The town's clamor buzzed on, a relentless roar that made every step feel like wading through a storm. The sights around them were nothing short of overwhelming.
Three of them—guided by Anita—headed toward a shop known as the Navigators' Den.
At a glance, it seemed like nothing more than a ramshackle slum, walls and streets smeared with grime that bordered on outright filth. Stains of spilled liquor, rotting scraps, or even blood clung stubbornly to every surface.
It was a scene so brutal that the absence of corpses felt like a minor miracle.
Just walking through, they passed brawlers trading fists and swordsmen clashing to the death—enough to make fresh blood spatter the ground like rain.
Even Silk, who by now should have been numb to combat and the stench of blood, furrowed her brow at the display.
Vivi, still young and unscarred by such concentrated pirate depravity, must have been reeling from the shock. It was no wonder Igagram and the other two fretted over her.
"What a godforsaken pit. Everyone on this island like this?"
"Yeah. Once you see it, you never forget... Wonder if Kiri's used to it."
"Ahh! Princess Vivi must be frozen in terror by now, speechless! To think a pirate haven could be this deadly... I should have stayed by her side to protect her...!"
"Get a grip, old man. Look, I wanna keep Vivi safe too, but it's a bit late for that now. Leave it to Luffy—he's got it."
It was impossible not to worry, apparently; Igagram kept up his endless lamenting. Sanji's face showed clear signs of growing weary of the whining. The mood hung heavy, anything but light.
To shift the air, Silk glanced ahead at Anita, who led them at a steady clip, ignoring the chatter behind her.
A spark of curiosity—to break the ice—prompted Silk to call out gently.
"You're Anita, right? What's your deal with Kiri?"
"Nothing special. Just acquaintances."
"You called him 'Kiri-nii' earlier, though. You two must be close."
"Close? Nah, he's just weird. Hard to figure out. Shows up out of nowhere, vanishes the same way."
Anita's tone carried no warmth—pure disinterest, it seemed.
But the mention of a crewmate piqued Sanji's ear; he leaned in, listening closely.
Undeterred, Silk pressed on with a smile.
"So, how'd you meet Kiri?"
"Through Mee-nee and Mar-nee—they knew him. He used to be a real smartass, from what they say."
"Huh. And when you met him?"
"Pretty much like this. All soft and floppy, never shows his real face. He even said he's changed since he was a kid."
"I see... So you've got big sisters, huh, Anita?"
"Not blood-related, but yeah. Kiri-nii's way less of a hassle than those two."
Anita sighed, shaking her head with a weary roll.
The word "sisters" lit a fire in more than just Silk; Sanji's eyes gleamed with sudden, boyish hope, his cheeks already slackening at the mere thought.
Catching it, Silk echoed the gesture—a exasperated shake of her head and a sigh of her own.
"Sisters, eh? What're they like?"
"Just weirdos. Mee-nee's all sunshine, Mar-nee's gloom incarnate. Both book nuts to a fault."
"Got it... I'd love to meet 'em sometime."
"Suit yourself. You'll probably be disappointed."
She spoke with a flatness that betrayed no emotion, like this was all rote recitation.
Anita trudged on, her face bored—after all, she was just the guide here.
She had a pretty face, but her attitude was curt, her clothes ragged and dirt-streaked. Silk couldn't help thinking it a waste; such raw potential, squandered.
Curiosity won out, and Silk voiced it plainly—though she knew she wasn't one to talk, dismissing fashion as un-girly felt off.
"By the way, why the beat-up outfit? Don't you have anything else?"
"I do. I'll change when I get home."
"Eh? Then why wear that?"
"Kiri-nii said looking weak makes enemies drop their guard. Better than dressing sharp and getting underestimated—or ambushed when you're not expecting it."
"I-I see. That's... why?"
"Bad influence, that guy."
Silk let out a wry chuckle; Sanji's brow creased in a frown.
From the talk, it was clear: they were close, after all.
Silk found it endearing, shrugging with a smile as she called to Anita's unturning back.
"You really look up to Kiri, huh. Or... is it more than that? Like, a crush?"
"Nah. He's a pain, and besides... he up and left me behind."
She hadn't turned, so they couldn't see, but her face clouded briefly, gaze dropping. Her voice softened just a touch, laced with a quiet ache.
There was a story there, for sure.
Silk and Sanji weren't the only ones sensing the shift; even Igagram, regaining his composure, felt the weight settle.
And so, weaving into a narrow alley, they finally spotted their goal.
Anita pointed it out: a sign shaped like an hourglass.
"That's the Navigators' Den. They specialize in Eternal Poses—buying and selling."
"There's a shop for that?"
"Bet there're all sorts of odd spots if you look."
"Silk-chwan! We should tour 'em later—call it a date!"
"Haha. Sounds fun, but we've gotta regroup with everyone after this."
The air lightened a fraction, a touch of warmth creeping in as they pushed open the door and stepped inside.
It was a cozy little place.
Dimly lit by a handful of candles flickering on the walls, their small flames casting a soft glow. Four shelves lined the room, crammed with hourglass-like Eternal Poses in endless variety.
Straight ahead, past the central aisle, sat the counter—and behind it, a lone old man.
Anita led the way between the shelves, the others trailing: Sanji, Silk, Igagram. The shopkeeper watched them approach without a word, eyes steady.
Anita reached first, raising a hand in greeting.
Only then did he speak.
"Grandpa, brought some customers."
"Welcome. We got most routes covered here. Where to?"
"Yes. We're bound for the Kingdom of Alabasta. Do you have an Eternal Pose for Sandy Island?"
"Nope."
Igagram stepped forward with his query; the old man cut back sharp and simple.
The single word flipped their expressions in an instant.
"Nope? Is that true?"
"True as steel. I don't peddle lies."
"Wh-Why?"
"That Warlord fella. Crocodile's set up shop on Sandy—killed the flow of Poses ever since. Haven't seen one in ages."
"What does that mean?"
Igagram reeled; Sanji tilted his head, piecing it together.
Silk reacted first. She'd followed the world's pulse through newspapers even before piracy—rumors of the famed Crocodile had reached her ears, and she had some grasp of the details.
"Crocodile's been hunting pirates who hit Sandy as one of the Seven Warlords. Alabasta hasn't seen a single raid in years because of it."
"Sounds heroic, if you stop there."
"Right. He's cloaked himself as a savior to shield his true colors."
Igagram chimed in, building on it. Infiltrating Baroque Works had laid it bare: the man's cunning ploy, playing hero over pirate for his schemes. It had worked, too—even pirate isles seemed oblivious to Baroque's shadow.
The shopkeeper scratched his head, baffled by the rundown.
From his look, the intel clearly hadn't trickled his way.
Sanji, quick on the uptake, cupped his chin and nodded gravely, murmuring to confirm:
"Got it. This rock's pirate central. No fool sails here knowing they'll get hunted, so why stock stuff that won't sell?"
"Bingo. Alabasta's off-limits for business now."
"N-No way... There has to be something, sir."
"Ain't got what ain't got. Tough luck."
"Then at least—something close to Alabasta? It's urgent. Surely you've got that?"
"Well, not nothing..."
The old man propped his cheek on his hand, slouchy and unenthused. But a flicker of thought crossed his face; he mulled it over in silence, eyeing Igagram, then Sanji and Silk, before humming in approval.
When he spoke, a grin cracked his face for the first time.
Living on a pirate isle made him pirate through and through.
He hadn't quit the life, just the sailing.
A straight plea wouldn't sway him easy.
"How about a deal, folks?"
"A deal?"
"What's this now?"
"Oi, Granny—guests. Fetch the usual."
He called over his shoulder; moments later, a door creaked, and an old woman shuffled in.
Stooped and slow, but her steps held steady. Wrinkles etched her face, glasses perched on her nose, white hair knotted in a topknot.
She adjusted her specs, scanned the visitors, then fixed on the shopkeeper.
"What, you trustin' these kids with it?"
"Seen 'em in the papers, right? With that velvet-head monk from the news."
"Oh yeah... Better than the gutless types, I suppose."
She sized them up quick.
Unprepared for recognition, Silk and Sanji exchanged stunned glances.
"You knew? About us?"
"If you wanna stay low, watch how you handle intel, whirlwind missy. World's got eyes and ears everywhere—'specially this rock. It's a damn info forge."
"You even know my powers, Silk-chan? What are you people?"
"Nothin' much—washed-up pirates now. Sea lost its shine on us."
The shopkeeper chuckled low as the old woman approached the counter, pulling a letter and an Eternal Pose from a back shelf.
She had a favor to ask.
"Ship-handlin' ain't our game no more. Got an old pal on some island—started a blood feud outta nowhere. Told 'em to quit, but honor this, code that—they won't budge. Probably still at it. Deliver this for us?"
"Then we'll hook you with a Pose to an island near Alabasta. No charge."
"Please, darlin'. And tell 'em: enough with the friend-killin'. Pirate codes can kiss my ass."
The couple bowed in unison, heads low.
The three traded looks, stumped and hesitant.
It didn't seem like a huge ask—sounded reasonable enough. Logically, accept. But remember: these two were pirates, and who knew what lurked behind the offer.
Risks abounded. And in their time-sensitive voyage, a detour's ripple could be anyone's guess.
The real snag? No one among them held final say. Luffy or Kiri would decide on instinct, but Sanji and Silk held back out of deference; Igagram wanted Vivi's input.
Sink or swim—yes or no.
Sanji broke the stalemate first.
"Alright. We'll see it delivered proper."
"Sanji, you sure?"
"No other play, seems like. Luffy and Kiri'd probably call it the same."
"Yeah... I figured as much."
"Very well. I agree too."
Sanji stepped up, claiming the letter and Pose; Silk snatched the fresh one the shopkeeper slapped down.
Seeing it done, the pair beamed—warm, yet edged with something sharper, more perilous.
"Listen: you took it, so follow through. Break the promise, and bad luck finds ya."
"You trackin' us, even from afar?"
"You bet. Don't underestimate pirate ways—we've danced this game nigh on a century."
"Creepy as hell."
Sanji exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, smirking bitterly.
No bluff, likely. They'd nailed Silk's ability on first sight. Who spilled, how—they had Straw Hat dirt already.
Lesson learned: stay vigilant from here on.
Sanji's features hardened, a chill prickling his spine beneath the grin.
The Eternal Pose resembled an hourglass: a clear orb on a base, needle within, island name etched below.
Silk checked her prize's destination, then flicked a glance at Sanji's.
The old woman's friend—on what island?
Curiosity tugged; she turned to the woman.
"What's the name of that island with your friend?"
"Little Garden. Why it's called that? You'll see when you get there. Meet those two, and it'll click."
The woman's deepened smile sent an inexplicable shiver through Silk, but she nodded all the same.
You'll see. Business as usual, in the end.
No direct shot to Alabasta, but a nearby route secured—they'd made do. Task complete, the three ushered Anita out.
Role fulfilled, they paused at the threshold, pondering next.
First: break the bad news to the crew. Silk voiced it, scanning their faces.
"Detour before Alabasta, then. Gotta tell the others."
"Once we commit, no backing out. Luffy's at the tavern, right? Anita, you know the biggest one on the island?"
"Guiding again? Yeah, I know it."
"Something wrong?"
Sanji's question drew a sour pout from Anita; Silk couldn't help asking. Hands clasped behind her head, Anita flashed her first smile since they'd met—and it carried a wicked glint.
"I'd skip that place if I were you. 'Specially this time of year."
"Why?"
"'Cause it's a madhouse."
Her sly grin hit Igagram like a spark to tinder; his face drained.
"A madhouse? Hah?! Princess Vivi!!"
So much for calm—Anita's quip reignited his frenzy, fretting over Vivi with theatrical flair.
The other three, needled beyond endurance, set off for the tavern.
Why the chaos? And why peak now?
The question dogged their steps, of course.
Anita answered with a mischievous chuckle, her true colors peeking through—bold, unfiltered.
A massive event tomorrow, the whole island buzzing for it.
＊
"Should probably loop in Zoro."
Kiri spoke as they navigated a secluded lane, away from prying eyes. The din faded behind them, the path dim and hushed—far quieter than the broad streets. Voices carried clear now; the two seemed locked in conversation.
Tension simmered beneath. Zoro's face was set, stern.
Kiri's past had surfaced recently, stirring change he'd only just sensed.
They'd had these private moments before, sure—but never with the weight of unveiled history. Even with his nod to share, the air felt off, uneasy.
Kiri's words came earnest, smile steady as Zoro absorbed them.
"Can't just play it straight from here. It's not only the boss issue. I'll start thinking past this mess—once it's done."
"Like what?"
"Not set yet. Opportunistic, I guess. Coming here ties into that, though. Easy to rub elbows with big-name pirates. Find one who gets it."
"You planning to meet pirates? For what?"
"Ways to survive. If there's someone useful."
"Useful, huh."
The word hung loaded. He was scheming already.
Zoro, ever the observer, read it without asking.
"Down the line, things might force me off the ship. If so, it's on you and Sanji. Keep Luffy steady—back him up."
Kiri's gaze met his—deceptively casual, but piercing with intent.
Did Zoro dare agree?
A nagging dread twisted in him, uncharacteristic worry drawing a tsk and a sour grimace.
"That's your gig. Ain't you the one meant to stick by him?"
"Plan to. But futures? Unpredictable."
"You ain't cooking up something stupid, right?"
"No worries—I won't cross shaky bridges. I value my neck. Just... sometimes, supporting means stepping away. Hypothetical."
"Handing off to me and the cook."
"You two are our aces. Sanji's woman-obsessed flaw aside, he's sharp—picks the smart path cool-headed, balances the crew. Let him lead; you hang back, read the field."
"...And you've mapped this far—why?"
Another tsk. Zoro raked his hair roughly.
He swallowed a retort, heaving a deep sigh.
"Luffy might trust ya, but I don't fully. Pull any dumb shit, I'll deck you—don't forget it."
"Haha, thanks. 'Deck' over 'slash'—that's sweet."
"Shut it. I'll cut you."
"Yeah, that's more you."
They reached their mark, Kiri's steps light as he halted before the door.
Midway down the cramped path—barely wide for one—a wooden door nestled in a crooked wall. No sign, no house vibe: utterly alien.
Zoro's brow knit in suspicion, naturally.
But Kiri stopped dead at the sight.
"Here we are."
"Weren't we hitting a shop? This ain't one."
"To normals, sure. Got a trick to get in."
With that, Kiri knocked: two raps, then three, then five—rhythmic, deliberate pauses. He twisted the knob left, then right.
The door—meant to stay shut—swung open, revealing a shadowed void.
Stairs plunged downward into view.
"See? Knack to it. Got it?"
"Hidden gem, eh?"
"Something like. Dark—watch your feet."
Kiri descended the narrow stairwell first, tight for one.
Zoro followed.
No lights; pitch black, footing a gamble.
About two meters down, another door.
Kiri eased it open—light flooded in.
A snug interior.
L-shaped counter right by the entrance, nine stools total. Scattered lamps kept it moody, atmospheric. A phonograph murmured faint tunes.
A bar, clearly.
Shelves behind the counter brimmed with bottles; before them stood a woman of striking allure, in her prime.
Draped in a dress, blonde bob framing her face—beauty to stop any man cold. But her true age? A mystery. Her real name? Unknown.
Shrouded in enigma, they called her Madam Nancy.
Spotting Kiri at the threshold, she smiled—touched with surprise.
"Oh? Welcome. The talk of the town graces us."
"Evening, Madam. Been a while."
He raised a casual hand; familiarity evident.
At her gesture, Zoro claimed a stool first; Kiri slid in beside, nearer the door.
No sooner seated than Nancy chimed in.
Her smile held a glad edge, welcoming them outright. Given the spot's secrecy and the empty hour, boredom might've bitten hard. She moved to prep glasses already.
"Figured you'd vanished when you dipped to East Blue. How'd you swing the return?"
"Heard gov types cross Red Line. Snuck aboard."
"My. Quite the odyssey. Heh, never dreamed you'd circle back."
"Pirate now. Not wandering free like before."
Kiri sat ramrod, grin easy.
Zoro caught the profile glance: "wandering" glossed over Baroque Works, no doubt. Still under wraps.
No need to out him; Zoro averted his eyes, silent.
Nancy turned with two glasses.
Just a normal bar stop? It almost felt that mundane.
"Drink? Got time?"
"Nah—crew's probably wrecking shop by now. Wanna link up quick. Sorry to rush, but straight to business?"
"So aloof after ages. That Straw Hat kid your crewmate?"
"Yeah. Real handful—dangerous type."
"Gotcha. Would've loved the full tale, but fair enough."
She shrugged with a wry smile, conceding.
Leaning elbows on the counter, Kiri dove in, ready.
"Need a counter to Logias. Quick-and-dirty setup, ideally."
"Logias, hmm... Trouble brewing? Rare breed—few eat 'em."
"Our captain's gunning for Pirate King. Can't let blockers stand."
"Ambitious. And you're all in?"
"Why else come here?"
"Heh, fair point."
Nancy mirrored him, hands on the counter, peering close.
"There's ways. But no ability trumps a powerhouse—counters or not. They're built different."
"Figured."
"Relying here? Band-aid. Real King shot means rethinking everything."
"That Haki buzz from rumors?"
"Yes. Most New World pirates wield it. Can't beat 'em without—can't claim the throne. You grasp that?"
"Time's on side. Momentum now's enough."
Kiri's eyes shifted hue, unseen till then. Smile held, but the air crackled taut.
Fanatical. Deranged, maybe.
Zoro dropped his gaze, quiet; Nancy, veteran of countless scoundrels, let her smile fade.
"I'll snag it if needed. Point is, Luffy's charging ahead. My job? Clear the path. Warlord, Admiral, Emperor—gone. Make him King. That's the vow."
"You've... changed. Full pirate now—my kinda rogue."
Nancy's eyes dipped, then lifted to him anew, grin returning.
If she got it, no more preaching. Truth: they posed no threat yet. But self-aware? Room to grow.
She'd help—that much showed.
"Hang tight."
She vanished to the back.
Silence blanketed the bar. Music droned on, but the weight lingered, altered.
Zoro crossed arms, eyes shut.
Beside, Kiri touched his lips, reining in the slip.
Timing mattered for raw feeling—lose control, and you're no weapon. Still green.
The hush broke; Nancy returned, clutching a weathered wooden box. She set it before Kiri, flipped the lid herself. Zoro cracked an eye; they both peered in.
A single pistol.
But the real prize: a small pouch at its side. The bullets meant everything.
"Black market special. Seastone rounds."
"Seastone? That's gov-only."
"Means not everyone's aligned—Marines included. Rarity jacks the price; right channels, it flies."
"How much?"
"Treasure's fine. If your captain crowns King, bring it back."
Nancy crossed arms below her chest, beaming bright.
Kiri's grin deepened—no refusal—as he claimed the box. To them, the act screamed commitment. Words after? Few.
"But careful. King's road? No cakewalk. You'll bleed for it."
"We'll manage. No quitting now."
"Rooting for you. Call it an investment—pay double someday."
"Noted. Triple, even—promise."
"Heh."
Kiri pocketed the pistol and pouch just as—
The door swung; a bell tinkled.
Fresh face: a long-haired woman, heels clicking to the counter, halting by Kiri.
She slapped down a wanted poster.
Then, without pause, grilled Nancy.
"Looking for someone. Seen him?"
"Oh? Rare—Joker's lackey, gracing us?"
Nancy's murmur yanked Kiri's head up. He sized the woman proper.
Striking features. But that word—Joker—eclipsed all.
Impossible to miss.
She puffed smoke, aloof as stone.
Nancy probed; cool indifference met her, voice like frost.
"Answer, please. He's on this island—or should be. Dig for me."
She thrust the poster higher, insistent.
Before Nancy could, Kiri leaned in for a look. The woman noticed, clocking him at last—her disinterest cracking.
The poster: "Surgeon of Death" Trafalgar Law.
Recognition hit; Kiri voiced it. The woman twitched a brow.
"North Blue's Trafalgar Law, huh. Grand Line debut? News to me. Recent?"
"You... who...?"
"C'mon, grab a seat. Got questions for you."
He patted the stool beside him, inviting.
Abrupt? Him too.
Zoro, baffled but reading the scheming glint, shot a low warning—voice hushed for courtesy.
"Oi, what's the play now?"
"Joker's got me curious. Ring any bells?"
"Nope."
"Big in the shadows. Can't ignore this."
"Might stir shit you can't handle."
"One way or t'other. Gotta grab every edge."
Heads close, whispers traded—then back to her.
Kiri beamed; she froze, oddly.
The hand on the poster quivered faint.
He clocked it, let it slide—kept friendly, signaling no threat, urging her down easy.
"Drink's on me. No pressure—if you've got time?"
"Y-You... need me, don't you?"
"Spot on. You're the one."
Even trifles set her off: eyes darting, locking on him with frantic focus. Unclear why, but tears welled, cheeks flushed.
Men? Her kryptonite, apparently.
Seizing it, Kiri laid on the charm—tooth-aching sweet—then clasped her hand soft.
She jolted but didn't pull away.
"Your name?"
"Uh, um... Baby 5."
"Kiri. Nice to meet ya."
"Y-Yes..."
Odd moniker, but Baby 5 demured, sliding onto the stool.
Kiri's warmth drew her in; she listened, half-dazed, adrift.
Info hunger drove it, sure—but Sanji'd never live this down.
Zoro cradled his head, sighing long; Nancy watched Kiri's pirate bloom with maternal fondness, a soft smile playing.
--+--
T/N: Although I'm an inexperienced Editor, I do have a Patreon account! Although it seems like I don't have many supporters right now, my webnovel will be released in full every day, and the advanced chapters will be uploaded to Patreon.
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