One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #145

Gale jabbed an accusing finger so close to Ebri’s nose the old man went cross-eyed.

“Never mind all that flower nonsense! What’s next, huh? You’re gonna tell me you found Risa too? And she’s just sittin’ pretty in some cozy little cabin not far from here, sipping tea, safe and sound?”

Ebri blinked, his confusion climbing higher with every word, until finally he gave a slow, deliberate nod.

“Aye… I found a little girl by that name. I’m guessing you’re her friend?”

Gale’s eyes lit up instantly, a mix of relief and exasperation crashing together.

“You really are here to kill all suspense, aren’t you?! What’s next, you gonna spoil the ending too?!” He slapped his forehead. “Go on, tell me the sloop’s fine and ready to sail while you’re at it!”

Ebri winced and rubbed his sore backside. “Well, about that…” His voice dropped into a grumble. “The sloop that girl was on is a complete wreck. Might still sail again… but not without a lot of effort.”

Gale’s expression sank faster than a devil fruit user in the Grand Line.

“Unbelievable… If you’re gonna do something, you should do it right, old man!”

That did it. Ebri’s beard bristled like an angry cat’s tail as he jabbed his own stubby finger right back at Gale’s chest.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about, lad?! If anyone’s got the right to be angry, it’s me! My arse is still bloody! Thanks to your little goblin-flinging stunt!”

Gale groaned, tilting his head back like he was praying for patience.

“Listen, if you’re gonna answer my questions and solve my problems, at least do it properly! Instead, you killed the vibe, the suspense, the mystery!” He waved his arms theatrically at the fog. “And you left me with the chore of fixing the damn ship!”

Inside, Gale was already cursing. 'Figures. My luck’s so rotten, even the NPC tutorial guide on this island comes with a busted backside and half-baked answers.'

Ebri’s face turned redder than a boiled crab.

“Ohhh, forgive me, Captain Crazy Madman! Next time, I’ll make sure the mystery island delivers its spooky fucking ambiance on schedule, aye?”

Gale smirked despite himself. “Now we’re talkin’! Atmosphere, old man—respect the atmosphere.”

Ebri wanted to curse at Gale again, but suddenly froze mid-glare, the young man's smug grin still hanging in the air between them.

Slowly, the old man dragged a hand down his face and rubbed his temple like he was trying to massage the madness out of his skull.

“…A crazy person,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ve met a real, genuine crazy person. And he’s infecting me with his craziness…”

He let out a long groan that sounded half like frustration, half like despair, beard quivering with the weight of his regret.

Gale just gave him a toothy grin, clapping him on the shoulder like they were lifelong pals. “Don’t fight it, old man. It’s contagious.”

Ebri’s eye twitched. “That’s what I’m bloody afraid of.”

And with that, the fog rolled faintly around them, their mismatched voices swallowed back into the eerie quiet.

...

Sitting cross-legged on the battered old sofa in Ebri’s so-called workshop (which was really just a chaotic nest of gears, springs, and paper covered in scribbles only a madman could read), Risa looked about two heartbeats away from dying of boredom.

In front of her, two little contraptions made of sticks, bent nails, and clockwork springs whirred and clacked at each other inside a wooden box Ebri proudly called “the ring.” The stick-bots smacked each other with jerky little punches that looked more like confused hugs.

The old man had insisted it was “entertainment.” For the first five minutes, maybe it was. But after the fiftieth squeaky clack clack of wooden fists hitting empty air, Risa was ready to claw her own eyes out.

Her gaze wandered the cluttered room until it landed on a ragged piece of cloth tossed on the floor. A sly grin spread across her face.

“This’ll do,” she muttered, snatching it up. She tore a strip free, poked a hole in it with her nail, and held it up like she’d just invented fashion itself.

Skipping back to the miniature ring, she snatched up one of the stick-bots mid-flail, shoved the strip over its head, and adjusted it until the thing looked like it was wearing a little cloak. Risa sat back, arms crossed, smug as could be.

Now, whenever the other stick-bot smacked it, she imagined a certain scrawny, smug marine captain taking the punches instead.

Her grin widened into a wolfish beam as she threw her fists in the air.

“Yes! Beat that bastard! Headbutt him! String him up a tree!”

She leaned so far forward she almost toppled off the sofa, cackling like a lunatic every time “Gale-bot” got whacked in its tiny wooden face.

...

As the little cloak-wearing bot finally toppled over, springs wheezing in defeat, Risa shot up from the couch with her arms in the air like she’d just won the Grand Line Cup.

“That’s what you get, you scrawny beanpole devil!” she whooped, her grin wide enough to split her face in two. She even started wiggling her hips, ready to break into a victory dance.

That was when a voice, low and annoyingly familiar, drifted from behind her.

“Someone’s having fun… at my expense.”

Risa froze mid-hip-wiggle. Her eyes snapped wide as she slowly turned her head, squeaking, “Eyyyyyyyyyaaaa!”

And there he was: Gale, leaning in the doorway with one eyebrow cocked and that smirk that screamed, I knew it. Behind him, Ebri stood blinking, utterly clueless, muttering something about “did I miss the punchline?”

Gale just chuckled and shook his head, striding in like he owned the place. “Interesting hobby you’ve got there. Better than bottling up your rage, I guess. Though you might wanna work on your choreography. Looked like you were being electrocuted.”

He plopped down on the sofa like he hadn’t just caught her red-handed, “Anyway... where's the ship, and how bad is the damage?”

Risa’s face burned red as she crossed her arms, glaring daggers. “Good to see you’re in one piece too.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Then she sighed, letting some of the sting fade. “I can’t make heads or tails of this damn fog. No clue where the ship is right now. But Ebri should be able to point us to it.”

The old man perked up, beard twitching as he nodded. “Aye, I’ve got my ways of navigating the fog.”

Gale didn’t even blink. Nope. Not again. He could practically taste another thirty-minute lecture about flower pheromones and light frequencies hovering on Ebri’s lips. And he wasn’t about to suffer through a sequel to “Fog Science 101.”

“Good,” Gale cut him off before the old man could open his mouth. “Then let’s skip the science fair and get to the important part. How bad’s the ship?”

Risa finally answered, her tone flat as a board. “The storm snapped the mast clean in half. And that’s with the sails down.” She let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temple. “On top of that, the ship’s beached, and the hull looks like it lost a fight with a cannonball factory. Full of holes.”

Gale nodded, lips pursed like he’d just been told his dinner was burned but edible. “Alright. Replace the mast, patch up the hull, and we’re good to go.” He exhaled through his nose. “Right up until we run into that freak of a storm again. From what I gathered, it just keeps doing laps around this island.”

Ebri, who’d been stroking his beard like he’d been waiting for this opening, finally chimed in. “Aye, it does drift around the shore. But it’s not everywhere all at once. You just need to set sail at the right timing and you can avoid it.”

Gale gave him a long look, then grinned like he was already regretting asking. “And let me guess—you’ve studied the storm too? Got it charted out on your flower-scented chalkboard? Maybe you know the exact timing to the second?”

Ebri shrugged, completely unfazed. “No. But I can calculate it.”

Gale rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t pop out. “Great. Of course you can. You really are the solution to all my problems, huh?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. So what’s it gonna take for you to help us? Don’t tell me you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart. I’ll choke.”

The old man scoffed, his beard bristling like an offended cat. “I’ll have you know, lad, I’ve a very kind heart! But aye, I’ve no intention of rotting here, so you’ll have to take me with you.”

“Sounds reasonable enough,” Gale said with a shrug, though inwardly he was already picturing the headaches of dragging this eccentric into their crew. “Alright then.”

He tilted his head, curiosity poking at him. “But I gotta know; how’d you end up here in the first place? And more importantly—how come you’re alone?”

Ebri’s face grew solemn, his eyes darkening as his beard trembled with every heavy word. “I hired a private crew to bring me here,” he said gravely, “so I could study the unusual phenomena of Mystoria Island.”

His tone dropped like he was about to narrate a ghost story around a campfire. “But alas… the island is cursed. Its fog, its beasts, its very earth… it devoured those poor souls. One by one. Until only I remain.”

Gale’s eyes went wide, his jaw tightening. “Wait—really?” For a split second, he actually believed him.

His mind jumped ahead, already imagining shadow monsters with glowing eyes dragging sailors into the mist.

Then Ebri shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. “No, lad. They just left me here and sailed away when I ran out of money.” He crossed his arms, huffing through his nose like he was insulted. “But you wanted suspense and atmosphere, so I gave you some.”

For a long moment, Gale just stared at him. Deadpan. Utterly silent. Risa, in the background, buried her face in her palm and muttered under her breath, please let the fog finish me before these two drive me insane.

Then Gale burst out laughing so hard he nearly toppled off the couch. “Hah! There’s hope for you yet, old man. You’re finally learning!” He slapped his knee, wheezing.

Risa peeked out from between her fingers and groaned. “Great… the idiot’s spreading idiocy. First him, now the beard. Next thing you know, I’ll be stringing myself up a tree voluntarily.”

Ebri looked between the two of them, utterly confused, but also a little proud, like an old man, actually managing to fit in with the younger generation for once.

The workshop echoed with Gale’s laughter, Risa’s muttered curses, and Ebri’s beard bristling like it had a life of its own—chaos in stereo.