“Your wine, Mr. Smoker,” Wendel says, setting a tall glass in front of Smoker. He places another in front of me with a nod. “And yours, Mr. Morgan.” Then he slides a glass of juice across the table, smiling at the short-haired girl behind Smoker. “And for you, Tashigi.”
“Thank you, sorry for the trouble,” Tashigi replies, bowing politely to Wendel.
“Sit down, Tashigi,” Smoker says, glancing at her.
“Yes, sir.” At Smoker’s command, Tashigi sets her backpack down, props her long sword against the wall, and takes a seat, sipping her juice.
“Well, well, Guina, you’re here too,” I say with a grin, giving her a wave. I’ve always had a soft spot for this girl who looks like my old friend from back home. I can’t resist teasing her—like calling her the wrong name.
Sure, she resembles Guina, but their personalities couldn’t be more different. Guina was tough as nails, intimidating even to most guys. Tashigi? She’s a lot more… fun to mess with.
Hearing me butcher her name, Tashigi slams her juice glass on the table. “I told you, I’m not Guina! I’m Tashigi!”
“Da… Vinci?” I say, feigning confusion.
“It’s Tashigi!” she snaps.
Smoker shakes his head at the familiar routine. “Enough messing with her, Morgan. Let’s get to business.”
He shouts toward the door, “Marines, get in here!”
“Yes, sir!” Two Marines march in briskly.
“Take Barlow’s body back,” Smoker orders, pointing at Barlow’s corpse, still covered with the wanted poster.
“Yes, sir!” The Marines salute, hoist the body, and haul it out of the tavern.
“So, about the bounty for this job,” I say, leaning forward. “Time to settle up, Smoker.”
“Of course. It’s not my money, so I won’t stiff you,” Smoker says. He extends his arm, which dissolves into smoke, stretching across the room to snatch Tashigi’s backpack from the floor and drop it on the table. “Twelve million Berries, all here.”
“Not bad. You even brought the bounty cash. Gotta say, you trust me more than I expected,” I say, my eyes lighting up at the sight of the bag.
“You haven’t let me down yet, have you?” Smoker replies.
“Hah, always a pleasure working with you.” I grin, pulling the backpack over and setting it beside the one hundred twenty million Berries I already claimed. At the same time, the Hunter’s Shop pings with a sweet 3,000 bounty hunter points added to my account.
“You’re not gonna count it?” Smoker asks.
“Nah, you’re my regular client. I trust you,” I say, flashing a smile. My gaze drifts to the Devil Fruit box beside me. “By the way, Smoker, doesn’t the Navy have standing bounties for Devil Fruits?”
Smoker nods. “Yeah, but you know how it is. Devil Fruits are rare as hell. Most people who find one eat it themselves, so even with the Navy’s bounties, hardly anyone turns them in.”
I smirk, sensing another deal. I pat the box. “Well, I happen to have one right here. Animal-type. Got it on hand and no plans to use it. Does the Navy want it?”
“You’ve got a Devil Fruit?” Smoker raises an eyebrow.
“Yup. It’s what Barlow hired me to get. Shame he, uh, didn’t make it long enough to keep it. I just ‘picked it up’ after,” I say, playing innocent, as if I didn’t just stab the guy in the throat.
“You killed him, you bastard,” Smoker mutters, rolling his eyes at my act. “The Navy’ll take it, but… you sure you don’t want to eat it? Sure, the sea curses you, but it’d boost your strength big time.”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “My skills are solid enough. An Animal-type’s not worth the trade-off—too many weaknesses. If it was a Logia, maybe I’d think about it.” I wave it off. “Anyway, what’s the Navy’s offer?”
Smoker thinks for a moment. “Standard rate for Animal-types is one hundred million Berries, but since they’re hard to come by, I can push for one hundred fifty million.”
The moment he says it, the Hunter’s Shop interface lights up.
Collect a Devil Fruit!
Task Difficulty: B
Bounty Rating: B
Reward: 10,000 Points
Five digits! My eyes gleam. With the points I’ve already got, that’s 18,000 total—enough to refresh the Shop’s inventory a few times and snag something juicy.
“Deal,” I say, barely containing my excitement. “Let’s head to your place and cash it in now.”
“Hold your horses, Morgan,” Smoker says, glancing at the door. “I’ve got someone else coming. If I ditch her, she’ll probably bash my head in. That woman’s got a temper.”
As if on cue, the tavern doors creak open. A tall woman in a sharp rose-red suit strides in, her pink mid-length hair catching the light.