"Captain Buggy, you're still in the mood to joke at a time like this?"
Mr. 3—Galdino—adjusted his glasses nervously. The flame atop his head flickered with agitation.
"You've become one of the Four Emperors," he pressed. "This isn't a title you can bluff your way through. What should we do now?"
Buggy leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. His gloved fingers drummed lightly against the armrest. Internally, Lock was calculating distances, possibilities, escape routes.
Outwardly, he smiled with theatrical calm.
"Mr. 3… my trusted strategist," Buggy said slowly, his voice dropping into a deep, measured tone. "You must learn composure. A man standing beside an Emperor should not tremble at shadows."
Mr. 3 blinked. "Standing beside an Emperor?"
"Yes." Buggy's eyes gleamed. "As someone comparable to Benn Beckman, you must learn to act the part."
There was a long pause.
"Captain," Mr. 3 said carefully, "have you struck your head?"
Buggy waved a dismissive hand. It detached at the wrist and floated lazily in the air, wagging a finger at him.
"Benn Beckman is Red-Haired Shanks' first mate," Mr. 3 continued. "They say he's the smartest man in the East Blue. He threatened Admiral Kizaru during the Marineford War."
"And?" Buggy tilted his head. "Have you ever seen him actually fight?"
"Well… no."
Buggy snorted.
"Kizaru threatens everyone. He says 'how frightening' before blasting half the battlefield apart. That doesn't make Beckman invincible."
Mr. 3 hesitated.
Buggy leaned forward.
"But you, Mr. 3."
His voice sharpened.
"You nearly forced Roronoa Zoro to cut off his own legs in Little Garden. You trapped the Straw Hat crew repeatedly. You outmaneuvered Crocodile's own organization and survived. At Impel Down, you stood against Magellan long enough for prisoners to escape. You aided in freeing Portgas D. Ace under the nose of the Marines."
He let that sink in.
"These are facts. Not rumors. Real achievements."
Mr. 3's flame burned brighter.
"I—well—that was situational—"
"Situational?" Buggy scoffed. "So was Marineford. So was Wano. History is built on situations."
He rose from his seat. His upper body separated slightly at the waist, hovering a few inches above his lower half as he approached Mr. 3. The movement was smooth, controlled.
"Your Doru Doru no Mi is not inferior to anyone's."
Mr. 3 swallowed.
Buggy continued, voice low and persuasive.
"Katakuri of the Big Mom Pirates rose to prominence with the Mochi Mochi no Mi. His mochi is versatile, yes. But your wax hardens beyond steel when cooled. It softens and reshapes when heated. You create structures, armor, weapons, and restraints."
He tapped Mr. 3's shoulder lightly.
"With discipline… with imagination… your fruit could surpass his."
The cabin fell silent.
Mr. 3's flame flared like a torch.
"You… you truly believe that, Captain?"
Buggy folded his arms.
"I do not speak lightly."
Inside, Lock suppressed a grimace.
Please don't ask for demonstrations.
Mr. 3 clenched his fists.
"I will refine my wax control. I will train relentlessly. I will not shame your confidence!"
Alvida stared at him in disbelief.
We came here to convince him to flee the New World, she thought. Not to inspire suicidal ambition.
Buggy turned toward her next.
"And you, Alvida."
She raised a brow.
"The Sube Sube no Mi has barely scratched its potential."
Alvida brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "My ability lets attacks slide off my body. It's useful, yes. But there's a limit."
"There is always a limit," Buggy replied. "Until someone shatters it."
He paced slowly.
"Your body repels friction. Physical force fails to grip you. That is merely the beginning."
Alvida narrowed her eyes. "Go on."
"If you refine control," Buggy continued smoothly, "why limit it to physical blows? Energy travels. Force travels. Projectiles travel. If your body governs the concept of 'sliding'…"
He turned, locking eyes with her.
"…why not redirect what strikes you?"
Mr. 3 blinked.
"Redirect?"
"Return it," Buggy said simply. "Let the enemy's power slip across you and back toward its source."
Alvida's gaze sharpened.
"You're saying… reflect attacks?"
"I'm saying," Buggy replied with a grin, "that Paramecia fruits reward imagination."
He let the idea hang in the air.
Alvida folded her arms thoughtfully.
"I'll… experiment," she said slowly.
Good, Lock thought. If even half of this sticks, it increases our survival rate.
Behind them, Mohji cleared his throat.
"Captain," he said, cracking his whip uncertainly, "what about me?"
Beside him, Cabaji straightened, adjusting his scarf.
"Yes," Cabaji added. "As officers of an Emperor's crew, surely we also possess… hidden potential?"
Buggy paused.
Now this was dangerous territory.
He studied Mohji first.
"You claim you can command beasts."
Mohji puffed out his chest. "Any animal obeys me."
"Any?"
"Any," he insisted. "Well… excluding Sea Kings."
Buggy stroked his chin theatrically.
"Then seek larger prey."
Mohji blinked. "Larger?"
"In the seas near Wano roams an enormous elephant. A creature of ancient power. If you could command such a beast—"
Mr. 3 inhaled sharply.
"—your value to this crew would multiply instantly."
Mohji's eyes gleamed with reckless excitement.
"An elephant? That's easy!"
Buggy nodded solemnly, praying the man never actually found Zou.
He turned to Cabaji.
"You," Buggy said, eyeing the unicycle leaning against the wall, "have spent years perfecting balance."
Cabaji nodded proudly.
"Your leg strength must be exceptional."
Cabaji blinked. "…Well, I suppose—"
"Abandon the unicycle."
The room went still.
"Captain?" Cabaji asked faintly.
"Develop your lower body further. Combine swordsmanship with powerful kicks. Mobility. Aerial maneuvering. Speed."
Cabaji instinctively threw a testing kick.
A sharp crack split the air.
Everyone paused.
Mr. 3's glasses slid slightly down his nose.
"That… made a sonic boom," Alvida murmured.
Cabaji stared at his own leg.
"All these years," he whispered, "I was building this foundation?"
Buggy nodded gravely.
"Smash the unicycle. Move forward."
Cabaji's eyes watered.
"I will not disappoint you, Captain!"
As both men rushed out, fired up with misguided destiny, Alvida stared at Buggy in disbelief.
"What exactly are you doing?" she asked quietly.
"Motivating talent," Buggy replied smoothly.
She leaned closer.
"We came to persuade you to leave the New World," she hissed. "You've been named an Emperor. The Marines will not ignore this."
Buggy's expression shifted—subtly.
Inside, Lock was reviewing memories rapidly.
The Marine campaign to abolish the Seven Warlords.
The chaotic skirmish near Mary Geoise.
The Revolutionary Army flees after rescuing Bartholomew Kuma.
A Celestial Dragon taken hostage—Saint Rosward.
Buggy's ship appearing at exactly the wrong—or right—moment.
To the outside world, it had looked deliberate.
An Emperor interfering with the Holy Land.
Aiding the Revolutionary Army.
The narrative had written itself.
No wonder his bounty had skyrocketed.
He exhaled slowly.
"The Marines," he said at last, "are preoccupied."
"With Wano?" Mr. 3 asked.
"Yes."
That part was true.
But truth in this world had layers.
Before he could elaborate, the cabin door burst open.
A breathless pirate stumbled inside.
"Captain Buggy!"
Buggy turned sharply.
"What is it?"
"The Marines are pursuing us!"
The room froze.
Alvida's face tightened.
"How many ships?" Mr. 3 demanded.
The pirate swallowed.
"One battleship at the front. Reinforcements behind."
Buggy's heartbeat quickened.
"Who leads them?" he asked calmly.
The pirate's voice shook.
"Admiral Fujitora Issho!"
Silence fell like a blade.
An Admiral.
Of course.
Of course, it wouldn't be simple.
Buggy's mind raced.
Gravity.
Meteorites.
Blades enhanced with monstrous power.
An Admiral would not treat an Emperor lightly.
And Buggy—no matter the title—was not ready to clash directly.
Not yet.
He stood slowly.
His body separated slightly at the shoulders and hips, floating apart in a controlled, deliberate display.
"Summon the officers," he ordered.
The pirate saluted and ran.
Alvida studied him carefully.
"You have a plan?"
Buggy grinned.
Always project confidence.
"Of course."
Inside, Lock's thoughts were sharp and urgent.
Running was an option.
But running from an Admiral immediately after being declared an Emperor would invite every predator in the New World.
He needed something else.
A performance.
A calculated move.
Fujitora respected civilians. Hated unnecessary destruction. Followed justice, but not blindly.
Gravity could pull meteors from the sky.
But could it grasp what was no longer whole?
Buggy flexed his fingers slightly.
Fragments shifted invisibly in the air around him.
If separation was control…
Then perhaps gravity would not behave as expected.
He stepped toward the door.
"Prepare the ship," he declared loudly. "Let the Admiral witness why this clown sits among Emperors."
The crew outside erupted in cheers.
Alvida watched him carefully.
For the first time, she could not tell whether their captain was bluffing—
Or whether something had truly changed.
Beyond the ship's hull, waves parted as a Marine battleship approached steadily.
Above it, the sky darkened.
The air grew heavy.
Gravity itself seemed to lean forward.
And Buggy the Clown stepped onto the deck, smiling.
---
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San