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One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #100
🕑 Added 2025-07-19 11:27:34 +0000 UTCThe door creaked open with a familiar ting of the bell, soft jazz humming low from the jukebox in the corner. Shakky’s Rip-Off Bar looked the same as always—dim lighting, walls stained with years of cigarette smoke and pirate stories, and a faint scent of rum, gunpowder, and well-aged sarcasm.
Shakky herself stood behind the counter, casually drying a glass that was already clean. She looked up over her glasses with a small smile.
“Well, if it isn’t the paperwork prince,” she said, voice smooth and amused. “You look like you’ve been rolling in tax forms.”
“I came as fast as I could,” Gale muttered, tugging at his wrinkled coat and glancing around like the stacks of documents might follow him here too. “Also, one more vending machine complaint and I swear I’m taking hostages.”
Shakky chuckled and motioned with her head. “Come on. He’s waiting in the back.”
Gale followed her behind the bar and through a side door that opened into a room far more domestic than he expected. It looked like someone’s quiet living space—rug, couch, kettle on a side table, books stacked up near the walls. Comfortable.
Well, it would’ve been comfortable if there wasn’t a man sitting dead center on a wooden stool, dressed in all black with a traditional oni mask covering his face, and a katana resting casually across his lap like it was a house pet.
The two locked eyes—or eye sockets, in the masked man's case—for one second.
Then both moved.
Metal sang through the room as their swords clashed in a flash of silver. Gale’s boots skidded against the wooden floor as he met the masked man’s strike, their blades pressed together in the narrow space between them, breath sharp, eyes locked.
“Shakky,” Gale said, voice tight but steady, “you said the guy you had in mind would be interested in disrupting the human trafficking business.”
“Yeah?” she replied, raising a brow and lighting a cigarette without a care in the world. “And?”
“This guy—” Gale grunted, twisting his blade slightly as he tried to find leverage, “—is the furthest thing from that. He was with Admiral Blight’s crew.”
The masked man didn’t speak. Just kept pressing forward, quiet and precise, like a blade testing the softness of a throat.
“But,” Gale continued, pushing back with a flare of strength and forcing the man a step away, “he wasn’t part of the crew. He’s not a pirate.”
Gale held his blade low, pointing it toward the floor as he watched the man circle again. “He told me who he really works for.”
Shakky blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling, frowning slightly. “I take it this is going somewhere unfun.”
Gale nodded grimly.
“Donquixote Doflamingo,” he said.
The name dropped like a stone in a still pond.
Shakky blinked. “That guy?”
“Yeah,” Gale said, turning his blade slightly in his hand. “Biggest piece of the human market. Guy practically owns the auction house here. This one’s been working for him the whole time.”
The man finally spoke, his voice muffled slightly behind the oni mask, but dry and cool like he’d been holding that line in reserve.
“I don’t recall telling you anything like that.”
Gale scoffed instantly, eyes narrowing as he tilted his blade a little to the side, angling for an opening—not that he was planning to strike. Not yet.
“You didn’t have to,” he said, voice thick with sarcasm. “You said you were working for an emperor of the underworld, remember? The kind of guy who’d benefit from a government-affiliated country getting its teeth kicked in by pirates. You called it—what was it—‘good for business’?”
He sneered, angling his head just a bit to look the man in the eye through the mask slits. “Only one lunatic fits that job description.”
The man sighed heavily, like he’d been accused of borrowing someone’s toothbrush. “Fair enough,” he muttered, easing just a little against Gale’s sword, not backing off—just... not pressing forward either. “But I didn’t work for Doflamingo because I wanted to.”
“Oh, here we go,” Gale said, not even bothering to hide the eye-roll. “Let me guess. Mingo got your girlfriend and is forcing you to do his dirty work? Or maybe you're a sunglasses collector and you want to get close to him so you can swipe his shades?”
“I wanted a way in to the Donquixote Family,” the man continued, like he hadn’t heard. “So I could dismantle it piece by piece. Maybe even find the right moment to take him out myself.”
Gale snorted so hard he nearly knocked himself off-balance. “Yeah, right. And I joined the Marines because white and blue bring out my eyes.” He shoved the man back a step, finally breaking the clash with a loud metallic ring.
He rolled his shoulder, stepping to the side just enough to keep a line between them clear, and gave Shakky a tired glance.
“Tell me, did he also say he likes long walks on the beach and secretly dreams of opening an orphanage? Because I love when war lowlives have side hustles in vigilante justice.”
The man didn’t flinch. If anything, he looked mildly insulted beneath that mask—though Gale couldn’t be sure. Hard to tell with guys who wear dramatic demon cosplay to job interviews.
“And you think I’m the one full of crap,” the man muttered.
Shakky, leaning against the doorframe now with a glass of something very expensive in hand, raised an eyebrow. “You two done measuring your swords?”
Gale let out a dry, mocking heh, stepping back just enough to lean lazily against the nearest wall, arms crossed. His sword still hung loosely from his hand, the edge resting against the floor like it was bored.
“We already measured swords back in Vasshiri,” he said, jerking his head toward the masked man. “Didn’t end well for this guy.”
He gave a casual shrug, then jabbed a thumb at the assassin like he was pointing out a weird dish on a buffet.
“How d’you think I got so much info out of him, anyway? His charming personality?”
The masked man visibly twitched. Even behind the mask, his irritation practically radiated like heat off a griddle.
“You talked my ear off!” he barked, stepping forward with his arms flaring out. “You fed me so much brain-melting nonsense I almost went insane! I would've preferred you pulled my teeth out one by one or shoved toothpicks under my nails like a normal psychopath!”
Gale’s grin widened. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve still got a whole speech about the structural weaknesses of Marine HQ’s plumbing and the psychological symbolism behind Akainu’s hat.”
He turned slightly toward Shakky and gestured at the masked man with both hands like a game show host revealing a prize.
“You see what I mean? The guy’s clearly a nutjob, and a pervert to boot. A bona fide masochist”
Shakky pinched the bridge of her nose like this was far from the worst thing she’d dealt with this week, but she was already at her limit.
“I said calm down,” she muttered, voice sharper than before, and gave Gale a warning look. “Both of you. I didn’t know he was ever affiliated with Doflamingo, but I do know he’s been coming to me for a while now. Always asking about buyers, smugglers, movement routes—anything tied to human trafficking. It’s been consistent.”
The assassin folded his arms again, jaw tight, but the hostility faded just a notch. “My ‘in’ with the Donquixote Family got ruined—thanks to this loud-mouthed idiot—so now this is the only way I can hurt Doflamingo. I’ll gut the trade from the outside, cut every vein I can find.”
Gale didn’t look impressed.
He narrowed his eyes at the man, suspicion flickering beneath the sarcasm. His voice was quieter this time, more pointed.
“Oh yeah? And just what bone do you have to pick with Doflamingo anyway?”
The assassin didn’t flinch. His arms still crossed, posture rigid, voice steady—but cold.
He looked Gale dead in the eyes and said flatly,
“That’s none of your business.”
Gale’s expression twitched. He felt a vein bulge on his forehead like it was about to start its own uprising.
“Why you son of a—”
He stopped himself, teeth grinding halfway into a sentence that was definitely going to end in violence or sarcasm. Or both.
Instead, he rounded on Shakky, throwing his arms up.
“How the hell am I supposed to trust a guy like that? I don't even know his name for fuck's sake!”
Shakky smiled the kind of smile that said she’s heard worse and didn’t care then either. She lit another cigarette with the tip of the last one and took a relaxed puff.
“It’s Ren,” she said simply. “And you don’t have to trust him. I’ll vouch for him. You just put your trust in me.”
Gale stared at her. Then at Ren. Then back at her again. Like a cat trying to decide which suspicious piece of furniture to pounce on first.
He didn’t know Shakky—not really. They hadn’t shared drinks or war stories, or whatever it is people did to build trust in this world. But… he did know enough from the anime to tell she wasn’t the type to backstab someone on a whim.
She ran a bar in Sabaody, for god’s sake—a lawless archipelago crawling with pirates, bounty hunters, marines, and Celestial Dragon bootlickers—and she thrived in it. That wasn’t the kind of woman who threw her name around lightly.
If she was putting chips down on this Ren guy, she had to know something Gale didn’t.
He exhaled through his nose, slow, deliberate. Then, finally, he sheathed his sword with a soft shhhk and rested his hand on the hilt.
“Fine,” he muttered, shoulders dropping. “But if I even feel a funny idea forming in his skull, I’ll personally wrap him in cuffs and throw him into Impel Down without a second thought.”
Shakky grinned. “It won’t come to that.”
Ren just grunted. Probably the closest thing to gratitude Gale would get from the guy.
Shakky dusted off her hands and stood up straighter, the smirk never leaving her face. “Well, now that everyone’s acquainted,” she said, voice laced with just enough sass to make Gale want to roll his eyes, “we should get to work quickly. I already filled Ren in on the situation.”
Gale tilted his head, half-curious, half-dreading. “Yeah? And what exactly is the plan here, Shakky? ‘Cause so far, it’s just been me wrecking back alleys and traumatizing dog-themed gangsters.”
She walked over to the window and looked out at the dull, grayish hue of Sabaody’s horizon.
“You’re going to keep doing what you were doing,” she said, turning back toward him. “Go after the heads. Cut the leash, and the mutts fall in line.”
Gale raised a brow. “So… same as before, just with more collateral?”
Shakky smirked again. “Almost. But this time, instead of handing over the gang leaders personally, you’ll pass them to Ren.”
Gale blinked. “Wait, what?”
“He’ll turn them in. Collect the bounties. We’re gonna need the money to get things started... those thugs aren't going to pay themselves.”
Gale crossed his arms, frowning. “So I do all the work, and the scumbags get paid? That sounds suspiciously like a Marine promotion.”
Shakky chuckled. “You want a paycheck or achievements?”
“Can I pick both?” Gale deadpanned.
She ignored him. “Fear only takes you so far. Even thugs need to eat. And if we’re going to build a network here, we need people who are willing to work with us—not just too scared to say no.”
Gale ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Deep down, he knew she was right. Even tyrants needed tax policies.
“Alright, alright. I’ll keep cracking skulls and tossing bad guys in the ‘Ren pile.’ But we need to be discreet. If HQ gets wind of our little bounty fraud operation, we'll all be fucked. And not in a fun way...”
Shakky laughed softly as she turned away, and even Ren’s shoulders twitched in a way that might’ve been a suppressed chuckle… or just indigestion.
Gale glanced between them one more time and muttered,
“Great. Me, a chain-smoking bar lady, and a masked assassin with more trauma than dialogue lines. What could possibly go wrong?”
