"Finally, made it to the scaffold," I thought, standing in the square — surprisingly quiet, with only a few people scattered around.
"Climbing up there would be a great idea… or jumping — even better," flashed through my mind while approaching.
Hop!
In an instant, legs shimmered with a metallic gleam, transforming into tightly coiled springs. One swift motion — and the body launched upward. The air screeched from the sudden acceleration, and for a moment, everything slowed as the ground dropped away.
Thud.
A soft landing. The top of the scaffold greeted with stronger wind and a wide-open view of the square.
"Oh, it's actually pretty high," I noted, glancing around. "And strangely enough, the view's better from here."
Fingers brushed over the rough wooden surface beneath the boots.
"Gol D. Roger died right here… What a shame. Would've been something to see him in person."
"Get down! What do you think you're doing up there?!"A sharp voice rang out from below.
Turning toward it, I spotted a man in uniform — probably just a regular city officer or guard.
"One more minute, then I'm down!" came the reply, a smirk playing on my face as I stepped closer to the edge.
"This isn't a place for games," he snapped, already pulling a Den Den Mushi from his holster. "Get down. Now."
Well... nothing more to see anyway, I thought, stepping back.
Springs tensed.Hop — impact, ground, push — the descent ended with a soft landing on cobblestones. The stones thudded underfoot, almost immediately followed by heavy footsteps.
The officer was already charging.
"Hey! Stop right there!" he shouted, baton raised.
A swing came from the right — a quick lean to the side dodged it.The baton whooshed past, grazing the air near my temple.
"Time to bail," flashed through my mind. But before the legs could react, something sharp sliced frighteningly close.
Shhhk—splurt!
Pain shot through the side.
"Damn…" I hissed, glancing down. Blood was already pooling — a shallow but nasty cut.
"So this is the one worth 32 million berries," came a mocking voice nearby.
I looked up.
In front of me stood a huge man, no less than three meters tall.
Broad shoulders, muscular arms, a katana in his right hand — its blade still glistening with my blood.
His chestnut, almost brown hair waved in the wind.
The Marine uniform looked tailored — a cloak strapped with belts and a sword belt at his waist.
"You're fast," he said, stepping closer. "But too overconfident."
"Who are you?" I asked, releasing the wound, my legs already bracing for a jump.
"Commander Yukimura. Head of this base," he answered. "Remember that — it'll be the last thing you hear."
"Now it makes sense why there were so few people around..." I said, scanning the square with my eyes.
They lured me into a trap.But how? When? — I was going over events in my head when a bullet whistled just past my ear, ricocheting off the stone railing.
"Shit!" I cursed, leaping to the side.
I turned around — behind me, right behind the officer who first yelled at me from the scaffold, more people had already appeared.
Marines. In uniform, with rifles. Dozens.
Around the square — on rooftops, in alleys, between stalls — silhouettes flashed everywhere, holding muskets, crossbows, batons.
Some held Den Den Mushi at the ready, others were signaling with flags.
"They were prepared..." I realized, clenching my fists."They were expecting me. That means they knew I'd come to the scaffold long before. But how did they track me so fast…"
Yukimura stepped forward again, slicing the air with his katana.
"You were foolish. Too confident, barging into a Marine nest. You think showing up in Loguetown and yelling you'll be King of the Pirates wouldn't draw attention?"
"Who knew your intel was actually that good..." I smirked, wiping blood from my chin and narrowing my eyes."At least tell me — how did you find me so quickly?"
He raised his katana. The sunlight and the gleam of my blood reflected off its blade.
"You ask too much for a dead man," he rasped, stepping forward."You're just another note in my report."
He dashed forward with surprising speed for such a brute.
I barely dodged — the blade sliced the air right in front of my face, leaving a thin cut on my cheek.
"Oof... that was close," I exhaled, sliding sideways and pushing off with my legs, as if the whole square had turned into an arena.
A gunshot rang out. Then another.
Not aimed at me — at the Marines.
One of them, on the left, fell from the rooftop, crashing through a merchant's awning.
Another took a hit in the shoulder and dropped behind a barrel.
The shots were fast. Precise. Lightning-quick.
They were coming from the other side of the square.
"What the…" Yukimura sharply turned — his katana wavered slightly.
I barely managed to turn toward the sound. On the rooftop of one of the buildings stood a man.
Tall, lean, in a dark shirt, holding a long rifle.
"Got your back, Captain," came a calm voice as he cocked the rifle and fired again.
The bullet zipped past my ear and smashed straight into a Den Den Mushi held by one of the Marines.
I immediately leapt back, avoiding Yukimura's swing — his katana slammed into the cobblestones, splitting the pavement. Stones flew in all directions, and I jumped again.
Other side. Sabo and Karina
"Finally moved everything…" Sabo exhaled, dropping the last crate onto the deck and wiping his forehead.
Before him stood a whole pile — ropes, supply boxes, sacks of flour, spare parts, and some mysterious "female stuff," as he called it in his head. He'd been hauling it all for hours under the sun and up stairs, because Karina, as the "expert logistics strategist," told him exactly what to carry and where.
"Now," she said, looking pleased while flipping through her checklist,"just a few more things left. Warm clothes in case of northern currents, and maybe a quick stop by the armory."
"Armory?" Sabo perked up instantly, as if waking from hibernation."Now that sounds interesting…"
Gin's side
"Yeah, these tonfas can't be fixed," said the gruff voice of an elderly blacksmith, turning the broken weapons in his hands."One of them's basically scrap metal, balance is off…"
"You're not the first to tell me that," Gin replied, holding back irritation.
He'd already visited three smiths, and each said the same thing — "Just get new ones."
"Well, good thing I've got money," he sighed."I'll find something decent…"
He stepped outside, scanning the shops. Most were selling rifles, pistols, and other firearms. But that's not what he needed.
Suddenly, his eyes caught a sign, worn down by time:
"Ipponmatsu Weapon Shop"
"Hmm… sounds promising," he muttered and pushed the door open.
The door creaked, and he walked in.
Shelves were lined with old but well-maintained weapons — mostly swords.
"Welcome," came a voice from behind the counter.
Gin looked up and saw a wiry man in an apron, with a headband and a squint.
"Yeah," Gin said, pulling out the remains of his tonfas."I need something to replace these."
"Then you've come to the right place," said Ipponmatsu, gesturing toward a rack of hanging tonfas.
Starting price — thirty thousand… max — one fifty… I estimated, eyeing the rows of gleaming katanas in the display. The cheapest one was fifty thousand, and another in the center of the room had a price tag of seven hundred thousand berries.
My tonfas looked like toys compared to all that arsenal. I already knew they were out of fashion, but this was another level…
"Hey, kid," the elderly seller called out, sharp-eyed."Can I see your katana while you're browsing?"
"Catch," I said, tossing him a tonfa. He barely caught it, surprised by its weight.
A minute passed before he spoke again, barely taking his eyes off the weapon:
"Listen, kid… you can take any tonfas. For free. Any of them. Just leave me this sword."
I slowly raised an eyebrow.
"So this sword is actually worth something, huh…" I thought, watching him place the blade back on the table.
"Not for sale," I said calmly, taking it back."If it's worth something, I'll keep it. I've got the money, I'll manage."
I returned the weapon to its sheath, already turning a pair of tonfas in my hands that hung on the side rack. They resembled my old ones — simple but sturdy. Metal with weighted ends, comfortable grips. Almost like mine… just new.
"Fifty thousand," I muttered, weighing one in my palm."Not bad, really. The others…"
I glanced around the display. The rest looked like cheap knock-offs — too light, overly decorated, or just poorly balanced. Not weapons for battle, more like ornaments.
"…the rest just don't compare," I concluded aloud, speaking to myself, but the seller nodded anyway, as if I'd said something profound.
"You've got a sharp eye, kid."