The silence in the hold felt unnatural — only the dull echo of footsteps, the creak of boards underfoot, and Sabo's heavy, ragged breathing disturbed the grim stillness. The air was stale, dusty, saturated with salt, gunpowder, and something unsettlingly sweet — as if the very shadow of danger was lurking somewhere between the crates.
Wounded in the shoulder, Sabo cautiously moved forward, holding his pipe ready. He felt the fabric of his shirt stick to his body from the blood but didn't slow down.
Django lay beaten and tied up in the corner of the warehouse, back turned to him.
Sabo was about to move on when suddenly — a rustle. He whipped around, raising his pipe. A familiar figure appeared from behind piles of sacks. Karina. Dirty but alive. Her face was tense.
"Are you okay?" Sabo asked hoarsely, hiding the pain behind a steady voice.
Karina nodded silently, and only then did he notice: at her feet lay a bound pirate — one of Black Cat's men, knocked out but alive. She wasn't wasting time.
"We can't lose time; the sea patrol will gather soon," she said firmly, glancing toward Django.
But before Sabo could answer, the door to the hold slammed open with a deafening crash.
Instinctively, he raised his pipe, his heart pounding harder. The sound of footsteps… and a tall shadow appeared in the half-light. Sabo gripped the weapon's handle, but the shadow stepped forward — and a face became visible in the dim light.
"Gin…" Sabo exhaled in relief.
Gin was covered in scrapes, with a bloodied sleeve, but he stood on his feet — and judging by his tense shoulders, he was still ready to fight.
"Everything's fine," he said. "I cleared the deck."
"Hey, help haul all this out!" Karina shouted loudly, and in the next moment, huge sacks appeared from behind the crates, which she dragged out with difficulty. They hit the floor with a dull thud, and one made a suspicious clinking sound from inside.
Sabo raised an eyebrow in surprise, still clutching the pipe — the wound ached, but curiosity outweighed the pain.
"What's that?" he asked, approaching cautiously, listening carefully to see if something was hidden inside.
Karina straightened up, out of breath but with a victorious smirk.
"Well... I cleaned out some of their useless stuff," she shrugged innocently, brushing her hands.
Sabo opened one of the sacks and frowned: inside lay a mix of gold coins, jewelry, some maps, sealed bottles with suspicious liquid, and even... a mask with the Black Cat emblem.
"Useless, huh?" he asked skeptically.
Karina just smiled:
"Well, someone's gotta get the 'risk bonuses,' right?"
Gin, standing by the door, just smirked, leaning against the wall:
"I'm surprised you haven't dragged off the whole ship yet, Karina."
"There wasn't a suitable sack," she shot back, slinging one of the bales over her shoulder.
Bellamy's side
"Well, had enough of the show?" I said, scanning the lying marines. Some tried to move; others pretended to be unconscious. No one else was getting up.
Only one slowly rose to a knee, leaning against the wall. Large, sturdy, tanned. His light hair, damp with sweat, stuck to his forehead. Torn marks from a blow were on his chest, blood slowly dripping down his side, but he held on.
I relaxed my hand, letting it return to its normal form — the metal disappeared, leaving only the pulse in my wrist.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Sergeant Morgan," he replied hoarsely but clearly, like an officer. He even tried to stand, though his legs clearly wouldn't obey.
"Oh, this time he kept his arm... Interesting," I thought, recalling the infamous One-Armed Morgan...
I leaned in slightly, not losing the faint smirk on my face.
"Well then, show me the warehouse on the ship!" I said, looking him straight in the eyes.
He blinked, as if not quite understanding. Then squinted:
"Wait… Aren't you our savior?"
I laughed. Not loudly — just enough honesty in my voice:
"I'm a pirate. You just got lucky I showed up before those who really wanted you dead. Don't worry, I'm only interested in a couple of things."
Morgan exhaled heavily, then straightened with effort, leaning on the bulkhead. His gaze grew calm but sharp.
"You probably don't understand," he said. "I am Sergeant Morgan. And if you think I'll show you everything you want, you're mistaken."
I looked at him, assessing his stamina and resolve. There was fire in his eyes, despite wounds and fatigue.
Morgan was silent, but his look said it all. He knew he had no choice.
"Show me," I said, "and don't make me repeat myself."
Morgan clenched his teeth; his eyes flashed coldly.
"No. You're miserable pirates," he said sharply. "Threatening me was the last thing you should've done. We're not here to dance to your tune. Neither you nor your threats will break me."
I raised an eyebrow. Barely standing, he leaned heavily on the bulkhead, breathing uneven but without trembling or fear.
"If you want something — you'll have to take it by force. But know this: I stood for the symbol of justice from day one in uniform, and you — you're a worthless pirate — won't make me bow. Even if it's the last fight of my life."
Silence hung on the deck. Somewhere behind, the creak of wood sounded.
I looked at him. Yes, he was stubborn. Yes, he barely stood on his feet. But inside — a true marine. Interesting! Definitely curious how he turned from that into One-Armed Morgan?
"Hm... you're quite the fool," I muttered. "Alright. Then sit here with your pride… but if you survive, remember: this time a pirate saved your life. Not the marine code. Not justice. Pirates."
If the sea patrol caught a pirate — they'd surely execute him, but the pirate has a choice: kill… or spare a life.
Morgan said nothing. Just slowly lowered his head and stubbornly froze again — as if holding the railing from collapse by his mere presence.
"Well," I said, turning to the empty spot where Kuro should have been lying, "time to deal with our cat."
But there was only a hole in the railing.
"Hey, where is he?" I asked, tense.
"He fell," Morgan answered hoarsely, barely raising his eyes, "didn't you hear the sound of the splash?"
"How long have you been keeping that quiet?" I looked at him irritably.
"Alright..." I muttered after a minute, not taking my eyes off the horizon where a fleet of five ships appeared — "In any case, he won't answer."
Kuro was too clever to just fall and drown. Even now, deep down, I didn't believe he was dead. People like him don't disappear without a trace. They hide. They wait.
"Half an hour before they get here..." I said quietly to myself, watching sails rise on the horizon. Five ships. Sea patrol. Moving confidently, in formation, as if they already knew there'd be a fight here or at least a cleanup.
While I thought this, Morgan fell onto the deck on his back — apparently couldn't think further, I guessed.
I clenched my teeth. The wind was almost gone — the flag on the mast hung limp.
I glanced toward the Black Cat ship, where Sabo and the others should have been. Then I noticed — behind its hull, slowly rocking on the waves, my old boat was floating up. The very one I had arrived on.
"Well, then we'll make it," I muttered with a slight smile.
Wasting no time, I leaned over the side, waved toward Morgan:
"Hey! I'm borrowing your boat!"
Without waiting for an answer or protest, I grabbed the nearest rowboat, untied the rope, and with a strong push shoved it off the deck. It slapped heavily into the water, splashing.
I jumped onto the edge and, like weightless, leapt inside, grabbing the oars on the go.
"Strange guy..." were the only words Morgan uttered as he watched the silhouette slipping into the sea.
The boat started gaining speed, lazily gliding over the water. The sea was almost mirror-like, and every stroke echoed the silence.
"The supplies we bought were almost gone after Gaimon's feast, so I hoped I could 'borrow' some food from these marines… for free," I thought, rowing quickly toward the main ship.
- Too bad they were stingy!
The boat slid almost silently, the hull gently rocking on the small ripples. I saw silhouettes on the pirate ship's deck — Sabo, Karina, Gin — already noticed me. Waving.
Without slowing down, I sped the boat on inertia and jumped straight onto the deck with a run. The ship tilted slightly, the boards creaked underfoot, but I was already on my feet, straightening up.
"We need to get out of here," I exhaled, scanning everyone. "A fleet is heading this way. Five, maybe more. We've got half an hour, no more."
Karina immediately tensed, Gin instinctively tightened his tonfa grip, and Sabo, without a word, headed to the helm.
"We need to cast off. Now."
Karina nodded and rushed to the ropes.
"We can't raise the sails," Gin said, looking at the sky, where the wind still didn't stir the clouds. "Almost no wind. Only oars."
"We'll manage," Sabo answered shortly. "The main thing is to get out of sight."
I ran to the mast, helping untie the rigging. The boat moved slightly as Gin began to row.
Sabo stood at the wheel, one hand on the wooden column, the other clutching the edges of an old, slightly damp map. He quickly scanned the markings, then lifted his eyes to the horizon.
"If we head northwest," he said without looking away from the map, "we'll get into the old reef zone. Dangerous, but the fleet won't go there. Perfect for us."
I nodded, looking at him.
"You sure?"
Sabo looked up at me. Serious, calm, just as a navigator should be under fire.
"Captain, if you order it — I'll lead us through. There's a chance. The weather's still on our side, and the current shifted. Now or never."
I surveyed the deck: Karina was bent over the sacks of loot — checking if everything was there, sorting the contents quickly and skillfully, almost automatically. Gold clinked, glass jingled, fabric rustled. Gin, sitting at the stern, leaned on the oars, and the boat moved steadily but persistently away from the ship toward the open sea.
I straightened, glancing at the horizon — the fleet was still far, but time was melting faster than I wanted.
"Sabo, steer the ship," I shouted, turning to the wheel. "Take us between the reefs, you know where."
He nodded silently and turned the helm, concentrating on the wind and sails.
"Karina, prepare a couple of cannonballs," I added, looking at her.
"And I..." I stepped sharply toward Gin and, without a word, stood beside him, grabbing the second oar's handle. "I'll help."
Karina looked at us, raising an eyebrow slightly, and with a grin mixing mild surprise and approval, said:
"There he is, the captain."