Chapter 6: Monster?
People often say that eyes are the windows to the soul. You can tell a lot from a person's eyes.
Commodore Brownie used to believe that.
But now—facing the pirate in front of him—he began to waver.
The man had a blood-slick kitchen knife jutting out of his forehead and injured parts on his body. He looked absolutely wrecked, yet... there was something in his eyes.
'Is he really just a criminal...?' Brownie wondered. The knife, oddly enough, had a cook's name etched into the handle. 'Did the ship's chef jump in too? What use would a cook be in a fight aside from spicing up curry?'
Despite the heavy blood loss and visible injuries, this pirate stood tall, eyes gleaming with unwavering determination. It was clear—this man had strong will.
Brownie found himself feeling something rare—admiration for a pirate.
But then—
With a blur of motion, Brownie flashed forward, his scimitar pressing cold steel against the pirate's neck.
"What a shame... you're a pirate," he said quietly.
'If you weren't... if you'd been born into the right life... maybe you could've worn this uniform.'
His thoughts raced through his mind like flashes of lightning. Perhaps in another life, this pirate could've been a promising Marine.
But this was reality. And as a Marine, he had his duty.
The scimitar sliced across Buggy's neck in a clean motion, effortless and practiced. He could already feel the looks from the prisoners behind, eyes wide with either shock or fear.
'Are they begging? Or just stunned? Who knows.' Brownie didn't care. He turned to move on.
Then—
Step. Step.
Behind him, two sluggish footsteps echoed.
Brownie stopped cold.
The body—that should've fallen—was still standing.
Buggy bent over casually and picked up his severed head. He didn't even try to reattach it immediately. Instead, he held it aloft in one hand like a puppet on display.
"So this is what it feels like to be beheaded?"
His eyes gleamed with a twisted kind of joy.
'Too many strange new sensations have flooded my brain since my awakening in this body. And now? This is something fresh again.'
The smile that stretched across his lips was wild and bright.
"Honestly, this might be a first for me. Although, I do remember telling people about the time my old man—scumbag that he was—sliced my mouth open when I was a kid..."
He gave his head a little shake, letting it float upward from his palm like some possessed carnival act.
"...but I don't really remember that pain either."
Brownie's gaze hardened. His face flushed—not from rage—but from sheer, unfiltered embarrassment.
'I actually felt admiration... for this monster?'
Just moments ago, he had mistaken this demon for a warrior worth respecting—just because of those deceptive, determined eyes.
Shame burned through him.
Brownie was normally a quiet man, introverted and cold in his kills. But inside, his mind was a storm of melodrama. A middle-aged man burdened with his own emotional repression, now humiliated.
'Let's never speak of this again.'
He stepped forward with heavy boots that slammed onto the floor with an angry thud.
He raised a leg this time, crouching forward like a jungle cat.
"Rankyaku!"
The words whispered from the corner of his mouth as a sharp flash of wind split the air.
The arc of sharp dense wind pressure streaked toward Buggy's chest.
Buggy lifted a finger lazily, as if to poke the attack. But it never made contact.
His upper body floated backward, cha-cha-ing midair while his lower half remained standing, feet tapping in comic confusion.
At the last moment, Buggy's torso twisted and fell away, narrowly dodging the light.
The motion was fluid—graceful—like a noble dancer from an old Mary Geoise theatre.
...if that dancer had been sawed into pieces.
"Interesting ability," Brownie muttered.
Buggy chuckled to himself.
"This Akuma no Mi really is something. Even before Brix ever speculated about its hidden potential, just this pseudo-immortality against sharp attacks is incredible."
His thoughts flickered to Gotham. 'If I had this power back there...'
But domination wasn't the goal.
'What's the point in brute strength alone? This world is filled with far more interesting characters than the bat or those spandex hypocrites—I want to meet them all.'
While Buggy's mind drifted, Brownie charged again, slashing with precise and lethal intent.
The stench of iron and blood filled Buggy's nose as the Commodore's blade came down again and again.
But Buggy didn't dodge. He simply... allowed himself to be sliced to pieces.
Limbs flying, body diced.
'It's absurd. In two previous lives—Brix as a college student, Joaquin as an Arkham inmate—I've never been hacked up this much.'
After a few moments of enthusiastic butchery, Buggy's scattered body suddenly sprang outward like gravels.
"EMERGENCY ESCAPE SPLASH!"
"Yeah... that's what I used to call it," another mouth explained cheerfully from the floor.
It was his. The only remaining part left in one piece.
"I admit, that was a close one~"
Far away, a severed hand tried wiping sweat from a missing brow.
...but couldn't find the right spot.
Brownie narrowed his eyes, sighing silently.
His free hand brushed against the inside of his coat, revealing a crude Kairoseki ring on his index finger.
The embedded shard glinted faintly—a raw, uneven chunk of Kairoseki.
'No wonder he backed off just now,' Brownie thought. 'He felt the Kairoseki's effect.'
In the first half of the Grand Line, mastery of Haki was rare. Kairoseki, while incredibly hard to shape and forge, became the go-to countermeasure.
Even someone like Smoker-san embedded it in his jutte.
'If you're smart, you get your hands on Kairoseki. Period.'
Brownie glanced again at Buggy.
That strange move—"Emergency Escape Splash"—tickled something in his memory.
It was... too absurd...
'It feels like I'm fighting a Logia—He actually developed it to that extent!?'
'What a monster!'