Chapter 20
The Going Merry sailed smoothly through the East Blue, her patched sails catching the perfect morning breeze. With Silas's ridiculous ship strapped to her side, she looked absolutely insane—but somehow, it worked.
The crew had settled into their usual chaos: arguing, eating, and planning their next move.
"Hey Zoro," Silas said suddenly, eyeing the swordsman's weapons.
"Those two swords of yours are pretty crappy compared to your Wado Ichimonji."
Zoro's eye twitched.
"You're the one who lent them to me, you bastard!"
"Oh yeah, that's right!" Silas grinned.
"Let's replace them in Loguetown. I'll probably sell those back to some weapon shop. Don't need 'em anymore."
"Finally," Zoro muttered.
"These things have terrible balance."
---
"So Loguetown, huh?" Nami said, already in navigator mode.
"We can stock up, get better weapons, maybe find some decent maps..."
"And see where the Pirate King died!" Luffy added, grin blazing.
"This is gonna be so cool!"
Sanji blew a smoke ring.
"As long as we don't run into more corrupt Marines."
"If we do," Silas said casually,
"I've got plenty of bullets now."
The conversation rolled on as the Merry cut through the waves. Behind them, Cocoyasi Village was free. Ahead lay Loguetown, the Grand Line, and all the impossible dreams they were crazy enough to chase.
"This is gonna be fun!" Luffy laughed.
And somehow, despite everything that could go wrong—everyone believed him.
---
Far from the cheerful chaos aboard the Going Merry, in the holy land of Mary Geoise, shadows gathered.
The chamber was massive and cold, lit only by flickering candles. Ancient stone walls loomed like tombs. At the center sat five elderly men around a circular table—each one radiating the kind of authority that could reshape nations with a single word.
The Gorosei. The Five Elder Stars.
A CP agent knelt before them, trembling. The papers in his hands shook like leaves in a storm.
"Sirs… we have confirmation from our sources in the East Blue. The red-haired pirate spotted with Monkey D. Luffy calls himself… Daytime Silas."
Silence. Heavy. Absolute.
Then, slowly, the elder with the long white beard and the scar across his chest leaned forward.
"Daytime," he repeated, voice dripping with ancient contempt.
"It's been centuries since we heard that accursed name."
Another elder, katana resting across his knees, spoke without lifting his eyes.
"One of those pathetic bloodlines that swore to protect the one they called Joy Boy. Eight hundred years ago."
"Daytime… Dawntime… Sunnytime…" A third elder counted off on gnarled fingers.
"All of them vanished after the Void Century. Hiding in the shadows like cowards."
Cold laughter echoed through the chamber.
"They were too weak to fulfill their promise. Not even worth our attention."
But the bearded elder wasn't laughing. His eyes burned—not with contempt, but unease.
"The fact that one has resurfaced now, and as a pirate…" He drummed his fingers on the stone table. Each tap echoed like a death knell.
"Does he truly believe that following a fool with the initial 'D' will revive that forgotten era?"
"The last Joy Boy died eight hundred years ago," snarled the elder with the flat cap.
"These bloodlines are fairy tales. Bedtime stories."
"Perhaps," the bearded one said quietly.
"But fairy tales become dangerous when people start believing in them again. And the 'D' bloodline has always been… problematic."
The silence stretched, taut and sharp.
Finally, the elder with the katana spoke, voice like ice scraping stone.
"If the old bloodlines are surfacing again… if they think they can challenge the order we've built…" His grip tightened.
"Then this time, we erase them completely. No hiding. No running. No mercy."
He looked up. His eyes held the weight of centuries—of civilizations erased from history.
"Send word to all Marine bases. Any pirate bearing the name Daytime is to be eliminated on sight. No questions. No prisoners. If these fools want to chase dead dreams… they can die for them."
The CP agent scrambled to his feet, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the floor.
"Y-yes, sirs! Right away!"
As his footsteps faded, the elders sat in silence. They had ruled the world for decades. Crushed every threat. But something about this felt different.
"Eight hundred years," the bearded elder murmured.
"And now they surface again, just as the world begins to stir. Coincidence, or..."
"It doesn't matter," the katana-wielder said.
"Coincidence or fate, we'll crush them like we crushed their ancestors. The World Government's reign is eternal."
But even as he spoke, something cold settled in his stomach.
And this time felt different.
---
Back on the Going Merry, Silas yawned and stretched, completely unaware that the most powerful men in the world were already plotting his death. He pulled out a cloth and casually cleaned his flintlock, whistling a tune his mother used to hum.
"What a beautiful day for sailing," he said to no one in particular, red hair catching the morning breeze like liquid fire.
Behind him, his crewmates continued their ridiculous arguments—about swords, cooking, and who was the biggest idiot on the ship. Luffy was already planning what he wanted to see in Loguetown. Nami was calculating supply costs. Zoro was complaining about his borrowed weapons.
The sun shone down like a blessing. The ocean stretched endlessly ahead, full of promise and adventure.
They looked like exactly what they were—a bunch of young pirates chasing impossible dreams with nothing but friendship and stubbornness to guide them.
They had no idea that ancient shadows were already reaching out to crush those dreams before they could truly begin.
But maybe, just maybe, that wouldn't matter.
Because sometimes, the world doesn't need more order.
Sometimes, it needs a crew of impossible fools who refuse to believe their dreams are too big.
The Going Merry sailed on—carrying laughter, hope, and the kind of defiance that could shake the world.