For everyone present except Ajin, it was their first time hearing of "Rokushiki." The thought of a man hardening his body enough to shrug off bullets made even William frown.
"That's not Devil Fruit power?" Edmund asked, incredulous.
"No," Ajin answered firmly. "But William's ability might counter his Tekkai. What worries me more is Soru—a burst-movement technique. His speed is so great my eyes can barely track him. Before I saw it, I didn't think it was possible for a human to move that fast. And if he's carrying seastone… with Soru, all it takes is one slip. If William can't match that speed, Roy can still hurt him."
"Goddamn it," Tony cursed. "What's a monster like that doing in the East Blue?"
"Better to be the head of a rooster than the tail of a phoenix," William murmured, half to himself. He could guess at Roy's mindset.
On the Grand Line, a man who'd only mastered two of the six Rokushiki forms would be nothing special. But here, in the East Blue, he was a kingmaker—a minister's guest of honor, the Navy's trusted ally, and the uncrowned ruler of his branch base.
Here, he could chase pirate crews like stray dogs. In these seas, he was a giant standing at the very top of the food chain.
The weight of Roy's reputation dulled the earlier excitement. Yet William showed no sign of disappointment. He had never planned to rely on his Logia powers alone to overturn the balance. Better to know Roy's strength now than only discover it in battle.
He glanced at the others' troubled faces and smiled. "If nothing else, this shows I was right to move when I did. At least now we've seen how vast the world really is. Otherwise, we'd still be frogs in a well."
Aramis muttered, "I'd rather be a frog in a well. If one Roy is this strong, how terrifying must the monsters at Marine Headquarters be? Blocking bullets with flesh—come on, isn't that a bit much?"
William ignored him. He clapped his hands lightly, the sound echoing through the steamy bathhouse and snapping the men out of their thoughts. "How long have we been at sea? Once upon a time, Barbarossa seemed untouchable. Now he's dead, and even his crew sails under a new flag."
He gave them a crooked smile. "Is your resolve really so fragile? Or is it that you've no confidence in your captain?"
Aramis scratched his head sheepishly. "Of course not. It's just… thinking about how many monsters the Navy might have, it feels daunting."
"Then face the daunting," William said evenly. "That's what it means to be a man."
Aramis clenched his fists, and the others stiffened before nodding, spirits rekindled.
William let the silence linger before continuing. "The real reason I called you here is to discuss roles for the future. If anyone has objections, now's the time to speak."
He looked to Aramis first. "You'll be joining the crew. The current first mate is one of Barbarossa's old guard. I had him clean out Felton's loyalists, which earned him resentment from the veterans. The second mate is a former prisoner, a foreigner, and he strangled the old first mate with his own hands. The veterans will never truly accept him either. Once you board, focus on winning the old hands to your side. I'll arrange a few fights soon. With your swordsmanship, you'll stand out quickly. Once I promote you, you'll have firm footing."
Aramis blinked, then frowned. "Why not just promote me straight away?"
"Because you're still a newcomer," William snapped, his tone suddenly sharp. "Half the crew doesn't even know your name yet. If I hand you the title, will they respect you? Or will they see you as my pet?" He leaned forward. "And listen well: once you're aboard, cut the glib tongue and clever tricks. You're no longer some rookie on Danton's ship. You'll be an officer soon. Don't give the old wolves reason to look down on you."
Chastened, Aramis gave a meek nod.
William shifted his gaze. "Tony, you'll be in charge of maintaining ties with the Navy. Ajin will arrange an introduction to your new best friend—Nezumi, that greedy officer."
Tony looked surprised. "Why me? Isn't that Ajin's job?"
"Ajin has more important duties. He won't be our front man anymore." William's smile returned, but his eyes were firm. "Your task is light, but it matters. Wine him, dine him, flatter him, bribe him. Get Nezumi firmly in our pocket. I'm about to meet Roy face-to-face. Once we're officially working with him, I can't be seen courting his subordinates. That job falls to you—you'll be my representative."
Across the bathhouse, Sherlock dabbed theatrically at his face with a towel, hiding the smirk tugging at his lips.
Tony's roots in Maple Village had always been a double-edged sword. His uncle Omar was the village chief, and Tony had once been its swaggering bully. With William setting up his base here, Tony's influence loomed larger than it should.
If Tony had been as steady as Ajin, as loyal as Edmund, or as clear-eyed as Sherlock, William wouldn't have minded. But William knew Tony's flaws as well as Sherlock did. Tony's sway was no threat to William's power—but it was enough to become a nuisance.
So William would redirect him. Remove him from Maple Village politics, give him a task that felt prestigious. Public relations. A fine-sounding title, a critical role.
And the truth was, Tony was perfect for it. With his background as a dockside smuggler and petty gang boss, he could rub elbows with thieves, merchants, and officers alike.
As expected, Tony brightened at the assignment, agreeing readily, with not a hint of resentment.
Sherlock, seeing through the maneuver, felt no bitterness. His late father Sasarian had taught him: there are many ways to fix a problem, but the best is to never let it arise in the first place. Prevention was stronger than cure.
William's foresight only raised Sherlock's respect for him further, and with it, his confidence in their captain's future.
When Tony's arrangements were settled, William turned to Sherlock. "You'll stay on shore to build our business. I've already spoken with you about mead—honey wine. We'll aim at the health and gift markets. How's the brewery coming along?"
"The brewing's no problem," Sherlock shrugged. "But as you said from the start, the recipe isn't what matters. Marketing and distribution are the real key."
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