Pouf drifted down gracefully, his boots touching the deck as he drew the rapier from his hip. The man cut a striking figure, black trousers, a white shirt with a wide, flowerlike collar fluttering in the sea breeze.
Teach understood his intent immediately. Pouf meant to challenge Miles using swordsmanship alone, showing his worth in front of the entire crew. Everyone aboard knew the man possessed a Devil Fruit ability, so this was a statement of pride, proof that he could stand tall even without it.
Still, wasn't that a touch overconfident? Pouf's swordsmanship hadn't quite reached the level of a true Sword Master, while Miles had honed both his combat instincts and physical prowess through countless battles.
Even so, Teach doubted Pouf would lose. The man had awakened Observation Haki, and his speed was exceptional. But victory wouldn't come easy, Pouf lacked real combat experience, whereas Miles had been among Teach's earliest recruits, fighting beside him through fire and storm. Experience, Teach knew, could turn even an average fighter into a deadly one.
"I'm coming. Watch yourself," Miles warned, lowering his stance. The next instant, his figure blurred and vanished, darting toward Pouf like a gust of wind.
"So fast!" Pouf's eyes narrowed. His Observation Haki was already active, tracking Miles's movement with sharp precision.
Miles's speed was impressive. He had studied the Six Powers techniques aboard the ship and could already perform Soru, though not yet perfectly. Even so, it was enough to make him a difficult opponent.
Teach's eyes gleamed with approval. The Six Powers really is a lifetime art, he thought. With proper study, its techniques could evolve endlessly, especially since the six forms could be combined in countless creative ways.
"Interesting," Pouf murmured, smiling faintly before vanishing from sight himself. His speed was extraordinary, so fast that only those with trained eyes could follow his movement.
"Let me show you my Shining Swordplay," he said with a hint of theatrical flair. "Don't blink. Shining Swordplay: Flash!"
A burst of silver brilliance exploded across the deck, so dazzling that everyone instinctively flinched and turned away.
"What-?" Miles barely registered the blinding light before a sharp sting hit his eyes. He winced, and that single moment of hesitation sealed his fate. When he forced his eyes open again, Pouf was already beside him, blade poised.
Miles swung on reflex, but before his strike could land, cold steel pressed against his throat.
Gasps swept across the deck. No one expected the fight to end in a single move.
Teach's brow lifted in surprise. The principle behind the technique was deceptively simple, extreme speed paired with a flash bright enough to disrupt vision. Effective, elegant, and dangerous.
His swordsmanship was refined, there was noble discipline in every motion. Clearly, Pouf had trained with a blade since childhood.
Teach chuckled softly. I underestimated him. Some people really are born gifted. Effort alone can't always bridge that gap.
Miles stood frozen for a heartbeat before lowering his head. "I lost," he admitted. His voice carried no bitterness... only respect. "As expected of someone the Captain personally invited. Your technique's sharp. Looks like I've still got some work to do."
Teach stepped forward, laughing heartily. "Since the match is settled, it's time to board! We're setting sail. Everyone, welcome our new companion, Pouf! From today, he's the dancer of the Nightfall Pirates. And to celebrate, feast tonight!"
The word feast set off an instant uproar.
"Thanks to Pouf, we get another banquet!"
"Feast! Feast! Feast!"
Teach grinned. He'd learned long ago that nothing bonded a crew faster than battle and celebration—wisdom carried over from the Whitebeard Pirates.
"Pouf," he said, turning with a teasing grin, "as our ship's dancer, you'd better give us a real performance tonight. Something with flair. None of those dainty noble dances, we're pirates, after all."
Pouf flicked his hair dramatically, then remembered too late that it had been cut short. The gesture faltered, earning a few chuckles from the watching crew.
"Of course," he declared proudly. "As the most perfect man, I am fluent in every form of dance. Even pirates will be captivated by my grace."
He pulled a small mirror from his pocket, flashing a dazzling smile at his reflection.
Teach laughed. "Then I'll look forward to it. Next, we'll need a musician to accompany you."
Pouf's eyes lit up, delighted. Teach's thinking matched his own perfectly.
"Captain," Baccarat said with a smirk, "I can't believe you actually recruited him. Things are going to get lively from now on."
Teach grinned wider. "That's the idea. I'll make sure he knows joining us was the right choice."
He turned toward the sea, his laughter echoing over the waves. "All hands, prepare to sail! Full speed ahead! We're leaving the Bocaboca Kingdom behind. Next stop, Loguetown! Our East Blue journey is over. We're heading for the West Blue!"
"West Blue!" someone shouted. "Let those Marines eat dirt!"
The fleet of three pirate ships was lashed close together, no more than a few meters apart, allowing easy passage between them.
The feast would come later. For now, training continued. No one slacked off, not even Teach himself.
Inside the training room, Teach pushed through his own regimen while Pouf watched. The crew's discipline surprised him. They trained relentlessly, their seriousness infectious.
"I can't fall behind," he murmured, retreating to his cabin. Though newly joined, Teach had given him an executive's rank. But compared to the others, his strength still lagged. His speed and technique were good but in an all-out fight.
His victory over Miles had come down to surprise and precision, not overwhelming power. If they fought again, the same trick might fail. He'd have to train harder.
Meanwhile, far away on the open sea, five Marine warships thundered across the waves. After days of pursuit at full speed, fatigue weighed on every sailor aboard.
Inside the central ship's cabin, Vice Admiral Brom rubbed his temples. "Still no trace of the Nightfall Pirates?"
"No, sir," a communications officer replied. "Ever since they left Bar Harbor, our agents haven't spotted them once."
"They must've caught wind of our arrival and gone to ground," a lieutenant commander said with a relieved chuckle.
"They won't linger long," another officer added. "They've probably left the East Blue already."
Brom sighed, sinking into his chair. "Fine. Have the local branches keep their eyes open. For now, let's rest and resupply at the nearest base."
The search had dragged on with no result. The Nightfall Pirates had vanished like ghosts. What Brom didn't realize was that his decision—to pause, just for a night—would spare his fleet from annihilation. The hunters had passed right by their prey.
That night, the sea shimmered under lantern light. The three connected pirate ships glowed with festivity. Laughter, music, and the clink of tankards filled the air.
Teach raised his cup. "Alright, Pouf, it's your turn!"
Baccarat had just finished singing, her voice still echoing softly. The crowd roared her name as she stepped down, basking in their adoration. Among the crew, she and Pito were the only women aboard, each adored for entirely different reasons.
Then Pouf stepped forward, wings unfurling elegantly from his back. He soared lightly onto the stage and descended with grace, eyes shining.
"Next, please enjoy my original solo performance—'Waltz of Blades,'" he announced, tilting backward in a theatrical bow. "Be enchanted by my magnificent dance!"
Gone was the stiff decorum of a noble. In its place was raw passion. He moved with impossible fluidity, his steps tapping a crisp rhythm on the deck—tap, tap, tap—weaving an invisible melody.
There was no music, but he didn't need any. His movements told a story—a young man chasing his dreams, untethered and radiant. The crew found themselves swaying with the rhythm, tapping fingers, nodding heads.
Teach began to clap, perfectly matching the tempo. "Come on, everyone! Let's give him his music!"
Baccarat joined first, followed by the rest. The rhythmic clapping rose and merged into a beat that carried Pouf's dance higher.
He smiled, eyes glistening. For the first time, he felt something unfamiliar yet warm, a sense of belonging.
Soft light shimmered around him, feathers glinting as he spun. His dance grew wilder, sharper. To the untrained eye, it was mesmerizing; to Teach, it was a revelation. Hidden within the dance was a combat form, grace fused with lethality. A true waltz of blades.
The moonlight caught on his movements, turning the deck into a stage of silver and shadow. When the final step came, Pouf stopped, bowing deeply with one hand across his chest.
For a long moment, silence held. Then a single pair of hands clapped, then another, and another; until the entire crew erupted in applause.
The Nightfall Pirates' feast carried on beneath the stars, filled with laughter, music, and the beginning of true camaraderie.