Igarappoi, Kuina fought all Bounty Hunters

Miss Wednesday adjusted her tube top, gripping the oars of the small boat as she and Mr. 9 drifted toward Whiskey Peak. Their latest attempt at capturing Laboon had ended in complete failure—again. The giant whale had barely even noticed their efforts before casually swatting them away with his tail.

"Ugh," Mr. 9 groaned, rubbing his sore back. "That whale's tougher than he looks! We need a better plan next time."

Miss Wednesday rolled her eyes. "There won't be a next time if we don't hurry back. You know Mr. 0 doesn't like us slacking off."

A deep, mechanical whirring sound filled the air as Whiskey Peak appeared on the horizon.

Both agents froze, their boat rocking slightly as they instinctively looked up.

A massive teardrop-shaped fortress, gray and cloud-like, soared through the sky, casting an enormous shadow over the ocean beneath it. The structure gleamed under the afternoon sun, its propellers spinning furiously, keeping it aloft. Jet Dials blasted compressed air, propelling it toward Whiskey Peak at an incredible speed.

"What the—?!" Mr. 9 nearly fell backward.

Miss Wednesday's eyes widened in shock. "What in the world is that…?"

For a brief moment, she felt something—a chill of uncertainty. The sight of the floating fortress was awe-inspiring, but it also carried an ominous weight, as if a storm was approaching.

Miss Wednesday clenched her fists as the strange flying structure roared above them, heading straight for Whiskey Peak.

***

The lively murmur of Whiskey Peak's taverns filled the air as Jacob, Conis, and Kaya stepped onto the cobbled streets. Their entrance had been silent—Alvida's devil fruit ability had allowed them to slip through a reflective portal unnoticed, emerging inside a dimly lit bar.

Jacob adjusted his coat as he took in the scene. The bar was crowded with rugged men and women, bounty hunters disguising themselves as ordinary citizens. Many turned to eye the newcomers—a tall, long-nosed man flanked by two blondes—with amused grins and a glint of greed in their eyes.

Dressed elegantly yet practically, Kaya tucked a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear and whispered, "They're watching us."

Conis, her small angelic wings twitching slightly, nodded. "They probably think we're normal people."

Jacob didn't reply. He already knew what kind of town this was—a place where bounty hunters lured pirates in with false hospitality before taking their heads for a reward.

Without hesitation, Jacob strode toward a tall man seated near the bar, his curled hair giving him a distinct look. Igarappoi—the mayor of Whiskey Peak.

Igarappoi barely had time to react before a pouch of money hit the table in front of him with a solid thud.

Jacob leaned in, voice low but firm. "Tell me where Hanafuda is."

The entire room stilled. Conversations quieted as the bounty hunters discreetly listened in.

Igarappoi eyed the pouch, then Jacob. He let out a dry chuckle. "That's a bold question, young man. What makes you think I have the answer?"

Jacob's gaze darkened. He wasn't here to play games.

He leaned in and whispered to the tall mayor, "I can help you defeat Crocodiles, Igaram."

 Igarappoi's lips twitched as he let out a forced chuckle; he reached for the ale in front of him, his fingers tightening around the mug of ale he had just grabbed. The lively atmosphere of the tavern persisted, but Jacob did notice the subtle tension in his posture.

With an easygoing smile, the so-called mayor waved a hand dismissively. "Now, now, my friend. Such wild claims should not be spoken so freely, lest the wrong ears hear them," he said cheerfully. But there was a slight tremor in his voice.

Jacob didn't back down. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. "You don't need to play dumb, Igaram. You were a royal guard of Arabasta before you infiltrated Baroque Works, and you still serve the royal family. I imagine Crocodile would be very interested to know that."

Igarappoi paled. The bounty hunters nearby—some pretending to drink, others engaged in fake conversations—had sharp ears. He couldn't afford for them to catch even a hint of this exchange.

Forcing out a hearty laugh, Igarappoi clapped Jacob on the back. "Ah, my friend! What an interesting tale you weave! Why don't we take this discussion somewhere more... private?" His voice was exaggeratedly cheerful, but Jacob could feel the nervous energy behind it.

Kaya and Conis exchanged glances. They knew what just happened—Igarappoi was rattled, and that meant Jacob had struck gold.

Without another word, Igarappoi led them out of the tavern, all smiles as if leading honored guests. But Jacob knew the truth. The man was shaken.

Inside the office, Igaram locked the door behind him before turning to face Jacob in visible distress. With a trembling hand, he adjusted his curly wig.

"How… how did you uncover my identity?" he asked hushedly, eyes darting between Jacob and the two blondes.

Jacob merely smirked and put his hands in his coat's pockets, offering no answer. His silence made Igaram more anxious, forcing the disguised royal guard to shift his concerns elsewhere.

"Forget that for now. Can you really stand against Crocodile?" Igaram demanded. His voice was no longer the jolly facade of Igarappoi but the concerned urgency of a man who had spent years desperately trying to protect his country.

Jacob lifted his fist in response, and a swirling white flame erupted around it. The heat in the room rose instantly, yet there was something else—the black metallic sheen that laced the young man's hand, making it shimmer with an unnatural density.

Igaram staggered back, sweat forming at his temples. He swallowed hard.

Jacob clenched his fist, making the flames flicker ominously. "Does this answer your question?"

Igaram inhaled deeply, glancing at Kaya and Conis, who stood calmly beside Jacob. If men like these were willing to challenge Crocodile, then perhaps… perhaps Arabasta had a sliver of hope.

After a moment of hesitation, Igaram sighed and spoke. "Hanafuda… left for Little Garden six days ago. He was looking for Ancient Zoan fruits—apparently, he was bored."

Jacob nodded, satisfied. "Then that's where we're headed next."

He turned toward the door, Kaya and Conis following close behind.

As Jacob reached for the handle, Igaram called out one last time.

"If you're really going to fight Crocodile… be careful. He's more dangerous than you think."

Jacob simply smirked over his shoulder. "I'll be the judge of that."

With that, he stepped out of the office, ready to depart for Little Garden.

***

The moment Kuina stepped out of the mirror, her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, her dark eyes scanning the streets of Whiskey Peak. She had one goal: to challenge every capable swordsman in Baroque Works.

It started modestly. A single duel inside a bar—a confident bounty hunter smirking as he accepted her challenge. He was on the ground in two moves.

Then came another. And another.

Word spread like wildfire.

Soon, a dozen swordsmen surrounded her on the main street. Then fifty. Then over a hundred.

The battle turned into an all-out brawl, but Kuina moved like a storm, her sword flashing like silver lightning. Each strike was precise, and each movement was calculated. She cut through the bounty hunters like they were nothing.

The city was in chaos.

The sound of clashing steel echoed through the streets as more and more fighters fell. Bodies piled up, groaning in pain. The bounty hunters of Whiskey Peak had expected an easy fight—but they were now panicking.

Kuina exhaled calmly, lowering her sword after defeating her 115th opponent. The streets of Whiskey Peak were littered with groaning bounty hunters, the once-boisterous city now filled with nothing but the sounds of labored breathing and clattering steel.

Then came a punch.

A massive fist hurtled toward Kuina's face at incredible speed. She barely had to move—tilting her head just enough for the punch to graze past her cheek.

Her attacker?

A towering woman, skin as dark as polished onyx, with vivid pink hair tied into a short twin tail. Her muscles rippled with power, veins pulsing with tension.

Her strength was unnatural, far beyond that of the bounty hunters Kuina had cut down so far. But speed was her weakness.

As soon as the punch missed, Kuina countered instantly.

A sharp strike to the back of Miss Monday's knee forced her to buckle, and in the same motion, Kuina struck the side of her neck with the flat of her blade, sending her crashing to the ground.

The street fell dead silent.

The remaining bounty hunters froze, their weapons trembling in their hands.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Miss Monday roared, coughing as she struggled to stand. "Why are you attacking us all of a sudden?!"

Kuina flicked the blood off her blade and sheathed it in one smooth motion. She looked down at Miss Monday with a calm yet unreadable expression.

"I wanted to experience the strength of the Grand Line."

Miss Monday stared at her in disbelief—then slumped to the side, unconscious.

That was all it took.

The remaining bounty hunters panicked. Some threw down their swords, others bolted in terror, pushing past each other to flee.

Kuina stood tall, her eyes sharp, her hand steady on her hilt.