Day 73 | Location: Loguetown, East Blue
Taki proves to be as good as his word. I arrive at the southern pier just as the sun crests the horizon, and he's already there, checking over the Minnow with meticulous care.
"You're punctual," he notes without looking up. "Good. First rule of the sea---respect her timing or she'll have no respect for yours."
Today's lesson focuses on navigation. Taki takes me further from shore, teaching me to read the waves, watch the birds, and use the sun's position to maintain course. When clouds roll in mid-morning, he shows me how to use a simple compass alongside the charts I purchased.
"Every sailor worth his salt can find his way home even when the sky betrays him," Taki explains, tapping the compass. "But the best sailors feel it in their bones. The sea speaks, boy. Question is---are you listening?"
When I correctly predict a shift in the wind before it happens---thanks more to my enhanced senses than any maritime intuition---Taki raises an eyebrow in surprise.
"Quick learner," he mutters, though I detect a note of approval.
During our midday break, floating in a calm cove, Taki shares stories of his younger days. He sailed with merchant vessels primarily, but occasionally signed onto Marine ships as a navigator.
"Traveled every sea but the Grand Line," he tells me, chewing on dried fish. "That place---" he shakes his head "---that place doesn't follow rules. Magnetic fields shift hourly. Weather changes between breaths. You need more than skill there. You need luck. And a damn good ship."
"What makes a good ship?" I ask, genuinely curious.
Taki launches into an explanation of shipbuilding that lasts well into the afternoon's practical lessons. He speaks of keel designs, wood selection, sail configurations, and a dozen other details I struggle to absorb. When I express particular interest in the topic of wood quality, his eyes light up.
"You looking to commission a vessel?" he asks.
"Eventually," I reply. "For now, I'm just gathering knowledge."
He nods thoughtfully. "Well, if you're serious about quality timber, there's a small island about three days' sail northeast of here---Hoko Island. They cultivate some of the best shipbuilding wood in the East Blue. Expensive, but worth every berry."
I file this information away carefully. "Any shipwrights you'd recommend?"
"Depends on what you want and what you can afford," Taki says with a shrug. "Water 7 has the best, but that's a journey and a half from here. In the East Blue..." he pauses, considering. "There's a fellow I knew years back. Merry. He retired from professional shipbuilding to become a butler for some wealthy family on Syrup Village. Still builds the occasional vessel when the mood strikes him. He designed my first true sailing ship---beautiful caravel called the Dawn Treader."
"A butler who builds ships?" I ask, intrigued.
"Odd career change, I know," Taki chuckles. "But he had his reasons. Man has a gift, though. If you're ever near Syrup Village, might be worth seeking him out."
The rest of the day passes with practical exercises---tying specialized knots, trimming sails to catch different wind patterns, basic repair techniques for common emergencies. By sunset, I've developed a profound respect for sailors and their craft. This isn't just transportation---it's a complex art form demanding constant adaptation.
As we return to port, Taki studies me with new interest. "What did you say your full name was, boy?"
I realize I never actually gave him more than "Kai." For a moment, I consider my options. In this world of colorful names and dramatic epithets, "Kai" alone seems insufficient.
"Kai D.Zarathius ," I reply, the surname flowing naturally. I add the infamous middle initial on impulse---partly as camouflage (what better way to hide in this world than behind its most mysterious letter?) and partly as a private joke. After all, in this reality, I really am carrying the "Will of D"---the will of my first life's dreams and memories.
Taki's eyebrows rise slightly at the "D," but he makes no comment beyond, "Well, Kai D. Zarathius, you've got a natural feel for the water. Tomorrow we'll see how you handle rougher seas. The weather report calls for swells."
I return to The Sleeping Swordfish that evening with aching arms but growing confidence. After dinner, I spend two hours in my room, working with a small prototype device that will eventually become my storage ring. Red Queen provides guidance through my earpiece as I carefully integrate Devilukean technology with materials available in this world.
As I work, I consider my conversation with Taki. Merry the shipwright. Syrup Village. If memory serves, that's where Usopp is from---and where the Going Merry, the Straw Hats' first true ship, would be commissioned by Kaya.
The pieces of this world continue to fall into familiar patterns, and yet experiencing them firsthand gives them new dimensions I never could have imagined.
I fall asleep planning tomorrow's sailing lessons while my hands continue to remember the feel of rope and canvas.
Day 74 | Location: Loguetown, East Blue
The promised rough seas arrive with the dawn. Dark clouds hang low over the horizon, and the harbor waters churn with unusual energy. Perfect conditions for today's advanced lessons.
Taki meets me with a grim smile and a heavy waterproof coat, which he tosses my way. "Put this on. You'll need it."
The day proves to be the most challenging yet. We take the Minnow beyond the protective embrace of the harbor and into open waters where the swells rise to impressive heights. Rain lashes down intermittently, stinging my face and making the deck treacherously slick.
Throughout it all, Taki barks orders, demanding precise adjustments to our course and sail configuration. Where yesterday was about basics, today is about survival.
"The sea doesn't care about your plans!" he shouts over the wind as I struggle to secure a line. "She'll kill you as easily as look at you! Your only defense is respect and preparation!"
Despite the punishing conditions---or perhaps because of them---I find myself exhilarated. My enhanced physiology helps me maintain balance on the pitching deck, and my strength comes in handy when fighting the wind-whipped sails. By midday, Taki no longer needs to tell me what to do; I'm anticipating his commands, reacting to the sea's movements instinctively.
When we finally return to port, soaked and exhausted but with the Minnow intact, Taki claps a hand on my shoulder.
"You might actually have the makings of a sailor," he admits, which from him feels like effusive praise.
That evening, as I soak in a hot bath to ease
Day 74 | Location: Loguetown, East Blue (continued)
That evening, as I soak in a hot bath to ease my battered muscles, I reflect on how quickly this world is becoming real to me. No longer panels in a manga or scenes in an anime, but a living, breathing reality with its own rules, dangers, and wonders.
"Red Queen," I murmur into my communicator, "storage ring progress?"
"77% complete, Captain," she responds. "Current challenge is maintaining stability when interfacing with local materials. The molecular structure of this world's metals seems to possess unusual properties I haven't fully cataloged."
"Keep working on it. I need that ring operational soon."
As I drift off to sleep that night, I dream of sailing through storms far greater than today's---Grand Line maelstroms that swallow ships whole and spit out only splinters.
Day 75 | Location: Loguetown, East Blue
This morning's meditation session brings an unexpected development. As I sink into the familiar rhythm of controlled breathing and focused awareness, I feel something shift---a deepening connection to the energy flows I've been cultivating since beginning this practice.
When I access the Wish System afterward, a new message appears:
🧠 Long-Term Meditation Detected ➤ Daily Wish Limit: 2 Small Wishes
A small victory, but significant. Seventy-five days of consistent meditation has increased my daily wish capacity. The system is responding to my dedication.
I use one wish immediately to accelerate the storage ring's development, focusing my intention on seamless integration between Devilukean dimensional technology and this world's materials. The second wish I save for later, sensing I might need it.
Today's sailing lesson with Taki takes us further from shore than ever before. The weather has calmed since yesterday, allowing us to practice intermediate navigation techniques.
"Most important skill after keeping your ship afloat," Taki explains, "is knowing where the hell you are. And in these waters, that's not always straightforward."
He teaches me to use a sextant---a device I recognize from Earth's maritime history but have never handled personally. The precision instrument measures angular distances between celestial bodies and the horizon, essential for determining longitude and latitude.
"On the Grand Line, conventional navigation goes to hell," Taki warns. "But in the Blues, these traditional methods still work. Master them before you even think about that devil's waterway."
By midday, I've grasped the basics of celestial navigation. Taki seems impressed by my quick learning, though he hides it beneath his gruff exterior.
During our lunch break, floating peacefully on calm waters, Taki asks about my background.
"Where exactly are you from, Kai? Your accent's unlike anything I've heard, and I've met folks from all over the Blues."
I've prepared for this question. "I grew up isolated," I explain, which isn't entirely untrue. "My family lived on a small island far from major shipping routes. We had our own customs, our own way of speaking."
"And now?" Taki probes, taking a bite of his lunch.
"Now I'm the only one left," I say quietly, injecting just enough genuine emotion to make the lie convincing. "A storm took everything five years ago. I've been traveling since, working odd jobs, learning what I could."
Taki nods, accepting the story without further question. Loss is common enough in this world of powerful seas and frequent pirate attacks.
"Well," he says after a moment, "the sea takes, but she gives too. Maybe she gave you a new start."
The afternoon passes with practical exercises---man overboard drills, emergency sail repairs, and techniques for navigating through narrow passages. By sunset, I've proven capable of handling the Minnow independently for extended periods, with Taki merely observing rather than instructing.
As we dock for the evening, Taki makes an unexpected offer.
"There's a merchant vessel leaving for Hoko Island tomorrow---that timber place I mentioned. Captain's an old friend who owes me a favor. I could arrange passage for you if you're interested in seeing firsthand what quality shipbuilding wood looks like."
The opportunity seems too perfect to pass up. "That would be incredible," I reply. "But what about our remaining lessons?"
Taki waves a dismissive hand. "You've learned more in four days than most do in two weeks. The rest is just practice and experience. No better way to get that than actual sailing."
I thank him sincerely, and we arrange to meet at dawn to speak with the merchant captain. As I turn to leave, Taki calls after me.
"One more thing, Kai D. Zarathius---" he pulls something from his pocket and tosses it to me. I catch it reflexively---a small brass compass in a worn leather case. "A sailor should have his own compass. This one's seen me through thirty years at sea. Might bring you similar luck."
The unexpected gift catches me off guard. "Taki, I can't take this---"
"Already have a replacement," he interrupts with a gruff smile. "Besides, an old sea dog like me can navigate by the stars alone these days."
I thank him again, genuinely touched, and carefully pocket the compass---my first real possession from this world.
Back at the inn, I'm pleased to discover the storage ring prototype has made significant progress following my morning wish. The metal band now properly interfaces with the dimensional pocket I've created, though its capacity remains limited compared to what I eventually hope to achieve.
I spend the evening packing for tomorrow's journey, excited by the prospect of finally venturing beyond Loguetown. Something tells me this merchant voyage will be more eventful than simple timber shopping.