Maude wasn't intentionally playing dumb. The timing of Sunny's question just felt… odd and out of place.
Seeing his genuine confusion, Sunny clarified, her voice flat. "Arthur's hand. How did you dodge it?"
"Oh, that..." Maude looked at Sunny, a flicker of strangeness in his own gaze. Why was she fixated on such a minor detail? He paused, then deliberately put down the mop bucket. In exaggerated slow motion, he mimicked the simple step back he'd taken. Finishing the pantomime, he looked back at Sunny, his tone deliberately uncertain. "Like this?"
Sunny stared at him, her expression unreadable. Silence stretched for a few seconds, then a soft clatter sounded from behind the counter. Maude instinctively glanced down, catching sight of the butt of a flintlock pistol protruding slightly from beneath the counter's edge.
"Gun just slipped," Sunny said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "Don't worry about it." She bent down, retrieved the pistol, and placed it casually on the countertop, the barrel pointing vaguely in Maude's direction, whether intentionally or not. "I didn't quite catch that demonstration," she continued, her voice smooth. "Could you show me again?"
Maude glanced at the flintlock lying innocently on the counter. He considered her request for a moment. Repeating the meaningless action felt pointless. He didn't understand Sunny's motive for pressing this, but stonewalling further seemed unwise.
"There wasn't any special technique," he said calmly. "I was just already alert, so I reacted in time. Besides, it's really not that significant, is it?"
Sunny held his gaze, her eyes searching his face. After a moment, she gave a slow nod. "You're right. It's not significant." Her tone shifted back to neutral. "You can get back to work."
Maude blinked, momentarily baffled by her abrupt change. He silently filed her under the mental category of 'Weird.' Picking up the mop and bucket, he carried them to a small storage closet.
When he returned to the shop floor, Sunny was still perched on the low stool. The flintlock pistol was gone from the counter. In its place lay a single sheet of rough paper, held down by a pencil.
Maude glanced from the paper to Sunny. "Can I head back to my room now?"
Sunny nodded, pulling the paper out from under the pencil and holding it out to him. Maude understood and walked over, taking the offered sheet.
Several lines of simple text were scrawled on it. A quick scan revealed a list of rules or points to note. Such basic information… needed to be written down? Maude mentally questioned her methods again.
As he took the paper, his eyes brushed past the pencil lying on the counter. An idea sparked. "Sunny, can I borrow this?" Maude asked, keeping his tone casual.
"Do what you want."
"Thanks." Maude picked up the pencil and turned to leave.
Sunny watched him go. Once he was out of sight, she opened a drawer beneath the counter, retrieving a worn notepad and a folded newspaper. She placed both on the counter.
Setting the newspaper aside for a moment, she opened the notepad roughly halfway through. The revealed pages contained handwritten notes, names, and snippets of information. She scanned a page, then flipped forward. This page also held text; halfway down, Eustass Kidd's name stood out starkly.
Ignoring Kidd's entry for now, Sunny flipped through several more pages until she reached a completely blank one. She took another pencil from the drawer, glanced briefly at an article in the newspaper, then began writing rapidly in the notepad.
After several minutes, she stopped. The blank page was now half-filled with neat, concise script. At the very bottom, she wrote Maude's full name – Bacardi Maude – followed by a large, emphatic question mark.
Staring at Maude's name for a final moment, Sunny closed the notepad and tucked the pencil deep inside the drawer.
"Need to talk to Sol," she murmured softly to herself.
— — —
Maude returned to the small, musty room where he'd first woken up. Being accepted, or at least tolerated, so easily was somewhat surprising. It seemed Sol, the apparent master of this establishment, operated with a certain casualness, perhaps viewing him simply as future cheap labor for the shop.
"Well, take it as it comes," Maude muttered, locking the door behind him. He sank onto the dusty chair, finally taking a moment to properly examine the note Sunny had given him.
[Day or night, stay inside. Don't go out.]
[Don't touch anything on the shelves.]
[Basement is off-limits.]
[Food in the kitchen fridge.]
[We'll discuss other things tomorrow.]
Maude reread the short list, a frown creasing his brow. Couldn't she have just told me this? He shook his head slightly, unable to decipher Sunny's peculiar way of doing things. Tossing the paper onto the equally dusty table, he picked up the pencil he'd borrowed.
[Hunter's Note]
With a thought, the black notebook materialized before him. He flipped randomly to a blank page, then closed his eyes, focusing, dredging up the fragmented memories of the One Piece world stored within his mind. To organize and solidify this invaluable knowledge, he planned to systematically write it all down, sort through it, refine it, perhaps rewrite it multiple times.
The quill provided with the Hunter's Note was the only tool capable of permanently marking its pages. But other writing instruments, like the pencil in his hand, could be used for scribbling notes, drawing diagrams, mapping out connections – anything he wrote with the pencil could be erased. If he willed, the pencil markings would then dissolve into harmless graphite dust, leaving the page pristine. This temporary nature made it the perfect tool for consolidating and refining his memories without permanently cluttering the Note's pages. This information, after all, was the raw material for his future power.
"The Straw Hat crew… they're the clearest memories," he mused aloud, pencil hovering over the page. "Protagonists, naturally. Most information available." He paused. "But their real strength comes two years after the main story starts. That's… a long way off."
He tapped the pencil thoughtfully. "Judging by Kidd's age now, the main plot is still several years away, isn't it? Besides, there are countless other potential targets. No need to focus solely on them."
A new thought surfaced. "Arlong Park… the Fishmen. Can the Hunter's Note even affect non-humans? What about Giants?" The potential implications were staggering. "Wait, Arlong Park is in the East Blue. This is the West Blue. Can you even sail between them easily?" He recalled Kidd. "Kidd's supposedly from the South Blue. If he made it to the West Blue, then one can infer that he has already attained a certain level of strength."
He then shook his head. "But speculating now is pointless."
Maude began writing, sketching, letting his thoughts flow onto the page as he meticulously combed through his memories. Navigation was beyond him, but strategic planning was not. Lost in concentration, time slipped away unnoticed.
— — —
Sol's Room.
Candles flickered on the windowsill, bedside table, and desk, casting dancing shadows across the spacious room, their warm glow providing the only illumination. Convenient electric lights existed, yet Sol stubbornly refused to use them – another of the old man's eccentricities Sunny never quite understood.
"You came all the way up here just to tell me Maude is 'abnormal'?" Sol sat cross-legged on a large, ornate double bed, holding a slender, gilded pipe. Smoke curled around him, acrid and thick. Through the haze, his sharp eyes studied Sunny, standing before him.
"You know I rarely concern myself with such things," He added, his voice low.
"Sol, Maude is different from the others we've taken in..." Sunny insisted, though her voice lacked its usual certainty.
"Different how?" Sol prompted, taking a slow draw from his pipe.
"..." Sunny hesitated, unable to articulate the precise nature of her unease.
Sol rubbed the smooth wood of the pipe stem thoughtfully. A slow smile touched his lips, hidden slightly by the smoke.
"You're right," He said quietly. "He is… different."