The plan was in motion. Zoro, Nami, and Luffy had already taken off toward Kaya's manor.
Meanwhile, Usopp — still dressed in Jango's oversized coat, oversized glasses, oversized ego — made his way through the tree line toward the rocky shore. Each step was light but deliberate, his exaggerated strut keeping rhythm with some internal beat only he could hear.
Waiting for him at the edge of the shore was a small rowboat, bobbing in the tide. Two members of the Black Cat Pirates lounged inside, chewing on fish bones and lazily swatting flies. Their dark coats, drooping hats, and eye bags said it all — hired muscle without much brain to go around.
One of them squinted as Usopp emerged from the foliage. "Oi, Jango… what happened to your face?"
Usopp — as Jango — tilted his head. "Ah, my magnificent nose? A casualty of romance, lads!"
He twirled once and posed dramatically.
"A daring lady, wild with passion — or fury, depending on how you look at it — struck me while I was showcasing the pinnacle of my hypnotic dance art. Tragic, yes! But we learn, we evolve!"
He gestured to the clownish mass of bandages covering his long nose, clearly a rush job. "Stylish, no? I call it 'The Spiral of Love and Suffering.'"
The two henchmen just blinked. Then shrugged.
"Alright," one muttered. "Whatever. You got orders?"
"Indeed I do!" Usopp said with a flourish. "From Captain Kuro himself. I must be taken to the Bezan Black immediately. Time is of the essence, lads!"
The henchmen immediately grabbed the oars.
Usopp stepped into the boat like royalty entering a ballroom, arms splayed, boots tapping to an invisible rhythm as they pushed off and began rowing through the surf.
He didn't drop the act — not even once. Occasionally he did a little twirl, or struck a pose at the boat's edge, arms flared wide. One of the rowers watched him out of the corner of his eye but said nothing. Apparently, this was all in a day's work with Jango.
Usopp was grinning under the bandages.
It was working.
The ship loomed before them, black sails slapping the wind, paint chipped and patched but still menacing. The Bezan Black wasn't elegant, but it had presence — long and low with a sharply sloped hull, like a dagger skimming the sea.
Usopp climbed up the side with ease, every rope and board familiar. He'd snuck onto this ship for information gathering more times than he could count — but this time was different.
This time, he was in control.
"JANGO'S BACK!" someone yelled.
He was met with the confused but passive faces of the Black Cat crew, including the Nyaban Brothers — Sham and Buchi — the mismatched twins of chaos, one lean and sly, the other big and dense.
"Where've you been, nose-boy?" Sham asked, eyeing him.
"Nice bandage," Buchi added, squinting. "Looks like a sock."
Usopp struck a pose immediately. "Do NOT speak of the sacred Spiral of Love and Suffering as if it were mere wrappings! It is a tale of heartbreak woven in gauze!"
They blinked.
"…Right," Sham said slowly. "So what're you doing here?"
"New orders!" Usopp-Jango snapped, clapping twice, then spinning a full circle. "From our glorious Captain. The plan has changed."
Now that got everyone's attention.
"Changed?" Buchi scratched his head. "But Kuro doesn't change plans. Ever."
"Exactly!" Usopp said, pointing emphatically. "Which is what makes this change… genius. It is unpredictability within predictability!"
He danced a small, ridiculous circle before leaping onto the barrel nearby. "We no longer make landfall at the manor bay. Instead, we sail to the Crescent Bluff behind the cliffs!"
Gasps. Grunts. Grumbles.
"That route's cursed!" someone said.
"We almost wrecked the ship last time we went there!"
"Captain Kuro said never again!"
Usopp held up his hand. "Captain Kuro also said—and I quote!—'Greatness never hides in comfort.' This is stealth. This is surprise. This is…"
He leaned down, whispering.
"…The Jango Way."
Silence.
Then slowly, as though hypnotized without even swinging the pendulum, heads began to nod. One by one.
"Actually sounds kinda smart…"
"Real sneaky."
"Didn't think Kuro had that in him."
Usopp clapped again. "Twenty minutes. We depart then. Be prepared. I must now purify myself from the remnants of woman-foot-curse. It lingers."
He moonwalked away.
Even Sham and Buchi just nodded solemnly.
Inside the ship's hold, Usopp got to work. Still playing Jango for any prying eyes, he wove through the corridors with deliberate swagger — but as soon as someone passed, he'd shift his pace and move fast.
First Target, The Cannons.
He popped open their maintenance hatches, and — with a few sleight-of-hand tools from his satchel — subtly unscrewed the ignition latches and jammed the recoil springs with pebbles and tar. To the untrained eye, they looked ready. But once fired, they'd backfire or misfire entirely.
Second, Ammunition Crates.
He sprinkled the black powder with fine grit and sand, enough to kill its potency. Some barrels were even dumped overboard while no one was looking.
Third, The Rigging.
While dancing atop the main deck, he "accidentally" leaned into a key pulley and unhooked the primary mainsail line, loosening it just enough so it would slip during a turn. Then, near the helm, he kicked the anchor release, engaging the brake partially so it would catch the rudder mid-sail.
All the while?
He was yelling like a true officer.
"Keep it steady, gentlemen! Swing the starboard sail like it owes you money!"
"Get that barrel off the rope! It's got lice! Hypnotic lice!"
"Lift with your back AND your soul!"
Every time someone questioned his commands, he'd start doing an interpretive dance while quoting fake philosophy.
"Trust the motion, my brothers. The rhythm of stealth sings loudest when unheard!"
The men, confused and afraid of being seen as stupid, simply nodded.
Chaos, contained. Sabotage, complete.
Crescent Bluff, Hell Itself.
The Bezan Black approached the bluffs as the fog thickened. The cliffs rose like jagged teeth, sharp rocks hidden beneath churning tides. As they weaved closer, the wind howled through the stone.
Below the water?
Traps.
The crew didn't see the rusted spike logs floating just under the surface until it was too late. One scraped along the hull, sending a gut-churning SCREEEE through the entire ship.
Screams followed as one of the lower cabins began to flood.
Then came the tripline harpoons — Usopp's invention — hidden between rock pillars. The ship caught one along its mast. The line snapped, but the sudden jolt snapped the top half of the foremast clean off.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!" Sham shouted.
"I-I don't know!!" someone yelled back. "We must've hit a reef!"
"No, no, no!" Usopp-as-Jango called from the upper deck, flailing dramatically. "It's just… turbulence! The stealthiest kind! Sail us forth! Forth, I say!"
More traps — tar patches along one shallow area gummed up the rudder. A hidden spike trap (disguised as floating driftwood) ripped a chunk from the starboard hull.
The ship was bleeding.
Smoke. Screams. Sailors scrambling like mice.
And in the middle of it all?
Usopp, arms flailing, spinning in circles like a cult leader preaching the gospel of stealth through interpretive chaos.
"DON'T PANIC!" he shouted, grinning. "If it looks like we're losing, it only means we're close to winning!"