It was late afternoon when Nami's voice rang out from her position near the helm.
"Land ahead! We are here!" her voice carrying that particular mixture of relief and excitement that came from successfully navigating us through this mad ocean for the first time.
"We've reached our destination!"
'Finally. After days of sailing through waters that seemed determined to kill us through sheer unpredictability, we've actually arrived somewhere without dying first.'
The bar for success in the Grand Line is remarkably low.
I made my way to the deck along with the rest of the crew, everyone gathering near the railing to catch their first glimpse of Whiskey Peak—our first official stop in the Grand Line that wasn't inside a whale's stomach.
The island that came into view was... strange.
'And that's saying something, considering I've spent the last two years in a world where giant sea monsters are considered normal wildlife.'
The harbor looked like a normal harbor. Beyond that sprawled a wide town with buildings that seemed to follow some kind of organized layout, which was almost reassuring in its normalcy.
But it was the hills in the distance that really caught my attention.
They looked like cacti. Giant, geological cacti rising from the landscape like someone had decided that regular mountains were too boring and needed to be shaped like desert plants instead.
'Because why would anything in this world make sense? Why would hills be hill-shaped when they could be cactus-shaped? Logic is clearly optional in the Grand Line's geography, too.'
"WHOA!" Luffy's eyes went wide with fascination. "Those hills look like cacti! That's so cool!"
"They're probably not actual cacti," Nami observed, though she sounded uncertain. "Right?"
'In this world? I wouldn't bet money on it. For all we know, they're sentient cacti that eat ships. Nothing would surprise me at this point.'
Before any of us could comment further on the questionable geology, movement on the deck caught my attention.
Mr. 9 and Vivi—who'd been mostly keeping to themselves during the journey—suddenly rushed to the railing with a burst of energy that immediately set off every alarm bell in my head.
They struck what could only be described as the most cringeworthy pose I'd ever witnessed.
"Thank You For The Ride!"
"If Fate Wills It, Then Let Us Meet Again!"
"Bye Bye! Baby!" they declared in unison, their voices carrying that theatrical quality that made my skin crawl with secondhand embarrassment.
Their smiles were absolutely evil—the kind of exaggerated villain grins you'd see in a bad stage play performed by people who'd never actually met a real villain.
Then, without any further warning or ceremony, they jumped directly into the water.
SPLASH! SPLASH!
'Did they just... did they seriously just abandon ship before we even docked? What kind of gratitude is 'thanks for saving us, we're jumping into the ocean now'?'
"HEY!" Usopp shouted, leaning over the railing. "You could have at least waited until we docked!"
But the two were already swimming toward the shore with surprising speed, their theatrical exit complete.
"Forget about them," Nami said, her attention already back on navigating us toward the harbor. "We need to focus on docking properly."
'She's right. Whatever those two idiots are planning, it's their problem now. We delivered them to their destination, and I didn't expect them to try to repay the favor anyway.'
But even as I thought it, something about their behavior nagged at me. The timing of their exit, the theatrical nature of it, the way they'd looked almost... eager to get away from us before we docked.
'That's not normal. Even for theatrical criminal theater kids, that's suspicious behavior.'
I pushed the thought aside for now, focusing instead on the harbor we were approaching. Even from this distance, I could see activity—people gathering near the docks, movement that suggested we'd been spotted.
And as we drew closer, the nature of that activity became clearer.
They were cheering.
'Wait. What?'
"Are they..." Usopp's voice carried genuine confusion. "Are they cheering for us?"
The sound grew louder as we closed the distance—genuine, enthusiastic cheering mixed with welcoming shouts that echoed across the water like we were returning heroes instead of random pirates who'd just arrived.
"WELCOME TO WHISKEY PEAK!"
"BRAVE PIRATES OF THE SEA!"
"HEROES OF THE GRAND LINE!"
'Oh. Oh no. I know exactly what this is.'
My hand moved instinctively to my sword's handle, every instinct I'd honed over two years of survival screaming at me that this was wrong.
'This is the party trap. The oldest trick in the book. Welcome the targets with overwhelming hospitality, lower their guard, then strike when they're vulnerable.'
Pirates weren't welcomed with cheers and flowers. We were criminals, outcasts, threats to be eliminated or bounties to be collected.
The fact that an entire town was greeting us like returning war heroes meant only one thing.
'They want something from us. And whatever it is, it's not going to be pleasant when we find out.'
The Going Merry slid into the harbor with practiced ease. I didn't even need to use the Barbossa sword to control her. The moment we were secure, the crowd of residents surged forward, their enthusiasm apparently knowing no bounds.
And leading them was possibly the most ridiculous-looking man I'd ever seen.
He was tall—easily over two meters—wearing what appeared to be a musician's tuxedo that looked very neat on him. But it was his hair that really caught my attention.
'What... what am I even looking at? Is that hair? Is it a hat? Some kind of sculpture?'
But more eye-catching than even his ridiculous hair was the instrument he carried.
'That's not one instrument. That's... multiple instruments somehow merged into a single abomination of musical engineering.'
It looked like a saxophone had gotten into a fight with a trumpet, a violin, and possibly an accordion, and they'd all decided to live together in harmony despite their obvious incompatibility.
The result was something that shouldn't exist but somehow did anyway.
The man stepped forward with exaggerated ceremony, his movements theatrical and precise.
"Welcome!" he announced, his voice carrying that singsong quality that made me want to check my pockets for missing valuables. "I am Igara— Ahem Ahem! Ma! Ma! Ma! I am Igarappoi! The mayor of this fine town of Whiskey Peak—the town of wine and music!"
'He's adjusting his pitch mid-sentence. That's... actually impressive in a deeply annoying way.'
"Whiskey Peak is known throughout the Grand Line!" Igarappoi continued, gesturing broadly to encompass the town behind him. "For our culture of welcoming the brave adventurers of the sea! Especially tho— Ahem Ahem! Ma! Ma! Ma! Especially those about to make it big and earn the pride of starting their journey here!"
'That's the most elaborate way of saying 'we're a tourist trap' I've ever heard. Also, starting their journey? We've been sailing for days. This isn't a starting point, it's just a stop.'
The crowd behind him erupted in cheers and applause, as if their mayor had just delivered the most inspiring speech in human history rather than a tourism pitch that belonged in a badly written brochure.
"And to honor such brave pirates!" Igarappoi's voice climbed even higher, his instrument-thing somehow making noise despite him not actually playing it.
"We would like to invite you all to a grand banquet! Held in your honor! With food! And drink! And music! There is no need to worry about anything else! Just enjoy yourselves!"
'A banquet in our honor. Right. Because that's totally normal. Because pirates are definitely the kind of people you throw parties for rather than report to the Marines or try to rob.'
I didn't need to activate my Mantra or even use my analytical skills to see through this obvious trap.
The setup was practically textbook—overwhelming hospitality, promises of food and safety, an entire town apparently dedicated to making us feel welcome and important.
'Since when have pirates been welcomed with flowers and banquets? Even in the Great Pirate Era, when piracy is at an all-time high, legitimate towns don't throw parties for random crews that show up. They lock their doors and pray we leave quickly.'
I caught Zoro's eye on the other side. He was standing near the front, his hand resting casually on his sword hilts, his expression carefully neutral. But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes tracked the crowd's movements with practiced wariness.
'He sees it too. The trap. The setup. The fact that this entire welcome is faker than Luffy's claims about being innocent of the midnight food theft.'
Nami had moved closer to me, her face showing the kind of forced smile that suggested she was also deeply uncomfortable with this situation but trying not to show it.
'At least three of us have functioning survival instincts. That's something.'
But our three other crewmates...
"FOOD!" Luffy's shout cut through my analysis like a rubber fist through common sense. "Did he say food?! And a party?! THAT'S AWESOME!"
'No. No, Luffy, it's not awesome. It's a trap. A very obvious trap. How are you this dense?'
"Free food and drinks?" Usopp's eyes had transformed into stars. "In our honor? This is amazing! The Grand Line is way better than I thought!"
'The Grand Line is trying to KILL us, you idiot. This is part of the killing process!'
Even Sanji—who I'd thought had at least basic pattern recognition skills—was looking intrigued.
"A proper meal on dry land," he mused, his cigarette trailing smoke. "And perhaps some lovely ladies to appreciate my greatness..."
'Oh, for crying out loud.' The cook is already compromised. One mention of potential female attention, and his brain has completely shut down.
I opened my mouth to voice my objections, to point out the glaring issues with accepting an invitation from a town that was trying way too hard to seem welcoming.
But before I could say anything, the residents had already surrounded us.
"This way, brave pirates!"
"Let us escort you to the hall!"
"You must be tired from your journey!"
They were half-pushing, half-guiding us toward the town proper, their enthusiasm impossible to escape without causing a scene or resorting to violence.
And if we cause a scene, we confirm their suspicions that we're dangerous. If we fight our way out, we play directly into whatever trap they've set. The social manipulation here is actually impressive in its simplicity.
I felt Nami's hand grab my arm, her grip tight enough to convey her concern without words.
"This is bad," she whispered, her voice pitched low enough that only I could hear. "This is really bad."
"I know," I replied equally quietly, letting myself be guided forward by the tide of overly friendly residents. "Just stay alert. Don't eat or drink anything without checking it first."
Zoro had positioned himself near Luffy, his body language screaming vigilance despite his casual demeanor. His eyes never stopped moving, tracking exits, counting potential threats.
'At least the swordsman knows what he's doing. Small mercies.'
Igarappoi led our procession through the town, his ridiculous instrument-thing making discordant noises as he walked. The residents lined the streets, cheering and waving like we were conquering heroes rather than random pirates who'd just shown up.
'This is excessive. Even if this town genuinely welcomed pirates—which would be insane—this level of enthusiasm is performative.'
They're putting on a show, and we're the audience that's supposed to be so dazzled we don't notice the knives behind their backs.
The hall Igarappoi led us to was large—larger than necessary for a town this size, which suggested it saw frequent use for this exact purpose.
The interior was decorated with banners and streamers, tables laden with food and drink that should have been appetizing but instead looked like props in an elaborate stage production.
The moment we entered, music erupted from everywhere at once.
The residents swarmed around us with practiced efficiency, each one seemingly assigned to a specific crew member.
They guided us to seats, pressed food and drinks into our hands, and laughed at everything we said like we were the most entertaining people they'd ever encountered.
It was professional. Too professional.
'These aren't normal town residents. These are trained operatives following a well-rehearsed protocol. The way they move, the way they coordinate, the way they respond to each other's signals without speaking—this is a military operation disguised as a party.'
"Eat! Drink! Enjoy!" Igarappoi announced from his position near the head table, his instrument-thing somehow playing itself. "Everything here is for you, brave pirates!"
Luffy immediately dove into the food with his characteristic lack of restraint, shoving entire platters into his mouth without bothering to check if they were safe.
Usopp was accepting drinks from several attractive residents, his face already flushed with alcohol and attention.
'And there goes our sniper. Compromised within the first five minutes. Impressive, in the worst possible way.'
Sanji had been completely surrounded by female residents who were praising his appearance, his cooking skills (despite never having tasted his food), and generally inflating his ego to dangerous levels.
'The cook is down. Honey trap successful. He's going to get himself killed and probably thank them for the privilege.'
I stayed near the back of the hall, my hand never straying far from my sword's handle. Every instinct I'd developed over two years of survival was screaming at me that this situation was wrong, dangerous, lethal.
The residents noticed my wariness. I could see them exchanging glances, their practiced smiles becoming slightly strained when they looked in my direction.
'What should I do? Should I start making a ruckus right away? Should I—'
But before the tension could escalate, Zoro appeared at my side with a drink in hand.
His arm dropped around my shoulders with just enough force to convey a message without seeming aggressive. The smile on his face was casual, friendly even, but his eyes were sharp as he took a gulp from his drink.
"Hachiman," he said, his voice carrying across the hall with practiced ease. "You should relax and enjoy the party."
'What?'
"We've had some rough days before," Zoro continued, his grip on my shoulder tightening slightly. "We should make use of this opportunity."
The words were casual, but the message underneath was clear as day.
[Stay calm. Don't raise suspicion. I've got this. Play along for now.]
'He... he's telling me to lower my guard? No, he's telling me to APPEAR to lower my guard. To not alert the residents that we're onto their trap. To give them false confidence while we gather information.'
I forced my shoulders to relax, letting some of the tension bleed out of my posture. The residents around us visibly relaxed as well, their smiles becoming more genuine—or at least, more convincingly fake.
"You're right," I said, making my voice carry the kind of reluctant agreement that suggested I was being convinced against my better judgment. "I suppose a few drinks won't hurt."
Everything about this is going to hurt. But if Zoro has a plan, I might as well play along until I figure out what it is.
I accepted a drink from one of the residents—a young woman with a practiced smile that didn't reach her eyes. The liquid inside looked like wine, smelled like wine, and probably was just wine to not raise suspicion.
"Thank you," I said, taking the cup and bringing it to my lips, and taking a sip.
The woman's smile widened, satisfaction flickering across her face for just a moment before she turned away to attend to other guests.
But I couldn't just stand here looking suspicious all night. If I wanted to maintain the appearance of letting my guard down while actually gathering intelligence, I needed to do something that would keep the residents entertained while giving me an excuse to move around.
'Time to embrace the cringe. Time to become everything I hate about performative social interaction.'
I pulled out my Hamon Pendulum. In my hands, it looked like an ornate crystal pendulum on a silver chain, mysterious and magical enough to catch attention.
'This is humiliating. This is absolutely humiliating. I'm about to perform party tricks for enemy operatives who want to fool and capture us.'
My dignity is dying a slow death.
"Hey," I called out, projecting my voice with false confidence. "Want to see some magic?"
The effect was immediate. Several residents turned to look at me with expressions of exaggerated interest.
"Magic?" one of them asked, his enthusiasm cranked to theatrical levels. "Thinking about it, you are actually looking like a wizard! Do you really have some magical tricks?"
I activated the Hamon Pendulum, sending golden Ripple energy flowing through the crystal.
BZZZZT! SHINE!
The pendulum began to glow with that characteristic golden light, the crystal flashing slightly as I channeled my energy through it.
The residents gathered closer, their interest now genuine, mixed with their fake enthusiasm. Some of them looked genuinely curious, others slightly nervous.
I focused, sending my Ripple energy out in expanding waves, while making the pendulum move like it has a life of its own.
Vooo! Vooo! Vooo!
The feedback came back in intricate detail—the structure of surrounding buildings, the layout of rooms, the location of every person within a hundred-meter radius. And yes, the hidden weapons are stashed in various locations throughout the hall.
'Swords behind that tapestry. Guns under that table. More weapons in that back room. Not much to keep the facade, but enough to respond to an emergency.'
But I couldn't reveal that I'd found their weapons. Instead, I needed to make my demonstration seem impressive but harmless.
The residents erupted in applause and gasps of amazement, their reactions so over-the-top that I wanted to sink into the floor.
"Incredible!"
"So cool!"
"You really are a wizard!"
"What does this do?"
"Can you really find hidden things with this?"
'I'm going to die of embarrassment. This is worse than any battle. This is worse than facing sea monsters. This is social humiliation weaponized.'
But it was working. The residents were eating it up, their attention focused on my performance rather than any suspicion they might have had. And more importantly, it gave me an excuse to move around the hall.
"Yes, it can," I announced, already regretting my life choices. "Watch as I detect objects you're thinking about!"
'Kill me. Someone please kill me. This is torture.'
I moved through the crowd, making a show of using the pendulum while actually mapping the entire building's layout. Every step gave me new information—the thickness of walls, the location of exits, the positioning of those hidden weapons.
Several residents volunteered for my "magic tricks," and I played along, using legitimate cold reading techniques mixed with information from the Hamon Pendulum to make impressively accurate guesses about objects they were holding or thinking about.
"You have a dagger hidden in your left boot," I told one man, making it sound mystical rather than accusatory.
His face went pale for just a moment before he laughed it off.
"For self-defense only!" he said quickly. "These are dangerous times!"
'Nice save. But that confirms my suspicion—most residents here are trained.'
I continued my performance, hating every moment but gathering invaluable intelligence.
The building had three main exits plus two hidden ones. The weapons were distributed strategically to allow rapid arming of the most people.
The residents were coordinating with subtle signals—a touch here, a glance there, maintaining their cover while tracking our every move.
'This is a military operation. These aren't bounty hunters. This is too organized, too professional. This is an intelligence network or an assassination guild.'
By the time I'd made a complete circuit of the hall, I had a detailed mental map of the entire area, not just the hall, but the entire block, and confirmation that every single resident was complicit in whatever trap they'd set.
The party continued around us, music blaring, food being consumed, drinks flowing freely.
Luffy had eaten enough for ten people and was showing no signs of slowing down. Usopp was laughing drunkenly with several residents. Sanji was practically floating on clouds of female attention.
'They're all completely compromised. Within an hour of arrival, half our crew is useless.'
I made my way back toward where Zoro was sitting, noting that despite appearing as being drunk, the swordsman's eyes were full of sharpness.
'He's faking it too. Good. At least I'm not the only one maintaining vigilance.'
Nami had positioned herself near a table, seemingly engaged in conversation with several residents, and nuns?, who were handing her drinks one after another, but her eyes were constantly tracking the room's exits and our crewmates' positions.
'And the navigator makes three. The sensible members of this crew could fit in a rowboat.'
The party wore on, the music growing louder, the residents' enthusiasm becoming almost manic in its intensity.
They praised everything—Luffy's appetite, Usopp's stories (no matter how obviously fabricated), Sanji's mere existence.
'They're trying to overwhelm us with positive reinforcement. Classic manipulation—make the targets feel special, important, valued. Lower their critical thinking through emotional appeal and alcohol abuse.'
I noticed the residents were also eating and drinking from the same food and drinks they offered us, which was smart. It reduced suspicion, making it seem like everything was safe.
As the night progressed, I watched my crewmates one by one succumb to the combination of alcohol, food, and exhaustion.
Usopp was the first to go down, collapsing face-first into a pile of cushions with a blissful smile on his face.
Sanji followed soon after. He slumped against a table, mumbling something about beautiful angels as he lost consciousness.
'The cook is down. Compromised by attractive women and his own inability to suspect them of malicious intent.'
Luffy lasted the longest, his rubber body is inflated like a balloon full of food. He continued eating even as his eyes drooped, his movements becoming sluggish and uncoordinated.
"Thanks for the meal," he mumbled, his head dropping toward the table. "I can't eat anymore."
Then he too collapsed, snoring immediately and loudly.
'And there's our captain. Defeated by free food and hospitality. The future Pirate King, everyone.'
The moment Luffy's snores filled the hall, the atmosphere changed.
The residents' enthusiastic smiles didn't fade—they were too professional for that—but the quality of their attention shifted. Became colder. More calculated.
I stayed in my position, swaying slightly as if affected by alcohol, my eyes closed but tracking every movement through Mantra.
'Time to see what happens next. Time to see what this trap looks like when it closes.'
Igarappoi reappeared from wherever he'd been lurking, his ridiculous hair somehow even more pronounced in the quieter atmosphere. He surveyed the hall, his eyes lingering on each unconscious pirate with satisfaction.
"Well done, everyone," he announced softly, his singing quality gone, replaced by efficient command. "Begin evacuation protocol. Non-combatants to the safe houses, all others arm yourselves."
'There it is. The mask drops. The trap springs.'
The residents moved with practiced precision, their earlier chaos replaced by military efficiency. The non-combatants—a surprisingly small minority—filed out through designated exits with quiet speed.
I maintained my act, staying slumped in my position while tracking every movement. Zoro was doing the same, his body language suggesting unconsciousness while his hand never strayed far from his sword hilts.
And Nami...
I caught her eye for just a moment. She was still pretending to be asleep, slumped over her table, but her body was tense, ready to move at a moment's notice.
'Three of us are conscious. Three of us are ready. Against what looks like at least a hundred armed and trained operatives.'
'Those odds are terrible. But we don't have a choice. We're in the middle of enemy territory with half our crew unconscious. We have to move now, before they start transporting us to wherever they plan to finish this.'
The last resident filed out of the hall, leaving it eerily quiet, except for Luffy's continued snoring and the soft footsteps of armed bounty hunters positioning themselves around our unconscious crewmates.
'Now or never. Time to drop the act and face whatever comes next.'
I opened my eyes fully, reaching up to adjust my new hat—because Nami still refused to return my hat to me, so I had to get a new one— then stood up while adjusting my cloak.
"Alright," I said, my voice carrying across the suddenly quiet hall. "They're gone. You can stop pretending now."
…
A/N: Whew! We are back!!
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