The air inside the Museum of the Deep was a different kind of water—thick, cool, and heavy with the silence of ages. The raucous energy of the market street vanished, replaced by a profound hush broken only by the distant, melodic drip of water and a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate through the skeletons of the building itself, a recording of some deep-sea choir from a forgotten trench. Light filtered through the massive resin-paned windows in shifting, aqueous blue shafts, illuminating dancing motes of dust that looked like plankton caught in a sunbeam.
They gravitated towards a small crowd gathered around a mermaid guide. Her voice, trained to carry without shouting, was a clear, pleasant stream cutting through the quiet. "Welcome, surface-walkers and deep-dwellers alike, to the heart of our history," she began, her smile practiced but warm. "I am Coralia. Follow me, and let the currents of time carry us back."
And so the tour began. Coralia led them through cavernous halls where the walls were not stone, but the smoothed, colossal vertebrae of some prehistoric leviathan. Exhibits were nestled in alcoves formed by arching ribs. One displayed the fossilized jaw of a Megalodon, each tooth the size of a cutlass, with placards explaining how ancient Fish-Man warriors would wrestle such beasts to prove their valor. Another held a diorama of the first Coral Communion, with intricate figures carved from luminescent pearl depicting merfolk offering gifts to a carved stone idol of Poseidon.
Coralia was thorough, her narration a well-rehearsed tapestry of dates, names, and significance. "And this sediment layer, you see the flecks of volcanic glass? That marks the Great Eruption of the Ryugu Trench, which forced our ancestors to develop the first bubble-coated architecture..."
For a while, the group stayed together. Jinbe listened with a patient, respectful stillness, occasionally nodding as if confirming a piece of history he himself had witnessed. Galit's eyes darted everywhere, absorbing the structural engineering of the building, muttering under his breath about "load-bearing ossified cartilage" and "acoustic properties of conch-shell amplifiers." Marya moved like a silent shadow, her hands tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket, her golden eyes missing nothing. She seemed less interested in the guide's words and more in the museum itself—the thickness of the resin windows, the placement of security glyphs etched almost invisibly into the fossilized bone frames.
The children, however, possessed the attention span of minnows in a feeding frenzy. Lulee and Geo were initially captivated by a display of shimmering, iridescent seashells, but soon became more interested in trying to poke Jelly to make him jiggle. Jelly, for his part, was a disaster waiting to happen, his wobbling form threatening to topple a delicate mobile of suspended anglerfish skeletons.
Fia swam in increasingly desperate circles, gently herding them. "Lulee, don't touch that. Geo, come back here. Jelly, please, not so close to the exhibit..." Her patient smile was becoming strained. After Jelly nearly dissolved a corner of an informational placate with an anxious drip of his own body, Fia let out a defeated sigh. She swam over to Jinbe and Marya.
"I am so sorry," she whispered, her cheeks flushed with mild embarrassment. "I think I'm going to have to take these three home before they become exhibits themselves. We'll meet you back at the house. Please, enjoy the rest of the tour."
Jinbe chuckled, a low, warm sound that echoed softly in the hall. "Do not worry, Fia. The curiosity of the young is a force of nature. We will find our way."
With a grateful smile, Fia rounded up her chaotic charges and shepherded them back toward the entrance, leaving the adults to the history lesson.
Coralia led the diminished group into the central chamber, the museum's crown jewel. The space opened up, the ribbed ceiling soaring high above. And there, floating on nearly invisible threads of spun glass in the center of the room, was the centerpiece.
It was a massive gear-like crystal, easily three meters across, its center a complex, faceted orb that pulsed with a soft, internal, blue-white light. Eight smaller, perfectly polished crystals orbited it slowly, catching the light and casting shifting, star-like patterns on the surrounding bones of the museum. It was beautiful, impressive, and undeniably the focus of the entire space. A placard at its base was carved with the title: The Heart of Kulakana, the Sea Devourer.
Coralia launched into her grand speech. "And here it is, the source of our island's stability and the focal point of our most ancient legend! Forged from the petrified heart of the Titan-Sea King Kulakana by the First Poseidon and the Dawn Singer, it regulates the very currents of the Grand Line, calms the beasts of the deep, and maintains the bubble over our heads. To know the Devourer is to respect the sea's rage..."
Marya listened, her head tilted. Her eyes, however, were not on the glowing replica. They were on the floor. Then on the walls. She noted the pristine, unworn condition of the coral-tile floor directly surrounding the display. She observed the lack of the same fine, almost invisible layer of grime that clung to the older exhibits. The display was magnificent, but it felt... new. Separate from the ancient bones that housed it.
As Coralia paused for breath, Marya's voice, calm and clear, cut through the narrative. "It's a replica."
Coralia blinked, her spiel interrupted. She looked at Marya, not with annoyance, but with genuine surprise that shifted into admiration. "My! What an astute observation. Yes, indeed. This is a masterful reproduction, powered by electro-crystals from the Ryugu mines. The true Heart, for its own protection and ours, resides in the Oceanus Vault, a chamber deep beneath the palace. Its energy is far too potent to be put on display." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And access is restricted to the royal family alone. Their bloodline holds the only key that can sing the vault open. A necessary precaution, don't you think? To protect such a power."
Marya didn't answer. She just stared at the beautiful, fake heart, its light glinting in her unwavering golden eyes. Her jaw flexed, a tiny, almost imperceptible tic of muscle. The path had just found its first real obstacle, and it was buried deep behind a door only kings could unlock.
The silence that followed the tour guide's revelation was a heavy cloak, worn differently by each of them as they emerged from the museum's skeletal archway back into the vibrant, sun-dappled chaos of Fish-Man Island. The shift was jarring—from the hushed reverence of fossilized history to the lively, shouting present, the air now thick with the scent of frying Devourer Dumplings and salty sea spray.
Jinbe, walking with the steady, grounded pace of a man who had seen centuries of such history, glanced at his two companions. He noted the subtle tension in Marya's shoulders, the way her keen eyes were now slightly narrowed in thought rather than observation, and the uncharacteristic quiet from Galit, whose long neck was coiled in a pensive spiral.
"The legend weighs heavily on newcomers," Jinbe observed, his voice a gentle rumble beneath the market's din. "It is a tale of immense power and immense responsibility. It is natural to be… troubled by it."
Galit's head snapped up, his analytical mind seizing on the most immediate, socially acceptable concern. "Our disquiet is primarily logistical," he stated, the words coming a beat too fast. "The wellbeing of our comrade is our paramount objective. This detour, while culturally informative, represents a significant drain on our already compressed schedule." He delivered it like a report, deflecting from the deeper revelation about the Heart's true location.
Jinbe's wise eyes crinkled at the corners. He understood a deflection when he heard one. "Of course. Your concern for your friend does you credit. But do not let the shadow of worry obscure the—"
His words were cut off by a high, frantic voice.
"Sir Jinbe! Sir! At last!"
A seahorse, no larger than a house cat, zipped through the crowd. It wore a tiny, impeccably tailored uniform of the Ryugu Palace Guard, a minuscule lance strapped to its saddle. Its gills flared with exertion as it skidded to a halt in the air before them, panting.
"I've searched every lane from the palace to the kelp farms!" the seahorse soldier wheezed, its voice a breathless squeak. "His Majesty and the princes request your immediate audience before your departure! It's a matter of some… royal delicacy!"
Jinbe raised a thick eyebrow, a gesture of mild surprise. "An audience? Now? I see." He looked from the flustered messenger to Marya and Galit. "It seems my schedule has also become compressed. I am certain you can find your way back to Henrick's forge from here."
Galit nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Our navigational capacities are more than sufficient for the task. We shall commence preparations for the voyage."
Then, Jinbe's gaze settled fully on Marya. A thoughtful look passed over his face. "Marya," he said, his tone leaving no room for immediate refusal. "You should come."
Marya blinked, her stoic mask slipping for a fraction of a second into pure, unadulterated shock. "What? No. I'm not— That's not necessary."
"Nonsense," Jinbe boomed, a jovial note entering his voice that felt dangerously like a trap being sprung. "The royal family appreciates meeting distinguished visitors. I am certain they would be most interested to make the acquaintance of the daughter of Dracule Mihawk himself." He said the title with a deliberate, weighty emphasis that made Marya's teeth clamp together. She could practically feel the ghost of her father's disapproving stare from across the seas.
A low, amused sound came from Galit. He recognized the maneuver instantly—the polite, inescapable cornering of a superior's expectation. It was a tactic he'd seen his own father use. "An excellent suggestion," Galit chimed in, his voice dripping with false sincerity. His grin widened as Marya's golden eyes, burning with a promise of violent retribution, snapped toward him. "Do not worry about me. I am perfectly capable of returning to the forge and initiating the calculations for our journey tomorrow. You should go. Soak in the… royal experience."
The look Marya gave him could have curdled sea milk. It was a glare of pure, molten fury, silently vowing a world of pain.
Jinbe, either oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the silent war raging beside him, clapped a massive hand on Marya's shoulder. The force of it nearly buckled her knees. "It is settled then! Wonderful! We must not keep the king waiting." He began to steer her gently but inexorably away, following the impatiently hovering seahorse soldier.
Marya had no choice but to fall into step, her boots scuffing against the cobbles with resigned irritation. She shot one last, searing look over her shoulder at Galit, who was now openly grinning, his long neck uncoiled in triumphant amusement.
"Have a productive audience with the royal family!" he called out, waving with far too much cheer.
As she was led away toward the gleaming spires of the palace, Marya muttered under her breath, the words a low, venomous promise lost to the market's noise. "I am going to strangle him with his own neck. Slowly." The path to the Devourer's heart had just taken a detour through a throne room, and she was already plotting the tactical disadvantages.
The path to the Ryugu Palace was a far cry from the bustling market lanes. It was a grand processional route, paved with mother-of-pearl tiles that shimmered with a soft, inner light, flanked by statues of past Poseidons hewn from monolithic coral. The air here was still, carrying the faint, clean scent of the aquatic from the protective bubble high above and the distant, sweet perfume of royal sea-blossoms. The seahorse soldier led them through gates of woven, living pearl that parted without touch, into courtyards where fountains of liquid light bubbled silently.
Every guard and courtier they passed received the same introduction from Jinbe. "This is Marya. My guest." His tone brooked no question, and the acceptance was immediate, though laced with tangible curiosity. Eyes widened at the sight of a human in the heart of the palace, especially one escorted by the Knight of the Sea. Whispers trailed in their wake, speculating on the significance of the young woman in the leather jacket who moved with the silent, confident grace of a predator.
The throne room was a breathtaking space, its vaulted ceiling supported by arches carved to look like leaping dolphins and coiling serpents. At the far end, on a dais of polished whalebone, sat King Neptune himself, a giant even among his people, his beard a magnificent ginger cascade. His presence was jovial but immense, filling the room.
"Jinbe!" the king's voice boomed, warm and welcoming. "You return to us! And you've brought a new face to our halls!"
Before Jinbe could respond, the side doors opened and the royal children entered. First came Fukaboshi, his demeanor serious and regal, followed by the more mischievous Ryuboshi and Manboshi. Lastly, gliding with a gentle, hesitant grace, came Shirahoshi, the princess, a large, leather-bound book clutched protectively to her chest.
Jinbe offered a respectful bow of his head. "Your Majesty. Princes. Princess. It is good to be back."
Fukaboshi's keen eyes settled on Marya. "And who have you brought into our company, Jinbe?"
Jinbe placed a hand on Marya's shoulder, a gesture that felt both protective and inescapably presenting. "Allow me to introduce Marya. Daughter of Dracule Mihawk."
The effect was instantaneous. A collective, sharp intake of breath echoed softly in the vast room. Ryuboshi and Manboshi stared, their mouths agape. Fukaboshi's composed mask slipped into genuine astonishment. Even King Neptune leaned forward, his massive hands gripping the arms of his throne.
"The Dracule Mihawk?" Fukaboshi breathed. "The Greatest Swordsman? I had no idea he had a daughter."
"It has been many years since our paths last crossed," Jinbe said smoothly. "She has certainly grown into her own."
King Neptune's booming laugh returned, shaking the delicate crystal ornaments hanging from the ceiling. "The resemblance is astounding! The eyes! There is no mistaking that lineage!"
Marya, who had been grinding her teeth through the entire introduction, finally found a space to speak. She offered a curt, minimal bow, the picture of strained politeness. "Your Majesty. A pleasure." The words felt like ash in her mouth.
"Nonsense, the pleasure is ours!" Neptune declared. "We must talk! Attendants! Bring another seat! And tea! The sun-bleached kelp blend!"
As servants scurried to obey, the three princes closed in, their earlier formality replaced by a boyish, fascinated energy.
"What is he like?" Ryuboshi asked, his voice eager.
"Are the rumors true? Can he really cut a mountain in half?" Manboshi added.
Fukaboshi, slightly more composed but no less curious, asked, "Did he teach you? Do you fight as he does?"
Marya took a slow, steadying breath, her patience wearing thinner than a razr's edge. She provided short, clipped answers. "He is quiet. Some rumors have basis. He insisted I know how." Each response was a stone dropped into a pond, only encouraging more questions.
Then Fukaboshi, his eyes alight with a warrior's spark, asked the question she'd been dreading. "Would you honor me with a spar? I would be fascinated to see the style of the world's greatest swordsman firsthand."
Marya's inward groan was a seismic event she alone felt. This was a interference, a pointless display. But her mind, ever tactical, quickly mapped the advantages. Earning the trust and respect of the crown prince could open doors. It could make them less suspicious of her presence, her questions. She met his gaze, her golden eyes cool. "If you wish," she said, her tone implying it was of little consequence to her.
King Neptune clapped his enormous hands together. "A brilliant idea! What a spectacle! To the training grounds!"
His attendants immediately began to protest, voices fluttering with concern for protocol and the king's safety. Neptune waved them off. "Oh, stuff and nonsense! This is a historic opportunity! We shall all go!"
During the commotion, Marya's attention was caught by Shirahoshi, who had lingered slightly apart, watching the exchange with wide, awestruck eyes. The princess's gaze kept flicking to the sword hilt visible over Marya's shoulder.
Shyly, almost whispering, Shirahoshi asked, "Do you… do you really know how to use that?"
Marya followed her gaze. "My father insisted," she said, her voice losing some of its edge. Her eyes then dropped to the book the princess held so tightly. The title, embossed in flaking gold leaf, read: Poseidon's Bequest: The Unwritten History of the Deep.
Marya's eyebrow quirked upward. "Interesting reading material."
Shirahoshi blushed, pulling the book closer. "Oh… I… I am trying to learn more about our island's past. It's all so… complicated."
A genuine, wry smirk touched Marya's lips. "Ironically enough," she said, "so am I."
Shirahoshi's eyes lit up with a sudden, shared connection. "Really?"
Before Marya could answer, the group began moving, swept along by the king's enthusiasm. Fukaboshi waved for them to follow. Marya gave the princess a final, confident smirk. "Maybe after I defeat your brother, we can learn about it together."
Shirahoshi swam to keep pace with her, her expression one of pure astonishment. "You think you can beat him? He is really strong."
Marya's smirk widened. It wasn't a boast, but a simple statement of fact. "Combat isn't always about raw strength. And I am more than capable of overpowering him."
Shirahoshi blinked, a slow, amazed gesture. "Wow…" she breathed, then a soft, melodic giggle escaped her. "You remind me of someone I know." The comment was left hanging in the water as they moved toward the promised clash of blades, the path to the Devourer's heart now winding through the royal training grounds.