Jack Sparrow decided he wanted to eat a Sea King.
The thought arrived fully formed, without buildup, warning, or any of the inconvenient things sensible ideas usually required, such as logic or survival instincts.
They were sailing beneath a lazy, forgiving sun, the Black Pearl gliding over calm waters as if the sea itself had decided to take a day off. The sails hung loose, the wind gentle enough to be polite, and the horizon stretched endlessly blue and harmless.
Jack leaned against the railing, hat tilted back, eyes half-lidded in contemplation. He rocked slightly with the ship, one boot hooked casually over a coil of rope.
"I've been thinking," he said.
Gibbs stiffened so suddenly it was almost audible.
"That's rarely good news," Gibbs replied without turning around.
Jack nodded as if that were encouragement. "I've heard," he continued, "that Sea Kings taste very good."
There was a pause.
Pintel, lounging nearby and picking something unidentifiable from between his teeth, perked up. "Big ones?"
"Enormous," Jack said dreamily. "Enough meat to last weeks. Months, even. Possibly years, depending on preservation and the size."
Ragetti frowned, his single good eye narrowing. "Don't Sea Kings eat ships?"
"Only bad ships," Jack replied with absolute confidence.
Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose. "If this is leading where I think it is, I'm objecting early."
Jack straightened and turned, enthusiasm radiating from him. "I've decided we should explore East Blue properly first. And maybe nearby West Blue."
Gibbs blinked. "We're already in East Blue."
"Yes," Jack agreed. "But we haven't caused enough trouble here yet."
Gibbs let out a long, suffering sigh. "And West Blue isn't exactly next door."
Jack waved vaguely toward the horizon, hand wobbling slightly. "Calm Belt."
Gibbs nearly choked on air. "Absolutely not."
"The Calm Belt," Gibbs continued, voice rising as common sense tried desperately to fight its way to the surface, "is full of Sea Kings. No wind. No reliable currents. Normal ships drift until they're eaten. Even Marine warships need special coatings to repel Sea Kings."
Jack smirked.
"The Black Pearl," he said solemnly, "is not a normal ship."
Gibbs stared at him. "Why do you even want to go to West Blue anyways?"
"Call it instincts."
Before Gibbs could respond with something sharp, intelligent, or legally actionable, Pintel's voice rang out from the crow's nest.
"Ship!"
Jack's head snapped up. "Ours?"
"No!" Pintel shouted. "Pirate ship! Wait—two pirate ships!"
Jack's grin widened instantly. "Well then. Temporary detour."
Gibbs groaned. "Of course."
As the Pearl drew closer, the situation clarified itself with the subtlety of a cannon blast. Two pirate ships were already locked in combat, cannons roaring, planks splintering, smoke rolling across the water as crews shouted insults and threats across the gap.
Jack leaned over the railing, squinting. "Looks like a family dispute."
"Both ships have bear flags," Ragetti observed.
Jack nodded sagely. "Ah. Bears."
He turned sharply. "Gibbs, aim the cannons. Fire on both."
Gibbs froze. "…With what?"
Jack blinked. "The cannons."
"We don't have gunpowder."
Jack stared at him. "Why not?"
"Because," Gibbs said slowly, carefully, "we were in a remote village in East Blue. They don't sell naval-grade explosives. And we're broke."
Jack scratched his head. "Ah."
The ships continued drawing closer.
Jack straightened. "New plan. Bring us alongside the nearest one. We'll board."
Pintel and Ragetti cheered.
"Our first real pirate battle!" Pintel said, pumping his fist.
Ragetti cracked his knuckles. "I'm ready to be hit."
The Black Pearl surged forward, her speed unnatural, slipping between the two larger ships with terrifying grace. The larger of the bear-flagged vessels suddenly found itself boxed in, facing an unfamiliar black ship on one side and its enemy on the other.
On the deck of the Polar Bear Pirates, a lookout screamed, "Captain! Another ship!"
Legis P Bear snarled. Already mid-battle, his massive frame towered over his crew, white fur rippling across his arms as his Zoan powers manifested. "I don't care," he growled. "Wipe them all out."
Across the gap, Legis G Bear laughed loudly, fully transformed into a hulking grizzly. "Still barking orders, brother? You always were bad at sharing!"
P Bear roared back. "You stole my crew!"
"You stole my fruit!"
"I found it first!"
Their argument devolved rapidly into increasingly ridiculous accusations involving childhood grudges, broken toys, and who their mother liked more.
Then Jack landed.
He dropped from above with a thud, boots slamming into the deck.
"Fear us," Jack announced grandly, arms spread wide, "for we are the Caribbean Pirates!"
He waited.
No one screamed.
Instead, a pirate swung a sword at his head.
Jack yelped and ducked just in time, the blade passing through the space where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier.
"Oh," Jack muttered. "Right. Combat."
He drew Wado Ichimonji smoothly, posture shifting without conscious thought. Another pirate lunged. Jack parried, steel ringing, then spun aside as a third tried to flank him.
Three against one.
Jack laughed breathlessly. "This is new."
He moved—not straight, never straight.
He slid between swings, feet skimming the deck, shoulders twisting, letting attacks miss by inches. His blade flicked out sharply, not wide, not heavy—precise.
One pirate screamed as Jack's sword cut across his chest. Blood sprayed, the man collapsing against the railing.
The other two hesitated.
Jack took advantage.
A pommel strike cracked one jaw. A sharp kick shattered the other's knee. Both went down hard.
Jack straightened, breathing steady, eyes bright.
"Alright," he said. "That worked."