Chapter 5 — Section 1: The Breathing City
The tide sang low when Newgate's flagship broke the mist.
Sabaody was a living thing — light and color and chaos stitched together by the roots of those enormous mangrove trees. The air tasted of sap and salt, of perfume and oil. Bubbles drifted like lazy ghosts between the branches. For men who'd survived the Calm Belt, it was almost peaceful.
Almost.
Crow leaned on the rail, hood drawn, eyes narrow. The island glittered with too much motion, too much life. He could hear it — the uneven rhythm of thousands of heartbeats below, a messy orchestra of greed and laughter. Every note tugged at the edge of his senses. His own ki, still unstable from the CP 8 incident, prickled along his skin like static.
"Don't scowl so hard, kid."
Jozu's voice carried behind him, easy and deep. The diamond-man was polishing his gauntlet with a rag, light winking off the facets of his arm. "Newgate says we're here to breathe, not break bones."
Crow's mouth twitched. "Hard to breathe when every other heartbeat down there sounds like it wants to sell someone."
Jozu laughed. "That's Sabaody. Slavers on one side, dreamers on the other. You just have to walk the middle and not let either drag you."
At the quarterdeck, Shiki's laughter cracked through the din. The Golden Lion stood beside Newgate, mane blazing in the sun. They watched the crews prepare to disembark — different banners but one purpose. Exploration, trade, rumor-chasing. And trouble, always trouble.
"Crow. Jozu. You two and Bori'll take the north market," Newgate called out, his voice rolling like thunder. "Don't start a war, y'hear? We're just stretchin' legs."
"Aye, Captain!" Jozu answered, then threw Crow a sideways grin. "Come on. Let's see how long you can pretend not to enjoy yourself."
⸻
The moment they stepped onto the docks, the noise hit them like surf. Merchants shouted in ten languages, bubble cars hissed past, and somewhere deeper in the grove a crowd cheered for an auction. Sabaody never slept; it only shifted moods.
Bori, Shiki's quartermaster, led the way — tall, all bone and sinew, with a scar that split his cheek like a bad memory. "Keep your cloaks close," he muttered. "Too many eyes here belong to Marines or worse."
Crow followed in silence, gaze flicking from face to face. Every time someone brushed too near, his senses flared — a ripple of intent, a scent of bloodlust quickly hidden. His control still wavered. The lab had left him raw inside, and he could feel his ki searching for outlets like water through cracks.
They passed a group of Celestial Dragon escorts in white suits. The crowd bent at the knee as they walked by. Crow didn't move. Jozu's hand tightened on his shoulder before anyone noticed.
"Don't," Jozu murmured. "Not worth it."
"I know." Crow's voice was low, iron-flat. "Just… hard to swallow."
They turned into a side street where sunlight fell through layers of bubble film. Children darted past carrying stolen fruit. Music played from a bar whose sign read Grove 13 – Paradise's Edge. For a heartbeat, Crow almost felt normal — until he sensed the tremor.
A small skiff at the far dock had just discharged three men. Their uniforms were disguised, but the rhythm of their steps was too precise, their breaths too measured. CP agents — not the ones he'd fought, but trained the same way. His pulse slowed; his body remembered.
Jozu noticed the shift in his expression. "What is it?"
"Ghosts." Crow kept walking, pretending not to notice the agents melt into the crowd. "Let's keep moving."
They reached the market square, a circle of polished roots lined with stalls. Bori peeled off to barter for supplies, leaving Crow and Jozu amid the press of bodies. The younger pirates hawked weapons, spices, even captured sea beasts. The air smelled of metal and sweet rot.
A shout broke through — a slaver trying to rope a mermaid child. Jozu was already moving before Crow could blink, his fist catching the man in the jaw. Bone met diamond; the slaver crumpled. The crowd scattered.
Crow felt the surge before it came — that hot, invisible wave of fear and anger. His haki reacted instinctively, brushing over the nearest minds like a warning growl. Every onlooker froze, not sure why their knees wanted to buckle.
Jozu glanced back at him. "You didn't have to do that."
"Neither did you," Crow said quietly. "Guess we both failed the Captain's order."
The mermaid girl was already gone, vanished into the throng. Crow's heartbeat slowed. He let his senses retract, ki drawing inward like a tide pulling home. The buzzing in his skull eased. For the first time in weeks, the world sounded distant enough to breathe.
They ducked into a narrow alley to avoid the patrols. Jozu leaned against a wall, shaking his head. "You really hate this place."
Crow studied the glowing sap that leaked from the mangrove bark. "It's too alive. Too loud. Makes it easy to forget what silence costs."
Jozu chuckled. "You talk like an old man."
"Feels that way."
⸻
By late afternoon they found themselves near the edge of Grove 12. The air was cooler, the crowds thinner. A few bars dotted the street, and beyond them the shimmer of the next root bridge. Jozu stopped to buy skewers from a street vendor, tossing one toward Crow.
"Eat. You look like you're planning to fight the horizon."
Crow caught it, stared at the grilled meat, and managed a faint grin. "Maybe I am."
Jozu was about to reply when the sound of quiet footsteps drew both their attention. A presence — calm, deliberate, familiar — was moving through the crowd toward them. Not hostile, but heavy, like the tide itself deciding to shift.
Crow's shoulders stiffened. "No way…"
From between the drifting bubbles stepped a man with silver hair and an unhurried smile. The crowd seemed to part for him without knowing why. His coat hung open, revealing a weathered chest scarred by decades of battles, and the sunlight gleamed along the frames of his round glasses.
Silvers Rayleigh — the Dark Prince of the Sea.
Jozu's hand went to his weapon out of reflex. "That's—"
"I know who it is," Crow said quietly.
Rayleigh stopped a few paces away, hands raised in easy peace. "Now, now. No need for that. I'm only here for a drink… and maybe a chat with an old student."
Jozu blinked. "Old—student?"
Crow exhaled slowly, forcing his muscles to relax. "Yeah. He shows up when the world feels too loud."
Rayleigh's grin widened. "Seems I've kept my timing." He looked around at the restless crowd, at the bubble-light flickering over Crow's face. "Why don't we find a quieter corner, hm? Shakky's been worried you'd forget her lessons."
Crow's jaw tightened at the mention of her name, but he nodded. "There's a bar not far from here."
Rayleigh chuckled. "Lead the way then, Crow of the Golden Lions."
⸻
— Section 2: Shadows in the Calm
Crow pushed the door open, the smell of aged wood and whiskey washing over him. The bar was quiet compared to the chaos outside — just the soft hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, and a faint tang of smoke drifting from the hearth. Sunlight cut through the gaps in the bubble ceiling, making the dust motes swirl like tiny spirits.
Rayleigh led the way, his steps measured and unhurried, as if time bent to his pace. Crow followed, hood still drawn, feeling the tension in his own chest ease fractionally.
"You look like a boy who's been carrying the ocean inside him," Rayleigh said, sliding onto a corner bench. His eyes gleamed behind the round glasses, observing without judgment. "How's the world treating you, Crow?"
Crow muttered, "Too many echoes. I can't stop hearing them." The weight of the past weeks, the lab, the nightmares — all pressed against his chest. He felt the familiar pull of ki, restless and raw, clawing to be released.
Rayleigh nodded knowingly. "Better to let it breathe than hold it all in. You've grown… but that growth will attract eyes you don't want." He gestured to the shadows around them, casual yet pointed. "That's why I came. There are things you need to know before they find you first."
Crow leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table. "I'm listening."
Rayleigh's voice dropped, the casual cadence replaced with gravity. "Shakky sent word. There are forces moving against you. Not pirates, not ordinary Marines… something else. And you're not the only one caught in this storm."
Crow exhaled slowly, letting the ki in his body settle, at least temporarily. "I figured as much. The CP agents in Sabaody… they weren't alone."
Rayleigh's smile was wry. "Exactly. And there's more. You've been part of the echoing tides for too long to ignore the undercurrents. Some of these currents come from the very people sworn to protect the world — and others from those who would use it as their playground."
Crow's eyes narrowed, sensing the subtle warning in Rayleigh's tone. "You mean the elders?"
"The same," Rayleigh said, tapping a finger on the table. "But knowledge is a weapon too. You need to know which threads are tied to your path — before someone else tugs at them first."
Crow nodded slowly, feeling the gravity of the advice sink in. "Then I need to know… who's already moving."
Rayleigh leaned back, the corners of his mouth turning upward. "Patience, boy. All in due time. But for now… keep your senses sharp. Your instincts will serve you as much as your strength."
Crow's pulse steadied. There was a strange comfort in Rayleigh's presence, a reminder that guidance existed even amidst chaos. He allowed himself a brief sip of the whiskey Rayleigh offered — not to dull, but to ground.
⸻
I stepped inside, feeling the weight of duty press down. Every detail mattered; every missing report, every unconfirmed sighting could tip the balance.
"Sengoku, Xer," I began, setting a file in front of them. "There's more at play than any of you realize. The boy we've been tracking — he's not ordinary. The energy readings from his location… they match none we've cataloged. If the scientists in the New World are correct, this could destabilize several current projects."
Sengoku's brow furrowed. "We've sacrificed men already this week. Explain why, Tsuru."
I pulled out another dossier, redacting sensitive names. "Original reports trace back to Pirate Island, east of the New World. The boy's capture — extended, deliberate — indicates multiple factions are experimenting. The devil fruit logs I've recovered point to a theoretical immortality factor, memory-wiping after death."
Xer's jaw tightened, his eyes following the lines I traced on the files. Amber — or Lily, as she is now known — remained silent in the corner, her hands clenched in her lap, absorbing every word.
"This isn't just about one missing boy," I continued, my voice even, professional, yet carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "We're dealing with a coordinated effort backed by the Elders. They intend to replicate these powers, likely using CP agents as vessels. Any misstep now could compromise everything we hold in the New World."
Sengoku cleared his throat, concern etched deep. "And the fate of this boy?"
I met Amber's gaze briefly. "He survived. She's the only living testament. For now, our goal is observation and containment. My instincts say Crow — or a version of him — is somehow linked to her state. I'll be tracking this closely."
Xer exhaled slowly. "So we're to keep Garp busy, and let you handle this shadow? Tsuru, you're taking too much on yourself."
"I don't have a choice," I said firmly, though inside I felt the pull of fatigue. "Knowing the key facts allows us to prepare, but we cannot underestimate the scope of what's coming."
Amber's fingers twitched. I could sense her awareness, her connection to the same chaotic energy that Crow wrestled with, though muted by her fragile body. It was a link we could not yet sever — and might not need to.
⸻
The office aboard the Marine command vessel smelled of paper, ink, and faintly of the sea. I spread out the reports, charts, and intercepted logs across the table. Sengoku and Xer leaned over, their expressions rigid, eyes scanning every detail I highlighted. Amber stayed in the corner, silent, her presence a reminder of the boy we were tracking — the living thread tying everything together.
I took a deep breath, letting my fingers trace the key points of the investigation. "Crow's movements are significant, but he's not part of this room. He's unaware of our full operations. That makes him unpredictable, but also… contained in terms of risk." I met Sengoku's sharp gaze. "What we need is observation. Not control, not interference. Just data and preparedness."
Sengoku nodded slowly, though his jaw tightened. "You've accounted for the Elders?"
"Yes," I replied. "Every anomaly traced back to them, every experiment, every stolen Devil Fruit, and every potential misuse. Crow's presence near Amber is the unknown variable. We can monitor her, record responses, and react without direct confrontation — at least for now."
Xer's voice was quiet, tense. "And if Crow triggers something? If Amber's energy reacts?"
"That's why we watch," I said firmly. "Amber is stable for now, but her connection to Crow is sensitive. We must map the potential outcomes, anticipate the triggers. Acting too soon risks collapse."
Amber's gaze flickered toward the files. I noticed the subtle tension in her posture. Even quiet, she carried weight — the energy of someone caught between our control and the chaos Crow embodied.
I straightened, exhaling slowly. "We continue to track, not interfere. Crow will move on his own course, and when he steps into the Calm Belt, that's when the real threads converge. Until then, we prepare. And we wait."
Sengoku nodded, understanding without words. Xer's shoulders eased slightly. Amber remained silent, but I knew she absorbed every detail — a witness, a ledger of consequences, a living marker of what may come.
⸻
Chapter 5 — Section 4: Crow and Rayleigh's Send-Off (Roger Territory)
The bar hummed with energy — the crackle of firelight, the muted clink of glasses, and the laughter of men who had seen the seas in ways Crow could barely imagine. Emblems of the Roger Pirates decorated jackets and sashes, subtly claiming space without a word. The patrons glanced at Crow with curiosity, but respect lingered in their eyes — the air smelled of aged whiskey, salt, and adventure.
Rayleigh leaned back in his chair, his silver hair catching the lantern glow. "You've grown, Crow," he said, voice calm but carrying weight. "Enough to walk into the New World with your eyes open, enough to survive the storm without losing yourself. But tonight? You celebrate."
Crow's hands wrapped around his glass, tasting the burn of whiskey that cut through the tension still coiled inside him. "I still feel like I'm chasing ghosts."
"Ghosts are always part of a voyage," Rayleigh replied, chuckling. "Some you fight, some you follow, and some… teach you lessons. But tonight, you rest. Tomorrow, you chase what's coming next."
Around them, Roger Pirates laughed and toasted — not with the rigid discipline of Newgate's men, but with wild abandon, stories spilling like waves over the room. A few patrons offered quiet nods to Crow, acknowledging the reputation that preceded him.
Jozu nudged Crow, holding up a filled tankard. "Don't look so grim. Even men meant to face the sea's monsters need a night off."
Crow allowed himself a faint smile, tasting the warmth of camaraderie, the feeling of belonging in a world that had mostly been cold and chaotic. Rayleigh's eyes swept the room, noting the relaxed, almost lawless energy, and settled back on Crow. "The Calm Belt awaits. There are monsters, Marines, and men like you who will test every limit. But for tonight? You live, you drink, and you remember you're not alone."
The party rolled on — music, laughter, and the quiet hum of the sea beyond the bar's walls. Crow felt the tension in his chest loosen, ki settling, mind sharpening. He knew what awaited him: the Calm Belt, Vegapunk, and forces tracking him. But tonight, he could breathe. Tonight, he was part of something larger than himself.
Rayleigh raised his glass once more. "To the Golden Lions, to the seas, and to survival. Tomorrow, the unknown calls — tonight, you live."
Crow clinked his glass against Rayleigh's, letting the warmth of whiskey and presence sink in. The Dark Prince's grin mirrored his own quiet determination. Whatever came next, he was ready.