"Don't misunderstand."
The voice immediately explained, "I mean those children no harm."
Waterlike ripples spread across the stone wall, and a figure in a suit and polished shoes slowly emerged, his cravat still crisp in the gloom.
It was Pica.
A sharp crack suddenly tore through the air!
A metal combat boot drove straight at his face, trailing a rush of air-
By the time night soaked the deck, Rossi had brought everyone back aboard.
In the shadows on deck, someone was hauling his wounded body over the railing.
It was Pica.
His soaked suit clung to his skin, water dripping from every crease.
The Swim-Swim Fruit's abilities had always been straightforward-infiltrate, investigate, withdraw.
Pica had never liked striking from the shadows, but for the family, some principles had to be set aside for a time.
"What happened?"
Pica wiped the blood from his face, moving slowly, as though the bruises and swelling belonged to someone else. "Ran into a gray-haired girl with horse ears."
He paused. "Couldn't beat her."
Jora handed him a glass bottle.
Pica took it, his Adam's apple bobbing as the medicine slid down his throat.
He exhaled a breath tinged with medicine.
"There's a cluster of buildings behind the arena."
His voice was as steady as if he were discussing someone else's affairs. "The cages don't just hold lions and tigers. There are also some... things I couldn't name.
"And-"
He rubbed the bruise on his cheekbone.
"A group of children.
"Children with animal features."
The wind on deck suddenly stopped.
"They call themselves the 'Mink Tribe.'"
Pica gazed toward the distant harbor lights. "They get homesick, they're afraid of the dark, they cry in secret-no different from those children on Odense Street back then."
Odense Street.
Fairy Tale Land.
There had never been