The next day.
Waves lazily rocked the ship, and the sun filtered through the scattered clouds. The cabin was a mess—empty wrappers, chunks of bread. At that moment, the door burst open with a bang.
"Bellamy! Sabo! You've eaten almost all our supplies!" Gin roared, storming into the cabin and waving an empty sack like he was about to beat someone with it.
I was lying with one leg tossed over the table, chewing the last piece of dried meat."Well, what can I do? I'm training! I need a lot of energy," I shrugged, not pausing my meal.
"I'm training too, by the way!" Gin clenched his fists. "But I don't eat like a lunatic! Do you understand those were our last decent supplies? We don't even have rice left!"
I smirked."Don't know about you, but I'm not planning to fight on an empty stomach."
"And you, Sabo?!" Gin spun around. "Why are you sleeping when I'm talking to you?!"
Sabo, sprawled out on his bunk, lazily opened one eye and yawned."I'm not sleeping. I'm resting. You don't want me to fight half-asleep and miss your head instead of the enemy's, do you?"
"Sleeping or starving—same difference!" Gin snapped, fuming.
"Sabo, what's the next island?" I asked, flexing my fingers and stretching my joints.
Without lifting his eyes from the map, Sabo replied lazily:"Draymor. We'll get there by lunch if the wind doesn't change."
Right then, the door burst open again, and Gin came crashing back in with fishing rods in hand like he was charging into battle."Go! Catch some fish! We've got literally nothing left to eat!" he shouted, shoving the rods at us with the force of spears.
Sabo stood up, took one rod, and nudged me with a sly grin."Alright, let's go, Bellamy. Whoever catches more gets to eat more."
"Sure, sure," I said, getting up lazily and brushing off the last crumbs from a dried biscuit that somehow survived.
He doesn't know I have fishing experience. Hehehehe...
We settled at the stern and dropped our lines. The water was calm, waves gently lapping against the hull. An hour passed... then another. Sabo yawned occasionally and changed bait; I waited patiently. The sun had already risen high.
"How many you got?" he asked, glancing at my bucket."Two. You?""Two as well."
"We're almost at the island. Let's go cook them," I said, standing and stretching. My back was stiff from sitting by the rail, but the smell of fresh fish was already painting pictures in my head—crispy skin, golden crust…
Sabo nodded and got up too."Just don't let Gin cook again, or he'll dump so much pepper our eyes will water."
"He says it's 'pirate-style,'" I chuckled, walking across the slick deck.
We climbed up to the galley."I thought Gin would be here," I said, scanning the shelves and peeking into pots.
"He's tinkering with something in his room," Sabo replied, swatting away a cobweb in the corner."Anyway, let's cook fast. I'm starving."
"You're always starving, even after eating twice as much as everyone," Sabo smirked, placing a pan on the stove.
I pulled the fish from the bucket and started cleaning them, while Sabo chopped what little vegetables remained after the "great feast."The galley soon filled with the scent of sizzling scales and onions...
"Captain, we need to find a couple more people," Sabo said, already chewing on a piece of fish and wincing at the salt. "Without a cook, we won't last long. I'm serious."
"Yeah. We need a proper cook. Or at least someone who knows more than 'catch it—throw it—burn it—eat it,'" I muttered, chewing slightly burnt fish.
Sabo snorted."You're the one who burned it, not me."
"Because you're always 'coincidentally' busy when it's time to cook."
He grinned, not denying it."I'm a strategist. Gotta protect my fingers."
Just then, Gin poked his head into the galley, holding some rag and a box."If you two are still complaining about the food—I've got some experimental seaweed paste you can try."
"No, no, thank you," Sabo and I said in unison.
"Then it's settled," I said, finishing off the fish. "At the next island, we're finding a cook. Or at least someone with a recipe that doesn't start with 'oops.'"
"And proper spices!" added Sabo. "If I see just salt one more time, I'll start speaking its language."
"Yeah. And sugar—don't forget sugar," Gin grumbled, scratching his cheek. "And tea. And bread. And meat."
I stood, patted my stomach—the fish may have been a bit burnt, but it did the job."Alright, time to get ready for landing," I said, heading out of the galley. "Draymor's close, and there's a Marine base not far from here. Best to be prepared."
A light bustle filled the ship—the kind before landfall. Everyone was checking their bags; I tightened my belt, stowed maps and draft plans back in the drawer. The outline of the island was already visible—Draymor: dusty, rocky, with splashes of colorful buildings near the shore.
"Hope the market's decent at least," Sabo said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
The boat gently bumped the wooden dock. The wind from the shore carried scents of hot stone, grilled meat, and… not-so-fresh fish scraps. The harbor was small but lively—fishermen unloading catches, merchants shouting their deals, kids darting between barrels.
"Well, Draymor, surprise us," I said, stepping onto the pier. To the left rose cliffs with carved-out homes like swallows' nests. Straight ahead stood low dark-stone buildings covered in bright signs. And at the center—a bustling market, far too cramped and far too colorful.
"Let's go before it's too late," Sabo said. "If anything, we meet in two hours by the fountain. See the dome over there? That's the market. Meet under it."
"Hey, surprisingly everything went pretty smoothly," I thought, standing by the rail and watching the shore drift away. Waves calmly lapped the hull, wind filled the sail, and a strange sensation settled in my head... silence.
Too calm. Too clean.Too good to be true.
I frowned, unease creeping into my chest."Sabo. Gin." My voice snapped sharp like a whip. "Something's off. Check the whole ship. Now."
Gin turned around, frowning, chewing on something from our new supplies."What's up, Captain? We just set off…"
"Hey, Sabo, just do it. If the Captain's gut says something, you trust it," Gin said, waving a hand and already opening one of the cargo hold doors.