The celebration is in full swing on the town square after we liberated this island from mercenaries. Sanji is drinking sake, Zoro's challenging anyone to arm wrestling, and I'm stuffing my face with meat when the atmosphere suddenly shifts. Whispers circulate through the crowd, growing increasingly tense.

Then I hear it - a loud, arrogant voice boasting about taking down "the first mate of that Red-Haired Yonko." My fork pauses halfway to my mouth. That could only mean one person.

"...shot him in the back like the coward he is, took his old rifle as a trophy..."

My blood runs cold. That rifle has been in our family for generations. Carved into the stock are mine and Da's initials. I stand abruptly, shoving my chair back. Sanji and Zoro immediately move to my shoulders as I walk toward the voice, the crowd parting before me. There he stands - medium build, too clean for a real pirate - with Beckman's rifle slung over his shoulder.

He notices me approaching and smirks. "And who might you be, boy?"