders to relax. "Got it."
Nami sighed internally. She was starting to regret bringing him along. If he hadn't had 'amnesia' and nowhere else to go, she might have dumped him at the port.
"Relax," she reminded him one last time, striding toward the counter. Darian swallowed his unease and followed, pretending he belonged there.
The bartender was a stark contrast to his clientele—a middle-aged, overweight man with a bald head, a round face, and a friendly mustache. He wiped a glass with a rag that looked mostly clean.
"Welcome," the owner smiled. "What can I get you two?"
"Two bowls of seafood noodles," Nami ordered as she hopped onto a barstool. "And two glasses of ale."
"Coming right up!" The owner set down the glass and turned to the kitchen.
Darian took the seat next to Nami. He kept his mouth shut. The more you say, the more mistakes you make, he thought.
Once they were seated and minding their own business, the pirates lost interest. They returned to their drinks. Nami attracted attention because she was beautiful, but the fact that she walked into a dive bar like this with such confidence made them hesitate. They assumed she was either crazy or backed by someone powerful.
Soon, the bar was noisy again, filled with vulgar laughter and lewd jokes.
"Hey, Boss," a skinny pirate chattered to a burly man at a nearby table. "I heard the Buggy Pirates captured Orange Town. Should we go check it out? Maybe there are leftovers."
The burly captain smacked the skinny pirate on the back of the head. "Idiot! Buggy the Clown is a monster with a bounty of 15 million Berries! If you want to die, go by yourself. Don't drag me into it."
"That's right, that's right!" the other underlings chimed in.
"Speaking of 15 million," another pirate slurped his drink, "The 'Butcher' Bakal, who has the same bounty, just raided the town of Beckley a couple of days ago. I saw his ship docked on the south side of this island for repairs."
Darian's ears perked up.
Unless it was top-secret government intel, you didn't need a spy network. You just needed a bar and some drunk pirates bragging about their exploits.
While waiting for the noodles, Darian processed the information.
Buggy has attacked Orange Town.
This was a crucial timeline marker. It meant Monkey D. Luffy had already set sail. In fact, Luffy was probably meeting Zoro right now, or drifting in a barrel. It also meant Nami would soon be heading to Orange Town to steal Buggy's treasure map to the Grand Line.
He glanced at Nami.
Sure enough, upon hearing the name "Butcher Bakal" and "repairs," Nami's eyes had literally turned into Berry symbols ($$).
"Nami..." Darian whispered, a sense of foreboding washing over him. "You wouldn't..."
He knew how greedy she was. She had enslaved him for 11 million Berries. The Butcher Pirates were worth 15 million, and they had just raided a town. That meant their ship was full of loot.
Nami didn't even hear him. She was staring at the wall, mentally counting gold coins.
The day passed, and the sun dipped below the horizon.
In the early hours of the morning, the bustling port fell silent. Apart from a few drunks passed out in alleyways, the streets were empty.
The waning moon provided scant light, leaving the harbor in pitch darkness. Under this cover, a small boat quietly rowed toward a secluded dock.
Because of the Butcher Pirates' infamous reputation for violence, no other ships dared to dock near them. Their galleon sat isolated in the dark water, looming like a beast.
Thump!
A grappling hook hit the wooden railing of the pirate ship... and bounced off, falling back down with a clatter.
"Shh!" Nami hissed.
She looked at Darian with withered eyes. Even in the dark, he could feel her judgment burning into his soul.
Darian smiled awkwardly, shrugging his shoulders. He was an office worker, not a ninja.
"Give me that," Nami whispered, snatching the rope.
With a fluid motion, she spun the hook and tossed it. It caught the rail silently and held fast. She gave the rope a tug, then signaled for Darian to climb.
Taking a deep breath, Darian grabbed the rope. It was time for his first heist.
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