Silence was tonight's Cambridge...
The strange atmosphere lasted a long time... until Kirishima Bupai finished his drink.
He rose as casually as if brushing dust from the hem of his clothes, yet the air throughout the tavern seemed to drop ten degrees the instant he stood.
Every strained pretense shattered at once. Swallowing, trembling cups and plates, and rustling fabric intertwined into a stifled concerto.
His gaze swept the room. The cigar between Smoker's fingers had gone out long ago, and ash drifted down from it.
Fear wrapped around everyone like a thick, tangible liquid.
"I'm leaving." Kirishima's voice was flat, as though stating a fact that had nothing to do with him.
He had come here to hear gossip in the first place, but these people were just great-so frightened they wouldn't say a thing. It really was a little boring. Kirishima headed straight for the door.
Creak-
The tavern's sand-scoured wooden door was pushed open.
Outside, the dry heat of Alabasta's night and the scent of dust surged in, a stark contrast to the frozen terror indoors.
Kirishima's figure merged into the thick darkness outside, like a drop of ink sinking into a sea of sand, and vanished without a trace.
Only when that invisible, suffocating pressure had completely dispersed in the desert's evening breeze did a chorus of long, trembling exhalations rise inside the tavern, as though everyone had survived a disaster.
Then came the sharp clatter of cups and plates. Some people lost their grip from weakness; others gulped down their long-cold drinks, only to choke and cough repeatedly.
More simply slumped in their seats, their backs soaked in cold sweat.
"The... the Demon King... is gone?" Usopp's voice verged on tears, the words barely squeezing through his teeth.
"..." Smoker silently relit his cigar. Its