[Akarin Note: For now, I have fixed the errors reported by readers in Chapters 1–30, as well as other mistakes. If you find any errors, please leave a comment on the specific paragraph so I can check and correct them.
Translating this novel is a bit more complex compared to other novels I have worked on; even correcting just these 30 chapters took me 6–8 hours. If you encounter any mistakes in the future, please feel free to comment on the paragraph.]
Chapter 31: The Guardian and the Skeleton's Promise
"Hey, everyone, look! Someone is climbing out... out of the whale's back!"
Nami's voice trembled, her finger pointing toward the colossal island-whale floating before them. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. A door—an actual mechanical hatch—had just swung open on the rugged, scarred skin of the creature, defying all biological logic.
But before her gasp could even fade into the sea breeze, Suzaku, Albedo, and Rem had already locked their gazes onto the anomaly.
For the three of them, whose senses were tuned far beyond the capabilities of an ordinary human, the metallic clank of the hatch opening and the sudden emergence of a distinct, powerful life force had registered seconds before Nami's visual confirmation.
A figure emerged from the hatch, stepping casually onto the rough, barnacle-encrusted surface of Laboon as if stepping onto a porch.
It was an old man. His appearance was eccentric, to say the least. He sported a wild mane of white hair styled into an exaggerated, fan-like shape that resembled the dorsal fin of a tropical fish or perhaps the petals of a blooming flower. He wore a garish Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned to reveal a scarred chest, simple shorts, and a pair of round sunglasses that hid his eyes.
He carried a harpoon casually in one hand, his posture slouching with a deceptive laziness. To an untrained eye, he looked like a senile vacationer.
But Suzaku knew better.
The man's gaze, hidden behind those dark lenses, swept over the Vermillion Wing with the precision of a hawk. There was a sharpness there—a weight that only came from surviving the most dangerous seas in the world. This was a man who had sailed to the end of the world and back.
"Oh dear..." The old man muttered, his voice carrying clearly across the water despite the distance.
He patted the dust off his shorts, his attention first fixing on the massive, unconscious form of Laboon beneath his feet. He sighed, a sound of weary affection, before turning his head toward the pirate ship drifting nearby.
His gaze lingered for a moment on the pitch-black wings furled behind Albedo's waist. A flicker of intrigue passed over his face, but he showed no fear. Finally, his eyes locked onto Suzaku, identifying the predator at the top of the food chain instantly.
"Do young people nowadays have such a unique way of saying hello?"
Crocus's tone was dry, carrying a hint of helpless mockery. He crossed his arms, tapping his fingers against his bicep.
"Did you just knock out my old friend directly using Conqueror's Haki? That was quite rude, wasn't it? Although... I suppose I should thank you for quieting him down before he smashed his head open against the Red Line again."
The air on the deck of the Vermillion Wing suddenly grew heavy.
"Suzaku-sama," Albedo stepped forward, her golden boots clicking sharply against the deck. Her voice dropped an octave, dripping with icy hostility. "Should I deal with this disrespectful old man?"
Whoosh—!
A terrified pressure exploded from the Succubus Overseer. Her black wings flared open slightly, and the surrounding air seemed to twist and darken. In her eyes, anyone who spoke to her beloved master with such casual disdain deserved nothing less than immediate execution. To her, this old man in shorts was just another insect.
"Albedo, stand down."
Suzaku raised a hand, his voice calm but absolute. The darkness radiating from Albedo vanished instantly, sucked back into her like a tide retreating, though she continued to glare at the old man.
Suzaku stepped to the railing, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He looked at the old man—Crocus. The doctor of the Roger Pirates. A living legend hiding in plain sight at the entrance of the Grand Line.
"We apologize for the rough handling, old sir," Suzaku called out, his tone polite but confident. "Seeing this whale constantly colliding with the Red Line, we resorted to the quickest measure to prevent it from injuring itself further. You are the keeper of the Twin Capes, Mr. Crocus, aren't you?"
"Oh?" Crocus tilted his head, the reflection of the sun glinting off his glasses. "You recognize me? That's rare for a rookie from the East Blue."
He hopped down from the hatch, landing lightly on a flatter section of Laboon's skin, and walked to the edge to get a better look.
"Such a young possessor of Conqueror's Haki, accompanied by a Demon and a Maid..." Crocus murmured to himself, analyzing the threat level. "Are you pirates preparing to enter the Grand Line? You look very unfamiliar."
"That's right!" Nami quickly interjected, stepping up beside Suzaku. She puffed out her chest, trying to mask her lingering fear of the giant whale. "We are the Suzaku Pirates! I am Nami, the Navigator of this ship!"
"Suzaku..." Crocus chewed on the name, seemingly searching his vast memory bank, then shook his head. "Never heard of it. But the sea is vast, and new monsters are born every day."
He looked back at the unconscious whale beneath his feet, his expression softening into profound sadness.
"To be able to accurately stun Laboon with Conqueror's Haki without killing him... you have impressive control, young man."
Crocus sighed, sitting down cross-legged on the whale's back. He gestured for them to listen, seemingly deciding that these intruders meant no immediate harm.
"This whale... his name is Laboon. He is waiting for his companions. A pirate crew that promised fifty years ago to circle the world and return to see him."
For the next few minutes, the sound of the waves provided a somber backing track as Crocus recounted the tragic tale of the Rumbar Pirates. He spoke of a lively, music-loving crew, a baby whale who followed them from the West Blue, and a promise made at this very lighthouse—a promise that had turned into a half-century of agonizing waiting.
"He believes they ran away," Crocus said, his voice raspy. "He believes they abandoned him. That is why he slams his head against the Red Line... he is trying to break down the wall that separates him from them. Or perhaps, he is trying to kill himself to end the waiting."
Nami's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes welling up with tears. "So that's why... those scars on his head... he was just trying to go see his friends? That's too sad..."
Rem, standing silently behind Suzaku, lowered her head. Her single visible blue eye shimmered with empathy. "He truly is a stubborn and loyal creature. To wait for fifty years... the loneliness must be suffocating."
Even Albedo, who usually regarded lower life forms with disdain, remained silent, respecting the sheer weight of such loyalty.
Suzaku leaned against the railing, his expression unreadable. He knew the truth, of course. He knew about the tragedy of the Florian Triangle, the poison, the death of the crew, and the lonely skeleton drifting in the fog.
"Mr. Crocus," Suzaku broke the silence, his voice cutting through the melancholy atmosphere. "Perhaps we can help him."
"Oh?" Crocus looked up, raising an eyebrow. "What do you intend to do? Kill him to end his misery? Or perhaps drag him away? Laboon's obsession is not so easily resolved. I have tried for decades."
"You don't need to worry about that," Suzaku smiled, a mysterious glint in his eyes. "We cannot eliminate the time he has lost, but perhaps we can give him a new hope. A real hope."
He stared directly into Crocus's sunglasses.
"Old sir, when Laboon wakes up, could you tell him that the story of his companions is not yet over? Tell him to stop hurting himself, because the promise is still alive."
Crocus froze. The lazy slouch vanished from his posture. A sharp, dangerous light burst forth in his eyes—the eyes of a man who had sailed with the Pirate King. He stared intensely at Suzaku, his observation Haki flaring invisibly as he tried to read the young man's soul.
"Young man... who exactly are you?" Crocus's tone dropped, becoming deadly serious. "You speak as if you know something."
"Just a voyager about to begin an adventure," Suzaku replied candidly, not backing down from the pressure. "I just happen to know some fragmented stories of the sea. What's important is that Laboon needs a new expectation, not endless despair."
Suzaku took a breath and dropped the bombshell.
"I want to give you a definitive piece of news: The musician of the Rumbar Pirates... Brook... is still alive."
Snap.
The harpoon in Crocus's hand slipped, clattering against the whale's skin. His mouth fell open, his composure completely shattered.
"What?! That's impossible!" Crocus stood up, his voice cracking. "The Rumbar Pirates... I confirmed it myself... they tried to leave the Grand Line through the Calm Belt and perished! It has been fifty years! No human can live that long without a ship!"
"Brook revived in the form of a skeleton because he ate the Revive-Revive Fruit (Yomi Yomi no Mi)," Suzaku explained calmly, relaying the specific details that only a witness—or a god—could know. "His soul returned from the underworld, but his body had already decayed. He is currently trapped on a ghost ship in the Florian Triangle, unable to leave because his shadow was stolen. But he is alive. And he remembers the promise."
Silence descended over the Twin Capes. Only the cry of seagulls and the lapping waves remained.
Crocus stood frozen, his hands trembling violently. The image of the afro-haired skeleton musician flashed in his mind. The Revive-Revive Fruit... the legend... it all fit.
"So that's it..." Crocus whispered, removing his glasses to wipe his eyes. His voice choked up. "The Revive-Revive Fruit... no wonder... no wonder they never returned..."
He looked down at the scarred head of the whale beneath him, a complex mixture of relief and sorrow washing over his weathered face.
"Fifty years... Laboon... did you hear that? They didn't abandon you. They didn't run away."
After a long minute, Crocus composed himself. He took a deep breath and looked at Suzaku with a newfound respect. The wariness was gone, replaced by profound gratitude.
"Young man... Suzaku. This information... it is worth more than all the treasure in the world to me. You have saved this whale's heart."
Crocus cleared his throat, his tone shifting back to that of a hospitable, albeit eccentric, doctor.
"Why don't you come inside and sit for a while? I have some good tea brewing. Furthermore, you are about to enter the Grand Line properly. The weather and currents there are not as docile as in the Four Blues. Perhaps I, this old relic, can give you some useful advice."
"Then we accept your kind offer!" Suzaku nodded.
The group disembarked from the Vermillion Wing and followed Crocus. To Nami's absolute horror and fascination, they didn't go to the lighthouse, but instead walked through the metal hatch and into the whale.
The interior of Laboon was a marvel of biological engineering. Metal walkways were bolted into the flesh, leading to a small island built within the stomach acid ocean. An artificial sky was painted on the stomach walls—a crude but touching attempt by Crocus to make Laboon feel at ease.
In the center of the stomach-island sat a small wooden house.
Crocus brewed a pot of herbal tea, the steam filling the small room. Nami, Rem, Albedo, and Suzaku sat around a low table.
"Now then," Crocus took a sip of tea, his expression turning serious as he looked at the orange-haired navigator. "Young lady, you are the Navigator, correct?"
"Yes!" Nami nodded, placing her cup down. "I've navigated the entire East Blue."
"Forget everything you know," Crocus said bluntly. "The Grand Line is a graveyard for navigators who rely on common sense. The currents, the wind, the weather... none of it follows logic. Islands can be winter on one side and summer on the other. Storms appear out of clear blue skies."
He pointed to the simple compass strapped to Nami's wrist.
"And that toy on your wrist? It's useless."
"Eh?!" Nami looked at her compass in panic. "But... this is a high-grade naval compass!"
"It relies on the Earth's magnetic poles," Crocus explained. "In the Grand Line, every island emits its own unique magnetic field, interfering with standard compasses. If you sail using that, you will never reach the next island. You will drift until you starve or run into a Sea King."
As he spoke, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a strange device. It looked like a glass sphere encased in wood, with a needle floating inside that pointed steadfastly in one direction, regardless of how he turned it.
"This is a Log Pose."
Crocus slid it across the table to Nami.
"It locks onto the magnetic signature of the next island in the chain. Once you arrive at an island, the Log Pose needs time to 'reset' and lock onto the next one. This is the only way to navigate these seas."
Nami picked up the Log Pose with trembling hands. She stared at the floating needle, her navigator's intuition instantly recognizing the value of the device.
"So the compasses from the Four Blues really don't work here..." Nami murmured, a cold sweat breaking out on her forehead. "If we had sailed blindly... we would have died in days. No wonder the Grand Line is called the Pirate Graveyard."
She looked up at Crocus, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thank you so much! This... this is a lifesaver!"
"Consider it payment for the news about Brook," Crocus waved his hand dismissively. "Besides, it would be a shame for the man who carries Roger's will—ah, no, I mean, a promising rookie—to die due to a lack of basic equipment."
He spent the next hour giving Nami a crash course on Grand Line climatology. He explained the concept of the seven magnetic paths, the danger of the Calm Belt, and the unpredictability of the Cyclones. Nami took furious notes, her pen moving as fast as lightning.
Outside, a low, rumbling sound echoed through the metal hull.
"It seems he is waking up," Crocus smiled softly.
Suzaku stood up, adjusting his coat. "Then it is time for us to leave. We have kept the sea waiting long enough."
He extended a hand to Crocus.
"Mr. Crocus, thank you for the tea and the guidance. Please, tell Laboon the truth. Tell him his friend is coming home."
Crocus gripped Suzaku's hand firmly. The grip of the old doctor was like iron.
"I will. I won't forget this favor, Captain Suzaku. May the winds bless your voyage."
The group exited the whale, returning to the Vermillion Wing. As the sails unfurled and caught the erratic winds of the Grand Line, they looked back.
Laboon had fully awakened. The colossal whale floated near the lighthouse, letting out a deep, mournful bellow that vibrated in their chests. But this time, Crocus was standing on the shore, shouting through a megaphone, telling the whale the story of the skeleton musician.
The ship began to accelerate, caught in the powerful current.
Suzaku stood at the bow, the wind whipping through his hair. He looked ahead at the vast, terrifying, and beautiful expanse of the ocean.
Beside him, Nami stared at the Log Pose, her face set with determination. Rem checked the supplies, ensuring everything was secured. Albedo stood silently by Suzaku's side, her wings folded, ready to slaughter anything that dared approach the ship.
The prologue was over. The true hell—and the true glory—started now.
"Set sail!" Suzaku commanded, his voice ringing out over the roar of the waves. "To the Grand Line!"
"Yes, Captain!" The girls responded in unison, their voices filled with excitement and resolve.
The Vermillion Wing cut through the waves, leaving the Twin Capes behind, sailing straight into the legendary era.
[Akarin Note:
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