Chapter 78: The Eternal Pose (II)
Sanji sat in the wax-crafted house, the afternoon sun spilling golden light through its small, rounded windows. The walls shimmered faintly, their waxy texture smooth yet oddly lifelike. The room was sparsely furnished—only a table, a few chairs, and cupboards molded seamlessly into the waxen structure. The atmosphere was quiet, almost unsettlingly so, as Sanji leaned back in one of the chairs, tapping his fingers idly on the tabletop. The faint smell of wax lingered in the air, and the occasional chirp of distant birds served as the only sound.
Suddenly, a sharp, familiar brrr-brrr pierced the air—the unmistakable sound of a transponder snail ringing.
Sanji froze, his eyes narrowing as his senses heightened. He instinctively patted his jacket pockets, then his trousers, searching for the source of the noise. "It's not mine," he muttered, his voice low, almost inaudible. His transponder snail was silent, securely strapped to his wrist. So where was the sound coming from?
The ringing continued, a steady, intrusive rhythm that seemed to reverberate through the waxy walls. Sanji's gaze swept the room, and his mind clicked. "It's in here."
Pushing himself upright, he stalked toward the wax cupboards, their glossy surfaces reflecting the dim light. The ringing grew louder as he approached. He opened the first cupboard—empty. The second—nothing. His fingers tightened around the third handle, his knuckles whitening as he yanked it open.
Inside, sitting on a wax shelf, was a transponder snail. Its face was pale and featureless, save for two dull eyes that blinked lazily in time with the ringing. The shell, an unassuming beige, bore no visible markings. Sanji's lips curled into a frown as he reached for it. "This can't be good," he muttered, lifting the snail and flipping it open.
The snail's face animated instantly, its eyes narrowing and its mouth curling into a smirk that was far too confident for comfort. When the voice on the other end spoke, it was slow and deliberate, each word enunciated with a measured precision that carried an air of authority—and menace.
"Mr. 3," the voice drawled, deep and gravelly, yet disturbingly calm. "This is Mr. 0."
Sanji's breath hitched, but his face remained a picture of composure. He straightened, cradling the snail as he leaned casually against the counter. "Ah, Mr. 0," he replied smoothly, channeling the nonchalance of someone who had nothing to hide. "I didn't expect to hear from you so soon."
"You've been quiet," Mr. 0 said, his tone cold, almost disinterested. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd failed your mission."
Sanji's mind raced. He knew the voice belonged to none other than Sir Crocodile, the fearsome leader of Baroque Works. The slow, methodical cadence of Crocodile's speech gave the impression of a predator toying with its prey, and Sanji could feel the weight of those words pressing against him. Still, he maintained his cool.
"Mission accomplished," Sanji lied effortlessly, his tone confident. "The Straw Hats have been dealt with. They won't be a problem anymore."
There was a pause on the other end, the silence thick with tension. Then, the snail's smirk deepened, its voice dropping an octave as Mr. 0 responded. "Good. That's what I like to hear."
Sanji suppressed a sigh of relief, though his grip on the snail tightened. Crocodile continued, his voice as sharp as a blade. "The Unluckies will arrive at your location shortly. They're carrying an Eternal Pose to Alabasta. Take it, and bring yourself to the rendezvous point. I trust I won't have to remind you of the consequences if you fail."
"Understood," Sanji replied, his tone steady. "I'll be waiting."
The line went dead with a soft click, the snail's face reverting to its dormant state. Sanji exhaled slowly, setting the snail down on the counter. "That was too close," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The gravity of the situation wasn't lost on him—pretending to be Mr. 3 had worked for now, but Crocodile was no fool. Any slip-up could spell disaster.
---
Arrival of the Unluckies
Before Sanji could fully process the conversation, a faint rustling sound drew his attention. His head snapped toward the small, open window. The waxen frame shone faintly in the golden light, but the movement beyond it was unmistakable.
Two figures leapt onto the windowsill, their small forms landing with a soft thud. Sanji's eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of the infamous Unluckies—Baroque Works' executioners.
The first was a large otter with a cream-colored body and a brown mask-like pattern around its eyes. Its slim frame was clothed in a black suit, complete with a bowtie and a small top hat perched at a jaunty angle. Slung across its back was a pair of pistols, and its dark eyes gleamed with intelligence—and a hint of malice.
The second was a vulture with a broad wingspan and sharp talons. Its feathers were a dull brown, save for the white patch on its chest that resembled a cravat. Perched atop its head was a small, circular hat that matched the otter's. Around its neck hung a camera, its lens gleaming ominously in the fading light.
Sanji's jaw tightened. He had heard of Mr. 13 and Miss Friday before—executioners who dealt with Baroque Works agents who failed their missions. Their presence was rarely a good sign.
The otter, Mr. 13, tilted its head, its beady eyes scrutinizing Sanji. Miss Friday ruffled her feathers, emitting a low croak as she adjusted her footing on the windowsill.
Sanji's posture remained relaxed, but his mind was on high alert. He forced a smile, lifting a hand in a casual wave. "Well, look who decided to drop in. You must be the Unluckies."
The two creatures exchanged a glance before hopping into the room. Mr. 13 adjusted his hat, his small paws moving with surprising dexterity as he unslung the pistols from his back. He pointed one at Sanji, the other hanging loosely at his side.
Miss Friday flapped her wings, her shadow stretching across the wax floor. The vulture let out a short, guttural squawk, its camera swinging slightly as it eyed Sanji with predatory intent.
Sanji held his ground, his smile unwavering. "Relax. I just got off the line with Mr. 0. He told me to expect you."
The otter's expression remained unreadable, but it lowered its weapon slightly. The vulture gave another low croak, as if to confirm his story.
Sanji gestured to the center of the room, keeping his movements slow and deliberate. "You've got the Eternal Pose, right? Let's see it."
Miss Friday hopped forward, the camera around her neck swinging precariously. She reached into a small satchel slung across her chest and pulled out a glowing compass encased in a glass dome. The Eternal Pose to Alabasta.
Sanji's eyes locked onto it, his mind already calculating his next move. "Good. Now let's not waste any time."
The Unluckies watched him carefully, their intent clear: any false move, and they wouldn't hesitate to carry out their mission. But Sanji, ever the charmer, maintained his calm exterior, preparing to play his part to perfection.
Sanji's fingers itched for the comforting touch of a cigarette as he stared down the two animal agents. The otter, Mr. 13, shifted on its hind legs, the twin pistols in its grip gleaming in the amber glow of the sunset filtering through the wax walls. Miss Friday, the vulture, shuffled her talons against the wax floor, her sharp beak clicking in a steady rhythm. The tension in the room was palpable, like the taut string of a violin about to snap.
Sanji's blue eyes darted between them, taking in their stances. Neither seemed to believe his story. He kept his hands loose, his body angled slightly to avoid showing any tension. But the vulture's next movement broke the fragile calm.
Miss Friday let out a shrill squawk, her wings spreading wide as she launched herself into the air. The sudden gust blew papers off the table, her shadow expanding like a predator circling prey. Sanji barely had time to react before Mr. 13 leveled a pistol and fired.
Sanji dropped low, the bullet whizzing past his head and lodging into the wax wall behind him with a sickening thunk. "So much for peaceful negotiations," he muttered, pivoting on one foot and springing toward the otter.
Mr. 13 was quick. The otter fired again, this time aiming at Sanji's legs. But the cook anticipated the move, leaping into the air and twisting his body. He landed smoothly on the edge of the table, his left leg coiled beneath him like a spring.
"You animals don't mess around," Sanji quipped, his voice edged with sarcasm. "But I'm not one to lose to a couple of furries."
With that, he launched himself forward, his foot snapping out in a blur. Mr. 13 twisted to the side, the tip of Sanji's shoe grazing the otter's ear. The impact sent Mr. 13 sprawling backward, but the pistol stayed in its grip.
Miss Friday dove at him from above, her talons outstretched and aiming for his face. Sanji spun, narrowly avoiding her strike. The vulture's claws scraped against the wax floor, leaving deep gouges as she veered upward, preparing for another attack.
Sanji's eyes darted to the Eternal Pose, still clutched in Miss Friday's satchel. His mind raced. I can't let them break it.
Mr. 13 didn't give him time to think. The otter was back on its feet, its small frame deceptively fast. It rushed forward, aiming a series of shots at Sanji's chest. Sanji ducked and weaved, his movements fluid as water. One bullet grazed his sleeve, the fabric tearing with a faint hiss.
"That was my favorite jacket," Sanji growled, his temper flaring.
With a burst of speed, he closed the distance between them. His leg shot out in a powerful roundhouse kick aimed at the otter's head. The impact landed with a sharp crack, sending Mr. 13 crashing into the cupboards. The wax structure splintered under the force, bits of debris raining down.
Miss Friday swooped down again, this time aiming for his back. Sanji felt the rush of wind behind him and twisted at the last second. He grabbed a broken cupboard door and swung it like a shield, intercepting her attack. The vulture's talons dug into the waxy surface, but Sanji used the momentum to fling her across the room. She hit the wall with a dull thud, feathers scattering.
Sanji turned back to Mr. 13, who was already recovering. The otter's top hat was askew, and a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of its mouth, but its eyes burned with determination. It raised both pistols, firing in rapid succession.
Sanji charged forward, zigzagging to throw off its aim. The bullets ricocheted off the wax walls, but none found their mark. Closing the distance, Sanji leaped into the air, his leg arcing downward in a powerful axe kick.
"Collier Shoot!" he roared.
His heel connected with Mr. 13's shoulder, driving the otter into the ground with a forceful crash. The pistols flew from its grip, clattering uselessly to the floor. The otter groaned, its limbs twitching as it struggled to rise.
Sanji turned just in time to see Miss Friday diving at him again, her beak aimed like a spear. He sidestepped, grabbing the vulture by one wing mid-flight. Her squawk was cut short as Sanji swung her into the ground, pinning her with his foot.
"Stay down," he hissed, his voice cold.
Miss Friday struggled for a moment before going still, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
Sanji surveyed the room, his breath steady despite the intensity of the fight. Mr. 13 lay unconscious near the shattered cupboard, and Miss Friday was pinned beneath his foot, her eyes glaring up at him but her body too battered to resist.
He crouched down and carefully retrieved the Eternal Pose from the vulture's satchel. The compass gleamed in the fading light, its glass surface unmarred. Sanji let out a soft sigh of relief, cradling it in his palm.
"Good. It's intact," he murmured. Pocketing the Eternal Pose, he stood and adjusted his tie, brushing the dust off his clothes. His gaze lingered on the two defeated agents for a moment before he turned toward the door.
"I'd say it's been fun," he said over his shoulder, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "But that'd be a lie."
With that, he stepped out of the wax house, the cool evening air hitting his face. The sun was sinking lower, casting long shadows across the jungle. Sanji took a deep breath, his thoughts already on the Going Merry. He had what he came for. Now it was time to reunite with the crew.
He started down the path toward the shore, his pace unhurried but purposeful. The Eternal Pose to Alabasta rested securely in his pocket, a crucial piece of their next adventure.
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