One Piece: Lord of the Weather Chapter 33: Pistols

Pablo woke up late in the morning.

There was no one to wake him. There was no need.

The sun was high when he opened his eyes. He did not stare at the ceiling for long. He got up and began his day.

He went first to the bathroom. The water was warm. He stood under it for minutes, washing away the fatigue of the past days. Not because his body was tired. Because he deserved this.

He ca out of the bathroom and dried his hair. Then he sat in front of the small mirror. He combed his thick black hair carefully. He was no longer the thin child who had arrived in Verona months ago. Nor the tired worker who ca to Naraka with a simple dream. Now, his face was fuller. His eyes deeper. His shoulders broader.

He put on his clothes. A dark brown shirt, black pants, good shoes.

Then he headed to the small kitchen in the room.

He opened the refrigerator. He chose what he craved.

Fresh eggs, bacon, toasted bread, soft cheese, and fresh orange juice.

He prepared his al slowly. He was not in a hurry.

He sat down to eat. Each bite was slower than usual.

He did not need to rush.

No one was waiting for him.

No one was holding him accountable.

The factory was running. Ido was there. Lorenzo was there. Daniel, Kavor, and Tom, all of them were there.

Pablo did not need to be the first to enter nor the last to leave.

He finished his breakfast and washed his hands.

Then he went out.

---

He did not go to the factory until one in the afternoon.

The sun was at its zenith when he entered through the main gate.

The gate guard looked at him. He nodded. He did not ask why he was late. He did not dare.

Pablo did not need to explain.

He walked through the corridors. The workers saw him. So nodded to him. So lowered their heads quickly. So avoided his gaze entirely.

He did not care.

He arrived at his office in the juice section. It was quiet. Ido was there.

Ido was standing in front of the table, reviewing the papers. When Pablo entered, he raised his head.

"Is everything alright?" Pablo asked.

"Yes. Production is as usual. The reports are ready."

"Good."

Pablo sat behind the desk. He opened a drawer and took out a newspaper.

Ido placed it here every morning for him to read when he arrived.

Its main headline was large.

"Pirates Burn Village in the West Blue. Marines Unable to Control."

He read the news slowly.

Pirate attacks everywhere. Comrcial ships looted. Villages burned. Sailors dying.

And since the execution of Gol D. Roger months ago, the attacks had multiplied several tis over.

His final words had ignited the world.

"My treasure? If you want it, you can have it. I left it all in that place."

Since that day, thousands of people had left their lives and taken to the seas.

So beca pirates. So died in the first week. So were still searching.

Pablo turned the page.

Another headline: "Mass Execution of Pirates Tomorrow on Katores Island."

He shook his head.

This world was drowning in chaos. And the Marines were trying desperately to stop it.

But he was not interested in this now.

He put the newspaper aside.

"Ido."

"Yes."

"From today, your salary is eighty thousand."

Ido stopped moving for a mont.

He looked at Pablo with unbelieving eyes.

"Eighty thousand?"

"Yes. A reward for your good work."

Ido's salary weeks ago was thirty thousand. Now, it was more than double.

Ido did not say anything. He just nodded. But sothing ignited in his eyes.

Gratitude. And perhaps sothing else.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank . Just keep working."

Ido returned to his papers. Pablo opened his small notebook.

---

An hour later, the carts ca.

Pablo had been waiting for this.

Every day, around two in the afternoon, a man would co with a cart pulled by an animal, carrying the finished juice. The carts transported the production from the factory to the warehouses at the port, then to the ships.

The man was in his forties, nad Surin. His face was rough from years of working under the sun. His small eyes moved quickly. He had been supervising the transport and distribution of juice on the island for years.

Pablo had been watching him for a while.

He left his office and stood by the juice carts.

Surin was counting the cans. When he saw Pablo, he stopped.

"Yes?"

"How are things going?" Pablo asked quietly.

"Good. Everything is on ti."

"I need your help with sothing."

Surin looked at Pablo. His eyes assessed the situation.

"What is it?"

"I need to buy so pistols."

Surin's face did not change. But his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Why are you asking ?"

"Because you know people. Because you transport goods all over the island. And because I am willing to pay for this knowledge."

Pablo took out fifteen thousand Beli from his pocket and placed them in Surin's hand.

Surin looked at the money. Then at Pablo. Then at the money again.

His hand closed around it.

"How many do you want?"

"Several pistols. And so ammunition."

"That is not easy."

"I know. That is why I am willing to pay."

Surin paused for a mont. He was thinking.

Then he said in a low voice:

"There is a man. His na is Rein. He deals in... illegal things. I can arrange a eting with him."

"When?"

"Tonight. At the eastern port of Naraka. There is a small bar called 'The Old Dock'. Co after midnight."

"I will be there."

Surin nodded and returned to his work as if nothing had happened.

Pablo returned to his office.

The pistols were the next step.

He did not want to beco a killer. But he was living in a rciless world. And soon, he would need to protect himself and those around him.

And the pistols were a ans.

For Marco. For himself. And for developing that small gang which the ti had co to take control of.

---

In the evening, before he left, he contacted Marco.

Marco was not in the room. He was still with the "John Gang". He left a ssage with one of the trusted factory workers: "Co to the factory after midnight. I will need you."

Then he waited.

---

At midnight, Pablo stood in front of the factory gate.

The sky was clear. Many stars. The air was cold.

After minutes, he saw Marco approaching from the darkness.

He was wearing simple clothes. But his face was different. There was sothing in it of a harshness that had not existed weeks ago.

"What happened?" Marco asked.

"We are going to a place. It might be dangerous. I want you to be with ."

"Where?"

"The eastern port of Naraka. I am eting soone who sells pistols."

Marco looked at him.

"Why do you need pistols? I am capable of—"

"I know." Pablo interrupted him. "But not everything is solved with your fist. Pistols are another weapon. And we will need them soon."

Marco did not argue.

"Alright. Let's go."

They walked together through the nightti streets of Naraka.

The city was still alive. Small bars open. Light music from so windows. n walking in the darkness.

Pablo walked quietly. Marco beside him, his eyes moving left and right.

He could sense danger before he saw it.

After twenty minutes, they arrived at the eastern port.

The sll was different here. Salt, fish, and a little coal.

The carts were lined up on the pier. Small ships docked. Sailors sleeping on the sidewalks.

At the end of the pier, there was a small bar. Dim light ca out of its windows.

On its door was a wooden sign that read:

"The Old Dock"

Pablo paused for a mont. He looked at Marco.

"If sothing happens, do not hesitate."

"I will not hesitate."

They entered together.