Chapter 11: The Calm After the Storm
A deafening explosion, like a clap of thunder striking the very surface of the ocean, rolled across the water. The concussive force was so violent that Tina, aboard her own ship, felt her teeth rattle in her skull, a sharp, painful discomfort lancing through her eardrums.
Simultaneously, a monstrous force hammered the sea, whipping the water into a frenzy of colossal waves that behaved more like enraged leviathans than water. The pirate ship, caught in this maelstrom, was tossed and shoved backward as if it were a child's toy.
"Damn it, what level of confrontation is this?!" Tina gasped, the words torn from her lips by the wind. "What in the world happened over there? That reckless fool, Jock Ian... please, don't be dead!"
She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, her knuckles white as she clung to the stern railing for dear life. As a Devil Fruit user, a fall into the churning sea was a death sentence. But her immediate, overwhelming fear was for Ian's survival. Her mission—her career—depended on delivering him to Headquarters alive. An explosion of that magnitude could only be the work of a high-ranking officer from a Warlord's crew. The thought of Ian being at its epicenter made her stomach churn.
…
On Ian's ship, Nami had her telescope pressed tightly to her face, her body swaying with the deck but her focus absolute. She had ordered the helmsman to turn their bow into the waves the moment the first, smaller detonation had sounded. She knew Ian's methods, and she knew this enemy was on a different tier. Her duty was to preserve their vessel. Thanks to her quick action, their ship rode the turbulent swells with relative stability.
"Captain Ian, are you okay?" she whispered, her voice a desperate prayer against the storm's roar. "You have to be."
…
The pirate ship, now a helpless drifter in the aftermath, presented a new and immediate danger. As Tina's hearing slowly returned, the first thing she saw was the looming hull of her own warship, now terrifyingly close. The powerful waves were driving the derelict pirate vessel directly toward them on a collision course.
On the warship's deck, Lieutenant Morek, left in temporary command, watched in horror. The telescope slipped from his nerveless fingers and clattered to the deck. "Helmsman! Hard to starboard! Don't let us drift forward! Everyone, find something to hold onto! BRACE FOR IMPACT!"
His voice was a shrill, panicked scream. He had no context, only the explosion and the resulting wave that was now hurling a massive ship toward them. There was no time for strategy, only for survival. After his warning, Morek scrambled for the relative safety of the central cabin, wrapping his arms around a sturdy post.
At the stern of the careening pirate ship, Tina acted. Freeing one hand, she conjured several thick, black iron barriers, lancing them out not toward the pirate ship itself, but toward the hull of her own approaching vessel. She aimed to create a web of supports, a last-ditch buffer to absorb some of the catastrophic impact and prevent her ship from being cleaved in two.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The barriers slammed into place, forming a precarious metallic bridge between the two vessels. Tina gritted her teeth, straining with all her might against the immense kinetic force, her body trembling from the effort.
"Stop... I order you to stop!" she grunted through clenched teeth.
But it was a futile struggle. The tonnage of the pirate ship, propelled by the sea's fury, was too much. One by one, the black iron barriers shrieked in protest, sparking and splintering under the unbearable pressure.
SNAP! CRACK!
As the last barrier began to fracture, a shadow fell over her. A figure landed on the groaning metal with the grace of a seabird. Tina looked up, her eyes wide with stunned disbelief.
Jock Ian.
He stood there, perfectly balanced amidst the chaos. A faint, infuriatingly casual smile touched his lips.
"Hey there, Captain Tina," he said, his voice almost conversational. "Bit of a rough day for a cruise, isn't it?"
Before she could form a retort, Ian launched himself from the failing barrier into the air. The soles of his boots were instantly sheathed in the dark, crackling aura of Armament Haki. The air itself seemed to pop and compress around his feet.
Then, he kicked.
BOOM!
It wasn't a graceful technique; it was raw, unadulterated power. His heel connected with the hull of the pirate ship with the force of a siege cannon. The entire vessel shuddered violently, its forward momentum grinding to a sudden, groaning halt mere meters from Tina's warship.
The abrupt stop shattered the remaining barriers. Tina, her anchor gone, felt herself flung toward the churning water like a discarded ragdoll. But a black iron railing—Ian's railing, conjured from his own arm—shot out, wrapping around her waist and yanking her back from the brink. She tumbled through the air, landing in a graceless, rolling heap on the pirate ship's scarred deck.
Huff… Huff…
She lay there, gasping, her heart hammering against her ribs, trying to process the fact that she was alive. He had stopped it. With sheer, brute force, he had stopped the collision.
The sound of calm footsteps approached. A tall shadow fell over her. She looked up to see Ian standing over her, his hands clasped casually behind his back.
"Didn't mean to startle you, Captain Tina," he said, looking down at her disheveled form. "These pirates are just so… disagreeable. I was merely attempting a routine inspection, and they resorted to such violence. I was left with no choice but to defend myself."
Tina pushed herself up, her body aching. She was covered in seawater and splinters, her uniform torn, while the man before her looked as if he'd just returned from a leisurely stroll. The angry words died in her throat, replaced by a cold, dawning realization. The power he had just displayed—the Haki, the physical strength—wasn't just that of a Commodore. It was on a level approaching the elite Vice Admirals of Headquarters. How had a man like this remained hidden in the East Blue for so long?
She didn't answer his glib remark. Silently, she rose to her feet and turned her gaze toward the bow of the pirate ship.
Or what was left of it.
Where there had once been a proud, constructed forecastle, there was now a scene of horrific devastation. Nearly two-thirds of the ship's forward section had been utterly obliterated, reduced to splintered wreckage and twisted metal.
End of Chapter