"Big Mom" Charlotte Linlin—one of the Four Emperors, equal in renown to Whitebeard.
Her covetous desire for Fishman Island was no secret.
King Neptune's face darkened with anger.
"Fukaboshi, we must never commit such treachery!"
For once, his majestic presence erupted, startling Prince Fukaboshi, Scholar Catfish, and General Seahorse alike.
"At Fishman Island's darkest hour, Whitebeard stood firm, shielding us without hesitation and without asking for anything in return. He even clashed with Big Mom to protect us.
And now, when he most needs allies, are we to abandon him? Is that what the Ryugu Kingdom should do?"
The golden trident in Neptune's hand slamd down with a resonant clang, its echoes rolling through the palace hall.
Prince Fukaboshi, Scholar Catfish, and General Seahorse all dropped to the floor, trembling with unease.
Neptune sighed heavily and helped each of them up.
"You three are the core of this kingdom. If even you lose sight of what's right, where will all of Fishman Island be led?"
"I was wrong," Fukaboshi admitted with sha.
Neptune turned to General Seahorse. "I see it in your face—you have more to say, don't you?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," the general bowed. "Forgive . The next pieces of intelligence were so bizarre, I hardly understood them, so I withheld them."
"Speak."
Neptune steeled himself. In his long years as king, he had seen all manner of things. He had shared cups with both Whitebeard and the Pirate King Roger himself. Nothing in the seas could truly surprise him now.
Or so he thought.
But what General Seahorse described next left him utterly bewildered.
Hody, Vander Decken, and the others—their souls drawn out, drifting away into the depths?
This…
Neptune could hardly picture it. He mulled it over, his thoughts turning to Big Mom.
Could it be that Davy Jones possessed powers similar to Charlotte Linlin's?
And yet, all evidence suggested Davy Jones was no Devil Fruit user at all.
Then where did his powers co from?
The more Neptune pondered it, the more the chill crept into his bones.
What exactly is Davy Jones…?
The Sunlight Tree Eve faithfully shone its light down upon Fishman Island.
The rfolk and fishn whispered anxiously among themselves about the New Fishman Pirates' crushing defeat the night before, imagining in dread what would happen if the Davy Jones Pirates ca to attack today.
Fear drove most residents indoors. Windows were shuttered, streets nearly empty.
Yet even in such silence, word spread quickly: Madam Shyarly had returned alive.
The people were astonished. That she had survived at all was incredible. Whispers followed—what horrors must she have endured?
In truth, Madam Shyarly sat unhard within her rmaid Café.
After dismissing her worried staff and hanging a "Closed for Today" sign on the door, she retreated upstairs.
There, gathered in the café's upper floor, were several mbers of the Davy Jones Pirates.
All except Crocodile and Perona were present.
Crocodile knew Fishman Island well; as the gateway to the New World, he had visited more than once. But as a forr Warlord with a reputation as a scher burned into the public mind, it was safer for him to stay away this ti.
As for Perona, she preferred the eerie, gloomy atmosphere of the Fanged City to the vibrant colors of Fishman Island. She had only asked Alvida, her closest companion, to buy her so cute dolls to decorate her room.
"Though Fishman Island often hosts humans, none stand out as much as you lot," Shyarly remarked, bringing out scarves and cloaks.
"Most here have seen your wanted posters. Disguise yourselves, and perhaps you'll pass unnoticed."
Even as she said it, she doubted it would work. A group of suspiciously veiled strangers would surely attract attention—but it was the only idea she had.
Alvida, her hat removed, shook out her long, inky-black hair, cascading like storm clouds. With a languid smile, she replied, "No need. We won't disguise ourselves."
"No disguise?" Shyarly blinked at the dark-haired beauty, whose rmaid-like allure even surpassed that of her own staff. "You intend to walk out openly?"
"Of course," said Alvida.
"First, we didn't kill the princes. Second, the New Fishman Pirates were your enemies—we did you the favor of wiping them out. Third, pirates aren't forbidden passage here. So why should we hide?"
Shyarly understood. This was Davy Jones' ssage to Fishman Island: We are here, but so long as we are left alone, we will not act against you.
"By the way," Alvida leaned back on the sofa, chin resting on her hand, "Madam Shyarly, they say Princess Shirahoshi is the greatest beauty of your island?"
Shyarly nodded. "Not just of our island. She is the most beautiful woman in all the seas—more so even than Boa Hancock, the Pirate Empress."
"Is that so?" Alvida's eyes glittered. "Then you've seen her yourself. Tell —between her and , who is more beautiful?"
Here it cos.
Nearby, Porche and Mikita exchanged knowing looks. They had predicted their "big sister" would ask exactly this question.
Shyarly froze for a mont, then composed herself.
"You are… different kinds of beauties. Hard to compare. But Princess Shirahoshi's beauty transcends race—human, rmaid, fishman, all recognize it. Your beauty, however… so may not perceive."
"Why not?" Alvida's tone sharpened, displeased.
"rmaids can appreciate it," Shyarly explained. "But fishn often have their own peculiar standards of beauty. For example… Hatchan!"
The octopus fishman blinked, turning around. "What's up?"
"Who do you think is more beautiful—Lady Alvida, , or Nana from Fishman District?"
"Eh?" Hatchan scratched his head, thought for a long mont, then said, "I don't want to upset any of you… so I'd rather not say."
Which was, of course, an answer in itself.
Shyarly fetched an old photo of herself with Nana and handed it to Alvida.
"She's the one on the right."
Alvida studied the fishwoman in the picture and imdiately understood.
She nodded. "So they truly do have their own standards. On that front, I fall short."
"Exactly," Shyarly said.
"Mm." Alvida smiled faintly. "In that case, I'll just et Princess Shirahoshi myself and see. Where can she be found? Or do you have a photo of her?"
The way she phrased it sounded suspiciously like an assassin plotting her target.
Wary of Alvida's temperant, Shyarly replied carefully:
"Because of Vander Decken's curse, the princess has been confined to Hard-Shell Tower. She hasn't appeared in public for nearly eight years."
"I see. Well, I'll get the chance eventually." Alvida let the matter drop—for now.
After making their preparations, the crew of the Davy Jones Pirates filed out of the rmaid Café one by one.
Buggy lingered at the rear.
He fiddled nervously with his red nose, glancing at Shyarly with hesitation written all over his face.
"Is sothing the matter?" Shyarly asked gently.
Buggy hesitated, sighed, and finally asked:
"Those prophecies you spoke of… can the outcos be changed?"
"No." Shyarly shook her head. "At least, every prophecy until now has always co true. No matter what the people involved tried, fate carried them to the sa end."
Buggy swallowed hard, his voice low.
"So no matter what, Whitebeard… and Ace… will die?"
"Perhaps." For the first ti, doubt flickered in Shyarly's tone.
"Perhaps?"
"To be honest, I always trusted my prophecies absolutely—until recently, when I foresaw your captain. For the first ti, I could only glimpse the beginning. The rest was hidden from . That has never happened before… it's unthinkable."
"I see."
Buggy licked his lips, Davy Jones' face flashing in his mind—then Roger's. He groaned, ruffling his hair in frustration, and stord out the door.
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