Creating Characters in One Piece

The stalls around the port were a chaotic mix of color and sound, each vendor competing for attention. As I weaved through the crowd, I checked off the items we'd managed to buy so far: ropes, spare tools, and a few other odds and ends to replace the worn-out supplies on the ship. Not bad progress. 

The last thing on the list was food. Simple enough—just a variety of staples to restock our storage. I scanned the nearby stalls, searching for anything that resembled a grocer. Vendors waved fresh fish, jars of pickled vegetables, and even baskets of fruit, but nothing seemed to match what we needed. 

I moved through the crowd, focused on my task, until a small nagging feeling crept into the back of my mind. Something was off. 

"Tim?" I said, glancing to my side. 

No answer. 

I stopped in my tracks, turning to look behind me. The crowd bustled past, people talking, laughing, and haggling over prices. But no Tim. 

"Tim?" I called again, louder this time. 

Still nothing. 

I scanned the area, my eyes darting from stall to stall, searching for that familiar mop of brown hair. But all I saw were strangers. People and more people, their faces blending together in the chaos of the port. 

I cursed under my breath, gripping the list of supplies tightly as my eyes darted around the bustling port. Losing Tim was the last thing I needed. Captain Vons would have my head if the kid wandered off and got into trouble—or worse. 

Taking a deep breath, I tried to think. 'Okay, Ray, don't panic. The kid can't have gone far. He's probably just distracted by something shiny or stupid. Typical kid stuff.'

"Tim!" I called again, louder this time, drawing a few curious glances from nearby shoppers. No response. 

I clenched my teeth, frustration bubbling under the surface. The kid might have been eager, but he clearly wasn't great at following instructions. I couldn't exactly leave the supplies unattended, so I stuffed the pouch of berries deeper into my pocket and headed toward the nearest stall owner. 

"Excuse me," I said, trying to keep my tone polite. The vendor, a burly man selling dried fish, looked up from his counter. 

"What is it?" he grunted, clearly annoyed that I wasn't a paying customer. 

"Have you seen a kid around here? About this tall, brown hair, looks like he's got way too much energy?" I gestured to emphasize Tim's height, though I probably didn't need to—he was the only kid in a Marine uniform on the entire port. 

The man scratched his head, glancing around lazily. "Might've seen him running toward the food stalls a few minutes ago. Looked like he was in a hurry." 

I sighed, half-relieved and half-annoyed. "Thanks." 

Turning on my heel, I pushed through the crowd toward the direction the vendor had indicated. The food stalls were a little farther up the port, closer to where locals were unloading crates of produce and seafood. It made sense, I supposed—Tim probably thought he was helping by scouting ahead. 

Still, the nagging worry wouldn't leave my chest. This wasn't some safe, quiet town. Ports like this were breeding grounds for trouble, from petty pickpockets to pirates lurking in the shadows. And Tim was a walking target—young, inexperienced, and obviously carrying Marine-issued gear. 

I quickened my pace, scanning every face and stall as I passed. My hand rested on the pouch in my pocket, the measly 1,230 berries suddenly feeling like a lifeline I couldn't afford to lose. 

"Tim, you better not be messing around," I muttered under my breath, the sound of the crowd around me fading as my focus narrowed. 

Finally, I spotted him—or at least, I thought I did. A flash of brown hair darted between two stalls near the edge of the market, disappearing into the alleyway beyond. 

'Oh, for crying out loud.' I took off after him, shoving past a couple of startled shoppers. The alley was narrow and shadowy, the sound of the busy port fading behind me. 

"Tim!" I called, my voice echoing slightly. "If you're in here, you'd better answer me right now!" 

No response. 

I pressed forward, my gut twisting with unease. Something about this felt wrong. If Tim had just wandered off to chase after something, he'd have come running back by now. 

Reaching the end of the alley, I stopped in my tracks. There was Tim—standing frozen in place, his back to me. 

"Tim!" I barked, jogging up to him. "What the hell are you—" 

The words caught in my throat as I followed his gaze. 

Standing in front of him, just a few paces away, was a group of men. Rough-looking, unshaven, and armed with rusty cutlasses. They weren't locals. They weren't vendors. 

Pirates. 

And judging by the smug grins on their faces, they'd already noticed the Marine insignia on Tim's uniform. 

I instinctively stepped forward, placing a hand on Tim's shoulder and pulling him slightly behind me. My mind raced. There were three of them, all burly and clearly seasoned enough to carry weapons with confidence. Their cutlasses gleamed faintly in the alley's dim light, and their expressions screamed trouble. 

"Well, what do we have here?" the tallest one drawled, his voice gravelly. He took a step closer, twirling his weapon lazily in one hand. "A couple of baby Marines lost their way?" 

The others chuckled, their laughter low and predatory. 

I forced myself to stay calm, my hand tightening on Tim's shoulder. "We're just here on a supply run," I said evenly, trying to keep my voice steady. "No trouble." 

"No trouble?" another pirate sneered, leaning casually against the alley wall. "You're in Marine uniforms, boy. That's trouble enough for us." 

I shot a glare at Tim, whose eyes were wide with panic. "What were you thinking running off like that?" I hissed under my breath. 

Tim's voice came out in a whisper, trembling. "I-I saw them at the food stalls. They were stealing from the vendors, Senior Ray. I thought… I thought I could stop them…" 

I resisted the urge to smack my forehead. 'Of course, the kid thought he could play hero.'

"And what was your brilliant plan after that, huh?" I muttered, keeping my tone low. "Get yourself killed?" 

Tim looked down, his shoulders slumping. "I'm sorry… I didn't think that-"

"Shut up for a moment!" I snapped, glancing back at the pirates. "Now we're both in this mess." 

The tall pirate laughed, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Aww, little Marine thought he could stop us? That's cute." He raised his cutlass, pointing it directly at Tim. "Too bad he's about to learn what happens to people who stick their noses where they don't belong." 

My heart pounded, but I kept my expression neutral. Fighting wasn't an option. I wasn't strong enough, and Tim was useless in a brawl. Running seemed equally foolish—we'd be cut down before we got halfway to the main road. 

"Listen," I said, forcing a small, nervous smile. "We're not here to interfere with whatever you're doing. We'll just head back to our ship and—" 

The tall pirate interrupted with a sharp laugh, his grin widening. "Oh, you're not going anywhere, Marine. Not until we see what you're carrying. Hand over whatever's in your pockets, and maybe we'll let you leave in one piece." 

I swallowed hard, feeling the pouch of berries weighing heavily in my pocket. My options were limited, and none of them looked good. 

"Tim," I muttered under my breath, not breaking eye contact with the pirates. "When I say 'go,' you run. Don't look back." 

"What? But—" 

"No arguing," I hissed, cutting him off. My mind scrambled for a plan—any plan—that might buy us even a few seconds to escape. 

The pirates were closing the distance, their smug expressions making it clear they thought we were easy prey. I had no weapons, no strength to speak of, and no backup. 

But I did have one thing. 

The system. 

"GO!" I yelled to Tim as he ran as fast as his legs can go. 

As Tim ran, the tall pirate reached out to grab me. I clenched my teeth and whispered the only command I could think of. 

"System. Create character!" 

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