Steady sailing, gears shifting for pursuit—speed up.
Night loomed early under overcast skies, air thickening heavy. Why? Then—oddity ahead.
Something wrong.
Usopp, mast-top telescope: "Oi, Nami! Island ahead!"
"What, Usopp? Too soon—impossible—"
"And pirate ships sunk everywhere! What the hell?!"
Nami's face twisted on deck.
Nonsense. Michelle's plotted route, flawless till now. Dawn goal? Locked.
Usopp's words: total derail.
Not time yet. Distance ample.
Instant grasp: anomaly.
Rushed bow, binoculars up. Island—yes. Wrong shape. Veered off-course.
Her needle error? No. Flawless navigation; navigator's pride, unshakeable.
Realization: the Pose itself.
Pulled it from pocket, stared.
"This Eternal Pose... no way..."
"Nami—bad spot? What's up?"
"Silk, knife?"
"None now—fetch?"
"Please. Might need it..."
Silk dashed below, returned swift—blade handed.
Nami pried label plate. Easy peel.
Shock: Under "Partia"—true mark: "Navarone." Navy fortress, "Hedgehog" ironclad.
Tampered from receipt.
Too late; Nami gnashed teeth, self-loathing.
"Played...! Knew something off—this. Fake handed us..."
"Meaning? Direct from organizer. So—insider sabotage?"
"No. Gasperde."
Shuraiya cut in sharp; eyes snapped his way.
He seethed quiet. "Didn't peg this, but his doing—sure."
"Him? We got it from organizer—how?"
"Organizer's in pocket. Bribed ally. Didn't expect that far for win."
"Such—"
"That's Gasperde's rise. Wins any means."
Know-it-all tone, grimace. Rumors rang true.
First brush: race-flip unthinkable, but fitting. Still—stung.
Shared regret hung.
Mood soured. Silence stretched, options mulled.
Unprecedented pall.
Shuraiya, hat low, broke: Urgency edged voice stern.
"Fake Pose dealt. No goal welcome now."
"Why?"
"Grand Line: compasses fail. Log or Eternal—musts."
Luffy's query; Nami jumped.
"But Hannibal—no Log build. No spare Eternal here..."
"Th-then, chasing Gasperde..."
"Impossible."
Sanji off cig, grim capper.
Merry: Navarone-bound only.
Sweat beaded anew.
"What now... Straight to fortress. No alternatives."
"Ignore needle. No straight-shot need."
"Off-route? Then nowhere. Random sail? No island guarantee. Lose bearing—Grand Line death sentence."
"Then—"
Usopp's daze.
Nami nodded grave.
"Lost our guide. No miracle? Nowhere left."
Weight deepened.
Nami's expertise unchallenged; acceptance blank. But resentment festered.
Protests bubbled.
"Can't fix? Hate quitting like this."
"Fortress plunge? Nah—course shift or we die!"
"Nami, reroute. Can't go there."
"I know... But now? No clue which way..."
Luffy, Usopp leaned; Nami's plea—fix it. Frustration boiled, regret choked reply.
She cracked; crew spiraled.
Break needed. Stagnant air.
Then—Anaguma, slipped on deck: "Gasperde's work. Saw stacks of Eternal Poses on his ship. Probably that."
"Anaguma—you on Gasperde's?"
"Not choice... Old man who saved me—forced under 'em. Not crew. They let him suffer..."
Fists clenched white—witnessed.
Vivi neared, peered soft: "Grandpa sick?"
"Not fatal. But they withhold meds—'not crew.'"
"So you to this ship..."
"Too late—everything! Can't catch Gasperde now! All overdue... Hopeless."
Head down; stares gathered, words failed.
Luffy eyed isle ahead.
Navigation? Nami's wheelhouse. Still—unwilling end; desperate schemes.
What'd Kir do? Regret absentia futile. He'd manage?
Recall: pre-sail words.
Pocket dive: Eternal Pose. "For trouble."
Nami's shock: "Luffy—that's an Eternal!"
"Yeah. Kir gave pre-depart. 'Use in pinch.'"
"That jerk... Knew? Why hide?!"
"Lemme see."
Not just her rattled. Lifeline amid doom—thus suspicion clung. Why?
Sanji took, checked base: True goal.
"Partia... Path to end."
"That guy..."
"Knew from start?"
"What's the deal? Kir ghosted yesterday."
Partia etch drew eyes; doubt voiced.
Why know, not tell? Time was. Pose prep? Could've guided. Absence? Query.
Kir distrust swelled.
Deck unease brewed; Zoro cut: "Reasons aside."
Arms crossed, stern—no blame.
Eyes met: Firm. "Not why untold—how now. Guide's here. Luffy—skipping chase?"
"Obviously. After Gasperde."
"Then focus. Foe's no joke. Slack? We lose."
Resolute tone shifted faces; doubt thinned, priorities sharpened.
Pose: Beacon.
Kir's save, circumstances be damned.
Passed Sanji to Nami.
Luffy's gaze pierced: "Nami—catchable?"
"Yeah. With this—fine."
"Sail! Blast Gasperde!"
Luffy's roar rallied cheers; course-swing frenzy erupted—orders barked, deck chaos.
Luffy alone still.
Glanced: Small shadow.
Anaguma, bowed statue—quiet face.
Slow approach.
She looked up—first true see.
Meter gap; stares locked. Deck din faded—private hush.
Luffy: "You—what now?"
"Huh? What..."
"Want out? Dinghy yours. Navy base—beg help, they'll take. No more pirate grind."
"Urk..."
Gnash; near-bow, fought—eyes held.
Press: "Piracy's no half-resolve game. Death ain't payback."
"I know! But I'm kid—adults unbeatable. All-in or grandpa unsaved...!"
"Then survive. That resolve? Meds aside—rescue him first. Don't mouth-wager life untried."
"You don't gotta tell me...!"
Fists iron; regret raw, eyes welled groan.
Luffy's soft chuckle.
"I'm blasting Gasperde. Join?"
"Go! Take me!"
Kid-grin answered yell.
No drop-off need. Word sealed it.
Back turned; Anaguma to work.
Shuraiya neared, call.
Irked shift—new man. Aura alien. Luffy unchanged.
Halt, face: Shuraiya stern.
"Catch him?"
"Somehow. Crew's got it."
"Upfront: My mark's Gasperde from jump."
Hat-shadow eyes: Perilous fire.
"Bet on your odds—pitched you. Spared his neck. Fail catch?..."
"Fine. Then I won't lose."
"Hn."
Gaze broke; Shuraiya strode soft—Luffy mused.
Eyes caught blaze: Recall right arm. Absent first mate.
Vengeance.
Likely drive.
Guessed, unspoken; turned away.
Motive clear: Ride for goal. No fights—self-end. Dark urge propelled.
But Luffy's mind: Face who shunned that path.
Speak? Or none? Held tongue; joined tasks.
Elsewhere: Bow-turn mid, Sanji to Zoro—voice sans glance, grave.
"Surprised. No Kir blame?"
"Huh?"
"Loyal to captain-type. Figured you'd back Luffy full, but soft on first mate."
"Not that. But..."
Rare hitch; lips tight.
Quick cover: "He's that guy. Get him or mess-ups brew."
"Huh. That so?"
Zoro quick-stride, irked-back: Sanji's murmur.
"Thought that soft. You don't?"
Faint smile—cryptic.
Either way: No denial.
Merry veered true. Unseen hand extended.
But hidden—fact.
Chaos eased; ripples lingered. Not resolved.
Crew: Murky spark kindled, sure.
＊
Salamander steamed under Gasperde—boiler depths: Dim vault, lone blaze lit gloom, forlorn.
Tended by "Mole"—elder Biera.
Petite, grimed overalls-shirt, soot-gloved boots. Bald pate hatless now, sidelined.
Sallow face screamed peril.
Blanket-wrapped, immobile—illness gripped.
Signs long; known. Untreated: Broke.
Meds? Coinless. Death loomed—unwanted, inescapable.
Endured pain, sheer will—fool's fix. No skill for cash; luxury nil.
Fogged mind: End near?
Worry? Not self—Anaguma, blood-unbound ward, young. His death bearable; hers? Unthinkable. Chest ached resolve.
Ship? No future. Escape—one, at least.
Mused absent Anaguma since yesterday—fled? Relief, craving news.
Flat cough racked.
Fire roar hushed; room still.
Hack echoed, dread-stirring.
Sleepless fret: Odd sound. Not blaze—shovel-coal scoop. Years' ear: Unmistakable. Fuel fed.
Pirate hull or not—boiler his kin.
Who dared?
"Who... Touchin' my boiler unasked?"
Tremble-propped rise, totter-walk—wall-hand to vast room, corner nook to core.
Culprits: Three. Gasperde's—obvious.
Cough-mid yell: "Stop! Amateurs—don't meddle. Hands off my boiler!"
"Eh, gramps—still kicking? Thought dead."
Three wheeled: Blank at death's door. Cool reply—no heart. Indiff to frail elder.
Rare visitors below.
Baffled: "What's intent?"
"Gasperde's order. Bored game—full speed goal."
"Game?"
"Yeah—clueless? Pirate race today. Lazed, waited tails. None bit. Fightless—dull."
"Hmph, drivel... Urk."
"Eh, Mole geezer—pirate fun's beyond ya."
"Can't move? Stay put. Dump this—speeds us, right?"
One scooped floor-scatter coal, rough toss.
Biera blanched scream: "Stop?! Rough hands—told ya!"
"Shut it. Orders—cap'n kills slackers."
"Then me do. You—out. Up."
"Oh, reasonable. Easier said."
"Later, gramps. Don't croak—cover us."
"Cover"? Tossed shovels gleeful—zero zeal. Smirks clean.
Fine. Amateurs? Hindrance.
Pride sworn: Face boiler.
Bent ache, scoop—pause.
Anaguma—where?
Worry query; three halted, casual: "Wait. Anaguma—kid here? Gone since yesterday."
"Huh? That brat? Bailed."
"Bailed? Why?"
"Headhuntin' pirates."
"What...?!"
Shock blanked pain; straightened, eyes saucered.
"To pirates?! Why?!"
"Gasperde's game. Catch bounty—meds for ya. Plus crew the kid—pirate-style."
"Such... Anaguma—where now?"
"Who knows. Won't return. Brat beats bounty? Nah."
"Kid's done. Tough break, gramps—no meds."
Laughs boomed exit.
Mockery missed; Biera slumped daze.
True, likely. No train, no Fruit—plain kid. Bounty face-on? No survival.
Darkness closed.
Life's point?
Picked her—did what?
Gloved right veiled eyes; regrets spilled.
"Kuh... Sorry. No sickness—none this...!"
Eyes burned; chest worse.
Too late; acts futile.
Worst visions tormented; Anaguma's face looped.
Hand dropped: Shovel caught eye.
Epiphany.
Biera, Salamander: Seized brute-force in Gasperde's raid—town hit. No loyalty; stayed for boiler bond.
No rebel till now—powerless.
But ill, "lost" Anaguma: Limits snapped.
One revenge: Painful path, but drag Gasperde down—wish granted.
Resolve steel; shovel rose.
"Anaguma—sorry. Boiler cling kept me. No need your stake. All my fault... Least—I haul Gasperde to hell. Heaven's yours—may not meet."
Coal lift, toss.
Relentless feed—pro ignored cap.
Overload deliberate.
Orders met: Speed. After? Reckoning. Accepted; unyielding.
Boiler-death? Bliss.
Runaway blast? Crew doomed.
War: Biera's first, his way.
"End... Die with me."
Murmur lit by blaze—smile.
Flames roared answer, heat gust swept.
--------------------------
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