On the main part of Fish-Man Island was a residential district made of coral and stacked up like the inside of a beehive. The upper levels were more expensive, with plenty of sunlight—the neighborhood of the wealthy, Fishverly Hills. Down below, the commoners’ homes were concentrated for greater density.
And near the bottom, at a restaurant that was far from fancy, a small uproar was underway.
“What’s up with him?”
“He fell asleep in the middle of eating!”
The customers whispered and murmured among themselves, glancing occasionally at the counter.
Specifically, at a young human guest.
Despite the sunlight, Fish-Man Island was still ten thousand meters under the sea, and the surrounding water temperature was quite cold, yet the man was only wearing shorts, a hat and no shirt. It was more common to see human visitors dressed as though they were visiting a winter island.
There was also a tattoo on his arm. That wasn’t rare; the vast majority of human visitors to Fish-Man Island were pirates, after all.
The young man appeared to have plunged face-first into the large plate of fish before him on the counter. In each hand was a fork with a morsel of meat stuck on the end. He was as still as the dead.
“Um…sir?” inquired a waitress.
“Pwoa!!”
“Ah!”
He bolted upright suddenly, looking around in utter bewilderment.
“Hmm?” He spotted the waitress, and for reasons only he could explain, used her apron to wipe his face.
“Eeek!”
“What kind of fish-man are you, Miss?” the freckled, mischievous-looking young man said, leaning in close. The waitress wasn’t entirely sure how to react.
“E…eel. ♥”
“In that case, Miss, I’ll have some more eel pie. And a mug of the bubbly stuff.”
“Eeeeek!” the eel fish-man waitress shrieked, wriggling her way back to the kitchen.
“Phew… Oh, man,” said the young man, scratching his head. “I passed out for a minute.”
It was at that point that he realized he was the center of attention of the other diners. Why did he pass out midbite? What kind of disorder does he have?
“Sorry for disturbing your meal, folks,” he apologized, and resumed gobbling down his food.
The very odd man with the peculiarly timed courtesy confused the other guests, but they seemed willing to let it go, and turned back to the conversations at their own tables.
“Passin’ out while you eat? What’s that all about?”
“Hmm?” The young man raised his head.
A plate of eel pie was before him, but it hadn’t come from the waitress. It came from a fierce-looking man with his long hair tied up in the back.
“So I got a ship, right? There are tough guys on board, smart guys on board, but there’s one thing we’re missing.”
“What’s that?”
“We don’t have a cook. So when I get to eat at a delicious place like this, my heart passes out from joy.”
“Heh… Gee, thanks.”
“What kind of fish-man are you, Mister?”
“I’m a goatsbeard brotula merman, actually. And before you ask, we’re out of brotula today.”
“Mmm,” murmured the young man, popping the fresh-baked pie, which featured several eel heads, directly into his mouth. Indeed, the merman’s lower half ended in fishy fins.
“You’re a bold young pirate to be here all alone,” said the goatsbeard brotula merman from across the counter.
“Oh yeah? Hey, this is tasty.”
“Haven’t you heard about the recent attacks at Fish-Man Island? Happens to human pirates, and even some fish-men who cooperate with humans.”
“Sounds violent… Yeah, this is some good eel.”
“Hey. Listen to me.”
“So who’s attacking who?” the young man asked as he ate.
“It started years ago. Queen Otohime of Ryugu Kingdom lost her life,” explained the merman, wiping a glass with a rag.
He described how, until about two hundred years ago, fish-men and mermen were classified as “fish” by humans. That was when the Ryugu Kingdom was finally allowed to join the World Government and attend the Reverie, the meeting of world leaders. But the humans continued to despise the fish-men, and naturally, the fish-men did not take kindly to humans, either.
Queen Otohime spoke passionately about coexisting with the humans, and gathered signatures for her petition.
“Queen Otohime really wanted us to find harmony with you humans. But someone who didn’t take kindly to that idea assassinated her.”
“Ah…”
The young man glanced at the wall. There was a wanted poster there, but not the bounty posters that the World Government and the Navy sent out. This one was only for within the Ryugu Kingdom.
The wanted man’s name was Vander Decken.
“And that guy did it?” the young man asked, pointing to the poster.
“No…he’s a different case.”
There was a legend of the sea passed down by many a sailor. One stormy day a pirate captain went mad and hurled his crew overboard, drowning them. God was furious about the captain’s actions and sentenced him to eternal torment, doomed to wander the sea forever.
Dead men’s fingers have no need for jewels. The darkness hides even their regrets.
Find it! Find it! The sunken treasure is mine for the taking.
I’m the richest man in the world.
Captain Vander Decken!
It was the tale of a famous ghost ship that wandered the seafloor, known as the Flying Dutchman.
“Whatever generation of Vander Decken we’re on now…in any case he’s a pirate fish-man who ate a Devil Fruit. Who ever heard of doing such a thing?”
Devil Fruits were thought of as personifications of the devils of the sea. Anyone who took a bite of one would gain strange and mighty powers—able to transform into powerful beasts and birds, or turn their bodies into blades or bombs, or even become natural phenomena like fire and ice…
“A Devil Fruit, huh?”
There was one major cost, a curse the Devil Fruit conferred. In exchange for its power, the person who possessed that power became an enemy of the sea. Not only did their powers no longer function if they fell into the sea, but they lost even the strength to swim or float on their own.