Moving through the celebrating crowd felt like swimming against a filthy tide of liquor.
Every few steps, Zaraki had to force his way between hot bodies, breathing air thick with sweat, smoke, alcohol, and scorched meat.
Between the deafening noise and the constant jostling, he eventually raised a hand to keep his hood in place.
Ace looked completely at home.
Somewhere along the way, he had acquired an enormous charred beast leg from a drunken pirate and was eating it as they walked, grease running down one side of his mouth.
"You pay for that?" Zaraki asked.
Ace inspected the meat, then glanced back at the crowd.
"Probably."
When Zaraki told him that meant no, he offered what he apparently considered a reasonable defense.
"Nobody chased me."
"That also means no." Ace merely grinned and took another bite, leaving Zaraki to endure the smell as they pushed deeper into the district.
Sweat, stale alcohol, burned food, mud, and smoke had mixed with countless spilled drinks to produce something he suspected could qualify as a biological weapon.
He quickened his pace, and Ace hurried after him, calling for his attention as he pointed ahead with the stripped bone.
"That building. Biggest place on Hannabal."
An enormous circular structure stood at the center of the district, resembling a wooden barrel reinforced until it became a fortress.
It had no windows, only a huge entrance framed by rows of burning torches.
"The One-Eyed Giant," Ace explained, grinning again. "Arena and casino. If you're looking for crew members, you picked the right island."
There were no guards outside, and Zaraki doubted the place needed them.
Anyone who walked through that entrance was expected to take responsibility for surviving whatever happened inside.
The street noise faded behind them as they entered, only to be replaced by a worse racket.
Cigar smoke hung beneath dim lights, and gambling tables crowded the enormous interior.
Dice rattled, coins struck wood, and men shouted over their cards.
Nearby, a scream rose over the sound of something cracking.
At the center of the establishment, a massive fighter with twin axes stood inside a sunken iron cage, one boot planted on his defeated opponent's chest.
Before Zaraki and Ace had fully entered, he bent down, seized the man's head, and tore it free with a twist.
The spectators erupted in cheers, laughter, and curses as money changed hands.
Ace whistled, watching the head hit the cage floor.
"Damn. They really don't mess around here."
Excitement crossed his face as he turned to Zaraki.
"Want to jump in for a few rounds?"
"I came to recruit people, not entertain idiots." Zaraki barely glanced at the arena before turning his attention to the casino.
He passed over the loud voices and conspicuous scars; anyone could make a show of being dangerous here.
He wanted someone who had no need to bother.
A table in the northeastern corner soon caught his eye.
Spectators crowded around it so tightly that there was barely room to approach, but their attention was more focused than that of the gamblers elsewhere.
Zaraki pushed through, with Ace following close behind.
Only four players occupied the enormous dark-wood table.
One was a huge man built like a black bear, with thick hair covering most of his exposed upper body. Berries, jewelry, watches, and other valuables lay heaped in front of him.
He slapped his cards onto the table with a bang, and the scar-faced man opposite him went pale.
"I... I'm out, Bear King." His voice trembled as he started to rise. "Give me a few days. I'll pay everything."
Bear King caught him by the shoulder, baring yellowed teeth in a grin.
"At my table, there are only two things you're allowed to owe: your life, or whichever piece of you I decide to take instead."
His fingers tightened until the shoulder gave way with a crack.
The gambler screamed, and Ace stopped chewing as Bear King caught the man's throat with his free hand and lifted him from the chair.
"Next life, bring enough money before sitting down." He slammed the gambler's head against the table, scattering blood and broken bone across the wood, then tossed the corpse toward the spectators.
Someone dragged it away as efficiently as a tavern worker clearing broken bottles, while the crowd laughed.
Ace's amusement vanished.
Violence rarely bothered him, but fighting someone was one thing; killing a terrified debtor because the rules of a gambling table permitted it was another.
Zaraki's attention had already shifted to the thin man beside Bear King.
His skin had a faint bluish cast, and when he licked his cracked lips, Zaraki noticed fine black fungal threads beneath several fingernails.
He made a note of the oddity before studying the remaining player.
The last gambler was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a purple yukata, with a cane sword resting across his knees. His eyes were closed, and two scars crossed his face.
A man had just been killed less than two meters away, yet he hadn't flinched.
Zaraki looked more closely.
The man's fingers rested naturally near his sword without clutching it, his shoulders loose and his seated posture balanced.
His movements were economical in the way that came from years with a blade, long past any need to convince others he knew how to use it.
He needed no precise assessment from Observation Haki to recognize what he was seeing. Experience was enough.
'This one's different.'
The longer he watched, the more certain he became.
He nudged Ace with an elbow to get his attention, though Ace was still watching the corpse being dragged away.
"That guy," Zaraki said, tilting his chin toward the blind swordsman. "I want him."
Ace followed his gaze, blinked, and looked around as though checking whether Zaraki had meant someone else.
"The quiet gambler?"
"Yeah."
Ace lowered his voice. "This place is packed with arena fighters, pirates, mercenaries, and people carrying weapons bigger than I am. And the first person you pick is the guy sitting there gambling like somebody's uncle?"
"You wouldn't understand."
"That's usually what people say when they don't want to explain something stupid." Zaraki ignored him, keeping his attention on the table as Bear King settled back into his seat.
After sweeping the dead gambler's remaining money into his own pile, Bear King took a dice cup from an attendant and slammed it down.
"Keep playing! Let's make it simple. High or low."
The thin, sickly-looking man shifted uneasily.
Bear King glanced between him and the blind swordsman, his grin widening.
"Unless somebody feels lucky enough to bet on triples."
He began shaking the cup, sending the dice rattling violently against its walls.
For all his crude manners, his movements were deliberate: each forceful shake sent the dice colliding at different angles, making it difficult to judge by sound alone how they would land.
The cup struck the table with another bang. "Place your bets!"
After a moment's hesitation, the thin man pushed a modest pile of chips onto low.
Everyone turned toward the blind swordsman, who remained still before tilting his head slightly, one ear angled toward the covered dice.
His expression stayed peaceful, as though the surrounding casino scarcely concerned him.
Shouts, footsteps, clinking coins, and the breathing of nearby spectators mingled with the faint shifts of wood beneath dozens of bodies.
He listened without any visible effort.
Several seconds passed before he reached forward and pushed every chip he had into the center of the table.
Roughly ten million Berries now rested on his wager, and the crowd fell quiet.
Bear King leaned forward, his grin spreading. "Oh? And what will you be betting on, sir?"
Without opening his eyes, Issho raised his face slightly toward the dice cup.
A faint smile touched his lips as he began to speak.