Sea fog hung low over the water, and an eerie silence settled around the prison ship.
The raging currents of Reverse Mountain and Laboon’s enormous shadow were now behind us. One might have expected relief at having safely passed the first gateway to the Grand Line, yet the air upon the deck remained as chill as a blade.
The prisoners who had collapsed in the corners of the deck had retreated far away, holding their breath,
while four perilous figures slowly gathered around a shadowed pillar before the cabin.
Slide.
Kuro of a Thousand Plans was the first to speak, casually pushing his glasses up with the heel of his palm.
The man’s cold, sunken eyes fixed squarely upon me, where I leaned against the stern railing and smoked a cigar.
"...It is about time you showed your hand, Captain Jack Sparrow."
A sharp voice broke the silence.
Don Krieg, who stood beside him with his arms folded, also stepped forward with a heavy tread. The pressure radiating from his massive, bandage-wrapped body still befitted the tyrant of East Blue.
"What are you plotting?"
Krieg growled low.
"You raided Loguetown’s Marine base, seized a prison ship, then went to the trouble of dragging each of us out from the cells below and bringing us into this mad sea. Are you planning to build an army to conquer the Grand Line? Or stage some grand revenge drama against the Marines?"
"I care nothing for the petty power struggles of you humans."
Perched upon the bow railing, Arlong shook the moisture from himself and bared his sharp shark teeth as his savage eyes flashed.
"You have gathered a pack of trash on one ship—creatures who cannot even trust their own kind and are forever after one another’s throats. What scheme do you have in uniting us, Jack? If you think that, as a lower life-form, you can use us like chess pieces... I shall rip that tongue from your mouth right now."
Kuro’s ruthless calculations, Krieg’s hunger for dominance, and Arlong’s racial bloodlust.
And then there was Buggy the Clown, who had extended a detached hand from atop the mast, using it like an antenna to gauge the mood.
"That’s right, you bastard! Why exactly did you forcibly kidnap a dazzling superstar like me?!"
The fierce beasts that had painted East Blue in blood all bared their fangs at once, tightening a four-sided encirclement around me.
The suffocating pressure of a desperate situation where it would not have been strange for my throat to be torn out at any moment.
Yet I, standing at the heart of that razor-sharp killing intent,
merely exhaled a long stream of cigar smoke and let out a foolish little laugh.
"Pfft... Hahaha."
"What’s so funny?!"
Krieg’s fist creaked, but
I hooked a bottle of forty-year-aged rum around one finger, spun it, and slowly strolled right before their noses in my usual loose-limbed gait.
"Such grand notions, gentlemen. Armies, revenge dramas, conquering the world...
Just hearing it all gives me a headache. Nothing but dreadful, tedious talk."
Waving the hand that held the rum bottle through the air, I tapped the prison ship’s thick mast and heavy iron-plated deck with my foot.
"You see a ship as nothing more than thick planks, rope, and a heap of cannons for shooting your enemies dead.
But you see... a ship’s true essence is not all that metal."
The languid look in my eyes sank deep as I stared straight into the faces of the men.
"What a ship truly means... is freedom."
"...Freedom?"
Kuro furrowed his brow.
"Indeed, my friend. You asked what I gathered you all for?"
Grinning, I tipped up the brim of my tricorn hat at an angle.
"It is quite simple and clear.
So I can live exactly as I please."
"...Huh?"
Buggy made a stupid noise, and Krieg’s jaw stiffened.
"To turn the helm whichever way the wind blows,
to guzzle down cool rum whenever I am thirsty,
and to sprawl in a deck hammock and sleep the days away for three nights straight whenever I am tired.
To take orders from no one, to mind no one’s opinion...
To drift across this vast sea wholly as I damn well please."
The men’s eyes wavered.
It was a pure abandon that creatures who had spent their whole lives shedding blood, bound by discipline, ambition, and domination, could never understand.
"If dangerous villains brimming with ambition, such as yourselves, are sharpening their knives behind my back, the Marines will not dare attack carelessly, and it will be quite the headache for them, will it not?
You will strain yourselves trying to kill me and take the ship,
while I use you lot and leisurely drink my rum.
What a beautiful and delightful tension that is, wouldn’t you say?"
I spread both arms wide and gave an impudent shrug.
"When a man wishes to breathe and live as he sees fit, what need is there for any grand reason or banner beyond that, gentlemen?"
"..."
Silence followed.
Kuro swallowed a hollow laugh and adjusted his glasses. Krieg unfolded his arms and shook his head as if dumbfounded. Arlong, too, bared his sharp teeth and clicked his tongue quietly.
He was insane.
Yet more than any man who prattled on about ideology or lofty causes,
the beasts seemed to instinctively realize that this drunken swordsman, moved by the single desire to live as he pleased, was the most unpredictable and dangerous being upon the sea.
Whoooosh.
What broke that strange silence was the scent of the sea breeze brushing across the deck.
Through the salt-laden wind,
a faint, sweet fragrance of fruit began to mingle with the bitter scent of alcohol.
"Huh...? Hey, look over there!"
One of the prisoners hanging from the crow’s nest shouted.
As the thick sea fog cleared,
the first island of the Grand Line finally revealed its bizarre and overwhelming form beyond the horizon.
"...What in the world is that?"
Krieg stared wide-eyed in a daze.
What rose from the middle of the blue sea was not ordinary land covered in trees and soil.
They were colossal cliffs shaped like gigantic, rounded cacti, hundreds of meters tall, rising as though to pierce the sky.
Moreover, their rounded surfaces were covered with countless protrusions, packed densely like thorns and casting unsettling shadows.
Confusion crossed the eyes of Krieg and Kuro, who had lived their whole lives within the common sense of East Blue.
"Cacti...? Rock mountains shaped like plants rising from the middle of the sea?"
"What are those thorn-like things? They are far too bizarre to be natural terrain..."
"Kahahaha! What a bunch of country bumpkins, getting scared over that!"
Buggy snorted, puffing out his chest as he touched his red nose, now restored to its proper place.
"It is the first island of the Grand Line! Strange islands like that are a common sight in these waters!"
Then, beyond a narrow bay on the island’s shore, colorful fireworks began exploding one after another.
Bang! Pop-pop!
Boisterous trumpet calls and festival music rang across the sea from somewhere.
At the harbor docks, a great many villagers had gathered, waving bouquets and shouting cheers.
"Welcome!!" "Brave heroes of the sea who have crossed the Grand Line!!" "Welcome to Whiskey Peak! Tonight, the liquor and meat are free!!"
It was a bizarre festival scene, welcoming pirates who had braved the sea’s savage waves as though they were saviors.
As the crew murmured among themselves in bewilderment,
I gave my crooked tricorn hat a light dusting and set one foot atop the stern railing.
"Oh... what a kind and deeply moving welcome ceremony."
Chewing slowly on the cigar in my mouth,
I tapped the ruby dagger in the inner pocket of my breast with my fingertip.
Behind the sweet scent of rum lay the cold smell of blood.
The hunting ground of the Grand Line’s assassination syndicate, Baroque Works, had opened its jaws wide.
"Now then, gentlemen. Prepare to drop anchor."
With a roguish smile, I raised my bottle of rum toward the village.
"They say there is free liquor and meat in abundance. Surely it would be ungentlemanly to refuse?"
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