How did he end up in Alabasta?
Don froze mid-step, momentarily stunned.
"What's wrong?"
Robin looked at him in puzzlement when he suddenly stopped.
"Nothing. Just an unexpected surprise. Sure enough, whenever you wander, you always stumble across the unforeseen."
Don chuckled as he reached into Robin's arms and retrieved his sword.
"Hm?"
Seeing him draw his blade, Robin tensed.
"An enemy?"
"Not an enemy. A formidable man."
Don shook his head slightly, then strode toward the Rain Dinners casino.
Issho—wielder of the Paramecia-type Gravity Fruit. A swordsman, perhaps even a great swordsman.
A man whose strength was no less than that of the current Marine Admirals.
What mattered most was that Don's impression of this blind uncle was… favorable.
But why was Issho here, in Alabasta? That, Don found curious.
According to the original future, Issho would join the Marines during the World Military Draft, parachuting straight into the Admiral's seat, firmly supporting the abolition of the Warlord system.
Could it be… that he had come for Crocodile?
But nothing like that was ever mentioned in the story.
Or perhaps—Don's gaze drifted to the lavish sign of the Rain Dinners casino
This man loved to gamble.
So maybe he was simply here to play?
With that thought, Don stepped boldly into Crocodile's casino.
Robin trailed behind, her curiosity piqued.
Who was this person that Don held in such regard?
For Don to reclaim his blade from her, it meant he expected to use his full strength.
The Rain Dinners exuded opulence. The place teemed with guests, and scantily clad women drifted between tables.
It was both a money pit and a front for Baroque Works.
With his Observation Haki, Don picked up on several powerful auras. Likely Baroque Works officers.
But he ignored them, eyes locking instead on a certain direction.
A crowd had gathered around a wide gambling table, their voices rising in fevered shouts.
In the middle of it all sat a broad-shouldered figure whose height dwarfed those seated beside him.
Issho.
His expression was no different from the hopeless gamblers around him.
Don's eyes sharpened as he led Robin toward him.
"Change everything into chips," Don said.
Robin nodded and turned away to exchange their money.
At the table, the house had won again. The surrounding gamblers looked pale, some staggering away in despair after losing everything.
Don slipped into an empty seat.
Moments later, Robin returned, setting a bag of chips onto the table.
Don pushed a few forward, his gaze falling on Issho across from him.
The man was much younger than Don remembered from the story—likely in his forties, still in his prime.
The scar across his forehead stood out. His eyes were long gone.
Sensing Don's stare, Issho turned his head, smiling faintly, before casually placing his own chips onto the table.
The dealer lifted the dice cup.
"Winner!"
Robin beamed as she scooped their winnings toward Don.
Issho, however, had lost.
Don's eyes lingered on the dealer.
Cheating.
But Issho clearly knew, and still he continued to play.
One round after another, Don placed larger bets—and won them all.
The table quieted, all eyes turning to him, waiting to see his next move.
Don shoved forward a small mountain of chips.
The crowd scrambled to follow.
The dealer licked his lips nervously as he prepared to shake the dice.
Planning to clean the table in one go, eh?
The dice clattered to a stop. Don narrowed his eyes, and the table gave a subtle tremor.
The dealer revealed the dice—only to gape in horror.
"No way!"
He had rigged the throw himself, yet the dice showed completely different numbers.
The gamblers erupted in joy.
Don remained calm.
Issho, however, turned toward him.
"That's not proper etiquette at the table."
He spoke after the crowd dispersed with their winnings.
"Sorry," Don replied evenly. "I've never played this sort of game before. I don't know the etiquette. But gambling is supposed to be about the unknown. And here? There is no unknown."
His eyes flicked to the cane-sword at Issho's side.
One of the Supreme Grade Blades.
"You—"
The dealer, pale and trembling, pointed a shaking finger at Don as though he had grasped a lifeline.
But one look from Don silenced him.
"Go tell Crocodile I want to see him."
Don dismissed him, then turned back to Issho.
"Crocodile? The Warlord?"
Issho's tone sharpened instantly.
"You didn't know?"
Seeing his reaction, Don realized Issho truly had only come here to gamble.
"This casino belongs to Crocodile."
"I see. Forgive me—I really didn't know. I heard about this place at the harbor and thought I'd try my luck."
Issho's voice was earnest.
"But if it's Crocodile…"
His hand drifted toward his cane-sword, his presence shifting. The earlier warmth vanished, replaced by a biting sharpness.
"Can't do that. I've set my eyes on him. I need him for something."
Don spoke calmly.
Issho froze, then turned to study him intently.
"And you are?"
"Don. A pirate hunter. I've just arrived on the Grand Line, and I intend to make a mark."
Issho tilted his head, listening.
"'A mark,' you say… yet your tone suggests it will be no small matter."
His Observation Haki brushed against Don, registering the vast, overwhelming force within him.
Robin silently observed, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"Out at sea," Don continued, "one has to stir the world now and then. So—why not come with me?"
"You want Crocodile to work for you. But I see no reason to work alongside you myself."
Issho shook his head and began to rise.
"Then let's gamble."
Don's words stopped him cold.
"Oh? And what shall we wager?"
Issho's face lit up with anticipation.
"My reason for sailing is to cross blades with the strong. So let's wager on this: if I defeat you, you follow me. And if ever my path no longer aligns with your sense of justice, you may leave whenever you wish."
END OF CHAPTER
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