"Change course?"
Zaraki gave a low chuckle and straightened up from beside the mast.
His neck cracked several times in a row.
"We do need to change course."
He raised a hand and pointed his finger straight at the giant warship carving through the waves, his voice carrying a chill of genuine delight.
"Carina, hard to port. Full speed ahead, close the distance!"
"Huh?!"
The sea chart in Carina's hands slipped from her fingers and hit the deck.
She stared at him in disbelief. "Close the distance? You mean... the direction we run is over there?"
"Run my ass."
Before coming on deck, Zaraki had already stored Murasame away in System Space.
What hung at his waist now was the nameless Asauchi he had been leaving untouched until this moment.
He drew the plain blade, and the steel flashed coldly in the sunlight.
As he watched the spider-like outline of Onigumo's hair become clearer and clearer in the distance, the smile on his lips slowly widened until it turned savage.
"I'm telling you to sail us over there. I want to have a nice little talk with that Vice Admiral."
Zoro nearly dropped the sword from his mouth.
He stared at Zaraki as though he were looking at a man who had finally gone insane.
"Hey, are you serious?"
"What's the big deal?"
Zaraki paid no attention at all to the shock behind him.
His eyes were fixed completely on the figure standing at the bow of the distant warship, who was already staring back at him with the same cold focus.
That prickling sensation of being locked onto by a powerful opponent made every pore on Zaraki's body stand upright.
What the System refused to give him, he would take with his own hands.
If he did not have the money to buy skills, then he would use someone else's life to fill that damned progress bar!
...
Far out at sea, the great warship kept cutting through the white spray.
Its dark rows of cannons shone with a hard metallic chill under the sun, and the killing intent it carried rolled over the sea in waves.
On the command deck, Vice Admiral Onigumo slowly pulled a mission document from inside his coat, his face dark enough to look as though water might drip from it.
As the distance between the two sides closed rapidly, the giant shadow cast by the warship swallowed up the little sailboat beneath Zaraki's feet.
The sheer pressure of its size and firepower, together with the dull pounding of waves crashing against its hull, made the air on deck feel almost solid.
Carina clung tightly to the railing, her knuckles white.
She glanced at Zoro, who stood beside her drenched in cold sweat, one hand already gripping the hilt of his sword.
The two exchanged a look filled with the same miserable bitterness.
"Hey, moss-head..." Carina's voice was so faint it was almost drowned by the sea. "Can we really afford to provoke them?"
Zoro swallowed hard, his eyes locked on the row of black cannons high above them.
He forced out a smile uglier than a grimace. "Who knows... once you've gotten on his ship, it feels like the only option left is to follow that lunatic all the way to the end."
Zaraki ignored the whispering behind him.
He tilted his head up, let his gaze pass over the towering railing, and met the tall figure standing by the warship's guardrail head-on.
At this range, Onigumo's oppressive presence only became heavier.
The hand behind his back kept moving creepily, combined with a face that looked like the whole world owed him eight million Berries, gave off a mood so foul it practically screamed for no one to bother him.
Clearly, this Vice Admiral thought being sent to East Blue for a job like this was beneath him.
"Hmph. That saves me the trouble."
Onigumo looked down at Zaraki from above, his eyes full of disrespect, as though he were merely examining a piece of cargo.
He did not draw a sword.
He did not even give Zoro or Carina more than a passing glance.
The arrogance built into his bones flowed straight through his low, raspy voice.
"Since you've delivered yourself to me, that saves me the trouble of searching you everywhere. Zaraki, this is Fleet Admiral Sengoku's direct order. Come back to Headquarters with us."
And after saying that, Onigumo did not even wait for an answer.
In his eyes, a brat from the East Blue—even if he had Garp's backing—had no right to refuse a summons delivered by Headquarters.
He turned away in boredom, the Justice coat hanging from his shoulders snapping loudly in the sea wind.
Without even looking back, he waved one hand as though dismissing some petty annoyance, his tone full of impatience to get this tedious mission over with as fast as possible.
"Lower the rope ladder and bring him up. Stop wasting time and sat sail immediately."
The Marines on deck moved at once.
With the grinding rumble of machinery, a thick rope ladder slid down the side of the ship and landed directly in front of Zaraki.
That sort of overbearing tone, so natural and unquestioned, sounded exactly like an owner calling back a stray pet.
Zaraki looked at the swaying rope ladder in front of him, then at Onigumo's unguarded back, and a cold sneer flashed through his eyes.
The sinister fire in his chest had finally found somewhere to go.
"Hey. You ugly bastard."
Zaraki's voice was not loud, but on a sea where only the sound of wind and waves remained, it reached every ear clearly.
Onigumo, who had already taken a step away, stopped.
"I think you've misunderstood something." Zaraki reached out and brushed the rope ladder aside as though it were garbage in his way.
His hand settled on the plain sword at his waist, and the wild grin at the corner of his mouth could no longer be held back.
"I didn't come here to follow you back to the damned Headquarters."
He raised his head, his eyes burning as they locked onto the spider-leg-like ends of Onigumo's hair, and the excitement in his voice sent a chill straight down the spine, like a hunter finally catching sight of prey.
"I've heard that you can fight using eight swords at once. Your reputation in the Grand Line is pretty big."
Zaraki licked his lips, and the wild instinct deep in his soul began to rise again.
"So I'd like to ask you for a little guidance... how about letting me take apart your Eight Sword Style swordsmanship, and your bones too, piece by piece, so I can study them properly?"
The moment those words left his mouth, time itself seemed to freeze.
All across the deck of the warship, the Marines who had been moving only a second ago froze halfway through their actions, their eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.
They stared at the sixteen-year-old boy below as though he had gone completely mad.
What did he just say?
Was he really challenging a Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral?
And doing it with that kind of bloodthirsty provocation?
Onigumo, whose right foot had already stepped forward, slowly drew it back.
Then he turned around, stiffly, like some rusted machine grinding itself back into motion.
The sinister eyes he always kept half-closed finally opened wide and fixed themselves on Zaraki with a gaze fierce enough to spit sparks.
"Kid..."
Onigumo's voice sounded as though every word had been forced out through clenched teeth, carrying a chill cold enough to slice skin.
"Do you have any idea who you're talking to? A joke like that can get you killed."
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