Dawn Island

When the warship docked at the port of the Goa Kingdom, the afternoon sun was blazing.

Several fishing boats and a merchant ship crowded the two sides of the pier. Seawater had left the paint on their hulls peeling and patchy, and the names on their bows were too blurred to read.

Helena came down from the bridge and stood beside Jack, speaking in an even tone.

"Colonel, our target is a Spring-Spring Fruit user with a bounty of 24 million Beli. His last confirmed sighting was near the capital of the Goa Kingdom, two weeks ago. The city garrison hasn't found any trace of him, and the locals' descriptions are vague."

Jack stood by the rail, looking over the capital beyond the port. The Goa Kingdom's buildings were neater than those in Shells Town, its streets wider. The walls were whitewashed, and the roofs were tiled in dark red. But few people were out. In the distance, several children crouched at the mouth of an alley playing with pebbles, while an old woman dried fish outside her door. The sea breeze carried the fish's salty, pungent smell toward him.

Helena's pen paused over the paper. She looked up. "If the Spring-Spring Fruit user is operating in this area, our chances of finding him in the Goa Kingdom are very low after two weeks without new intelligence. Unless he reveals himself."

Jack said nothing. He held out a hand, and Helena passed him the map. He unfolded it, took one look, then closed his eyes.

He released his Observation Haki.

He had learned it during those three days of special training with Garp. Garp's advice had amounted to, "Words won't teach you much. Broken bones make a better lesson," followed by three days of punches to Jack's face.

The sensation was strange, as though an invisible layer of feelers had grown beyond his body. He could sense everyone within several kilometers: where they were, the rhythm of their breathing, the strength of their heartbeats. It was neither sight nor sound, but a more direct flow of information. Like a thermometer measuring water, he didn't need to look to know.

His senses spread from the port like a net. The capital took shape within them: streets, houses, docks, alleys, people tucked into every gap. His awareness swept over the market in the town center, the old woman drying fish by the sea, the children playing with pebbles at the alley mouth, and the palace at the heart of the city.

He tapped the map a few times.

Then he opened his eyes, folded the map, and handed it back to Helena.

"We can't confirm whether the Spring-Spring Fruit user is still here," Jack said quietly. "But I sensed a few capable fighters around the Goa Kingdom. Rule out the ones who've lived here a long time, find the newcomers, and take them on one by one. We'll find him."

Helena took the map and glanced down at the creases his fingers had left. She made a note, then closed her notebook. "How many people do you need?"

"Pick a squad yourself."

With that, he walked down the gangway, his boots thudding against the pier's planks. Helena called over ten privates in standard Marine uniforms, rifles on their backs. They formed two columns behind her. She led them, keeping roughly three paces behind Jack, close enough to see the back of his head.

The residents saw them. As the squad moved from the port toward the city center, the streets grew busier. Pedestrians watched the Marines pass and instinctively stepped back to clear a path. A fishmonger forgot to lower the fish in his hand and only put it back on the cutting board after Jack had gone by. Several women talking at the roadside fell silent, their eyes following his enormous figure.

Jack walked quickly and did not stop in the town center. He crossed the main street, left by the northern exit, and took a dirt road. Low shrubs and fields lined both sides. The afternoon sun had left the crops slightly wilted, the edges of their leaves curling. Helena and the ten privates followed, their footsteps kicking up fine dust.

They walked for about twenty minutes. Around a bend stood a two-story gray-brick building, sturdier than the wooden houses in town. A faded sign hung above its entrance. Rain and wind had worn the words "Salam Tannery" almost beyond recognition. The small yard was enclosed by a low wall with weeds growing along its top.

Jack pushed the gate open and went in. No one was in the yard. Several unfinished hides lay piled on the ground, still flecked with salt and dried blood. The sharp smell of quicklime and animal pelts filled the air. Beside a wash trough in the corner lay a fleshing knife, its blade wet with some liquid. Jack sensed someone inside the building, breathing fast, heart pounding.

He neither called out nor waited. He crossed the yard to the main building and pushed open its half-closed door. It creaked inward. The hall was dim. Sacks were stacked against a wall, and an old workbench stood in a corner, its surface scattered with tools and scraps of hide. A lean man of about thirty stood by the stairs, gripping a long knife. Its blade was half an arm's length, its edge dull in the gloom.

The man's expression changed when he saw Jack. He had seen Marines before, but never a two-and-a-half-meter-tall Marine colonel walking into his tannery. His throat bobbed, and he raised the tip of his knife slightly, but said nothing.

Jack glanced at him. "I can sense what you've done. You beat three travelers to death. You buried two in the ditch behind the tannery and threw one down the well."

The man's wariness froze, then turned to panic. He did not ask how Jack knew. He swung his knife straight at him. The blade came down at an awkward angle, aimed at Jack's neck. Jack did not dodge. It struck his left shoulder with a dull thud. Jack caught the edge with his left hand as though it had hit hardwood. The blade curled, and the skin between the man's thumb and forefinger split. Blood seeped through his fingers and ran down the hilt.

Jack twisted his left wrist. The knife flew from the man's hand, spun once in the air, and landed hilt-first in Jack's grip. Jack tossed it onto the nearby sacks with a clang.

The man's hand was still shaking. Blood dripped from the torn skin, leaving small red spots on the floor. He stared at Jack, opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to speak but could find no words. Jack brought his fist around from the side, a faint black sheen coating his knuckles, and struck the man's jaw. Bone cracked sharply, like a dry branch snapping in two. He flew back a meter and hit the stair rail. It broke in the middle, and he fell onto the steps. His head lolled to one side, and he lay still.

Jack lowered his fist, took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped a speck of dust off his knuckles, then folded it and put it away. Without looking back at the man, he left the tannery. Helena stood at the yard gate.

"Aren't you going to question him?" she asked.

"No need. Search the places I pointed out. You'll find the bodies," Jack said evenly. "Besides, he didn't deny it. He attacked me. I wasn't wrong about him."

She nodded to the privates behind her. Two went into the tannery and dragged the body out, while two more searched the grounds. Jack had already left the yard. He took a few steps back along the dirt road, stopped, and pulled out the map. He unfolded it, tapped a mark west of town, folded it again, and headed that way.

Helena followed with the remaining Marines. She quickened her pace until she was beside Jack. "Sir, if we sweep the Goa Kingdom this way, the surrounding villages and outposts alone will take two or three days. We still don't know where the Spring-Spring Fruit user is."

Jack did not slow down. "He has a 24-million-Beli bounty. A man worth that much won't hide somewhere no one knows about. His ability stands out in the East Blue. Once he uses it, word will spread."

Helena's pen paused over the paper. "What if he deliberately hides his ability?"

"Then we keep fighting until he can't hide anymore. We might as well clear some trash out of the Goa Kingdom while we're at it."

Helena asked no more questions and followed him. Dust rose behind her boots, then scattered in the wind and vanished into the afternoon sunlight.