The Black Pearl let out a deep groan.
Another massive wave crashed against her hull, causing the legendary ship to lurch violently to the side. Unsecured barrels tumbled across the deck like marbles.
"Captain!" Gibbs shouted, straining against the rigging with all his might, "A little assistance here would be greatly appreciated!"
"I'm on it, Gibbs!" Jack Sparrow called back from the helm, his tricorn hat flapping wildly in the wind as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
"I'm providing steady steering!"
"The sea's the one steering, mate!"
"And it's doing a spectacularly poor job of it!" Jack yelled, giving the wheel a dramatic spin.
CRASH!
A loud thud resonated from the galley below, followed by a high-pitched scream.
"AAARGH! Not the cutlery again!" Ragetti's voice rang out from the hatch. Moments later, he lamented, "Why are there so many bloody spoons?!"
Jack blinked, tilting his head in mild confusion. "Interesting," he murmured to himself. "It seems the kitchen has declared a mutiny."
By the mainmast, Crocodile stood unfazed by the swaying deck. A thick cigar was clenched between her teeth, its glowing ember defiantly cutting through the sea spray.
With a casual flick of her wrist, she sent sand swirling from her fingers, binding several loose cargo crates together as if they were held by iron chains.
She shot a glare up at the quarterdeck. "For the last time, Gibbs!" she snapped, her voice slicing through the storm. "This is your fault!"
Gibbs, halfway through securing a runaway cannon, looked genuinely offended. "My fault?! I'm the navigator, not some weather god!"
"You were supposed warn about the storm!"
"I was... just temporarily indisposed!"
"You were blackout drunk!"
"I was busy conducting some crucial, liquid-based maritime calculations!" Gibbs shot back, wiping the saltwater from his beard.
Van Augur didn't even glance up from fine-tuning the sight on his rifle, Senriku. "You passed out face-first on the nautical chart."
"It was a power nap!"
"There was drool."
"It was raining!"
"We were below deck."
Gibbs scrambled for a defense. "...Condensation?"
Crocodile pinched the bridge of her nose, seriously questioning every decision that had led her to join this crew.
Two months.
It had been two long, grueling months since they set sail from Drum Island. Two months of bouncing from one bizarre island in the Grand Line to another, interrogating famous doctors, shady scholars, wandering herbalists, and outright frauds about the elusive Sapphire Scales.
Nothing. Every lead ended in a wall of hopeless headshakes, pitiful apologies, and grim silence.
They had left Nico Robin, Ginny, and little Bonney behind on Drum Island, all under the watchful, terrifying eye of Dr. Kureha. Dr. Hiriluk and the island's medical council had thrown every resource they had into researching the disease, but Jack hated leaving them behind.
Still, sitting idle meant death. If a cure existed in this absurd, unpredictable sea... they would wrest it from the world's grasp.
BOOM!
A jagged bolt of lightning split the purple sky. In Jack's hand, the brass compass spun wildly, its needle chasing after ghosts.
Jack frowned, tapping the glass. "Still spinning, you cheeky little minx..."
Augur finished securing a sail line, his cape billowing dramatically. "Captain."
"Speak up, my sharp-eyed friend."
"Where exactly are we headed?"
Jack glanced down from the helm, his bright smile flashing in the lightning. "Great question! I'm glad you asked."
They waited for an answer, but Jack didn't respond.
Crocodile fixed him with a stare, her golden hook glinting ominously. "You have no idea, do you?"
"We left Drum Island in quite the rush, remember?"
"You sailed us straight into the most dangerous waters on the planet..."
"That's right."
"...without any destination in mind."
"I fully intended to find one along the way!" Jack replied, a bit defensively.
"And how do you plan to do that?"
Jack proudly brandished the chaotic compass. "With this beauty!"
Crocodile shut her eyes, silently wishing for the sweet escape of turning to sand and blowing away. "The compass that doesn't point north."
"I already explained, it points to what you desire most in this world, mate."
"It's just spinning wildly."
"It's... contemplating."
"It's broken."
"It's deep in thought!" Jack insisted, raising a finger for emphasis.
Before Crocodile could retort, the erratic spinning suddenly stopped. The needle clicked into place with a sharp, decisive sound.
Jack's quirky grin spread wider, reaching from ear to ear. "Ah, there we go."
The crew leaned over the bow, eyes fixed ahead. The compass pointed straight out.
Straining to see through the torrential rain, Jack squinted into the distance. Beyond the crashing waves, a jagged, dark shape loomed on the horizon.
"Land ho!" Gibbs shouted, letting out a huge sigh of relief. "By Davy Jones, I've never been so glad to see a place to land!"
Jack adjusted his coat, a smirk playing on his lips at the mention of the name. "We are not landing, Master Gibbs. We are... docking."
--
The storm had finally passed. Golden sunlight streamed through the fluffy, scattered clouds, while exotic birds filled the air with their cheerful songs.
The Black Pearl... had once again pulled off a spectacular beaching, her hull firmly lodged in the soft white sand.
Jack leaned over the bowsprit, taking in the disastrous parking job with a smirk. "Hmm."
Gibbs strolled up beside him, arms crossed. "What's on your mind, Captain?"
Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Looks like we've made it."
"I can see that."
"The ship is broken. Again."
"Yeah, I noticed that too, sir."
"We're getting remarkably good at this, aren't we?"
"Any more fancy words you want to throw in there?"
Crocodile stepped off the gangplank, her boots sinking into the warm sand. A gentle breeze caught her, sending pink petals—vibrant, delicate, and completely natural—floating through the air.
As she gazed beyond the shoreline, her eyes narrowed. The entire island was covered in a forest of striking, neon-pink trees. The architecture peeking through the canopy was whimsical, curvy, and undeniably flamboyant.
"Pink forests..." Crocodile muttered, her voice dropping a notch. She took a slow drag from her cigar. "The climate... the flora..."
Jack slid down the railing, landing with a slight stumble. "What's up, love? Smelling something off?"
"If my Grand Line intel is correct," Crocodile said, her brow furrowing, "we've landed on Momoiro Island. And don't call me love."
Gibbs blinked, his jaw nearly hitting the ground. "Wait... as in, the Kamabakka Kingdom?"
Crocodile nodded, a serious look on her face. "I've never done business here, but its reputation is well-known."
Jack adjusted his tricorn hat, completely unfazed. "Fantastic! Do these colorful islanders have what it takes to fix a fine ship like the Pearl?"
"Probably. They're a highly developed society, in their own... unique way."
"Then today is practically bursting with promise!" Jack exclaimed.
Up on the deck, Pintel leaned over the railing, a curious glint in his eye. "So, Captain! Are we tagging along for the shore party?"
Jack shook his head firmly, jabbing a finger at them. "Nope, you and Ragetti are staying with the Pearl."
"What?!" Ragetti whined, throwing his hands up in disbelief. "Why do we always get stuck here?"
"To keep an eye on the ship, obviously."
"Keep an eye on it against who?!"
Jack surveyed the stunning beach around them. "The locals. The wildlife. The weather. And, let's be honest, mostly you two. Just don't touch anything, don't drink anything, and for the love of the sea, don't set her on fire."
Neither pirate looked even slightly reassured.
The forest ahead was a sight to behold, though it was a bit much for the senses to take in all at once.
Pink blossoms blanketed the ground like a soft carpet. Colorful birds flitted through the treetops, and the air was filled with a sweet scent that was almost intoxicating.
Jack took a deep breath, making a peculiar face. "Hmm."
Gibbs shot him a sideways glance, his hands hovering near his holsters. "Everything alright, Jack?"
"Well... the air smells dreadfully... friendly." Jack shuddered. "I don't trust friendly. It usually ends with someone trying to eat my liver or marrying me off to a goat."
Gibbs chuckled at the memory. The last time they docked at an island, the locals had indeed tried to marry Jack to a goat.
They called it a welcome tradition. Luckily, they managed to escape before Jack had to endure a honeymoon.
Van Augur walked quietly at the back, his eyes scanning the underbrush. His Observation Haki spread out like an invisible net.
Since their skirmish on Little Garden, his ability to sense his surroundings had sharpened considerably.
Suddenly, Augur halted. "Captain."
Jack turned slightly, intrigued. "Yes, my stoic marksman?"
"They're here."
The mood shifted instantly. Gibbs drew both of his flintlock revolvers with practiced ease, while Crocodile's right arm morphed into a swirling mass of deadly, dehydrating sand.