Chapter 8
Ocean waves crashed against Silas's weathered ship as it carved through the choppy waters of the East Blue. Storm clouds gathered overhead, painting the sky in bruised shades of gray and crimson. The patched vessel held steady—humble, but stubborn.
On deck, the Straw Hats had settled into their usual chaos: arguments, laughter, complaints. Somehow, it felt like home.
The ship creaked under the weight of six rowdy pirates, its cramped quarters forcing everyone into close contact—whether they liked it or not.
Zoro sat propped against the mast, chest wrapped in bandages from Mihawk's cut. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he shifted, trying to find a position that didn't stab him with pain.
"This floating piece of junk's tighter than a prison cell," he grumbled.
Sanji, perched near the galley's narrow entrance, cigarette dangling, fired back.
"At least it's not as cramped as your thick skull, moss-head!" He gestured at the tiny cooking space behind him. "How am I supposed to prepare meals fit for Nami-san in a broom closet?"
Silas gripped the wheel, red hair whipping in the wind. Trinkets caught the light as he spun to glare at his passengers. The tattoos beneath his shirt pulsed faintly.
"Quit whining!" he barked. "This ship's weathered storms that would've sunk you all. Show some respect!"
Johnny and Yosaku lounged on a barrel near the bow. Johnny adjusted his sunglasses.
"Uh, big brother Silas… no offense, but this boat's kinda—"
"Pathetic?" Yosaku finished. "One good wave and we're swimming with the fish!"
Their laughter stung worse than cannon fire. Silas's jaw tightened. He'd built this ship with his own hands. It wasn't pretty, but it was his.
Usopp clung to the railing, pale and queasy.
"We're all gonna die! This thing won't last another mile! Why couldn't we get a proper warship? Or at least something that doesn't look like driftwood?"
Luffy sat cross-legged on the figurehead, straw hat tilted back, grinning at the chaos.
"Shishishi! I like this ship! It's got character!" He stretched one rubber arm to grab a rope and swung himself up to the sail.
"You guys are hilarious when you're angry!"
His laughter only fueled the brewing storm between Zoro, Sanji, and Silas.
"This rust bucket won't make it to the next island," Zoro said, hand resting on his sword despite the bandages.
Sanji blew smoke in his direction.
"For once, moss-head's right. This ship's an insult to every chef who's ever sailed. How can I protect Nami-san's delicate sensibilities in such crude surroundings?"
Silas's hand dropped to his flintlock.
"Keep talking, and I'll give you both a close look at the ocean floor. This ship's outlasted pirates, storms, and fools. It'll outlast you too."
Usopp raised his hands.
"H-Hey! We're all nakama, right? Let's not fight! Look at those clouds! Aren't they… nice?"
Johnny and Yosaku chimed in, enjoying the show.
"Big brother Zoro's got a point," Johnny smirked.
"This thing's held together with hope and sea salt."
"But big brother Sanji's being dramatic," Yosaku added.
"It's not that bad… okay, it's pretty bad."
Luffy, now hanging upside down from the rigging, laughed harder.
"This is better than a festival! You guys should fight more often!"
---
As evening fell, the arguments escalated. Sanji emerged from the galley with a pot of clam chowder, movements sharp with frustration.
"Dinner!" he announced, slamming the pot down.
"I made this masterpiece in what can generously be called a kitchen but is actually a storage closet with delusions of grandeur."
Zoro sniffed the air.
"Smells like you used seawater instead of stock, curly-brow."
Sanji's eyebrow twitched. He spun around, ladle raised like a weapon.
"What did you say, you damn moss-head?!"
"You heard me," Zoro said, dragging himself upright.
"My friend could cook better than this—and she's been dead for years."
Silas watched his meal spiral into chaos.
"That's it! One more word about my ship or galley, and I'm throwing the lot of you overboard!"
The three stood in a tense triangle, glares sharp enough to cut steel.
Usopp scrambled between them.
"Stop! Fighting during dinner causes indigestion! Think of our stomachs!"
Johnny and Yosaku cheered from the sidelines.
"Big brother Sanji's chowder smells amazing!"
"But this fight's even spicier!"
Luffy kept eating, unfazed.
"This is great! Fighting makes food taste better!"
---
When night fell, the cramped sleeping quarters became another battlefield.
The hold had space for maybe two hammocks. Six men needed rest.
Zoro, too proud to accept help, propped himself against crates.
"I don't need charity."
Sanji claimed a corner near what he optimistically called "the ladies' quarters"—an empty storage space he'd reserved for Nami.
"A gentleman requires proper accommodations for dreaming of beautiful women."
Silas took the only actual bunk.
"My ship, my bed. The rest of you figure it out."
Usopp clung to a hammock that swayed dangerously.
"I'm gonna fall into the ocean! Or get crushed by Zoro's ego!"
Johnny and Yosaku squeezed onto a single barrel, grumbling.
Only Luffy seemed content. He stretched across the bow like a human blanket, already snoring peacefully while the rest of them argued deep into the night.