-Real World-
If Sanji had run into trouble on a route he was supposed to control, then the rest of the Straw Hats were probably in trouble too.
After the crew had split from the group they'd been moving with, the window of vulnerability had opened. Anyone waiting in the royal capital for exactly this kind of separation would not have let it pass.
Luffy had been standing on high ground near the inner wall, watching the direction of the city gate. He'd been trying to track Ace through the smoke and the noise — tens of thousands of enemies at once was a lot, even for the Fire Fist, and Luffy knew better than most people that caring about someone didn't make them invincible.
Then he saw the Hiken punch through the gate, and a few thousand camel cavalry ceased to be a problem.
He straightened up immediately, grinning. "Ace is still Ace. One day I'll catch up to him. I'll definitely get stronger."
The crew members around him absorbed his optimism the way they always did — involuntarily, like warmth from a fire. Even in a city under siege, the captain's certainty was contagious.
"Hey," Chopper said, tilting his head back. "Why is the rain black?"
No one answered immediately. The black specks drifting down from above didn't register as anything urgent until Robin's expression changed, and by then she was already opening her mouth to warn them.
The specks detonated.
Not all at once — in a sequence, each one remote-triggered, each blast timed to land just as the previous shockwave was fading. The explosions weren't large enough to level buildings, but they didn't need to be. The concussive waves stacked, and the Straw Hats were ally targeted — the black powder had drifted and settled on them with deliberate precision.
Nami and Usopp went down first, knocked unconscious by the overlapping pressure. Zoro and Luffy took the blasts meant for them directly — bodies forward, arms spread, using themselves as walls between the explosions and the crew behind them.
Robin moved immediately. Hana Hana no Mi (Flower-Flower Fruit) — a row of arms bloomed from the cobblestones, passing Nami and Usopp hand-to-hand out of the blast zone like a relay. Chopper went with them, stumbling but upright, positioned between the unconscious two and whatever was coming next.
Luffy stretched, caught a building ledge across the street, and slingshot himself, Zoro, and Robin clear of the remaining detonations. When the sequence ended, the street behind them was rubble and smoke.
Luffy looked at the damage and then looked at the sky. "What kind of weather does Arabasta have? Snow that explodes?"
Zoro had both swords out. He was already scanning.
"That was Mr. 5," Robin said, her voice level. She was watching the smoke, not the sky. "Bomu Bomu no Mi (Bomb-Bomb Fruit). Crocodile's people. This was coming sooner or later."
The smoke shifted. A tall figure walked out of it — golden hook catching what light there was, cigar at the corner of his mouth, sand still trailing off his coat. Crocodile looked at the three of them with the displeasure of a man who had expected this to be cleaner.
"Robin." His voice was dry. "Come back. I'll overlook the previous unpleasantness. Baroque Works still needs what only you can provide."
At his signal, the rest of them emerged from the shadows — the full cadre of Baroque Works, assembling around their positions like a closing hand.
Crocodile had run the numbers. The Straw Hats had been underestimated once; they wouldn't be underestimated again. And every day he spent without access to Robin was a day he fell further behind the people he actually needed to surpass. He hadn't managed to beat Kaido. He hadn't managed to put himself within striking distance of Whitebeard. Men like that were going to keep walking over people like him indefinitely unless he found a shortcut, and Robin was the shortcut. The ancient weapons existed. He just needed someone who could read the instructions.
Robin met his gaze and smiled. Not warmly.
"And if you get me, then what? You'll believe anything I tell you about the historical texts? I can say whatever I want. You have no way to verify it." She let that sit for a moment. "Crocodile, I'd make a wonderful liar for you. That's exactly the problem."
Crocodile had anticipated this too. It was why he'd thought about it carefully before coming. The others could die — even killing Luffy, which would make Dragon and certain Marines unhappy, was an acceptable cost. Robin had to be taken alive. The rest was details.
He would teach her patience. There were methods. He could wait.
"Mr. 2 hasn't returned with the princess," Robin said to no one in particular, her eyes still on Crocodile. "And Sanji hasn't come back. You've been busy today." She glanced at Luffy. "This is their full roster."
Luffy had already stopped listening. The moment Robin mentioned Sanji and Vivi being in danger, something in him had reorganized entirely around a single priority.
He looked at Crocodile. His expression had the simple, uncomplicated intensity of someone who has done the calculation and doesn't like the answer.
"You're the one who made Vivi cry." He raised his fists. "And the curly-haired uncle dying — that's connected to you too." His arms began to stretch back, loading the rubber tension. "You owe me for all of it. Today you're paying."
He launched himself at Crocodile and hit — or rather, hit where Crocodile had been. The sand swallowed the punch and reconstituted itself around his arm, and Crocodile's hand closed around Luffy's wrist with the grip of someone who had done this before.
Logia. No Armament Haki, no contact. Exactly the same as last time.
Luffy pulled free and reset, undeterred.
Zoro took one step toward the exchange and found Mr. 1 already in the space between them.
Daz Bonez — Mr. 1 — looked at him with the flat patience of a man who had been waiting for exactly this. "Your swords any better since last time, green-hair?" He spread his arms, the blades already manifesting along his forearms. "Let's find out."
The sound of steel on steel filled the street.
On the far side of the engagement, Robin had become the center of a shrinking circle. Baroque Works soldiers — bounty hunters paid to be expendable — closed in from three directions, not trying to hurt her, not trying to overpower her. Just keeping her occupied. Preventing her from throwing arms across the battlefield to support anyone else.
Miss Double-Finger and Miss Valentine stepped out of the ring to make sure it held. Between hired blades and two senior agents, Robin's hands were going to be full.
And in the alley beyond the smoke, Chopper stood over two unconscious crewmates, watching the remaining Baroque Works agents filter toward him through the rubble — lighter hitters, third-tier agents, but enough of them that "enough" was the problem.
Three fights. All of them simultaneous. None of them simple.
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