The morning sun painted the waters of West Blue in shades of gold and amber as Lieutenant Commander Rima Yamato stood at the observation deck of Marine Branch G-82. Her dark hair, pulled back in its regulation bun, caught the sea breeze that carried the scent of salt and possibility. At thirty-two, she had spent the better part of a decade patrolling these waters, and every sunrise brought the same bittersweet reminder of dreams deferred.
"Commander Yamato, the morning reports are ready for your review."
Rima turned from the railing to see Ensign Kenji approaching with a stack of papers tucked under his arm. The young navigator's uniform was pressed to perfection, his eagerness evident in every crisp step. She had been like that once—hungry for action, convinced that every patrol might be the one to change everything.
"Thank you, Kenji." She accepted the reports with practiced efficiency. "Any overnight incidents?"
"Nothing major, ma'am. Three drunk and disorderly calls from Port Karabella, one minor shipping dispute resolved peacefully, and the usual reports of suspicious vessels that turned out to be fishing boats." Kenji hesitated. "Though there was one thing that seemed odd..."
Rima's attention sharpened. In her experience, the "odd" things were often the most important. "Go on."
"The Coral Maiden—that merchant vessel that was supposed to dock yesterday evening? She never showed up. Harbor master's getting worried since she's carrying medical supplies for the outer islands."
A frown creased Rima's brow. The West Blue shipping lanes were generally reliable, protected by regular Marine patrols and well-established trade routes. Ships didn't simply vanish without reason.
"Could be weather," she mused, though the morning was calm and reports showed clear skies for the past week. "Or mechanical trouble. Have we tried raising them on the Den Den Mushi?"
"That's just it, ma'am. No response. Complete radio silence since their last check-in two days ago when they left Torino Island."
Rima set the reports down on a nearby table and walked back to the railing, her mind already shifting into tactical mode. The Coral Maiden was a well-maintained vessel with an experienced crew. Captain Morrison had been running supplies through these waters for over fifteen years without incident.
"Pull up the shipping manifests," she ordered. "I want to know exactly what cargo she was carrying, her planned route, and weather conditions along the way. Also, dispatch a reconnaissance flight to search her projected path."
"Yes, ma'am!" Kenji's excitement was palpable. Finally, something more interesting than paperwork and routine patrols.
As the young ensign hurried away, Rima remained at the railing, her fingers unconsciously tracing patterns in the air. Where her hand moved, tiny ripples appeared in her coffee cup—a reflexive use of her Devil Fruit powers that she'd never quite learned to suppress. The Nami Nami no Mi had made her formidable in naval combat, but even with such abilities, she remained stationed in the relatively quiet West Blue while the real action happened in the Grand Line.
She thought of Admiral Kizaru's recent promotion, of Vice Admiral Tsuru's legendary campaigns against pirate fleets, of all the Marines who had earned their place where history was made. Here in West Blue, her greatest victories were against small-time smugglers and the occasional rookie pirate crew looking to make a name for themselves.
"Getting philosophical again, Commander?"
The voice belonged to Chief Petty Officer Maria Santos, G-82's head gunner and one of the few people who could speak to Rima with such casual familiarity. The stocky woman approached with two steaming cups of coffee, offering one to her superior.
"Just thinking about missing ships and routine reports," Rima replied, accepting the coffee gratefully. "Sometimes I wonder if we're making a real difference out here."
Maria snorted. "Tell that to the fishing villages we've kept safe, or the merchant families who can sleep at night knowing their cargo won't be stolen by pirates. Just because we're not fighting Shichibukai doesn't mean our work doesn't matter."
"I know that. It's just..." Rima paused, searching for words that wouldn't sound like complaints. "The Grand Line is where the real threats are. Where Marines can truly serve justice on a scale that matters."
"And you think you're ready for that?"
The question hung in the air between them. Rima had been recommended for Grand Line assignment twice in the past five years, only to be told that her skills were "too valuable" in West Blue, that her "intimate knowledge of local conditions" made her irreplaceable. She suspected the real reason was political—her unwillingness to overlook certain irregularities in supply chain management had made some higher-ups uncomfortable.
"I know I am," she said finally.
Before Maria could respond, Ensign Kenji came running back across the deck, his face flushed with exertion and concern.
"Commander! The cargo manifest for the Coral Maiden—there's something strange about it."
Rima set down her coffee and turned her full attention to the young navigator. "Strange how?"
"Well, officially she was carrying medical supplies, basic provisions, and some construction materials. But I cross-referenced with the port authority records from Torino Island, and there are discrepancies. The weight doesn't match, and there are several unmarked containers that weren't listed on the original manifest."
Maria whistled low. "Smuggling?"
"That's what I thought," Kenji continued, "but when I dug deeper, I found similar discrepancies on three other merchant vessels that have passed through our area in the past month. All of them had unmarked cargo, all of them listed 'miscellaneous provisions' as part of their inventory."
Rima felt a familiar tingle of anticipation, the same sensation she got before a challenging battle. This wasn't just a missing ship—this was the beginning of something larger.
"Any of those other ships still in our jurisdiction?"
"Two of them, ma'am. The Sea Dancer and Prosperity's Promise. Both currently docked at different ports in our patrol area."
"Excellent work, Kenji. I want you to coordinate with local port authorities and arrange for immediate inspections of both vessels. Don't let them know we're coming—I want to see what they're actually carrying before they have a chance to hide anything."
"Should I alert the other bases, ma'am? This might be bigger than just our sector."
Rima considered this. Standard protocol would be to report suspicious activity up the chain of command and request additional support. But she'd learned from experience that sometimes reports got buried in bureaucracy, especially when they involved merchant vessels with proper documentation and seemingly legitimate business.
"Not yet. Let's confirm what we're dealing with first. If there's genuine criminal activity, we'll want solid evidence before we make accusations."
Maria nodded approvingly. "Smart. No point in crying wolf if this turns out to be clerical errors."
But even as she said it, Rima knew this wasn't about paperwork mistakes. The pattern was too consistent, too carefully hidden. Someone was using the established shipping lanes to move contraband, and the missing Coral Maiden might be the key to understanding how extensive the operation was.
The morning sun had fully emerged now, burning away the last wisps of sea mist and revealing the vast expanse of West Blue stretching to the horizon. Somewhere out there, answers waited. Somewhere out there, criminals thought they could operate under the nose of Marine Branch G-82.
They were about to learn otherwise.
"Maria, I want our fastest patrol vessel ready to depart in thirty minutes. We're going to inspect those ships personally."
"Aye, Commander. Should I prep the crew for potential combat?"
Rima's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of her saber, and around her, the air seemed to shimmer with barely contained energy. When she used her powers in battle, enemy ships learned why the pirates of West Blue had started calling her "The Black Wave."
"Better safe than sorry. If we're walking into a smuggling operation, they might not surrender quietly."
As her subordinates rushed to carry out her orders, Rima remained at the railing for one final moment, watching the waves that responded to her unspoken commands with gentle undulations. For ten years, she'd maintained order in these waters through routine patrols and administrative excellence. But she could feel it in the salt air, in the rhythm of the tides, in the way the ocean itself seemed to whisper of change.
This missing ship, these suspicious manifests, the pattern that was just beginning to emerge—this was her chance to prove that Lieutenant Commander Rima Yamato was ready for bigger challenges. Ready for the Grand Line.
The tide was turning, and she intended to ride it wherever it led.
Twenty minutes later, the Marine patrol vessel Justice's Wake cut through the morning swells with Rima at the helm, her dark eyes fixed on the distant port where their first target vessel waited. Behind her, a crew of handpicked Marines prepared their equipment with the quiet efficiency of professionals who trusted their commander implicitly.
Whatever was hidden in those unmarked containers, whatever had happened to the Coral Maiden, whatever criminal network thought they could operate freely in her waters—they were about to discover why Rima Yamato had never lost a case she'd chosen to pursue.
The investigation was just beginning, but already the waves were responding to her determination, carrying her toward whatever truth lay hidden beneath the surface of routine merchant traffic.
And somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice whispered that this case might be the one to finally change everything.