This happened during my carefree days, back when I was still drifting through the Four Blues.
It was near the end of that period—during a brief return to the Grand Line—when I ran into a small incident on one particular island.
"So this is Asuka Island…"
Of all the islands scattered across the Grand Line, Asuka Island had always piqued my curiosity. But for one reason or another, I'd never managed to set foot here until now.
At last, I had time. I'd just finished some business on a neighboring island, and since I was passing nearby, I decided to stop in on a whim.
Asuka Island wasn't well-known, and unlike places such as Fireworks or Elena—where you could dig up plenty about the local culture beforehand—there was almost nothing written about it. No handy guidebooks. No traveler's notes. Hardly any rumor worth trusting.
So I'd let my imagination run wild. With a name like "Asuka," I'd even pictured something like a traditional Japanese-style country.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
The island was tropical. Not Western, not "Japanese," not anything so cleanly defined—just… ordinary. The houses had thatched roofs that vaguely reminded me of old Japanese architecture, but only if you squinted. The villages felt closer to the southern islands—almost indigenous in atmosphere—yet every now and then you'd spot patterns woven into clothing that looked strangely kimono-like.
It was a bizarre patchwork. Southeast Asian impressions, Ainu-like textures, a hint of Ryukyu ornamentation—like someone who knew nothing about Japan had tried to reconstruct it from scraps of imagination.
I know that sounds like nonsense. But even I struggled to describe what I was looking at, and I was seeing it with my own eyes.
…Pathetic, honestly. For a writer.
Anyway, it seemed like an island made up of a handful of small villages like this. No famous sights. No obvious specialty foods. Nothing that screamed "tourist destination."
But there were ruins—scattered everywhere.
That at least suggested history.
Maybe the locals had legends. Myths. Folktales passed down around the hearth.
Even if this whole "interview" idea was impulsive, I was already here. Going home with nothing would feel like a waste.
That was what I was thinking, walking along—
"I know you're there. If you have something to say, come out and say it."
My Observation Haki had been picking up a presence for a while now. Someone trailing me—or more precisely, watching me with wary attention.
Since he didn't feel hostile enough to be dangerous, I'd let it go. Given my status as a wanted fugitive, suspicion was only natural. I couldn't exactly complain.
But the moment I turned toward the village—toward the place I intended to start asking questions—his vigilance spiked. So did something else: urgency, pressure, a sharp edge of emotion.
That's when I decided to speak up.
A few seconds after I called out, a figure stepped from the thicket—
And I almost blinked myself blind.
"…What brings you to this island, pirate?"
A man.
Around twenty, maybe. Bluish-silver hair. Tanned skin. A loose robe-like outfit, with a single sword at his hip.
His eyes weren't merely cautious.
They were openly hostile.
So he knew who I was. There was nothing "pirate" about my clothing or appearance, which meant only one thing—he'd seen my Wanted Poster.
Fine. If that was the case, his suspicion made sense.
But…
"Leave at once," he said, voice strained. "There's nothing for you here…"
"Um," I cut in, unable to stop myself, "are you all right?"
He was deathly pale.
Not metaphorically—his face was tinged blue. His breathing came in ragged pulls, shoulders shaking. His hands and feet trembled. Bandages peeked from beneath his clothing. The sweat on his brow wasn't nervous sweat.
It was cold sweat.
And if you looked carefully—really carefully—his right arm wasn't moving at all.
Not weak. Not stiff.
Dead weight.
Injury? Illness? Either way, he looked like he should be in bed, not stalking strangers with a sword.
Yet he was reaching for the hilt with his left hand, trying to draw.
The sword at his hip looked too heavy for him as he was.
He tugged.
It didn't move.
He strained harder.
Still nothing.
The hilt knocked uselessly against the scabbard.
Don't do that. You're going to make it worse.
"Quiet… I…" he rasped, breath breaking. "Pant… pant…"
See? You can barely stand.
If you try to fight me like this, I'm going to feel guilty. And that's saying something, considering you're the one calling me a pirate.
I could tell he was trying—desperately—to protect the island, but…
And then, without me noticing at first, a girl with deep blue hair was peering from the bushes behind him, watching with obvious panic.
His girlfriend?
No. Not the time to speculate.
Let's end this before we scare her—
He stumbled.
And collapsed.
"Ah!" we both shouted, moving at once.
Just like that—before the argument could even become a minute long—he'd pushed himself beyond his limit and dropped.
The girl rushed forward at the same moment I did, and together we caught him.
His consciousness was fading fast.
How did he think he could confront a wanted outlaw in this condition? Especially if he truly believed I was a pirate—an enemy—someone dangerous?
Extraordinary chivalry? Reckless pride? A sense of duty that had rotted into self-destruction?
Ugh. Whatever it was, it didn't matter right now.
"Miss," I said quickly, "is there a clinic nearby? A hospital? Show me. I'll carry him."
---
"I'm so sorry for the trouble he caused… and thank you for bringing him all the way here…"
"No trouble," I replied. "I'm the wanted one, remember? If anything, it's understandable he'd be on guard."
I carried the unconscious young man—Saga—to the nearest village clinic on my usual Magic Carpet (Paper).
The young woman from the bushes—Maya—thanked me again and again, bowing so deeply it made me uncomfortable.
While the doctor treated Saga, I took the chance to reassure Maya.
Yes, I was a wanted fugitive.
No, I hadn't come here with malicious intent.
I only planned to stay a few days—two or three at most—sightsee a little, ask about local stories, then leave quietly.
Maya listened, tension gradually easing from her shoulders.
"I'm glad…" she whispered. "Pirates attacked this island just a few days ago. Saga, and everyone else… we've all been on edge ever since."
"…Was he injured in that attack?"
It would explain his condition. Even if the wound had been treated, a few days wasn't enough to recover.
Saga carried himself like someone who could fight. Maybe he'd defended the village. Maybe that was why he looked like this now.
And the right arm—was that part of it, too?
"No," Maya said softly. "His arm was already like that. Not from birth, but… ever since he came to this island."
Saga wasn't from Asuka Island.
Maya was born here, raised here. Saga had arrived only a few months ago, wandering in like a traveler with nowhere left to go.
Even then, his right arm had been paralyzed.
According to the doctor he'd seen before reaching the island, it was irreversible. No hope of recovery.
Maya didn't know what accident had caused it. From the way she spoke, it sounded like even Saga himself hadn't been told much—only the conclusion, cold and final.
When he first washed up on Asuka Island, he'd looked half-broken. Like a man who'd run out of road and simply stopped walking.
He hadn't come with a goal.
More like… he'd drifted here.
Then the conversation was interrupted—other women from the village joining in, adding details, weaving their own impressions into Maya's account.
Maya couldn't abandon him. She started caring for him, in small ways at first.
Saga resisted. His voice had been cold, his eyes sharper then. He'd told her to leave him alone.
But Maya didn't.
And little by little, he softened. Opened up. Accepted her presence. Started exchanging words, then smiles, then the kind of quiet warmth people only show when they've stopped believing they're alone.
On the island, everyone had already decided what that meant.
They whispered things like, "Just make it official already," and "When are they getting together?"
Maya would blush and fluster, waving it off—yet she didn't look entirely displeased, either.
"So that's how it happened," Maya finished. "Saga decided to stay. He even offered to fight alongside the Self-Defense Corps if we needed it. His right arm doesn't work… but his swordsmanship makes up for it. None of the Corps can match him."
"Really?" I said, honestly surprised. "That's impressive."
He'd been traveling the Grand Line alone—even after his arm stopped working.
So he was skilled. Strong enough to become a pillar for an island that wasn't even his home.
And he recognized me immediately, too. Wanted posters. Bounty targets.
He might have been a bounty hunter once.
"I got hurt during the pirate raid," Maya continued. "The doctor says it should heal if I rest. But then… the watchman reported Sue-san had come onto the island…"
"So he dragged himself out of bed, grabbed his sword, and came to drive me away," I said, dryly.
Maya's lips tightened, embarrassed.
The villagers had tried to stop him. Called it reckless. Told him he'd die.
He didn't listen.
Maya couldn't stay behind, so she followed.
"It's probably rude to say this," she admitted, voice small, "but… I'm glad Sue-san turned out to be a good pirate."
I laughed lightly.
"Let's not push that title too hard. But yes—like I said, I don't mean anyone harm. I'll stay two or three days, do a little sightseeing, maybe research a bit, then leave. If it helps, you can assign someone to keep an eye on me."
"That's… very kind of you, but…" Maya hesitated. "This is a small island. There's nothing particularly interesting. The ruins are everywhere, but they're just old buildings."
"Ah, I see." I sighed. "Still… going back empty-handed would be annoying. I'll take a look around anyway, and if there's nothing, I'll leave."
Maya and the neighborhood women exchanged troubled glances, whispering under their breath.
…They say there's nothing here, but their faces say something else.
Maybe it wasn't that there was nothing.
Maybe there was something they didn't want me to see.
Even without Observation Haki, I could tell Maya was torn. She looked like she was weighing how to refuse me without provoking me.
Then, unexpectedly, an old woman stepped forward from behind her, hunched over a cane.
"Sue-dono, was it?" Her voice was calm, but firm. "If you are truly as reasonable and kind as you claim… then I beg you to suppress any unnecessary curiosity and leave this island as soon as possible."
"G-Grandma…"
Grandma? They didn't resemble each other at all—though to be fair, time can erase resemblance.
The old woman's gaze didn't waver.
"This is for your safety as well. Forgive my bluntness, but this island bears a shameful legend. Since I am asking you this, I must speak plainly…"
She paused.
"A cursed treasure sleeps here."
"Oh?" I leaned in despite myself. "Go on."
And just like that, my "nothing to see here" island became interesting.
---
"So… the Seven Star Sword?"
"Indeed," the old woman said. "Once, it was revered as a guardian blade—a sacred sword meant to protect our people from calamity. But through the ugly strife born of human greed, it became a bringer of disaster. A cursed holy sword."
"So rumors about it have spread beyond the island," one of the women added. "Some even call it the most beautiful sword in the world. Pirates hear that, and they come."
Maya's face tightened.
"The pirates who attacked us recently… they came for the Seven Star Sword."
"And it is not merely a story for children," the old woman continued. "It is truly dangerous. The curse is suppressed by three sacred jewels, but even so… legend says anyone who wields the Seven Star Sword gains invincible power. In exchange, their heart becomes devoured by an insatiable hunger for power. They spread conflict. Tragedy. Bloodshed."
So the sword was hidden in the ruins.
That was why they'd warned me away.
If I touched it—if I became ensnared—it would endanger me and everyone on this island.
And unfortunately…
Now that I'd heard all that—
Damn it.
I wouldn't say I wanted it, exactly, but as a subject of research… as a story… as a living legend—
I wanted to see it. At least once.
Take notes. Take pictures. Confirm whether it was real.
"…Um," I said carefully, "I'd like to discuss something with you."
"Absolutely not."
"But I haven't even said what it is yet!"
"I can tell without a word," the old woman said, unimpressed. "Go find a mirror. Your face is practically shouting, 'Interesting! I want to see it! Tell me more!'"
"Except for the 'I want it' part," I said quickly. "You're completely right. I'm just… curious. As a writer, as a reporter, as someone who collects stories. Would it be all right if I only saw it?"
"That…" Maya hesitated.
"We would rather you refrain," the old woman said at once. "It is said that even a single glimpse of the Seven Star Sword's radiance can enchant the mind, leaving one vulnerable to its curse. As guardians, we cannot risk it. Can you understand?"
Her tone was calm, but it was absolute.
I exhaled slowly.
…So that's that.
To be honest, my curiosity was strong enough that a worse version of me might have sneaked in anyway.
But I'd already told them I meant no harm. If I made Maya and the others fear me, it would prove Saga right.
"…Understood," I said. "Then—if you have other legends, myths, or old stories that might be good for an interview… could you share those? I'll focus on that instead."
If anything, the old woman seemed relieved.
"If it's only that, then fine. This island is mostly history and very little else. We have plenty of old tales. Some true, some embellished."
"Thank you. And the ruins—since you prefer they be left alone—would it be all right if I only observed from the outside?"
After receiving permission, I let out a quiet breath of relief.
All right, then.
Even with my options limited… I could still gather something.
"Do you think this will satisfy them?" I murmured, half to myself. "Or rather… put Saga-san at ease."
"…You noticed?"
Saga's voice came from the bed.
He'd regained consciousness earlier—but he'd been lying still, pretending to sleep while listening to everything.
Maya and the others startled, clearly unaware.
I'd sensed you earlier, too, I almost said—but that wasn't necessary.
I simply met Saga's eyes, calm and steady.
"I mean no harm," I said. "To the people of this island, or to anything you want left untouched. Especially anything related to the Seven Star Sword."
Saga held my gaze for a long moment.
Then he exhaled, slow and controlled.
"…If you do anything suspicious," he said, voice low, "I will kick you off this island immediately. Remember that."
"Yes, yes," I replied lightly. "I'll take it to heart."
All right.
Permission to stay—grudgingly granted.
Now then.
Time to start gathering information.
To be continued...