The weather was taking its usual turn for the worse in the Grand Line. The men grumbled about how things never really went their way. "Quit griping and work, Shanks, Buggy." Rayleigh commanded. Those fools are going to have to grow up someday. The sooner the better in his books.

Sabaody.

Soon the halfway point would be in their sights. The second half would be much more arduous. It would try their skills, push past their breaking points, and batter them with pure chaos. That's what makes it all worth it. If it were easy, then every half wit would venture there and back for a two week vacation. Tall tales don't exist in the land beyond Sabaody. The crazier it is, the more likely it is to be 100 percent genuine. They've all heard the stories by now. Rayleigh had. He recalled only a few weeks ago when Roger had said they were heading for the New World. All hell broke lose.

"Are you mad?" A man had yelled at them. "Gather around for a story. I'll explain it all." He suggested to the crew. The story teller's body looked ragged. Scars were evident and the way he walked looked as if the ground was going to bite him if he displeased it. His clothes were new, clearly not stolen, but given to him out of pity. His roving eyes never focused on one thing. All he could see was the past. Consumed by what was would haunt him till the day the died. With what seriousness this broken soul could manage he began.

"A crew goes in and a week later a few almost corpses come back. Gold, emeralds, money, fame, power, all of it, the treasure to end all treasures lingering as a phantasm within reach of our ship. Without a reason the food turns to ash and the water to Greek fire. the first boiled alive in his own skin. The others avoided water until it was all they could think of. Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink.* It looked natural until it went down their throats. They couldn't stand it a week with out liquid of any sort. The survivors sought help and when they were so close to taking a gulp, they still suffered as their comrades had. The New World hunts you down for the fun of it. Couldn't be any other reason. Does that deter you?" He man finished with a crescendo.

"Not in the slightest. That didn't really happen. How did you make it? Pray tell." Roger banters with the man. A fool he is. That man lost it long before HE reached the New World. "Me, I'm cursed another way. A devil fruit so useless that the water don't WANT to touch me." He cackled. From somewhere in Rogers group someone said, "I wouldn't want to touch you either. When's the last time you took a bath, the day stick in the mud Rayleigh was born or something?" Laughter spread throughout the men. Rayleigh glared at the man or as he would put, Shanks.

"Since you don't believe that, then I'll have to tell you about the islands. Beasts the size of houses and they dwarf giants occasionally. Only a drop of venom from a poisonous critter and you're d-e- dead. You'll want to be dead before you experience the agony, which you will fairly quickly unless you can put 2 and 2 together in time to grab a gun or knife. Pick your poison carefully." The man of questionable sanity warns. Roger has better things to do than listen to the town nut job. He's heard far wilder tales though.

Seeing Roger pause the man continues, "Oh, and the locals... To them you'll only be worth a passing glance, because you'll be gone soon. If they come across you twice, then they might pause to question if you're a ghost. Beware and do not think that you will be an exception. You won't be!" He angrily shouted. He mumbled about people never listening to him and how he's seen what break others into itty bitty pieces.

Roger gave the loon a few coins. "Didn't think I'd ever hear such a great work of fiction from your mouth." He old bat took the money and continued on his way muttering of the uncontrollable.

Rayleigh snapped back into focus. He couldn't zone out after yelling at he kids, that would be hypocritical. The sea began to buck and crash into the ship with unrealistic force. The eerie creak of wood spells another worried night for the crew. Everyone believes in a greater deity than himself at the moment. Apparent from the pleas, bargaining, and curses.

"Get it together men!" Rayleigh snaps. "Are you going to let some little waves stop us! We are gunning for the end of the Grand Line! If you can't or won't endure this then I can personally see to it that we leave your sorry bag of bones and fear on the next island! Only the tough survive! Are you tough enough for this?" He yells above the wind, a challenge to the crew to step it up a notch. It seems to get them into gear. No one wants to be seen as weak. Their pride won't allow it.

In the end no amount of spirit or bravery or strength could mend the most important thing in this time of need.

The ship..

It took a beating from the ocean that started with a loose board, but ended up being titanic flood in to the depths of the foundering vessel. The crew could handle a storm. This was not a storm. It was doom for all of them, including Roger.

Roger was working along side the crew until he was informed about their imminent demise. When he saw men whom once played Russian roulette without blinking for a bet (albeit an immensely stupid bet) shaking uncontrollably, he knew that there's nothing he could do. "Pray for a miracle. Hope that it stops or remember how to tread water." Roger advised. It was the lowest point in his life. Not even halfway. Now his men were looking to him for guidance and he was powerless. Failure. Never had he conceived failure or death to be possible. He was the captain of this ship. What was left anyway. "Men! Hang onto something. There's nothing we can do now!" Roger ordered. A few heard him, over the noise, but most had met with the sea personally at this point. The remaining left were up to their knees on the highest deck. Eyes scanned for crew mates. Those whom the sea didn't decide as worthy met the portal to the afterlife. Rayleigh wasn't one of those.

A small creature had grabbed him and towed him away from misery. Many arms supported him to help him breath. It seemed to Raleigh that the cycle of holding his breath and gasping for air at extreme intervals went on forever.

When Rayleigh could finally breathe normally, the storm was long gone. The creature was astonishingly small, yet powerful. A fishman, an octopus for the matter.

"Are you okay?" Hachi asks. Rayleigh tried to answer, but coughs up water instead. "Yeah, thanks. Thanks a lot. You saved my life." Rayleigh told him. Hachi smiled in return. Where's the rest of the crew? Rayleigh didn't dare ask. It was time to move on with life. "Why?" He questioned instead. "I wanted to meet a real human." Hachi simply replied.

* Rime of the Ancient Mariner