Chapter 28: An "Excellent" Team
Ian raised his eyebrows, giving T. Peng a look that was heavy with unspoken suggestion.
"Please rest assured, Commodore Ian," T. Peng responded with unwavering earnestness. "I will record and report everything truthfully. There will be absolutely no errors, omissions, or reports based on unclear facts." He pulled out his small notebook. "Today's entry: After setting sail, Commodore Ian held an internal meeting. He emphasized a prohibition on lying while enjoying the shade under a parasol and consuming a beverage of freshly squeezed, iced orange juice."
He had "perfectly understood" Ian's hint.
Ian: "..."
Peacock: Pfft— She failed to suppress a giggle.
Skylark: Eep! A small, startled sound escaped her lips.
It was horrifying. Terrible! According to that record, it wasn't just juice, or even orange juice—it was freshly squeezed orange juice with ice! If T. Peng kept this up for a few more days, his reports would be detailing which foot Ian put forward first when he walked. Would Fleet Admiral Sengoku, all the way back in Marineford, know everything?
It seemed the first major obstacle they faced wasn't external, but internal. This situation needed to be resolved, and quickly.
"Alright, alright, Uncle T, you can step back," Ian said, waving a hand. He then fixed his gaze on the snickering officer. "And you, Peacock! What's so funny? Is it your turn? You tell me. Did you volunteer for my unit because I beat you last time, and you're looking for a chance at revenge? Or do you think I won't dare touch you because your grandmother is Vice Admiral Tsuru?"
He leaned forward, his expression turning challenging. "Since this is a confession session, I'll be blunt. When I hit you, I knew exactly who your grandmother was."
Nami gasped softly. "Captain Peacock... is Vice Admiral Tsuru's granddaughter?"
Skylark whispered, "Captain Peacock... was... was beaten by Commodore Ian?"
T. Peng, notebook already out, scribbled dutifully: "Commodore Ian stated: 'I beat Colonel Peacock. I don't care who her grandmother is.'"
A vein throbbed on Ian's forehead. "Uncle T! Is that what I said?! This didn't happen today, don't write it down!"
The subject of the discussion, Peacock, remained remarkably calm. In fact, upon hearing Ian's blunt admission, her smile widened. "Because it's fun," she declared. "Commodore Ian is an interesting man. I like to be around interesting people and enjoy adventures full of the unknown. My grandmother has kept me on a short leash for so long. It's rare to meet a commander my own age who fascinates me. I certainly couldn't miss the opportunity." Her eyes glinted. "Before, I just thought you were interesting. But after what you just said... I think you're even more... courageous. Hehe. I prefer men with guts."
As she finished, she gently bit her lower lip, a small, deliberate gesture meant solely for Ian's eyes.
Ian, however, was focused on the bigger picture. Judging by her overall demeanor and what he knew of her personality, it was highly likely she was telling the truth. Still, a girl who played with fire so openly couldn't be fully trusted. Of the three, the only newcomer who might be slightly more reliable was the timid one remaining.
"Hey, Skylark... step forward!"
"Yes, Commodore Ian!" Skylark flinched, as she did every time her name was called.
"Closer."
"O-oh." She shuffled forward, her feet turning inward with each tiny step.
"Closer."
"O-oh..." Another set of hesitant, mincing steps.
"If your legs don't work, should I just have them cut off?"
"Eek! Sorry, Commodore Ian!"
After three prompts, Skylark finally made it under the shade of the parasol. Ian pointed to the high-tech specialized rifle slung at her waist and crooked a finger. "Give it to me."
Skylark glanced sideways nervously but didn't dare refuse. She reached for her waist... and unzipped a small, bear-shaped pouch attached to her belt. She placed a warm, rectangular container into Ian's waiting palm.
Ian stared at it, baffled. "???"
What in the world is this?
Skylark clasped her hands behind her back, intertwining her fingers shyly. "I... I didn't expect you to find out, Commodore Ian. This... this is for you... Since our departure was so rushed, I thought you might have missed lunch... S-so I took the liberty of preparing a lunch box!"
From behind them, T. Peng nodded sagely and made another note in his book. "Commodore Ian skipped lunch and solicited a meal from a subordinate..."
Ian: "..."
He opened the sealed, insulated container. Inside, nestled in neat compartments, were an array of exquisite-looking side dishes and a portion of fluffy white rice. The steam, carrying a delicious aroma, wafted up, making his stomach growl in appreciation. Her cooking skills seemed excellent.
But with his mouth currently full, how was he supposed to be the stern commander?
"Commodore Ian... would you like to try it?" Skylark asked, her eyes hopeful.
Ian nodded and held his hands out again.
Skylark looked confused. "Huh?"
"The chopsticks," Ian said flatly. "Am I supposed to eat it with my hands?"
Skylark's face fell in realization. "Eek! The chopsticks! I... I forgot the chopsticks!"
Ian: "..."
He finally understood. Each of his new subordinates possessed a unique and... special set of skills. What an "excellent" team he had been given.
"Never mind. We'll eat later," he said, re-sealing the lunchbox and placing it on the table. "I meant your gun, not your lunch."
"Oh! The gun! It's... it's here." Flustered, Skylark unslung the high-tech rifle from her back and handed it over.
Click! Clack!
Ch-ch-chunk!
With practiced, fluid motions, Ian ejected the magazine and emptied its contents—a cascade of pink-colored bullets—onto the deck, keeping a single round pinched between his fingers.
The others watched, bewildered, unsure of his intention.
"So, it really is this stuff..." Ian muttered to himself. He snapped his fingers, the reserved bullet held tight. Then, in a blur of motion, he flicked it with charged force directly at T. Peng.
FWOOM!
The sound of the round cutting through the air was as sharp and explosive as a real gunshot. T. Peng's pupils contracted, but he stood his ground, unmoving. The moment the pink ammunition was about to impact his chest, it automatically dispersed, dissolving into a fine, sparkling powder.
Sssss...
A unique, floral fragrance instantly perfumed the air around them.
End of Chapter