The Grand Line's relentless waves nudged Buggy's ship, each swell lifting it higher, then higher still—until all motion ceased. Not the reassuring halt of an anchor biting into the seabed, but something far more sinister. Ten of Gargar's colossal tentacles, thick as ancient oaks, had risen from the depths, coiling around the ship like living, constricting chains.
Guts stood like a monolith near the main mast, arms folded across his chest, fingers tapping a slow, deliberate rhythm against his armored arm. His gaze was a chilling void, yet held a piercing intensity—the look of an executioner patiently awaiting the signal.
Robin—shrunken to the fragile size of a six-year-old after pushing her Devil Fruit and Whisperer abilities far beyond their breaking point—sat serenely on the broad back of Richie.
The lion, once Buggy's loyal beast, now flicked his tail with a subtle twitch, a glint of undisguised satisfaction in his golden eyes. It was a long-awaited payback for every humiliating moment, every time Buggy had used him as the crew's personal punching bag.
Buggy and his crew were huddled together on the deck, a tableau of abject despair. They sat cross-legged, hands resting limply in their laps, their eyes fixed on Richie with the betrayed gaze one reserves for a former friend turned bitter enemy.
In Robin's small hands, a worn bounty poster fluttered in the salty sea breeze. She held it aloft, her eyes darting back and forth between the smudged ink of the face printed on the paper and the living, breathing subject before her—as if comparing a cold, damning piece of evidence to the trembling suspect.
Guts waited.
Gargar waited.
Even the sea itself seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the inevitable.
The only sounds were the groan of the ship's strained timbers under Gargar's grip… and the frantic, thunderous pounding of Buggy's heart, each beat a desperate prayer against a death sentence at sea.
"Humu humu," the strange, almost playful murmur slipped from Robin's lips, carrying a tone that was both innocent and utterly ominous.
Guts raised a single brow, tilting his head slightly in her direction. "What's the verdict, kid?"
Robin threw her tiny fist into the air, her face breaking into a radiant, childlike beam. "Death!"
Buggy's eyes rolled back in their sockets, revealing only stark white. His Devil Fruit reacted without his conscious command, sending his head tumbling from his shoulders to the deck with a sickening thud—a grotesque display of pure, unadulterated shock made flesh.
Guts and Robin seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their little show. But before Guts could press his advantage and tease Buggy any further—
"Guts! Wait!"
The voice, amplified by the vast expanse of sea, carried clearly over the waves.
Guts turned his head, his expression shifting from amusement to mild surprise. He saw Crocus standing atop the massive whale, Laboon, who was cutting through the water towards them with surprising speed.
As the distance closed, Crocus leapt from Laboon's head with an agility that defied his age, landing gracefully near the main mast. His movements were fluid, honed by years spent navigating the unpredictable seas.
Guts regarded him with a faintly puzzled look. Crocus, a fixture of the neighboring island, was not one to abandon his quiet life without a compelling reason. "What's the matter, neighbor?"
Guts asked, a hint of playful challenge in his tone. "Finally decided to settle that rum debt tonight?"
Robin, perched on Richie's back, covered her mouth with a small hand and let out a muffled, "Dreshishishishi," clearly amused by Buggy's still-shocked and headless state.
Crocus clicked his tongue, a gesture of annoyance at the mention of the debt—a consequence of a bulk order of rum crates he had yet to fully pay off. "I came to tell you… to hold off on whatever it is you're about to do—"
His words caught in his throat, his eyes widening in disbelief as they landed on Buggy's severed head lying grotesquely on the deck. "BUGGY!"
His gaze snapped to Guts, now sharp and accusing. "Guts, you bastard! You cut off Buggy's head!"
"It fell off by itself," Guts replied, his voice utterly flat, devoid of emotion.
"You think a man's head is a shoe that can just fall off by itself, you bastard?!" Crocus retorted, his voice rising in indignation.
Then Crocus and Guts were at it again, their voices booming over the crashing waves, spittle flying like stray raindrops with every impassioned word.
Crocus: "—AND ANOTHER THING, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!"
Guts: "Can't you see there's no blood, you OLD FART?"
Meanwhile, Gargar and Laboon were deep in jovial conversation, completely oblivious to the escalating chaos unfolding on the ship. Gargar chuckled, a sound like grinding stones, while Laboon countered with a playful spout of water.
Robin patted Richie's head with a mischievous, knowing smile. Her fingers gently stroked the lion's mane, a silent promise of the fun to come.
Robin: "Come, Richie… let's have some fun."
Buggy's crewmen instinctively shuffled backward in perfect unison, their faces etched with pure dread. The sight of Robin's smile sent shivers down their spines.
Cabaji, in a moment of utter panic, didn't just shuffle back—he leaped headfirst into an empty barrel in the corner, the wooden planks echoing with a hollow thud. "Oh no… ohhh no no no…" he muttered from within, his voice muffled and filled with despair.
Mohji, his eyes wide with terror, didn't fare much better. He scrambled behind a precarious stack of boxes, hiding his trembling body.
"That smile… I have a really bad feeling about this…" he whimpered, peeking out from behind the cardboard.
Robin and Richie approached Buggy's unconscious body—headless—and his severed head lying nearby.
Robin tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she pondered aloud, "Now… does his nose really make funny sounds like what Rayleigh said?"
Richie, understanding the unspoken command, raised a massive paw, claws extended like gleaming daggers. And then…
CRRRAT! CRRRAT! CRRRAT! — a flurry of brutal smacks landed squarely on Buggy's nose, each blow echoing with a sickening thud.
Buggy's head vibrated comically with each hit, his face contorting in a grotesque grimace as his eyes spun wildly in their sockets. Stars seemed to explode behind his eyelids.
Buggy's eyes snapped open in pure, unadulterated panic. A strangled scream escaped his lips as he sputtered, "STOOOP IIIIT, YOU CURSED CAT!!!"
Robin collapsed to the floor in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, clutching her stomach."Pfft—DRESHISHISHISHI!"
Crocus paused mid-bicker, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. Then, his face lit up with genuine relief. "Buggy! Buddy! You're alive!"
Buggy was still sputtering curses at Richie when Crocus—grinning like he'd just discovered a forgotten cask of twenty-year-old rum—strode forward and enveloped the clown in a bone-crushing hug.
"Alive and ugly as ever!" Crocus boomed, squeezing until Buggy's eyes nearly popped from their sockets.
"Geh—! Get off me, you old barnacle!" Buggy wheezed, flailing his detached arms like panicked fish. His legs scrambled backward, but without his head properly attached, he stumbled straight into Guts' imposing frame.
Guts looked down at him, unamused, then glanced at Crocus with a raised eyebrow.
"You know this clown, old fart?"
Then his gaze returned to Buggy, piercing and intense.
Buggy froze, his blood turning to ice. He'd stared into plenty of terrifying faces before, but the way Guts' eyes burned was different—like staring into the deep, unforgiving pit of hell itself.
He swallowed hard, a forgotten memory surfacing. That book he'd bought before sailing to the Grand Line—How Not to Get Caught by the Grand Line Butcher, the Infamous Serial Killer, Guts.
Worth a small fortune… but worth absolutely nothing in practice.
Robin, still wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, leaned toward Guts, her voice filled with delight. "Father! He really makes funny sounds!"
Guts' lips curled into the faintest, almost imperceptible smile.
"It's good you're having fun."
Buggy's face remained ashen as he turned to Crocus, his voice a strangled whisper.
"How the hell can you know Guts and still be alive, old man…?"
"Well…" Crocus casually placed Buggy's head back on his body before draping a friendly arm over Buggy's shoulder.
"We're neighbors."
Crocus couldn't help but notice that Guts wasn't showing the slightest intention of finishing off Buggy and his crew—a stark contrast to his usual, merciless treatment of pirates. Curiosity piqued, he finally asked,
"What are you planning to do with them?"
Guts shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Send them to the nearest Marine post."
Crocus tilted his head, a hint of disbelief in his eyes. "That's it? No execution? That's… unlike you."
Guts gave a short, almost dismissive grunt. "I owe Rayleigh a debt that can never truly be repaid. He trained me for two years, and even after paying him twenty million berries, what he did for me is worth far more. He told me once—if I ever ran into him, his former crewmates, I should let him go… or at least spare his life."
Crocus glanced toward Buggy's trembling form and raised a questioning brow. "How about more than that? Let them go entirely."
Guts fixed Crocus with a look that bordered on annoyance. His eyes, usually cold and distant, now held a flicker of impatience. The silent inquiry was clear, etched in the lines of his face: What's your stake in this, old fart? Why are you so concerned about this ridiculous clown?
"Well…" Crocus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We served on the same ship."
Robin's eyes lit up with childlike wonder. "You were part of Roger's crew too?"
Crocus smiled warmly at her question. "That was a long time ago, little lady." Then, he shifted his gaze back to Guts, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Aren't you still looking for a crew to sail east?"
The words landed like a cannon shot, reverberating through the tense atmosphere.
Buggy's crew froze, their eyes widening in stunned disbelief. Their captain, the bumbling buffoon they knew—the one who tripped over his own feet, got lost reading maps, and whose grand plans usually ended in comical disaster—had sailed with the Pirate King himself and never breathed a word of it. The revelation hung in the air, thick with incredulity.
Guts studied Crocus for a long moment, his gaze unreadable. Then, he slowly turned his attention to Buggy. The clown swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.
Guts stepped forward, his presence radiating an aura of raw power. Each heavy bootfall made Buggy shake more violently, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. When only a single step remained between them, Guts' eyes locked onto his like a spear piercing through his very soul.
"You'll serve on my ship… or become food for my Sea King." He jerked a thumb toward Gargar, who loomed menacingly over the deck, its massive form casting a long shadow, and a low, rumbling growl emanating from its depths.
After a tense moment of contemplation—and a vivid recollection of how close he'd come to meeting his end at Guts' hand, a fate far more terrifying than anything he'd faced back in the East Blue—Buggy finally understood the subconscious reason for his desperate flight.
He pried Crocus's hand off his shoulder with a newfound sense of purpose, strutted over to a nearby barrel, and planted one boot firmly on top of it, striking a pose.
"Listen up, boys!" Buggy bellowed, his grin stretching from ear to ear, a manic glint in his eyes. "The Devil himself has come recruiting the magnificent me!"
His crew erupted into a chorus of awed murmurs. Not only was their captain a former member of the legendary Pirate King, but now the very man who could have ended their lives moments ago was personally recruiting him. The sheer audacity of it all was breathtaking.
A chorus of voices rose up, loud and fiercely loyal:
"We'll follow you forever, Captain Buggy!"
Their voices carried a palpable sense of relief at escaping certain death at the hands of Guts, and a renewed admiration for the man they now believed to be truly untouchable—a figure destined for greatness, no matter the odds.
Watching the absurd scene unfold, Guts almost regretted his impulsive decision. The boisterous display of loyalty and Buggy's over-the-top theatrics were grating on his nerves.
Robin, however, giggled with unrestrained delight—far too amused at the prospect of gaining new companions, especially one as comically dramatic as Buggy.