—Broadcast—
Charlotte Cracker emerged from the treeline with deliberate swagger, his appearance matching the wanted poster exactly—or so it seemed to casual observers. The towering armored figure brandished twin longswords, both blades coated in gleaming black Armament Haki that crackled with barely contained power.
He attacked the fish-man Marine without hesitation or warning, understanding that surprise often decided battles before the first clash of steel. The Sweet Commander rotated his swords at accelerating speed, the blades becoming invisible blurs as he compressed tremendous force into the spinning motion. At the critical moment when maximum velocity met perfect positioning, he unleashed a spiraling sword strike designed to overwhelm defenses through sheer rotational momentum—a technique that had disemboweled countless enemies over the years.
Admiral Kisame stood motionless as the attack approached, a massive bandaged sword resting casually across his shoulder. His shark-like eyes tracked the incoming strike with mild professional interest, as though evaluating a training exercise rather than mortal combat. The probing attack held no value for someone of his caliber—it revealed nothing about the opponent's true capabilities, merely demonstrated basic competence.
When the spiraling blade reached striking distance, Kisame moved with economical precision. A single downward slash—no wasted motion, no excessive force—bisected the armored body from shoulder to hip. Charlotte Cracker's imposing form shattered like dropped pottery, fragmenting into countless pieces that scattered across the forest floor.
But the fragments weren't flesh and bone. They were biscuits.
The purple-haired man hiding among the crowd of false soldiers finally revealed himself, stepping into clear view with considerably less confidence than his puppet had displayed. He possessed three distinctive tufts of hair styled like long bread loaves, and a longsword hung at his waist—a weapon designed for precise assassination rather than direct confrontation.
"I really underestimated fish-men," the real Charlotte Cracker admitted, his voice carrying genuine surprise beneath forced bravado. "Cutting open a Biscuit Soldier's body with a single sword stroke... your strength isn't inferior to Jinbe at all."
As Minister of Biscuit for Totto Land, Charlotte Cracker had never revealed his true identity to the outside world. The bloated armored image served as his public face, the Biscuit Soldier created through his Devil Fruit ability providing both protection and deception. The man had hidden behind manufactured proxies for years, and external intelligence agencies remained completely ignorant of the truth. Even the Marine's extensive spy network had been fooled for decades.
"So this is your actual body?" Hoshigaki Kisame's voice dripped with contempt, his shark teeth visible in a predatory smile. "You look pathetically weak. Come fight me quickly—I'm operating on a schedule."
Charlotte Cracker's face flushed with rage at the fish-man's arrogance. So what if this Admiral could slice Biscuit Soldiers apart with single strikes? He possessed unlimited consumables—attrition warfare favored the side that could replace losses indefinitely.
The Sweet Commander clapped his hands together sharply, and the sound triggered his Devil Fruit's activation. Countless biscuits materialized from nothing with each clap, pieces automatically assembling themselves into identical Biscuit Soldiers. Each mass-produced construct possessed extreme hardness—ordinary Armament Haki couldn't cut them, and even advanced techniques struggled to pierce their compressed structure. In any prolonged conflict, Charlotte Cracker would inevitably emerge victorious through sheer numerical superiority.
"You ignorant fool!" The Sweet Commander's voice rose to a shout as confidence returned. "Let me demonstrate the power of the Biscuit Army!"
As he continued activating his Bisu Bisu no Mi ability, the entire island rapidly filled with identical armored warriors. Within minutes, thousands upon thousands of Biscuit Soldiers stood in perfect military formation, covering every visible surface like an invasive species overwhelming native ecology. If Hoshigaki Kisame truly intended to destroy them individually, his elimination speed could never match their production rate.
The first wave—several thousand strong—advanced in synchronized lockstep. Each Biscuit Soldier wielded identical longswords wrapped in black Armament Haki, sharing their master's offensive consciousness through mysterious connection. They launched a coordinated death charge against the solitary fish-man, a tide of manufactured warriors that should have overwhelmed any individual combatant through pure numbers.
"What a flashy ability." Hoshigaki Kisame's voice carried clinical detachment, as though observing an interesting insect rather than facing thousands of armed enemies. "I wonder if your biscuits fear water?"
The Admiral drove his massive bandaged sword into the ground with casual force, the blade sinking halfway to the hilt through solid rock. His hands rose before him, fingers forming a complex sequence of seals with practiced speed. The hand signs flowed together in rapid succession—Snake, Ram, Tiger, Dragon, culminating in a final seal held for three heartbeats.
"Water Style: Great Explosion Water Collision Wave!"
Endless ocean current erupted from the fish-man's mouth, defying every law of physics and biology that should have governed such impossibility. The volume exceeded anything a living creature should contain—it surged forth like a dam had catastrophically failed, transforming Admiral Kisame into a human tsunami generator.
The man-made deluge consumed everything in its path with apocalyptic totality. Thousands upon thousands of Biscuit Soldiers dissolved the instant water touched their compressed forms, the structural integrity that made them formidable combatants becoming their fatal weakness. They softened into soggy crumbs, then disintegrated completely under the terrifying ocean current's overwhelming pressure.
Hoshigaki Kisame had unleashed water-style ninjutsu equivalent to an entire major river's contents in a single technique. The outer island vanished beneath the manufactured ocean, submerged under meters of churning seawater that swept away most of the forest's massive trees as though they were twigs. Ancient growth that had stood for centuries disappeared in seconds.
If Admiral Kisame hadn't deliberately cut off his chakra supply at the technique's conclusion, the endless ocean current would have continued until the island beneath his feet sank completely below the waves. Before the angry Mother Sea's fury, all terrestrial creatures seemed impossibly fragile and insignificant.
After clearing the battlefield with a single technique, profound silence descended across the devastated landscape. Only the sound of waves crashing against submerged structures reached Kisame's ears—the music fish-men loved most, the ocean's eternal rhythm. Charlotte Cracker, who'd displayed such arrogance mere minutes ago, had been swept away by the current to parts unknown, his fate uncertain but undoubtedly unpleasant.
"With this level of strength, he dared challenge me?" Disgust colored Admiral Kisame's voice as he surveyed the destruction with shark-like eyes. "This Sweet Commander is genuinely trash. His vision has grown pathetically narrow hiding in this isolated territory."
Hoshigaki Kisame lost all interest in Charlotte Cracker as an opponent. The fish-man Admiral remounted his water shark and urged the construct toward Cake Island at maximum speed, leaving the flooded outer perimeter behind without a backward glance. Even if circumstances forced him into direct confrontation with the Yonko Charlotte Linlin herself, this fish-man possessed sufficient strength to survive the encounter—possibly even to win.
On the small island now sunken beneath the manufactured ocean, a disheveled figure clung desperately to driftwood wreckage. Charlotte Cracker had genuinely believed death was imminent during those terrifying moments when the tsunami struck. His previously proud heart lay completely shattered alongside his body—a truly powerful warrior could defeat him with a single technique, and as a Sweet Commander, he'd possessed zero capacity to resist or counter.
The monstrous tsunami had struck him head-on with the force of natural disaster. Fortunately, most of the Biscuit Soldiers positioned at the formation's front had absorbed the first wave's impact, their sacrificial destruction reducing the water's kinetic energy by approximately half before it reached his actual body. Charlotte Cracker had wrapped himself entirely in Armament Haki and somehow survived Admiral Kisame's technique through a combination of defensive skill and desperate luck.
Every bone in Charlotte Cracker's body screamed agony from the tsunami's catastrophic force. The Sweet Commander had vomited blood multiple times while clinging to his improvised flotation device, internal injuries manifesting through hemorrhaging he couldn't stop. His current physical condition barely maintained consciousness—sinking beneath the waves seemed inevitable within the hour.
"I must... report this to Mother," he gasped through blood-stained teeth, fumbling for his Den Den Mushi with trembling fingers. "This fish-man operates on a completely different level than Sea Knight Jinbe. Ten Jinbes combined wouldn't match him."
Fish-men could spray water from their mouths to create attacking techniques—this revelation shattered Charlotte Cracker's fundamental understanding of the species' capabilities. Creating water from nothing had been impossible before today. Even Jinbe, acknowledged master of water manipulation among his people, had never demonstrated anything approaching this scale.
Fish-men could control ocean currents' direction, making them invaluable helmsmen desired by every pirate crew with maritime ambitions. But Admiral Hoshigaki Kisame's abilities transcended that racial advantage completely, overturning the worldview of anyone who witnessed his power.
When Charlotte Cracker finally managed to share this intelligence with his family through the blood-spattered Den Den Mushi, struggling to form coherent words through broken ribs and internal bleeding, Hoshigaki Kisame had already arrived near Cake Island proper.
The real battle was about to begin.
Jinbe stood on Cake Island's shore, staring across the water at his approaching kinsman. He could foresee his immediate future with crystalline clarity—his miserable prison life would begin today, replacing the tentative freedom he'd enjoyed as Big Mom's affiliate.
"Kisame, you've arrived as expected." The Sea Knight's voice carried resignation rather than defiance. "I will accompany you peacefully, but you must promise me one condition. Please don't inflict excessive harm on the people here. Even though they're pirates, they've done Fish-Man Island significant favors. I hope you'll show restraint for Queen Otohime's sake."
The former Shichibukai maintained the most submissive attitude possible when addressing his fellow tribesman. He understood that Hoshigaki Kisame might not grant him any face-saving gestures whatsoever, so Jinbe invoked the newly resurrected Queen Otohime, hoping her name carried enough weight to prevent unnecessary casualties on Cake Island.
"My mission parameters include only your arrest." Hoshigaki Kisame stood atop his water shark, looking down at the Sea Knight with the natural superiority of a predator evaluating prey. "If no one else interferes with my objective, I can consider sparing their lives."
For someone capable of controlling others' life and death so absolutely, showing mercy to the weak already constituted tremendous favor. The concession cost him nothing while potentially avoiding complications.
Jinbe felt profound satisfaction with this outcome—better than he'd dared hope. The former Shichibukai turned toward Charlotte Linlin's towering castle and dropped to both knees, prostrating himself with formal courtesy. From inside his clothing, he produced the ceremonial sake bowl they'd shared when establishing their alliance. He intended to return the wine to Yonko Big Mom, formally severing all connections with the Big Mom Pirates.
The gesture possessed symbolic weight far beyond its physical simplicity. Brotherhood dissolved. Allegiance revoked. Protection withdrawn.
Jinbe would face whatever came next alone, carrying only his honor and the desperate hope that Queen Otohime's intervention might eventually secure his release from the nightmare approaching with inexorable certainty.
Behind him, Admiral Kisame watched with emotionless shark eyes, waiting for the formalities to conclude before claiming his prisoner.
The ocean churned beneath them, indifferent to the small dramas of those who sailed upon its surface. Justice—whether Marine or pirate, human or fish-man—remained a concept defined by whoever possessed sufficient strength to enforce their vision.
Today, strength wore Admiral Kisame's face.
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