Chapter Twenty-Two: The Unusual Visitor

For the sake of a single Devil Fruit, all manner of formidable and notorious figures from the West Sea had gathered together. What should have been a riotous celebration for pirates and the denizens of the underworld had instead attracted a motley crowd. Among them were a handful of bounty hunters, their hearts blinded by greed, who had risked everything to sneak in disguised, as well as Navy agents willing to face death to obtain intelligence.

Beyond these, a few special guests had come as well.

A gentle sea breeze swept over as an unremarkable small pirate ship quietly sailed into the inner harbor of Mad Hatter Town. By now, the waters near the docks were already crowded with ships, leaving not a single open space. Yet, the small pirate ship, taking advantage of its size, forced its way through the cluster of large vessels, managing to find a narrow spot to dock amidst the chaos.

Such a feat made it clear that whoever held the helm was exceptionally skilled.

On deck, a young man with wavy, golden short hair and a scar running across his left eye tossed the anchor into the sea.

With a splash, the anchor hit the water, sending up a spray before sinking to the depths below. Brushing off his hands after dropping anchor, the youth praised without even turning his head, “Haku, your steering is as impressive as ever.”

“Have you forgotten again?” The tall man at the helm ignored the compliment, instead reminding him somewhat cryptically.

“What?” the youth asked, puzzled.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he received a sharp chop to the back of his head.

The one who delivered the blow was a girl in a short dress, clad in black thigh-high stockings, her figure graceful and lithe. The force of her strike sent the red hat with a pair of goggles perched on top tumbling from her head onto the deck, revealing a cascade of orange hair.

Her face was tinged with annoyance, but she ignored the fallen hat. Glaring at the bewildered youth, she snapped, “How many times do I have to remind you? Use the alias! The alias! Do you not understand what an alias is?!”

“Oh, sorry, sorry. I forgot.” The youth laughed it off, unconcerned, then bent to pick up the hat and placed it back on her head.

She puffed her cheeks in exasperation, as though she could hardly stand him.

“Now then, Steelpipe, I want you to repeat it for me. What are you supposed to call me? And what do you call Haku?”

“Clara and Spinyback.”

“Good. If you get it wrong again, you’ll face the consequences!” With a few swings of her fist, the girl—now calling herself Clara—strode toward the cabin.

Steelpipe rubbed the back of his head, muttering under his breath, “Even if it’s an alias, did she have to give me such a ridiculous name as Steelpipe?”

“What’s taking you so long? Get ready, we’re going ashore,” Clara’s voice urged from inside the cabin.

“Coming, coming,” Steelpipe replied, hurrying after her.

A few moments later, their appearances had changed slightly—both now wore dark sunglasses. Steelpipe donned a black bowler hat, while Clara had removed her earlier cap and tied her hair up. Most notably, a water pipe now hung across Steelpipe’s back.

“Well then… Spinyback, I’ll leave the ship in your care.” Steelpipe nearly slipped and called Haku by his real name, but Clara’s sharp glare reminded him in time.

At the cabin door, Haku—now Spinyback—nodded solemnly. “Leave it to me. You two just be careful.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not here to cause trouble,” Steelpipe said, waving as he and Clara leaped off the ship together.

They walked side by side along the pier. Clara glanced at Steelpipe, lowering her voice in resignation. “You really are something. It’s just a hijacked pirate ship—we shouldn’t be calling it ‘home,’ even as a joke.”

“Ah, don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s carried us this far and given us the perfect cover.”

“I suppose you’re right, but… never mind.” Clara sighed softly, then grew serious. “Let me remind you—our mission is to gather information. Don’t do anything reckless.”

Steelpipe lowered his hat brim and replied earnestly, “I know. Our primary objective is to understand the manpower and layout of the ‘Labor Factory.’ If possible, drawing a detailed map would be ideal.”

“As long as you know,” Clara nodded, surveying the crowd.

“There are so many people even at the docks—I can’t imagine how many pirates and underworld types are crammed into the town itself.”

“That’s exactly what makes it easier for us to move around,” Steelpipe replied, his gaze flitting over the surroundings like a dragonfly skimming water, memorizing every detail.

“Clara,” he said suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he grabbed her hand and quickly pulled her to the side of the road.

She looked at him in confusion.

“Sorry, I’m a bit sensitive to killing intent. It’s not directed at us, though…” Steelpipe explained, glancing discreetly at a group of pirates striding past with murderous auras.

Clara, reminded by Steelpipe, spotted the group as well and quickly averted her gaze. The two slowed their pace in unison, acting with tacit understanding.

Soon, the pirates passed them and headed toward the main street of town.

Clara watched their retreating backs, searching her memory for intelligence on West Sea pirates. After a moment, she whispered, “That’s the Spiked Snail Pirate Crew. They’re not particularly famous here, but their captain, Kazt, is a Zoan-type Devil Fruit user—he’s not to be underestimated. A few days ago, one of the West Sea’s major trading companies, Bolkin, had an armed merchant ship attacked by pirates. That was likely their doing.”

Steelpipe replied calmly, “Ordinary pirates would never dare take on Bolkin’s armed merchant ships. That must’ve been a collaborative attack among several crews.”

Clara nodded. “Highly likely.”

“So long as we don’t get involved, it doesn’t concern us,” Steelpipe said, withdrawing his gaze.

In this grand assembly, there were far more dangerous figures than the Spiked Snail Pirates.

Clara looked at him with a curious glint in her eyes. Sensing her stare, Steelpipe asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing. I’m just surprised at how mature you’re being about all this. It’s almost… unsettling.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder into the streets.

Everywhere they looked, pirates armed with swords and guns roamed in groups—rarely did anyone walk alone. In just a few hundred meters, they passed multiple patches of bloodstains.

The crowd surged around them, a cacophony of noise—shouts, the clash of blades, and occasional gunshots from somewhere deeper in town.

Drawn by the sound of fighting, they saw a pirate slash down a rival, sending him sprawling to the ground.

“Haha! Idiot, that’s what you get for crossing me!” The blood-soaked pirate laughed wildly, rifling through the corpses for money and weapons.

The crowd cheered him on, as if they’d just watched an exhilarating dogfight.

“It’s utter chaos,” Clara murmured, sighing at the scene.

Steelpipe, however, kept his face expressionless, eyes fixed forward.

In such lawless times, this was nothing out of the ordinary.