The days of sailing dragged on, like an endless blue river. Laboon's body, like a gigantic ship, housed their small crew. Above them, the sky, painted by Crocus in his leisure hours, stretched out, bright and serene, its blue expanses dotted with fluffy white clouds. Whatever paint faded from his brush remained untouched by Laboon's stomach acid, as if frozen in transparent crystal.
Light blue acid spread around, forming a vast lake, in the center of which rose a tiny island. On it stood a cozy wooden house, next to which a coconut tree spread its branches. Between them, a few items of clothing hung on a drying rack, like the ghosts of forgotten journeys.
Overall, the atmosphere was peaceful, as if silence itself lurked within this underground abode. But the silence was broken by a strange noise, as if someone were rehearsing a fight dance. Rodney, tireless in his training, had created a group of shadow clones, who were currently practicing Rokushiki and Fishman techniques.
His chakra had reached such a level that he could create hundreds of clones simultaneously. Each clone, like a miniature reflection, evolved and shared its experience with Rodney, accelerating his learning exponentially. This prospect seemed terrifying to Crocus, as if he were witnessing the explosion of uncontrollable power.
"Young people these days are truly amazing," Crocus whispered, looking at Rodney with undisguised amazement. "Walking on water is amazing enough, but what kind of devil fruit did that guy eat?"
"Prophecy, healing, avatars, walking on water... He has a brilliant future ahead of him," Crocus added, as if prophesying fate. "If he develops these abilities, he'll find a place in the pirate world."
Crocus suddenly felt as if time had overtaken him. No, he simply couldn't keep up with this rushing current.
"Such versatile abilities would have been considered remarkable even in my era," Crocus admitted, a hint of sadness in his voice. "But the weakness of my avatar ability limited my potential. Otherwise, I could have ruled the seas with just an avatar. No wonder this guy says no one can catch him unless he wants to be caught."
Returning to reading, Crocus immersed himself in the world of books, as if seeking solace in words.
"Jiraiya? You're such an incredible author," he whispered, as if he were speaking to the writer himself.
Laboon, obedient to Crocus's will, swam through the sea depths like a gigantic whale carving its way through the abyss. Even sea creatures several times larger than the sea kings of the East Blue dared not approach its colossal size.
The weather didn't bother them. No matter how rough the waves were on the surface, they had no effect hundreds of meters below. For Laboon, this depth was like a shallow pond.
"Woo~," Laboon's deep voice sounded, as if from the depths of the earth.
Soon after, Laboon emerged from the sea, and Crocus emerged through a valve on his back. Land appeared in the distance—an island with a dense cluster of enormous, spherical cacti, shrouded in mist that gave it an otherworldly appearance.
"Rodney, Logpos's magnetic force is insufficient," Crocus announced, checking the indicator on his wrist. "We need to stop here and give it a chance to recharge."
Since Rodney was still studying, Crocus held onto the device for now.
"We've only been traveling for a few days," Rodney said, surprised. "Is it time already?"
"Haha, don't underestimate Laboon's speed," Crocus chuckled, patting Laboon's hide. "We can stay in the deep water, but we can't go into the shallows. So we need to surface."
"Woo~," Laboon responded, as if confirming Crocus's words.
"Then I'll leave it to you, Rodney," Crocus said, throwing down the rope and pulling out a board that looked like a surfboard.
"Easy," Rodney answered, as if confident in his abilities.
Rodney tied the rope around his waist and jumped off Laboon's back, landing on the surface of the sea a step ahead of Crocus.
"Shave!" Rodney shouted, as if giving the command to start.
In one swift motion, he launched himself across the surface of the water, leading Crocus behind him. Crocus held onto the rope, standing on a wooden plank that acted like a surfboard, effortlessly cutting through the waves at high speed as they made their way toward the island ahead.
"That's Whiskey Peak," Crocus remarked, recognizing the place. "I've heard of it, but I haven't been there often."
Whiskey Peak was relatively close to Twin Point, but he didn't know what it was.
However, Rodney knew more about him.
"This town is known for hosting pirates," Rodney shared with a sly smile. "But in reality, it serves as a gathering place for bounty hunters and is connected to a secret criminal organization known as Baroque Works."
"Old man, let's head into town first," Rodney suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Since it's called Whiskey Peak, I wonder if they have any good whiskey?"
"They're all a bunch of alcoholics, and good booze is what they crave," Crocus agreed, with a hint of irony.
The young and old set off towards the city, surrounded by tall, spherical cacti.
Since they arrived in town without much fanfare, the townspeople didn't give them a grand welcome. However, the presence of two unfamiliar faces attracted attention.
"Joestar J. Rodney, East Blue bounty hunter with a three million beli reward," one man whispered, pulling out a wanted poster for Rodney. "Not a bad haul, but I'll never know who he is."
Unknown to Kobe, the Marines' arrest warrant for Rodney had been revoked, rendering the poster useless.
They received the poster earlier, but unfortunately, its cancellation happened faster than expected and they did not know the specific details.
Bounty hunters in the city have already set their sights on capturing Rodney and handing him over to the watch for a hefty reward.
"Then let's prepare a feast and give this bounty hunter a warm welcome," came the evil whisper.
"No problem," they replied, exchanging sinister smiles.
These were not the most virtuous people.
They formed groups to exploit the arrogance of other groups, knowing their powers were limited. They deceived naive newcomers unaware of the world's dangers, subjecting them to brutal beatings in exchange for a bounty on their heads.
Many young and inexperienced pirates fell victim to their tactics.
However, Rodney understood their true nature perfectly well and played his role as an experienced man.
Rodney and Crocus had only been in the city for a short time when they were surrounded by a group of people with hopeful expressions on their faces.
One of them, shifting impatiently from foot to foot, asked: "Excuse me, are you two pirates?"
Crocus laughed, "I was a pirate a few years ago, but I've since retired."
"Wow, why did you retire? Pirates are considered heroes of the sea!" another exclaimed admiringly.
"Well, I'm getting old, and my health isn't what it used to be," Crocus chuckled, but deep down, a strange feeling was troubling him. In his time, meeting townspeople was rarely done without a degree of apprehension. It was strange to see such admiration, such a lack of fear. For the first time, he'd encountered a city that welcomed pirates, and it evoked a strange feeling in him.
"Is the young man next to you your grandson?" someone asked.
Rodney remained silent with a smile on his face.
Before Crocus could respond, the man continued, flatteringly, "Your grandson must be a powerful pirate, right?"
Rodney suppressed a smile, but listened intently as the group showered him with praise. Crocus wanted to clarify the situation, but seeing the smirk on Rodney's face, he sensed some malicious intent and decided to refrain.
At that moment, Rodney spoke, his voice breaking, attracting everyone's attention.
"Actually…" he began, drawing out the words, "I'm a bounty hunter."
The group froze. Those who didn't know the truth didn't know how to react. The flattery they'd just heaped on Rodney suddenly seemed out of place.
Sensing the eerie atmosphere, Crocus laughed and left with Rodney.
- Damn! This guy played a prank on us!
- True, but we must find a way to catch them!
"He's a bounty hunter just like us! He's worth a fortune!"
"No, you're thinking too much. Look at that smirk on his face. I don't know why, but I really want to hit him."
— Consider me in.
- Me too!