The salty breeze was a blessing and a curse. After days of wandering the rugged coastline, Lazarus could taste the ocean on his lips, but the sun bit into his shoulders like a hungry gull.
"Lazarus sir." Dobby's voice carried over the sound of crashing waves. His long fingers pointed far into the glittering horizon. "There—there, Dobby sees it! A ship! A ship, sir!"
Lazarus shaded his eyes with a hand. Sure enough, a dark silhouette rose against the distant light, its sails catching the wind. He squinted, narrowing his focus on the flag.
"Not so fast," Lazarus muttered. "Could be pirates. Could be worse."
Dobby puffed out his chest—slightly more than necessary—and planted his hands on his hips. "Dobby is not afraid of pirates anymore, sir! After wrestling sea-snakes and the three-eyed crustacean with Sir Lazarus, Dobby is ready for anything sir!"
"That crustacean nearly took your arm off," Lazarus said flatly.
"Details, sir," Dobby sniffed, nose high. "Small details. Dobby has grown stronger—mentally and magically."
Lazarus chuckled, but his gaze stayed locked on the approaching vessel. He scanned the flag until a familiar emblem came into view: the seagull crest of the Marines, fluttering in the wind.
"That's a Marine ship," he said at last. "At least we're not dealing with slavers or cruel pirates."
Dobby's ears twitched excitedly. "Marines! That means safety, yes? Marines sir protect the good and punish the wicked!"
Lazarus shot him a sidelong look. "In theory."
They moved quickly down to a narrow strip of beach, their boots sinking into the sand.
Lazarus selected woods that still retains a lot of moisture so their smoke would be more. "We'll make a signal fire. Big enough they can't miss it."
Dobby didn't hesitate. With a snap of his fingers, the pile of wood arranged itself into a tidy pyramid. Another snap, and a burst of blue sparks ignited the base, sending smoke spiraling upward.
The waves rolled lazily beneath the Marine vessel as it cut across the endless blue. On the deck, the salty breeze carried the cries of seagulls, the groans of ropes, and the rhythm of boots striking wood.
. . .
"Vice Admiral Garp!" A young officer hurried across the deck, saluting with stiff precision. He pointed to the hazy horizon where a faint wisp of smoke curled against the sky. "There's smoke spotted two nautical miles northeast! Possible distress signal! What are your orders, sir?"
At the bow, under the shadow of the great figurehead, Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp sat cross-legged, his arms folded, his jaw slack as he dozed in the sun. A faint snore rattled from him, interrupted only by the crunch of a rice cracker he had absentmindedly been chewing before drifting into his nap.
The officer hesitated, his eyes darting toward the others on deck. No one moved. No one breathed a word. Waking up Garp could be dangerous oftentimes. Everyone had seen it before: the Vice Admiral startled awake, stretching lazily, and unknowingly sending the poor soul who woke him flying across the deck—or overboard entirely.
Silence hung heavy until a sharp click of boots echoed. Bogart, ever the calm shadow at Garp's side, stepped forward. Adjusting his cap, he leaned down slightly and barked in a firm voice, "Garp! Someone's about to eat your senbei stash!"
In an instant, the snoring stopped. Garp shot upright with a thunderous snort, eyes blazing awake.
"WHAT?! WHO DARES?!" His hand instinctively reached for the snack pouch at his side.
Only when he saw Bogart's steady stare did the confusion fade, replaced by a gruff chuckle. "Tch. Damn you, Bogart… fine, what's the problem?
"Hmmm? Smoke, ya say?" Garp muttered after hearing the report. Bogart continued. "Yes, disress signal… or possibly a trap."
Garp scratching his beard with a fist the size of a cannonball. He squinted at the horizon without standing, as though he could size up the situation with just a glance. The man had fought countless pirates, survived ambushes, and toppled legends; his instincts were sharper than most entire fleets.
"Hmm…" he muttered, pausing as if deciding between ignoring the matter or finishing his nap. Then, with a sudden grin, he smacked the deck with his fist, cracking the planks. The entire crew jumped.
"OF COURSE we're going to check it out! What are ya waiting for, an engraved invitation?" he barked, teeth flashing as he let out his booming laugh. "Wahahahaha!"
The officer saluted, relief flooding his face. "Yes, sir!" He immediately relayed orders to adjust the sails.
The ship veered northeast, its bow cutting sharply across the waves toward the thin trail of smoke.
"Sir… they're changing course!" Dobby's ears twitched and said. The ship was colossal, far larger than any merchant vessel he'd seen in his inherited memories, its sails stamped with the bold symbol of the Marines. But what stood out most was the proud bulldog head biting on a bone carved at its prow. Recognition flickered instantly.
"That's not just any Marine ship," Lazarus muttered, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "That's Garp's ship, the Marine Hero. It seems we'll not be in danger for the time being."
Although most marines are good natured, there's some who are in collusion with pirates and even trafficker. If it were anyone else, he would be vigilant thoughout because Dobby—a rare, never-seen-before creature in this world is with him.
While he was thinking, he noticed that the ship slowed, holding its distance. The waters around the island were shallow, dangerous for a vessel of it's size to come closer. "There's no place to dock here. Dobby, we may need to apparate directly."
At first, Lazarus want to hide his ability, but on a second thought, he decided go against it. He want to catch the attention of Garp, who has strong reputation in Marines.
As an aspiring merchant, pirates is one of the danger he would encounter in the sea. If he could get them move for him using Garp's name, it would be best. He also doesn't think Garp would mind it as long as he doesn't use it to harm people.
With that in mind, the Marines who was preparing smaller boat to enter the island saw them vanished in a soft pop!—like the world itself hiccupped. In the next moment, Lazarus and Dobby emerged on the deck of Vice Admiral Garp's ship.
"Intruder alert!" Everyone on the ship was startled at their sudden appearance. Their hands quickly pull out their weapons, looking at the Lazarus and Dobby with vigilance.
Garp's sharp gaze traced the space where the two had appeared. "Instantaneous movement… It must be a Devil Fruit trick."
His gaze landed first on Dobby. The strange creature's big green eyes and long ears twitched under the Marines' scrutiny. Garp tilted his head, frowning as though digging through old memories. "...What kind of special race are you supposed to be?"
However, he quickly waved the thought away, deciding it wasn't worth the headache. Then his eyes locked onto the boy beside him.
The lad was looking at him, one hand gripping the strap of a worn bag slung over his shoulder. The odd bulge at the corner revealed a telltale curl of a Devil Fruit's pattern peeking through the fabric.
Though what seized his interest was the fire in the boy's eyes. It wasn't the usually eyes he sees when people looks at him—it's an eyes that seems to understand him, yet curious.
"BWAHAHAHAHA! You've got guts, brats, making quite an entrance o my ship like that!" Garp's grin widened, cracking across his face like stone splitting under pressure.
The Marines held their weapons ready, glancing at their Vice Admiral for orders. But Garp simply crossed his arms and let out a booming laugh.
"So what is it, brats—are you introducing yourselves as friends, or am I knockin' you flat as enemies?!"