One Piece: As Heavy as a Gale #147

Two weeks later, the sea had finally decided to stop trying to murder them.

The weather was mild, the sun was lazily draped across the horizon, and the wind pushed against the sloop’s ragged sails like it actually wanted to help for once. Gale stood at the helm, posture relaxed, one hand steady on the wheel, the other holding a battered telescope to his eye.

Ahead, an island began to take shape—at first a smear of green and gray, but soon, unmistakably, a cluster of jagged rocks drowning in foliage. In the middle, one massive stone monolith rose like a giant’s back. At the very top, it split clean down the middle, like someone had taken a sword and tried to slice heaven itself.

Gale lowered the telescope just enough to squint. “Well, that’s… something.”

Behind him, Risa crossed her arms and tilted her head. “So this is it? Captain John’s treasure island?”

The eternal pose in Gale’s pocket tugged unwaveringly toward the rocky giant.

Gale shrugged, smirking. “Doesn’t look like it. More like the kind of island that gives you tetanus just for setting foot on it.”

He tucked the telescope under his arm and pulled out the crinkled treasure map. With a quick glance, he compared the scribbles to the island before him. His brow furrowed, then he sighed and shook his head.

“Yeah, no. The map doesn’t show any giant mountain split in half like a melon. Either the cartographer was drunk, or this isn’t the place.”

“You’re the one holding the eternal pose,” Risa pointed out flatly.

“And the eternal pose says…” Gale dangled it up for dramatic effect, “this way.” The needle stayed locked on the island.

Risa gave him the kind of glare that suggested she was ready to feed him to the sea.

“Relax,” Gale said, waving it off with a grin. “We’ll do a lap around it. If the pose still points here after that, then hey—maybe this is it. If not, we get a free sightseeing tour. And besides—” he tucked the map away with a dramatic flourish, “—we’re running low on food. And water. And dignity. Might as well make a stop.”

Ebri popped his head up from below deck, beard sticking out like an angry broom. “We’ve been low on dignity since the moment I joined you.”

“See?” Gale said, spreading his arms as though Ebri had just confirmed divine wisdom. “Supplies. Dignity. Science experiments. All good reasons to park the boat.”

Risa pinched the bridge of her nose. “You just want an excuse to poke around.”

“Obviously,” Gale replied, unashamed. “What’s the point of treasure hunting if you don’t take detours to weird, probably dangerous islands along the way?”

The sloop cut through the waves toward the looming rocks, and though Gale kept his smirk, his thoughts betrayed him.

'Treasure island or not… islands like this don’t just sit pretty without a story. And knowing my luck, it’s probably one I don’t wanna hear.'

Still, his grip on the wheel tightened with something that wasn’t quite dread. It was excitement.

The kind that got you killed—or made you rich.

...

The sloop bobbed lazily in the shallows, anchored just off the rocky shore.

Gale paced back and forth in front of the cabin beneath the helm—the captain’s quarters, though calling it that felt generous for a sloop this size, not to mention it was just an extension of the lower deck.

He stopped, gave the wooden wall a few impatient knocks, and barked,

“What’s taking so long, old man? I’m dying of old age out here!”

From somewhere below deck, Ebri’s muffled voice echoed back, calm as ever.

“Patience, lad! You can’t rush art. Art takes time!”

Gale groaned loud enough to make the gulls scatter. “I thought you were a scientist, not an artist!”

“Who said I can’t be both?” Ebri shot back, with the kind of pride that made Gale want to stick his head down there and shake him.

“Yeah, well, hurry up with your little doodle before my beard grows longer than yours,” Gale muttered, rapping the wood a few more times.

Behind him, Risa sat slouched on the railing, her chin propped on her palm. Her expression screamed terminal boredom. She yawned so hard it nearly unseated her, then blinked blearily toward the island.

“You know…” she said in a deadpan tone, “I didn’t think treasure hunting would involve this much waiting around.”

“Hey, this is the process,” Gale said, gesturing dramatically, as if pacing in circles counted as critical adventuring. “First, you pace. Then, you knock on doors. Then you yell at the old man. Only then do you find treasure.”

“Uh-huh,” Risa replied flatly. “That must be why you haven’t found any yet.”

That one stung, but Gale pretended not to hear it.

Truth was, this was his second lap around the island. The first time, he was convinced the eternal pose had gone senile. The map didn’t match—no mountain split at the top, no cluster of weird rock formations—and that ticked him off more than he cared to admit.

So, in a burst of what he called “brilliant wisdom” (and what Risa called “idiocy”), he decided they’d go around again, intent on charting the island and comparing the chart to the treasure map.

This time, he shoved the task onto Ebri. He figured the old man would grumble and refuse—he didn’t exactly scream artistic soul. But the moment Gale mentioned charting, Ebri’s eyes lit up like he’d been asked to paint the Mona Lisa.

He practically glued himself to the starboard, muttering under his breath, burning every jagged rock and crooked tree into his brain.

The second lap ended with Ebri bolting below deck like a man possessed. That had been over two hours ago.

And now here they were. Gale, pacing. Risa, dying of boredom. Ebri, somewhere in the guts of the ship, communing with his inner Michelangelo.

“Unbelievable,” Gale muttered, dragging a hand down his face. 'This is it. This is how I die. Not in a glorious battle, not to a giant sea king, not even to the damn Marines. I die of boredom on a boat because some old lunatic decided to become Bob Ross.'

He gave the wall one more frustrated knock. “Seriously, Ebri, if you don’t come up soon, I’m throwing you and your sketch out the window!”

From below came a triumphant, “Aha! Almost done!”

Gale muttered under his breath, “He’s been saying ‘almost done’ since the last century…”

...

An hour later, the sloop’s deck trembled with the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps. Gale perked up instantly, eyes narrowing at the captain’s quarters. Finally, he thought, preparing himself for a neatly sketched outline that would justify the three-hour wait.

Instead, what emerged made his jaw drop.

Ebri shuffled out, hidden behind a hulking mass of wood that looked like it had swallowed him whole. Only his hands and half his stubby legs were visible, waddling beneath the ridiculous thing like a crab under a boulder. With a grunt, he planted the monstrosity on the deck, then stepped back, resting both fists on his hips proudly.

“Well?” Ebri beamed, his beard puffing up like a proud rooster’s chest. “What do you think?”

Gale stared. Blinked once. Twice. His brain lagged like a snail pulling a cannon.

The “sketch” he’d been waiting for wasn’t a sketch at all—it was a three-dimensional, painstakingly carved model of the entire island. Every rock, every crooked palm tree, even the split mountain peak had been etched in perfect detail.

“…That’s…” Gale finally managed, voice trailing off like he was afraid the word might hurt someone. “…kind of impressive.”

Ebri grinned wider.

“But also,” Gale continued, his smile turning into a twitch, “completely useless. It’s too big, too detailed compared to this stupid map. I wanted lines, not a tourist attraction!”

Risa, who had been leaning against the railing, nearly fell over laughing. “Oh, come on, Gale—admit it. It’s the most effort anyone’s ever put into helping you not look like an idiot.”

“Hey!” Gale barked. “I don’t need help for that!” Then he paused, frowned, and muttered, “…that came out wrong.”

Meanwhile, Ebri scratched his head like he’d just realized he’d carved the Mona Lisa when asked for a stick figure. “Oh? Is that all? Simple fix.”

Before Gale could argue, the old man dashed back into the cabin.

Seconds later, he reemerged with a roll of paper and a quill, plopped the paper onto a barrel, and—without so much as a warm-up—his hand flew across the page.

In less than half a minute, he slapped the finished product into Gale’s hands.

“There you go, lad!” Ebri said cheerfully.

Gale stared down at the parchment, then back at the old man. His eye twitched. His lip twitched. Hell, even his sword hand twitched.

The outline Ebri had just drawn matched the treasure map perfectly.

And it had taken him less than thirty seconds.

Three. Hours. Wasted.

“…To think…” Gale muttered darkly, comparing the two maps side by side, “…this damned old man made me wait three hours when he could’ve done this in less time than it takes me to sneeze.”

Behind him, Risa was wheezing so hard she was practically choking.

Gale’s gaze shifted to the massive wood carving still sitting proudly on the deck, its polished edges glinting in the sun. His eyes narrowed his brain already imagining the satisfying splash it would make sinking into the sea.

But then he looked at Ebri’s face—radiant, expectant, like a child showing off a macaroni picture.

Gale exhaled through his nose, shoulders slumping. “…I’ll let it live. For now.”

“Eh?” Ebri tilted his head.

“Nothing,” Gale snapped, waving him off before jamming the rolled parchment under his arm.

'One day,' Gale thought grimly, 'that carving is going overboard. And when it does, I’ll sleep like a baby.'

Shaking away the mental image of himself yeeting Ebri’s carving into the ocean, Gale spread Captain John’s treasure map across the barrel. The parchment fluttered slightly in the sea breeze, its faded ink daring him to solve its puzzle. With a grunt, he retrieved his telescope and got to work.

For the next ten minutes, he looked like the world’s most disgruntled cartographer: one eye glued to the island through the telescope, then darting to the map, then glancing—reluctantly—at Ebri’s oversized wooden diorama.

Back and forth. Island. Map. Carving. Repeat.

By the fifth cycle, Risa had crossed her arms and was tapping her foot impatiently, while Ebri leaned against the railing, stroking his beard like he was waiting for a eureka moment that would never come.

Finally, Gale snapped the telescope shut and tossed it onto the barrel with a sigh heavy enough to sink a dinghy.

“This is definitely the island,” he said grimly, “but we’ve got a problem. A big one.”

Risa frowned, already bracing herself. “What kind of problem?”

Gale pointed dramatically at the carving, specifically at the tall split mountain dominating its center. “According to the map, the treasure’s here. But this thing looks like it’s made of solid stone. Nothing can be buried there and stay buried.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Ebri blinked and tilted his head.

“…This is made of wood, lad. Not stone. And I just made it. There’s no treasure in here.”

Gale froze, the vein in his forehead throbbing like a drum. Slowly—very slowly—he dragged a hand down his face until it covered his entire expression.

“I mean on the island,” he said, voice muffled through his palm. He jabbed a finger at the carving again, this time with a bit too much force, like he wanted to stab sense directly into it.

Ebri squinted at him, confused as ever. “Then why are you pointing at the carving, lad?”

For a second, Gale looked ready to explode on the spot. His face flushed, his jaw clenched, and the sound that came out of his throat was somewhere between a growl and a dying seal.

“Because—you know what?” he said, throwing his hands up. “Never mind. Just… never mind.”

He took a long, steadying breath, then pressed on, his tone finally dropping into seriousness.

“What I’m trying to say is this: finding the treasure won’t be easy. Heck, it might not even be possible. Unless we plan on spending the next ten years digging through that mountain rock by rock…”

The glumness in his voice hung over the deck like a storm cloud.

Risa, meanwhile, looked like someone had just told her she’d be stuck with Gale for another decade.

Her eyes went flat, her shoulders slumped, and for a brief, terrifying moment, she seriously considered hurling herself into the ocean in hopes a sea king would end her suffering quickly.

Ebri, on the other hand, didn’t look discouraged at all. If anything, he looked thoughtful, beard bristling as he stroked it.

“That might not necessarily be the case, lad,” he said after a pause. “There’s probably some way to find it—we just have to figure it out. Maybe the treasure isn’t buried in the mountain but inside it, like in a hidden cave or some such.”

He shrugged, almost casually, and added, “Whoever buried it here wouldn't have wanted it to be found easily with just a map and an eternal pose, but they wouldn't want it to be too hard lest they risk losing the treasure.”

Gale stared at him, wide-eyed. Come to think of it, anyone with any sense wouldn't bury something valuable in some random patch of dirt and call it a day. They'd hide in a place that was recognizable to spare themselves the trouble of finding it and the risk of losing it entirely.

There's also the fact that this was an obscene amount of treasure, according to Risa, so finding it shouldn't be as difficult as Gale first imagined. But even then, it still won't be easy.

“…I genuinely can’t tell if you’re very smart or very stupid anymore.”