Just as Don departed from Shimotsuki Village, far away in the Grand Line—on Fishman Island, in the depths of Fishman Street—an argument erupted.
"Arlong, are you really not coming back?"
The whale shark fishman Jinbe stared sternly at the sawshark fishman before him. His voice was calm but firm.
"You bastard! Don't you dare forget how our big brother died! And now you've gone and become a lapdog of the Marines?!"
Arlong's roar shook the water. Jinbe's words had clearly ignited his fury.
But Arlong seemed to have forgotten one thing—he was a pirate. And the only reason he had ever walked free from Impel Down was because of the Marines themselves.
No one leaves that prison alive. No one… except the Golden Lion.
The insult of "Marine dog" left Jinbe silent, his brows furrowing. He said no more.
Arlong, however, only gave a cold snort and turned on his heel.
"Big Brother!"
A young mermaid with the features of a blue shark, Shyarly, cried out as Arlong began to walk away.
Arlong cast a single glance back at his sister, his expression as dark as the ocean depths, and left without a word. His figure disappeared into the streets.
For a long while, Shyarly stared after him, before her gaze, heavy with sorrow, turned back toward Jinbe.
"He'll come to his senses eventually," Jinbe sighed.
He knew Arlong's hatred. Ever since the death of Fisher Tiger, Arlong's heart had festered with venom toward humans and the Marines alike. Jinbe understood this—but he also knew the truth: the power gap between Fishman Island and humanity was far too great.
And in recent years, the trafficking of merfolk by human pirates had only grown worse.
Shyarly nodded faintly. She reached into her chest wrap and withdrew a gleaming crystal ball.
Jinbe did not look surprised. Shyarly was a renowned fortune-teller, after all.
But as she gazed into the sphere, her complexion paled.
"What is it?" Jinbe's tone sharpened instantly at her expression.
"I saw it… my brother's death. His head delivered straight to the Marines."
Her voice trembled.
Jinbe's eyes widened like never before. In the next instant, his powerful legs surged, propelling him in the direction Arlong had gone.
But Shyarly did not move.
She didn't need to. A prophecy revealed was absolute—once foreseen, it would inevitably come to pass.
She sat frozen, her hands clutching the sphere, not knowing what else she could do.
At the docks where ships departed from Fishman Island, Jinbe arrived in haste.
"Brother Jinbe! Captain Arlong has already left!" a fishman called out in answer to his urgent inquiry.
The news made Jinbe's expression turn grim.
"Summon the crew. Prepare to set sail."
Meanwhile, back in the East Blue.
Don had already switched ships.
The merchant vessel from Shimotsuki Village was only suited for short voyages, no more than a week or so. At a transfer port, he had boarded another ship bound for the Marine's Sixteenth Branch base.
Perhaps, he thought, he might even meet a few old Marine acquaintances there.
Now he sat on the deck, cradling his sword, resting quietly while crew and passengers stole curious glances at him from afar.
Koushirou's arrangement had given him an idea.
In this pirate-infested world, merchant voyages were perilous. If they ran into pirates, losing cargo was the least of their worries—the true horror was that bloodthirsty raiders often slaughtered every last soul aboard.
And so, the demand for hired protectors was common.
"Lord Don!"
A booming voice broke his reverie. Don turned to see a tall, rough-skinned woman, her body built with the heft of a brawler. She was the ship's captain.
"The day after tomorrow, we'll enter waters thick with pirate activity," she reported. "If we detour, it could cost us an extra month."
"No need," Don said, shaking his head. He knew what she meant.
"Good. Then we'll rely on your protection."
The captain smiled, her bulging muscles shifting with the motion. Don twitched an eyelid at the sight, then said nothing more. She left him be, but crewmen quickly gathered to question her.
"Captain, should we detour?"
A detour was safer. It would add time, but avoid the pirate-infested stretch.
"No need. We'll cut straight through. With Lord Don aboard, there's nothing to fear."
"But… can he really handle it?" one sailor muttered skeptically.
The captain's mind flashed back to when Don had approached her himself, offering to serve as guard. She too had doubted him… until she had witnessed the slash of his blade.
As a seasoned sailor, she had heard tales of swordsmen. Swordmasters. But she had never seen one. Not until Don.
And a true swordsman—no, a sword hero—was a figure beyond reach.
If not for Don volunteering, she could never have afforded such protection.
Still, until Don himself gave permission, she dared not reveal his identity to anyone. Even if she did, these greenhorns wouldn't grasp what it meant to travel with a man of his caliber.
"Straight through," she ordered. "This voyage will be safe. Trust me."
For her, that was certainty.
Days later, Don finally understood what "pirate-infested" truly meant.
The last time he had sailed from the Sixteenth Branch to Shimotsuki Village, he hadn't encountered a single pirate for three months.
This time? Two or three skirmishes every single day.
But most were laughable—newly-minted thugs calling themselves "pirates," sailing in ramshackle boats fit for a dozen men.
Don destroyed them from afar with a single arc of sword aura, shattering their ships like kindling. None of them were even bounty-worthy.
Yet not all encounters were so small.
One day, a larger pirate vessel drew near, its deck full of shouting, cheering men.
The passengers of the merchant ship retreated to their cabins. The crew armed themselves, but their anxious eyes all flicked toward Don.
"Lord Don," the captain called softly.
"Let them come close," Don replied. "I want to ask them a few questions."
The captain relaxed. Until now, Don hadn't drawn his blade once, and that had left her uneasy.
The pirate ship closed in. From its deck, raucous cheers erupted—this haul would be rich, perhaps with women aboard too. Their eyes gleamed with hunger.
They leapt across, ready to pillage
Only to be met by arcs of crescent sword energy.
Slash! Slash!
Boom!
The merchant ship's towering twin masts shattered, collapsing onto screaming pirates. The deck lurched under the impact.
Another stroke of Don's sword, and the pirate ship split apart down the middle.
"Catch a few once they hit the water," Don ordered.
Just as he turned to leave, his senses sharpened.
A shadow launched itself from the sinking pirate vessel, leaping toward the merchant ship with a roar.
"Bastard!"
Don blinked, mildly impressed. "So there was a skilled one among them."
In an instant, he vanished, reappearing where the pirate was about to land.
Before the man could speak, a scabbard smashed into his face with crushing force. Teeth shattered, pain exploded, and his body crumpled into unconsciousness.
Don waved a hand.
"Tie him up. When he wakes, bring him to me."
Crew swarmed in, binding the pirate tight with heavy rope.
"Lord Don… what about the others?" the captain asked, pointing to the chaos outside.
The pirate vessel was fully capsized now, flooding through the gash Don had carved. Dozens of pirates thrashed in the sea, struggling toward the merchant ship.
"Do as you like."
Don waved it off, returning to his quarters.
Behind him, the merchant crew's triumphant shouts echoed with the mingling cries of dying pirates.
This world was mad.
Don shook his head. Even ordinary men here killed without hesitation. Especially sailors.
But what unsettled him most was a question:
Why were there so many pirates clustered in the East Blue?
Wasn't this supposed to be the safest sea of all?
Surely not even pirates would dare gather here in such numbers.