Formation of the Spade Pirates
Washed up on the shores of a deserted island at the edge of the East Blue Sea, two men from different backgrounds unite in their shared thirst for adventure.
One of them, Portgaz D. Ace, will follow in his infamous fa...
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I fell off the straight and narrow path of a respectable life, so I decided to go out to sea instead.
I thought that out among the infinite blue waves I would find a world where I could truly be alive. The world of adventure I dreamed of as a kid. That world of dreams, when all I had was a book and my imagination. And yet here I was, in that very world.
A desert island under palm trees. Blazing sun. White sands. An empty stomach. All of it was real. The only thing marking the passage of time was the gentle lapping of waves on the shore. I was stuck on the kind of beautiful island you read about in stories, listening to the raucous cries of the seabirds.
Ever since I was a boy, I've wanted to chronicle an adventure in a book. I'd prefer it to be a book like Brag Men, if possible. That's my favorite book.
It's a collection of journals from the explorers of the distant past. One particularly famous section tells of Little Garden, the island of giants.
Adults made fun of it, claiming that the stories were all lies, but as a child I always wondered, How can they be so sure?
I wanted to see it for myself, rather than believing someone else's uninformed opinion on the matter. And I wasn't going to decide what was the truth until I had the chance to see it. That was the kind of person I wanted to be.
That part of me has never changed. Even when that attitude landed me on an uninhabited island that was said to be inescapable.
East Blue. The unbelievably beautiful island of Sixis. Someone once called it "the island closest to Heaven."
Why did they say that? Because once you've set foot on it, you'll die before you escape.
Across the emerald green shallows, I could see a unique kind of sea current. It pulled anyone on its periphery toward the island, like an antlion of the waves. It ensured that anyone who reached the island was forced to enjoy the final vacation of their life.
I exhaled deeply and sat down in the shade of a palm tree so I could gaze out desolately at the water. Three days had already passed since I got here. It was the worst vacation I'd ever had.
The sea breeze caressed my cheeks, but the acrid tang of the brine in my nose was the unpleasant that accompanied it. That, and the sight of a previous visitor to the island: a skeleton resting nearby.
Judging from its clothes, the skeleton had once been a pirate. A rusty pistol was clutched in its bony hand, and fancy rings glittered on its fingers. It was all very dispiriting to look upon. No weapons or jewels were going with you to the afterlife.
The only thing you left behind in this world was bones...
"We've had a rough time of it, haven't we?" I muttered.
I felt like I had to, or else I would forget how to use my own voice. If I was going to wind up like him in the near future, I could at least offer up a bit of consolation...
