…
After several months, I'd come to appreciate Marlo Crest for exactly one thing.
His ship was fucking great.
Not him, obviously. He could stay wherever the Marines had eventually dumped his greasy ass, but the ship? An excellent purchase on my behalf, especially considering the purchase price was zero berries and several counts of property theft (*￣3￣)╭
It'd survived storms, pirates, one collision that was definitely the other vessel's fault, and an unfortunate afternoon where I discovered that anchoring a ship was considerably more complicated than throwing the anchor into the water and hoping for the best.
The repaired sail no longer looked like somebody had stitched it together during an earthquake, the cabin actually had food in it, and I'd even managed to stop hitting my head on the doorway.
Mostly.
The News Coo had also claimed the top of the cabin as its personal property.
It sat there now, asleep beneath the late morning sun with its little delivery hat tipped over its face, while I stood behind the rudder and checked the chart spread across the table beside me.
I glanced toward the compass.
Then the chart.
Then the sun.
Then back to the compass.
"West."
The News Coo did not move.
I adjusted slightly north.
One eye opened.
"North-west?"
The eye closed.
Progress (～￣▽￣)～
A few months ago, that same bird had to scream directly into my ear whenever I wandered more than a few degrees off course. These days, I could generally keep the ship moving in the direction I intended without accidentally discovering an entirely new ocean.
Nami would've been proud.
The East Blue had been surprisingly busy since visiting my parents. I'd expected to point the ship toward Reverse Mountain and arrive there within a reasonable period of time, which was apparently my first mistake. The ocean didn't respect reasonable timelines, and neither did the people who lived on it.
I got distracted.
Frequently.
There was a pirate captain on Cozia Island who recognised my wanted poster while I was eating lunch and decided that bringing down an eighty-million-berry criminal would make him famous. That ended with him embedded in the tavern wall and me being asked to leave because the owner claimed I had "escalated things."
I still paid for the food.
Professions have standards.
A week later, another crew tried taking Crest's ship while I was sleeping. I woke up halfway through them cutting the anchor line, walked onto deck in my polka-dot underwear and asked what they were doing.
They seemed to instantly recognise me; the clever ones jumped overboard immediately.
There was also the incident with the giant crab.
I didn't want to talk about the giant crab.
More importantly, somewhere between all of that, the World Government decided eighty million was apparently no longer enough.
The new poster arrived during breakfast.
I had been halfway through stealing a piece of bread back from the News Coo when another delivery bird landed on the railing, dropped the newspaper beside me and immediately left after taking payment. My bird watched the entire exchange with an expression I chose to interpret as professional jealousy.
"Don't worry," I told him. "You're still my favourite government-employed bird."
He pecked my wrist.
I opened the paper.
There were several articles about things I hadn't done, one article about something I had done but apparently for completely different reasons, and a small section describing me as an "increasingly disruptive criminal presence across the eastern sea routes."
That one was fair.
The new poster slid onto the table.
"BRANCHBREAKER" KAI VOSS
DEAD OR ALIVE
95,000,000 BERRIES
The News Coo leaned over the paper.
"That's fifteen million in, what, a few months?" I smirked.
It pecked my photograph.
"Again, I am choosing to interpret that as congratulations." I petted Coo on his head.
The title still annoyed me, though.
Apparently reputations became significantly harder to control once newspapers were involved. I'd overheard people saying my name in ports before I even arrived properly. Some exaggerated Shellstown into me single-handedly massacring an entire Marine base, others claimed I had sunk half of Port Tragedy, and one particularly creative gentleman confidently told a crowded tavern that Branchbreaker Kai Voss could turn into a sea monster whenever the moon was full.
I was conveniently sitting two tables away when he said it, and I nearly corrected him, but honestly?
Let him cook.
Still, ninety-five million was nice.
Almost one hundred.
I folded the poster and stored it with the others.
Then I stole my bread back.
…
Soon enough, a map of the Grand Line came into my possession three weeks later through entirely legitimate means.
By which I mean I saw and took it. In my defence, the circumstances were very strange.
I had stopped at a fairly large port town for food, water and replacement rope because one of the thicker lines aboard the ship had snapped during a storm. I was minding my own business, carrying two bags of supplies and eating some grilled meat from a skewer when somebody shouted my name.
Then shouted my bounty.
I turned around to find four men standing outside a tavern with weapons already drawn. They weren't Marines. Clearly bums (bounty hunters) due to how poorly dressed and significantly too enthusiastic they were.
The largest pointed directly at me.
"Kai Voss! Ninety-five million berries!"
I slowly pulled the skewer from my mouth.
"Mmh-hm", I responded, my mouth full of meat (Pause?)
The bounty hunter beside him lifted a rifle.
I sighed.
What followed was brief, embarrassing for them and apparently very expensive for the neighbouring building.
One of the bounty hunters went through a window.
Not intentionally.
He hit a desk inside, rolled over it and disappeared underneath a mountain of papers. The man behind the desk screamed. I stepped through the broken wall to retrieve the bounty hunter because leaving unconscious men scattered around seemed inconsiderate, and that was when I saw the map.
It covered most of the wall.
A huge chart stretching from the four Blues toward the Red Line, with Reverse Mountain marked in thick ink near the centre and part of the first stretch of the Grand Line drawn beyond it.
I forgot about the bounty hunter immediately.
"Oh."
The office had gone quiet.
A little man wearing round glasses stood beside a cabinet, clutching three rolled charts against his chest. From the uniform, he appeared to work for some kind of shipping company.
I pointed at the map.
"Is that accurate?"
He looked at me, then at the hole where his wall used to be.
Then at the unconscious bounty hunter beneath his desk.
"…Yes?"
"Cool."
I started pulling the map from the wall.
His mouth dropped open. "Wait."
"It's alright. I only need this one."
"That is our navigational chart!"
"Yeah, that's why I want it."
"You can't just take it!"
I paused with half the map already folded over my arm. "Do you have another?"
"That isn't the point!"
"So yes?"
The man made a noise that didn't answer the question.
Behind me, one of the bounty hunters groaned and tried standing. I kicked his sword away without turning around and finished folding the chart.
The shipping clerk stared at my bounty poster pinned to a board near the door.
Then at me.
Then very carefully put his remaining charts down.
"You know what? Keep it."
"Thank you!" I smiled innocently.
"If anyone asks, I did not give it to you."
"Your generosity is appreciated." I curtsied.
I stepped back through the hole carrying my supplies and the map.
The bounty hunter outside had recovered enough to raise his rifle again.
I hit him with the rolled chart.
Not hard cause the maps were fragile.
Ten minutes later I was walking back toward the docks with everything I'd come for, plus a remarkably detailed Grand Line approach chart tucked beneath my arm.
The News Coo met me on the railing when I returned.
I showed it the map.
"Look what I found."
It stared at the broken corner.
"I paid for the rope."
The bird continued staring.
"I was going to pay for the map, but things moved very quickly."
Nothing.
"Stop judging me."
It turned its back.
I was beginning to understand why people liked dogs.
…
The Red Line appeared four days later.
At first I thought it was a storm.
A dark shape sat across the horizon so wide that there wasn't any obvious end to it, stretching north and south until distance swallowed both directions. I stood near the bow with the stolen chart held open between my hands, squinting through the afternoon haze while the ship continued forward beneath a steady wind.
Then the clouds shifted.
The wall kept going upward.
And upward.
And upward.
I lowered the chart.
"Huh."
I knew what the Red Line was.
Obviously.
I had watched One Piece. Read about it. Seen maps. Watched characters cross it, climb it, fly over it and generally treat the single largest geographical structure on the planet as something inconveniently placed between arcs.
That had not properly communicated the scale.
The closer I got, the less it looked like a mountain range and the more it looked like somebody had built a continent vertically.
The sea simply ended against red stone.
Clouds wrapped around sections of the cliffs far above, disappearing behind ridges I had to tilt my head back to see. Somewhere ahead, partially hidden by distance and mist, four enormous waterways carved upward through the mountain.
Upward.
Water was flowing up a mountain.
I stared for another few seconds.
"This world really is stupid"
The News Coo gave a short cry from the mast.
"No, genuinely. Look at that."
It was looking at it.
That made one of us.
I spread the Grand Line map across the table and checked the approach route for the East Blue channel. Nami's charts had carried me through most of the sea, but they ended well before Reverse Mountain, which made sense because she hadn't personally mapped the giant global death ramp yet.
The stolen chart showed the channel clearly.
One helpful note sat beside it…
CENTRE APPROACH! DO NOT MISS CURRENT!
I read it again.
The current beneath the ship had already started changing.
At first it was subtle, just a persistent pull beneath the hull. Ten minutes later, the water around us had begun moving fast enough that the rudder fought back whenever I adjusted course. Waves compressed toward the narrowing approach and the ship picked up speed without the sail doing much of anything.
I tied off the loose lines, checked the mast and secured everything inside the cabin that I didn't want thrown directly into my skull.
The News Coo remained on the roof.
"You might wanna come inside."
It ignored me.
"Your funeral."
Another wave lifted the ship and dropped it hard enough that several crates jumped below deck.
The bird immediately flew inside.
Its squawks echoed back through the doorway.
The Red Line now filled everything ahead of me.
The entry channel was clearly visible: a narrow gap carved into the mountain where seawater rushed inland before curving upward at an angle that made every instinct in my body insist ships weren't supposed to go there.
I tightened my hands around the rudder.
This was it.
Years.
Literally years since I'd first sat on Goat Island thinking about the Grand Line like it was some distant stage I would eventually reach once I became strong enough, old enough, experienced enough, whatever enough.
I was standing alone behind the wheel of a stolen criminal's ship while a kidnapped News Coo hid in my cabin as we approached the most dangerous ocean on the planet.
It was beautiful, really.
I smiled.
"Alright."
The current took us.
There wasn't a gradual transition either; the ship lurched forward so violently that my arms snapped straight against the wheel and everything not tied down moved three feet toward the stern.
The bow rose. So did everything else.
I was sailing directly towards a mountain wall. Red stone raced past on either side while water exploded from the hull, and the entire ship tilted until I had to brace one foot against the deck just to keep myself behind the rudder.
The channel curved steeper.
My stomach dropped.
Then the ship began going up.
Actually up.
We were sailing up the side of the fucking Red Line.
I started laughing.
I couldn't help it.
"This is so stupid!"
The News Coo screamed from inside.
"I KNOW!"
The current accelerated further.
Wind tore through my hair and snapped the sail hard enough that I immediately loosened one line before the mast decided to become a projectile. The ship drifted toward the right wall, and I forced the rudder across.
Nothing happened.
"Oh, don't do this to me."
The stone got closer.
I pulled harder.
The wheel fought against me while the current dragged the hull sideways. Months ago, this probably would have ended with me punching the mountain and blaming maritime engineering, but I'd spent enough time fighting this ship that the resistance felt familiar now. I changed the sail angle, let the bow drift slightly with the current and then cut back once the pressure shifted.
The hull missed the wall by several metres.
I grinned.
"Nami would've hated that."
Then the ship broke through.
Sunlight hit me, and the world opened.
For one impossible moment, there was nothing ahead except sky.
My hands tightened around the wheel.
We'd reached the summit.
Water from several directions collided across the enormous peak before gathering toward the channel on the other side. Clouds moved beneath sections of the surrounding ridges, and through gaps in them I could see the four Blues stretching away around the Red Line.
I could see the ocean from the top of the world.
"Holy shit."
The ship crested the current as the weight disappeared underneath me.
Then I felt something called gravity; the bow dropped.
"OH SHIT!" I yelled as we went down.
The News Coo's scream from inside the cabin merged with mine.
The ship plunged into the descending current and became less of a vessel and more of a wooden projectile. Water tore past on both sides while I hung onto the wheel, laughing and shouting in equal measure as the channel raced downward through the mountain.
The deck bucked beneath me, yet my balance stayed planted through every drop and sideways jerk as though I'd been doing this for years instead of approximately thirty seconds.
My hand warmed around the wheel.
Clink.
The sound disappeared beneath rushing water almost immediately, but I felt the familiar shift travel from my palm through my body.
I glanced at the wheel mark, but there was no time to stare.
The bottom was coming.
The channel widened violently as Reverse Mountain spat us toward open water. Waves broke in every direction where the current met the sea, throwing the ship upward before dropping it hard enough that my knees bent.
The mast groaned.
A crate smashed somewhere below deck.
I remained behind the wheel.
Then we were through.
The current loosened its grip as the ship carried its momentum across open water, then gradually slowed, sails snapping overhead as the wind caught them properly again.
Behind us, Reverse Mountain rose impossibly high into the clouds.
Ahead was the Grand Line.
I'd made it.
I looked toward the cabin doorway.
The News Coo slowly stepped outside.
Its hat was crooked.
Several feathers stuck out in some weird directions.
I smiled.
"Well?"
It stared at me.
"We're alive."
The bird walked directly toward me and bit my hand.
"Yeah, yeah. Very emotional."
I scratched beneath its beak anyway.
…
Unfortunately, I couldn't see Laboon, but the Grand Line welcomed me by changing seasons four times before dinner.
I honestly forgot about the Grand Line's hectic weather.
Even people who knew nothing about the Grand Line seemed aware that the place had currents that didn't make sense, weather that changed without warning and islands with climates apparently chosen by somebody spinning a wheel.
I'm looking at you Oda!
We'd been sailing for perhaps twenty minutes when the warm afternoon disappeared.
No gradual cloud cover or distant storm front.
One moment the sun was shining, and the next the temperature dropped hard enough that frost began forming along the railing.
I watched my breath fog.
"Right."
The News Coo hurried into the cabin.
"Coward."
Snow started falling.
Not lightly either.
Within minutes, large flakes covered the deck and stuck to the sail. I adjusted our course using the stolen chart, although the compass had begun behaving like it was possessed, its needle wandering around with no apparent interest in north.
I tapped the glass.
"Don't start."
The needle spun.
Gradually, the wind changed enough to almost tear the sail sideways, and my stance corrected before the ship properly tilted. A drop in pressure followed, then a rise, and the familiar ache behind my ears never arrived. The snow turned into freezing rain, which lasted long enough to soak the deck before the temperature suddenly climbed.
Within five minutes, I went from standing in snow to sweating beneath direct sunlight.
I wiped water from my face.
"What the fuck?"
The clouds vanished.
Then the sea changed.
Waves that had been moving from the east suddenly crossed against one another, throwing the ship between them while wind pushed from an entirely different direction. The hull rolled violently enough that furniture started moving inside the cabin.
The News Coo began screaming.
"I KNOW!"
I grabbed a loose line, secured the sail and moved with the deck.
Then came hail.
Actual hail.
One piece bounced off my forehead. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
I looked down at it.
"Seriously?"
More followed.
The sky had apparently decided subtlety was for the Blues.
I stood in the middle of the deck while ice rattled around me, staring at the weather as it changed again over the span of minutes. Warm air rushed through the cold. Clouds twisted above the mast. The pressure shifted hard enough that I could feel it in my chest for a moment before even that sensation disappeared.
The wheel mark gave a faint pulse.
"Alright, then."
The Grand Line stretched ahead under a sky that couldn't decide what colour it wanted to be. Reverse Mountain stood behind me, Goat Island was somewhere impossibly far beyond it, and for the first time since I'd been reborn into this ridiculous world, I had crossed one of those lines that had always existed in my head.
East Blue was behind me.
This was the sea where everything I actually wanted waited. The News Coo stepped out beside me once the weather settled and looked over the water.
I rested both hands on the railing.
For years, the Grand Line had been something ahead.
Something I'd get to later.
I was here now.
And, fuck me, it felt good.
…
End of Chapter!
Word Count - 3182
a/n -
And we are FINALLY on the Grand Line, lads (づ￣ 3￣)づ
Bit of a transition chapter, but I wanted to properly close out Kai's East Blue era before the real nonsense begins. Ninety-five million berries, questionable navigation skills, and somehow still alive. Beautiful.
As always, vote, comment, and follow if you're enjoying the story. It genuinely helps a ton.
See you next chapter lads!