Under a sky as clear as crystal, sunlight danced across the waves like shards of gold.
Cutting through the sparkling blue sea was a pirate ship flying a black skull flag — the Virtue.
Majestic as it looked, its voyage relied entirely on luck. After all… there wasn't a single navigator aboard.
The task of navigating — something that demanded precision — had somehow fallen to Captain Shiro himself.
By rights, a man who once sailed the world with the Roger Pirates should've known every current and sea route by heart.
But back then, Shiro had spent most of his time sweating through training sessions on deck — or roughhousing with Shanks and Buggy — not memorizing maps.
"Hard to port!"
Shiro called out casually, biting into an apple, his eyes fixed instead on the wine flask in Hawk Eyes' hand.
"But Captain, there's an undercurrent that way…"
Jinbe hesitated at the helm, his brow furrowing.
"Don't overthink it! Just do what I say!"
Shiro waved him off confidently — perhaps too confidently.
Moments later, under Shiro's rather questionable command, even Jinbe's exceptional helmsmanship couldn't prevent disaster.
The Virtue plunged straight into a thick wall of fog.
The milk-white mist swallowed the ship whole. The sky, the sea — everything vanished in an instant.
"Damn it! I can't see a thing! Captain, what now?"
Jinbe gripped the wheel tightly, sweat beading on his forehead. His voice echoed strangely in the fog.
Only then did Shiro snap out of his distraction. He glanced around and froze.
"Huh? What the hell is this place? Even I've never been here before!"
He squinted, but the fog was so dense that even the railing a few meters ahead was just a blur.
Not a single island or horizon line in sight.
"This doesn't look good," murmured Issho (Fujitora), standing calmly at the bow with his arms crossed, his sharp senses sweeping the haze.
"Feels like we've wandered into something… unpleasant."
Hawk Eyes' gaze narrowed. His sight was legendary — ten times keener than most men — yet even he could barely see twenty meters ahead before everything vanished into chaos.
"What's there to fear?" Issho said, resting one hand on his cane-sword as he made his way to the helm. His calm, steady voice reached Jinbe's ears.
"Keep sailing forward. Watch for my signal."
Jinbe's mouth twitched. Your eyes can't even see, old man. What signal am I supposed to watch?
But he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he stopped the ship and waited for Issho's next move.
Issho, sensing the thought, gave no reply. He simply drew his blade an inch from its sheath — a glint of cold steel flashed — then slid it back with a soft click.
In that instant, a roar split the sky.
A flaming meteor came hurtling down from above, crashing into the sea ahead!
The impact sent waves exploding outward, scattering the fog in a burst of firelight.
"Whoa!"
Jinbe gaped in awe, then quickly tightened his grip on the wheel. Using the brief window of visibility, he steered the Virtue toward the light.
And so, each time the fog returned, Issho would calmly unsheathe and resheath his blade — and another meteor would fall from the heavens, clearing their path with light and fire.
Guided by that fleeting illumination, Jinbe navigated cautiously through the mist.
After fifteen long minutes, the Virtue finally broke free — only to emerge into something far worse.
The sky was gray and lifeless. No sun. No color.
Broken planks and rusted debris floated on the sea, and the air reeked of decay.
Then came the cold. A biting, unnatural chill pierced straight through their skin. Their breaths turned white.
"Achoo!"
Zeff and Hachi burst from the galley at once. Zeff still clutched a kitchen knife, his apron pulled tight against the cold.
He must've been mid-prep when the temperature suddenly dropped.
Hachi's eight tentacle arms were wrapped around himself, trembling so hard he could barely speak.
"Wh-Where the heck are we now?!"
Zeff stomped across the deck, waving his knife in frustration.
The crew gathered, all staring warily at the eerie seascape.
Then Issho tilted his head slightly, sensing something unseen.
"There's a massive ship… dead ahead."
Jinbe followed his lead, steering closer. As the silhouette took shape, their eyes widened —
It was a wrecked galleon, long abandoned.
Its hull was riddled with cannon holes, its tattered sails hung limp like filthy rags. The vessel reeked of time and ruin.
A cold gust blew past — whoooo… — carrying with it a chilling melody.
A voice.
Haunting. Raspy. Faint — yet unmistakable.
🎵 "Yo-hohoho… Bring a bottle of Bink's Sake…" 🎵
The song drifted through the mist, eerie and broken. Every word made their skin crawl.
Hachi followed the sound — then froze in sheer terror, pointing ahead with shaking arms.
"G-Ghost! There's a ghost on that ship!"
Everyone turned.
On the deck of the derelict ship stood a tall, thin skeleton, its wild afro silhouetted against the dim light.
Its empty eye sockets seemed to swallow their souls. And as its jaw clacked open, the haunting song continued.
"YAAAH!"
Zeff and Jinbe both jumped back in shock — Zeff nearly dropped his knife.
Even Hawk Eyes' usual calm wavered. He unsheathed Yoru, the black blade gleaming coldly in his grip.
Issho tensed as well, cane-sword raised, his aura pressing down like a wave.
Only Shiro stood frozen in disbelief.
That afro… that grin… that unmistakable figure—
"Brook…!"
It hit him all at once.
They hadn't just drifted off course.
They had accidentally entered the legendary Florian Triangle — the domain of ghosts and lost souls.
"Wait! Don't attack!"
Shiro stepped forward, spreading his arms to block Issho and Hawk Eyes.
"You… know this ghost?"
Hawk Eyes arched a brow, but didn't lower his sword.
Shiro didn't answer immediately. His gaze remained locked on the singing skeleton, a storm of emotions rising in his chest.
A/N: Some details about Brook's shadow and Moria have been slightly adjusted for story flow — thanks for understanding!
T/N: If you would like to read up to 20 chapters ahead for all my works, check out my P@treon: patreon.com/GhidorahWriter
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