Anime Girls are Moist

Chapter 1124 1,123: Crocodile Blown Away

Robin's fingers curled slightly under the table.

In her hand she clutched a copied rubbing, its edges already worn fuzzy from being thumbed too many times.

Ever since the day Ohara was destroyed, she had been on the run for years.

Like a rat in the gutter—hiding from sunlight and from crowds.

Now, the biggest shadow was suddenly gone. The World Government had collapsed.

She should've felt relieved.

But the instinct forged by years of fleeing was screaming—danger usually strikes the moment you relax.

So she kept watching.

Watching every exit in the tavern, watching people's habitual movements, watching the angle of the windows and the light.

And then she saw him.

In a corner—like he'd grown straight out of the darkness.

A heavy coat. A wide-brimmed hat. His face hidden.

But a chill shot up Robin's spine.

She'd seen this kind of person before.

Not a Marine. Not an agent.

Something else—something purer… a hunter.

He moved, walking toward her.

Not in a straight line, but every step precisely shortened the distance.

Robin's fingers slid to the pistol beneath the table.

The cold touch of metal steadied her—just a little.

"Miss Historian."

He stopped at her table.

His voice was low and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping wood.

"Are you interested in history?"

Robin lifted her eyes. Beneath her hood, her gaze was calm.

"You've got the wrong person."

"Nico Robin. Ohara's last scholar."

He laughed—an ugly sound.

"I don't."

He sat across from her, casually waved to order a drink. When the bartender brought it over, his hands were shaking.

"My name is Crocodile. A pirate."

Robin didn't answer.

She searched the name in her mind—vaguely familiar. Supposedly he'd challenged Whitebeard and failed. Why was he in the West Blue?

"What do you want with me?"

Even she was surprised at how steady her voice sounded.

"Cooperation."

Crocodile removed his hat, revealing a face crisscrossed with scars.

He looked around forty. His eyes were like a desert hawk's.

"I can offer protection, so you won't have to hide anymore. And I can give you resources, so you can keep researching history."

"And the terms?"

Robin didn't ask why her.

She'd stopped asking questions that naïve eight years ago.

"Help me decipher every secret in history."

Crocodile leaned forward, lowering his voice.

"I'm looking for something. An Ancient Weapon—Pluton."

Robin's breath stalled for a heartbeat.

Pluton!

A warship said to be able to erase an island with a single shot—existing only in the records of the Poneglyphs.

"Why me?"

"Because you're the only one who can read those words."

Crocodile said it plainly.

"Ohara may be gone—but you're still here."

The line hit like a knife, stabbed straight into an old scar.

Under the table, Robin's grip tightened. Sweat dampened her palm around the gun.

She had to weigh it.

Working with Crocodile meant short-term stability—and long-term danger.

Ambition and madness were written in his eyes.

She'd seen too many people like that, and their endings were rarely good.

But if she refused?

More running. Not knowing where she'd sleep tomorrow. Not knowing if she'd live to see the next sunrise.

She was tired. Truly tired.

"I need time to think."

A stalling tactic.

Crocodile smiled.

"Of course."

He raised his glass, but didn't drink.

"Just don't think too long. The world's changed, Miss Robin. One step slow, and you might not even get leftovers."

The moment he finished—

The tavern's wooden door silently turned to dust.

Not splintered—disintegrated.

From the boards to the hinges to the latch, everything became the finest sand.

It floated in the slanting sunlight like a golden fog.

Everyone froze.

Including Crocodile.

His smile stiffened, his body tensing.

Through the drifting grit, Robin looked outside—and saw someone standing there.

A man.

On the boundary between sunlight and shadow. No one had seen how he arrived.

As if he'd always been there—standing there for a hundred years.

Rei Ao's gaze swept the tavern, paused on Crocodile for half a second, then settled on Robin.

"Nico Robin?"

His voice was flat, emotionless.

Robin nodded on instinct—then realized she'd just exposed herself.

But it was too late.

"Come with me."

Rei Ao said.

Not a question. A statement.

Crocodile shot to his feet. The chair legs shrieked against the floor.

"My friend."

His voice sank, edged with threat.

"There's such a thing as first come, first served."

Rei Ao didn't look at him. His eyes stayed on Robin.

"Do you know me?"

Robin asked.

Her mind raced—she'd never seen this face. Someone this distinctive wasn't forgettable.

"Now I do."

Rei Ao stepped into the tavern.

The wooden dust parted on its own, making a path for him—like Moses parting the sea.

Crocodile's expression darkened completely.

"Then I guess we can't reach an agreement."

He sneered.

His whole body began to turn to sand—arms, torso, limbs—until he became flowing yellow grit.

The temperature in the tavern spiked. The air dried out like it was about to crack.

"Careful!"

Robin blurted it out.

She didn't know if she was warning Rei Ao—or herself.

The next second—

Crocodile exploded into motion.

The entire tavern instantly became a desert vortex. Tables, chairs, bar counter, bottles—everything was swallowed into the sandstorm.

The sand lunged at Rei Ao like it had a will of its own, every grain sharp enough to cut steel.

Robin braced for impact.

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes and saw the sand frozen in midair—as if someone had hit pause.

Rei Ao stood at the center of the storm, not even his clothes fluttering.

He lifted a hand and gave a soft puff of air—casual as blowing dandelion seeds.

And then—

Grains of sand, Crocodile, the half-ruined tables and chairs, the stains on the wall, even the drifting dust—

All of it was gathered by a gentle wind.

Spiraling up to the ceiling, out the windows, into the sky—until it became a faint glimmer in the far distance.

Gone.

The tavern returned to normal.

An intact wooden door. Neat tables and chairs. A half-finished drink still sitting on the bar.

The patrons sat there in a daze, looking around like the sandstorm had been a shared hallucination.

Robin was rigid in her chair, unable to move.

Not immobilized—just pure, instinctive stiffness.

Rei Ao walked to her table and brushed her hood aside.

The motion was light.

Robin saw her reflection in his eyes—pale, terrified, like a startled deer.

"Come with me."

He said it again.

This time, he held out his hand.

Palm up. Long, clean fingers.

Robin stared at that hand for a long time.

Then slowly raised her own and placed it on his, her fingertips ice-cold.

Rei Ao closed his hand around hers and gave a gentle tug.

She stood, legs unsteady.

"Where?"

Her voice trembled.

"To my territory."

Rei Ao said.

He led her out of the tavern.

Sunlight fell over them, warm and soft.

Robin glanced back once.

Inside, people had already gone back to drinking and chatting.

No one remembered what had just happened. No one remembered who she was.

She turned forward again, looking at the man's back.

Only one thought remained—

This time… it really looked like she wasn't getting away.