"Today, I have destroyed an entire "world"—one that deserved it. I feel nothing but the emptiness where the fire was. A father's teachings, a mother's memory, a "that" friends promises… none of it stopped the hatred. There's no going back from the inferno I've unleashed.
I am aware now; in a way I wasn't before. Aware that power doesn't come from the gods or from fate, but from the pit that lies within. If I can tear apart "that place", what is left to tear apart within myself?
That "friend" thought he could pull me down into his hatred. But I see now that hatred is what lets me rise above him. If I must be a demon to survive, then I will become that demon—and "that place" will remember my wrath.
I am dead. The man that once existed is buried with the ruins of "that place". In his place I stand—no longer a pawn, but a force bound to none but I. If Hell exists, I will be its conqueror. If there is no salvation, then I will carve a path of my own into darkness, where even fate will tremble.
Struggle, contend, push forward. No one will love me, and I will have no need to be loved. As long as I am free from the lies of the world, I will endure, even if I must burn down the stars themselves." - Unknown
n Somewhere In the East Blue, 1522.
The calm waters of the East Blue continued to move in it's usual, repeated motions, each current coming with its own cool wind to push along the various ships littering the sea. The sun was perched high in its midday position, glistening off the gentle waves, illuminating everything from East to West, and all that dared to step into its light. Birds of many feathers, and sea creatures of equally varying scales and fins produced sounds that gave the sea its soft discord which all sailors had committed to memory, and long since appreciated.
Though, these seas have a new visitor. And a rather strange one at that.
Brought along by said currents was a small vessel. Then again, calling whatever the figure was sailing in a "vessel" would be a longshot. The "vessel" had a pristine white surface that gleamed softly under the shining midday sun, its smooth edges and interior invited the weariest of souls to rest within it. Its space allowing only one passenger at a time, which become evident in how the figure laying seemed rather cramped. On the vessels side was a golden emblem depicting a shower head with water flowing freely, with the letters "M.W", indicating the vessel was made by the famous company "Moonlit Waters Bath Wares", well known across the Grand Line for their quality wares and stellar customer service.
Yes. That is correct dear reader.
The vessel is a bathtub.
A beautifully constructed one at that. Which our "figure" seems to be enjoying quite deeply, considering he is dozing off within it.
Our figure rests against the side of the tub, his head and limbs resting languidly over the ends of the round tube, his long legs making it hard to fit completely within the container. It would appear he was not completely asleep, considering he continued to bounce his left ankle against the side of the tub, as if moving along to an imaginary beat.
His attire was nothing short of dapper. The long, flowing trench coat is a deep purple, seemingly tailored to fit baggily around his body and flaring out toward the bottom, and it continues to flutter lightly in the sea breeze despite being completely at odds with his current "vessel." Beneath the coat lies a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into a pair of black slacks, though they are slightly scuffed and damp from the saltwater mist. His shoes are a shiny, polished black, albeit now with hints of wear, suggesting this man cared for his appearance but perhaps had taken an unexpected detour through trouble. Shielding his head and the top half of his body from the glare of the sun is a comically large black umbrella, its canopy decorated in swirls, stitches and other strange patterns, indicating it had been used rather often.
His facial features give off a sense of being in the "middle". His sharp, angular jawline frames his face, giving him an air of quiet intensity. High cheekbones accentuate the shape of his face, their definition subtly softened by the natural fairness of his pale skin. His lips are neither too full nor too thin, often curled into a wry smirk or quirked in a teasing grin that hints at his humor, even in the gravest of moments. His nose is thin, and slightly bent at some points, indicating it has been broken many times.
But what stands out most about this peculiar sailor is his hair—a stark, shocking white that practically glows under the sun's rays, matching sharply with his silver-toned complexion. His face, angular and slightly sharp, gives him a devil-may-care aura. A pair of circular, black-rimmed glasses perch lazily on his nose, obscuring his eyes completely, leaving his expression a mystery to anyone watching.
And yes, there is someone watching.
The East Blue was calm that day, its waves glinting under the noonday sun. Seagulls cawed overhead, swooping gracefully across the open sky, until they abruptly scattered - as if startled by something unseen.
On a nearby fishing boat, two men stared at the horizon, squinting at an odd speck bobbing on the waves.
"I swear, if it's another sea king in a bonnet—"
"Not a sea king. It's worse."
"What's worse than—? Oh. Oh no."
"It's a man...in a bathtub."
"A man…sailing in a bathtub?"
"Looks like it," the second fisherman mutters, his tone laced with disbelief. "Is he asleep? And… is that thing even seaworthy?"
Before either can get closer, the man in the bathtub shifts, tilting his head upward toward the sky. With a sharp, yet oddly casual motion, he lifts one hand and adjusts his glasses before letting out a relaxed yawn. His other hand lazily swipes into the water, flicking it back like a bored cat playing with a pond.
"...Beautiful day for a cruise, don't you think?" he calls out lazily, his deep voice carrying effortlessly over the water toward the stunned fishermen.
"Y-yeah…sure," one of them stammers, still baffled.
"Good! Let's keep it that way," the man says, lifting his head to grin at them, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. Then, as if dismissing them entirely, he leans back into the tub again, his coat shifting to cover more of his body under the shade of his umbrella as he settles into his bizarre journey.
Meanwhile, not far off…
A small boat with an equally odd captain is sailing closer. Monkey D. Luffy, a boy with a straw hat and an insatiable grin, is steering with reckless enthusiasm, while Koby, a nervous and diligent boy, sits nearby clutching a map tightly in his hands.
"Luffy! I think we're headed in the right direction! Shells Town should be that way!" Koby says, pointing toward the horizon with a nervous finger.
"Great! I can't wait to find more crewmates!" Luffy exclaims, barely glancing at the map as he laughs loudly.
As they sail, Luffy's eyes suddenly catch something strange in the distance—a shiny, white object bobbing along the waves. He squints, tilting his straw hat upward to get a better look.
"What's that?" he asks, pointing toward the bathtub and its peculiar passenger.
Koby adjusts his glasses and gasps. "Is that…is that a man? In a bathtub?"
Luffy's grin only widens. "He looks fun! Let's go meet him!"
Before Koby can protest, Luffy has already steered the boat toward the strange figure. Within moments, they're close enough to call out, the strong winds having carried them over swiftly.
"Oi! Bath guy! Are you taking a bath in the middle of the sea?" Luffy shouts, waving his arms energetically, natural curiosity filling his voice and expression.
The man in the tub doesn't immediately respond. Instead, he shifts slightly, reaching up to adjust his glasses before finally speaking, his voice calm but laced with dry amusement as he continues to stare out into the sea with his back turned to them, as if attempting to ignore the new sailors speaking to them.
"Bathing is an art," Silva says, his tone as smooth as the water around him. "And like all art, it requires a... unique canvas." He gestures lazily to the pristine porcelain of his stolen tub.
For a moment, Silva falls silent, absentmindedly twisting a ring on his finger—a faint scar etched beneath it. Then, as if catching himself, he grins broadly. "Though I must say, Picasso would be jealous. Also…. 'Bath guy'?", he echoes, his voice tinged with amusement. "That's a first. Most people just call me Silva. Or…Kynes. Or some other unheard insult."
The man in the bathtub slowly tilts his head toward them, his glasses catching the sunlight and obscuring his eyes even further. His lips curve into a smirk as he regards the newcomers with mild curiosity. His expression remains nonchalant as he studies the two newcomers. "And who might you two be, interrupting my...moment of serenity?"
"Silva, huh? I'm Monkey D. Luffy, and I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!" Luffy declares without hesitation, his voice full of excitement and certainty.
"King of the Pirates, you say?" Silva replies, leaning forward slightly, his smirk deepening. "That's quite the bold claim…especially for someone still wearing sandals."
Koby, feeling awkward but wanting to stay polite, tries to interject. "Um, excuse me, Mr. Silva, o-or Mr Kynes, but why are you in a bathtub…uh, out here?"
Silva raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing into a playful grin. "Why wouldn't I be? My ship capsized, so I commandeered this fine vessel from an elderly lady. Didn't think she'd miss it."
"You stole it?!" Koby exclaims, horrified.
"Borrowed," Silva corrects, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm sure she'll get it back eventually. Or not. Either way, it's got great balance—handles the waves like a dream."
Koby, however, maintains his horrified expression. "You can't just take things that don't belong to you!", he exclaims loudly. "And from an old woman of all people!".
Silva tilts his head, as if slightly amused and irritated. "That's literally piracy. Are you lost?". Luffy, clearly entertained, starts laughing uncontrollably. "You're funny! Wanna join my crew?". Luffy's pink haired companion is quick to gasp in retaliation, however.
"Luffy!" Koby hissed, tugging Luffy's sleeve. "He's clearly a criminal! He admitted to stealing that tub!"
"Yeah, but he's funny," Luffy said, laughing. "And he's got good teeth! That means he's trustworthy."
Koby buried his face in his hands. "Teeth? That's your standard?"
Silva's expression becomes thoughtful, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. "A crew, huh?" Silva repeats, his voice quieter now. His gaze drifts to the horizon, his smirk fading as if he is recalling distant memories of another time. For a moment, he seems far away, lost in strange thoughts unshared, and wonders if this 'Luffy's' reckless optimism is the kind of freedom he's been searching for all along. The thought catches him off guard, but he doesn't let it linger long enough to sting.
Then, as quickly as it vanished, his grin returns. "Alright, Boss Sandals. You've got yourself a Picasso. Let's see where your little adventure takes us," Silva says, kicking his foot up lazily against the edge of the tub. Silva pauses once more, raising his hand slightly in Luffy's direction. "Under only one condition, of course", he continues, "being that I am not obligated to complete any chores, and I am allowed free access to any food being prepared or stored….as well as having a 70% cut of any found treasures.", he finishes with a light laugh, though there is some seriousness to his 'demands'.
Luffy's smile widens further, and replies with his eyes closed: "I don't know what a 'percentage' is, and as long as I eat as much meat as I want, then I agree to your terms!"
Silva muses for but a second, rolling his neck around as he thinks. Finally folding his hands and resting them on his stomach, he offers a reply: "Then Young Monkey, you have yourself a crewmate."
Luffy cheers loudly, while Koby looks increasingly concerned about the questionable character they've just picked up.
As they tie Silva's bathtub to their boat and start heading toward Shells Town, Silva leans forward and says with a sly grin, "So, Boss…you're paying for snacks, right?"
Luffy laughs. "Shishishi~! Only if you don't eat everything first!"
With that, the strange trio sails toward their next destination, the first seeds of an unlikely friendship beginning to take root.