He thrust out his fist.
"So, I'm making an official announcement."
"You are my chosen rival, Shanks's rival!"
"But also my friend!"
Bullet looked at that fist for two seconds, then raised his own and bumped it.
"Rival is fine," he said. "Friend... I haven't learned how to be a friend yet."
"Then learn!" Shanks burst out laughing.
"It's easy. We drink together, we fight together, we go on adventures together!"
"When it counts, you trust your back to each other. That's what a friend is!"
He shoved his own mug across the table.
"Come on, first step, drink!"
Bullet picked up his mug. This time he didn't sip. He tipped his head back like the others and drained it in one go.
The fiery liquor burned his throat, but his devouring ability broke it down almost immediately. Bullet deliberately suppressed the speed of that breakdown, letting a faint trace of drunkenness linger. The light buzz felt strange, but... not bad.
"Good!"
Shanks emptied his mug too, then lurched to his feet.
"Wait right there, I'm getting the good stuff!"
"The kind Captain Roger keeps hidden!"
He staggered toward the cabin, nearly colliding with a dancing crewman.
Bullet watched his retreating back, and the corner of his mouth curled up the tiniest bit.
A friend, huh?
Maybe he could try.
...
The banquet reached its peak. Someone started strumming a guitar, others slapped the table in time, and Roger hauled a few crewmen into a ridiculous dance. The bonfire burned higher and higher, painting everyone's faces red.
Bullet still sat in his corner, but this time, people kept coming to drag him in.
"Bullet, come dance!"
"Sing something, sing something!"
"I heard you can turn into a dragon!"
"Show us, just a performance, no fighting!"
Bullet refused the dancing and the singing. That was far outside his comfort zone.
But under the wave of cheers and jeers, he made a compromise.
He raised his right hand and partially dragonized it. Then, at his fingertip, he gathered a small cluster of black flame.
The flame carried no killing intent. It burned quietly like a candle, giving off a warm, dark glow.
"Wooow!"
The crew gasped.
Bullet guided the black flame, letting it split into a dozen tiny fire-lights that floated into the air. They drifted like a swarm of black fireflies dancing near the bonfire.
The little flames formed shapes in the air: first the silhouette of a ship, then Roger's big laughing face. Finally they broke apart and circled each person once, as if greeting them one by one.
For a moment the crew were stunned. Then an even louder roar of cheers erupted.
"Amazing!"
"Do another one!"
"This is better than fireworks!"
Bullet recalled the black flames and released the dragonization. His face was as expressionless as ever, but the crimson in his eyes seemed to soften for a heartbeat.
Just then, a timid voice sounded beside him.
"Um... Mr. Bullet."
It was Buggy.
He was holding a plate of sliced fruit, his expression twisted with conflicting emotions. There was fear, hesitation, and a little bit of very unwilling duty.
"T-the head chef said the fruit has to be shared with everyone..."
Buggy held the plate out, not daring to look Bullet in the eye.
"T-this plate is for you."
Bullet glanced at the plate. The fruit had been cut very neatly, and the mix of types was well balanced. It was obvious someone had put effort into it.
"Thank you."
He took the plate.
Buggy let out a breath like a man pardoned from execution and turned to bolt.
"Wait."
Bullet called after him.
Buggy's body froze. He turned back slowly, voice shaking.
"A-anything else?"
Bullet reached into his coat and pulled out a cloth pouch. It was part of the cash he had exchanged for the treasure he had "borrowed" from Buggy earlier.
He tossed the pouch to Buggy.
"Paying back a portion first," Bullet said. "I'll give you the rest when I have more money."
Buggy caught the pouch, opened it, and his eyes went round. Inside was already half the amount he had originally been "borrowed."
"You... you're really paying me back?"
He could hardly believe it.
"I said I'd pay you back double," Bullet replied calmly. "I don't go back on my word."
Buggy stared at the pouch for a long while, then looked up at Bullet, his expression a mess of emotions. In the end, he mumbled a quiet "thanks," then ran off clutching the pouch. This time, though, his steps seemed noticeably lighter.
...
The party went on deep into the night.
Most of the crew ended up passed out on the planks or snoring on the tables, but Bullet was still awake.
He walked to the rail and stared at the moonlight rippling across the surface of the sea. Behind him, the bonfire was dying down. The smell of alcohol and the sound of loud snores filled the air.
Those sprawled-out bodies, those empty barrels, those traces of laughter.
Something unfamiliar swelled in his chest.
Not the satisfaction that came with growing stronger, not the thrill of devouring new power, but... something warmer.
"The warmth of comrades, huh?"
Bullet murmured to himself.
He lifted his hand and studied the lines in his palm.
The memories from before he crossed into this world were already fading. In that other world, he had always felt alone. After fusing with Bullet's body, it had seemed almost impossible to have ordinary emotional ties.
But tonight, it felt like he had brushed against something.
A bond born simply from sailing together, from sharing the same journey.
"Still not sleeping?"
Roger's voice came from behind.
The captain was awake as well. He walked over with two bottles of liquor and handed one to Bullet. The two of them stood side by side at the rail, looking out at the sea.
"Starting to like banquets?" Roger asked with a grin.
"Not unpleasant," Bullet answered, same as before.
"Hahahaha! That's good enough!"
Roger took a long pull from his bottle, then wiped his mouth.
"Rayleigh told me about your breakthrough with Observation."
"Not bad. Keep it up."
He paused, then turned to look at Bullet, his gaze more serious than usual.
"But remember this. Getting stronger matters, but don't make yourself lonely just for the sake of strength."
"Sometimes, the comrades behind you are more important than the power in front of you."
Bullet nodded.
"I'll remember."
Roger gave his back a satisfied thump, hard enough to make an ordinary person cough blood.
"Alright, I'm turning in."
"You should rest too. Training continues tomorrow."
He staggered off toward the cabin.
Bullet stayed on the deck alone for a long time.
When the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, he turned and looked at the crew scattered across the deck. Shanks was hugging an empty bottle and talking in his sleep. Rayleigh sat beneath the mast with his eyes closed, resting. Buggy was curled up in a corner, still clutching that money pouch.
Bullet walked to his own hammock, but did not lie down. Instead he sat cross-legged and began his daily meditation.
Today, his heart was unusually calm.
The pulsing of his devouring core grew steadier, his Haki flowed more smoothly, and even the dark-gold patterns on his dragon scales seemed softer in the morning light.
He opened his eyes and looked toward the new day.
The ship was still sailing.
The adventure was still moving forward.
-------------------------
Patreon Advance Chapters: patreon .com / ElvenKing20
10% off on patreon for the next 3 days, please join 🥀