The Heaven's Embrace cut through the open sea like a blade, her wake trailing white ribbons in the endless blue. The wind was crisp here, carrying the scent of salt and something far gentler than the oppressive humidity of the island he had called home for nearly two years.
From the captain's seat, Vegito rested one arm along the polished wood of the helm, watching the horizon as the sunlight glittered on the water. The sea in East Blue had a certain innocence to it—calmer, less hostile than the Grand Line he knew awaited in the future. But that calm was deceptive.
He'd read enough of One Piece's story back on Earth to know East Blue was not without its predators.
And one of them had a name that made his blood run hotter than any training session.
Arlong.
The thought alone tightened his jaw. That smug, tyrannical fish-man had carved his little empire out of Cocoyasi Village, enslaving an entire community under the pretense of protection. And more importantly—he had taken the freedom of Nami and Nojiko.
Vegito could picture them even now—Nojiko's quiet resilience, Nami's fierce spirit buried under years of manipulation. They deserved better. They deserved freedom. And he intended to give it to them.
The ship's rune-etched hull whispered faintly as she cut through a mild swell, and the hum of the energy core was like a heartbeat beneath his feet.
"Alright, game plan…" he muttered under his breath, speaking more to himself than anything else. "I'm not rushing in like an idiot. First, I need intel. Movement patterns. Strength assessment. Then I crush them in one strike—fast, decisive, public."
He could already imagine the look on Arlong's face when the so-called strongest in East Blue learned what real strength was.
Three days into his voyage, the Heaven's Embrace crossed paths with her first civilian vessel—a small trading sloop making its way toward Loguetown. Vegito had been leaning on the railing, idly watching the seabirds when he spotted it.
He could have ignored them, but a thought struck him. Information source.
With a flicker of movement, he vanished from the deck, reappearing in midair above the sloop, letting gravity carry him down. He landed on the bow with a light thud, startling the sailors.
"Easy," he said, holding up one hand with a disarming smile. "Not here to rob you. Just curious about the seas in this area."
They stared—half wary, half captivated by the sheer presence he carried. He didn't need Haki to know they'd never seen someone like him before.
One older sailor, perhaps the captain, stepped forward. "You… you're not a pirate?"
"Not yet," Vegito replied with a smirk. "But I'm thinking about starting something. Tell me—what's the situation out here?"
The old man's eyes darted toward the horizon. "If you're heading south, you should know… there's a fish-man crew operating near the Conomi Islands. Dangerous lot. The leader's name is Arlong—been squeezing villages dry for years. Even the Marines steer clear."
Vegito's smile sharpened. "And the Marines?"
The man spat over the side. "Useless. Either too afraid or too bought off to lift a finger. If you value your life, boy, you'll stay clear of that whole region."
Vegito gave a small, amused chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the warning."
With that, he stepped back onto the railing—and vanished in a burst of Soru, reappearing on his own deck seconds later.
That night, he stood on the forward balcony outside his quarters, gazing at the stars. The East Blue sky was clear, every constellation sharp against the velvet black. His ki sense reached out across the water, brushing against distant life signatures—schools of fish, the occasional sea king far beneath, and somewhere, faint but distinct, the clustered presences of a village.
He let the sea's rhythm wash over him.
Soon.
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The system's quiet chime pulled a faint smirk from him. "Guess it wants me ready for the sneaky work."
By the fifth day, he saw land—a cluster of small, lush islands strung together like beads. Fishing boats dotted the waters, their sails patched but sturdy. In the distance, larger silhouettes loomed—ships patrolling, flying a flag he recognized instantly.
A shark's saw-toothed grin on a black field.
Arlong's mark.
Vegito slowed the Heaven's Embrace, shifting her into a silent drift just beyond visual range. From here, he could observe without being noticed. He watched the patrols, the way they moved—lazy, confident, certain no one would dare challenge them.
It was exactly the kind of arrogance he could exploit.
But not yet.
First, he needed to find Nami.
He closed his eyes, letting Observation Haki stretch outward. Dozens of life signatures flared to his awareness—men, women, children… and then two that caught his attention immediately.
One burned bright, sharp, fierce despite the controlled exterior. The other was softer, steadier, warm.
Nami. Nojiko.
The faintest smile curved his lips. "Found you."
The wind carried the scent of the islands—salt, wildflowers, and smoke from cooking fires. From his vantage point beyond the patrol routes, Vegito could see the villages scattered along the shores, their homes humble but well kept. Even under oppression, the people here fought to preserve a sliver of normal life.
He guided the Heaven's Embrace into a cove hidden by two tall outcroppings of rock. The ship's stealth enchantments dimmed the glow of her runes until she looked like nothing more than a shadow on the water. He secured the anchor, then vanished from the deck in a flash of Soru, reappearing deep in the coastal forest.
The walk to Cocoyasi Village was leisurely—he wasn't here to make a scene, just to see. Observation Haki guided him through the trees, a living map of heartbeats and intent stretching before him.
He found them near the edge of the village.
Two young women were speaking outside a modest home. Nojiko was tending to a small garden, the faint light catching on her blue hair, while Nami leaned against the wooden fence, an unrolled map in her hands. She was dressed for mobility—shorts, sandals, and a sleeveless shirt that left her toned arms free.
She was smiling faintly at something Nojiko said, but Vegito caught the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her gaze flicked toward the sea every so often.
She's thinking about the next job.
He stayed in the treeline, content to watch for now.
That night, under the cloak of darkness, he slipped into Arlong's territory. The fish-men's base was a crude but intimidating structure of stone and timber, with Arlong's flag draped boldly over the entrance. Guards patrolled in loose patterns, clearly confident no human would dare approach.
Vegito drifted between them like smoke. He wasn't here to fight—not yet. He was here to listen.
From the shadows above an open window, he heard the clinking of coins and Arlong's deep, smug voice.
"…and she'll bring the money soon enough. She always does."
There was a pause, followed by a cruel chuckle from another fish-man. "That girl's got spirit, but it's only a matter of time before we break it completely."
Vegito's tail twitched once, sharply.
He left before his temper got the better of him. This wasn't the night.
Over the next week, he played a ghost.
By day, he explored the waters around the islands, memorizing current patterns, depth changes, and natural choke points. By night, he moved through Arlong's network like a phantom, mapping guard rotations, supply storage, and weak points in the base's structure.
And sometimes, just to keep them off balance, he took things.
One morning, a patrol found their weapons rack empty. Another night, barrels of fresh water vanished from their stores. Arlong raged, blaming incompetent underlings, never suspecting the true cause.
His first direct contact with Nami came on the twelfth day.
She was alone, walking back from the coast with a satchel slung over one shoulder. Her pace was brisk, her eyes scanning constantly—always aware of her surroundings. She didn't notice him until he stepped out from behind a palm tree, leaning casually against the trunk.
"Maps, huh?" he said, nodding at the satchel.
Her reaction was immediate—feet shifting, ready to bolt, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Who are you?"
"Just a traveler," Vegito replied easily. "Heard you're the one to talk to if you need to know the sea."
"Depends who's asking," she said, her tone sharp but guarded.
He smiled faintly. "Someone who hates Arlong as much as you do."
That made her freeze for a heartbeat—just enough for him to know he'd hit the mark. But then she scoffed, covering the flicker of surprise. "Careful. People who say things like that don't last long around here."
"I'm not 'people,'" he said simply, and stepped past her toward the village. "Think about it."
He left her standing there, frowning at his back.
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Over the next few days, their paths crossed more often. Sometimes by chance, sometimes because he made sure they did. He never pushed, never demanded trust—just offered the occasional piece of information, a small favor, a silent warning when Arlong's men were near.
She never thanked him outright, but she stopped looking at him like a threat.
And that was enough.
The night before he intended to act, he stood on a cliff overlooking the sea, the Heaven's Embrace anchored in the cove below. The moonlight painted the waves silver, and the air was heavy with anticipation.
Tomorrow, Arlong's reign here would end.
He tightened his fist, feeling the black sheen of Armament Haki ripple over his knuckles before fading. The training, the patience, the planning—it all came down to this.
And for the first time in years, the people of Cocoyasi would wake to a day without fear.