The Angel Pirates had been at sea for nearly a day before Enel realized—again—that he had forgotten to take a log pose. Old military and navy training didn't state you had to rely on a singular device.
He sat lazily on the deck railing, wings stretched out to catch the sun, as Tatsumaki floated beside him with her arms crossed, her expression sharp enough to cut steel.
"You forgot," she said flatly.
Enel raised a brow, feigning innocence. "Did I?"
"Yes," she snapped. "And if it wasn't for me, we'd be wandering in circles like idiots. Do you know how many storms we just narrowly avoided because of me?"
Enel smirked. "Well, you are the navigator. Isn't this your job?"
Her eyes narrowed dangerously, a green aura briefly flickering around her. "My job is to navigate, not babysit an idiot captain who can't remember basic survival tools."
Escanor, who was at the helm, chuckled as he adjusted the rudder. "Ah, the beautiful harmony of our crew," he said warmly. "The sun shines brighter when our navigator threatens our captain's life."
"Shut up, Sunshine," Tatsumaki grumbled.
Thanks to her sensory abilities, Tatsumaki manipulated the ship's course with expert precision, using her powers to detect subtle air shifts and dangerous pressure zones. Smooth sailing on the Grand Line wasn't common, but she made it look effortless.
Three days later, Alabasta's sun-baked shores emerged on the horizon. The desert kingdom glimmered under the oppressive heat, its dunes rolling endlessly like waves of golden fire.
They secured the Ark of Raijin in a secluded cove far from the bustling harbor. Enel wasn't taking any chances with his new masterpiece.
"Strict orders," he said firmly, turning to the two dozen shipwrights and navigators they'd taken from Water 7. "If so much as a scratch appears on this ship, I'll personally turn you into lightning rods."
The crew members saluted nervously. Escanor's golden gaze softened the blow with his reassuring presence, but none of them doubted Enel's words.
The divisions had settled nicely into their roles:
Shipwright Division: Maintaining the Ark's pristine quality, ensuring every plank and nail stayed perfect.
Navigation Division: Managing sails, anchors, and the Ark's unique Raijin Burst, a booster system powered by Enel's Devil Fruit. It was their equivalent of the Thousand Sunny's Coup de Burst, except fueled by raw thunder.
With the ship secure, the core crew split up to explore.
Tatsumaki wanted new clothes.
Erza wanted better armor polish and scabbards.
Hinata wished to stock up on medical herbs for her treatments.
Escanor, predictably, went to sample Alabasta's finest liquors.
Enel, after much internal debate, decided to follow Tatsumaki.
The moment they stepped into one of Alabasta's marketplaces, Enel's ego swelled. Citizens gawked at his wings, their awe feeding into his pride like oxygen to fire.
"Finally," he muttered under his breath, "a place that understands greatness when they see it."
Tatsumaki floated beside him, unimpressed. "Don't get cocky. They're staring because you look like a freak."
He ignored her jab, instead focusing on the warm admiration of the crowd. That is, until he realized what shopping with Tatsumaki actually meant.
She didn't browse. She scrutinized. Every single garment was inspected, tested, and mocked for imperfections. She criticized color palettes, fabric stitching, and even the "emotional aura" of certain dresses.
Six hours later, Enel's patience had evaporated.
"This is torture," he muttered, leaning against a shop wall as Tatsumaki examined yet another outfit.
She didn't even glance at him. "Nobody asked you to come."
"You dragged me here!"
Her lips twitched into the faintest smirk. "And yet, you stayed."
He cursed himself silently.
Just when he thought they were done, Tatsumaki turned to him with a rare gleam in her eye.
"Shoes," she said simply.
Enel blinked. "…What?"
"High heels. I need new ones."
Enel groaned, debating abandoning her entirely. But with the majority of his crew being female, he knew the fallout of leaving Tatsumaki mid-shopping spree would haunt him for weeks.
Resigned, he followed her into a high-end footwear store.
The shop was elegant, lined with glass cases that showcased shoes like museum exhibits. The price tags made even Enel raise an eyebrow.
Then he saw it.
A pair of black heels, sleek and ominous, priced at three million Berries.
"Don't look at them," he muttered to himself. "Don't—"
Tatsumaki's eyes locked onto them instantly.
"Perfect," she said, striding toward the display. "I'll take six."
Enel's soul left his body. "Six?!"
But before he could argue, something else caught his attention.
Soft, melodic piano music drifted through the shop—not a recording, but live. He followed the sound to the corner of the room, where a young woman sat at a grand piano.
Her short purple hair framed her face, and her earlobes were adorned with familiar headphone jacks. She looked older than he remembered from the anime, maybe eighteen, her presence calm yet quietly electric.
Kyoka Jirou.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Enel muttered to himself, almost amused.
His thoughts were interrupted as the front doors slammed open. Three armed men stormed inside, brandishing swords and pistols.
"Everybody down!" one of them yelled. "Empty the registers and fill these bags, now!"
The store erupted into panic. Customers screamed and ducked behind displays.
Enel sighed, lifting a finger lazily. A single bolt could vaporize them. But then he paused, his gaze drifting back to Jirou at the piano.
If she was going to be his musician, she needed to prove she wasn't just there to play pretty tunes.
He folded his arms, deciding to watch.
"Your move, Rockstar," he murmured.
Jirou didn't flinch. She didn't even stop playing. Her melody shifted, slow and haunting at first, then rising with a pulse that seemed to sync with the beating of hearts in the room. The robbers faltered, glancing toward her.
"What the hell are you doing?!" one shouted.
She smirked, finally rising from the bench. "Setting the mood."
Her earlobes extended, headphone jacks snapping outward like whips. She jammed one into the floor, sending a shockwave of sound through the building. The ground rippled, and the nearest robber collapsed, clutching his ears as blood trickled from his nose.
The second lunged at her, sword raised. She didn't even look—her other jack lashed out, striking the blade mid-swing and releasing a burst of concentrated bass. The vibration shattered the sword into fragments, and the force launched him into a display case.
The third tried to shoot her. Bad idea.
Jirou twisted her wrist, sending her melody into a violent crescendo. A wave of sound erupted from her, bending the bullet mid-air before it even reached her chest. The distorted note slammed into the robber, throwing him against the wall with enough force to knock him unconscious.
The entire fight lasted fifteen seconds.
As silence fell, Jirou casually adjusted her jacket and returned to her piano. She resumed playing as if nothing had happened.
Enel's grin widened. Perfect.
He clapped slowly, his laughter echoing through the stunned store. "You," he said, striding toward her, "are coming with me."
Great job. Very normal. Not suspicious at all.
Who is he kidding, if he didn't look like an Angel descended from heaven with his wings spread out, he w
Jirou arched a brow. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"
"The man who's going to make you famous," he replied, lightning crackling faintly across his shoulders. "I'm Enel. Captain of the Angel Pirates. And you just passed your audition."