"What's wrong? We'll have plenty more crewmates in the future. Zehahaha! And besides you, I've already got a cute navigator on board!" Rogers forced a laugh, though he felt a little awkward.
"Tch… well, having more people isn't always a good thing," Yaro muttered, consoling himself. Then his eyes sharpened as he looked toward the street's entrance. "Captain, looks like we've already got trouble."
"What?" Rogers frowned, following Yaro's gaze. His expression darkened instantly—he knew that face.
"Well, well, looks like following boss's advice and heading into pirate turf wasn't wrong after all!"
"Yeah, just as we came in, we ran into a guy with a 10 million bounty on his head!"
A group of seven or eight armed men swaggered up, weapons in hand. Two of them flattered the man in the middle—their "boss."
That boss just so happened to be someone Rogers had met before. Yesterday, in fact. The bounty hunter who had mocked him.
The man's logic was simple: if Rogers could stroll through their bounty hunter den yesterday, why couldn't they walk into pirate turf today? Hunting pirates was their job anyway.
"Hahaha! Isn't this the cowardly little pirate from yesterday?" the big man sneered, his eyes lighting up. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten me?"
"How could I forget… bounty hunter?" Rogers dropped his arm from Yaro's shoulder and stepped forward, face cold. "What do you want here?"
"What else? Taking pirate lives, of course. That friend of yours is worth ten million!" The man grinned viciously, leveling his gun at Yaro.
Rogers's expression darkened. Did they really think he was easy prey? Without hesitation, he drew his golden pistol, cocked it, and fired in one smooth motion.
Bang!
The shot rang out. In this chaotic pirate district, a gunshot wasn't unusual. Fights broke out all the time—no one expected pirates to sit around for polite tea.
Smoke curled from Rogers's pistol. Opposite him, the bounty hunter boss collapsed to his knees, clutching his bleeding chest. His gun clattered to the ground.
Rogers blew theatrically across the barrel, smirking. Damn, that felt good. No wonder Doflamingo liked finishing people with a pistol. It was satisfying.
"Y-You… you dare shoot me… cough!" the man spat blood, his face twisted with rage.
"Cowardly pirate!" one lackey shouted.
"Shameless—attacking by surprise!" another cried.
"Our boss was going to fight fair! Couldn't you face him properly?"
The lackeys fumed, furious that Rogers had acted so quickly.
"Quit the nonsense!" Rogers swung his pistol toward one of them, sneering. "You just said it yourselves—I'm a pirate. My partner had a gun pointed at him. Blowing your boss's brains out is already merciful."
Behind him, Yaro rested his hand on his sword hilt. He might be hot-blooded about swordsmanship, but he wasn't stupid. If someone was aiming a gun at your head, you didn't chat—you struck. Besides, Rogers had acted to protect him. For the first time, Yaro thought: maybe this captain wasn't so bad.
"Didn't think… you'd really shoot…" The big man gritted his teeth, staggering back to his feet. He knew staying down meant death—especially in pirate turf. He had no choice but to fight.
Zehahaha! Rogers licked his lips, bloodlust in his eyes. "This isn't bounty hunter ground anymore."
"Then let's see your strength, pirate!" the man roared, lunging with a massive fist aimed at Rogers's head.
"Zehahaha! You're not worth the trouble." Rogers wasn't some greenhorn. Between his predecessor's combat instincts and a month of brawls, he'd fought dozens of pirates already. He easily slipped the blow and countered, muscles coiling.
"First Echo… Cannon Fist!"
His punch landed square on the man's injured chest. Muscles rippled in a chain reaction, unleashing force like a small explosion.
The bounty hunter's eyes rolled back as he was blasted off his feet, skidding across the stone ground, chest caved and twisted.
"B-Boss?!"
"He… he took him out?"
"Run!"
"Idiot! This is pirate turf—running won't save us!"
"Then fight! There's only two of them!"
The hunters looked between one another, torn but cornered, then glared at Rogers and Yaro. None of them cared that their "boss" was already down.
"Zehahaha! Numbers don't mean much," Rogers flexed his sore arm, the Cannon Fist straining his muscles. His other hand raised the pistol again.
But Yaro stepped forward, gently pressing down the barrel. "Captain. Let me handle them. Sitting back doesn't suit me."
Rogers studied him for a beat. Yaro's eyes burned with determination. Rogers grinned, lowering his weapon. "Zehahaha! Then show me what you've got. I want to see what my new crewmate can do."
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T/N:
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