Hearing "Divine Departure," Ron couldn't help thinking of that hothead, Kid.
Divine Departure? I won't depart. I'm tougher than God!
Yeah… we all know how that ends.
There goes the ship. There goes the Poneglyph.
"Don't stop there—what happened next?" Aokiji urged.
"Patience," Rayleigh chuckled, taking a long drink before continuing.
"In the end, Akainu stood his ground. Say what you like, the kid had guts."
"Of course, Roger beat him half to death."
"Truly a sight—burned into my memory. If Sengoku hadn't shown up when he did, the title of 'Admiral Akainu' might've gone to someone else."
Aokiji nodded, satisfied—then sighed with theatrical regret.
"Pity he didn't lose a leg. Luck's on his side."
Ron: "…"
Prophet with a sword.
No wonder two years later Akainu takes your leg.
So it wasn't just a personality clash…
Rayleigh wasn't spinning tall tales—the timeline fit.
Back then, Akainu should've still been a Vice Admiral, pre-Ohara incident, and Roger hadn't reached Laugh Tale yet.
"Come, come—let me tell you a few Sengoku stories."
Rayleigh downed another cup, grinning.
After last night's Enlarge–Shrink Pill heroics left General Shakky begging for mercy,
the Dark King had reclaimed his pride—and was in a generous mood.
There were many stories.
Like the time Garp got drunk and let this slip:
one late night, Sengoku went down to a hotel lobby asking if they had "fast food"…
and from that night on, he never looked back.
…
Or when Roger got blind drunk and swaggered past a female pirate.
Poetry struck, and he marched up to praise her beauty—
only to produce a single "36.5-degree protein injection."
Lacking the education to craft a decent compliment, he searched his soul and finally muttered:
"Whoa. Big."
Rayleigh paused, a frown tugging at his mouth.
Wait… that woman might've been Shakky.
And so the tales flowed—Roger, Sengoku, Kong, Garp—old legends, ridiculous and glorious.
Kizaru and Aokiji listened, eyes shining, chiming in with questions here and there.
Ron, Tohru, and the others listened quietly as the tavern filled with warm laughter.
—
By noon, the sun stood high.
Rayleigh's voice slowed, perhaps from fatigue… or nostalgia.
Aokiji and Kizaru set down their empty bottles and rose to leave.
"Fifty million Berries. Which of you is paying?" Ron asked pleasantly.
They exchanged a look of pure agony.
In the end, they pooled everything—cash, cards—scraping together enough to cover the bill.
"Boss… we'll be back another time," Aokiji said through gritted teeth, turning for the door.
Paying millions for liquor, getting mauled by a cat—no one would leave happy.
"Rayleigh, don't forget—I'll be buying those pills in a few days," Kizaru added, following with scratch marks crisscrossing his arms.
They'd settled on five hundred thousand Berries per pill.
Rayleigh had agreed unusually fast.
"Isn't five hundred thousand a bit cheap?" Ron asked, puzzled.
After all, ten pills had fetched a whole Devil Fruit.
"One pill splits into five," Rayleigh said, waggling his brows.
"Add a little flour, knead it back to shape—profit."
Ron: "…"
Con artist.
If Kizaru knew, he'd spit blood on the spot.
Just then, the system's chill chime rang in Ron's mind:
[Ding! Customers Rayleigh, Aokiji, and Kizaru have completed their disclosures.]
[Rayleigh: Armament Haki / Swordsmanship — choose one.]
[Aokiji: Armament Haki / Observation Haki / Logia—Ice-Ice Fruit — choose one.]
[Kizaru: Armament Haki / Observation Haki / Logia—Glint-Glint Fruit — choose one.]
"Rayleigh's swordsmanship—fuse it," Ron murmured.
"As for the Ice and Light fruits—store them."
Two swords hung on the wall; it'd be a waste not to be able to use them.
[Ding! Fruits stored.]
[Ding! Fusion commencing!]
Swordplay unfolded in Ron's mind—stances, breath, timing.
Moments later, it sank into muscle memory, natural as reaching for a cup.
"Brat, what's for lunch?" Rayleigh asked when he noticed Ron zoning out.
Before Ron could answer, the bell above the door chimed.
Ding-ling…
The door swung open.
A tall, stunning silhouette entered—heels tapping a crisp rhythm across the floor.
A chill spread through the tavern, sharp enough to raise goosebumps.
Ron's smile curved easily. "Welcome."
"The owner of the Myriad Worlds Tavern…"
Her voice was cold, seductive, and absolute.
"From this moment on—you belong to me."
"…Huh?"
—
Marineford—Fleet Admiral's Office.
"All right. What did you two do this time?" Sengoku glared at Kizaru and Aokiji, fury pounding behind his temples.
If he could, he'd have sent them both back to boot camp.
Skipping work to drink was bad enough—
but coming back covered in scratches, one lounging with tea, the other napping on the couch?
"Kuzan dragged me out to drink today," Kizaru said smoothly, sipping.
"And when we saw that black cat with the claws, he told me to 'verify authenticity.'"
Even with Sengoku's fist practically in his face, he tossed the blame in 0.01 seconds.
Sengoku blinked, stunned.
That black cat again?
After a long pause, he pressed on, unwilling to let it go.
"You didn't dodge?"
"I did. Couldn't. That cat hits the soul."
"And you didn't turn to light?"
"I did. Still couldn't dodge."
Kizaru shrugged—then winced as the bandage pulled his skin.
Sengoku stood there a long time, silent, the weight of it sinking in.
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