171 Fishman island : Spiel of hate

"Humph! Pirates... I never understood king Neptune's liking for your kind! You characterize the worst of what is in humanity, your rampant lust for plunder!" he snarled at me as he looked over the documents that had been provided to us.

It was a simple piece of paper that Marco had issued. At the very bottom was Whitebeard's insignia. Not much more was necessary for one to traverse through Fishman Island, I was told.

With a defeated sigh, he looked over us one last time, before motioning for us to move inward. He tossed over a small medallion as we slowly moved forward before moving back to his patrols. The pirate crew that they had caught kneeled on deck with sea stone cuffs on their hands and necks, glaring after us with a blazing pair of eyes.

"Show that to any of the patrols that you see! It'll allow you to go around unmolested!" He barked after us as his ship began to sway, a collection of small pipes on the ship's rear end regurgitating bubbles that forced the vassal forward.

I would have stopped the man to question him, but I could almost feel the animosity that he held for us. The only reason he hadn't immediately attacked was because we gave him the letter.

As we moved closer to the island before us, I could finally make out a few landmarks. Around the island, like a wall, a hardened reef cropped. From where we were it looked like the island sat atop a purple mushroom, the bulbous top being sculpted into the tall structures that I could see jutting over the landform.

From the centre of the island, a glow could be seen washing over us lighting up the entirety of the island's surroundings.

Barts gasped at the beautiful sight, her eyes roving hungrily over the exotic colours as she briefly abandoned her post to come stand beside be near the wheel. Angella stood further back under the shade of the doorway, a rough looking book before her.

Her hands roved over the yellowing pages as she made note of god knows what.

Sorren briefly appreciated the sight, but after a bit he went back to picking his nose and messing with the mast.

Rein on the other hand, had a similar reaction to Barts albeit with a more childlike wonder than an actual child like Scipio displayed. Stars could be seen in his eyes as he joyfully jogged up and down the deck looking at the fantastic island from all angles.

As we drew closer we could see the wings of the reef around curled up into what looked like a makeshift gate that was huge enough for our ship to enter.

As we crossed the gate, a host of turbulence shook the boat, warm water rising against the sturdy bubble around.

We were officially at Fishman Island.

*********

Around them he could hear droves of people muttering. They were all Fishman.

Where he was from, he was taught that they were slaves, but what he saw before him lay quite opposite to that idea.

Children ran across the black floor of the dock, smiles on their faces as jagged teeth jutted out. It wasn't all sunshine and roses though. The island before him had made that abundantly clear as soon as they docked, when they had almost been arrested.

A group of burly Fishmen had come over as soon as they had seen the ship. That was only the first wave.

First came the officials, they were easily dealt with. As soon as they saw the medallion that the crew had received enroute they grudgingly left, issuing a few papers to allow anyone on the crew to enter the city.

Within minutes of their departure came the second group. A collection of concerned locals with pitchforks.

The captain dealt with them too, showing them Whitebeard's insignia seemed to calm them.

The third group however was the most damning. A group of ruffians, with a man whose pointy jagged teeth jutted out of his cheek in the lead. As they drew closer Rein had been able to hear stanzas of hate, the man in the lead roared it out while those who followed him hooted or cheered. At the very back a group of children walked grinning with malevolence as they glared at any and all civilians around them.

When they had neared the ship, Rein could hear the man in the lead beginning to chant. Rage and vitriol in his eyes as he came to a halt in front of the ship.

His spittle had flown as he regarded everyone on board with disdain and tempestuous rage. Then his men had drifted to the side letting the children take the stage.

The second stream of rage and hate had begun to flow then as the children roared in their high pitched voice.

The captain had seen them for a moment, then ignored them.

He could not care less, and Rein understood that. However, he could not help his heart go out to them who had been subject to sermons of hate all their lives.

As if reading his mind Lorean had turned to him then, but before he could open his mouth the soldiers from before had returned.

They had chased away the mob, but Rein could not forget that sight.

A row of people glaring at them with hate had fear, while a smaller group on the outside either with indifference or with catharsis.

What excitement had flooded Rein's veins had disappeared. He was drained.

A pat on his back broke him from his revere. It was Lorean, a bemused smile on his face.

"Why?" Rein croaked as he looked at his captain.

What that word meant he did not know. Was it, 'why did you do nothing?' or was it, 'why do those people take so much joy in their hate?'

Rein did not know.