Chapter 37
The Going Merry drifted toward the whale like a leaf caught in a tide. The whipstaff lay in splinters. The sea was calm—too calm. No wind. No waves. Just silence and the slow, steady pull of fate.
Nami knelt on the deck, fists clenched, tears mixing with seawater.
The whale loomed—scarred, silent, impossibly close. Its hide was a wall of barnacles and old wounds, each one bigger than their ship.
Silas stood at the center, red hair dripping, voice hoarse.
"We're not dead yet!" he shouted.
"Not while we're still fighting!"
The others looked at him—this sleep-starved pirate who'd guarded food all night and steered them through madness all morning. Somehow, he still had fire left.
Zoro straightened, hand brushing his swords.
"Tch. Fine. Let's move."
Sanji crushed his soggy cigarette underfoot.
"Hope's all we've got."
Usopp sniffled, nodding.
"I hate hope. But… okay."
They grabbed the last shard of the whipstaff—a splintered rod barely thicker than a broomstick. All four braced against it, hands overlapping, feet slipping on the wet deck.
"LEFT! PUSH LEFT!" Silas barked, throwing his weight into it.
"I AM PUSHING LEFT!" Usopp shouted, face red.
"You're pushing panic again!" Zoro growled.
"Shut up and pull, moss-head!" Sanji snapped, legs skidding.
The ship groaned. Timbers creaked. The whale blocked out the sun, casting them in shadow.
Nami's voice cracked through the stillness.
"YOU'RE ALL USELESS! WE'RE GONNA DIE AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"
She slammed her fists against the deck, sobbing.
"I should've stayed in Cocoyashi! I should've never come with you idiots!"
The Merry tilted. The figurehead groaned. They were close enough to touch the whale's skin—close enough to see the scars carved deep into its flesh.
The four men strained, muscles burning, shouting over the silence, fighting fate with nothing but a broken stick and stubborn hearts.
Then—BOOM.
A cannon fired below deck.
Everyone froze.
"What was that?" Zoro blinked.
"Did we shoot something?" Sanji looked around, still gripping the whipstaff.
"Who lit the cannon?!" Usopp's voice cracked.
They watched as a cannonball arced through the air… and tapped the whale's side with a dull thud.
The whale didn't flinch.
"Did it… feel that?" Silas asked.
"Did it even notice?" Usopp whispered.
"Is it stupid?" Sanji muttered.
"It's still coming," Zoro said flatly.
---
Then—CRACK.
The Merry jolted forward, wood groaning as her bow scraped against the whale's hide. The impact wasn't violent, but it was enough to snap the figurehead clean off.
The carved ram's head tumbled across the deck, rolling to a stop near the mast.
Everyone stared.
"We hit it," Silas said quietly.
"Slowed us down," Zoro muttered.
"Great," Sanji groaned. "Now we're drifting and broken."
Usopp whimpered.
"Why is it always the ship?"
---
The four men exchanged glances.
Still thinking. Still clutching a broken stick. Still drifting toward doom.
But now their nerves had shifted.
Because that wasn't just any part of the ship that broke.
That was Luffy's seat.
His favorite spot. His lookout throne. The place he perched like a bird when things got exciting.
And now it was rolling across the deck in pieces.
Zoro's grip tightened.
"He's gonna notice."
Sanji sighed.
"He's gonna say something stupid."
Usopp paled.
"He's gonna do something stupid."
Silas just stared at the broken figurehead.
"I regret joining."
Luffy's voice drifted up from below deck—cheerful, confused, and somehow still Luffy.
"Hey… what was that sound? Did something fall over?"
Then—something shifted.
Barely noticeable at first. Just a nudge. A change in the drift.
The Going Merry began to slide left.
Silas blinked.
"It's working…"
Usopp's voice cracked.
"We're moving! We're actually moving!"
"Don't jinx it, long-nose," Sanji muttered, but even he couldn't hide the hope creeping into his voice.
"Keep pushing," Zoro said, eyes locked on the narrowing gap.
"Don't stop now."
Nami looked up, face streaked with tears.
"Please…" she whispered.
"Please let this work…"
The Merry creaked forward, inching toward the narrow space between the whale's bulk and the jagged cliff wall. The whale's skin passed close—barnacled, scarred, ancient. Every inch told stories older than any of them.
For a moment, it looked like they might make it.
The gap was tight. Treacherous. But it was there. And beyond it—freedom. The Grand Line. The sea of dreams and monsters.
Then the whale's eye opened.
Huge. Glossy. Slow.
It moved—just slightly—tracking light, not them. The eye wasn't focused. It wasn't judging. It had just… woken up.
The crew froze.
Nami's breath caught.
"Please don't look at us," she whispered.
"Please just let us go…"
The air didn't thicken with doom. It just held still.
The whale hadn't noticed them.
Not yet.
It had simply opened its eye.
And now, they were sailing past something ancient and alive—something that hadn't decided anything at all.
Yet.