Juice and Whiskey

Early the next morning, before the fog over Orange Town had fully dispersed, the sign of the Red Skull Tavern was already swaying in the sea breeze. The bloody stench from last night had been blown away over the course of the night, leaving only a few brown traces in the cracks between the paving stones.

The tavern was much darker inside than outside. Its windows were small, and the morning light squeezing through was only enough to illuminate a small patch in front of the bar. Broken tables and chairs had been piled in the corner, chairs with snapped legs stacked atop tables split in two. The hall was empty, with only one person standing behind the counter.

Koldo had been waiting there for quite some time.

He had changed into clean clothes, replacing his dusty old shirt with a dark blue coarse-cloth jacket. Standing before the counter, he heard the door hinges turn, his body tensing slightly before immediately relaxing.

"Gentlemen."

His waist bent at just the right angle, neither servile nor defiant. Like someone who had spent seven years at the docks, he knew when to lower his head and when to raise it.

His back bent at just the right angle, neither servile nor defiant. Like someone who had spent seven years at the docks, he knew when to lower his head and when to raise it.

Damian walked in front, with Barlow and Roy at his sides and Mila bringing up the rear.

All four had changed into clean clothes. Mila had burned the four sets of blood-soaked clothes from last night in an iron barrel by the docks.

They sat at the table in the middle, the very same one where the burly man had sat yesterday. The table remained, as did the gouge in its surface, but the burly man was gone.

Koldo gestured toward the back of the counter.

"Joey, we have distinguished guests."

A bartender rose from the corner behind the counter. He had not been there last night; when Koldo left the tavern yesterday evening, he had taken him along.

Joey was the only person in the Red Skull who had no connection to the Sea Serpent Gang.

His only duties were wiping glasses, pouring drinks, and hiding beneath the counter before fights broke out. Last night, he had hidden in the little house he rented. Hearing the sounds from the docks, he had bolted his door tight.

This morning, Koldo had knocked on his door and told him the tavern would open as usual, the glasses would still be wiped, and yesterday's events were to be treated as unseen. Joey had not asked why.

In Orange Town, people who did not ask why tended to live longer.

He came out from behind the counter, carrying a bottle of whiskey and several glasses.

The label on the bottle had been soaked through with water, its writing blurred into a mess, but the stamped words at the bottom—"Wind Organ Archipelago Distillery"—remained perfectly clear.

He set a glass before each of the four in turn, pouring Damian's first. Amber liquor slid down the inner wall of the glass, its aroma spilling from the rim. Then he poured glasses for Barlow and Roy as well.

He stopped in front of Mila.

His hand left the whiskey bottle and reached toward the other side of the counter, taking a glass from the shelf.

He placed it in front of Mila. With his other hand, he felt around in the lower cabinet and pulled out a ceramic jar filled with locally made Orange Town orange juice.

He pulled the wooden stopper from the jar and poured the orange juice into the small glass. The orange-yellow liquid ran down the side more slowly than whiskey, thicker than whiskey.

He filled it to seventy percent and stopped.

Mila looked at the glass of orange juice.

She reached out but did not take the small glass.

Her hand passed over the orange juice and the small glass, reaching for the whiskey bottle Joey still held. Her five fingers closed around its body and pulled it from his hand. Joey's fingers remained frozen in the air, still curled as though gripping the bottle.

She picked up the small glass of orange juice and held it out to Joey.

"Drink it."

Joey looked at Koldo. Koldo's eyes flicked slightly toward Mila, the movement so small that his eyelids had not even finished blinking.

Joey had wiped glasses at the Red Skull for so long that he understood that look.

He took the small glass and tipped his head back. The orange juice rushed down his throat. He drank too fast, and a trickle spilled from the corner of his mouth, running down his chin and into his collar.

He set the empty glass back on the counter. Its bottom struck the wooden surface with a brief, crisp sound.

Mila pulled the stopper from the whiskey bottle and took another empty glass. She poured it seventy percent full.

Joey retreated. He backed behind the counter, then farther into its innermost corner, picked up a rag, and began wiping a glass that had already been wiped.

His back was slightly hunched, his shoulders drawn inward, trying to make his body take up as little space behind the counter as possible.

Koldo stepped forward. He did not sit. There were four seats, for four Uchiha. There was no seat for him.

"Gentlemen, the Sea Serpent Gang is gone now."

"The Orange Town docks are now under your command. Warehouses, fish markets, shipowners—if you have the means, you can swallow it all."

Barlow tapped a finger against the tabletop. His gaze left Koldo's face and settled on the whiskey bottle on the table.

What he had originally planned to do in Orange Town would have taken much longer.

First, he would establish himself at the docks, rent warehouses, identify supply sources, gather shipowners, cycle the Konomi Archipelago's catches and the Wind Organ Archipelago's fruit through his hands a few times, build up his first capital, and only then begin dealing with the forces at the docks.

But now, in a single night, he had completed a plan that would have taken more than half a year.

He smiled, a rare sight, as though confirming that last night's blood had not been shed for nothing.

"Take it over." He lifted his finger from the table. "Take over all the Sea Serpent Gang's berths. Keep the dockworkers on as before, raise their wages by ten percent, cut shipowners' berthing fees by five percent, and leave freight owners' transfer fees unchanged."

Koldo's eyelid twitched.

Raise wages, lower berthing fees, leave transfer fees unchanged. That meant the income after taking over would be lower than under the Sea Serpent Gang. Where would the missing portion be made up?

Barlow did not give him long to think.

"How many independent shipowners are there at the docks?"

"More than twenty ships. They're all small single-masted cargo vessels. The owners are their own captains, hiring two or three sailors to run short routes."

"Do their ships sail full?"

Koldo thought for a moment. "They can fill up on the outbound trip. The Konomi Archipelago's catches and the Wind Organ Archipelago's fruit have stable supplies. But on the return trip..."

"How empty are they on the return trip?"

"At least thirty percent, sometimes half."

Barlow laid out his planned trade route: leaving Orange Town, passing through the Konomi Archipelago, the Goa Kingdom, Loguetown, and White Wax Island before returning. He would have those shipowners conduct trade according to the cargo lists and routes he provided. He intended to establish a merchant association, offering free ship repairs and profit-sharing to win those shipowners over completely.

He lowered his hand from the table.

Koldo's lips parted slightly. He had spent seven years at Orange Town's docks and had seen countless people who wanted to make money from them.

Some relied on their fists, some on their connections, but the man before him was different.

"But Orange Town is more than just its docks."

Mila's voice came from the other side of the table.

Koldo turned toward her, his shoulders unconsciously drawing in a little.

"What's the situation in town?" Mila asked.

Koldo fell silent for a beat. For those who made their living at the docks, talking about matters in town always made their tongues grow heavier.