One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #139

The pirate captain sat cross-legged on the floor, still tied at the wrists, a map of Risky Red Island stretched out in front of him. Gale crouched opposite, jabbing at the parchment with the blunt end of a knife like a teacher pointing with a ruler—except this teacher looked two seconds away from failing his student on principle.

“Alright, listen up, Muttface,” Gale began, his tone sharp but lazy, like he’d already resigned himself to the stupidity about to follow. “Here’s the plan. It’s not rocket science, so try not to drool on the map while I explain.”

The pirate captain gave him the world’s most pitiful glare, his chihuahua eyes shimmering. Gale twitched, fighting back the urge to punch him again, and refocused on the map.

“Your ship’s sitting here.” He jabbed the coast. “Problem is, the moment you swing wide into open sea, my boys on the battleship are gonna spot you before you can sneeze. So instead—you’re gonna hug the coast.” He dragged the knife along the edge of the island. “Real close. Like, ‘a single fart from a Sea King will scrape your keel off’ close.”

The pirate captain’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “B-but… the reefs—”

“Exactly,” Gale cut in with a grin that promised violence. “Those razor-sharp coral reefs? They’ll gut your ship like a tuna if you screw up. Which is why you’re gonna not screw up.”

He tapped the map again, this time on a little mark behind the northern stretch of coast. “Here. Big ugly boulder sticking out of the water. Looks like a Sea King’s hemorrhoid. You’re gonna park your ship behind that and sit tight. No moving, no sneezing, no barking—got it?”

The pirate captain’s lips tightened, but he nodded.

“Good.” Gale leaned back, rolling his shoulders like he was enjoying himself now. “Then you wait until nightfall. Specifically, nine bells. Why?” He smirked. “Because that’s when my so-called comrades will be too busy stuffing their lazy faces with dinner to see you coming.”

From the corner, Risa muttered, “Sounds like an elite Marine branch.”

Gale shot her a side look. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Point is, the lookouts will be too busy fighting over bread rolls to notice you creeping in.”

He jabbed at the battleship drawn on the map. “You’ll send rowboats. Real quiet, real careful. No splashing around like kids at the beach. You’ll sneak up, sabotage the masts, set off the powder crates, heck, spit on them if you will, whatever it takes to make sure they run or fight back.”

The pirate captain’s mouth fell open. “You—you want me to attack a Marine battleship?”

Gale’s grin widened dangerously. “Not just attack it. Sabotage it. Humiliate it. Make it look like you had it dancing on your leash. Then—” he snapped his fingers dramatically “—you send the signal to your ship. Bring it in, close and fast, and get the crew to surrender.”

He leaned in close, his grin turning sharp enough to cut. “And after that? You tell the world you killed me. Maybe rough up a few Marines, kick over a crate or two, get the crowd cheering your name… then you walk away free.”

The captain blinked, his chihuahua eyes watering again, but this time it wasn’t out of fear—it was the look of a man who thought he was being handed the keys to a kingdom.

Risa, however, wasn’t nearly as convinced. She crossed her arms, lips pursed. “This is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard.”

Gale chuckled, leaning back and twirling the knife in his hand. “Stupid plans are the only kind that work, sweetheart. Smart ones get people killed.”

...

Several hours later, Gale stood on a cliff that overlooked the endless sweep of blue sea, the wind tugging at his messy hair. Risa leaned on a rock beside him while the elder’s son stood tall and silent at his back, arms crossed like a carved statue.

Through a battered brass telescope, Gale watched the pirate ship crawl toward the horizon, its black flag fluttering in the wind. A snarling dog’s skull was painted across the canvas—if anything, it looked less intimidating and more like a pug having a bad day.

Still, the ship was making straight for a red flare glowing faintly above the ocean.

The Marine battleship.

Too far for Gale to make out the details, but from the movement on deck, everything was unfolding the way he’d planned. A little too smoothly, which probably meant someone would screw it up spectacularly in the next five minutes.

Behind him, the elder’s son finally spoke. “Is it done?”

Gale lowered the telescope, gave it a spin in his hand, and stuffed it back into his coat pocket. His lips curled into a crooked grin. “It’s done. That’s one headache off my plate.” He turned with a lazy shrug. “And with that, I got no more reasons to stick around this island.”

The elder’s son nodded with that heavy seriousness he always carried, his wolf tattoo glinting in the sun. “Indeed. Then this is where I bid you farewell. You are a fine warrior… and a good friend to our tribe.”

Gale tilted his head, caught somewhere between flattered and annoyed. “…Yeah, yeah, let’s not get all mushy, big guy.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Just tell the elder thanks for his cooperation and for the—uh—hospitality.”

The elder’s son said nothing more. He simply turned, his broad back disappearing into the greenery with the quiet dignity of a man who’d just walked out of a recruitment poster.

As soon as he was gone, Gale let out a loud sigh. “Guy’s built like a house and twice as chatty,” he muttered.

Risa smirked, arms crossed. “Could’ve been worse. He could’ve given you a hug.”

“Pfft. I’d have bitten him,” Gale shot back.

Then he turned to her, brow quirking. “So. You said something about a sloop?”

Risa pointed off toward the other side of the island. “In the grotto. Small ship, but seaworthy enough. Should get us off this rock.” She paused mid-sentence, her eyes dropping to his shoulder. “But first… you gonna keep that or what?”

Gale followed her gaze and blinked. His Marine coat was still draped over him, the white cloth and bold Justice kanji catching the sea breeze. For a moment, his smirk faltered.

“Ah. Right. That.”

He pinched the fabric between his fingers, frowning as though it weighed more than the whole damn ocean. This coat had followed him through battles, blood, promotions, punishments.

It was part of him. Maybe the last part of him still pretending he was just another cog in the World Government’s machine.

He sighed, muttering, “Guess it’s time…”

Risa tilted her head, watching him closely.

Gale tugged the coat off with both hands, slow and reluctant, the way someone might peel off a bandage they’d worn for too long. The fabric fluttered in the sea breeze as he stepped toward the edge of the cliff, holding it out over the waves.

For a moment he just stared at it, letting the moonlight catch on the Justice kanji stitched across the back.

“…Y’know,” he muttered, voice almost drowned by the wind, “it’s kinda funny when I think about it.”

Risa raised a brow but didn’t interrupt.

“I was never the ‘bring justice, protect the weak’ kinda guy.” Gale shook his head, lips quirking into a bitter smile. “Hell, I only joined the Marines ‘cause it made things convenient. Food, shelter, a paycheck. Didn’t hurt that the uniform got me into a few bars without paying cover.”

He let the coat sway in his hand, thumb brushing the hem. “And for the most part, yeah, it worked. Nice and convenient.” His voice dipped, quieter. “But I always thought—when the time came—I’d enjoy tossing it all away. Thought it’d feel like freedom.”

Risa’s expression softened just a fraction. “Not as easy as you thought?”

That earned a laugh out of him, dry and low, like it hurt to push past his chest. “No. Not even close.” He stared down at the coat. “Didn’t even serve that long… but somehow, I still managed to make a lot of friends.”

His mind flicked through faces like a deck of cards. Isuka’s stern gaze. The rough but loyal soldiers who’d served under him in Vasshiri. A couple of drinking buddies from HQ. The drill instructors who had beaten his lazy ass into something vaguely resembling a soldier.

Even Kizaru, with his half-asleep drawl, and Sengoku, the old bastard who kept sending him on jobs nobody else wanted.

And then there was Poqin. Gale’s lips twitched at the thought. He wasn’t worried about that idiot. The damned monk had probably deserted five minutes after Gale left, stumbling his way into the nearest bar and drinking himself into a coma.

Gale almost laughed imagining it. Yeah… he’d bet every last berry under his name that Poqin was sprawled under a table somewhere, snoring into a puddle of booze.

Still. As sure as the tides, Gale knew their paths would cross again. One way or another.

He sighed, shoulders rolling as though trying to shake the weight of all that memory off. “…Guess freedom’s heavier than I thought.”

Gale held the coat steady in his hand, eyes on the horizon as the wind tugged at it. For a second, his grip didn’t loosen.

From behind him, Risa spoke softly. “...You having second thoughts?”

He turned, lips curling into a crooked grin. “Nah.” His voice was calm, steady. “It’s about time I get rid of this overpriced bedsheet.”

And with that, he simply let go.

The coat caught the breeze, flaring wide for an instant before tumbling down into the endless blue. The word Justice glimmered once in the sunlight, then vanished beneath the waves.

Gale didn’t look back. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and pivoted toward Risa with all the finality of a man tossing out old laundry.

“Come on, kiddo,” he said, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Captain John’s treasure ain't gonna hunt itself.”

Risa stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed, like she couldn’t decide if he was crazy, heartless, or just plain reckless. Then she let out a laugh—half disbelief, half excitement—and hurried after him, the two disapearing into the greenery.