Even after finishing my grand tour of the Four Blues and returning to the Grand Line, my adventures—my reporting journeys—still weren't over.
If anything, life on the Grand Line was even more stimulating than the Four Blues ever were. Everywhere you turned, something happened—something strange, something sharp-edged, something that pricked at your curiosity and stirred up everything else that lived alongside it.
Of course, plenty of those "somethings" weren't the kind you could call enjoyable… like the place we'd come to now.
"So it dried up… this oasis too."
We were on Sandy Island, somewhere around the middle of the first half of the Grand Line.
Calling it an "island" almost felt dishonest. It was vast—vast enough to hold an entire desert kingdom within it.
Alabasta.
As usual, I was here with Honey.
Eight years on the road—and then continuing even after we returned to the Grand Line—had taught me something simple and reliable: even with Wanted Posters circulating, people rarely suspected you if you carried yourself with confidence. If you looked like you belonged, you were invisible.
I'd come to Alabasta to "report" on a conflict—no, a civil war.
Some time ago, allegations surfaced that the King of Alabasta had been using Dance Powder. The rumor spread fast and ugly: the King was stealing the rain.
The drought didn't ease. The people's unease curdled into suspicion, then swelled into rage. Before long, the Rebel Army formed.
Their cause was righteous on paper—overthrow the King who monopolized the rain, take back water, take back peace.
But I knew the Original Work.
Which meant I knew this entire tragedy was being staged by Crocodile and the organization he led: Baroque Works.
A country in the middle of unrest. It might be a little indecent to say it, but I'd thought it was the perfect opportunity—to feel the atmosphere firsthand, to listen to the voices on the ground, to see what a nation looked like as it cracked. That was why I asked to be sent here.
I'd intended to come alone, but Honey insisted on following me, "just in case."
"You don't have to worry that much," I told her. "Not to brag, but I'm way stronger than you anyway."
"That's not what I'm worried about," she said. "It's true—if you ever got serious, you could wipe the floor with me, the Fish-Man Trio from Precious, and just about everyone we know, all at once. The only person who could even make you work for it would be… well, never mind. What worries me is everything that isn't a fight. You have a habit of going off the rails, and—how do I put this—being a little… lacking, sometimes."
"I know, I know. I won't deny I'm pretty scatterbrained… And honestly, I've leaned on you a lot during this voyage. Thanks."
"You're welcome. But—why are we at this oasis… or, right, former oasis? This doesn't look like a Rebel stronghold or a battlefield. Why here?"
"…I've been here before. A long time ago. I just felt like stopping by."
I answered as I walked across what used to be an oasis.
There had once been a fairly large lake here. Not lush, exactly—but there'd been plants, trees… enough to make it feel like a real place.
That was over twenty years ago now. Back when I came to this country for some vague reason like "wanting to experience desert life," and ended up traveling with a caravan as a guard.
The desert was harsher than I'd expected. Still, I made it here in the end… and that was when I met Crocodile, too, wasn't it?
After that, Baroque Works never reached out again.
Maybe it was because I became a pirate instead of a bounty hunter. Maybe it was because I kept moving and never stayed long enough to be caught. Or maybe I just… never thought about it very deeply.
Either way, I'd never wanted to join BW, and I'd never wanted to catch their eye, so it didn't matter.
The oasis where I'd rested back then was gone now.
Not just drained—buried. Sand had piled over everything until the entire lakebed disappeared, like it had been swallowed whole. Not waterlogged, but sandlogged. A sand-submersion.
"This should be almost due south of Alubarna… Now, the wind… Origami."
I drew out several sheets of paper, folded them swiftly into bird shapes, and sent them up into the sky.
"Weather Vanes!"
The paper birds fluttered and rose, drifting in loose circles as if they were searching. I watched their flight, and through my ability, felt the currents they rode—threading their sensations back into my own.
That technique—Weather Vanes—was something I'd developed while traveling the Four Blues. By reading even faint air movements, even the moisture carried within them, I could tell wind direction—and with enough information, predict weather changes before they arrived.
It had saved us more times than I could count, especially when the seas decided to turn monstrous.
And right now, according to the Weather Vanes…
Yeah. A strong wind from the south. Same up high, too.
If this became the new normal, then whenever Dance Powder was used in Alubarna, the rain clouds would never reach this region again.
So that's what happened. That's why it dried up.
…Somehow, it felt lonely.
It wasn't like I'd treasured this place. But still—seeing it gone felt like losing a small piece of my own past.
Was the sand burial Crocodile's doing? Or just nature? …If the water vanished, even ordinary wind could do this over time. It wouldn't be strange.
"…Well. Whatever. Let's get moving."
"Moving out, got it. Where to next?"
"I know it's insensitive, but… I'd like to see evidence of the clashes between the Royal Army and the Rebel Army. A battlefield, remnants, aftermath—something. I'm not saying I want war. I just want to see anything that lets me touch their beliefs—what they think they're fighting for."
"Hold on," Honey said, digging into her bag. She pulled out a few recent newspaper back issues, scanned the Alabasta articles, and gathered what she needed in seconds.
"From what these reports say, there are several towns and oases nearby that saw skirmishes. If we go there, we might find traces of fighting… maybe even abandoned bodies."
"Ugh. Bodies… In this climate, they'd either be mummified or reduced to bones."
"Mummified, I understand. But would they really skeletonize just from the dryness?"
"In the desert, food is scarce. Insects and small animals would strip a corpse down quickly."
"…That's vivid. So have you decided where we're going?"
"Let's check the nearest oasis site. The papers say there was a fight there—Royal Army trying to seize water resources, Rebels trying to hold them. It dried up recently, but there might still be something left."
"Understood. Though I doubt either side is still around."
"I'm not planning to interview anyone. And honestly… if you're involved, being questioned by some outsider on a sightseeing trip would feel disgusting."
"Oh, I don't know," Honey teased. "If the famous 'Pirate Literary Master' wrote a column, either side might welcome you. Public opinion is a weapon, too."
"No thanks. Then as now, I only write what I want to write."
Besides… if pirates start making noise in this country, he'll show up.
If I kept quiet and blended in, I might be fine. But if Crocodile and Baroque Works decided I was a threat to their plan—if they judged me obstructive, or influential enough to be dangerous—they could come after me.
And I didn't want that.
It feels arrogant to say, but… I do have influence in this world. Honey wasn't wrong.
That was exactly why I wasn't going anywhere near Rainbase—Crocodile's stronghold. I wasn't even getting close.
Casinos? Gambling? I'd seen places like that on Gran Tesoro at hundreds of times the scale. It didn't interest me.
Later, when we reached the oasis that had served as a battlefield, the traces of the fighting were still fresh.
And we found refugees.
When I spoke with them, I learned they were villagers from nearby. Their home had dried up from drought so badly they could no longer live there. They were moving now, hoping to join another village—anywhere that still had water.
They'd stopped here to replenish food and supplies…
Only to discover the well had already dried up. They hadn't known.
So they were stranded.
As thanks for telling me their story, I decided to solve their immediate problem.
Using Observation Haki, I sensed a large lizard-like creature nearby. I hunted it down quickly and gave them the meat for food.
As for water, I handed over an entire barrel from my own reserves—an advance "reporting fee," if you wanted to call it that. They cried as they thanked me.
After that, since we were already talking, I asked if I could ask a few more questions. She agreed eagerly, so I didn't hold back.
Recent events. Rumors. What people were saying and what people were afraid to say.
Some of those rumors—clearly spread to stir the public—were designed to smear King Cobra.
The elders listening snapped in fury. "Our King isn't that kind of man!"
The younger ones, hot-blooded and desperate, fired back. "But the Dance Powder…" "It hasn't rained for months!"
Honestly—can you not? You finally got food in your stomach and strength back in your limbs, and this is what you spend it on? Stop picking fights. You're going to make the children cry.
Watching it all, I couldn't help thinking it again: Crocodile was ruthless.
And worse—he was smart. He was taking this country apart with calm, effective precision.
Terrifying.
All right… that's enough reporting on Alabasta for now. For the moment, at least.
---
After that, I continued my reporting travels around the Grand Line. Sometimes with Honey. Sometimes with the Fish-Man Trio. Other times with one—or all three—of my "daughters." And when I needed solitude, I traveled alone.
And with everything I saw, I kept writing. Books. Essays. All sorts of things.
Jaya: a pirate haven—still rough, still lawless.
Long Ring Long Land: home to bizarre, absurdly long creatures.
San Faldo: a carnival town where something was always being held, always being celebrated.
Pucci: a gourmet town, where the best ingredients and chefs gathered to indulge the tongue.
Water Seven: the city of water, home to the Galley-La Company—renowned for its scale and craftsmanship, favored by the World Government, and boasting technology that rivaled even Elena's.
…But it was probably already the era when CP9 was stationed there, so I avoided Galley-La.
I despise both the World Government and Cipher Pol. I ate and bought some Water Water Meat and other local specialties, then left.
The Sickear Kingdom had apparently collapsed years ago. I had a bad feeling about it, so I stayed away.
…Later, when I heard a dangerous group had made it their base, I wanted to congratulate my past self on a good decision.
Other strange places included Ruluka Island, shrouded in rumors, and Crown Island, crawling with rare creatures.
I even traveled through parts of the New World.
Punk Hazard, an island said to have been poisoned after a Government weapon went berserk. Block Colly Island, where a conflict had recently begun. Sorry—after Alabasta, I know that's a grim list.
And not just the first half of the Grand Line or the New World—I even visited the Calm Belt from time to time.
Of course, my main destination was always Amazon Lily. I went to see Hancock, Sonia, Marie, Elder Nyon, Rindou, and the others.
Every time I visited, they begged for new stories. Amazon Lily has an absurd number of my fans—maybe because it's such a closed environment that everyone ends up recommending my books to each other, passing them around until they're worn thin.
Seriously. I've been everywhere.
And I've met so many people along the way. Some encounters were brief, like sparks in the dark. Others became friendships that lasted.
Honey. The Fish-Man Trio. Carina…
And—surprisingly—I even crossed paths with a few people from the Original Work, villains included, though I'll spare the details.
And then there were my "daughters"…
…and their "Papa."
Truly. So many meetings. So many experiences.
Before I knew it, three years had passed since we returned to the Grand Line from the Four Blues.
We based ourselves out of several islands and countries—Gran Tesoro among them—and traveled constantly.
It went by in a blink… Is that what it means to get older? When time starts slipping through your fingers?
That was what I was thinking one day, lounging on the ship as usual, when I bought a newspaper from a News Coo and unfolded it.
"…Oh… oh? Oh!"
The sound slipped out before I could stop it.
Honey, who was in the kitchen, glanced over. "What's wrong?"
I didn't answer. My eyes were locked on the sheet tucked inside the paper.
A Wanted Poster.
So this is it… wow. I'm actually kind of moved.
I'd only ever seen these in manga—and now I was holding the real thing in my hands. Hahaha… he's smiling like he's having the time of his life. Of course he is. That's the protagonist for you.
WANTED
Monkey D. Luffy
Alias: "Straw Hat Luffy"
Bounty: 30,000,000 Berry
I, Venerdi Toto Sue, have been alive for thirty-four years now.
It seems it's finally begun. The Original Work, I mean.
To be continued...