The next few days aboard the Soaring Eagle were a blur of waves, salt air, and endless horizons. Aero had never been far from land before, and the vastness of the open sea both awed and unsettled him. The ship creaked under the pressure of the ocean, and the sails flapped tirelessly as the wind pushed them farther into the unknown.
Aero had kept mostly to himself, focused on studying the map and what little notes his father had left behind. The map was old—much older than Aero had imagined. Faded ink traced paths across the paper, some with cryptic symbols, others with worn-out markings that hinted at ancient places, forgotten islands, and long-lost treasures. Every now and then, Aero would pause and try to decipher the meaning, but it always seemed just out of reach, like the answers were hidden behind layers of mystery.
One evening, as the sun began its slow descent into the horizon, casting a golden glow over the ocean, Aero stood at the bow of the ship, his eyes fixed on the horizon. He had been thinking a lot about his father lately—the adventures he must have had, the things he must have seen. Aero couldn't help but wonder if his father had ever stood on a deck like this, staring into the same vast sea, just as Aero was now.
Suddenly, a loud cry cut through the silence, a sharp warning that made Aero snap to attention. His heart raced as he whipped around to see a figure standing near the mast, pointing toward the distance.
"Captain!" the sailor yelled. "Ship ahead! It's not flying any flag!"
Aero's stomach dropped. He had only been out on the sea for a short time, but he had already heard enough stories to know that ships without flags often meant one thing: pirates.
His eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon. In the distance, a dark shape was emerging from the mist, slowly taking form. It was a ship, large and menacing, its sails blackened by soot. Aero could feel the tension in the air, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. It was clear this wasn't a friendly encounter.
"What should we do, Captain?" the sailor asked, his voice filled with uncertainty.
Aero swallowed, his mind racing. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't have a crew, didn't have much experience with combat at sea. But this was the life he had chosen, and he couldn't back down now.
"Prepare the ship for battle!" Aero commanded, his voice steady despite the adrenaline rushing through him. "Get the cannons ready. We won't run."
The crew scrambled into action, moving quickly to secure the ship's defenses. Aero gripped the wheel, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. His heart was pounding, and every instinct told him to turn the ship around and flee. But that wasn't who he was. He wasn't going to run—not from pirates, not from anything.
The enemy ship grew larger, its outline becoming clearer. It was a pirate ship, alright—a ship with a reputation. The Black Vulture, notorious in these waters for its ruthless crew and brutal tactics. Aero had heard of them in passing during his time at the taverns back home. But this wasn't just any pirate ship. This was a ship that left no survivors.
As the ships drew closer, the Soaring Eagle rocked with the waves. The pirates on the Black Vulture were readying their own cannons, and Aero could see their silhouettes lining the sides of the ship, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The Black Vulture pulled alongside The Soaring Eagle with a sickening screech of wood against wood. A rope was thrown across, landing neatly on the deck. From the other side, a figure stepped forward, their silhouette dark against the sky. They moved with a predator's grace, their footsteps silent, the only sound the creak of the ropes as they swung across the gap.
Aero's grip tightened on the wheel. The figure who had crossed over was tall, with long, flowing dark hair and a coat that seemed to shimmer in the fading light. They wore a long, black cloak with silver trimming, and their eyes—bright and calculating—sized Aero up instantly.
"You're brave to face us alone, boy," the pirate said, their voice deep, commanding. They spoke in a tone that carried both mockery and admiration. "But you'll regret it soon enough."
Aero stood tall, though his heart was pounding in his chest. "I'm not afraid of you," he said, more to convince himself than to threaten the pirate. "I'm here for something much bigger than your ship."
The pirate's eyes flickered with interest. "Bigger than my ship, huh? That's a bold claim. Tell me, boy, what's so important that you think you can sail the Grand Line without fear?"
"I'm searching for One piece," Aero said, his voice steady now, his eyes meeting the pirate's with unwavering resolve. "The treasure my father was searching for. And nothing—nothing—is going to stop me from finding it."
The pirate chuckled, but there was no humor in it. "One piece, huh? That's what you're after? It's a foolish quest. There are many who seek that treasure, and none have returned. But you—" the pirate looked Aero up and down, their expression unreadable. "You don't seem like the type who listens to warnings."
Aero didn't flinch. "I don't need your warnings. I'll find it, with or without your help."
The pirate's eyes hardened, their smile fading into something more dangerous. "Then you'll have to face the consequences of your foolishness."
With a sudden movement, the pirate drew a gleaming sword from their belt, the steel flashing in the dim light. They advanced toward Aero, and without hesitation, Aero reached for the sword at his own side. It wasn't much, a simple blade, but it was enough to defend himself.
The battle began quickly—steel clashing against steel, the ringing sound of metal filling the air. Aero's heart raced as he parried the pirate's strikes, his mind scrambling to keep up with the speed and skill of the opponent. He was no seasoned warrior, but the will to survive, to protect his journey, pushed him forward.
The pirate was fast, their movements fluid, like they were dancing with the blade. Aero blocked a strike, feeling the shock of the impact run through his arm. His breathing grew shallow, his muscles sore from the strain, but he refused to back down. He wouldn't lose—not here, not now.
For a moment, it seemed like the pirate was going to land a fatal blow. But then, just as the sword came down, Aero sidestepped, his feet slipping on the deck as he narrowly avoided the strike. With a quick maneuver, Aero pushed the pirate's sword away, catching them off balance.
In that instant, Aero saw his chance. He lunged, his blade cutting through the air with precision, landing a strike that forced the pirate to retreat.
The pirate staggered back, eyes wide with surprise. For the first time, there was doubt in their gaze. "You're... not like the others," they said, their voice tinged with disbelief.
Aero didn't respond. Instead, he stepped forward, his sword held ready. The pirate hesitated, looking between Aero and their own crew, who had remained on the other ship, watching the fight unfold.
With a grunt, the pirate dropped their sword. "This isn't over," they muttered, backing away. "But you're lucky today, boy. Keep that sword sharp, because the Grand Line is full of people like me."
And with that, the pirate leaped back across the rope to their own ship. Aero watched them go, his chest heaving with adrenaline. The Black Vulture pulled away, retreating into the distance, and for the first time since he had set sail, Aero felt the weight of the world on his shoulders.
But despite the danger, despite the uncertainty, he was more certain than ever—he was on the right path. And no pirate, no storm, nothing could stop him from finding what he was meant to find.