Chapter Eight: Ivankov

“You’re right, Brother Qingsi. I’ll let this one slide for now.”
“Find them for me. And stop licking!”
Just as Hannibal’s expression relaxed, he kicked the lion hard in its miserable face, following up with a few more blows.
The lion reluctantly put down the bone, then continued groping forward. At last, it halted before a stone wall and pointed inside with its paw.
Qingsi pressed his ear to the stone, his brow furrowing slightly.
The jailers and others also pressed close; inside, it sounded as though a banquet were underway…
“Chief Magellan is a fool, a big oaf…”
Hannibal stifled a laugh behind his hand, but the next moment, he froze as someone continued,
“Deputy Chief Hannibal is even dumber than a fool. He’s a lecher. He’s brainless. He looks just like a Sphinx…”
Hearing this, the lion covered its mouth and giggled. Hannibal lashed out with a flying kick, roaring angrily, “How do I look like you, you stupid lion! Outrageous! How dare you insult me, Hannibal!”
He gripped the naginata in his hands and swung it with force at the wall. The already flimsy barrier collapsed with a crash, dust and stones flying. The music inside continued to pulse with rhythm.
But now, everyone inside turned in unison to look this way.
“You filthy pirates! How dare you insult my peerless good looks!” Hannibal’s furious voice echoed in everyone’s ears.
“It’s the Sphinx!”
“Idiot, that’s Deputy Chief Hannibal!”
“What? Hannibal?”
Panic broke out among the crowd as they realized the navy had found their paradise.
Only now did Hannibal notice just how many people were gathered here! He tightened his grip on the naginata. Fourteen jailers, ten jailer beasts, plus the eight from Qingsi’s group—almost enough.
He straightened and shouted, “How dare you throw a party here! Seize them all!”
At his command, the jailers and beasts surged forward.
The pirates, unarmed, could only grab tables and chairs to defend themselves, but wooden furniture was no match for sharp weapons—the jailers immediately took the upper hand.
On stage stood two figures.

“Oh no, how did the navy find this place?” one of the men said, swirling the wine in his right hand with relative composure.
He wore a half-gold, half-white sable coat, his hair shaped like a club from a deck of cards, and a lightning bolt marked his forehead.
Beside him stood a man whose eyes were wide with terror. His head was enormous, almost as large as his body, topped with a wild purple Afro and crowned with a tiara. His out-of-proportion body was clad in an eye-searing red suit, chest bare, emblazoned with a white skull. On his feet were fishnet stockings that would make anyone weep, with dark leg hair poking through the mesh, enough to make one’s eyes hurt.
This was Emporio Ivankov, King of the Okama, a Paramecia-type Horm-Horm Fruit user, with the power to transform the gender of living beings—a key officer of the Revolutionary Army.
“Who knows how the navy got here! Lightning Boy, tell me, am I dreaming?”
Lightning answered coolly, “Dear Ivan, this is no dream. It’s reality.”
Ivankov exclaimed, “What?! The navy!”
“Boys, with me! Kill them all, or our paradise is lost!”
With a shout, Ivankov leapt nimbly to a wounded woman’s side.
She was deathly pale, no longer able to fight.
Ivankov reached out, his fingernails lengthening to razor points, and plunged them into her side. “Boy, hang in there! Masculine hormones!”
A soft moan escaped the girl in his arms, her cheeks flushing pink.
Her ample chest deflated like a balloon, shrinking flat; her smooth skin roughened, soft flesh swiftly replaced by solid muscle, her delicate face sprouting a stubble before going entirely bald…
She had become a burly, bald man.
Ivankov continued, “Excitement hormones!”
With another jab, the man’s expression brightened, energy flooding back into his limbs.
Hannibal exclaimed in shock, “Ivankov! You’re here too!”
He charged at Ivankov with his naginata raised—if Ivankov kept healing and transforming pirates, the tide of battle might turn.
Lightning’s hands transformed, scissor-like, crushing his wineglass. “Hannibal! Your opponent is me! The Crab-Fruit user! Watch your step!”
His scissor hands plunged into the ground, and with an upward motion, the floor buckled and surged as if it were paper, rolling toward Hannibal.
Hannibal hacked down, shattering the stones, but Lightning advanced in a few quick steps, his scissor hands snapping at Hannibal’s throat.
Hannibal’s pupils contracted. “Click!”

He twisted aside, dodging the attack, then shouted and slashed at Lightning.
Lightning parried with his scissor hands, opening the distance, and called to Ivankov behind him, “Ivan, hurry and tend to our brothers. Leave this to me!”
Ivankov batted his eyes. “Thank you, little Lightning! I’m counting on you!”
Seeing this, Hannibal yelled, “Brother Qingsi, are you just going to stand there and watch? Give me a hand…”
Qingsi could only shake his head—Hannibal’s combat skills were truly lacking, nowhere near Magellan’s level.
He really didn’t want to fight Ivankov.
Not because he couldn’t win, but because the sight was simply too much for the eyes.
But there was no choice; he had to step in.
He turned to the others with instructions. “You help out too. Izuna, be careful.”
With that, he vanished from sight.
Qingsi’s fist shot forward. Ivankov, in the middle of injecting hormones, started violently and yanked back his hand, but Qingsi’s punch was already upon him.
With a crash, Ivankov tumbled, rolling into the wall.
“Who’s there!”
Ivankov lifted his head, his cheek split in two. He screamed in horror, “Ah! My face is broken!”
He then wiped his right hand across his cheek, peeling off the shattered face, and grinned, “It’s just an okama mask!”
Warily, he eyed Qingsi. “Young navy man, who are you? You don’t look like someone from Impel Down.”
Qingsi wiped his fist. “My name is Shigemura Qingsi, from the Navy’s G-6 branch.”
“Ivankov, you have no way out. I advise you to surrender.”
Ivankov stood, beaming, “You may be right, but surrendering isn’t really our style.”
“DEATH WINK!”
A surge of invisible force blasted forth. Qingsi dodged easily, but the stone wall behind him now gaped with a fresh hole.
The explosive wind from Ivankov’s lightning-fast wink was formidable enough to clear out lesser foes.