Arima and Takeshi navigated the labyrinth of wooden bridges and canals, their path a straight line through the chaos. They were an odd pair: the tall, broadly built, tattooed Yakuza and the lean, silent swordsman. The crowd parted for them, a mix of instinct and the hard, cold violence that rolled off them in waves. They were not here to buy souvenirs.
Their destination was a quieter place, a place of business. Grove 42, place of an acquaintance, the Goliath's Brokerage House, the place was the same when he was there a few months ago, he found the Goliath himself in front of his office building talking with a customer.
A massive, deep voice boomed across the wooden walkway. "And if the crate breaks, the deal is off! My merchandise is premium, not some common street junk! Am I clear?"
His customer, a nervous-looking merchant, bowed and scraped. "Crystal clear, Master Goliath! Crystal clear! The finest bubble cord will be used!"
Goliath grunted, a sound like a rockslide, and dismissed the merchant with a wave of his massive hand. He then turned, his small, dark eyes, which were surprisingly intelligent for a man of his size, locking onto Arima.
A slow, wide smile spread across the giant's face, revealing a row of teeth that were surprisingly well-kept. "Arima! My friend! You look terrible! More scarred than the last time we met! And you're back! I must say, I am impressed. Most men who buy Adam Wood from me either end up as fish food within a month or get tangled with the World Government. You, you come back looking like a king. A very beaten-up king, but a king nonetheless."
"Business, Goliath," Arima said, his flat, uninterested tone cutting through the giant's booming welcome. He was not here for small talk.
"Always to the point," Goliath chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made the wooden planks of the walkway vibrate. "I like that. Come inside. We have much to discuss."
He led them into the massive warehouse that served as his office. The place was a fortress of wealth. Stacks of gold bars were piled in one corner like firewood. Shelves were lined with rare artifacts, sealed chests from forgotten islands, and rolled-up charts that were probably worth more than the ships they described. Goliath was not just a broker; he was a dragon sitting on a hoard.
"So, what can I do for my best customer?" Goliath asked, settling into a reinforced chair that groaned under his immense weight. "Looking for more Adam Wood? Or perhaps something more... exotic? I just got my hands on a Poneglyph rubbing. Very illegal. Very expensive."
"I need a ship," Arima said, ignoring the ancient treasure. "A fast one. Small. Two masts, maybe. Something that can handle the Grand Line's strange weather but won't draw attention. I'm not looking to fight a fleet with it. I'm looking to outrun one."
Goliath's small, intelligent eyes narrowed. "A getaway ship. That's a different kind of purchase. Speed and stealth over firepower. That means a light hull, a special sail design, and a very, very good navigator." He steepled his massive fingers. "I have something. But it's not cheap. And it's not for sale on the open market."
He stood up and walked over to a large, rolled-up chart hanging on the wall. He unhooked it and spread it across a heavy wooden table. It was a schematic of a sleek, predatory-looking vessel. The lines were sharp and aggressive, like a hunting shark.
"The 'Sea Viper'," Goliath said, a note of pride in his deep voice. "Built by a master shipwright from Wano. A runaway. He designed her to be a smuggler's dream. The hull is made from a special, paper-bark tree that's lighter than cork but stronger than iron. The masts are flexible bamboo that bends in a storm instead of snapping. And the sails... they are coated with a special resin that makes them almost completely silent. She doesn't just cut through the water. She whispers."
He pointed to a notation on the chart. "Her secret is the keel. It's lined with a thin strip of Sea Prism Stone. Not enough to completely drain a Devil Fruit user, but enough to... calm the sea around her. It makes her harder to track with sea monsters and some kinds of special observation skills. An expensive trick, but a useful one."
Arima looked at the chart. The ship was perfect. A ghost that could slip through the world unnoticed. "How much?"
"For you, my friend," Goliath said, a wide, greedy smile spreading across his face, "a special price. Thirty million Berries."
Arima didn't even blink. He reached into the black box from the Serpent's Maw, the last of its contents, and pushed it across the table. It was a king's ransom, enough to buy a small fleet of normal ships. But he was not buying a fleet. He was buying a ticket to the ultimate hunt.
Goliath stared at the mountain of gold, his small, dark eyes wide with a pure, unadulterated greed. "A pleasure doing business with you my friend," he rumbled, quickly pulling the box towards him. "The Sea Viper is moored at Grove 66. Private dock. She's fueled, provisioned, and ready to sail. Her navigator's papers are all in order, all forged, of course."
Takeshi, who had been silent the entire time, finally spoke, his quiet, focused tone cutting through the giant's greedy satisfaction. "The navigator's name and location."
Goliath blinked, surprised by the swordsman's sudden, direct question. "Ah. Yes. Of course." He pulled out a small, leather-bound ledger and flipped through the pages. "Name's 'Scribbles'. A strange one. A former Marine cartographer who went... a little mad after a run-in with a Sea King. He's the only one who can pilot the Sea Viper. He says the ship 'sings' to him. He'll be at the dock. He's part of the deal."
"Done," Arima said, turning and walking away. The deal was made. The tool was acquired.
The 'Sea Viper' was even more impressive in person. It was sitting at a quiet, private dock, a sleek, dark predator that looked like it was built of shadows and secrets. The hull was a pale, papery white, but it had a strange, tough sheen to it, like aged parchment. The masts were a dark green, the bamboo smooth and polished. The sails were a deep, dark indigo, and they seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it.
A small, twitchy man was waiting for them on the dock. He was thin, almost skeletal, with wild, grey hair that stuck out in every direction and a pair of thick, smudged glasses perched on the end of his nose. He was clutching a rolled-up chart to his chest like it was a life raft, and he was muttering to himself, a constant, low stream of numbers and directions.
"Scribbles?" Arima asked.
The man's head snapped up, his eyes wide and nervous behind his smudged glasses. He looked at Arima, at the Yakuza tattoos, at the scars, and at the silent, deadly swordsman beside him. He didn't look scared. He looked... excited.
"You're here! You're finally here!" he squeaked, his voice a high-pitched, excited chatter. "The currents are perfect! The Log Pose is calibrated! The Sea Viper has been humming all morning! She knows we're going somewhere! Where are we going? An uncharted island? A forgotten ruin? The lair of a Sea King?"
"We're going to the West Blue," Arima said, his flat, uninterested tone a stark contrast to the navigator's manic energy. "To an island called Shipwreck Island. You know it?"
Scribbles' eyes lit up with a feverish, academic excitement. "Aah, the West Blue, that means we're going through Fishman Island first, right? Wait... Shipwreck Island! Of course! The graveyard of ships! A navigational nightmare! The reefs are a maze of shifting sandbars and volcanic vents! A beautiful, beautiful puzzle! The charts are useless! Only the sea's song can guide you there! We'll need to ride the South Equatorial Current for three days, catch a tailwind near the Seducing Woods, then cut through the Calm Belt on a high-pressure system... it's a masterpiece of a route! A symphony!"
The man was a lunatic, but he was a professional lunatic. "Get the ship ready," Arima commanded. "We leave now."
"Yes! The song begins! No wait, to go under we need to get the ship coated first, we can't simply dive," the navigator said with glee. "We need a Coating Artist."
Arima grunted. Of course. Sabaody was known for its Coating Artists, the strange craftsmen who could apply a giant bubble of resin to a ship, allowing it to travel to Fishman Island on the seafloor. He had forgotten. Another delay. Another expense.
"Take us to the best," he said to Goliath, who was still hovering nearby, hoping for another tip.
They boarded the Sea Viper and navigated towards the ship coater location guided by Goliath.
They arrived at a dilapidated pier at Grove 13, a place that smelled of sawdust, paint, and a strange, chemical sweetness. They were in front of a small house where an old man was leaning against the hull, hands dusted with sawdust and the faint tang of seawater. Even from a distance, there was an aura about him — calm, unhurried, and precise, as if the world moved around his own rhythm. His hair, already streaked with silver, fell past his shoulders, loose but not careless, catching the sunlight like threads of spun steel. A thin beard framed a face that had seen oceans, storms, and battles most men would barely survive.
"A Coater," he said, not looking at them, running a roughened palm along the hull of a half-finished ship. "I don't work cheap. If you're here for a bargain, you're in the wrong Grove."
Arima stepped forward, ignoring the warning. He didn't waste words. "We need a coating. For the Sea Viper. To get to Fishman Island."
The Coater finally turned. His gaze was level, analytical. He looked past the Yakuza's scarred face and tattoos, past the swordsman's predatory stillness, and at the ship itself. His eyes narrowed.
"The Sea Viper," he said, a flicker of professional interest in his tone. "Heard whispers about that hull. Light, but strong. Tricky to coat. The resin has to be thin, but flexible. Too thick, you lose the speed. Too thin, and the pressure at that depth will crack it like an eggshell." He stepped back, looking at the lines of the ship. "Thirty million. For the coating only. You supply the ship and the Yarukiman resin."
Arima didn't haggle. He just pointed a thumb at the giant broker. "He's paying."
Goliath's booming laugh was cut short by a strangled choke. "Now, wait a minute! The deal was for the ship, not this... this extra!"
"The deal is for a working ship that can get me where I'm going," Arima said, his voice a flat, cold growl that left no room for argument. "This ship is useless without a coating. Pay the man."
Goliath's face turned a dark shade of red, but he looked at Arima's dead eyes and the cold, calm way Takeshi's hand rested near his sword. He sighed, the sound of a mountain deflating. He pulled out a heavy sack of Berry and tossed it to the Coater, who caught it with a casual, practised motion.
"A pleasure," the Coater said, his tone completely unchanged. "It will take three days. The resin needs to be prepared just right, and it needs to cure. Come back then."
Three days later, the Sea Viper was gone from the dock. In its place was a giant, shimmering bubble, a perfect, transparent sphere that enclosed the sleek ship. Inside, the crew—Arima, Takeshi, and the twitchy navigator, Scribbles—made their final preparations.
"Farewell, my friend!" Goliath boomed from the dock, his voice slightly muffled by the bubble. "Try not to get sunk! I'd hate for my investment to end up as coral!"
Arima didn't reply. He just gave a single, sharp nod to the navigator.
Scribbles' eyes were gleaming with manic excitement. He grabbed a large lever on the deck. "Releasing the anchors! Commencing descent! The sea is singing, and we are about to join the chorus!" he squeaked, pulling the lever with a theatrical flourish.
The Sea Viper, encased in its bubble, dropped away from the pier. The bright, chaotic light of Sabaody faded, replaced by the deep, blue, silent world of the ocean. The pressure was a physical force, a heavy blanket that pushed in on them from all sides. Fish, glowing with strange, internal lights, darted past the bubble, curious but wary.
"This is it! This is the magic!" Scribbles chattered, pointing out the large window at the approaching darkness. "We're heading for Fishman Island! The underwater paradise! We're following the 'Light of Lamu', a specific light path that only appears at this time of year! It's a natural underwater current! It's like a river in the ocean!"