Chapter 10: I Want To Prove—
Sabaody Archipelago, Port.
Whoosh—
BOOM!
A roar from offshore. Cannonfire hit the sea.
People on the docks looked over. A small pirate ship was bombarding a sloop.
Curiosity rippled through the crowd. This was the Great Pirate Era, and Sabaody was the gateway from Paradise to the New World. Pirates were inevitable.
Though this was World Government turf with heavy Marine presence, many pirates kept a low profile. But there were always the reckless few, eager to prove their "courage" by raiding right under the Navy's nose.
The outcomes were usually one of two:
The less interesting: they succeed, then get rounded up by waiting Marines.
The more lively: they kick an "iron plate."
The seas were full of oddities—experts traveling alone, even on rafts. Meeting one of those meant a fate worse than capture for a pirate.
Which was it today?
A few tourists with telescopes watched closely. There seemed to be a scuffle on the pirate ship's deck. The faint roar of some beast reached their ears.
Looked like the second, more exciting option.
"Hey, just in case, shouldn't someone get the Marines?"
"On it!"
"…"
Soon, the fighting stopped. The pirate ship began drifting toward shore. A squad of local Marines rushed to the docks, loading their muskets.
Quiet pirates might be ignored, but the port wasn't a lawless zone. Open piracy wouldn't be tolerated.
The ship drew nearer. When it was still a few hundred meters out, a sudden sandstorm materialized around it.
Grains swirled, coalescing into a human form right on the dock.
A dark-green fur coat, a cigar clenched between teeth. A golden hook replaced his left hand. In his right, he held the shriveled, barely-alive head of a pirate captain.
The man raised a brow, surveying the gawking crowd. "Tch. Lots of spectators."
It was none other than Sir Crocodile.
Of course, common pirates were no threat to him, especially with an eager Vergil aboard. But Crocodile hadn't come to Sabaody to draw attention.
So he'd left Vergil to handle docking while he went ahead to scout the port.
He spotted the waiting Marines. These were Sabaody Marines—well-informed. They recognized him immediately.
"A Warlord? What's your business here?"
"Sightseeing. Got a problem?"
Crocodile wasn't in the mood for chatter. He wanted this done.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the half-dead pirate captain at their feet.
Thump.
The man lay there, unable to speak.
"Pirates who attacked us. A gift for your branch."
Crocodile took a drag, his tone growing colder.
The Marine squad leader signaled his men to stand down. He recognized the pirate captain—a troublesome figure with a 90,000,000 berry bounty. Not an easy catch.
Yet Crocodile had handled him effortlessly. The Shichibukai's strength was no joke.
"Take him. Now."
The squad leader directed his men while staying behind, eyeing Crocodile warily. He couldn't read the man's intentions, but a Warlord should know better than to cause open trouble here.
The Marines left. The crowd dispersed. While seeing a Warlord was rare, they were still pirates. Civilians knew to keep their distance.
Crocodile leaned against a railing, smoking, watching the approaching pirate ship.
Fortuitous.
While boats were sold at Red Line ports, they were exorbitant. The sloop he'd bought was temporary. Experienced travelers bought proper ships at Sabaody.
But since pirates had "gifted" him one, refusing would be rude.
Crocodile needed funds. He planned to establish a covert organization in Alabasta—Baroque Works—to further his goals. That required substantial capital, hence his transaction here.
If that primitive can't decipher the Poneglyph, then I'll have to go to her.
His thoughts turned. Nicole Robin. Ohara's sole survivor…
Come to think of it, that primitive was also dredged from Ohara's seabed. Has she seen him before?
Ah, right. The primitive…
He paused. In his focus on discretion, he'd overlooked a basic issue.
"Can that primitive even sail a ship?!"
He looked up sharply. But his worry was unfounded.
The pirate ship was docking with practiced smoothness, steadier than many veteran sailors.
Looking closer, he saw Alvin Vergil, one hand on the helm, the other holding a beginner's sailing manual open.
He laughed, triumphant. "Okay! I can steer!"
"…"
Crocodile stared, caught between alarm and speechlessness.
Alvin Vergil's learning speed was monstrous. Introduce him to anything, and he'd master it in moments.
I need to be even more careful.
Their Devil Fruits shared a domain. If Vergil ever became an enemy, it would be a nightmare.
"But at least the primitive has some sense."
Meanwhile, Vergil perfectly berthed the pirate ship in an empty slip. Swap the Jolly Roger, and it was ready for the voyage to Alabasta.
Crocodile approached. He meant to give further instructions, but before he could speak, Vergil did something inexplicable.
He leaped from the deck to the pier.
Then activated his power.
Chīguǐ Form.
His body swelled, morphing grotesquely. He drew back a crimson fist and slammed it into the pirate ship's hull.
CRUNCH!
A gaping hole appeared.
He pushed. The ship listed, then capsized, sinking swiftly beneath the waves.
The spectacle drew every eye on the dock. The crowd gathered, staring at Vergil.
"Little Croc! Done!"
Vergil's form receded, revealing his flawless physique. He stood there unabashed, every muscle defined like a master sculptor's work—flawless.
Awe rippled through the onlookers. All except one.
Crocodile: "…"
Crocodile: "What are you doing?" he asked, baffled.
Vergil answered plainly: "Okay! I learned!"
Crocodile watched the last bubbles rise from the sunken ship, even more confused. "Learned what?"
Vergil grinned. "Back at the New World Red Line dock, you destroyed our boat and told me to 'figure it out.'"
"I figured it out!"
He flexed his arms. "So I just practiced."
Crocodile: "…"
Crocodile: "…"
Crocodile: "…"
Crocodile: "What?!"
Bullshit.
Alvin Vergil was primitive, not an idiot. He could clearly see Crocodile had sunk the boat earlier to erase their trail from Caesar.
This "explanation" was a blatant, flimsy excuse.
"Or, to put it another way."
Vergil noticed Crocodile's look and shrugged.
"Creatures have instincts for self-preservation. But they also follow their nature."
"I slept for too long."
"So now, no matter when or where… I don't want to be forgotten."
"Whether it's an 'out-of-control monster' on the Red Line, or the 'person' who killed pirates at the port… it doesn't matter!"
Vergil spread his arms, a brilliant, exhilarated smile on his face.
"I just want to leave my mark on this sea!"
"I want to prove something—"
A strange red light flickered deep in his pupils. The ground beneath his feet trembled faintly.
He said, slowly, clearly:
"I want to prove… that I survived."
"…"
Crocodile was silent.
He couldn't handle Alvin Vergil's character. He didn't even want to argue about the logic of sinking the ship.
In the end, he just turned, frowning as he walked away. "Don't get carried away."
Hearing that, Vergil's smile widened. He caught up, laughing brightly.
"I'm going to get carried away!"
Author's Note:
I thought for a long time about what kind of person Alvin Vergil is.
After much consideration—
He's probably someone like Gojo Satoru.
Not the internet's simplified "unhinged" version. I mean the essence: one part simplicity, three parts humanity, five parts purity, and one part divinity.
That's Alvin Vergil.
(End of Chapter)
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