Few Minutes Earlier – Rewind Time.
The shockwave from the clash between Zino and Ace pulsed through Nanohana like a desert storm, shaking windows, rattling doors, and sending startled birds screeching into the skies.
It wasn't just a loud explosion—it carried heat and cold in equal, violent measure. Civilians shrieked, merchants ducked behind their stalls, and warriors paused mid-step, instincts on high alert.
In the heart of the marketplace, Sanji halted abruptly, one foot poised mid-step. A faint curl of smoke rose from the tip of his cigarette, trailing behind him like a ghost of calm in the midst of growing chaos.
"What the hell was that?" he muttered, eyes narrowing. He glanced toward the direction of the blast. "Zino again…? Or someone dumb enough to pick a fight with him?"
He sighed, already annoyed, then quickly remembered his own mission. "Tch. I don't have time for this. I've got my own idiot to find."
Sanji resumed his search, weaving through the crowds and shouting internally. 'Zoro, where the hell did you get lost this time?!'
But just as he rounded a corner near a spice vendor's stall, he caught sight of someone who made him completely forget his frustrations.
Across the street, a girl stood quietly near the edge of an alleyway. She wore a long, dark cloak that gently swayed with the desert breeze, the hood pulled back just enough to reveal radiant hair that shimmered gold under the Alabastan sun. Her soft features were delicate, and her eyes held a shy sparkle that practically screamed *pure-hearted damsel*.
Sanji froze.
"Angel sighted."
His pupils turned into hearts. The marketplace, the heat, the sand—all of it vanished behind a pink haze.
The girl locked eyes with him, then looked down modestly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. She took one step forward, slow and hesitant, as if unsure. Her gaze lingered, then darted away, as if embarrassed.
Sanji was gone.
He sprinted across the street in an instant, flowers blooming behind his head.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle~!" he greeted with a theatrical bow, one knee on the ground, hand extended gallantly. "Are you lost in this chaotic desert world? Allow me to be your shade, your compass, your personal—"
He never finished.
Her expression shifted. Gone was the shy maiden. In her place stood a predator with eyes cold as steel.
Without warning, her hand darted beneath her cloak, and with a flick of her wrist, a slim dagger gleamed in the sun as it arced toward his throat.
But Sanji wasn't a fool.
With lightning reflexes, he leaned back slightly, the dagger slicing the air just inches from his face. His cigarette never even fell from his mouth.
"Whoa now," he muttered, straightening up. "That's one hell of a way to say hello."
The girl clicked her tongue in irritation, clearly not used to missing. She took a step back, preparing for another strike—but Sanji was already lowering into a fighting stance, eyes sharp and serious.
"A cloaked beauty who stabs strangers on sight… I'm guessing you're not here for the local cuisine."
The girl clicked her tongue in frustration, clearly surprised her ambush failed. "Tch. You dodged."
She didn't hesitate. Realizing her surprise attack had missed its mark, she spun on her heel and bolted into a narrow side alley, her cloak billowing as she disappeared into the shadows.
Sanji watched her go, tense and ready to pursue—but then cursed under his breath, remembering something far more important. "Damn it… that moss-head's probably wandered into a damn bakery asking for directions to the port again."
With one last glance toward the alley, Sanji turned and sprinted off in another direction, heading deeper into the town. *Zoro better not be picking a fight with a palm tree again.*
Meanwhile, not far from Nanohana's bustling town center, Zoro had—true to form—managed to get himself lost.
He now stood in a quiet, open area on the edge of the city, where warehouses and storage buildings lined the sandy outskirts. There was no foot traffic here, no civilians—just silence and the sweltering heat of the desert sun.
Unfortunately for him, he wasn't alone for long.
Twenty individuals emerged from the shadows of nearby buildings, all clad in black cloaks marked with golden insignias—each bearing the rank of a Billion-Tier agent.
"There he is," one of them said flatly. "That's the Orca Pirates' swordsman."
Another agent stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "He's a high-threat target. Orders from above: capture if possible, kill if necessary."
Zoro didn't respond. He simply let out a long, annoyed sigh, his hand already resting on the hilt of Wado Ichimonji.
"Took you guys long enough," he said. "I've been wandering for what feels like an hour."
The agents tightened their formation, slowly circling him like predators. Their eyes were cold, precise. They knew who he was—and they weren't underestimating him.
Zoro cracked his neck, then loosened his shoulders.
Finally, he thought. A proper challenge.
With a calm, deliberate motion, he drew his three swords—one between his teeth, the other two in his hands. His stance lowered, his presence sharpened.
"Let's see if the training paid off."
He recalled the countless hours aboard the ship—swinging weights heavier than barrels, practicing forms beneath the beating sun, meditating and getting beaten by instructor Miria, to refine his focus. He hadn't just been getting stronger—he had been preparing for moments like this.
One agent lunged. Then another.
The fight began instantly.
Zoro moved like a storm. His swords flashed in arcs too fast to follow. The first agent's blade met his, and sparks flew—only for Zoro to pivot and strike the second attacker with the back of his sword, sending him crashing into a barrel.
Two more came from behind, but Zoro ducked and spun, his swords cutting through their offensive like a spinning typhoon.
Dust and debris exploded into the air, kicked up by the flurry of attacks and counters. The clanging of steel echoed through the quiet street.
And with that, the alley behind Nanohana soon echoed with the clash of swords—a lone warrior testing the results of his relentless pursuit of strength against several Billion-Tier Agents.
...
Elsewhere in Nanohana…
In a quiet corner of the bustling port city, nestled between two sun-bleached clay buildings, sat a small, neatly decorated salon. It smelled faintly of lavender and hair oil, a rare pocket of peace in the otherwise chaotic desert capital.
Inside, Kruz sat in a cushioned chair, draped in a white cape. His posture was regal, arms folded as he stared confidently at his reflection in the mirror.
"Just a little off the sides," he said smoothly. "Keep the volume on top—I like my silhouette bold."
The female barber smiled politely. "Understood, sir. I'll keep the top full and clean up the shape."
Kruz closed his eyes, indulging in the rare luxury. It had been a long time since the last he got a proper haircut. While living in Spring Island, he only used knife to cut his hair short. Now that he is joining a pirate group, it's better to have a good look, and elegant hairstyle.
Then—*BOOOOM!*
A violent shockwave rocked the entire salon. The mirror rattled, jars of cream clattered to the floor, and a gust of desert wind swept in from the open window.
The blast—caused by the explosive clash between Zino and Ace—sent a jolt through the building.
"Ahh!" the barber gasped, startled.
Snip!
There was a sound. Not just any snip. It was... sharp. Central. Too central!
Kruz's eyes flew open.
He didn't move immediately. He didn't even blink. Slowly, with a growing sense of dread, he raised a hand to the top of his head.
His fingers brushed against something unfamiliar. Something smooth.
Something... bald.
The silence in the room became deafening.
"...What... did you just do?" he asked slowly, voice eerily calm.
The barber turned pale, her hands trembling. "I-I'm so sorry! The explosion—my hand—it slipped!"
Kruz stood up, the cape falling from his shoulders. He stared at the mirror. There, in the very center of his otherwise majestic hairstyle, was a shiny, unmistakable bald spot.
A vein pulsed on his temple.
His reflection stared back at him, judging him.
"…No…" he whispered, fists clenching at his sides. "No one ruins the top."
The barber stepped back nervously. "I-I can fix it! I can even it out—"
"Even it out?" Kruz looked at her like she'd spoken a curse. "You want me to go full bald?! Are you mad?!"
His eye twitched.
He turned to the window, eyes blazing with vengeance.
"Whoever caused that blast… I don't care if it's a Marine, pirate, or a flaming clown—*I'll shave them bald if I know who they are!"
Meanwhile, just outside the salon.
Nami, Alvida, Mikita, Vivi, and Kaya stood in the warm midday sun, waiting near a stone bench where Kruz had gone in for a quick trim. Suddenly, the ground rumbled beneath their feet.
A deep, distant boom echoed across Nanohana, followed by the faint sound of scattering birds and alarmed shouts.
Vivi's eyes widened. "Was that… an explosion?"
Nami's jaw tightened as she looked toward the rising haze in the distance. "Yeah… and I've got a pretty good idea who caused it."
Alvida crossed her arms, scowling. "Let me guess—Zino?"
Kaya looked startled, her hands gripping her bag. "Do you think he's in trouble?"
Alvida let out a breath. "If he's not already, he's probably causing it."
...
Far across town, at a shaded rendezvous point near the river's edge, Hibari and Nojiko stood beneath a canvas awning tied to wooden posts. Several bags of provisions sat at their feet, and the hum of the nearby market echoed softly in the background.
Hibari tapped his foot impatiently. "They're late."
"They'll be here," Nojiko replied, brushing sand off her skirt. "Assuming Zoro hasn't walked into a canyon."
Soon enough, Gin's group arrived—Gin, Ussop, Stev, and Binko—each of them carrying two barrels of water, and tired expressions.
"There you are," Hibari said, standing upright. "Took you long enough."
"We had to walk around half the city just to avoid some patrols," Gin muttered.
Ussop put down his barrels, and asked. "Where's Zoro and Sanji?"
Nojiko gave a short sigh. "Zoro got lost again."
"Sanji went after him," she added. "So they're probably chasing each other in circles."
Gin groaned, rubbing his temple. "So we won't see either of them till nightfall, huh?"
Before anyone could crack another joke, their attention shifted to something else.
Footsteps echoed from a narrow alleyway just behind the supply cart. Heavy boots, moving in sync. The rhythm was too disciplined to belong to merchants or townsfolk.
From the shadows emerged a group of men—uniformed, grim, and purposeful. Each wore long, dark cloaks, trimmed with gold and marked by the unmistakable emblem of Baroque Works. Their faces were hard and cold, their gazes sharp as blades.
At the front of the formation was a tall man with slicked-back hair and a hawk-like gaze. A golden badge shimmered on his chest—identifying him as a Million-tier agent. He raised a finger and pointed directly at them. "Those are the ones. Orca Pirates. Straight off the whale-shaped ship."
A murmur rippled through the group. Even without drawing weapons yet, the agents oozed hostility. They weren't here to talk.
The agent's superior who wore a longer coat, eyes calm and filled with cruelty, gave out command ruthlessly. "Eliminate them. Now."
Gin's eyes narrowed. He stepped forward, raising his tonfa. "Attacking without warning? How typical of Baroque Works."
"They're agents!" Ussop yelped, already trembling behind Gin. "W-we're really doing this!?"
Stev looked pale. "Are we seriously going to fight?"
"We don't have a choice," Hibari replied, pulling a sleek rifle from his bag and locking the bolt. "This isn't a game."
Beside him, Binko drew a pair of curved daggers, spinning them in his hands. "I guess it's time we proved ourselves."
The agents advanced.
Tension snapped like a pulled string—and another battle of Nanohana began.