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"I'm just a passing through fanfiction writer. Remember that!" This article, Grand Voyage- Log 71, is the sole property of The Z-Meister, and cannot be mentioned, used or even edited, without my permission. |
Log 71: Mercuia[]
“My name’s Mercuia!” the girl explained happily. After a few more minutes of frantic exploring, she had finally collapsed out of exhaustion, and had been taken to the living room of the Shooting Star, where Gopher had brought her a cup of tea and some food (which she had devoured in seconds).
“Ahh...” the rest of the crew answered, sitting on the opposite side of her and still in a state of shock.
“What’s wrong?” Mercuia asked, tilting her head to the side. After a few seconds, she straightened up. “Ooohhh, I get it. I got you worried, didn’t I? Sorry about that. I was sheltered alot at home, and I never got to see much. So I just get really excited when I see anything I haven’t seen before.”
“Ahhhh...”
“Anyway,” Mercuia continued, evidently deciding that she should probably take over the conversation, “who are you? I mean, besides pirates.”
“I’m Stormy Buchanan, the doctor.”
“D’Artagnan, the First Mate.”
“Sid Cheney, the Navigator, m’lady.”
“Gao!”
“And I’m Dhahaka D. Knave, the Captain!”
The girl gasped, her eyes going wide. “KNAVE?! YOU MEAN- THE GREEN TEMPEST?!”
“The what?” Knave asked, a small question mark appearing over his head.
Mercuia quickly rifled through some papers in her jacket, before pulling out a slightly worn wanted poster. She slid it across the table. “Here!” she said.
The crew looked at it, then their eyes went wide.
“CIAOSUSUSU!” Knave said, laughing, “50,000,00 beli! It went up!”
“Then the rest of us probably got a raise too,” Art half-whispered.
“And from the sounds of it, Knave’s gotten himself a name now!” Sid laughed.
“If you’re Knave, then... Are you the Marimo Pirates?” Mercuia asked, her eyes brightening again.
“Yep!” Knave said, giving her the thumbs up.
Almost immediately Mercuia slammed her forehead into the table, causing the rest of the crew to leap back. “Please!” she shouted, “allow me to travel with you!”
There was a period of almost no sound, before Stormy asked the more obvious question.
“Why?”
“All my life, I’ve been sheltered!” Mercuia continued to yell, “now that I’ve finally ran away from home, I can finally go see all the sights that were once hidden from me! I implore you, please allow me to become your crewmate! I’ve heavily studied archeology, and I’m sure I can be useful in that regard!”
Before the Marimos could answer, however, the ship suddenly gave a small lurch as it stopped dead in its tracks!
“Ah, hell,” Sid muttered, checking his Log Pose again, “the currents of the Grand Line are insane.”
The crew and Mercuia had gathered on the deck, as the Shooting Star had stopped almost dead in its place, the water around it so still one could write their name on it, and it could still probably be clearly read hours later.
“Can we get out of here?” Art asked.
“If we had some wind,” Sid returned matter-of-factly.
“You need wind?” Mercuia asked, brightening, “I can help with that! Which direction do you want to go in?”
Mercuia stood at the edge of the Shooting Star, staring out at the still water. After an hour or so of labor, the crew had managed to get the ship into the correct position, based on Sid’s calculations, and were ready to start moving again.
“Alright!” Mercuia said, “ready to go guys?”
“I still don’t see how she’s going to-” Art began.
Before he finished his sentence, Mercuia concentrated, and suddenly wind gathered around her arm! “Wind Dragon’s...” she began, then opened her hand, her fingers splayed out, “PROPULSION!”
The wind exploded from her arm, giving the ship a massive boost, the sails swelling rapidly, as the Shooting Star quickly excited the calmer section of the sea, heading rapidly back to the more wild seas ahead!
Smiling at a job well done, Mercuia jumped back down to the deck, then walked over to the rest of the crew. “Better?” she asked.
“....EHHH?!” the crew cried.
“There’s no doubt,” said a man with long, wild black hair and various piercings all over his body, as he lowered the binoculars that he was using to watch the Marimo Pirates. He was sitting quite calmly on a seemingly random rock poking out of the sea, with two people standing behind him.
“It’s her then?” the first asked. He was a decently tall man with dark skin, wearing a simple purple shirt and a jacket with a fur-trim, as well as dark purple sunglasses, with one lens missing.
“Of course it is, dumbass,” said the second, a young woman with similarly colored skin, darkish-green hair, with a small pendant on her forehead and purple eyes, “why else would Sirius-sama say ‘there’s no doubt’?!”
“Well, I was just confirming things!” the man snarled.
“Shut the hell up, both of you,” the black-haired man (Sirius) said, as he watched the Shooting Star head towards the next island, “and yes, that’s her. Appearance, Devil Fruit, it all matches up.”
“So now we go after them?” the woman asked, “ambush?”
“Exactly, Canis Minor,” Sirius grinned, “Canis Major, can you track them?”
“Easily,” the man (Canis Major) said, pushing up his glasses with one hand.
“Then let’s get ready to move,” Sirius said, standing up and walking to their ship, which was hidden by the large rock.
“Let them enjoy their last night of life.”
~End of Log~