Chapter Five: Whispers And Shadows
Day One – Echoes in the Alleyways
The citizens of Water 7 had seen many things. Shipwrights who could carve battleships from sea kings. Pirates who declared war on the world. Marines chasing ghosts through canals. But nothing prepared them for the Phantom Hunter.
Whispers filled the alleys.
"Did you hear? That slaver ring off Mossrock? Gone. Every last one."
"He brought them in tied to a wind board, like something out of a legend."
"I heard he dropped them off and left without saying a word."
No one knew his name. No one had seen his face clearly.
He wore a long, white coat with no insignia, hair swept by wind, eyes hidden behind storm-born shadows. Some said he was a fallen god. Others claimed he was a Marine experiment gone rogue.
In the taverns, the markets, even in the shipyards—people spoke of him with awe. The man who hunted evil without mercy. The one who fought like a force of nature.
The Phantom Hunter.
Day Two – The Nobles' Chambers
Far above the working-class chatter, in polished parlors and silken lounges, the nobility of Water 7 gathered. Wealthy merchants, former World Government officials, and minor royalty who made the city their home.
"His skills are beyond anything I've seen," Lord Castorin muttered, swirling his wine. "He took down the Black Knife Twins. Not even Cipher Pol wanted to mess with those two."
Lady Murelle leaned in. "We must make contact. Offer him employment. A man like that could secure our convoys across the Grand Line."
Baron Stiltz shook his head. "You're all fools. If we try to bribe him, he might take offense. Worse—what if he decides we're the corrupt ones?"
But the seed was planted.
By nightfall, letters were drafted. Invitations sealed with golden wax. Offers of riches, titles, even land.
All sent.
None answered.
Day Three – Behind Marine Walls
Marine Captain Lorven of Water 7's post stood at his desk, reports fanned out before him.
"Rasha the Mercenary, taken alive. Harbo the Hyena, brought in with a broken jaw. Dozens more turned in over the last six days. All confirmed. No fatalities."
He looked up, sweat forming at his brow.
"No one knows who this man is?" he asked his intelligence officer.
The officer, Ensign Kott, shook his head. "Sir, we've run his description through the bounty registries, Marine ranks, Cipher Pol records. Nothing matches. No name, no origin, not even a reliable sighting before this week."
"Damn it," Lorven hissed.
"He's not just strong," Kott added. "He's disciplined. Calculated. And too precise to be a rookie."
Lorven tapped the hilt of his saber. "A rogue agent, maybe. Possibly ex-Cipher Pol."
"Or something higher."
They turned to the window, watching the shipyards below.
"You'll keep digging," Lorven said. "And be discreet. If he is who I think he might be... we don't want to provoke him."
Day Four – Shipwright Gossip
At Dock One, work crews took their breaks in sun-drenched corners of the yard, swapping rumors with tools still in hand.
"He flew in again this morning. Just flew. Like a damn gull."
"I heard he caught a cultist trying to poison the water supply and tied him up in mid-air like a scarecrow!"
"That wind around him? Some say it's alive. Like it protects him."
One young apprentice nodded toward the beams being assembled.
"That ship he's building with Tom? That ain't no cruiser. That's a warship. A floating fortress."
They looked toward the rising hull.
White wood. Reinforced steel. Inlaid wind tunnels.
"The Phantom Hunter's building something big. Real big."
Day Five – The Market Buzz
Vendors selling fish and fruits, spices and silks—everyone had something to say.
"He came through here two nights ago," said a spice merchant. "Didn't say a word. Just stood still, then vanished. Like smoke."
"I gave him an orange," an old woman said proudly. "He said thank you. Had a kind voice."
Children began playing a new game: "Storm Hunter." One would play the villain, the others pretending to be the wind.
Word spread across the island and beyond. His deeds traveled faster than his wind.
Day Six – The Inquisition
Captain Lorven received word: Cipher Pol agents were arriving.
He frowned.
"Too soon."
Two figures in black arrived the next evening—Cipher Pol 6, covert intelligence agents specializing in rogue assets and high-threat anomalies.
They sat across from Lorven in silence.
"We've heard of your Phantom," said Agent Zero. "He doesn't match any current threat. But if he continues drawing attention, the World Government will act."
Agent Nine spoke next. "We're watching. If you find anything—name, past affiliation, lineage—you'll report it."
Lorven hesitated.
He had his suspicions. The man's technique, his restraint, his use of Armamment Haki. It all pointed to training at the highest level.
But no proof.
And part of him didn't want to know.
"Yes," he said. "I'll report anything I find."
Day Seven – Reflections in the Dark
The nobles grew impatient. When their letters went unanswered, they sent representatives.
Some returned shaken, windblown, their clothes shredded by near-invisible gusts.
Others never found him at all.
Baron Stiltz finally confronted Tom.
"We have a right to know who he is!" he demanded. "You're building that ship. Who is he?"
Tom grinned, hammer on his shoulder.
"Someone who doesn't want to be known. And someone you'd better be grateful is on our side."
Stiltz fumed.
But said no more.
The Streets at Night
Victor walked the streets of Water 7 cloaked in silence. He wore simple clothes, pulled his hair back, and let the wind carry most of his aura away.
No one recognized him.
Children played at his feet. Merchants haggled nearby. A woman laughed over tea.
He watched.
Listened.
And smiled.
The people were safe.
The city was peaceful.
Not because of him alone.
But because the storm had passed.
Lorven's Final Report
That night, Lorven stared at his final intelligence file.
[Subject: Unknown. Alias: Phantom Hunter. Powers: Wind Control, Conqueror's Haki, Armament Haki, advanced combat proficiency.
Speculated origin: Unknown.
Possible Marine affiliation: Unconfirmed.
Threat level: High.
Intent: Unknown. Behavior patterns suggest moral code and preference for non-lethal intervention. Avoid confrontation unless sanctioned by higher authority.]
Lorven signed it.
Stamped it.
And locked it away.
There was nothing more to learn.
Not without provoking a storm.
Tom's Workshop
The shipyard roared with life. Sparks flew. Timber groaned. Steel sang.
Victor stood beside Tom, arms crossed.
"She's coming together," Tom said proudly. "Another month and she'll sail."
Victor nodded.
The wind picked up.
Tom glanced at him. "They're still trying to figure out who you are, you know."
Victor didn't respond.
"They won't," Tom said, with a grin. "I've built ships for kings and warlords. You? You're something else."
Victor turned his gaze to the sea.
"I'm just a man with a name no one remembers."
Tom slapped his shoulder. "Maybe. But soon, they'll remember what you build."
The sea wind whistled through the beams of the Byakko.
And far above, the Phantom Hunter's legend continued to rise.