"Mhm."
The girl tilted her head up slightly.
Her ice-blue eyes blinked once before she nodded.
Then she stuffed the last piece of cotton candy into Ritter's mouth and, out of habit, grabbed the corner of his coat.
Inside the restaurant, Ritter had ordered an entire table full of local seafood specialties.
Grilled fish with rich aromas.
Thick seafood chowder.
Various shellfish whose names he couldn't even pronounce.
The table was completely covered with food.
To be fair, there wasn't much difference between the cuisine here and the food from Ritter's original era.
Then again, there wasn't much choice.
The culinary standards of the One Piece world were... questionable at best.
Even Sanji's famous cooking often boiled down to steaks, curry, and grilled meat.
Most dishes consisted of little more than roasting whatever was available.
Considering flintlock guns and wooden sailing ships were still considered mainstream technology, fans had long joked that the world's technology tree had developed in very strange directions.
Ritter didn't touch his own food immediately.
Instead, he rested his chin on one hand and watched the girl sitting across from him with obvious amusement.
She held her utensils neatly.
Her movements remained elegant.
But her eating speed was anything but slow.
Food disappeared from her plate at an alarming rate.
There was no need to calculate based on ingredients consumed.
The evidence was already visible on her face.
Her cheeks had puffed out once again like a squirrel storing food for winter.
The longer Ritter watched, the more his mischievous side emerged.
He stretched out a finger across the table and gently poked one of her puffed cheeks.
Poke.
Soft.
Very soft.
The girl had been completely focused on chewing.
Caught off guard, she paused.
Her ice-blue eyes slowly lifted toward him.
The look contained no obvious emotion.
Yet somehow it perfectly conveyed silent accusation.
Ritter didn't stop.
Instead, he poked her again.
Grinning, he said,
"Slow down."
"No one's stealing your food."
"Look at you."
"It's like you haven't eaten in centuries."
Watching her like this honestly felt nice.
The little vice-captain was finally starting to feel more human.
The girl quietly swallowed her food.
Then she extended her own slender finger.
Across the table.
Toward Ritter.
Poke.
Ritter blinked.
"...Huh?"
She poked his arm once.
Apparently satisfied with the sensation, she poked him several more times.
Not hard.
But with extremely serious determination.
Ritter started laughing.
"Hey!"
"You dare fight back now?"
"You've gotten pretty bold!"
He reached out dramatically as if to pinch her cheeks.
The girl immediately leaned backward.
But for a brief moment, laughter flashed through her ice-blue eyes.
Then it vanished.
Her usual expressionless face returned.
She lowered her head and resumed her fierce battle against a grilled fish.
Ritter chuckled and withdrew his hand.
Picking up his utensils, he finally began eating as well.
While eating, he muttered quietly enough that only the two of them could hear.
"Pilurka..."
"The Divine Maiden Project..."
"Im..."
"What a pile of troublesome nonsense."
He shrugged.
"Whatever."
"If they've decided to mess with us, we'll just flip their homeland upside down."
Then he pointed his chopsticks at her.
"See? This is how you're supposed to be."
"Why not learn from me a little?"
"Right?"
"Right?"
"Right?"
He placed a piece of tender fish onto her plate.
"Eat more."
"You'll need your strength if you're coming with me to cause trouble."
The girl looked at the fish.
Then at Ritter.
Then nodded with complete seriousness.
Moments later, her eating speed increased even further.
If her eyes could speak, they would only say one thing:
Let us engage in glorious combat through food.
Ritter immediately accepted the challenge.
Your challenge has been accepted.
Sunlight streamed through the restaurant windows.
Warm food filled the table.
Beneath that peaceful scene, however, currents capable of sweeping through an entire kingdom were already beginning to move.
Ritter watched the girl devour food with unwavering determination.
A trace of softness flickered through his crimson eyes.
So faint that even he didn't notice it.
CRASH!!!
Aboard the flagship of the allied fleet.
Ritter stood at the bow, Black Tide resting over his shoulder.
His expression screamed boredom.
Ahead of him floated the coalition fleet.
The force wasn't particularly large.
But its banners were unmistakable.
Several warships carried matching blue-and-white sails.
These vessels represented the earliest prototype of what would one day become the Marines.
Their sailors and soldiers moved with discipline and efficiency.
Compared to future Marines who would preach things like "Absolute Justice" or "Moral Justice," these men possessed something different.
Confidence.
Decisiveness.
The willingness to kill when necessary.
How should he put it?
The Marines of the future would still sacrifice themselves for justice.
But they lacked the clean-cut certainty these soldiers carried.
After all, how could the future influence of the Celestial Dragons not leave scars?
A glimpse of one part often revealed the whole.
An admiral like Black Hawk Gars, who wasn't part of any royal family, naturally inspired greater confidence in his subordinates.
As the old saying went:
A weak general weakens an entire army.
Still, what attracted Ritter's attention even more were the luxurious ships behind them.
Some looked as though their owners wanted to wrap the entire hull in gold.
The people standing aboard them were all finely dressed.
Arrogant.
Proud.
Representatives of the Twenty Kings.
"Tch."
"They certainly know how to make an entrance."
Ritter snorted.
His voice wasn't loud.
Yet it carried perfectly to a small approaching boat.
A man in a dark blue military uniform leapt onto the deck.
A simplified version of a Justice Coat hung from his shoulders.
His eyes were sharp as a hawk's.
The insignia on his epaulettes identified him as an Admiral.
Codename:
Black Hawk.
Gars.
His gaze swept across Ritter.
A faint smile appeared.
Not warm.
But familiar.
"Ritter."
"It's been a long time."
"You're still... uniquely yourself."
His voice was calm and direct.
Like a true soldier.
Ritter waved casually.
"Yo, Gars."
"That uniform actually makes you look respectable."
The two immediately fell into their usual exchange of insults.
Not surprising.
Gars had spent years chasing both Joy Boy and Ritter across the seas.
A second figure soon stepped aboard.
Massive.
Towering like a fortress.
A thick beard covered his face.
The Admiral's coat draped over broad shoulders.
Codename:
Red Tiger.
Mazal.
His tiger-like eyes locked onto Ritter immediately.
There was no attempt to hide his caution.
Or his hostility.
An overwhelming aura of ferocity surrounded him.
Mazal followed a philosophy known as Valiant Justice.
Overwhelming force.
Destroy evil directly.
No compromises.
"Gars!"
"This is the 'ally' you spoke of?"
"A pirate dripping with ominous energy?"
His voice boomed like thunder.
"Cooperating with someone like him is no different from bargaining with a tiger!"
Ritter didn't respond.
Instead, he looked at the man with obvious curiosity.
If he wasn't mistaken...
This was indeed Red Tiger Mazal.
Another ancient admiral discovered.
Ancient Admiral Collection +1.
At that moment, the royal representatives boarded as well.
Surrounded by guards.
Arrogant as ever.
Leading them was a young nobleman.
He wore an absurd feathered hat.
His skin was pale.
A silk handkerchief covered his nose as though the air aboard Ritter's ship were contaminated.
"Hmph."
"So you're the so-called Mist Lord Ritter?"
He lowered the handkerchief and examined Ritter from head to toe.
Disdain filled his eyes.
"You don't look like much."
"I've heard you possess some skill."
"Hopefully the rumors aren't exaggerated."
His lips curled arrogantly.
"Behave yourself."
"Complete this task properly."
"And perhaps our royal family will graciously allow you a place at our table."
The moment the words left his mouth, crimson light flashed through Ritter's eyes.
SMACK!
A crisp, thunderous slap echoed across the deck.