"Reality is often cruel to those who dream, as how the seas, too, are often cruel to those who call themselves pirates."
A seasoned merchant of the New World drifts in the weakest sea of all, and finds a dream in the form of Luffy, adventures, and p...
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-OR, the first person Luffy helped would become a future Admiral, and if that doesn't say anything about Luffy, you don't know what else will
It was safe to say that your boat doesn't even meet the bare minimum requirements to sail in the New World, much less in the Paradise.
It's a dingy old thing on the last of its legs, barely held together by different patches of planks picked up on the several islands along your voyage. Some were Adam's Wood, some were Eve's Wood and some were just plain oaks and pines.
The rudder doesn't even work properly and the mast was holding on for dear life, one push and it will all come down.
You pat the chipping gunwale with your scarred hands. "You'll keep me safe, right Mari?"
There's a spot in the bow of the ship big enough to fit a small crate box.
"...just like how you've always done."
The winds blow and the seas hum as it takes you further.
- ❐ -
This island is normal.
Your eyes squint, leaning against the wall, trying to look as inconspicuous as you possibly can. Your bag was by your feet, and you kept your weapons and Luffy's straw hat away for the time being.
...way too fucking normal.
Or maybe it was just your brain not being able to comprehend peaceful days. Lord knows your life up 'till meeting Luffy was one hell of a shitshow, one giant clusterfuck you would much rather forget often times than not.
The sun right now is one big ball of angry fire, heating up the island several times than the norm. It's a perfect day for ice creams and tanning by the waves.
But, as your eyes followed the dozens of people scurrying about, all donning the same low-level Marine uniforms and carrying carts of building supplies and wheeling powdered cement all over the place. It looks like the people of this island don't quite share the same sentiment as you.
The marines should alarm you by all means, but you don't have a bounty so what were they gonna do? Arrest you?
You've escaped them when you were a toddler, imagine what you could do now that you're stronger, better, smarter, and much more prone to pinky injuries.
In your hand, while not typically a summer treat, was a bag of mochis and a bag of sweetened rice balls. You only wanted the mochis, but the mother who owns the bar was adamant about giving you a bag of rice balls, apparently made by her daughter, for a celebration.
A celebration for what? Well, you don't know but you weren't about to deny free food.
