The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, painting streaks of gold over the endless blue horizon. The Going Merry trailed behind Dez's vessel, now tied to its stern for the journey. The soft creak of wood and the rhythmic splash of waves against the hull carried a calmness that almost felt unnatural, considering what they were headed into.
On the deck of his ship, Dez sat cross-legged before a low table, a soft cloth spread over its surface. His pistols, Dusk and Dawn, rested in pieces, the dark steel catching the dying sunlight. His hands moved with the careful precision of someone performing a ritual: cleaning each chamber, running the oiled rag along every barrel, checking springs, sights, and chambers.
Between them lay a stack of bounty posters. He flipped one over, weighed it down with a bullet casing, then another, until three faces stared back at them all.
"Arlong's lieutenants," Dez said, his voice calm, almost detached, but carrying weight that made all eyes turn toward him.
Sanji stepped out from the galley hatch just then, balancing a tray with steaming plates of fried rice, grilled fish, and bread. He set them down, gave a sideways glance at Dez's spread of posters, and muttered, "Lovely dinner company." Still, he didn't stop; food was food, and he wouldn't let it grow cold.
Zoro leaned lazily against the mast nearby, a jug of sake in hand, his good eye half-lidded but focused. He wasn't drunk yet, but the faint warmth in his cheeks spoke to the steady pull he'd been taking since boarding.
Usopp sat cross-legged on the deck closer to Luffy, curiosity in his eyes, though he didn't dare reach for the posters without permission.
Dez tapped one with the edge of a cleaning rod. "This one here, Kuroobi. Martial artist. Fish-Man Karate, level forty practitioner." He smirked faintly. "That might not mean much to you lot, but let me put it simply: he can shatter stone with his bare hands. Strong enough to rip through a platoon of Marines without breaking a sweat. Nine million bounty on his head."
Sanji lit a cigarette as he lowered himself near the table, exhaling smoke upward so it wouldn't trail over the food. "Nine million, huh? For a fish-man said to be ten times stronger than a human, that's pocket change."
"Exactly," Dez replied, carefully sliding the rod down the barrel of Dusk. "It's low for what he's capable of. Which tells me two things: one, the Marines underestimate Arlong's crew… or two, they're too scared or too lazy to properly raise the price." His eyes hardened. "Neither option bodes well for Cocoyashi Village."
Zoro grunted, lifting his jug. "So basically, they're strong, and they've been getting away with it."
"More or less."
Dez flipped to the next poster, pinning it with another casing. "Hatchan. They call him Hachi. Octopus fish-man. Six arms, six swords. Don't laugh, he's clumsy-looking, but don't underestimate him. Each blade moves independently, and he's been known to fight multiple enemies at once, matching entire crews by himself. Eight million bounty."
Usopp's jaw slackened. "Six swords?! That's… that's ridiculous!" He glanced at Zoro, almost apologetic. "I mean, uh, even you only use three."
Zoro smirked lazily, taking a sip. "Guess I'll just cut him down twice as fast, then."
Dez's gaze lingered on Zoro for a moment before shifting back to the poster. "Don't get cocky. A fish-man's natural strength, plus six blades? He's not some drunken swordsman in a back-alley duel. One slip-up, and he'll carve you to ribbons."
Zoro met Dez's warning with a grin. "Then I won't slip."
Dez didn't answer; he'd seen enough overconfidence get men killed to know better than to argue.
The last poster came forward. A blue-skinned man with thick lips and a brutish build. Dez tapped it with a fingertip, leaving a faint smudge of gun oil.
"Chew. Another officer. Bounty's only five and a half million, but don't let that fool you. His specialty is water bullets."
"Water bullets?" Usopp blinked. "Like… spitballs?"
Dez's expression flattened. "Like cannon fire. He spits water with enough force to punch holes clean through a man. Or a ship's hull."
That sobered the mood. Even Luffy, who had been leaning on the railing and humming to himself, tilted his head curiously, his usual grin subdued.
Dez finished reassembling Dawn, the soft clicks of metal punctuating his words. "Three lieutenants. Stronger than most men you'll ever face. And all of them under Arlong's command. If you think this'll be simple, you're already dead."
Sanji slid a plate across the table toward him. "Heavy talk for dinner. Eat. You'll need the strength."
Dez smirked faintly, setting Dawn aside and reaching for the food. "Don't mind if I do." He took a slow bite, chewing thoughtfully before continuing, his eyes still fixed on the posters. "Arlong himself… he's dangerous, but it's not just power that makes him a threat. It's the hate. He despises humans. To him, we're beneath fish-men — livestock at best. Cocoyashi isn't just occupied. It's enslaved."
That earned silence. Even Luffy, carefree as he was, wore a frown, his straw hat tilted low.
Usopp swallowed hard. "And Nami's… connected to them somehow?"
Dez glanced at him, then at Luffy. "If you've seen a tattoo of a swordfish with a saw nose anywhere on her… then yes. That means she's tied to them. Whether by choice or by force, that mark belongs to Arlong."
The quiet stretched. Only the sound of waves and the faint scrape of Dez's cloth as he polished Dusk remained.
Finally, Luffy broke it with a grin that was sharper than usual. "Doesn't matter. If she's our friend, we'll get her back."
Dez studied him for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "You're insane. But maybe that's what it takes."
Sanji exhaled smoke and pushed his plate aside, muttering, "That's exactly what it takes."
Zoro tilted his jug in agreement.
Dez slid both pistols back into their holsters, the soft weight settling at his hips. He sat back, stretching his legs, and finally reached for his plate again. "Then it's settled. We know what we're walking into. Enjoy your meal tomorrow, it gets bloody."
The others fell into a strange rhythm Sanji fussing about flavor, Usopp rambling nervously about six-sword style, Zoro drinking in silence, and Luffy smiling wide at the thought of a fight.
And through it all, Dez ate quietly, eyes lingering on the posters one last time before stacking them neatly. His guns gleamed in the fading light, ready.
The storm on the horizon was drawing near.