The Clever Old Man

Kuta was the pirate with the highest bounty he had ever seen in his life.

When the Marines issued Wanted Posters, they faxed them to every branch immediately.

Then they passed the posters to the World News Organization, whose News Coos carried them with the latest news across the world.

That was why Kuta's and Kuina's Wanted Posters had appeared first at Marine branches.

Elsewhere, the posters would arrive a few days later.

In remote places, they would take even longer.

The Marine on watch had noticed the Freedom as soon as it entered port. But its pirate flag had no skull on it, so he hadn't made the connection right away.

The windmill on the flag had merely looked familiar. He'd thought it belonged to some merchant ship he'd seen before!

So he'd paid it no mind.

But when Kuta and the others disembarked, he spotted Kuta's unmistakable silver hair. He jolted and instantly panicked.

I can't be this unlucky, can I?

He hurriedly pulled out the Wanted Poster the base had issued just two days earlier. The face printed on it was unmistakably Kuta's.

The sun outside was warm, but no amount of warmth could thaw the chill in his heart.

He looked up at Kuta again in disbelief, then quickly averted his eyes.

He didn't dare look a second longer, afraid Kuta would notice.

It really is him.

His eyes fell on the glaring 7 on the Wanted Poster and the long string of zeroes behind it.

It felt as though he were standing on a block of ice. A chill shot from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, making him shudder.

He stood frozen in the lookout post for a moment, then spun around and ran toward the Marine Base.

What the hell did this have to do with grunts like him?

Let the higher-ups deal with a pirate this dangerous.

He was going to find someone above him to take the heat.

Granted, he knew nobody at the little Marine Base on Prothius Island could handle Kuta.

But that was the higher-ups' problem. What did it have to do with a lowly patrolman like him?

Yep. Perfect plan.

The Clever Old Man

Creeeak!

A shrill sound rang through the quiet alley.

Kuta and Kuina stood outside the Town's only tavern. They gently pushed open its ancient wooden door and went in.

There wasn't a single customer in the dim tavern. It was silent.

All they could see was a wisp of blue smoke rising from behind the shadowy bar, with a few glowing sparks beyond it.

When they drew closer, they found a bearded old man reclining behind the bar, puffing away on a pipe!

The old man heard the door open but didn't move.

He had run a tavern on Prothius Island all his life, but he'd decided this year would be his last.

He was getting old, after all, and his son had no interest in taking over.

Eyes half-closed, the old man smoked contentedly, like some wealthy landowner lounging in bed with his opium pipe.

Only when Kuta sat on a tall stool at the bar did the old man crack an eye open and glance at him.

Tap!

Tap, tap!

Tap, tap, tap!

Kuta drummed his fingers on the bar in a steady rhythm.

He lowered his head and peered through the smoke at the old man behind it.

The old man looked like someone with stories to tell. The weight of years seemed to cling to him, impossible to hide.

"Sir, it's broad daylight and you haven't got a customer. Why not go outside and get some sun? Sit in the dark too long and you'll start growing mold!"

Pipe in his mouth, the old man rose at an unhurried pace and looked at the two of them through the dappled light coming in the window.

When he got a clear look at Kuta, he froze.

Then, as if he'd noticed nothing, he blew a smoke ring and said, "I'm old enough to have one foot in the grave. Sun or no sun, what difference does it make? You youngsters, though—you're something else."

"Oh? So you recognize us?"

Kuina caught the implication. Puzzled, she looked at the old man and asked him.

"No."

"You're sure?"

Kuina stared at him. What he'd just said made it obvious he recognized them both.

The old man didn't answer Kuina.

First, he exhaled a great cloud of smoke. He took the pipe from his mouth with his left hand and tapped it against the edge of the bar, knocking the ash out

of its bowl.

Then he put the pipe back in his mouth, took out some tobacco, packed the bowl, and lit it again.

Only then did he raise his head and slowly say to Kuina, "Some Marines who came by this morning seemed to be talking about you two."

"Marines?"

"Here. Take a look! They left these behind."

From who knew where, the old man produced two Wanted Posters and laid them on the bar.

Kuina snatched them up and looked them over.

"Kuta, they're our Wanted Posters!"

"Oh."

Kuta's reply was flat.

He clearly wasn't interested in the posters. The old man in front of him interested him far more.

He fixed the old man with a stare and deliberately lowered his voice. "Sir, if you recognize us, aren't you afraid?"

"Recognize you?"

The old man smoked his pipe and gazed at Kuta through narrowed eyes, looking baffled.

"Do I know you?"

Kuta watched him for a moment, then smiled. "Right. You don't know us. How could you?"

What a clever old man.

The old man was clearly an expert at playing dumb.

He recognized Kuta and Kuina, but pretended otherwise because he didn't want trouble.

"Oh, right, sir."

"How much farther is it to Loguetown from here?"

Kuta looked at the old man as he asked.

Their main route took them to Loguetown, then through the man-made canal on Reverse Mountain and into the Grand Line.

If they hadn't gone to Cocoyasi Village, they would probably already be on the Grand Line.

"Loguetown?"

"About another day's sailing, I'd say."

"One day?"

Excitement lit Kuta's eyes.

So we'll be on the Grand Line soon.

The East Blue had been far too dull for them. There hadn't been a challenge in sight.

Seeing his expression, the old man asked at his usual leisurely pace,

"So you're headed for the Grand Line?"

"Yeah!"

"It isn't easy to get there."

A distant look flashed through the old man's eyes.

"Oh... Have you been to the Grand Line, sir?"

Kuta had known from the start that the old man had a story. And here it was.

Curiosity showed on his face as he quickly asked,

"Could you tell us what happened on the Grand Line?"

The old man took his pipe from his mouth and shook off the ash. After a deep breath, he spoke slowly.

"This old man has never made it to the Grand Line."

"I wanted to go when I was young, but at Reverse Mountain, our ship failed to enter the man-made canal. It was wrecked, and everyone else died."

"If I hadn't been lucky enough to be rescued by the lighthouse keeper at Reverse Mountain, I'd never have come back."

The old man's hand trembled as he smoked.

What had happened back then clearly still haunted him.

"It's that dangerous?"

Surprise flickered across Kuta's face.

"It is. Very."

The old man took a puff, then continued. "Who knows how many ships set out for the Grand Line each year? Maybe half of them actually make it."

"The currents at Reverse Mountain are more than an ordinary ship can handle. And the entrance to the man-made canal is so narrow that without a good navigator, you'll never get in."

"Oh."

Kuta shrugged, suddenly losing interest in the old man's experience.

All he cared about now was the Grand Line.

As for Reverse Mountain...

To them, it would be little different from riding a roller coaster at an amusement park.

Seeing how little Kuta cared about either his story or Reverse Mountain, the old man lost the urge to say more.

For ordinary people, Reverse Mountain was a road to hell.

But to a pirate with a seventy-million-berry bounty, it might be nothing more than a narrow waterway.

He picked up two glasses and wiped them clean, then poured Kuina a glass of juice and Kuta a glass of liquor.

After running a tavern for so many years, the old man could tell at a glance who drank and who didn't.

"Thank you, sir."

Kuina accepted the juice and thanked him.

She really wasn't fond of alcohol.

Kuta, on the other hand, was a different story.