Chapter 36: The Scrap-Iron Shipwright and the Ghost Sea

I had a week to kill in Water 7 while Iceburg drafted the blueprints for my flying fortress.

But I still had a massive logistical problem, my oak carriage was completely destroyed, and I still needed to travel to my destination to actually get the money I owed him.

I didn’t want to buy a standard galleon.

I didn’t have a navigator, and a massive ship would just slow me down.

“So, where do we get a new ride?” Gammamon asked, finishing off a massive skewer of grilled water-meat as we walked away from the pristine, upper-tier docks.

“We go to the people who don’t ask questions,” I replied, steering us down a series of winding stone staircases toward the city’s underbelly.

We arrived at the scrap yards, a chaotic, metal-strewn peninsula littered with dismantled ships and rusted artillery.

It didn’t take long for the local welcoming committee to show up.

A group of heavily armed, wildly dressed thugs wielding chains and swords surrounded us.

The Franky Family.

“Well, well,” a guy with a basket-hilt sword sneered, stepping forward.

“Look what washed into the scrap yard.

Hand over the Berries, tourist, and maybe we won’t dismantle you.”

I just sighed, shifting my weight.

“I don’t have time for this.

Gammamon, keep eating.”

I stepped forward.

I didn’t use Haki, it would have been overkill.

I just channeled a fraction of my Fa-Jin into my legs and moved.

I was a blur.

I swept the legs of the first three thugs, grabbed the chain of a fourth, and used his own momentum to toss him into the rest of the group.

In less than ten seconds, a dozen bounty hunters were groaning on the ground in a tangled heap.

“What the hell is going on out here?!” a loud, booming voice echoed from the central dismantling warehouse.

A massive, incredibly wide cyborg wearing a speedo, an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, and heavy iron forearms stomped out into the sunlight.

Cutty Flam.

Franky.

He took one look at his defeated crew and glared at me.

“You got some nerve coming into my house and trashing my little brothers!

You want a fight, bro?!”

“I want a vehicle,” I said calmly, reaching into my coat and tossing a heavy, wrapped stack of Berries directly at his chest.

Franky caught it instinctively, the sheer weight of the cash making him blink.

“I need a temporary transport,” I explained, gesturing to the piles of scrap metal.

“A reinforced, aerodynamic carriage.

But no wheels.

I want sled-like pontoons on the bottom so it can glide smoothly across the surface of the ocean.

I need it done in less than a week.

Can you do it, or do I need to find a real shipwright?”

Franky looked at the cash, then looked at me, a massive, arrogant grin splitting his face.

“You’re talking to the greatest shipwright in the back-alleys, bro!” Franky shouted, striking a completely ridiculous pose, his metal forearms connecting to form a star.

“If it’s a super pontoon-sled you want, I’ll build you a masterpiece!

We’re gonna do it with a Don!”

Over the next few days, while Iceburg worked on his end, I spent my time hanging around Franky’s scrap yard.

Despite their rough exterior, the Franky Family was intensely loyal, and they had quickly taken a shining to Gammamon once they realized he wasn’t going to beat them up.

Over by the dismantled hull of a galleon, Gammamon was currently engaged in a highly competitive meat-eating contest with Zambai and the Square Sisters.

Zambai was cheering wildly as the little dinosaur effortlessly devoured a ham hock twice his size, completely winning the bounty hunters over.

I walked into the main garage, tossing an ice-cold bottle of cola to the massive cyborg currently welding the steel chassis of my pontoon-sled.

Franky caught it, popped the cap with his thumb, and downed half of it in one go.

“Superrr refreshing!

Thanks, bro.”

“You don’t just weld scrap together,” I noted, looking closely at the incredibly smooth, reinforced seam he had just finished on the hull.

“You build it to last.

It takes a certain kind of pride to do that, shame the rest of the city just sees you as a street thug.”

Franky scoffed, adjusting his goggles.

“I’m a dismantler, bro.

I break things.

I just happen to be good at putting this metal box together.”

“Sure you are,” I said quietly, leaning against a steel beam.

“But you’re using the same foundational techniques Tom used when he laid the keel for the Puffing Tom.

It’s unmistakable.”

Franky froze.

The welding torch in his hand sputtered, casting sharp blue shadows across his metal nose.

He slowly lowered his visor, turning to look at me, his boisterous demeanor completely gone.

His eyes were hard, calculating, and intensely defensive.

“What do you know about Tom?” Franky asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“I know he was a master at his craft,” I said smoothly, holding his gaze.

“I know he was executed for a crime he was pardoned for.

But most importantly, I know his philosophy.

To take absolute, unwavering pride in the ships you build.

To puff your chest out and stand by your creations, regardless of who sails them or what they are used for.”

Franky’s metallic fists clenched at his sides.

“He loved this city,” I continued softly, looking out toward the ocean.

“And he loved his apprentices.

The world lost a legend when he died, but it’s obvious his work ethic didn’t die with him.

You do good work, Franky.”

Franky stared at me.

His lower lip quivered.

He aggressively wiped at his eyes with his massive forearm, though tears were already actively streaming down his cheeks, mixing with the grease on his face.

“I’m not crying!” Franky sniffled loudly, his voice breaking into a loud sob.

“I just got a piece of slag in my eye, you jerk!”

I smiled softly.

“I know.”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice so Zambai and the others outside couldn’t hear.

It was time to leave a parting gift.

“Watch your back, Cutty Flam,” I murmured.

Franky flinched violently at his real name, his eyes widening in sheer shock.

“The government dogs in this city are sniffing around for the blueprints Tom left behind,” I warned calmly, letting the gravity of the words sink in.

“They’re desperate.

They’re wearing masks, and they’re standing in plain sight.

Don’t trust the ‘friendly’ faces at Galley-La.”

Franky’s jaw dropped.

The realization, the sheer weight of the secret I had just dropped on him, anchored him to the floor.

He stared at me like I was a ghost.

I patted his massive, metallic shoulder.

“Finish the sled.

I’ll be back in two days to pick it up.”

Exactly one week after my arrival, I sat in the Mayor’s office at Dock 1.

Iceburg unrolled a massive sheet of blueprint paper across his desk.

It was breathtaking.

It wasn’t a ship.

It was a sleek, aerodynamic fortress carved from Treasure Tree Adam.

It had an enclosed, reinforced bridge, spacious living quarters, a kitchen, a dedicated training room, and concealed artillery ports.

The hull was designed specifically to be carried by my jade beasts, factoring in wind resistance and extreme weather shielding.

“It’s perfect,” I breathed, genuinely amazed.

“You outdid yourself, Iceburg.”

“It’s going to be the most durable thing in the sky,” Iceburg said proudly.

“But my men don’t start carving the Adam Wood until I see the first billion Berries.”

“Give me a little time,” I promised.

I left Galley-La and headed straight back to the scrap yard.

Sitting on the coastal rocks was a heavy-duty, aerodynamic steel carriage resting on two massive, frictionless pontoons.

Franky was standing next to it, his arms crossed.

He looked at me, a new, sharp, paranoid edge in his eyes.

He hadn’t forgotten our conversation.

“It’s water-tight, insulated, and balanced perfectly,” Franky said seriously.

“But it has no motor and no sails.

How the hell are you gonna move it?”

I smiled.

I paid Franky the rest of the Berries, called Gammamon away from his new friends, and stepped out onto the coastal rocks.

I unhooked my Jade Wings, swiping my thumb across the black disk.

Summon: Glacial-Inferno Sovereign.

A pillar of emerald mist erupted over the shallow tide.

As it cleared, the majestic, towering form of the jade unicorn stood on the water.

The moment its hooves touched the ocean, the water violently flash-froze.

A localized aura of absolute zero radiated from its horn, solidifying the waves beneath it.

Franky’s eyes bulged out of his skull.

“What in the super-hell is that?!”

I grabbed the heavy iron chains attached to the front of the pontoon carriage and hitched them to the Sovereign’s jade harness.

“Thanks for the ride, Franky,” I called out, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Good luck.”

I cracked the reins.

The Sovereign let out a melodic, ringing neigh.

It lunged forward, charging directly across the ocean.

Its hooves never broke the water instead, it created a continuously generating, frictionless ice road perfectly beneath our pontoons.

We shot away from Water 7 at blinding speed, leaving a completely stunned cyborg standing on the shore.

It took three full days of traveling at high speeds across the Grand Line before the sunny skies of Paradise finally vanished.

As the Sovereign pulled us further along the magnetic path, the ocean turned a sickly, bruised color.

A thick, oppressive, unnatural fog rolled in, completely blotting out the sun.

The air grew freezing cold, and the water around our ice-road became deathly still.

“Victor, it’s spooky out here,” Gammamon mumbled, pressing his face against the reinforced window of our sled.

“We’re in the Florian Triangle, Gammamon,” I explained, keeping a hand on the Sovereign’s reins.

“It’s a dead sea.

A Warlord named Gecko Moria uses this fog to hide his massive, island-sized ship.

We’re going to crack his vault wide open and use his money to pay for our new flying fortress.”

The deeper we went, the more morbid the scenery became.

By the afternoon of the fourth day, we began passing other ships.

The first was a ruined merchant galleon, its sails shredded and its deck completely hollowed out.

A few hours later, we glided past a massive Marine caravel drifting aimlessly, eerily silent and completely devoid of life.

“He steals people’s shadows to make zombie soldiers,” I warned Gammamon, keeping my Observation Haki sweeping the fog.

Suddenly, the Sovereign slowed to a halt, the ice road grinding against the dead water.

Looming out of the thick, impenetrable fog directly to our right was the rotting, barnacle-encrusted hull of another massive ghost ship.

Its sails were tattered, and the wood was practically decaying into the ocean.

But unlike the others, this one wasn’t silent.

From the deck of the ruined galleon, a cheerful, echoing voice called out into the gloom.

“Yohohohoho!

Excuse me!

It has been quite a long time since I’ve seen a living soul.

Do you happen to have any tea?”

I looked up.

Leaning over the railing of the ghost ship was a towering, lanky skeleton wearing a tattered Victorian suit and a remarkably well-preserved afro.

Resting against the wooden railing right next to his bony hand was a worn, beautifully crafted violin.

“Whoa!” Gammamon cheered, immediately throwing the carriage door open and scrambling out onto the ice.

“Victor, look!

The skeleton is talking!

And he has an instrument!”

I laughed, stepping out onto the ice behind him.

Most people would be terrified out of their minds, but to me, this was the exact reason I wanted to travel this world.

With a burst of Fa-Jin, I vaulted off the ice, carrying Gammamon with me, and landed softly on the deck of the ghost ship.

The skeleton jumped back, clearly not expecting us to actually board his vessel.

“Oh, my word!” the skeleton gasped, adjusting his crooked bowtie.

“Company!

My manners are terrible.

I am Brook, the Dead Bones!

Though, I don’t suppose I could see your panties, could I?”

“I’m a guy, Brook,” I smiled.

“And I don’t have any tea, but we have some cola and grilled meat if you’re hungry.

Well, as hungry as a skeleton can be.”

“Skull joke!

Yohohoho!” Brook laughed, his jaw unhinging slightly.

But then his hollow eye sockets looked at me closer.

“You…

you are not afraid of me?”

“Why would we be afraid?” Gammamon beamed, pointing a stubby claw at the instrument leaning against the rail.

“You look super cool!

And you have a violin!

Do you know any songs?”

Brook stared at the little white dinosaur, completely stunned by the sheer, unadulterated warmth of the greeting.

It had been fifty years of absolute, agonizing isolation for him.

I could practically feel the overwhelming emotion radiating off his bones.

“I know many songs, little one,” Brook said, his voice softening with immense gratitude.

“Good,” I said, offering the musician my hand.

“My name is Victor.

That’s Gammamon.

We’re putting a crew together, and we’re currently lacking a musician.

I want you to come with us.”

Brook looked at my hand, a profound sadness entering his voice.

“Victor-san…

your offer brings tears to my eyes, even though I have no eyes!

But I cannot leave this sea.

My shadow was stolen by Gecko Moria.

If I enter the sunlight, my body will burn to ash.”

“I know,” I grinned, my eyes narrowing into a dangerous, confident slit.

“Why do you think we’re here?

Grab your violin, Brook.

We’re going to go kick a Warlord’s teeth in.”

Word Count: 2264

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