Creaaak!
In the silence of the alley, an ear-piercing screech echoed as the door opened.
Kouta and Kuina stood outside the only tavern in town. They gently pushed open the particularly old wooden door and stepped inside.
The dimly lit tavern was completely empty, quiet and still.
Only a thin wisp of blue smoke curled up from behind the shadowed counter, glowing faintly in the darkness.
As they drew closer, they saw an old man with a thick beard lying back in a recliner, leisurely puffing on a pipe.
He didn't even flinch when the door opened.
Having run this tavern on Proceus Island his whole life, the old man had already decided that this year would be his last.
After all, he was getting on in years, and his son had no interest in inheriting the place.
With eyes half-closed, he smoked contentedly, looking like a retired landlord enjoying his final pleasures.
It wasn't until Kouta sat on a high stool at the bar that the old man opened his eyes just a sliver and glanced over.
Tap.
Tap tap.
Tap tap tap…!
Kouta's fingers tapped rhythmically on the countertop.
Lowering his head slightly, he peered through the haze of smoke at the old man behind the bar.
The man looked like someone with a story. The wear and tear of age was written all over him, impossible to hide.
"Sir, it's the middle of the day and your place is empty. Why not sit outside and enjoy the sunshine? Stay in the dark too long, and your body might start to mold," Kouta said casually.
The old man, pipe still between his lips, slowly stood up and looked at them through the mottled light filtering in from the window.
When his eyes settled on Kouta's face, he paused for a split second.
Then, as if nothing had happened, he blew out a lazy smoke ring and said, "At my age, sunlight or not, it doesn't make much difference. But you young folks... you're something else."
"Oh? So you do recognize us, then," Kuina remarked, catching the implication in his words and looking at him with a hint of suspicion.
"Never seen you before."
"Really?" she pressed, eyes locked on his.
The old man didn't respond right away.
He exhaled a long stream of smoke, then took the pipe from his mouth and gently tapped it on the edge of the counter, shaking out the ash.
Then, with practiced ease, he refilled it with fresh tobacco, lit it again, and finally raised his head to speak.
"The Marines that came by this morning... they mentioned the two of you."
"Marines?"
"Here. See for yourself. They left these behind."
From seemingly nowhere, the old man produced two bounty posters and placed them on the bar.
Kuina snatched them up and scanned the faces.
"Kouta, these are our bounty posters."
"Oh," Kouta responded indifferently.
Clearly, he wasn't the least bit interested in the posters. If anything, he seemed far more curious about the old man in front of him.
He looked the man in the eye, deliberately darkening his expression as he asked, "So, if you recognize us, aren't you afraid?"
"Recognize?" the old man said, squinting through the smoke, blinking in confusion. "Do I know you?"
Kouta stared at him for a few seconds, then broke into a grin.
"Right, of course you don't know us. How could you possibly know us?"
"You really are a clever old man."
It was obvious the old man was playing dumb.
He clearly knew who they were, but pretended not to—just to avoid getting involved.
"Oh, by the way, sir," Kouta added, "how far is it from here to Loguetown?"
That was their intended route. After reaching Loguetown, they planned to pass through the artificial canal atop Reverse Mountain and enter the Grand Line.
If it hadn't been for the detour to Cocoyasi Village, they'd probably already be on the Grand Line by now.
"Loguetown, huh?" the old man muttered. "Should be about a day's voyage from here."
"A day?" Kouta's eyes lit up.
So they were almost there.
The East Blue was starting to bore him. There was no challenge left.
Seeing the excitement on Kouta's face, the old man slowly asked, "So, you're really heading for the Grand Line?"
"Yeah," Kouta replied.
"That place isn't easy to reach," the old man said, a flicker of memory flashing through his eyes.
"Oh? Sounds like you've been there before?" Kouta asked, instantly intrigued.
He'd figured the man had a story. And here it came.
Leaning forward, he pressed eagerly, "Would you tell us about your experience on the Grand Line?"
The old man set his pipe down, tapped out the ash, then took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"I've never actually made it there," he said.
"I wanted to go when I was young, but my ship was destroyed trying to reach the artificial canal on Reverse Mountain."
"If I hadn't gotten lucky and been rescued by the lighthouse keeper there, I'd never have made it back alive."
As he spoke, his hand trembled slightly while holding the pipe.
Clearly, the memory still haunted him.
"Is it really that dangerous?" Kouta asked, surprised.
"Yeah, very dangerous," the old man said, taking another puff. "Countless ships set out for the Grand Line every year, but only about half ever make it."
"The sea currents at Reverse Mountain aren't something ordinary ships can handle. The entrance to the canal is extremely narrow. Without a skilled navigator, you'll never make it through."
"I see," Kouta muttered with a shrug, immediately losing interest in the story.
He only cared about what lay beyond—the Grand Line itself.
As for Reverse Mountain?
To him, it was no more intimidating than a roller coaster ride.
Seeing how little Kouta cared about his tale, the old man gave up on telling it.
What was a path to hell for most people was probably just a lazy river to a pirate with a seventy-million bounty.
Silently, he picked up two clean glasses, wiped them down, then poured Kuina a glass of juice and Kouta a cup of wine.
Running a tavern for so many years, he could tell at a glance who drank and who didn't.
"Thank you, sir," Kuina said politely, taking the juice.
She didn't much care for alcohol.
But Kouta was different.
He picked up the wine glass, took a small sip, nodded, then frowned.
The old man noticed the reaction and asked curiously, "What's wrong, kid?"
"The wine's good," Kouta said, "but it's too weak."
"Weak?"
"Yeah. I don't like low-proof stuff. Feels like it's missing something."
"Oh? That so?"
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