Grand Line, Baltigo.
The Revolutionary Army, led by Dragon and all its core members, was stationed on this island.
Although Michael had set their early revolutionary focus on the four seas, Baltigo remained their indispensable headquarters.
"Sigh... It's been so long since Michael-aniki last showed up here," Ginny lamented.
"He seemed unreliable, but he was pretty fun."
"Ginny, you started calling him 'aniki' after he offered to officiate your wedding with Kuma," Ivankov teased.
"You're quite a bit older than him, you know."
"To me, 'aniki' was never about age," Ginny replied without hesitation.
"And appearance-wise, I still look like I'm in my early twenties anyway."
Ginny's confidence in her looks wasn't unfounded.
After all, in the original story, she'd been forcibly taken as a wife by a Celestial Dragon at age thirty-seven. (if ginny still alive in canon, she'll be 51)
If she hadn't been genuinely beautiful, how could she have attracted their attention at that age?
"Wow, you really have no bottom line, do you? Just because Michael is willing to help you win over that silly boy Kuma?" Ivankov's lips twitched.
"Our Chief of Staff sure has a lot of free time on his hands."
Though he said this, Ivankov was still grateful to Michael.
With this move, he had completely resolved the slight rift between Ginny and Kuma.
Given Kuma's naturally insecure personality and his tendency to care too much about others, if they had been left to their own devices, things would never have ended well.
Ivankov swore by his own okama way!
"Hey, just because I haven't been around for a while, you two couldn't wait to badmouth your Chief of Staff behind his back?"
A voice rang out from mid-air.
The two looked up to see Michael descending in a graceful arc, his wings spread wide.
Their faces lit up with joy, but before they could speak, they noticed a swirling sandstorm flying alongside Michael.
When the sand landed, it took on a human form.
Though the figure was tall and imposing, his eyes held a chilling, sinister glint.
Ginny was about to speak when Ivankov's laughter cut her off.
"Isn't this our dear Croco-boy? Haven't seen you in days—how'd you end up so pathetic?" Ivankov grinned as they sidled closer.
"Judging by your state, our Chief of Staff must've beaten you into submission, huh? Hee—Haw!"
Crocodile glared at Ivankov, a surge of fury boiling in his chest—yet he didn't dare let it show.
The perfect image of murderous eyes, but too afraid to voice his rage.
After all, this wasn't just someone who held his secret—they were the very one who'd personally wielded the scalpel to create it.
"Enough, Ivankov. He's my new subordinate now, so try to leave him some dignity," Michael shrugged.
"I came here mainly for him."
"For him?" Ivankov tilted their enormous head, leaning so close to Crocodile that their absurdly long eyelashes nearly poked his nostrils.
"Oh right, I did tell you about Crocodile's little secret, didn't I?"
"Which is exactly why I brought him for a makeover," Michael said, shrugging again.
"Originally, I just planned to use him as a Shichibukai before killing him—too ambitious, you see. But after learning his secret, I decided to recruit him into my Marine forces instead!"
"This secret? I'll milk it for a lifetime!"
"My, Michael, you truly are a villain! Hee—Haw!"
"Keep it down, keep it down."
Watching Michael and Ivankov flaunt their insider knowledge so brazenly, Crocodile suddenly despised himself.
Despised his own weakness!
If only he were stronger—he could've killed these two bastards outright!
Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine the sacrifice he'd made to conceal his true identity would become the shackles binding him.
"What in the world are you all talking about?" Ginny frowned, her not-so-bright mind spinning furiously.
"But I think I've seen this guy on a Marine bounty poster... 'Desert King' Crocodile, with an 81 million Dial bounty, right?"
"Yes and no," Michael didn't deny it. "Except after today, the man known as Sir Crocodile will cease to exist."
Ivankov's eyes widened in shock at the two.
What did that mean?
Was Michael planning to turn Crocodile back into a woman!?
"Crocodile, is this what you want too?"
"Damn you, Ivankov. Do I look like I have a choice right now?"
Crocodile lit a cigar, took a deep drag and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
But his expression suggested it wasn't smoke he exhaled—but his despair.
"Though you needn't worry. After the sex-change operation, your appearance won't revert to its original form," Ivankov, being the architect of this, easily recognized Crocodile's concern.
"So those who once coveted your body won't come crawling back."
Ivankov's words only left Michael more confused.
What did he mean by 'those who coveted your body'?
What exactly had Crocodile been hiding all along?
"Alright, follow me. For the operation, we'd best move somewhere more private."
After speaking, Ivankov turned and led the way forward.
Meanwhile, Ginny curiously followed beside Michael, clearly having made up her mind to share this piece of gossip.
"Do you have something to say, Crocodile?" Michael walked side by side with Crocodile.
"Seems I was too caught up in previous events—I only knew you were originally a woman, but not what kind of woman you were."
"What if the answer would shock you?"
"I doubt it would be that surprising."
Michael's face was the picture of nonchalance.
After all, what could possibly be more shocking than him being a transmigrator?
At most, it would just broaden his horizons.
Crocodile studied Michael's face and finally sighed.
"Do you know why I called my self Crocodile?"
"Why?"
"Because sand crocodiles are native species to Alabasta."
Crocodile pulled the cigar from his mouth.
"And I... was once from Alabasta."
"To be precise, I used to bear the name Nefertari."
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