Perona floated nearby, curiously flipping around Rhett. "Lord Rhett~ Is this Mr. Tom really that amazing?"
"Ah." Rhett's lips curled slightly. "The ship he built carried the Pirate King—my captain Roger—around the entire world. What do you think? Though this old man's got a bit of a temper."
Rhett recalled the fishman swinging a wooden club at Roger's head and felt his heart skip a beat. Wait! The Oro Jackson's been well-maintained by me. It doesn't even leak! Why the hell should I be scared?
Moria crouched in the shadows, gnawing on his nails. "Fufufu... My Thriller Bark isn't half bad either..."
"Lord Moria," Perona mercilessly exposed him, "your ship was leaking last time. It started as a small hole, but after your repairs, it became a gaping one. You ended up stuffing a zombie in to plug it."
"Pfft—" Rhett nearly choked on his drink. Plugging holes was familiar territory.
He thought of his mist sealing breaches—
Damn right! His mist was way better than zombies. Could patch any hole, perfect travel essential. He puffed his chest out. (A sandal smacked Rhett's head. What the hell are you proud of?)
When the Oro Jackson sailed into Water 7's harbor, the entire dock erupted. Shipwrights dropped their tools, staring in awe at the legendary vessel.
"Hey! That figurehead—"
"Is that... the Oro Jackson?!"
"Someone notify Mr. Tom!"
Rhett barely stepped onto the pier before excited shipwrights swarmed him.
The crowd suddenly parted as a hulking fishman strode forward, cigar smoke curling above his head.
"Rhett, you brat, why're you back alone? Where's Roger? That idiot became Pirate King—should be over the moon! Damn disgrace, sending you here by yourself." Tom's voice boomed like a bell. He ran a hand along the ship's hull, face scrunched in complaint, but his tone betrayed concern.
Rhett's mood dimmed. "The Roger Pirates disbanded. Captain entrusted the Oro Jackson to me. I want to keep sailing with her—thought you could give her an upgrade, Tom."
"Disbanded?" Tom froze but didn't pry further. Some things, even between friends, weren't for asking. "Hmph. Let me take a look."
Just as Rhett sank into melancholy—
Tom's shark teeth clamped onto Rhett's collar in the blink of an eye. "You little shit! How long since this ship's seen maintenance? What the hell have you been doing?!"
Iceburg and Franky (note: technically still Cutty Flam at this point, but Franky's more recognizable) desperately yanked their master back.
"Master, calm down!"
"T-T-Tom, sir! It's... not that bad?"
"Not bad my ass! Look at these scratches! And what's this damp mess—water?!"
"Uh, pretty sure that's condensed mist. Otherwise, she'd be leaking." Rhett scratched his head, voice faltering.
Tom knew wear and tear were inevitable for a ship at sea. It was like sending your pristine, dolled-up daughter off with some punk—
Only for her to return calling you "old man" and parking her damn motorcycle under your window.
Rhett let Tom grip his collar until the two apprentices dragged him off. As Tom loosened his hold, Rhett took a deep breath. He knew the old man wasn't really mad—just cheering him up in his own way.
"My apologies. But I'd like you to rebuild her—breathe new life into this ship. Please."
Suddenly, Tom erupted into deafening laughter. "HAHAHA! Good! Damn good!" He slapped Rhett's back hard. "At least you had the sense to come to me!"
Perona floated nearby, whispering to Moria, "This grandpa's terrifying..."
Inside Tom's Workshop, Rhett slammed a stack of Beri onto the table. "300 million. Make her new again. I'll get more if it's not enough."
Tom shoved the money back without looking. "Who charges for remodeling the Oro Jackson?" He bellowed at his apprentices, "Haul out all the Adam Wood from storage!"
Perona drifted to the workbench, fascinated. "Grandpa~ You really built this?"
"Kid, this is nothing." Tom stroked his beard proudly. "Lately, I've been researching new marine tech—something that can traverse the seas, connect islands. Ships won't be the only way to travel soon."
Rhett's ears perked up. Sea Train.
He remembered Tom's fate after completing it. Maybe he should intervene...
But Rhett wasn't worried. Roger's mere reputation had kept Tom safe before. The World Government only struck after Roger's death—typical bullies picking on the vulnerable.
If his captain's shadow could shield Tom, so could Rhett's. Otherwise, what was the point of his reputation?
Tom winked mysteriously. "You'll see after the remodel."
The following days turned Tom's Workshop into a frenzy of madness. Rhett witnessed firsthand what a genius shipwright's obsession looked like.
It was terrifying.
"Fetch hydraulic clamp No. 3!" Tom's roar shook the dock. "No—the one with red paint!"
Franky barreled past with a cart of bizarre tools. "SUPER! Master's going all out!"
Iceburg chased him with blueprints. "Master! You can't make the mainmast retractable! It violates shipbuilding fundamentals!"
"Shut it! Who's the veteran here?" Tom snatched the plans. "My ship, my rules!"
Perona hovered above, watching workers install glowing shells into the hull. "Lord Rhett~ What are those shiny things?"
"Sky Island's Jet Dials." Rhett narrowed his eyes. "Old man even got his hands on these..."
He patted Perona's head. "Once she's ready, I'll take you to the sky islands."
With Rhett demanding speed, Moria's zombies got conscripted as labor.
Meanwhile, Moria himself...
Crouched in a corner, watching his undead minions run ragged. "Fufufu... my crew..."
The workshop echoed with relentless hammering as Tom barked orders.
Rhett leaned against the doorframe, observing the dismantled Oro Jackson, when a tiny hand tugged his sleeve.
"Lord Rhett~" Perona floated behind him, blinking. "Let's explore Water 7! I heard it's full of fun places!"
Rhett glanced at Tom currently ripping apart the deck in a rage and wisely nodded. "...Good idea."