The Empress, Boa Hancock, glided through the bustling marketplace, a living statue of disdain. Her eyes, usually pools of bottomless adoration when cast upon her beloved, now narrowed into slits of imperial impatience. She had heard whispers, faint as a sea breeze through a rigging, that her darling Luffy was on this very island. Her heart, a drum against her ribs, quickened its beat with each step, expecting to see that straw hat, that carefree grin. A cluster of onlookers, their mouths agape, pointed towards a ramshackle tavern. "He's in there!" one cried, his voice a reedy squeak of excitement. "Straw Hat Luffy!" Hancock’s elegant steps quickened. She pushed open the tavern door, the wood groaning a rusty protest. Her entrance silenced the raucous room. Every eye, from the grizzled sailor to the painted courtesan, fixated on her divine form. Her gaze, however, swept past them all, searching for that familiar, beloved face. Then she saw him. Slumped at a table, a half-eaten mountain of meat piled before him, sat a man. He wore a straw hat, too small and frayed. A red vest strained over a prodigious belly. A scar, crudely drawn with what looked like charcoal, stretched beneath one eye. He let out a loud, wet slurp. “Mmmph. Delicious!” he declared, his voice a high-pitched whine, completely unlike the booming, joyful sound she cherished. He then let out a belch, long and resonant. “BLLUUURRRPPP!” Hancock’s perfect brow furrowed. This… this was not him. Her eyes, usually so sharp, struggled to reconcile the image before her with the man who had stolen her heart. This… thing… was round, pasty, and smelled faintly of stale grease and unwashed socks. The fake Luffy finally noticed her. His beady eyes widened. He pushed himself upright, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. “Oh, hey there, beautiful! Are you perhaps… a new nakama? Or maybe just here to admire the future Pirate King?” He puffed out his chest, which only made his vest strain more. A vein throbbed in Hancock’s temple. “You…” she began, her voice a low growl, a sound rarely heard from the Serpent Princess. “You are not my Luffy.” He chuckled, a wet, gurgling sound. “Heh heh heh. Of course I am! See? Straw hat, scar, insatiable appetite for meat and adventure!” He gestured vaguely at his expansive girth. “Just… a little more experienced, you know? All that adventuring really packs on the pounds!” He winked, a slow, deliberate blink. Hancock felt a cold dread settle in her stomach, quickly replaced by incandescent fury. “You dare impersonate my beloved?!” Her voice rose, echoing off the tavern walls. The air crackled around her. “You, a bloated, pathetic excuse for a human, believe you can stand in his glorious shadow?!” The fake Luffy flinched, his smile faltering. “Whoa, whoa, hold on now, no need to get feisty. I just thought, you know, a pretty lady like you would be impressed by my… charisma.” He tried to flex a bicep, but it only jiggled. “Screeeech!” a sound tore from Hancock’s throat, a banshee’s wail of pure, unadulterated rage. Her eyes blazed with a terrifying light. The entire tavern trembled. “You are a disgrace! A mockery! I will turn you to stone and shatter you into a million pieces, you… you blob!” The fake Luffy’s face went white. He scrambled backward, knocking over his chair. “G-G-G-G-Gomu Gomu no… WAAHHH!” he shrieked, tripping over his own feet, a cascade of half-eaten food falling around him. He scrambled desperately, trying to crawl under the table. Hancock raised a hand, her gaze radiating pure, lethal scorn. “Mero Mero… you pathetic excuse for a man!”