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Chapter 61 - Toki Boards; Garp Gives Chase

"It's him—the legendary Brewer, Dimon!"

Someone on the shore managed to shout it—half awe, half terror.

Terror, because this was a great pirate whose power shook the seas.

Awe, because the Wine of Immortality was a legend everyone knew, and bumping into Dimon felt like winning the ocean's lottery.

"Brewer…?" Amatsuki Toki blinked, puzzled. A title from legend? A big name of this era?

Dimon confirmed it was really Toki, and his gaze cooled.

In the next heartbeat, Conqueror's Haki rolled off him like thunder.

Boom—boom— Black-red arcs spiderwebbed across the beach; the slavers' eyes flipped white as they dropped in tidy little heaps, sleeping like babies.

Toki covered her mouth in shock. What terrifying Haki…

He hadn't even aimed it at her, and the pressure still pressed down like a storm front.

Then she realized her feet weren't on the ground—

No, she'd been scooped up.

"Put me down!"

"If you fall, I'm not catching you twice."

Dimon carried Toki, flicked skyward, and landed back on the Oro Jackson in an eye-blink.

The crew swarmed over, curious the moment they saw a woman in his arms.

"You know her, Dimon?" Jabba crossed his arms, giving her a quick once-over. (Big beauty—check.)

"Don't know her. Slavers were circling; I grabbed her in passing." Dimon set Toki down.

Rayleigh tipped back a pocket flask. "The one calling for help just now—that was you, right?"

"Y-yes… and you are?" Toki looked from face to face, nervous.

There were two kids aboard, which relaxed her a touch. A ship with children had to be a good ship, right?

"We're the Roger Pirates," Roger said, introducing the faces. "Captain Gol D. Roger. That's Dimon. First mate Silvers Rayleigh. Navigator Jabba…"

"My name is Amatsuki Toki. Thank you for saving me."

She glanced at Dimon again—and blinked. The wings were gone.

Dimon shook his head, smiling. "Not a big deal. But I heard them mention Wano—that caught my ear."

Toki hurried to explain. "I was on my way to Wano, but I was tricked by those 'friendly' men… slavers, I think."

At this, everyone's eyes slid to Dimon.

Rayleigh rubbed his chin with a thin smile. "Bad luck for you— we just left Wano."

Toki froze. Roger pointed at Dimon. "The man beside you is Wano's Shogun."

"Sh-Shogun?!" Toki's eyes went wide—

…and then her stomach growled.

She clapped a hand to her belly, cheeks pinking.

"Shanks, kitchen. Something warm," Dimon said over his shoulder.

"Th-thank you."

Donquino stayed at the helm while everyone else migrated to the galley… and proceeded to watch Toki eat. A circle of pirates, all smiles, all eyes.

Under the gaze of a dozen men, Toki held a spoon like it might break and took bird-sized sips. The crew seemed kind enough, though—the dining room walls were plastered with the same wanted poster of a stunning woman.

"Is she your crewmate too?" Toki ventured, looking for conversation.

"That's Shakky," Dimon said. Roger's devotion was… not subtle. Posters everywhere, different bounties, carefully preserved. Devotion, or shrine?

Jabba chuckled. "There's more in the bunks—vintage issues, big money if we sold 'em."

Dimon: "…"

Toki lowered her eyes again. Wanted posters… have resale value? New culture every day.

Rayleigh stepped in to salvage the captain's dignity. "She's an idol. Our captain is a fan."

"Is… that so," Toki murmured.

Roger beamed. "I'd never sell Shakky's posters. Shakky is treasure!"

Dimon shot Rayleigh a look of sympathy.

Rayleigh's smile said I'm used to it. "Miss Toki, we can ferry you to the next island. As for Wano—"

He tossed the ball to Dimon.

No way was Dimon letting Toki walk off; he'd always liked this woman.

"We're heading for the Final Island. If you can afford the delay, we'll pass Wano on the return. You can disembark with me then."

"Thank you—ah!"

Toki bowed too fast and bonked the table with her forehead, eyes misting as she looked up. "Sir Dimon… you really are Wano's Shogun?"

Dimon nodded. He could guess what she wanted to ask.

"How is Wano now? I remember the Kozuki held the shogunate."

"The Kozuki are history," Dimon said evenly. "The Kurozumi are all but gone. Wano's pillars now are the Fūgetsu, Amatsuki, and Shimotsuki families."

He paused, then smiled. "Your name is Amatsuki Toki. You're of the Amatsuki line. Your clan left Wano a very, very long time ago."

Surprise flickered in Toki's eyes. She nodded. "Yes. I was born overseas. I've wanted to see Wano since I was little."

She did not add the part about leaping eight centuries.

"Wano's not what it used to be…" Dimon said—and the two of them fell into conversation, ignoring the rest of the room. Years as shogun gave him answers to her every question, and he gave them freely.

Jabba's brows drew together. He traded a glance with Rayleigh, then motioned for Roger to step out of the galley. He stared toward the stern.

On the horizon, a black dot swelled.

"Again," he said flatly.

Roger's eyes narrowed. "Garp, I'd bet."

"Still chasing…" Rayleigh sighed, helpless.

"Captain!" Donquino's voice cracked through the ship. "Six o'clock—Marine warship on an intercept!"

"It's Vice Admiral Garp's ship!"

Roger, Rayleigh, and Jabba stepped to the aft rail, calm as monks. The black dot grew until the dog-head warship punched the swells—charging straight down their wake, teeth bared.

"Again, Garp? How long do you plan on tailing me?" Roger drew Ace and shouted, "Turn back before I change my mind!"

"Hahahaha! Roger! You're not getting away!"

Garp's laugh boomed across the water. He planted one foot on the canine figurehead, palmed a cannonball, and threw.

The oversized shot roared in, wrapped in crackling Conqueror's coating, a streak of black light.

Roger split it with a single slash. The halves plunged into the sea on either side of the Oro Jackson—

—and two walls of water rose up like jaws closing.

"Everyone brace!" Rayleigh barked, already moving.

Dimon's coat flared in the spray. Beside him, Toki clenched her spoon, eyes wide.

Buggy yelped. Shanks reached for a rope. The deck tilted.

From the dog-head's prow, Garp's second throw left his hand—

—and this time it wasn't a cannonball.

It was Garp.

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