The fog began to clear as Garp's ship approached the towering silhouette of Enies Lobby—a massive stone structure looming in the distance like the world's most ominous courthouse on a floating island.
Gale stood near the railing, leaning forward just enough to make it look like he had some sort of dramatic, windswept purpose. He didn't. He just liked pretending he was in a cool anime opening whenever the wind hit his coat just right.
Behind him, Poqin was attempting to eat a rice ball without spilling any alcohol. So far, the alcohol was winning.
"Big place," Gale muttered, eyes on the marble bridge that stretched out like an open jaw toward them.
"Big waste of time," Garp grumbled beside him, arms crossed, his usual snore-like breathing one thunderclap away from becoming actual snoring.
As they docked and the Marines on shore snapped to attention like wind-up toys, a stern-looking officer in a pristine coat stepped forward to greet them.
"Vice Admiral Garp," the officer said, saluting smartly. "The trial is already underway. You and your men are free to escort the criminal to Impel Down once it's concluded."
Garp responded by letting out a huge yawn that could have passed for a sonic attack. "Mmmyeah, just get it over with quick. I've got a nap scheduled."
The Marine blinked. "Sir… yes, sir."
Gale, meanwhile, was practically bouncing on his toes. A trial? An escort mission? This sounded like something important. Maybe even plot-relevant!
"Who are we escorting, exactly?" he asked, trying to sound casual and not like a nerd excited for lore drops.
The officer gave him a once-over, eyes narrowing slightly at Gale's civilian clothes, especially the open shirt and the ragged black scarf that didn't scream standard-issue Marine.
He turned to Bogard silently, like he was asking, "This one of yours, or did Garp adopt another stray?"
Bogard just nodded once.
Apparently, that was all the confirmation needed, because the officer turned back to Gale and said, "The man on trial is someone who goes by Avalo Pizzaro."
Gale squinted.
Avalo… Pizzaro… That name tickled something in his brain. It was definitely familiar, but he couldn't immediately place it. Was he a Warlord? No… Wait, not a Celestial Dragon, right? Why would a Celestial Dragon even be on trial?
The Marine continued, oblivious to Gale's internal loading screen. "He was once the king of a nation in the North Blue. Until his own people revolted and overthrew him. He's been in custody ever since."
And just like that—ding—imaginary lightbulb.
"Ohhh," Gale muttered under his breath. "That guy. Creepy crown, crazy eyes, looks like he bathes in motor oil…"
Avalo Pizzaro. Now it clicked. One of Blackbeard's future crew. One of the Impel Down level six escapees. Which meant…
Gale swallowed. "We're just… gonna march this guy into Impel Down? Like, that's the plan?"
"Correct," the officer said without skipping a beat.
"Right." Gale nodded. "Solid plan. Definitely no risk of anything going terribly wrong."
Poqin sauntered up beside him, chewing on what might've once been food. "You worried?"
"I'm not worried," Gale said. "Just… mildly concerned. Like, the 'I should've read the fine print' kind of concerned."
Garp let out another yawn and stretched. "You talk too much, kid. I'll Just punch him if he acts up."
That was… definitely a strategy. Not exactly the kind of thing you'd find in a tactics manual, but hey—it was hard to argue with results. Especially when the man suggesting it once tied up a Sea King and dragged it behind his ship like a really gross parade balloon.
"Right," Gale muttered to himself, adjusting the sword at his hip. "It's not like I'm the one who has to personally walk the guy into his cell…"
He glanced at Garp, who looked more interested in finding the nearest nap spot than dealing with a walking war crime like Avalo Pizzaro.
Yeah. With Garp around? Even future Blackbeard with his dual devil fruit nonsense would probably think twice. Or run. Or both.
Before Gale could get too comfortable in that mildly reassuring thought, the Marine officer cleared his throat.
"If you'll follow me to the courthouse," he said stiffly, "we'll begin the transfer once the trial ends. Due to the prisoner's danger level, the sooner he's secured aboard your ship, the better."
Garp yawned like the whole thing was a PTA meeting. "Yeah, yeah, lead the way, kid."
The officer turned on his heel and began walking, and the group followed—Garp, Bogard, Poqin (still sipping something suspicious from a coconut now, somehow), and Gale bringing up the rear.
It was the first real chance Gale had to look around and really process what the hell kind of place they'd docked at.
Enies Lobby wasn't just weird—it was aggressively weird.
First off, the island wasn't one island. It was three separate landmasses—the first and second connected to the edges of the pit. As for the third, it was hovering right over the center of the pit, connected to the second by a giant land bridge that looked like it belonged in a fantasy novel, not the ocean.
And speaking of the ocean, that "pit" wasn't just a hole. It was a circular waterfall—a massive whirlpool of seawater endlessly spiraling into a dark chasm that looked like it led straight to hell.
No bottom in sight. Just roaring water and existential dread.
And if that wasn't enough to mess with Gale's brain, there was the sun. Apparently, the sun was just… there. Forever. Like some cosmic ceiling light no one knew how to turn off.
"I feel like this place breaks at least three laws of nature," Gale muttered, mostly to himself.
Poqin, now munching on what might've been a pineapple he hadn't had five minutes ago, offered his wisdom: "I think the entire world itself stopped trying to make sense of this place..."
Fair.
Gale rubbed the back of his neck and looked up at the eternally bright sky.
As for the obvious questions, like, why is there a bottomless pit in the middle of the sea? Why doesn't the sun ever set here? Where does all the water even go?"
He sighed.
"Yeah," he said under his breath. "No one knows. Probably for the best."
Because honestly? If his short time on the Grand Line had taught him anything, it was that asking why usually just made things weirder.
Best to just roll with it.
As they made their way toward the courthouse, the group passed through the towering front gates of Enies Lobby—the infamous Gate of Justice looming far in the distance like some ominous metaphor for irreversible decisions and bureaucratic nightmares.
But what really caught Gale's attention weren't the absurdly large doors that could fit a battleship sideways—it was the two literal giants standing guard on either side of the main causeway.
And no, not just big guys. These dudes were full-on, "you-need-a-ladder-to-scratch-your-own-knees" kind of giants. Each held a massive iron club that looked like it had crushed more pirate ships than Gale had hot meals.
And judging by the way they leaned on them like bored mall cops, they weren't exactly hyped to see Garp and company strolling by.
They didn't so much as glance in their direction.
"Yep," Gale thought, gawking. "Totally normal. Just a couple of thirty-foot-tall people with clubs big enough to flip continents."
He continued to stare, eyes wide with the kind of excitement usually reserved for theme parks or free food. It was his first time seeing actual giants since arriving in this world—and it was surreal. Like watching a boss fight idle animation in real life.
And then… recognition hit him like a brick to the frontal lobe.
"Wait a sec… I know these guys."
Okay, he didn't know their names—One Piece had more characters than most phone books—but he did remember them being part of a giant-exclusive pirate crew.
It was the same crew that had once sailed under the command of the legendary duo Dorry and Brogy before the two beefy idiots got into a century-long slap-fight on Little Garden over a dead sea king or some nonsense.
If memory served (and Gale really hoped it did), that giant pirate crew eventually disbanded. The rest of the crew returned to Elbaf to await the outcome of their captains' duel—because apparently "I'll be right back after I punch this guy for 100 years" was a totally acceptable reason to put your career on pause when you lived for centuries.
But after a couple of decades passed—which, for giants, probably felt like a coffee break—neither Dorry nor Brogy returned. So these two decided to sail off and find out what the hell happened to them.
Gale scratched his head, staring at the pair.
"What was their deal again? I don't remember if they got captured or just really bad at reading maps."
Regardless, he did remember one detail: the World Government tricked them. Some sleazy guy—probably with a mustache you couldn't trust—lied and said that Dorry and Brogy had been captured by the Marines.
And if these two wanted to help, they'd have to serve as gatekeepers for a while in exchange for their release.
A while.
That should have been years ago.
'Man,' Gale thought, 'this place really runs on scumbaggery.'
Gale's eyes narrowed as they walked past the gate.
Something about seeing those two giants just standing there, so calm, so oblivious—it itched at his conscience. A slow-burning kind of frustration, the kind you get when someone's clearly being played for a fool and everyone's just letting it happen. And the worst part?
He knew the ending to this particular scam.
'Should I... tell them?' he thought, glancing over his shoulder again. 'Just drop the truth bomb, step back, and watch them go on a rampage?'
He imagined it for a second. Two giants, roaring in fury, tearing down towers like they were made of cardboard, flinging Marines like frisbees and sinking battleships.
Would it be cathartic? Absolutely.Productive? Probably not. Because sure, they could level half the island in their rage.
But then what?
It's not like they had a giant-sized yacht parked nearby. No escape plan, no backup, no support. Just two angry mountain-men in viking-wear. They definitely wouldn't make it far. Not with Garp on the island.
Gale's gaze flicked to the old man up ahead—hands behind his head, strolling along like they were on a vacation and not inside the World Government's judicial death maze.
Garp might've been all smiles and snacks, but he was still a monster wrapped in dog tags.
And even if Garp decided to take a nap through the chaos, CP9 was still lurking around here somewhere. Sure, half of them were probably still in Water 7 playing house with that carpenter CEO guy—what was his name again? Something chilly... Frosty? Mr. Freeze? Whatever.
Point is, the other half were still here. The sneaky, silent, kill-you-with-your-own-shoes half. And Gale had no delusions about taking on cipher-pol-ninjas armed with lethal yoga poses and a punch-based teleportation system.
'Yeah... maybe starting my Marine career by inciting a giant-led uprising on government property isn't the best first impression,' Gale mused, resisting the urge to facepalm.
He swallowed the sigh threatening to slip out of him and turned his eyes away from the two massive figures behind the gates. One of them sneezed, which sent a gust of wind that nearly knocked over a Marine standing nearby.
Gale shook his head with a small, tired smile.
'Next time,' he thought. 'When I'm not a nobody with zero authority and questionable motives. One day I'll come back… and see if I can help them.'
He scratched the back of his head as he walked on.
'I mean, come on. 'Make friends with giants' was literally on my bucket list.'
That and "don't die horribly." Still working on both.
...
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