"Newspaper, please."
Davy flicked a hundred-Berry coin upward.
A seagull in a sailor cap caught it mid-air, dropped a rolled newspaper onto his deck, and flapped away toward the sky.
Davy unfolded the paper, settled back into his deck chair, crossed one leg over the other, and began to read.
Just as expected, the death of Captain Nezumi was splashed across a prominent section—
with the blame placed squarely on the Jim Pirates.
"I was careful. I left no survivors. Not a single Den Den Mushi was touched… Did they infer it from our sailing route?"
Davy stroked his chin.
Fortunately, he hadn't followed any conventional supply lines after wiping out Nezumi's crew. He'd immediately steered the Ghost Ship off known routes and deep into open waters.
Tossing the paper aside, he began his daily training.
He still hadn't found a reliable method to train Haki—
but it wasn't a total loss.
Through soul-searching Marines, he'd learned the training methods for the Six Powers.
Rokushiki:
Soru, Tekkai, Kami-e, Geppo, Rankyaku, Shigan.
Practical, versatile, and useful.
He wasn't sure whether it was due to accumulated experience from merged soul thralls, or because he had natural aptitude—
but over the past few days he had successfully grasped the basics of all six techniques.
"Soru."
He stomped down sharply—
and vanished.
A heartbeat later, he reappeared off the Ghost Ship's deck, momentum carrying him into the air.
"Geppo."
With a few light steps on empty space, he kicked his way back onto the ship.
"…Still can't control distance precisely."
Davy frowned.
Physical strength increased the power of Rokushiki, yes—
but mastery required technique.
At the moment, his movements were still too rigid—straight lines, predictable bursts.
If he faced an equal opponent, he'd be dead.
To maneuver freely, he needed to combine Soru and Geppo—
but he still couldn't figure out how to merge the two.
"Soru."
"Geppo."
"Soru."
"Geppo."
He repeated the motions over and over, sweat pouring, time slipping away unnoticed.
By the time the sun hung directly overhead, his stomach rumbled loudly.
He finally stopped training and went below deck.
Summoning a soul thrall, he had lunch prepared, then returned to the open deck to eat heartily.
He still had plenty of food—
but fresh water was almost gone.
Even alone onboard, the supply was draining frighteningly fast.
Thanks to modern habits, one day without washing made his skin crawl.
And training so intensely every day meant he needed a lot of hydration.
Water consumption had skyrocketed.
Even with only one person onboard, the ship's last water reserve had already been emptied.
He could drink alcohol like most pirates—
but in a world full of danger, dulling his senses was suicide.
And besides, he'd never been fond of alcohol.
"Looks like I need to make landfall for supplies."
Davy frowned.
If his luck ran bad and he got stuck in a storm, running out of water would be fatal.
Yeah… maybe daily long showers were a bit excessive.
He checked the sea chart for the nearest island, then steered the Ghost Ship in that direction.
After about a day of sailing—
just as he grudgingly replaced his shower with a simple wipe-down—
a pirate ship appeared on the horizon.
"Heh. Bad luck for you."
He smirked and steered straight toward it.
As they drew closer, the pirate ship's full appearance came into view.
A pink hull, heart-patterned sails, and a Jolly Roger with a tilted skull marked with a red heart at the temple.
Davy's eyes widened briefly.
Alvida's ship.
"Oi—!"
Someone yelled from the other deck.
He turned toward the voice.
Standing at the bow was a beautiful, fair-skinned woman with long black curls, wearing pink pants and a striped frilled bra top under a cape—
a massive iron mace resting casually on her shoulder.
"Alvida. So it is her."
"And she's already eaten the Smooth-Smooth Fruit? I actually ran into her here of all places."
Alvida noticed him looking and her lip curled in disdain.
"Don't bring your filthy little ship any closer!"
Davy blinked, then glanced at the Ghost Ship beneath his feet.
He hadn't bothered disguising it—
right now it looked dull gray and worn, even a little shabby.
"As the most beautiful woman on the sea," Alvida continued loudly, "I despise dirty things the most."
Davy's mouth twitched.
Dirty? You pirates are the dirtiest things afloat…
Ignoring her entirely, he accelerated.
"You dare?!"
The moment the ships touched, her mace came crashing down with a roar of wind.
Davy didn't hesitate.
"Soru."
He flickered behind her instantly.
Only her alone?
He scanned the deck.
His eyes lit.
Good luck indeed—this is before she rescued Buggy.
If he'd encountered the two Fruit users together, even if he won, he'd be crawling away half-dead.
"You disgusting little bug—who told you you could—"
Alvida spun around, roaring, ready to smash the intruder into paste—
But then she froze.
For the first time, she saw Davy's face clearly.
He didn't have a pirate's usual stench.
His clothes looked neat.
He didn't resemble a rough seaman at all—more like a pampered noble's son.
And his facial features were… refined, almost gentle.
Not intimidating in the slightest.
"Oh my~ Little boy barging into my ship… Do you want to be my man?"
Her voice dropped into a sultry purr, expressions flipping instantly. Her eyes gleamed.
"If you want to be my man, you'll have to defeat that pers—"
Before she could finish, Davy cut her off, disgust plain on his face.
He flipped his hand and pulled out a bounty poster.
His voice turned cold.
"This middle-aged auntie… is that you?"
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