The Happosai hit the iceberg hard.
Wood groaned. Metal screamed. The yellow tiger figurehead bucked upward as the hull scraped along ice, then slammed hard enough to jolt men off their feet. Sailors cursed. Ropes snapped taut. The sea around the ship frothed, offended at being forced to host something so cold and so solid.
Don Chinjao stood at the prow as if the impact hadn't happened at all.
Ahead, an expanse of white, jagged and vast. The Jewel Ice Sheet. And there—black sails.
A ship already moored near an awkward ridge, sitting too calmly for something that had just lured the Happo Navy into ice.
Chinjao's eyes narrowed.
The Black Pearl was unmistakable—dark wood, darker sails, a presence that looked wrong against the white landscape.
But the deck was quiet.
No bustling crew. No cannons turning.
Only a single figure—limping, leaning against a railing as if his body had suffered the price of a sea chase.
Chinjao's mouth curled.
"A trap," he muttered. "A cheap one."
Sai hovered behind him, eyes sharp. "Grandfather, should we—"
Chinjao didn't answer.
He stepped forward.
Then he vanished.
A blur, as if the space between the ship and the ice had decided to delete itself. A moment later, Chinjao's boots crunched into the iceberg, his presence landing like a hammer.
Sai's eyes widened. Even after seeing it countless times, the speed still looked unreal.
Chinjao didn't spare the ship another glance.
He moved inland.
Jack Sparrow was walking through the ice like a man strolling through a market.
A cold market that hated him.
He led with the eager confidence of someone who had never once been punished for curiosity in a way that stuck. Wado Ichimonji hung at his side, the blade's weight familiar now. His hat sat low, rum bottle tucked away for the moment, because Gibbs had said Rum would freeze and frozen Rum doesn't taste good.
Behind him, Gibbs hugged himself tightly, shoulders hunched. Each breath came out in pale clouds.
"This," Gibbs muttered through chattering teeth, "is why reasonable people steal treasure in warm places."
Ragetti shivered so hard his teeth clacked. "My bones feel like they're complaining."
Jack glanced back. "Bones always complain. That's their job."
Ragetti's eyes darted around. "Maybe we shouldn't have left Pintel alone on the ship."
Jack waved a hand. "Relax. They won't do anything to them."
Gibbs squinted. "Who is 'they'?"
Jack walked on, boots crunching over packed snow. "Shinzo."
Gibbs didn't correct him. He'd corrected Jack enough times to know it only made Jack learn the wrong lesson faster.
Besides, the day Gibbs convinced Jack to call things by their proper names was the day the sea froze solid and stayed that way forever.
Gibbs did add, dry as salt, "If they catch Pintel, they'll let him go. He'll be considered useless."
Ragetti frowned. "But they'll beat him."
Jack stopped mid-step.
He stared forward, as if picturing it.
Then he nodded solemnly. "Yes. They will beat him. Poor thing."
Ragetti looked at Jack's back with sudden horror, as though realizing for the first time what sort of captain he'd agreed to follow.
Robin rode on Augur's shoulders, wrapped in a cloak that was far too big for her. She'd insisted on coming, eyes stubborn despite the cold. Augur walked steadily, indifferent to the temperature, though his breath still fogged faintly in front of his face.
"Do you see anyone?" Augur asked, voice flat.
Robin squinted into the distance, scanning the white expanse. She didn't see anything—just ridges, ice peaks, and the gentle curve of horizon where the world became glare.
She was about to say no.
Then—
A black speck.
Moving towards their direction.
Fast.
A bit too fast.
Her eyes widened. "Someone's coming!"
Augur stopped instantly. He lowered Robin off his shoulders, and Ragetti caught her awkwardly, nearly falling over as her weight shifted.
Augur raised his rifle.
Jack didn't turn immediately. He stared at the path ahead.
The mountain loomed in front of them now—an enormous frozen rise, with a small, unnatural opening near its base. A hole, not a crack.
Like a lock.
Gibbs' face tightened. "That's Chinjao."
"Chinjao," Jack repeated, trying the name like a new drink.
They scrambled—instinctively spacing out, shifting positions, trying to avoid being clustered.
It didn't matter.
The figure arrived like a meteor.
Ice exploded upward as Chinjao landed, the impact sending a shockwave through the snow. Jack's boots slid back an inch. Gibbs nearly fell. Ragetti stumbled and caught himself.
Chinjao stood upright slowly, smoke-like frost curling around him.
His eyes were full of rage.
They landed on the Caribbean Pirates—and sharpened.
He recognized the face.
Jack Sparrow.
A hundred million bounty.
Chinjao's voice was low. "Are you working with Bege?"
Jack drew Wado Ichimonji with a clean hiss, blade catching pale light. He smiled politely, as if confronted by an angry landlord.
"Absolutely not," Jack said quickly. "I'm being pursued by Bege."
Chinjao's brow twitched.
Jack continued, words spilling faster. "I stole information from him about Geppo Navy's rumored treasure and came myself. Unfortunately, Bege followed me."
A vein appeared on Chinjao's forehead.
"It's Happo," he said, voice dropping into something dangerous. "Happo Navy."
"What?" Jack blinked.
Chinjao's jaw clenched. "It's Happo Navy. Not Geppo!"
Jack genuinely leaned back as if expecting to be punched for grammar.
Augur fired.
The bullet flashed across the air.
Chinjao's hand moved once.
He caught it between two fingers.
The world paused.
Chinjao turned his head slowly, looking at Augur like one might look at an ant.
Before Augur could adjust, Chinjao vanished again.
He appeared in front of Augur and punched.
Augur tried to raise his rifle defensively, but the fist hit too fast, too heavy. The impact blasted him backward across the snow. He skidded, coughing blood, eyes briefly unfocused.
Robin gasped and instinctively sprouted arms—hands blooming from the air around Chinjao, reaching for his shoulders, his throat, his arms, trying to restrain.
Chinjao glanced at her.
For a heartbeat, his expression softened.
"…I don't like to hurt children," he said.
Then he flicked her forehead.
It was gentle by his standards.
Robin's small body snapped backward. Her eyes rolled, and she went limp.
"ROBIN!" Gibbs shouted.
He raised his flintlock and fired.
The shot was meaningless.
Chinjao crossed the distance and punched him in the chest.
Gibbs' body folded, breath exploding out, eyes widening in shock before he collapsed into the snow, unconscious.
Ragetti whimpered.
Chinjao looked at him.
Ragetti offered a pitiful smile, as if politeness could prevent violence.
Chinjao smiled back—evil, amused.
He punched Ragetti.
Ragetti flew backward, hit the snow hard, and coughed blood.
He was still moving.
Chinjao's eyebrows rose slightly. Surprise.
"You stayed awake?" Chinjao muttered, almost curious.
He didn't dwell on it. He punched again.
Ragetti went still.
Chinjao turned.