The setting sun cast its final glow across the horizon.
The wailing of alarms rang throughout the City of Water, followed swiftly by the blaring loudspeakers on the streets.
"This is the City of Water Meteorological Bureau. We are issuing a warning for the arrival of the Sea God Aqua Laguna! It is expected to reach the city during the latter half of tonight! Repeating: the Sea God Aqua Laguna…"
The message repeated endlessly. Citizens bustled in mild panic, but quickly settled into practiced order, heading indoors to gather their belongings.
After all, the great tsunami came once every year—they had long since rehearsed for this.
"So this is the so-called 'giant tsunami' Porche mentioned?" Buggy rubbed his chin with his white glove. "Didn't she say it wouldn't be so coincidental? That woman's words can't be trusted at all."
"Nyuu—! I actually want to see what this 'Sea God' looks like with my own eyes." Hachi, as usual, carried the burdens. All six strong arms were laden with bundles, his eyes shining with delight. "I've only ever heard of it, never witnessed it myself!"
"Idiot! Didn't you hear what the people said just now? The Sea God will flood the outer district of the city—including the port where our ship is moored. If we don't hurry back, we'll have to flee all the way into the inner city!"
Buggy, carefree as ever, stood with hands on his hips, barking orders at the heavily laden Hachi.
Walking in front of the noisy pair was Kuro, his slicked-back hair immaculately neat.
He made no move to stop their antics—he simply widened the distance between them, hoping to give passersby the impression they weren't together.
It was futile, of course. Buggy and Hachi inevitably caught up in no time.
When they returned to the harbor, the Terror Ghost still rested at the docks, silent and unmoving, like a gargoyle perched atop a palace.
As they made their way toward it, they passed rows of ships—fishing boats, cargo vessels, pirate ships—all being rushed into the shipyards by their anxious owners, desperate to keep them from being swallowed by the incoming waves.
One vessel in particular caught their eye.
A pirate flag flew overhead: a skull wearing a straw hat. The figurehead, once a white sheep's head, now lay severed at the neck, lying like a decapitated trophy on the street beside the pier.
The mast leaned askew, the hull riddled with gaping holes.
The sunset glinted off Kuro's glasses as he keenly noted the traces of battle. Wooden planks discarded from the ship bore smears of blood.
Clearly, a fierce fight had broken out here not long ago.
"Isn't that the Straw Hat Pirates' ship?" Buggy shielded his eyes from the dazzling light to get a better look. "What the hell happened to it? It's a wreck!"
He still remembered Straw Hat Luffy vividly. Months ago, Luffy and Zoro had dared to storm the Terror Ghost—they'd been beaten half-dead for their trouble, but the courage left an impression.
And that straw hat… Buggy could never quite ignore it.
"Forget them." Kuro turned away coldly. "Their affairs have nothing to do with our crew. If the captain wished to get involved, at this distance he would have acted already."
"…Maybe the captain's the one who did this to them?"
"Impossible. If it had been the captain, that ship would already be devoured by the Terror Ghost."
"Fair point."
Buggy reluctantly trailed after Kuro. Somehow, without realizing it, Kuro had become the de facto leader of their trio. It irritated Buggy—after all, he had been on board longer, with far more seniority.
Hachi, still cheerful as ever, didn't care in the slightest who led. It wasn't like the position would ever fall to him anyway.
They passed the battered Going Merry, continued further along the quay, and soon reached the looming Terror Ghost.
On deck, Porche stood at the rail, her furry hat puffed up by the sea wind like a bird with its feathers bristling.
She turned at the sound of footsteps. Seeing Kuro and the others return, she said, "The sea wind and waves are behaving unusually. The Sea God arriving tonight… I fear its scale will surpass all previous years."
"Big enough to flood the outer city, and now you're saying it's even larger than usual?" Buggy curled his lip in doubt.
"You may refuse to believe a navigator's words, but you cannot ignore the moods of the sky and sea themselves. By the way—did you run into any enemies in the city?"
"No. Why ask?"
"I, Alvida, and Mikita encountered the Navy in the city. Seems they were acquaintances of yours—Captain Tashigi and Captain Hina. We put Hina in critical condition, though Mikita herself was badly wounded. Law is treating her now."
"…Hina?"
Buggy instantly recalled the frosty pink-haired woman they'd met back at Reverse Mountain. So she was here too?
But what shocked him even more was—"You actually beat her?"
"Don't say it like that!" Porche pouted coquettishly, though pride laced her tone. "Alvida's iron mace struck the final blow, but my hypnotic pollen played the most important role!"
"…Alvida?" Buggy could hardly believe it.
Porche puffed her cheeks in annoyance. "I said—it was my pollen that made the difference!"
"Yeah, yeah." Buggy waved her off dismissively.
Kuro, meanwhile, thought of the contract he, Alvida, and Captain Davy Jones had signed, and silently understood.
She was still too young then, unaware that every gift fate bestows has already been secretly marked with a price.
He remembered reading that line in some book.
"Mikita's still under treatment?" Kuro shifted the topic.
"Yes." For some reason, Porche's face suddenly went pale, her pupils shrinking, as though recalling something dreadful. "Law is… operating on her. At least, I think it's an operation. You should see for yourselves."
The three men exchanged puzzled looks at her odd reaction.
They entered the ship's interior, following the familiar twisted corridors with ease.
Hachi peeled off to store the food supplies in the hold.
Kuro and Buggy continued on to the exclusive treatment chamber of the "Surgeon of Death."
Through the sealed glass window, they saw at last the scene that had so shaken Porche.
Mikita had been dismembered.
Her head, limbs, and torso floated separately within a hazy, gray hemispherical space.
Her eyes were closed, her face ashen, seemingly oblivious to pain. Apart from the horrific wounds carved by Hina's "Rankyaku," she bled nowhere.
Law, dark circles under his eyes, worked with unwavering focus—whether as doctor or butcher was difficult to say.
And yet, surgery required assistants. Here, his "nurses" were not Alvida, nor Kuro, nor anyone else… but countless tentacles sprouting from the walls, lined with suction cups.
One passed him a pair of forceps. Another dabbed sweat from his brow. Others coiled menacingly around the chamber like lurking serpents.
Law forced himself not to look, not to think—relying on sheer willpower to press on. The operation, for now, proceeded smoothly.
"Ugh!"
Buggy clapped a hand over his mouth, bent double, and bolted down the corridor to vomit.
Kuro fared little better. He scowled deeply. Killing was one thing—but dismemberment under the assistance of writhing tentacles was something else entirely.
Night fell at last. The harrowing surgery came to an end.
Law, utterly drained, returned to his quarters and did not reemerge.
The Terror Ghost rocked gently on the rising swells—enough to show the waves outside had already grown fierce.
Bang!
Smoker's fist slammed into the wall.
He had just left the hospital room of Hina and Tashigi. The doctor's calm report of their injuries had been the last straw; he could only vent his fury outside.
It was Davy Jones' crew. It had to be them.
New grudges, old hatreds—they would all be settled together.
Striding out, he mounted a silver motorbike. Its engine roared like a beast, echoing the storm in his chest, as he sped through the streets.
Before long, he arrived at a certain tavern in the city and slipped into the hidden meeting chamber of CP9.
There, beneath blazing lamplight, Admiral Aokiji lounged on a sofa, hands pillowed behind his head, an eye mask covering his eyes as if lazily napping.
And gathered in the chamber with him—were a collection of strange and sinister figures.
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