He left Queen Otohime with only one sentence and a corpse.
Ozz's face never changed as he set the body of Hody Jones, the future murderer of the queen, gently into her arms and patted her shoulder. Then he turned and walked away.
No one dared whisper a protest. Killing a fishman punk meant nothing in front of this man.
Mihawk and Crocodile did not spare the body a second glance. They fell in step behind Ozz and headed for the Oro Jackson.
Jinbe and Hachi stood frozen, eyes darting between their stunned queen and Ozz's departing crew, unsure which way to run first.
Ozz could not be bothered with any of it. In the next blink their silhouettes vanished, reappearing on the deck of the Oro Jackson. The ship slipped from the seabed, the hull wrapped in warped space that held back the ocean. Like a great submarine, the legendary ship angled toward the deep.
A long, muffled wail welled up behind them.
Otohime stood where he had left her, cradling the boy's limp body, tears biting at her lip until they broke loose. She had always believed in kindness.
To force peace by violence… was that truly the only road left.
"Those with a spotless heart," Mihawk murmured from a chair at the stern, arms folded, hat shadowing his hawk's eyes, "are the first to hesitate."
"True," Crocodile said, setting a bottle on the little table between them.
She poured two glasses and slid one over. Mihawk lifted it, took a careful sip, and his eyes opened a fraction wider.
"Rich. Dense. Superb."
"Right," Little Sand laughed. "Wine Kingdom brewed it to curry favor with Ozz. List price, nine hundred ninety-nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand Berries. I intercepted two bottles on the way."
She filled her own glass to the brim, struck a match for a cigar, and, like Mihawk, let her gaze drift back toward the receding glow of Fish-Man Island.
"If it were me," she said, "I would make proper use of fishmen as the finest grassroots force in the world. Five times a human's strength as a baseline, across the board."
"With the financing Ozz gives me, I could build the strongest military nation in the world."
Her ambition never ran small. Under Ozz's banner she already had money and no fear of threats from any kingdom. Still, the dream that flickered in her later years had taken root early, the dream of a nation so strong it was untouchable. Playthings and pleasures were not enough. She wanted a machine of iron and sand.
Of course, all of that assumed Ozz would bankroll her and let her off the leash.
"Hey now," Ozz said, a grin tugging his mouth as he strolled up from the bow and dropped into the seat beside Mihawk. He poured himself a measure. "When did I say I was your investor. Don't go spending my money out loud like it's yours."
Little Sand stared. A vein ticked at her temple.
"Hey. Ozz." She grabbed his collar and bared her teeth. "Hawk Eyes told me everything. You'd rather back that nine-million-Berry clown Buggy to become Pirate King than stake a long-time comrade to pursue her vision. Are you kidding me."
Ozz lifted both hands and pressed them down in a peaceable gesture, a rueful smile on his face.
"Fine, fine. A few years from now I will fund you. It's rare to see you that set on something."
He had assumed Crocodile would be content to eat, drink, and bask under his wing for the rest of her days. The palace life suited many. Apparently not her. Strong hearts rarely settled for a chaise and a glass.
Which meant, when Baroque Works was founded, Ozz would be taking a silent stake.
"But the true Great Era is still a ways off," he added. "No need to rush the flag-raising. When the time is right, I will release you. Hawk Eyes too."
Mihawk blinked.
Release me.
He shot Ozz a look that said almost everything and nothing at all.
They drank and talked on the dark deck while the Oro Jackson glided through the pressure-black deep. Before long, something huge barreled toward them from the opposite direction. A silhouette like a giant bald lump with arms and legs.
"What is that."
"A steamed bun with fists."
The sea giant bellowed as it pounded straight for them, voice booming through the water.
"I'll avenge Captain Vander Decken."
Ozz remembered that face. Vander Decken IX had kept a pet giant called Wadatsumi, a living battering ram with knuckles for a brain.
"Perfect," Ozz said. "Using Observation to navigate is a chore. Let him tow us."
The Oro Jackson slowed. The three of them watched without a ripple of concern as Wadatsumi charged. Ozz lifted his hand.
The giant hiccuped in mid-sprint, eyes going from fury to clarity as if some invisible fist had caved in his gut. Then came a flurry of invisible slaps that left his cheeks swollen and his courage spent.
"Tow the ship," Ozz said. "To the surface."
"Y… yes."
With a rope clenched in both hands and a face like a pig's head, the cowed sea giant hauled the ship upward. Only when they broke the skin of the sea did Ozz wave him off.
They surfaced under an open sky at the moment a News Coo was winging up and over the Red Line.
Ozz did not disturb the courier. He simply flickered and returned with a fresh paper in hand. A tycoon did not quibble over a Coo's missing coin.
What mattered was whether Morgans had tried to script his legend without permission.
One glance and he had the drift.
The Whitebeard versus Black Emperor duel had concluded. Rumor said the Black Emperor held the edge. The title of Strongest Man in the World was under dispute. Piracy surged. The World Government announced the Warlords of the Sea as officially formed, the list as follows…
"Hm."
The rest was expected. But this early launch of the Warlords program…
Buru buru buru.
"Moshi moshi. Ozz speaking."
He scanned the front page while the Den-Den Mushi rang through to Mary Geoise. A CP0 operator picked up at once and looped the call to the Five Elders.
"Ozz," one of the Elders said. "It seems you have concluded the Fish-Man Island matter."
They gathered around the desk, faces unreadable, staring down at the receiver. In truth they had already predicted this call. Once Ozz had his hands free, he was always going to ask about the formal establishment of the Warlords.
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