Liquor dripped through the crack in Jinbe's cup, tapping softly against the deck.
In the dead silence that swallowed the Moby Dick, the tiny sound felt deafening.
Every gaze was locked in place.
The cup, bearing the emblem of the Whitebeard Pirates, was one of Jinbe's favorites.
Under the unconscious pressure of his grip, it had split apart before he even realized his hand had tightened.
"What is it, Jinbe?"
Marco's trademark lazy drawl now carried an unmistakable sharpness.
He set down the roast at in his hand, leaning over Jozu's shoulder to look at the newspaper.
He had never seen the young Marine in the picture before.
But the hook, the massive fur coat, and that face—even swollen and brutally distorted—were unmistakable.
"Sir Crocodile?" Marco's eyelids rose fully, disbelief flashing in his eyes.
The na exploded across the deck.
"Crocodile?! One of the Seven Warlords?!"
"How the hell did he end up getting dragged around like trash?!"
"Who's that Marine? The paper says his na is Zaraki. Never heard of him!"
The pirates who had just been boasting about the Warlords being an 'iron rice bowl' felt their cheeks burn as if they had been physically slapped.
Their mouths hung half-open as they stared at the impossible image, feeling their entire worldview buckle.
The prestige of the World Governnt and the privilege even high-ranking Marines were supposed to handle carefully—all of it had been ground beneath the heel of that boy standing with one hand in his pocket.
"Gurararara…"
A low laugh cut through the stunned murmurs. Whitebeard reached out with a hand large enough to cover most of the paper and took it from Jozu.
His eyes swept over the photo, holding little surprise. If anything, there was a faint, almost nostalgic mockery in his gaze.
"That overconfident brat… back then I only took one hand from him, and it looks like he still never learned his lesson."
Jinbe froze.
An old story resurfaced in his mind: long ago, Crocodile's burning ambition drove him to challenge one of the Four Emperors, only to be cut down the mont he t Whitebeard.
That was the truth behind the golden hook.
"But to beat a Logia user into this state… this Marine brat…" Whitebeard tossed the paper aside, picked up a wine bowl larger than a bucket, and emptied it in a single gulp.
"Interesting. Has Sengoku finally run out of patience and started cutting into the Warlords?"
A calculating light flickered in his cloudy eyes.
Was this the will of Marine Headquarters, or just the reckless arrogance of a young bull charging ahead? Depending on the answer, the future course of the sea would drastically change.
Whitebeard turned his gaze to Jinbe.
Though his tone remained steady, it carried a heavy seriousness. "Jinbe, you should be careful too. Now that the Marines have a madman like that running around, your title as one of the Seven Warlords may no longer be the perfect shield it once was."
It was a solemn warning from the strongest man in the world.
A monster who could beat a veteran Warlord into the shape of a dead dog—nobody knew who he might choose as his next target.
"I understand, pops."
Jinbe slowly set down the cracked cup and rose to his feet, his enormous fra steady as a mountain.
The shock on his face faded, replaced by his usual calm resolve. "I accepted that title so the Marines would have no excuse to target Fish-Man Island. It was always a bargain made with a tiger." He faced Whitebeard, his tone sincere and unshakable.
"As long as it protects my people, Jinbe fears nothing."
"Well said!" Whitebeard laughed in satisfaction.
"But…" Jinbe's expression hardened again. "This is also a reminder. The balance of the sea may start shifting faster than we expected. We need to move more quickly."
His dark-blue eyes swept over the division commanders on deck, his voice carrying clearly to every man present.
"We need to find Fire Fist Ace as soon as possible. If this era is really about to change, we'll need a fla like his."
The chatter on deck vanished completely.
A heavy, burning seriousness spread among the crew as everyone finally understood: Crocodile's fall was only the opening act of a chaotic new age.
And the news didn't stop there.
It flew outward, rushing toward every corner of the Grand Line.
...
Dressrosa.
The King's Plateau.
Sunlight poured through massive glass windows, turning the palace a brilliant gold.
Doflamingo lounged crookedly on his throne, one hand supporting his chin and the other holding the newspaper.
His trademark laughter echoed through the vast hall.
"Fufufufu… fufufufufufufu!"
The sound rolled across the room, putting everyone below him on edge.
"H-Hey, Doffy," Trebol muttered, his sticky body sagging around his staff while a thick line of mucus hung from his nose.
"That Crocodile turned down our offer last ti, didn't he? Kept saying his 'ideal nation' plan in Alabasta didn't need outside help. And now look at him—his dream kingdom never got built, and he turned into a dead dog first! Behihihihi!" Trebol's fat body wriggled as he continued.
"But Doffy, that Marine called Zaraki dares attack even a Warlord. Shouldn't we maybe be a little careful?"
"Careful?" Doflamingo's laughter cut off abruptly.
He slowly raised his head, the gaze hidden behind his sunglasses sharpening as it swept over Trebol.
That sudden pressure was enough to make the entire room stiffen.
"Fufufu… why should we be careful? Trebol, you've got the wrong idea." Doflamingo tossed the paper away.
It drifted through the air, the photo of Zaraki dragging Crocodile bright beneath the sunlight.
"A fool like Crocodile deserves comparison to the Donquixote Family?"
Doflamingo rose to his feet, arms spread wide like an actor controlling a stage, his voice dripping with arrogance.
"He's just a pirate. I am a Celestial Dragon by blood, a descendant of the creators of this world, and the rightful king of Dressrosa. How is Crocodile even fit to be compared to ?" His smile widened.
"That brat called Zaraki dared touch Crocodile because Crocodile is just a pirate wearing a legal coat. Marines arresting pirates—that's natural. But would he dare touch ? A king of a mber nation? A Warlord carrying the noblest bloodline? Fufufufufu! If he dared, we wouldn't even need to act. The old n in the World Governnt would tear him to pieces first."
Diamante, Lao G, and the others all nodded.
The worry on their faces faded, replaced by blind faith in their young master.
"And besides…" Doflamingo pulled a Den Den Mushi from his coat. It was the backup line for Vergo, still deeply hidden inside the Marines.
"According to the latest information from Vergo, this action wasn't cleanly authorized by the World Governnt at all. Sengoku only started covering it after the fact. This was that brat's own reckless decision."
He stuck out his tongue and licked his lips, his eyes gleaming with the cruel amusent of a man watching a play unfold.
"A chess piece that doesn't follow orders has disturbed the board. Now tell —what does the one controlling the ga do next? He either chains the piece or removes it. Just watch. The World Governnt will move soon enough. We don't need to do a thing. Just open a good bottle and enjoy the Marines tearing themselves apart. Fufufufufu! This performance is getting more and more entertaining!"
...
Marine Headquarters, Marineford.
At the harbor, the sea breeze blew in salty and damp as the cries of seagulls rose and fell overhead.
Smoker stood near the dock with two cigars in his mouth, letting smoke coil around his face to hide his expression.
He stared straight ahead at the shining sea in the distance. By his feet lay a newspaper, crumpled from being squeezed too tightly.
Nearby, Isuka finished reading her temporary assignnt papers and folded them with a blank expression.
"Hey, Smoker!" A tall woman in a pink suit strode over with obvious irritation, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
Hina, the Black Cage.
"Hina is talking to you! You've been standing there spacing out this whole ti. Isn't that a little rude?"
Smoker slowly turned his head, exhaling a long plu of smoke before asking in a rough, gravelly voice.
"What is it?"
"Hina is angry!" She frowned deeply. "Headquarters drags a troublemaker like you back here, lets you bring Tashigi along for reassignnt paperwork too, and Hina ca all the way over just to see you off. What kind of attitude is that?"
"Oh." A single word.
Then, he turned back toward the sea.
That complete disregard made a vein jump on Hina's forehead.
Beside them, Isuka pushed up her glasses and spoke in a flat, asured tone.
"Captain Hina, there is no need to take it too seriously. Captain Smoker has been in a bad mood lately. After all, several of us who entered the gravity room have already touched the threshold of Armant Haki, even if only as unstable sparks. You, on the other hand…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
She didn't need to.
"You—!" Hina's temper ignited instantly as she spun toward Isuka.
Smoker, however, ignored the argunt entirely.
His gaze passed over the two won and landed on the short-haired girl standing a little further back, silently carrying her nad blade, Shigure.
Tashigi had her head lowered.
Both hands were clenched around her sword hilt, her body trembling faintly.
Smoker frowned.
He could feel it clearly—his newly appointed subordinate had completely changed from the girl he knew in Loguetown.
He pinched out one cigar, and when he spoke again, his voice was deeper than before.
"Tashigi."
"Yes! Captain Smoker!" She jerked her head up instantly and snapped into a salute.
The movent was technically flawless, but slightly too stiff.
Smoker looked straight into her eyes.
Those usually bright, absentminded, and earnest eyes now held a complexity he had never seen before.
"Your Armant Haki…" He spoke slowly, finally voicing the question sitting heavy in his chest.
"When did you touch it?"
The question dropped like a stone into the tangled ss inside Tashigi.
Her body tightened imdiately, even her salute turning a little crooked.
Her gaze slipped toward the ground, her lips moving as though desperately searching for the right words.
She drew in a deep breath, as if making a final decision, then lifted her head and t his eyes directly.
"It was Zaraki-san… he helped ." She spoke faster now, as though stating a truth that still felt impossible even to herself.
"I haven't mastered it. I can barely make it appear for a mont. But inside that room, when I thought I couldn't hold on anymore, I heard it. It was like my sword finally answered ."
Smoker fell silent.
He lit another cigar, pulled hard on it, let the sharp smoke burn through his lungs, and finally exhaled.
"I see." He asked nothing more.
If the feeling had awakened, then it was hers now. He trusted his subordinate, and that was enough.
"Don't make your sword cry anymore," he said lightly.
"Yes, sir!"
As if those words alone had granted her the recognition she needed, the tension in Tashigi's body finally eased, and her voice regained so of its usual brightness.
Smoker looked away from her again, staring out across the wide harbor.
The wind seed to pick up, making the Justice coat on his back snap and flutter violently.
Then—sothing felt wrong.
There were too many people at the harbor. He narrowed his eyes and looked more carefully.
Usually, the docks were busy with logistics crews and scattered patrols.
Now, everywhere he looked, Marines in standard uniforms stood in absolute silence, lined up on both sides of the main road from the harbor all the way to the distant fortress entrance.
A thousand n. No—more.
This kind of formation… who were they waiting for?
Or what kind of major operation was about to begin?
An odd stillness spread across the sea wind.
---------
Read 30 chapters ahead and support on patreon.
patreon (.)com/Newbietranslator
User Comments
0 comments from readers