-Real World-
The global audience watching the Sky Screen could describe Doflamingo's performance in a single word: devastating.
The Heavenly Yaksha had completely suppressed Gear Fourth Luffy from start to finish, maintaining absolute dominance throughout the entire encounter. What many considered a "trash-tier" Paramecia—the Ito Ito no Mi (String-String Fruit)—had been refined to such mastery in this former Celestial Dragon's hands that it rivaled even the most powerful Logia abilities.
And yet, Luffy's performance had been equally impressive in its own right.
The pirate rising star had demonstrated incredible growth through the fusion of Armament Haki and the Gomu Gomu no Mi (Gum-Gum Fruit), creating Gear Fourth's beast-mimicry combat style. The Kong Gun, King Cobra, Turtle Shell defense, King Kong Roar—each technique showed remarkable creativity and power. His raw, fist-to-flesh fighting style was genuinely captivating to watch.
Five years of training had elevated him above ninety percent of pirates sailing the seas.
But there was a mountain blocking his path. A wall he couldn't yet climb. He couldn't even break free from the Birdcage, let alone defeat Doflamingo in direct combat.
The audience who'd been following the Sky Screen broadcasts these past weeks had assumed—based on the Straw Hat Pirates' other members' performances—that their captain would eventually triumph over the Heavenly Yaksha. Today's broadcast thoroughly demolished that assumption. Viewers across the world were forced to swallow their previous optimistic predictions.
Monkey D. Luffy was still too young. Too inexperienced. If he survived this crisis, perhaps one day in the distant future he might challenge Doflamingo as an equal. But that day clearly hadn't arrived yet.
The Dressrosa incident had been confirmed resolved through various Sky Screen revelations shown from a god's-eye perspective, but the process remained mysterious. Since Luffy couldn't bear the burden alone, the only hope for defeating this devil lay with the Marines' Admiral Gin—the wielder of the Logia-type Ame Ame no Mi (Rain-Rain Fruit).
Perhaps he wouldn't disappoint the global audience.
On a small island in Paradise, Crocodile watched the Sky Screen with an expression carved from stone. No sweat appeared on his face, it was impossible for someone who'd become living sand—but his throat worked repeatedly, swallowing nothing as tension built in his chest.
That level of Armament Haki mastery...
He was also one of the Shichibukai. Also a veteran of countless battles. But watching Doflamingo's performance triggered something uncomfortable in his guts, something that felt dangerously close to fear.
Could he defeat the Heavenly Yaksha in a serious fight? Crocodile forced himself to analyze objectively, stripping away ego and reputation to examine raw capability.
The answer made his jaw clench.
Forget defeating Doflamingo. I probably couldn't even gain the upper hand against Gear Fourth Luffy.
When the Straw Hat had demonstrated the King Cobra's speed—those serpentine strikes that changed direction mid-flight with impossible agility—Crocodile had realized with sinking certainty that he couldn't dodge them. Not reliably. His Observation Haki wasn't refined enough to predict such erratic movements.
He'd relied too heavily on his Suna Suna no Mi (Sand-Sand Fruit) for too many years. Let his Haki training stagnate while he played tyrant in Arabasta. Now the gap between himself and the other Shichibukai had widened to a chasm he might never cross.
At most, he could bully rookies fresh from the Four Blues—pirates who'd just entered Paradise without proper Haki training. But in the New World? Against enemies at Vice Admiral level or above?
I'd be destroyed.
The realization burned like acid in his chest. Jealousy—raw and unexpected—surged through him as he stared at Doflamingo's silver-haired form on the broadcast.
"How did that damned man become so strong?" Crocodile muttered, his voice tight with resentment. "Did he hide his true strength all along? Or did he simply never stop training while I... rotted?"
He'd met Doflamingo briefly after joining the Shichibukai years ago. Back then, he hadn't thought the flamingo-coat-wearing pretty boy was anything special. Back then, Crocodile had still possessed his fighting spirit—still thought himself capable of challenging the world's strongest. He'd fought Douglas Bullet to a standstill. Held his own in the New World's brutal waters.
Then Whitebeard had crushed him. Completely. Utterly. One encounter that shattered not just his body but his will.
After that defeat, Crocodile had abandoned the path of personal strength. Stopped pushing his limits. Started fantasizing about shortcuts—ancient weapons, elaborate schemes, anything that would let him defeat invincible enemies without actually becoming invincible himself.
And where had that path led? To humiliation at the hands of a rubber boy barely out of his teens.
I gave up, Crocodile admitted to himself, the truth tasting like poison. I stopped being a fighter and became a schemer. And now...
Now he was watching people he'd once considered peers leave him behind in the dust.
In the perpetual gloom of the Florian Triangle, Gecko Moria experienced similar revelations.
"Kishishishishi..." His laugh came out strained as he watched the Sky Screen, reconsidering every interaction he'd ever had with Doflamingo. "Did I... disrespect him before? Shit. A guy that tough is really not someone to provoke."
In terms of Devil Fruit potential, Gecko Moria's Kage Kage no Mi (Shadow-Shadow Fruit) was objectively superior to the Ito Ito no Mi. The ability to steal and manipulate shadows, to create immortal zombie armies, to fight through proxies while remaining safe—it was a broken ability in the right hands.
If the two fruits were swapped? If Doflamingo possessed the Shadow-Shadow Fruit instead?
He'd be absolutely monstrous, Moria thought with a shiver. The pearl of the Kage Kage no Mi is being wasted on a fat shut-in like me.
The self-awareness stung, but Moria had long since made peace with his limitations. He'd fought young Kaido to a standstill in his prime—matched the future Yonko blow-for-blow before tragedy struck. Even after all his subordinates were slaughtered in Wano, he'd escaped alive and managed to steal the national treasure Shusui from Ryuma's grave.
But those days were gone. He was no longer the proud warrior who'd challenged emperors. Now he was a tomb-robber hiding in eternal darkness, building a zombie army in hopes of one day avenging his fallen friends.
And Kaido? Kaido had ascended to become one of the Four Emperors—a monster so powerful that even current Gecko Moria probably couldn't withstand a single Raimei Hakke (Thunder Bagua) strike.
But...
Moria's melancholy thoughts were interrupted by the approach of multiple footsteps. His cadres emerged from the fog, and with them—
"Lord Moria!" Perona's excited voice carried across the deck. "We found him! We actually found him!"
The skeleton walking between Absalom and Hogback was unmistakable. Even without flesh, even with his posture hunched in defeat, Brook's distinctive afro and gentlemanly bearing were exactly as they'd appeared on the Sky Screen.
The King of Souls. The musician who would one day communicate with the afterlife itself to summon reinforcements in battle.
Gecko Moria's heart—long dormant—actually quickened with genuine excitement.
Brook stood before the Shichibukai with the posture of a condemned man. His shadow had been stolen. His strength was a fraction of what the Sky Screen showed him capable of achieving. Without his shadow, he could never leave the Florian Triangle's perpetual darkness—sunlight would disintegrate his skeletal body within seconds.
He was trapped. Powerless. At the mercy of the very person who'd robbed him of his shadow in the first place.
"Brook." Gecko Moria's voice was surprisingly gentle—almost fawning in its eagerness. "You'll never escape the Florian Triangle without your shadow. But I can return it to you. Join my crew. Sail under my flag. I, Gecko Moria, have never treated my subordinates poorly. You have my word."
It was the truth. For all his flaws, Gecko Moria genuinely treasured his companions. He'd grieved his original crew's deaths for decades. His current cadres—Perona, Absalom, Hogback, even the zombie Ryuma—were treated like family despite their various quirks and bad habits. He was generous, tolerant, and fiercely protective of those who served him.
It wasn't without reason that he'd managed to gather a new family after losing everything in Wano.
Perona, spoiled like a little princess by her adoptive father, couldn't stand seeing him humble himself. The ghost girl's cheeks puffed up indignantly.
"Brook! Don't be ungrateful!" She floated closer, her twin-tails bouncing with agitation. "We searched everywhere for you! Lord Moria himself came out personally to extend this invitation! Isn't that sincerity enough?!"
Absalom, the invisible man whose stitched features gave him a lion-like appearance, added his own pressure. "Even if you somehow board the Straw Hat Pirates' ship in the future, who knows where they're floating right now? When it comes to research on souls and the afterlife, there's no force in this world more qualified than ours."
The subtext was crystal clear: Brook's achievements shown on the Sky Screen—his ability to commune with Hell's gates, to extradite souls from the afterlife—must have originated from techniques developed here. Under Gecko Moria's patronage.
Hogback had been researching exactly these concepts for years. Using living bodies as vessels for transplanted shadows, attempting to perfect a reincarnation technique similar to forbidden necromancy. All in pursuit of resurrecting his beloved Cindry.
The surgeon had preserved her corpse immaculately, but putting someone else's shadow inside hadn't worked. He could fool his colleagues. Fool the world. But he couldn't fool himself. Without Cindry's actual soul, she remained incomplete—a beautiful shell animated by a stranger's personality.
But if they could master soul-transference? True resurrection?
Hogback stared at Brook with barely-concealed hunger. This skeleton represented the key to everything he'd been working toward.
Zombie Ryuma remained silent throughout the recruitment pitch. The legendary samurai's corpse currently housed Brook's stolen shadow, giving the undead swordsman fragmented memories and combat instincts. It would be trivial for Gecko Moria to extract and return it.
But Ryuma—or whatever consciousness lingered in the reanimated corpse—held different aspirations. He hoped that one day, his own soul might be reunited with his body. Then he could reclaim Shusui, the legendary sword at his waist, and test himself against the world's greatest swordsmen once more.
The atmosphere had reached a critical point.
Brook stood surrounded by a Shichibukai and his most powerful subordinates. The Straw Hat Pirates were nowhere in sight—lost somewhere on the vast ocean, impossible to locate or contact. Even if he refused this "invitation," they would simply drag him back to Thriller Bark by force.
When you're under someone's roof, you must bow your head, the old saying went.
Brook had sailed the seas for decades while alive, then drifted alone as a skeleton for even longer. He was no naive fool who believed pride mattered more than survival. Sometimes you had to bend. Sometimes tactical retreat was the only sensible option.
Besides... getting his shadow back was worth swallowing his pride. Without it, he was trapped in this fog-shrouded hell forever. With it, at least he'd regain the freedom to pursue his ultimate goal—reuniting with Laboon at Reverse Mountain.
The bond with the Straw Hat Pirates shown on the Sky Screen hadn't formed yet. He'd never even met them in this timeline. There was no question of betrayal when no loyalty had been established in the first place.
People should live for themselves, Brook thought with weary pragmatism. Live in the present. Survive first, dream later.
"Very well," the skeleton said at last, executing a formal bow that made his vertebrae creak. "I accept your generous invitation, Gecko Moria-san. This Brook shall sail under your flag... for now."
The "for now" went unspoken but understood by everyone present.
Gecko Moria's grin stretched wide enough to split his face. "Kishishishishi! Excellent! Welcome to the family, Brook! You won't regret this!"
We'll see, Brook thought, but kept his skull's empty expression carefully neutral.
Perona immediately perked up, already planning how to integrate their new musician into the crew's dynamics. Absalom nodded with satisfaction—one more powerful subordinate secured. Hogback's eyes gleamed with scientific fervor behind his glasses.
Brook had escaped one cage only to walk willingly into another.
But at least this cage came with the promise of returned shadows and continued existence.
For an immortal skeleton with nothing but time, even a detour could eventually lead back to the proper path.
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