One Piece Slot Master - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Haki, and a Longing Howl

The revelation of the Haki System within Jack had sent a profound shockwave through his understanding of his own potential. As Crocus, their gruff, flower-adorned host, continued to speak – his words now painting a vivid, heartbreaking picture of Laboon’s past – Jack found his mind continually drifting back to those glowing System notifications. Haki Potential: Level 0. Meditation required to increase.

Haki. The willpower-manifested abilities he’d read about countless times, the power that separated the true contenders from the fodder in the treacherous waters of the New World.

Armament Haki, like an invisible suit of armor, capable of striking even Devil Fruit users.

Observation Haki, a sixth sense, predicting attacks, sensing presences.

And Crocus, this seemingly eccentric old doctor, possessed both at an adept level. Jack felt a new layer of respect for the man, and a burning curiosity. He even made a clumsy, internal attempt to feel for this new ‘Haki Potential’ attribute within himself, trying to focus his mind as Crocus spoke, but it was like grasping at smoke.

Clearly, ‘meditation’ wasn’t just idle thought. It was a discipline he’d now have to learn alongside his relentless physical training.

Crocus’s voice, heavy with the sorrow of decades, pulled Jack back to the present. He was recounting the arrival of the Rumbar Pirates, a lively, music-loving crew who had sailed into Reverse Mountain with a tiny whale calf, Laboon, following their ship like an oversized, adoring puppy.

“They were a good bunch,” Crocus said, his gaze distant, fixed on the painted sky of Laboon’s stomach. “Full of laughter, always singing. Their captain, Yorki, was a decent man. They’d found Laboon separated from his pod, alone and vulnerable. He took a shine to them, especially their music.”

He described how the Rumbar Pirates, unable to take a whale calf on their perilous journey through the Grand Line, had left Laboon in his care at Twin Capes, promising faithfully to return for him after they circumnavigated the world – a journey they estimated would take three, perhaps four years at most.

“Laboon waited,” Crocus continued, his voice growing softer. “He was just a youngster then, but he waited. Every day, he’d swim near the entrance of Reverse Mountain, looking for their ship, listening for their songs.”

The Straw Hats listened with a rare, somber attention. Nami’s eyes were suspiciously bright, and Usopp was openly sniffling. Sanji’s usual flirtatious demeanor was gone, replaced by a quiet, contemplative frown as he smoked his cigarette. Zoro, arms crossed, leaned against the hull of the Merry, his expression unreadable but his focus absolute. Even Luffy was uncharacteristically still, his usual boisterous energy subdued, his gaze fixed on Crocus.

“Years turned into a decade,” Crocus said, a deep sigh escaping him. “Then two. Laboon grew, bigger and bigger, until he became the island-sized whale you see now. But the Rumbar Pirates… they never came back. He never stopped waiting, never stopped believing they’d keep their promise.”

As if on cue, a deep, earth-shaking HOWL echoed through Laboon’s vast insides, a sound of such profound, gut-wrenching sorrow that it made the very air tremble. Then came a sickening THUD, as Laboon’s massive head impacted the unyielding rock of the Red Line, visible even on the painted interior as a jarring ripple.

“He started doing that about thirty years ago,” Crocus said, his voice heavy with pain. “Ramming his head against the Red Line. Trying to break through, to go find them. Or maybe… maybe just out of grief, out of a pain too big to hold inside. I’ve tried everything to stop him, to ease his suffering. Those iron gates you saw? My work. This painted sky? To give him some semblance of peace. But nothing stops the waiting, or the longing.”

Luffy’s fists were clenched, his knuckles white. His usual carefree expression was replaced by a thunderous scowl, not directed at Laboon, but at the unfairness of it all, at the pirates who had seemingly broken such a heartfelt promise. He looked at the spot on the painted sky where Laboon’s head had impacted, then at the sorrowful, echoing silence the whale had fallen into.

Suddenly, Luffy jumped to his feet. “That’s it! I’ve had enough of this moping!” he declared. He marched to the edge of the small island where Crocus’s house stood, looking up at the vast, painted expanse. “Oi! Laboon! Fight me!”

“Luffy, what are you doing?!” Nami cried, aghast.

Ignoring her, Luffy found a broken spar from one of the many wrecked ships inside Laboon and jammed it into the “ground.” “I’m your opponent now, Laboon! If you wanna ram something, ram this! But you’re not gonna hurt yourself anymore waiting for pirates who aren’t coming back!”

It was a bizarre, typically Luffy-esque response, but there was a fierce, undeniable empathy behind it. He fought Laboon, a ridiculous, one-sided battle where Luffy mostly got swatted around, but his intention was clear: to give Laboon a new focus, a new promise. After a chaotic exchange that involved Luffy getting briefly stuck in Laboon’s blowhole, he stood before the massive whale, bruised but undeterred.

“Laboon!” he yelled. “We’re pirates too! We’re going to sail the Grand Line, all the way around! And then, we’ll come back for you! We’ll have another fight then! So you wait for us! This is a promise!” With that, he grabbed a bucket of black paint Crocus used for the “sky” and, using his rubbery abilities, painted a crude but enthusiastic rendition of the Straw Hat jolly roger onto Laboon’s scarred snout. “This is our mark! Don’t you dare rub it off by hitting the Red Line anymore, or our fight is off!”

Laboon let out a different kind of sound then, a low, questioning rumble, his massive eye focusing on Luffy with a new intensity.

Jack watched, a lump in his throat. This was it. Luffy, in his own unique way, was saving Laboon, giving him a new reason to live, a new promise to hold onto.

It was in that moment, witnessing the depth of Luffy’s compassion and Laboon’s fragile, rekindled hope, that Jack knew he couldn’t keep silent any longer. The truth about the Rumbar Pirates, about Brook… it was a heavy piece of meta-knowledge, one that could alter destinies, but the weight of Laboon’s fifty years of suffering, and Crocus’s weary dedication, was too much.

“Crocus-san,” Jack began, his voice a little unsteady, drawing all eyes to him. “Luffy… what you said about the Rumbar Pirates… about them not coming back… they didn’t abandon Laboon. Not by choice.”

Crocus turned, his gaze sharp and questioning. “What are you saying, boy?”

“They made it pretty far into the Grand Line,” Jack continued, choosing his words carefully, the weight of his revelation pressing down on him. “They faced… unimaginable hardships. Most of them… most of them didn’t make it. They died, fighting to the last, always thinking of Laboon, always hoping to fulfill their promise.”

A heavy silence filled the cavernous stomach. Crocus looked stricken, the news confirming his deepest fears, yet also absolving his friends of abandonment.

“But,” Jack took a deep breath, “one of them… one of them is still alive. Or… alive in a way. He’s a musician. A swordsman. Their ship, or what’s left of it, is adrift, trapped in the mists of the Florian Triangle. He’s been alone… for a very, very long time.” He paused, then added the name that had been on the tip of his tongue. “His name is Brook. He is a living Skeleton. And survived because of his devil fruit.”

The reactions were instantaneous.

“EH?!” Luffy’s eyes bugged out. “A SKELETON MUSICIAN?! TRAPPED ALONE?! That sounds AWESOME! And sad! But mostly awesome! We gotta meet him!”

Nami and Usopp looked simultaneously horrified and intrigued. “A living skeleton?” Usopp stammered. “Are you sure he’s… friendly?”

Crocus stared at Jack, his face a mask of disbelief, a desperate, wild hope warring with decades of ingrained skepticism. “Brook… alive? After all these years? In the Florian Triangle? Boy, that place is a graveyard. No one returns from there with such tales. How… how could you possibly know this?”

Jack met the old doctor’s intense gaze. “I… I can’t explain how I know, Crocus-san. But I know it’s true. Every word.”

Crocus’s eyes narrowed. He searched Jack’s face, looking for any hint of deceit, any flicker of falsehood. Then, the old doctor closed his eyes, his posture becoming still, his presence seeming to deepen, to expand. Jack felt an almost imperceptible shift in the air around him, a faint prickling sensation on his skin. Crocus was using his Haki, his Observation, to gauge Jack’s sincerity.

Crocus opened his eyes, a profound weariness and a dawning, fragile hope etched into his features. “There is… no lie in your heart, boy,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You believe what you say with an absolute conviction that… that I cannot dismiss.” He looked towards Laboon, whose low rumbles now held a distinct note of questioning hope. “Brook… Yorki’s first mate… the musician who Laboon loved so much…”

He turned then, his gaze falling upon Luffy, no longer the gruff lighthouse keeper, but a man pleading for a decades-lost friend. “Luffy-kun,” Crocus said, his voice cracking slightly. “If this is true… if there is even a chance that Brook is out there, alive, after all this time… could you? Would your crew consider venturing to that cursed sea, the Florian Triangle? To find him? To tell him… to tell him Laboon still waits, that Laboon never forgot?”

Luffy, who had been listening with rapt attention, a huge grin now spreading across his face at the prospect of meeting a skeleton musician, didn’t hesitate for a second. “OF COURSE, WE WILL, FLOWER-OSSAN!” he declared, punching his fist into his palm. “A skeleton musician sounds like he’d be an awesome nakama! We’re going to the Florian Triangle! And we’ll find this Brook, and then we’ll bring him back here to see Laboon!”
Laboon let out a long, echoing bellow, but this time, it was different. The profound sorrow was still there, but it was now intertwined with a clear, unmistakable thread of hope, a joyous anticipation that resonated through his massive body.

A new quest had been added to their already impossible journey. Crocus looked as though fifty years of sorrow had momentarily lifted from his shoulders, replaced by a tentative, hopeful light.

Jack let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’d meddled with the future, revealed a monumental secret. But seeing the change in Laboon, the hope in Crocus’s eyes, he knew he’d done the right thing.