The serpent ship glided into the hidden cove of Amazon Lily, its arrival heralded by the excited cries that echoed from the lush, vibrant jungle.
The island was a paradise of waterfalls, ancient stone structures, and towering trees, but its most striking feature was its inhabitants.
Hundreds of women, warriors of the Kuja tribe, lined the stone docks and peered from the foliage, their faces alight with a mixture of fierce pride and rapturous joy.
While Ragnar knew their cheers, a chorus of ecstatic squeals of "Hebi-hime-sama!" was solely for their returned Empress, the welcome was nonetheless overwhelming in its intensity.
The Vortex Pirates and the Kuja warriors disembarked onto the sun-warmed stone of the dock. For Zoro, Kuro, Bartolomeo, and Wyper, the experience was immediately and profoundly uncomfortable.
They were used to fear, respect, or outright hostility. They were not used to being stared at as if they were exotic animals in a menagerie.
Dozens upon dozens of pairs of curious, unabashedly assessing female eyes tracked their every move, whispers and giggles following them.
It was a unique form of psychological warfare for which they were entirely unequipped.
Zoro scowled, his hand instinctively tightening on Wado Ichimonji's hilt. "This is worse than being beaten by the Captain" he muttered.
Kuro adjusted his glasses, his usual composure frayed. "The tactical disadvantage of being a statistical anomaly is... pronounced."
Bartolomeo, who usually thrived on attention, found this particular brand of scrutiny unnerving. "Captain! This is too much! They're looking at us like we're... like we're men!"
Wyper simply crossed his arms, his eyes glowing with irritation. "I do not enjoy being a spectacle."
They converged on Ragnar, their discomfort palpable. "Captain," Zoro said, acting as spokesman. "With your permission, we'll wait in the Heavens Dimension. Just call if you need us. This... is too much."
Ragnar gave a single, understanding nod.
"Understood."
As one, the four men focused. Intricate, glowing eight-pointed magic circles, the physical manifestation of the Heavens' Mark bestowed upon them, erupted into existence at their feet.
The symbols pulsed with celestial light, and with a soft whump of displaced air, the four powerful pirates vanished from the dock, leaving behind only the faint scent of ozone and the stunned silence of the Kuja warriors.
Hancock and her sisters stared at the empty space, their eyes wide with shock. Even the surrounding crowd fell silent, the cheerful cacophony dying down to a bewildered hush.
Ragnar turned to Hancock, a small, reassuring smile on his lips. "It's just a little trick of mine. A pocket dimension for the crew to rest and train. Don't worry, Hancock," he said, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "You'll be able to use it soon, too."
Hancock's initial shock melted into a warm, flustered curiosity. The idea that he already planned to share such an incredible power with her sent another wave of dizzying happiness through her.
She simply nodded, trusting him completely, and didn't press for details. Her faith in him was absolute.
Amidst the renewed, even more intense curious gazes now focused solely on him and his remaining female crew members, Hancock led the way from the docks.
They moved through the village, a beautiful settlement built in harmony with the jungle, where every woman they passed stopped to bow deeply to their Empress before staring with open fascination at Ragnar.
Nami, Robin, Isabella, and Nojiko walked with a confident grace, while little Bonney skipped along, munching on a piece of fruit she'd been given, utterly oblivious to the tension.
Their destination was Hancock's palace, an impressive structure of white stone and elegant arches that stood as the heart of the island. As they ascended the grand staircase to the main entrance, a figure was waiting for them.
It was an old woman, her back slightly stooped, leaning on a snake-headed cane. Her face was a roadmap of wrinkles, but her eyes held a sharp, knowing intelligence.
Hancock let out a quiet, exasperated sigh. "Captain Ragnar," she said, her tone dripping with reluctant obligation. "This is a nosy old woman with one foot already in the grave. Pay her no mind."
"Oi, oi! I'm perfectly fine, you ungrateful girl!" the old woman retorted, thumping her cane on the stone. "My other foot is firmly on this side, thank you very much!"
Ragnar stepped forward, his demeanor respectful. He took the old woman's gnarled hand and bowed over it with an old-world courtesy that made Nami raise an eyebrow and Robin smile faintly.
"It is an honor to meet you, Ms. Gloriosa. Former captain of the Kuja Pirates, and an ex-crewmember of the legendary Rocks Pirates."
Gloriosa's irritated expression vanished, replaced by a look of profound surprise that quickly morphed into preening vanity.
She pulled her hand back and struck a dramatic, if somewhat wobbly, pose, one hand on her hip and the other flung out theatrically.
"Oh ho! You know me! Then you must also know how devastatingly beautiful I was in my prime! Far more beautiful than this bratty Empress here!" she declared, jabbing a thumb towards Hancock.
Hancock's eye twitched. A vein throbbed visibly on her forehead.
Without a word, her leg snapped out in a blur of motion, a textbook Kuja Kick that connected squarely with Gloriosa's backside, sending the old woman flying with a startled yelp to land in a heap a few meters away.
"No one insults the Empress in her own palace," Hancock stated flatly, smoothing down her dress.
True to her resilient nature, Gloriosa picked herself up, grumbling and dusting off her robes, and shuffled back to them, seemingly no worse for wear.
Ragnar watched the exchange with amusement before speaking again. "Although Miss Gloriosa was indeed a great beauty in her day," he began, his tone smooth. "the difference between her and you, Hancock, is akin to the difference between her and Shakuyaku back then."
The effect on Gloriosa was instantaneous and catastrophic. It was as if Ragnar had driven a stake of lightning directly into her soul. She froze mid-shuffle, her eyes wide with horror.
A strangled gasp escaped her lips before her legs gave out. She collapsed to her knees, then forward onto all fours, pounding the stone floor with a frail fist.
"NOOOO! DAMN YOU, SHAKY! DAMN YOUR ETERNAL, INFURIATING BEAUTY!" she wailed, her voice cracking with a decades-old grievance.
"Even now, as a wrinkled old hag myself, I hear she's still somewhat got her looks! It's not fair! She probably moisturizes with the tears of lesser women! CURSE YOU, SHAKY! CURSE YOU AND YOUR PERFECT SKIN!"
The scene was so absurdly comical that even the normally stoic Sandersonia and Marigold had to cover their mouths to hide their laughter. Hancock, however, was now intensely curious.
"Shakuyaku? Do you mean Shaky-san?" she asked, turning to Ragnar. "I have also seen her previous pictures in the old logs of the Kuja Pirates. She was indeed a beauty, but I never knew her true history."
All eyes were on Ragnar now. He had a storyteller's presence, and he knew he had a captivated audience. "Shakuyaku," he said, his voice taking on a narrative weight,
"Was renowned across the seas as the most beautiful woman of her generation. A beauty so profound that even this one," he gestured to the prostrate, moaning Gloriosa on the ground, "was far inferior in comparison."
Hancock and her sisters gasped softly. To hear that a former Kuja was held in such legendary esteem was astounding.
Ragnar continued, delivering the final, dramatic blow. "It is said that she captured the heart of the Pirate King himself, Gol D. Roger. While she, in turn, fell in love with his first mate, Rayleigh, whom you know."
Another round of gasps. The Pirate King!
"And what of this one?" Hancock asked, pointing a delicate finger at Gloriosa, who had gone very still.
Ragnar smiled. "Ah. She, too, fell in love with Roger. But his eyes were only for Shaky. He never saw her as anything more than a fellow crewmate on the Rocks ship."
That was the final arrow. Gloriosa let out a pathetic whimper, her body going limp. Hancock looked down at the defeated form of her predecessor, a complex mix of pity and schadenfreude in her magnificent eyes.
"What a pitiful woman," Hancock stated, her voice clear and carrying. The words landed on Gloriosa with the force of a physical blow.
The old woman curled into a tighter ball, using her finger to trace miserable, concentric circles on the stone floor, lost in a sulk of epic, fifty-year-old proportions.
Ragnar chuckled, a rich, warm sound that broke the tension. Nami shook her head with a grin, Robin's smile widened, Isabella covered a laugh with her hand, and Nojiko and Bonney giggled openly.