One Piece: Capitalist Brook's Crew Expansion Plan-Chapter 64: Fishman Street

If Ryugu Palace was the pinnacle of Fishman Island—a paradise of sprawling coral reefs, shimmering shells, and grand palatial halls where sunlight and clouds painted an almost dreamlike scene—then Fishman Street was its shadowed reflection.

A place where orphans and the destitute gathered, where hunger and resentment festered. Darkness, poverty, conflict—these were the unchanging themes of Fishman Street.

"Hah! Tom, you became a pirate too?!"

A sneering Fishman thug jeered at Tom the moment he returned. Hadn't he once boasted about earning the respect of humans through his own skills?

And now? Now, he was nothing more than a dog for human pirates!

"Hey! I won't let you insult Tom-senpai like that! You bunch of losers! You only know how to act tough against your own kind!"

A small red Fishman, no older than seven or eight, stepped forward, glaring fiercely at the thug. Despite his size, his fighting ability far surpassed that of the older Fishman.

"Fisher Tiger, you orphan—who gave you the right to speak?! Get lost!"

The thug, bolstered by the presence of seven or eight companions, no longer feared the child who had humiliated him in a previous fight.

Brook, overhearing the name, turned his attention to the red Fishman. Fisher Tiger? The same Fisher Tiger who would one day scale the Red Line with his bare hands and free countless slaves?

Even at eight years old, he already stood over two meters tall—almost as tall as Brook himself. With such a physique and presence, he was clearly a Fishman of extraordinary talent.

"You're looking for death!!"

The moment Fisher Tiger heard the word 'orphan,' his fists clenched, his eyes burned red with rage, and he charged forward.

In Fishman Street, words often escalated to fists in an instant. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

"Fishman Karate!"

With a single punch, Fisher Tiger sent the thug flying, crashing into the ground.

"What are you standing around for?! Get him!"

Writhing in pain, the thug realized he had underestimated the boy. He barked out an order, calling his gang to join in the fight.

...

"Enough! This nonsense has gone too far!"

Tom, towering over them, grabbed two thugs by the collars and effortlessly hurled them aside. He glared at the group, disgusted. They still hadn't learned. They wasted their strength fighting among themselves instead of seeking their fortunes at sea.

Fishman Island had a population of over four or five million, yet how many Fishmen actually ventured out to sea? Besides the small number who turned to piracy, almost none dared to challenge the wider world.

Tom himself had become one of the rare exceptions—a shipwright who had earned a place in Water 7 based on skill alone. But could he really blame them? The world above the waves was a hunting ground, and Fishmen were prized prey. Each enslaved Fishman could fetch millions of Belly.

Brook observed all of this with quiet curiosity. For a species said to possess ten times the strength of humans, Fishmen seemed strangely stagnant. It was as if nature had granted them strength only to cap their potential in return.

Humans, by contrast, lacked such natural power, but their growth had no limits. Through training and willpower, they produced warriors capable of surpassing all other races, ruling the seas through sheer numbers and ambition.

Was it population? Civilization? Some unseen force?

Whatever the reason, the world belonged to humans, and the Fishmen remained trapped beneath the waves.

...

With Tom's overwhelming presence, the gang of thugs scattered, and peace briefly returned to Fishman Street. Tom led Brook and his crew back to his home, where his younger brother, Den, emerged to greet them.

Den was an Oriental Wolffish Fishman, easily recognizable by his dark hat, thick-rimmed glasses, and dangling earrings. His spiky hair and sharp facial features, along with his slightly hooked nose, gave him a distinct look. A skilled shipwright himself, Den also served as a researcher of the 'Forest of the Sea.'

He never quite understood the human tendency to judge familial ties based on appearance. Unlike humans, Fishmen and Merfolk inherited traits from their ancestors in unpredictable ways. He and Tom—one a Fishman, the other a Merman—were full-blooded brothers, despite their differences.

"Big bro, are you really becoming a pirate?"

Den's voice was low, tinged with hesitation. His brother had never shown interest in piracy before. He had always been determined to elevate the status of Fishmen through his craft, not violence.

"Den, don't go near the surface. From now on, I'll be a wanted man, and not just by the Navy—this is an order from the Celestial Dragons."

Tom's usual confidence wavered for a moment. He knew the weight of what was coming. The repercussions wouldn't just fall on him but on those around him, including his own people.

"Big bro... Don't tell me—you attacked the Celestial Dragons?"

Den had a sinking feeling. His brother's expression confirmed his fears.

"A Celestial Dragon is dead. The news will spread soon. You must be careful."

"What?! You killed a World Noble?!"

Den's voice shot up in shock. His eyes widened, and outside, a certain red Fishman also froze in place, his mind shaken to its core.

"Keep it down, you idiot!"

Tom raised his hand and flicked Den on the forehead, hard enough to make him yelp. The younger Fishman crouched, rubbing his head, tears welling up. His exaggerated reaction made Shakky chuckle.

"Big bro... I won't lie, I'm scared of the Celestial Dragons' revenge... but I think your crew are heroes for Fishman Island!"

Den straightened, his gaze filled with admiration as he looked at the Hell Pirates. They were warriors who dared to defy the world's rulers.

"Tom, is it true?! You really took down one of those vile Celestial Dragons?!"

Fisher Tiger stormed into the room, his youthful face alight with emotion. From the moment he could understand words, he had heard tales of the Celestial Dragons and their countless Fishman slaves. He despised them with every fiber of his being.

"Tiger, focus on your Fishman Karate training. This isn't something you should concern yourself with."

Whenever Tom returned to Fishman Island, he made it a habit to visit the orphanage, guiding and training the young ones. Among them, Fisher Tiger had always stood out.

"Tom, please take me with you! Let me join your crew! I'm not weak—I'm stronger than most adult Fishmen!"

Fisher Tiger flexed his muscles, his expression fierce. He had already begun venturing outside the island, hunting sea beasts to train himself and provide food for others.

"You're still too young, Tiger. The sea is far more dangerous than you think."

Tom watched the boy carefully. If not for his lack of interest in shipbuilding, Tom would have taken him as a disciple. But Fisher Tiger had no desire to be a shipwright—his dream was to become stronger, to explore the world, to carve out his own path.

Brook studied him as well. Even as a child, Fisher Tiger commanded authority among the orphans of Fishman Street. His strength was undeniable. His future was inevitable.

One day, he would become a legend.

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