Chapter 18 - Drop and Give Me Three Kowtows
"You're too late," Nathan said with a faint, almost amused smile as he stretched his arms overhead with a lazy yawn. "They're already here."
Douglas Bullet, unfazed, casually tipped back the last of his rum and drained the wooden mug in one long gulp. He set it down with a heavy thud, then rose to his feet.
Together, the two men strolled out of the tavern like they had all the time in the world.
The moment they stepped outside, they were greeted by silence. The once-bustling street had been completely evacuated. Windows were shuttered, doors hastily locked. Not a soul remained in sight—except for a squad of armed Fishmen stationed at the far end of the road. They had cordoned off the area, forming a blockade with spears and blades drawn.
"Looks like they've sealed off the town," Bullet noted with a scoff. "All this noise over a bar brawl? These pirates sure know how to throw a tantrum."
Nathan smirked and patted him on the shoulder. "Come on. Let's head to the harbor. Might as well meet the welcoming committee."
The two began walking at a leisurely pace toward the docks, showing no urgency, no fear.
"Stop right there!" shouted one of the Fishmen from the blockade. It was the same sharp-beaked thug from earlier—somehow still conscious and now holding a long spear with trembling hands. "One more step and you'll regret it!"
He never finished his sentence.
With a blur of motion, Bullet vanished from Nathan's side. In the next instant, there were bodies on the ground—motionless and scattered like leaves in the wind. The sounds of cracking bones and heavy impacts still echoed in the air.
From behind curtains and through cracks in wooden shutters, villagers held their breath in stunned silence.
Arlong had always been the embodiment of fear in these parts—a tyrant whose name alone could silence crowds. But the man now walking calmly through his domain… he was something else entirely. Something worse. A living force of nature.
By the time Nathan and Bullet reached the harbor, the sea breeze had begun to pick up. The scent of salt and iron mingled in the air.
That was when a shadow fell over the dock.
A pirate ship had arrived.
It cut through the waves and eased into the port with practiced grace. Its sail bore the distinctive symbol of the Arlong Pirates—a crimson shark jawing open in a savage grin, overlaid with a skull and crossbones.
Nathan glanced up at it, lips curling into a smirk. "They respond pretty fast."
Bullet gave a half-shrug. "Whatever. Let's just consider this an act of community service. Maybe the Marines will give us a medal or something. 'Good Pirate of the Month,' you think?"
The ship docked with a heavy creak of timber and a clatter of chains. Moments later, a dozen pirates leapt onto the pier, landing with practiced aggression.
Leading them was a tall, muscular Fishman with rough gray-blue skin and a long, jagged nose. He wore a loose shirt that exposed his heavily scarred chest—where both the Sun Pirates' brand and the Arlong Pirates' symbol were proudly displayed. This was Arlong himself, the infamous captain of the Arlong Pirates.
To his left stood a bizarre-looking Fishman with six arms, trumpet-shaped lips, and silver-gray hair that jutted out like seaweed. The brand of the Sun Pirates was etched prominently across his forehead. Hatchan—also known as Hachi—was a future ally of Monkey D. Luffy, though today he stood here as one of Arlong's loyal officers.
To Arlong's right loomed another enforcer: a dark-skinned, soft-boned Fishman with two horn-like tufts protruding from his skull. Kuroobi, silent and menacing, surveyed the pair before them with narrowed eyes.
Behind them, a pack of grinning underlings spread out, ready for blood.
Arlong cracked his knuckles and snarled, "And who the hell are you two? Got the guts to cause trouble on my turf? You must be tired of living!"
"I'm Douglas Bullet," the man replied calmly, as if announcing the weather.
Arlong's body visibly stiffened.
"B-Bullet…?" The name caught in his throat. His eyes widened, and a bead of cold sweat formed at his brow.
He had read the morning's World News—a front-page report detailing the unprecedented prison break from Impel Down. It had named two fugitives: a mysterious young man, and the living monster known as Douglas Bullet, a man once feared across the Grand Line, a former crewmate of the Pirate King himself.
And now… that same man stood right in front of him.
He didn't need to guess who the young man beside him was, either. The photo in the paper had been clear enough.
His confidence wavered. Fear crept in.
Still, with so many of his men watching, Arlong couldn't afford to show weakness. His grip tightened, and he forced himself to keep his voice steady.
"Boss," Kuroobi said coldly, clearly unimpressed, "Want me to take care of them?"
The officer had not read the news. He had no idea who Douglas Bullet was—or the danger he was suggesting they charge into.
Before Arlong could stop him, the words were already out.
And just like that, the air turned deadly.
Arlong's face turned green. He opened his mouth to shout—but it was already too late.
But instead of reacting, Nathan stepped forward, hands still crossed over his chest.
"We're not here for anything complicated," Nathan said, his voice calm but laced with contempt. "We were just passing through. Had a drink. Then one of your punks came and tried to start something. We just defended ourselves. That's it."
Arlong saw his chance to de-escalate and grabbed it with both hands.
"So it was a misunderstanding. Fine. You're free to leave. I'm not in the mood for blood today," he said, trying to keep a veneer of authority while inching toward retreat.
But his hope was dashed in the very next second.
"Leave?" Nathan's voice turned sharp. "Hell no. You're going to kneel down and give me three kowtows."
The harbor fell into stunned silence.
He had already heard about Arlong's despicable deeds in the area—and now the guy had the nerve to talk tough?
This was an insult not only to Nathan but also to Douglas Bullet!
Arlong's expression twisted—first into disbelief, then raw fury. This human… dared to humiliate him like that?
Kuroobi, already seething, snapped.
He lunged forward with a burst of speed, fist cocked back for a crushing blow aimed straight at Nathan's face.
But Nathan didn't move.
He stood perfectly still, watching with a small, knowing smile.
Kuroobi's punch stopped—frozen ten centimeters from Nathan's nose.
That gap, though small, was a chasm that Kuroobi would never cross.
A heartbeat later, he jerked violently. Blood exploded from his mouth.
His eyes dropped down in disbelief—to the fist that was now embedded deep in his stomach.
He hadn't even seen it coming.
He tried to speak. Tried to breathe. But no sound came. No strength remained.