104
A hushed gasp sounded in the air, and someone squeezed a name through clenched teeth:
"That Devil Fruit..."
Darkness gathered into a claw and closed on his throat.
Rossi did not dodge.
The cold gleam of his drawn blade cleaved through the viscous night. A streak of black and red tore through the swelling shadow like heavy velvet.
A shrill metallic clash followed-his sword stopped in midair, clamped tight between five pitch-black fingers.
"You're in the way."
Rossi raised his eyes toward the indistinct face behind those fingers.
The figure snorted, released the blade, and retreated.
Had another power not coated its surface, that slash would already have cut it in two.
"Why get angry?"
An amused voice came from the other side.
A figure carrying a long sword on his shoulder tilted his head, the blade gleaming with cold steel's distinctive blue-gray sheen in the dim light.
"We're merely shadows summoned here.
Without Haki sustaining me, I wouldn't even qualify to stand here and talk."
"Shut up."
The shadow that had retreated turned its face aside, its voice full of irritation.
Though they were all illusions, their memories and temperaments were no different from those of their originals.
Some old scores remained lodged deep in their consciousness, even across the years and the divide between life and death.
Rossi sheathed his sword and turned his gaze toward the figure in a dark red coat at the distant edge of the deck.
"Keep your guests in line."
His voice was quiet, yet the surroundings abruptly fell silent.
Wind swept past the mast, and the ropes rubbed together with faint creaks.
Someone beside the wine barrels sobered completely, the lingering drunkenness in his eyes replaced by astonishment; another tall figure silently shifted his feet, hiding deeper in the shadows by