The next morning, Charlotte Mousse had just finished breakfast when he went straight to the long-waiting "Big Head," bent down, and crawled into its mouth. Since he could fly, only an idiot would take a ship!
Big Head was, after all, a true Big Head several meters across. The space inside its mouth was more than spacious enough for Charlotte Mousse, an eight-year-old child who had just celebrated the New Year. He could even lie down and sleep inside without issue.
With the further improved Gyro Navigator guiding them, nothing would go wrong before they reached the West Blue.
The scenery along the way was rather inconvenient to admire, though. At Big Head's top speed of over five hundred kilometers per hour, even a slightly wider gap between its teeth would let the savage cold wind blow straight through Mousse to the bone.
After more than a year of adjustment, Big Head had become far more mature than before. Not only had it mostly gotten rid of its chatterbox habit, it had also become much more reliable in its work.
Mousse no longer had to worry about it suddenly doing something stupid, opening its mouth, and dropping its master to his death. Whenever Mousse needed to speak to it, he merely had to tap somewhere inside its mouth, and Big Head would cleverly stop to await its master's instructions.
For instance, it could lean slightly forward so Mousse could piss out his boyish urine and see who below was lucky enough to win the jackpot.
At certain times, Big Head would even take the initiative to descend closer to the sea or the ground without needing instructions from Mousse, such as when they needed to ask for directions.
The Grand Line truly was not that wide. That very morning, Charlotte