Days later, Nami steered the ship John Morgan had given her back to Cocoyasi Village, docking at the familiar, deceptively peaceful shore. She hauled two heavy chests of loot onto land, her arms straining under the weight. The village seemed warm and inviting, a facade hiding its torment. Ever since the Arlong Pirates—savage Fishmen—invaded, they had turned this haven into a brutal nightmare, its streets cold and lifeless.
Nami’s orange grove, tucked at the village’s edge, was a secluded refuge. She shoved open her home’s door, calling out, “Nojiko! I’m back! Nojiko?”
Silence answered. Shrugging, Nami set the chests down. “Out again? I wanted to tell her the good news.” She gulped a glass of water, glancing at the chests. “Better hide the money first.”
After burying the beri beneath the grove’s soil, Nami steeled herself and headed to Arlong Park, the Arlong Pirates’ stronghold. Officially a “cadre” with freedom to come and go, she was in truth chained to the crew. If she fled for good, the Fishmen would butcher her villagers—men, women, and children—without mercy. The thought clawed at her insides.
As she entered the gates, Arlong lounged in a lavish chair by the pool, his saw-toothed nose gleaming, his muscular Fishman frame radiating menace. His jagged grin bared sharp teeth. “Well, well, our star navigator returns.” Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs novel※fire.net
His officers flanked him, towering Fishmen twice a human’s size, their grotesque forms—scales, fins, and twisted faces—bristling with raw power. Their stares bore into Nami, chilling her blood.
“Heard you’ve been running with a bounty hunter,” Arlong growled, his voice dripping with threat. “Gone a bit long this time, haven’t you?”
Nami stopped, meeting his gaze defiantly. “What, think I’ll run?”
Arlong threw back his head, his laugh a guttural rasp that promised violence. “Run? I’m not worried. Go wherever you want, Nami. But you know what happens to your village if you don’t return.” His eyes glinted with sadistic glee, as if he could already see the blood staining Cocoyasi’s streets.
Nami’s fists clenched, nails drawing blood from her palms. She wanted to lash out, to scream, but she forced her voice steady. “You remember our deal, right?”
Arlong’s grin widened, mocking. “Of course! 100 million beri, and your village is free. The Arlong Pirates won’t touch it again.” He leaned forward, his tone falsely earnest. “When it comes to money, my word is iron. Always has been.”
“You’d better keep it,” Nami said, loosening her fists, though her heart hammered.
One officer, a lanky Fishman with strange fins sprouting from his arms, sneered. “Word is, your last two trips were big scores, Nami.”
“None of your business,” she snapped, shoving past them to her room. She couldn’t stand another moment in their presence.
In her quarters, she overheard their voices. Hachi, the octopus Fishman with six arms and a trumpet-like mouth, spoke in his naive tone. “Sounds like Nami’s got the money now.”
“Yeah,” another officer said. “She was close last time. This haul probably pushed her over. She’s got the 100 million beri.”
“No wonder she’s got some guts today,” the finned Fishman said coldly.
Hachi scratched his head. “You really gonna give her village back, Arlong?”
“Naturally!” Arlong boomed, his voice grand but laced with menace. “I never break a deal about money.” Then his tone darkened, a sinister edge creeping in. “But if she can’t produce that 100 million beri… well, no village for her.”
“What?” Hachi sounded puzzled. “Didn’t she just get enough?”
Arlong didn’t answer, only laughed—a bone-chilling cackle that echoed with the promise of betrayal and bloodshed. The other Fishmen joined in, their laughter a chorus of malice. “You’re too thick, Hachi!” one jeered.
Nami gripped the edge of her bed, her blood running cold. Arlong was scheming, his words a trap to crush her hope. She had the money, but with him, nothing was ever straightforward. The threat of violence—of her village reduced to a slaughterhouse—loomed like a storm.
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