A refreshing sea breeze drifted through the window into Captain Smoker's temporary cabin, lightly flipping the pages of the journal on his desk.
On the first page, Smoker had written in his characteristically messy handwriting.
"Grand Line Calendar, Year 1522, X Month, 15th Day"
"Starting this new journal to record the changes in myself after leaving Loguetown and boarding Mike's ship. Must get stronger. Charge ahead!"
"X Month, 16th Day"
"Following Mike's suggestion, I've been working to develop my Smoke-Smoke Fruit abilities. Also did three hours of combat training with Kuro. After he left, I continued training for two more hours. Keep pushing, Smoker!"
"X Month, 17th Day"
"Training, plus two extra hours. Passed by the main cabin and saw Mike, Kuro, and Commander Hayes playing some kind of tile game. Mike pulled me in, said they needed a fourth. A game called... 'Mahjong'? Interesting..."
"X Month, 18th Day"
"Training, extra hour, played Mahjong."
"X Month, 19th Day"
"Training, played Mahjong."
"X Month, 20th Day"
"Smoker, you pathetic fool! Pull yourself together! Can't keep going like this! Tomorrow, you must resume extra training! Three hours minimum!"
"X Month, 21st Day"
"Training, played Mahjong."
As the breeze turned the pages, the following entries were all blank.
The journal, it seemed, had been abandoned in favor of a new, more relaxing pastime.
In the warship's main cabin, the air was filled with a leisurely atmosphere, punctuated by the soft, satisfying clinking of tiles.
"Four Bamboo," Commander Hayes announced, discarding a tile.
"Wait!" Smoker, a cigar dangling from his mouth, called out.
"Pong!" He revealed two Four Bamboo tiles from his hand, placing them with the one the Commander had just discarded.
He then drew a replacement tile and slowly placed it before him, a look of intense concentration on his face.
This move clearly irritated Mike, who was next in line to draw.
His brow furrowed with a hint of impatience.
"Hurry up!"
"What's the rush?" Smoker grunted, discarding an unwanted "Red Dragon" tile.
Next, Kuro deftly drew a tile, considered his hand for a moment, and discarded a "One Dot."
"Heh, Kong!" Mike grinned triumphantly, snatching the One Dot from the table and revealing three more from his hand.
He drew a replacement tile from the end of the wall.
His grin widened.
"Woo-hoo!" Mike suddenly stood up, his eyes flashing with excitement as he dramatically pushed his tiles forward.
"Self-draw! A clean sweep! I am undefeated!" he declared, thoroughly enjoying his victory.
He picked up his cigar, took a deep, satisfying drag, and exhaled a slow lazy smoke ring, completely relaxed.
[Ding!]
[Host achieves 100 consecutive Mahjong victories. Mood: Elevated. Happy Points +500.]
"Pardon me," a soft voice said.
At that moment, Tashigi, who had taken on the role of server for their game, approached with a tray of exquisite desserts and drinks.
She smiled, placing a glass of freshly squeezed juice before Mike.
"Captain Mike, care for some juice?"
"Thank you very much, Tashigi," Mike smiled back at her. He took a sip, savoring the sweet flavor.
"You're too kind," Tashigi said softly, a hint of shyness in her voice.
"I haven't properly thanked you yet for teaching me so much about swordsmanship."
"You're improving quickly," Mike said, his eyes filled with genuine encouragement.
"Keep it up." He had often seen her practicing alone on the deck, and on occasion, when the mood struck him, he would stop and offer a few simple, practical pointers.
For him, it was a momentary diversion.
For her, each piece of guidance had been a breakthrough to increase her strength.
"Yes! Captain Mike!" she replied, her face beaming.
Just then, the ship's engine emitted a faint vibration, and the warship gradually began to slow.
Mike stood up, stretching lazily as his gaze swept across the vast ocean.
The sea ahead gradually widened, and soon, the silhouette of a desert city emerged on the horizon.
Ahead lay the port city of Alabasta—Nanohana.
....
As Mike's warship approached a kingdom on the brink of civil war, another fateful journey was unfolding elsewhere on the turbulent waters of the Grand Line.
A lone pirate ship cut swiftly through the waves, its crew laughing and cheering, celebrating another bountiful haul.
"Hahahaha, another day of coming back fully loaded!" a burly pirate roared while raising his glass.
Just as the cheers reached another level, a crisp calm voice cut through the clamor.
"Hello. Have any of you seen a man named Teach? I heard he recently changed his name to 'Blackbeard'."
The pirates' laughter died instantly.
They turned to see a young man sitting casually on the bow of their ship with a faint smile on his lips.
He hadn't been there a second ago.
"Hey, do you know who you're talking to?!" a pirate by the railing sneered.
"Our captain is—"
"Shut up, you fool!" a powerful arm yanked the pirate back.
The ship's captain, a veteran of the Grand Line, stared at the newcomer as beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead.
He recognized the tattoo on his arm, the orange cowboy hat, the red bead necklace, and most importantly, the huge tattoo on his back: the iconic crescent-moon mustache of the Whitebeard Pirates.
"The 2nd Division Commander... 'Fire Fist' Ace... with a bounty of 550 million Belly!" the captain breathed, his voice trembling.
Ace raised an eyebrow.
"You know me. That makes things easier," he said, his smile fading.
"I'm hunting a traitor from my crew. His name is Marshall D. Teach."
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