One
The massive mangroves of Sabaody Archipelago rise from the sea like the pillars of a forgotten temple, their enormous roots breaking the water's surface in smooth, bubbling arcs. Scarlett stands at the starboard rail, watching the legendary way station emerge from morning mist, its tree trunks wider than some ships she's sailed. Green canopies stretch impossibly high, while soap bubbles drift from their branches in lazy, iridescent clouds—a surreal welcome to the last stop before the new world.
"Never gets old," Pepper says, joining her at the rail. "No matter how many times I've seen it."
"It's been a while for me," Scarlett admits. "Three years in a toy box changes your perspective on places like this."
Below them on the main deck, movement erupts as Minx emerges from her cabin. The captain's crimson hair catches sunlight as she vaults onto a supply crate, arms spread wide to gather attention.
"Crew of the Killer Bee!" Her voice carries clear across the deck. "Let's talk Sabaody!"
Pirates materialize from all corners of the ship, gathering around their captain like iron filings to a magnet. Even Kiara emerges from her usual shadows, amber eyes alert with rare interest. The atmosphere crackles with anticipation—after days at sea, land promises adventure and reprieve.
Scarlett joins the assembly, finding a spot beside the twins, who practically vibrate with excitement. Across the circle, Gloria studiously avoids looking in her direction. Their earlier conversation with Minx evidently still fresh.
"Sabaody isn't just any port," Minx continues once everyone assembles. "It's the gateway to the New World, the last civilized stop before Fishman Island and the challenges beyond." Her green eyes sweep the gathered faces, lingering briefly on Belle, whose aqua hair shimmers in the morning light. "It's also crawling with Marines, Celestial Dragons, and bounty hunters who'd love to cash in on our pretty faces."
She taps her foot against the crate, her expression turning serious. "Our combined bounties now exceed one and a half billion berries. We'll be targets the moment we step ashore."
"Sounds fun," Tiffany says, cracking her knuckles with anticipation.
Minx grins. "It will be—if we're smart." She jumps down from the crate, landing with catlike grace. "That's why we're splitting into three teams, each with specific missions. Get in, get what we need, get out—no unnecessary risks."
She pulls a rolled map from her back pocket, spreading it across the crate. Crew members crowd closer as she points to marked locations.
"Team One will handle fundraising," Minx says, circling an area on the map. "That's me, Dann'i, Pepper, and Venus. We'll sell some of our Primrose Island souvenirs and a few temporary gems courtesy of my Devil Fruit." She flexes her fingers, which gleam briefly with diamond potential.
Venus bounces on her toes, green hair flopping with the movement. "Do I get to use my tonfa if someone tries to cheat us?"
"Only if I say so," Minx replies with a wink that suggests she might say so quite readily.
"Team Two," she continues, pointing to another section of the map, "will secure provisions and repair supplies. Akane leads, with Gloria, Tiffany, and Kiara for muscle and negotiation."
Akane nods once, accepting the responsibility without comment. Beside her, Tiffany grins and hefts her massive hammer onto one shoulder.
"Just provisions?" Gloria asks, her melodic voice carrying a hint of disappointment. "No instruments shopping?"
"Focus on essentials," Minx answers. "But if you find string replacements for that whip of yours, consider it approved."
Gloria's smile flashes quick as summer lightning before disappearing again, her eyes darting briefly to Minx, then away.
"Team Three," Minx continues, circling a third location on the map, "needs to find us a reputable ship coater. That's Scarlett, Amy, Becky, and Fiona."
Scarlett straightens slightly at hearing her name, surprised to be included in the shore parties after her recent revelations. More surprising still is her team assignment—the youngest, most unpredictable crew members under her guidance, with a critical task.
"A coater?" Fiona asks, her young face creasing with concentration. "For passing under the Red Line?"
"Exactly," Minx confirms. "We need the best bubble coating available if we want to reach Fishman Island in one piece."
Belle steps forward, hands clasped before her. "I can provide guidance on what makes a quality coating. The pressure at those depths..." She shudders slightly. "It's not something to take chances with."
"Good point." Minx nods toward Scarlett. "Belle will brief your team before you disembark."
The assignments settle over the crew, each member mentally preparing for their roles. Dann'i adjusts her glasses, already mumbling calculations about potential profits. Venus checks her tonfa with quick, practiced movements. The twins whisper excitedly to each other, their voices creating a singsong rhythm that rises and falls in perfect synchronization.
"What about Belle?" Akane asks, voicing the question hanging unspoken in the air.
Minx's expression softens as she turns to the mermaid cook. "Belle stays aboard."
No explanation needed. Sabaody's reputation for human trafficking—particularly targeting rare species like mermaids—makes the decision obvious. Belle's shoulders relax visibly at the words, relief washing over her features.
"I'll prepare a feast for your return," she promises. "Something special."
"Everyone gear up," Minx commands, rolling the map with practiced efficiency. "We anchor in thirty minutes. I want all teams ready to move the moment we dock."
The crew disperses like scattered chess pieces, each moving with purpose toward cabins and storage areas. Weapons are checked, bags prepared, communication arranged. Despite the discipline, excitement pulses beneath the surface—Sabaody represents both danger and opportunity, the final challenge before the mysteries that lie beneath the Red Line.
Scarlett finds herself approached by the twins, their usual mischievous expressions replaced by something closer to determination.
"We know the Archipelago pretty well," Amy says, pink hair bouncing as she nods.
"Used to run salvage operations here," Becky adds. "Before joining the crew."
Scarlett raises an eyebrow, reassessing the seemingly frivolous pair. "That could be useful. Where would you suggest we start looking for coaters?"
"Grove Thirteen," they answer simultaneously.
"Respectable enough to do quality work," Amy elaborates.
"Disreputable enough not to report pirate customers," Becky finishes.
Fiona joins them, her wind bow secured across her back, log pose strapped to her wrist. "I've marked the safest approach routes on these maps." She hands one to Scarlett, another to the twins. "Yellow areas are Marine checkpoints. Red marks known Celestial Dragon thoroughfares."
Scarlett accepts the map, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in her chest. Trust. They're trusting her to lead, despite knowing what her power did to them. Despite her being the newest addition to their ranks.
Across the deck, Minx catches her eye and gives a small, knowing nod. The message is clear: this assignment isn't random. It's an offering. A chance.
Forty minutes later, the Killer Bee drops anchor in a secluded inlet between Grove Twenty-Nine and Thirty. Hidden from main thoroughfares but accessible to smaller boats, the location provides optimal balance between concealment and escape options.
The teams gather at the gangway, weapons secured but accessible, faces set with determination beneath their excitement. Belle watches from the rail above, aqua hair rippling in the gentle breeze from the mangroves.
"Return by sundown," Minx instructs as they prepare to disembark. "If you're not back, we come looking—and we won't be subtle about it."
The warning carries weight beyond its simple phrasing. Any crew member in trouble will have the full force of the Killer Bee Pirates behind them—a promise worth more than gold in a place like Sabaody.
One by one, the teams descend the gangway, separating toward their assigned destinations. Soap bubbles drift around them, catching sunlight in prismatic bursts. Somewhere in the distance, indistinct voices and laughter filter through the mangrove roots—the heartbeat of an archipelago that serves as both haven and hunting ground.
The Killer Bee waits silently in their wake, its black hull nearly invisible in the shadows of the massive trees, ready to receive its crew when their missions are complete.
—
Team One weaves through the crowded marketplace of Grove Twenty-One, Venus carrying a wooden crate balanced effortlessly on one shoulder despite her small frame. Inside, carefully nestled in straw, amber-colored trinkets from Primrose Island catch light in honeyed flashes. Minx leads their procession with confident strides, green eyes constantly scanning the crowds for Marines or trouble, while Dann'i consults a small notebook containing detailed price estimates for their wares. Pepper brings up the rear, medical bag at her hip but eyes alert for any sign of their crew being recognized from their wanted posters.
"There," Minx says, nodding toward a shop with an elaborate facade and windows displaying exotic items from across the Grand Line. "Marbella's Rarities. Dann'i, you said she's trustworthy?"
The historian adjusts her glasses with one finger. "Relatively speaking. She deals in legitimate antiquities but isn't above purchasing items with... murky provenance. More importantly, she doesn't inform on pirates."
They enter the shop, a bell tinkling softly overhead. The interior smells of sandalwood and old paper, shelves lined with curiosities that span the spectrum from mundane to mystifying. A tall woman emerges from behind a beaded curtain, her silver hair swept into an elaborate knot secured with what appears to be a miniature trident.
"Customers," she says, voice rich with an accent Minx can't quite place. "Or sellers?" Her sharp eyes take in their appearances, lingering briefly on Venus's distinctive green hair.
"Both, potentially," Minx answers with practiced casualness. "We have some items you might find interesting."
Venus sets the crate on the counter at Minx's nod. The shop owner—Marbella, presumably—opens it with careful movements, extracting one of the amber pieces. She holds it to the light, turning it with expert fingers.
"Primrose Island origin," she says, not a question but an assessment. "Pre-colonial period, judging by the inclusion patterns. Uncommon, but not rare." She sets it down, examining another. "I can offer eighty thousand berries for the collection."
"One hundred thousand," Dann'i counters smoothly. "The volcanic amber from Primrose's eastern slopes commands premium prices from collectors."
Marbella's eyebrow rises slightly, reassessing the historian. "You know your materials."
"I know their value," Dann'i replies.
A brief negotiation follows, conducted in the formal dance of merchants throughout history. Marbella examines each piece, Dann'i provides scholarly context enhancing their value, Venus shifts impatiently from foot to foot, and Pepper maintains a watchful eye on the door.
Minx lets it unfold, content to observe. Dann'i's academic precision serves them well here—her knowledge of historical context adding zeros to the price with each detailed explanation.
"One hundred thousand," Marbella finally agrees. "Though I'm robbing myself blind at that price."
Money exchanges hands, the amber changes ownership, and Team One exits with their first success secured. But it's merely the appetizer before their main course.
"Phase two," Minx says, leading them away from the commercial district toward a seedier section of the grove. "Now we find someone who appreciates temporary beauty."
"And doesn't mind that it'll vanish within a day," Pepper adds.
Their destination stands in stark contrast to Marbella's refined establishment—a sprawling, chaotic market where legality exists as a flexible concept rather than a hard rule. Merchants hawk everything from knockoff luxury goods to questionable medical cures, all beneath canopies made from repurposed sails.
Venus grins, clearly more comfortable in this environment than the pristine shop. "This is more like it. Real pirates don't shop in fancy stores."
"Real pirates shop wherever the deals are," Minx corrects with a wink. "Now watch and learn."
She approaches a relatively empty stall, its owner lounging on a stool with the bored expression of someone experiencing a slow sales day. Perfect.
"Interested in a partnership?" Minx asks without preamble.
The merchant—a wiry man with a scar bisecting one eyebrow—straightens. "Depends on what you're selling and how much of my percentage you're taking."
"Gemstones," Minx says, holding out her empty palm. "And a generous sixty-forty split in your favor."
Before the man can respond with obvious skepticism, Minx activates her Devil Fruit. Golden light dances across her fingertips, spreading to encompass her palm. When it recedes, a perfect diamond sits where a plane stone existed moments before, its facets catching light in dazzling fractals.
The merchant's jaw slackens. "That's—"
"A real diamond," Dann'i confirms, adjusting her glasses. "Temporarily, at least."
"Devil Fruit," the man whispers, understanding dawning. "How temporary?"
"The transformation holds for approximately twenty-four hours," Pepper explains. "More than enough time for you to sell them to customers who appreciate beauty without obsessing over permanence."
Venus leans forward, her youthful face suddenly sharp with business acumen. "Or customers who want to impress someone for a night without spending a fortune."
"Exactly," Minx says, closing her fingers around the diamond. "I can produce twenty pieces an hour. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires—whatever sells best in your market. Your customers get one night of luxury at a fraction of the cost. You get profits without investment. We get cash without questions."
The merchant's eyes narrow with calculation. "Show me more."
For the next three hours, Minx transforms ordinary objects—pebbles, glass fragments, even a bent nail—into glittering gemstones of various sizes and cuts. The merchant displays them on black velvet cloths, drawing crowds of customers ranging from young lovers seeking affordable gifts to wealthy patrons preparing for evening events.
"Remember," the merchant tells each buyer, his sales pitch perfected after the first few transactions, "these are special event gems. Perfect for tonight's appearance, gone by tomorrow's dawn. Luxury without the lifetime investment."
The concept proves wildly popular. Temporary luxury—all the prestige with none of the responsibility. By mid-afternoon, their partnership has generated over twenty million berries, stacked in neat bundles inside a reinforced case that Dann'i guards with scholarly vigilance.
"We should consider this business model at other ports," she says as they count the final shares. "The profit-to-time ratio is remarkably efficient."
Venus peers over her shoulder at the money. "We could buy so much with this. New cannons, reinforced rigging, maybe even—"
"Silver-threaded sails," Minx interrupts, eyes gleaming with sudden inspiration. "From the weavers in Grove Fifteen. I've heard they catch wind currents that normal canvas can't feel."
Pepper clears her throat. "Perhaps we should wait to see what Teams Two and Three report?" Her tone remains gentle but firm. "The coating for the ship isn't optional if we want to reach Fishman Island. And we don't know what repairs Tiffany might deem necessary."
Minx sighs dramatically but nods agreement. "Always the voice of reason, Pepper. Fine. We'll be responsible adults and wait." She secures the money case with a small padlock. "For now, let's head back to the ship. I want to check on Belle anyway."
They make their way back through increasingly familiar groves, Minx occasionally creating small gem butterflies that flutter briefly before disintegrating into golden dust—a habit she developed to amuse herself during long voyages. By late afternoon, they sight the Killer Bee's distinctive black hull nestled among mangrove roots.
Belle waits at the rail, her aqua hair immediately recognizable even at a distance. Something in her posture—a straight-backed tension unusual for the typically relaxed mermaid—captures Minx's attention immediately.
"Something's up," she murmurs to Pepper.
They board quickly, Venus reporting their financial success to Akane, who has returned with Team Two ahead of schedule. Minx approaches Belle directly, noting the nervous way the mermaid's fingers twisting together.
"Everything okay?" she asks. "No trouble while we were gone?"
"No trouble," Belle confirms, her melodic voice pitched slightly higher than normal. "I just..." She hesitates, eyes dropping to the deck. "I've been wanting to ask you something."
Minx waits, giving Belle space to find her words.
"Would it be possible—" Belle begins, then stops, swallows, starts again. "I haven't seen my family in fifteen years. Not since the current swept me away from Fishman Island." Her eyes lift, vulnerable yet determined. "I could swim there ahead of the ship. Prepare things for your arrival. Maybe even arrange for a safer coating process through my relatives."
The request hangs in the air between them, Belle's body tense with anticipation of rejection or permission. Minx doesn't hesitate. She steps forward and wraps her arms around the mermaid in a fierce embrace.
"You never even needed to ask," she says, voice thick with emotion. "Of course you can go home, Belle. Of course you can see your family."
Belle stiffens in surprise before melting into the hug, her arms circling Minx's waist. "Really?"
Minx pulls back just enough to look Belle in the eyes. "This crew isn't a prison. It's a family. And family understands going home." Her voice drops slightly. "Just promise you'll be there when we arrive?"
"I promise," Belle whispers, tears gathering in her eyes. "Thank you, Captain."
The word 'captain' has never sounded so right to Minx's ears, never carried such weight of trust and responsibility. She squeezes Belle once more before releasing her.
"When do you want to leave?" she asks.
Belle glances at the sinking sun, then back at Minx. "Dawn tomorrow? If that's not too soon?"
"Dawn it is." Minx grins. "And don't worry about the feast you promised. We'll have a bigger one when we all reach Fishman Island together."
Around them, the Killer Bee hums with the activity of a successful day—Team Two unloading provisions, Venus chattering excitedly about their sales, Dann'i cataloging expenses in her precise handwriting. Only Team Three remains ashore, searching for the coater that will make their underwater journey possible.
Minx leans on the rail beside Belle, watching the soap bubbles drift lazily from mangrove branches. Twenty million berries in a day's work, a crew that functions like a well-oiled machine even in her absence, and now the promise of Fishman Island and whatever adventures lie beyond. Not bad for a pirate captain once transformed into a child's toy.
Not bad at all.
