A "Comrade" is simply one who shares the same path and the same will.
Hancock hadn't actually had much room to bargain. The Warlord system was a fixed cage; even if the World Government promised to overlook her past, the Kuja were fundamentally different from powerhouses like Doflamingo or Crocodile. Those men used their titles to build empires of crime. For the Kuja, the title was merely a shield for their tiny, isolated kingdom.
Amazon Lily's strength was inherently capped by its population. No matter how fierce they were, two thousand warriors couldn't conquer the world.
Leo knew this. He had hidden in the crowd during the negotiation, wary of Tsuru's sharp eyes and the Haki of the other Marine officers. He didn't want to be spotted as an anomaly within the Kuja ranks. Fortunately, Hancock's theatrical display had drawn all the attention, preventing Tsuru from probing too deeply with her Observation Haki.
As Hancock released the Mero Mero Mellow and the statues returned to flesh, the Marines seemed confused, as if time itself had skipped a beat.
Time, aging, petrification... Leo mused. The fruits of this world truly do laugh at the laws of physics. While the city erupted in celebration, viewing the withdrawal of the Navy as a total victory, Leo remained sober. He knew that winning a standoff wasn't the same as winning a war.
"This was a tactical win for us," Leo said quietly at the dinner table that evening, "but strategically, the Navy won."
"What's the difference between tactics and strategy?" Ran asked.
She had been Leo's shadow since he arrived, and she was growing accustomed to his strange way of thinking. Hancock had invited him to dine in the royal palace, but Leo had declined with some nonsense about "staying close to the people." Instead, he sat in the common canteen of the Kuja Guard, eating the same Sea King stew as the rank-and-file.
Hancock had refused to join him, maintaining her distance. To her, she was a Queen. To Leo, she was a tribal chief of five thousand people. If the World Government truly wanted her gone, a single Buster Call would turn her "empire" to ash. She wasn't a world power yet; she was just the leader of a very strong village.
Leo intended to change that. He wanted her to become a true Comrade, not just an ally of convenience.
"Tactics is the fight itself," Leo explained, swallowing a mouthful of rice. "You met a ship, you turned them to stone, and they left. You won the fight. That's tactics."
The canteen had gone quiet. The elite guards, including the towering three-meter-tall Sweetpea, leaned in to listen.
"Strategy, however, is the long game," Leo continued. "The Navy got exactly what they wanted. They've locked the Kuja Pirates into a contract. You won't attack their ships anymore, which frees up their fleet to fight other pirates. More importantly, by showing you that warship, they've planted a seed of fear."
"Fear?" Sweetpea asked, her brow furrowed.
"The fear that your home is no longer invisible," Leo said. "Now, whenever the Empress sails out to raid, she'll have to leave more Haki masters behind to guard the island. You'll be forced to stay close to home, defending your nest while the Navy grows stronger every day. They haven't just recruited you; they've effectively put you under house arrest."
The atmosphere in the room turned cold. The warriors hadn't seen it that way. They had seen a retreat; Leo saw a siege.
"If the Navy can sail through the Calm Belt at will, then Amazon Lily is no longer a paradise," Leo added. "It's just a target that hasn't been hit yet."
Kikyo, the captain of the Guard with her sharp eyes and bold red lips, set her bowl down with a heavy thud.
"If that's the truth, Leo," she asked, her voice tight, "then how do we break the siege?"
Leo looked around the room, seeing the flickering embers of worry in their eyes. He had successfully dismantled their false sense of security. Now, it was time to give them a new one.
"We don't wait for them to come to us," Leo said. "We change the world so that there's nowhere left for them to stand."
He looked at the warriors—his potential first "unit" of revolutionaries. He had their attention. Now he just needed to give them a map.