Captain, He’s Waving! #8

Captain Jack stood at the bow of the Jackdaw, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of water ahead. The sea was calm, almost unnaturally so, as the early morning light painted the sky in streaks of orange and gold.

He inhaled the salty breeze, letting it fill his lungs before exhaling slowly. A good day for sailing.

He turned his head slightly and caught sight of a familiar silhouette rising from the horizon. Even from this distance, it was unmistakable—a colossal tree that seemed to claw at the heavens, rooted in the middle of a relatively small island.

Torino.

A backwater lump of land on the farthest fringes of South Blue, where the people were strange, the birds were massive, and the rumors were just as ridiculous. According to some, the locals were a bunch of primitive brutes who spoke in grunts and worshiped their oversized chickens like gods.

Others claimed they were secret geniuses, scholars of medicine, hoarding knowledge the rest of the world could only dream of.

Jack didn't particularly care either way. What he did care about was avoiding the damn place.

Most merchants steered clear of Torino Island. It wasn't aligned with the World Government, and that was reason enough. Anything unaffiliated with the Government tended to come with a heap of trouble, whether it was smuggling, piracy, or straight-up war.

And Jack? He was a businessman. A simple man with simple goals—buy cheap, sell high, stay alive.

The only reason he was even this close to the island was because of his regular delivery run.

Impel Down.

Even thinking the name sent a cold shiver down his spine. The World Government's most notorious prison, a place from which no one escaped—at least, not without leaving something behind.

Technically, it was in the Calm Belt, just past the southernmost reaches of South Blue. And since no normal ship could reach it (because of the damn Sea Kings waiting to chomp down on anything that floated), the only way to get supplies there was through a carefully orchestrated handoff.

Jack had been making this run for ten years now. His ship would sail to a barren little rock at the edge of the Calm Belt, where he'd find a handful of Impel Down's transport ships waiting for him. He'd drop off the goods, they'd hand over his payment, and then he'd be on his way, preferably without seeing or hearing a single thing about the horrors locked away in that floating hell.

Nice. Simple. Profitable.

A voice behind him snapped him from his thoughts.

"Cap'n, you seein' what I'm seein'?"

Jack turned to his first mate, brow furrowing at the man's concerned tone. He followed the pointed finger toward the island—no, not the island. The water.

Something was moving across the sea's surface.

Fast.

Jack squinted, his seasoned eyes tracking the unidentified blur. It was cutting through the waves like a torpedo, heading directly for the Jackdaw. His heart thudded in his chest, instincts kicking in.

He'd caught glimpses of the monstrous sea beast that lurked around Torino Island before—huge, hungry, and ugly as sin. It had always kept its distance, but could it be that the damn thing had finally decided to pay them a personal visit?

"Bloody hell," he muttered, yanking a telescope from inside his coat. If it was the sea beast, then they were in for a hell of a time.

He raised the telescope to his eye, scanning the waves.

What he saw nearly made him drop the damn thing.

Jack froze. His mouth fell open. His first mate, watching his captain's face contort into an expression of pure disbelief, could only scratch his head.

"Uh… Cap'n?" the first mate ventured. "What're we lookin' at?"

Jack didn't answer. Instead, he lowered the telescope, rubbed his eyes furiously as if trying to reset his vision, then raised the telescope again.

No change.

Still there.

His shock only deepened.

The first mate was getting increasingly unnerved by his captain's unusual reaction. "What in the hell's gotten into you, Jack?"

Wordlessly, Jack shoved the telescope into his first mate's hands. "See for yourself."

The first mate hesitated, then lifted the scope to his eye.

And there it was.

A face. A human face.

A man was running—running—across the water like it was solid ground. The first mate blinked. Adjusted the focus. Blinked again.

Nope. Still there. Still real.

And worse?

The guy saw them looking.

The stranger grinned and raised a hand, giving them an energetic wave as if he were just a friendly neighbor jogging by.

The first mate turned to Jack, his expression full of unspoken questions. His mouth opened, ready to voice them—

WHAM.

A straight jab landed square on his face.

The first mate staggered back, blinking rapidly, more out of sheer disbelief than pain. He gingerly touched his nose, checking if his captain had actually just punched him. Finding it very much a reality, he snapped his head toward Jack with a murderous glare.

Jack, however, wasn't even looking at him. Instead, he was quizzically studying his own clenched fist, as if it had acted entirely on its own.

"What the hell was that for?!" the first mate demanded, rubbing his sore cheek.

Jack turned his gaze away from his fist and shrugged. "I was trying to see if this is a dream or something."

The first mate's eye twitched so hard it could've been mistaken for a medical condition. "You rotten bastard excuse of a captain!" he seethed. "A pinch would do in such a situation! And, in case you didn't know, people pinch themselves, not others!"

Jack hummed nonchalantly, seemingly unaffected by his first mate's outrage.

The first mate clenched his fist and took a step forward. "You know what?! I also think this is a dream! Come here and let me test it on you!"

Before he could exact his well-earned revenge, Jack swiftly raised a hand, adopting the most solemn expression he could muster. "Now's not the time for such nonsense," he intoned gravely.

The first mate froze mid-step, nostrils flaring. "Oh, now it's nonsense?!"

Jack nodded sagely. "Yes."

The first mate seriously considered grabbing him and chucking him overboard.

But as much as he wanted to yeet his captain into the sea, the man unfortunately had a point. Their focus needed to be on the thing—no, person—rapidly approaching them.

Taking a deep breath, he turned his glare back toward the bizarre figure, still running effortlessly across the waves like a lunatic who had forgotten how physics worked.

"So…" he exhaled, rubbing his temple. "What is that… and what the hell are we supposed to do about it?"

Jack pursed his lips, deep in thought. "Well," he said after a long pause. "I could punch it and see if it's real."

The first mate immediately reached for a nearby rope to strangle him with.

...

Gale's legs blurred as he dashed across the sea, his grin growing wider with every step.

'Holy crap, it actually worked!'

He hadn't really expected it to. Sure, he'd had the idea, but ideas were just that—ideas. And this one had come to him in the spur of the moment while standing on the shore, debating how to get to the merchant vessel without looking like a complete idiot.

Then he remembered Brook.

That creepy, lovable skeleton from the Straw Hats had once run across water with ease. The explanation? Since he was nothing but bones, he was light enough to pull it off. Not a skeleton joke, but a solid theory.

Inspired, Gale had thought, Hey, I can manipulate density! Maybe I can pull this off too.

So, with absolutely no preparation (or common sense), he had decreased the density of his entire body—except for his leg muscles—and took a running start into the ocean.

He fully expected to fail, but instead?

He ran.

On water.

Like some kind of ocean ninja.

For a brief moment, he had almost turned around just to flex on the Torino Island birds watching from the treetops. Bet y'all can't do this, he had wanted to yell. But there was no time—his destination was already in sight.

Still, this technique wasn't without its flaws. With his bones so much lighter, they weren't sturdy enough to handle his full strength for long. He had maybe a couple of minutes before he turned himself into a spaghetti-limbed mess.

'But I don't need a couple of minutes. The ship's right there.'

With a final burst of speed, he shifted the density in his legs again, tensing his muscles—

And launched himself skyward with a mighty leap.

The sea curved beneath him as he soared, flipping mid-air like an acrobat at a circus. His landing was flawless—graceful, even. Right in the middle of the deck, smooth as could be.

He barely had time to prepare his "thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week" bow before freezing at the sight in front of him.

One man was straddling another, trying to choke him out with a rope.

Gale blinked.

The two men blinked back at him.

A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft creak of the ship and the strained gurgling of the guy currently being strangled.

Gale slowly raised a hand. "Sooo… Is this a bad time to ask if this is a bad time...?"

...

Gale sat across from Jack in the captain's quarters, hands folded on the wooden table between them. Unlike his earlier appearance—complete with bulging eyes and a rope half-strangling the life out of him—Jack now looked far more dignified.

The disheveled mess had been replaced with a composed, serious air, like a man who hadn't just been minutes away from getting choked out in front of his crew.

The room itself was surprisingly well-kept, considering it belonged to a merchant captain. The faint scent of tobacco and old parchment lingered in the air, mixing with the salty breeze coming through a half-open window.

Maps, compasses, and navigational tools were scattered across the desk, along with a bottle of rum that looked like it had seen better days.

Jack leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. His sharp eyes studied Gale carefully, still clearly unsettled by what he had witnessed earlier.

"Alright, lad," he said finally, his voice carrying that calm, calculating tone of a man who had seen a lot in his time. "Who are you, and what exactly are you doing on my ship?"

Gale grinned, as casually as if he had just walked through the front door of a tavern instead of barrelled onto the deck from the open ocean like a lunatic. "Harlow Gale," he introduced himself, giving a small nod. "I boarded your ship 'cause I need passage to the nearest island. And by that, I mean somewhere civilized, not just some random hunk of rock in the middle of the sea."

Jack raised a brow, clearly amused by the clarification.

"To pay for the ride, I've got furs and medicine," Gale continued. "And if that's not enough, I also know my way around injuries—so I can be a temporary doctor. Or, if you'd rather, I can guard the ship along the way." He shrugged. "You know, in case things get spicy."

Jack was silent for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table. It was obvious he was weighing the offer, not entirely sure what to make of the strange young man sitting before him.

A doctor? Didn't need one.

Furs and medicine? Decent payment, but not exactly a game-changer.

A guard? Now that was interesting.

Lately, there had been an increase in pirate sightings. The seas weren't as safe as they used to be, and while Jack wasn't one to start trouble, he was smart enough to know that trouble had a way of finding people like him.

Besides…

Jack exhaled through his nose, eyeing Gale with mild suspicion.

The young man was runing on water.

That alone told him two things:

One, Gale was no ordinary young man.

Two, he had eaten some kind of Devil Fruit.

Jack had neither the interest nor the nerve to try and figure out what kind, but it was enough to know that Gale was the kind of person you'd rather have on your side than against you.

Finally, Jack leaned forward and nodded.

"You're more than welcome to stay on the ship," he said. "No payment required."

Gale blinked. "Huh. That's surprisingly generous of you."

Jack smirked. "However," he added, "if this ship gets attacked, I will be willing to pay you to protect it."

Gale thought about that for a moment, then grinned. "That's fair."

Jack shrugged. "It's just how I do business." Then, with a chuckle, he added, "My motto is fairness is key… whenever possible."

That got a laugh out of Gale. "That's a good one."

Jack smirked. "Glad you think so."

He stood up, stretching slightly. "If you want to rest, I can assign you one of the private rooms in the lower decks. You're welcome to settle in."

Gale waved a hand. "Appreciate it, but before I do anything else… where exactly is this ship headed?"

Jack grabbed a rolled-up map from his desk, unfurled it, and tapped a spot with his finger. "We're heading to Centauria."

Gale tilted his head. Centauria? The name didn't ring any bells.

For a moment, he mulled it over, trying to recall if he had ever heard about the place from the Torino tribesmen, in the books he had read, or even the anime. Nope. Nothing.

After a while, he leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

"Well," he said, "if it's alright with you, I'd like to know more about Centauria…" He hesitated before adding, "And, uh… I've also got a couple of questions that might seem weird."

Jack arched a brow. "Weird how?"

Gale scratched his cheek awkwardly. "You see… I've been stuck on Torino Island for a couple of years now…"

Jack stared at him.

Gale sighed.

This was gonna be a long conversation.

...

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