The title of Chief Musician did nothing practical for Kael Grylls, aside from Roger dragging him out on a whim to serve as the crew's personal Million-Tuner for a chorus of tone-deaf drunkards.
Half a month later the noise on the Oro Jackson finally ebbed when an archipelago of colossal red mangroves rose over the horizon. Soap-bubble pearls drifted through the air. Sunlight sifted through the crowns and stippled the sea in dreamlike patches.
Sabaody Archipelago, the end of the first half of the Grand Line, the last gate to the New World.
"At last," Roger shouted from the prow, arms flung wide as if to hug the island. "Get the ship coated, we are heading for Fish-Man Island."
"Coated," Shanks and Buggy echoed, blinking.
"Right," Rayleigh said from the rail. "To dive ten thousand meters to Fish-Man Island, the hull needs a special bubble coat. Otherwise the pressure turns us into driftwood."
Orders set, everyone went to work.
Naturally, Roger took the chance to skive off, hooked an arm around Kozuki Oden, and announced he was going to find some fun ashore.
Which left finding a master coater, a job of patience and brains, to the vice captain. Rayleigh straightened his collar and set off alone toward the lawless zone.
He had barely turned the corner before three sneaky heads popped up over the gunwale.
"Are we really tailing Rayleigh," Shanks whispered, vibrating.
"Of course. The Captain will just drink and brawl again, boring," Buggy huffed. "If we follow Rayleigh we might see the legendary coating craft."
"Heh. I am only worried about him going alone," Gaban rumbled, hefting his axes and pretending he had a noble reason.
Arms folded, Kael drifted after them, smiling like a man who loved a good spectacle.
They shadowed Rayleigh through Sabaody's strange streets, not too near, not too far, like a pack of clumsy detectives. Rayleigh felt the tails and chose to ignore them, keeping the same relaxed stride.
He stopped before a bar with a certain chic to it. The sign curled in fancy letters: Shakky's Rip-off Bar.
"Rip-off," Buggy wrinkled his red nose. "Sounds expensive. Why is Rayleigh going in there. Is the coater inside."
Gaban stroked his beard, eyes amused. "Interesting place."
They shared a look, then slipped through the door.
Inside was dim, smoke-sweet and quiet, a different world from the gaudy streets. Behind the counter leaned a stylish woman with a languid grace, a slim ladies' cigarette between two fingers.
She did not hail Rayleigh like a normal owner. She lifted her lashes, blew a neat ring, and asked, "Table for one, sir?"
Rayleigh took the stool, set his sword at his side. "Whisky, neat."
She poured amber silk into a glass and slid it over. "Five million Beli."
"Pff."
Buggy, newly settled in a corner, almost sprayed his juice.
He clamped his mouth shut and bugged out his eyes.
Five million. That was not a rip-off, that was armed robbery.
Shanks whistled under his breath. One glass could buy a small crew's entire kit.
Rayleigh did not blink. He might as well have heard the going price for water. He tossed a heavy purse to the bar.
"I am looking for a coater called Ray," he said and sipped.
"Oh, him," the woman, Shakky, flicked ash, a teasing curve at her lips. "You do not look like a regular pirate. Your smell, it is dangerous, and free."
Rayleigh's hand paused. He looked up at her. The lady seemed just a barkeep, yet those eyes that saw through everything tugged at an old, pleasant curiosity.
"Likewise," he said. "Running a bar that charges like this, the owner can not be ordinary."
"Hehe." Shakky laughed, clear and easy. "I am only a retired pirate washing my hands clean and living quietly."
Their talk sounded mild, but something under it moved.
In the corner the four-peanut gallery forgot why they had come.
"Woah," Shanks breathed, eyes sparkling. "Big sis read Rayleigh like a book."
"Hmph, she is a swindler, trying to fleece him," Buggy muttered, even as his gaze kept straying back to Shakky.
Gaban hugged his axes, smiling the smile of a man counting future wedding envelopes. "Looks like our vice captain has luck today."
"Luck," Shanks and Buggy chorused, swiveling.
"What do you think, Kael," Gaban asked the one who had stayed quiet.
Kael, solemn as a judge, closed his eyes like a man listening to the tide. After a pause he opened them and said, expression odd, "Their waves, they are in tune."
"Their what."
"Like two instruments. Each is good solo, but together they resonate, naturally, and make something more harmonious," Kael said.
Do not ask, it is fruit business.
Gaban's smile deepened.
At the bar, Rayleigh and Shakky were not speaking about coating at all. They drifted from sea stories to world balance, from New World monsters to the history that hides itself. Two strangers conversing like old friends, every topic caught and returned on the sweet spot.
Rayleigh spoke of the vastness of his travels. Shakky traded intel gleaned from passing pirates with her own crisp takes. One was untamed and big-hearted, the other cool and keen, both built around the same marrow-deep devotion to freedom.
"A man like you, if we had met years ago, I might have sailed with you," Shakky said suddenly, eyes carrying a tease and a trace of memory.
"It is not too late," Rayleigh answered, earnest light in his gaze. "My ship always welcomes a beautiful lady."
Pff. Buggy sprayed juice again.
Juice: get me peanuts.
"Rayleigh said that," Shanks hissed, jaw unhinged. "Rayleigh."
Vice Captain, your image, it just fell.
Gaban was already calculating how much to put in the gift purse.
Kael, wearing a face of I knew it, quietly cast a baby version of Backward Echo to loop Rayleigh's line in Buggy's ear.
"That voice, Rayleigh's," Buggy clapped his ears, feeling his pure heart take a critical hit.
The door banged wide.
"Rayleigh. Hiding here drinking," Roger's blast of a voice blew the mood to pieces. "Move it. I found a coater. He was hiding in the amusement park."
Behind him came a long-suffering Oden and several crewmen with fresh bruises, clear signs they had just argued with their fists.
The softness on Rayleigh's face vanished, replaced by a headache. He stood and smiled an apology to Shakky. "Seems our talk ends here."
"No matter," she said, tidying the glass and coins with unhurried grace. "Come get ripped off anytime, dangerous sir."
Rayleigh looked at her one long beat, then turned and followed Roger out. The peanut gallery scrambled after them.
Outside, Shanks sidled up, eyebrows wagging. "Rayleigh, who was that big sister."
Rayleigh did not answer. He looked up at the bubbles drifting over Sabaody and the corner of his mouth lifted, so small a smile he did not notice it himself.
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