c 1 – Bad Pirates
The warm sea breeze ruffled Green's unkempt hair, pulling him from his meditation. He opened his eyes, gazing helplessly at the endless blue sea stretching to the horizon. A few white-sailed ships drifted lazily in the distance, their hulls rocking gently with the tide.
Two seagulls flapped past, their wings cutting through the salty air. One of them, as if mocking him, released a perfect arc of excrement that splattered onto the rock beside him.
Green remained unfazed. His thoughts were elsewhere.
"Hey! Green! I knew you'd be here!"
A teenage boy dashed up the rocky slope with a grin, his breath slightly uneven from running. He dropped beside Green, his face carrying an expression of 'I knew it.'
Green frowned slightly but responded with a small smile. "What? House, what's up?"
The boy, House, wore a patched long-sleeved shirt and baggy shorts, both clearly secondhand and too large for his frame. The sleeves hung loosely past his wrists, and the shorts barely clung to his waist. Yet, his golden hair, illuminated by the dying sun, and his ever-present smile made him stand out.
Green didn't comment on his friend's appearance. He had no right to. His own clothes were in worse shape, riddled with more patches than fabric. They were both orphans, scraping by however they could.
"It's nothing. You weren't in town this afternoon, so I figured you'd be here." House stretched lazily, leaning back against the blood-red sunset, propping himself up on his thin arms. His voice carried a hint of smugness.
The last light of the day slipped beneath the horizon, and stars—some bright, some faint began dotting the dim sky. Below, in the darkness at the foot of the mountain, tiny specks of light flickered to life. The town was waking to the night, lanterns glowing warmly in the windows of wooden houses.
Green often felt like he couldn't fully understand this world. It was primitive in so many ways people relied on swords and sailboats, messages traveled through carrier birds rather than machines but there were moments that felt unnervingly out of place.
He knew one thing for sure: if he took this world too lightly, he wouldn't survive.
If he hadn't suddenly found himself on this island three years ago if he hadn't stumbled upon the wanted posters tacked onto the walls of the town's entrance he might never have believed that after binge-watching One Piece all night, he'd wake up here.
His fists clenched. He could feel the strength in his body. Malnourished, just barely twelve, and yet… he knew this wasn't the physique of an ordinary boy.
"The legends might be true. The people of this world are just built differently," he muttered under his breath. "Way tougher than where I came from."
House, catching his murmurs, laughed. "Green, you're talking to yourself again. But hey, your 'symptoms' seem to be getting better. Guess the town doctors aren't complete idiots!"
Green rolled his eyes, choosing not to respond.
More than anything, the wanted poster of Gol D. Roger still hung in the town's most prominent spot, completely unweathered. That meant he was still active.
The Age of Great Pirates…
Green smirked. This island was small, far removed from the main trade routes, and barely touched by the outside world. Even the News Coo, those seagull couriers delivering newspapers across the Grand Line, rarely passed by.
But everyone here had heard of Roger. He was known as the most dangerous man on the seas. A legend, but not in a good way at least not to the people who lived in fear of pirates.
Suddenly—BOOM!
A deafening explosion erupted from behind them.
Green and House flinched, their heads snapping toward the village below.
Fire.
Flames licked the sky, turning the black night crimson. Thick smoke coiled upward, blotting out the stars.
"Pirates! They're attacking the village!" House's voice cracked with urgency. Without hesitation, he spun on his heel, bolting down the mountain. "We have to help!"
"Wait!" Green grabbed his arm.
"We don't have time to wait! People will die if we don't do something!"
The inferno below intensified. The town, once calm and glowing with lanterns, was now a sea of fire and chaos. Villagers fled in terror, their screams piercing the night.
Silhouettes moved through the flames. Tall figures. Weapons in hand. Green could almost see the grins carved into their faces.
"Listen," Green said, voice steady despite the horror unfolding. "Rushing in will get us killed. We're just kids. Even the weakest pirate could gut us in seconds."
House bit his lip, fists clenched.
They had nothing,no family, no home but the village had always looked after them. Watching it burn, doing nothing, made his stomach churn.
"I know how you feel." Green's voice was softer now. "But we have to be smart. We can't take them head-on."
House's eyes darted toward the flames. Toward the villagers. Then back to Green.
"Then what do we do?"
Green pointed toward the far edge of the village.
"There. That's where the villagers are trying to escape. I counted only a few pirates stationed there. We take them out and buy the villagers a chance to flee."
House's eyes widened. Then, he nodded.
Without another word, the two sprinted into the darkness.
They knew the terrain. They had lived on this island for years, surviving off the land. And most importantly, they had hunted together more times than they could count.
As they ran, they grabbed their weapons from a hidden stash.
Green armed himself with a rough, half-meter-long dagger, a handmade bow, and a dozen feathered arrows.
House wielded a homemade spear, its tip sharpened from an iron sheet. A thick wooden board strapped to his back served as a makeshift shield.
The downhill sprint saved their stamina, but by the time they neared the village, sweat clung to their skin, and their breaths came fast and sharp.
Now, the screams were deafening.
The clash of steel. The cackling of men who lived for bloodshed.
House clenched his jaw.
This was what pirates really were. Not grand adventurers. Not symbols of freedom. They were killers. Thieves. Monsters.
Green crouched low, scanning the enemy positions.
Something was off.
"These guys… they're hesitant," he whispered. His sharp eyes followed their movements. "They're sloppy. Not seasoned killers. They don't move like real pirates."
His mind worked quickly.
Rookies.
Aside from the two leading the attack, the rest were inexperienced. Green recognized it instantly.
A cold smile crept onto his lips.
House felt a tap on his shoulder. He knew what it meant. No words were needed.
Shield in hand, he slinked through the shadows, moving swiftly but silently. Green followed just behind him, bow drawn.
They were hunters. This was no different from tracking prey.
Their target was a thin man, crouched near an alleyway. A green bandana wrapped around his head, a dagger gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes gleamed with bloodlust.
He had just killed someone. The villager's lifeless body slumped at his feet, still warm.
The pirate grinned, savoring the moment.
Then, a sound.
A whisper of movement behind him.
"Huh?" He turned, eyes narrowing.
A shadow emerged.
A flicker of moonlight caught the arrowhead.
Thwip!
The arrow buried itself deep into his open mouth, silencing him forever.