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One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #115
🕑 Added 2025-08-14 10:23:06 +0000 UTCThe door to Shakky’s bar creaked open with that familiar lazy groan, letting in a shaft of morning light and the faint scent of sea air. Gal
The door to Shakky’s bar creaked open with that familiar lazy groan, letting in a shaft of morning light and the faint scent of sea air. Gale stepped inside, stretching his arms over his head as if he’d just woken from the most comfortable nap in the world—when in reality, he hadn’t slept at all.
“Morning, Shakky. Rayleigh,” he greeted, his voice carrying the kind of nonchalance only someone with very questionable life choices could muster.
Inside, the bar was quiet. No drunks, no shady types nursing hangovers, no one trying to pick a fight—just Shakky and Rayleigh, halfway through breakfast.
Shakky glanced up from her plate with that easy smile of hers. “Morning, Gale. You wanna join us?”
He shook his head. “Nah, but I’ll take a drink.”
Before either of them could offer—or refuse—he’d already sauntered behind the counter like he owned the place, rummaging through bottles until he plucked out one with a deep amber glow.
A quick twist of the cap and he took a slow sip straight from the neck.
Shakky leaned her chin on her hand, watching him with thinly veiled amusement. “That’ll be five million beri.”
Gale froze mid-swallow. For a heartbeat, he just stared at her, his brain doing that mental math where the equation was: ‘five million’ + ‘booze’ = ‘I’m not paying that’. Then he scoffed, waving her off. “Yeah? Put it on my tab.”
She chuckled, clearly entertained, and went back to her breakfast. Rayleigh, on the other hand, slid an empty glass across the counter toward him.
“Pour me some, will you, lad? Booze that expensive must be worth trying.”
Gale muttered under his breath as he tipped the bottle. “It’s not even half decent. I’ve had better in dockside dives.” Still, he poured a generous measure for the old pirate.
Rayleigh swirled it, took a sip, and gave a small, approving nod. “Hm. Not bad.” Setting the glass down, he shot Gale a look—one part curiosity, one part amusement.
“That was quite the show you put together yesterday,” he said, tone casual but the implication sharp. “A Celestial Dragon, dead. The archipelago in chaos…” He tilted his head. “I gotta ask—what did that Vlancio fellow do to you?”
Gale took another long sip from the bottle before answering, his mind flicking briefly to the night before. He could still picture Vlancio’s bug-eyed face, the wheezing, the way panic seemed to eat away at his ‘divine’ composure. It was almost enough to make him smile… almost.
Gale shook his head slowly, swirling the whisky in the bottle before taking another sip.
“He didn’t do anything to me… unless you count offending all five of my senses just by existing. If I had a sixth sense, I’m sure it’d be offended too.”
Rayleigh’s grin widened as he leaned back in his chair. “You do have a sixth sense. Observation, remember?”
Gale chuckled. “Right… guess it hasn’t developed enough to be offended yet.” He let out a sigh, the humor in his voice giving way to something heavier. “Anyway… the bastard destroyed my teacher’s family. I’m doing this for him.”
Rayleigh’s brow arched. “Your teacher asked you to do this?”
Gale tipped the bottle back, letting the burn sit in his throat before answering. “No. He wanted to at first, but he didn’t… his last words to me were basically, ‘Burn my diaries.’”
Gale smiled bitterly, the memory sharp as a blade. “I didn’t. Read through the whole thing instead. And now I’m on a mission to set things right… or as right as they can be, considering my teacher and his family are all dead.” His smile softened slightly. “Well, except for his daughter.”
Rayleigh nodded slowly, a faint smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds like he was a good teacher.”
That brought a bit of pride back into Gale’s voice. “You have no idea.”
Rayleigh, curious now, leaned forward. “What was his name, by the way? If he was capable enough to train someone like you, there’s a chance I’ve heard of him.”
Gale didn’t hesitate. “Don Florencio de la Rosa. The Red Rose Sword.”
The name seemed to bounce around the room for a moment. Rayleigh’s eyes narrowed faintly, recognition lurking just out of reach—like a half-forgotten song lyric. Shakky, though, had a different reaction.
She paused mid-bite, the corners of her mouth tugging upward in a knowing smile.
Rayleigh scratched his chin, muttering, “I know I’ve heard that name somewhere… but for the life of me, I can’t place it.”
Shakky’s knowing smile didn’t fade as she leaned back in her chair. “That’s the name of the young man who sailed alone on a rundown sloop and went around challenging everyone he met into duels all over the world…”
Rayleigh’s brow furrowed for a moment, then his eyes lit up with recognition. “Ah, him…” He chuckled, shaking his head.
“I definitely heard of him. The tale of how he’d challenge the captains of big pirate crews in their own waters for a duel… only to get ambushed by their crews the second he won.”
He laughed, a full, hearty sound. “I heard he came close to dying a dozen times because of that, but he never quit.”
Gale leaned back on his stool, letting out a long sigh. “Well… that part wasn’t in his journals. Guess even the great Florencio had a thing or two he wanted to keep buried in the past.”
Rayleigh smirked knowingly. “Don’t we all?” His expression softened, eyes going distant. “Our entire crew heard of him back in the day, you know? I remember Roger even saying he wanted to fight him—but we never crossed paths.”
Gale nodded. “That’s a shame. He probably would’ve loved to fight you guys when he was younger… before he got sick.” A small sigh escaped him before he straightened again. “As fun as this is, I’m not here to talk about the past. I’m here to say goodbye.”
Rayleigh tilted his head, one eyebrow raised. “Going somewhere?”
Gale shrugged, almost lazily. “Not much left for me here… and I’ve got a feeling HQ’s going to call me back soon.” He turned toward Shakky. “By the way, how are the gangs doing?”
Shakky was halfway through lighting her cigarette, her lighter’s flame dancing in the dim light. “They’re quite obedient for now—especially since they only sent the more belligerent and violent ones to attack the auction.”
Gale smirked, swirling the whisky bottle in his hand. “Right, so basically you shipped off the troublemakers to die and kept the cooperative ones around. Efficient.”
Shakky exhaled a stream of smoke, her smile sharp as ever. “Something like that.”
Gale chuckled, leaning his elbow on the counter. “Good thing you did… ’cause they’re all yours now to do with as you please.”
Shakky arched an eyebrow like she wasn’t sure if he was giving her a gift or dumping a problem in her lap. Gale didn’t elaborate—mostly because he wasn’t sure himself.
Instead, he tipped the whisky bottle back and drained the rest in one go, wincing at the burn but refusing to make a face. “Alright… it’s about time I hit the road before my subordinates notice I’ve been gone.”
He shook his head with mock seriousness. “Wouldn’t want them to catch me sharing a drink with the Dark King and racking up a massive tab in a rip-off bar.”
Rayleigh laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, that definitely wouldn’t do. Take care, lad—and if you’re in Sabaody again, don’t be a stranger.”
Gale grinned. “I’ll definitely come visit… when I have the chance and when I can afford the privilege.”
He started for the door, his coat swishing behind him in that vaguely dramatic way he’d picked up from Florencio. As his hand reached for the doorknob, Shakky called out without looking up from her cigarette.
“I’ll save your cut of the profits.” She paused, flicked ash into the tray, then smirked sideways at Rayleigh. “So be sure to visit from time to time, lest Rayleigh gambles it all away...”
Gale didn’t even slow down—just lifted one hand in a lazy wave over his shoulder, his grin visible in the reflection of the glass door. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” he called back before stepping out into the morning light.
In his head, he added, And if you do, at least buy something shiny so I can admire it later.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the hum of the bar and the scent of smoke in his wake.
...
Inside the lavish, sunlit office of the royal palace, Doflamingo lounged behind his desk, one leg draped over the other, idly swirling a glass of wine as if the world outside could burn and it wouldn’t touch him.
The light streaming in from the balcony gave his sunglasses a sharp glint.
The heavy, sticky shlop-shlop of footsteps echoed through the hall outside.
“Doooofi~!” Trebol’s nasally drawl came even before the door slammed open. He half-stumbled inside, coat trailing, mucus hanging like a grotesque curtain from his nose. “I-I’ve got baaaad news!”
Doflamingo tilted his head slightly, his usual grin fixed in place. “Make it quick, Trebol. You know I hate when people interrupt my mornings.”
Trebol jabbed a finger into the air, voice wheezing. “Law escaped… the auction is trashed… and a Celestial Dragon is dead. And they’re sayin’ Diamante killed ‘im!”
The grin faltered, just for a fraction of a second. “Oi… Trebol… you’re not seriously trying to make a joke at my expense this early in the day, are you?”
His voice was calm, but it carried that slow, dangerous weight that made most people wish they’d never been born.
Trebol just stared at him for a moment. Then, without a word, he fished into his coat and slapped today’s newspaper onto the desk.
The headlines screamed the story, complete with grainy pictures of the chaos at Sabaody.
Doflamingo’s gaze slid down the page, scanning every line. The vein on his forehead twitched once. Then again. Then it started throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
By the time he reached the part about Diamante’s alleged involvement, his sunglasses slipped slightly down his nose, revealing eyes so sharp and cold they could cut steel.
He set the paper down with slow, deliberate care. “…Prepare a ship,” he said, voice so low it was almost a growl.
Trebol blinked. “Eh? Wh-Where we goin’, Doofi?”
“Marine Headquarters.”
The wine glass in his hand cracked under the pressure of his grip, red spilling across his fingers like blood.
No smile. No laugh. Just simmering rage.
And that, more than anything, made Trebol realize someone out there had just signed their death warrant.
Comments
trollord3000
Can't wait for Doffy and Gale to cross paths in HQ and for Gale to pass him off with his talking.
