By the time Luffy made his way back down the mountain, the sun had dipped low, staining the horizon in amber and rose. The dirt path crunched beneath his feet, worn from years of wandering. His shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat, and his legs ached from the nonstop movement—but his spirit felt lighter than ever.
Foosha Village glowed in the late evening. Lanterns had begun to flicker to life along the wooden posts, casting warm circles of light onto the cobblestone. The sound of the tide drifted in from the docks, gentle and steady.
Makino's bar sat like a familiar beacon—its windows aglow, the scent of stew drifting out through the cracked door. There was something about it that felt more than nostalgic. It felt safe.
Luffy stepped through the doorway without a word, brushing dust off his shorts. Inside, the bar was mostly empty now. A few villagers sat quietly in the corner, laughing over drinks, their voices low and friendly.
Makino glanced up from behind the counter as the door creaked.
Her eyes softened.
She set down the dish she'd been wiping and reached for a clean bowl, already moving toward the pot behind her.
" You look like you've been through a battle. Training again? "
Luffy gave a lazy grin, sliding into the seat at the bar and resting his arms on the counter.
" Something like that. "
Makino didn't ask more. She ladled a steaming portion of stew into a bowl, added fresh bread to the side, and placed it in front of him without ceremony. He nodded in thanks and dug in.
The food was simple—meat, potatoes, carrots—but it hit perfectly after a long day. Each bite grounded him, reminded him of where he was now, and what he was preparing for.
Makino leaned against the back counter, wiping her hands with a cloth.
" You've been more focused lately. Calm, even. I remember when you used to run around here screaming about pirates and meat every ten minutes. "
" Still thinking about pirates and meat, just not as loud about it, I guess. "
She smiled, then let the silence linger between them. It wasn't uncomfortable. Just… natural.
Luffy took another bite and stared at the wood grain of the counter.
There were times where he almost forgot this wasn't just a dream. That he really had died, really had been reborn. That somewhere, out there, the sea was waiting to test everything he thought he knew.
Makino glanced at him again.
" You leaving soon? "
" Yeah, but you'll still have me for the next two months. "
She nodded once, and said nothing more.
The village outside dimmed further, the sky shifting into shades of midnight blue. The voices in the corner quieted as the last of the regulars stood to leave.
Luffy finished his food in silence. When he was done, he stood, stretched, and set the bowl gently back on the counter.
" Thanks. I'll be back tomorrow morning. "
" I'll keep the good bread warm. "
He stepped outside, into the cooling night. The stars had started to show above the rooftops, and the air smelled like salt and grass.
The wind brushed his hair as he looked up toward the hill beyond the trees.
Tomorrow, he would train harder. Because soon, the sea would call. And he would answer.
....
The next morning came with a burst of sunlight over the forest canopy, cutting through the early mist and dancing across the treetops.
Luffy stood just outside Dadan's shack, clutching a small pouch of "borrowed" coins and grinning like he'd gotten away with murder. He hadn't left a note—just a smirk and his footprints in the dirt trail behind him.
He made sure to sprint halfway down the mountain before Dadan had a chance to realize what was missing.
By the time her distant roar echoed through the trees, he was already gone.
---
After an hour of steady travel—hopping rocks, leaping over logs, and occasionally startling wildlife—he arrived at the outer rim of Edge Town.
Nestled near the cliffs a few miles east of Foosha, Edge Town wasn't large, but it was louder, busier, and rougher than the village he'd grown up in. Traders passed through often. Sailors came to drink and spend coin. And people looking for opportunity—legal or otherwise—tended to linger.
It was a town with dirt roads and mismatched buildings, most of them crooked, all of them lived-in. Shouts rang out from the market square as merchants haggled with passersby, and the distant clanging of metal echoed from a nearby forge.
Luffy pulled his hat tighter around his neck and slipped into the flow of people.
It was noisier than Foosha. Messier, too. But there was a strange energy to it—like something could happen at any moment. He liked it.
He passed a bakery with blackened windows and stopped briefly to buy a few meat buns with the coins he hadn't stuffed too deep in his pocket. Chewing slowly, he wandered deeper into the main strip, where weapon stalls, used books, strange maps, and shady deals passed between palm and pocket with a nod.
Nothing big caught his eye… until he reached the edge of the square.
There was a small crowd gathered there—mostly older kids, a few curious adults, and a couple of men who looked like they'd seen their fair share of bar fights. At the center, a wooden fighting post stood crookedly in the ground, rough and splintered from frequent use. Faded chalk letters stretched across a nailed-on board above it.
[ Challenge the strongest in Edge Town – Olaf.
If you win, you get 2000 Bellies.
Entrance fee: 400 Bellies ]
'Oh, looks interesting,' Luffy thought.
He made his way closer, the air buzzing with idle chatter, the clink of coins, and the sharp slap of feet moving across dirt.
In the middle of a makeshift ring—nothing more than a circle scuffed into the ground—two shirtless men circled each other. One was short and stocky, built like a barrel, with thick arms and a hard scowl. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his feet slow but heavy.
The other—lean, wiry, and grinning—had a weird, angular haircut that stuck up in the middle like a fin. His hands stayed loose by his sides, and his steps were light, almost lazy. But Luffy could tell by the subtle bounce in his legs that he was quick.
That was Olaf. The so-called strongest in Edge Town.
The challenger grunted and lunged with a wide hook, but Olaf dipped under it effortlessly, weaving sideways and countering with a sharp jab to the ribs. The impact echoed with a dull thump. The bigger man winced, staggered, then tried to throw another punch—slower this time.
A few people in the crowd cheered. Others shouted odds or grumbled about lost bets. Several coins exchanged hands behind Luffy as a rough-looking man smirked and pocketed his winnings.
Luffy leaned against a nearby post, chewing the last bite of a meat bun he'd bought earlier.
He didn't blink as Olaf danced around another swing and delivered a clean right hook to the challenger's jaw. The blow landed with a crisp snap, and the heavier man fell sideways, landing with a puff of dust.
Some in the crowd clapped. A few booed.
Olaf raised both arms overhead, a cocky grin plastered across his face, sweat running down his torso like war paint. He blew a kiss to a girl near the edge of the crowd, who rolled her eyes and turned away.
Luffy tilted his head slightly.
He wasn't impressed.
There was something mechanical about Olaf's movement. Polished, yes—but lacking the edge of real experience. It was performance fighting, made to look flashy, but not built for survival. Luffy had seen fighters who fought to live. This was a show.
A thought tickled the back of his mind.
'Should I try?' he thought.
It wouldn't be a real fight. Just a test. A way to feel out how his body moved against a live opponent—someone who wouldn't shatter if Luffy pulled his punches. And besides, if he held back… no one would get hurt.
He dusted his hands together and stepped away from the post.
His eyes never left Olaf as he walked toward the ring.
TO BE CONTINUED