—Nami's Third Person POV—
The sound of boots trampling through her mikan trees sent dread crawling up Nami's spine.
She watched the Marine soldiers tear through the grove with their crude hands, their uniforms a mockery of justice as they destroyed years of careful care and cultivation.
The tangerine scent that usually brought her comfort now mingled with the stench of corruption seeping from their every movement.
"Stop." Her voice cut through the humid air like a blade. The Marines froze, their greedy fingers still wrapped around the branches they'd been breaking. "If you don't leave now, Arlong and his pirates will kill you and sink your ship."
The threat tasted bitter on her tongue, invoking the name of the monster who'd held her village captive. But desperation stripped away pride, left only the raw instinct to protect what belonged to her.
What belonged to them all.
She couldn't believe this was happening. Not now. Not when she'd finally done it.
One hundred million Berri. Every blood-stained note, every coin earned through theft and cartography, every hardship she'd gone through, every betrayal that weighted her soul, making her feel no better than the pirates she was stealing from.
The weight of that fortune had pressed against her chest for years, a constant reminder that freedom hung within reach.
And now all the money has been finally collected, just give it to Arlong, and Cocoyasi Village would shed the chains that had bound it for nearly a decade.
The deal was simple. Brutally, horrifically simple. She'd mapped the East Blue's vast waters, navigated through storms that would have claimed lesser crews, all while wearing the tattoo of her captor like a brand.
But it would end. Today, it would end.
Instead, these Marines—these supposed protectors who'd ignored every plea for help, every desperate letter, every child's cry echoing from her village—stood in her grove, preparing to steal the very key to their salvation.
The lead officer stepped forward, his face twisted into something that might have passed for a smile on a more honest man.
Captain Nezumi. Even his name slithered like the rodent he resembled, whiskers twitching as he surveyed the destruction his men had wrought.
"Oh, I'm not so sure about that," Nezumi drawled, his voice carrying the particular brand of sarcasm that belonged to those who'd never faced real consequences.
His rat-like eyes gleamed as he turned toward his subordinates, and when he spoke again, his tone shifted into something darker, more sadistic. "Hurry up! We're looking for one hundred million Berri, not some grain of rice!"
The words hit Nami like a physical blow.
'One hundred million Berri. The exact amount. How did he know…?'
Genzo stepped forward from behind her, his scarred face hardening into the expression she'd seen him wear when dealing with troublemakers in the village as the sheriff.
"You Bastard! How Did You Know That Exact Number?!" Genzo's voice conveyed the suspicion and the implication of what he was hearing.
Nezumi's laugh scraped against her eardrums like nails on stone. "Oh, that, it is nothing really. I just had a feeling it was about this much. ChiChiChiChi!" His mocking chuckle dissolved into something uglier, more genuine in its cruelty.
The shock waves down Nami's spine felt like lightning striking her nerves.
Her breathing hitched, became shallow, and dread pooled in her stomach despite the seasonal heat.
That laugh—she'd heard it before. Not from Nezumi's throat, but echoing in her nightmares, reverberating through the halls of Arlong Park whenever the shark-man found particular pleasure in someone's suffering.
Shaaahahaha.
"WAS THIS ARLONG'S IDEA?!" The words tore from her throat, practically screamed across the grove. Her hands trembled at her sides, nails digging crescents into her palms.
Nezumi's grin widened, showing teeth that belonged more in a sewer than on a human face. "Why would he do that? I'm just a good Marine returning stolen money."
The casualness of the lie made her stomach lurch. Good Marine. The phrase felt like poison in the air between them, contaminating everything it touched.
"I CAN'T BELIEVE HOW LOW YOU MARINES HAVE SUNK!!!" Genzo's shout carried the weight of years of disappointment, of watching his people suffer while their supposed protectors turned away.
"WE WAITED FOR YOU!!" Footsteps rushed through the grove, and Nojiko appeared at the edge of the clearing, her blue hair disheveled from running. Nami's sister took in the scene—the scattered branches, the Marines with their hands full of destruction, and her face transformed with fury.
Nojiko's voice cracked with emotion. "ALL THIS TIME, WE WAITED FOR THE MARINES TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT ARLONG, AND YOU'RE WORKING WITH THOSE SCUM PIRATES!!!"
The words crashed over Nami like a tidal wave. Shock, anger, disgust, frustration, despair, sadness—every negative emotion she'd buried for eight years erupted simultaneously, creating a typhoon in her mind.
Her hands clenched into fists, her teeth bit down on her lower lip until she tasted copper, and through it all, Arlong's detestable face materialized in her vision like a specter, his shark-toothed grin splitting wide with that horrible, mocking laugh that had haunted her dreams.
Shaahahahahaha!!!
Shaaahahahahahahaha!!
Shaaahahahahahaha!
Shaaahahahahaha!!!!
"Found something!"
The shout from one of the Marines searching near the mikan trees brought the attention of everyone present.
Three soldiers converged on the spot, their hands working frantically to extract something heavy from the soil. Dirt flew as they dug, their excitement palpable as metal scraped against metal.
Nezumi rushed toward them, his earlier composure replaced by hungry anticipation. The chest emerged from its earthen hiding place, just like Nami remembered, somehow diminished by the daylight and prying eyes.
When they forced it open, the contents gleamed dully in the afternoon sun.
"Huh? Is this all?" Nezumi's voice carried genuine puzzlement, his whiskers twitching as he stared into the chest.
The question pulled Nami from her shock like a fishhook through her consciousness. Her legs moved without her permission, carrying her toward the chest that had represented hope, freedom, the end of everything she'd endured.
What she saw made her mind go blank.
A few stacks of bloodied, battered bills lay scattered at the bottom of the chest. The money bore the wear of countless transactions, the bloodied stains of desperate heists, but there was so little of it. Twenty million Berri at most.
Where once one hundred and eighty million had rested, now only scraps remained.
'Where is it?' The question echoed in her skull, bouncing between her ears like a ricocheting bullet. 'Where is the money?'
"Where's the rest?" Nezumi voiced her internal scream, his tone sharp with suspicion. "The information said there should be more."
One of his subordinates reached deeper into the chest, his fingers probing the corners until they found something else. Paper crinkled as he extracted a folded note.
"Captain, I found this."
Nezumi snatched the note with greedy fingers, unfolding it with the ceremony of someone opening a death warrant. His eyes scanned the contents, and when he read aloud, each word fell like a stone into still water.
"'I Told You, You Are A Liar.'"
The words hit Nami like a physical blow. Her mind immediately conjured an image—dead fish eyes behind black hair, a perpetually bored expression that masked calculations running deeper than most people could fathom.
'Hikigaya!'
She spun on her heel and ran. Her feet pounded against the packed earth of the village paths, her heart hammering a rhythm of panic and rage. Behind her, voices shouted—Nezumi's frustrated curses, Genzo's calls for her to wait, Nojiko's worried cries—but they faded into background noise as she sprinted toward the village center.
"Nami!"
Luffy's voice stopped her mid-stride. He stood in the middle of the street, his straw hat slightly askew, that eternally carefree expression painted across his features. Even now, with her world collapsing around her, he looked like he didn't have a worry in the world.
"What's wrong?" His tone carried the same oblivious quality it always did, as if he existed in a bubble where catastrophe couldn't touch him.
Fury surged through her veins like liquid fire. "WHY ARE YOU STILL ON THIS ISLAN—" The words caught in her throat, replaced by something more urgent, more desperate. "Where Is He, The 'Dead-Eyed Bastard'?"
Luffy blinked at her, clearly baffled by the venom in her voice, the way she'd practically screamed the question. His rubber features scrunched in confusion before understanding dawned, and he raised one arm to point down a side street.
"Hikigaya's with Zoro and the others over there."
She didn't wait for him to finish. Her legs carried her forward again, driven by a mixture of rage and something that might have been hope—if hope could burn like acid in your chest.
Her breath came in short gasps as she rounded the corner, her eyes scanning frantically until she spotted them.
There they were. Zoro stood with his back to a tree, his three swords at his side, his expression more serious than she'd ever seen it. Beside him, Usopp gestured animatedly while Sanji took long drags from a cigarette, the smoke curling upward in lazy spirals. Johnny and Yusako were also there with another man who should be a bit familiar.
And there, impossible to miss despite her fury, stood Hikigaya Hachiman in that ridiculous wizard's hat and flowing cloak that made him look like he'd escaped from some children's fairy tale.
"YOU BASTARD!!"
The Dead-Eyed Demon. Even now, dressed like a discount magician, those lifeless fish eyes of his surveyed the world with that same calculating indifference that had made her skin crawl.
The moment she spotted him, every turbulent emotion swirling in her chest crystallized into pure, molten fury.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" The words exploded from her throat as she barreled toward him, her vision tunneling until all she could see was that stupid pointed hat and the infuriating calm of his posture.
She didn't slow down. Couldn't slow down. The rage propelling her forward had taken control of her legs, and when she collided with him, the impact sent them both tumbling.
His ridiculous wizard hat flew off his head like a startled bird as he crashed to the ground, and she found herself sitting astride him, her hands pressed against his chest, breathing hard from both the sprint and the collision.
"Where is it?" she demanded, catching her breath while glaring down at his prone form.
Hikigaya blinked up at her with that same maddeningly neutral expression, his black hair now disheveled without the hat to contain it. "Where is what?"
The fake ignorance in his tone made her anger flare white-hot. Her hands twisted into the fabric of his cloak, bunching the material in her fists as she leaned closer to his face.
"DON'T YOU DARE ACT INNOCENT!!" she shouted, her voice cracking with frustration. "I KNOW YOU TOOK MY MONEY!!!"
"Yes," he replied without hesitation, his tone as straightforward as if she'd asked him about the weather. "I took the money."
The casual admission hit her like a slap. Anger and frustration filled her voice as she shook him by the cloak, the fabric rustling with each violent motion.
"GIVE IT BACK!! GIVE IT ALL BACK!!! THAT MONEY, THAT MONEY IS—"
"For the sake of the village."
His words, spoken in that same calm, cold, even tone, completed her sentence and brought her furious tirade to a screeching halt. She stared down at him, her mouth still open from the interrupted shout, her brain struggling to process what he'd just said.
"How-How do you know that?" The question came out smaller than she'd intended, uncertainty creeping into her voice. 'What kind of game is he playing this time?'
"Your sister is quite talkative," he said simply. "She told us what was happening in this village."
The rage surged back, stronger than before. "If you knew, Then Give It Back!!" she screamed, her voice breaking.
"If This Is About The Money I Stole From You, Then Fine—You Can Have It All! But At Least Give Me Back The Money For The Village!"
For the first time since she'd seen him, the look in those dead-like eyes turned sharp. They focused on her with an intensity that made her breath catch, and when he spoke, his voice carried a weight she'd never heard from him before.
"And what next? What happens after I give you the money?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could form the words, she felt herself being pulled upward.
His body, which had been pinned beneath her, began to rise in a way that defied physics—smoothly, unnaturally, as if gravity had suddenly decided to reverse itself. Within seconds, he was standing upright, and she found herself standing as well, though she couldn't remember how she'd gotten to her feet.
It struck her for the first time that he was actually taller than her, even without that ridiculous hat perched on his head. The realization felt oddly disorienting, as if the world had shifted slightly off its axis.
The serious look on his face made it impossible to ignore him. Those strange eyes, which had seemed so lifeless, now burned with an intelligence that indicated he had seen through enough lies and facades to no longer bother with pretense.
"You're still planning to give the money to Arlong," he said. It wasn't a question. "Even though he was never planning to keep his promise."
He didn't pause for her to respond, his words flowing with the relentless logic of someone laying out an irrefutable argument.
"The Marines were sent by Arlong, weren't they? Any information broker in the East Blue knows that the Marines from the 16th branch have been taking bribes from Arlong for years."
"Their timing, showing up at your village right now at the exact moment you had the money—it means he was never planning to honor his deal with you."
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW!!" she screamed, the words tearing from her throat like shards of glass.
"This Has Nothing To Do With You! If Arlong Went This Roundabout Way To Avoid Keeping His Promise, All I Need To Do Is Put The Money Directly In Front Of Him And Force Him To Honor It! Arlong Only Respects Money!"
The expression on his face shifted, and what she saw there made her stomach drop. Pity. He was looking at her with pity, and somehow that felt worse than his usual indifference.
"How about we test that theory?" he said quietly.
He raised his hand to the side, and for a moment—just a moment—Nami could swear she saw it glowing with some kind of ethereal light.
Then, impossibly, the wizard hat that had been blown away during their collision flew through the air and landed neatly in his outstretched palm.
He brushed the dust off the ridiculous thing with careful movements, then reached inside and pulled out something that made her mind reel.
A large cloth sack emerged from the hat—a sack easily five times the size of the opening it had supposedly come from. He pushed it toward her, the weight of it evident in the way his arm strained slightly.
"What…is that?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her mind struggled to process what she'd just witnessed, where the sack had come from, though a part of her already suspected the answer. She couldn't believe he would give it to her so easily—not after everything.
"One hundred million Berri," Hikigaya said simply. "Your money wasn't enough, so I added some from my side."
The casual way he said it made her head spin. "Why-why would you do that?"
His expression didn't change, but there was something almost caring in those dead fish eyes as he delivered his answer with characteristic bluntness.
"Because you're a stubborn bitch who won't believe anything I say until you see it for yourself." He paused, his gaze never leaving her face.
"Go give this money to Arlong. See for yourself how much he loves money enough to keep a promise that would cost him ten times what he gets from it."
Nami's hands trembled as she opened the sack, her fingers running over the crisp bills inside. Real money. Every note is genuine, every stack is properly bound. Hikigaya's words echoed in her mind like a funeral bell as she clutched the sack to her chest and began walking toward Arlong Park.
'See for yourself.'
Her pace quickened without her conscious decision, her feet carrying her faster until she was running, the heavy sack bouncing against her back with each stride.
The familiar path to the fortress that had haunted her nightmares stretched before her, and with each step, dread settled deeper into her bones.
The gates of Arlong Park loomed ahead, and she forced herself to slow down, to breathe, to prepare for what might be her final confrontation with the monster who had stolen her childhood.
Inside the park, every fishman was on high alert. Weapons glinted in the afternoon sun—swords, clubs, guns, small cannons—all held by creatures whose casual strength could snap her in half. The air thrummed with tension, as if violence hung suspended by the thinnest of threads.
"Shaaahahaha! Look who's come to visit!"
Arlong's voice boomed across the courtyard. But something was different about it now—more hateful, more smug, as if he'd already won a game she didn't know they were playing.
"You Sent The Marines To Steal My Money," she accused, her voice cutting through the humid air like a blade. "You Were Planning To Break Your Promise From The Beginning!"
Arlong's expression shifted to one of mock hurt, his massive hand pressed dramatically to his chest. "Nami~, I would never do such a thing. Don't you already know, I always keep my promises when money is involved."
"Is that so?" Nami's grip tightened on the sack as she stepped forward, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"Then this is the money you asked for. One hundred million Berri. I've delivered it." She threw the sack at his feet, where it landed with a heavy thump that echoed through the suddenly silent courtyard. "Now it's time for you to keep your promise."
For a moment—just a moment—Arlong's smile disappeared entirely. The mask of jovial cruelty slipped, replaced by something cold and calculating that made Nami's skin crawl. His black eyes studied her with the intensity of a predator evaluating prey.
Then the smile returned, wider than before, as if he'd just thought of something particularly amusing.
"Count it," he called to one of his subordinates, never taking his eyes off Nami.
The minutes stretched like hours as the fishman carefully tallied the bills, his webbed fingers moving through the stacks with practiced efficiency. When he finished, he nodded to his captain.
"Shaaahahaha!" Arlong's laughter boomed across the park, echoing off the concrete walls. "Congratulations, Nami! I knew you could do it!"
"I don't need your congratulations," she spat, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Take the money and get off this island."
Arlong's smile never wavered. "Oh, but I can't do that. That wasn't part of our deal, you see. I have eighteen other villages under my rule besides yours. How can I manage them when I am not here?" His tone was conversational, almost friendly.
"But don't worry, Nami—you're going to become very, very rich. All your efforts over these years have finally paid off! SHAAAHAHAHA!! Really, Congratulations, Nami! I Couldn't Be Prouder!"
Nami felt the blood drain from her face. "What are you talking about?"
'See for yourself how much he loves money to keep a promise that would cost him ten times what he gets.'
Hikigaya's words crashed over her like a tidal wave, and a terrible certainty began to settle in her stomach.
Arlong's grin widened, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth. "As the new owner of Cocoyasi Village, you can take most of the protection fees for yourself."
Panic shot through Nami's body like venom flooding her veins. "WHAT?! NO!! Our Deal Was For You To Leave This Island Alone If I Gave You The Money!" The words came out as a scream, raw and desperate.
"Ah, but you're wrong about something important," Arlong said, his voice taking on the patient tone of a teacher correcting a slow student.
"The deal was for you to buy the village from me. Now that you're the owner, you can keep most of the protection fees while I take only a small sum for the protection services we'll provide."
He leaned forward on his throne, his black eyes glittering with malicious amusement. "Man, amn't I such a good boss? Cocoyasi Village earns me twenty-five million Berri every month, almost 300 million Berri a year, and around 2 billion Berri in the past 8 years from it, but I am giving it all away for just 100 million! Blame me and my soft heart."
"But don't you worry, Nami, a promise is a promise after all! All I need from you is ten million every month from now on. The rest of the money can go to you."
The words hit Nami like physical blows, each syllable driving the breath from her lungs. She forgot how to breathe, forgot how to think, forgot everything except the crushing weight of absolute betrayal.
"What... what are you talking about?" The question came out as a whisper, her voice breaking. "I already paid you the money. Why Would You Want Ten Million More Every Month?! THIS WASN'T PART OF OUR PROMISE!!!" By the end, she was shouting again, her voice cracking with desperation.
"Shaaahahahaha!" Arlong's laughter filled the park like the sound of breaking glass. "I'm still providing security for your village, aren't I? Without me, other pirates would come and wreak havoc. If you don't want that to happen, you must pay the ten million Berri fee every month."
Nami stared at him, her face blank with disbelief. The expression seemed to amuse him even more.
"Of course," he continued, that shit-eating grin stretching impossibly wider, "I could help you collect the money from the villagers. You're still my dear cartographer, after all."
The smile never left his face as he delivered the final blow. "You could also give me the money yourself, but don't be late with the payments. Who knows what might happen to the village if you are…"
The world tilted sideways. Nami felt herself falling into an abyss of despair so deep that light itself seemed to die.
Eight years. Eight years of sacrifice, of selling pieces of her soul, of enduring Arlong's cruelty and the villagers' hatred. Eight years of telling herself that it would all be worth it in the end, that freedom was just one more job away.
'All…for nothing.'
Worse than nothing. She'd simply traded one form of slavery for another, and now her village would suffer the same fate forever.
The walk back to Cocoyasi felt like drowning in despair. Each step forward sent waves of anguish crashing through Nami's chest, a relentless emotional hurricane that threatened to tear her apart from the inside.
Eight years of sacrifice, of hope, of telling herself that freedom was just one more job away—all of it reduced to nothing more than elaborate chains painted gold.
The betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound could have. Not just Arlong's betrayal, though that was crushing enough, but the betrayal of her own naive belief that monsters could be reasoned with, that deals with devils could somehow end in salvation.
When she reached the village center, the sight that greeted her made her blood turn to ice.
The villagers had gathered in the square, but they weren't cowering or hiding as she'd expected. Instead, they were examining an array of gleaming weapons spread across makeshift tables—brand new cutlasses that caught the sunlight, rifles that looked like they'd never been fired, ammunition boxes stacked with military precision.
Three figures moved among them, distributing weapons and discussing tactics with the kind of serious intensity that belonged on battlefields.
She recognized Yosaku and Johnny immediately—the bounty hunters who'd been traveling with... her breath caught. The third person looked familiar, but she couldn't place him through the haze of her panic.
Terror seized her throat. "E-Everyone, wait, don't fight the fishmen!" she called out, her voice cracking with desperation as she hurried toward them. "We're-We're free now! The fishmen will-will leave the village alone from now on!"
The lie tasted like poison on her tongue, but she had to try. Had to protect them from the truth that would only lead them to their deaths.
Genzo looked up from the rifle he'd been examining, his scarred features finding hers across the crowd. She saw the exact moment he registered her expression—the false brightness, the tremor in her voice, the way her hands shook despite her attempts to control them.
"That's not true," he said quietly, setting the weapon down with deliberate care. "Tell me what really happened, Nami."
"It is true," she insisted, her voice growing more shrill with each word. "I paid Arlong the money. The deal is done. We're—"
"Stop." Genzo's voice cut through her protests like a blade. "I've watched you practice lies in the mirror since you were four years old. I know when you're protecting us, and I know when you're breaking apart. Tell me the truth."
The words she'd held back came spilling out like blood from a mortal wound.
She told them everything—Arlong's twisted reinterpretation of their deal, the monthly payments that would never end, the trap that had been waiting for her all along.
With each revelation, she watched their faces transform from hope to horror to a kind of cold, settled rage that frightened her more than Arlong's shark-toothed grin ever had.
When she finished, the silence stretched like a held breath.
"Ten million Berri," Dr. Nako said finally, his voice hollow with disbelief. "Every month. Forever."
"That's enough." The words came from old Mori, the fisherman whose nets had fed the village through its darkest days. "We've had enough."
The sentiment rippled through the crowd like wildfire. Voices rose in agreement, hands reached for weapons, and Nami felt her world tilt sideways as she realized what was happening.
"Wait!" she cried out, stepping forward with her hands raised. "Don't be hasty! I can collect the money on time! I just need—"
"No." Genzo's arms wrapped around her, pulling her into an embrace that smelled like tobacco and old leather and all the safety of her childhood. "You've fought enough, little one. We won't put this burden on you anymore."
"Nami." Nojiko's voice came from beside them, steady despite the tears streaming down her face. "Leave the village. Go to the sea. Follow your dreams. You're experienced enough to survive out there." Her smile was heartbreaking in its fragility. "We're going to fight Arlong and his men, even if it means we die."
"Stop!" Nami pulled free from Genzo's embrace, positioning herself between the villagers and their weapons. "I won't allow you to go! You'll all die!"
But even as she spoke, she could hear the hesitation in her own voice, the hollow ring of someone whose arguments had already been defeated by reality.
It was over. Everything she'd worked toward had come crashing down in the most spectacular failure imaginable. The weight of impossibility settled on her shoulders like a mountain.
She couldn't collect ten million Berri every month. Not alone. And if she asked the villagers to help her, then what had been the point of eight years of sacrifice? They'd simply be doing the same thing they'd always done, except with her wearing Arlong's crown instead of his collar.
"STAND ASIDE, NAMI!!" Genzo's voice carried the authority of someone who'd made peace with death. "OUR HEARTS ARE SET!! THIS ENDS TODAY, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER!!!"
She found herself stepping back, her body obeying even as her mind screamed in protest.
"LET'S GO!!"
"FOLLOW US!!!"
"OOOOOHHHH!!!!!"
"OOOOOOOOHHHHH!!!!"
"OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!"
The villagers moved past her like a tide, picking up weapons with hands that shook but didn't falter. Johnny and Yosaku took the lead, with their swords gleaming as they addressed the crowd in loud tones. The third man—she still couldn't place him—asked part of the villagers to follow him.
They were really going to do it. March to Arlong Park with borrowed weapons and desperate courage, and throw themselves against creatures who could tear them apart with their bare hands.
All because she had failed them.
—Hachiman's POV—
I stood there watching her crumble, my Mantra active and painting the air around me with the raw, unfiltered essence of human despair.
The emotional feedback hit me like a tidal wave—sadness, frustration, and despair washing against my consciousness in waves so intense they made my teeth ache.
It was like watching the world end in slow motion, the kind of nightmare you can't wake up from because you're already awake.
'Fantastic. Just fantastic.' Here I was, trying to mind my own business for once, and instead I'm getting a front-row seat to someone's complete psychological breakdown.
The girl—Nami, the navigator with the sticky fingers and the even stickier situation—was on her knees in the dirt, and through my Mantra, I could feel every jagged edge of her emotional state cutting through the air.
The intensity of her despair was almost suffocating.
'I've felt my share of hopelessness, but this...'
This was different. This was the kind of pain that comes from having your entire worldview shattered in a single moment. The kind that makes you question every decision you've ever made, every breath you've ever taken.
But then something shifted.
Like a switch being flipped, all that despair, all that crushing weight of failure and loss, transformed into something else entirely. Pure, undiluted hatred that made my skin crawl.
I watched as her hands moved to her shoulder, fingers digging into the tattoo of Arlong with such vicious intensity that I could practically feel the phantom pain myself. The way she clawed at it, like she was trying to tear it right out of her skin, told me everything I needed to know about what was coming next.
'Oh, hell no.'
My legs moved before my brain had time to catch up, which was probably for the best.
My brain would have spent precious seconds analyzing the situation, weighing the pros and cons of getting involved, calculating the most efficient solution. My body, apparently, had already decided that whatever was about to happen needed to be stopped immediately.
I found myself standing directly in front of her, close enough to see the wild look in her eyes, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her trembling form. And there it was—the confirmation of my worst suspicions.
A knife, clutched in her white-knuckled grip like a lifeline to oblivion.
'Because, of course, there's a knife.' Because when emotional people reach their breaking point, they always seem to think sharp objects are the answer to their problems.
'As if physical pain could somehow cancel out emotional pain. As if it ever worked that way.'
Her knife-holding hand lowered slightly when she registered my presence.
The recognition was immediate—hard not to notice someone dressed like a discount wizard in the middle of a pirate-infested archipelago.
My cloak, my hat, the general air of "mysterious stranger with questionable fashion choices" that I'd cultivated over the past two years—it all served as a pretty effective calling card.
"Are you here to mock me?" Her voice was flat, emotionless, which was somehow worse than if she'd been screaming. She still wasn't looking at me, staring instead at some fixed point on the ground.
"Are you here to say 'I told you so'? To make fun of how naive I was?"
'Ah, there it is.'
The defensive mechanism. When people are at their lowest, they tend to assume the worst about everyone around them. It's easier to expect cruelty than kindness—at least that way, you're never disappointed.
I stayed silent for a moment, letting her words hang in the air between us.
'What am I supposed to say here?'
That, yes, she had been naive? That trusting Arlong was about as smart as trying to negotiate with a hurricane? That would be true, but also completely useless at this point.
"I'm here…to ask you what's next."
The simplicity of my response seemed to catch her off guard. Her emotions shifted again, a complex swirl of confusion and something that might have been hope, though she was trying very hard to suppress it.
She stood up abruptly, her hands reaching out to clutch the hem of my cloak with desperate intensity. The knife was still there, still dangerous, but at least it wasn't pointed at anything vital anymore.
"What's next?" Her voice cracked on the words. "What's next for me? Do I even have a 'next'? Was there even 'before'?"
'There it is.'
The real question. Not what she should do about Arlong, not how to fix the immediate crisis, but whether there was any point in continuing at all. The kind of existential despair that makes you wonder if the universe is just an elaborate practical joke at your expense.
"All the villagers are going to die now because of me," she continued, the words spilling out like water from a broken dam.
"All of my efforts, everything I worked for, it was all for nothing. I thought... I thought I was working toward freedom. For me, for the village, for everyone. But I was just Arlong's toy this whole time, wasn't I?"
'This's the crux of it.' The realization that she'd been played from the very beginning.
That every sacrifice, every compromise, every little piece of her soul she'd sold for the promise of eventual freedom had been meaningless. Arlong had never intended to honor their deal. She'd been a toy for him, nothing more.
"What can I…do now?" The desperation in her voice was raw, unfiltered. "What else…can I still do…when everything…is over?"
The tears came then, flowing freely down her face as she finally stopped trying to hold them back. She was crying while holding onto me, using my cloak as an anchor in the storm of her own emotions.
'Great. I've become a human security blanket.'
But as I stood there, feeling the weight of her despair through both my Mantra and the very real physical pressure of her grip on my cloak, something clicked in my mind.
'Loners like us are like that…'
We preserve our loneliness as a form of strength. The more we live alone, the more we continue on our solitary paths, the more we convince ourselves that this is the way things should be.
We take pride in being alone, in being able to solve our own problems, because we've convinced ourselves that self-reliance is the ultimate sign of strength.
'But that's the trap, isn't it?'
By the time we realize how far we've gone down that road, it's too late.
Not just because we've pushed everyone else away—though we certainly have—but because our thinking stops acknowledging the option of relying on others.
Even when it would be easy. Even when it's obvious and simple and right there in front of us.
The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, the self-proclaimed expert on human isolation, about to give advice on asking for help.
'If my past self could see me now, he'd probably die laughing.'
"You could ask for help."
The words came out simply, matter-of-factly, like I was suggesting she try a different brand of coffee.
But the effect was immediate and dramatic.
I could practically hear the screech of her mental gears grinding to a halt as she looked up at me with wide, startled eyes.
"Wha…Who…?" The question was barely a whisper. "Who could possibly—"
"Look around."
She did as I told her, her head turning slowly as if she was afraid of what she might see.
And there they were, scattered along the street like pieces of a puzzle she'd forgotten she was trying to solve.
The Straw Hat crew—Roronoa leaning against a wall with his arms crossed, Sanji lighting another cigarette, Usopp fidgeting with some hanging belt or another. And directly behind her, close enough that she could have reached out and touched him, was Luffy.
'The irony is almost too perfect.' Here she was, convinced she was completely alone, surrounded by people who had been ready to help her from the moment they'd set foot on this island.
"Even if they know nothing of the situation," I continued, watching her face as the realization slowly dawned, "even if they don't know what's going on with you, these people wanted to help you from the moment they stepped foot on this island. So ask them."
She looked at them, really looked at them, still holding onto my cloak like it was the only thing keeping her from falling into an abyss.
'Come on,' I thought. 'Just say the words. It's not that complicated.'
But of course, it was that complicated. Asking for help when you've spent your entire life learning to depend only on yourself—it's like asking someone to speak a foreign language they've never heard before.
The words exist, but finding them, forming them, actually speaking them out loud... that's the hard part.
"…Help me…"
The words came out hesitantly, quietly, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to say them. But they were enough.
The response was immediate. I moved past her, my role in this particular drama coming to an end for the moment.
Roronoa, Sanji, and Usopp, who had been sitting across the street trying to look casual while obviously eavesdropping, also stood up and moved forward.
But we all moved slowly, deliberately, waiting for their captain to take the lead.
'As it should be.' This was Luffy's moment, his crew, his decision to make. I might have helped nudge things in the right direction, but ultimately, this was about them, not me.
Luffy looked at Nami for a long moment, and I could feel the shift in the emotional atmosphere around us. Gone was the crushing despair, replaced by something warmer, something that felt like hope.
Then he took off his straw hat—his most precious possession, the symbol of his promise to Shanks—and pushed it toward her.
"Of course I'll help you."
'Simple. Direct. No hesitation, no questions, no conditions.' That was Shonen protagonist for you—the kind of person who could cut through all the complexity and doubt, and confusion with a single, genuine gesture.
The kind of person I used to think was impossibly naive, before I spent two years in this world learning that sometimes naivety and genuine goodness were the most powerful forces you could encounter.
Luffy moved forward then, passing by the rest of us with that easy confidence that made people want to follow him into hell itself. "Let's go."
"YEAH," we answered in unison, our voices carrying the weight of shared purpose.
As we started moving toward Arlong Park, Luffy glanced back at me. "Everything ready?"
I allowed myself a small smile, the first genuine one I'd felt in hours. "Yes, and it's time to start."
I drew my custom flintlock. The ammunition I'd loaded was special—not designed to kill or maim, but to signal. I aimed skyward and pulled the trigger.
BANG!
The sound echoed across the area, sharp and clear in the humid air. And immediately, as if summoned by the gunshot itself, came the answering call from the hills near Arlong Park.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
The sound of cannons firing reverberated through the air, a deep, thrumming bass note that I could feel in my chest.
The cannonballs sailed overhead with a distinctive whistling sound, arcing through the sky like falling stars.
SPLASHH!
SPLASHH!
SPLASHH!
SPLASHH!
"Did they miss?" Usopp asked, squinting toward Arlong Park as the cannonballs splashed down into the water in front of the park rather than into it.
I couldn't help but smile at that. "No, it was a perfect shot."
Before anyone could ask for clarification, the answer revealed itself with dramatic flair.
KABOOOMWHOOOOO!!!!
The sound of ignition was like the world's largest match being struck. The sea area in front of Arlong Park erupted into flames, the water itself burning as the special incendiary ammunition did exactly what it was designed to do.
WHOOOM!
CRACKLE!
HISS!
The flames danced across the water's surface, creating a barrier of fire that would make any escape by sea impossible.
The heat was intense enough that I could feel it on my face even from this distance, and the light was so bright it cast everything in stark relief, like the world's most dramatic stage lighting.
'And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you start a war.'
...
A/N: Whew, that's the biggest chapter I've ever written. 7000 words! And a very emotionally heavy chapter, too.
But we finally could get to the battle.
Anyway, Thank you all for reading!! Hope you enjoyed this one!
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