Kizaru despised Brian.
And Brian wasn't too fond of that damn monkey either.
Though both were called "monsters" and "geniuses," and had known each other for ten years, not a spark of friendship had ever formed — only friction.
After a decade of rivalry, their relationship had devolved into mutual disgust: one more glance and I want to punch you; one more word and I want to kill you.
But with one now a Vice Admiral of Headquarters and the other a fortress commander, neither could afford to brawl openly under the public eye.
If they were going to fight, it'd be somewhere far from witnesses.
Ganaba Fortress, Command Tent.
Inside, a reception banquet was being held in Kizaru's honor.
When Brian ordered the "local specialty" to be brought in, the faces of the officers behind Kizaru instantly froze.
Snow stepped forward, holding a menu and smiling calmly.
"Vice Admiral Kizaru," he said politely, "this is one of our West Sea specialties — charcoal-grilled monkey brain and monkey brain sashimi. Please, have a taste. The flavor's excellent."
"You insolent—!"
"How dare you speak to the Vice Admiral like that!"
"Apologize immediately, you wretch!"
"I'll teach you some manners myself!"
Several of Kizaru's officers leapt up in outrage, voices booming with righteous fury.
But everyone in the tent knew perfectly well this was no accident — it was Brian's doing, a deliberate provocation meant to humiliate Kizaru.
Crude and childish, perhaps, but effective — Kizaru's men were already fuming.
Kizaru merely raised a hand, signaling for silence. He saw the trap and wasn't about to step into it.
He gave a lazy chuckle.
"West Sea specialties, huh? Quite unique. But I'm on duty, so perhaps I'll skip dinner."
The smile faded from his face, his tone sharpening as his eyes flashed cold.
"Major General Brian — hand over Spandine and his men."
Brian didn't flinch.
"Bring them in," he said calmly.
Snow nodded, stepped outside, and relayed the order.
Moments later, Star dragged in a group of battered, half-dead men — Spandine and the remnants of his CP9 agents.
Spandine crawled forward, collapsing at Kizaru's feet, weeping and sniffling.
"Vice Admiral Kizaru… please, save me!"
Kizaru recoiled slightly — he hated being touched.
Without a word, he kicked Spandine aside and looked back at Brian.
"Brian, you once told me this yourself — 'Even a dog deserves respect when it's with its master.' Remember?"
Brian didn't deny it. He scooped up a spoonful of the glistening monkey brain and ate it, speaking around the mouthful.
"Yeah. I said that."
"Then aren't you afraid the Five Elders will be… displeased?" Kizaru asked coolly.
Brian's shoulders began to tremble.
"Of course I'm terrified. Can't even sleep — wake up screaming every night."
His voice was dripping with mock fear. The sarcasm was blatant.
Kizaru squinted, puffing on a cigar. When he exhaled, his tone turned almost conversational.
"Carl. You killed him, didn't you?"
The words dropped like lead. The entire tent froze.
Not only Kizaru's officers — even Brian's men stared in shock.
Brian… killed Governor Carl?
Everyone expected a reaction — shock, anger, denial.
But Brian didn't even blink. He just continued eating, calm as ever, his chopsticks dipping into the next plate of sashimi.
Kizaru's expression didn't change.
"You know, Fire Mountain Akainu was close to Carl. They served together.
When he hears this, he'll come for you himself."
Brian smiled faintly.
"Then when he does, I'll serve him a West Sea specialty — dog meat hotpot."
"Is that so?" Kizaru rose, brushing ash from his uniform.
"Then take care of yourself."
He turned to his men. "Take them."
Clack!
Every one of Kizaru's officers stood at once — their movement as crisp and synchronized as the morning parade.
A silent counter-salute to Brian's theatrics earlier that day.
Supported by two agents, Spandine staggered toward the exit, seething.
"Vice Admiral Kizaru, aren't you going to punish him?!" he shouted hoarsely.
In Spandine's mind, a Vice Admiral outranked a mere branch major general by far.
Surely Kizaru could crush Brian with a word!
But Kizaru didn't even glance his way.
He simply strode out, letting the tent flap fall behind him.
And then, just as the flap settled, his lazy voice drifted back inside:
"Heh… sunset really is the best time for fishing."
Brian's eyes narrowed, a glint of frost in his gaze.
Evening.
Kizaru's flagship lay anchored by a small island off the coast of Ganaba Port.
As the sky blazed orange, he lounged at the railing, fishing rod in hand.
"Vice Admiral Kizaru, why— ow! Damn it, be gentle, you idiots!"
Spandine, escorted by two agents, hobbled toward him, his body still covered in bruises.
Kizaru flicked his wrist, casting his line.
"Still full of energy? Guess Brian didn't treat you too badly, eh?"
"Not too—?!" Spandine exploded.
"Look at this! Whip marks, bruises, cuts — my whole body's a wreck!"
He yanked up his shirt, pointing furiously at his wounds.
"Here! Here! And here—!"
Kizaru cut him off mid-rant.
"Quit complaining. You're lucky to be alive."
"Lucky—?!" Spandine nearly burst a vein.
He was the Director of CP9, an agent of the World Government, with direct authority to report to the Five Elders!
And this was the respect he got?
No — he would make Brian pay. He would see that arrogant bastard dragged to Enies Lobby and tried for treason.
"I'm not letting this go!" Spandine growled. "I'm going straight to Mary Geoise to report this to the Elders!"
Kizaru sighed, glancing over with his usual sleepy smile.
"If you value your life, forget it. Don't provoke him again. Brian's the kind to hold grudges."
"What?! Did I hear you right?" Spandine barked.
"That bastard humiliated you, Vice Admiral! You can live with that?!"
Kizaru chuckled softly.
"He and I… have our own way of settling things."
His gaze drifted out to the glowing sea.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A rhythmic splash echoed across the water.
The marines turned, eyes widening — someone was running across the surface of the ocean itself, feet striking the waves like stepping stones.
It was Brian.
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