As Jack returned to the Wicked Wench, he immediately noticed two people sitting calmly on the deck.
One of them was Issho, sipping tea with his usual composure, while the other was someone that Jack instantly recognized — Mont Blanc Cricket.
The same person Jack had seen earlier that day in the city, the same one he had left to fate.
Yet here he was now, sitting on his ship, drinking tea as if it was something ordinary. The sight made Jack pause for a moment, quietly surprised at how fate worked faster than he expected.
When Jack boarded the ship, Cricket, who had been in the middle of a conversation with Issho, noticed him right away.
The first thing that came into Cricket's mind was that he was going to die. Jack was completely covered in dried blood from head to toe, his clothes stained and his expression unreadable.
The smell of iron lingered faintly in the air. To Cricket, Jack looked like a madman who had just come back from a slaughter — which, in a way, was true.
"Issho, you've got a visitor," Jack said casually, addressing Issho first instead of Cricket. It would have been strange for him to act familiar with someone he hadn't even spoken to yet.
Issho turned his head toward Jack, smiling faintly, but he immediately noticed that something about Cricket had changed. Cricket's aura had shifted; he was nervous, stiff, and uncomfortable.
"This here is my friend, Mont Blanc Cricket," Issho said as he gestured to the man beside him. "He's a descendant of that famous explorer. And Cricket, this is our captain — Sparrow D. Jack. Though you can just call him Jack."
Issho spoke with a calm tone, completely unaware of Jack's current state and how terrifying he looked. Cricket, meanwhile, could barely keep his composure.
"Oh, don't worry about the blood. It's not mine," Jack said with a faint grin, trying to lighten the tension. But the attempt to joke only made Cricket even more nervous.
"I'll go clean up. You can stay here and chat with Issho. He's a good person to talk to, though I should warn you — never gamble with him, or you'll lose everything because of his bad luck," Jack said, giving Issho a teasing look before walking toward the cabin.
"What? I don't have bad luck. It's just fate that enjoys playing tricks on me," Issho replied, trying to defend himself, but his words only made Jack laugh as he disappeared inside to wash off the blood.
Issho shook his head slightly, then turned toward Cricket, who was still looking in the direction Jack had gone. "Don't worry," Issho said reassuringly, "our captain might look intimidating, but he'd never hurt someone innocent. That's part of who he is. He's ruthless with enemies, yes, but to the innocent — he's as gentle as anyone can be."
Cricket blinked a few times, processing Issho's words before asking, "Is he always like that?"
Issho thought for a moment before answering. "Honestly, I don't know him that well yet. I only joined the crew recently.
But from what I've heard, the captain ate a Devil Fruit that amplifies his emotions — anger, especially.
During battle, his anger fuels his strength, but he doesn't usually let it show unless he's facing an enemy.
Most of the time, he's calm and level-headed. Still, sometimes, that anger just bursts out uncontrollably."
Cricket nodded slowly, the explanation making enough sense for him to accept it. The two continued their conversation quietly, talking about simple things, until a familiar group of voices echoed from the harbor.
After a few moments, Aramaki, B, Laffitte, and Club arrived back at the ship. They were all in good spirits, laughing as they boarded.
Laffitte's sharp eyes were the first to notice Cricket. His expression immediately changed, assessing the stranger with quiet curiosity, like someone measuring a potential threat.
Aramaki and B also noticed him, though their reaction was more curious than cautious. Meanwhile, Club, being naturally friendly, walked straight toward Cricket without hesitation.
"Oh, a new face," Club said with a smile. "My name is Clou D. Club, but you can just call me Club."
Cricket looked at him and smiled politely. "My name is Mont Blanc Cricket, but you can also just call me Cricket."
The moment Club heard the name, his eyes brightened slightly. He knew the surname well.
He had read it many times in the archives of Ohara — the journals and research about the adventures of Noland the Explorer.
The real, unaltered writings that told Noland's side of history, which for unknown reasons had somehow found their way into Ohara's vast collection of knowledge.
Club remembered the scholars studying them repeatedly, fascinated by the man who had been wrongly labeled a liar.
"Mont Blanc, huh?" Laffitte said, stepping closer, his tone casual yet observant. "Same family name as Noland, the so-called liar from the North Blue, right?"
The mention of that name immediately made Cricket's expression darken. He had lived his entire life under the shadow of that word — "liar" — and he hated being associated with it. It wasn't the first time someone brought it up, but it still stung every single time.
Before the tension could build, Jack stepped out from the cabin, freshly bathed and now wearing clean clothes.
His hair was still damp, and the scent of salt and soap replaced the earlier metallic smell of blood.
When he saw the scene — the uncomfortable expressions, the silence — he immediately understood what was happening.
"I just finished cleaning up," Jack said, looking around. "Let's all be respectful toward Issho's guest, alright?" He then walked toward them and stood in front of Cricket, studying him quietly for a moment.
"So," Jack began, "are you planning to join our crew? Is that why you came here with Issho?"
Cricket was taken aback, surprised that Jack had asked so directly. He hadn't even considered that possibility yet.
"Don't look so shocked," Jack continued. "I trust every one of my crewmates. If they bring someone here, I trust their judgment enough to give that person a chance. And if it's Issho who brought you, that means even more. After all, Issho can see what's hidden inside people — their real intentions, their true thoughts."
Jack's words were calm but carried meaning, showing how deeply he trusted Issho. Cricket looked at Issho, who was suddenly scratching his neck and looking away, slightly embarrassed by the praise. It was unusual to see someone like him blush, especially a man of his size and composure.
Aramaki, B, and Club exchanged glances, all of them smiling faintly. They had already known about Issho's ability, so Jack's words only confirmed what they already believed. Laffitte, as usual, remained silent, his eyes still focused on Cricket, quietly trying to read him.
The wind from the sea blew gently through the deck, and for the first time, the atmosphere began to settle, the earlier unease fading away as the crew silently waited for what would happen next.