The sun hung high in the azure sky, casting dancing reflections across the calm ocean surface as a gentle breeze stirred the air. The world seemed to have taken on a warmer, more peaceful quality—a stark contrast to the chaos that had brought them here just days ago.
Several days had passed since the Spade Pirates were scattered across the Whitebeard fleet and assigned to various work details. What had initially felt like imprisonment was gradually transforming into something else entirely. The crew was adapting to their new roles with surprising ease, and each evening they would gather together on The Piece of Spadille to share stories and experiences from their day.
The conversations were lively and full of personality. Mihar would discuss his teaching duties with the younger members of the Whitebeard crew, his eyes lighting up as he described breakthrough moments in their education. Wallace spoke quietly but proudly about his work maintaining the fleet's ships and new meeting with Namur the 8th Division Commander, his Fishman strength proving invaluable for underwater repairs. Even Kotatsu had found his place, somehow managing to communicate his daily adventures hunting mice in the fleet's storage areas in exchange for premium fish scraps.
But among all the crew members, Skull was having the time of his life. As an avid collector of pirate memorabilia—particularly anything skeleton-related—he had discovered that the Whitebeard Pirates were a treasure trove of historical artifacts and stories. His iconic skull costume and extroverted personality had quickly made him a recognizable figure throughout the fleet.
During his free time, Skull could be found darting between ships, striking up conversations and attempting to negotiate trades for items that caught his collector's eye. What the Whitebeard Pirates didn't realize was that each friendly chat was also an intelligence-gathering opportunity. Skull's natural curiosity and genuine interest in people made him privy to information that he carefully catalogued for future use.
"Did you know that the Third Division has a guy who actually fought alongside Gol D. Roger for three months?" Skull had excitedly told the crew just the night before. "He's got this amazing scar-shaped like a crescent moon that he got from deflecting a cannonball with his bare hands!"
Meanwhile, Deuce had found himself in an entirely different kind of situation. His medical knowledge had quickly been recognized, and he'd been assigned to work alongside the fleet's medical staff. This meant he spent his days surrounded by the Whitebeard Pirates' nurses—a development that had sparked endless teasing from the rest of the crew.
"So, Deuce," Jerry had grinned during one of their evening gatherings, "how are you enjoying your new... educational opportunities?"
"It's purely professional!" Deuce had protested, his face turning red. "I'm learning advanced medical techniques and expanding my knowledge of battlefield surgery!"
"Sure you are," Wallace had rumbled with amusement. "That's why you've been humming while organizing your medical supplies."
But despite these lighter moments, not everyone was adjusting peacefully to their new circumstances. Ace, true to his nature, had never abandoned his original goal of defeating Whitebeard. If anything, being captured had only intensified his determination.
Every day, without fail, Ace would seek out the Emperor and challenge him to battle. Every day, without fail, he would be swiftly defeated and often sent flying into the ocean, requiring rescue and medical attention from an increasingly exasperated Deuce.
"One hundred and twenty-seven," Deuce had muttered that morning as he applied bandages to yet another collection of Ace's bruises. "That's how many times you've tried to assassinate Whitebeard since we got here."
"I'm not trying to assassinate him!" Ace had protested. "I'm challenging him to honorable combat!"
"Ace, you tried to set his mustache on fire while he was sleeping."
"That was a tactical approach!"
As for Jerry himself, he had settled into a routine that felt almost meditative. Each morning, he would take his position at the side of The Piece of Spadille, Supreme-Grade Fishing Rod in hand, and cast his line into the ocean. The act of fishing had become more than just completing his daily system quests—it was a moment of peace in the midst of their uncertain situation.
Marco, surprisingly, had been giving him space. The Phoenix had mentioned that Jerry's strength would be called upon when needed, but for now, the Whitebeard Pirates seemed content to let him maintain his fishing routine while keeping a respectful distance.
On this particular afternoon, the fleet had docked at one of Whitebeard's bases for resupply. Jerry sat in his usual spot, legs dangling over the edge of the ship, watching his fishing line disappear into the crystal-clear water below. The base bustled with activity as crew members loaded supplies and conducted business, but Jerry felt removed from it all, existing in his own peaceful bubble.
The sun was warm on his back, and he found himself fighting off drowsiness as the hours passed. He'd been sitting there since just after lunch, and the afternoon was beginning to stretch toward evening. His mind wandered to random thoughts—wondering what kind of unique sea life might exist in Whitebeard's territory, whether he might accidentally hook some legendary creature, or if there were any particularly strange fish native to these waters.
Just as he was beginning to seriously consider taking a nap, his fishing float suddenly erupted in a burst of bubbles.
[Ding! Random Quest Triggered: Catch of Significant Weight]
[Reward: 2x Daily Quest attribute rewards for one week & one (1) Surprise Treasure Chest.]
[Penalty for Failure: Perform a handstand while eating noodles in public view]
"Huh?" Jerry blinked at the system notification. "What kind of quest is this? And what's with that penalty?"
The bubbling around his float was intensifying, creating a churning disturbance in the otherwise calm water. Jerry felt a familiar excitement building in his chest—the anticipation that came with reeling in an unknown catch.
"Well, let's see what we've got here," he muttered, gripping his rod more tightly. "Maybe there really is some unique species in Whitebeard's waters. Though I really hope it's not something ridiculous like a talking sponge or squid..."
The disturbance in the water grew more violent, and Jerry could feel significant weight on his line. Whatever he'd hooked was big—and apparently alive, given the way it was moving. He began to reel in carefully, not wanting to lose whatever prize awaited him.
But as he pulled, something unexpected happened. Instead of fighting against the line, whatever he'd caught seemed to be swimming upward voluntarily. The bubbles increased, and suddenly, a familiar round head broke the surface of the water.
Jerry's eyes widened in disbelief.
It was Jinbe.
The whale shark Fishman was floating calmly in the water, several loops of Jerry's fishing line wrapped around his considerable bulk. His characteristic wide smile was on full display, complete with the prominent tusks that gave him such a distinctive appearance. He raised one webbed hand in a cheerful wave, seemingly completely unbothered by his current predicament.
"Hello there, Brother Jerry!" Jinbe called out with evident amusement. "I heard from the crew that you enjoy fishing in this spot. Quite impressive—you actually managed to catch me!"
With fluid grace that belied his substantial size, Jinbe launched himself out of the water and landed on the deck beside Jerry with a soft thud. His good mood was infectious, and he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying Jerry's stunned expression.
Jerry heard the distinctive ding of his system notification completing the quest, but he was too bewildered to pay it much attention.
"What a ripoff," he thought. "A 'catch of significant weight'? I mean, technically Jinbe is pretty heavy, but this feels like cheating on the system's part."
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Jerry looked up at the still-grinning Fishman. "Jinbe? What are you doing here? And why do you look so pleased with yourself?"
"Haha! It's your expression that's making me so happy!" Jinbe laughed heartily. "The look on your face when I popped up was priceless!"
He spent a moment untangling himself from the fishing line, his movements careful not to damage Jerry's equipment. "But in all seriousness, I came here specifically to see you. I have something important to discuss."
Jerry raised an eyebrow, still processing the surreal nature of having literally fished up one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. "Something important? What could you possibly need to talk to me about?"
Jinbe's expression shifted to something more serious, though his natural warmth remained. "I came to thank you, Jerry. For what you did on Fishman Island."
"Thank me?" Jerry was genuinely confused. "What exactly are you thanking me for?"
"I spoke with your crewmates and learned about everything that happened after you defeated Hody Jones," Jinbe explained, settling into a more comfortable position on the deck. "The way you handled the aftermath, the arrangements you made with the authorities—all of that was crucial for our people."
Jerry scratched his head, still not entirely sure where this was going. "You mean the cleanup after the fight? I just did what seemed logical at the time."
"What seemed logical to you was a tremendous service to Fishman Island," Jinbe said earnestly. "You may have been 'just going with the flow,' as you put it, but your actions had far-reaching consequences that you might not have realized."
He leaned forward slightly, his expression growing more serious. "After you left, Prince Fukaboshi and the kingdom's forces took custody of Hody and his remaining followers. During the interrogations that followed, we learned the full extent of what they had done"
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