The stone skipped once, twice, three times—then sank on the fourth with a soft splash that barely rippled the surface.
I let out a slow sigh and crouched down, sifting through the sand until my fingers wrapped around another stone. It was flat, rough at the edge. Good enough. I stood, pulled my arm back, and hurled it out across the water.
This one did better. Four skips. Maybe five.
Didn't matter.
Fate, I thought.
You're forcing my hand again, aren't you?
Forcing me toward the sea. Toward danger. Toward something I wasn't ready for—but maybe never would be.
I stood there for a while, the sea wind brushing through my hair like a wordless warning. The waves were gentle, but even they felt like they were urging me forward. Whispering things I didn't want to hear.
I ruffled my hair, the motion agitated, trying to loosen the thoughts clawing at the back of my head.
Let's see… what do I remember from Arlong Park?
Nami's home village—Cocoyasi—was under Arlong's thumb. A cartel of fishmen, merciless. They'd taken the place over, bled it dry, enslaved it with money and threats. Thirty or so fighters, maybe more. They were strong. Violent. Strategic.
And worst of all?
They had a partnership with a Marine.
Some Marine captain—Branch 15? Maybe 16 or 17? I couldn't remember clearly. But the Marines turned a blind eye. Took their bribes. And with that came silence. Legitimacy.
There was even a sea king involved. It was the fishmen crew or pet, I don't really remember. But it would be there.
This wasn't just another fight.
This was a death sentence—for anyone trying to play hero.
And that was the problem. I wasn't trying to play hero.
I wasn't even trying to be noble.
I was just someone who'd been pulled into something deeper than expected. Someone who'd thought they could stand on the edge of the sea and not get pulled under.
I had brought them here—Nami and Carina. I had brought them for selfish reasons. Hoping they would be friends with Kaya and help me take down Klahadore.
But deep down, I always knew they would leave.
That wasn't the surprise.
The surprise was how Nami left.
Quiet. Sudden. Cold.
No words. No warning. No goodbye. Just a note to Kaya and an empty dock where my ship used to be.
I sat on the sand, letting the weight of that realization settle.
I barely knew her. But her absence hit like a betrayal. Not really. She was… what? A companion in passing? An opportunist I tolerated? Someone I trusted with half a smile and one eye open?
But I knew her. Better than she probably knew herself. I had watched her throughout my life after all.
And that familiarity made the absence sharper.
Still… it wasn't her I couldn't forgive.
It was what she left behind.
Kaya.
Sweet. Kind. Gentle Kaya. The girl who believed in everyone before she believed in herself. The one who had reached out to Nami with soft words and a warm smile. The one who cried when she found that letter.
Nami had left a scar—not on me—but on her.
And that… I couldn't let go.
I punched the sand, knuckles striking into damp grit.
"Fuck."
The word came out low, broken. Then again.
"Fuck!"
My voice echoed briefly. Pointlessly.
Fist met sand again. Over and over until the sting reached bone and my shoulders trembled with it. Not from pain, but from frustration—frustration that I couldn't stop any of this. That I couldn't protect the people I'd promised I would. That I wouldn't even harm their smile.
I collapsed onto a nearby rock and sat still, breathing in, trying to center myself. Rage was a fire. I needed clarity now. Fire didn't build plans. It only burned them.
Slowly, my thoughts began to sharpen.
I had to make Kaya smile again. That was the goal. That was the priority.
And if that meant dragging Nami back from the ends of the sea?
Then so be it.
I looked up, letting my eyes roam the horizon. The sky looked ready with storm clouds. The sea shimmered in the early light—blue and endless and cruel. A world of depth and danger. This was a world where willpower reigned supreme, didn't it?
Haki.
The force of will. The power of conviction made tangible. This world wasn't built for the cautious or the uncertain. It bowed only to those who didn't flinch.
This world rewarded people who smiled in the face of death, who pushed forward not because they were invincible, but because they didn't care that they weren't.
This world… wasn't kind.
But it respected strength.
And strength didn't always mean power. Sometimes it meant resolve.
I chuckled under my breath. Not a joyous sound. Just bitter amusement at my own cowardice.
Here I was, hesitating at the thought of thirty fishmen, terrified of a Marine branch whose number I couldn't even remember, trying to justify inaction with rationality.
As if logic ever mattered in this world.
These were fishmen who couldn't even hold turf in the Grand Line's weakest corners. So why did I falter?
Because I could die?
So what?
My life wasn't valuable. It was the cheapest thing for me. Especially when weighed against Kaya's smile. Against her happiness. Against the warmth that returned to her face when Nami called her a friend.
That was worth something.
Me? I was expendable.
I wasn't even my own self. What value did I have?
If the world wanted to test me, if it wanted to see whether I'd fall into line or stand on my own—
Then let it watch.
Let it see me now.
I stood up, the ocean breeze lifting the edge of my coat, the salt biting at the corners of my lips.
I'd had enough time to think.
Enough time to hesitate.
No more faltering.
I would bring Nami back.
Even if it killed me.
Not for me. Not for some idea of righteousness. Not for the sake of liberating villagers from Arlong's rule.
But for Kaya.
For her peace. For her smile.
Because somewhere in the back of my mind, something had shifted.
This wasn't just resistance.
This was a revelation.
A declaration.
If this world truly only respected those who didn't falter, then I would give it something to fear.
I would not falter.
Not now.
Not ever again.
----
I got to work.
There was no room for doubt. No time for hesitation. Just the steps I needed to take, and the people I needed to pull into motion.
First: Carina.
I found her near the garden, arms folded, the breeze catching her coat as she stared toward the sea.
I asked her how to reach Cocoyashi village. Her eyes widened. Asking me how did I know?
I didn't answer.
Just stared back.
That was all it took.
Carina wasn't the type to waste energy on denial. She saw the fire in my eyes—conviction. I wouldn't listen to any of her sweet talk. She could see it. She cursed under her breath and fished out a notebook from her satchel.
She drew fast, efficiently, tearing a sheet out and sketching what could barely be called a map, but it was enough. A general direction. An idea of where Cocoyasi Village lay in relation to Syrup.
"Orokana koto wa shinaide kudasai."
Don't do anything stupid, she warned.
I turned without a word.
Everything I was about to do would be stupid. That was the point. Conviction required one self to be stupid in the eyes of other.
My steps took me to the mansion. The door creaked open under my hand. I walked through the halls like a ghost with purpose—brushing past Klahadore, who narrowed his eyes as I passed. He didn't stop me.
My feet carried me up the stairs, to the hallway. I stood outside Kaya's door, raised my hand, and knocked once.
Merry opened it.
The room was warm with lamplight, soft with sorrow. Inside, Usopp sat by Kaya's bed, exaggerating some story about pirates and fire-breathing dragons. His hands waved, his voice rose, and his words danced like a performer desperate to draw a smile.
Kaya listened. She even chewed her food. But the smile never came.
Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed. Her hand trembled slightly as she lifted the spoon.
I stepped in quietly and walked straight to her side. Dropping to one knee, I took her hand into mine and held it.
"Nami o tsuremodoshimasu."
I will bring Nami back.
Her lips parted, but no sound came. Usopp sat frozen.
I let the words settle.
Then I stood and turned.
"Merry." I said. Nothing more.
He followed me out, confused.
Once we were out of the room and down the hall, I turned to him.
"Kōsoku bōto ga hitsuyōda."
I need a fast boat.
It was the third time I'd spoken to him like this. No room for delay, no time to explain. He glanced toward Kaya's room, then back to me. He measured the weight of the moment in silence.
"3-Kakan."
Three days.
That's what he gave me.
I nodded once. That was all I needed.
The boat would be ready. That gave me seventy-two hours.
I walked down into the village as the sun began to lower. The orange light stretched across rooftops like a slow-moving fire.
Next: The village chief.
I told him I needed barrels—good ones. Sealed tight, seaworthy.
He didn't ask why at first. Just looked at me with the weariness of a man who's seen too many risks born of youth.
"Shōkin kasegi?"
Bounty hunting?
I nodded once.
He asked again, slower this time.
"Motto atode yatta kata ga yokatta n janaideshou ka?"
Wouldn't it be better to do it later?
I knew why. Rainy season.
Storms. Unpredictable tides. The sea during this season was less a road and more a loaded gun.
I stared back at him, silent, my eyes set.
No later.
No safer time.
He sighed. Long and deep. But he nodded.
He didn't ask for payment. Not even a down payment. He just waved it off and told one of the boys to start assembling what I'd need.
That kind of quiet respect was rare. I bowed low—deeply—and requested for another favor. I needed supplies.
He agreed as he called his son.
Back at the shack, I took stock of my supplies.
Most of the dried fish was gone. What little remained, I packed carefully.
I checked my gear.
Two daggers. A sword. Two frag grenades.
The old gun was unusable now, a melted chunk from the thermite bullet tests.
I sat with the sword and daggers, unwrapping the cloth, laying them bare. One by one, I ran them across the whetstone. Over and over. Slow. Focused.
The rhythm helped settle my thoughts.
The blade had to be sharp. It had to cut on the first try. There was no second chance against the fishmen.
The whetstone rasped steadily, metal against stone, until hours passed unnoticed. When I tested the edge with my thumb, it split the skin like paper.
Good enough.
I cleaned the blood, rewrapped the hilt, and sheathed both blades.
Then I opened the box.
Three thermite grenades. Carefully packed, amidst the cushions.
Not enough.
I headed to the testing site.
Smoke still lingered. Ash clung to the leaves. The trees were marked by black scars—some still steaming.
The air here had the weight of something holy and violent.
I climbed the rope ladder to the treehouse.
Usopp. He was already there, hunched over a table made of salvaged planks and cracked crates. His hands were blackened with soot, his goggles pulled down, and a strange calm hung over him.
He didn't look surprised. He was grinning.
"Osokare hayakare anata ga kurudarou to watashi wa shitte imashita."
Sooner or later, I knew you'd come.
His voice wasn't mocking. It was proud for guessing that I would come here.
He gestured to a box at his side with a grin.
I opened it.
Four more thermite grenades. Finished. Packed.
He didn't brag. But I saw it in his shoulders, in the toothy grin that made him look younger than he was. He was proud of what he'd made. Of what we were about to do.
He turned back to his bench and began assembling another.
Usopp.
This kid. This wildcard.
You couldn't help but love him.