Ямамото, Сквало и пипец какой крэк.
"Yamamoto should have figured that if he were ever to rescue one of his friends from delusions of grandeur, it would be Squalo.
"You're a what?" Yamamoto knew he was repeating himself for the third time, but he still wasn't sure he'd heard the answer correctly.
"A god," Squalo answered again, annoyance creeping into the edges of his mildly drunken voice, "or something like that."His Varia uniform was gone, or most of it anyway; he still sported the boots. A ragged grass skirt covered him from hips to knees, and a heavy shark tooth hung from a length of leather cordage around his neck. He swept his hand in a wide arc around him, where a hundred islanders knelt at his feet. He cupped his hands around his mouth and whispered in a loud, raspy fashion. "They think sharks are gods. And I tamed the biggest shark of all!"
Behind them, Squalo's box-weapon shark splashed around in the ocean, its fin turning happy figure-eights and spirals."