The Golden Ark plunged into the deep sea for the second ti, descending toward Fishman Island, 10,000 ters below the surface. The last ti the Hell Pirates ventured here, they were just another rookie supernova crew!
After taking down Celestial Dragon Rosward, they’d fled into the New World at breakneck speed. Back then, with no territory and barely enough strength to survive, they left two historical texts behind on Fishman Island.
"Tom-san! Tiger! We’re finally heading back to Fishman Island!"
The little rmaid Ariel burst into joyful tears, her excitent bubbling over. It had been over a month since she was snatched by a slave ship, and since then, she’d tagged along with the Hell Pirates on a wild ride through the Grand Line and the West Blue!
Her adventures were enough to brag about for days back ho—heck, she could probably write a bestselling moir about her life on the high seas.
As the ship sank into the deep sea, Ariel grew livelier by the second. Sure, she was timid, a crybaby, and looked delicate, but she wasn’t exactly petite. At 16, she stood nearly two ters tall, towering over Shakky and Stussy, with wavy golden hair and huge, sparkling blue eyes.
"Hey, Ariel, what kind of rmaid are you, anyway?"
Brook eyed her, those big, watery eyes and golden locks tugging at so oddly familiar mory.
"Brook-sama, I’m a goldfish rmaid!"
Ariel, sensing his kindness and curiosity, bead with a respectful, adorably clueless grin.
"Goldfish rmaid?"
No way. No way. Could this ditzy, teary-eyed girl really be Otohi’s mother? Shirahoshi’s grandma?
Brook’s mind raced. Otohi was gunned down by Hody Jones ten years before the Fishman Island arc, at age 36—a tragic, early end. That ant Otohi would be born in five or six years. Was this crybaby Ariel, with her hereditary sob-fest genes, really set to pass them down through three generations?
And then there was Neptune. That old codger married 20-year-old Otohi in his forties, with their first son, Fukaboshi, born when she was 22.
It reminded Brook of Roger, who, despite his terminal illness, married the young Portgas D. Rouge in his fifties and fathered Ace. Pirates and their age-gap romances, huh?
"So, uh... do you ever get a vibe from people? Like, can you sense their thoughts or feelings? Their joy, anger, sadness, that kinda thing?"
Brook snapped out of his daze and probed the ditzy goldfish rmaid, testing if she had Otohi’s signature Observation Haki.
Otohi’s Observation Haki was innate, a rare gift as potent as Redfield’s mind-reading ability. It let her sense others’ thoughts and emotions, project her own consciousness, and even sway hearts and minds, sparking empathy strong enough to shift worldviews.
This top-tier Observation Haki wasn’t sothing you could train—it was as rare as Conqueror’s Haki, maybe even rarer, a born trait like a cosmic lottery win. Otohi could hear inner voices, deliver fiery, compassionate speeches, and lt the hatred of even the most bitter fishn.
Brook’s thoughts drifted to a certain mustachioed, art-school-reject dictator, ranting about 50-million-mark bread. That kind of charisma—Otohi’s Haki, Belo Betty’s Pump-Pump Fruit, Luffy’s knack for turning enemies into allies, or Buggy’s dumb-luck Conqueror’s charisma—was pure, ga-breaking magic.
"Oh! Brook-sama, how’d you know? Besides chatting with little fishies, I can tell if Mom and Dad are happy, if Tom-san’s stressed, or if Tiger’s mad..."
Ariel, thrilled by Brook’s question, babbled on with her signature clueless charm. She didn’t pick up any malice from Brook, though her Haki wasn’t sharp enough to catch his full emotional spectrum.
No surprise there. Those born with innate Observation Haki often had parents with a latent version of it. Ariel’s Haki was probably a weaker, recessive trait compared to Otohi’s legendary prowess.
Well, damn. Now what?
Brook had stumbled across Poseidon Shirahoshi’s weepy, ditzy grandma. Would ddling with Ariel ss up Otohi’s birth—or Shirahoshi’s?
He mulled it over and shrugged. Nah, screw it. His butterfly wings had already derailed the future Yonko’s paths with a single kick—why sweat this?
Once he nabbed Fishman Island’s red historical text, whether Gol D. Roger beca Pirate King would be Brook’s call!
The red text in Wano was also within his grasp. Roger wanted that crown? He’d have to beg Brook, holder of two red Poneglyphs, for permission.
Plus, Ohara’s scholars and the Kozuki Clan, who could read ancient texts, were under Brook’s thumb. Without his say-so, Roger wouldn’t decipher squat.
And then there was Nika. That joker had carved into the historical texts that Poseidon would be born on Fishman Island at a specific ti. No matter how much Brook ddled, Poseidon was destined to arrive right on schedule.
...
Thinking about it gave Brook a headache. Damn fate and its iron grip!
To top it off, Zunesha the elephant and those massive Sea Kings were out there, guarding Nika’s prophecy like cosmic bouncers.
Toki Amatsuka traveled 800 years to birth Momonosuke, then sent him 20 years into the future. Zunesha obeyed Momonosuke’s orders"
(T/N: Kouzuki Toki, born Amatsuki)
Brook’s theory? Momonosuke, that pink flying dragon, was likely the reincarnation of Uranus, the Ancient Weapon. Shirahoshi was Poseidon, and Luffy, with his D. Will and Liberation Drum, was Nika’s fated Sun God.
If Devil Fruits could house mythical beings like Buddhas, phoenixes, or dragons, couldn’t Nika, a Sun God, be a Mythical Zoan himself?
Maybe he’d embedded his consciousness in a fruit after death, biding his ti for the right mont. A self-aware fruit, waiting for its chosen one—creepy stuff.
Brook shook his head. Caring about this prophecy or that fate? If he was gonna fret over every detail, why bother crossing into this world? Might as well dig a hole and bury himself!
System fics, tiptoeing around canon characters, chasing task after task—what was the point? Those protagonists might as well pickle their brains and let the system run the show. The system’s the real star; the hero’s just a glorified errand boy.
"Ariel, ever thought about getting as strong as Tom or Tiger? You could protect Fishman Island with your own power—no more slavers snatching your friends!"
Brook, eyeing her rare Observation Haki, flashed a sly grin. Why not mold this ditzy rmaid into a powerhouse? Call her... Ariel, champion of Fishman Island!
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280 Chapters on p@treon/tambeerg
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