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One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #50
🕑 Added 2025-05-15 02:50:45 +0000 UTCLuffy grinned to himself, crouched low behind the bush like a jungle gremlin.
Yup. Definitely weirdos.
But his kind of weirdos.
Honestly, if he hadn’t already made it a life goal to gather the weirdest, rowdiest crew the seas had ever seen, he’d start now. He hadn't even met his future nakama yet, but he knew—knew in his bones—they’d be some of the strangest people walking the planet.
Oh, and at some point, he was absolutely going to try and recruit a talking tree with a human face and a zebra in a top hat having tea under a parasol. Because, really, what’s a pirate crew without a little unhinged flair?
Down below, Gale and Poqin were still locked in what might be the most aggressively chill debate in history.
“I’m telling you, it’s venomous,” Gale said, peering into the snake’s slitted eyes like he was trying to read its resume.
Poqin squinted at it. “I dunno, man. It’s colorful. Maybe it’s just trying to look scary, like a frog with commitment issues.”
“Here,” Gale said, suddenly shoving the snake closer to Poqin’s face. “Let’s test your theory.”
“HEY—!”
Poqin reeled back just in time as the snake snapped at him, its fangs missing his nose by a very traumatizing inch.
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?!” Poqin snapped, batting Gale’s hand away. “You tryin’ to send me to Buddha early?”
Gale shrugged. “Relax. I saw some herbs nearby. Worst case, your brain melts for five minutes, and I whip up an antidote before it starts leaking out your ears.”
“Worst case?! That’s your worst case?!”
Luffy, still grinning behind the bush, was juuuust about to pop out and introduce himself when—
BOOM.
The ground shook.
Not like a little shake. Not like a “whoops, someone dropped a tree.” No, this was the kind of stomp that made squirrels evacuate and birds go silent like they were trying not to be next.
All three heads turned.
From the trees ahead lumbered a hulking beast of a boar—easily the size of a small ship, with bristly brown fur, burning yellow eyes, and four tusks curling out from its mouth like scimitars. As if that wasn’t enough, a single, jagged horn jutted out of its forehead like nature said, “Let’s just really sell the murder aesthetic.”
It stopped in the middle of the path, snorting steam like an angry tea kettle and glaring straight at Gale and Poqin.
Luffy’s eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store.
There you are, lunch.
The boar pawed at the ground. Poqin stared up at it, jaw slack. “...Why does it have four tusks? That’s excessive. That's bragging.”
Gale, still holding the snake, glanced up. “Well. Either that thing’s about to charge us, or it’s coming over to ask if we’ve seen its dentist.”
Luffy cracked his knuckles, practically bouncing with excitement now.
It was go time.
Luffy lunged forward, yelling his battle cry in his usual subtle fashion—read: not subtle at all.
“ALRIGHT, PORKCHOP!! YOU’RE MINE!!”
But then something weird happened. And not his kind of normal weird—like punching sea monsters or arguing with swords. No, this was new weird.
The twig-looking guy—Gale, or maybe “Beanpole Deluxe”—suddenly sprang into action too.
Huh? Luffy blinked mid-air, watching as Gale leapt with surprising speed, cutting ahead of him like he’d just hit a turbo boost.
But he didn’t draw a sword. Didn’t throw a punch. Didn’t even look like he was going for a kick.
Nope.
He… unfastened his cloak.
Just… unclipped it from his shoulder and held it up like a magician about to pull a rabbit—or a war crime—out of it.
Luffy blinked again. 'Wait… is he gonna smack it with a cape?'
He slowed down, confused enough that his instincts actually paused, which rarely happened outside of meat-related emergencies.
“Oi! Watch out!” Luffy shouted, realizing too late that Gale was already too close.
But Gale didn’t seem fazed. He just flicked his eyes toward Luffy for a split second—like he was checking the weather—then turned his full attention back to the mountain-sized bacon bomb barreling his way.
Even the boar seemed offended. It let out a loud, insulted snort, as if to say, Really? You're charging ME? In a bathrobe?
Its hoof stomped once. It crouched low, horn gleaming, ready to yeet Gale into orbit with one glorious headbutt.
Then—WHOOOOOSH–THWACK!!
Gale brought the cloak down, right on the boar’s snout.
And it was like the world just… paused.
There was a sound, sharp and flat, like a slap wrapped in a thunderclap. The boar’s eyes bulged out like someone had stepped on its soul. Its legs buckled. Its snout smashed into the dirt like a hammer hitting clay. The ground shook, a crater forming beneath its massive head as it lay there, twitching.
Then… nothing.
Just silence. Birds didn’t chirp. Trees didn’t rustle. Somewhere, a squirrel dropped its nut in raw disbelief.
Luffy landed a second later, skidding to a halt with wide eyes. “...WHAT?!”
Poqin, meanwhile, stood blinking. “Did… did he just slap a boar to death?”
Gale exhaled slowly, draping the cloak back over his shoulder with a little flick. “No,” he muttered. “It’s just stunned.”
The boar let out a snore that sounded vaguely like an existential crisis.
“See?” Gale added, deadpan. “Still breathing. Probably dreaming of a gentler life.”
Luffy gawked. “That was so cool! What was that?! Is your cloak magic?! Is it cursed?! Is it possessed by the spirit of a martial artist bear?!”
Gale stared at Luffy, eyes twitching slightly. “The spirit of a martial artist bear”? Seriously?
How… how did he even—? Gale blinked a few times and then just laughed softly, shaking his head. “A martial artist bear…?” he muttered under his breath. “How does a brain even get there?”
Trying to explain that he was a Devil Fruit user, that he could alter the density of objects, that his cloak had the weight of a boulder but still flowed like fabric… yeah, no point. He wasn’t even sure this rubbery knucklehead knew what “density” meant. Heck, he might think it was a kind of seasoning.
So instead, Gale cleared his throat, held up his cloak dramatically, and said, “You see this right here?”
He gripped it in one hand and pointed at it with the other, giving it a look like it was some ancient relic passed down by cosmic monks.
“This… is a mysterious piece of cloth.”
Luffy gasped like someone had revealed the One Piece was actually just a big barbecue pit.
“I thought as much,” Luffy said, nodding sagely, his eyes sparkling like a kid staring at a new toy in a candy store that was also on fire.
Poqin looked between Luffy and Gale, eyebrows raised. “He did…?”
Gale gave a shrug that translated roughly to “Don’t fight it.” “Just go with it,” he said under his breath.
He cleared his throat again, turning back to Luffy. “You must be Vice Admiral Garp’s grandson.”
Luffy’s eyes went wide. “I am! How’d you know?”
Gale gave him a roguish grin. “Well, your granddad just showed up at Dadan’s house—scared the soul outta the floorboards, by the way—and he sent us to fetch his grandson.”
Luffy froze.
There was a single beat of silence.
Then—
“NOPE.”
He turned around and bolted, full sprint into the woods like someone just yelled “pop quiz.”
Gale blinked. “Huh. Thought that might happen.”
He casually slung his cloak over his shoulder again and just… laughed. “Fast little guy, isn’t he?”
But Poqin didn’t share his amusement. He stared after the fleeing rubber idiot, face pale. “Are we not chasing him?! Garp will have our ass if we don't bring him back.”
Gale raised a finger. “Technically, he said to ‘go get the brat.’ I don’t remember the word ‘chase’ being used.”
“Gale,” Poqin said through gritted teeth, “you remember what happened the last time we didn't do what the old monster wanted?”
“Yes,” Gale said calmly, “but I also remember you trying to explain to Garp that ‘your knee was tender’ and then getting flung into the main mast.”
“It was tender!”
“And now it’s double-jointed.”
Poqin groaned, slapping a hand to his face. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
Gale waved a hand lazily. “No need for a plan.”
Poqin turned to him with a frown. “That’s what you said before we ended up as target practice for—”
But Gale cut him off by suddenly raising his voice. Like, really raising it.
“We just need to go back and tell the Vice Admiral,” he said, projecting loud enough to scare a few birds out of the trees, “that his grandson took off sprinting the second he heard his name!”
Somewhere up ahead, Luffy—still mid-run—staggered. Like someone had just yanked one of his strings. His feet tangled for a second, but he caught himself and kept going, if a little wobblier than before.
Poqin raised a brow but didn’t say anything. He knew this was going somewhere.
Gale grinned wider, voice still theatrical. “And of course, we can’t forget the part where he shouted, ‘Marines stink! They’re just a bunch of government dogs!’”
A bead of sweat visibly rolled down Luffy’s temple. His pace slowed to more of an awkward power walk now, the kind people do when pretending they’re not out of breath but absolutely are.
“Oh, oh! And!” Gale added with the enthusiasm of a street performer trying to win a crowd. “He definitely said he’d rather die than turn out like Garp!”
That did it. The old man never needed a reason to beat him up, but if he heard something like that...
Luffy tripped over his own legs and faceplanted so hard it echoed.
There was a beat of silence, then a groan.
A few moments later, he pushed himself up off the dirt, brushed a leaf out of his hair, and trudged back toward them like a guilty toddler caught stealing snacks.
He stopped in front of them, arms limp at his sides, eyes pointed stubbornly at a random tree.
“…What are you guys talking about?” he said, way too casual. “I was just, y’know… stretching my legs.”
His tone was the verbal equivalent of a dog knocking over a vase and pretending it wasn’t in the room.
Poqin blinked at him, then slowly tilted his head. “This guy is a terrible liar.”
Luffy didn’t even register the comment. He started whistling—badly—then rocked back and forth on his heels like he was trying to sway away from reality itself.
Gale just started laughing. “Man, if Garp could see you now…”
He turned on his heel and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get moving before the old monster decides we’re ‘slacking off’ and uses us for arm day.”
And with that, the three of them started the walk back—one grinning, one sighing, and one whistling off-key like his life depended on it.
