(13/02/24 - 13:30) (Saturday February 13, 1524)
The heavy wooden platters sat completely empty on the table. Uma wiped his mouth with the back of his uninjured hand. He looked across the table at Doctor Vance.
"A group of pirates intercepted us in Grove Nineteen," Uma stated. "They wore tattoos of a spiked iron knuckle on the left side of their foreheads. They demanded a taxation arrangement for the sea beast meat."
Vance pulled a fresh cigar from his shirt pocket. He struck a match and lit the tobacco.
"That is the Knuckle Gang," Vance said, blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. "The boss is a massive street thug named Rust-Knuckle Gator. He extorts the weaker merchants and scavengers in the lower groves."
Koro grunted from the corner of the room, crossing his thick blue arms over his chest.
"Gator is a parasite," Vance continued. "He watched Koro hauling premium deep-water fish for days. Since Koro keeps a low profile and hasn't displayed Haki. Gator probably got greedy. He sees a massive, passive Fish-Man and a young human. He assumes you are an easy, high-yielding target."
"I need to exterminate this gang," Uma said. "I need detailed information regarding Gator's exact location, his numbers, and his specific combat capabilities. Where do I find this intelligence?"
Vance tapped his cigar over the glass ashtray. He pondered the request for some seconds.
"You need to visit Shakky's Rip-off Bar," Vance finally replied. "It is located deeper inside Grove Thirteen. The establishment is run by a woman named Shakuyaku."
Uma kept his facial expression neutral.
'Shakuyaku. The wife of Silvers Rayleigh. The Dark King.'
The fragmented meta-knowledge from his past life surfaced instantly in his mind. Obviously He possessed no intention of ever revealing his reincarnation or his understanding of the future to anyone. He filed the information away, maintaining his cover as an ignorant guy.
"An intelligence broker frequents that specific bar almost every single night," Vance explained. "The broker possesses an obsessive infatuation with Shakky's beauty. He spends his earnings drinking at her counter just to stare at her. You will probably find him there tonight."
Vance pointed the glowing end of his cigar directly at Uma.
"Be warned," Vance added. "The broker demands a high price for accurate information. Furthermore, Shakky runs a literal rip-off establishment. She charges astronomical prices for basic drinks. She will drain your pockets dry the moment you sit on a stool."
"Understood," Uma replied, giving a single nod before Vance described the broker appearance.
(13/02/24 - 14:00)
The afternoon brought the usual influx of bleeding criminals to the clinic. Uma resumed his duties as an orderly. He held down a screaming pirate while Vance cauterized a severed artery. He handed the doctor clean linen and rusted surgical tools. The manual labor tested his mending bones. The radius in his left arm and the tibia in his right leg throbbed with a dull pressure, but the structural integrity held firm. His hyper-recovery had successfully fused the massive calcium fractures.
(13/02/24 - 20:30)
The sun completely vanished beneath the ocean horizon, plunging the Sabaody Archipelago into darkness. The ambient noise of the lawless zone shifted from the shouts of merchants to the drunken brawls of pirates.
Uma stood near his narrow cot. He unbuckled the leather straps holding the heavy iron splint to his left arm. The metal apparatus hit the floorboards with a dull clank. He grabbed the edge of the thick white bandages wrapping his torso and his right leg. He unspooled the linen entirely.
He inspected his skin. The deep lacerations from the giant barracuda teeth were completely sealed. The surface of his skin bore fresh, smooth dark tissue. He rolled his left shoulder and rotated his wrist. He bent his right knee. The agonizing pain from yesterday had vanished completely. A slight, manageable soreness lingered deep within the muscles, but his range of motion was fully restored.
Doctor Vance walked over to his cluttered desk. The older man pulled a heavy iron lockbox from the bottom drawer. He opened the lid and counted out a stack of paper bills.
Vance walked over and shoved the money directly into Uma's chest.
"Ten thousand Berries," Vance said, his face twisting into a deep sign. "You are going to drive me into absolute bankruptcy. I gave my word to support your foundation. I expect you to succeed. Do not waste my funds."
Uma grabbed the cash. He shoved the money into the deep pocket of his canvas trousers. He grabbed his simple canvas shirt and pulled it over his head.
"Thank you, Vance." Uma said.
He turned toward the heavy iron door of the clinic. Koro stood near the cast-iron stove, watching him quietly.
Uma grabbed the door handle. He pushed the heavy metal outward and stepped onto the wooden porch alone.
He needed to navigate the treacherous waters of Grove Thirteen by himself. Relying on Koro's massive physical presence offered a safety net, but safety bred stagnation. The path to the absolute pinnacle of this world required solitary, brutal experience. He needed to step out of the others's shadows and forge his own path.
He walked down the wooden steps and disappeared into the dark, winding alleyways of the Yarukiman Mangrove root.
(13/02/24 - 21:00) (Saturday February 13, 1524)
Uma navigated the dark, winding paths until he reached a wide clearing deep within Grove Thirteen. A unique structure dominated the center of the space. The ground floor consisted of solid stone walls fitted with arched windows, supporting a massive, green bulbous dome that served as the roof. Iridescent resin bubbles drifted lazily past a large wooden sign hanging directly above the main entrance. The painted characters identified the establishment as Shakky's Rip-off Bar.
He pushed the heavy wooden door open.
The interior was packed with patrons. Thick clouds of tobacco smoke hung in the warm air. Pirates, bounty hunters, and local mercenaries crowded the circular tables, talking loudly over their drinks. Uma walked straight to the long wooden counter and took a seat on an empty stool. The space behind the bar sat completely empty.
A few minutes passed. A woman emerged from a doorway leading to the back kitchen.
Uma froze. She possessed an elegant, mature beauty that defied the gritty, violent environment of the lawless zone entirely. She wore a dark, stylish top and held a lit cigarette between her fingers. Her dark hair was cut short, framing a face composed of sharp, intelligent features. He stared at her, caught completely off guard by her striking appearance.
"Like what you see?" her voice cut cleanly through the ambient noise of the tavern.
Uma blinked, rapidly regaining his composure. He cleared his throat.
"I apologize for staring," Uma said, keeping his tone even and respectful. "May I see the menu?"
The woman laughed, a light, knowing sound. She slid a single, laminated sheet of paper across the wood.
Uma scanned the prices. Doctor Vance was entirely accurate. The numbers were astronomical. He pointed to the cheapest item on the list, a simple glass of tap water priced at an extortionate five hundred Berries. She poured the water from a pitcher and handed him the glass.
He took a slow sip, turning his head to observe the crowded room. He found his target sitting two tables away. The intelligence broker was a balding man wearing a stained coat. He was heavily intoxicated, swaying in his wooden chair and openly ogling the woman behind the bar.
Uma finished his water and pushed the glass forward. He stood up to approach the table.
The woman appeared in front of him again ready to drain him of his money like she does to the others, leaning her weight against the counter.
"You finished your drink," she stated, tapping a long fingernail against the empty glass. "You should order another."
"I must decline," Uma replied politely. "I have a task to complete tonight."
"You are a new face," she observed, resting her chin on her hand. "You are clearly searching for someone in my bar."
Uma coughed into his hand, a genuine spike of embarrassment hitting his chest. He offered a tight nod of acknowledgment and walked away from the counter.
He approached the broker's table and pulled out the opposite chair. He sat down on the creaking wood.
The broker blinked slowly, his bleary eyes focusing on Uma.
"Tables cost money." the broker slurred, wiping a line of spilled ale from his chin. "My time costs significantly more. State your business or leave."
"I need detailed information regarding the Knuckle Gang," Uma stated, keeping his voice low. "Specifically, the operational setup of Rust-Knuckle Gator."
The broker scoffed, a wet, hacking sound. "Gator is a heavy hitter in the lower groves. The price for his schedule is ten thousand Berries. Paid up front."
Uma possessed exactly ten thousand Berries in his pocket. Handing over the entire sum was foolish. He needed a bargaining chip. He leaned across the sticky table, closing the distance between them.
"I just spoke to Shakky at the counter," Uma lied seamlessly. "She specifically mentioned that she thinks you are a very handsome man. She was looking right at you while saying it."
The broker's eyes went wide. His intoxicated face flushed a deep, mottled red. He slammed his hands flat onto the table, his posture straightening instantly.
"She actually said that?" the broker asked, his voice pitching upward in pure excitement. "About me?"
"She did," Uma confirmed, pulling three crisp bills from his pocket and sliding them across the table. "I have three thousand Berries right here. Take the money. You will have plenty of funds to spend impressing her for the rest of the night."
The broker snatched the money with alarming speed. He shoved the bills into his stained coat.
"Grove Twenty-Two," the broker whispered rapidly, leaning forward. "Gator operates out of an abandoned shipyard on the eastern edge. He maintains a strict rotation of eight men on guard duty every single night. Gator himself sleeps inside the captain's quarters of a grounded galleon situated directly in the center of the yard."
"Thank you." Uma said.
"Now leave." the broker ordered, waving a dismissive hand while turning his gaze back toward the bar counter. "I need to order an expensive vintage."
Uma committed the layout to memory. He stood up from the table, completely satisfied with the transaction. He turned his back to the room and walked toward the exit.
(13/02/24 - 21:30)
He reached for the iron handle of the front door.
A hand clamped down on his right shoulder.
The grip possessed an absolutely monstrous physical strength. His forward momentum halted instantly. The fingers dug into his newly packed muscle, locking his entire skeletal structure in place. The grip anchored him completely to the floorboards.
He turned his head slowly.
Shakky stood directly behind him. She towered over his 180 cm, standing at an imposing height of 186 centimeters. She smiled down at him, her eyes narrowed into cold, dangerous slits.
"Why did you lie about me?"