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One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #130
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 14:27:01 +0000 UTCSlowly cracking his eyes open, Gale winced as thin shafts of sunlight pierced through the canopy overhead and stabbed directly into his retinas.
“Morning already…? Ugh.” He yawned wide enough to make his jaw pop, then hauled himself up with all the enthusiasm of a man dragging his own coffin.
His hand went straight to scratching his rear end, leisurely, like he had all the time in the world.
A glance to the side reminded him of the decorations he’d left behind—half a dozen would-be pirates dangling upside down from branches like grotesque wind chimes, their swollen faces puffed up in a rainbow of black, blue, and purple.
And next to them, the girl, glaring down at him from her rope prison like a furious bat.
Gale gave them a single shrug. “Still breathing? Good enough. Not my problem anymore.”
Turning toward the direction of the shore, he started strolling away.
He got all of three steps.
Then two shadows bounced in front of him, blocking his path.
The dogs.
Both mutts panted happily, tongues dangling, tails wagging hard enough to stir the leaves around them.
Gale blinked at them, then couldn’t help the crooked smile tugging at his lips.
“Yesterday, you little bastards were hell-bent on tearing chunks outta me.” He scratched his chin, the memory making him chuckle. “Actually managed to bite my ass, too. Dedication, I’ll give you that.”
His smile widened into something smug. “Shame for you my ass hits back. Steel cheeks. Trademark pending.”
The dogs barked, either in agreement or denial—hard to tell.
Bending down, Gale plucked a stick off the forest floor and dangled it in front of their eager faces. Their eyes lit up instantly.
“Fetch,” he muttered, and then—with way more effort than necessary—he hurled the stick like a fastball straight into the thicket.
The mutts shot off after it like cannonballs, crashing into the underbrush with frantic yelps of joy.
“Good dogies,” Gale said with a satisfied nod, dusting off his hands as though he’d just solved world peace.
With the canine obstacle cleared, he resumed his stride toward the coast, already daydreaming about how he’d spin this fiasco to Vergo without sounding like a complete idiot.
He only managed two steps this time.
“Waaait!”
The voice cracked through the trees, sharp and desperate.
Gale froze. He didn’t even have to turn around—he knew exactly who it was.
“…Here we go again,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Sure enough, when he glanced back, the girl was wriggling like a fish on a hook, ropes creaking, hair hanging in a wild mess around her face.
Her glare could’ve peeled bark. “You’re not leaving me here, you hear me?!”
Gale sighed so hard it could’ve powered a windmill, rolling his eyes toward the sky like he was filing an official complaint with the heavens. “If this is some divine punishment, I’d like to know what the hell I did to deserve it,” he muttered under his breath.
But he said nothing else and kept walking.
Behind him, the girl thrashed like a hooked fish, ropes creaking against the branch. “Waaait! Please—waiiit! Listen to me!”
Gale’s pace didn’t even falter. “Selective hearing. Best survival skill I ever learned,” he told himself.
Her voice cracked with frustration. “You’re in some kind of trouble, right? I can help you—if you just help me!”
That stopped him.
Slowly, deliberately, Gale turned his head to glance back at her. One eyebrow arched high enough to touch the clouds.
“…Oh, this I gotta hear.” He pivoted fully, folding his arms. “Alright then, genius. How exactly do you plan to help me?”
It was a trap question. He wasn’t expecting an answer—hell, he didn’t want one. The whole point was to shoot her down so he could go back to pretending she was background noise.
He was still nursing the grudge over those slaps, after all.
But the girl, completely oblivious to his petty scheming, perked up. “I stole an eternal pose from those men! One that leads to buried treasure!”
Her lips curled into a smug grin, eyes sparkling like she’d just revealed the secret to immortality. “I don’t know what kind of mess you’re in, mister, but there’s not a single problem money can’t solve!”
Gale stared at her for a long beat. Then another. Finally, he scoffed so hard it was practically a laugh.
“Unless money’s a metaphor for something that can stop a bamboo-wielding demon who splits ships with his bare hands… then you’re wasting both our times.”
He turned as if to leave again, only to pause when her voice rang out—confident this time, like she’d just played her ace card.
“No metaphors,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “Just cold, soft gold.”
Her grin widened, teeth flashing through the mess of her hair. “More than you can count. Enough to change the world in the right hands.”
Her eyes locked onto his with unnerving certainty.
“There’s enough to move the heart of even an emperor.”
Gale blinked. Then blinked again.
'Emperor? Lady, you’re hanging upside down in a forest tied up with rope. You look like a bat that lost its colony. Don’t talk to me about moving emperors.'
Still, her words stuck to the back of Gale’s mind like gum on a boot. Treasure that could move the heart of an emperor? That wasn’t pocket change. That was serious.
And the more he mulled it over, the more the idea started to itch at him. Because really, was there any problem that money couldn’t solve? Even Vergo—the walking bamboo exorcism of bones and dignity—wasn’t above that rule. Find the right merc, the right lunatic, the right “I-don’t-care-about-my-life” kind of guy… hand him enough cash… and boom, no more Vergo.
Simple. Clean. No bamboo splinters lodged in his skull.
…Well, probably not clean. But effective enough.
That said, Gale wasn’t born yesterday. If there’s one universal truth in the Grand Line, it’s this: when something sounds too good to be true, it usually comes with cannons, curses, or a very angry Sea King attached.
He crossed his arms, narrowed his eyes, and finally said, “Oh yeah? If what you’re saying is true—and that’s a very big if—what’s to stop me from taking that eternal pose and going after the treasure myself?”
The girl smirked, confidence practically dripping from her like she’d been waiting for that exact line. “I’m not stupid. I already hid the eternal pose away fro—”
She froze mid-sentence, staring as Gale casually reached into his pocket.
When his hand came back out, it was holding a very familiar eternal pose. The exact one she was talking about.
Her jaw dropped. “Wha—how—”
Gale tossed it lazily in his palm like it was a toy ball, the grin spreading across his face almost smug enough to curdle milk. “Nice try. But I already went through your pockets while you were unconscious.”
For a beat, silence.
Then his grin widened, sharp as a knife. “I went ahead and took it because it looked important.” He paused, eyes glinting. “And also because… I’m petty like that.”
Inside, his inner voice added: Petty enough to make sure she wakes up tomorrow with her shoes missing too, if she keeps yapping.
The girl’s face twisted into pure outrage. “You—you thief!”
“You slapped me,” Gale shot back flatly, pointing at her like that justified grand larceny. “Fair trade.”
The girl let out a sound so strange Gale wasn’t sure whether to cover his ears or applaud her lungs. It was part groan, part scream, and entirely fueled by frustration.
“Even then,” she snapped, “this will only take you to the island where the treasure is buried! So unless you want to spend the rest of your life shoveling dirt, you’ll untie me right now!”
Gale tilted his head, humming like he was actually considering it. “Hmm. Maybe I will. But not so fast.”
Her glare could have cooked meat, but he ignored it and stretched like he had all the time in the world. Then, with deliberate slowness, he crouched by the fire. “First, you gotta answer some questions.”
Her lips pressed tight. She didn’t like it, but she gave a reluctant nod.
“Good.” Gale tapped the eternal pose against his palm. “I assume there’s a map with the treasure’s exact location on it?”
“Yes,” she said quickly, like she’d been waiting to be asked. “To find the treasure you need two things: a map, which is kept by the Stormhowl Tribe on the southern shore, and an eternal pose, which is kept by the Redfang Tribe on the northern shore—my tribe.”
“Redfangs and Stormhowls, huh?” Gale muttered, rolling the names around in his head. “Sounds more like I stumbled into some B-list gladiator arena than a tribal dispute.”
He turned his gaze to the men still hanging from the trees. Their swollen, lopsided faces swayed in the breeze like grotesque fruit. “And what about these fine gentlemen? Are they Stormhowl?”
The girl’s expression softened, her anger replaced with sadness. “No… they’re pirates. They attacked the Redfang village.”
Gale rubbed his temple, sighing. 'Of course. Because God forbid anything around here be straightforward.'
“All right then,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “How’d you get the eternal pose?”
Her shoulders sagged, and she spoke quietly. “We stumbled across an injured warrior while running when the pirates attacked. He entrusted this to me and my sister—” her eyes flicked toward the eternal pose in Gale’s hand “—and begged us to take it back to the Stormhowl tribe...”
Gale frowned, his thumb brushing over the eternal pose as he studied the girl.
“What about your sister?” he asked flatly.
Her face shifted, the anger draining into something heavier. Her lips pressed tight, and she shook her head once. No words—just a simple, quiet gesture that said more than any explanation could.
Gale’s chest tightened a little. For a moment, he almost wished she’d snapped at him again. That at least he could handle. This, though? This was too human.
“…Ah. Damn,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I walked face-first into that one.”
He crouched and, with an awkward grunt, cut the rope binding her. She dropped carefully into the dirt, his hand bracing her shoulder so she didn’t faceplant.
For once, he didn’t have a joke ready. Just a sigh as he looked at her. “I’m guessing you’re not doing this just for the treasure, are you?”
Her head snapped toward him, eyes sharp despite the weariness. “What are you, some kind of genius or something?”
“Don’t spread it around,” Gale deadpanned, stepping back and slipping his blade away. “Might ruin my reputation.” He gave her a look, serious now. “So tell me straight—what do you want? And I mean what you really want.”
Her lips quivered between rage and grief before settling on something colder. “I want those bastards dead.” Her voice dipped, quiet, almost guilty. “And… maybe a cut of the treasure too.”
Gale stared at her for a beat, utterly unimpressed. His eyebrow twitched. “Touching. Revenge and financial planning all in one breath.” He sighed through his nose, then nodded as though it couldn’t be helped.
“All right then.” He reached behind his coat, pulled out his revolver, and with a flick of his wrist, tossed it so it landed at her feet with a dull thud.
Her head snapped up, eyes wide, but Gale was already pointing toward the pirates strung up in the trees. Their bruised, swollen faces bobbed gently in the breeze, groaning faintly like overripe fruit left too long in the sun.
“You can start with them,” Gale said evenly.
His tone was casual, but his eyes? Hard as steel.
And for a brief, unsettling moment, the girl realized he wasn’t joking.
