“Somethin’ funny about that?”
“You gotta admit, a fish-man who can’t swim is pretty funny,” the young man said, snorting at the wanted pirate named Vander Decken.
“The late Queen Otohime had three sons and one daughter. And would you believe it, that shameless Vander Decken asked the daughter, Princess Shirahoshi, to marry him.”
“Whoa. Is it a crime to ask someone to marry you here?”
“It is if you’re an undesirable stalker. He keeps trying to coerce her into accepting his request.”
Long story short, the fish-man pirate Vander Decken the Somethingth, a man who couldn’t swim, was using his Devil Fruit powers to threaten the Princess Shirahoshi and the Ryugu royal family. In order to shelter from his power’s attacks, she’d been forced into hiding for years in a palace called Shell Tower.
“Sounds violent.”
“These are the times we live in.”
“What’s the king doing, then? He’s gotta be pretty tough if he’s the king, right? Can’t he keep his own daughter safe?”
“Eh?”
“If he can’t, sounds like he could be at imminent risk of a coup d’état,” observed the young man, taking another sip of his drink.
“Watch what you say around here, youngster.” The bartender stopped wiping his glass.
“Sorry. My bad. I’m a pirate; an outsider. Doesn’t matter to me what happens in places I’m just passing through,” said the man, chowing down on one of the eel heads from the pie. He had an appetite as ravenous as flames licking across grassland in a drought.
“You mentioned a coup. That’s not gonna happen. There are two men who would quickly attend to any such attempts.”
“Two?” said the young man, his voice perked with interest for the first time at what the merman had to say. The air positively crackled with tension. He was about six feet tall and in his late teens. His freckled face and lithe figure still had a boyish look, but it was clear he was not one to be taken lightly.
“A man you humans call Jimbei, First Son of the Sea. He works as one of the Seven Warlords.”
“Seven Warlords…”
“Speakin’ of which, they were talkin’ about some wild young rookie who just turned down an offer to join that group. Anyway, the only reason Jimbei’s there is because of the Sun Pirates, a group started by the abolitionist hero Fisher Tiger, who—”
“I’m not interested in the past.” The young man lifted his glass and held it across the counter for more. The brotula merman filled it from the barrel behind him, glaring.
“And who’s the other one? Who’s really ruling Fish-Man Island? The king? A Warlord?” asked the young man, gazing at the fresh suds on the refilled mug.
“Edward Newgate.”
That was a name that carried weight.
“Fish-Man Island is in the territory of Whitebeard, Emperor of the Sea. King Neptune’s an old friend of Whitebeard’s. So there won’t be any coups here.”
The customers of the restaurant began to murmur among themselves.
“Did you see the Whitebeard Pirates’ flag flying over the harbor?”
“I’ll never forget that day! He just said the word and suddenly messing with Fish-Man Island was off-limits!”
“Whitebeard protects this island with his flag and his name!”
“We trust Whitebeard the pirate more than we do the World Government!”
Emboldened by their drinks, the fish-man customers continued to praise his name.
The goatsbeard brotula merman spoke about the day that Edward Newgate arrived. It was not long after the start of the Great Age of Piracy, when Fish-Man Island found itself ravaged by a storm of pirates.
“I owe Neptune from our younger days,” said Whitebeard, placing his flag over Fish-Man Island in honor of his connection to their king, with whom he’d shared drinks and friendship.
The other pirates were stunned; they’d been enjoying all the pillaging they wanted. And here he was, the world’s strongest pirate.
“Why’s he on the fish-men’s side?!”
“Quit ransackin’ my friend’s kingdom, you snot-nosed punks!”
“I declare Fish-Man Island to be my territory!”
With that simple statement, Fish-Man Island was safe at last. No pirate who visited would dare engage in kidnapping or pillaging. They could only be peaceful visitors, paying proper respect to Whitebeard as the code of honor demanded.
“Whitebeard, huh?”
The young man tilted back his mug and drained the rest of his drink. It was almost as though he meant to drink down Whitebeard himself.
“Phew. Thanks for the meal.” The young man slammed his mug down on the counter and stood up.
“What’s your name, young man?” called out the brotula merman.
The man turned back and gave him a brief glance.
“I’m just a wild young rookie. The one from your story, in fact.”
Silence.
“I’m Portgaz D. Ace. Even here at the bottom of the sea, you’re going to be hearing my name a lot, whether you want to or not.”
The restaurant was completely silent.
“Ace…” said the merman. “What’s the deal with that tattoo, then?” He pointed at the young man’s left arm.
The tattoo there read ASCE, but with the S crossed out. Was it possible that a person could get their own name as a tattoo and spell it wrong?
Portgaz D. Ace just smiled as if to say, Don’t ask stupid questions. He left the restaurant without another word.
The customers looked to the brotula merman, stunned.
“Aladdin…”
“It’s hard to get a read on him. Is he really so bold, or ignorant, or just plain stupid?”
There wasn’t a pirate alive who wouldn’t shiver at the mention of the name Whitebeard. Especially not a rookie. Even one with a bounty of nine digits making his way through Fish-Man Island to the New World wouldn’t be foolish enough to cause trouble in Whitebeard’s territory.
The merman Aladdin, a member of a fish-man pirate crew, just crossed his arms and frowned. “Now, what shall I tell Jimbei?”
“Ah!” the eel waitress gasped.
“What’s wrong?”
“That customer just left without paying…”
“What?”