Chapter Fifty-Two: We Yearn for the Sea

Bang! Bang! Bang!

From a certain spot in the junkyard along the coastline came the rhythmic sounds of gunfire. But this was not some audacious pirate assaulting the stronghold of the Donquixote family. In fact, for reasons deeply intimidating, even the Navy would not attack this place... Even if they knew it was a pirate haven, they would hold back.

After all, Doflamingo was a Celestial Dragon.

Even if he was now a former Celestial Dragon.

So gunfights never erupted here; it was simply Qiu Bai overseeing Baby-5 and Buffalo as they adapted to their "new bodies." All things considered, the process was neither too smooth nor too rough—passable at best.

Though the taste of a Devil Fruit could leave one regretting it for life, compared to the bodily changes that followed, the "taste bomb" seemed trivial.

The Weapon-Weapon Fruit and the Spin-Spin Fruit had bestowed upon Baby-5 and Buffalo some rather "inhuman" transformations. These changes were deeply terrifying for those undergoing them... "Terror" was the only word to describe the ongoing state of mind from the moment they ate the fruit.

The Paramecia types often led to stranger changes than the Logia types, enough to scare anyone to tears.

Take Baby-5: when she saw her small hand morph into a thick, long, and ugly barrel—even shooting projectiles—her face turned pale with fright. Her body had grown so strange.

And this was merely transforming into a handgun. The Weapon-Weapon Fruit allowed her to become all sorts of cold and hot weapons, with the scope of transformation limited only by the user's imagination and understanding. In the future, she could probably morph into something as ludicrous as the Armstrong Spiral Accelerated Armstrong Cannon.

In terms of power and utility, Baby-5 had struck it rich. The value of the Weapon-Weapon Fruit far outweighed the cost of losing the ability to swim—a truly convenient power.

As for these bizarre Devil Fruits, Qiu Bai was hardly jaded, but his knowledge was not shallow either. So, rather than the changes to Baby-5’s body, it was the bullets she fired that fascinated him.

Judging by their effect, they seemed no different from real ammunition—yet that hardly conformed to the law of conservation of energy. What were the bullets made of? Pure energy? Bodily fluids? It was something worth a hands-on investigation.

“Brother Qiu, how did I do?” Baby-5’s slightly anxious voice interrupted Qiu Bai’s deep musings on human biomechanics.

She had to gradually overcome her fear of bodily transformation: trying not to mind her now-gun-like right hand, focusing on aiming at the target in the distance, firing, and slowly adjusting to the burden of recoil on her body. For an eight-year-old girl, it was a daunting training regimen.

“Very good…” Qiu Bai first glanced at the target directly ahead and then offered his praise.

Perhaps this child had more innate talent for marksmanship than he did. Never mind precision for now—in this short period, she could already reliably hit a target at fifty meters, without any prior formal training.

As a shooter, she would soon surpass him.

Encouraged and praised, Baby-5’s spirits lifted; even the black barrel on her arm seemed less frightening, and her face became much more animated.

She then turned away and resumed her shooting practice. Compared to her, Buffalo’s training was actually more difficult.

“Brother Qiu, I’m at my limit, pull me down!”

A faint cry came from the sky above.

Perhaps it was the altitude, or perhaps the constant buzzing reminiscent of a helicopter, but Buffalo’s voice was hard to make out.

Qiu Bai couldn’t help but shake his head. Granting the power of flight to someone who was not born to fly was indeed a formidable challenge.

Learning to fly was much harder than learning to surf, truly.

He reached out and grasped a thick cable lying beside him. One end was anchored to the ground, the other tied around the waist of the airborne Buffalo.

Clearly, Buffalo’s flying technique was hard to control. Judging by his trajectory, he’d drawn an impressionist painting in the sky... He had zero control over himself. Perhaps one needed to understand fluid dynamics to fly this way.

But the problem he faced was like that of someone learning to ride a bike: he could take off but didn’t know how to land. Landing was harder than taking flight, so Qiu Bai simply tied a rope to him. This high-tech feat of taking to the sky ended up looking like a kite.

Now that Buffalo couldn’t get down, Qiu Bai had no choice but to reel him in. The force transmitted by the rope was considerable—lucky for him that Qiu Bai was a berserker. Otherwise, he might not have managed it.

With each pull, Buffalo’s altitude slowly decreased. It seemed to be going smoothly, but with a sudden “whoosh,” Buffalo crashed to the ground after all.

Was it turbulence? The coastal air currents? Or did Qiu Bai simply pull too hard and yank him down?

Fortunately, Buffalo’s descent had been gradual, and though he was young, his skin was thick and he was sturdy enough to withstand a few falls.

In fact, among the group of children, Buffalo was one of the older ones—just a year or so younger than Qiu Bai, but already two heads taller, and easily four times his size by volume and weight.

Such crash landings must have been commonplace, for Qiu Bai didn’t even glance over to know Buffalo was fine.

“You two, that’s enough for today. Go rest early. Don’t forget you have a proper mission tomorrow.”

“Understood!” they both replied at once—the girl’s voice bright and clear, the boy’s faint and weak... He was still half-buried in the garbage heap.

Qiu Bai paid them no further mind and turned to leave. He couldn’t say why the role of nanny had fallen to him, but in the end, he was only here to supervise, not to coddle them like infants.

Today’s training was shorter than previous days, precisely because of the “proper mission” Qiu Bai had mentioned.

———

The next morning.

All of the Donquixote family’s officers assembled and boarded the crew’s flagship. The pirate crew was finally about to spring into action.

Pirates, after all, had their work—and their primary duty could be summed up in two words: pillaging.

The rest were merely derivatives of robbery.

The Donquixote family would now patrol the seas for half a month to a month, seizing the right “offerings” as opportunity arose, inevitably clashing with other pirate crews and evading Navy pursuit...

Simply put, this was a major operation. Whether for themselves, for other pirate crews, or for the Navy—when a pirate crew like the Donquixote family became active, the entire North Blue was thrown into chaos.

“Is everyone here?” On the foredeck, Doflamingo’s gaze swept over the officers one by one. But it was a rhetorical question—who would shirk their duties at a time like this?

“The newcomers seem a bit nervous, but as pirates, you must set sail—fufufufu…”

The “newcomers” Doflamingo referred to certainly did not include Qiu Bai. Would he be nervous about setting out to sea? Hardly. If a pirate didn’t go to sea to plunder, wasn’t he no better than a salted fish?

The nervous ones were likely Baby-5 and Buffalo, now part of the “family.” It was natural they should participate in a full-crew action.

“Very well. We set sail.” Doflamingo was thoroughly pleased with his subordinates’ performance.

“Raise the sails!”

At his command, a lookout relayed the order, and the sails were unfurled. The deck burst into activity.

But none of this concerned the officers. With the manpower of the Donquixote family, none of the officers needed to busy themselves with menial chores. There were regular crew members on board for that.

As the ship gradually pulled away from the shore, Qiu Bai felt a surge of anticipation.

But… Wait, had he told Doflamingo that Vice Admiral Tsuru was currently patrolling the North Blue? Or had he not mentioned it?

…

Forget it, he couldn’t quite remember.