The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the training grounds, where Shanks and Marya stood poised for combat. The breeze blew the scented petals of the wisteria blossoms as Master Gaius and Yasopp watched from the matted entrance of the Dojo, observing every move.
Marya's stance was poised as she gripped the hilt of Eternal Night, its black blade gleaming ominously. Opposite her, Shanks held Gryphon with a casual confidence that belied his formidable skill. Their auras crackled with invisible power as they tapped into their Haki.
With a nod from Shanks, the duel began. Marya moved swiftly, Eternal Night whistling through the air with finesse. Shanks met her strikes with ease, their blades clashing in a symphony of steel. Each movement was a dance of power and grace, their Haki-infused strikes leaving trails of energy in their wake.
Marya lunged forward, aiming for a decisive blow, but Shanks sidestepped effortlessly, Gryphon parrying her attack. Undeterred, she pressed on, her attacks becoming faster and more aggressive. Yet, Shanks remained a step ahead, his experience and mastery evident in every deflection.
From the sidelines, Master Gaius observed with a discerning eye, his hands clasped behind his back. Yasopp, leaning against a post, watched intently, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
As the battle raged, it became clear that Shanks was gradually gaining the upper hand. With a swift, fluid motion, he disarmed Marya, sending Eternal Night flying from her grasp. She fell to one knee, breathing heavily, her jaw clenched with frustration.
Shanks sheathed Gryphon and extended a hand to help her up. "You're improving, Marya," he said encouragingly. "But remember, it's not just about strength and speed. You need to anticipate your opponent's moves and feel their intent with your Haki."
Marya nodded, absorbing his words. "Yeah, easier said than done."
Shanks and Marya took a moment, the tension in the air settling into a calm stillness. Marya, chest heaving from the exertion, closed her eyes to center herself. As the world around her quieted, a vivid memory surfaced.
She was younger, training under the stern guidance of her father, Dracule Mihawk. They stood on a rugged cliffside, the ocean's roar a constant backdrop to her lessons. Mihawk's piercing gaze bore into her as he spoke, his comforting voice filled with authority.
"Marya," he said, his tone deliberate and measured. "To hone your observation, Haki, you must become one with your surroundings. Feel the pulse of life around you and anticipate the slightest shifts. It is not enough to see; you must sense. Your sword is an extension of your will. Your Haki is the bridge between your spirit and the world."
She remembered the countless hours spent under his tutelage, each session pushing her to new limits, sharpening her senses, and honing her skills. His lessons were not just about combat but about perceiving the unseen, feeling the intent of her opponent as if it were her own.
The memory faded, but its impact remained. Marya opened her eyes, a renewed focus settling over her. She grasped Eternal Night, its weight familiar and reassuring in her hand. Shanks, sensing her resolve, nodded and readied Gryphon.
As they resumed their sparring, the sounds of clashing swords filled the air once more. Meanwhile, Aurélie approached Yasopp and Master Gaius, her presence exuding a quiet grace. Yasopp straightened up and greeted her with a nod, an appreciative gleam in his eyes.
"Aurélie, that was some match you had with Captain Knox last night at the festival," Yasopp remarked, clearly impressed. "Your technique was flawless."
Aurélie smiled modestly, dipping her head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Yasopp. Captain Knox is a formidable opponent."
Yasopp's curiosity piqued as he glanced down at the katana at her side. "I've been meaning to ask – your katana, it has an aura about it. What's its story?"
Aurélie's hand instinctively brushed the hilt of her blade, a sense of reverence in her touch. "This is Anathema," she explained. "Its name means to be cursed by the gods. It's been passed down through generations in my family. Legend has it that it was forged by a master swordsmith who defied the deities, imbuing the blade with their wrath."
Yasopp's eyes widened, clearly moved by the weight of history and power the katana carried. "Anathema," he repeated, almost in awe. "A blade with such a legacy – it must be both a blessing and a burden."
Aurélie nodded thoughtfully, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the katana's hilt. "Indeed. It demands respect and a deep connection with the wielder. But it is also a reminder of our duty and the strength we must uphold."
Master Gaius, who had been listening quietly, gave a nod of approval. "It is a legacy you carry on."
As the conversation drew to a close, Riggs and Jax arrived on the scene, their presence immediately noticeable. "Look at them go," Riggs exclaimed, watching Marya and Shanks spar with gaping enthusiasm. "They're incredible!"
Jax, standing tall and composed, crossed his arms over his chest, fixed on the duel. "Indeed. Marya's focus and Shanks' precision are truly impressive."
Master Gaius nodded in agreement, a proud smile playing at the corners of his lips. Aurélie, still holding Anathema, glanced at Riggs and Jax, her expression serene. "It's inspiring to watch them spar. Shanks truly pushes Marya."
Yasopp chuckled, clapping Jax on the back. "Jax, I see that look in your eyes. Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"
A glint sparkled in Jax's eyes as he uncrossed his arms and cocked a hip, resting his hand on his katana. "You're right, Yasopp. I'm next to spar with Shanks."
Riggs grinned, nudging Jax playfully. "Just don't take it too seriously, Jax. Remember, it's all in good fun."
Jax glanced at Riggs frustratedly. "I know, Riggs. But I know I can do it!"
Aurélie nodded approvingly. "You'll do well, Jax. I have faith in your abilities."
As the duel progressed, an almost palpable shift occurred in the atmosphere. Marya's movements became more fluid yet defined, each strike and parry imbued with a newfound intensity. It was as if she had tapped into a deeper well of focus and power, her eyes narrowing with unwavering fortitude.
Noticing the change, Shanks adjusted his stance, a subtle yet perceptible acknowledgment of Marya's growth. His strikes became sharper, his defenses more robust, as he stepped up to the challenge she presented. The clash of their weapons echoed through the training ground, a symphony of metal and skill.
Marya felt a calm wash over her, a sense of clarity that sharpened her every motion. The world around her seemed to slow, each detail coming into crisp focus. She could see the slight shifts in Shanks' posture, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed in anticipation of her next move. It was as if time itself had bent to her will, allowing her to anticipate and react with precision.
As the duel intensified, Aurélie suddenly jumped to her feet, her eyes bulged with concern. She clutched Anathema tightly, ready to intervene at the slightest sign of trouble. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched the fierce exchange between Marya and Shanks.
Just as she was about to step forward, Master Gaius raised a hand with command. "Wait, Aurélie," he said firmly. "Let them continue."
Aurélie hesitated, her breath caught in her throat. She glanced at Master Gaius, searching his eyes for reassurance. Finding a quiet confidence in his gaze, she slowly nodded and took a step back, though her muscles remained tense, ready to spring into action if needed.
Gaius's voice was steady as he continued, "This is her moment. Trust in her abilities. She needs to discover her own strengths and limits without interference."
Aurélie swallowed hard, her eyes never leaving the duel. She could see the determination in Marya's movements, the precision in Shanks' responses. Despite her anxiety, she understood the wisdom in Master Gaius's words. This was a true test of her training and spirit.
Meanwhile, Yasopp, Jax, and Riggs exchanged perplexed glances, clearly bewildered by Aurélie's reaction. "What's going on?" Riggs whispered, his brow furrowed in confusion.
Aurélie shook her head, her voice trembling with urgency. "Can't you see it? There's something different about Marya. I can sense an awakening within her."
Master Gaius's gaze remained steady as he addressed Aurélie. "Stay calm, Aurélie. This is a crucial moment for Marya. She needs to grow and learn control of her power on her own terms."
Aurélie closed her eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She knew Master Gaius was right, but the intensity of the duel and the raw power emanating from Marya made it difficult to step back. "But what if she loses control?" she protested softly.
Gaius's expression softened, yet his voice retained its authority. "Trust in her training, Aurélie. Trust in her strength. She must face this challenge head-on to truly understand her capabilities."
Aurélie nodded reluctantly, her eyes never leaving Marya, who continued to move with a grace and power that seemed almost otherworldly. In that instant, Aurélie understood the importance of this moment. Marya was on the brink of a significant transformation, and only by facing such trials could she fully realize her potential.
Marya, seemingly unaware of the world around her, closed her eyes. The sounds of the duel, the whispers of the onlookers, and even the rhythmic beating of her own heart faded into the background. She felt a profound stillness enveloping her, a connection to everything and nothing all at once. In this heightened state, she could sense Shanks' aura pulsating with energy, vivid and tangible.
Reaching out with her mind, she touched Shanks' Haki, a masculine force so familiar yet so foreign. She grasped it, feeling its unique texture, its weight, and its power. Shanks stumbled, his balance momentarily disrupted as he felt his Haki being drawn from him. It was a sensation unlike any other, a mixture of loss and astonishment.
But Shanks was not one to be easily vanquished. He quickly regained his footing, a smirk of sheer delight spreading across his face. This was the challenge he had been seeking. With a swift and deliberate counter, he pushed back, his aura surging with renewed vigor.
When Marya opened her eyes, they were clouded over, as if shrouded in mist. Shanks' smirk faded, replaced by a look of genuine concern. He could see that something had shifted within her, something that teetered dangerously on the edge of control.
In the heat of the battle, Shanks held her in a deadlock with Gryphon, their weapons locked in a fierce embrace. "Marya!" he called out in a pleading command. "Marya, snap out of it!"
His words cut through the haze, reaching the core of her consciousness. Blinking rapidly, Marya's vision cleared, and the fog lifted from her eyes. She met Shanks' gaze with confusion as realization dawned upon her. The intensity of the moment had passed, but the significance of what had transpired lingered in the air, a testament to the power they both wielded and the bond they shared.
Master Gaius's voice cut through the tension. "That's enough for today," he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Marya, you've done well. It's time to rest and reflect."
Marya blinked, still trying to process the significance of what had just happened. She glanced around, noticing the concerned faces of her companions. Despite the confusion that clouded her thoughts, she nodded reluctantly, understanding the necessity of taking a step back.
As Marya sheathed her weapon, Riggs, who had been watching intently from the sidelines, suddenly sprang to his feet. His eyes were alight with fierce enthusiasm. "Shanks!" he called out, his voice ringing with challenge. "I want to test myself against you."
Shanks raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face at Riggs's impromptu challenge. He sheathed Gryphon with a flourish and gestured for Riggs to take his stance. "All right, Riggs," he said, amusement lacing his words. "Let's see what you've got."
Riggs's eyes shone with fortitude as he readied himself, feet firmly planted and his weapon at the ready. The onlookers murmured, curious to see how the young warrior would fare against the seasoned swordsman.
With a nod from Master Gaius, Riggs lunged forward, his movements quick and exact. Shanks met each strike with ease, his motions fluid and almost lazy. It was clear that he was toying with Riggs, testing his mettle while maintaining an air of casual indifference.
The duel went on for only a few moments before Shanks decided to end it. With a swift and deft maneuver, he disarmed Riggs, sending his weapon clattering to the ground. Riggs stared in disbelief, his chest heaving.
Shanks chuckled, clapping Riggs on the shoulder. "Not bad, kid," he said with warm encouragement. "But you've still got a lot to learn."
The friction in the air dissolved into laughter, the spectators finding humor in the swift and decisive match. Even Riggs managed a sheepish grin, acknowledging the gap between his skills and Shanks's.
As the laughter died down, Master Gaius's voice carried over the crowd. "That's enough for today," he repeated. "We'll continue training tomorrow."
*****
The slaver's ship loomed in the darkness, its black sails silhouetted against the moonlit sky. The longboat glided silently toward its hull, the three Red Hair Pirates—Limejuice, Lucky Roux, and Building Snake—moving with practiced precision. They had waited until the cover of night, their plan simple but effective: board the ship, find Hongo, and get out before the slavers knew what hit them.
Limejuice was the first to climb the side of the ship with swift, silent movements. He peered over the railing, scanning the deck. A few guards patrolled lazily, their attention lax. Too easy, he thought, but he didn't let his guard down. He signaled to Lucky Roux and Building Snake, who followed him up the ropes and onto the deck.
The trio moved like shadows. Limejuice took out a guard with a well-placed strike to the back of the head, while Lucky Roux disarmed another with a swift kick. Building Snake slipped past them, his daggers glinting in the moonlight as he made his way toward the hold.
"Hongo's down there," Snake whispered, his voice barely audible. "Let's move."
But just as they reached the hatch leading below deck, a shout rang out. "Intruders! On the deck!"
The slavers alerted to their presence, swarmed the deck, their weapons drawn. Limejuice cursed under his breath. "So much for stealth."
The fight was fierce but brief. Limejuice's rifle cracked through the night, taking down slavers with pinpoint accuracy. Lucky Roux moved like a whirlwind, his fists and feet a blur as he disarmed and incapacitated anyone who got too close. Building Snake fought with calculated accuracy, his daggers flashing as he defended their position.
For a moment, it seemed like they might actually pull it off. But then, a new sound cut through the chaos—the blare of a Marine horn. Limejuice's eyes widened, and his hair flared as he turned toward the source of the noise. A Navy ship, its white sails gleaming in the moonlight, was bearing down on them. Reinforcements had arrived.
"We're out of time!" Limejuice shouted, his voice urgent. "Get to the hold and find Hongo! I'll cover you!"
Lucky Roux and Building Snake didn't argue. They dove through the hatch and into the hold frantically as they searched for their crewmate. Meanwhile, Limejuice held the deck, his rifle spitting fire as he tried to hold off the slavers and the approaching Marines.
Below deck, Lucky Roux and Building Snake found Hongo chained to a post, his face bruised but his eyes blazing with defiance. "Took you long enough," Hongo said dryly despite the situation.
Lucky Roux grinned as he picked the lock on Hongo's chains. "You're welcome. Now let's get out of here before things get worse."
But as they freed Hongo and made their way back to the deck, they realized just how bad things had gotten. The Navy ship had pulled alongside the slaver's vessel, and Marines were boarding in force. Limejuice was surrounded, his rifle empty and his fists raised as he fought off the attackers.
"We're too late," Building Snake muttered as he took in the scene. "There's no way we're getting out of this."
Hongo clenched his fists grimly. "We're not going down without a fight."
The four Red Hair Pirates fought valiantly, but the numbers were against them. The Marines, well-trained and heavily armed, quickly overwhelmed them. Limejuice was the first to fall, a Marine's baton striking him across the back of the head. Lucky Roux and Building Snake were subdued soon after, their weapons knocked from their hands. Hongo fought the longest, his boldness unyielding, but even he was eventually brought down.
As the Marines bound their hands and forced them to their knees, a Navy officer stepped forward, his face stern and unyielding. "Red Hair Pirates," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You're under arrest for piracy, assault, and interference with World Government operations."
Lucky Roux spat on the deck with a scowl. "You're making a big mistake, pal. Our captain's not going to take kindly to this."
The officer smirked. "Your captain's not here to save you. And if he shows his face, he'll meet the same fate."
*****
The festival grounds were alive with color and movement, the air filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and the rhythmic beat of drums. At the center of the open plaza, a group of performers moved in perfect harmony, their flowing robes and intricate masks adding to the mystique of the interpretive dance they were performing. The crowd watched in awe, their attention captivated by the fluid movements and symbolic gestures of the dancers.
Nao Itsuki Makino and his ever-present assistant, Himari Chinatsu Nomura, navigated through the throngs of revelers. In dramatic flair, Nao moved with a sense of purpose, his hands constantly gesturing as he pontificated on the artistic merits of the festival displays. Himari followed closely, her bright laughter punctuating the air as she hung on his every word.
Spotting Shanks at the edge of the crowd, Nao's eyes narrowed, and he nudged Himari, who giggled in response. They made their way over, "Well, if it isn't Shanks, the infamous pirate everyone is talking about," Nao announced loudly, his voice dripping with contempt. "The one who continues to demand my student's attention, disrupting her ability to learn. What brings you to this corner of the festivities?"
Himari chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh Nao, you always know just what to say," she cooed, her gaze adoring.
Shanks turned to face them, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Good to meet you, friend. Enjoying the festival, I see."
Nao's lips curled into a sneer. "Enjoying? Hardly. I find it fascinating that you have the audacity to show your face here, given your reputation. You know, you remind me of Dracule Mihawk—that rogue who stole Marya's mother away, the scoundrel. It's no wonder Marya's education is suffering with you around."
Shanks laughed heartily, clearly unfazed by the insult. "Is that so? Well, I suppose everyone's entitled to their opinion."
Nao's eyes flashed with irritation. "Don't take this lightly, Shanks. Marya needs proper guidance and discipline, not the distractions you bring. Since I am her closest living relative, I must look out for her best interest."
Himari nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Exactly! Nao is right. You should really consider the impact you're having."
Shanks shrugged, his easy smile never faltering. "I'll keep that in mind. But if you ask me, Marya's doing just fine."
Shanks returned his attention to the dance, his lips pursing as he tried to decipher the meaning behind the intricate movements. The dancers moved with such grace and precision, their robes flowing like water, each step seemingly deliberate and symbolic. His curiosity was piqued, a frown creasing his brow as he pondered the significance of the performance.
Noticing Shanks' contemplative expression, Nao could not resist the opportunity to interject. He sauntered closer, a sneer playing on his lips as he took in Shanks' puzzled look.
"Ah, I see you're trying to grasp the essence of the dance," Nao began, his tone dripping with condescension. "It is indeed a complex narrative, one that requires a certain level of intellectual sophistication to truly appreciate."
Shanks raised an eyebrow, sensing the patronizing edge in Nao's voice. "Is that so? Perhaps you could enlighten me, then."
With a theatrical flourish, Nao gestured towards the dancers, his voice taking on a grandiose quality. "You see, Shanks, this dance is not merely a performance. It is a story—a story as old as the island itself. Each movement, each gesture, carries a deeper meaning, a connection to the very essence of our world."
Shanks raised a curious eyebrow. "A story, huh? What kind of story?"
Nao's eyes sparkled with excitement as he launched into his explanation, his hands moving in sweeping gestures to emphasize his words. "It is the story of the Devil Fruits—their origin, their power, and their connection to the sea. The dancers represent the forces of nature, the balance between land and sea, and the eternal struggle for power and knowledge."
Shanks glanced at the dancers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in their movements. "Devil Fruits, you say? That's a bold claim."
Nao nodded, his tone growing more animated. "Indeed! According to ancient texts, the Devil Fruits were not always a part of our world. They were born from the dreams and desires of humanity, a manifestation of our deepest wishes and fears. The dance tells the story of how they came to be, and the price that must be paid for their power."
Shanks chuckled with skepticism. "Sounds like quite the tale. But what's the connection to the sea?"
Nao's hands moved in a sweeping gesture, mimicking the flow of the dancers. "The sea is the source of all life, the great equalizer. It is said that the first Devil Fruit was born from the sea itself, a gift—or perhaps a curse—bestowed upon humanity. The dancers represent the sea's power, its beauty, and its wrath."
As the dance reached its climax, the performers moved in a series of intricate patterns, their robes swirling like the waves of the ocean. The crowd erupted in cheers, their excitement evident as the performance came to an end.
Shanks watched with thoughtful intrigue. "It's an interesting story," he said respectfully. "But I've always believed that the true power of the Devil Fruits lies in the hands of those who wield them."
Nao's eyes flashed with delight, his tone growing more animated. "Ah, but that is the beauty of it! The dance is not just a story—it is a reminder. A reminder that power comes with a price, and that the sea will always have the final say."
Shanks chuckled in amusement. "Well, I'll give you this—it's certainly a unique way to tell a story."
As the last echoes of the performers' applause faded, three figures approached Shanks from the crowd's edge. Marya led the group, followed closely by Charlie and Bianca. Shanks greeted them with a nod, his eyes sparkling. "Marya, glad you and your friends could join us."
Marya swiveled her head with curiosity. "Where's Yassop? I haven't seen him around."
Shanks chuckled, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Oh, Yassop? Last I saw, he was quite enamored with a certain lady. I wouldn't be surprised if he's still keeping her company."
Marya huffed in amusement. "Typical Yassop."
The music shifted to a new rhythm, signaling the start of the next dance. A hush fell over the crowd as the performers took their positions, their vibrant costumes contrasting sharply against the dimming twilight.
Nao, opened his mouth to speak, but Charlie swiftly cut him off, with a confident smile. "Allow me," he said, "You see," Marya hid her chuckle behind her hand as Charlie cleared his throat and stood a little taller before he began in his scholarly tone. "This dance isn't just a performance—it's a retelling of the island's origin. A story of catastrophe, survival, and the birth of something entirely new."
Shanks crossed his arms. "A catastrophe, huh? What kind of catastrophe are we talking about?"
Charlie adjusted his glasses, "A great calamity—one that reshaped the very fabric of this world. Long ago, this island was part of a much larger landmass. But a cataclysmic event tore it apart, splintering the land and scattering its pieces across the sea. This island is one of those fragments, a remnant of what once was."
Shanks glanced at the dancers, watching their movements. "What caused this calamity?"
Charlie's eyes sparkled with excitement as he launched into his explanation. "According to ancient texts, it was the result of a clash between three great powers. Each power represented a fundamental force of the world—land, sea, and sky. Their conflict was so immense that it disrupted the balance of nature itself. The landmass was shattered, and its gravitational field was lost, causing the fragments to drift and form new islands like this one."
Shanks chuckled with intrigue. "Sounds like quite the story. But what does it have to do with the dance?"
Charlie gestured toward the performers, "The dance symbolizes the three powers and their struggle. The dancers in blue represent the sea, their movements fluid and unpredictable. The ones in green embody the land, their steps grounded and deliberate. And the dancers in white—they represent the sky, their motions ethereal and untouchable."
As the dance progressed, the performers moved in a series of intricate patterns, their robes swirling like the waves of the ocean and the winds of a storm. The climax of the dance depicted the clash of the three powers, their movements growing more intense and chaotic until the final moment, when the dancers collapsed into a formation that symbolized the birth of the island.
Shanks watched thoughtfully, shifting his weight as a flicker of understanding came to him. "So, this island is a product of that calamity. A fragment of something much larger."
Charlie nodded in reverence. "Exactly. And the dance is a reminder of our connection to that history. It's a celebration of resilience—how something beautiful can emerge from destruction."
Shanks flexed his arms, his gaze lingering on the dancers as they took their final bow. "I have to ask—do you think there's any truth to it? About the three powers, I mean."
Charlie, pinching his chin, tilted his head thoughtfully. "It's hard to say for sure. But legends often have a kernel of truth. And if you think about it, the idea of three great forces shaping the world isn't so far-fetched. Land, sea, and sky—they're the foundations of life itself."
"Ah, Charlie, what a fascinating exposition you've shared with us," Nao exclaimed, waving his hands theatrically. "It's rare to encounter someone who can articulate such profound historical insights with such eloquence. Truly, you must be a beacon of knowledge in this otherwise uncultured wilderness."
Himari's eyes sparkled as she nodded fervently, clearly enamored by Nao's words. "Yes, Mr. Makino, he's simply brilliant, isn't he?"
Shanks raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slight smirk. "And what exactly are you trying to say, friend?"
Nao tilted his head condescendingly. "My point, dear Shanks, is that while some of us appreciate the depth and nuance of true scholarship," he cast a pointed glance at Shanks, "others might need a more, shall we say, rudimentary approach to grasp the complexities of our world."
Himari giggled, her admiration for Nao evident in her every gesture. "Exactly, Mr. Makino. Not everyone can appreciate the finer points of history and culture as you do."
Nao's gaze shifted to Marya, a protective glint in his eyes. "Marya, my dear, you are fortunate to have such an erudite friend in Charlie. It is essential to surround oneself with minds that elevate one's understanding, don't you agree?"
Shanks chuckled, shaking his head patronizingly. "Whatever you say, friend. Whatever you say."
Charlie, sensing the tension, slid his glasses a little higher and smiled politely. "Thank you, Mr. Makino. I do my best to share what I know."
Nao's chest puffed up with pride, as if Charlie's compliment was directed at him. "Indeed, Charlie. Indeed. It is refreshing to find a kindred spirit in these uncultivated lands."
Himari clapped her hands together. "Oh, Mr. Makino, you always know just what to say!"
*****
The hold of the Navy ship was dark and damp, the air thick with the scent of salt and mildew. Chains rattled as the prisoners shifted uncomfortably, their hands bound and their spirits tested. Limejuice, Lucky Roux, Building Snake, and Hongo sat together in a corner of the hold, their backs against the cold, wooden walls. Across from them sat Eli, the scrappy fighter Hongo had befriended. Despite the grim circumstances, the group's camaraderie was alive and well—mostly in the form of good-natured teasing.
"So," Eli said, breaking the silence with a smirk, "this is the famous Red Hair Pirates' rescue plan? Get captured and thrown in chains? Brilliant strategy."
Lucky Roux chuckled, grinned despite the situation. "Hey, we got this far, didn't we? Besides, we're just lulling them into a false sense of security. Right, Limejuice?"
Limejuice rolled his eyes, his gaze flicking toward Lucky. "Yeah, because nothing says 'false sense of security' like being locked in the hold of a Navy ship. Real masterstroke, Lucky."
Building Snake, leaned his ashen head back against the wall. "If you two are done arguing, maybe we can focus on getting out of here."
Hongo, who had been quietly observing the banter, finally spoke up. "He's right. We need a plan. And fast. Once we reach the next port, they'll transfer us to a prison ship—or worse."
Eli leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "I've been here longer than you guys. I know the routine. The guards change shifts at midnight, and that's when they're the least alert. If we're going to make a move, that's our best shot."
Limejuice nodded, light hair bouncing, already working through the details. "All right. So we wait until the shift change. Then what? We're still outnumbered and unarmed."
Hongo's lips curved into a faint smile. "Not entirely unarmed." He shifted slightly, revealing a small lockpick hidden in the seam of his sleeve. "I've been saving this for a rainy day."
Lucky Roux's grin widened. "Hongo, you beautiful genius. I could kiss you."
"Please don't," Hongo deadpanned, earning a round of quiet laughter from the group.
Building Snake leaned forward, ashen hair dangling, scanning the hold. "Once we're free, we'll need weapons. There's an armory on this ship—I saw it when they brought me in. It's two decks up, near the captain's quarters."
Eli nodded. "And if we can take out the guards quietly, we might be able to rally the other prisoners. There are at least a dozen of us down here. If we move fast, we can take the ship before they know what hit them."
Limejuice's expression grew serious as he pieced together the plan. "All right. Here's how it's going to go. At midnight, Hongo picks the locks. We take out the guards on this deck, then move to the armory. Once we're armed, we free the other prisoners and take the ship. Any objections?"
Lucky Roux raised a hand. "Yeah, one. What if the Marines fight back?"
Hongo's smile turned grim. "Then we fight harder. We're not just escaping for ourselves. We're sending a message—to the Marines, to the slavers, to anyone who thinks they can mess with the Red Hair Pirates."
The group fell silent, the weight of the plan settling over them. Despite the odds, there was a sense of fortitude in the air. They were outnumbered and outgunned, but they had something the Marines didn't: loyalty, ingenuity, and a refusal to give up.
Eli leaned back, his smirk returning. "You know, for a bunch of pirates, you're not half bad. If we pull this off, I might just have to join your crew."
Lucky Roux laughed. "You'd fit right in. Just try not to get captured next time, all right?" As the group shared a quiet laugh, the tension in the hold eased slightly.