The town of Whiskey Peak overflowed with life.
The town square was blazing with music, food, and celebration. Lanterns floated between rooftops like drifting stars. Fire pits roasted entire boars. Tables were crowded with tankards of ale, mountain-sized meat platters, and piles of sweet bread. Brass horns blared, tambourines jingled, and clapping erupted like percussion.
Laughter flowed as freely as the wine.
Children danced in the street. Old men sang verses of pirate shanties. Even the stone walls of the surrounding buildings seemed to echo with merriment.
At the center of it all, the Straw Hats basked in their warmest welcome yet.
Luffy leaned back on a chair—arms crossed behind his head, surrounded by a fortress of plates. His grin stretched ear to ear.
"I could live here," he mumbled with meat still hanging from his mouth.
Usopp was deep in a crowd of adoring villagers, retelling his "300-man bounty hunter victory" with exaggerated motions and sound effects. A man was sketching his "glorious form" with chalk on a board nearby.
"I need three statues," Usopp declared. "One for land, one for sea, and one for the moon!"
Sanji sat with a woman on each side, feeding one grapes and handing the other a flower. "It's a cruel burden," he said, "being the most chivalrous man on the sea."
Nami sat at a table near the edge of the square, coins already stacked beside her. Her eyes scanned the dancing crowd between sips of juice, fingers tapping along the edge of the Log Pose. A local merchant handed her a velvet pouch filled with berries.
"To the most graceful navigator," he bowed.
Nami smiled sweetly. "Keep talking."
Through it all, no one noticed the man standing silently at the edge of the square.
Zoro hadn't moved since they arrived.
He leaned against a lamp post, eyes sharp beneath his bandana, arms folded tightly over his chest. The laughter didn't reach him. The dancing didn't interest him.
His gaze slid from table to table. Handshake to handshake. Plate to plate.
Too perfect.
Too polished.
His hand dropped slowly to the hilt of his sword.
None of the villagers were drunk.
They were pouring drinks. Clapping mugs. Singing along.
But none of them were actually drinking.
Every toast was a cover.
Every cheer was a performance.
Zoro pushed off the post and began to walk.
He passed a man spinning a knife over roasted boar—sweatless despite the flames.
A musician repeated the same tune twice, exactly the same rhythm, same beats.
Three men in different parts of the crowd all laughed at the same moment.
He turned a corner and paused. A figure darted across the rooftop.
Not fast enough.
Zoro's gaze tracked them.
He moved without a word.
He walked slowly now, through the festival. A woman handed him a mug.
He nodded, took it.
Didn't sip.
He caught a whisper.
"Five minutes."
"Target's moving."
Behind a fruit cart, two cloaked men crouched low.
One held a throwing knife.
The other gripped a transponder snail.
Zoro walked past them. Stopped.
Turned back.
"Bad hiding spot."
Both spun around—but he was already mid-swing.
The cart exploded into splinters.
One man collapsed instantly. The other tried to run, but Zoro's fist caught his face before he took a step.
He dropped hard.
Zoro exhaled.
But the rooftops weren't done.
Above, a woman crouched under a chimney stack.
She wore dark robes, Baroque Works insignia barely visible under her hood.
She struck a flare.
The tip hissed to life.
Zoro grabbed a fork from a nearby table.
Flung it with precision.
The fork struck the flare mid-spark.
It burst sideways—spiraling into the sky before fizzling out, too low to be seen.
The woman gasped, stumbled, and vanished behind the roofline.
Then the music stopped.
It didn't fade.
It stopped.
One flute note hung in the air.
The last cymbal crash echoed once—then silence.
Luffy sat up slightly.
Sanji blinked.
Usopp dropped his mug.
Nami stood.
Zoro turned around slowly.
All across the square, people stopped mid-step.
No smiles.
No food.
No clapping.
One by one, villagers dropped their act.
Coats fluttered open, revealing pistols, blades, steel wires.
They stepped away from the tables.
Surrounding the square.
More doors creaked open down side streets.
Boots echoed.
Hoods lowered.
The bounty hunters of Baroque Works emerged—twenty, thirty, more.
Each of them trained.
Each of them quiet.
Each of them smiling for real now.
Zoro stood alone in the middle of the cobblestone.
He rolled his neck.
Reached for his second sword.
His third.
Clenched the hilt between his teeth.
He exhaled once.
"This all for me?"
Silence.
A blade caught the moonlight.
Zoro's foot shifted.
Then they moved.
[End of Chapter 104]
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