The cobblestones of Whiskey Peak trembled not from the clash of titans, but from the sheer, staggering incompetence unfolding on the rooftops. Roronoa Zoro, a man who had crossed blades with gods and monsters, felt a profound, soul-deep weariness settle over him.
From the shadowed mouth of an alley, Mr. 8—Igaram, the loyal guardian—watched his junior agents flail and fail. His face, usually a mask of placid duty, was a storm of frustration and shame. Beside him, Miss Wednesday—Princess Vivi—clenched her fists so tight her knuckles bleached white.
"They're not even scratching him," Vivi whispered, her voice a raw mix of anger and desperation. "He's playing with them. Our people… our responsibility…"
"The duty falls to us, then," Igaram said, his voice gravelly with resolve. He raised his ornate saxophone to his lips. "Cover your ears, my lady."
The note that blasted forth wasn't music; it was a sharp, percussive crack that split the night. A line of bullets, hidden within the sound, screamed toward Zoro.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
Zoro didn't even bother with a full dodge. A slight tilt of his head, a fractional shift of his shoulder, and the shots tore through empty air and roof tiles.
"Now!" Vivi cried, her fear morphing into frantic action.
"Leave it to me, partner!" Mr. 9 crowed, a manic grin on his face as he launched himself upward, a showy series of acrobatic flips carrying him to the roof's peak. "The great Mr. 9 takes the high ground!"
Vivi, meanwhile, mounted her super-duck, Carue. "Yah! Carue, go! Maximum speed!"
"Gabu?" Carue blinked, confused, before trotting in a tight, anxious circle.
On the roof, Mr. 9 landed behind Zoro, twirling his two reinforced metal bats. "Hey, three-swords! Nice blades. Be a shame if they got chipped to pieces on my 'Symphony of Smashing'!"
Zoro didn't turn. He simply let his left hand fall to the hilt of Wado Ichimonji at his hip. The shiiink of a single inch of steel being drawn was colder than the desert night. He didn't speak. He just pointed the exposed gleam of the blade over his shoulder, directly at Mr. 9's heart.
The cocky grin vanished. Mr. 9's bravado evaporated, replaced by the primal fear of a rabbit staring down a wolf's fang. "G-gah! Don't point that thing at me!" he shrieked, abandoning all finesse to swat wildly at the unmoving sword.
"What happened to the acrobatics?" Zoro asked, his voice flat, bored. The insult in his tone was sharper than any blade.
"I'll show you acrobatics!" Mr. 9 screamed, humiliation burning his cheeks. He launched into a powerful backflip to regain momentum—and misjudged the roof's edge entirely.
"Waaaah—CRASH!"
Zoro watched the agent plummet into a pile of empty crates below with a sigh that spoke of infinite disappointment. "Is anyone here even remotely competent?"
"I am!"
Vivi stood before him, having finally guided Carue onto the rooftop. Her eyes blazed with a fervor that her skills didn't match. "Watch closely, pirate! The Dance of the Spiral Dazzle!"
She began to spin, her striped top becoming a mesmerizing, twisting vortex. Zoro, expecting another direct attack, was caught off guard. The world tilted. The stars swirled. A nauseating dizziness clawed at his senses. He staggered, bringing a hand to his temple.
It's… just a dance… but…
"Now! Peacock Slashers!" Vivi cried, seeing her opening. She charged, the razor-fans on her wrists gleaming. But in her dizzying triumph, she forgot to direct her steed.
"Gabu!" Carue, aiming helpfully, turned so that Vivi's weapon-wielding arm was on the wrong side, facing away from Zoro. She shot past him with a comical whoosh, her deadly slash cutting nothing but air, and rode straight off the opposite edge of the roof.
"WEDNESDAY!" Igaram's horrified shout echoed from below.
Zoro shook his head, clearing the last of the vertigo. A hot flush of shame, not for himself but for the farce he was forced to participate in, burned in his gut. "I need a drink after this," he muttered, just as another saxophone-shot whizzed past his ear.
Enough. With a single, clean motion, he drew a sword and carved a Z-shaped hole in the roof, dropping down into the darkened alley below. The silence there was a relief. A brief, fleeting relief.
"Got you!"
The whisper was triumphant. From a doorway, a battered but grinning Mr. 9 emerged. Snick! The tip of his bat shot out, extending on a coiled iron rope that wrapped tightly around Zoro's right bicep, pinning the arm and the sword it held to his side.
"Not so tough when you can't swing, are you?" Mr. 9 taunted, pulling the rope taut.
Before Zoro could sever the cable, a new voice, trembling with forced menace, rang out.
"Don't move!"
Vivi stood at the alley's entrance, Carue beside her. And in her arms, draped limply like a sack of grain, was Luffy. His straw hat was askew, his face peaceful in deep, unnatural sleep. The tip of one of her Peacock Slashers was pressed against his exposed throat.
"One twitch," Vivi said, her voice breaking, "and I slit your captain's throat! Drop your swords!"
Zoro's world narrowed to a single, horrifying point: the cold steel against Luffy's neck. The endless mockery of the fight evaporated, replaced by an ice-cold torrent of pure, undiluted rage.
"You…" Zoro's voice was a low growl, the sound of tectonic plates grinding.
From the rooftop, Igaram appeared, his hair parting to reveal twin gun barrels aimed downward. "It ends, pirate! For the sake of this town!"
He fired.
In that fractured second, Zoro's mind worked with lethal clarity. He couldn't move toward Luffy. He couldn't block. So he used the only weapon he had left: the fool holding the rope.
With a brutal yank of his captured arm, he pulled on the iron cable. Mr. 9 yelped, his feet leaving the ground as he was whipped through the air—directly into the path of the descending explosive shots.
BOOM!
The blast was deafening in the confined alley. Mr. 9 took the full force, smoke billowing from his suit as he was blown backward, unconscious.
The rope went slack. Zoro was free.
Vivi gasped, her grip on the slasher faltering for a heartbeat. It was all Zoro needed. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the dazed, smoking Mr. 9 by the collar and hurled him like a ragdoll.
"Get away from him!" Zoro roared.
The human projectile slammed into Vivi and Carue, sending all three tumbling in a heap of limbs and feathers, well away from Luffy's sleeping form.
Zoro didn't spare them a glance. His entire being was focused on his captain. He took a step toward Luffy, relief beginning to thaw the edges of his fury.
Then he stopped.
Luffy lay still. Too still. The peaceful sleep now looked… profound. Empty. A dark, wet stain was spreading with sinister silence across the front of his red vest, directly over his heart.
The Peacock Slasher in Vivi's hand… its tip was glistening, wet and dark under the moonlight.
A cold far deeper than any desert night seized Zoro's heart. His swords fell from numb fingers, clattering on the stones.
"Luffy?" he whispered.
No response. No rise and fall of his chest. Nothing.
From the pile of bodies, Vivi pushed herself up, her face pale, her eyes wide with a horror that mirrored his own. She looked at the bloody tip of her weapon, then at the ominously still form of the Straw Hat captain.
Igaram dropped down from the roof, his face ashen. "M-Miss Wednesday… what have you done?"
Zoro fell to his knees beside his captain, his hand hovering, terrified to touch. The greatest swordsman in the world, utterly helpless.
And the alley was filled with nothing but the deafening, terrible silence of a heart that had stopped beating.
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