(Author's Note: I am aware a big contradiction with the canon timeline arises in this chapter. My apologies. If you don't notice it however, then feel free to ignore this note!)

Thirty Six – On the Run! Surviving Sabaody Archipelago

I was so sure I would die, then and there. Almost every ounce of me had resigned to an early, unfulfilled death.

But today is not my day.

My vision returns to me, as does my hearing, as do all my limbs and all my strength. The pain that stung so fiercely it was too much for my mind to even process has vanished. Here I am, alive.

The angry mob still surrounds me, but they are all ghost-white, pale with fear. I can hear their hushed voices. "What happened?" "Its limbs grew back!" I get back on my feet. I'm surprised as well, but I think I know what happened. I look to the west, down at the ground, and with great satisfaction see my shadow, long and stretched from the low sun, right where it ought to be.

I take in a deep breath, tasting the air, then look down atop the heads of the crowd. They shudder as my gaze meets theirs. I spot the man who clubbed the side of my skull, the marine; even he is terrified. The pain of the blow is still there, though diminished. "That hurt, you know." I snarl menacingly, cracking my knuckles. His eyes grow wide with fright. "I think I owe you one." Faster than he can react I bring my right fist back, then plow it into the side of his face. He topples over, spiraling to the ground, splatters of blood flying from his face.

A woman shrieks, and like a trigger, the rest of the mob follows suit, screaming and fleeing for their lives. "Fishman on the loose!" "Someone notify the Marines!"

"You dirty monster!" A man growls. He and two others have the guts to stay and oppose me. He swings a metal pipe at me, but I easily grab it with a hand and hold tight. The other two come at me as well, wielding a plank of wood and a shovel, but I snatch those with my tentacles just as easily.

I bend my head down close to the first assailant, lowering my voice to a tone of coercion. "You really wanna tangle with me?" I say, leering. I rip the weapons out of the hands of his two friends, and toss them far away. All three then join the frightened masses, fleeing in terror. I let out a relieved sigh. Best find someplace to hide, let this blow over.

With no coast immediately in sight, I instead head up into the trees. The monstrously large tree I had tried to make a break for before is nearby, so I decide to climb up there, and wait things out. The people down below are all in a hurry to find me at first, but after a while, with their fishwoman prey nowhere to be seen, they give up, or so it seems. Probably reckon I escaped to the ocean. I should do just that, but I need to know just where in the ocean I am. The branches in the canopy, fortunately, are thick and cluttered enough that I can use them as bridges to travel throughout the island. Doing so, I quickly discover that this is not one island, but many, all clustered together. In fact, I hypothesize that they may not even be islands at all. In the center of every one is one of the massive trees, and each of those trees has a large number emblazoned into it; I think this may be nothing but a number of gigantic water-growing trees that people have settled on. That might explain the bubbles everywhere.

Those 'people' are the problem, however. I ain't never seen a place so racist before, though… Gah! If only I still had my disguise with me. I don't even have a proper shirt – just a top made out of bandages from when Lola's medic patched me up, covering up just my torso.

I wait until night before descending back down to the island, to a less populated area. The tree I climb down is marked "13". I only spy one structure, a small building atop a tall hill. The lights are on – someone's home. It's a dirty tactic, but I gotta get the info out of whoever's in there. Keeping as quiet as I can manage, I make my way towards the building's entrance. A sign above it says "Shakky's Rip-Off Bar". A bar? This might be a bit tougher; folks here are probably used to rough customers. Sneaking around the side of the house, ducking underneath a window, avoiding fallen, crunchy leaves, I hear a couple people inside, talking casually. Flattened against the building, I inch up closer to the front door to hear what they're saying.

"By the way, Shakky," a man's deep voice says, "sounds like you've got someone prowling about outside, or at least a very light-footed customer."

Spotted! Someone's got a sharp ear! Wasting not a moment I charge in, swinging open the saloon double doors violently. A split-second scan of the place reveals two people: a middle-aged woman behind the bar smoking a cigarette, and a well-built old man with snow-white shoulder-length hair and small round glasses sitting in a cushioned seat near where I stand. At his table is a half-emptied bottle of alcohol; I immediately snatch it with a tentacle, smash it on the table and hold the sharp, broken edge up to the man's neck. "Don't move or the old man gets it!" I say in my best intimidating manner. Neither of them move, but it's not out of pure fear that they are still, instead it seems that they're not even taking me seriously. The man has a smile on his face, like I'm a child waving a wooden sword. The woman stifles a giggle. "You think I'm jokin'!? I'm serious!" I shout, pointing an index finger at the woman, then at the man whose neck I've still got a deadly serrated edge up against.

"Miss." The old man says. "I don't think you want to do that."

I turn to him. "Who the hell you think you are, old man, givin' orders to me at a time like this?"

His smile remains, but his eyes form a glare. "I said… I don't think you want to do that." At that moment, a great feeling of dread enters into me, a mixing of emotions, feelings, and thoughts all threatening to engulf me, burying themselves into my very soul. This man… this is… this is someone… dangerous! I can barely even stand to be in his presence…!

He calmly grabs the broken bottle out of my tentacle and lays it on the table. I stagger back a few steps, nearly fall, and grip my head to keep awake. Everything in me wants a reprieve, to pass out from this overwhelming force, to hide in subconsciousness, but I won't allow it. I… I can't! I can't let myself pass out here! Not in this place, this island…

"I'm surprised to see a fishwoman above water here in Sabaody." The old man says.

The woman blows a puff of cigarette smoke towards the ceiling. "She chose the wrong place to barge into though, picking a fight with the strongest man in the archipelago."

The old man laughs. "Now now, Shakky – don't kid!" He turns to me. "Still, I'm surprised you're standing after that. You must have some will in you; most people would've been knocked out cold."

The powerful force having almost entirely vacated from me, I find my voice again. "'People'?" I stutter.

The old man puts a hand to his ear "Hmm? What's that?"

"You… called me a person… not a… a fish or somethin'." I say. "You ain't like the others here?"

He laughs again. "Is that what this is all about? No, no! I harbor no ill will against your people." 'Your people'. I've heard only a very small handful of humans refer to fishfolk in that manner before. With everyone else it's always 'your kind' or 'your species'. Hell, I even use those terms myself. The only other man who spoke like this was one who had my utmost respect and admiration. I feel… like I can trust this one, too. "Come, have a seat. Let's talk, shall we? I'm always up for a chat with a pretty girl." He waves a hand towards a different seat, one that isn't wet with spilled drink.

"What he means is he's an old pervert with a fondness for young ladies." The woman comments. The man clears his throat, feigning ignorance. "And don't worry about that mess, I'll clean it up."

I take a seat, glad to be off my feet, but still suspicious of this couple. The old man sits across from me and leans his elbows on the table. "So, you from Fishman Island? Come up to see the Park?"

"N-No, that ain't it." I answer. "I never been to Fishman Island before."

The man is surprised. "Never been there? Where are you from, then? If you don't mind me asking?"

My gaze is downcast. "I do… actually. Sorry, I don't like to go into my past."

"That's fine. Do you have a name, at least?"

"Aki Sinagra." I tell him. "Though, just 'Aki' is fine."

"Rayleigh." He replies, extending a hand in friendship. "Though, just 'Ray' is fine." With hesitance I take it, and we shake hands. "So then, what's a fishgal like yourself doing in Sabaody Archipelago? This is probably the most unfriendly place there is for your people."

"I noticed that…" I tell him, thinking back to my unfortunate means of arriving here "…the hard way."

"Ouch, sorry to hear that. The old prejudices run deep here. You weren't roughed up too badly, were you?"

"Nah." I lie. "Truth be told, I don't even know why I'm here. I doubt you'd believe me if I told you how I arrived."

"Try me." Says the old man. "I've been on some pretty crazy adventures in my day. It'd take a lot to surprise me."

I decide to tell him. I tell him of the Straw Hats, how they let me onboard their ship at Water Seven with the intent of traveling to Fishman Island, and how we got lost in the Florian Triangle and ended up at Thriller Bark. I tell him how the villains managed to capture me and steal my shadow, and how I was sent flying with Perona over the seas, until I lost my grip and fell to this place, Sabaody Archipelago.

"My… that is quite a tale." He says, once I've finished. Old man, it ain't even half the crazy things I been through since settin' out to sea. "So ol' Kuma got you, huh? Wonder what he's up to with that scoundrel Moriah?"

"You know them?" I ask.

"Heard of them, at least. But who hasn't? They're both members of the Shichibukai." He changes the subject. "You said you're headed down to Fishman Island?"

I nod. "There's someone…" How should I say this? "…I plan to meet there."

"Well, you're at the right place. Sabaody's only a few leagues away from the Red Line itself, and Fishman Island's all the way down at the bottom of it, ten-thousand meters below the surface.

The Red Line… That means I'm close to… I try not to think about that. "Ten-thousand you say? How's anyone get down there?"

"Well, for us humans it's quite an ordeal. We have to have a ship, first of all, and it has to be coated in the tree sap that forms here at Sabaody. That's my trade, by the way – I'm a coating mechanic. For your people however, it's as simple as a swim, if you know where to go. Tell you what – I know a guy who makes runs between here and Fishman Island regularly. I believe he's in town now actually, or at least nearby. I could ask him to guide you there next time he goes down, if you wish." Seriously!? Lucky!

"Hold on." Interrupts the woman, leaning against the bar table with a smoking cigarette in hand. "Before you're going anywhere, you owe me a bottle of Pucci bourbon."

"Right! Ah… sorry about that." I apologize, embarrassingly. I reach behind me for my bag, but grasp only air. What? Don't tell me it's…? I stand up, and look behind me. Gone! All my things! My keepsake! My money! That Devil's Fruit! "No!" I exclaim. "They done stoled it when they captured me!" The woman is none too pleased to hear this. Still I try to reason with her. "I… don't reckon you'd be willin' to let this one little thing slide… would you?" I smile.

Coldly, she replies "Not a chance."

I groan. "Am I workin' for you tomorrow to pay it off, then?"

"Oh, much longer than that. That bottle was priced at three hundred thousand Berries."

"Three hundred-!" I exclaim. "What drink is worth that much!?"

"And you're not letting her leave until it's all paid." She says to Ray.

The old man laughs, but in his eyes I can see just a tinge of pity. "You didn't think this was called 'Shakky's Rip-Off Bar' for nothing, did you? Don't worry, Aki. If it's safety from the rest of the island you're concerned about, there won't be a hand laid on you in this place, I can guarantee you that."

That isn't what has me down, but I don't say a word, instead only submitting to their will. I think I preferred my luck with the angry mob to this…