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The streets of Loguetown were a sprawling tapestry of movement, vibrant and alive. As the most renowned trade hub in the East Blue, it served as a magnet for wealthy travelers and seasoned adventurers, fostering a tourism industry far more sophisticated than any other island in the region.
With the influx of tourists came a flourishing local economy. Merchants, drawn like cats to the scent of fresh fish, transported exotic goods from every corner of the sea to these docks, all for the sake of a few more Berries. However, the true anchor of this prosperity was the man stationed at the Marine base: Smoker, a Colonel from Marine Headquarters.
Before his arrival, Loguetown was a playground for pirates. Lawless crews preparing to enter the Grand Line would descend upon the town to pillage supplies, leaving ruins in their wake. But since Smoker took command, every pirate bold enough to drop anchor was captured and thrown into a cell. Public order had been restored, and the town flourished under his iron—or rather, smoke—rule.
"Satori, Nami-san, I'm heading out to source some fresh ingredients. I won't be joining you for the sightseeing," Sanji announced as they disembarked. He gave a sharp nod and disappeared into the market crowds.
"Well then, Satori," Nami said with a bright smile, "let's go buy you some clothes. You've been wearing the same thing forever; it's time for a change."
"But I'm a little hungry," Satori muttered, scratching his cheek.
"Oh, hush. We can eat once Sanji gets back to the ship with the groceries. Let's go, let's go!" Without another word, Nami took Satori's small hand and pulled him toward the fashion district.
Inside a brightly lit clothing store, the "transformation" began.
"Come on, Satori, try this on!"
"Pfft—!"
"Nami, what are you laughing at?"
"Ah, nothing! Nothing! I'm not laughing! Okay, take that one off and try this one."
"This one? Alright."
"Pffthahaha!"
"Nami! You said you weren't laughing!"
Standing in front of a full-length fitting mirror, Satori struggled to pull off a frilly blue skirt. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance. "Nami, these kinds of clothes aren't for boys, right?"
Nami, who was giggling uncontrollably behind her hand, blinked in mock surprise. "Oh, Satori, when did you learn about such things?"
She had brought him here with a mischievous streak, realizing earlier that Satori was almost entirely ignorant of social norms regarding fashion. She had wanted to feast her eyes on the "cute" side of her powerful companion, but the boy was smarter than she gave him credit for.
"I found out myself!" Satori huffed, handing the skirt back to a shop assistant who was also stifling a snicker. "I saw that only girls wear skirts on the street. I've never seen a boy in one." He trusted Nami completely, but the moment he saw her trying to suppress her laughter, he realized he was being played.
"Sorry, sorry! I just thought you'd look adorable," Nami said, quickly trying to appease the pouting boy. "How about we find something that actually suits you now?"
Satori wasn't truly angry, so he quickly moved on to the boys' section. Under Nami's direction, he tried on a variety of outfits: sharp suits, crisp white shirts, rugged denim jackets, and tailored blazers. However, his dissatisfaction grew with every button.
"This one feels so awkward. I can't move at all," he complained, standing in a burgundy suit and a patterned tie. He tried to throw a mock punch and felt the fabric strain.
"This denim is too stiff," he said, shaking his head at another outfit.
"And this one has too many buttons! It's too much trouble!" Satori frowned, fiddling with a white shirt like it was a complex puzzle.
Ultimately, only a loose-fitting, sleeveless jacket caught his eye, but even then, he preferred his original attire. Nami sighed, leaning against a display rack. "Satori, do you only like the style you're wearing right now?"
Satori looked down at his orange Turtle Hermit School martial arts uniform—the one he had worn through every battle since meeting her. He nodded firmly. "Mhm! Nami, this is the most comfortable outfit there is."
Nami slapped her forehead in defeat. She turned to the assistant. "Do you have a tailor here?"
"Yes, ma'am, we do."
"Fine. Take his measurements and make two more outfits exactly like the one he's wearing. Use the best, most flexible fabric you have."
The assistant nodded eagerly, relieved to finally make a sale after so much "dress-up" time.
Leaving the tailor to his work, Nami and Satori hit the women's section. Nami was far more efficient here, sweeping through the aisles. "I'll take this one, and this one, and these..." She packed a large pile of high-quality, affordable casual clothes. She avoided the luxury brands, finding them gaudy and overpriced.
Soon, the bags reached half of Nami's height. She unceremoniously handed the heavy load to Satori. "Boys should help girls with the heavy lifting," she said righteously.
As they strolled back through the streets—Satori balancing a massive bag of clothes on his head—a wild, unruly laugh erupted from a nearby alley.
"Yehahaha! Lads, grab it all! Clear out the liquor shelves!"
A group of pirates was raiding a liquor store, shoving crates of booze onto a cart while the owner begged them to stop. Satori's eyes narrowed, his tail twitching under his uniform. He was about to drop the bags and intervene when a thick, swirling cloud of smoke suddenly billowed out from the corner of the street, engulfing the pirates.
Within seconds, the raiders were trapped, coughing and hacking in the dense white fog. A figure emerged from the haze, ignoring the captured criminals entirely. He walked with a heavy, purposeful gait, his eyes locked onto Satori.
"Marines?! Satori, let's go!" Nami's face went pale. After the incident with Colonel Nezumi, she knew they were likely on the Marine radar. She didn't want a confrontation in the middle of a crowded city. She pulled at Satori's arm, but he remained rooted to the spot.
"I'm not leaving," Satori said seriously, watching the man approach.
"Why not?! If we fight the Marines here, we'll never be able to leave!" Nami was as anxious as an ant on a hot pan, but Satori was as immovable as a mountain.
The Marine's pace quickened. He wore a thick coat and carried two cigars in his mouth, the smoke trailing behind him like a cape. In less than two breaths, he was standing directly in front of the boy.
Without a word of warning, his right fist swung out, carrying the weight of a freight train as it struck directly toward Satori's face!