"This…" Issho was genuinely taken aback.
King Cobra's sudden, passionate defense of the Warlord system was the last thing he expected.
Since arriving in Alabasta, everything he'd seen, everything he'd felt with his Observation Haki, had completely overturned his preconceived notions.
Crocodile, a notoriously ruthless pirate, was genuinely, demonstrably protecting this nation and its people.
He could sense it – the underlying current of contentment, the burgeoning prosperity, the genuine happiness radiating from the citizens. It wasn't a facade; it was real.
They praised Crocodile, yes, but even more frequently, they spoke another name with a mixture of reverence, gratitude, and, especially among the younger women, a startling degree of… affection.
'Captain Mike.'
It was whispered in the markets, toasted in the bars, credited in conversations about the kingdom's miraculous recovery.
This mysterious Marine Captain seemed to be the invisible hand guiding Alabasta's resurgence.
It was this profound contradiction, this dissonance between the Warlord system he knew – a corrupt bargain with pirates – and the reality he was witnessing in Alabasta, that had compelled him to approach the King.
Who, or what, had caused such a dramatic, positive transformation?
"If I have been presumptuous… please forgive my abruptness," Issho bowed slightly, his voice calm and respectful despite the whirlwind of questions in his mind.
"No, no, not at all," Cobra quickly helped him up, eager to share the source of his newfound hope.
"Issho-san, you asked about the Warlord system. At first, it was indeed as you believed – a tool of the World Government, often used for ill." He paused, a hopeful glimmer entering his eyes.
"But after Captain Mike visited Alabasta, everything changed. Drastically."
Cobra's voice filled with a quiet conviction, a deep trust that resonated with Issho's senses.
"I don't know all the details myself. I only occasionally hear Crocodile mention that similar, positive changes are happening in Dressrosa as well. I have simply been following the initial strategies Captain Mike proposed – steadily developing our economy, improving the people's livelihoods." He scratched his head, a humble gesture from a king.
"If you're truly curious about the larger picture, I can try to ask for you."
"That would be most appreciated," Issho replied gratefully.
A call was quickly placed.
....
On the other end, Crocodile, still relaxing at the New Marine Headquarters' hot springs resort, received the query.
A moment later, Kuro found Mike and briefly explained the situation.
"A blind swordsman?" Mike stroked his chin, a spark of recognition and interest in his eyes.
"Met Cobra at Rain Dinners? Asking about Crocodile and the people's situation? Well, well, isn't that Issho himself?" He grinned. "Kuro, extend an invitation. Tell Issho to come over. I've been itching for a good gambling match with him lately."
....
Soon, Cobra relayed the message.
Issho wasted no time.
This "Captain Mike" seemed to be the nexus, the answer to the questions that had been plaguing him.
He drew his shikomizue, the blade hidden within his simple cane sword, and activated the power of the Zushi Zushi no Mi!
"Whoosh—"
Gravity itself seemed to bend around him.
His entire body, wrapped in a swirling aura of purple energy, lifted from the ground and transformed into a streak of violet light, launching itself into the sky and speeding towards the distant coordinates provided – the New Marine Headquarters.
'Mike…?' Issho thought as he soared through the clouds, the wind whipping past him.
'Could this man truly be the answer this suffering world has been waiting for?'
.....
The Calm Belt, off the coast of Amazon Lily.
A massive Marine warship, its design ancient and imposing like a steel behemoth from a forgotten age, sliced slowly through the unnaturally still waters.
The colossal characters for "Justice" emblazoned on its hull reflected a cold, intimidating gleam under the harsh sunlight.
On the deck, a tall, imposing Marine officer stood with his hands clasped firmly behind his back.
His dark purple hair was styled in a sharp mohawk, tied into a distinctive topknot at the back.
He wore a crisp, light purple-striped suit, a deep blue dress shirt, and a meticulously knotted white tie.
The Marine coat draped over his shoulders bore the word "Justice" in bold strokes, and two gleaming medals adorned his chest, signifying his rank and accomplishments.
His black leather shoes were polished to a mirror shine, and a finely crafted katana hung at his waist.
This was New Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral Momonga, a man known for his discipline, swordsmanship, and unwavering sense of duty.
He had been dispatched on a delicate mission: to travel to the isolated island of Amazon Lily and persuade one of the 'former Seven Warlords of the Sea', the infamous "Pirate Empress" Boa Hancock, to join the New Warlords under Captain Mike's command.
Momonga lowered his gaze to the intelligence report clutched in his hand, his brow slightly furrowed.
His fingers unconsciously traced the intricate tsuba of his sword.
The New Marine's directive was clear: unite all potential allies.
Hancock, with her formidable strength, her Conqueror's Haki, and her absolute rule over the Kuja tribe, was a significant asset.
However, the Pirate Empress was notoriously difficult.
The report painted a picture of a woman defined by arrogance, capriciousness, and utter ruthlessness.
It detailed her intense, almost pathological disdain for men and her merciless cruelty towards any who displeased her.
Persuading her to join anything, let alone an organization led by men, seemed like a near-impossible task.
Momonga flipped through the pages, his eyes lingering on the section detailing Hancock's past.
When he read about her childhood enslavement by the Celestial Dragons, the horrors inflicted upon her and her sisters in the Holy Land, a flicker of understanding, of shared animosity, passed through his normally stoic eyes.
The atrocities of the Celestial Dragons were not unknown to him, or to any high-ranking Marine.
It was one of the core, driving reasons the New Marine had been formed – to finally eradicate that cancerous tumor from the world.
In that shared trauma, that shared enemy, Momonga saw his opening.
Closing the report, he lifted his gaze.
Amazon Lily loomed closer now, a vibrant jewel of lush green rising sharply from the calm, monster-infested sea. It pulsed with a wild, untamed energy.
"BOOM—"
The warship slowly dropped anchor just off the coast, sending up a spray of white foam.
Almost instantly, the shoreline bristled with activity.
Female warriors, the legendary Kuja, emerged from the dense jungle, armed with bows, spears, and giant snakes wrapped around their bodies.
They swiftly surrounded the massive vessel, their faces hard, their eyes sharp, the atmosphere crackling with tension.
"Marines?! What do you want here?!" a sharp, commanding voice cut through the sudden silence.
The warriors quickly parted, clearing a path like loyal subjects before their queen.
A woman of breathtaking, almost supernatural beauty stepped forward gracefully.
She had long, lustrous black hair styled in an elegant hime cut that framed a face of perfect proportions.
Her forehead was broad and smooth, her deep blue eyes like the fathomless ocean, yet holding an air of utter aloofness, their corners slightly upturned in perpetual disdain.
Golden, serpent-shaped earrings dangled beneath her ears, swaying faintly with her movements and glinting in the sunlight.
She wore a high-slit red cheongsam that did little to conceal, and everything to accentuate, her impossibly curvaceous figure.
This was Boa Hancock, the Pirate Empress, captain of the Kuja Pirates, and ruler of Amazon Lily.
"Have you come crawling back to persuade me to go to your Marine Headquarters?" Hancock's voice was cool, melodic, yet carried an undeniable weight of absolute authority.
She looked down her nose at the warship, radiating an aura of supreme arrogance.
"Boa Hancock," Momonga's voice was deep and steady, his gaze sharp and unwavering as he met hers from the deck.
"I am Vice Admiral Momonga of the New Marine Headquarters. I am not here to persuade, but to invite."
He paused, letting the distinction sink in.
"The position of the New Warlords of the Sea—"
"Hmph—" Hancock cut him off mid-sentence with a contemptuous sniff, already turning away with a dismissive flick of her hair.
Her serpentine waist swayed hypnotically as she began to walk back towards the jungle.
"Not interested."
Momonga didn't flinch.
He didn't raise his voice.
He simply spoke the words he knew would stop her dead in her tracks.
"The New Marine is not the lapdog of the Celestial Dragons."
He waited a beat, letting the silence stretch, before delivering the final, devastating blow.
"Our goal is to completely overthrow the World Government and eradicate the malignant tumor that is the Celestial Dragons, once and for all!"
His words were like a physical force, a boulder dropped into the tranquil lake of Hancock's carefully constructed composure.
'Eradicate the Celestial Dragons!'
Each word struck her heart like a poisoned blade, tearing open old wounds she thought had long since scarred over.
"..."
Hancock froze mid-step.
Her regal posture faltered, her entire body trembling almost imperceptibly, as if struck by lightning.
The memories, the horrors she had forcibly suppressed deep within the darkest corners of her soul for decades, surged forth like a broken dam, instantly overwhelming her.
Endless darkness.
Endless humiliation.
Endless, soul-crushing suffering.
The brand on her back burned anew, a phantom pain searing through her.
It was the nightmare she could never truly escape, the eternal agony etched into her very being.
Slowly, mechanically, Hancock turned back to face the warship, to face the Marine Vice Admiral who had dared to utter the unthinkable.
Her beautiful face was pale, her deep blue eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief, raw hatred, and a terrifying, unfamiliar flicker of… hope?
"..."
Her lips parted, her voice barely a whisper, yet carrying the weight of her entire, tormented past.
"Explain. In detail."