Going Merry — Minutes Before a Disaster
A breeze rolled across the deck like a sigh — faint, tired, and hollow. Fuwako laid sprawled on their stomach, feathers spread out dramatically like a lazy carpet. Every few seconds, their tail flicked against the deck with a dull tap… tap… tap, the sound of sheer disappointment.
They had been left behind.
Usopp and Zoro had gone inside Baratie under the guise of scouting the situation. Fuwako had attempted to follow them—until Zoro turned, tapped the bird on the head, and said "Protect the Merry just in case."
That phrase alone had been enough to halt Fuwako in their tracks. A command. A responsibility. A recognition.
On one claw, it felt good to be trusted. It felt right.
But on the other…
…it was also boring.
The fog around the restaurant thickened as time passed. Rope creaked. The Merry groaned softly beneath the weight of stillness. No gulls cried overhead. No customers laughed from Baratie's windows. The sea itself felt like it was waiting for something—like it knew something the crew didn't.
Fuwako clicked their beak in frustration.
Nothing was happening.
Nothing was happening, and that was the worst part.
The young dino-bird gave the deck one last sulk before letting their head flop down again with an exaggerated sigh. They were considering flinging themselves overboard just to feel something—
Their ears twitched.
Footsteps.
Slow. Heavy. Purposeful.
The door to Baratie opened, and the man dressed in golden armor exited. He walked without urgency, carrying a large sack of food over one shoulder. Fuwako's pupils narrowed, tracking him carefully.
There was no pride in his posture. No haste. But there was something else — a weight.
"Pyu…" they chirped under their breath.
—Odd…
The armored man didn't speak to anyone. He didn't react to anything. He drifted by like a statue that learned how to walk. Even the fog seemed to pause around him as if refusing to touch something so heavy.
"It just got really quiet," one of the two strays said.
Fuwako still didn't look at them. Those two barely registered as people in Fuwako's mind—just noise and accidents waiting to happen.
"If Big Bro Zoro went in there, then everything should be fine," the other replied. His voice was steady, but his hand trembled where it gripped the stair railing.
The two strays lounged across the steps of the cabin—relaxed but restless. Fuwako thought it was foolish positioning. The stairs gave poor leverage in a fight. One cannon shot would send both flying like loose corks.
But the silence persisted.
No commotion.
No yelling.
Not even Sanji's voice echoing angrily across the sea.
Just… stillness.
"Yeah, I know, but what if it's not?"
That unease finally made Fuwako turn their head. The bird noticed the strays looking toward Nami now—who stood at the railing with a paper held cautiously behind her so it remained just out of sight.
"Big Sis Nami, should we go in there too? Wha'daya think?"
She didn't turn around. Her hair swayed in the breeze. The fog lapped softly against the Merry's sides. The quiet hummed with warning.
It felt like the moment before a storm.
"Big Sis?!" the top stray shouted as he leaned too far and crashed into the other stray in a clumsy heap.
"Pyu."
—Idiots.
They scrambled to their feet, embarrassed and disgruntled, dusting themselves off before approaching Nami again. Her silence was unnerving.
"Hey… are you okay?" the blue one asked, voice softening.
Nami finally turned around with a bright smile.
"Hmm? Yeah, I'm fine! Is something wrong?"
But her eyes weren't fully smiling.
And the paper behind her back… she didn't try very hard to hide it. Almost like her mind was elsewhere.
Fuwako felt reality bend — ever so slightly, as if something unseen had just stepped onto the ship. Their feathers lifted instinctively. Instinct screamed.
Something was coming.
BANG!
"Pyu!"
Fuwako jerked toward the shattered sound — a gunshot. Their wings flared up, claws scraping against the wood as they pushed themselves upright in a single motion.
But then…
A cheer followed.
A cheer…
Fuwako froze.
Cheers after a gunshot? Cheers after someone likely fell? The bird's razor instincts screamed in alarm. Something was deeply wrong with that sound.
As that realization slithered down their spine—
The air shifted.
The temperature dropped.
The fog thinned… and ocean wind carried fear.
"Ahhhhhh!!"
The two strays screamed as they were thrown overboard in one swift motion. Limbs flailed as they splashed into the cold sea.
Fuwako whipped around, feathers puffed in panic—
And met Nami's eyes.
She smiled—but her eyes said farewell.
"See ya! Oh, and make sure to tell them… If it's meant to be, I'll see ya real soon!"
Fuwako's heart thrashed against their ribs.
"Now," Nami said quietly, turning toward them, "sorry about this Fuwako… but I'll be needing you to get off the ship."
Fuwako lowered into a defensive stance, wings flaring wide, the air beginning to tremble around them. Their beak clicked rapidly—like a blade tapping against a stone.
"Ki-ki-ki-ki-ki!!!"
—NO WAY! Stay back! What are you doing?! You can't abandon them!!
For a moment—just a moment—Nami looked guilty. The pain in her face flickered too quickly for most to see… but Fuwako caught it. Felt it.
Because Fuwako was a creature built on instinct.
And Nami's instincts were screaming as loudly as theirs.
But not for help.
For survival.
She turned away.
The anchor lifted.
And the Going Merry began to drift.
Fuwako's breath hitched.
"PYU! PY! PY-PYU!!!"
—NO! WAIT! CAPTAIN! ZORO!! USOPP!!
Their claws dug into the railing as if sheer force alone would keep the ship docked. Their body shook. The ruffled feathers along their neck and spine bristled with fear, fury, and helplessness.
But the sea paid no mind to their panic.
The ship kept moving.
Baratie grew smaller.
The fog swallowed it piece by piece — like the world was trying to hide the tragedy that was about to unfold.
Then from the distance—
FWSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH—
A thunderous sound split across the water.
Wood cracked. Metal screeched. A wave of air pressure rolled across the sea—
And the giant galleon began to split in half like a fragile toy.
By one man.
With hawk eyes.
Fuwako's wings trembled. Their beak parted in pure disbelief as the scent of dread crept into the wind.
For the first time since they hatched—
They felt small.
And whatever was coming…
…was stronger than anything they could ever imagine.
TO BE CONTINUED…