-Real World: Grand Line Waters-
The Going Merry cut through the blue waters with the steady confidence of a ship that had already proven itself capable of surviving the Grand Line's countless dangers. Her figurehead faced toward Arabasta with unwavering determination, while her crew had adapted to the strange new reality of their post-Sky Screen existence.
Their Jolly Roger—a simple straw hat over crossed bones—had become one of the most recognizable symbols on the seas practically overnight. Where once they had been unknown rookies struggling to make their mark, the Sky Screen's revelations had transformed them into living legends whose future exploits were already the stuff of maritime folklore.
The irony wasn't lost on any of them. Five years in the future, according to the ethereal broadcast, the Marines would reclassify them as an "adventure group" rather than a pirate crew—a designation that acknowledged their unique position as neither criminals nor government allies, but something entirely unprecedented in the world's power structure.
That future recognition had immediate practical benefits. Smaller pirate crews, aware of the Straw Hats' destined strength and influence, gave their ship a wide berth rather than risk confrontation with individuals who were apparently fated to reshape the world itself.
But perhaps the most unexpected consequence of their newfound fame was the phenomenon currently trailing in their wake—a flotilla of smaller ships flying makeshift banners and carrying crews who had apparently decided that piracy was less important than celebrity worship.
"Ms. Nami! Ms. Nami, look over here! You're looking absolutely radiant today!"
The voice carried across the water from one of the pursuing ships, accompanied by enthusiastic waving and what appeared to be a professionally painted portrait of the Straw Hat navigator being held aloft like a religious icon.
"I can't believe how much more beautiful Miss Nami has become over the past five years!" another voice called out from a different ship. "The way she moves, the way she carries herself—it's like watching a goddess walk among mortals!"
Most of Nami's admirers were drawn by her physical development, though her current appearance had yet to fully mature into the striking figure displayed in the Sky Screen's visions. Still, the combination of her natural beauty and her destined transformation had attracted a devoted following of what could charitably be described as enthusiastic collectors.
Less charitably, they were a pack of middle-aged perverts with more money than sense, but Nami had quickly learned to leverage their obsession for maximum profit.
"Handshake events! Autographed photos! Limited edition merchandise!" She had turned their pursuit into a floating marketplace where desperate fans competed to spend increasingly ridiculous amounts of money for moments of her attention.
"Berries! So many beautiful berries!" Nami's eyes had literally transformed into currency symbols as she counted the latest haul, pressing bundles of cash against her face to feel the texture of financial success. "With this kind of income, we'll never have to worry about ship expenses again!"
The irony of their situation wasn't lost on her. For months, she had stressed about every expenditure, carefully rationing resources while their captain consumed roughly eighty percent of their total budget in food costs alone. Luffy's appetite was legendary even among the Grand Line's various monsters, capable of bankrupting lesser crews within weeks.
But now, thanks to the obsessive devotion of strangers who had seen her future self, money was flowing in faster than she could count it.
"Is it really wise to bring all these pirates to Arabasta with us?" Princess Vivi asked with obvious concern, watching the trailing flotilla with the calculating eye of someone trained in statecraft. "They may be your admirers, but they're still criminals. Introducing such a large group of outlaws to my kingdom feels like inviting wolves into our home."
Roronoa Zoro, who had been on guard duty throughout the previous night and was now catching up on sleep in the afternoon sunshine, opened one eye to address the princess's concerns.
"They're not worth worrying about," he said with the casual dismissal of someone who had already evaluated and dismissed the threat level. "At best, they're cannon fodder—pirates in name only who've probably never faced real combat. Your kingdom's guards could handle them without breaking a sweat."
The swordsman's assessment was brutally accurate. Like Nami, Zoro had his own collection of admirers, though his fans were drawn by his legendary sword skills rather than his physical attributes. During quiet evening hours, he would occasionally accept challenges from the more martially inclined followers, using their duels as opportunities to test his current capabilities against his future potential.
Every victory served as a stark reminder of how far he still had to travel. The Sky Screen had shown him techniques that seemed almost supernatural in their precision and power—three-sword combinations that defied physics, applications of his fighting style that bordered on the mystical.
I can see the destination, he thought grimly, but the path to reach it remains hidden.
The gap between his current abilities and his prophesied future felt almost insurmountable.
"Zoro! Stop lazing around and get some ingredients from your fan club!" Sanji's voice carried across the deck with its usual mix of irritation and practical concern. "We're running low on supplies, and I refuse to let this crew starve because you're too proud to ask for help!"
The cook punctuated his demand with a precisely aimed kick that sent the resting swordsman tumbling across the deck, immediately triggering their ship's most reliable source of entertainment.
"Get your own damn ingredients!" Zoro snarled, already reaching for his swords. "You've got plenty of fans too—though I suppose crossdressing enthusiasts don't make the best provisioners!"
"I AM NOT A CROSSDRESSER!" Sanji's scream could probably be heard on the next island. "That Sky Screen is showing some kind of alternate timeline! There's no way a masculine chef like me would ever—"
"Even if you're not wearing the dress yet," Zoro interrupted with malicious glee, "the okama already recognize you as one of their own. I saw at least three of them blowing kisses in your direction this morning."
The psychological warfare between the cook and swordsman had reached new heights since the Sky Screen's revelations. Each man had been provided with ammunition specifically designed to target his crewmate's deepest insecurities and fears.
For Zoro, it was the knowledge that despite his legendary reputation, he still struggled against opponents who should have been stepping stones. For Sanji, it was the horrifying certainty that his future somehow involved embracing femininity in ways that contradicted everything he believed about his own identity.
"At least I don't get lost trying to find my own shadow!" Sanji shot back, his leg already moving in a combat-ready stance. "And unlike certain green-haired idiots, my fans actually respect my cooking skills instead of just wanting to see me bleed!"
"Better than having fans who want to see you in lingerie!"
"THAT'S NOT WHAT THEY WANT!"
Their "friendly" sparring session erupted with the predictability of morning sunrise, both men using the familiar rhythm of combat to work through frustrations that had nothing to do with each other and everything to do with their own uncertain futures.
The rest of the crew watched with the resigned tolerance of people who had long since accepted this dynamic as normal shipboard entertainment.
Monkey D. Luffy sat at the ship's bow, his usual infectious energy subdued by the weight of knowledge he was still struggling to process. The revelation of Ace's death—his brother's death—had shaken him in ways that even the crew's return to their normal chaotic routine couldn't fully address.
I have to get stronger, he thought with unusual seriousness.
The concept of predetermined fate had never bothered him before, but watching his brother die had forced him to confront the possibility that some events might be beyond even his ability to affect through sheer willpower and determination.
Near the ship's mast, Tony Tony Chopper was helping Usopp with his daily physical therapy, the sniper's arm still healing from the injuries sustained during their escape from Drum Island.
"Chopper, I have to admit, seeing you fight was pretty impressive," Usopp said, flexing his injured arm carefully under the doctor's supervision. "You've got some serious power development ahead of you."
The little reindeer's reaction was immediate and predictable—he began wiggling with embarrassment while simultaneously trying to appear unaffected by the praise.
"D-don't think flattery will make me happy, you bastard!" Chopper declared, his hooves accidentally delivering a therapeutic kick that was rather more forceful than medical protocol typically recommended.
"CHOPPER!" Usopp coughed up blood as the impact aggravated his healing injuries. "Are you trying to cure me or kill me?!"
"Sorry! Sorry! I got carried away!" The reindeer immediately shifted into full medical mode, fussing over his patient with the dedication that had already marked him as an exceptional doctor despite his youth.
It was during this typical scene of organized chaos that two figures materialized on the Going Merry's deck with the casual precision of people who were accustomed to making dramatic entrances.
The first was unmistakably Buggy the Clown—his distinctive red nose and theatrical makeup immediately recognizable despite the significant difference in his physical presence. Where the Buggy they had encountered in Orange Town had been a relatively minor threat, this version radiated an aura of power that made the air itself feel heavy.
The second figure was someone they had only recently parted with under much different circumstances—Nico Robin, the Devil Child, archaeologist of Ohara, and until very recently, a prisoner of the Marines.
"Clown Buggy... No, Uncle Buggy," Nami's voice came out as barely a whisper, her earlier confidence evaporating in the face of someone whose true power she was only now beginning to understand. "What brings you here? I never expected to see you again."
The guilt was written across her face in bold letters. She had robbed this man, beaten him unconscious, and divided his treasure among the crew with the casual arrogance of someone who assumed she would never face consequences for her actions.
Now, knowing what she knew about his true capabilities, the memory of that theft felt less like clever opportunism and more like suicidal stupidity.
I beat up a man who could fight Admirals to a standstill, she thought with growing horror. I'm amazed he didn't kill me on the spot just for the insult.
"Robin?!" Luffy's voice cut through the tension as he recognized their unexpected guest. "What are you doing here? Weren't you captured by that ice guy?"