Hello there......... It's been a while😅 Dont't mind me droping a chapter.
+++++++
The East Blue was in a state of nervous convulsion.
News of Gol D. Roger's execution had rippled out from Loguetown like a tidal wave. Every two-bit thug with a raft and a knife suddenly thought they were the next King of the Pirates.
In the middle of this rising tide of stupidity sailed the Iron Mauler.
The stolen galleon chugged through the waters toward the Conomi Islands.
Trailing behind was the small black sloop, tethered by a thick hawser.
Aster stood at the helm of the galleon, one hand on the wheel, the other holding a half-eaten tangerine he'd found in the captain's quarters.
This ship is a disgrace, Flamey complained in the back of Aster's mind.
It smells like unwashed feet and cheap rum. And it's ugly. Can we burn it? Just a little bit? Maybe the figurehead? It looks like a constipated pig.
No, Aster thought back, watching the coastline of Conomi Island appear through the mist. We need the cargo space. And we need to resupply. Loguetown was... rushed.
You mean you ran away because Garp gave you homework, Flamey snickered.
Aster ignored the spirit. "Mihawk," he called out. "Land in sight. Conomi Islands."
"A Marine outpost," Mihawk noted. "16th Branch, if I recall the charts correctly. Are we docking at a Marine base in a pirate ship? They have every reason to launch an attack on us."
"It's fine," Aster said, taking a bite of the tangerine. "I have the snail Garp gave me. If they give us trouble, I'll call the old man."
"Optimistic," Mihawk muttered.
As the Iron Mauler broke through the last layer of sea mist, the Marine base came into view. It was a standard fortress-style base, white walls with blue seagulls painted on the sides, cannons bristling from the ramparts.
Usually, a Marine base was a beacon of order. Today, it looked like an ant hill that had been kicked.
Aster's Observation Haki picked up the panic before his eyes saw the movement. The "song" of the base was a discordant screech of terror.
"PIRATES!" a voice amplified by a loudspeaker boomed across the water.
"IT'S THE IRON MAULER! IRON JAW IS ATTACKING!"
"PREPARE THE CANNONS! DON'T LET THEM DOCK!"
Aster sighed. "They really need better scouts."
To be fair, Flamey pointed out, you are literally sailing a ship with a skull and crossbones on the sail. What did you expect? A fruit basket?
"Fire!"
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
White smoke puffed from the fortress walls as a battery of six heavy shore cannons unleashed a volley. The sound rolled across the water like thunder. Six black iron balls, each the size of a watermelon, screamed through the air, arching perfectly toward the Iron Mauler.
Aster looked at the incoming death. He looked at the wheel. He looked at his tangerine.
"Mihawk," Aster said, not moving an inch. "Do your thing."
Mihawk paused in his polishing. He looked at the cannonballs. He looked at Aster. He let out a sigh that suggested he was surrounded by incompetent children.
"You are the Captain," Mihawk said, standing up. "You should protect the ship."
"I'm steering," Aster said lazily.
Mihawk didn't argue further. The cannonballs were seconds away from turning their stolen galleon into driftwood.
For the first time since they had met, Dracule Mihawk reached over his shoulder.
Yoru left its sheath.
It was massive. A blade taller than a man, black as the void, curved in an elegant angle.
Mihawk simply swung.
It was a single, vertical slash.
To the naked eye, it looked like a flash of green lightning had erupted from the deck of the pirate ship. A shockwave of compressed air, infused with Haki, tore into the sky.
The six cannonballs didn't just break. They were erased.
The slash caught them in mid-air, bisecting them perfectly. But the force of the swing didn't stop there. The wind pressure generated by the blade shattered the iron halves into shrapnel, then disintegrated the shrapnel into dust.
Mihawk resheathed Yoru with a soft, metallic click.
He sat back down on his barrel.
"That should do it," Mihawk said flatly.
Show off, Flamey grumbled.
On the shore, the bombardment had stopped.
The Marines stood frozen at their stations. Their mouths were agape. The gunners were staring at their cannons, then at the sky, trying to process the physics of what had just happened.
"Did... did he just cut the cannonballs?" a private whispered, his voice trembling. "With a sword? From that distance?"
"That wasn't Iron Jaw," another Marine stammered. "Iron Jaw uses a club! Who the hell is that?"
"Reload!" a Sergeant panicked. "Reload, you idiots! They're monsters!"
"BELAY THAT ORDER!"
The shout came from the command tower. It was sharp, authoritative, and laced with the kind of gravelly tone that came from smoking too many cigarettes.
A woman stepped out onto the balcony of the command tower. She wore a Marine officer's coat draped over her shoulders like a cape, revealing a sleeveless shirt that showed off her toned arms. Her hair was a striking, punk-rock, shaved on the sides. A cigarette dangled loosely from her lips.
Captain Bell-mere narrowed her eyes behind the smoke.
"Stop firing," she commanded, her voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of steel. "If they wanted to sink us, we'd be underwater already. Look at the ship."
"But Ma'am! It's the Iron Mauler!"
"Use your eyes, Private," Bell-mere snapped. "Do you see the crew?"
She snatched a telescope from a nearby scout and brought it to her eye.
She swept the deck of the approaching galleon.
She saw the scorched wood. She saw the lack of pirates.
Then, she focused on the two figures.
First, the one sitting on the barrel. Dark hair. High collar. Hawk eyes. And a sword on his back.
Then, she shifted the lens to the helm.
She saw the young man steering the ship. The travel-worn coat. The scars on the face. And the hair — black, with a single, defiant streak of white lightning.
Bell-mere lowered the telescope slowly. She took a long drag of her cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke.
"Well, I'll be damned," she whispered. "The Vice Admiral wasn't joking."
She turned to her men, who were still shaking in their boots.
"Stand down!" Bell-mere shouted. "Open the gates! Prepare the docks! Those aren't pirates!"
"T-they aren't?"
"No," Bell-mere said, a smirk touching her lips.
Ten minutes later, the Iron Mauler docked with a heavy thud against the wooden pilings of the Marine base.
Aster jumped down from the deck, his boots hitting the pier with a solid thump. Mihawk followed a second later.
The reception was… confusing.
A minute ago, these Marines had been trying to blow them apart. Now, two rows of servicemen stood at attention, saluting. Aster focused on his Observation Haki. The "voice" of the base had shifted completely. The panic was gone, replaced by a strange mixture of awe, confusion, and excitement.
They like us? Flamey asked, sounding disappointed. Boring. I preferred it when they were screaming.
Aster walked forward. Standing at the end of the pier was the woman with the pink hair. She walked with a swagger that suggested she didn't take crap from anyone, regardless of rank or power.
She stopped in front of Aster. She was tall, imposing, and smelled of tobacco and tangerines.
"Welcome to the 16th Branch," she said, offering a sharp salute before relaxing into a more casual posture. "I'm Captain Bell-mere. Sorry about the greeting. We've been a little jumpy since the execution."
Aster looked at her. He didn't know her, but he liked her style. Most Marines he'd seen were stiff and fearful. She looked like she could hold her own.
"It's all good," Aster said, relaxing his shoulders. "Your aim was a little off anyway."
Bell-mere chuckled dryly. "And your friend has a hell of a swing. Saved us the paperwork of replacing the cannons."
She looked Aster up and down, her eyes lingering on the white streak in his hair.
"But I have to ask," Aster said, gesturing to the saluting Marines. "Why does it feel like you were expecting me? I didn't call ahead."
Bell-mere reached into her coat pocket. She pulled out a small, leather-bound wallet and tossed it to him.
Aster caught it. He opened it.
Inside was a laminated card. It had his picture — a grainy photo likely taken from a distance in Loguetown — and the Marine seagull emblem stamped in gold foil.
Name: Aster Designation: Official Bounty Hunter Sponsor: Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp Status: Active
"What is this?" Aster asked, frowning.
Bell-mere took another drag of her cigarette. "It's the new world order, kid. Or at least, the Marines' attempt at one."
She gestured for them to walk with her toward the main building.
"Ever since Roger died," Bell-mere explained, her expression darkening, "the seas have gone to hell. Every idiot with a dream is raising a flag. The Marines are stretched thin. We can't be everywhere. So, HQ came up with a solution. A stop-gap measure."
She pointed to the card in Aster's hand.
"Sanctioned Bounty Hunters," she said. "Not the scumbags who turn in their own mothers for berry money. These are specialists. Hunters vetted by high-ranking officers. You get access to Marine ports for resupply. You get expedited bounty payouts. You get free repairs."
"And in exchange?" Mihawk asked, speaking up for the first time.
"In exchange, you actually do the work," Bell-mere said. "You thin the herd. You take out the pirates we can't catch, or the ones who slip through the cracks. And you don't cause trouble for civilians."
She stopped and looked at Aster. "Garp sent a message via Den Den Mushi yesterday. He said a 'troublemaker with white hair' would be coming through. He said to give you this, and give you whatever supplies you need."
Aster stared at the card. He felt a grudging respect for the old man. Garp knew Aster wouldn't join the Marines, so he built a system where Aster could operate legally without being hunted. It was a golden cage, perhaps, but a useful one.
"Clever old monkey," Aster muttered. "He planned this."
"He also said if you cause trouble, I'm allowed to shoot you," Bell-mere added with a grin. "Though I doubt my pistols would do much against... whatever you two are."
"Does this license allow for a crew?" Aster asked. "I'm not sailing alone."
"As long as the Captain holds the permit, the crew is covered," Bell-mere confirmed. "But you're responsible for them. If your partner here decides to slice an island in half, it's on your tab."
Aster smirked and flashed the card to Mihawk. "Guess we got promoted. Welcome to the right side of the law, partner."
Mihawk stared at the card with open disdain. "I am not a dog of the government."
"It's a free meal ticket and dock access," Aster countered. "Don't be dramatic."
"Hmph," Mihawk grunted. "How did you even manage to get Garp to sponsor this?"
"Charm," Aster deadpanned. "I'm very lovable."
They reached the entrance of the base. Marines were peeking out of windows, whispering excitedly about the "Hunter who knows Garp."
Bell-mere stopped and looked back at the Iron Mauler.
"One thing, though," she said, her tone turning professional. "Why are you sailing that piece of junk? That's Iron Jaw's ship. Did you steal it?"
"We were intercepted," Aster explained casually. "They tried to board us. We... objected. We took the ship and decided to use it until we get something better."
Bell-mere nodded. "Iron Jaw. Bounty of four million, right? Nasty piece of work. Raided a village three islands east last week. Good riddance."
She held out her hand.
"Well, you can cash it in right now," she said. "I can process the bounty here. Just hand over the evidence."
Aster paused.
"Evidence?" he repeated.
"The Captain's head," Bell-mere said. "Or the body. Just something to prove he's dead and not just swimming back to shore."
Aster froze.
He thought back to the deck of the Iron Mauler. He remembered burning him to nothing.
There were no heads. There were no bodies. There wasn't even a finger bone left.
"Ah," Aster said.
Mihawk stopped walking. He turned slowly to look at Aster.
"You burned them," Mihawk stated.
"I... cleaned the deck," Aster corrected.
"You vaporized the money," Mihawk clarified.
"It was a tactical decision!" Aster defended, though his voice lacked conviction. "They were polluting the sea! I removed the pollution!"
"Yeah, and that cost us 4 mil," Mihawk said. "Was it important to burn everything? Could you not have left a head? Or an arm? Perhaps an ear?"
"I don't do half-measures!" Aster snapped.
Bell-mere looked between the two of them. She blinked. Then, she started to laugh.
It wasn't a polite chuckle. It was a full-bellied laugh. She leaned against the doorframe, shaking her head.
"Unbelievable," she wheezed. "Garp said you were powerful. He didn't say you were an idiot."
She's mocking us, Flamey hissed. Burn her hair.
Aster sighed, Shut up man.
"Look," Bell-mere said, wiping a tear from her eye. "I'll make an exception this time. I'll log it as 'confirmed at sea' since my scouts saw you on his ship. But next time? Please. Keep the head. Or at least a distinct body part. We have bureaucracy to satisfy."
"Understood," Mihawk said, bowing slightly to Bell-mere. "I will keep this simpleton under control in the future."
"Hey!" Aster protested. "I'm the Captain!"
"Nominally," Mihawk said.
Bell-mere grinned, stubbing out her cigarette on the wall. "Alright, you two comedy acts. Come inside. I'll get the mess hall to whip up something hot, and we'll load your ship with supplies. You're heading to the Grand Line, right?"
"Yeah," Aster said, recovering his dignity. "Reverse Mountain."
"Then you'll need all the help you can get," Bell-mere said, pushing the door open. "Eat up. On the house. Consider it a thank you for dealing with Iron Jaw, even if you did cremate the evidence."
Aster and Mihawk followed her inside.
As they entered the warmth of the mess hall, leaving the rain-slicked docks behind, Aster clutched the license in his pocket.
Now, all they had to do was recruit a giant and survive the most dangerous stretch of water in the world.
I want steak, Flamey demanded. Rare. Bloody.
You're a ghost, Aster reminded him. You can't eat.
I can eat vicariously through you. Chew slowly.
Aster shook his head and sat down. It was going to be a long trip.