Ohara was burning.
The Tree of Knowledge, like an apocalypse torch, was spewing smoke and ash into the sky, staining daylight into a hopeless yellow. Cannonfire, collapsing buildings, civilians' cries, and soldiers' roars blended together into a chaotic symphony of destruction.
In the heart of this inferno—on the road that led to the port—Rain stood alone, quietly waiting.
The blazing firelight in the distance stretched his shadow long across the ground.
Calmly, he put on [Clark's Glasses].
In that instant, something subtle about him changed.
The sharp edge he carried—like a blade drawn from its sheath—was completely folded away, replaced by a gentle aura, like a friendly older brother from next door.
"Crack… creak… crunch…"
A chill crept in.
This cold wasn't from West Blue weather. Even the burning houses around him seemed to be pressed down by invisible frost, their flames no longer leaping as wildly.
Along with a teeth-grinding bicycle squeak, a tall—almost absurdly tall—figure approached from the distance.
The man rode an old-fashioned bicycle. His comically long legs had nowhere to go, pedaling awkwardly. He wore an expensive white three-piece suit with a dark blue shirt, a Marine round cap pulled low over fluffy black curls, and a ridiculous green sleep mask pushed up on his forehead.
In this hell of roaring flames, a man calmly riding a bicycle looked so out of place it bordered on the absurd.
One of the future highest combat powers of Marine Headquarters—
the monster admiral known as "Aokiji": Kuzan.
Kuzan had clearly noticed Rain standing in the middle of the road.
He slowly squeezed the brake. The old bicycle let out a "creeeak" and stopped perfectly in front of Rain.
With eyes that looked half-asleep, he lazily sized Rain up—especially the plain black-framed glasses, completely mismatched with this infernal scene.
"Ara ara…" Kuzan spoke, his tone as languid as the man himself. "Sorry about this, glasses guy… didn't mean to interrupt your sightseeing."
"By the way," his lazy gaze swept around, "have you seen about… a few dozen people who look like scholars, all noisy and panicked, passing through here?"
Rain looked at him.
[Clark's Glasses] really work… even against a monster like Kuzan.
Rain smiled "kindly," lifted a hand, and casually pointed down the fork to his right.
"I… I did see them," Rain said warmly and sincerely. "I saw them run off in that direction earlier—looked like they were in a hurry… If you don't speed up, you might not catch them."
"Oh?" Kuzan smiled too, as if thinking, What a helpful citizen.
"Then you've really helped me out. Thanks for the directions, glasses guy."
With that, he pushed off the ground with those long legs.
The bicycle squeaked—
And he kept riding in the original direction, toward the port.
He didn't believe a word Rain said.
But he'd barely gone two meters—
Bang—!!
A short, heavy gunshot—dull, sharp, and piercing.
A bullet wrapped in pitch-black Armament Haki slammed down, almost like teleportation, into the road half a meter ahead of Kuzan's front wheel—right in the path he had to take.
BOOM!!
The stone-paved road exploded. A half-meter-deep crater formed instantly around the impact point, rocks and dust spraying outward.
Kuzan's bicycle screeched into an emergency stop. The front wheel halted just centimeters from the smoking crater.
He slowly turned his head, tilting it slightly. In those half-asleep eyes appeared a trace of… puzzlement.
He looked at Rain, who was still holding the gun up, as if asking: What are you doing?
Rain lowered the strange-looking pistol slowly.
The "kind" smile on his face only widened.
Then he raised his hand again and pointed at the right-hand fork.
"This long-faced guy," Rain said gently, voice still warm, "the direction I meant is that way. If you keep walking the wrong road… I can't guarantee where the next bullet will land."
Kuzan: (ㅍ_ㅍ)
The moment the words "long-faced guy" came out—
The air seemed to freeze.
Wind, fire, cannon blasts… as if all sound vanished at once.
The drowsy expression on Kuzan's face faded inch by inch.
A terrifying cold—so absolute it felt like it could freeze the soul—burst outward from him!
The temperature plunged.
"Crack… creak… crack…"
Kuzan slowly swung his long legs off the bicycle.
The instant his boots touched the ground, frost began spreading across the stone pavement at a visible speed. The chill even overwhelmed the heat of the nearby explosions, racing toward Rain like a tide.
Around them, burning ruins hissed and sputtered; flames dimmed under the pressure of the cold.
"Ara ara…"
Kuzan pushed up the sleep mask on his forehead, revealing eyes now sharp and icy—no trace of laziness remaining.
"Greeting me with a bullet coated in Armament Haki…" His voice had lost all languor, turning as cold as a Siberian current. "That's a first for me, and I've asked for directions plenty of times."
He stared at Rain's glasses and asked, slowly and clearly:
"Who are you? And why are you obstructing the Marines' justice?"
"Justice?"
Rain laughed.
He casually pretended to tuck the pistol behind his back—actually slipping it into his ring.
Firelight flashed white across his lenses.
He pointed at the Tree of Knowledge burning behind Kuzan, then at the two characters on Kuzan's cape—blindingly bright in the firelight.
"You call that 'justice'?" Rain's smile carried open mockery. "Then maybe… I just find your 'justice' a little too glaring."
"…Is that so."
Kuzan slowly took off his Marine cap and tossed it aside. His signature fluffy black curls danced wildly in the clash between cold air and heat haze.
"Looks like you're not just some kind passerby."
He sighed, as if what came next was a huge nuisance.
"What a shame…"