East Blue

By the time the warship docked at Shells Town, dawn had just broken.

Jack stood at the bow, swept his gaze across the harbor, then walked down the gangway.

No one knew how he had survived the past three days. One thing was certain: he had taken plenty of Fists of Love.

The ship behind him was a standard midsize warship, its hull gray-white and the sails on its two masts billowing gently in the morning breeze. Iron frames enclosed the paddle wheels near the stern. It dwarfed the Patrol Boat he had acquired in the West Blue. Cannons lined both sides, while Marines on deck coiled the ropes with brisk, quiet efficiency.

Major Helena Bell disembarked behind him.

She wore a standard Marine major's uniform, with a dark gray satchel slung over her left shoulder. It bulged with contents, and the corner of a rolled sea chart poked out. In her hand was a waterproof notebook. A neatly written label on the cover read "East Blue · Navigation Log." She stopped one meter from Jack's side.

"Shells Town Marine Base is on the east side of town," she said evenly, as though reading from a form. "The commanding officer is Colonel Morgan."

Jack said nothing and headed east. Vice Admiral Tsuru had assigned Major Helena Bell as his aide. Whether she was there to watch him or not, Jack had handed her all the work. If she was coming along, she might as well keep busy.

Shells Town's streets were narrow and long. Most of the buildings were two-story wooden houses with shops on the ground floor selling dried fish, rope, and old ironware. Their signs swung in the wind. Few people were out. Several old men sat smoking on their doorsteps. When they saw Jack approaching, their cigarettes paused halfway to their mouths before they lowered their heads and pretended to study the ground.

They recognized a Marine uniform, but they had never seen anyone so tall. At two and a half meters, Jack stood out in a place like the East Blue. His shoulders nearly brushed the doorframes on either side, and every step of his boots on the stone road landed with a steady, heavy thud.

The base was a two-story gray-brick building. The lettering on its sign had faded, its edges frayed. A middle-aged man in a colonel's uniform stood at the entrance and watched Jack approach. His eyes flicked over Jack's shoulder insignia—colonel—then withdrew.

"Colonel Jack. I'm Colonel Morgan, commander of the Shells Town Marine Base. Headquarters sent a telegram last night saying you'd arrive today."

Jack nodded and walked past him.

Inside the ground-floor office stood an old wooden desk spread with a chart of the East Blue. Several stacks of documents and an open dossier lay at one corner. Jack sat down. The chair creaked under his weight but held. He picked up the dossier and leafed through it.

Helena stood behind him, pulled another booklet from her satchel, opened it, and set pen to paper.

"Headquarters lists five wanted Devil Fruit users still at large in the East Blue," Helena said. "But three haven't appeared in any sighting reports for over a month. Two are currently active in the area and have confirmed Devil Fruit abilities."

Jack did not turn around. "Go on."

"The first is 'Lion Fang,' bounty: 42 million Beli. User of the Cat-Cat Fruit, Lion Form. He was confirmed aboard a merchant ship hijacked seventy nautical miles south of Shells Town three months ago. Informants say he has since occupied Bone Reef Island. It's about half a day's sail from here. The island is uninhabited, but pirates often use it as a temporary base." Helena's pen moved across the page as she spoke, her pace even and every word clear. "The second is 'Chameleon,' bounty: 38 million. A Zoan user with a chameleon fruit. Chameleon disappeared after appearing on Dawn Island six months ago. We have no reliable information on a base of operations."

Jack turned to the page bearing Lion Fang's photograph. Cut from a wanted poster, the black-and-white image showed a man with a square face, a broad chin, thick eyebrows, and a downturned mouth. The notes beside it listed his weapons and known abilities: a marked increase in strength and speed after partial transformation, with a preference for fighting at night. A handwritten line below added: "Subject injured five pursuing Marines. Suspected of possessing limited Armament Haki."

Jack's gaze rested on that line for a second. Then he closed the dossier.

"Bone Reef Island."

Helena's pen paused, then resumed moving. "When do we depart?"

"Now."

He rose and headed for the door. Helena shut her notebook, slipped it into her satchel, and followed at an unhurried pace, keeping one meter to his side.

Half a day later, Bone Reef Island appeared on the horizon.

From a distance, it looked less like an island than a massive coral reef something had gnawed on. Nothing grew above the waterline. The gray-white coral rock was riddled with holes and cracks of every size. Wind moaned through them, low and hollow, like bone scraping against sandpaper—or something breathing in the dark.

Jack jumped from the warship's gangway onto the reef. His boots crunched against the coral rock.

He took no one with him. Helena stood by the warship's rail, watching him through binoculars from several hundred meters away. She said nothing. Her job was to eliminate any pirates who tried to escape by boat.

Jack followed a passage through the reef for roughly two hundred meters. It opened onto a clearing ringed by coral rock. A campfire burned in the middle, with seven or eight people seated around it and two more dozing against the rocks nearby. An iron pot hung over the flames. Something simmered inside, a sheen of oil floating on the broth.

Jack kept walking. The crunch of his boots on the coral made the two nearest men look up.

The first had a cigarette stub between his lips. His eyes went from Jack's boots to his white uniform trousers, then to his colonel's uniform, and finally up to his full height. The cigarette fell from his mouth onto his leg. He jumped at the burn and cried out.

"Ma—Marines!"

Everyone around the fire sprang into motion. One man scrambled up and grabbed a sword. Another reached for the gun at his waist. Someone else backed away in search of cover. They were too slow. Jack had already reached the center of the clearing. The man on the far left finally drew his gun, aimed at Jack's chest, and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed between the rocks. The bullet struck Jack's left breast.

The fabric of his uniform dimpled, then the bullet ricocheted away, bounced off a nearby rock, and rolled into the fire. It had not pierced the cloth or touched his skin. It had not even scuffed the fabric. Jack glanced down at the crease, smoothed it with a finger, and looked up.

Yes, Jack had already activated Armament Haki.

Now I finally understand why Sasuke used Amaterasu on every dog he passed after unlocking the Mangekyo. Using it to swat flies and mosquitoes is a waste, sure, but it feels amazing.

The gunman froze. He looked at his weapon, then at Jack's uniform. His mouth hung open, and a muddled sound escaped his throat, as if he were searching for words and finding none.

Jack walked up and seized the man by the collar. The fabric pulled taut in his fist as he lifted him off the ground like a loosely tied sack of rice. The man kicked wildly, his face reddening. His gun fell, bounced twice on the coral, and came to rest. Jack swung his arm and hurled him into the rocks on the right. His back struck with a dull thud. He slid down and lay still.

A sword swept in from the side. Its edge struck Jack's left shoulder with a dull clang. The blade crumpled like paper, its edge curling inward in a rippling line. The swordsman's grip split open, and blood ran down his wrist. He stared at his sword, then at Jack's shoulder, and forced out a word.

"Monster."

Jack ignored him. He kept walking, flicking the man aside with his left hand. The swordsman staggered back, planted a foot on the edge of the fire, and leaped at the burn. He fell beside the campfire and knocked over the pot. Broth spilled across the coral rock, hissing into a cloud of white steam.

The others no longer dared move. Two crouched in a corner, still clutching their swords, but the blades shook like leaves in an autumn wind. Another leaned against a distant rock. He had been dozing before the gunshot woke him and had not moved since. He stared straight at Jack, his lips trembling soundlessly.

Jack reached the far end of the clearing. A raised shelf of coral rock stood there like a natural chair, draped with a spotted animal hide. A man sat on it with his back against the rock wall, a clay bowl and half a grilled fish before him. He had remained seated since Jack entered the clearing. He had not stood, fled, or reached for a weapon.

He was larger than the others, with broad shoulders, thick arms, and prominent knuckles. He put the last piece of fish into his mouth, chewed twice, swallowed, and set the clay bowl beside his feet.

"A Marine colonel."

As he stood, his outline began to change. Bones gave faint cracks beneath his skin. His shoulders widened, his chest expanded, and the muscles in his arms grew heavier. His hair thickened, turning from gray-black to light brown. A mane grew from his temples, running from his ears to his jaw. His fingernails thickened and curved, translucent claws extending half an inch beyond his fingertips and gleaming like bone in the sunlight.

Zoan. Cat-Cat Fruit, Lion Form. Partial transformation complete.

When Lion Fang opened his mouth, two fangs in each jaw had grown longer and sharper. His round pupils narrowed into vertical slits, and his irises faded to the color of diluted amber. He stood more than ten centimeters taller than before. Though he was still nearly a head shorter than Jack, his transformed body carried a different kind of menace.

He looked at Jack, one corner of his mouth twitching. There was no fear or anger in his voice, only the irritation of a man whose peace had been disturbed.

"Can't you Marines stay out at sea? What are you doing on my lousy island? Are you flies? Always buzzing toward whatever stinks?"

He did not wait for an answer. He leaned forward, bent his knees, and drove off the ground like a stone fired from a sling. The force of his leap shattered a corner of the coral beneath his foot. Chips flew out and struck a nearby rock, scattering white dust.

His first claw strike slashed diagonally from Jack's left shoulder toward his right ribs. Five arcs flashed through the air, so fast they left a thin whistle in their wake. The claws cut five long, narrow slits through Jack's uniform, exposing the white lining beneath. But the moment their tips touched the lining, they stopped. They could go no farther.

The resistance against Lion Fang's claws was all wrong. They could tear through sheet metal, shatter ordinary bones, and cut through planks and ship hulls. Now they had met something denser than iron. His nails could not push past that first point of contact. It was like scraping them against polished steel. He could not even leave a mark.

He glanced at his claws. All five tips had curled inward, their sharp points blunted as though ground down by force. Fine cracks had appeared where the tips met the rest of the nails. Blood seeped through, slid down their surfaces, and gathered into a drop at his fingertip before falling onto the coral.

He stared at the curled tips. His slit pupils contracted. The attack had not slowed his body, but his mind stalled for a fraction of a second. What was that? Why had his claws curled? How could this man's body be harder than his nails?

Jack loved the old-school approach: open with a hefty dose of Haki.

When you've got power to spare, you blanket the target with it. Damn, it feels good.

Jack raised his right hand beside him, black light gleaming across his knuckles. His fist came in from the side and struck just below Lion Fang's left ear. The contact area was small, but the impact spread outward the instant it landed, driving into the joint between jaw and skull.

Lion Fang's head snapped right with a muffled crack from his neck. His body followed. His knees hit the coral first, then his hands, before he toppled onto his side. As he rolled, his body reverted to human form. The partial transformation faded before he came to rest: his shoulders narrowed, his mane withdrew beneath his skin, and his claws became ordinary nails again, though their edges remained curled and blood seeped from the cracks.

He lay facedown. Blood flowed from his mouth and spread across the coral, following its grooves before soaking into the rough stone. His lips moved, but no sound came out. The punch had cracked his jaw. His ears rang, his vision swayed, and his slit pupils had become two unfocused circles.

Jack crouched, grabbed Lion Fang by the back of his collar, and turned him over. Lion Fang lay on his back, bloody foam bubbling from his mouth. His eyes were half closed, his pupils unfocused, and his shallow breaths rattled with phlegm. Jack planted his hand on the man's chest, curled his fingers, and drove a punch down. The resistance was steady but slight, like crushing an already cracked roof tile underfoot. Lion Fang's body twitched once, then went still.

A system notification lit up at the edge of Jack's vision. He ignored it, stood, and picked up a spotted animal hide from a nearby rock. He glanced at the five slits running from his left shoulder to his right ribs. His uniform was torn, exposing the white lining beneath, but the lining was undamaged. He brushed off the dust, used the hide to wipe blood from his knuckles, and tossed it beside the campfire.

He pulled out his Den Den Mushi. "Helena, come clean up."

He turned and headed back. None of the pirates slumped in the corners looked up as he passed. One buried his face in his knees. Another curled around his sword, clutching it tight but not daring to draw it. Someone was still shaking. Jack paid them no attention.

Helena led fifty Marines from the ship to round up the remaining pirates.

"Sir."

Helena approached from behind and stopped two paces away. "Which target next? Chameleon disappeared near the Goa Kingdom, and there have been no reliable sightings. The other three on the list were last seen near Loguetown, but those reports are three months old. They may no longer be useful."

Jack did not turn around.

"Go to the Goa Kingdom."

Helena made a note. "Goa Kingdom. Estimated travel time: a day and a half. Do we need to stop for supplies along the way?"

"No."

Jack turned his gaze from the sea to the list. Four wanted Devil Fruit users remained in the East Blue. Chameleon had disappeared in Loguetown, the Spring-Spring Fruit user was near the Goa Kingdom, and there were also a Zoan user and a Paramecia user. But their sighting reports were a month old.

The four seas were too vast, and Devil Fruit users were scattered across them. Every wanted criminal would take time to track down, find, and kill. What a waste. I'll kill a couple more criminals, then come up with an excuse to leave the East Blue for the Grand Line. I can say I chased a pirate there.

Right, the sacrifice rewards. They were Snake Woman's Q, Miss Fortune's E, and a Hextech Rune: Magic Missile.

None of the three offered any substantial boost to Jack's strength. He picked Magic Missile almost as a formality. At least it could work with Mystic Shot.

Jack glanced at the system panel.

Heartsteel stacks: 120/130. Dark Harvest: 48. Damnation: 32.