Munna had chosen the worst possible place to deliver a speech.
The "briefing" happened in the gutted shade of a collapsed warehouse near the back of Nanohana's port, where smoke leaked through the broken roof like lazy ghosts and the air tasted of burnt wood, perfume, and somebody's spilled guts. His men lounged around in a loose half-circle—some sharpening blades, some cleaning rifles, most counting whatever they'd managed to steal before Gerrard's "distribution" rule settled like a boot on everyone's neck.
Pintel and Ragetti weren't lounging.
They were chained.
Thick iron manacles bit into their wrists, linked by a short length of chain that gave them just enough slack to be uncomfortable and not enough to be useful. A gun—Baro's gun—was aimed at them with the sort of bored dedication reserved for people who had done this job too many times and still enjoyed it.
Munna stood on a crate, looking like a short teacher who'd accidentally walked into a classroom full of armed idiots. He cleared his throat.
"Alright. Listen up."
A few heads turned. Most didn't.
Munna's eye twitched. He raised his voice.
"LISTEN UP."
That got them. Mostly because it sounded like the start of trouble, and pirates paid attention to trouble.
"We move tonight," Munna said, pacing on the crate. "We break the siege line forming outside Nanohana and push toward Alubarna. We're one of the first groups out. We don't wait to be boxed in. We don't wait to be starved. We don't wait for the king to wake up and get brave."
Someone chuckled. Munna ignored it.
He pointed toward the smoking horizon, where the city still burned in pockets. "Gerrard's plan is simple. We hit fast, hit messy, keep moving. Anyone who slows us down becomes… a memory."
At the mention of Gerrard, the men sobered. Even the ones who'd been bragging earlier shifted their weight. Nobody liked thinking about a blade so clean it didn't even look real.
Munna continued, "You saw what he did. One mouthy idiot talks about 'finders keepers' and—" Munna snapped his fingers. "Two pieces."
A pirate muttered, "Captain America."
Another snorted, "He had a nice rear, though."
The pirate's eyes widened, "Ayo, what the-"
Someone laughed. It died quickly when Munna glared.
Pintel, who had been standing with his shoulders hunched like the chains were pulling him down, leaned toward Ragetti and whispered, "I've got a bad feeling."
Ragetti didn't hear it like a whisper. Pintel's mouth was close enough that the words arrived as a damp puff of breath in Ragetti's ear, cold air in hot smoke.
Ragetti shivered violently. "Ugh—what the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed. "You trying to freeze my brain?"
Pintel frowned. "I'm trying to—"
"Trying to what? Whisper sweet nothings?" Ragetti snapped. "Because your sweet nothings smell like ship bilge."
Pintel's face darkened. "At least I've got all my teeth."
Ragetti's expression sharpened instantly. "Say that again."
Pintel opened his mouth.
Baro smashed the butt of his rifle into Pintel's skull.
Pintel's eyes rolled. He made a sound like a dying donkey and crumpled halfway before the chain yanked Ragetti's arm and prevented him from collapsing fully. Ragetti staggered, caught himself, and looked at Baro with pure betrayal.
Baro didn't even look sorry. "Keep quiet," he said flatly. "Or I'll make you quiet."
Ragetti rubbed his arm where the chain had jerked him. "He's quiet now. Congratulations."
Munna had noticed. Of course Munna noticed. He pointed at them like a teacher spotting two students whispering in the back row.
"And these two," Munna said, voice heavy with exhaustion. "Are our… special slaves."
Pintel shook his head rapidly, eyes watering from the head hit. "It wasn't me."
Munna stared.
Pintel pointed at Ragetti. "It was him."
Ragetti forged the most polite, toothy smile he could manage. It looked like a threat wearing manners. "Captain Munna, sir. Pleasure. We are being held against our will, and I would like to file a complaint."
Munna's finger twitched toward the trigger of his pistol.
Ragetti's smile stiffened.
Munna fired a shot into the air.
The crack echoed through the ruined port. Birds exploded from rooftops. A few pirates jumped. Pintel yelped like he'd been shot in the soul.
"Enough," Munna said, voice calm now in a way that made it worse. "You two want to bicker, do it after you survive the desert. Preferably far away from me."
He hopped off the crate and walked closer, stopping just out of reach of Pintel's spike hand and Ragetti's punching range. Munna looked them up and down with the tiredness of a man realizing he'd adopted two violent stray dogs.
"If not for your strength," Munna said, "you'd already be disposed of."
Pintel swallowed.
Ragetti's mouth opened, then closed. It was the closest Ragetti ever came to silence by choice.
Munna continued, "Prove useful during the breakthrough, and maybe… just maybe…" He let the words hang, enjoying the power of being the one holding the "maybe." "I'll consider letting you join."
Pintel's eyes brightened instantly.
Ragetti squinted. "Join as what? Pets?"
Baro's rifle lifted.
Ragetti raised both hands. "Joking. Just joking."
Munna sighed like his lungs were made of sand. "Alright. Everyone gets rest. Eat. Drink. Sharpen. If your sword isn't sharp, Gerrard will use your spine as a whetstone."
A few nervous laughs.
Munna walked away, already regretting being in charge.
Pintel leaned toward Ragetti again, slower this time.
Ragetti leaned away. "Don't breathe on me."
Pintel whispered anyway, "That man—Gerrard—he's going to get us killed."
Ragetti stared at the smoky sky. "We were already going to die. We just didn't know the schedule."
Baro nudged them with his gun. "Move."
Pintel muttered, "If I ever get out of chains, I'm going to slow your mouth."
Baro grinned. "If you ever get out of chains, I'm going to put you back in them."
Ragetti sighed. "I miss drowning."