Under the full moon, while celebration filled the island's air, Louay walked silently toward the Straw Hat ship docked at the shore.
He paid no attention to the laughter and music echoing from the town behind him. He didn't glance back even once. In his right hand, he held a lit candle, while two bags hung from his shoulder — a large white one filled with items he had gathered from the deserted town, and a medium blue one containing money stolen from the ruins of the Fishmen's base.
He climbed quietly onto the ship. His footsteps made only the faintest creak against the wooden boards, as if the ship itself were gently breathing in the stillness of night. Without hesitation, he entered and descended the staircase to the lower deck, the moonlight filtering softly through a small window, revealing glimpses of his path as he moved silently, careful not to make a sound.
In the darkness, the flickering candle cast tall shadows behind him. He looked down and knelt before a wooden floorboard. With practiced precision, he located the nails and coated his right hand in Haki. One by one, he pulled the four nails free, each with quiet exactness. Then he lifted the board and opened the hidden compartment he had previously prepared.
He whispered softly,
"This will do."
Lowering both bags into the hollow beneath the floor, he followed, climbing down with the candle flickering between his fingers. He placed it gently on the cold wooden base, then reached up and grasped the floorboard from beneath. Slowly and carefully, he pressed the nails back into place, reinforcing them with a Haki-enhanced push from within — locking everything exactly as it was, leaving no trace of his presence.
Darkness gradually reclaimed the space, with only the candle's dim flame dancing across the wooden walls. Louay sat quietly, back against the wall, the bags resting beside him.
He remained motionless in that hidden corner. Then, with two fingers, he snuffed out the candle. The shadows vanished into total blackness, and he closed his eyes in stillness.
He murmured,
"They'll set sail at sunrise… I must be ready."
Sitting cross-legged in the void, Louay steadied his breath. Then, in the silence, he whispered again,
"Before we reach the next island… I have to learn how to coat my legs in Haki as well."
He placed his hands on his knees and focused. From the depths of his heart, he tried to summon the Haki, guiding it like a stream toward his legs. A faint warmth began to rise in his veins — a slow-burning fire fighting against stiffness and resistance, flowing steadily through him.
He thought to himself:
"To master yourself… is to resist the urge to strike when killing would be easier."
Then he clenched his fists.
"If Arlong hadn't been defeated… none of this would've ended like it did."
He loosened his grip and exhaled with a dry laugh.
"But it did end. Defeat doesn't erase the crime… it only gives us a moment to breathe."
---
Meanwhile, the island pulsed with joy.
Villagers laughed, children ran between dancing legs, and music soared through the night.
The Straw Hats, at last, were enjoying a peace they hadn't felt in a long time.
At a long table overflowing with food, Luffy devoured meat like a force of nature. Bones piled up before him at a terrifying speed, his belly swollen like a balloon.
Mumbling through a mouthful, he said,
"This island's amazing! They've got meat that never ends!"
One of the cooks chuckled,
"No, you have an appetite that never ends!"
Not far away, Usopp stood triumphantly atop a wooden barrel, surrounded by starry-eyed children.
He raised his voice and pointed to his chest:
"Then Arlong the Giant appeared! Ten meters tall! His eyes were spitting fire!"
A child gasped,
"What did you do?!"
With a dramatic flourish, Usopp declared:
"I launched my secret arrow — the one that never misses! He fell to his knees, begging for mercy!"
The kids erupted in laughter, though one of them muttered,
"But... wasn't it Luffy who beat him?"
Elsewhere, Zoro sat silently in a small hut. His torso was bare, and a village doctor was stitching a deep wound across his chest.
"You're lucky," the doctor muttered while focusing on the needle. "Another inch and it would've reached your heart."
Zoro sipped from a cup of sake and replied coolly,
"I don't use my heart much anyway."
Outside, Sanji moved between the girls, balancing a tray of sweets, bowing gallantly to each.
He offered a slice of cake to a blonde girl and said,
"Only for your beautiful eyes, mademoiselle."
The girl giggled and turned away shyly, prompting him to whisper to himself,
"Tonight… is truly a romantic one."
In a quiet corner, Nami stood alone. She rolled up her sleeve and gazed at the black tattoo on her shoulder, fingers brushing over it as if she could erase it with sheer will.
She whispered,
"It's over… That nightmare is finally over."
An elderly village woman approached her gently.
"The scars we can't see… are always the hardest to heal."
Nami nodded silently, lowering her arm.
"Freedom doesn't come when the chains break… but when you're no longer afraid of the marks they leave."
And for the first time in a long while… she wasn't crying.
---
Hours passed, and calm returned to the village.
Everyone lay asleep, exhausted from laughter and full bellies. Luffy was sprawled on his back, belly bloated like a balloon. Usopp was slumped on a barrel, still muttering wild stories in his sleep, his mouth working even in dreams.
Elsewhere, old Ajar stumbled into his shop, still tipsy from the night's festivities.
"Ugh… I may have drunk a little too much…" he mumbled.
The place was a mess. Goods were scattered, the wooden table flipped upside down. With a tired sigh, he knelt and began picking up the fallen items in the dim light.
As he reached down, something white caught his eye — tucked under the wall, faintly lit by the moonlight pouring through the open door.
Curious, he walked over and picked up the bag.
As soon as he opened it, a yellow glow lit up his face.
"What…? Money? No — a lot of money!"
He quickly shut the bag and looked around, eyes narrowing.
"Who left this here…?"
Still stunned, he noticed strange carvings on the opposite wall. He set the bag down and lit a small candle, then brought it close to the writing.
Slowly, he read:
"Go to the island's northern shore… and you'll understand."
He froze, eyes narrowing.
"Who wrote this? And why?"
After a long moment of silent thought, he grabbed his hat and headed out the door, walking into the woods toward the northern coast.
As he walked, he muttered,
"What am I going to find there? Could it be… that boy?"
Suddenly, he stumbled and fell, groaning:
"Argh… what the hell—?"
He looked up — and saw a massive body lying in the brush.
Stunned, he approached slowly.
"…A Fishman?"
The creature's mouth hung open, eyes sunken in blood. The ground was stained dark red around him.
Ajar's voice trembled.
"Who could've done this to a Fishman… and so violently?"
He moved past the corpse, heart pounding, and continued toward the coast, now more cautious than ever.
"This place… feels wrong."
As he went deeper into the forest, he noticed broken trees everywhere.
"Maybe leftovers from the storm…" he muttered, though he sounded unconvinced.
Eventually, he reached a cliff overlooking the shore.
And what he saw took the breath from his lungs.
Under the full moon, the beach looked utterly destroyed. Trees were splintered, rocks shattered into gravel, the ground itself cracked like it had been torn apart by a force of nature.
He dropped to his knees, sweat dripping from his face.
"O–Our shore… it's been wiped out…"
He stared in disbelief, voice trembling.
"Who… who could've done this?"
Then a chill ran down his spine.
He turned quickly and muttered,
"I need to get out of here…"
And as he ran, weaving through the dark trees, he repeated to himself,
"This place… isn't normal anymore…"
---
Near the ruins of Arlong Park, Kiro wandered alone under the shadows of night.
He moved uncertainly among broken walls and scattered trees, calling softly:
"Dad… where are you?"
The darkness was thick, the wind whispering through the branches.
Suddenly, under a large tree, something caught his eye.
A motionless figure.
His chest tightened. He ran toward it, blue hair swinging in front of his eyes.
"Please… don't let it be him…"
He came to a halt.
The body lay still, face hidden beneath shadow.
"Anyone… let it be anyone else…"
He whispered through shallow breaths.
"Please… don't let it be Dad…"
Step by step, he inched closer. The fear was heavy in his chest. Then, trembling, he knelt and turned the body over.
Tears broke from his eyes before he could even speak.
"Dad…"
The word came out like a blade, slicing through his soul.
He hunched over, holding the lifeless body, tears mixing with the blood.
Wiping his face with his trembling arms, he whispered,
"Who did this to you? First Mom… now you…"
He sat beside him, hugging his knees. Then, through the blur of his tears, something glinted in the moonlight.
A torn white shirt.
His eyes widened.
"…That shirt…!?"
It was familiar.
Too familiar.
---
Back in the darkness beneath the ship, Louay still sat in silence, legs folded, the two bags by his side.
He didn't move. He didn't even breathe deeply.
He sat like a stone — part of the ship's frame itself.
Long minutes passed. Then he opened his eyes slowly and whispered:
"Strangely… I don't feel out of place here. In this darkness, where no one sees me… and no one expects anything from me… this feels like my real home."
He leaned his head against the wooden wall behind him, eyes closed, as if he could see the moon shining through the ceiling.
"I could've lived like them — laughing, eating, resting… but I never learned how. Not once."
He smiled bitterly. His face remained hidden in shadow.
"Maybe… there was nothing to learn to begin with."
A pause, then a deeper voice, almost a growl.
"When did I start feeling like a stranger to everything? To this world… and even to myself?"
He drew a long, calm breath.
"But it's okay. Tomorrow is coming… and with it, things will start to change."
He closed his eyes once more, resting in the quiet.
"I just need to be ready… before everything falls apart again."