The heavy wooden doors of the bar creaked open, and Bulma and her crew stepped inside. Immediately, a wave of thick, pungent air hit them—an overwhelming mix of sweat, cheap alcohol, and greasy food. The place was packed, filled with burly pirates drinking, laughing, and bellowing at the top of their lungs. Wooden mugs slammed against the tables, the floor was sticky with spilled beer, and curses flew through the air like seagulls in a storm.
"Ugh, it stinks in here," Bulma muttered, scrunching up her nose.
"Smells like fun!" Goku grinned, his eyes lighting up the moment he saw plates of steaming food being carried around by serving men. He practically drooled. "Bulma, we gotta eat first! I'm starving!"
Bulma shot him a look. "You're always starving."
"But we didn't even eat breakfast!" Goku whined.
Bulma glanced at the others. True to Goku's words, they hadn't eaten since morning. The whole day had been spent navigating toward this island. Now, with the tantalizing aroma of roasted meat, bread, and ale filling the air, even she felt the familiar pangs of hunger.
"Alright, fine," Bulma sighed. "Let's eat first. But don't cause a scene!"
Goku cheered, rushing toward the nearest empty table. The rest of the crew followed, slipping into the rough wooden chairs. The bar was loud—filled with pirates of all kinds, each table occupied by grizzled men and women exchanging rowdy conversation.
Bulma waved down the bartender. Hs was a bald, thickly built man with a long scar across his nose. He wiped a glass lazily as he approached.
"You serving food here?" Bulma asked.
The bartender gave her a knowing grin. "We serve anything you can pay for."
Bulma pulled out a small pouch of money and tossed it onto the counter. "Enough for my crew."
The man weighed the pouch in his palm, nodded, then turned and shouted an order toward the back kitchen.
As they waited, Bulma leaned against the counter and eyed the bartender curiously. The man would be a perfect person to get her information. "What's the name of this island?"
The bartender chuckled at the question. "Konan Islands."
Bulma frowned. "Never heard of it."
"You wouldn't have," the bartender replied, polishing a mug. "It ain't on most maps. This place is a free den for pirates. No Marines, no navy patrols. You do whatever the hell you want here. No laws, no rules—just survival of the fittest."
Oolong gulped audibly. "That… sounds horrible."
Carmen smirked. "Sounds like paradise to some."
The bartender turned back to them with a grin. "Let me guess. You lot just arrived in the Grand Line?"
Bulma hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Just got here."
The man let out a hearty laugh. "Then I wish you luck, like every other fool who steps into these waters."
Bulma narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Still grinning, the bartender gestured toward the packed room. "Take a good look around you. You see all these people? Every single one of 'em had the same idea as you. They all come here to conquer the Grand Line. To get rich. To make a name for themselves."
Bulma glanced around. The pirates were loud, rowdy, and full of life—but she now saw something else. Many of them were wounded or scarred, some with missing limbs, others with scars that ran deep. She could see it now—the weary, almost desperate look in some of their eyes.
"How many of them… made it far?" she asked.
The bartender shrugged. "Not many. Most get swallowed by the sea, killed by stronger pirates, or eaten by sea kings. The Grand Line ain't a place for the weak. But hey—if you survive, you'll get stronger. That's the only way to move forward here."
Bulma exhaled slowly. She had already suspected it, but hearing it outright made the reality of their situation sink in.
Their food arrived, large plates of roasted meat, warm bread, and bowls of steaming stew.
"Food!" Goku practically lunged at his plate, shoving food into his mouth like a human vacuum. The others dug in as well, though at a much more reasonable pace.
Bulma barely had time to take her first bite when suddenly—
CRASH!
A loud crash rang out as a wooden mug shattered against the floor. Bulma turned sharply, eyes widening as she saw two pirates rising from their seats, glaring at each other with murderous intent.
"You lousy rat!" one of them snarled, slamming his fist against the table. "You knew that bounty was mine!"
The other pirate sneered. "I don't see your name on it, mate. The moment you hesitated, it was free for the taking!"
"You son of a—"
BOOM!
The first pirate swung, sending his fist crashing into the other's face. The entire bar seemed to pause for a split second before exploding into chaos.
Chairs toppled, tables flipped over, and pirates roared as they jumped into the fight.
Bulma sighed. "Of course this happens now."
Oolong ducked under the table. "This is why we should've left!"
Goku, still stuffing his face, tilted his head. "Huh? Are we fighting now?"
"No," Bulma said sharply. "We are not fighting."
The chaos continued to spiral. More pirates got involved, fists flying as chairs and mugs were used as weapons. It was seconds away from turning into an all-out brawl—
BANG!
A gunshot rang through the air.
The entire bar froze.
The bartender stood on the counter, holding a smoking pistol aimed at the ceiling. His face was calm, but his eyes carried a silent warning.
"There will be no fighting in my bar," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "If you want to spill blood, do it outside."
A heavy silence followed.
The two pirates who started the fight shot each other glares but, grudgingly, grabbed their weapons and stomped toward the exit. The rest of the pirates muttered among themselves before returning to their seats.
Bulma let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.
The bartender reloaded his gun casually. "I just had these floors cleaned. I ain't about to let you bastards dirty them up again."
Goku blinked. "Wow. He's strong!"
"He's just keeping his business intact," Bulma said, shaking her head. Just because someone had a gun, didn't make him strong. She had better guns than him in her capsules. Does that mean she was stronger than everyone here? Hell no! Goku didn't suffer damages from bullets. On an 1 and 1 basis, she stood no chance infront of Goku in terms of strength. She didn't think anyone actually stood a chance with her monkey boy here in terms of strength.
Carmen took a sip of her drink, smirking. "This place is more exciting than I thought."
Bulma sighed. "Let's just eat and get what we need. We're not staying here longer than necessary."
She glanced toward the door, where the two pirates had just left.
Outside, the sound of clashing steel filled the air. The shouts from outside the bar grew louder. The clash of steel against steel, the crunch of fists meeting flesh, and the occasional boom of gunfire painted a clear picture—whoever was fighting outside wasn't holding back.
Goku, naturally, perked up. His wide, childlike eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of a fight or challenge. "Bulma! Can I go fight too?!" he asked, practically bouncing in his seat.
Bulma shot him a glare, her patience already worn thin. "No, Goku. Absolutely not!"
"Aww, come on! It sounds fun!"
"It's not fun! This place is lawless, Goku. There are no rules, no protection, and no second chances. If you get into a fight here, there's no telling how far it could go. People can do whatever they want as long as they have the strength to back it up. Do you get it now?"
Goku blinked, then tilted his head. "So… that means I can fight, right?"
Bulma groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You're so lucky you're strong."
Before Goku could argue further, the creak of the bar's heavy wooden doors cut through the noise. A sudden hush fell over the room.
Bulma stiffened.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped inside. His presence alone seemed to choke the atmosphere of the once-rowdy bar. He had a deep diagonal scar running across his face, a jagged mark from his forehead down to his cheek. His eyes were sharp and piercing, gleaming with an arrogance that screamed power. Behind him, a group of rough-looking men followed. They were clearly his crew.
The moment the bartender saw him, his face went pale. His hands trembled slightly as he quickly stepped out from behind the counter, almost tripping over himself in his hurry to greet the man.
"Ahh, Garrot-san!" the bartender stammered, bowing slightly. "Welcome! What an honor! Please, would you like something to eat? To drink? I'll have my best bottle brought out immediately!"
Garrot's lips curled into a sneer. His men chuckled darkly behind him. He took a slow, deliberate look around the room, his expression filled with disdain as his gaze swept over the other patrons.
Bulma's stomach churned. This guy… was bad news.
She hated men like him—those who strutted around like they owned everything and everyone.
Garrot's wandering eyes eventually landed on their table. His sneer widened into an ugly smirk. He took a step forward, walking with an arrogant, pompous gait, each movement screaming I'm in charge here.
He stopped in front of them, his eyes flicking over Bulma and then Carmen. A glint of interest flashed in his gaze.
Bulma's stomach dropped.
She knew that look.
Garrot turned his attention to Goku, giving the muscular martial artist a once-over look. "Oi," he said in a low, cocky tone. "Who're the girls?"
Bulma's eye twitched.
This asshole wasn't even acknowledging her?
He just assumed Goku was the captain because he was the only big and strong-looking one here?
Before she could snap, Goku—being Goku—smiled brightly and answered without hesitation. "Oh! That's Bulma! She's my friend and the captain of our ship! And that's Carmen—she's our new cook!"
Bulma braced herself.
Garrot blinked once. Then—
"PFFFFT—HAHAHAHAHA!"
The man burst into laughter, his crew following suit. His laughter was loud, mocking, and grating to Bulma's ears.
"You?!" Garrot wheezed, looking at Bulma like she had just told the funniest joke in the world. "You're the captain? A girl like you?!"
Bulma's face darkened with rage.
Garrot wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "What a damn shame. Two beautiful women stuck on a crew like this."
Bulma's fists clenched.
She knew where this was going.
Garrot's smirk widened. "You know," he drawled, "I'd be willing to make your lives a lot better. If you two lovely ladies came with me, I could guarantee you comfort and luxury."
Bulma's breath caught in her throat.
He wasn't even subtle about it. He was offering to buy them—like they were property.
Carmen's jaw tightened.
Oolong shrank in his seat, sweat forming on his forehead.
But before Bulma could unleash hell, Goku—being Goku—responded.
"Ohh, no way," he said with an innocent smile. "Bulma wouldn't like that."
Garrot arched an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Yeah!" Goku nodded enthusiastically. "She hates smelly people! And you guys stink!"
Bulma's soul left her body.
The entire bar fell silent.
Garrot's smirk froze. His crew stiffened behind him from the insult.
Then—
"What the hell did you just say?" Garrot's voice was low, dark, dangerous.
Goku, completely oblivious, simply repeated, "Bulma wouldn't like being around you guys 'cause you smell really bad. You should probably take a bath."
Bulma felt the urge to slam her forehead into the table.
Of all the ways Goku could have handled this…
Garrot's face twisted into something vicious.
His crew bristled, some reaching for their weapons. The bartender took a step back, sweating bullets. The entire bar tensed, the weight of the moment pressing down like a storm about to break.
Bulma knew what was coming.
Garrot's pride had been wounded and in a place like this, that was dangerous.
She inhaled sharply. This was about to get ugly.