Perona floated nearby, curiously circling Ritter. "Lord Ritter~ is this Tom guy really that amazing?"

"Yeah," Ritter replied with a smirk. "He built the ship that carried the Pirate King my captain, Roger around the entire world. You tell me if that's impressive or not. That old man's just got a bit of a temper."

Ritter thought back to the towering fish-man who'd swung a wooden stick straight at Roger's head. The memory made his heart race for a second until he caught himself.

Wait a second. Didn't I maintain the Oro Jackson pretty well? It doesn't leak, it still runs smoothly. Why should I be scared of a banana-club-wielding old guy?

From the shadows, Moria crouched down and gnawed his fingernail. "Fsshh… My Thriller Bark isn't too shabby either…"

"Lord Moria," Perona exposed mercilessly, "last time your ship was leaking. It started as a small hole. Then you tried to fix it, turned it into a huge one, and ended up stuffing a zombie in there as a plug."

"Pfft—!" Ritter nearly choked on his drink. Plugging holes was his thing, after all.

He thought of his mist filling gaps in ships.

Ah yes! His mist was way more useful than a zombie. It could fill any hole, really an absolute must-have for sea travel. He even struck a pose with his hands on his hips. (A slipper flew at his head: What are you so proud of?!)

When the Oro Jackson sailed into the harbor of Water 7, the entire dock exploded into a frenzy. Shipwrights dropped their tools in astonishment and stared wide-eyed at the legendary vessel.

"Hey! That figurehead—"

"Is… is that the Oro Jackson?!"

"Go notify Mr. Tom immediately!"

As soon as Ritter stepped off the ship, he was surrounded by a group of excited shipbuilders.

The crowd suddenly parted. A burly fish-man strode through the dock, a cigar trailing smoke above his head.

"Ritter, you little brat what're you doing back here? Where's Roger? He's the Pirate King now! Should be too happy to sit still. Unbelievable, letting you come alone," Tom's voice boomed like a drum. He ran a calloused hand along the hull, grumbling with affection, the concern clear behind the gruffness.

Ritter looked a little down. "The Roger Pirates disbanded. The captain left the Oro Jackson in my care. I'd like to keep sailing on it. Could you take a look and see what needs modifying, Uncle Tom?"

"Disbanded…" Tom froze for a moment. But he didn't ask further some things, even between friends, shouldn't be pushed. "Alright, let me take a look."

Just as Ritter was sinking into the heavy atmosphere, Tom turned around and promptly grabbed him by the collar with shark-toothed rage.

"You little bastard! How long's it been since you last maintained this ship?! What the hell have you been doing?!"

Iceburg and Franky (or rather, Cutty Flam at that time but who'd recognize that name?) rushed forward to pull their mentor back with all their strength.

"Master! Calm down, calm down!"

"U-Uncle Tom! I thought I was doing okay…"

"Okay, my ass! Look at these scratches! What's this wet patch here? Water?!"

"Uh… that's probably mist. Condensed mist. Otherwise it'd be a leak…" Ritter scratched his head awkwardly, lacking confidence in his own excuse.

Tom knew that bumps and scrapes were inevitable during voyages. But it still felt like handing over his precious daughter clean, beautiful to some scruffy black-haired punk, only for her to return home saying: 'Oi, old man, I parked my ghost fire by your front door. Hope that's cool.'

Ritter let himself be shaken by the collar. Watching the two apprentices desperately restraining Tom, he knew the old man wasn't actually mad at him.

He was cheering him on in his own, terrifying way.

"I'm really sorry," Ritter said sincerely. "But I want to ask you to refit the ship to give it new life. Please."

Suddenly, Tom burst into hearty laughter. "Hahahaha! Good! Very good!" He slapped Ritter's shoulder hard enough to sting. "At least you still know to come to me!"

Floating nearby, Perona whispered to Moria, "That old man's scary…"

Inside Tom's Shipbuilding Workshop, Ritter slapped down a stack of beli onto the workbench. "Three hundred million beli. I want this ship reborn. If it's not enough, I'll find more."

Tom didn't even look at the money he pushed it right back. "You think I'd take money to rebuild the Oro Jackson?" He turned to his apprentices and roared, "Go get that batch of Treasure Tree Adam from the warehouse!"

Perona floated over to the workbench, full of curiosity. "Old Grandpa~ did you really build this ship?"

"Little girl, this is nothing," Tom said, stroking his beard proudly. "Lately I've been researching a new sea-travel system. It can travel across the ocean and connect islands. In the future, ships won't be the only way to cross the seas."

Ritter's ears perked up. The Sea Train…

He remembered once Tom finished building the Sea Train, it would spell the beginning of his downfall. That was the moment the World Government would come for him.

I'll save him this time, Ritter thought.

After all, when Roger was alive, his reputation was enough to keep Tom safe. It was only after Roger's death that the government dared to retaliate. Cowards who preyed on the weak.

If Roger could protect him, so could Ritter. Otherwise, what was he even doing here?

Tom winked mysteriously. "You'll understand once the refit's done."

In the days that followed, Tom's shipyard turned into a whirlwind of wild invention. It was the first time Ritter had truly witnessed what a genius shipwright at full throttle looked like.

He felt a chill down his spine just watching.

"Bring me the number three hydraulic clamp!" Tom's voice shook the entire drydock. "No, not that one! The red-lacquered one!"

Franky zoomed past, pushing a cart full of bizarre tools. "SUPER! Master's going all out now!"

Iceburg chased after him with a stack of blueprints. "Master! You can't turn the main mast into a retractable one! That breaks basic shipbuilding principles!"

"Shut your mouth! You've only studied shipbuilding for a few years! Just watch and learn!" Tom snatched the blueprints. "I build ships my way!"

Hovering overhead, Perona watched some workers installing a glowing shell under the hull. "Lord Ritter~ what are those shiny things?"

"Jet Dials from Skypiea," Ritter squinted. "That old man even got his hands on those…"

He patted Perona's head. "Once the ship's done, I'll take you to Skypiea to play."

Since Ritter had asked for the ship to be refitted as quickly as possible

All of Moria's zombies were drafted into labor.

And what was their dear Lord Moria doing?

He sat sulking in the corner, watching his undead crew scurrying around. "Fsshh… My precious subordinates…"

Inside the shipyard, the clanging of tools and shouting orders echoed nonstop. Tom was roaring instructions at the top of his lungs.

Ritter leaned against the doorway, watching the Oro Jackson being dismantled piece by piece. Then he felt a gentle tug on his coat.

"Lord Ritter~" Perona floated behind him, blinking her wide eyes. "Can we go out and play? I heard Water 7 has lots of fun stuff!"

Ritter glanced at Tom, who was now furiously ripping up planks like a berserker.

Smartly, he nodded. "…Great idea."

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