The marine warship approached Water 7 in a formidable formation and anchored off the shore. Vice Admiral Tsuru and Vice Admiral Onigumo led their fleet into the water metropolis and had it completely surrounded by marine troops.
"The Blue Eyed pirates might be hiding somewhere in this city. Check everywhere and capture any pirates in sight." Tsuru ordered, matching towards the company of Galley-La as her attire was clad over her shoulders.
"Roger that!" The marines saluted, clutching their firearms spreading themselves throughout the metropolis of Water 7.
The outskirts of Water 7 brimmed in fear, wary of the outcome about to transpire in the city as they hid themselves inside their homes, shutting down their stores and watched the marines patrol around.
Vice admiral Tsuru led some troops into the company of the shipwrights. Standing before the towering structure, the doors slid open with a sharp creek as she surged inside, the fragrance of fresh woods being cut hovered across the air, the resonance of nails being hammered echoed throughout the structure as she glanced at the operative shipwrights.
"Nice to meet you, vice admiral Tsuru-san." The mayor, Iceburg, shook hands with the marine vice admiral welcoming her into his city.
She shook hands with him, "nice meeting you, Iceburg." Her troops stood behind her rear, awaiting her signals to scout out the company.
The both of them withdrew their hands shortly after exchanging some words, Tsuru taking a better glimpse at the wreck company caused by pirates.
"It seems there's a lot of work for you." She said, giving her troops the signal by waving her hands.
"This isn't a big deal. We are glad we didn't lose any souls in the pirates' rampage." Iceburg's words were calm and firm.
"Where are they?" She asked, clutching her fist.
"They hijacked a vessel from my company and quickly fled into the sea," Iceburg spoke, "I couldn't do anything about the situation after they'd threaten to kill me if I don't give them a ship."
"I hope you do know the consequences if we find out you're deliberately lying to us, Iceburg?"
"I'm definitely aware of it. Feel free to scout out the environment."
She took a step forward, glancing at the bandaged shipwrights who were still busy building a ship. "Iceburg, where are they?"
He swallowed, "follow me."
Tsuru trailed behind Iceburg who led the way to present her the unconscious Cipher Pol agents clad in seastones cuffs. She glared down at the secret government agents in pity, realizing they'd underestimated Gojo.
"I'll take them in." Tsuru signaled her troops to carry the unconscious Kaku, Kalifa and the deceased Rob Lucci into the warship.
"I doubt the pirates have sailed that far. You could still catch up and sink them into the depths of the ocean."
"Thanks for your information, Iceburg. Remember to notify the marines if you find any pirates lurking around the town."
"Yes I will. I'll go take a rest now." Iceburg clutch his chest, still feeling a glimpse of pain from the wound he'd received earlier from Kalifa.
The marines located their vessel stationed at the shore as they dropped the sails, ready to navigate back to marine HQ.
Iceburg and his colleagues released a long exasperated sigh as they watched the marines sailing away into the far horizon.
"They're gone."
"Tell Gojo and his crewmates the marines are gone, they don't have to conceal themselves anymore."
Iceburg shifted his gaze at Paulie, "how's it going?"
Paulie wiped the sweat off his brows, "hehe, it's going smoothly."
Iceburg stared at the Azure blue sky, whispering to himself, "Tom-san," tears slid down from his eyes before picking himself up from the ground. "I've got a lot to do."
…
Days passed slowly at first, like the tide reluctant to turn. Then, before anyone truly noticed, a week had slipped by—quietly swallowed by the rhythm of hammering steel, creaking timber, and the endless breath of the sea.
The shipyard never slept. From dawn until the lanterns flickered alive at night, the sound of construction echoed across the docks. Wood split cleanly under precise cuts, iron rang sharply as it was forged into shape, and ropes groaned as they were pulled tight into place.
At the center of it all stood Paulie—shirt clinging to his body, sleeves rolled up, his tie long discarded somewhere in the chaos.
Sweat traced lines down his face, dripping from his jaw as he leaned over the frame of the ship.
"Careful with that beam!" He barked, voice rough but commanding. "You warp it even a little and we'll be fixing it for days!"
A group of shipwrights scrambled to adjust their grip, correcting the angle immediately. No one dared slack under Paulie's watch—not when he himself refused to rest.
Even now, long after sunset, he was still working.
A lantern hung beside him, casting a golden glow over the skeletal structure of what would soon become a masterpiece. The ship was already taking shape—its hull smooth and powerful, its frame strong enough to challenge even the harshest seas.
But for Paulie, it wasn't enough.
Not yet.
He wiped his brow with the back of his arm, exhaling sharply before grabbing another tool. His hands were rough, calloused from years of labor, but tonight they moved with even more urgency because this wasn't just any ship.
This was his work—for them.
For Gojo and his crew.
Across the yard, a few workers paused briefly, watching him.
"Has he even slept?" One of them muttered under his breath.
"Barely," another replied. "Guy's been at it day and night since they made the request."
"And he's still pushing like this… insane."
There was no judgment in their voices—only respect. Paulie wasn't just building a ship.
He was pouring everything he had into it.
A gust of wind swept through the dock, carrying the scent of salt and distant waves. Somewhere beyond the shipyard, the sea stretched endlessly—dark and patient.
Waiting.
Paulie glanced up at it for just a moment.
His eyes narrowed slightly. "They'll need something that can cut through anything…" he murmured to himself. "Storms, currents… enemies."
His grip tightened around the hammer.
"This ship… it has to be perfect."
He struck the wood again—harder this time.
The sound echoed like a heartbeat.
The following morning came too quickly.
The sky barely had time to lighten before Paulie was already back at work, barking orders and moving from one section to another with relentless focus.
"Reinforce that keel!"
"Double-check the joints there—don't assume, check!"
"And someone brings me more nails—I'm not stopping every five minutes!"
His energy was relentless, almost overwhelming even when others slowed, he didn't. Even when exhaustion crept into his limbs, he ignored it, time blurred into effort, effort blurred into obsession.
By midday, the sun beat down mercilessly, turning the shipyard into a furnace. Sweat soaked through everyone's clothes, tools grew hot to the touch, and yet the work continued.
Paulie stood at the bow, inspecting the curvature. He crouched slightly, running his hand along the wood, feeling for imperfections others might miss, small flaws barely visible to anyone else, it would have passed unnoticed.
Paulie clicked his tongue. "Fix this."
The nearby worker blinked. "Huh? But that's—"
"I said to fix it."
His tone wasn't harsh—but it left no room for argument because Paulie didn't believe in "good enough."
"…Got it."
As the days stretched on, the ship began to transform. The skeleton became a body, the body gained strength. Planks layered over one another seamlessly, forming a hull that gleamed even before its final polish. The deck took shape, wide and sturdy, ready to carry footsteps, battles, laughter—whatever awaited it on the open sea.
Masts rose tall, cutting into the sky like silent declarations. The ship was meant to sail far and through it all, Paulie remained at the center—guiding, correcting, building.
Always building.
One evening, as the sky burned orange and gold, one of the younger shipwrights approached him cautiously.
"Paulie… you should take a break."
No response.
"You've been going non-stop. Even the others are rotating shifts, but you…"
Still nothing, Paulie kept working.
The young man hesitated before stepping closer. "At this rate, you're gonna collapse before the ship's even finished."
That finally earned a reaction as Paulie paused just for a second. He exhaled slowly, straightening up before glancing at the nearly completed structure before him.
For a brief moment, something softer flickered in his eyes. "…They're not ordinary sailors," he said quietly.
The worker tilted his head. "Huh?"
Paulie crossed his arms, gaze fixed on the ship. "They're the kind who'll chase storms instead of avoiding them. The kind who'll laugh in the face of danger." A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Idiots, basically."
The worker chuckled lightly. "But…" Paulie continued, voice dropping just slightly, "that's exactly why this ship has to be strong." His expression hardened again—not cold, but resolute.
"Because they won't hold back."
Silence settled between them for a moment then Paulie grabbed his hammer again. "So I can't either." The message was clear, there would be no rest. Not yet.
By the end of the week, the ship stood nearly complete. It towered proudly at the dock, its presence impossible to ignore. The polished wood caught the sunlight beautifully, and the structure itself radiated strength and purpose.
It wasn't just a vessel. It was a statement.
Workers gathered around it, some admiring, others simply relieved.
"We actually did it…"
"Looks incredible…"
"Paulie really outdid himself this time and where is he?"
"Still working of course."
He stood near the stern, making final adjustments—tightening, checking, ensuring every detail met his standards. Even now, he refused to call it finished, not until he was satisfied.
Not until it was ready…
A final bead of sweat rolled down his face as he stepped back, eyes scanning every inch of the ship. Silence fell around him, the wind brushed against the sails and the sea whispered in the distance.
Paulie exhaled slowly. "…Yeah," he muttered, a small rare smile appeared. "It'll do."
And for the first time in days, he finally set his tools down, the ship was ready. Ready to carry the Blue-Eyed pirates into whatever chaos awaited them, ready to face the unknown and ready to prove that every drop of sweat, every sleepless night, every ounce of effort Paulie gave—It was worth it..
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