I was starting to think that there is someone out there committed to the cause of making my life harder.
No, in fact, I was completely sure of it. Putting aside the fact that I was somehow transported to another world, one that I had read about in a Manga of all places, I somehow encounter pirates once every two times I get to the sea.
'What are the statistical odds of this?'
Seriously, did I accidentally sign up for some kind of 'Attract Every Possible Danger' subscription service when I got isekai'd? Because I'd really like to cancel that plan right about now.
It was like being trapped in one of those mobile games where the random encounter rate was artificially inflated to frustrate players into spending money—except here, the microtransactions were paid in blood and terror.
'Even if this was the 'Great Pirate Era', there should have been a limit to everything, you knoooow!!'
Moreover, this time, the ones who are attacking the cargo ship I am on right now are fishmen from the Arlong pirates.
I repeat, FISHMEN FROM THE FU*KING ARLONG PIRATES!!!
I had decided to never get in touch with anyone strong or important from the manga, or anyone strong or important in this world in general, so I don't get dragged into their mess.
'But apparently the world operates on protagonist logic, where trouble finds you no matter how aggressively you try to be a background character.'
"W-what are those...?" A middle-aged woman near the rail pointed with a trembling finger that had probably never pointed at anything more dangerous than an overpriced fish at the market.
"Pirates," replied a grizzled merchant with the weary tone of someone who'd clearly seen this song and dance before. "Fishmen pirates, by the look of them."
"Fishmen?" squeaked a young man who probably still lived with his parents. "But I thought they were just stories!"
'Yes, yes, the classic denial phase. The moment when people encountered harsh reality and their first instinct was to pretend it wasn't happening.'
Unfortunately, reality had a habit of being remarkably persistent about existing.
The eight fishmen who appeared from the sea all looked big, strong, exotic, and intimidating.
They breached the surface like nature documentaries come to life—if nature documentaries featured apex predators with a taste for human suffering and a complete disregard for maritime law.
Water cascaded from their massive forms in sheets, each droplet catching the sunlight like liquid diamonds that would probably be the last beautiful thing some of these passengers ever saw.
A small child immediately burst into tears with the impressive lung capacity that only terrified children seemed to possess. His mother yanked him against her chest, whispering desperate reassurances that we all knew were lies. "Don't look, sweetie. Don't look. Mama's here."
"Right, because closing your eyes makes the monsters go away.'
If that were true, I would be living in my own heaven already.
Their leader, while he doesn't look like Arlong or any of his three executives, is also large, more than two and a half meters tall, with rippling muscles all over his body, his big teeth and dangerous glare adding the scars here and there, making him look even more intimidating.
He surveyed our little floating community with the satisfied expression of a tax collector who'd just discovered an entire neighborhood of people who'd forgotten to file their returns.
His gaze moved methodically from person to person, probably calculating net worth and resistance potential with the efficiency of someone who'd done this dance many times before.
"ATTENTION, PATHETIC LAND DWELLERS!!!" His voice boomed across the deck with the authority of someone accustomed to immediate compliance.
"We are the Arlong Pirates! If you value your pathetic lives, you will surrender every piece of wealth you possess. Resist, and you get to become fish food!"
Immediately, the social dynamics I'd observed countless times began playing out with depressing predictability.
"Just give them what they want. Don't resist. Maybe if we're cooperative, they'll let us go." A well-dressed merchant near me started whispering frantically to his companion.
'Oh sure, because pirates are famous for their restraint and professional courtesy.'
I'm sure once they get our money, they'll politely apologize for the inconvenience and sail away singing sea shanties about fair business practices.
Spoiler alert: it never did.
And like he wanted to prove me right, he and his seven subordinates attacked the one closest to them, randomly laughing menacingly, to instill intimidation into us and stomp down any thought of resistance.
The demonstration of violence was swift, brutal, and depressingly educational. A fishman's fist connected with a middle-aged passenger's chest, sending him flying across the deck like a ragdoll with a physics lesson to teach.
"GWAHAHA! See that, humans?" the leader cackled with the sort of theatrical malice that would make a cartoon villain blush. "This is what happens to anyone who thinks they're clever!"
"Stop it! Please!" A woman shrieked as another fishman backhanded her husband with casual indifference. "We'll give you everything! Just don't hurt us!"
"Oh, you'll give us everything anyway," the leader grinned, displaying teeth that looked like they'd been designed by someone with very strong opinions about human mortality rates. "This is just for, you know, motivational purposes."
It was textbook intimidation tactics, really. Establish dominance through violence, create fear to prevent organized resistance, and make compliance seem like the only rational choice.
The bad news was that it was working…
The good news? Sorry, there was no good news, only the worst news.
Which is my thought process when I saw this.
'Oh, come on, not this again. Not the hero syndrome.'
My thought process was centered around that I should do something, the idea getting more and more pronounced.
I didn't want people to get hurt needlessly again, like when the Gleaming Knives Pirates attacked.
'Dammit,' I muttered, my hand unconsciously drifting toward my sword. 'Why can't I just be a proper sociopath? It would make life so much simpler.'
"EVERYONE HOLD ON!" I shouted to the passengers while unsheathing the Barbossa Sword and using its power to control the ship and the surrounding wind and water, pushing the speed of the ship to its limits.
The water parted easily for the ship, the wind caught the sails and pushed it forward, and suddenly, without warning, the speed of the ship increased to its top speed, catching everyone off guard, including the fishmen.
"What in the seven hells—?!" the fishman leader snarled, stumbling backward as the deck suddenly lurched forward like a racehorse that had just been stung by a particularly motivated bee.
"The ship!" gasped a sailor, grabbing desperately for the rigging. "It's moving like it's alive!"
"What kind of sorcery is this?!" screamed a passenger who was clearly having the worst day of his otherwise mundane merchant career.
Not letting this opportunity go, I quickly used the Barbossa Sword to control the ropes of the ship and caught the fishmen, binding them in the air.
The ship's rigging came alive with enthusiastic malice, ropes writhing through the air like hungry pythons who'd just spotted their favorite meal.
Several fishmen found themselves wrapped up faster than presents at a very efficient Christmas celebration.
"What the hell kind of Devil Fruit power is this?!" one of them snarled, struggling against bonds that seemed to tighten with every movement.
They tried to resist the capture, but with so many ropes and the suddenness of all of this made their resistance useless.
"This thing…?!"
"Damn it!!"
"Get these blasted things off me!!"
"Stop thrashing around, you idiots!" their leader barked with the exasperated tone of a middle manager whose employees had just failed spectacularly at a simple task. "You're making the bindings tighter!"
"But Gyaro-san—" one of them started.
"But nothing! Think with your brain, not your muscles!"
It was almost educational, watching them struggle against a problem that required finesse rather than brute force. Like watching a group of jocks try to solve a chess puzzle by hitting the board harder.
Soon, the eight fishmen were hauled up by the ropes.
"We're saved!" shouted a passenger who'd clearly never read the fine print on victory conditions.
"Thank God!"
"Amazing!"
"Hooray for the rope wizard!"
Oh, there is one more of them.
'And please don't call me that,' I thought wearily. 'I have enough identity issues without adding 'rope wizard' to the list.'
The leader of the fishmen, bonded in the air by the ropes, was keeping calm as he observed everyone on deck.
His gaze swept across the deck with the methodical precision of someone conducting a performance review, until those predatory eyes locked onto mine.
Even suspended in midair like a very large, very dangerous Christmas ornament, the fishman leader maintained an aura of calm professionalism that was honestly more unsettling than if he'd been raging and threatening.
"Well, well, well," he said with the conversational tone of someone discussing the weather rather than their current predicament of being trussed up like a maritime piñata.
"I certainly didn't expect to encounter a Devil Fruit user on this humble cargo vessel. And quite a troublesome one, at that."
"Devil Fruit user?" whispered a passenger behind me with the awed tone usually reserved for celebrity sightings.
"Is that what's happening here?" asked another. "He has magic powers?"
"Devil Fruit powers," corrected a third with the smug authority of someone who'd read about these things. "Very rare. Very valuable."
The leader of the fishmen didn't care about the muttering of other people and only kept staring at me.
"But little rope boy, don't think some puny rope work can contain the powerful fishmen!" he laughed, and those massive teeth of his—which looked like they could open cans, bottles, and probably small boats—began systematically cutting through hemp fibers like a biological wire cutter.
"What the…"
"Fishmen are naturally superior to humans in every way!" he boasted while continuing his impromptu escape artistry. "Ten times stronger, natural swimmers, and we don't need fancy Devil Fruit powers to be dangerous!!"
SNAP!!
SNAP!!
SNAP!!
His muscles bulged threateningly, and with his only physical strength, he snapped the rest of the ropes binding him.
The thick hemp ropes that should have been able to hold a small boat to dock snapped like overcooked spaghetti under his raw muscle power.
Each break was accompanied by a sound like a gunshot, which was probably doing wonders for everyone's stress levels.
"This is impossible," gasped a crew member who, like me, was clearly having his understanding of maritime physics forcibly updated.
"Nothing's impossible for fishmen, you surface-dwelling weakling!" the leader flexed dramatically, more ropes parting under the strain. "We're the superior race!"
"Fuhahaha!!"
"Rahaahahah!!"
The rest of his fishmen subordinates are also laughing and doing the same, cutting down the ropes with their teeth and long swords.
"Gyaro-san makes it look so easy!" cackled one of them, sawing through rope with his cutlass and the enthusiasm of someone who was really enjoying his work.
"These stupid humans thought some rope could hold us!" laughed another with the sort of vindictive glee usually reserved for people who'd just won an argument on the internet.
"Should've just handed over your money from the start!" added a shark-faced one, grinning with way too many teeth. "Now we're going to take everything and leave you all as fish food!"
It was like watching a very violent, very aquatic version of a group project where all the slackers suddenly started participating once they realized there might be extra credit involved.
"…Are you kidding me…?" Seeing this, I was astonished and half panicking.
"The-The ropes!" wailed a passenger with the despair of someone watching their life insurance policy get shredded.
"They're breaking free!"
"We're doomed!"
"P-Please do something!" a man next to his family begged me with a desperate tone.
'I am already on it!'
Before they are completely free, I stabbed the air forward with my sword, pushing the speed of the ship to the maximum again.
"This…!!"
"Again?!"
"You little shit! We told you it won't worrrraaaaaaa!"
Not letting the fishman finish his words, I slashed the air with my Barbossa Sword, controlling the ship, making a sudden 90-degree turn to the right.
"Hold on to something!" I shouted.
The ship executed a turn that would have made a sports driver jealous and a physics professor weep, pivoting ninety degrees to starboard with all the grace of a ballet dancer and all the subtlety of a freight train.
"WWWWWHAT NOW?!" bellowed a fishman, his escape routine rudely interrupted by suddenly having to deal with maritime physics at their most unforgiving.
"This is insane!" screamed a sailor who was sliding across the deck like he was auditioning for a very nautical version of ice skating.
'Now!'
At the same time, I re-controlled the ropes they cut again and every other rope on the ship, using them to bind them again.
I even made sure the ropes bound around their neck.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"
"Damn, I-I can't breathe!"
Moreover, I start breathing rapidly according to the Hamon rhythm. I was sure one of them would escape, and I needed to get ready.
And it happened.
The leader, who was called Gyaro—apparently that was his name—proved why he led this particular group of aquatic thugs.
While his subordinates were still struggling with the tilting deck, he adapted to the ship's motion with fluid grace.
"You think some fancy tricks will stop me, boy?" He bounded across the unstable deck, avoiding the seeking ropes with contemptuous ease. "I've been fighting Devil Fruit suckers like you since before you were born!"
His charge was terrifyingly direct. Just explosive power channeled into devastating forward momentum. His fist came up in a vicious straight punch, and I could actually hear the air being displaced.
"Hundred Tile True Punch!" The technique's name suggested this wasn't just raw strength—this was trained martial arts designed to punch through solid barriers.
"Look out!" someone screamed from behind me.
As I was ready, I met his punch with a swing of my sword filled with Hamon Crush Overdrive.
PRRAAANG!!!
The moment we clashed, there was a sound of impact.
The sound echoed across the deck, and Gyaro was pushed back with his hand shaking.
"What the hell?" Gyaro stumbled backward, staring at his visibly shaking fist. "What kind of power was that?"
I could see genuine confusion in his eyes. He'd expected to crush whatever weapon I was carrying, probably taking my arm off in the process.
Instead, he'd run into something that had not only stopped his attack cold but could actually hurt him.
"Impossible," one of his subordinates gasped. "Gyaro-san's punch can break through stone walls!"
"The kid's tougher than he looks," another muttered.
'This was my chance.'
Seeing he was pushed back, I controlled the ropes to bind him, while also planning to hit him again with a Hamon sword strike.
'Eh?'
But to my shock, Gyaro was actually faster than me, dodging not just the ropes but also my sword.
I followed with another sword slash, but he still dodged it effortlessly.
'How-How can he be this fast?!'
"Pathetic swordsmanship, do you even know how to use a sword, kid?" Gyaro mocked me as he dodged my attacks.
/A knee kick to the chest followed by a strong punch to the head/
'Damn!' I backed away the moment the Mantra told me his next move.
Gyaro looked at me as I moved away, puzzlement was visible in his eyes as he followed after me.
/A feint left punch followed by a feint right punch then a strong low kick/
I didn't respond to his feints and only collected power to avoid his low kick and strike him with a strong Crushing Overdrive.
Gyaro's eyes widened the moment he saw me ignore his feint. When I dodged his kick and swung my faintly glowing sword, he immediately guarded with his arm.
PRAAAAANNGGG!!!!
"Graaaah!!!"
"Gyaro-san!!"
"Damn it!"
He was hit and was pushed back, screaming. His subordinates were surprised by this as they yelled.
"Haki! You can use Haki?!" Gyaro shouted as he was trying to regain his balance.
'Haki? What is he talking about?' While I questioned his words in my mind, I didn't let it distract me as I controlled the rope again.
Gyaro was off-balance, probably still feeling the aftereffects of the Hamon vibrations. If I could capture him now and follow up with another Hamon attack, I might actually end this.
"Don't Overestimate Yourself, You Puny Human!!!!" Gyaro snarled, his professional composure finally cracking.
But even with ropes wrapping around Gyaro's torso and going for his neck, he managed to grab several bindings in his massive hands. Instead of trying to break free, he used them as leverage.
"Two can play the rope game, boy!" His legs came up in a devastating double-kick, powerful thigh muscles propelling both feet toward my midsection.
"Dual Thrust-Kick!"
The timing was perfect—just as I committed to my forward charge, he turned my own binding ropes against me, using them to anchor himself for maximum impact.
My Hamon-charged sword met his sandals in another collision, but this time the angle was all wrong.
'What the…'
The force drove me backward, my feet leaving the deck entirely. The golden energy I'd been building dispersed harmlessly.
He landed gracefully as I crashed into a pile of cargo crates. "So what if you can use Haki? It is useless if you don't know how to fight! Even your pathetic sword trick isn't a match for our refined Fishman Karate! Devil Fruit, Haki, or whatever, you're still just a human whelp!"
BANG!
But before he got happy, someone shot at him with a gun.
'Who?'
I glanced to see who, and it turned out to be the captain of this cargo ship.
The sharp crack of gunpowder split the air, and Gyaro's livid and triumphant expression shifted to annoyance as a bullet creased his shoulder.
The shot hadn't done serious damage—fishman physiology was naturally more resilient—but it had disrupted his follow-up attack.
"That's quite enough!" The cargo ship's captain stood with a smoking pistol in his hand, his weathered face set in grim determination. "I won't let you harm my passengers!"
Gyaro, the leader of this fishmen pirates' team, glanced around and saw a few more people picking up weapons, then he glanced at me one more time as he dodged a rope coming at him.
"RETREAT TO THE WATER!" Gyaro barked, his voice carrying clearly across the deck. "This job's gone sideways. Don't stay on their turf!"
"But Gyaro-san!" the octopus fishman protested. "We can still take them!"
"Now!" Gyaro's tone brooked no argument. Without waiting to see if his orders were followed, he launched himself over the ship's railing in a graceful arc.
"Aye, Gyaro-san!" chorused three of his subordinates, diving over the rail with the synchronized precision of a very aquatic, very violent swim team.
"W-Wait!" called one of the fishmen still caught in ropes. "Don't leave us behind!"
Three of his subordinates managed to jump after him, but they all left four of their allies behind, who were captured more firmly this time.
"Gyaro-san! Gyaro-san, come back!" shouted one of the bound fishmen.
"Did they just... abandon us?" asked another.
"No way, right?" the third one said with the desperate tone of someone realizing they'd just been promoted to 'expendable.'
'That was…kind of anti-climactic…' I couldn't help but think.
******
—Third Person POV—
Splash!
Splash!
Splash!
Splash!
Gyaro, Okuba, Surume, and another fishman called Watabe jumped into the water alone.
They dived deeper to not be seen by the humans on the ship, but when they looked around, they saw only four of them.
"Damn! They got Kurami and the other!"
"They couldn't jump, that Devil Fruit bastard got them!"
"Fu*k, what should we do?"
"Get your shit together! It is alright, we will save them!" While the other fishmen were losing their nerves, Gyaro was calm. And from the looks of it, he had a plan from the start!
"But Gyaro-san, how?" Surume, the octopus fishman, asked. He was puzzled by Gyaro's orders to leave the ship from the start.
Gyaro didn't answer him directly, instead, he swam to their whale shark, which arrived at their location.
"It is simple, we will destroy their ship!" Gyaro finally answered as he took out an RPG-looking weapon from their luggage.
"Eh? We will use the hand-torpedoes?"
"Wouldn't Arlong-san be angry? They are quite expensive." The other three were shocked when they saw the torpedoes.
"Forget Arlong for a moment here! We need to save our brothers, and if he gets angry, I will take responsibility here!" Gyaro replied as he handed them the torpedoes.
"The problem from the start was that power user kid. As long as we are on the ship, we will be at a disadvantage. And more humans will get the nerve to help him and attack us. So the best thing to do is to destroy the ship!" Gyaro said, anger seeping from his tone.
"But can he use his power to fix the ship? You know he has the power to control it?" Okuba, the hammer shark fishman, asked as he took the torpedo from Gyaro.
"He most likely doesn't," Gyaro replied with confidence in his tone.
"Eh? He doesn't? How did you know?"
"Use your heads, idiots! When we cut the ropes, those ropes didn't repair themselves! So he either can't or it takes a long time to repair them! And even if he can, we will just use the torpedoes to destroy the ship faster! And once everything is in the water, no devil fruit power will be helpful!" Gyaro said as he got the torpedoes ready.
"Oh, I see!"
"As expected of Gyaro-san!"
"Yosh! Let's destroy this bastard!"
The three fishmen were excited when they heard the details.
"Remember, when we destroy the ship, you guys go release our brothers and collect anything of value. While I will go and kill the kid."
"And make sure to kill a few humans too, it will attract the sea monsters and predators and finish the job!"
******
The crew and the passengers were happy when they saw the fishmen leaving. They celebrated, and some of them thanked me.
"We're saved!"
"Thank you, young man!" A merchant clapped me on the shoulder with enough enthusiasm to nearly knock me over. "You're a genuine hero! A real lifesaver!"
Seeing the fishmen retreat, the people started to relax.
But before this happiness and relief settled in, a booming sound came from under the ship.
BOOM!
The first impact came without warning—a deep, resonant boom that seemed to originate from directly beneath our hull.
Every conversation stopped mid-sentence. Every smile froze on every face.
"What was that?" someone whispered.
The ship shuddered, a tremor that ran through every plank and beam from bow to stern. This wasn't the normal motion of waves against the hull—this was something else entirely.
"That came from below," The captain said quietly, his earlier confidence evaporating.
'Damn!'
I had already realized what was going on. And just before I used the Sword's power to get us out of here,
BOOM!
The second impact came!
And it was not just once or twice, at least four times in succession, shocking the ship like there was a gigantic hammer smashing the ship.
The second impact was stronger, more focused. I felt it through the soles of my feet, a violent jarring that made my teeth click together.
BOOM!
The third strike came from a slightly different angle, and I heard wood begin to splinter somewhere below decks.
"Oh God," the merchant breathed. "They're attacking the hull."
BOOM!
The fourth impact was the worst yet. The deck tilted sharply to one side, and through the gaps in the planking, I could see water rushing in.
BOOOOM!!!!!
CRRRRRAAAAACK!!!!!
With the fifth strike came a sound like the world's largest tree falling.
A prolonged crackling roar of wood splitting under impossible stress. The ship began to come apart beneath our feet, the hull cracking open like an eggshell.
"WE'RE GOING TO DIE!!!" someone screamed.
The four bound fishmen were laughing now, their earlier desperation replaced by vicious glee.
"Told you!" one of them cackled. "Gyaro-san doesn't give up that easily!"
"You humans should have killed us when you had the chance!" another added.
"Now you're all going to die!"
Water was pouring through the widening cracks in the deck, and the ship was starting to fall apart.
'Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!!'
We had minutes—maybe less—before the whole vessel went under.
'What to do? What should I do?!'
The Barbossa Sword pulsed in my grip, but I was rapidly running out of ship to save and time to figure out how to use it.
Around us, the ocean stretched endlessly in all directions, and somewhere beneath those waves, Gyaro and his remaining crew were preparing for round two.
"What do we do?" the captain asked, looking at me with desperate hope. "Can your power save the ship?"
I stared down at the widening cracks, water rushing in faster than any pump could handle. The structural damage was too extensive—the ship was finished.
"No," I said quietly. "We need to get everyone off, now!"
The celebration had lasted exactly thirty seconds. Now we were right back where we'd started, except this time we were sinking in the middle of the ocean with four very angry fishmen waiting for us in the water.
'Damn! I really hate this world!'
…
A\N: Well, Thank you all for reading! Hope you enjoyed this one!
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