CHAPTER 636: CHAPTER 155: THE BRONZE STATUE OF FISH-MAN ISLAND

New World, ten thousand meters beneath the sea—Fish-Man Island.

A tall, cloaked figure moved through the Fish-Man District, hood drawn low.

Fisher Tiger frowned at the sight of moss-cloaked, crumbling streets and the reek of damp rot. From the alleys, hostile eyes glimmered green in the dark like jackals biding their time.

"An intruder! You’re courting death!"

A hulking figure burst from behind a curtain of seaweed. Muscular arms coiled, a thin spiral of water winding around his fist as he drove a ferocious punch at Fisher Tiger’s back.

"Fish-Man Karate: Shark Tile Straight Punch!"

Anticipating it, Fisher Tiger whirled and answered with the same strike.

The same art. The same technique.

A dull boom thudded through the water as the shockwave rippled out.

The attacker staggered back several steps, staring. "Impossible! You know the Shark Tile Straight Punch?!"

"Such powerful Fish-Man Karate... Who are you?"

He had unruly, wind-tossed brows and sideburns, coarse black stubble on his chin, and a lightning-bolt scar at the corner of his left eye. Broad-shouldered, he wore a patterned yukata.

"I taught you Fish-Man Karate," Fisher Tiger said, "but not so you could use it on your own."

He pushed back his hood, weathered face laid bare, and smiled at the young whale shark Fish-Man before him—barely twenty.

"Long time no see, Jinbe."

Jinbe’s eyes widened, then sparked with wild joy. "Boss Tiger! You’re back!!"

"We haven’t heard from you in so long... I—I thought..." His eyes reddened as his jaw tightened.

Fisher Tiger ruffled his hair and chuckled. "I ran into some trouble out there, but it’s settled now."

Cheers erupted around them.

"It’s Boss Tiger!"

"Boss Tiger is back!"

"Hahaha! This is great!"

Fish-Men slipped out from the shadows, wary at first—then, recognizing their leader, they surged forward, spirits soaring.

"We missed you!"

"Boss Tiger! Next time you head out, take us with you!"

"Let us see the world too!"

...

Every gaze fixed on the leader of the Fish-Man District, bright with the restless hunger of youth.

"You know, Boss Tiger—we’ve grown up."

Having steadied himself, Jinbe declared eagerly, "You saw how well I’ve mastered the Fish-Man Karate you taught me! If there’s an enemy, I can fight by your side!" He struck a stance, pride lighting his face.

Fisher Tiger looked at the thin, grime-streaked faces, the patched clothes hanging off young shoulders, and something complicated tightened in his chest.

Hunted by humans without pause, most Fish-Men lived their whole lives under the fear of enslavement and hardly dared step beyond Fish-Man Island.

Merfolk fared better, of course—Fish-Man Island was vast, and their lot was comparatively comfortable.

But the "lower" Fish-Men of the District were penned into these foul slums. Some bent toward violence. Others simply rotted in sickness and poverty.

Within Fish-Man Island, "Fish-Man District" meant violence, filth, chaos, disease, and inferiority.

Fisher Tiger had once been just like them, glorifying conflict in the hope he could batter a new future into being.

That was why he’d left for the sea—to search for answers.

But...

My journey wasn’t the glory you imagine.

He sighed inwardly and chose not to break their dream. He forced a small smile and said, "Maybe later. There’ll be other chances."

"Great!"

The boys exploded into cheers.

"Anything happen on Fish-Man Island while I was gone?" Fisher Tiger asked.

Jinbe thought it over and shook his head. "No. It’s actually been quieter than before."

"I heard there’ve been fewer poachers around the island lately," one of the boys added.

Fisher Tiger nodded, some of the tension unclenching. "Good."

It seemed Darren-san’s suggestion had taken effect.

Word of his impending appointment as a Shichibukai had likely spread, scaring off a fair number of illegal poachers.

A welcome change.

It wouldn’t end poaching entirely, but it would blunt the targeting of Fish-Men.

Jinbe and the others, shut in by the District, probably didn’t know about the Shichibukai.

"But don’t drop your guard," Fisher Tiger warned, gaze sweeping the group before settling on Jinbe. "All of you need to grow stronger—quickly."

"Especially you, Jinbe." He ruffled his hair again. "Even if we grew up in the District, Fish-Men and Merfolk are the same people at the end of the day. If you get the chance, report to Ryugu Palace."

"The future of Fish-Man Island depends on all of us pulling together."

Jinbe bit his lip and nodded, reluctant but resolute.

Fisher Tiger clapped his shoulder. There wasn’t much more to say. Some truths couldn’t be given in a handful of words.

The Fish-Man District was the island’s slum. Of course those born here resented the "upper crust" in Ryugu Palace.

He had felt the same once.

Why do they live in warm light and clear water while we stew in filth?

Travel had taught him slums were a universal fact.

Even a place as prosperous as Fish-Man Island couldn’t answer everything.

Set beside the threats beyond the island, the island’s internal grudges were small.

"That’s enough for now," Fisher Tiger said. "I’m going to Ryugu Palace. There’s something I need to discuss with King Neptune."

After a few final words of advice, he turned and strode away.

Step by step, he left the narrow dark of the District. Clear, warm light washed over him, bathing him in a fiery crimson glow.

As he walked into it, blood-streaked, grinning faces flickered through his mind.

"Run free, Fish-Men!"

He could almost hear the triumphant echo.

His fist tightened; his resolve set like iron.

Then he looked up—and froze.

Gyoncorde Plaza.

At its center stood a bronze statue nearly three meters tall.

The sharply cut features captured a hard, angular face and a fierce, arrogant bearing with uncanny skill—Fish-Man Island’s master craftsmen had left it lifelike.

Fisher Tiger’s lip twitched.

The man cast in bronze—

He knew him all too well.

To be continued...