Chapter 39: A Clash of Haki and History
For a single, suspended moment, the air in the Rip-Off Bar grew heavy, thick enough to choke on. The friendly pretense shattered.
Then, the world exploded.
It wasn't a physical movement. It was an eruption of pure, unadulterated will. The very space between Ian and Shakky seemed to warp. A torrent of Conqueror's Haki, invisible yet tangible as a tidal wave, slammed out from Ian, a declaration of his indomitable spirit. It was met by an equally formidable, weathered, and unyielding force from Shakky—a will that had weathered decades on the Grand Line and come out the other side.
The pressure was immense. The tables and chairs around them didn't just topple; they were blasted away from the epicenter, skidding and scraping across the floor before crashing against the walls. Dust rained from the ceiling. The bottles behind the bar rattled violently in their shelves, a frantic, glassy percussion.
Peacock, standing near the door, gasped, throwing up an arm as if to shield herself from a physical gale. A cold sweat broke out on her temple. This... this was a level of Haki she had only heard of in stories. The sheer, casual power on display was terrifying. The Sabaody Archipelago was indeed a place where monsters hid in plain sight.
The standoff lasted only three heartbeats. Then, as if by mutual, unspoken agreement, the pressure vanished. The oppressive weight lifted, leaving behind a ringing silence and the scent of ozone and old wood.
Ian's charming smile never wavered. Shakky took a slow, deliberate drag from her cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light.
Peng!
The sound of two glasses meeting broke the silence. Somehow, in the blink of an eye, two cocktail glasses filled with a swirling, amber liquid had appeared on the bar. Ian and Shakky each picked one up and threw them back in one practiced, simultaneous gulp.
"Hah!" Ian exhaled, slamming the empty glass down with a satisfied grin. "Haha! I thought a place called the 'Rip-Off Bar' would just be a scam, Sister Shakky! But you can actually make a decent cocktail!" He gestured with his empty glass. "It's far better than the swill they serve at the naval base. You aren't going to charge me, are you? I'm afraid I'm a bit short on Berry today."
Shakky placed her glass down softly, then rested her elbows on the bar, cradling her face in her hands. Her expression was one of amused fondness. "You're a charmer. You don't act like any proper Marine I've ever met." She chuckled. "Drink up, don't worry. It's on the house. For an old friend's apprentice, it's the least I can do."
Peacock could only stare, utterly bewildered. One second, they were on the verge of tearing the building apart with their minds. The next, they were clinking glasses and bantering like long-lost relatives. The whiplash was giving her emotional whiplash. They're both completely insane, she decided.
"Hey, Ian," Shakky said, her eyes glinting with a knowing light. "When you first walked in, mentioning Garp, I thought you'd come to try and arrest this old woman. But then you said that... that there are no thieves in the world." She let out a low, appreciative laugh. "That's not a statement ordinary people make. It reminds me of the bold, foolish things we'd say back in my day." She took another drag from her cigarette, her gaze growing distant for a moment. "Come to think of it, when I was a pirate, it was your teacher, Vice Admiral Garp, who chased me all over the sea. Gave me nowhere to run."
She looked back at Ian, her smile deepening, filled with the weight of history and unspoken truths. The real conversation was only just beginning.