At the same time.
Elsewhere in the New World, the Red Force floated motionless on the sea.
The sea breeze swept across the deck. The Red Hair Pirates, usually full of laughter, the smell of liquor, and song, were frighteningly quiet.
Shanks stood at the bow.
Beckman leaned against the mast, a cigarette between his lips.
The meat in Lucky Roux's hand hung halfway to his mouth. He had not even taken a bite.
Yasopp gripped his gun, staring past the water at a distant warship.
The warship neither advanced nor formed up to attack. It simply drifted there.
Like a nail driven into the sea before the Red Hair Pirates.
But the warship was not what had silenced the entire Red Force. It was the two men at its bow.
Issho sat at the bow, his Shikomizue beside him, slowly eating a bowl of hot noodles.
He ate with complete attention, as if he were at a street stall in an ordinary town rather than in an Emperor's waters.
Mihawk sat even more quietly beside him.
Black Blade Yoru stood at his side, its blade dark as an abyss.
He had not drawn it or released any killing intent. Yet merely seeing him there made everyone's throat tighten.
[World's Greatest Swordsman · Dracule Mihawk]
Beckman slowly exhaled a mouthful of smoke, his voice low.
"Even Mihawk came..."
Lucky Roux finally lowered his meat. "Hey, this isn't ordinary surveillance, is it?"
Yasopp looked toward Shanks.
"Boss."
"What's the Navy after?"
Shanks did not answer.
He looked at the Navy flag fluttering in the wind, then at Mihawk on the warship's bow. Their eyes met across the sea.
There were no sparks, only a silence impossible to ignore.
Shanks understood perfectly.
Mihawk was not here for a casual visit, and Issho