Chapter Fifty-Eight: A Tingling Scalp

“Mr. Zoro, that curly-browed cook seems to have gone out with Mr. Roland,” Koby, who had noticed Sanji, sidled up to Zoro and whispered.

“It’s nothing. Do you actually think Roland would lose to that perverted chef?” Zoro didn’t give it a second thought. It was just a lecherous cook—if it really came to a fight, he probably wouldn’t even be Zoro’s match. Was there any need to worry? Rather than concerning himself with that guy, it was more important to follow Roland’s orders and keep an eye on the three pirates at the next table.

“Is that so?” Koby paused, then scratched the back of his head awkwardly and grinned sheepishly.

Right, why would I worry that the curly-browed cook would interfere with Mr. Roland’s plans? The one who should really be worried is the cook himself. If he actually gets in Roland’s way, he’ll probably be killed, won’t he? No, he definitely will be.

At the next table, the trio who had been eating steadily began to slow their movements, exchanging glances.

“Zango, I’m done eating,” Buchi communicated silently with Zango.

“Me too!” Sam joined in with a meaningful look.

“So am I. Now we should think of a way to sneak some food out of here,” Zango replied with his eyes. But hidden behind his heart-shaped glasses, his intent didn’t get across, leaving Buchi and Sam looking blankly at him.

Seeing the confusion on his companions’ faces, Zango understood and took off his glasses, repeating his message.

“But how are we supposed to sneak out food for over thirty people without being noticed?” Buchi scratched his head in puzzlement; he truly hadn’t considered this problem. He’d assumed Zango had a plan when he brought them here.

“Why don’t we try asking that great pirate Zeff for help? There are rumors he won’t let people go hungry, even if they’re pirates. Maybe if we beg, something unexpected will happen,” Sam said hopefully to Zango, a hint of wishful thinking in his eyes.

Zango pondered Sam’s suggestion. If there was really no other way, that might be their only option. But he doubted the chances of success.

After all, they were all pirates. Was anyone really so foolish as to let others eat for free? Zango certainly wouldn’t—charity was out of the question.

“Never mind. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Let’s order more food and see if we can sneak some out. If all else fails, we can fight our way out. Zeff is just an old pirate from the last era; he’s even lost a leg, so his strength must have declined,” Zango suddenly blinked rapidly, suggesting a reckless plan.

Meanwhile, since Roland hadn’t found their pirate ship at the dock, he leapt to the highest point of the Baratie restaurant, overlooking the vast sea.

From this vantage, he spotted it: a few hundred meters off Baratie’s coast, the black cat-headed pirate ship floated quietly, gently rocking with the waves but not moving. Perhaps to avoid the Marines, the ship wasn’t flying a pirate flag, nor did its sails bear any insignia. But seeing that familiar black cat figurehead, Roland found himself oddly fond of this world’s pirates.

To set themselves apart, pirates here often adorned their ships with strange animal heads or other unique objects as a second emblem, beyond their flag. Perhaps their intent was to intimidate ordinary folk, but to Roland, the practice was foolish. Without that distinctive figurehead, finding his target among the countless ships without a flag would have been much harder.

Gazing out at the sea, Roland frowned. If he wanted to go over and deal with those pirates himself, he’d have to use his Devil Fruit powers—or else row a boat, which he found unacceptable. What top master in any world ever rowed their own boat?

But using his Devil Fruit powers for something so trivial seemed unnecessary as well. After some thought, he decided a simple, direct approach was best—like using a flying slash to destroy the pirate ship altogether.

In any world, unless you’re an absolute powerhouse, the sea is always a threat. Even more so in this world of pirates, where monstrous sea beasts exist alongside sharks and other predators. Fall into the water, and you’re as good as dead. Didn’t the Lord of the Coast bite off a Yonko’s arm in one gulp?

“Hey, what are you doing up there? Get down, now!” On the deck below, Sanji frowned up at Roland atop the restaurant, clearly displeased. This restaurant was like home to him; he wouldn’t tolerate anyone treating it disrespectfully.

Roland glanced at Sanji below, but, for once, didn’t retort. He obediently jumped down. Since he’d already located the Black Cat Pirates’ Bezan Black, there was no point in lingering. Besides, he was still undecided about recruiting Sanji, so there was no need to leave a bad impression.

“Why are you carrying a knife? What are you planning?” Roland’s compliance caught Sanji off guard, but with the help of his cigarette, he quickly regained his composure and eyed the short blade in Roland’s hand, clearly uncomfortable.

“Just going to kill some pirates,” Roland explained as he stepped over the smaller boats toward the shore, staring at the distant Bezan Black.

“Pirates?” Sanji looked in the direction Roland was focusing on. Sure enough, a ship was anchored there. But how did he know they were pirates?

“Die—” Roland ignored Sanji, brandished his short blade, and unleashed a dark red flying slash toward the pirate ship.

“What the—” Sanji’s pupils contracted as he watched the dark red crescent-shaped energy blade soar outward. He stood frozen, even dropping the cigarette from his lips onto the deck.

What was that? He’d never heard of anyone using such an attack before. Was it really something a human could do?

But the single flying slash wasn’t all. Roland followed up with five or six more, each one aimed at the Bezan Black.

When he finished, Roland sheathed his blade and turned to head back to the restaurant for another meal. The after-dinner entertainment was over, and he found himself hungry again.

On the now-empty deck, only Sanji remained in disarray, buffeted by the wind. Staring at the dark red, indescribable attack, Sanji was numb with shock; even his desire for Nami had completely vanished.

But that wasn’t all. When he saw the dark red slashes slicing through the pirate ship like tofu, reducing it to splinters, his mind went blank with terror.

He’d actually tried to flirt with this man’s girlfriend just now? He’d even considered attacking him? Was this a joke? If he truly angered Roland, would the restaurant end up like that ship—cut to pieces by that unnamable power?

Staring at the blood-red sea, Sanji felt his scalp tingle. This was not a man to offend.

“Stop! There’s no fighting other customers inside the restaurant—”