Truth be told, Usopp was not exaggerating all that much. Possibly he was not exaggerating at all. Aside from Luffy, no one in the family really knew how strong the young man truly was, including Usopp himself. In raw physical ability, he lost to absolutely everyone, Nami included. Usopp had trained for only a few months, and before he began training he had been a genuine weakling, noticeably weaker than the average adult man. A thirty-two-kilogram kettlebell had once represented an incredibly serious challenge to him. He had not even been strong enough for ten repetitions with it. By comparison, Nami—physically the weakest member of the family before Usopp appeared—had been perfectly capable of juggling ten such kettlebells at once like a magician juggling tangerines. And although by now Usopp could calmly bench-press a barbell weighing a couple of tons, he still remained at the very bottom of the family in terms of physical parameters.
"Stop exaggerating." Johnny did not share Usopp's fears at all and waved them away carelessly. "Luffy-aniki would never have sent you with us if you weren't ready. Besides, what's there to be afraid of? There are only a few thousand of them, not even ten. We won't spend more than a couple of hours!"
The young man had clearly managed to completely forget how much he himself had whined back when Luffy decided to deal with Don Krieg's armada. On that occasion, he had whined only a little less than Usopp. And that was despite the fact that by then he had already spent an entire year training under Zoro's and Luffy's supervision, taking part in deadly battles against pirates almost every week, sometimes several times a week. On top of that, before joining the family Johnny had spent several years traveling around East Blue with Yosaku as a bounty hunter. Compared with Usopp, who had grown up in what amounted to greenhouse conditions and had fought seriously only against Kuro the 'Strategist's' men, the gap in experience and psychological hardening was enormous. The fact that Usopp had not yet fainted, pissed himself, or tried to run away could already be regarded as nothing short of a miracle. A 'welcoming committee' like this made an impression even on the seasoned Yosaku, Johnny, and Sanji, so what could be said about the inexperienced Usopp? He was completely unprepared for a confrontation like this!
Or so he believed.
"Th-th-there are only f-f-f-four of them?! Wh-wh-what id-id-idiots!!!"
Naturally, while Johnny, Yosaku, Sanji, and Usopp examined the several thousand people facing them, those same thousands examined the four of them in return. But while the rank-and-file fighters merely whispered among themselves, Miss Merry Christmas made no attempt to restrain herself.
"Looks like the observers weren't wrong. Roronoa Zoro really did remain on the ship," Mr. Three noted, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose and immediately picking out the most important fact. "That means this will be even easier than I thought. I love overconfident idiots."
Unlike the satisfied Galdino, who immediately contacted the ambush ships to inform them of the change in plans, Mr. One's face practically blackened with anger.
"He thinks we're weaklings unworthy of his attention?" the man asked without addressing anyone in particular. "Miss Doublefinger..." he began.
"...You want to tell me you're going to kill all of them, don't you?" the woman finished for him with a quiet chuckle. "Do whatever you want."
"I like these guys!" Mr. Two announced with a broad smile. "It takes quite a lot of courage to decide that only four of you will stand against all of us!"
"Look more carefully, Mr. Two, Bon Kurei-sama!" one of his subordinates advised. "That long-nosed one over there clearly doesn't want to be here." He pointed at the whining Usopp.
Johnny, Yosaku, Sanji, and Usopp did not linger in one place for long and almost immediately began walking toward the army of bounty hunters waiting for them. While the Baroque Works members 'digested' such outrageous insolence, the boys covered more than half the distance. By then anyone could see not only Usopp's excessively long nose, but also his more than obvious unwillingness to participate in the coming battle. Sweating profusely and pale green in color, the young man dragged himself slowly behind everyone else, barely lifting one foot after the other, never once stopping his whining, snot and saliva running freely while he struggled not to burst into loud sobs. Against the cheerful, energetic, confident Johnny and Yosaku and the carelessly smoking Sanji, Usopp stood out especially strongly. The contrast was striking!
"All right, assholes, which one of you is Mr. One?!" Johnny asked cheerfully the moment they came within ten meters of the hunters lounging casually in wait. "Because that particular asshole is mine!" he finished with anticipation.
"The fuck makes him yours?!" Yosaku immediately protested, showing Johnny his middle finger. "We decide it the usual way!" Lowering the raised finger, he presented his friend with a clenched fist, offering to settle the matter with rock-paper-scissors.
The game never had a chance to begin. Sanji ended the already pointless argument with a single powerful kick that sent both men flying.
"Mr. One is mine!" the blond declared, looking down at the two boys sprawled on the ground after his kick. "You fucking bastards, know your place! You've already had plenty of fun while I was stuck in the kitchen!"
Today Sanji had no intention of yielding to anyone. Today he intended to announce himself—if not to the entire world, then loudly enough to earn a respectable bounty on his head. And he absolutely was not going to let Johnny and Yosaku ruin his plan for becoming famous. Those bastards already had decent bounties, unlike him! No way in hell was he going to let them snatch the strongest opponent for themselves!
"Pure hazing," Johnny complained as he got up from the ground, visibly dejected.
Yosaku rose after him and limited himself to a heavy sigh, understanding perfectly well that arguing was useless. Usopp, immersed in the deepest depression and convinced his life was approaching its logical conclusion—why had joining this particular family ever seemed like a good idea?—paid no attention whatsoever to the quarrel, or perhaps division of spoils, that had just taken place. The other hunters, however, paid a great deal of attention. Most could not keep their jaws from dropping, while some standing close to the 'object of the dispute' tried discreetly to move farther away from Mr. One. Daz Bones's already unfriendly face, after everything that had just been said, reached around sixty points on the Zoro Unfriendly Face Scale. In other words, someone weaker could have taken one look at Daz Bones's expression and shit themselves in fear.
"If Mr. One is a bust, then I'm fighting Mr. Two!" Quickly realizing that any argument with Sanji was completely pointless, Johnny immediately tried to stake his claim on the second-most attractive opponent.
Yosaku did not even say anything. He merely extended a clenched fist toward his friend, but before they could settle their new dispute, Bentham burst out laughing.
"Ah, how difficult it is to be popular!" the broadly smiling... man? said in a pleased voice.
A pink cape. Ballet tutu. Bare hairy legs. Makeup. Swans on his shoulders. Yosaku instantly withdrew his clenched fist and, just to be safe, hid it behind his back.
"You know what?" he said to the stunned Johnny with a fake smile. "Since you're my very best friend in the entire world, I don't mind letting you have Mr. Two at all, and I'll take Mr. Three. You know me—for you, my best friend, there's nothing I wouldn't give up!"
The smile, voice, and words were so fake they could not have fooled a five-year-old child.
"Go fuck yourself!" Johnny finally recovered from the shock caused by Bentham's appearance. "Fight him yourself! I'm not touching him with so much as one finger!"
"OH! OH! OH!" Bentham's face reddened with rage as he began furiously stamping one foot against the ground. "WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!! I'M ASKING YOU, WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!!"
Johnny and Yosaku did not answer, too busy arguing with one another. Miss Merry Christmas, however, did not miss the opportunity to mock the offended transvestite, tossing in several extremely caustic remarks that only poured fuel onto the fire.
"Miss Goldenweek, if you would be so kind," Mr. Three said. Somewhat predictably, he and his partner remained calm and unruffled to the very end.
"Don't want to!" the girl answered. "Why do I have to do anything? Let somebody else do it!"
People like her were commonly said to have been born lazy before they themselves were born, and Miss Goldenweek was lazy like no one else. She absolutely hated doing anything.
"The sooner we start, the sooner we'll finish," Galdino patiently explained. "And with your help it will end much faster than without it."
The girl needed some time to think, but in the end she did get to work. Naturally, before beginning, just as Mr. Three had expected, she did not forget to extract several promises from him.
"Colors Trap!"
Taking a palette of paints in one hand and a brush in the other, Miss Goldenweek 'attacked' the boys standing before her. Her 'attack' consisted of various multicolored symbols painted directly through the air. In practice, with sharp flicks of her brush Miss Goldenweek simply 'threw' paint, but with such extraordinary precision that whenever it struck the target, a particular symbol appeared. In a particular color. Johnny and Yosaku, for example, were targeted with red symbols, while Sanji and Usopp received green ones. The speed of such an 'attack' was not especially high, so both Johnny and Usopp jumped aside. The former had no intention of testing the consequences of such a strange-looking attack on himself—ordinary paint as a weapon? Or NOT ordinary?—while the latter was already wound tighter than a spring and terrified half to death without anyone attacking him. Yosaku, on the other hand, calmly accepted the red-paint 'attack' directly on his bare chest, as did Sanji, except in his case the paint was green and his chest was covered by a white shirt and black jacket.
"Why didn't you dodge?!" Johnny stared at the blond in disbelief.
He had no questions for Yosaku. If Yosaku was accompanied by anyone from the family during a fight or battle, then by default he accepted every incomprehensible or strange-looking attack directly. That approach allowed them to reveal all an enemy's—or enemies'—trump cards quickly and safely. Like now. The worst that could happen was another death, but if there was one thing Yosaku was used to, it was his own death. Pain as well.
"From a beautiful lady, I am prepared to accept even death!" Sanji proudly declared in answer to Johnny's question.
"Then how about some tea?" Miss Goldenweek politely suggested, not about to miss such a convenient opportunity.
Johnny, Yosaku, and Usopp barely had time to understand what had happened before Sanji was already sitting on a blanket specially spread on the ground opposite what they believed to be a little artist girl, brewing tea and simultaneously lecturing her on the proper way to prepare it. It was not that the young man was behaving strangely—in fact, all of it was completely in character!—but the blond's behavior fit rather poorly with his earlier desire to fight Mr. One. Most importantly, in a large family you did not stand around with your beak open! Johnny was no fool and immediately tried to take advantage of the opportunity that had presented itself.
In one instant, the young man's arm transformed into a massive clawed dragon paw covered in fiery-black scales, and in the next, the entire transformed limb burst into flame. Without the slightest pause, a delighted Johnny shot toward the grim Daz Bones at bullet speed, having correctly identified him as Mr. One. Though it would be more accurate to say that the young man simply attacked the strongest person among everyone gathered there. Unlike Yosaku, who almost never forgot to use observation and logic, Johnny had not identified the strongest man by deduction. He had relied solely on his hyper-developed instincts. Accordingly, he did not actually care whom he was attacking—Mr. One or some unknown man. The only thing that mattered was that he attacked the person he considered strongest among those present. Everything else was irrelevant.
"Flaming Claws of Death!" Despite his excitement, Johnny did not forget to shout out the name of his attack. A name he had pulled straight out of nowhere and invented less than a second earlier. In reality, Johnny merely pressed his clawed fingers together and thrust his hand forward like a spear, only one wrapped in fire. It was a perfectly ordinary strike by his standards and clearly needed no name whatsoever, but apparently attacking in silence did not seem cool enough.
Johnny's surprise attack proved surprisingly successful even by his own expectations. Encountering not the slightest resistance from his victim, he felt the long-familiar sensation of clothes tearing, skin splitting, and bones breaking beneath his attack. Johnny's arm plunged all the way to the elbow into the chest of his completely defenseless opponent—or rather victim. Despite the flames, the heat was not high enough to instantly cauterize all the blood, so once again the young man was quite familiarly drenched in his victim's blood almost from head to toe. Yet despite quickly disposing of the person he believed to be the strongest Baroque Works member present, Johnny did not look especially happy, or even mildly satisfied. He had not expected a furious struggle, of course, but neither had he anticipated such a boring ending. As he pulled his arm from his victim's chest, he even began reproaching himself for acting so hastily. Johnny started thinking that if he had not attacked so quickly and unexpectedly—if he had given his victim more time to prepare—perhaps everything would not have ended so stupidly and boringly. The young man had no desire to encounter some unbeatable monster like Zoro or Luffy, but he would have been more than happy to cross paths with an opponent equal to himself. That did not seem like such an impossible wish, did it?
"What rotten luck!" the disappointed young man complained as he finally pulled his arm free of his victim's mangled chest. "Another complete fa—"
And at that exact moment, Johnny finally raised his eyes to the face of the man he had killed.
Time seemed to stop for him.
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