Galdino snarled, his back tensed. There was no way out now. No tricks left, no allies nearby. Just a fight.
"Even if you've got some freakish ability, I'll still beat you down!" he shouted, arms raised as wax began to ooze from his palms.
"Doru Doru Arts: Candle Champion!"
Wax surged upward, encasing him in a towering armor of hardened white, fists the size of barrels. With each step, the ground shook, and delicate flowers crumpled beneath his boots.
Across the field, Friday was calm, and composed, watched him with a slight squint.
"Almost forgot, you have a wax ability," he muttered.
As Galdino charged forward in full wax armor, Friday stepped lightly among the scattered cherry blossoms, as if walking on water.
"Let's see how your wax handles spatial warping."
He raised a hand, curled it into a fist, and threw a punch—into thin air. A shimmering rift opened, swallowing his arm completely.
Then, his punch exited from a rift behind Galdino's head, perfectly aimed—only to pass harmlessly through as Galdino's head melted into liquid wax.
"Sorry." Galdino smirked. "My ability's special. You can't hit what doesn't stay solid."
Then he drove his wax fist forward, strongly, aiming for Friday's side, but then gasped. His attack phased through. Friday's body had turned into shimmering rift energy.
"Aaah, my bad," Friday said, wearing a small, mocking smile. "My ability's special too."
Eyes wide, Galdino jumped back instinctively, trying to make distance. This guy was dangerous.
Friday didn't pursue. Instead, he held up both fists. From a rift in front of him, he unleashed a barrage of punches, each vanishing into warped space and reappearing behind Galdino, slamming into his wax-coated form—over and over.
THUD! WHOOSH! SMASH!
But none of them landed clean. Each punch passed through, as Galdino liquefied again.
"Tch." Galdino flinched and swiped his hand. "Stop hitting already. My body's liquid wax. It's like a Logia, you won't touch me."
Friday lowered his fists, exhaling through his nose. His eyes calmly studied Galdino.
"Hmm. So that's really how it works... annoying."
Seeing that he wasn't being attacked again, Galdino straightened up slowly, keeping his eyes on Friday. A faint smile crept onto his face — part relief, part bluff.
"Exactly. So how about we call it even?" he said, trying to sound casual. "No need to keep this going. Let's just... talk it out, shall we?"
In truth, he still couldn't get a read on this guy. That strange spatial ability. Those rift that send punches, that untouchable body, it wasn't anything he'd ever faced. Galdino didn't know what fruit it was, but one thing was clear:
This freak was a Logia. And not one he wanted to keep fighting.
After a few moments of silence, Friday finally nodded.
"...Alright. Let's end this."
Galdino let out a relieved chuckle. "That's good. That's very good. Smart move. So... let's head back to Alubarna, yeah? We can pretend this never happened."
But Friday didn't move.
Instead, he looked at Galdino with that same unreadable calm and said, "Sorry. You misunderstood."
Galdino blinked. "What do you mean?"
Friday raised a hand. A ripple shimmered in the air beside him as a vertical rift opened, flickering like a cut in reality itself. "We're ending the fight, yes. But only I'm going back."
Galdino's eyes widened. "Wait—what?"
Friday took a step toward the rift.
"You'll stay here."
"Hey—hold on!" Galdino stepped forward, panic flickering across his face. "You can't just leave me here!"
Friday looked back one last time, his expression calm, but final.
"See you later."
And with that, he stepped through the rift, and it snapped shut behind him with a soft hum, like space folding in on itself.
Galdino rushed forward, reaching out, but his hand grasped only empty air.
Gone.
Silence settled over the field. The wax armor around him slowly melted and fell away, dropping with soft thuds among the wildflowers.
He stood there, breathing hard, staring at the space where Friday had vanished.
After a long moment, he muttered under his breath:
"...He's gone."
...
A shimmer tore through the air, and a rift opened in the empty desert where Kruz and Mr. 3 had vanished. With a heavy step, Friday emerged, stumbling slightly as he landed on the scorching sand.
Behind him, the rift closed with a soft snap, the warped edges of space sealing shut like a healed wound.
He exhaled sharply and collapsed onto the ground, groaning. "Tch... This ability is really a pain to control."
His breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat clung to his skin.
"Opening a long-distance rift... twice, no less. That's brutal," he muttered. "If I don't train this body more, next time I'll probably tear myself apart."
He forced himself into a sitting position and began dragging his finger across the sand, sketching symbols and short notes in a neat spiral around where he lay. After a few minutes, he exhaled and nodded.
"There. This should be enough to remind Kruz what to do next."
With that, Friday laid back down, arms sprawled wide, and let his eyes slide shut. The heat, the wind, the stillness—all faded into a slow, shallow hum.
Time passed.
Minutes later, his fingers twitched. His eyes snapped open—but they weren't Friday's eyes anymore.
A faint grimace twisted his face as Kruz slowly sat up, pressing a hand to his forehead.
"Ugh… My head's pounding," he groaned. "What the hell happened? Did I black out again?"
He glanced around, scanning the barren surroundings. No enemies. No allies. Just sand and silence.
Then he noticed the writing next to him, a message carved in the sand. Frowning, he leaned over and read the scrawled lines.
"…Friday, huh?" A sigh escaped his lips. "So he took over again."
His gaze lingered on the final note: *"Enemy neutralized. Sent to Spring Island. Regroup when recovered. Also, get stronger!"*
Kruz blinked. "Wait… he sent Mr. 3 to Spring Island? That's... insane."
A mix of admiration and frustration crossed his face. The power Friday wielded, the composure, the confidence, the sheer control over the Saku Saku no Mi—it was everything Kruz himself couldn't seem to fully tap into.
"Seriously…" he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "Why can he use the fruit so well, while I can't even open a stable rift without passing out?"
Kruz clenched his fist.
Was it him that was weak… or was Friday just something more?
He tilted his head back, letting the desert sun beat down on his face. Somewhere out there, the rest of the Orcas were still fighting. He needed to catch up. He wanted to help.
But right now?
His body felt like it was being pulled apart at the seams. Every muscle screamed. Every nerve buzzed with exhaustion.
"…Let's just take a nap for a bit."
He laid down again, eyes fluttering shut.
A moment later, they snapped open again. But this time, it wasn't Kruz behind them.
A slow grin spread across his face. His posture shifted, a more energetic aura radiating from him.
"Ah… finally, it's my turn." His voice had a different lilt—playful, cocky, full of fire. "I, Creed, have returned!"
He sprang up as if to celebrate—only for his knees to buckle.
"Gah! DAMN it, Friday!" he shouted, wincing as pain surged through his body. "Why do you always push this body to the brink whenever you're in control?!"
He staggered upright, groaning.
"And don't even get me started on Kruz. How many times have I told that lazy punk to TRAIN? Does he listen? Of course not!"
Creed muttered curses under his breath, pacing in a small circle like a man ready to punch the sun itself. Despite the annoyance, his tone betrayed a kind of exasperated fondness — like an older brother dealing with reckless siblings.
He paused.
"…Still, now that Kruz decided to join Orca, we will certainly attract more attention. This body's nowhere near ready to handle what's coming."
Creed placed a hand on his chest, feeling the unstable pulse of power beneath the skin — the raw, warped energy of the Saku Saku no Mi. He could feel it all, clearer than the others. And it was getting harder to contain.
"…Tch. I need to train. No more excuses."
He took a breath, prepared to start—then winced again, nearly toppling over.
"...After some rest."
With a grumble, he adjusted his stance and began trudging across the sand, trying to maintain some semblance of cool despite the occasional stumble and quiet groan.
"Stupid Kruz. Stupid Friday. Leaving me to clean up the mess again."
He paused once, glanced at the distant horizon, where Alubarna shimmered beneath the sun, and smirked.
"…Fine. Let's catch up to the others."
His silhouette stretched across the sand as he walked, shrinking into the golden dunes — until at last, it vanished from view.
...
About an hour later.
The Orca Crew's Group 1, assigned to go to Nanohana Port, but now rendezvous in Alubarna, had finally regrouped near the outskirts of the capital. All present—except for one.
"…Er, where's Zoro?" Gin asked, glancing around.
The crew exchanged awkward looks.
Kruz—currently under Creed's control—commented. "Maybe he's still finishing his fight?"
"Or he's lost somewhere," Binko added dryly.
Hibari, standing off to the side, narrowed his eyes toward a short girl in colorful clothes—Marianne, better known as Miss Golden Week.
"…Isn't she one of the Baroque Works agents?" he asked.
"She is," Gin confirmed. "But she surrendered without a fight. Figured she might be useful."
"I-I'm not doing anything bad! I swear!" Marianne waved her hands frantically, backing up under their stares.
Stev scratched his head. "So what now? Do we wait for Zoro, or go catch up with Vivi?"
Gin looked toward the desert road ahead. His eyes were sharp. "Let's not waste time. We go after Vivi. Zoro'll find his way eventually."
"…Hopefully," Creed muttered under his breath.
The rest nodded, and with that, the Orcas set off toward Alubarna, sand crunching beneath their boots, sun blazing overhead.
Meanwhile, a lone figure sprinted across another part of the desert.
Roronoa Zoro.
His coat flared behind him, sand whipping at his boots as he dashed across the desert under the blazing sun.
"This time for sure," he muttered with conviction. "This is definitely the right direction."
Finally, buildings appeared on the horizon. Relief flickered across his face as he reached the edge of a town. People turned to look at him—sweaty, armed, and clearly lost.
Zoro slowed to a walk, catching his breath.
"Is this… Alubarna?"
He looked around.
Stone houses. Fishing nets. Crates of goods. The unmistakable scent of sea salt hung in the air.
"…Wait."
He sniffed again.
"…That's sea breeze."
His eye twitched.
He marched up to a local man who had been watching him curiously. "Oi. Is this Alubarna, the capital of Alabasta?"
The man blinked. "Alubarna? No, this is Nanohana Port."
"WHAT?!"
Zoro cursed under his breath. He'd looped all the way back to the starting point. Again.
"If you're heading to Alubarna," the man said, pointing east, "follow that direction. Stay on the main road, and don't turn—"
"Yeah, got it. Thanks." Zoro nodded curtly and turned to leave.
But instead of going north… he ran east.
The man frowned. "Hey! Alubarna's *that* way!"
But Zoro was already gone, vanishing between buildings like a ghost.
The man sighed, shaking his head—when suddenly, Zoro reappeared from the same direction he'd vanished.
"…Oi. I'm back here again?" Zoro blinked in disbelief, looking at the man.
The man stared in stunned silence, then slowly said, "…You're really not good with directions, are you?"
Zoro scowled. "Tch. I just took a shortcut."
"A shortcut back here?"
"…Shut up."