Boodle, Basil, Jovis, Poro, and oddly enough the town's schoolteacher Mrs. Chika came to see him off. Morrow had been convinced by Mr. Boodle to sit in school for only a month before he had tired of the kids whispering at him and the school environment. He really didn't have time for that crap when he could study faster by himself, and he got the distinct impression that the older lady didn't want him there any more than he wanted to be there.

No point in tearful goodbyes as he'd left them his number for his den den mushi [AN: hereafter called telephone snail], so after waving Morrow went below-deck to pack his belongings. A fishing trident, a compass, a map, some scattered travelogues, a telephone snail, and an extra change of jacket/shorts comprised all he owned.

It doesn't seem like much, but it's mine.

The trident was his most prized possession and it had cost him a pretty penny after he'd had to order it from another island, since Orange Town's blacksmith had refused custom work for some 'fishy bastard'. That had pissed him off for a while, but fortunately a shop in Loguetown had been perfectly willing to discuss orders and shipping over the snail.

Done in some kind of stainless steel and featuring a simple straight prong design, he had loved it instantly the moment he had tried it out. It was nothing like a famous weapon, but for a budget deal it was both strong and sharp which is all he'd ever asked for. It had even saved his life once already when a particularly aggressive shark monster refused to back off.

There was not a lot to do on this trip as he and the other 2 passengers were forbidden to interfere with the small crew manning the deck, so he layed back in his hammock and opened one of the travelogues.

Morrow was woken with yells of "Pirates!" He almost fell onto the floor in a rush to get out of the hammock while he was still groggy, but he managed to get it together and run out onto the deck with trident in hand. He sure as well wasn't going to wait for a cannonball to come through the wall if they were under attack.

He found the captain and his crew at the rail looking worried while passing around a hand-held telescope. A larger ship with a black flag was visible in the distance. Morrow knew enough to know that if he could see it with the naked eye then things weren't good. Damn, what was the lookout doing?

"Captain, can I help?"

"Oh, Morrow was it? It looks like we are in for a fight. When I came on deck my lookout was gone, as well as the dinghy. Those are the Saw Pirates, and they have an especially notorious reputation for selling ships after killing their crew. This won't end with just tribute and we are too slow to outrun them."

It was halting and abridged, but Morrow got the meaning between the lines. The lookout was either a spy for the pirates or a coward, and we're stuck with 5 sailors and myself to defend the ship. The other 2 passengers look useless in a fight and simply can't be relied on. The only saving grace is that the pirates want to take the ship whole so they aren't likely to use cannons.

He had long since made peace with the fact that this was a very bloody world despite the manga's lightheartedness, but this would be his first fight to the death with other humans. Well, sentients same deal. The thought made him equal parts nervous and excited. Is it weird to be excited in this situation? Maybe. The best attack plan would be to swim over and try to poke a hole in the bottom of their boat, but isn't this the kind of experience I wanted? A real fight it is.

With that decided, he settled in to wait. The 2 women had come up on deck and the captain had explained his position. The women had showed more steel than he would have given them credit once the situation had sunk in. They were currently awkwardly swinging around a pair of spare sabers the captain had fetched for them. Still probably useless, but at least they didn't go into hysterics.

The pirate ship slowly pulled parallel to the Calm Seas and he got a look at the crew manning it. They sure as hell didn't look impressive, being dirty and unkept in appearance, but they outnumbered the defenders twice over. No jeers were exchanged and no quarter was offered as ropes were tethered and the pirates leaped over the rail.

Go time.

Morrow took the first pirate to clear the rail and stabbed him in the chest before he could get his bearings, before yanking his trident free to make a block for another pirate's saber with the shaft of the spear. He shoved back on the shadt with his superior strength and kicked new guy in the kneecap while he was off balance. It folded with the sickening crunch of splintered bone and harsh screams, and Morrow took the opportunity to finish him off with a thrust to the throat when nobody else moved to attack him.

Maybe I had a bloodthirsty streak in me?

The battle was a blur of action as Morrow moved to help where he could, and by the end of it he had 4 kills out of the 7 dead. The only reason he he didn't end up with more is the pirates had cut their losses and fled when they had lost half their number. He had nearly wanted to jump the rail to go after them before rationality had finally taken back over. What the hell is wrong with me?

The other sailors sported varying degrees of wounds and exhaustion, with one serious. He hadn't bothered to memorize their names since he thought of himself as just a passer, but if he remembered right the guy was called Yosami. Morrow was no doctor, but the guy looked like he had a pierced lung. Not something fatal with a good doctor, but at sea with no port in sight?

Should I be guilty for not going with the sink plan? Let's be honest with myself, I don't feel particularly guilty. Has something changed in me over these last 2 years or was I always this callous? This isn't good.

Ironically, by some miracle the 2 women had turned up completely unharmed. Morrow had been too busy to pay attention to them during the fight, so he couldn't tell if that was a result of staying out of the thick of it or by sheer luck.

The captain came over to say his thanks, but the other sailors were eyeing him fearfully when they didn't think he was looking. He had a feeling he had gone possibly overboard during the attack, and he had a feeling there would be tales of a 'bloodthirsty fishman kid' when they finally made it to port.

He left them to say their attempts at first aid, and not wanting to be a hypocrite with false camaraderie, he had gone back below deck to bandage his own scratches and review his own behavior during the fight.