The pre-dawn air was cool and damp as they set sail, the small sloop cutting through the calm waters of the cove. The eastern sky was just beginning to lighten, a soft, greyish pink that promised a clear day. Arima stood at the helm, the wheel firm in his hands. He had never sailed a ship before, but he found that it came to him with an intuitive ease, a natural extension of the control he felt over his own body. The sloop responded to his slightest touch, a willing partner in this new venture.
The two thugs were on deck, their movements stiff and awkward, their fear a palpable cloud that Arima could almost taste. They were experienced sailors, but their confidence was shattered, replaced by a desperate desire to please. They went about their duties, hoisting the sails and adjusting the rigging, their eyes constantly darting towards Arima, as if waiting for a sign of approval or, more likely, disapproval.
Gills Malone was locked in the captain's cabin, under the watchful eye of one of the thugs. Arima had decided to keep him alive for now. He was a source of information, a key to the island's underworld, and, with any luck, a gateway to bigger and better things. But he was also a liability, a weak link in the chain of command that Arima was trying to forge.
He looked out at the horizon, the Sword of Triton a reassuring weight at his hip. He had a ship, a crew, and a mountain of wealth. He had the knowledge of this world, provided by Sysara, and the power to defend it, granted by the sword. He was no longer a lost soul, adrift in a strange new world. He was a player. A force to be reckoned with.
"It's a start," Arima agreed, his eyes fixed on the western coastline of the island. "But I'm not interested in being a small-time smuggler. I'm aiming for the Grand Line."
"I'm working on it," Arima said, a grim smile on his face. "And I think I know where to start."
He was thinking of Takeshi, the enigmatic swordsman from the tavern. The man had recognised the power of the Sword of Triton. He possessed a rare and valuable skill, a master's command of Haki. He would be a valuable addition to any crew, a formidable first mate, or at the very least, a powerful ally. The problem was, Arima had no idea where to find him. He had simply vanished into the night.
Arima raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Show me."
Arima did as she said, closing his eyes and letting the memory of Takeshi wash over him. He recalled the cool, analytical grey of his eyes, the calm, centred aura of a disciplined warrior. He focused on the faint, needle-point pressure he had felt when Takeshi had probed him with his Haki. At first, there was nothing. Then, a faint, shimmering thread of energy appeared in his mind's eye, a silver trail leading away from the tavern and towards the southern end of the island. The same direction as the Serpent's Maw.
"He went that way," Arima said, his eyes snapping open. He looked at the two thugs, who were watching him with a mixture of fear and confusion. "Change of course. We're heading south."
The men looked at each other, their faces pale. "South?" one of them asked, his voice trembling. "But... that's where the... the cave is."
"I'm aware of that," Arima said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Now, get to it."
The men scurried to obey, their movements clumsy and inefficient. Arima watched them, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. He was used to working with professionals, men who understood the importance of discipline and efficiency. These two were a poor substitute. They would have to do, for now.
The sloop turned, its sails catching the wind, and headed south, following the silver thread of Takeshi's trail. The coastline grew more rugged, the cliffs steeper and more treacherous. The sea was rougher here, the waves crashing against the rocks with a deafening roar. The two thugs struggled to keep the ship on course, their faces etched with fear.
Arima stood at the helm, his gaze fixed on the horizon, the Sword of Triton a comforting weight at his hip. He could feel the ship's every vibration, the subtle shifts in the wind, the changing currents of the sea. He was one with the vessel, an extension of its will. He was a captain, a master of his own destiny, and he was ready for whatever this new world threw at him.
The silver thread of Haki led them to a small, secluded cove, hidden behind a towering sea stack. The water was calm and crystal clear, a stark contrast to the turbulent sea outside. There, nestled in the cove, was a small, single-masted sailboat, its white sails furled, its hull a dark, weathered grey. It was a simple, unassuming vessel, but it was built for speed and manoeuvrability, a lean and deadly hunter of the seas.
As they drew closer, Arima saw a figure standing on the deck, his back to them. It was Takeshi. He was looking out at the sea, his posture relaxed, but Arima could feel the coiled energy in him, the focused discipline of a master swordsman.
Arima brought the sloop alongside the sailboat, the two vessels bobbing gently in the calm water. He motioned for one of the thugs to drop the anchor, then leapt across the narrowing gap, landing softly on the deck of Takeshi's boat.
"I told you I was looking for a ship," Arima said, his voice cutting through the quiet of the cove. "I didn't expect to find you waiting for me."
Takeshi turned, his cool, grey eyes unreadable. "I was not waiting for you. I was waiting for the tide." He glanced at the sloop, then at the two thugs, who were watching them with a mixture of fear and awe. "It seems you've been busy. That's Gills Malone's vessel."
"A gift," Arima said, a humourless smile on his face. "He was generous. And he's agreed to a... restructuring of his business."
Takeshi's lips curved into a thin, humourless smile. "You move quickly. And you leave a trail. I felt the echoes of your work at the Serpent's Maw. A great deal of killing, a great deal of fear. You found what you were looking for?"
"I did," Arima said, his hand resting on the hilt of the Sword of Triton. "And I found something else. A purpose."
He looked at Takeshi, a direct, unflinching gaze. "I'm putting together a crew. A ship. I'm going to the Grand Line. I have the ship," he said, nodding towards the cove where the Queen Anne's Revenge lay hidden, a ghost in the water. "I have the means to fix it. What I need is a First Mate. Someone who understands this world, who can handle himself when things get... complicated."
Takeshi was silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle lapping of the water against the hull. He looked at the Sword of Triton, a thoughtful expression on his face. "The Grand Line is not a place for ambition alone. It is a place for power. For will. The sword you carry... it has a will of its own. Are you sure you are the one steering?"
"I'm learning to be," Arima replied, the words a raw admission that surprised even himself. "But I'm a fast learner. And I'm offering a partnership, not just a position. An equal share of the profits, and a share in whatever we find out there."
Takeshi's lips quirked into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "A partnership. Interesting." He walked to the rail of his boat, looking out at the sea. "I have my own reasons for being in this sea. My own debts to settle. A partnership with a man who wields a cursed sword and leaves a trail of bodies is... a risk."
"The risk is mine, too," Arima countered. "I'm trusting you with my back. I'm trusting you won't put a sword in it the first chance you get."
Takeshi turned back to him, his grey eyes locking with Arima's. "A swordsman's word is his bond. But I need proof of your commitment. A gesture of goodwill. I'm looking for someone. A woman. A master shipwright. Her name is Kairi. She was last seen on this island, but she vanished a week ago. The rumours say she was taken by slavers."
Arima felt a cold knot of anger form in his gut. He had seen the slave auction house in the town, the hopeless looks on the faces of the people being sold like livestock. He had pushed the image away, focusing on his own survival, but Takeshi's words brought it back with a vengeance.
"Slavers," Arima said, his voice a low growl. "I saw their operation. I didn't like it."
"Then you understand," Takeshi said, his gaze intense. "Find her. Bring her to me. Free her. Do that, and I will consider your offer. I will be your First Mate, and I will see you to the Grand Line."
Arima didn't hesitate. "Consider it done." He held out a hand.
Takeshi looked at the offered hand, then back at Arima's face. He slowly reached out and took it. Their grips were firm, a silent pact forged in the salty air of the cove. "I will wait for you at Silas's shipyard. Don't be long."
With that, Arima leapt back onto the sloop. "Get us back to the port. Now."
The two thugs, their faces pale with a mixture of fear and a dawning, desperate hope, scrambled to obey.