Buggy had always thought he understood Haki.
Not deeply, not academically, just the way a pirate overhears things in bars and pretends he already knew them.
He hadn't even paid that much attention in the show whenever it was explained; he liked to gloss over certain details at times.
Haki, as far as he'd understood it from the anime, was some kind of mystical stamina-fueled energy that people used to cheat through life.
You hardened your body? Must be some kind of invisible armor.
You sensed attacks from far away? Must be some kind of sixth sense radar.
Knock people out by glaring at them? Ah yes, of course, magic charisma beams.
But the more he actually saw it used in this world, the more the pieces refused to stay in that nice, lazy little box he'd stuffed them in.
People didn't just use Haki.
They manifested it.
It wasn't a spell.
It wasn't a technique.
It wasn't even something you "learned" the way you learned sword swings or footwork.
It was presence.
The physical manifestation of your own ego, your identity sharpened until the world was forced to acknowledge it.
'If your will was strong enough, your body, your spirit, your emotions, your very existence, became its own weapon.'
Some turned that will into armor. Some turned it into instinct.
Some, the rare stupidly stubborn ones who were also born lucky, turned it into a roar that bent the weak.
And now?
Now that Buggy had felt it, really felt it, he understood something beautifully, stupidly simple:
'Haki isn't energy. It's proof that you refuse to lose.'
And one other thing became blindingly obvious.
Buggy's ego… Was WAY bigger than Vice Admiral Strawberry's.
Sure, Strawberry had mastery. He had polish. His Armament Haki was a coat of perfect steel.
But Buggy?
Buggy's will was like a surging monster with clown makeup.
It oozed out of him like a sloppy fog. Not clean, not controlled, just raw, stubborn arrogance forcing itself into reality.
A faint, invisible mist over his fists. Nothing pretty. Nothing spectacular or fabulous as he'd want it to be. But enough.
Enough to punch through a vice admiral.
Enough to finally hit the man who'd been slicing through him like he was made of smoke that entire time.
Hell, it would likely be enough to hit a man that was made of smoke...
And that, oh, that changed everything.
Strawberry adjusted his stance, now cautious.
Buggy floated midair, grinning, hands dripping with that barely visible haze of will.
"You're different now," Strawberry said coldly. "But unrefined will is still inferior to years of mast-"
Buggy didn't let him finish.
He blurred forward, not with Rokushiki, not with footwork, but purely from letting his floating limbs fire him like a cannon.
Strawberry flickered through Soru, moving faster than eyes should track, but Buggy didn't need to track anything.
He felt him.
Every shift in intent. Every twitch of harmful desire. Every swing before it even finished swinging.
His willpower spread like an invisible pressure bubble, a primitive Observation Haki.
He didn't dodge with instinct anymore. He dodged by knowing.
Strawberry was too close for his own good, breathing on Buggy's neck. But the clown knew the human body best, he could feel the twitch in the man's deltoid before the slash was even unleashed.
Buggy's torso split apart and the swing passed through nothing.
He kicked from the air-
BOOM.
Aerial drop kick. Directly to the jaw.
Strawberry pinwheeled like a dropped cannonball and slammed into the courtyard hard enough to crack the tiles.
Silence.
Then screaming.
"V-VICE ADMIRAL STRAWBERRY IS -DOWN!?"
"H-he was kicked out of the sky!?"
"That's impossible! HE'S JUST A CLOWN!!"
Buggy floated down like a smug parade balloon.
"Oh good, you noticed. Yes, I AM just a clown." He pointed at Strawberry's unconscious form. "And THAT was just my foot. Imagine what I could do if I was TRYYYYING."
-
-
-
The moment Strawberry fell, Marine morale snapped like wet thread.
Some dropped their rifles. Some froze. Some ran.
Buggy raised both arms and shouted like a ringmaster:
"ATTENTION, FUTURE UNEMPLOYED GOVERNMENT DOGS!"
His crew cheered in the background, already looting.
"IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE, STEP ASIDE. IF YOU VALUE YOUR PRIDE, TRY TO STOP ME. EITHER WAY, I WIN."
A trembling Marine aimed a musket and fired.
Buggy didn't even look. The bullet came within three meters… and he felt it.
A ripple of intent brushing against his unrefined field of observation.
His body split apart lazily, the bullet sliding through empty air.
"He moved… he knew before it hit…"
"He didn't even look!"
"That's... It's the same as Vice Admiral Strawberry!"
Buggy smirked. "Congratulations! You've won a free grenade."
He tossed it.
They scattered. A tad too late, though.
BOOM
"SEE!?" Buggy cackled. "Your selfish refusal to surrender just killed your FRIENDS! Terrible teamwork! One star out of ten! The circus is disappointed!"
Marines threw down weapons by the hundreds.
Some knelt in surrender. Some hid behind crates. Some pretended to be unconscious.
Buggy walked among them like a mob boss choosing whose knees to shatter.
"Mercy," he declared grandly, "is a beverage the circus has officially run out of! You want mercy? Go cry to Sengoku. I serve only chaos and snacks."
One Marine tried swinging a sword.
Buggy slapped him with a detached hand. Then slapped him again with the same hand just to establish dominance.
-
-
-
The base was a feeding frenzy.
Urouge smashed open vault doors like they were made of papier-mâché.
Cabaji robbed officers while balancing on one wheel and kicking them on accident. Mohji and Richie stole food first, dignity second.
Robin neatly stacked looted documents in alphabetical order and muttered, "Truly, this crew is a dissertation in entropy."
Funnily enough, she felt as if her safety was not in jeopardy, despite openly attacking the World Government like that.
She felt safer by Buggy's side than by the side of a Warlord.
Gold. Weapons. Cannon barrels. A literal mountain of rum kegs. Buggy Balls materials. Three full crates of hand grenades.
And best of all.
"ETERNAL POSES, CAPTAIN!" Cabaji yelled, holding up a basket.
Buggy gasped like a child at a candy store.
"We are going to EVERYWHERE."
The ship was loaded until it sat lower in the water. Still floated thanks to the Sky Island dials.
Marines watched, powerless and humiliated.
Buggy stood on the mast, megaphone in hand.
"TO ALL YOU BLUE-COAT BUDGET BODYGUARDS. TRY FIRING ONE CANNON AT US."
He leaned in.
"SEE WHAT HAPPENS."
No cannon fired. Not one.
-
-
-
As they set sail, the base still burning, the courtyard shattered, the Marines shell-shocked.
Buggy yawned and stretched.
"Alright boys, we're rich again, we've traumatized a few hundred government agents, and Strawberry's probably concussed for a week."
He kicked his feet up. "So! Next stop: Water 7."
The crew tilted heads. "Why Water 7, Captain?"
Buggy pointed at the ship.
The hull was cracked, dented, patched with mismatched wood, and covered with burn marks and lightning scars from their stint among the clouds.
"We've fallen from the sky, blown up a few times when making Buggy Balls, and rammed a Marine base."
He crossed his arms, deadly serious.
"We need a shipwright. A REAL one. Before this thing becomes a floating coffin."
Urouge nodded like a monk in deep enlightenment.
Cabaji agreed. Mohji agreed. Richie roared agreement.
Robin just smirked. "You're finally admitting you can't fix everything with duct tape and ego?"
Buggy scoffed. "My ego fixes MANY things. But even I can't patch a hole with pure charisma."
He pointed forward dramatically.
"To Water 7! Home of the world's best shipwrights! This amazing circus's next destination!"
The crew cheered. The ship sailed.
The Marines watched in silence. Strawberry remained unconscious.
And Buggy, clown of the sea, pirate captain, walking disaster, and now baby-Haki user... had taken his first real step toward becoming something terrifying.
And the world could now only react.