Crocodile stood amidst the rubble, sand shifting and swirling around his form as his body partially reformed. Dust clung to his coat, and a faint trickle of blood marked the side of his mouth. He stared at Zino, now several meters away, standing tall despite his injuries.
This kid… he's not ordinary.
He could land hits on a Logia. He knew *Haki*, and even worse—he showed no hesitation, no fear. The kind of opponent Crocodile hadn't seen in years.
Crocodile's eyes narrowed, still wary. "What do you want?"
Zino blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What?"
"You heard me," Crocodile growled, brushing a clump of sand from his shoulder. "You and I—we don't have any real quarrel. I'm a pirate. You're a pirate. Normally, that's reason enough to stay out of each other's way."
Zino stayed silent for a beat, then gave a half-shrug, as if even he wasn't sure how to explain it clearly.
"You're right," he said. "I usually mind my own business. Live and let live, that sort of thing."
Crocodile raised a brow, slightly relieved by the calm response. "Then—"
"But this time," Zino interrupted, eyes sharpening, "my business overlaps with yours."
Crocodile's relief froze. "What?"
Zino stepped forward, his voice steady and firm. "The princess of this country came to me personally. She wants to stop the war you're trying to start. She asked for help… so now I'm here to stop you."
A long silence fell between them.
Crocodile's frown deepened, eyes narrowing dangerously. "So that's it," he muttered. "Another idealist thinking he can 'save a kingdom.' How boring."
Zino gave a half-smile. "I'm not saving anyone. Just keeping a promise."
"You're interfering in something far bigger than you understand," Crocodile warned, his tone growing cold. "You're still young. You don't know how this world works."
"I know enough," Zino said. "Enough to know this isn't just about war. Or rebellion. Or power."
Crocodile's expression shifted ever so slightly.
"I've done my own digging," Zino continued, "and I know what you're after."
Crocodile's body went still, his eyes locked on Zino.
"You are after the rumored long lost weapon." Zino's eyes looked calm, observing Crocodile. His word came sharp and quiet, cutting through the air like a blade.
"Pluton."
Crocodile stiffened.
A heavy silence settled between the two men, the desert wind carrying faint traces of dust across the broken plaza.
Then—Crocodile laughed.
It was dry at first, almost mocking, but as it grew louder, it lost its confidence. There was something hollow beneath it—something unsure.
"Pluton?" he echoed, brushing sand from his hook. "You think you know something about that ancient weapon? Don't be ridiculous."
His tone was sharp, dismissive, but the subtle tremor in his voice betrayed him.
Zino didn't move. He stood calmly, his gaze unwavering. "I do know about it. I know it's not here."
Crocodile's eyes narrowed, the laughter dying on his lips. "…What?"
"That weapon you're chasing—Pluton—it isn't buried beneath Alabasta. Not anymore," Zino said coolly. "What's left of it… is just a blueprint. A design. A paper plan that could recreate the weapon if it ever fell into the wrong hands."
Crocodile's expression darkened, and for the first time in their fight, doubt flickered across his face.
"And that blueprint," Zino continued, "isn't here. It's in Water Seven."
"You're lying," Crocodile hissed, though even as he said it, his voice had lost some of its strength.
Zino's expression didn't change. "Believe what you want. But the man protecting that blueprint has been hiding there for years, moving carefully under the World Government's nose. And right now, CP agents are hunting him down."
Crocodile clenched his jaw. Everything Zino was saying… matched his suspicions. His long years of digging through the ruins of Alabasta had never brought him closer to the truth. Just centuries-old lies and riddles. Could it be… he'd been wrong this whole time?
"How do you know this?" Crocodile asked coldly.
Zino tilted his head slightly. "Let's just say… I know people. People who move in shadows deeper than yours."
Crocodile was silent, his mind reeling. Years of effort, countless sacrifices, all leading him in the wrong direction?
And this kid knew?
Zino took a step forward, voice calm but firm. "Now, let's return to our current problem."
Crocodile didn't respond.
"If you stop this madness—stop tearing this kingdom apart—I'll have no reason to fight you," Zino said. "We go our separate ways, and I won't interfere again."
"You're giving me a choice?" Crocodile said bitterly.
"No," Zino said. "I'm giving you a warning."
Crocodile's eyes twitched.
"This kingdom doesn't belong to you. You're not its savior, or its ruler. You're just another parasite feeding off its suffering." Zino's words cut sharp. "And even if I didn't step in, do you think the World Government will ignore you forever?"
Crocodile's jaw tightened, his cigar twitching at the edge of his lips.
"You may be a Shichibukai," Zino said calmly, "but if you destroy this nation… the World Government will come after you. Not out of justice—they don't care about that. It's about control. About order. You'll lose everything you've built, everything you've schemed for."
Crocodile growled under his breath. "What do you know? I've spent years—years—planning every step of this. Digging, infiltrating. I've sacrificed more than you can imagine."
Zino casually waved a hand, completely unfazed. "I don't care about your grand plan."
Crocodile's temple pulsed. "Tch…"
"But I do have a better idea." Zino suddenly grinned. "How about this—why don't you join my crew?"
Crocodile froze. "Huh?!"
The cigar nearly fell from his mouth as he turned to Zino in disbelief.
"What the hell did you just say?" he asked, dead serious.
Zino's grin widened. "You heard me. Come join me. Forget this crumbling kingdom and its buried lies. A man like you shouldn't be wasting time in some desert looking for ghosts. You should be out there, carving your name into the New World."
Crocodile stared at him, utterly speechless.
"This country isn't your final destination, Crocodile. It's a dead end," Zino said, voice calm but firm. "You should be aiming higher. Not digging holes in the sand like some mole."
There was a brief pause.
Then Crocodile narrowed his eyes. "You're insane."
"Maybe," Zino said with a smirk, "but I get results."
He stepped forward slightly, voice dropping lower. "And you know what's more insane? I haven't even shown you my real abilities yet."
Crocodile frowned. His instincts flared. This guy has been full of mystery. Crocodile could not gauge him at all.
"So, what do you think? Are you willing to join- huh!?" Suddenly, Zino's eyes darted to the side.
His muscles tensed.
He leapt back just as—
*Boom!*
A crater exploded where he had been standing.
A heavy punch cratered the ground, sending shockwaves rippling through the sand.
"What—?!" Zino muttered.
Before he could fully recover, two powerful hands burst from the ground, grabbing his ankles.
"Geh—!"
He was yanked downward into a pair of holes as if the desert itself had come alive.
Sand flew up in all directions.
Zino tried to move, but his legs were stuck—anchored into the ground unnaturally.
Then—
*Shhk!*
A searing pain tore through Zino's back.
"Gkh—!!"
His eyes shot open in shock as the blade burst through his chest, blood gushing from the wound. The cold metal had pierced straight through his heart. The world around him blurred, his knees buckling slightly.
Behind him stood a short man in a black cloak, twisted smile stretching across his face as he held the bloodstained sword.
"Hehehe…" the man chuckled darkly. "Boy, you're marked now."
Far in the distance, Crocodile's eyes widened. He hadn't sensed the newcomers' arrival. The speed of their ambush was unnatural—even for seasoned assassins.
"What the hell…?" he muttered.
The short man wrenched his blade free with a wet sound. Blood poured from Zino's chest and back like a crimson waterfall, staining the sand beneath his feet.
Zino staggered, gasping, clutching his chest as his breathing turned shallow. His mind raced.
Who…?
He quickly tried to activate his *Medicine Element*, hoping to regenerate the damage. But something was wrong—his energy faltered. The wound wouldn't close.
"Who… are you?" Zino rasped.
Another figure stepped out of the nearby shadows, tall and lean. His presence was calm, but dangerous.
"We're former CP9 agents," the man said coldly. "The ones your brother used to fight alongside."
Zino's bloodshot eyes narrowed. "CP9…?"
The short one grinned wider. "That's right. We were Yohan's comrades once."
As he spoke, the man casually licked his sword.
Then paused.
"Ptui! Ptui!" he suddenly gagged, spitting frantically onto the sand. "Damn it—I forgot! The blade's poisoned!"
Zino's body jolted. His vision wobbled slightly, and a wave of dizziness struck him like a hammer. The poison was working fast, circulating through his system.
That explains why his healing wasn't working.
"You bastards…" he muttered.
A third man stepped into view—broad-shouldered and imposing, the one who had earlier slammed down with a powerful punch that missed Zino by inches.
"Let's finish this," he said grimly, fists clenched.
Crocodile, now fully alert, growled from the side.
"Who the hell are you people?" he demanded, his hook raised and eyes sharp. "What's your business with him?"
The shadowy leader barely spared Crocodile a glance. "This doesn't concern you, Shichibukai. Stay out of it. We didn't come for you."
Crocodile's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. He didn't recognize these men, and that made them dangerous. The fact that they had ambushed Zino—someone who could stand toe-to-toe with him—and brought him to his knees so quickly… it was unsettling.
They were strong. Too strong.
"…Tch." He clicked his tongue and turned away.
"I've got no interest in your little vendetta," he muttered, his voice low. "Do what you want with him."
He began walking, brushing dust off his coat. His mind replayed Zino's words over and over.
*Pluton… isn't here.*
Crocodile had spent years weaving a web of deception and control throughout Alabasta—all in pursuit of that ancient weapon. And now… if the boy was telling the truth…
He shook the thought away. No—he wasn't about to abandon everything based on a few cryptic words. He still had work to finish.
As he reached the main road, a familiar figure approached from the opposite direction. Calm, composed, and always one step ahead—Nico Robin.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice as serene as always, though her sharp eyes studied him closely.
Crocodile didn't respond. Instead, he spoke coldly, "We're heading to Alubarna. The operation accelerates now. Once it's over, we leave this desert behind."
Robin's brow rose slightly. "Oh? Why the sudden change of plans?"
He glanced at her, tone clipped. "Pluton isn't here."
A subtle glint flickered in Robin's eyes—quiet, thoughtful. But her expression remained unreadable. "I see."
She then extended her hand, handing Crocodile's discarded cloak—the one he'd lost during the fight with Zino.
"You dropped this," Robin said.
Crocodile took it with a grunt and began to pull it on. Then—
*Clack!*
A sharp metallic sound echoed. Crocodile looked down. A *Kairoseki* handcuff had snapped shut around his wrist.
Time froze for a heartbeat.
The sensation of weakness spread immediately through his body, his devil fruit power slipping away like sand through his fingers.
His gaze snapped to Robin, eyes blazing. "What… the hell is this?"
Robin had already stepped back, calm as ever, she now wore a gloves. "You've lost sight of the bigger picture. I'm simply correcting your course."
"Damn you!"
With a roar, Crocodile swung his golden hook in a furious arc, aiming to rip her in two—but Robin had anticipated the reaction. Her body swirled and twisted out of reach as if she'd rehearsed this moment a thousand times.
"NICO ROBIN!!" Crocodile bellowed.
His voice thundered through the narrow streets, full of betrayal and fury.