The call fell into a brief silence.
"...That's not the kind of secret information an ordinary person could know. Looks like your intelligence channels run far deeper than I imagined, Tenma," Shakky finally said.
"Who knows?" Tenma replied lightly. "Compared to your vast connections, Boss Lady, my little tricks are nothing, aren't they?"
He deftly sidestepped the issue. After all, he was running on plot omniscience—whatever conclusions she wanted to draw were her own business.
"Your words are sweeter than that old lion's, I'll give you that," Shakky snorted. "But let's be honest—you're driving a hard bargain."
She seemed to relent, her tone returning to its usual breezy cadence.
"So, tell me. What does the famed Skyborne General want to ask me about?"
"I'm looking for a few people," Tenma said without preamble. "All in the West Blue."
"The West Blue, huh? Convenient. I've got a few eyes over there. Names?"
"Two targets. The first is Lafitte—he should currently be a security officer for some kingdom. The second is Hogback, a doctor."
Tenma rattled off the key details.
The call immediately cut off—clearly, she'd gone to check her files.
It had to be said: Shakky's efficiency was frightening.
Just a few hours later, the Den Den Mushi rang again, cheerful as ever.
The moment Tenma answered, Shakky's crisp, businesslike voice came through, nothing but solid intel.
"Lafitte. Native of the Margarita Kingdom in the West Blue. Twenty-two years old. Currently serving as that country's security officer."
"Hogback. West Blue native, twenty-eight years old. A rising star in the medical world, hailed as a genius surgeon. Rose to fame three years ago after miraculously curing several incurable cases. Currently running a private clinic on Al Island."
Every detail—profession, name, background—matched Tenma's memory perfectly.
Hearing such precise information, a weight lifted from his heart. There was a very high chance these were the people he was looking for.
Satisfied with the result, Tenma was equally straightforward.
"No problem. How much for the intel this time?"
"Since your information was so accurate and saved me quite a bit of effort, I'll give you a discount," Shakky said lightly. "Five million Beli~"
Five million Beli. It didn't sound like much, but for an ordinary pirate, it was an astronomical sum.
From her casual tone, Tenma could practically picture her holding a pipe, wearing that smug expression of having fleeced a fat lamb.
Still, he didn't haggle.
Hogback, a famous doctor, would have been easy to find. But someone like Lafitte—who hadn't yet made a name for himself—being located so quickly? That money was well spent.
After agreeing on a rough payment deadline, Tenma hung up and pulled out the West Blue sea charts he'd been collecting over the past few days.
Matching the island names from the intel, he swiftly mapped out the next route.
What followed was five full days of sailing.
On the vast open sea, five days wasn't particularly long. Soon enough, Tenma arrived in the territorial waters of the Margarita Kingdom.
Of course, the slow pace wasn't entirely due to distance.
The main reason was that Tenma had deliberately taken a detour—to find some practice targets for the two little girls aboard.
In just those five days, the two girls—neither even ten years old yet—had brutally shattered the dreams of two pirate crews trying to enter the Grand Line.
Maria Fang, in particular, was terrifying.
After eating her Devil Fruit, she was like a tiger given wings.
The Zoan-type Spider-Spider Fruit, Ancient Type, Rosy Wolf Spider Model granted her control over webs and deadly venom, while the physical boost from being an Ancient Zoan was nothing short of monstrous.
Coupled with half a year of Tenma's hellish training, dealing with ordinary pirates without special abilities was child's play for her—like slicing melons and chopping vegetables.
As for Yamato, who had inherited Kaido's monstrous genes, there was even less to say.
She simply crushed everything with overwhelming strength.
Tenma was well aware that using fodder pirates as sparring partners barely improved their combat power.
But that was never the point.
What he wanted was for these two girls—facing life-and-death combat for the first time—to personally experience its blood-soaked brutality.
That psychological transformation was what truly mattered.
As for the pirates who paid with their lives—well, they died fulfilling at least one final bit of value.
The Margarita Kingdom, despite being nominally affiliated with the World Government, was really just a mid-sized nation on the fringes of the West Blue.
If you went back a dozen years, the place had been in terrible shape. Crushing "Heavenly Tribute" payments had created a horrifying wealth gap.
To suppress unrest and protect the royal family and nobility, the kingdom had established security officers with immense authority.
They wielded legal armed force and enforcement power—in essence, the kingdom's private thugs.
With this violent apparatus, peasant uprisings were swiftly crushed.
Then, in recent years, the kingdom struck diplomatic gold, cozying up to other affiliated nations. The economy improved slightly, and public order stabilized.
Once the riots ended, complaints about the security officers' abuse of power began pouring in.
To maintain its "national image," the royal family promptly turned on them, restricting their force and stripping away their privileges.
This was the awkward position Margarita's security officers now found themselves in.
And this sudden institutional reform infuriated Lafitte.
Having only risen to the position a few years ago, he hadn't applied out of any lofty ideals of protecting the nation.
As a child, he'd watched the usual street toughs—normally so arrogant—collapse to their knees and beg under a security officer's baton.
That sight had stirred something twisted inside him.
He wanted that kind of violence—the kind people couldn't resist. He wanted to flaunt his power over the weak.
That was his true motivation for becoming a security officer.
Not this farce—wandering the streets all day like a glorified patrolman.
Lafitte twirled his rather unremarkable cane as he walked aimlessly down the street, irritation seeping into every step.
Just then, another security officer approached and blocked his path.
"I'll cover your shift today. Go to Table Five at the Hunter's Tavern—someone specifically asked for you."
"A big shot?" Lafitte raised an eyebrow, surprised.
"Don't know. But they're ridiculously generous."
The man patted his bulging pocket, clearly having received a sum he couldn't refuse.
"Anyway, I've got your duty covered. Go."
"Much appreciated."
Lafitte tipped his tall hat with impeccable courtesy, gave a polite bow, and turned toward the tavern in the eastern part of the city.
He knew that place well.
Far from the city center, a lawless den where all sorts of people gathered.
At night especially, it was practically a nest of underground criminals.
Whenever the urge for violence gnawed at him, he'd disguise himself and head there to vent on a few unlucky souls.
Pushing open the tavern's heavy wooden door, a wave of foul liquor, sweat, and noise slammed into him.
Lafitte was long accustomed to it.
Unfazed, he slipped through the crowd like a fish through water, heading straight for Table Five.
Soon, he spotted his target.
A man with a unique presence, accompanied by two very young girls.
The blond one was especially eye-catching. Though her face was still childish, her build was sturdier than that of most grown men.
But what truly made Lafitte's eyes narrow was the strange "vacuum zone" around them.
Several burly men were stuck fast in something resembling spider webs, completely immobilized.
The surrounding crowd avoided them like the plague, forcibly leaving a wide open space.
Seeing this, Lafitte's lips curved into an amused smile.
Without hesitation, he approached with light, dance-like steps.
Before he even got close, he heard the white-haired girl whining at the man,
"Tenma, what does alcohol taste like? I wanna try it too!"
"That's an adult's happiness juice. Wait till you've got hair where it counts!"
The man rejected her mercilessly.
At that moment, he turned his head—and his gaze collided directly with Lafitte's.
In that instant, Lafitte's pupils shrank violently.
Recalling how the girl had addressed him, a storm surged in his heart.
Yet on the surface, he maintained his elegant demeanor, stepping forward and bowing slightly.
"I never imagined I'd be summoned by such a legendary figure."
"Oh?" Tenma raised an eyebrow. "You recognized me?"
"My greatest hobby is reading the papers," Lafitte replied with a smile.
"Especially news about powerful figures making waves on the seas. I pay particular attention."
Tenma nodded and gestured for him to sit across from him.
"Since you recognized me, then tell me—why do you think I came looking for you?"
Lafitte shook his head honestly.
"When a Skyborne General personally comes knocking, how could a small fry like me hope to guess the reason? If you're willing to enlighten me, it would be my honor."
Tenma said nothing.
He picked up the bottle and slowly filled the empty cup before Lafitte.
As the liquor flowed, his eyes—sharp as a hawk's—stared straight through Lafitte, as if probing his very organs.
Only when the liquid reached the brim did Tenma finally speak.
"I can tell—you've got restless blood in your veins."
"This tiny Margarita Kingdom, this pathetic security officer post… it'll never satisfy your ambition."
"So?"
He smiled faintly.
"Interested in sailing with me? In seeing what the real world looks like?"
Lafitte froze.
He'd imagined countless possibilities—except this.
He didn't ask why him. Instead, he unconsciously licked his dry lips, strange light flickering in his eyes.
"Then tell me… what does this 'real world' look like?"
"It's a place where the strong are everywhere, and strength is the only truth," Tenma replied.
"Like… this."
The moment his words fell, an overwhelmingly tyrannical aura erupted from Tenma's body without warning, sweeping through the entire tavern.
There was no earth-shattering explosion—only an invisible, suffocating pressure descending in an instant.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
It was as if the air itself had solidified. Under that crushing presence, glass bottles on the shelves shattered one after another.
Aside from the four people at Table Five, everyone in the tavern—pirates and thugs alike—rolled their eyes back and collapsed like harvested wheat.
Seeing this shocking scene, Lafitte shot to his feet as if electrocuted. An unhealthy flush spread across his pale face.
"Th-this is…?!"
"Conqueror's Haki!"
Maria Fang exclaimed with unrestrained admiration, as if showing off her most precious treasure.
"The kingly spirit that only one in a million possesses! This is General Tenma—destined to stand above all!"
"Let's put the empty titles aside," Tenma said, smiling at Lafitte.
"This scene… isn't it exactly what you've always suppressed, always longed to see?"
"Ha… it is."
Lafitte took a deep breath, forcing down the turbulence in his heart.
"Something this exhilarating beats mindless patrols by ten thousand times!"
Moments later, he picked up the brimming cup and downed it in one go.
Then he straightened his collar, and once more performed a flawless gentleman's bow.
"I'm willing to follow in your footsteps. No—please allow me to board your ship, Admiral Tenma."
"Of course," Tenma nodded in satisfaction.
"That ticket was prepared for you from the start."
With business settled, Maria Fang enthusiastically pointed at the still gawking Yamato.
"The one who looks a bit slow is Yamato. I'm Maria Fang. From now on, we're shipmates—pleased to meet you."
Looking at the two delicate, doll-like girls, Lafitte couldn't shake the sense of dissonance—but he still returned the greeting politely.
Sensing his thoughts, Tenma added calmly,
"Don't underestimate them because of their age. In the future, they'll be among the strongest forces on the seas."
Hearing this, Lafitte's gaze toward the two girls instantly changed, gaining a hint of seriousness.
"Anyone chosen by the Admiral must be exceptional—just like myself."
Flattery, with a side of self-praise.
"Enough chatter," Tenma said, standing up.
"Now that I've got my man, there's no reason to linger on this backwater. On to the next stop."
He tossed a few coins onto the table and strode toward the exit.
The other three followed immediately.
"Admiral, where to next?"
Lafitte asked, already fully in character. His gaudy security officer uniform had long since vanished.
"I've got a few scores to settle in the West Blue," Tenma replied.
"And a few more people to find."
He suddenly stopped.
His gaze snapped like a blade toward two men whispering on a nearby street corner.
Even without consciously activating Observation Haki, his keen hearing caught a few sensitive words—
Ohara.
Ohara. West Blue.
Those two words together instantly struck a nerve.
With his strength, there was no way he'd misheard.
That world-famous archaeological sanctuary had already been erased by a Buster Call.
Now, there was only one person in the world who could still be tied to the name "Ohara."
The eight-year-old child with a 79-million-Beli bounty—the Devil Child, the sole survivor of Ohara.
Nico Robin.
"Looks like there's trouble to deal with," Lafitte said smoothly, reading the situation.
"Allow me to assist, Admiral Tenma."
He twirled his cane and walked toward the two men like an elegant magician.
Clearly eager to show his worth, Lafitte clapped his hands lightly once.
The two men—who'd been wary of the approaching stranger—instantly went slack-eyed, their gazes empty, standing there like puppets with their strings cut.
It was as if their souls had been snatched away.
"Huh? Lafitte, what's wrong with them?"
Yamato asked curiously, waving a hand in front of one man's face.
Even a child could tell something was very wrong.
"Just a minor hypnotic trick," Lafitte said modestly.
"Admiral Tenma, you may now ask them anything you like. They'll answer without holding back."
"Looks like you've already eaten a Devil Fruit," Tenma said, studying him.
"This level of hypnosis isn't something ordinary psychology can achieve."
"Yes. Just a parlor trick, really. I'll give you the details once we leave," Lafitte replied politely.
Tenma nodded and stepped up to the controlled men.
"Repeat everything you were just talking about. Word for word."
Under his command, the two men spilled their conversation like beans from a jar.
As expected.
One of them had indeed spotted Nico Robin.
But intimidated by the Devil Child's fearsome reputation, he hadn't dared act alone, instead dragging a companion along for courage.
The other was planning to go back and confirm it—then immediately report to the Marines and claim the massive bounty.
"The Devil Child, huh…"
Lafitte stroked his chin thoughtfully.
"Never thought a legendary figure like that would be hiding on such an insignificant island."
"Indeed," Tenma smiled faintly.
"An unexpected bonus."
Nico Robin—this was the most important name on his West Blue list.
Originally, he'd assumed it would take some effort—perhaps even using a Poneglyph as bait—to draw her out.
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