The inn owner bustled out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a stained apron, his brow furrowed with concern.
He glanced at the spilt drinks and scattered food on the floor before his gaze landed on a group of disgruntled sailors who were, moments ago, shouting and demanding to see the owner.
"My sincerest apologies, gentlemen," the old man said, bowing deeply. "My employee here is a bit... clumsy. Your order will be on the house, of course. Please, allow me to make it up to you."
The sailors, mollified by the owner's apology and the offer, grumbled a little more before settling down. The owner turned to Hachi, his voice soft but firm. "Hachi, my boy, you look a bit shaken up. Why don't you go back to the kitchen and take a break? It's almost time for the dinner rush."
Hachi, his shoulders slumped in shame, nodded. "I'm sorry, boss. I'll make it up to you." He then turned to Guts and Buggy, his eyes wide with regret. "Please, please wait," he pleaded. "But if you have something to do, please tell me where you stay. I will find you later after work."
Guts was curious about what had rattled the fishman so badly, and he wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere. Besides, he'd planned on spending the night drinking anyway. He wasn't losing anything by staying. Guts nodded in understanding. "We're staying here," he said, his voice low. "The floor above."
As if on cue, the inn owner returned, carrying a steaming apple pie, carefully wrapped in a neatly folded bundle of cloth. He placed it on the table with a smile. "Your apple pie, sir, fresh from the oven! I wrapped it up for you to keep it warm."
Guts nodded in thanks, then reached into his coat, pulling out a pack of Bubble Blues. He lit one, the cherry glowing in the dim light of the tavern, and took a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke. The rich aroma of the tobacco filled the air.
Buggy's eyes followed the pack of cigarettes as Guts placed it on the table. He reached for it, but before his fingers could touch the box, Guts slapped his hand away.
Buggy tsk-ed, but before he could voice his displeasure, Guts reached inside his coat pocket again. This time, he pulled out an unopened box of Bubble Blues and tossed it to Buggy.
Buggy caught the box with a wide grin. "Ah boss, you shouldn't have!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with exaggerated gratitude.
"These are the finest smokes in the Grand Line! A treasure like this is wasted on the likes of me, but I'll gladly accept your generosity!" He tore open the box, inhaling deeply. "Ah, the sweet scent of luxury! Not every day a poor pirate like me gets to taste such expensive cigarettes. Thank you, thank you!"
Both of them drank and smoked, the hours passing in a haze of cheap liquor and expensive tobacco.
Guts mostly listened, a silent observer as Buggy spun exaggerated tales of his past exploits, each story more outlandish than the last. It was a familiar routine, a pale echo of the days when Guts had wandered alone with Puck, the little elf's chatter a constant, if sometimes annoying, companion.
Guts missed his little companion more than he cared to admit.
As the dinner rush began to ease, the inn owner emerged from behind the counter, a worn guitar in his hands. He settled onto a stool, strummed a few chords, and began to sing. His voice, though a little rough around the edges, was warm and inviting, filling the tavern with a merry tune that accompanied the guests' meals.
Guts tapped his fingers on the rough-hewn wooden table, keeping time with the song. The tavern was warm and dimly lit, the air thick with the mingled scents of stale beer, roasted meat, and pipe tobacco.
Lanterns hung from the low ceiling, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls.
Buggy, surprisingly, seemed to know the tune and started to sing along, his voice loud and off-key but full of enthusiasm. Soon, other guests joined in, their voices blending together in a boisterous chorus.
The tavern became even merrier, filled with the sound of laughter and song, a welcome respite from the harsh realities outside.
As the last notes of the song faded, the inn owner, never one to miss an opportunity, pulled out a dented tin can from behind the counter and began to wander around the tables, soliciting tips.
The can was already half-full of coins and crumpled bills, a testament to the owner's popularity when he finally reached Guts' table. His eyes twinkling in the lantern light. Guts, entertained by the performance, pulled out a few hundred-berry bills and dropped them into the can. "Generous as always, sir!" the owner exclaimed with a grateful smile, his voice slightly hoarse from singing.
Time passed, and the guests began to leave one by one, their laughter and chatter fading into the night. Soon, only a few patrons remained, nursing their drinks in quiet contemplation.
Guts ordered another jar of sake. This time, Hachi was the one who delivered it to their table. He placed the jar down carefully, his movements still a little awkward from his earlier mishap.
He hesitated for a moment, wiping his hands nervously on his apron, before sitting down alongside them.
Hachi wrung his hands, his usually jovial face etched with worry. He leaned closer, his voice a hushed rasp. "Captain Buggy... Do you know what's happened? Tell me... what happened to the Arlong Pirates? To Arlong himself... and the others?"
Buggy's painted eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What's with the waterworks, fish-face? I saw Arlong and his goons with my own two eyes! He came to my base, looking to bleed me dry. You were there! Part of his inner circle, weren't you? So don't play dumb with me! How the hell do you not know what went down?"
Hachi recoiled, his eyes darting nervously around the tavern as if he feared being overheard.
Realizing no one was listening, He fell silent as his gaze was lost in the swirling depths of his sake cup.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken dread, until finally, he spoke with a ragged breath. "It was... a month ago. The day everything changed. The day our world turned upside down."
He took another sip of his sake, then continued with a steadier voice, "It was dusk, like always. I was on my way home from the fields. Suddenly, the sky turned red. Not the beautiful red of sunset, but a terrifying, blood-red. And then..." Hachi paused, swallowing hard. "And then they appeared."
He shivered, despite the warmth of the tavern. "A Marines arrived, yes, but they weren't alone. Trailing behind them... a shadow. A man cloaked in black, and a young girl with hair the color of the deepest ocean. I was on gate duty. I assumed they were more of Arlong's 'guests'. He always had those corrupt Marines crawling around, lining their pockets with our hard-earned berries. I thought maybe these ones were here for a bigger cut."
Hachi's voice trembled, his eyes wide with a haunting memory. "I led them inside, towards the pool where Arlong held court. He was lounging there, as always, sipping sake and basking in the sun. I announced their arrival and told him his guests were here. Arlong just scowled. He said he didn't recognize them, and demanded to know where Nezumi was - his usual lapdog from the Marines. And then..."
Hachi's breath came in ragged gasps as he gripped the edge of the table making his knuckles white. "Then the man in black... he moved like a phantom. He reached into his cloak and pulled out something that made my blood run cold. A mask. A featureless, black mask that seemed to suck the light from the very air around it. He placed it on his face... and then all hell broke loose."
Guts, with a sympathetic gaze, slid a sake cup towards Hachi and filled it to the brim. The amber liquid sloshed precariously close to the edge.
Hachi gratefully accepted the gesture, his hand trembling so violently that he nearly spilled the contents as he brought the cup to his lips.
He took a long, shaky gulp, the sake seeming to steady him slightly.
He took a deep breath and continued, his voice still hushed. "It was chaos... absolute chaos. Screams echoing everywhere. The air filled with the stench of blood and the clash of steel. I... I was engaged by someone... incredibly strong. A man wielding a chainsaw in one hand and a machete in the other."
Hachi closed his eyes, as if trying to block out the memory. "I tried to stay calm, tried to make sense of what was happening, but... but... I can't."
He paused, then slowly extended his arms, revealing the extent of his injuries. "He... he was toying with me. He cut off my hands... one by one." He gestured to the stumps where his tentacles used to be. One of his tentacles on the right side is gone, and the whole left side is nonexistent.
Hachi's voice cracked with emotion. "He told me... he told me he was going to cut off all my limbs, one by one, and then leave me to dry under the sun. I fought desperately, but he was too strong, too fast. Then... then I heard a booming sound. I was blasted away... and everything went black."
He looked up, his eyes filled with confusion. "When I regained consciousness... I was on a small fisherman's island, washed up on the beach. Momoo, the giant sea cow, was there too, lying beside me. I don't know how we got there... or what happened to everyone else."
Hachi's shoulders slumped with exhaustion. "In my weakened state, I tried to make my way back to Arlong Park. I needed to know what had happened, to find out if anyone else had survived. But... I collapsed again, and lost consciousness."
He paused, a flicker of gratitude shone in his eyes.. "When I opened my eyes again, I was inside a small cabin. A kind fisherman had found me and was tending to my injuries. He nursed me back to health."
Hachi's gaze dropped. "As soon as I was strong enough, I thanked the fisherman and went down to the beach to find Momoo. We were together, at least. We set off for Cocoyasi Village, hoping against hope that we could still find Arlong and the others."
His voice dropped to a whisper. "But when we arrived... it was too late. All I saw was ruin. Arlong Park was a shattered wreck. The village seemed fine, the villagers going about their lives... but Arlong Park..."
Hachi, despite his injuries, felt compelled to investigate further. He approached the outskirts of Cocoyasi Village, hoping to find some answers, some sign of what had transpired. But the villagers, seeing him, reacted with fear and hostility. They chased him away, shouting curses and threats, unwilling to offer any explanation.
Feeling utterly hopeless, Hachi retreated back to the fisherman's island, seeking solace in the familiar surroundings.
He spent the next day helping the fishermen mend their nets, trying to distract himself from the gnawing uncertainty in his heart. It was then, as he worked alongside them, that he overheard snippets of conversation, fragments of news carried on the sea breeze.
The fishermen spoke in hushed tones, but there was relief in their faces. "Did you hear about Arlong Park?" one asked. "Completely wiped out," another replied. "Arlong and his crew... gone. No more terrorizing the surrounding islands."
Hachi's heart sank. The news, though delivered in hushed whispers, was undeniable. The Arlong Pirates... were no more.
Guts refilled Hachi's empty sake cup. The fish-man, his throat parched from recounting his ordeal, gratefully downed the drink in a single gulp. He then turned a pleading gaze towards Buggy. "Captain Buggy... please. You saw Arlong. You must know something. Tell me... what happened?"
Buggy leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face as he swirled the sake in his own cup, considering. "Well, I did hear some rumors, you know, from a traveling weapons peddler I met a while back. He'd been through Cocoyasi Village. Said the villagers were whispering about something... a story they used to scare the misbehaving children."
Buggy paused for dramatic effect with a wicked glint shone in his eyes. "They told tales of a man as cold as ice, a demon who enjoyed skinning bad children alive. They said he'd eat their eyes and hide their ears as trophies. Just an old wives' tale, of course..." He chuckled, but there was a hint of unease in his voice. "But... thinking about it now... maybe that story has something to do with what happened at Arlong Park."
He shuddered, his painted face paling slightly as he recounted the events in the alley. "Especially after what I saw today..."
Buggy's voice dropped to a near whisper. "I think... I think that old wives' tale might be true, Hachi. Something truly monstrous happened at Arlong Park."
Hachi's eyes widened, a mixture of horror and grim determination etched on his face. "Where?" he demanded, his voice barely a whisper. "Where's this alley?"
Buggy pointed vaguely towards the east. "A few hundred meters that way, east side from the execution platform. But hold on a sec, fish-face!"
But Buggy's warning was swallowed by the tavern's din. Hachi, a man possessed by the ghosts of Arlong Park, exploded from his seat and vanished into the night, chasing a truth that threatened to shatter what little remained of his world.
Guts sighed, gently picking up the apple pie, now cold to the touch. Quietly, he headed back to his room.
As he opened the door, he spotted Robin fast asleep in one of the beds. Her face was calm, peaceful—bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the window, as if the world outside had momentarily faded away.
A smile touched Guts' lips. He carefully placed the pie on the small table, then laid his Dragonslayer within easy reach before settling onto the other bed.
When morning came, Guts' eyes snapped open.
He immediately noticed a commotion – a crowd of people climbing the stairs, their voices growing louder as they approached.
Instinctively, Guts reached for his Dragonslayer, hefting the massive blade onto his back. He glanced at Robin, who was already awake and calmly munching on the cold apple pie.
She shook her head slightly, a subtle gesture indicating no immediate danger.
Despite Robin's reassurances, Guts's frown only deepened. Before he could say more, an impatient pounding rattled the door. With a grunt, he swung it open, his face tight with irritation, hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword.
The old wood creaked loudly as the door slammed back, his broad frame blocking out the dim light of the inn's hallway. Standing there, a flash of fiery red hair cutting through the morning gloom, was Miranda.
Her expression was a placid, almost cheerful mask, a stark contrast to the grim-faced Marines arrayed in tight formation behind her. Their white coats seemed too bright for the dingy, mote-filled air.
"E'll now, de big man s' awake," Miranda chirped, her tone jarringly light. "Official business, m'fraid. We needn' ye n' yer associattes to vacate de room n' reportn to de Marine postt for questionin."
Guts's gaze didn't flicker. His hand hovered near the back strap where Dragonslayer was sheathed, fingers twitching slightly—ready to seize the sword at a moment's notice. The silence stretched for a beat, thick and heavy.
"No."
A light, airy chuckle escaped Miranda's lips. "Kiehehe, so directt. Alrighty, Plan B."
She took a step closer, her smile never wavering, though it didn't touch the unnerving intensity in her eyes. "Forgetn de postt for now. Ye still needn to clear out o'this room. Immediately."
Guts's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Miranda's smile widened, becoming something sharp and predatory. "Cause tis entire inn s' now a crime scene, bub."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill down the hallway.
"De owner... De old man who served ye tatt apple pie," she said, nodding toward the slice Robin still nibbled on in bed, "was found dead n'de kitchen tis mornin'."