Straw Hat Castaways: The Marimo and the Shit Cook's 72 Hours
When a violent storm tears through the Grand Line, Zoro and Sanji are ripped from the Thousand Sunny and washed ashore on a desolate, uncharted island in the lawless Graveyard of the Calm. No ship. No crew. No way to call for help. Just the world's worst combination—a directionally challenged swordsman and a hotheaded cook—stranded together with nothing but seawater, silence, and each other's company.
With only three days to survive before a Navy patrol might pass by, the two must scavenge for
Straw Hat Castaways: The Marimo and the Shit Cook's 72 Hours - The Cave's Sea Chart and the Mystery of the Crest—Ten and the Night Before Setting Sail
The sea before dawn lay heavy and still, like molten lead sinking into itself.
Only the waves lapping against the pier at Drift Port made any sound, steady and rhythmic. The floating island—built from scavenged derelict ships—still bore the scars of yesterday's attack. The charred remains of a water barrel lay in the dim light, a black lump rolled onto its side.
Zoro stood at the edge of the pier.
His shattered left shoulder was bound in a sling. The pain had long since gone numb. What weighed on him more were the two burdens tucked inside his haramaki.
The broken blade of Sandai Kitetsu.
And an old sea chart.
"...Couldn't sleep?"
He spoke without turning around. Sanji appeared beside him without a sound. His black suit was still stained with mud and blood. His blond hair was a mess, and beneath his bangs, his blue eyes stared out at the pre-dawn sea.
"Look who's talking. What're you moping about this early, Marimo?"
Sanji put a cigarette between his lips. He didn't light it. On this island, cigarettes were a luxury. Just holding one was enough to settle his nerves.
"Today, we're meeting a shipwright."
"A shipwright?"
"Old Lady Olga set it up. Guy named Dock Ten. He'll fix our boat."
Sanji slowly took the cigarette from his mouth.
"...That piece of junk raft? Fixing it ain't gonna cut it, you know."
"He's gonna repair the derelicts and build us a new boat."
"Seriously? That's a lifesaver."
A little strength returned to Sanji's voice.
Last night, the two of them had lost to the mud man. No—they'd survived. But the sword was broken, the shoulder was shattered, and Sanji still wasn't at full strength. Even so, they had no choice but to keep moving forward.
Get out of this sea. Get back to their crew.
For that, they needed a ship.
"Let's go."
Zoro started walking.
"Oi, that's the ocean. You planning to walk off the pier?"
Zoro stopped.
"...I know that. It's this way, right?"
Zoro turned in a completely different direction.
Sanji heaved a deep sigh.
"Your 'I know' is worth absolutely nothing."
"Shut up. Just guide me."
"Yeah, yeah. This way, lost Marimo."
The two of them set off down one of Drift Port's narrow walkways.
The floating island, pieced together from derelict ships, creaked with every step. The sway of the waves traveled straight up through their feet. Shells and driftwood ornaments lined the walls—a sign that the residents had been slowly making this place their home.
The morning market was still setting up.
In front of the water-seller's tent—"Olga's Spring"—a young man was lining up barrels. One barrel of fresh water traded for a hundred ship nails. In this sea, water was heavier than gold.
"That's Old Lady Olga's shop?"
"Yeah. That old lady tried to hide us yesterday."
Sanji's voice softened, just a little.
"It's the code. Those who help are helped. It's the one and only rule the drifters of this sea live by."
"...Not bad."
Zoro's reply was brief.
Before long, a particularly large derelict came into view at the western edge of the floating island.
It must have been a mid-sized merchant vessel once. Planks had been nailed over every part of the hull, leaving it covered in patches. But every patch had been applied with care and precision.
A sign hung at the entrance.
"Dock Ten."
"This is the place."
Zoro put his hand on the sliding door.
It rattled open.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of wood.
Sawdust scattered across the floor, and tools of every size hung on the walls. Saws, chisels, hammers, squares. All of them worn from use, their handles polished black with hand grease. In the back, the skeleton of a ship under construction was visible.
In the center of it all, a man was working.
Shaved head, white headband.
Brown eyes fixed on the wood in his hands.
The man held the timber steady with his left hand and brought down the hammer with his right.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
The steady rhythm echoed through the workshop.
Zoro looked at the man's left hand.
Two fingers were missing.
The index and middle fingers were gone cleanly from the second knuckle up. But that hand held the wood firmly. The three remaining fingers, through years of experience, worked for the ones he'd lost.
"...You Ten?"
Zoro called out.
The man stopped his hammer.
He raised his head slowly. His brown eyes were quiet and deep.
"You the swordsman Olga told me about?"
Ten looked at Zoro's slung left shoulder.
"Don't push that shoulder. It'll be another month before the bone knits."
"I can't wait a month."
Zoro's voice was firm.
Ten's brow moved, just slightly.
"...I see. But the ship will wait. The ships I build are more honest than your shoulder."
Ten slid his hammer into the tool pouch at his waist and walked over to them.
"Let me see it. Your boat."
"It's at the pier. ...That one."
Sanji pointed outside the workshop.
Ten lumbered outside. He stared down at the raft tied to the pier—no, calling it a boat was generous. It was nothing more than driftwood and rope lashed together into something that floated.
Silence.
Ten seconds. Twenty.
"...This'll sink."
Ten muttered under his breath.
"I know that! That's why I want you to fix it!"
Sanji snapped back.
"Fix it? No way. This thing ain't worth fixing. We're starting from scratch."
Ten crouched down and began examining the raft's hull. He tapped the wood with his three remaining fingers. He listened closely, reading the sound.
"The timber's from Kagero Island. The core's starting to rot. The rope knots are loose. Take this out on open water and it won't last an hour."
"...Thought so."
Zoro let out a small breath.
"But if we use parts from the derelicts, we can make it work. You two are lucky. This island's got plenty of shipwrecks washed in by storms."
Ten stood and turned to face them.
"I'll build you a boat. One small vessel. But I've got a condition."
"A condition?"
"You help. A ship remembers the hands that built it. A boat made with your own hands won't betray you."
Ten's voice was quiet.
But his words carried the weight only a man who'd spent years facing the sea could have.
"...Got it. I'll help."
Zoro answered immediately.
"Oi, Marimo. What can you even do with that shoulder?"
"Even with one arm, I can carry a piece of wood."
"Oh really. Then what am I supposed to do? A cook doesn't know the first thing about building ships."
Ten looked at Sanji.
"You a cook?"
"Yeah. What about it?"
"If you're a cook, then cook. Can't build a good ship on an empty stomach. And there's someone who'll bring supplies."
Ten pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his work jacket pocket.
"This is the list of parts we need. Talk to the folks on the island and they'll share what they've got spare. Barter system. Get water and food ready."
"...Understood."
Sanji took the paper.
And so the two of them began building their boat.
Ten was a man of few words.
He said only what was necessary. But his hands never stopped. The sound of the hammer, the saw, the plane. The workshop was never without some kind of noise.
Zoro carried timber in silence.
His shattered left shoulder ached dully every time he lifted a heavy plank. But he didn't let it show on his face. He gritted his teeth, cradled the wood against his one good arm, and carried it where Ten directed.
"Oi, Marimo. Take a break. You look pale."
Sanji spoke in a low voice.
"No time to rest. If we don't get this boat built, we can't get out of here."
"If you collapse, that's the end of everything. Your shoulder bone was shattered just yesterday, you know."
"One or two broken bones is nothing."
"A swordsman breaks his dominant arm and it's nothing?! You idiot!"
Sanji's voice echoed through the workshop.
Ten stopped his hands.
"...Swordsman. You lost your sword?"
Ten's voice was quiet.
Zoro didn't answer.
"The broken sword's inside your haramaki. Am I wrong?"
"...How can you tell?"
"A man with a swordsman's eyes always gets that look when he loses his blade. Right now, you've lost sight of what you're standing for."
Ten set down his hammer.
"I was the same, once."
Ten raised his left hand.
The hand without fingers.
"Twenty years ago, in a storm, a ship part crushed my fingers. I was trying to save a crewmate. Took two of them."
Ten's voice was matter-of-fact.
"A shipwright who loses his fingers. I thought it was over. But it wasn't. Even without fingers, the hand still moves. It's not about counting what you've lost—it's about what you build with what's left."
Ten clenched his three remaining fingers tight.
"Your sword broke. Your shoulder shattered. But you're alive. It's about what you do with what's left."
Ten said only that, then picked up his hammer.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
The sound of work began again.
Zoro stood frozen.
It's not about counting what you've lost—it's about what you build with what's left.
(...What's left, huh.)
Zoro's hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of the broken Sandai Kitetsu through his haramaki.
That night.
Zoro took Sanji and headed back to Kagero Island.
Until the boat was finished at Ten's workshop, the two of them would be going back and forth between the island and Drift Port. After finishing the day's work, Zoro said to Sanji:
"There's something I want to show you."
That was all.
They couldn't borrow the boat—the one Ten was still building. The two of them floated an old log left on the island out onto the water, grabbed hold of it, and rode the current toward Kagero Island.
The sea of the Calm Graveyard glowed pale blue at night.
Calm jellyfish—bioluminescent jellyfish—drifted just beneath the surface. Their tentacles carried a mild paralyzing venom, but as long as you didn't touch them, there was no problem. Their light wrapped around the two of them like stars.
"...Beautiful."
Sanji murmured.
"Yeah."
Zoro answered just as briefly.
They reached Kagero Island a little past midnight.
The island was wrapped in mist. Its outline blurred like a mirage. That was where the name Kagero Island came from.
The two headed for the Kagero Cavern on the north shore.
The cave entrance submerged at high tide, but the tide was out now. They stepped across the wet sand and made their way deeper inside.
The air in the cave was cool.
It was cold enough to make the heat outside seem like a lie. The walls were smooth, narrowing as they went deeper.
Eventually, they came to a place where the passage forked.
Zoro went down the right side.
There, a rotting wooden crate sat.
Zoro dropped to one knee and opened the crate. From inside, he pulled out an old sea chart made of animal hide.
"...This."
Zoro spread the chart on the cave floor.
The light of the campfire illuminated it.
The hide had turned brown and cracked in places. But the lines drawn on it remained astonishingly clear.
"This is..."
Sanji caught his breath.
The chart showed a route he'd never seen before. A line cutting from the center of the Calm Graveyard, through the outer storm belt, and continuing beyond. At the end of that line, handwritten words:
"The Road to All Blue."
"...The road to All Blue."
Sanji's voice trembled.
"Where did you find this chart?"
"Right here in this cave. The first night, while you were asleep."
"...You've had it this whole time?"
"Yeah."
Zoro flipped the edge of the chart.
"...Look at the back."
Sanji turned it over.
And then he went completely still.
On the back, an emblem had been stamped.
A strange crest.
Bird's wings and crossed swords. And at the center, a crown.
The color drained from Sanji's face.
"...Germa."
Sanji's lips moved soundlessly around the word.
The hand touching the chart was trembling.
"Why...why is this crest in a place like this..."
Sanji's blue eyes were wide open.
Deep within them, something was shaking violently.
Vinsmoke.
The Kingdom of Germa.
His homeland. A past he thought he'd thrown away.
"...You know this crest?"
Zoro's voice
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.