Dressrosa – Donquixote Doflamingo's Palace
A harsh, manic laugh echoed through the grand halls of Dressrosa's palace, causing several of Doflamingo's underlings to glance at each other warily. The man himself lounged in his extravagant chair, the newspaper spread before him like a game board laid bare.
"Fuffuffuffuffu!"His grin stretched wide, tongue running along his teeth as his pink coat slid off one muscled shoulder. Golden lenses caught the chandelier's light as he tilted his head, amusement glittering behind the opaque glass. "I'll be damned. Sir Crocodile, back from the dead and playing house with a woman? Nowthat'sa surprise."
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and tapped the grainy image with a gloved finger. Smoke from a nearby ashtray curled lazily in the air, mingling with the faint hum of distant music drifting from Dressrosa's city streets.
"Serapha, huh? That sand bastard never did know how to lay low." His grin widened, teeth gleaming. "Not that I mind. This just makes thingsinteresting."
Trebol, his ever-loyal executive, sniffled loudly, wiping at his perpetually running nose with a sleeve. His large, mucus-covered frame shifted as he leaned closer, peering at the photo. "Doffy, you think he's makin' a comeback, ehhh?"
Doflamingo chuckled, low and dark. "Of coursehe is."
Men like Crocodile didn't simply fade away. They bided their time, waited for the world to forget, and then struck when least expected. Doflamingo recognized the pattern—after all, it was a game he knew intimately.
"But look at him," he mused, tilting the paper so the light hit the photograph's grainy details. "Relaxed. Comfortable.Soft,even." The word dripped with mockery. "People like him? They don't get to be soft."
The paper crinkled as he tossed it aside, rising to his full, imposing height. Muscles tensed beneath his open shirt as he cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders with a faint pop. The air in the room seemed to tighten as his presence filled the space, commanding attention without effort.
"Keep an eye on him," Doflamingo ordered, voice sharp as broken glass. "If Crocodile's back, he's up to something. And I want to knowexactlywhat that is before he starts getting any bright ideas."
Trebol sniffled again, already shifting toward the door. "Ehhh,what if he's just... settled down, huh? Maybe he's gone all soft for some pretty face—"
Doflamingo's laughter cut through the air like a whip, sharp and biting. "Him? Settled?Not a damn chance."
He paced toward the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked Dressrosa's thriving streets, hands sliding into his pockets as he gazed down at the people moving below like ants. Their laughter and music drifted faintly through the glass, oblivious to the storm that always brewed above them.
Crocodile was a man who lived for power, control, and ambition. If he had resurfaced, it meant he had something in the works. The only question waswhat.
...And who the hell was the woman?
Doflamingo's gaze flicked to the newspaper again. She wasn't some fragile ornament—no, the way she walked beside Crocodile, her posture poised yet fluid, suggested something far more dangerous. She belonged beside him, not as a trophy, but as a player in her own right.
If she was an investment, Crocodile was securing an alliance.
If she was a tool, he was planning a move.
And if she was somethingmore?
Then Crocodile had a weakness.
A slow grin curled on Doflamingo's lips. "Fuffuffuffuffu...Maybe I should pay Serapha a visit."
Pica's distorted voice rumbled from the shadows near the doorway, his towering form half-hidden in the dim light. "Areee~Are you going to mess with him, Doffy?"
Doflamingo chuckled darkly, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "Not yet."
He wasn't stupid. Crocodile was no fool, and poking him just for fun could lead to complications. But that didn't mean he wouldn't watch. Every man had limits—and finding where Crocodile's lay might just be worth the wait.
He rolled his shoulders once more, feeling the tension coil in his muscles like a predator preparing to pounce.
"Call my contacts in Serapha," he ordered without looking back. "I want information.Now."
Trebol shuffled out, already making the arrangements.
Doflamingo smirked to himself as the door swung shut behind him.
Crocodile might think he was taking control of the game.
But he wasn't the only one playing.
Kuraigana Island – Dracule Mihawk's Castle
The night air clung heavy with the scent of aged paper, wax, and the faint aroma of wine. Dim candlelight flickered against stone walls, casting long shadows that danced across shelves of ancient tomes and maps.
Mihawk sat in his leather chair, legs crossed, a glass of deep red clutched lazily in his fingers. The fire crackled quietly in the hearth beside him, its warmth casting a faint amber glow over the newspaper spread open on the nearby desk.
"Interesting," he murmured, swirling the wine with slow precision. The faint clink of glass echoed softly in the quiet room.
Hovering nearby, Perona peeked over his shoulder, her pink hair swaying slightly as she floated closer. Her eyes lit up with curiosity as she scanned the headline. "Ooooh!Is that Crocodile?He'swith a woman?" She giggled, her voice a playful lilt. "Who knew he even had emotions?Shishishi!"
Mihawk's lips barely twitched in amusement, though the faintest glint of something knowing flickered behind his golden eyes. "Hmph. The world often underestimates a man once he appears tamed."
He finally glanced at the paper, the flickering candlelight casting sharp shadows across the angular planes of his face. His gaze lingered briefly on the woman beside Crocodile, taking in the subtle details—the set of her shoulders, the quiet confidence in her stride. Not a decoration, but something deliberate. Calculated.
"If Crocodile has chosen to return to the public eye in this manner..." Mihawk murmured, lifting the glass of wine to his lips, "...it means the tides are shifting."
The room settled into silence once more, save for the distant howl of wind beyond the castle walls and the faint crackle of fire. But the peace was soon broken by a loud, exaggerated snore from the corner of the room.
Mihawk turned his gaze slightly, eyes landing on the figure sprawled across the worn leather couch near the hearth.
Roronoa Zoro lay with his arms crossed over his chest, three swords resting within reach at his side. His breathing was slow and deep, the faint flicker of firelight glinting off the polished steel of his blades.
Perona scowled, puffing out her cheeks. "Ugh! How can he sleep so much?Andin your study, of all places!Shishishi!"
Mihawk ignored her, reaching for a cork that had been left beside the bottle of wine. With a flick of his wrist, the cork flew across the room with sharp precision, striking Zoro squarely on the forehead with a dullthud.
"Oi—!" Zoro twitched, scowling even in his sleep. "Tch...stupid curly brows..." he mumbled, still half-asleep.
"Wake up, Roronoa," Mihawk said calmly, setting his wine glass down with a faint clink.
Zoro groaned, stretching with a slow yawn as he sat up, scratching the back of his head. "What now, old man...?" He rubbed one eye and blinked blearily at the newspaper Mihawk pushed toward him.
"Crocodile has resurfaced," Mihawk said simply.
Zoro took the paper with a lazy scowl, scanning the bold headline. "The hell?That sand bastard's out parading around with some woman?" He snorted, tossing the newspaper back onto the desk with a rustle of paper. "Figures. Bet she's just another pawn in whatever scheme he's cooking up."
Perona grinned mischievously. "Sounds likeloveto me~"
Zoro scoffed. "Love?Withhim?The guy doesn't even have a heart."
Mihawk's golden gaze lingered on the photograph. "Perhaps." Yet, despite the faint amusement in his tone, his eyes remained unreadable.
Zoro leaned back, arms crossed once more. "Either way, not my problem. If he tries anything stupid, Luffy'll just punch him again."
Perona giggled. "Shishishi!Still, can you imagine? Crocodile, of all people, going soft for a woman?"
Zoro snorted. "Yeah, sure. And maybe Mihawk secretly knits in his spare time."
Silence.
Zoro cracked one eye open suspiciously. "...Wait.Doyou?"
Mihawk took a slow sip of wine, offering no response.
Perona burst into laughter, spinning in midair with glee. "Shishishishi!"
Zoro groaned, tugging his bandana over his face with a huff. "I'm going back to sleep. Wake me up when Crocodile does something actually important."
Mihawk smirked faintly, fingers brushing against the stem of his wine glass as he gazed back at the flickering firelight.
"Rest while you can, Roronoa." His voice drifted like distant thunder, low and measured. "This... is only the beginning."