Chapter 41: A Storm of Rose Petals and Steel
By the time Ian and Peacock arrived at a full sprint, the situation in District 31's Civilian Street had devolved into pure, unadulterated chaos. It was less a battlefield and more a riotous fan meeting that had violently intersected with a military patrol.
Hundreds of people clogged the street, but the majority weren't panicked civilians fleeing for safety. They were, overwhelmingly, young women, their faces flushed with excitement rather than fear.
"Young Master Cavendish! It's really him, the one from the newspapers! Oh my god, he's even more handsome in person!"
"Look at him! He's so dashing even when he's fighting! I have his wanted poster on my bedroom wall!"
"I traveled all the way to the Sabaody Archipelago hoping to see him! Were those rose petals he scattered when he drew his sword?"
"He looked over here! He looked over here! My heart, I can't take it!"
"..."
Their screams formed a cacophonous chorus that drowned out the sounds of clashing steel. They pushed against the Marine cordon, not caring about the danger, each one desperate to get a closer look at the "Pirate Prince."
"Get back! Everyone, get back!" Nami's voice was strained, hoarse from shouting as she and a handful of Marines tried to hold the line. "What's so great about a pirate? Are you all insane? This is a battlefield! You could get killed!"
Her efforts were in vain. The encircling Marines were already struggling to contain Cavendish and his crew. Now, they were forced to split their attention, desperately trying to prevent the hysterical crowd from surging directly into the path of the fighting.
In the center of the storm, standing calmly amidst the chaos he had incited, was Cavendish. He cut a flamboyant figure in his white cape, his long, golden curls spilling from beneath a fancy plumed cavalier hat. His sword, the名刀杜兰德尔 (Famous Sword Durandal), was held with a theatrical flourish.
His eyes, however, were not on his adoring fans. They were locked with a cold fury on T. Peng, who stood firm, his Marine coat dusty but his resolve unbroken, directly in the pirate's path.
"You there! Marine!" Cavendish's voice, melodious yet filled with venom, cut through the din. "Where is he? Where is that upstart Commodore who dares to steal my spotlight?!"
T. Peng adjusted his stance, his face a stoic mask. "My duty is to uphold justice here and now. I have no business with your personal grievances."
"Personal?!" Cavendish shrieked, his handsome face twisting in outrage. "He made a mockery of my arrival! The headlines should have been about me! The 'White Horse' Cavendish, the most beautiful supernova to ever grace these accursed bubbles! Not some... some nobody Marine spouting philosophical nonsense!"
With a roar of frustration, he lunged. His speed was breathtaking, a blur of white and gold. Durandal flashed, a silver arc aimed to cleave T. Peng in two. The older Marine grunted, bringing his own broadsword up in a desperate parry. The clash of steel was deafening, sparks flying where the blades met. T. Peng was forced back a step, his boots scraping against the cobblestones. The raw power behind Cavendish's strike was immense.
"Commodore Ian will deal with you in due time!" T. Peng gritted out, muscles straining.
"Due time? I'll carve my name into his flesh now!" Cavendish pressed his attack, his swordplay a dazzling, flamboyant display of thrusts and slashes. Each movement was accompanied by a shower of rose petals that seemed to materialize from his cloak, a bizarre and disorienting contrast to the lethal intent behind them.
It was at that moment, as T. Peng was being driven back under the relentless assault, that a new voice cut through the chaos, calm and authoritative.
"It seems you're looking for me."
Ian stood at the edge of the square, having just arrived. His Justice Coat was perfectly straight, his expression one of mild annoyance, as if he'd been interrupted during a pleasant stroll. All eyes, including Cavendish's, snapped towards him.
A hush fell over the crowd, broken only by a few whispered, "It's Commodore Ian!"
Cavendish froze, his sword still locked with T. Peng's. His eyes widened, first in shock, then in unadulterated rage. "You!" he hissed, his voice dripping with hatred. "You're the one! You stole my thunder!"
Ian didn't even acknowledge the accusation directly. He simply glanced at the struggling T. Peng and the surrounding chaos. "Colonel T. Peng," he said, his tone even. "Fall back and assist with crowd control. Secure the perimeter. This... diva is my responsibility."
The insult was deliberate and it landed perfectly. Cavendish's face flushed a brilliant red. "DIVA?! You dare?! I am Cavendish! The man who will be King of the Pirates!"
Ian finally met his gaze, a faint, dismissive smirk playing on his lips as he took a single, confident step forward. "Is that so? Then prove it. Let's see if your sword is as sharp as your tongue."
The fight was imminent. But just as Ian prepared to engage, a strange, low growl echoed from behind Cavendish. It was a sound that didn't belong to the frantic crowd or the clashing steel. It was a sound of pure, unrestrained savagery.
Cavendish's posture changed subtly. A flicker of something dark—annoyance, and perhaps a sliver of fear—crossed his face. "Not now..." he muttered under his breath, his knuckles whitening around Durandal's hilt. "This is my moment..."
Ian's eyes narrowed. The atmosphere had shifted. This was no longer just about a narcissistic pirate's wounded pride. Something else was stirring.