The Strawhat Pirates - Zeus and Hercules

by Cartoonanimewritter

No one could ever believe that two children could posess the powers of the mythological gods Zeus and Hercules. Nor could they comprehend their skills, strengh and power could solely rely on their life energy. They refused to believe people could gain such power through rigorous training and fights without eating a Devil Fruit. These two children go by the name Killua and Gon

2. Foundations and Friendships

Late afternoon sunlight stretched across the canals of Water 7, illuminating the vibrant colours of ships in mid-repair and glinting off the polished railings that seemed to decorate every walkway.

The warmth of the air was tempered by the perpetual sea breeze, the salt-scented gusts occasionally riffling through sheets of paper and scattering stray shavings of wood or metal.

For Gon and Killua, it was still difficult to believe that only hours ago they had landed in the midst of this city with a crash powerful enough to alarm its residents.

The two teenagers awoke in their shared room at Iceberg's stately home, blinking as morning light filtered through drawn curtains.

Though the plush furnishings and polished floors bore a refined touch, the occasional model ship or decorative anchor reminded them that their host was deeply invested in the city's marine identity.

Gon sat up first, yawning loudly. "Killua" he said with a grin, "we're really here."

Killua rolled onto his back. Despite having slept soundly, the novelty of waking up in a new dimension left him slightly disoriented. A slow grin spread across his face.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Guess we've got a busy day ahead."

After getting washed, dressed, and wearing the simple clothes provided by Iceberg, they stepped into a dining area where breakfast had been laid out. Iceberg himself was present, flipping through pages of documents as he sipped tea. He looked up at them, offering a faint smile.

"Good morning, you two," he greeted, indicating the spread on the table. "Help yourselves. We've got fruit, bread, and a bit of fish if you want something savoury."

Gon, whose appetite was always hearty, gave a polite bow. "Thank you so much!" He piled his plate with a selection of melon slices, sweet bread, and a helping of salted fish.

Killua followed suit, albeit with a little more restraint, though he took an extra portion of the fish out of curiosity.

Iceberg set his papers aside. "I spoke to some of the Galley-La foremen this morning" he explained. "Kaku, Paulie, Lulu are some of our top shipwrights. They're interested in meeting you both. If you're up for it, I can take you to our main dock. You'll learn more about how Water 7 functions on a deeper level."

Gon nodded eagerly, mouth still half-full. Killua took a sip of water before speaking. "Sounds good to me. There's a lot we need to figure out here. Like how everything works, or if there's a system to handle these pirates we keep hearing about."

Iceberg's gaze grew a little more serious. "There is Marine forces, bounty hunters, and local security. But let's not jump into heavy matters over breakfast." He rose from his seat. "If you're finished, we can head out soon."

They left the house and stepped onto a street that was already bustling with foot traffic.

Tall, elegant structures with tiled roofs lined the canal, and the sight of watercraft drifting past was now becoming more familiar.

The day was bright but not too hot, the rays of sunlight dancing across the rippling canals.

They walked through a couple of side streets until they reached a more expansive thoroughfare, where an ornate sign indicated the entrance to Galley-La Headquarters.

Tall gates stood open, revealing a lively courtyard filled with crates of supplies, planks of wood, coils of rope, and shipwrights rushing back and forth. The air thrummed with energy.

Kaku spotted them first. Standing at medium height, sporting a long, square nose and an earnest demeanour, he waved.

Paulie soon sidled up, his blonde hair ruffled from the morning's labour. Behind them, a couple of onlookers turned curious eyes on the newcomers.

"Hey, Mr. Mayor," Paulie greeted, hooking his thumbs into the thick belt at his waist. "These two must be the talk of the town. Heard they literally dropped in."

Kaku nodded amicably at Gon and Killua. "Welcome. You caused quite a stir, but it's not every day we see something so… theatrical."

Gon grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry about that. We didn't mean to scare anyone."

Killua offered a small shrug, eyes flicking over the yard. "We'll try not to do it again."

Iceberg introduced the boys to the gathered workers, who nodded with varying degrees of interest or amusement.

Then he led Gon and Killua into a large building with wide hallways and walls hung with architectural diagrams.

Reaching a spacious office lined with drafting tables, he gestured toward the plans tacked up all around.

"Here's where ship designs are finalised," he said, pointing to a number of detailed sketches. "Kaku, Paulie, and the others each have their own style. Whether it's a small vessel or a grand galley, the work begins on paper."

Kaku stepped closer to one of the larger diagrams. "When a client asks us to build a ship, we start by gathering requirements—sail configurations, hull shape, cargo capacity, that sort of thing. Then we refine it until it meets our standards, which are high."

Paulie tugged on a rope that hung from his shoulder, his perpetual fidgeting revealing his restless nature. "We also make sure the ship's structure is sturdy enough to handle the Grand Line and beyond."

Killua studied the diagrams with genuine fascination. "So you're not just shipwrights—you're engineers, planners, artisans."

Paulie let out a small laugh. "In Water 7, building ships is an art form. We pride ourselves on our craft. When a ship leaves here, we want it to be among the best in the world."

Iceberg guided them back outside, where the sound of hammering and sawing was near-constant.

He led them to the edge of a large drydock, where the skeleton of a partially built ship rose from the ground like some ancient beast.

Wooden scaffolding surrounded it, and dozens of workers balanced on beams, passing tools and shouting instructions.

"This vessel's going to be a merchant brig," Iceberg explained. "Paulie is in charge of its rigging. Kaku's overseeing the hull design."

Gon couldn't help leaning forward, jaw slightly agape. "It's so big!"

Killua glanced up, shading his eyes with one hand. "You guys do this all the time?"

Kaku grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "This is just a medium-sized project for us. You should see some of the warships or pleasure cruisers we've constructed."

Before the conversation could continue, a loud voice echoed across the courtyard. "Iceberg-saaaan! Where are you?" The voice rose in a singsong lilt.

Franky. He appeared a moment later, wearing his usual flamboyant shirt unbuttoned over his broad chest, metal gauntlets glinting, and goggles perched on his head. He bounded over with a grin, showing no regard for the startled glances from workers.

"Mayor, I was hoping I'd find you," Franky said, then turned his grin on Gon and Killua. "And these brats too."

He turned to Iceberg again. "I've got a request for a custom engine job, but it might overlap with a new design you guys have in the pipeline. You got time to talk?"

Iceberg nodded. "Sure. But I also want to keep showing Gon and Killua around."

Franky pointed a thumb at himself, cogs whirring behind his eyes. "I can handle that. Let me chat with you first, then I'll let these two tag along on an errand or two. Deal?"

Iceberg looked at Gon and Killua, who both nodded. Honestly, they welcomed the chance to explore more of the city with someone as lively as Franky. Iceberg gave a wry smile of assent. "Very well. Let's talk in my office."

They left Gon and Killua with Kaku and Paulie for a moment. The two shipwrights took the chance to show the boys around the nearly finished hull, describing how each plank was fastened using special techniques.

Gon asked question after question about the different types of wood, while Killua listened intently, storing up details.

When Franky and Iceberg emerged from their meeting, they approached the group. Franky was mid-laugh, slapping Iceberg's shoulder with enough force to make some of the sawdust swirl.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a collaboration," Franky said gleefully. He then turned to Gon and Killua with a dramatic flourish. "Alright, brats, time to see more of Water 7. Got some errands to run, and you're coming with me."

Paulie rolled his eyes. "Try not to blow anything up, Franky."

Franky threw him a playful salute. "No promises, rope-boy." He beckoned to Gon and Killua, and they followed.

They soon reached the edges of the Galley-La yard, where Franky hopped onto a squat, boxy boat moored at a small pier.

The vessel looked like a cross between a speedboat and a floating workshop, with a short chimney at the back and a scattering of tools along the deck.

"This is my personal watercraft," Franky announced, revving a small engine that let out a spirited rumble. "Climb aboard, kiddos. We're going across to the other side of the city."

Gon's eyes lit up as he jumped in. "This is so cool!"

Killua followed more cautiously, glancing around at the boat's curious design. "Are you sure this thing's safe?"

"Safe? Who cares about safe?" Franky retorted, letting out a hearty laugh. "Live a little!"

With a roar of the engine, they tore away from the pier, the boat bobbing vigorously in the churning water behind them. Gon gripped the side, excited by the rush of wind. Killua's heart lurched for a moment, but he found himself grinning despite the rocking.

Franky navigated the canals with surprising skill, weaving around slower water taxis and cargo barges. As they zipped by, passers-by turned to stare, some shouting for Franky to slow down. He merely waved and continued, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Eventually, they reached a part of Water 7 that looked less polished—an industrial zone, with large warehouses and taller chimneys. Several ships in drydocks here looked battered, as though they had been recovered from intense battles.

Franky cut the engine, drifting over to a vacant pier. "Got a buddy who deals in scrap metal," he explained, jumping off and tying the boat up. "He keeps trying to build a better engine than me—no one can, of course—but he's got good materials for certain side projects."

Gon hopped onto the dock, drinking in his surroundings. "So this is where old ships come to be broken down?"

"Sometimes," Franky said, guiding them past a tall chain-link fence. "Others come here to refurbish or salvage. If a pirate vessel gets captured, odds are its remains end up in places like this."

They walked a short distance until they found a large warehouse with open sliding doors. Inside, the walls soared up in a grid of steel rafters, and the floor was littered with piles of twisted metal, battered planks, and half-finished contraptions. The odour of rust, oil, and sea salt mingled in the heavy air.

A stout man in a grease-stained apron looked up from a table. "Franky," he called, voice echoing. "Haven't seen you in a few days. What's the job?"

Franky jerked a thumb at Gon and Killua. "First, these two are with me. They're new in town, so don't give 'em trouble, Bosco."

Bosco squinted at the teenagers, then shrugged. "Right. I'm guessing you need more engine plating, or something for your half-baked prototype?"

Franky pounded his fist on the nearest metal beam. "Half-baked? You've got no vision, man! But yes, I need some thick plating that can withstand higher temperatures, plus maybe a pump mechanism if you've got one."

As Bosco and Franky launched into a lively debate about tensile strength and steam pressure, Gon and Killua wandered through the rows of scrap.

They saw partial ship figureheads, twisted propellers, and what looked like the skeleton of a small submarine. Here and there, machine parts jutted out at odd angles.

"This is insane," Killua murmured, carefully stepping over an exposed gear. "All this wreckage, but also so many possible uses."

Gon nodded, resting a hand on a battered wheel. "I wonder how many stories these ships had. Where they travelled, who their captains were." He noticed a partial Jolly Roger symbol on a broken mast, the paint chipped and flaking. "Being a pirate must be a big deal here."

"Apparently so," Killua said. "But I still haven't seen an actual pirate crew, aside from the ones we're lying about." He kept his voice low, aware they were still in earshot of Bosco. "I wonder if we'll cross paths with one soon."

Not far away, Franky was rummaging through a crate as Bosco read off a list of item codes. "We got some tempered steel plating over there," Bosco grumbled, pointing to a pile near Gon and Killua. "But it's pricey."

Franky waved him off. "Don't worry about that. I can pay—or work out a trade."

At length, Franky selected a stack of metal sheets and a curious contraption that looked like a half-formed boiler. He hefted them with remarkable ease, clanking them down onto a wheeled trolley. Bosco wiped sweat from his brow, scribbled some figures on a notepad, and parted with a wry grin.

"Be careful," he told Franky in a more subdued tone. "This city's about to get busy, from what I hear. There's talk that a big shot from the Marines might be passing through soon."

"Yeah?" Franky's eyebrows rose. "Which means trouble for any pirates in the area… or anyone with a questionable track record." He snorted. "I'll keep that in mind."

With that, they said their goodbyes, hauling their newly acquired materials back to the boat. Gon offered to carry some of the plating, but nearly toppled from the unexpected weight.

"Whoa, that's heavier than it looks!" he exclaimed, redoubling his effort.

Killua smirked. "Gon, you're strong, but that stuff's dense." He took one sheet, feeling its heft, but managed to carry it steadily. "Guess even we can't treat this like styrofoam."

Franky nodded approvingly. "You two are well-trained, I see. Might come in handy." He flexed a bicep dramatically. "Not that I need the help, mind you, but it's nice to have around."

They loaded the boat and set off again, the engine's rumble mingling with the faint clang of distant construction work.

As they glided back through the canals, Franky pointed out various landmarks, a tall clock tower near the centre of the city, an aquarium-like restaurant famed for its shimmering glass walls, and a set of treelike towers known to filter and purify incoming sea water.

"I feel like we could explore for days and not see everything," Gon said, awe tinging his voice.

Franky laughed. "That's probably true, pal. Water 7 has grown over centuries. Some folks say it's partially built on the ruins of older settlements. The city's layered, if you catch my drift."

Not long after, they docked again near Franky's workshop and proceeded to unload the metal. Members of the Franky Family, his ragtag group of loyal companions, hurried over to help. Some wore flamboyant outfits similar to Franky's, while others sported more subdued attire with bright bandanas or goggles.

"Hey, Big Bro!" one called, saluting casually. "That stuff for your super engine?"

"Darn right it is," Franky declared, placing his hands on his hips triumphantly. "Let's stash it inside. I'll get started on modifications tomorrow."

While the Franky Family carted away the plating, Gon and Killua explored the workshop's outer yard. They noticed an almost festive atmosphere, with music playing softly from a gramophone and a few boisterous voices exchanging jokes.

Franky, free for the moment, slung an arm around each teen's shoulders and steered them towards a makeshift seating area. "So," he said, "how d'you like Water 7 so far?"

Gon gave a bright smile. "It's fantastic. Everyone's so lively, and there's so much to see!"

Killua nodded. "It's definitely interesting. I'm starting to understand how things run here, though we still have a lot to learn."

Franky pulled over a crate to sit on, crossing one leg over the other. "Well, if you plan on staying a while, you'll see that Water 7 is all about hustle, people here don't wait around. They're building or repairing or planning something new. It's that kind of energy that keeps us afloat. Literally, in some cases."

Gon tilted his head, remembering the man in the scrap yard's warning. "Bosco mentioned a Marine big shot might come through soon. Is that common?"

A shadow flickered in Franky's expression. "Marine officers do pass by, sometimes to keep pirates on their toes. If a famed officer shows up, it can mean trouble for criminals in hiding. But not everyone sees the Marines as heroes. Some worry about injustices or collateral damage if a major clash happens." He shrugged. "It's complicated. I try not to get too wrapped up in it, as long as they don't ruin my city."

Killua leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. "What if a pirate crew tried to, say, take over Water 7? You think the Galley-La Company and folks like you could hold them off?"

Franky clenched a fist confidently. "I'd bet on us any day. We've got skilled fighters, shipwrights or not—and this city has been through tough scrapes before." Then he let out a laugh. "But hopefully it won't come to that anytime soon."

Over the next hour, they chatted more casually, with Franky recounting stories of outlandish clients and near-disasters on the high seas. Gon listened intently, occasionally laughing or gasping in surprise. Killua asked pointed questions about local law, wanting to piece together the political structure.

"You've got Marines, the World Government, bounty hunters, revolutionaries—lots of factions," Franky explained. "But Water 7 tries to remain neutral, focusing on shipbuilding. We do have to watch out for infiltration by shady groups, though."

A woman with pink hair styled into twin loops approached, carrying a jug of water and cups. "Big Bro, want something to drink?" she asked brightly.

He nodded. "Thanks, Moz," he said. "These two probably need a drink, too. Been dragging them around in the heat all day."

Gon accepted a cup gratefully, downing the water in several large gulps. Killua did the same. The woman, Moz, then turned her attention to them. "So you guys fell from the sky? That's wild."

"That's the story going around," Killua said evenly, sticking to their cover. "Pirates shot us from a cannon."

Moz laughed in disbelief. "Guess I've seen weirder things happen here, though. This city attracts all kinds."

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, then Moz departed to help someone else. Franky stood, dusting off his hands. "Alright, kiddos. I'm sure you're exhausted. Want me to take you back to Iceberg's, or do you want to wander around on your own?"

Gon consulted Killua silently. Both felt they still had energy to spare. "We can walk, if you point us in the right direction," Gon said, hooking his thumbs into his waistband.

Franky beamed. "Great. More time to soak in the city. Just remember to keep your wits about you. Not everyone is friendly, especially in the alleyways."

With that, he gave them a hearty wave and returned to his crew, who were already pulling out wrenches and measuring tools to begin tinkering with the newly acquired metal parts.

Gon and Killua set off, retracing their steps through the labyrinth of canals, walkways, and brightly painted bridges.

The sun sank lower, throwing a golden hue over everything. Evening crowds emerged, some heading to restaurants along the water's edge, others to taverns. Strings of lanterns were lit, their reflections shimmering in the gentle current.

"How do you feel about Franky?" Killua asked, side-eyeing Gon.

"I like him," Gon said happily. "He's loud, but he's kind, and he genuinely cares about this city. Plus, he's so talented at building."

Killua nodded. "Yeah, same. I… trust him, more or less. Crazy how quickly we've settled in, though."

"I guess we lucked out," Gon replied. "Between Iceberg's hospitality and Franky's openness, it's almost like having a home away from home."

They paused at a stone railing that overlooked a broad canal. A group of musicians played on a corner nearby, strings, an accordion, and a low drum. The music drifted across the water, mellow and inviting.

Killua closed his eyes briefly, listening to the melody. "Hard to believe, isn't it? Yesterday, we were in a completely different place. Now, here we are."

Gon leaned against the railing, letting the city's gentle ambiance wash over him. "The world's so big and full of surprises, maybe bigger than we ever realised."

Night settled in around them as they continued walking, occasionally stopping to admire shop windows displaying handcrafted items or to listen in on the chatter of residents.

The city's nightlife was lively but not chaotic, marked by laughter and the clinking of glasses from waterfront eateries.

Eventually, they found themselves at the same wide bridge they had stood on the previous night with Franky, though now from a slightly different angle.

The reflection of lamps danced on the canal's surface below, and the silhouettes of passing boats added a sense of movement to the scene.

Gon tapped his foot. "You think we should head back soon? Iceberg might worry."

Killua nodded. "Yeah, probably. Though he doesn't strike me as the overly fussy type. Still, we should check in."

They retraced their route using the main plaza as a reference point, crossing near the fountain shaped like a whale that spouted arcs of illuminated water.

A small throng gathered there, either meeting friends or listening to an orator who stood on a soapbox, discussing the latest rumours, one being the possible arrival of a high-ranking Marine officer.

The name that surfaced in the crowd's chatter made Killua pause: "Admiral." It was quickly followed by hushed concern about potential pirate skirmishes. He and Gon shared a glance.

"Admiral is probably a big deal," Gon guessed in a quiet voice.

"Seems so," Killua agreed. "Let's keep an ear out. We don't need to get involved, but we should stay informed."

Shortly afterward, they reached Iceberg's home. The warm glow from the windows eased any trepidation, and the front door opened before they even knocked. A tall woman in a neat uniform, one of the house staff—greeted them politely.

"Iceberg-sama has been expecting you," she said, stepping aside so they could enter.

Gon thanked her, and they removed their shoes in the foyer. Iceberg stood in the living room, exchanging quiet words with another staff member who held a ledger. As soon as he saw the boys, he dismissed the staffer and approached.

"You two have been all over, I hear," Iceberg said, his voice tinged with mild amusement. "Franky came by earlier and mentioned taking you on a few errands."

"We ended up seeing the scrap yard," Gon explained, "and then visited Franky's workshop again. It's amazing how many different parts of the city there are."

Iceberg nodded. "It's good you're getting the grand tour. Any troubles?"

Killua shook his head. "None. Everyone's been pretty friendly. Or at least curious. We heard rumours, though, something about a Marine Admiral coming."

Iceberg's expression grew more sober. "Yes, that's the talk. They haven't announced who exactly or why. It could be a routine inspection or something more significant. If an Admiral does arrive, it'll draw attention from various factions, especially pirates who might be lurking in nearby waters."

Gon rubbed his chin. "Will Water 7 be in danger?"

Iceberg exhaled slowly. "Hard to say. We're a neutral city, but that doesn't necessarily mean we're safe from the crossfire. In the end, life goes on—most folks here will keep building, repairing, and carrying out everyday tasks until something changes."

He gestured toward the dining room. "Supper is prepared. Join me?"

The promise of a meal after a long day's exploration made Gon's stomach growl audibly, drawing a grin from Killua. They followed Iceberg into the dining room, where plates of grilled fish, steamed vegetables, and fresh bread awaited.

The conversation took on a relaxed cadence as they ate. Gon excitedly recounted the wonders of Franky's workshop, from the metal contraptions to the plans for a steam-powered engine.

Killua asked more pointed questions about the city's governance and how exactly the mayor balanced commerce with security.

Iceberg patiently answered each query, clearly well-versed in the city's history and politics. "We rely heavily on the Galley-La Company to maintain peace around the docks, and there's an understanding that if trouble brews, we stand together, shipwrights, local businesses, officials. Water 7's strength is its unity."

After dinner, the group cleared their plates with thanks to the staff who served them.

Iceberg bade the boys goodnight, saying he needed to wrap up some urgent paperwork related to an incoming shipment.

Gon and Killua climbed the wide stairs to their shared room, fatigue settling in like a gentle weight.

"Another busy day tomorrow?" Gon asked, flopping onto the bed.

"Probably," Killua replied, flopping onto his own bed. "I'm thinking we should practise our Nen, too. We don't want to get rusty."

Gon nodded, eyes half-lidded. "Good point. We can find a secluded spot by the docks or something." He yawned, then let his head sink into the pillow.

They settled into an easy silence, thoughts drifting toward the city's many wonders and the uncertain future.

Though they had been flung here under odd circumstances, it felt less like a predicament and more like an opportunity for a new adventure. With that comforting notion, sleep took them quickly.

The following days melded into a pattern of exploration. Gon and Killua roamed the thoroughfares, sometimes accompanied by Iceberg or a Galley-La foreman, other times guided by Franky or a member of his family.

They ventured into quieter residential districts lined with small terraced houses, flower-filled balconies, and children playing skip-rope along the canal edges.

They peered into busy shipyards, marvelling at the sheer scale of vessels in various states of repair.

Sometimes they perched on rooftops at dusk, capturing panoramic views of a city where water and architecture embraced each other in perfect harmony.

Whenever they crossed paths with Franky, they found themselves caught in the whirlwind of his enthusiasm.

Some afternoons, he would coax them into helping with minor tasks—like hauling engine parts or sorting through boxes of bolts, washers, and rivets.

While Gon took to the work with unstoppable cheer, Killua was more discerning, eyeing each device with cautious curiosity.

Franky revelled in having an eager audience, and he would brag about upcoming inventions, each one wilder than the last.

In turn, Gon and Killua gradually let slip fragments of themselves, though they kept the secret of their real origins hidden.

They revealed just enough about their skill sets to impress Franky's crew without raising suspicion that they weren't just typical teenage adventurers.

They showed surprising strength and agility when assisting with heavy lifts, or unerring balance when climbing scaffolding, but waved it off as the result of "a lot of training."

In the evenings, the pair returned to Iceberg's home, often to share a meal and recount their day's exploits.

Iceberg listened with an indulgent smile, occasionally dropping bits of Water 7 lore. Sometimes, Paulie or Kaku would join them briefly, adding their own teasing remarks. Over time, it began to feel almost homely.

On one particular afternoon, nearly a week after their arrival, Gon and Killua were strolling along a quieter canal, hands in pockets and bellies full from a street vendor's fish-and-potato fry. The air felt thick with humidity, hinting at possible rain.

"We haven't really done any serious training since we got here," Gon said, pausing to peer down a deserted side alley. "Should we find a place to practise?"

Killua agreed. "We need to stay sharp." They continued walking until they found a section of the city where buildings were more spaced out, warehouses with fewer passers-by. After making sure no one was around, they began simple Nen exercises, honing their aura control.

They tested their reflexes, each trading friendly blows. Gon unleashed a flurry of quick jabs, while Killua deftly sidestepped, occasionally countering with a flick of his wrist.

Their movements stirred up a mild breeze, the force of aura enough to rustle debris on the ground.

"Still got it," Gon remarked, a grin plastered on his face. "Feels good."

Killua rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, we'd better keep it low-key, though. Don't want to spook the locals or destroy property."

They wrapped up after about half an hour, agreeing to find an even more secluded location next time for more advanced sparring.

As they emerged back onto a main canal road, droplets of rain began to fall, each one sending tiny ripples across the water's surface.

"Looks like a storm might roll in," Gon observed, staring up at the darkening clouds.

Killua shoved his hands in his pockets. "We should head to Iceberg's place unless we want to get drenched."

They started back, weaving through crowds that were rapidly unfurling umbrellas or ducking under awnings.

Despite the oncoming drizzle, the city remained active, with the clang of shipyard work echoing across the water.

When the rain intensified, a few of the busier canal taxis started ferrying people who didn't want to walk.

Gon and Killua politely declined a taxi driver's offer, opting to keep their Beli for another day.

By the time they arrived at Iceberg's gate, they were damp but still in high spirits. The building's front windows were lit, and the staff welcomed them in, offering towels.

Through a window, they spotted Iceberg in a corner room, intently reading some documents.

They were about to head upstairs to change into drier clothing when they heard a familiar voice call out their names from behind.

Turning, they saw Franky standing in the doorway, hair slightly plastered to his forehead from the drizzle, goggles clinging precariously to his neck.

"Hey, you two," he said, stepping inside. The staff eyed him warily but allowed him in with a sigh, clearly used to his unannounced visits. "I was talking to Iceberg about some upcoming business, but I wanted to catch you before you disappeared upstairs."

Gon brightened. "Everything okay?"

Franky nodded, though his expression was more serious than usual. "As fine as it can be, considering we got word the Marine Admiral is arriving in three or four days.

Possibly sooner. Just wanted to give you a heads-up. Might see an influx of travellers, some might be pirates trying to lay low, or Marines prepping for a show of force. Could be chaotic."

Killua and Gon exchanged a glance. This was the first real sign of imminent upheaval. "We appreciate it," Killua said, choosing his words carefully. "We'll stay alert."

Franky gave them a thumbs-up. "That's the spirit." He glanced at the droplets clinging to his arms. "Anyway, I'd best go. Can't stand around here soaking the floors. See you two tomorrow, maybe. I've got a new part for my engine to test."

He shot them a quick grin and left. Gon and Killua watched him go, mulling over the news. The city they had grown so comfortable in might soon become a tinderbox if tensions sparked.

They ascended to their room, changed into fresh clothes, and sat near the window, gazing out at the rainfall that pattered steadily onto the canal.

In the reflection on the glass, Gon's eyes glowed with anticipation rather than fear. "I wonder if this Admiral's arrival will really cause trouble," he mused softly.

Killua crossed his legs, resting his chin on his palm. "Hard to say. But if pirates show up looking for a fight, or if the Marines come in guns blazing, Water 7 might not stay peaceful for long." He flicked his gaze to Gon's silhouette in the glass. "We'll have to decide how involved we want to get. We've seen enough conflict to know it can get messy fast."

Gon nodded, the lines of his face set in thoughtful seriousness. "True. But we also can't just stand by if the people we care about get caught in the crossfire."

The words hung in the air, a quiet promise that, for better or worse, they were bound to this city and its eccentric inhabitants, Franky, Iceberg, the Galley-La shipwrights, the helpful staff. Whether or not they had intended to form attachments, they had. It was in their nature.

Outside, the rain increased, streaming off rooftops and swirling in little eddies along the canal edges. Night thickened, and Water 7's lamps glowed more brightly, a softly lit tapestry against the dark sky.

Within Iceberg's house, warmth prevailed, flickering lights, the faint hush of distant conversation, and the comfortable hum of a safe haven.

Though neither Gon nor Killua could predict exactly what the next days would bring, they felt no regret for the friendships they were forging.

They would learn more, be it about this world's powers, its moral ambiguities, or the deeper motivations of pirates and Marines alike.