Chapter 3
The ropes chafed against Zoro's wrists as he slumped against the post, his jaw tight and his eyes narrowed against the punishing sun. His stomach had long stopped growling and instead sat like a lead weight in his gut, hollow and heavy. He'd done the math in his head more times than he cared to admit. Three days, maybe four, before his body gave out. Helmeppo had promised to release him, but Zoro knew better than to put faith in the words of a coward.
The air was still, the only sounds the faint calls of gulls and the creaking of the Marine base behind him. And then—clunk, clunk, clunk. The sound of a ladder scraping against the stone wall broke the silence.
Zoro opened one eye, his brow furrowing. Someone was climbing up. The top of a small, messy-haired head appeared over the edge of the wall. Rika.
The little girl's face lit up with a wide, sunny grin as she scrambled over the top, clutching something wrapped in cloth. "Zoro! I brought you nigiri!"
His stomach betrayed him with a low grumble, but Zoro grunted. "You shouldn't be here, kid."
"I'm not alone this time!" she chirped, stepping aside to reveal two figures climbing after her.
Zoro's eyes narrowed. One was a young man with pink hair, his face a mess of bruises and bandages, as if he'd been thrown into a blender and poured out onto the wall. The other—well, Zoro wasn't sure what to make of him. An old man, short and wiry, with a crooked posture that looked like it could fold in on itself at any moment. He wore a Hawaiian shirt so offensively bright it seemed to challenge the sun, and his straw hat cast a shadow over his face. His gnarled hands rested on a polished cane, which he leaned on with the air of someone entirely unimpressed by existence.
"This is Grandpa Woop Slap!" Rika announced proudly, gesturing to the old man. "And this is, uh… Toby? Bobby?"
"Koby," the pink-haired boy mumbled, his voice barely audible as he hunched over like a beaten dog.
"Stand up straight, you spineless shrimp!" the old man barked, whacking Koby's shin with his cane.
"Ow!" Koby yelped, hopping back. "What was that for?!"
"For existing," Woop Slap said with a sigh, as if this were a perfectly reasonable response. He shook his head and turned his attention to Zoro, his eyes sharp and piercing. "You must be the idiot who saved Rika. Hmph. You look even worse than she described."
Zoro blinked. "Who the hell—"
"Don't interrupt," Woop Slap snapped, his cane jabbing the ground. "Now, as I was saying, I heard about how you saved this girl from a wolf and how the Marines decided to submit to this ridiculous punishment. You're stupid, sure, but rare. It's not every day you find a youth with manners. Even if you do look like a stray dog that wandered into a butcher's shop."
Zoro stared at him, too stunned to respond.
Woop Slap tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Rough around the edges, but I'll give you credit. Takes guts to stick to your word and respect the authority even when they are clearly in the wrong. And you saved the girl. That's more than I can say for most brats these days."
"Uh, thanks?" Zoro muttered, unsure whether he was being praised or insulted.
The old man straightened his hat. "So, I've decided to help you. I'll go have a word with Captain Morgan and set this nonsense straight."
Zoro's head snapped up. "You're going to—wait, you can't just—"
"Relax," Woop Slap said, waving a dismissive hand. "He's a Marine captain. Surely, he's a reasonable man. I'll explain the situation and convince him to release you."
Zoro's laugh was dry and bitter. "Morgan? Reasonable? He's a total assho—"
Whack!
The cane struck his shin, startling him. "Language," Woop Slap said sharply.
Zoro gritted his teeth. "You don't understand. Morgan's a power-hungry tyrant. He'll kill you just for looking at him wrong."
"Kill me?" Woop Slap scoffed, adjusting his shirt. "I've been married twice, boy. I think I can handle a blowhard in a fancy hat."
Before Zoro could argue further, the old man turned and began hobbling toward the Marine base with deliberate determination.
"Wait!" Zoro called after him, panic rising in his chest. He turned to Rika. "You've got to stop him! The Marines'll beat him to a pulp! He's old—he won't survive this!"
Rika tilted her head, confused. "Grandpa Woop Slap?"
She was interrupted as a loud crash echoed from the Marine base, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. Zoro's head whipped around in time to see something—or someone—flying through a high window. The figure hit the ground with a heavy thud, landing in a crumpled heap at the base of the post.
It was Captain Morgan.
Bloodied and unconscious, his massive frame lay motionless, his infamous jawline cracked like a discarded statue.
"Huh," Zoro muttered, his brain struggling to catch up.
The scene grew even stranger. A second figure hurtled through the air, landing unceremoniously beside Morgan. Helmeppo, groaning and bruised, flopped onto the ground like a discarded fish.
Then another Marine.
And another.
And another.
Zoro stared at the growing pile of bodies, his jaw slack. "What the hell…?"
From the broken window, Woop Slap appeared, his cane resting over his shoulder like a victorious warrior's sword. He dusted off his hands, his expression one of mild irritation. "Hmph. Bunch of amateurs. This is what passes for authority these days? No wonder the sea's gone to hell."
Koby sniffled, wiping his nose as he stared at the chaos in disbelief. Zoro, still tied to the post, could only shake his head.
"Who is that guy?" Zoro muttered, half to himself.
Rika beamed. "Grandpa Woop Slap!"
"You call yourselves Marines? Back in my day, even the village militia could put up a better fight than this sorry lot! And they didn't have your fancy uniforms or shiny weapons!"
Yay !
You corrected [1] Devil Swordsman (Fate : SS), [1] Corrupt Captain (Fate : D), [1] Pampered Asshole (Fate : B) and [232] Weaklings (Fate : G)
Correction Points Earned: +352. Lessons Imparted: +1
You leveled up : Level 69 → Level 74
Jango clung desperately to a splintered piece of wood, bobbing like a cork on the open sea. His drenched clothes plastered against his face, and his bandana hung limp, an unfortunate flag of his current misery. Around him, the other soggy members of the Cat Pirates were similarly adrift, their fur plastered to their skin, tails dragging limply in the water like seaweed. It was undignified. No—it was humiliating. Jango coughed up a mouthful of seawater and shouted hoarsely, "Don't drown, boys! That's an order!"
None of them responded. They were too busy choking, flailing, or floating in stunned silence. Jango couldn't blame them. He still couldn't wrap his head around what had just happened. How had this been their undoing?
It was an old man.
An old man.
No taller than a crate of oranges, no wider than a fishing pole. And yet, somehow, he had done… this. Jango shivered at the memory, though it wasn't from the cold water soaking his fur.
It had all started so normally. The crew had been enjoying a lunch of stolen mackerel, lounging on the deck, debating whether they should raid another merchant ship or nap. That's when it happened. A shadow fell over their ship, a faint whistling sound reached their ears, and then—THUD. Out of nowhere, an old man had fallen from the sky and landed smack in the middle of their table.
And the insults began.
"You call this food?" the old man had snarled, brushing crumbs off his impeccably starched clothes. "This mackerel looks like it was cooked by a blind sea king! No seasoning, no presentation—what is this, a punishment?"
The crew had stared at him, slack-jawed. Jango had been halfway through a bite when the man pointed his cane at him.
"And you!" the old man barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through steel. "Chewing with your mouth open like some barbarian! Have you ever heard of manners? Or is that too much to ask from a bunch of illiterate fish thieves?"
The entire crew had frozen in stunned silence. Jango had blinked, mid-chew, and swallowed reflexively. What… is happening?
It was Buchi, one of the Nyaban Brothers, who had dared to stand up first. "Who the hell do you think you are, old man?!" he had growled, his claws unsheathing with a metallic shing. "You don't insult the Cat Pirates and walk away!"
"Oh, I know who I am," the old man had replied, his voice dripping with disdain. "The question is, who the hell are you? Bumbling buffoons with delusions of grandeur, that's who! Look at you, with your overgrown sideburns and your flimsy swords. You look like rejects from a third-rate musical. Do you even know how to fight, or are you too busy preening in front of mirrors?"
Before Buchi could so much as growl in reply, the old man had swatted him. Not punched. Not kicked. Swatted. One firm slap of his hand, and the third-strongest fighter in their crew went down like a sack of potatoes.
Jango had frozen in disbelief. The rest of the crew had frozen too. The old man dusted his hands, like he'd just swatted a fly, and turned his attention to the rest of them.
"And you lot," he'd continued, pacing with his cane tapping the deck like a judge preparing to deliver the verdict. "Pirates? You call yourselves pirates? In my day, pirates were rugged, fearless, and disciplined! They knew how to tie knots! They respected the art of seamanship! And what do I find here? A bunch of lazy, entitled kittens who think waving a sword around makes them men!"
One of the deckhands had squeaked, "We're—uh—we're still figuring it out?"
"Oh, you're 'figuring it out,' are you?" the old man sneered, jabbing his cane into the deck. "No wonder the Naughty Boy Radar marked you! But you don't even deserve that title! You're bottom-of-the-barrel degenerates who can't even swab a deck without whining! And don't get me started on your…captain? First mate? You! You are supposed to inspire respect! Leadership! Not look like a soggy marshmallow in an ugly hat!"
Jango, still stunned, had managed to squeak, "Hey, my hat isn't that bad…"
The old man hadn't even acknowledged him. He'd just slammed his cane down—and that's when the cracks began.
At first, they'd thought it was a trick. A creak here, a groan there. Then the planks had started splitting, one by one, like dominoes. The crew had scrambled, trying to stop the spread, but the old man just kept ranting.
"And another thing! Your generation! You're all soft! No work ethic, no respect for tradition! You think pirating is all treasure and glory, but the truth is you wouldn't last a day in the real world! With a proper job! Instead of lazing around. A disgrace, really. I should've stayed home and had tea instead of dealing with this circus act!"
The floor gave way with a deafening CRACK. Water surged through the ship. Jango had barely managed to grab a plank before the whole thing sank beneath him.
Now, bobbing on the waves, he still couldn't make sense of it. "An old man," he muttered, shaking his head. "We were sunk… by an old man. Who insults hats."
A nearby crewmate coughed up water. "Do you think he was some kind of… god?"
Jango glared at him, his fur bristling despite being soaked. "Gods don't drop from the sky and critique your cooking, okay?! This doesn't make sense! None of this makes sense!"
From the distance, faint and mocking, came a familiar voice. "And another thing—your carpentry skills are atrocious! Maybe next time, build a ship that doesn't fall apart at the first sign of a proper cane!"
Jango whimpered and curled tighter around his plank. This was it. His reputation was in shambles. He'd never live this down. Sunk by a cranky old man.
Jango whimpered, curling tighter around his plank. This was a nightmare. It had to be.
Yay !
You corrected [1] Hypnotist (Fate : E) and [56] Weaklings (Fate : G)
Correction Points Earned: +57
Lessons Imparted: +1
You leveled up : Level 74 → Level 75
PING!
You unlocked: [Godly Cane-manship]
Because nothing says power like smacking sense into fools with a stick.