The Black Pearl drifted across calm waters, her dark sails relaxed as if the ship herself were taking a long, satisfied breath. Sunlight glinted off an indecent amount of gold piled openly on the deck—coins, bars, ornaments, relics that had once been counted and recounted by generations of the Happo Navy.
Jack Sparrow stood before the treasure with a smile so wide it bordered on irresponsible.
Somewhere far away, Don Chinjao was probably discovering an empty cavern and questioning every life choice that had led him to trusting a pirate who introduced himself with a grin and a bottle of rum. Jack chuckled at the thought and took a sip.
"Poor fellow," Jack murmured. "Shouldn't have trusted me. Rookie mistake."
Gibbs approached him slowly, his posture bent forward under the weight of several heavy gold necklaces draped around his neck and shoulders. Each step looked painful, like gravity itself had decided to personally punish him.
"Captain," Gibbs said, voice strained, "I've been thinking."
Jack winced. "Oh no."
Gibbs ignored that. "Maybe… maybe we shouldn't have taken all of it."
Jack turned, scandalized. "All of what?"
"The treasure," Gibbs clarified. "From Kano Country. They swore themselves our allies. Don Chinjao shook your hand. The king toasted you. This—" he gestured weakly at the mountain of gold "—feels a bit… excessive."
Jack stared at him in silence, then placed a reassuring hand on Gibbs' shoulder.
This caused Gibbs to hunch even further.
"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs," Jack said gently, the way one explained a mistake to a child, "We didn't betray anyone."
Gibbs frowned. "We didn't?"
"Of course not," Jack replied brightly. "We lifted their burden."
Gibbs blinked. "Their… burden?"
"Yes." Jack gestured grandly at the gold. "Look at it. All this weight. All this responsibility. Spending it. Guarding it. Losing sleep over whether someone will steal it. Chinjao worried about this treasure for years when he couldn't even open the cave. What if his drill breaks again, hm? This time we won't be there to fix it."
Jack leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "We've spared him that anxiety."
Gibbs stared at him.
Jack continued, warming to his own logic. "Now he can focus on what truly matters. His country. His navy. His drills. We have graciously taken upon ourselves the exhausting task of carrying and protecting all this gold."
A long pause followed.
"…When you say it like that," Gibbs admitted slowly, "it does sound almost… noble."
Jack smiled, satisfied. "I try my best to do good deeds."
Gibbs nodded, clearly convinced—or at least too tired to argue—and shuffled back toward the treasure, muttering something about reorganizing it into smaller piles that wouldn't destroy his spine.
High above, Van Augur stood in the crow's nest, rifle resting against his shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon with mechanical patience. He heard Jack's voice drift upward.
"Augur! What are you doing up there? Come down!"
"I'm keeping watch," Augur replied evenly. "In case the Happosai follows."
Jack waved him off from below. "No need. They won't."
Augur hesitated. "You're certain?"
"Reasonably," Jack said. "Also—important question—would you like a golden gun?"
That question hit Augur harder than any bullet.
He looked down at his trusted Senriku, then at the glittering gold below. A fully golden rifle. Shining. Impractical. Excessive.
Temptation crept in.
"No," Augur said firmly. "One must not surrender to such vanity."
Jack squinted up at him. "Suit yourself. I thought it would clash nicely with your personality."
Below deck, chaos of a different sort brewed.
Ragetti stood proudly beside a massive pot, sweat pouring down his face as he stirred with alarming enthusiasm.
"I've cracked it," he announced to no one in particular. "Cooking."
Robin, seated nearby with a cookbook open, peered over the edge. "That's… soup."
"Yes," Ragetti said confidently. "A tea full of spoons."
Robin frowned. "That's not—"
Too late. Ragetti tasted it and beamed. "Perfect."
Up on deck, Pintel had abandoned all dignity and was rolling around in gold, arms and legs flailing as he made a crude angel-shaped imprint.
"I'm rich!" he shouted. "Look at me, I'm swimming without water!"
His movement slowed when his eyes landed on something nestled among the coins—a strange fruit, oddly shaped, with swirling patterns across its skin.
Pintel picked it up, frowning. "This thing's ugly."
He put it closer to his nose, smelling it. It has no particular smell. But it made him about to sneeze. He opened his mouth to sneeze when-
"Ah," Jack said from behind him, patting his back"Found the devil fruit, have you?"
Pintel yelped, startled, and due to Jack's pat, was launched a little forward and forced to take a bite.
The silence afterward was profound.
Pintel froze, eyes wide, face contorting as he chewed.
"…Captain," he croaked. "This tastes like Ragetti's food."
Jack stared at him. "You ate it?"
"I didn't mean to!" Pintel cried, spitting violently. "I was just looking! Besides, it was your fault!"
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose," Don't pin your mistakes on me."
Pintel began pacing in circles. "I'm doomed. I'm going to drown. I fall into the sea all the time! This is a death sentence!"
Jack ignored the panic and pulled out a thick, battered book—the Devil Fruit Encyclopedia—and began flipping pages.
"Hm… not this… definitely not that… ooh, this one turns you into an owl. That's charming."
Gibbs and Robin gathered around as Jack continued narrating his search, growing increasingly unhelpful.
"Ah, no. That one makes you laundry."
"…Laundry?" Pintel squeaked.
"Metaphorically," Jack waved him off. "Ah! Here we are."
He turned the book around.
"Noro Noro no Mi," Robin read aloud, adjusting her grip on the book. "It allows the user to emit slow beams that drastically reduce the movement speed of whatever they hit."
Pintel blinked. "…That's good, right?"
Robin nodded. "Very."
Gibbs crossed his arms. "Don't get ideas."
Jack, however, was smiling. "We'll test it later."
He snapped the book shut and looked toward the horizon. "For now, we choose our path."
"The Grand Line," Gibbs said. "Reverse Mountain is the usual way."
Jack shook his head. "All this gold would fly straight into the sea."
They both stared at the map.
"…Red Line," Jack murmured.
Gibbs exhaled. "Pirate ships aren't allowed."
Jack tapped the gold thoughtfully.
"…But bribes are."
A slow grin spread across his face.
"Barrel it up," Jack declared. "We're buying ourselves a view."
And the Black Pearl turned toward the Red Line.