Spring Island.
The air was heavy with the fragrance of blossoms and the soft hum of insects. Time passed as Zino and Creed followed faint sign of footprint in the soft soil, trees shaped unnaturally with wax, and a faint trail of smoke.
Eventually, they reached a clearing where a small, strange house stood. The structure was clearly made of wax—oddly pristine despite the jungle surroundings—and stood atop the foundations of what looked like a much older, crumbling hut.
From within, the creak of a door sounded.
The door opened and out stepped Mr. 3—Galdino himself—holding a pot in both hands. He looked casual, almost content. He knelt near a small fire pit and began preparing a meal.
"Wait… he's cooking?" Zino murmured from behind a tree.
Creed narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything.
They watched silently as Galdino lit the fire, placed the pot above the flames, and began tossing in a few vegetables and herbs with practiced ease. After vanishing into the house briefly, he returned with a modest cut of meat, sliced it cleanly with surprising precision, and added it to the stew.
After some time passed and the aroma grew richer, he ladled a portion into a bowl and took a sip.
"~Ahh… this is delicious," Galdino sighed contentedly, visibly pleased with his own cooking.
He took a bite of meat next. "~Mmm… tender and sweet. Perfect texture."
Zino blinked. "Are you sure this guy's stuck here against his will? He looks like someone on vacation."
Creed just stared, speechless for a moment. "I… may have underestimated how adaptable he is."
Zino chuckled. "If this is what being trapped looks like, maybe we should leave him here."
Creed crossed his arms. "We can still talk to him if you want. He's not dangerous—not unless you annoy him."
Zino nodded thoughtfully. "He might still be useful. Anyone who can manipulate wax like that has potential. Besides, anyone who can stay calm and start cooking after being exiled to an island earns a point in my book."
Creed blinked. "So you're recruiting him based on his culinary skills?"
Zino grinned. "That, and I like unpredictable people."
They stepped out from their hiding spot, approaching the wax house.
Galdino looked up mid-bite, visibly startled. "...It's you!"
Creed gave a relaxed smile and a casual wave. "We meet again. Well, to be precise—you met my other self back then."
"Other self?" Galdino blinked, confused. A metaphorical question mark hovered over his head. Before he could ask further, another voice joined in.
"Nice pot," Zino said, stepping forward with a grin. "Mind sharing a bowl?"
Galdino stiffened. He was already cautious of Kruz, but Zino? He was even worse. This was the captain of the Orca Pirates, Kruz's Captain. Galdino knew trouble when he saw it, and Zino was the embodiment of it.
"…Sure," he said at last, carefully neutral. "I don't have any extra bowls, though. You'll have to make your own."
"That's easy," Zino replied casually. With a flick of his wrist, two bowls and chopsticks seemed to appear out of nowhere—summoned from his personal storage space.
He handed one to Creed, then dipped into the pot without hesitation, scooping up soup and meat with practiced ease. Creed followed suit, sitting beside him without a care.
Galdino could only stare in disbelief as the two pirates helped themselves to his meal, acting as if they had been invited guests.
"Mmm. This soup really is good," Zino said between sips, nodding approvingly. "Rich flavor, nice balance of herbs. The meat's tender, too."
Creed, mouth full, gave a thumbs-up. "Didn't expect you to be such a good cook."
"…I wasn't cooking for you," Galdino muttered under his breath, but he knew better than to complain too loudly. These two weren't enemies he could afford to provoke.
Before long, both of them had polished off their bowls—and then, without asking, scooped up seconds. Then thirds.
Galdino's eye twitched.
He sat there helplessly as the once-simmering pot slowly but surely emptied, every drop of broth and every tender chunk of meat devoured.
Finally, Zino leaned back with a satisfied sigh, patting his stomach. "Ah… I'm full. That really hit the spot."
"Delicious," Creed agreed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Galdino, bowl in hand, looked down at his barely-touched portion. Then he glanced at the empty pot. Then back at the two freeloaders.
A beat of silence passed.
"…Thanks for the meal," Zino added with a sly grin—his eyes drifting to Galdino's bowl with a mischievous glint.
Galdino broke into a cold sweat.
Without another word, he began frantically shoveling the remaining food into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out like a squirrel in winter. He ate with desperate urgency, the kind of speed only someone protecting their last meal from pirates could achieve. In seconds, the bowl was wiped clean.
Zino sighed as he watched the now-empty bowl.
"Well, there goes my second round," he muttered, rubbing his stomach with a grin. "Anyway... I suppose it's time we told you why we're here."
You're only telling me now? After hijacking my lunch? Galdino grumbled inwardly, forcing a polite expression onto his face. "So... what did you come here for?"
"The captain wants to recruit you," Creed said plainly.
Galdino blinked. "Recruit? You mean... me, on your crew?"
Zino nodded. "That's right. Are you interested?"
The wax-man was silent for a moment, eyes narrowing as he studied the two. "How strong are you?" he asked, gaze now fixed on Zino.
"Me?" Zino raised an eyebrow, caught slightly off guard by the bluntness. He scratched his cheek. "You want to test my strength?"
"I need to know if you're someone I can follow," Galdino replied. "If I'm going to accept someone as my captain, I need to see it for myself."
A glint of challenge flashed in his eyes.
Zino smiled. It wasn't cocky or overconfident—it was eager. "Alright. Let's have a friendly match, then."
Without waiting, he turned and began walking toward an open patch of land beyond Galdino's wax hut. Creed followed casually, arms behind his head.
Galdino hesitated only for a moment before trailing behind.
They stopped at a flat clearing surrounded by sparse trees and flowers blooming in the warm spring air. The atmosphere was calm… too calm.
Zino cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders. "Get ready."
Before Galdino could even react, Zino vanished from his spot.
"Soru!"
Galdino's eyes widened. "Wha—?"
A powerful blast of wind hit a split second after the voice. Then—
Boom!
Zino's punch landed square on Galdino's gut, sending him flying like a cannonball. He smashed into a distant tree, the trunk cracking from the impact before he crumpled to the ground with a grunt.
Even Creed blinked, caught off guard. "Damn. That was... fast."
Zino looked down at his fist. "You said he could liquefy his body…"
Creed cleared his throat. "Er… I might have exaggerated a bit? I mean, he can soften his body now, but not fast enough…maybe?"
From the distance, a groan rose. "Uuugh…"
They turned to see Galdino slowly rising from the base of the tree, wobbling slightly.
"That doesn't count!" he called out, brushing dirt off his suit. "I wasn't ready yet!"
Zino grinned and raised a hand. "Fair enough. I jumped the gun."
Galdino marched back to the clearing, jaw clenched but spirit unbroken. "Alright. This time, I'm ready."
"Good," Zino said, his expression relaxing into a playful smirk. "Let's make this round more interesting."
As the two faced each other again, the air between them thickened with anticipation.
Creed stood off to the side, arms crossed and grinning with anticipation. "Now this... should be fun."
Zino cracked his neck, a calm look in his eyes. "Brace yourself."
In the blink of an eye, he vanished again—*Soru*.
Galdino flinched, now fully using his liquefy ability. When Zino's fist reached him, it passed straight through his head, dispersing harmlessly like thick smoke.
Zino reappeared just behind him, eyebrows raised in amusement. "Ah. So this is that special ability."
He followed with a series of rapid punches—each precise, each powerful—but every one phased harmlessly through Galdino's now semi-liquid body.
"It's useless," Galdino said smugly, his voice echoing with confidence. "The moment I liquefy, your attacks won't land."
He raised both hands, fingers spread.
"Wax Shell!"
In an instant, wax surged from the ground and wrapped tightly around Zino like a rising tidal wave. Within seconds, he was completely sealed inside a thick, gleaming wax cocoon—frozen mid-motion, like a statue carved from glossy marble.
Galdino smirked, arms lowering with a flourish. "You might be fast, but it doesn't matter if you're trapped. Speed means nothing when you can't move."
A brief silence followed—until Zino's voice echoed from within the shell.
"Is that so?"
Before Galdino could react, cracks split across the wax surface with a grinding hiss. Then—shff—the entire wax casing dissolved into fine, swirling grains of sand, spilling harmlessly onto the ground.
Zino stood tall in the center, unharmed and smiling calmly. "That was impressive. But now… it's my turn."
Galdino took an instinctive step back. "What… how did you—"
Zino rolled his shoulder, then raised his fist. "Just a heads-up… this next hit? It won't be so kind."
Galdino narrowed his eyes and readied his stance again, lips tightening into a grim line.
Zino vanished once more, this time reappearing to Galdino's left—just a step away.
"Hakoken: Shinkuro!" (*Roaring Fist: True Black!*)
Galdino's eyes widened. "That won't wor—"
BOOOOM!!!
Zino's fist slammed into Galdino's gut with devastating force, cutting off his words mid-sentence. The blow didn't just hit—it detonated like a cannonball, bending Galdino's body in half before launching him skyward like a ragdoll. He streaked across the sky like a shooting star, arcing high before plummeting down with bone-jarring speed.
CRASH!
The ground shook as Galdino landed, a cloud of dust and shattered earth rising from the crater he created.
Creed winced, raising an eyebrow. "...Oof."
Zino lowered his fist slowly. The back of his hand was now tinged in a faint shimmer of black—a metallic, smoky aura clinging to his skin.
He stared at it in awe. "Armament Haki…"
It had awakened instinctively. That impact wasn't just raw strength—it was the manifestation of willpower hardened into power.
Zino approached the crater, peering down at the unconscious Galdino sprawled inside.
"I, uh... might've overdone it."
Creed walked up beside him, whistling. "You think?"
Zino scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "You still think he's recruitable?"
"Maybe after he wakes up."
Zino smiled wryly. "Well, I guess I need to heal him first then."
He gently lifted Galdino from the crater, carrying him to a nearby patch of soft, flower-covered grass. Laying him down carefully, Zino held out his hands. A gentle glow began to emanate from his palms—a soothing green energy, pulsing with life. The Medicine Element flowed into Galdino's body, mending bruises, easing internal strain, and dulling the lingering ache from that monstrous punch.
Minutes passed. Birds chirped lazily above them as the gentle breeze swayed the flowers. Finally, Galdino stirred.
"Ugh…" he groaned, one hand flying to his abdomen. "What hit me… a Sea Train?"
Zino knelt beside him with a grin. "You're awake. Good. I was starting to think I went a little too hard."
Galdino sat up with effort, still cradling his stomach. "You did."
"Now then," Zino said, crossing his arms. "Are you convinced yet, or do you want a rematch?"
Galdino blanched at the thought, shaking his head rapidly. "That's completely unnecessary. One punch like that is enough for a lifetime. I've seen what I need to see."
Zino stared. "So?"
"I'll join your crew," Galdino said firmly. "It's better than staying here… or getting hit again."
Zino's eyes lit up. "That's great to hear!"
"That was faster than I expected," Creed commented, chuckling.
"Welcome aboard," Zino said warmly, extending a hand.
Galdino accepted the handshake, nodding with a sigh. "Glad to be here. I guess."
"Alright then," Zino clapped his hands. "Let's get back."
Creed nodded, raising a hand. A soft hum filled the air as a glowing rift tore through space before them, shimmering like a vertical pool of liquid light.
Zino turned to Galdino. "You ready?"
"Wait a sec." Galdino turned and jogged toward his wax house. A few minutes later, he re-emerged—dragging behind him an enormous bag stuffed to the brim, with smaller satchels strapped over his shoulder and even a rolled-up wax umbrella tucked under his arm.
Creed's eyes twitched. "What… all that?"
"I packed," Galdino said nonchalantly.
"Since when did you even have all that?" Creed asked, genuinely confused. "You had nothing when I left you here."
"I'm resourceful," Galdino replied, straight-faced.
Zino laughed. "He's got a point. Wax user or not, that's some serious prep."
With a shrug of resignation, Creed turned and walked through the shimmering rift. Zino followed with a grin, and Galdino stepped in last, dragging his luggage behind him.
As the final edge of the rift closed with a soft shhhh, silence returned to Spring Island. The wind danced through the flowers, and the birds resumed their song. The makeshift wax house stood alone once more—quiet, abandoned, and oddly peaceful.
The Island of Despair… was silent again.