The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and decay to the survivors huddled in the ruins of Gosa Village. Old man Genzo squinted through his cracked spectacles, his calloused hand tightening around the hilt of his remaining knife.
"Marines," he whispered, the word tasting like hope after years of ash.
On the horizon, a white ship cut through the waves, its sails billowing with purpose. The Marine insignia gleamed under the East Blue sun—a symbol of justice they hadn't dared believe in for eight long years.
On deck, Commodore Pudding Pudding adjusted his coat, his face a mask of stern resolve. "Listen well, men," he announced, voice carrying over the creak of wood and rope. "Our mission is twofold: rescue every survivor on this island, and eradicate the pirate filth festering here. We do not overlook pirate bases. Not while I draw breath."
A young ensign swallowed hard. "Sir, the reports say Arlong's crew is…"
"Are you questioning our duty?" Pudding's eyes narrowed.
"No, sir. It's just—they say he's a fishman. That he can…"
"I don't care if he's a sea king in trousers," the Commodore cut him off. "We are the 77th Branch. Our justice arrives today."
---
In Arlong Park, the shark-toothed pirate leaned over his terrace, watching the approaching vessel with detached amusement.
"The 77th Branch?" Arlong's laughter was a low, grating sound. "Never heard of them. Must be fresh recruits, eager to die for their shiny new ideals."
His lieutenant Kuroobi, muscles coiled like springs, stepped forward. "Shall I prepare the usual welcome?"
Arlong's grin widened. "Offer them two million belly to turn their ship around. If they refuse…" He didn't need to finish.
The words had barely left his lips when a whistling scream tore through the air.
"Captain!" Chew shouted, pointing.
A cannonball arced directly toward Arlong's head.
Time seemed to slow. Arlong didn't flinch, didn't dodge. He simply opened his mouth—a cavern of serrated teeth—and caught the projectile mid-air. The sound of crushing iron echoed across the courtyard as he bit down, metal shrieking as it compacted into a mangled lump.
He spat the remnants over the railing, his eyes darkening. "Cancel the negotiations."
Hatchan cracked his six knuckles. "Three of us should be enough."
"More than enough," Chew giggled, already bouncing on his toes.
Kuroobi simply nodded, his gaze fixed on the Marine ship. "They chose their fate."
---
On the Marine vessel, Commodore Pudding watched through his spyglass as three figures launched from Arlong's terrace. "Prepare for boarders!" he shouted.
He never saw Chew coming.
The fishman landed on the deck like a rubber ball, his manic laughter preceding him. "Tag!" he shrieked, and then he was a blur of motion—fists and feet connecting with Marine bodies, sending men flying overboard before they could even raise their rifles.
"Form ranks!" Pudding drew his sword, but the deck shuddered violently beneath him.
Below the waterline, Kuroobi wrapped his powerful arms around the ship's rudder. With a roar that bubbled through the depths, he tore the massive piece of steering equipment clean off, wood splintering like matchsticks.
At the same time, Hatchan planted all six hands against the submerged reef. His muscles bulged, veins standing out like cords as he pushed with all his fishman strength—not against the rock, but against the water itself, manipulating currents with practiced precision.
The sea began to churn.
"Whirlpool!" a Marine screamed, pointing at the spiraling water forming off their starboard side.
The ship groaned, timbers protesting as the current grabbed hold. Pudding stumbled, his sword clattering to the deck as the vessel listed violently. "Abandon ship! Aban—"
The whirlpool swallowed his words, sucking the Marine vessel down into a frothing, spinning grave. The last thing the survivors on shore saw was the proud flag of the 77th Branch disappearing beneath the waves, leaving only bubbling foam and scattered debris.
---
Back at Arlong Park, the three officers returned barely winded.
"My apologies for the trouble," Arlong said, though his tone held no regret.
"Trouble?" Kuroobi brushed seawater from his shoulders. "With our fishman strength and Nami's maps, we're invincible in these waters."
Chew giggled again, the sound like pebbles in a tin can. "Speaking of Nami… Captain, when she finishes gathering that hundred million belly, you're really letting her go?"
The courtyard fell silent. Even the breeze seemed to hold its breath.
Arlong's smile didn't reach his cold eyes. "A promise about money is sacred. I'd rather die than break it." He turned toward the village, his shadow stretching long across the stone. "But some promises… have unspoken conditions."
---
Miles away, in the ruins of a different village, Monkey D. Luffy's hands were clenched around Johnny's collar, lifting the bounty hunter off his feet.
"Say that again," Luffy growled, his voice trembling with a rage his crew had never heard before. "Say what they did to her again."
Johnny's face was pale, his words tumbling out in a terrified rush. "They killed her, Luffy! Bell-mère—she was their mother—and Arlong made Nami watch as he—"
The straw hat on Luffy's head cast a shadow over his eyes, but nothing could hide the storm brewing within them. Behind him, Zoro's hand found his swords. Sanji's cigarette glowed bright in the gathering dusk.
"Take me there," Luffy said, his voice dropping to a deadly calm. "Take me to Arlong. Right. Now."
But as they turned toward the coast, a figure emerged from the tree line—a girl with orange hair and tear-streaked cheeks, a compass tattoo on her shoulder, and a knife in her hand pointed directly at Luffy's heart.
"Stay away from my village," Nami whispered, her voice breaking. "Or I'll kill you myself."
And behind her, rising from the coastal road, came the thunder of marching boots and the glint of Marine uniforms—dozens of them, led by a man with a familiar face and vengeance in his eyes.
The Commodore had survived.