Chapter 107: The Meeting Spot
The midday sun hung high in the sky, blazing down on the desert kingdom of Alabasta with merciless intensity. Heatwaves shimmered across the pale stone streets of Nanohana, and every footstep kicked up a small cloud of dust that lingered in the stifling air. Despite the scorching temperature, the port town bustled with energy and purpose: traders hawked their goods at makeshift stalls, dockworkers hauled crates of exotic spices, and caravans of camels trudged through narrow alleys, their bells jingling a monotonous tune.
Goku walked through the main avenue with measured steps, keenly aware of every face and every corner. His spiky black hair, the Straw Hat hung back on his neck and the determined set of his features stood out among the locals, whose robes and headscarves shielded them from the punishing sun. Though sweat beaded on his forehead, Goku hardly noticed; he'd endured far worse conditions in his travels.
Still, Alabasta's heat was nothing to underestimate. The desert wind carried a grainy bite, and each gust felt like a furnace's breath against his skin. Yet the harsh climate only seemed to invigorate him—reminding him of all the challenges he and his newfound Straw Hat crew had overcome so far. This land, with its swirling sands and secrets, would be the crucible that tested their unity.
As Goku rounded a corner, the vista of Nanohana's busy port spread out before him like a painting come to life. Dozens of ships bobbed at the docks: sleek pirate sloops with tattered Jolly Rogers, imposing Marine frigates with proud seagull emblems, and merchant vessels bearing the insignia of foreign kingdoms. The air smelled of brine and tar, mingling with the mouthwatering aroma of spiced meats roasting over open grills.
Goku inhaled deeply, his stomach rumbling at the tantalizing scents. Vendors called out from beneath colorful awnings, offering freshly baked bread, skewered lamb, and sweet cactus juice. He felt an urge to stop and sample everything, but he had a mission that wouldn't wait—he had to meet Miss All Sunday in a specific restaurant, arranged through cryptic instructions she'd provided.
Nevertheless, Goku allowed himself a moment to admire the spectacle: The hum of conversation, the laughter of children chasing each other around market stalls, the clatter of hooves and wheels on cobblestones—this was a kingdom on the brink of chaos yet still full of life. The tension he felt in the air only underscored the preciousness of such everyday joys.
Alabasta's capital might have been far away, but the Marines were out in force here in Nanohana. Goku spotted clusters of uniformed officers patrolling the streets, rifles slung over their shoulders. Some stood guard at the pier, checking crates and questioning merchants, while others roamed in pairs, eyes scanning the crowd.
With a fifty-million-berry bounty on his head, Goku knew he had to tread carefully. Even though he'd never gone out of his way to harm innocent people, word traveled fast on the Grand Line, and the Marines weren't exactly known for leniency.
A pair of officers glanced his way, their expressions suspicious. Goku ducked behind a stack of crates piled high with imported fabrics. The moment they turned to continue their rounds, he slipped back into the throng of townspeople.
A few steps later, he felt another set of eyes on him—this time, they belonged to a pair of bounty hunters lurking near a stall selling dried figs. Their hands hovered over their belts, where small, glinting blades were tucked. Goku feigned interest in a stall selling desert headscarves, pretending to haggle with the merchant until the bounty hunters lost interest.
He exhaled softly, shaking his head. "Man, I'd love to just fight them head-on," he muttered under his breath, "but I can't afford to blow our cover right now. Too much is at stake."
Pushing deeper into the heart of Nanohana, Goku finally caught sight of his destination: a modest, single-story restaurant with a faded wooden sign creaking in the hot breeze. The sign depicted a stylized cactus and a palm tree intertwined—a local emblem, perhaps. The building's adobe walls bore signs of age, with small cracks and patches of worn paint.
The windows were propped open to let in air, but thick curtains blocked most of the sunlight, keeping the interior cool and dim. The aroma of cooking oil and sizzling meat wafted from the open doorway, making Goku's stomach rumble anew.
He paused outside, scanning the surroundings. No Marines stood directly in front, though a few patrolled the next street over. A pair of scrawny bounty hunters loitered across the way, sipping water from clay cups, but they seemed more focused on an argument about who'd pay the tab than on spotting wanted pirates.
Satisfied, Goku stepped inside.
The moment he entered, a cacophony of sound enveloped him. Patrons laughed and argued at tightly packed tables. A group of sailors toasted each other with sloshing mugs of ale, while an old man dozed in the corner, his hat pulled over his eyes. Ceiling fans spun lazily overhead, doing little to relieve the heat but giving the place a welcoming hum.
The interior was a mix of dark wood and desert motifs—cactus-shaped wall sconces, sun-bleached tapestries, and a few potted palm plants that had seen better days. Oil lanterns hung from wooden beams, casting a warm glow that mixed with shafts of light from the open windows.
Several people glanced at Goku as he entered, sizing him up. He noticed a table of gruff-looking pirates, their eyes flicking to his muscular build and spiky hair. But after a moment, they returned to their drinks and hushed conversations, evidently deciding he wasn't worth trouble—yet.
Goku found an open table near the back, away from the main bustle but close enough to keep an eye on the entrance. He sat down, resting his elbows on the table, feigning a relaxed posture while his senses stayed on high alert.
No sooner had he settled than a hush seemed to sweep through a corner of the restaurant. Goku looked up and saw the waitress approaching. She was tall and statuesque, her every step confident. She donned a striking cowgirl outfit that made more than a few heads turn.
A wide-brimmed hat—white as desert bone—shadowed her dark eyes. Her raven hair fell in sleek waves around her shoulders, and a snug, sleeveless purple top showcased her midriff and accentuated her figure. A matching purple skirt, trimmed with delicate lace, hugged her hips and ended high on her thighs, revealing long, toned legs. White, calf-high boots with slight heels completed the ensemble, giving her an air of elegance that contrasted with the rough atmosphere.
Several patrons openly gawked, and Goku could almost hear some of their thoughts: Who is she? Where did she come from? But the woman paid them no heed. Her expression was poised, almost unreadable.
As she neared, Goku noticed a subtle confidence in her posture. She wasn't just any server; she moved like someone trained to handle danger—like a dancer who could slip through a crowd without leaving a trace. She stopped at his table, placing a small notepad on its surface.
"Welcome," she said softly, her voice low enough that it didn't carry far. "What can I get you today?"
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. In that brief moment, Goku sensed a mutual recognition—like two spies who had already exchanged coded signals. No outward sign betrayed that she was Miss All Sunday, or that Goku was the infamous pirate with a bounty on his head. The restaurant's clamor went on around them, oblivious.
Goku cleared his throat, playing the role of a hungry traveler. "I'm pretty hungry," he said, leaning in slightly. "Let's see… I'll start with five orders of your juiciest fried meat, five orders of rice and greens, and… two barrels of sake."
The waitress's eyebrow arched—an almost imperceptible gesture of surprise at the sheer volume of his order. But she kept her composure. "Certainly. Anything else?"
He feigned a thoughtful look, tapping his chin. "Yes, five orders of your biggest, juiciest steaks as well."
A faint smile curved her lips as she scribbled furiously on the notepad. "Quite an appetite. I'll have that prepared right away."
As she turned to leave, she let her notepad slip for just a heartbeat, allowing a folded piece of paper to slide from beneath it. Goku moved his hand to the table's edge, catching the note in a single fluid motion. To anyone watching, it looked like a simple slip, an unremarkable accident.
She left without a backward glance, weaving through the tables like a phantom. The buzz of conversation quickly swallowed any curiosity about Goku or the waitress. Everyone returned to their own meals and gossip, unaware of the silent interplay that had just taken place.
Goku opened his palm under the table, carefully unfolding the note with his fingers. The parchment was small, and the writing inside was minimal—just enough to confirm time, place, and a single instruction.
'Meet me at the southern edge of town at sundown. Alone.'
He folded it back up, slipping it into his sash. Just like two master spies, he mused. The faintest smile touched his lips.
Leaning back in his chair, Goku allowed himself a moment to take it all in. The swirl of activity in the restaurant, the scorching desert beyond the windows, the subtle tension that seemed to follow him like a shadow—it all underscored the magnitude of what lay ahead. The mission was bigger than him alone; it was about protecting his new family in the Straw Hat crew, about saving a kingdom teetering on the brink of civil war, and about forging alliances that could mean the difference between victory and utter disaster.
A part of him thought about his bond with the others—Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Sanji, Gin, Chopper, and especially Vivi. They'd all come so far together. Though they hailed from different worlds, they had found common ground in their shared resolve. Soon, they'd face the greatest battle of their journey thus far.
And now, here he was, one step closer to the woman who held vital information about Baroque Works' inner machinations. The knowledge she possessed could change the fate of Alabasta and perhaps the entire Grand Line.
For now, though, Goku had to play the part of a hungry patron waiting for an absurdly large meal. He drummed his fingers on the wooden table, his senses still on high alert for any sign of trouble. The restaurant buzzed around him with carefree energy, but he couldn't shake the feeling that eyes might still be watching from the corners, from behind cups of ale or beneath the brims of hats.
The scent of sizzling meat and fragrant spices filled the air as the waitress, now carrying two large trays stacked with plates, made her way back toward Goku's table. The restaurant owner himself followed closely behind, a wide grin stretching across his round face as he balanced two barrels of sake on his shoulders. The man was stocky, with a thick mustache and a belly that jiggled slightly as he walked, clearly pleased with such a generous order.
The clatter of dishes being set down on the wooden table rang out as the waitress placed the steaming food before Goku. The plates were piled high—thick, juicy cuts of steak still sizzling, bowls of fluffy white rice accompanied by crisp greens, and another set of spiced meat that glistened under the warm lights of the restaurant.
"Ahaha! My friend, you have made my day with such an order!" the restaurant owner bellowed with a hearty laugh. "If I had more customers like you, I'd be the richest man in Alabasta!"
Goku chuckled as he rubbed the back of his head, looking at the feast before him. "Yeah, I should've ordered more, but I'm running low on funds," he said casually.
The words barely left his mouth before the entire restaurant went silent. Forks stopped mid-air, glasses hovered inches from lips, and eyes widened in pure disbelief. Even the waitress, who had remained composed throughout their previous exchange, visibly faltered, nearly dropping the notepad she was holding.
"…Running low on funds?" she repeated, blinking in confusion.
Her expression shifted between astonishment and disbelief. She had taken this order herself—five massive plates of spiced meat, five orders of rice and greens, five more plates of thick, juicy steak, and not one, but two full barrels of sake. Even the wealthiest patrons who dined here rarely indulged so much. If this was what Goku ordered while running low on funds… what in the world did he consider a full meal?
The murmurs in the restaurant spread like wildfire.
"Did he really just say that?"
"How much more would he have ordered if he wasn't broke?"
"This guy's stomach… is he even human?"
Despite the growing stares and hushed conversations around him, Goku remained completely unfazed. Ignoring their bewilderment, he cracked his knuckles, grabbed a pair of chopsticks, and dug in.
In an instant, the first plate of spiced meat was gone. His hands were a blur, shifting between the various dishes with practiced ease. Mouthfuls of rice followed each bite of meat, his jaw working tirelessly as he devoured the feast with sheer enthusiasm. The sizzling juices from the steaks dripped down as he tore into them, completely ignoring the incredulous glances shot his way.
The waitress, arms crossed, stood by and continued watching in morbid fascination. Is he even tasting the food at this point?
Then, from across the room, a voice rang out, carrying both amusement and familiarity—
"The bottomless pit as always, huh, Goku?"
Goku had just finished off the last of the spiced meat, only the rice and steaks remaining. He reached for the sake, pouring himself a goblet full of the rich, aromatic liquid. The drink swirled slightly before he raised it to his lips.
And then—
He looked up.
His gaze landed on the speaker, and in that split second, Goku's entire body locked up in shock. His grip on the goblet loosened, his jaw slackened—
PFFT!!!
Sake sprayed in all directions as Goku choked, spewing the liquid out in a comedic burst. A few unlucky patrons yelped as droplets hit them, and the waitress instinctively jumped back, barely dodging the unexpected splash zone.
Goku coughed, blinking rapidly, before his wide eyes locked onto the figure standing before him.
A man with wild, unruly black hair stood near the restaurant entrance, his tanned skin practically glowing under the dim lights. He wore black shorts secured with a thick, blue-studded belt, and a dagger was strapped casually to his left side. His toned chest was bare, save for the distinctive tattoo running down his left arm. A round, beaded necklace hung around his neck, resting just above his defined collarbone. A confident, knowing smirk played on his lips, and atop his head sat a very familiar orange hat, adorned with two blue smiley-face pins.
There was no mistaking him.
Goku's eyes nearly popped out of his skull.
"A-Ace!!!" he shouted, still coughing from the sake. His chair almost tipped over as he scrambled to his feet, his expression a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy.
The entire restaurant turned their attention toward the fiery newcomer, but for Goku, no one else existed at that moment.
His brother was here.
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