Fog is thick. The mist surrounding Porto Neira isn't ordinary fog. Only ships carrying special compasses powered by permanent magnets can approach this island. Reina's compass pendant at her neck sways faintly in the pale morning light. "[serious]Almost there. Don't let go of the helm." "Not letting go." Taiga looked ahead from the bow. A wall of gray fog. Beyond it, the island's outline floats. Rocky coastline. And——the Smoke Pier. That's the name of Porto Neira's harbor district. More than fifteen ships moored constantly. The port managed by the Barossa Company. Reina adjusted the helm in small increments. Dodging reefs by a hair's breadth. Rock shadows floating in the fog creep closer. Then vanish. Taiga thought: this person really has the entire strait and fog mapped in their head. They reached the pier. A harbor official approached. Middle-aged and fat. Ledger in hand. He looked Taiga up and down. Then yawned. "Port tax. 500,000 Beri per ship." Taiga thrust his hand into the money bag. Searching the bottom. Coins. Counting. There. There. There——all of it. Using his palm as a table, he stacked gold and silver coins. The official counted. Wrote in the ledger. Left. Taiga looked at his palm. Nothing. Reina came beside him. Silver hair swayed in the sea breeze. She saw his hand. Said nothing. "[cold]We'll be swimming home at this rate, sir." "Won't happen." Not even a bitter laugh came. He'd cut off his retreat. That's all. --- The tavern closest to the harbor district. A sign carved into dull wood read "Rum and Bone." Pushing the door open, tobacco smoke and cheap alcohol smell mixed and flowed out. Before noon. Few customers. Behind the counter, a large man polished a glass alone. His face was scarred. Nose broken once. Never set straight. Left ear bore old burn marks. His build dwarfed the dock workers. His hands were too thick to hold a glass. "[cold]What'll you drink." Taiga sat at the counter. Placed one coin on the table. "I want information. Two names. Someone strong and trustworthy. Someone who knows the Barossa Company's secrets." The man looked at the coin. Stopped polishing. Put a cigarette in his mouth. Didn't light it. Stayed silent for a while. Morgan Vekki——former Navy Petty Officer. Deserter. Now the tavern owner. Information broker for the underworld. That's what Taiga's future memory said. Whether he's trustworthy depends on money. "[serious]I got two." The man spoke with the cigarette in his mouth. "Garudda Pit——an illegal fighting arena underground on this island——regular. Zarl Voluren. Twenty-four. Used to be combat strength on some ship. Three years there. Never lost once." "The other one." "Milena Feelds. Woman who was in the company. Running now. From the company's hunters. Can't pin down her location." "How do I meet Zarl." "Fight at Garudda Pit. That man only cares about strong opponents." The man collected the coin. Turned away. That's it. No more information——his face said so. Taiga stood. Reina waited near the exit. "[serious]Neither's easy, is it." "Knew that." They went outside. Noon light poured into the harbor district. A ship's whistle sounded far off. The salt smell was thick. --- Garudda Pit. The stairs down extended from a building's back entrance. Entry fee: 100,000 Beri——Taiga couldn't pay. So he registered as a challenger. Challengers skip the fee. But prize money gets cut in half if they win. Reina crossed her arms. "[serious]That's reckless. Your stamina's already depleted." "Any other way to meet Zarl." "……No, sir." "Then wait outside. Watch the people near the entrance. Keep an eye on the movement." Reina looked at Taiga's face for a moment. Like she wanted to say something. But didn't. "[gentle]Be careful." Taiga descended the stairs. Underground was dim. Torchlight lit the stone walls. Soil smell. Sweat smell. Iron smell. Mixed together. Capacity: 200 people——about half the seats filled today. Rough men mostly. Holding drinks. Waiting for the match. Preliminary Round One. Opponent was a large man with neck tattoos. Grinning as he approached. Thought Taiga was too young. It showed on his face. Taiga didn't use flames. Fists. Dodged the opponent's step. Right to the ribs. Impact. Opponent staggers. Press forward. Left to the temple. Hit the ground. Done. Round Two. Opponent pulled a weapon. Short rod. Iron-weighted. Heavy. First strike hit Taiga's arm. Numb. Another coming. Dodge. No timing to close distance. Taiga wrapped his left fist in flame. Minimal. One fist-sized. Kagerou flame——not a Devil Fruit. Taiga's alone. Origin unknown——orange light wavered. That instant, the scar on his left arm throbbed. Burn scar running from left arm to chest. Burned in past rampage. Every time he uses flame, this scar signals danger. More emotion. Flame loses control. Fifty-meter radius burns. Taiga's body burns too. Gritted teeth. Pushed emotion down. Lowered flame output. Caught the opponent's rod with flame. Wood charred. Opponent flinched. Stepped in. Headbutt to the jaw. Opponent collapsed. Flame extinguished. Left arm still throbbing. Round Three. Third opponent was bare-handed. But fast. Targeting Taiga's left——saw the scar. Two hits landed on the aching left arm. Used flame. Throbbed again. Suppressed. Fought. Barely won. Taiga exhaled deeply. Stamina depleted. Left arm's throb won't fade. But——controlled it. Barely. Tightrope. Still no rampage. This time. This time. Taiga glanced up at the back row of spectators. One figure stood there. Arms crossed. Black hair with red streaks. Large scar on right cheek. Tattoos on arms. 185cm tall. Presence that stood apart from surrounding spectators. Been there the whole time. Just noticed now. Eyes met Taiga's. The figure said nothing. --- The holding room after preliminaries was stone. Narrow. Taiga checked his left arm. The scar was red. Overused. But no rampage. Not yet. The door opened. No time to turn. Heavy footsteps entered. The figure from before. Closer now, even larger. A full head taller than Taiga. Red vertical-slit pupils. Glanced at Taiga's left arm——specifically, the scar——for a moment. Then looked up. "Your flame." Low voice. "Where'd you get it." Taiga couldn't answer. Didn't get it. Been inside his body forever. Origin unknown. Reason unknown. So——no answer. Zarl's eyes were rough. But something else behind them. Beyond the roughness. Something searching. Taiga felt it. Stared back in silence. Zarl snorted. "[serious]You're not a bad guy. I'll hear you out." He walked toward the exit first. That moment, the other door opened. Reina. Silver hair disheveled. Reina, always composed, walked with slightly faster steps. Saw Zarl's back. Waited for him to pass. Zarl left. Door closed. Reina stood directly in front of Taiga. Blue eyes looked straight at him. "[serious]The company saw us. Two people near the entrance. They were recording. Your fight. The young man using flame. They documented it." "……Within expected range." Saying it, Taiga heard his own voice was hollow. Reina noticed. But judged this wasn't the place to press. Just looked at his left arm. Throbbing. Red. "[gentle]Don't push yourself. Let's return to the inn." They quickened pace. --- The moment they opened the inn door, Taiga saw it. A short sword stuck in the wall. One in the front stone wall. Deep. Only the hilt protruded. Paper wrapped around it. Taiga approached. Took the paper. Unfolded it. One line in ink. 'To the one who toys with time. ——From Dial' Taiga's hand trembled. A name he heard in Karabina port town's tavern. Dial——hidden word for clock face——information broker in the underworld. The rumor's source. Someone tracking the man who knows the future. Not a phantom. Here. Tonight. On this island. Knew exactly where they'd sleep. Not just being pursued——being read ahead. Reina stood beside Taiga. Saw the paper. Saw the sword. Looked at Taiga's face directly. "Dial." Quiet voice. "We heard that name in Karabina. ……You're hiding something, aren't you." Taiga clenched the paper. Can't tell. Can't say he came from the future. But—— "The danger is real. That much is certain." Reina paused. Didn't press. Pulled the sword from the wall. Soundless. Examined the blade. Placed it on the table. "[serious]Before we talk to Zarl tomorrow, let's revise the plan." Sat down. Pulled out sea charts. Same movements as always. But to Taiga, that composure felt different tonight. A different temperature. No panic. No interrogation. Just thinking the next move. Taiga stared at the wall. The scar where the sword had been. One line carved in stone. Dial is here. Has substance. Not just a name——a threat with a body. Two obstacles next——how to earn Zarl's trust. And what to do before Dial moves. No answers yet.