Chapter 8: A Thief's Despair, A King's Rage!
"Hey... Arlong!"
Nami's voice trembled, cracking under the weight of a sudden, terrifying realization. She stared at the empty space where her backpack had been just seconds ago, then slowly lifted her gaze to the shark-like man towering over her.
The sun was beginning to set, casting long, blood-red shadows across the courtyard of Arlong Park. The air, which moments ago had tasted of freedom, now felt thick and suffocating, reeking of brine and betrayal.
"What... what does this mean?" Nami whispered, her hands shaking uncontrollably at her sides. "Are you... are you going to break our promise?!"
"Shishishishishi! What nonsense are you talking about, Nami?"
Arlong spread his massive, webbed hands wide, a look of exaggerated, cruel confusion plastered on his face. He leaned down, his jagged, saw-tooth nose inches from her forehead, invading her personal space with the stench of raw fish and malice.
"Our promise? Haven't I always kept it well? I pride myself on my word."
His yellow eyes narrowed, gleaming with predatory amusement.
"The deal was simple: You bring me 100 million Berries, and I sell you the village. Look at my hands, Nami. Look closely. Do I have the Berries you gave me? Are they in my palm?"
Nami's pupils contracted to pinpricks. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird, beating so hard it hurt.
"But... but the money is in Kuroobi's hand!" she screamed, her voice rising to a hysterical pitch. She pointed a trembling finger at the Ray Fishman standing silently in the shadows of the veranda. "He just snatched it from me! You clearly saw it! It's right there! That's my money!"
"Nami."
Arlong's tone suddenly shifted. It dropped the facade of confusion and became sickeningly 'earnest'—patronizing, like an adult lecturing an ignorant child who didn't understand the complexities of the world.
"That's between you and Kuroobi."
He shrugged his massive shoulders, the muscles rippling under his yellow Hawaiian shirt.
"Do I, the Captain, have to personally handle every little friction among crew members? We are a brotherhood, yes, but boys will be boys. Our written agreement doesn't have a clause about internal disputes."
He grinned, exposing rows of teeth that could crush stone.
"If Kuroobi took your money... well, perhaps you should ask him nicely to give it back. Though, knowing him, he's quite attached to shiny things."
"You...!"
The realization hit her like a physical blow to the gut. The world spun.
It was a lie.
It had always been a lie.
All hope. Eight years of endurance. The cold nights spent huddled in the bilges of pirate ships, stealing treasure while fearing for her life. The endless days spent in the cartography room, drawing maps until her fingers bled and her back screamed in agony. The shame of walking through Cocoyasi Village, seeing the hatred in the eyes of the people she was trying to save, letting them call her a witch, a traitor, a demon.
She had swallowed it all. She had borne the weight of the world on her teenage shoulders, fueled by this one, singular promise.
And it was all for nothing.
The color drained from Nami's face, leaving her pale as a ghost. She stared blankly at Arlong's mocking face, finally understanding the depth of her enslavement. The promise hadn't been a lifeline; it was a leash. A shackle designed to keep her drawing maps for him forever. Even if she brought another 100 million, they would just steal it again. And again. And again.
"No..."
The word escaped her lips as a broken whisper.
Immense despair, colder than the deepest ocean, engulfed her. Following it came a rage so intense it threatened to tear her apart.
Her legs gave out.
Thump.
Nami collapsed onto the cold stone pavers of the courtyard. She curled in on herself, burying her face in her hands, and sobbed.
"Aaaaaahhhhh!!"
Her cries were heart-wrenching—years of accumulated pain pouring out in a single, raw scream of agony that echoed off the high walls of Arlong Park. It was the sound of a soul shattering.
However, in this den of monsters, this lament did not elicit the slightest pity.
The surrounding Fishmen—sharks, squids, eels—looked at the fragile human girl collapsed on the ground. There was a brief moment of silence, followed by an eruption of unrestrained laughter.
"Gyahahaha! Look at that! She actually believed it!"
"Human tears are truly cheap and ridiculous!"
"What's the use of crying, little surveyor?" a Squid Fishman jeered, pointing a tentacle at her. "You should have recognized your place as a slave long ago! A tool doesn't get to make demands!"
Piercing jeers and sharp whistles combined with Nami's helpless sobs to form a symphony of cruelty. The Fishmen's twisted faces were full of disdain. They couldn't understand—nor did they bother to understand—human emotion. To them, humans were just cattle. Livestock to be used and discarded.
The joys and sorrows of humans were not interconnected with their oppressors.
"Aren't you most fond of these Berries?"
Arlong signaled Kuroobi with a flick of his wrist.
The Ray Fishman grunted, reached into the backpack, and pulled out two stacks of banknotes—about 200,000 Berries. He tossed them carelessly onto the ground in front of Nami.
Plap. Plap.
The money landed in the dirt, right next to her tear-stained face.
"Here. This is for you," Arlong sneered, looking down at her as if he were feeding a begging stray dog. "See? I treat you like one of my own! I'm generous! That's enough to buy yourself a nice dress, isn't it?"
He spread his arms wide, encompassing his empire, his tone utterly, sadistically hypocritical.
"Stop crying. It's too ugly. A surveyor needs steady hands."
He kicked dirt onto the money.
"Pick up your allowance and get to work in the measuring room upstairs! I need new charts of the Grand Line currents! That's all your value is left for! Draw, or the village burns!"
He pointed disgustedly with his thumb at the towering pagoda behind him—the prison where Nami had spent her stolen childhood.
Nami stared at the dirt. She stared at the money that meant nothing.
A dark, destructive impulse seized her. She grabbed a handful of sand. With a trembling hand, she reached into her boot and pulled out a small dagger.
She looked at her left shoulder. At the tattoo of the saw-tooth shark. The mark of her ownership.
"Arlong... Arlong...!!"
She raised the dagger, intending to carve the hated mark from her flesh, to bleed out the connection to this monster.
If I can't be free... at least I won't be yours.
Just as the blade touched her skin—
BOOM!!!
A deafening roar suddenly exploded!
It wasn't a knock. It wasn't an explosion of gunpowder. It was the sound of raw, overwhelming force impacting matter.
The thick, reinforced concrete wall on the west side of Arlong's territory—a wall built to withstand cannon fire—instantly cracked. Spiderweb-like fissures spread rapidly across the surface, glowing faintly red from friction, before the entire section collapsed inward with a thunderous crash.
CRASH!
Debris flew like shrapnel. Massive chunks of stone splashed into the pool. Dust swirled into a thick, choking cloud, obscuring the setting sun.
"What happened?!"
"An enemy attack?!"
"Who dares?!"
The Fishmen were startled by the sudden violence. They leaped to their feet, grabbing tridents and swords, looking frantically towards the swirling dust. Even Arlong took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he shielded his face from the grit.
As the dust gradually settled, a huge, jagged gap appeared in the broken wall.
And in the center of that gap, framed by the dying light of day, two figures stood clearly.
A black-haired young man with his hands in his pockets, wearing a loose white shirt that rippled in the wind. His expression was one of arrogant, bored disdain, as if breaking down a fortress wall was as mundane as opening a door.
Beside him stood a petite blue-haired maid. Her pristine dress fluttered slightly, not a speck of dust on her. Her single visible eye was colder than the deepest ocean trench, scanning the courtyard for targets.
Arlong's golden pupils constricted slightly. He sniffed the air, smelling human blood... and something else. Something hot. Something dangerous.
He bared his teeth and let out a cold snort, recovering his composure.
"Hmph—I thought it was the Marines trying to play tricks here... Turns out it's just two more lower-class races who don't know their place?"
Arlong stepped forward, flexing his massive muscles. His aura of intimidation rolled out, usually enough to make humans cower.
"What? Did you get lost, little humans? Or did you specifically come to die?"
Upon hearing Arlong's taunt, Suzaku merely curled his lip. He didn't draw a weapon. He didn't take a stance. He just smiled—a smile filled with undisguised mockery.
"Hey, who do we have here?"
His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly echoed across the suddenly quiet plaza, carrying a strange acoustic weight that seemed to press against the eardrums.
"Isn't this the low-class Fishman who couldn't make it in the Grand Line?"
The entire courtyard froze. The silence was absolute.
"I heard you fled to the East Blue like a stray dog to avoid trouble," Suzaku continued, walking casually over the rubble, his boots crunching on the debris. "What's the matter? Did the big bad Admirals scare you? Is that why you only dare to close yourselves off in such a small place and crown yourselves 'King,' searching for that pathetic sense of existence?"
As his words fell, the air seemed to solidify.
Every Fishman's expression instantly twisted. Veins popped on foreheads. Fins flared in aggression. To be called a "stray dog" by a human was the ultimate insult.
However, Suzaku's venomous tongue hadn't stopped. His gaze swept over Arlong's face, which had turned a dark shade of purple. He precisely dropped the second bomb.
"Oh, right. Do you guys only dare to poke your heads out and breathe, relying on the name of 'Warlord' Jimbei to protect you?"
Suzaku chuckled, shaking his head with pity.
"You call us 'lower-class race'? Have you forgotten how much a single Fishman sells for in the Grand Line's auction houses? I think 'clearly priced commodities' is a more accurate description for you lot."
"You... you despicable human!!!"
Arlong's face was completely twisted and hideous with extreme rage. His sharp teeth ground together audibly, creating a sound like stones crushing bone.
"How dare you... how dare you speak such arrogant words!"
Arlong roared, his voice shaking the remaining walls. He grabbed his massive Kiribachi sword from the ground.
"We Fishmen are the supreme race! We are the chosen evolution! We possess ten times the physical strength of you useless, hairless monkeys! You're tired of living today! I will rip you limb from limb and feed you to the Sea Kings!"
At this moment, Nami, who was still kneeling on the ground, looked up through her tears. She recognized them instantly.
The creditor... and the maid.
Seeing Arlong completely enraged, a jolt of terror shot through her. She knew how strong Arlong was. She had seen him crush Marines with his bare hands. These two... they would be slaughtered. And then Arlong would take it out on the village. He would kill Nojiko. He would burn everything.
Intense fear made her almost spring up. She wiped her face frantically, forcing a fawning, desperate smile onto her lips—one uglier than a cry.
"A-Arlong! Wait! I'm sorry!"
She scrambled between Arlong and Suzaku, waving her hands frantically, trying to create a barrier with her own fragile body.
"I'll go to work right away! I'll draw the maps! They... they are just my creditors! They chased me here because I owe them money from a gambling debt!"
She turned to Suzaku and Rem, winking frantically with pleading, terrified eyes. She shouted at them, her voice shrill and shrewish, trying to play the part.
"What are you doing?! Collecting debts without even looking at where you are?! Are you idiots?!"
She shoved Suzaku's chest, trying to push him back toward the hole in the wall.
"I told you I'd pay back the money I owe you slowly! Get out of here before I lose my temper! Go! Leave!"
Then, she lowered her voice to a desperate whisper, her tone cracking with raw terror, tears leaking from her eyes again.
"Hurry and go! Please! You have no idea how terrifying Arlong is! Don't throw your lives away just to show off! Run, you idiots! Run!"
She pushed him again.
But he didn't move. He felt like a statue rooted to the earth, immovable as a mountain.
Before Nami could push a third time, she felt a warm hand gently land on her head.
It ruffled her orange short hair softly.
Nami froze. She looked up in astonishment, meeting Suzaku's smiling eyes. There was no fear in them. Only a calm, golden warmth that seemed to defy the darkness of the park.
"Don't be afraid," his voice was unusually steady, carrying a reassuring strength that cut through her panic like a lighthouse beam through fog.
"I told you, didn't I? You're my Navigator now."
He smiled gently.
"How could I let my crew member suffer such injustice? A Captain protects his own."
As he spoke, he naturally reached out and took a clean, white handkerchief from Rem's hand. He leaned down and gently wiped away the blood and tear stains on Nami's face, ignoring the army of monsters surrounding them.
"Don't worry."
He withdrew his hand and stepped past her, placing his body between Nami and the monsters.
His gaze turned to the furious Arlong and the mob of Fishmen. The gentleness in his eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a cold, overwhelming battle intent.
Crackle.
Deep red lightning began to arc around his shoulders, sizzling in the humid air. The temperature in the courtyard began to rise rapidly.
"It will be over soon," Suzaku said, his voice dropping to a whisper that sounded like rolling thunder.
"I certainly won't let off... anyone who dares to make my Navigator cry."
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