Meanwhile,
"EHHH?!"
"You're telling me that the idiot swordsman was the first one to reach the ship?!" Sanji practically screamed, eyes bulging in disbelief. Even after it was confirmed, not once, but several times, that it was indeed that moss-headed moron who had arrived before everyone else, the cook still looked like someone had just told him pigs could fly.
As the couple sitting before him calmly listed the returning crewmates one by one, Sanji felt a warmth spread through his chest and settle inside him like a slowly burning fire. The crew was finally coming back together. His people. His family. They had all survived and grown stronger in their own ways. There were only two left whose faces he had yet to see again. Only Robin and Luffy remained unaccounted for.
"I'm honestly impressed that you all managed to make it back here," Rayleigh commented with a quiet smile, folding his newspaper in half.
"Yeah," Sanji said, exhaling deeply. "It's kind of amazing, really. And to think you were the one who trained Luffy…" His tone shifted slightly, a mix of curiosity and admiration. "He must be insanely strong by now."
Rayleigh chuckled, but then rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "To tell the truth, I haven't seen the kid in about six months myself. I'm just as eager as you are to see how much he's grown since then."
But Sanji was not even listening anymore.
The cook's face grew solemn as his thoughts drifted toward someone else. Someone who had been on his mind quite a bit lately.
"By the way, Rayleigh-san," Sanji began, suddenly wearing a serious expression that caught the old man's attention.
Rayleigh, intrigued by the change in tone, set his newspaper aside. "Hm?"
"Have you ever met…" Sanji leaned forward, his eyes narrowing dramatically as though he were about to ask about a deadly enemy or some world shaking secret. "Luffy's older sister?"
The weight in his voice was so intense it made Rayleigh pause. The old man blinked once, then twice, trying to interpret the strangely desperate look smoldering in the cook's eyes. The question itself was innocent. The tone behind it was not.
Rayleigh took a moment, then nodded. "Yes. I had the opportunity to meet her a few times."
"Really…?" Sanji whispered, his breath hitching. His pupils sparkled like freshly polished jewels. "Is she… is she actually as stunning as she looks in this?!"
And with the flourish of a stage magician pulling a rabbit from a hat, he produced a wanted poster like it was holy scripture. He pressed it against his chest with both hands, trembling. A tiny line of blood dripped from one nostril, and soft curls of smoke rose from his hair as if someone had plugged him into an electric socket.
Rayleigh and Shakky exchanged a knowing look, their smiles twitching at the corners. They had both witnessed this exact phenomenon countless times, but it never failed to entertain.
"You mean Naru-chan?" Shakky asked with a knowing smile. She casually produced a photograph from between her fingers and waved it lightly in the air.
Sanji moved faster than any man with a normal bloodstream should be capable of. In less than a heartbeat, the photo was snatched out of her hand. His fingers shook violently as he stared at it, his entire body quivering like an overworked kettle.
"T-this…"
The photograph showed a woman with hair the color of warm honey, tied high in a sweeping ponytail that looked ready to dance with the wind. Her eyes were a deep and vibrant cerulean, glittering with a fierce intelligence and an untamable spirit. On each cheek rested three delicate whisker like markings, which added an exotic, wild beauty to her features, giving her the air of someone blessed by mythical creatures.
She wore a deep navy robe that flowed elegantly to mid thigh, with two stylish openings on either side that revealed fitted black shorts beneath. A sleek black shirt hugged her figure under the robe, showing just enough to suggest power without flaunting it. Her posture was confident and relaxed, yet carried an unspoken warning. She looked like someone who belonged in battlefields and legends rather than photographs.
"Gorgeous… absolutely… breathtakingly gorgeous!" Sanji burst out, his entire soul leaving his body as he clutched the photograph to his chest with both arms. The force of emotion in him was so intense it practically radiated into the air as sparkling pink energy. He began spinning in circles on his toes like a ballerina powered by pure love, hearts floating around him in a dazzling swarm.
.
.
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Grove 47.
"Hey, Zoro! Sanji! Robin! We finally met up, but why are you all acting so strange?" Chopper asked with wide, blinking eyes. His little ears twitched restlessly, and his nose twitched in tiny jerks of confusion as he sniffed the air. He had only arrived on the archipelago yesterday. Even though he had not seen his friends until this very moment, Rayleigh had assured him that everyone was returning, so Chopper had felt confident that the reunion was only a matter of time.
Today he had been trotting happily toward the place where the Sunny was docked. Rayleigh had mentioned that Franky was already there working on the ship, so Chopper had been excitedly on his way to meet him. By sheer luck or fate, he stumbled across three familiar silhouettes. Three of his beloved crewmates. Three people he had missed dearly. Zoro, Sanji, and Robin. Yet something felt slightly off, like a note in a song that did not quite match the others.
They looked a little different. They smelled a little different too. Not in a bad way, just different enough for Chopper to notice. But it was normal, right? Two years had passed. Time changed people. Chopper shrugged it off with hopeful innocence.
"We haven't seen each other for so long. What's wrong? Why are you three not talking to me at all?" Chopper tried again, his voice rising with a mix of concern and confusion. He had been following behind them for several long minutes, calling out repeatedly, yet they had completely ignored every word. It was beginning to worry him.
Still refusing to give up, he tried once more in a cheerful tone. "Zoro and Sanji have become really good friends over these two years."
The sight was indeed very strange. The two who used to bicker and fight over absolutely everything were now walking shoulder to shoulder, their movements oddly synchronized like a pair of best friends. Robin, who was usually taller and elegant, also seemed oddly shorter today. Chopper had no idea what to make of any of this, but he wanted to believe the best.
Meanwhile, the imposters wearing the faces of Zoro, Sanji, and Robin glanced behind them at the talking raccoon shaped creature trailing faithfully after them like an overly attached shadow. Comparing the creature to the image they had studied on a wanted poster earlier, they could not deny the resemblance. The adorable round nose, the tiny hooves, the overly fluffy body, and that bright blue hat with the sideways cross symbol. Yes, without any doubt, this was the famous pet of the Straw Hat pirates.
They shared quiet, confident nods, feeling quite pleased by their luck.
"If we bring him with us, it will make our act even more convincing," whispered the imposter Sanji, excitement glittering in his eyes as if he had just discovered treasure.
"Absolutely," the fake Zoro responded. "Having him beside us will make everything look perfectly authentic."
"It must have been abandoned here," the imposter Robin added, putting on a pitifully fake expression of sorrow. "Poor little thing. We will be doing it a kindness."
"What does it even eat?" the fake Robin asked, tilting her head in exaggerated curiosity.
"Cotton candy, obviously," one of them answered with misplaced confidence.
Before Chopper could say anything else, the situation instantly spiraled out of control in the most horrifying way imaginable.
Completely without warning, the normally composed and graceful "Robin" suddenly lunged forward and delivered a brutal dropkick to the small fox that had been peacefully sniffing around their feet. The impact sent the unfortunate animal flying through the grove in a spinning blur of orange fur. Chopper froze in pure shock, his eyes stretching so wide they nearly doubled in size.
As if that was not enough to terrify him, the fake Robin then pulled out a cucumber from absolutely nowhere, raising it triumphantly above her head like a bizarre talisman. Her face was stretched into a disturbingly forced smile, and her eyes twitched erratically. Blood trickled down her forehead from the bite wound the furious fox had left before being kicked away.
"Here, Chopper. I brought a delicious cucumber for you," she crooned in a syrupy tone that only made her seem even more terrifying.
"Robin, you are scaring me!" Chopper shouted, backing away in alarm.
Before he could blink again, two men in sleek black suits appeared out of thin air, moving with the speed and coordination of trained assassins. They tackled the fake Robin and the enraged fox at the same time, bundled the two of them into a giant sack, and lifted it like a bag of produce.
Without a single word exchanged between them, they sprinted away at full speed, vanishing through the trees with perfect, silent efficiency. In less than five seconds, they were gone, leaving only drifting dust and absolute chaos behind.
Chopper stood frozen in the middle of the grove, jaw hanging open, legs trembling like twigs in a thunderstorm.
"ROBIN HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED!" he shrieked, throwing his hooves into the air in complete panic.
.
.
.
Somewhere else on the archipelago.
Pressed against the corner of a tall building, a breathtaking woman with flowing black hair took a quiet, steady breath. The sunlight caught the strands of her hair, giving them a soft sheen, while the pair of sleek black sunglasses resting atop her head added a sophisticated charm to her calm expression. Her posture remained graceful even in hiding, as if elegance clung to her no matter the situation.
Having finally shaken off the persistent man who had been tailing her nonstop, Nico Robin allowed herself a moment of relief. With a small exhale, she lowered her gaze and studied the two papers she held delicately between her fingers.
One was a concert flyer adorned with energetic designs, advertising Brook's upcoming performance. The other looked far more chaotic, depicting an outrageous announcement boldly declaring that the Straw Hat Pirates were now recruiting new members.
"Brook's concert… and the Straw Hat Pirates recruiting… new members?" Robin repeated softly inside her mind. Her brows gently furrowed in a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity. "What in the world is happening around here?"
As she pondered, her sharp ears caught a faint conversation drifting from a distance. She recognized the voice of the man who had been chasing her earlier. He was speaking into a transponder snail, boasting loudly about successfully capturing someone who looked like her. And apparently, he had also seized a fox that had bitten her and refused to let go.
"Hm?"
She glanced around the bustling grove, a subtle smile forming on her lips as a warm sense of anticipation stirred in her chest.
"I wonder if the others have already arrived," she murmured, her voice soft but filled with genuine hope.
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Grove 33, Sabaody Park's concert arena.
"Kyaaaa~ Brook-sama!"
"Brook-sama! Over here!"
"Soul King Broooook!"
Inside the colossal concert arena, the energy was so intense it felt as if the very air itself were trembling. A deafening roar rose from the enormous crowd that overflowed in every direction, a living ocean of fans who had traveled from far and wide for one unforgettable purpose. They were here to witness the legend himself, the one and only Soul King Brook, perform a live show that would echo through their memories forever.
Thousands upon thousands of people packed the venue, their excitement forming a vibrating pulse that shook the ground. Colorful banners rippled high above the masses like triumphant sails on a fleet of ships. Posters of Brook's iconic skeletal grin were plastered across pillars, walls, and even on the faces of fans wearing elaborate face paint. Concert goers dressed in wigs, costumes, and frilly outfits modeled after Brook's stage persona danced with wild joy, their glowsticks waving through the air like streaks of neon fire. Some fans openly sobbed, clutching treasured merchandise to their chests as if holding their very souls in their hands. Others hopped in place, praying for just one glimpse of their idol.
The atmosphere crackled with anticipation, passion, and a nearly spiritual level of devotion. It was more than a concert. It was a celebration. It was a phenomenon.
Every cry from the audience made one truth undeniable. Brook, the Soul King, was adored on a level that no words could fully describe.
Meanwhile, behind the heavy velvet curtain that separated the frenzied arena from the quiet backstage world, the star of the night sat in composed serenity. The backstage was dimly lit, illuminated only by a few slow moving spotlights that cast soft glows across the walls. Brook sat perched gracefully on a plush stool, one long bony leg crossed over the other in an elegant pose that radiated showman confidence.
His skeletal fingers glided effortlessly across the strings of his beloved electric guitar, producing a gentle melody that was both eerie and beautifully soothing. Each note shimmered through the backstage like a whispered promise of the unforgettable performance to come. There was no trembling, no hesitation, no hint of stress in his movements. Only calm mastery. Only the assurance of a man who had stood before countless crowds and stolen countless hearts.
The faint bluish light reflected off his polished skull, giving his empty eye sockets a warm glow that almost resembled excitement. His jaw was tilted upward, and even without flesh or muscles, one could feel the emotion behind his smile. Brook looked entirely in his element, every inch the superstar that the world had fallen in love with.
Then, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed softly behind the curtain. Brook paused mid melody, his fingers freezing gently in place as if resting in the middle of a musical breath. Without needing to turn or even glance over his shoulder, he addressed the presence with cool charm.
"Manager-san," he announced in a smooth, dramatic voice that carried the weight of sheer confidence, "tonight, I shall transform this humble stage into the greatest live performance the world has ever been blessed to witness."
His words hung in the air like the opening line of an epic tale.
And then, with a flourish of pride and an unmistakable dash of humor, he let out a bright, ringing laugh that carried both joy and grandeur:
"Yohohohohohoho! What a delightful feeling to be alive! Well, almost alive!"