Screw It, I'm Going Out to Find It!

Chapter XV: Construction

Water 7 was an odd place. Jaune likened it to a giant fountain: flooded channels for streets between colossal concrete structures. It was built in cylindrical tiers, the canals cascading down in between them. Separating the first and second tiers was the majority of the town — built on a slope, the city was filled with stairs and tangled walkways. The very peak produced the water that traveled down the island, turning Jaune's initial likening to the intentions of the architects. There was little doubt why this was the hub for shipwrights and the home of Galley-La; it was easy for Jaune to see why Franky strayed clear of that career.

What confused them the most was how welcoming the civilians seemed to be. After noticing their pirate flag, they were told not to dock up front where the citizens and marines would be and were sent around to the junk yards, a place on the outskirts full of the scrap remains of unfortunate ships.

A series of protruding I-beams, lumber, and other various materials and parts that Jaune couldn't quite label became an obstacle course for him to swim through. Only a couple of days had passed and it was all starting to become more natural to him. Finishing his fourth lap that morning, he emerged where the others were gathered. That action had certainly become cleaner. Over repeated use of his devil fruit, he figured out that there was a sort of constant pressure as if the world knew what he was doing was unnatural. If he let that pressure push him up, he could launch out of the ground with ease. It took him just a bit longer to learn how to land it though.

"Any news?" Jaune called out after his feet were firmly on the ground. He grabbed a towel to wipe himself off. He had already explained to the others how weird of a sensation it was to emerge not wet from water, but only sweat.

"They've begun construction," informed Ren. "Supposedly, an anonymous party is allowing the construction on their private property."

"Wait, private property?" Ruby looked up from the sorting of mechanism parts she was doing. "That sounds — I don't know, just off. Like, someone else owns where our thing is built."

"It was the only way, unfortunately," Ren replied. "We didn't have anywhere for it, and neither did he. There has to be somewhere it's built, so he had to make do. Luckily, it seems the land owner is not only willing, but excited and supportive for the project."

Jaune grunted in approval. "That's good for us. I say we don't ask too many questions and push that luck." His crew seemed to share in his sentiment, none of them voicing any complaints. Jaune propped himself against a slab of warped metal that worked like a wonky chair. It was nice basking in the sun while counting the clouds over the horizon until Blake ruined it. The swimming was becoming fun, but training his reflexes and techniques against the skilled Blake was just a promise of pain. He had not managed to find mercy from her yet.

***

Ironwood held the mug like a life-line. It was the only thing keeping him sane at this point. The soldier before him was waiting to be chewed out, and rightfully so. So much had just fallen apart, and it had been on his head to supervise it. Despite that, Ironwood was unable to muster the anger. Even if it was deserved, even if this soldier needed to be disciplined, he simply felt cold inside.

When working on relations with the Grand Line, his orders were quick and precise to make copies of their plans. The poorly named, in Ironwood's opinion, 'World Government' had not received a copy of their plans. What was sent to them were the originals. What's more is that they lacked the proper title block or stamps which were added on digitally after scanning. The only reason they had kept the originals was for the option of quick editing; thus the stamps and title block were prone to change, hence the lack thereof. Without delving too far into the legal-ese of the matter, it could be summarized by saying they had no proper way to prove the authenticity of the originals and therefore convict the thieves. Damn Pietro and his love for pencil and vellum. If Ironwood didn't know any better, he would have assumed the weird habit to be part of this entire Grand Line nonsense.