Yoriichi Tsugikuni let out a quiet sigh in his heart. As he whispered internally, his right hand shot out, grabbing Buggy by the collar and hurling him straight toward Shanks.
Just as Buggy was about to crash into Shanks midair, his body suddenly broke apart. His arms and legs detached from his torso, and even his main body shattered into multiple pieces.
By the time those fragmented body parts collided with Shanks, the force behind the throw had already been dissipated. Shanks merely staggered back half a step before regaining his balance with ease.
"Hm?!"
The moment Yoriichi saw Buggy split his body like that, a strange sense of familiarity struck him. Almost reflexively, his long blade, which had been resting in its sheath, was already drawn and held in his hand.
It was pure instinct.
Fortunately, Yoriichi remained fully aware that the one before him wasn't the demon he had once slain. He restrained himself at the last second and didn't swing the blade.
But to the two young pirates at the door, the sight of Yoriichi drawing his sword was terrifying. Shanks struggled to stand, clutching his stomach with one hand while unsheathing his blade with the other, placing himself between Yoriichi and the slowly reforming Buggy. Tilting his head slightly, he whispered:
"Run. Get out of here and hide!"
"The Navy is already on this island. Stay hidden and don't let them find you."
"Wait for Captain Roger and the others to return. We'll regroup then!"
With those words, Shanks gripped his sword in both hands and, eyes locked on Yoriichi at the top of the stairs, suddenly dashed forward and leapt. He slashed downward, aiming for Yoriichi's chest and abdomen.
In the world of pirates, sword duels are surprisingly "civilized." Most swordsmen are trained to target the chest or stomach—areas that are broader and easier to strike.
But that kind of style sharply contrasted with the way Yoriichi fought.
He had always favored one spot when cutting down opponents: the neck.
As Shanks's slash neared, Yoriichi instinctively raised his sheathed blade, swinging it toward Shanks's neck.
His speed was terrifying.
Midair, Shanks felt a sudden chill as the sheath smashed hard into his shoulder.
At the last instant, Yoriichi had reconsidered his strike and redirected it. After all, the neck is the most fragile part of the human body. Even if he was only using the sheath, and not even applying Haki, one miscalculated strike could be fatal.
In Yoriichi's eyes, Shanks and Buggy didn't deserve death. In fact, it felt inappropriate to call either of them guilty at all.
Among all the members of the Roger Pirates, Douglas Bullet was arguably the only one who could be considered a "true" pirate. The rest, like Rayleigh and the others, had never committed truly unforgivable crimes.
Despite countless clashes with the Marines, the Roger Pirates had never once killed a single Marine officer.
To them, the Navy was little more than a sparring partner for loosening up.
Their total bounty exceeded ten billion, not because of sheer wickedness, but because they repeatedly stirred up the fury of the World Government.
They collected and decoded the Poneglyphs, an act strictly forbidden. Like a precursor to Monkey D. Luffy, they charged ahead with righteousness and justice, refusing to bow to tyrants or corruption.
Many corrupt nobles from allied nations had felt the sting of the Roger Pirates' justice.
In the eyes of the World Government, Roger and his crew were the embodiment of evil. But to Yoriichi, was punishing corrupt nobles truly evil?
At least, before the Great Pirate Era began, Roger was far from a true villain.
Yoriichi's goal in approaching Shanks and Buggy wasn't to punish them. He merely wanted to invite them aboard the warship for a chat. In fact, if things went well, he wouldn't mind seeing them in Navy uniforms one day.
While doing so, Yoriichi was also waiting.
He was certain Roger wouldn't abandon these two, even if they were just apprentice crew members. To Roger, Shanks and Buggy were no different from his own children.
Thud!
With a dull thud, Shanks was struck hard on the shoulder by Yoriichi's sheath. His small frame tumbled to the floor, crashing with another heavy thump.
The impact on his back caused such intense pain that Shanks nearly stopped breathing.
"It hurts!!" he cried out.
Buggy had just reached the door when he heard the shout. He turned back in alarm.
Unlike his first meeting with Yoriichi—where Buggy had shown bravery and resolve, he now appeared hesitant and timid. If this had been the old Buggy, he wouldn't have even considered fleeing. But now? He looked ready to run.
Yet hearing Shanks's pained cry shattered that fear.
In this moment, the bond between them outweighed his own survival instinct.
Buggy stopped. He turned around, sprinted to Shanks's side, and picked up the short sword lying on the ground. He stretched out his right hand—and it detached cleanly from the wrist, gripping the blade as it launched toward Yoriichi.
"The Chop-Chop Fruit…" Yoriichi muttered.
"These Devil Fruits really are incredible."
In Yoriichi's Transparent World, he had sensed nothing out of the ordinary—no signs that Buggy was about to separate. The muscles in his arm looked perfectly normal right up to the moment they split. Even afterward, Yoriichi could detect no difference in his form.
Still, with his Observation Haki, he was able to faintly predict the attack. Not that he needed to. Buggy's strike was so slow compared to Yoriichi's speed that even without Haki or special vision, he could have dodged it with ease.
As he thought, Yoriichi's sword hilt darkened, Armament Haki coated it like a shadow.
With a casual motion, he struck the incoming flying hand.
Buggy cried out in pain. The dismembered hand lost its grip, and the blade clattered to the floor—right into Yoriichi's hands.
"This isn't Gryphon," he noted.
He glanced at the short sword, then casually tossed it aside. Leaping down from the stairs, he landed directly in front of Buggy.
With a hand wrapped in Armament Haki, he grabbed Buggy by the collar and slammed him into the floor.
Boom!!
A heavy thud echoed as Buggy followed in Shanks's footsteps, collapsing and unable to rise again.
Yoriichi glanced down at the pair, then slid his blade back into its sheath and reattached it to his belt. Bending down, he grabbed one in each hand—two future Emperors of the Sea—and slung them under his arms like sacks of potatoes.
He walked toward the door.
The ruckus had drawn a crowd. Curious townsfolk gathered, watching as a red-haired boy in a Marine officer's uniform stepped out carrying two young boys.
"What the...? A Marine? Arresting kids?"
"Hey, hey, what's going on here? What's the Navy doing?"
"Arresting children? So this is the 'reliable' Navy, huh?"
Yoriichi ignored the sarcastic jabs. His expression remained calm as he strode away with the two boys in tow, disappearing around the corner of the street.
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