With the final supplies packed, the ship fully coated, and a steady course set, Mirabel and I took our positions at the helm, ready to sail into the deep. The sun hung low, casting the last rays of light over the archipelago, and as we drifted away from Sabaody, I felt a strange mix of anticipation and resolve settle over me. This was our last sight of the surface world for a while; beyond lay Fish-Man Island, hidden beneath miles of ocean and shielded by layers of pressurized currents.
Nine months had passed since the Marineford War, and while the Grand Line had always held its share of turmoil, the aftermath of Whitebeard's death and the rise of Blackbeard left its own jagged marks on the world. Even the most isolated islands had felt the shift, a pressure building as new powers rose to fill the vacuum Whitebeard had left. And for Fish-Man Island, which had once flown under Whitebeard's protection, the stakes had changed dramatically.
Mirabel's gaze was fixed on the horizon, her expression intense as she scanned the waters ahead. "So this is it," she murmured. "Once we're under, there's no coming back up until we reach the island."
I nodded, adjusting the sails as we neared the currents that marked the beginning of our descent. "We're ready," I replied, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered in my mind. Navigating to Fish-Man Island was no simple task, even for seasoned sailors, and the waters we'd be entering were treacherous by nature, dark, powerful, and unyielding. But I'd prepared for this. We'd both prepared for this.
The currents pulled our ship forward, catching the thick coating along the hull as we plunged beneath the surface. The colors around us deepened, fading from the bright blues of shallow water to the muted greens and grays of the deep ocean. Mirabel adjusted the rudder, and together we kept the vessel steady, guiding it through the swirling currents and thickening darkness.
Hours passed, the light above slowly disappearing as we descended deeper. The water grew colder, the pressure of the ocean bearing down on us with an intensity that was impossible to ignore. But the coating held strong, and as we broke through a final stretch of dense currents, a faint glow appeared ahead. The water cleared, revealing a sprawling dome below, lit from within by an ethereal blue glow that filtered up through the ocean.
Fish-Man Island.
The island was nestled within a massive bubble, surrounded by a complex array of glowing coral reefs and towering kelp forests that stretched out like fingers into the surrounding darkness. As we neared the barrier, I caught glimpses of brightly colored fish and schools of creatures I couldn't even name. The island itself was an underwater world, a city built into the coral, filled with swirling lights and vibrant architecture that seemed almost dreamlike.
Mirabel gazed at the sight, her eyes wide. "I've heard stories, but… seeing it for real…" Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, the wonder on her face replaced any trace of her usual practicality.
"It's something, alright," I agreed, though my attention quickly turned to the patrols of fish-men and merfolk swimming along the edges of the barrier. Tensions on Fish-Man Island had been running high since Whitebeard's death, and while news had spread that the island now flew under the protection of Big Mom, many of its residents still bore scars from past oppression and struggles. The Marineford War had left its shadow here, too.
We eased the ship toward the entry port, where a group of armed guards approached, their sharp eyes assessing us with suspicion. They were led by a tall, lean fish-man with dark skin and a spear strapped to his back. His gaze was hard, but I could see a weariness beneath it, the weariness of someone who'd had to adapt to a rapidly shifting world.
"Travelers, state your business," he said, his voice carrying the authority of someone who had long held his position.
"Safe passage and supplies," I replied, keeping my tone steady. "We're en route to the New World, and Fish-Man Island is our last stop for provisions."
The guard studied us in silence, his expression unreadable, before giving a nod. "Very well. But be warned, Fish-Man Island is under tight watch. We've had too many outsiders meddling in our affairs since… well, since everything changed." His tone was weighted, and it didn't take much to understand what he meant. Whitebeard's death, Big Mom's claim to the island, and the ever-present conflicts between fish-men and humans had left the place tense and divided.
As the guard motioned us through, Mirabel leaned in, her voice low. "Think they're expecting trouble?"
"They've been getting trouble for years," I replied, steering us into the entry port. "The people here were protected by Whitebeard, but since he's gone, they've had to rely on Big Mom, and that alliance doesn't come free."
We docked, securing the ship just inside the bubble's protective layer, and stepped onto the landing. The air inside the bubble was fresh, though laced with the faint, salty scent of the ocean.
Around us, the city pulsed with life, fish-men and merfolk moving through the streets lined with coral-built structures. But despite the island's vibrant appearance, an undercurrent of tension lay beneath the surface, a reminder of the struggles and betrayals Fish-Man Island had endured.
As we walked through the marketplace, I noticed a group of young fish-men gathered around a small fire coral display, their conversation low but animated. Their excitement over the display couldn't hide the fact that they kept glancing over their shoulders, wary, as though expecting trouble at any moment.
A merchant nearby caught sight of us and called out, waving his fin-like arms enthusiastically. "Welcome, newcomers! We've got fresh ocean produce, medicinal herbs, and all the wonders of the deep!"
Mirabel gave me a knowing look, and we approached, taking the opportunity to gather the essentials for the next leg of our journey. The vendor, a middle-aged fish-man with green scales and a friendly grin, seemed eager to share local news and rumors.
"You're a brave pair, heading for the New World," he commented, passing a bundle of dried kelp into Mirabel's hands. "Not many come here since… well, since the balance shifted."
"Seems like Fish-Man Island has had its share of challenges recently," I said, keeping my tone casual.
The merchant's face grew somber. "You could say that. Big Mom's protection isn't free, and the tensions between fish-men and human visitors haven't improved. Prince Fukaboshi's been working to keep things calm, but it's hard. We're a long way from where we were when Whitebeard looked out for us." He sighed, shaking his head. "These days, we watch every human who enters. Can't afford to be careless."
I thanked the merchant, handing him a few coins, and we continued through the marketplace, gathering everything we needed while taking in the undercurrent of unease. The people here moved quickly, with eyes that seemed accustomed to looking over their shoulders. The pain of past betrayals and the uncertainty of new alliances lay thick in the air.
As we neared the end of the market, a massive coral structure came into view, a towering palace built of shimmering coral and guarded by tall, vigilant figures. The palace, magnificent yet imposing, stood as a reminder of Fish-Man Island's strength, but also of its reliance on powers far beyond its borders.
Mirabel's gaze lingered on the palace, her expression pensive. "They're just trying to survive, aren't they? Fish-Man Island has been caught in the middle of everything."
"It's always been this way for them," I replied. "It's a fragile balance. And right now, the whole world feels on edge."
She nodded, her expression turning resolute. "All the more reason for us to push forward. The New World is our only chance to really make a difference."
We finished gathering our supplies, making our way back to the ship. As we approached the docks, I looked back at the island, a silent acknowledgment of the struggles it had endured. In this world, survival meant alliances with unpredictable powers and sacrifices that could never be undone. But Fish-Man Island had adapted, endured, and that resilience was a reminder of the challenges that lay ahead.
With everything in place, Mirabel and I boarded our ship, casting one last look at the vibrant yet troubled city. As the currents drew us away, Fish-Man Island gradually disappeared into the depths, the glow of its coral structures fading into the surrounding darkness.