As Don Krieg raised his brass-knuckled fist, ready to end Sanji once and for all, a massive splash erupted from the shoreline.
WHOOSH—SPLASH!
Everyone turned toward the sea.
A large, six-armed Fishman emerged from the waves, his webbed feet stomping onto the sand. His pink, bulbous head glistened under the sun.
The moment he surfaced, he glanced around, as if looking for something.
"Mohmoo! Where are you? Are you here? Mohmoo..Haaaa?! MOHMOO!!"
Hatchan bellowed, spotting the enormous Sea King cow lying unconscious on the beach nearby. The poor creature groaned weakly, clearly having been knocked out in a prior scuffle.
"My precious Mohmoo!! Who did this?!"
Hatchan's round eyes burned with fury. He stomped closer, each step shaking the ground slightly, his six muscular arms clenched.
Sanji, still battered but standing, wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. He watched the newcomer with cautious eyes.
"That's your pet?" he muttered.
Hatchan snapped his head toward Sanji. "You! Did you do this?!"
Sanji simply lifted his hand and pointed—not at himself—but straight at Don Krieg.
"That guy."
Krieg blinked. "What the hell—? I don't even know what that *thing* is!"
But Hatchan already furiously eyeing Krieg.
"You liar!!" Hatchan roared. "NO ONE HITS MOHMOO AND GETS AWAY WITH IT!"
With all six arms clenched, he charged Krieg like a charging bull, water flying off his limbs.
BOOM!
His first punch—a straight jab from his upper left fist—slammed into Krieg's chest, sending the warlord staggering backward. Krieg growled and retaliated, swinging a brass-knuckled uppercut at Hatchan's chin.
*CRACK!*
The blow connected hard, sending Hatchan stumbling back a few feet.
"Damn octopus hits like a cannon…" Krieg muttered, spitting to the side.
"I've got six arms, moron!" Hatchan yelled, now furious. "You're gonna taste every single one!"
Suddenly, he ducked low and spun, sweeping Krieg's legs with a sweeping kick. Krieg jumped to avoid it, but Hatchan was already up—two fists hammering down on Krieg's shoulders.
*THUD—THUD!*
Krieg grunted, but retaliated with a brutal straight punch to Hatchan's gut.
*WHAM!*
Hatchan slid backward in the sand, coughing—but his eyes gleamed.
"That's it. Now I'm mad!"
He leapt backward into the water, vanishing beneath the waves.
"What's he doing now? Escaping?" Krieg grunted.
Suddenly—
SHLORP—WHOOSH!
Hatchan burst from the sea, this time wielding six swords—one in each hand. The blades twirled like whirling fans, gleaming under the sun.
"I warned you! Now face the Six-Sword Style: *Octo Slash Barrage!*"
With a powerful leap, Hatchan lunged forward like a spinning buzzsaw. Krieg ducked the first two slashes, but the third sliced across his shoulder, tearing through his clothes and drawing blood.
SHING—CLANG—SLASH!
Metal clashed with knuckles and...flesh. Sand exploded beneath their feet as Hatchan's blades cut through the air with blinding speed.
Krieg growled, raising his brass-knuckled fists to defend himself. He swatted aside one sword, then countered with a heavy punch, narrowly missing Hatchan's head.
"Tch… freak's faster than he looks," Krieg muttered, retreating a step.
Hatchan pressed the attack, swords striking from all angles. Krieg deflected what he could with his fists, but without armor, he was forced to twist and dodge with brute reflexes alone.
"STAND STILL, DAMN IT!" he shouted.
But Hatchan was already behind him—two swords coming down in a cross strike.
CLANG—CLANG!
Krieg grunted as the blades scraped across his back, slicing shallow cuts. He staggered forward, breathing hard now, blood staining the sand beneath him.
"You're not so tough now huh." Hatchan taunted, advancing again, swords at the ready.
"THAT'S FOR MOHMOO!"
THWACK!
A spinning kick from Hatchan's long leg sent Krieg tumbling into a dune. He rolled once, spitting out sand.
On the sidelines, Sanji leaned against a jagged rock, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. He watched the chaos between Hatchan and Don Krieg with a faint smirk. "Well… that's one way to even the odds."
Beside him, Gin leaned on another rock, clutching his ribs and grimacing. "You planned that, didn't you?" he muttered.
Sanji shot him a sideways glance. "Planned what? I'm just a humble man. What did I do?"
"You pointed *real quick* when that Fishman asked who hurt his pet."
Sanji gave an exaggerated shrug. "What can I say? My fingers have a mind of their own."
Gin let out a dry chuckle, despite the pain. "You're a real piece of work."
"I get that a lot," Sanji said coolly, lighting a slightly bent cigarette. He took a drag and looked toward Krieg getting his clothes shredded. "Still… poetic, don't you think? He sucker-punched you, and now he's getting carved up like a roast chicken."
Gin didn't answer right away, but a faint smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. "...He deserves worse."
Sanji nodded slightly, smoke curling from his lips. "Let's hope the octopus agrees."
...
Inside Cocoyashi Village.
The battlefield had turned into chaos.
Zoro and Alvida clashed fiercely against Kuroobi and Chew—the two most formidable warriors among the Fishman ranks. Their battles drew attention like hurricanes at the center of a storm, steel and water crashing with explosive force. But beyond them, scattered across the village square, over a dozen other Fishman pirates loitered. Tension and uncertainty were written across their faces.
One of them—his eyes flicking nervously between Zino and the chaos—quietly began to inch away from the crowd. Another followed. Then a third. Step by cautious step, the furthest Fishmen began slipping into alleyways or ducking behind buildings, hoping to slink away unnoticed.
Zino saw it all.
He stood calmly amid the storm, arms crossed, watching the deserters with quiet amusement. A small, knowing smirk formed on his face. He made no move to stop them.
The remaining Fishmen glanced around, noticing their comrades sneaking off. Some hesitated, debating if they should join. Others, emboldened by the lack of reaction from Zino, began creeping backward as well.
But not all sought escape.
Among the bolder Fishmen, a darker plan took shape. Their slitted eyes turned toward the villagers gathered in the background—Nojiko, Genzo, and others. The pirates exchanged a quick glance. Without a word, they nodded to one another.
Hostages.
Silently, the Fishmen spread out in a crescent formation. Then—on an unspoken signal—they lunged forward in unison, aiming for the civilians.
Zino's eyes narrowed.
A shimmer of killing intent flickered behind his calm demeanor.
He vanished from his spot.
"Shigan: Tenkuren (Sky Barrage)!"
The air exploded.
From mid-air above the village square, Zino's fingers thrust forward like spears—each jab releasing a burst of compressed air like high-speed bullets. Invisible to most, they whistled through the air like a swarm of hornets.
THMP! THMP! THMP!
Each shot found its mark. The leading Fishmen stumbled mid-sprint, vital points struck cleanly—shoulders, knees, solar plexus—dropping them to the ground with a thud. One clutched his thigh, another rolled, gasping for air. A third collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.
A few of Zino's air bullets missed, slicing into walls or kicking up bursts of dirt.
*'Tsk… My control's still off.'* Zino frowned slightly. His technique—*Shigan: Tenkuren*—was powerful in concept, but spreading it across multiple moving targets with perfect accuracy was a challenge. A few milliseconds' delay, and the shots veered just wide.
Zino frowned as he reflected on his lacking control.
"Hey! What are you doing?!"
"Let go of me!"
Just then, two shouts snapped his attention back. Two Fishmen—among those who narrowly avoided his air barrage—had seized the opportunity. In the chaos, they darted forward and snatched two villagers from the crowd.
One of them was Genzo, the village sheriff, instantly recognizable by the colorful spinning pinwheel attached to his hat. He'd tried to stand protectively in front of the other villagers—but that made him an easy target.
The other hostage was a middle-aged farmer, kicking and struggling as the Fishman held him in a chokehold.
The moment froze.
Then, chaos resumed on a different note.
"Hostages secured! Back off, all of you!" barked one of the captors, pressing a dagger against Genzo's neck.
On the far side of the square, three other Fishmen had spotted Usopp. Thinking him an easy catch, they charged. Usopp's eyes went wide as saucers.
"W-Wha—AHHH!" he screamed, legs flailing as he bolted away, long nose bouncing with every terrified step.
"Come back here, long-nose!"
"We'll turn you into bait!"
The three Fishmen chased after him down a narrow alley, leaving behind a trail of kicked-up dust. Usopp's panicked shrieks echoed off the buildings as he vanished from view.
"Ussop!"
Kaya looked at the direction where Ussop run with a worried look. However, the situation is not right for her to go after Ussop. She is weak, and it will be easier for those fishman to capture her if they spotted her.
Meanwhile, the two Fishmen with hostages backed up, dragging their captives with them. The rest of the surviving Fishmen quickly converged around them, dragging their wounded allies with them. The formation was clear—they intended to use the hostages as a bargaining chip.
The battlefield's rhythm abruptly halted.
Zoro, mid-swing with Kuroobi, froze in place, blades drawn.
Alvida stepped back from Chew, her mace hovering inches above the ground.
All eyes turned toward the clustered group of Fishmen holding their trembling human shields.
From within the ring, one of the Fishmen snarled, "Nobody moves, or we slit their throats!"
The villagers gasped.
On one side, Chew growled in annoyance, but didn't intervene.
On the other side, Kuroobi clenched his jaw, glancing between the hostage situation and Zoro. "Tch… weaklings," he muttered under his breath.
"Genzo!"
Both Nami and Nojiko cried out in unison, panic flooding their voices as they watched Genzo held tightly in the grasp of a Fishman. The sight of the village sheriff—so often their pillar of strength—reduced to a hostage, shook them.
Around them, the villagers stirred into unrest. Mothers shielded their children. Farmers clutched their tools, unsure whether to fight or freeze. The tension became a pressure in the air—thick, suffocating.
But Zino… remained still.
His eyes locked onto the two Fishmen holding the hostages. Cold, razor-sharp, unblinking.
"What do you think you're doing?" Zino asked, voice low, calm—but with an edge like tempered steel.
"Don't move!" barked one of the Fishmen. "If you try anything, we'll slit their throats!"
The blade in his hand trembled slightly as he pressed it closer to Genzo's neck.
Zino didn't flinch.
"You've got guts," he said, narrowing his eyes. "But do you really think a hostage makes you safe?"
That glare—it was like the calm before a storm. The Fishmen felt it. A chill crept down their spines despite the heat of the day.
Still, they tried to bluff it out.
"If you let us go, we'll release them! Just back off and no one gets hurt!"
From behind, Nami's eyes flicked toward Zino, silently pleading. "Zino…"
He didn't answer her at first. Just stared at the Fishmen.
Seconds passed in silence.
Then—Zino exhaled slowly, as though coming to a decision.
"Fine." He raised one hand slightly. "You can go."
The Fishmen blinked in disbelief.
"But," Zino continued, pointing at Kuroobi and Chew, and voice turning colder, "They stay. As Arlong's top enforcers, they don't get to walk free."
The two—Kuroobi and Chew, frowned as they glanced at Zino's direction.
"Tch… you think we'd run?" Kuroobi muttered under his breath.
But the hostage-takers focused only on their escape. They began to back away slowly, inching toward the edge of the square.
Zino watched their every step.
"Let me warn you," he added, his tone now heavy with quiet threat. "If you try anything funny, if even one of those hostages is harmed…"
His right leg shifted back. His stance dropped.
"Rankyaku!"
With a thunderous *crack*, Zino's leg lashed out in a sharp arc. A massive crescent of compressed wind exploded from his kick, towering taller than two men. It tore across the battlefield with a high-pitched screech, slicing straight through two buildings, reducing them to rubble in a flash, before shooting out of the village and vanishing into the far-off horizon.
The villagers gasped.
Dust filled the air.
The Fishmen holding the hostages flinched, stunned by the sheer precision and destruction of the attack.
Zino's eyes narrowed like a blade being drawn.
"Try me… and I won't hesitate to kill!"
The Fishmen now visibly *sweated*, the bravado on their faces cracked. They gripped the hostages tighter—not with confidence, but fear.
They understood.
This man was not bluffing.
And their lives were now hanging by a thread finer than a strand of hair.