The Flying Dutchman loomed ahead, its dark hull stretched out like the ribs of an ancient beast. The ship seemed alive, its vast frame groaned as the massive oars that drove it through the depths slowed it to a halt. Clumps of coral and barnacles clung to its hide like scars that spoke of its endless voyage, its tattered sails billowed gently with the underwater currents, casting eerie shadows across the murk.
Vander Decken IX swam upward, his coat trailing behind him like the restless tide, shifting and twisting with his ascent.
He grasped the edge of the Dutchman and vaulted aboard in one fluid motion. Water raced beneath his boots as they met the deck with a satisfying thud, rivulets raced outward before vanishing into the ship's worn grooves.
He flung his arms wide, a grin split his face as he tilted his head back and bellowed, "Bahohohoho! Just another day for the Flying Pirates, eh boys?"
Cheers erupted, rattling the ship as the victorious crew roared their triumph into the depths. The air crackled with the thrill of conquest, voices rising in wild laughter, drowning out the dying echoes of battle.
"The fools thought they stood a chance!" one bellowed, slamming a fist against the railing, his grin carved deep with the satisfaction of a well-earned victory.
Luster, a youthful member of the flying pirates bounced in place, clutching the sack of gold like his life depended on it. "Shiny shiny shiny! So much treasure!" he cackled, the laugh rattling from his throat in a gleeful, greedy burst—Argh ar ar ar ar!
His golden crown slid further down his forehead as he shook the bag with wild enthusiasm, the clinking coins like music to his ears. Whether he loved treasure for its actual worth or simply because it sparkled, no one could quite tell.
"Best damn fight in weeks!" a deep voice rumbled, as its owner sprawled onto the deck, leaning back against a pile of glittering spoils. He raised a heavy mug encased in a snug layer of shimmering resin, the protective shell ensuring the ale remained untouched by the sea spray. He took a deep swig, then slammed the mug onto the wood with a satisfied grunt.
"Who came up with this damn resin idea anyway? I can knock back a drink like I'm on dry land!"
A burst of laughter erupted from a rotund Fishman, his broad frame wobbling like gelatin as bubbles streamed from his mouth, tumbling through the water in a lazy, uneven dance.
"Hah! It was Karna's, obviously," the pirate sneered, rolling his eyes. "She's been selling the idea to those high-end shops on Fishman Island, made herself a neat little fortune, she did."
"Oh really?" a nearby fishman asked out of curiosity
He grinned as he reached into his coat, tugging at what looked like a small pouch. But as more of it emerged, it was anything but small. Bit by bit, the sack revealed itself to be absurdly large, defying all logic of how it fit inside.
With a final yank, the sack popped free with a
pop!
"And would you look at that? Karna was generous enough to donate a share of her earnings to the crew," he mused, shaking his head with mock appreciation, as if he hadn't pried it from her hands himself.
Without missing a beat, he flicked his wrist and tossed it onto the pile, the coins inside clinking faintly.
A different pirate scoffed, tilting his head back as he leaned against a barrel, his smirk laced with something knowing.
"Guess she does owe it to us, doesn't she? For taking care of her all these years."
Another chuckle joined in, sharper, biting.
"Ah, yes! We did rescue her, didn't we?" he mused, grin spreading slow and deliberate.
"Like knights in shining armor," he drawled, exaggerated enough that even the drunkest among them caught on to the sarcasm in his tone.
With a dramatic flourish, he straightened up, puffed out his chest, and lifted an invisible sword, as if pledging some grand oath to the depths themselves.
"Gallantly hauling the poor wretch and her pretty littlefriendfrom the Maw, saving them from certain ruin. A truly noble cause!"
He stepped forward, planting his foot firmly on a pile of gold like it was some battlefield conquest, then dipped into an exaggerated bow, his webbed hand pressed solemnly to his chest.
The crew erupted with laughter, their recklessness setting off an underwater avalanche, one of gold and jewels, half a mountain of treasure cascaded overboard. Coins spun through the waves in glittering arcs before plunging into the depths, while gems of all sizes sparkled like pieces of a shattered star, their vibrant hues flickering for a final moment before vanishing beneath the waves.
In mere seconds, a fortune worth over 10 million berries was lost to the sea.
Luster gasped, scrambled to the railing, and launched himself into the water. His golden crown popped off, tumbling through the air before landing back on the deck with a dull
clunk.
"Wait! No, no, no! Come back!" He flailed, grasping at the treasure scattered across the deep. "My treasure!" he wailed, chasing after a crimson jewel.
Whether he would actually be successful at recovering the treasure was anybody's guess, but the crew cheered him on all the same.
Nearby, a pirate squinted at a sleek, metallic object in his webbed hands, turning it over with a furrowed brow. He poked at the glowing symbols, shook it once, then held it up to his ear as if expecting it to talk.
After a long pause, he snorted, then simply tossed it aside without a second thought.
Whatever it was, he didn't care.
Without another thought, he reached down and hefted a heavy, battle-worn hammer, testing its weight with satisfaction.
"Now this is worth somethin'," he declared, bouncing it once in his grip with a nod of approval. "None of that fancy blinking-light nonsense—just good, honest destruction."
He turned it over, inspecting the scuffs along the handle, then barked out a laugh.
"This here's the hammer that big ol' human was swingin' around earlier. Guess it's mine now!"
His grin widened as he threw it over his shoulder like a trophy, fully expecting some reaction from the crew. They barely spared him a glance.
A beat of silence passed. Then he sighed, shrugged, and muttered, "Yeah, whatever."
Laughter swelled, excitement crackling between them like lightning in a storm. The scent of battle still lingered, mingling with the taste of victory. Vander Decken grinned wider, feeding off the chaotic enthusiasm.
But as the cheers settled, something gnawed at him. He cast a glance around the ship, his eyes narrowed. The noise of the crew's revelry faded slightly as he scanned the edges of the deck and the surrounding water. Something was missing, or rather someone was missing.
"Oi!" he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the din. "Where's Watatsumi? Don't tell me that overgrown guppy's wandered off!"
A nearby Fish-Man shuffled nervously, his green-scaled face twisting into an awkward grimace as he cleared his throat. "Uh, Captain…" he muttered, avoiding Vander Decken's gaze. "Watatsumi said… uh… he's got a tummy ache. Couldn't make it today."
Vander Decken's grin froze mid-curve before twisting into a scowl. His fists planted firmly on his hips as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping ominously. "A tummy ache?" he repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. The crew visibly tensed, knowing what was coming.
Like cannon fire, laughter erupted from Vander as he clutched his stomach, shaking with derision. "Bahohohoho! A tummy ache! That's why he's skipping out? The big, scary Watatsumi, brought down by a bellyache? Bahohohoho!"
Suddenly, his laughter cut off like a snapped rope, his grin twisting into a fierce snarl. His eyes darkened, and his voice dropped into something sharp and commanding. He thrust a finger toward the Fish-Man, his presence crackling with barely restrained fury.
"You tell that overgrown excuse for a sea monster that if he doesn't haul his scaly hide here next time, I'll drag him here myself—tummy ache or not! And believe me, he won't like it!"
The Fish-Man swallowed hard, his fins twitching as he nodded quickly. "R-right, Captain," he stammered, stepping back in haste. "I—I'll make sure he gets the message."
The crew murmured in uneasy agreement, their hands quickly returning to their tasks to avoid drawing the captain's ire. Vander Decken snorted, tossing his coat over one shoulder as he turned sharply and strode toward the ship's interior. His heavy boots echoed through the still deck, the tension lingering in the air long after he was gone.
---
Beneath the looming shadow of the Flying Dutchman, a lone boy fought against the currents, his body had neared it's limit long ago. His arms sliced through the water out of desperation, but each stroke felt heavier than the last. His breaths came in shallow gasps, swallowed by the waves as his feet kicked wildly behind him as he tried to follow the rhythm that had pushed his captain like a bullet to its mark.
His gaze shifted, drawn by an unshakable pull—something had shifted above.
Then, his arms froze mid-stroke, his legs kicking out of rhythm as he hovered in the deep. His breath caught as treasure rained down in a dazzling downpour, spilling from the ship like stars shaken loose from the heavens. Gold and jewels tumbled wildly, their brilliant hues flashing in reds, blues, greens, and purples.
Something drifted past his eye—a shape unlike the rest. 'What is that?' His breath hitched as the azure gem twirled gently, its surface gleaming like a fragment of the sky itself.
Wide-eyed, he stared, forgetting the burning sensation in his lungs. He had never seen anything so beautiful, so unreal. 'So... so beautiful... Is that, a jewel?'
He reached out, fingers stretching toward it, drawn to its cool, hypnotic glow—as if grasping it would let him hold onto the beauty of the moment forever.
The moment his fingers closed around it—
"GET YOUR STINKIN' HANDS OFF MY TREASUUURRREE!!!"
A voice exploded from above, ripping through the water, shaking him to his core. His head snapped up just in time to see a blur of crimson charging toward him, eyes ablaze with fury. Panic surged through his chest, freezing him in place.
THWACK!
Pain flared through his face, his vision cracked into blinding stars. His grip loosened, and the jewl slipped free, tumbling back into the water. The last thing he saw was the red-scaled monster snatching it up with a triumphant grin—before darkness swallowed him whole.
---
The world around him was a haze of muffled voices.
"Stealing our treasure, that slimy rat!"
"What do we do with him, lads?"
"Captain Vander's coming. He'll deal with the thief."
Footsteps thudded against the wooden deck. A deep voice cut through the chatter. "What's all the commotion?"
Luster wasted no time. "Captain! This lowly sea scum tried to snatch my treasure!"
The boy blinked, his vision slowly clearing. His head throbbed, his limbs felt like lead, but he managed to lift himself, wobbling as he pressed a hand to his aching skull. His blurred sight focused just enough to catch the imposing figure stepping into view.
"C-Captain Van-der…"
Luster whipped around, eyes narrowing. "Hey! don't get all chummy with the captain, treasure thief!"
Vander sighed, rubbing his temples as he looked from Shiny to the boy. "This is the thief?"
Luster jabbed a finger toward him. "Yeah, Captain, that's the one!"
Vander exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, with a shake of his head, he let out a tired sigh.
"This so-called treasure thief is the newest addition to my crew."
Luster froze, finger still pointing, his expression locked somewhere between disbelief and 'oh shit I'm cooked'.
Slowly, he turned his gaze away from Vander, pursing his lips as he began to whistle, feigning complete innocence.
The murmurs swelled around him, voices rippling through the water in a wave of disbelief.
"You're joking, right, Captain?" an octopus Fish-Man sneered, drifting closer with a lazy flick of his tentacles. "This scrawny thing? He can barely keep himself upright!"
Then, without warning, his tentacle lashed out, coiling around the boy's ankle and sweeping him off his feet.
His balance shattered instantly. He was pulled upside-down, the world flipping over as his arms flailed, fingers grasping desperately at nothing. His coat twisted around him, his hair swaying in the current—
And the crew erupted into laughter.
The water pulsed with their amusement, their voices rolling through the currents like crashing waves.
"Hold on a second," a Fish-Man muttered, squinting at the boy. A knife was plunged deep into his right eye socket, buried for so long the flesh had healed tightly around it like a cruel sheath—he looked like he should have died ages ago, yet there he was, as lively as ever. "Something's wrong with his hands..."
The boy flailed slightly, his arms swaying in an attempt to steady himself. In the movement, his hands flicked into clearer view—smooth, bare, and completely unwebbed.
The Fish-Man's eyes widened. "He's got no webs!"
The water seemed to still for a moment as the words sank in. Another crew member scoffed, shaking his head.
"The hell do you mean he's got no webs? He's a Fish-Man, ain't he?"
The first Fish-Man hesitated, uncertainty flickering in his expression before he suddenly surged forward and seized the boy's wrist.
The grip was tight—too tight. A sharp pain jolted up the boy's arm, and he winced, instinctively trying to pull away.
"Mister… You're hurting me," he mumbled, his voice strained.
But the Fish-Man ignored him, yanking his hand up higher, fully exposing his fingers to the crew.
The reaction was instant—confusion, distaste, a murmur rolling through the crew like a slow-building wave.
"There ain't any scars," one muttered, eyes narrowing. "He must've been born like that."
A pause. Then another voice, lower, unsettled.
"...Freak."
The Fish-Man's grip tightened—hard. Pain jolted up the boy's arm, sharp and sudden. He flinched, a breath hitching in his throat as his fingers instinctively curled.
"You're not one of us."
He drifted lower, squatting in the currents to level himself with the boy's dangling form. Slowly, he lifted his own hand.
The boy watched as the Fish-Man spread his fingers wide, and there, stretched taut between them, were thick, elastic webs that shimmered faintly under the deep's mesmerizing light.
"There are only two ways a Fish-Man loses their webs," he growled, his voice dragging through the water like a storm rolling in. "One, they're torn away in a violent show of cruelty. You will find that some truly unlucky Fish-Men who were once slaves lost their webs simply because their so-called master found them to be an inconvenience."
"or as they would have said it 'A disturbing sight to look at'."
The current swirled around them, heavy, like the weight of unseen ghosts.
"The second reason is as some would say, just as bad a fate as the first," he continued, his eyes flickering in the cold light of the deep blue, "they were born without them. Somewhere along the line on of your ancestors mingled with someone other than their own and as a result you came to be as a lowly half-blood!!!... you may resemble us Fishmen but in the end all of you are as easy to spot as the blade lodged in my eye!"
Bahohoho
A low chuckle rumbled through the water, cutting through the murmur like a shifting tide.
"Alright, alright," Vander's voice carried with the weight of command, "Give it a rest, Scabbard."
Scabbard lingered, his lip curling slightly in frustration. His fingers twitched at his side, but then, with a slow exhale, he muttered, "Aye, Captain."
Reluctantly, he freed the boy's hand and swam away, his movements seemed calm, but his emotions we're anything but calm.
The octopus Fish-Man who had been holding the boy upside down sighed, rolling his eyes. His amusement faded as he loosened his grip.
"I don't wanna play with you anymore," he muttered, his tone laced with disappointment, before loosening his tentacle's grip on his ankle and letting go.
The boy twisted, his arms flailing briefly before he righted himself, finding his balance once his feet finally met with the wooden deck. He exhaled... only then realizing he'd been holding his breath.
The murmurs continued, voices swimming through the deep like a distant tide, but none dared challenge their captain's word.
The boy lifted his hands into view and stared down at them, his uneven breath grew louder as his heart quickened in pace.
His fingers were riddled with gaps that divided more than just his fingers; because of what he lacked, he was isolated.
The voices around him melted into a low murmur, their words slipping past him like whispers carried by the current, but one voice remained. Scabbard's voice echoed in the depths of his mind.
"You're not one of us."
"Only a half-blood… or someone put through torture would lack what makes us superior."
The words dug into him like hooks, twisting deeper than anything that had hurt him before, their weight pressing against his chest. And then, a final image seared into his thoughts—Scabbard's hand. The unmistakable mark of a Fish-Man.
A mark he lacked.
A quiet, desperate need stirred within him, growing with every second, gaining momentum at an alarming rate.
Something deep within him, something primal, clawed at him from the inside.
That feeling spread from within him, every part of his being tingling as if his makeup was being rewritten. His emerald eyes narrowed, locked onto his fingers as they trembled uncontrollably.
Shaken by the sudden turn, he panicked as he tried to regain control over himself.
Something had been set into motion.
A faint stir rumbled beneath his fingers, and they trembled before they began to fuse.
A thin, clear membrane formed between them, smooth and untouched. At first, it was nearly invisible, but gradually, the color deepened.
The pale film strengthened, darkening into a rich blue that matched the rest of his skin.
The murmurs stopped.
A heavy silence fell over the crew.
Eyes widened.
Bodies stiffened.
Amongst the crowd of few Fish-Men, one of them took a step back while another even shuddered as if they had seen a ghost.
Luster blinked, his gills fluttering as he stared at the boy's hands.
"Am I dreaming?"
He grabbed his cheek and pinched hard, his face scrunching before he yelped, "Ow!"
The boy lifted his hands higher, stretching his fingers wide for all to see, his smile wider than it's ever been.
Ahahaha
"Look everyone, I'm a fishman too!"
Not a soul moved.
They stood frozen, their gazes locked onto his hands, their expressions stiff—disbelief etched into their features.
Statues carved from shock.
Among them, Scabbard's brows furrowed as his eyes narrowed into a sharp menace.
The world held its breath.
Waiting.
And then...
The silence shattered.