Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air is dry and cold, seeping under my skin and piercing down to the bones, like invisible steel. Each breath brings pain, and the wind cuts through to the marrow. Burying my nose in my scarf, I try to warm myself, feeling how its soft fibers fail to shield me from the winter chill. I stand, waiting for the traffic light to signal it’s safe to continue my journey home, to where warmth, comfort, and even a brief respite await.

The weight and fatigue that have built up throughout the day press down on my chest, making each movement feel like a struggle. Everything inside me seems to pull me toward the ground, and I can’t help but long to sink onto the nearest bench, close my eyes, and drift into a forgotten sleep. Even my stomach, which has been growling with hunger for the past hour, can’t push me to hurry. My thoughts are still with home, with that long-awaited moment of rest, which still feels so far away.

My dreams of a warm bed and much-needed rest were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the traffic light, which finally turned green. Weaving between slow-moving pedestrians, I hurried toward home, where even the smallest reprieve from this cold, exhausting day awaited. But just as I reached the entrance, in the familiar, almost forgotten rhythm of daily life, I heard that unsettling sound again — another air raid siren.

In almost three years of war, I had grown accustomed to these sirens, and they no longer triggered that dreadful panic that once made me jump out of bed in the middle of the night and rush down to the basement, hiding from a potential threat. Now, I simply kept walking, ignoring the sound. It was wrong, yes, and unsafe, but… honestly, I was tired of this constant state of alert. Our city was rarely hit, and when it was, it somehow always seemed to be manageable. So, like many others, I just ignored the sirens and continued doing what I was doing, as if the world wasn’t a war-torn place, but just another ordinary day in the rhythm of life.

All I could feel over the past few years was exhaustion and emptiness. Each day blurred into the next, and it felt as though I was living in an endless cycle: work, home, work again, home again. Like Groundhog Day. Maybe it was burnout, maybe depression — I don’t really know, and to be honest, I don’t want to figure it out. There’s just no time. Time flies by, and I can’t keep up. The past three years have been a real nightmare, and each new day seemed like just a continuation of the last, as if this entire war was slowly erasing me from the inside.

As I approached the elevator, I couldn’t suppress an irritated sigh. The power outage at the most inconvenient moment—it felt as if life had decided to throw yet another challenge my way. Now I had to walk up to my floor. Seven stories. Seven long, exhausting flights, with each step making me feel every muscle in my body. By the time I finally reached the door of my apartment, my legs barely obeyed me, and every step was a struggle. My mind was empty, filled with nothing but a sense of utter depletion, as if I hadn’t been living at all, just existing.

And finally, the moment I had been waiting for all day — my comfortable, soft bed, the place where I could forget everything. Maybe I had managed to grab a bite to eat, but with the power still out, food no longer mattered. Quickly shedding my clothes, I slipped under the blanket, feeling it gently envelop me, offering the warmth I had so desperately missed. Despite the chill of the sheets, an incredible sense of relief washed over me — at last, I could relax. The siren had long since fallen silent, but the all-clear had yet to come. My gaze slid across the phone screen—I checked the Telegram channel, hoping to find out what was going on, but there was nothing but silence. Fine, I thought.

Turning off my phone, I settled in more comfortably, and suddenly, everything around me ceased to matter. Soon, I drifted off, consumed by the long-awaited rest that, for at least a moment, allowed me to forget the world outside the windows.

The sudden awakening to a stranger’s voice, especially a man’s, was the last thing I expected. I live alone, and night always promised me silence, solitude, as the world outside slowly dissolved into darkness. But this voice… it was insistent, and the gravelly tone made me instantly alert. When I opened my eyes, it felt as though a cold wave had washed over me: my face was hit by a cool, dry breeze, and my nose immediately caught the scent of salt and iodine. The smell of the sea. It was both familiar and foreign, like a memory of something distant and forgotten. I immediately realized I wasn’t in my apartment, but where I was remained unclear. The sound of waves, the creaking of wood, and the distant hum—none of it was calming.

A man in his fifties stood in front of me, his expression irritated. His gaze was sharp, like a blade, and he clearly hadn’t expected me to take so long to regain my senses. He wore a white uniform, and atop his head was a cap with a symbol that vaguely lingered in my memory, but I couldn’t place where I had seen it before. Everything around me felt strange and foreign, and this moment seemed to stretch on, like a thread about to snap.

“Ensign Asta, why are you sleeping on your post?” — the man’s voice was sharp and harsh, carrying an edge of irritation, as though he was ready to unleash a tirade. His words cut through the silence, making me flinch, even though I was still trying to make sense of what was happening. I remained frozen, struggling to understand what the hell was going on, while his gaze grew increasingly hard. The man’s brows, pulled tightly together in a straight line, crept lower towards his nose, expressing complete displeasure and clear anger. His face contorted more and more, as if every second he was about to unleash all his frustration on me. And in that strange, almost surreal moment, I realized one thing — something was definitely wrong here.

“Sorry,” I muttered, though in reality, I had no idea what was going on. But in that moment, it seemed like the only right response. I felt the words slip from my mouth, empty yet somehow necessary.

I watched as the vein in his neck began to swell, pulsing with threatening intensity. The anger on his face was so palpable that it seemed on the verge of boiling over. He opened his mouth, ready to unleash all his fury on me when, suddenly, like thunder on a clear day, a voice rang out from below. The man shot me a sharp, angry glance, as though checking whether I had understood his “lesson,” and ordered:

“Don’t sleep on duty,” — those words, gritted out through clenched teeth, sounded like the final note before he turned and descended, leaving me alone with this bizarre situation.

After the mysterious man disappeared, I remained still for a while, blinking as if trying to process what had just happened. Everything around me felt so strange that it seemed like I was trapped in some nightmare, about to wake up in my own bed. But, alas, reality was too sharp and vivid to be a dream. Once the initial numbness wore off, I decided to look around, hoping to get some sense of where I was.

Turning my head, I saw the vast, blue sea before me, stretching out as endless and empty as my thoughts. Suddenly, feeling my legs give way beneath me, I glanced down—and that’s when I truly began to panic. I saw the deck—a real ship, wooden, with sails, like something out of an old tale. What the hell! My legs practically buckled, and I sank to the floor, feeling the ground slip away beneath me. This was too absurd.

What the hell? Just moments ago, I had been lying in my bed, surrounded by silence and comfort, and now—here I was, standing on some ancient deck, in the middle of the sea! This wasn’t just strange; it was unimaginable. Life had definitely not prepared me for this.

Trying to make sense of things, I began running through every possible explanation for how I ended up in this bizarre situation. And, honestly, none of them seemed very promising. The first, and least likely, was that I’d been drugged. But, as I said before, that seemed unlikely—there aren’t any substances I know of that could cause such vivid and unsettling hallucinations. Sure, there was that creepy pasta on 2ch about something like this, but that was just fiction, another scary story. So that theory was clearly not worth considering.

The second theory, also unlikely, was abduction. But if that were the case, there was one obvious question: why would anyone want to kidnap an ordinary girl who’s barely getting by, working as a barista in a café, and doesn’t even dream of anything bigger than a quiet life? I didn’t look like someone anyone would risk their neck for. So, that hypothesis fell apart as soon as I tried to grasp it.

Now, the third theory, though the most fantastical, seemed more plausible than anything else I had come up with so far. This was, of course, the so-called “isekai”—worlds where heroes are transported through portals, with all those adventures I used to love reading about when I was obsessed with the genre. I had read hundreds of fanfics and mangas where characters ended up in parallel worlds, but here’s the interesting part—there were no trucks or “san” to knock me out, as usually happens in those stories. Though, maybe it wasn’t that simple: perhaps the anxiety I had heard wasn’t false, and maybe I really had been hit by something like a missile, although that wasn’t certain.

While my brain, like an army on the battlefield, was desperately trying to explain how I ended up in this situation, and most importantly, where I was, I hadn’t noticed someone starting to climb up toward me. All the confusion in my head, thoughts flashing like quick-moving shadows, made it hard to focus on my surroundings. And only when the person climbing up suddenly spoke did I snap back to reality, as if someone had shaken me out of my stupor.

“Well, you’re something, Asta! Falling asleep on duty and getting on the bad side of the Vice Admiral—talk about a stroke of luck!” The guy chuckled, his voice light and teasing. He easily hopped over the railing and, without breaking stride, sat down next to me. His smile was bright and contagious, like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, and for a moment, it felt like his smile was the only thing that could slightly ease my confusion.

I couldn’t utter a word, just blinking, as if trying to comprehend what was happening. My lips automatically curled into a smile, mirroring his expression, but I didn’t even realize when it happened. The guy looked to be around my age, maybe 20-24, with a messy mop of black hair, the color of raven feathers, and eyes as dark as the night. He carried himself with an odd mix of laid-back confidence and mischief. His skin was tanned, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors, and just beside his upper lip, there was a small mole. That tiny, almost imperceptible mark gave his face an unusual charm, as if it accentuated everything about him, making him seem even more intriguing and alive.

“I’m Roy, in case you forgot,” he said, his words tinged with a slight annoyance. Apparently, I had been silent for so long that he started to doubt whether I remembered his name. There was a subtle trace of hurt in his voice, barely noticeable, but still there.

“Sorry, Roy, I really did forget for a moment,” I replied, trying to smile, but my smile felt more like an apology than any sign of relief.

“Pff, it’s fine, I’m not offended,” he said, with a faint indifference, barely waving his hand as if it was something trivial. “So why am I even up here? The Vice Admiral told you to go to his office, grab the papers, and start packing. We’ll dock at Impel Down in about two hours, so go on, I’ll cover for you.”

But there was something in his words that made me freeze. Everything inside me tightened. It was like a click in my mind, and I felt the blood freeze in my veins. Damn it, he said “Impel Down”! That’s the prison from One Piece! I froze in place, unable to believe it. Thoughts raced through my mind. I nearly slapped myself on the forehead—how could I not have realized it earlier? That uniform… it definitely belonged to the Navy! And the flag on the ship—that, too, was theirs! This situation was starting to take a very ugly turn.

“Did you forget where the Vice Admiral’s office is again?” Roy’s voice cut through my thoughts, and I snapped back to reality, as if someone had abruptly yanked me from a daze. All I could do was nod silently in response.

“So, you go down from the crow’s nest, turn left, go through the door, walk down the corridor, and it’s the third door on the right,” he explained in such a calm tone, as though giving directions for the most ordinary task.

I quietly thanked him, then, with some effort, climbed over the railing and began to descend. If it weren’t for all this sudden information crashing down on me, I probably would have just stood there, unsure of what to do. But as the thoughts mixed with my confusion slowly began to quiet, I quickly made my way to the deck.

As soon as my feet touched the deck, the ship rocked slightly, throwing me off balance, and I instinctively leaned against the mast behind me to steady myself. I exhaled quietly, looked around, and, following Roy’s instructions, began making my way to the office. Every step seemed to echo in my ears with the realization of how unreal this all was.

When I reached the door, I hesitated. How exactly should I enter? I couldn’t just walk in—it would be too… strange. I had to salute or at least show some military respect. I stood there, debating what to do, and the minutes stretched on like hours. But those thoughts began to feel ridiculous and useless. With a burst of irritation, I decided to forget all the formalities and just knocked. Improvisation, I suppose, was the way to go.

“Come in,” a voice immediately called from the other side of the door, and in that moment, all the confidence I had in my improvisation evaporated like morning mist. I froze for a second, trying to gather my thoughts, but something inside me whispered that everything had already been decided.

“Ensign Asta reporting as instructed,” I said, stepping into the office and automatically raising my hand to my forehead, as I had seen in movies, unsure if I was doing it correctly. Everything I said felt like a jumble of phrases from various sources, a funny mishmash of films and books, and I suddenly felt foolish.

“At ease,” he said, and I instantly exhaled in relief, lowering my hand. Looks like I hadn’t messed it up. The Vice Admiral, meanwhile, continued sifting through a stack of papers, flipping through the sheets with a focused expression. For several minutes, he silently searched for something important while I stood there, trying not to dwell on how strange everything felt. Finally, he pulled out a single sheet of paper, smiled widely as though he had found something valuable, and handed it to me.

“You can go pack your things,” the Vice Admiral said once I finally took the paper from him. His voice was so dry and detached that it only made me feel more uncertain. Continuing with my improvisation, I mustered what little courage I had, saluted—trying not to think about how ridiculous it must have looked—and left the office.

And so, my new quest began. Find my room and my stuff, all while not screwing up and not looking like a total idiot in front of all these people. But, honestly, nothing could be harder than just not freaking out.

Damn it, why me? Why couldn’t it be someone else, someone who could handle this without so many questions? Sure, I’ve complained about life being boring, that it’s too predictable and monotonous, but that doesn’t mean I should be thrown into some dangerous anime world, damn it! And anyway, isn’t an isekai just some fanfiction fantasy? What the hell am I doing in this godforsaken reality? This situation is as bad as it gets! I’m a watchman, I’m heading to Impel Down, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.

Why couldn’t it have been like in most fanfics, where they just throw me into the hands of the powerful, giving me a Devil Fruit and all the willpower I could ever want? Or at least send me to a romance where I’m the villainess! I could have saved the empire from a coup or the attack of some monsters, married a northern duke, and schemed my way through court intrigues and battles for the throne! But no, instead—Impel Down. This is definitely not what I had in mind.

I would have stood there, lost in my misfortune, complaining about my unenviable situation, if it weren’t for someone’s hand suddenly landing lightly but firmly on my shoulder. I jumped and turned around.

“Asta, what are you doing just standing there? Did the Vice Admiral yell at you again? He’s been in a bad mood today,” said the girl in front of me, noticeably taller than me—almost by two heads. She shook her head, as if she couldn’t quite believe anyone would speak to me like that, and her displeasure was obvious.

“No, it’s fine, just lost in thought,” I quickly pulled myself together and came up with an excuse. “Can you believe it? I got so nervous I forgot where my cabin is,” I smiled involuntarily, amused by my own stupidity. Why not? It could work. After all, I decided to play the fool.

The girl, whose name I didn’t know, gave me a clear look of skepticism, raising one eyebrow and narrowing her eyes slightly. “You’re acting kind of strange… well, maybe it’s just the nerves,” she muttered more to herself than to me. Sighing, she added, “Come on, I need to head to the women’s quarters too.”

With that, she turned around and, without waiting for my reply, started walking down the long corridor, her steps confident and quick, as if this situation was second nature to her. I, on the other hand, stood there a little dumbfounded, not sure what to think, but in the end, decided that following her would be the best choice. Losing track of the one person who knew where I was supposed to go would have been the worst idea.

The entire way to the cabin, I focused intently on memorizing every step, every detail of the path, so I wouldn’t look like a complete fool later. I had to find my way in this maze, where every room looked like the next. I walked, almost never lifting my gaze from the floor, and at some point, I didn’t even realize how close I had gotten to the back of my guide. She, without acknowledging me, calmly opened the door, let me in, and closed it behind her. Then she made her way to her hammock, unhurried, as if it were her usual spot.

I, on the other hand, remained standing by the door, feeling awkward. The room had four hammocks, some nightstands, and a few belongings, but I couldn’t make sense of where mine were. I felt completely lost, but the girl, without a word, quickly took whatever she needed and left. I didn’t even have a chance to ask her anything—she simply vanished, as if she had never been there at all. And I was left alone, with the sense that this place had grown even more alien.

“Shit, where are my things?” I muttered into the emptiness, trying not to panic. It couldn’t be that hard, right? Looks like I’d have to figure this out. Fine, let’s go with trial and error.

First, I went over to the hammock and the nightstand belonging to the girl who had shown me the way. I figured I didn’t need to bother with those; they definitely weren’t my things. Opening the first drawer, I froze. On the inside of the lid were labels with names and numbers. A wave of relief washed over me. “Well, at least something!” I whispered. Lady Luck had finally come through for me, even if a little late.

It didn’t take long to find the drawer labeled “Asta.” I carefully opened it, hoping for the best, but inside, all I found was disappointment. “Well, this is something…” I muttered when I saw that the drawer only contained a toothbrush with paste, a patrol uniform, and some civilian clothes—a t-shirt and shorts.

I searched a little longer, hoping to find something more useful, and then, right next to the drawer, I spotted a backpack. With the patrol’s emblem. “This is it!” I thought, exhaling with relief. I opened the backpack, quickly started gathering my things, and at the very last moment, just as I thought I was done, I found a wallet wedged between two layers of clothing.

I opened the wallet and found a few bills—yes, not much, certainly not what I’d hoped for. The other pockets were empty; there was not a single useful item left. It was a token amount, as if someone had tried to leave at least a minimal means of survival, but even that was clearly insufficient.

I put the wallet back in the backpack and tightened the drawstring, feeling an odd sense of relief, as though this small action had brought some semblance of stability to the chaos. Sitting on the nightstand, I nervously flipped through the papers in my hands. I looked at them with hope, but I knew they were unlikely to reveal anything significant. Still, I wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was a clue among these documents—some hint about what to do next in this new and uncertain world.

From the documents, I gathered that my name was Asta—well, that much was clear from the start. I held the rank of ensign and had served at a patrol base in South Blue, on the island of Sentorea. Wait, Sentorea? I was sure I’d never heard of that island in the anime. All I knew about South Blue was that it was Ace’s homeland, and of course, the place where the brutal purge of Roger’s legacy had once taken place. That was the extent of my knowledge about this sea. And by the way, what arc are we in now? Has the war already happened, or not yet? Well, I’ll figure that out later.

Next in the documents was a record of my service at the base, but honestly, it was of little use. Just a formality, something like “served, performed duties.” Nothing interesting. However, on the last page, there was information that made me a little uneasy: apparently, I—or rather, the girl who had been in this body before me—had submitted a request for a transfer to Impel Down. Why there?

Damn, so many questions and so few answers. I stacked the papers on the nightstand, stood up, and began pacing the room restlessly, once again trying to process everything that had happened to me. My head throbbed from the overload: the events, the people, this new world—everything was blending into one big mess, making it hard to find any kind of order. Terrible thoughts about a bleak future kept creeping into my mind. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to get out of here at all? Maybe this is permanent?

I would have continued to spiral if I hadn’t caught sight of a mirror in the corner of the room. An odd place for a mirror, but still, I was curious to see what I looked like… I stepped closer, unable to resist.

The reflection in the mirror stared back at me… Well, more accurately, it was my double. The same face, the same eyes, the same hair color. Everything was familiar, as if I hadn’t gone anywhere. But no, I should have been different! I started to look more closely: the moles—yes, they were all in the same places, just like mine. But the scars… they weren’t there. And then it clicked in my head—I was in the body of my doppelgänger, from One Piece.

It all seemed so absurd that I almost wanted to laugh. But instead, I just stood there in front of the mirror, feeling the reality closing in on me again. My head ached, as if it were splitting into a thousand pieces, and there was a nasty metallic taste in my mouth, as though fear wasn’t just an emotion, but something physically tangible that had filled me from the inside.

Chapter Text

Standing on the deck of the ship, I could hardly contain my astonishment, my jaw nearly dropping as I gazed at the colossal gates of justice slowly and relentlessly opening, allowing our tiny ship to pass through in the shadow of those monumental walls. I had remembered from an anime how immense they were, but seeing them in person was something entirely different. Every detail, every facet of those gates seemed massive and endless. I even tried to make out their peak, but it was swallowed by the mist. Words failed to capture the feeling: it was as if before me stood not merely a gate, but the very weight of the world, encased in stone.

The sailors, bustling around the deck and tirelessly adjusting the ship’s course, paid no attention whatsoever to the grand gates. It seemed as if, to them, it was as mundane as any other task—no different than if they were passing some insignificant trifle rather than the colossal gates of justice. They moved with their usual focus, giving no moment the chance to distract them from their work.

Before I had fully recovered from the shock, we were already approaching the prison. The stench that hit my nose was so heavy and revolting that I nearly choked. Rot, human waste, and something else—an unbearably sharp and foul odor I couldn’t quite identify. But instinctively, I knew: this was the smell of death. And inevitability. It seemed to seep into every corner of my consciousness, as if the very air itself was saturated with despair. My stomach tightened, ready to turn inside out, and my hand instinctively reached for my face, as if to shield my nose from the horrendous stench.

The prison itself, despite the heavy, almost suffocating stench, did not resemble an ordinary place of confinement, but rather a majestic yet sinister fortress. It struck with its scale and architecture, regardless of the nature of what it concealed within. In the harbor, against the backdrop of those gray and grim walls, several patrol battleships stood, like silent sentinels, awaiting their moment.

At the dock, a convoy of prison guards was already waiting for us, and, if I remember correctly, leading them was Hannibal—the deputy warden. His figure stood out starkly from the rest, and the entire atmosphere around him became oppressive. The anime could not possibly convey the full extent of his terrifying presence. His horns, growing from his brows like shadows, and his face, as if sculpted in the deepest depths of hell, created a strange sensation that he was not merely a man, but something from another world, arrived by mistake. His towering height seemed to push the air away, adding even more weight to the atmosphere. In his presence, everything around seemed to freeze, and every glance in his direction made my heart race faster.

Behind me, a stir began to break the silence and concentration. Pulling my gaze away from the demon, I involuntarily turned around, trying to understand the source of the noise. In the crowd of sailors swiftly and decisively moving along the dock, I spotted the rear admiral. He was at the forefront, like a leader, his bravery somewhat out of place for the occasion. Behind him, almost unnoticed, moved a man with a rough, bandit-like appearance. Shackled in handcuffs, he walked with his head lowered, his body hunched as if from fear or the realization of his fate. His shoulders were tense, and his eyes never lifted, as though he had already accepted that he was brought here—not by chance. Everything in his posture, in his silence, spoke of the understanding that his destiny was now sealed.

The rear admiral approached Hannibal, saluted, and said something. His words were brief, but carried the same harsh confidence as his stature. When he belatedly glanced around, his gaze suddenly locked with mine. A flash of rage flickered in his eyes, and without saying a word, he gestured for me to approach. Not wanting to provoke him, I quickly obeyed, feeling the tension inside me rise. As I ascended the gangway, I could feel my legs growing heavier and more unsteady with each step. The stench in the air grew stronger, nearly suffocating—like ammonia, it sharpened my senses and made my body resist. And then, I stood before him—this monstrous figure, looking down on me as though I were an insignificant creature. I wasn’t short—at 180 centimeters, I was often taller than most. But standing next to this giant, I felt utterly small, like a bug beneath a colossal shadow that could swallow everything around me.

“Delivered according to the order from Marineford, the new recruit, Ensign Asta,” the rear admiral intoned, saluting as he spoke. His voice was steady and confident, as though every word had been carefully prepared and weighed. He stood upright, his gaze firm and stern, and the raised hand in the gesture of respect emphasized the formality of the moment.

They both stared at me, and I instantly felt something clutch at my throat. There were no words, no gestures that could help me understand what to do next. Struggling to swallow the lump in my throat, I tried to steady my nerves, telling myself that if everyone else could manage, so could I. I mimicked the rear admiral as best I could: I saluted and then, almost in one breath, said, “Ensign Asta, ready for duty!”—trying to mask the tension inside. But apparently, this time, my instincts and my handbook, based on movies, let me down. Hannibal looked at me with clear confusion, as though I had spoken the wrong words. And the rear admiral… his gaze was so full of irritation that I could swear—if he could, he would have started smoking with rage. He definitely had issues with anger management, and it seemed this wasn’t the first time it had shown.

“Welcome to my prison, Impel Down!!!” — his words echoed in my mind, and I felt an immediate weight of anxiety squeeze my chest. “Well, actually, I probably got a bit carried away. Once again, my ambitions have overtaken me—‘my prison’…” He paused, as if realizing he had gone a bit too far, then continued with a note of disdain, “Well, anyway, I’m just the vice warden, Hannibal. Follow me, we’ll get you sorted.”

With each word, it was as if the weight on my chest eased just a little, and my heart finally began to release its tight grip. But the strange sensation—the shiver running through my body—didn’t go away. Even when I thought I was regaining some composure, that tremor lingered, a constant reminder that I wasn’t quite ready for whatever was about to unfold here.

We hadn’t walked for long, but every step down that rancid corridor felt like an eternity. The smell—heavy and acrid—permeated everything around me, and I felt as if I had soaked in it down to my very skin. The foul stench was so thick that I couldn’t imagine how I would ever wash it off, if it was even possible. When we finally stopped at a door, it opened, and they let the prisoner go ahead for inspection. I stood slightly to the side, trying not to make any unnecessary movements. Then, they motioned for me to enter.

Inside, among the others, stood a woman. She was clearly someone of high rank, her posture exuding a dignity that set her apart from the other staff. In her hands, she held a whip, twirling it with a graceful precision, almost like a weapon, as she gave orders regarding the prisoner’s assignment. Her gaze, full of confidence and cold power, smoothly shifted toward us, as though she had already decided what would come next.

“Domino-chan, we need to assign the new recruit…” His words were calm, but I noticed a hint of hidden exhaustion in his voice, as if this routine was something he went through day after day. At the end, he slowed down slightly and cast a glance at me, as though silently asking something. In his eyes, I could tell he had clearly forgotten my name. I sighed quietly, knowing such things happened. Politely, but without too much tension, I repeated my name: “I need to show everything here and meet with the warden.” He continued speaking with that same tiredness, as if each word cost him something, while the woman named Domino, standing beside him, kept her gaze fixed on me. Her eyes were cold and piercing, as if she were evaluating every movement, every reaction of mine, and I felt as if her gaze could cut straight to my soul.

“Follow me!” Domino snapped, her voice firm and uncompromising. Without waiting for my response, she turned sharply on her heel, and with each step she took, it seemed as though even the very floor of the corridor bowed before her. Every step was deliberate, military-like, and her movements were assured and precise. Slightly flustered, I hurried to follow her, trying not to fall behind.

“First, we’ll see the warden, Magellan. You’ll give him the orders and documents, then take the form. After that, you’ll fill it out and hand it back to me. Then you’ll receive your uniform, go through a quick briefing, and rest in your room until tomorrow. Tomorrow, your service will officially begin,”—her voice remained unwavering, just as steady and precise as her steps. She spoke quickly, as though this entire process was as natural to her as breathing. There was no trace of doubt, no unnecessary emotion in her words—only clear instructions that left no room for deviation.

Up until that moment, I had thought Hannibal was the most terrifying creature I would ever encounter. But as it turned out, I was utterly mistaken. What sat before me wasn’t just terrifying—it was truly overwhelming in its monstrous, indescribable threat. The warden, Magellan, was like something out of the darkest, most sinister tales imaginable. His figure, suddenly appearing in the room, seemed to have been ripped straight from the bleakest fantasies ever conceived by mankind.

The smell in his office was so overpowering that it drowned out the stench of the entire building. It wasn’t just an unpleasant odor—it was a biting, sharp scent, a mixture of ammonia with bitter almonds, laced with something acidic and metallic. It filled the room, provoking disgust, almost forcing my body to fight against the physical discomfort. The heavy stench hung in the air, as if it pierced through me, seeping into my very bones.

The massive figure behind the desk tore his gaze away from the papers and finally looked at us. His eyes—cold and lifeless—locked with mine. For a brief moment, I thought I heard a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escape his lips, and a cloud of dark violet smoke rose from his mouth, as if he could stir a storm in the air with a mere breath. With every inhale, the room seemed to grow darker and more suffocating, and I could feel the tension in the air thickening, pressing in from all sides.

“Captain Magellan, the new recruit has arrived—Asta,” Domino said, her voice as dry and impartial as everything else she spoke. With these words, she gently nudged me toward the desk where the one who could become my worst nightmare sat. I couldn’t think of anything other than how I wouldn’t be able to handle this. My thoughts scrambled, tangling together like knots, unable to find an escape. I walked forward uncertainly, unable to shake the feeling that each step brought me closer to something from which there could be no retreat. In my hands, I gripped the papers like a lifeline.

Every movement felt wrong. I could feel his gaze—cold, calculating, as if a predator were watching its prey. There was something in his eyes that made my heart race and my thoughts spiral into confusion. One wrong move, and I would be in his grasp. Why had they portrayed him in the anime as a bumbling fool with stomach issues? It seemed so out of place with the reality in front of me that I could barely believe my own eyes. Here, before me, he was entirely different—far more terrifying and menacing than I could have ever imagined.

My brain seemed to have decided that, for the sake of my health, it would be better to switch into autopilot mode. It was as if I was watching myself from the outside, storing every word spoken to me in the back of my mind. Everything happening around me became a blur, like one long shot, and I only snapped back to reality when they handed me the Impel Down uniform.

It wasn’t just a uniform; it was a symbol of something much larger. The absurdly short beige skirt, which would likely be hidden beneath a long jacket of the same color, seemed almost meaningless in itself, as if it might not even be visible at all. The white shirt, barely noticeable, paired with red gloves and knee-high boots that were almost painfully bright, felt completely out of place for this environment. On my head was a cap, and over it all, a coat, seemingly swallowed by its own length, with heavy fur lining that gave the entire outfit a strange, almost mystical aura.

After I was handed the strange uniform, they led me around the upper floors, showing me the various rooms. I barely managed to keep track of where anything was: the observation room, the kitchen, the dining hall… It seemed like before I could even comprehend what was going on, I was already being taken into some separate room. There, at last, I was left alone to process all the information I had gathered. I sat there, unable to make sense of what was happening, or how my new path had led me here.

My vision blurred, and suddenly I felt warm tears slowly running down my cheeks, like a quiet stream. The world around me seemed to dim, and in a daze, I brought my hands to my face, trying to wipe away the veil that had descended over me. But at that moment, one thing was crystal clear in my mind: from the moment I had woken up in this alien world, I had miraculously held back the hysteria that had been bubbling inside me like a volcano. I had endured, kept it at bay, but now, at last, I could no longer hold myself together.

The questions that had been gnawing at me from the very beginning now swirled in my mind like a storm. Why me? What did I do to deserve this? What am I supposed to do now? How am I supposed to live from here on out? It was as if I were trying to break free from some trap, but I couldn’t find the way out. All of it pressed down on me like a heavy weight, squeezing my chest, and despite my attempts to pull myself together, the tears kept flowing, like a relentless rain.

Everything happening around me felt alien, terrifying, and impossible. How did I end up here? Why is this happening to me? My mind raced from one thought to the next, unable to find any clarity. It felt as if all the answers were hidden behind some invisible wall, and the only way I could express the overwhelming pain inside me was through the tears that refused to stop falling.

I couldn’t even say for sure how long my hysteria lasted — maybe ten minutes, maybe several hours. Time seemed to melt away, and I couldn’t grasp it. From the moment the first tear fell, it felt like reality itself had abandoned me. The whole world blurred, and my head began to hum, as if it were being crushed by an unbearable weight, as if someone had pressed a massive stone against it. I tried to focus, but every breath I took felt distant, like an echo from far away.

When the first wave of hysteria finally subsided, I sniffled and tried to regain some clarity. In my mind, I began to calm myself, almost mechanically, as if trying to clear the flood of thoughts crowding my head. I took a deep breath, then another, attempting to steady my ragged breathing, as if it was the only thing that could pull me back into this world, into this moment.

My sole goal right now is survival. Everything else I’ll deal with as it comes. Although I have no plans for the future, the most important thing is not to lose my mind in the present situation. The first step is to solidify a few basic facts about this body I find myself in. My name is Asta. I’m from South Blue, from the island of Syntoria, and most importantly, I’m a damned jailer. Of course, none of this was my choice, but for now, it’s my starting point.

Additionally, I need to urgently figure out which timeline I’m in because that’s critically important. I can’t afford to find myself in a situation where the war hasn’t happened yet, and I start talking about its events. If that’s the case, I’m in serious trouble. If not Magellan, then someone from Cipher Pol will definitely interrogate me. They’re no fools, and if I say the wrong thing, they’ll figure me out in no time. And then they’ll quietly bury me somewhere, and that’s it—my name will be forgotten. I’ll be lucky to even explain that I’m not from this world before they silence me.

It’s not that I was planning to save Ace or Thatch, if they’re even still alive. First of all, I have a clear understanding of my chances of success. Second, this is not my war. Just imagine it: I’m all brave and confident, marching up to Whitebeard, and starting to tell him that his son, who has been with them for twenty years, is a traitor. Even if he doesn’t kill me on the spot, he’ll probably laugh in my face first and then kick me out. And that’s if they don’t notice I’m a scout.

Clearly, that option won’t work. I don’t have a savior complex, and they’re really no one to me. Yes, I did cry when I found out about Ace and Whitebeard deaths, and it was really hard for me at the time. But right now, my life is all I have, and I’m not about to risk it for something beyond my control.

For some time, I tried to make sense of what was happening, holding a real brainstorming session in my mind. Chaos reigned in my thoughts, and they tangled together like an indecipherable knot. I was trying to understand what was going on, where I had ended up, and how to escape this strange situation. But apparently, the fatigue and nervous tension finally took their toll. At some point, I didn’t even realize when I drifted off to sleep—the very sleep I so desperately needed after the breakdown and everything I had been through. That sleep felt like a breath of fresh air—an eagerly awaited relief, though only temporary.

Chapter Text

Despite everything that had happened recently, I slept surprisingly soundly. The night passed quietly, and it was only the sudden blaring of a siren that jolted me awake. If it hadn’t been for that alarming sound, I probably would have slept another couple of hours, maybe even the whole day. Just yesterday, Domino had mentioned that each room was equipped with some kind of alarm clock — the Dan Dan Mushi — but despite knowing this, I still sprang out of bed in a panic. Frantically, I scanned the room, trying to figure out where that piercing noise was coming from.

Time was limited — about thirty minutes to get ready, no more. I quickly set to work, but my mind was still foggy with sleep, and my hands didn’t move as smoothly as I wanted them to. Once I had managed to get the basics in order, I finally stood before the mirror. I took a quick look at myself: the uniform, though short, fit perfectly and even looked rather flattering. This was strange for me, as I wasn’t accustomed to such formal, somber attire. Yet, in that moment, everything seemed strangely harmonious.

Glancing at the clock, I realized that there were only ten minutes left. This was the line that could not be crossed. Suddenly, I remembered the form I needed to fill out. The document, with its standard questions, seemed unimportant at first, but still required attention. The questions were typical, almost resembling a resume — nothing special, but still something that took time. I quickly grabbed it, feeling the pressure rise as time relentlessly ticked away.

I made my way to the cafeteria quickly, not pausing at every step, though everything around me seemed strange and foreign. My mind was filled with thoughts of what awaited me next, but I walked forward with determination. On the way, I encountered Domino and handed her the completed form. She took it without a word, giving me a brief, measured glance. There was something stern in her demeanor, as if every gesture and word of hers was part of a larger system — one in which I was only beginning to understand my place. Nodding, she headed toward the chief’s table, leaving me standing alone in this vast, seemingly impersonal space.

I had to find a spot in the corner of the cafeteria, amidst the noisy conversations and bustling movement. Cafeterias were always the same — the same unwelcoming walls, the same monotonous food. But here, in this place, everything felt different, somehow blurred, as if shrouded in uncertainty. Surprisingly, despite the awful smell that lingered in the air, the food turned out to be decent. The porridge was thick and filling, the apple fresh and sweet, and the fruit drink pleasantly cooled my throat, like something unexpectedly good in the midst of the gray, dreary surroundings. I quickly calmed down, feeling the hunger begin to subside, and continued eating, savoring each bite with gratitude, as if it were the last meal I would ever have.

“— You’re the new one, aren’t you?”

The voice caught me off guard, and I noticed a tray of food being lowered beside my nose. I looked up and saw a man with a touch of gray in his hair. His sharp features and penetrating gaze immediately commanded attention. There was something steely in his eyes, as if he was used to always having everything under control and never allowing himself any weakness. He didn’t look friendly, but neither did he seem hostile. Rather, he seemed the type who preferred to know everything about the people he worked with.

I simply nodded in response, unsure of what else to say. He didn’t seem to expect questions or detailed answers, which, I admit, suited me just fine.

“— Alright, today you’ll be on duty with me. My name’s Zak,” he said, his voice calm but firm, as though everything about the situation had already been decided. I nodded again, feeling how this moment was slowly settling into an undeniable reality, one where I would have to find my place. The world around me seemed slightly clearer, but still shrouded in uncertainty.

What followed wasn’t exactly pleasant. We moved slowly through the first floor, passing by numerous cells filled with the suffering of the inmates. The air was thick, heavy with the smell of mold, dirt, and human anguish. In the distance, someone quietly howled from fear and pain, while others had fallen silent, their voices lost, replaced only by ragged breathing. The stench that hung in the air was so overpowering that breathing became an effort. Every step we took seemed to carry us deeper into this suffocating, oppressive atmosphere.

I was escorted, and they explained that regular personnel rarely go to such places — they don’t even approach these floors, as they are guarded by the beastly sentries, always ready to strike. Only in the most extreme situations, when security demands intervention, do people come down. Most of the time, they stand by the cell doors, not letting anyone out and keeping a close watch on every move.

As we passed another cell, I suddenly heard the sharp sound of chains, like something heavy had fallen to the floor. A moment later, one of the inmates unexpectedly thrust his hand between the bars. If it hadn’t been for Zak, he probably would have grabbed me by the shoulder. But Zak was right there — and his determined gaze immediately snapped me out of that dangerous moment.

“— What a beauty we have visiting us today! Come on in, sweetheart, we’ll entertain you real good,” his words came out with such an arrogant, lecherous tone that I couldn’t help but feel a chill run down my spine. His gaze was so oily, it felt like he was trying to see right through me, as though he wanted not just to look, but to tear me apart with his eyes. The smirk on his face, that disgusting, self-satisfied grin, made me feel like I was a piece of meat on display for strangers’ eyes, and all I could think of was how quickly I could get away from there.

From the neighboring cell came a second voice, barely audible but with the same vile intonation: “Yeah, yeah, sweetheart, we won’t hurt you.” These words were as empty and deceitful as the first, but they offered no comfort. On the contrary, they made my heart race and my skin break out in cold sweat.

"Shut up!" - Zach shouted furiously, his words echoed on the stone walls, hitting the prisoner with the butt of a gun, knocking out his teeth. I felt a cold sweat running down my back, my heart was pounding wildly. The whole situation seemed so unreal that I didn't even immediately realise how to react.

But his words, “Don’t be so soft, there’s no room for fear or pity here,” broke through the fog of fear and snapped me out of my stupor. Their harshness shook me, as though someone had suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and jolted me awake. I looked at him, and suddenly everything fell into place — there was no time for weakness here. There was no room for weakness. If you show it, you’ll immediately find yourself vulnerable — the prisoners won’t spare you. The prison, its walls, the very atmosphere will consume you, tear you apart, and turn you inside out. No pity, no regret — just predatory instincts that will leave nothing of you. Everything will be stripped away, pulled apart, squeezed dry to the last drop. The prison leaves no space for the weak; it simply destroys them, swallowing them whole.

A week passed, or maybe several — I’m no longer sure, for time here seems to have no meaning. In this place, it’s impossible to tell what day or hour it is; here, in this lifeless corner, light never reaches us, never touches the walls of this prison. Time dissolves in the darkness, and you can’t tell how long you’ve been here, can’t feel when it begins or ends.

In those few days, I managed to encounter the beastly guards several times. They didn’t resemble animals, but something alien and terrifying. In their eyes swirled a cold, merciless cruelty. Each of their glances seemed to cut through the air. These encounters left a lasting, unsettling impression. Every time I think of them, a cold shiver runs down my spine, one that doesn’t fade, but only deepens with each passing day.

My job was to monitor the cameras and record everything that happened, or stand by the door with a rifle, ready for any unexpected turn. At first, all of this filled me with fear, real, unbearable fear, but over time it subsided like a storm, replaced by indifference. In this place, there’s no room for feelings, and as Albert Camus said: “Man can get used to anything. He can even learn to justify the most terrible acts if they become part of his reality.” And I got used to it.

I became less sensitive to the sounds around me. The creak of the door, the rustle of footsteps, the screams — they no longer made me flinch as they once did. I became accustomed to these sounds, to this suffering, and now they sound like part of the background, something familiar and inevitable. Even when people scream in pain, I no longer feel the same rage or compassion I once did. Those feelings have become something distant, something that no longer touches me.

Sometimes, when it was possible, I tried to help the prisoners — usually by giving them part of my ration. It seemed like a small gesture, but to them, it meant something much bigger. I had made a firm decision that I would try to remain human, despite everything happening around me. In this place, this branch of Hell, where every step could be your last, where everyone was ready to tear each other apart for the slightest advantage, it mattered. But, of course, I knew the risks. There could be consequences for such acts: a reprimand, maybe even something more severe. But I was resolute, and despite the dangers, I continued doing what I believed was right.

After a while, I began to hear whispers from the cells as I passed by. They called me an angel, a savior, even though I couldn’t understand why. I hadn’t done anything extraordinary. But apparently, human kindness, even a little warmth and care, had become a rarity here. And perhaps that’s what astonished them. I had long believed that the world I had lived in before was cruel and heartless, but being here, I realized that world was no better. It was, if possible, even more soulless, because here there was no room for even the slightest compassion.

I also learned that the war in Marineford had not yet occurred. Ace had not yet joined Whitebeard’s crew, and, it seemed, there were still three whole years of peace and calm ahead. It was a time when no one knew what the future held, when everything seemed more or less peaceful and predictable. A world where war had not yet broken through, and everything was as it had been — quiet and steady. Yet, even within this calm, there was a sense of unease, as if it were merely a brief respite before the storm that might soon arrive.

My health, both mental and emotional, was in a sorry state. Each day grew heavier, and I felt like I was losing not only my strength but myself. I wasn’t even sure that, if I were stripped of my prison guard uniform and placed among the inmates, anyone would be able to tell the difference. A glance in the mirror, tired eyes, and a dull gaze — I could hardly believe it was me. The stress had drained me so much that I didn’t notice how I had started losing weight, and that seemed to be just one of the first signs. How much exactly I had lost, I couldn’t say, but each day it became harder to feel comfortable in my own skin. During this time, I had been to the infirmary a couple of times, where doctors looked at me with concern, but I didn’t find any relief in their care. I simply couldn’t figure out how to escape this state. The disapproving glances from my superiors only made things worse; they spoke more with their eyes than words ever could. The hair I left on my pillow had accumulated to the point where I could have made an entire wig out of it. This wasn’t just a physical ailment; it was a whole chain of disappointments I couldn’t stop. And with every new glance in the mirror, it seemed like I was losing more than just my health.

Who could have known that this day, which seemed no different from countless others, would bring even the slightest splash of color into my routine, ultimately changing my life? At that moment, everything felt as monotonous, familiar, and unchanging as always. I got up at the signal, without hesitation put on my uniform, had breakfast, and, as usual, sat on duty, absorbed in my thoughts as I automatically filled out the report. It could have gone on like this forever — until I heard those words: “Asta, Hannibal is calling you!” said the soldier, looking at me intently. It was so unexpected that I didn’t immediately realize he was speaking to me. He stood there, as if waiting for my reaction, and I felt a tension rise within me.

I raised one eyebrow slightly, as if in confusion, and, with a heavy sigh, asked, “Why?” — although deep down, I already sensed that this was no ordinary summons. I even feared that perhaps something had been discovered that I would rather remain hidden. My question was more rhetorical than an actual inquiry, but it slipped out all the same.

“I don’t know, but he said you need to come immediately!” he replied with a shrug, and without further explanation, he left. I stood there, trying to process his words. In that moment, one thing became clear: if Hannibal himself was requesting something, it couldn’t be something trivial. Without much thought, I decided not to delay and risk angering the higher-ups, because the consequences could be too severe. I headed toward his office, feeling a growing sense of uncertainty within me.

“Asta, reporting as ordered,” I said, the words almost automatic by now, just like the familiar gesture — my hand instinctively rising to my head in a salute. With each time, it became easier to say, even though, on the surface, the meaning remained the same.

“Private Asta and Zak, today we’ll be having an inspection from Marineford. You two are assigned as escorts; they’ll arrive in an hour,” Hannibal said, seated in his chair, immersed in paperwork, but his voice carried a hint of unease. There was something in his tone that set me on edge, as if this was more important to him than usual. In the past, I would have easily picked up on the slightest change in his behavior, but now it was more of an intuitive feeling. His figure in the chair, with a weary expression on his face, no longer evoked that unsettling feeling it once did. Yet, something of that sensation still lingered. And as always, despite my efforts to stay calm, my hands continued to tremble slightly, as if reminding me that fear doesn’t disappear, even when everything outwardly seems different.

The fresh air, though still carrying the foul scent of the building, somehow induced a strange euphoria. The light breeze that entered my nostrils, mingling with the smell of salt and iodine, created the illusion that I had once again regained my freedom. It was relaxing, allowing me to forget everything that had transpired within those walls, but it had no such effect on Hannibal. The longer we stood there, the more nervous his gaze became, and I could feel his tension growing. He glanced at the horizon more and more often, but neither his words nor his eyes revealed what troubled him. Meanwhile, I couldn’t shake the question of who could be so important as to stir such a storm of emotions in our superior.

The answer came swiftly. I barely had time to shift my gaze to the horizon when a massive figure began to emerge from its edge. It was too familiar for me to mistake. My heart skipped a beat when I realized who owned that ship. It was the “Merry Dog,” the famous vessel of Monkey D. Garp, the old, legendary hero known for his reckless courage. The ship was rapidly closing in, and I knew that with its arrival, we were about to be caught in a real storm.

And there he was before me — the very man whom all pirates fear, and as I could tell from Hannibal’s expression, it wasn’t just pirates who were afraid of him. His presence hung in the air like a heavy weight, but with it, everything seemed at once dangerous and somehow exhilarating.

“Bwa-ha-ha! Hannibal, why so grim?” came the unmistakable laugh. The laugh of Monkey D. Garp, loud and infectious, like that of someone who never takes anything seriously. His posture was relaxed and carefree, as if he had just returned from a leisurely stroll in the park. He surveyed everything around him with curiosity, like a child stepping into a new world for the first time. It seemed as though he was savoring each moment, unhurried and unconcerned. But then, his gaze finally landed on me. And in that instant, everything around me seemed to freeze.

“What, are you starving your own men?” he said with a hint of mockery, but there was not a trace of malice or reproach in his voice. Only playful teasing, as if he were simply asking a silly question among friends. And yet, his words landed with such weight that I felt the tension in the air grow even thicker. I saw Hannibal’s face drain of color, his posture stiffen as he struggled to find some kind of excuse, but none came. That old man… he was like a whirlwind, capable of striking at any moment, leaving you bewildered and utterly stumped.

I didn’t need to watch Hannibal any longer to realize that even his wealth of experience and calm demeanor couldn’t withstand such a torrent of surprise. I, too, couldn’t help but feel the same, as I was slightly stunned by his ease and confidence.

“Not at all, Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp,” Hannibal finally managed to force out, struggling to contain the growing anxiety that became more and more evident with each passing moment.

“Bwa-ha-ha! Don’t shake so much!” His laughter, booming and loud, felt almost like an order to calm down. But then he turned to me, and I felt everything inside me tighten. How I wished to avoid that gaze, that attention. He was so unpredictable to me, each of his actions capable of throwing me off balance.

“You remind me of someone, but I just can’t remember who…” And then, just like that, he fell asleep. Suddenly and without warning. He simply shut off, as if there had been no tense words or phrases leading up to his strange state. Damn, my eyes started twitching from the nerves. After all that interaction with him, I felt the rising tension in my body swell into something more. It was as if even my own body couldn’t keep up with his actions. I nearly jumped when, as if nothing had happened, he suddenly woke up. And with the same energetic, full-of-life voice, he addressed me again:

“So, what’s your name?”

“My name is Asta, sir!” — The moment the words escaped my throat, I felt my voice, succumbing to the tension, unexpectedly jump to a higher pitch, as if betraying all the nerves of the situation. I barely had time to process what had just happened when, like a shadow, Bogart appeared. Silent and unseen, he had been standing behind Garp the entire time, and now his intervention felt like a true lifeline.

As soon as Bogart took a step forward, all of Garp’s attention immediately shifted to him. I felt a wave of relief wash over me. After all, the attention of someone like Garp was a heavy burden, and each of his glances could be disorienting. But now everything had changed—Garp was completely absorbed in Bogart, and no matter how hard I tried, I could at least allow myself to relax a little.

Now my main task was not to attract the attention of Monkey D. Garp. It seemed like nothing too complicated, right? But in reality, it was best not to joke around with him. Although, maybe it wasn’t so terrifying, as long as you were cautious and stayed out of sight. After all, Garp had plenty of experience, and his gaze could penetrate anywhere. Of course, in theory, this might be a relatively simple task, but in practice… who knows?

It seemed like my plan was destined to succeed, but as the saying goes, never say never. Life always has room for unexpected turns, and even the most carefully crafted strategies can fail. Bogart took the reins of the negotiation like an experienced and determined leader, leaving no room for doubt. We marched in formation: Hannibal and Zack led the way, their confident strides commanding respect, as always in difficult moments. Bogart followed behind them, leaving us with little room to maneuver. I brought up the rear with Monkey D. Garp. He walked carelessly, with that particular gait that suggested he couldn’t care less about what was happening around him. It was as if he existed in his own world, one where everything was under control, and despite the seriousness of the situation, his gaze was both relaxed and alert at the same time.

“Would you like some cookies?” he suddenly asked, holding out a pack of biscuits. Everything around me seemed to freeze for a moment, and I felt his question cut straight into my thoughts. The old man clearly followed his own peculiar tactics: first, he would throw you off balance, and only then act, when the opponent couldn’t figure out what was going on. I was momentarily thrown off, but before I could think, I reflexively took the offering. Perhaps this was one of those moments where it didn’t matter what you chose, as long as you didn’t miss the opportunity. Everything felt strange: both the actions and the sensations. But perhaps that’s how it was supposed to be in a world where no one is quite what they seem.

“Are they really not starving you?” Monkey D. Garp continued his barrage, his voice tinged with a playful mockery. I could already feel his words breaking through my defenses. Trying to stay calm, I mentally sent out an SOS to Bogart, hoping he might notice my helpless glance. But it seemed luck wasn’t on my side at that moment, and there was no one to help me.

“No, sir,” I replied calmly, trying not to reveal how nervous I was. Maybe, if I kept my answers short and to the point, he would finally leave me alone and turn his attention to something else. But, of course, the prisoners around me seemed to think this was the perfect moment to show their goodwill. They threw me grateful looks, as if I weren’t part of this strange scene, but some sort of object of reverence. And, unfortunately, I was almost 100% sure that Monkey D. Garp had already noticed their glances. All I could do was hope he chose to ignore them, though it seemed unlikely that luck would be on my side.

“It seems like you’re quite popular here,” Garp said, lowering his voice to a whisper so that only I could hear. A cold chill ran down my spine at those words. He spoke so calmly, almost with a mysterious certainty, that I began to feel uneasy. No matter how kind and cheerful he might appear in the anime, I had no idea what he would be like in real life. And, to be honest, that uncertainty was a little frightening. After all, people like him were never predictable.

“Oh, no, sir, you must be mistaken,” I replied, trying to keep my composure. I fell back on my favorite tactic—playing the fool—hoping this would help me avoid any further uncomfortable conversations. His reaction was unexpected: he just smiled, and the warmth and friendliness of that smile eased some of the tension in me. Perhaps that was his strength—he had this effortless way of seeing people, and in that moment, it felt as if his kindness and attention could erase any doubts I had.

We wandered around the prison grounds for a while, trying to understand its layout and peculiarities. Bogart was constantly jotting down notes, deeply discussing the details, while, to be honest, I didn’t feel much like joining their conversations. The atmosphere was tense, but fortunately, Monkey D. Garp no longer tried to engage me in talks. Instead, he occasionally offered me cookies—simple, yet surprisingly delicious, as if they were the only thing that could slightly ease the situation. I didn’t want him to notice how I was starting to relax, but at some point, I realized that those small moments were the only things that reminded me of normalcy.

Neither I nor my superior exhaled until their ship disappeared from sight over the horizon. As if with the departure of that symbol of threat, our tension vanished as well. It was a strange relief, one you don’t fully recognize at first, but it seeps into every cell of your body. We all started to breathe a little easier, as if the scene at the prison had finally come to an end. I wouldn’t say I felt entirely liberated, but at least in that moment, we could finally breathe out.

Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end. I couldn’t rid myself of the thought that Monkey D. Garp had the ability to throw me off even more, perhaps at the most unexpected moment. That sensation lingered, even though the situation seemed to be winding down. I tried to push the thoughts away, attributing everything to the unusual nature of our encounter, to the strange and slightly unsettling atmosphere that surrounded us. Everything felt so out of the ordinary and tense that any thought seemed possible, as if we were playing some complex game, and the rules were still unclear.

The aftermath of that meeting lingered with me for two days, a heavy, almost unbearable feeling that I couldn’t shake off immediately. Despite this, everything eventually reaches its logical conclusion, and the routine of daily life returned to its familiar course. Workdays, shifts, checking on prisoners—everything once again became part of the everyday rhythm. During my time in service, there had never been an escape, nor even an attempt, and to be honest, I was genuinely relieved by that. For, as I observed these people, I knew their fate would be, at best, unenviable, and at worst, dreadful. Watching someone’s death, even if it was part of my job, was something I was clearly not prepared for.

But even this fragile calm came to an end. Everything around me seemed to darken all at once, and the tension in the air grew so thick that it felt almost tangible. As I walked down the corridors, I felt my heart tighten—unease. In that moment, I realized that the inevitable was drawing near. All I could hear in my mind was one single word—escape.

Suddenly, without warning, I heard footsteps behind me. The steps grew louder and faster, and I felt the distinct sensation of being watched. It was terrifying. Swallowing the dryness in my throat, I paused for a moment, trying to catch my breath, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was about to grab me by the shoulder.

Everything then blurred into a single stream of events: someone called my name loudly, and without giving me a moment to think, ordered me to follow. I didn’t even have time to question why I was going, but my feet moved forward on their own. We descended into the elevator, and its metallic scent, as always, stirred unpleasant associations. The elevator moved slowly, as though it were the longest moment of my life. I realized where we were headed—the most dreadful floor of the prison for me: Level 4, “The Burning Hell.” The heat there was unbearable, stifling, and searing. I had always loathed that oppressive heat, and the thought of having to return to that torturous warmth filled me with almost physical pain.

I didn’t even want to think about what might happen. It would have been better to simply disappear, become invisible like a shadow, and not be part of this terrifying story. I moved at the end of the line, as always trying to avoid attention, hoping that perhaps I could pass by everything unnoticed, without witnessing what was about to unfold.

I saw him—the prisoner, who, as expected, had escaped. He stood there, covered in blood, his voice twisted by fury and despair, echoing through the air as he shouted curses. He hurled them at everything alive, from people to flies, and it seemed as though these words, filled with hatred, could bring all living things to their knees. Yet there was no strength in his voice—only madness.

Before I could even blink, something strange happened. Suddenly, a wave of purple liquid enveloped his body, and it, like a monstrous shield, swallowed him whole. The scent of poison and death instantly filled the air, and I felt the air grow thick, making it hard to breathe. Trapped in that cloud, the fugitive made no move. His lifeless body was gripped by something heavy and immobile, and he simply collapsed to the floor, like a heavy sack of sand. No sign of life—only emptiness, cold and merciless.

Magellan stood over the body of the poor wretch, his figure seeming both majestic and cold, like death itself. He showed no trace of remorse. The word “Abomination!” slipped from his lips, but it was devoid of any emotion—more like a mechanical utterance, a simple remark that required no further discussion. He didn’t even pause to look at the victim, continuing on his path, leaving behind a trail of darkness and indifference.

For him, it was just another routine—murder, violence, death. All of it was part of his world, part of his everyday life, nothing more. I felt something tighten inside me. He saw nothing unusual in it, nothing horrific. It was simply another event that passed by without leaving a mark on his consciousness. Everything around us was filled with a kind of painful normality, as if such things happened every day.

Meanwhile, several guards, like soulless machines, approached the body and, with no sense of urgency, dragged it aside. The body swayed, offering no resistance, and I could only watch as it disappeared from view. And then, all that remained in my memory was the wet purple stain on the floor— a silent testimony to what had just happened, a reminder of what had recently been.

As people began to disperse, I felt an emptiness growing inside me. I couldn’t move. In that moment, everything around me seemed foreign and distant. But then, a hand on my shoulder broke the spell. I flinched and, almost without strength, made my way to my room, but it felt like a dream, where you can’t control your actions.

When I reached my room, everything around me seemed to blur. My strength was draining, and I could barely manage to open the door. I rushed to the bathroom, unable to hold myself back, and in that instant, my stomach twisted violently. Everything I had eaten came rushing out of me, as if my body had decided to expel everything it couldn’t digest.

By the time my throat began to burn and there was nothing left in my stomach to expel, I could barely stand. My legs trembled as if the entire world was collapsing beneath me, and I moved with great difficulty, step by step. Each movement was painful, but I kept going. On autopilot, almost in a daze, I made my way to the bed and, unable to hold on any longer, collapsed onto it, like a weary soul who had lost the last of their strength in a fight.

My body felt heavy and empty, but in my mind, everything was different—thoughts swirled like fiery whirlwinds, and once again, a wave of tears overwhelmed me. I closed my eyes, trying to stop them, but they poured endlessly, like a dam bursting. It was more than just bitterness—it was the feeling that everything inside me was falling apart. I thought I had grown used to it, that I had come to terms with what was happening, but life, like a treacherous villain, kept testing my strength again and again. Everything I had tried to build crumbled in an instant, and I was forced to rise over and over, despite knowing my strength was running out.

Some barely perceptible movement snapped me out of my stupor. I jerked to my feet, and in that moment, everything around me seemed to wake up. With each passing second, I felt the tension building, and my instincts immediately took over. Gigantic rats, the kind that fed on humans, were practically everywhere. I certainly didn’t want to find myself in the path of one of those creatures. My blood still thudded heavily in my head, and I involuntarily looked around, half-expecting to see something dreadful. But there was nothing. I examined my body and found no sign of anything unusual. Could I be losing my mind? I had definitely felt some kind of movement, some presence. It was so clear that I couldn’t trust my own senses.

On autopilot, struggling to calm myself, I shoved my hands into the pocket of my jacket. There, I felt something uneven. An orange. I had taken it with me from dinner, planning to give it to one of the prisoners on the way. It lay there quietly, without arousing any suspicion. I hadn’t even noticed how, in my nervousness, I had grabbed it and pulled it into the light. My thoughts were scattered, and instead of placing the orange on the nightstand as I had planned, I simply held it in my hands, examining it.

But then my eyes widened in horror. I saw strange swirls on the peel, odd and absurd, as if the orange itself had begun to change, to mutate. Its color had dulled, turning almost gray-orange. One thing was clear: this was no ordinary orange anymore. “The devil’s fruit,” I breathed, barely moving my lips, as though uttering the words could somehow alter reality.

And in that moment, everything seemed to shut off. A switch in my mind clicked, and I lost control of my body. It was a strange feeling, as though everything had slipped out of my grasp. When I came to, a foul taste lingered in my mouth—like rotting flesh, as if I had ingested poison. When I looked at my hands, I saw that the fruit had already been bitten into.

In horror, I hurled the fruit away from me, pushing myself against the wall. My hands trembled, and my mind was in chaos. This was impossible! What the hell had just happened? Why couldn’t I remember what had occurred?

Chapter Text

I was incredibly anxious about what might happen to me because of this fruit—curse it! My mind was swirling with thoughts that my ability would be utterly useless. For instance, I could end up becoming a train. Imagine, I’d spend my whole life looking like that damned Thomas the Tank Engine, relentlessly trying to convince everyone that I couldn’t swim, rather than that I turned into a train. It would have been a complete disaster!

At one point, I was about to lose all hope, but… if I can put it that way, I was both lucky and unlucky. I got a fruit that was similar to the Zone type, and that’s when I realized I could breathe a little easier. This fruit didn’t turn me into a train, but… it turned me into a Harpy. And, unfortunately, not the mythical, beautiful bird with a woman’s face, as I might have hoped for with cool abilities. No, it was just an ordinary Harpy.

Of course, I remembered that the Devil Fruit had its own consciousness, but I never could have imagined that this bird would spend the hour of our “cohabitation” literally pecking my brain out. Honestly, it was unbearable. Every movement, every word seemed to provoke its displeasure. It’s one thing when you’re alone, but when there are two of you inside your own head, that’s when the real chaos begins. Only now was I starting to understand what those words really meant.

The bird didn’t speak to me directly, but it felt like it was constantly there, looming beside me. Somehow, I could sense its thoughts and feelings, even though it never tried to convey them in words. And nothing around me seemed to please it. It was dissatisfied with everything, from how I moved to the mere fact that I even existed in its space. With each passing moment, I felt more and more how its presence was affecting me. It didn’t speak, but its irritation was palpable.

As I later learned, the fugitive who had been killed turned out to be a Devil Fruit user, and it wasn’t hard to guess which fruit it was. In that moment, the puzzle in my mind finally clicked into place. So that’s how fruits can reincarnate! It explained a lot, though I still couldn’t quite figure out how everything was connected. It’s fascinating how some details only come together with time. Since then, I couldn’t look at fruits the same way. Especially oranges—those became a symbol of trouble for me, and a constant headache. And unfortunately, my new “roommate” only deepened that aversion.

I tried several times to reach a peaceful coexistence with her, but it felt like hitting a deaf, impenetrable wall. Every step I took toward compromise only seemed to make her angrier. She clearly couldn’t accept that I couldn’t give her what she demanded. She wanted freedom, flight, and it frustrated her that I couldn’t fulfill that need. With each passing moment, it became harder to understand how anyone could live with such constant tension. Everything I offered her felt too little, and it created a chasm between us that seemed impossible to bridge.

From time to time, there were unpleasant mishaps that made me feel completely out of place. For instance, sometimes my leg would uncontrollably transform into a bird’s talon, and a couple of times, I even noticed a feathered tail appearing behind me. It seemed to happen almost constantly, and I couldn’t control these transformations. Now, every morning, in addition to the hair that fell out, I had to gather feathers scattered all over the bed.

Recently, something happened that completely threw me off: instead of speaking normally, I suddenly emitted a sound that resembled a bird’s cry—long and loud, echoing off the walls. In that moment, I was so embarrassed, I felt like I just wanted to disappear.

I certainly didn’t tell the higher-ups anything and tried not to draw unnecessary attention. I didn’t want to answer questions that I couldn’t even explain myself, and I definitely didn’t want anyone to start judging me or looking at me suspiciously. I tried to hide everything that was happening, hoping I could somehow deal with it on my own and that no one would notice that I was no longer quite the same as before.

The prisoners, it seemed, had completely lost their minds or decided I was some kind of angelic savior. They started noticing the feathers that sometimes fell off me, and it seemed to give them the idea to form some sort of cult around my “holiness.” To say it scared me would be an understatement. I was in no way prepared to become some kind of savior, like “God Usopp,” though, if I’m honest, something more like Buggy would have suited the situation far better. I had absolutely no desire to become an object of worship.

The feeling of anxiety and inevitable change that had settled in after Garp left returned to me a few days ago. It didn’t just come back; it seemed to crash into my life, growing stronger each day, like a snowball rolling down a slope. Yesterday was particularly hard: everything around me seemed to lose its meaning, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bound to happen. And today, once again confronted with this overwhelming sensation, I realized that it had seemingly reached its peak. And then… my “roommate” was strangely quiet today, as if the tense atmosphere had somehow affected her too.

“Wait, are you transferring me?”—standing in Magellan’s office, I couldn’t grasp what had caused this decision. It all happened so suddenly. They yanked me out of bed without giving me any time to even try to look halfway presentable, and now here I was, standing in front of him, stunned by the news, my mind desperately trying to make sense of what was happening.

Magellan didn’t hurry to answer. He sat there, intently studying papers as though I wasn’t standing before him at all, but rather something invisible and insignificant. His face was expressionless, his voice steady, almost devoid of emotion.

“A few days ago, an order came from Marineford requesting your transfer,” he said, without lifting his eyes. Those words felt like a sentence, and I instinctively felt something tighten within me. But I couldn’t believe it was true. Why me? What had I done?

“Where am I being transferred to, sir?”—I asked, trying to regain at least a semblance of control, hoping this would provide some explanation for what was happening. But as soon as the words left my mouth, I realized that none of my thoughts mattered. Magellan slowly lifted his gaze from the papers and looked at me—his eyes were cold and emotionless, like ice.

He uttered one short, final word that shut down any further questions: “I don’t know.” I felt everything inside me tighten, and the only thought that flickered through my mind was, So this is it, the beginning of the end.

“The battleship to Marineford is in the harbor. You have an hour to pack and hand in your uniform and pass. You’re dismissed.”

Those words left no room for alternatives. I stood there, unable to process what to do next. Everything had happened so quickly, so unpredictably. But there was no choice.

My feelings were complex and contradictory, like tangled threads that couldn’t be unraveled. Each one pulled me in a different direction, and I couldn’t understand what exactly I was feeling in that moment. The uncertainty weighed on me like a heavy, almost tangible burden, refusing to let go, making it impossible to take a full breath. This unknown terrified me far more than all the demons that worked in this prison. After all, I had grown used to their glares, their threats, their cruel orders. But uncertainty, not knowing what awaits around the corner—that was a real test for my nerves.

I tried to find an explanation, running through all the possible scenarios in my head. Maybe, during that last check-up, they noticed that my health was less than ideal? Perhaps that was their reason for transferring me to a remote base—a little corner out of sight, where no one would notice my weaknesses. Or maybe they were just tired of how poorly I fit into their picture of the perfect world, how I didn’t match the statistics they were trying to uphold. But, damn it, who can really know what’s going on in their heads? Some inner voice told me it was all just my imagination, that the reality was far more mundane and unpleasant.

And maybe this idea of a transfer was indeed a baseless and empty hope, which, despite its futility, still lingered in my heart like a faint spark. It warmed me, though just barely, it still warmed me. I believed, perhaps naively, that maybe I’d get lucky—that in the end, they’d decide my physical condition made me better suited for work at some remote post, where there wouldn’t be a need to show perfect results. But deep down, I knew this was unlikely. All of it was just an attempt to hold on to an illusion.

A strong sense of déjà vu clung to me as I found myself once again in this strange position, just like the first time I entered this world. I sat in the raven’s nest, my gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sky merged with the ocean. It was both familiar and alien at the same time. Everything around me seemed different, yet the feelings were the same as before. I was here not by choice, but because of the bird that had adamantly refused to be silent until I climbed into this damned nest. Truly, how absurd and nonsensical it all sounded! But what else could I do? The bird insisted, and I gave in.

With each minute spent in this unusual shelter, I felt myself becoming less tense. The bird, as if sensing that I was now in its “element,” became less annoying. When I stepped outside and into the open air, everything around me seemed lighter. I felt my shoulders unconsciously relax, the gentle breeze grazing my skin. At that moment, I even caught myself thinking that I had somehow caught a bit of its sense of freedom—this strange, almost primal harmony where everything is in its right place.

We had only an hour left before reaching Marineford, and I barely managed to convince the counter-admiral in charge of the ship to let me spend that hour in the nest. Of course, not without some effort. He gave me a suspicious look when I insisted on going up, but eventually, he relented. For me, that hour was more important than anything else—at that moment, I realized that peace of mind was everything. I thought of nothing else but this solitude. I needed that moment like air.

When I first set foot on the ground of Marineford, the world around me seemed to shift. Everything felt grand and foreign, as if I had entered an entirely different reality from Impel Down. The massive walls of the base, built in strict military order, gave off a sense of security and, at the same time, an unforgiving discipline. Everything felt almost unreal, like a scene from a movie. All of it together made a powerful impression.

I could feel the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on me: there was no room for weakness here. The power and authority were palpable, seeping into every corner. Standing among these colossal structures, I felt small and vulnerable, like an ant lost against the backdrop of these massive walls. My gaze was drawn to the details, each seemingly telling its own story: the cold, yet important uniforms of the naval officers, their serious expressions, demanding no weakness or even the slightest mistake.

At that moment, my heart raced faster, for I had no idea what awaited me ahead. My mind, almost on autopilot, tried to focus on my steps and hide my nervousness. I walked alongside the soldiers, holding my belongings in my hands. The moment I glanced at their confident, precise strides, I felt an immense difference between us. Their gait was sharp, military, as though they had been here their entire lives. My steps—strangely enough—seemed like the complete opposite. I tried to match their rhythm, but I could feel how out of place I was.

The accounting office was almost indistinguishable from an ordinary one, except for the massive pile of papers that occupied nearly every inch of free space. The room was bright and spacious, yet the atmosphere felt somewhat musty, like an old archive. The desks were cluttered with folders, reports, and stacks of documents. Despite the presence of a few employees, their presence was barely noticeable, as they were all absorbed in their work, their heads buried in papers, as if consumed by endless tasks.

I approached one of the employees sitting in the corner, who seemed slightly less busy than the others. Suppressing a sigh, I explained why I had come and inquired about the redistribution. She nodded quickly, promised to assist, but continued working, flipping through her papers without pause. The wait stretched on. The air was filled with the murmur of quiet conversations. I could feel time dragging, yet I kept my patience, understanding that bureaucracy does not tolerate haste.

After a while, one of the women stood up, as if deciding it was time to act. She walked over to a table piled high with documents, sorting through them in search of my papers. She worked swiftly and precisely, as if each movement had been perfected to the point of automaticity. And then, at last, she found the required sheet. Nodding in satisfaction, she held it in her hands and, with a slight urgency, said, “Ensign Asta, please follow me.”

We didn’t walk for long, but it felt as though the entire journey was stretched out into a drawn-out moment of waiting. Soon, we stopped before massive, almost majestic doors that seemed to conceal something important—something that awaited my attention.

Before entering the room, I heard a sound that made my hair stand on end—laughter. But not just any laughter. It was the kind of laugh I never wanted to hear again. It was the laugh of Monkey D. Garp! The kind of laugh that sends a chill down your spine. Truly, a man I would never wish to meet again under any circumstances. But, alas, I had no choice. I stood at the threshold, knowing I had to face whatever awaited on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to summon all my strength and stepped forward with determination. It felt as though all my confidence was concentrated in that one step, but the moment I crossed the threshold, it vanished in an instant. What I saw in the room nearly pushed me to the edge of panic. Sengoku! Gods, Buddha! He sat there, clearly irritated, as though every moment spent in the presence of Monkey D. Garp was a form of torture. And, ironically enough, beside him sat Garp himself—relaxed, with an endless laugh on his lips, as if oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

The accountant, a petite woman, handed her papers to Sengoku with remarkable speed and silently left, as if she wanted no part of the tense atmosphere. She left me alone, and now I stood in the room, face to face with two of the most powerful men in Marineford. In that moment, it became painfully clear—I had to act, despite the suffocating atmosphere, but it felt as if all my strength was slipping away.

“Oh, Asta-chan, hey there! You’re getting smaller and smaller! Bwahaha!” Garp’s voice rang out, accompanied by that infuriating, unflappable grin that could rile anyone. His loud, cheerful tone filled the room, and, as if on cue, all eyes turned toward me. I could feel the air tightening around me. But I hadn’t expected to be the center of attention, and in that moment, all I wanted was to vanish.

Sengoku’s eye twitched. He was on the verge of losing his temper. His face turned nearly red with anger, and it was clear that joking around with him was no longer an option. He spun sharply toward Garp and barked, “Garp! Goddamn it, are you messing with me? You trying to kill the girl?”

I stood there in complete confusion, trying to make sense of what was happening. Each of them was so powerful, so unpredictable, that my mind was in complete chaos from their words. I didn’t know whether I should say something or just remain silent and wait for them to finish this bizarre spectacle. Perhaps I didn’t want to understand what was going on around me, not wanting to lose my grip on sanity in the face of such an unpredictable situation.

“Why are you yelling, Seni?” Garp smirked, as if nothing was happening, picking his nose casually, as though for him this was just another ordinary day. He seemed utterly oblivious to everything around him, as if the entire world revolved solely around his jokes and carefree antics. His voice was as light as ever, his demeanor completely out of sync with the situation.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll fatten her up, straighten her out, and she’ll be a model lookout,” Garp said in a tone so nonchalant, it was as if I weren’t even in the room. His words felt as though they were spoken without a second thought, and I could feel a flicker of irritation stir within me, though I could hardly oppose him. He kept looking away, completely uninterested, as if discussing some trivial, irrelevant matter.

“She’ll be blown off the ship by the first storm!” Sengoku barked, his voice brimming with displeasure. I began to feel the weight of pressure emanating from the two of them—almost physical, as though they had already begun weaving their web around me. Was he using his will? My body tensed, and a knot formed in my stomach, as though a bird within me sensed danger. Instantly, it stiffened, fluffed its feathers, trying to make itself appear bigger and more intimidating. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, but as soon as I noticed my hair standing on end, transforming into feathers, I understood: my body was trying to protect me from something I couldn’t yet comprehend.

“Devil Fruit user?” Sengoku’s question came like a lightning strike, quick and sharp. I nodded absentmindedly, barely grasping what was unfolding. And yet, somehow, I had confirmed it, even though I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do.

“There’s no convincing you, is there?” Sengoku asked, but his question was more rhetorical than anything. He didn’t really expect an answer. Garp, on the other hand, simply smirked, his face showing not the slightest hint of doubt, confirming his friend’s words without a second thought.

“Do whatever you want, and get out of my office!” Sengoku barked as his final word, as if exhausted by the entire situation. His voice carried a weight, somewhere between a command and sheer fatigue, like a person who has sat too long on a throne and can see nothing ahead but another grueling task.

Standing behind the door of the Commander-in-Chief’s office, I felt utterly bewildered. My mind hadn’t had time to process everything that had just happened, and the noise and movement around me were so overwhelming that I didn’t know where to put myself. It was as if my body had frozen in anticipation, but nothing was happening. Suddenly, the hand I had long associated with headaches landed on my shoulder. I flinched, startled, and immediately found myself completely disoriented. My eyes met Garp’s, who looked absolutely delighted. He stood in front of me with a carefree smile, as if he had just won some child’s game.

His face reminded me of a child whose parents had finally allowed them to get a pet. And in my case, that pet was a parrot. I couldn’t believe I had ended up in such a situation. He continued to gaze at me with that same cheerful look, while I, feeling the absurdity of it all, stood frozen, not knowing what to do.

“Well then, Asta-chan, let’s go, time to fatten you up!” he said with an unflappable cheer. Without hesitation, he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and began hauling me toward the cafeteria, as though I were nothing more than a toy. If the situation hadn’t been so absurd, I might have noticed the rare sentinels passing by, casting me looks of indescribable sympathy. Their gazes were full of pity, as though they could see that I was about to go through something unimaginably strange.

“Wait, Garp-san!” I blurted out, and I didn’t even realize how that word had slipped from my lips. “San” had come out automatically, and as soon as I said it, I shuddered at the strangeness and unfamiliarity of the term.

Something inside me protested. “What’s going on? I don’t understand anything!” I muttered frantically, but deep down, I was starting to realize: I understood it all too well to deny it. I tried to push my doubts aside, but reality was becoming too vivid, too undeniable to ignore.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Now you’re under my direct supervision—or, should I say, under my wing? Bwahaha!” His words hit me like the final nail in the coffin. My brain couldn’t process this reality. Everything felt absurd, as though I were stuck in some space between dream and wakefulness. Everything inside me screamed, “This is impossible!” I sat there in complete confusion until… until a tray, laden with food, slammed onto the table in front of me. The loud crash startled me, and it felt like a signal. As if awakened, I snapped back to reality.

But the reality was no less bizarre. Garp, with his carefree smile and boundless cheer, continued his attempts—or rather, his torment. Unaware of my silent indignation, he began literally shoving food into me, enough to feed an entire army. I could barely keep up with the relentless onslaught of food. But for Garp, it was just a snack, something ordinary and trivial.

He said casually, “For me, this is just a couple of bites, and you can’t even eat that?” His concern, his insistence… I didn’t understand what he wanted from me. Why me? Why had he latched onto me as if only I needed this kind of care? There was no threat or anger in his eyes—just genuine concern. Yet, something about it felt off.

My days had turned into a living nightmare, and I was almost ready to voluntarily don the robe of a prisoner and return to Impel Down. That seemed like it might not be such a terrible choice compared to what I was enduring here. Even in the most dreaded place, as I imagined it, I wouldn’t be made to suffer like this. I began to think that even there, in the depths of Impel Down, the conditions for prisoners would be softer than in the hands of Monkey D. Garp. It seemed he had even forgotten that my name didn’t include the letter “D” and that I wasn’t capable of consuming as much food as he and his family.

While he continued pretending that everything was fine, I was struggling to survive his “training,” which felt more like a twisted mix of torture and a survival game. These sessions resembled real-life Hunger Games, where no one cared about how I felt, and the process was far harsher than any beating I had ever endured. My attempts to avoid his attention seemed futile. I hid all over Marineford, hoping to find a quiet corner where I could at least get some rest. But, alas, Garp was too fast, and his ability to track me down was unmatched.

When he found out that I couldn’t control my Devil Fruit powers, he didn’t ease up; instead, he became even more enthusiastic. He decided I needed a real shake-up to learn all these “abilities” at once—from transformations to flying. He was convinced that tough love would do the trick, but I could already feel that it was crossing a line. Without a second thought, he tossed me off the top of Marineford’s building. I plummeted downward, feeling the ground rushing toward me, and only a miracle saved me. If it hadn’t been for Bogart-san, who just happened to be passing by and managed to catch me, to be honest, they would have been scraping me off the pavement for a long time. It was so unexpected that even now, when I recall it, shivers run down my spine.

And so, this “Spartan sports club” could have gone on indefinitely if not for the need to set sail and patrol the waters of the Grand Line. Thankfully, we were headed to “The Paradise” — the very same Paradise everyone dreams of, where everything still seemed surprisingly calm. At least for that moment, I felt a bit more confident. In this place, it was easier to relax, because the most dangerous creature in “Paradise” was my commanding officer.

Despite Garp’s, to put it mildly, barbaric methods, the results didn’t take long to show. Gradually, they began to bear fruit. My health improved noticeably, and while my mental state wasn’t perfect, it had at least reached a more or less stable condition. Now I could look at the world around me without the fog of depression clouding my view, as I had before. The apathy and hopelessness that had held me in their grip for so long finally began to loosen. It was a relief, though not a complete one.

Life aboard the ship was far from easy, and I quickly came to realize that. I was a complete novice in maritime matters, not even knowing which side to approach the massive vessel from. I couldn’t even name the main parts of the ship accurately, let alone understand the intricacies of the seafaring craft. Everything was new and alien to me. But somehow, I managed to adapt. I had to go through an accelerated course to learn all of it, just so I wouldn’t feel like a complete fool among the crew. It wasn’t easy, but, much like with my training, I began to understand that the key was to take things one step at a time, ignoring the fatigue.

The entire patrol lasted a whole month, and the longer we sailed, the more it became clear: the eye muscle in my body was probably the most developed. How often it twitched during that time! At times, it felt like I could redraw all the stars in the sky without tiring, given how many times my eye darted in different directions. I’ve lost count of how many times I tried to force myself not to pay attention to the small details, but in the end, it only made things worse.

The last island was still ahead of us, and it seemed to promise nothing out of the ordinary. A simple town, just another outpost like the hundreds of others on similar islands, familiar faces of soldiers, and the report we were supposed to listen to. No urgent tasks, no changes in plans—just a quick stop at the base, a few words with the locals, collect the report, and head back to Marineford. But even in moments that seem this simple, unexpected twists can lie in wait.

We were nearly done preparing to depart from the island, ready to leave it behind with a clear conscience. But suddenly, like thunder out of a clear sky, an explosion rang out somewhere in the village. My heart skipped a beat, and Garp, without wasting a second, gave orders to assist the civilians with evacuation. He, along with Bogart and several soldiers, rushed toward the blast, while we split into teams, quickly fanning out across the sectors to organize the evacuation. In such moments, there’s no time to think—you just act. Yet, I couldn’t help but admire Monkey D. for his unwavering commitment to protecting civilians.

At first, I felt a brief moment of confusion—everything was happening so quickly, and I wasn’t sure what exactly I was supposed to do. But within seconds, someone approached me, offering encouragement and guidance on what steps to take next. Soon enough, I pulled myself together and refocused on the task at hand.

“Asta, go check if anyone’s left on the outskirts of the explosion. If there are, help them,” our group commander ordered. His voice was clear and even a little stern, instantly pulling me back to reality.

“Got it,” I shouted, rushing toward the indicated spot. My mind quickly adjusted to the task, and the powers I had gained from the fruit surged through me with renewed strength. I was no longer just human—I had the abilities of that bird. Its hearing and vision were exceptional, and now more than ever, they were essential. As I moved toward the blast site, we could occasionally hear the sounds of fighting, but we didn’t allow ourselves to be distracted. Our focus was entirely on the evacuation—it was crucial that as many people as possible managed to escape the danger zone.

As I walked past the debris of a building, its shattered remains lying like a house of cards after the explosion, I couldn’t help but press my lips together and lower my gaze. The collapsed walls and heaps of stone appeared light and fragile, as though they had crumbled with barely a struggle. But the consequences of this horror that had fallen upon the town were inevitably heavy. I kept walking, but when my eyes accidentally landed on a lifeless body, crushed under a massive stone wall, something clenched in my chest. The weight of it became unbearable, and I quickly averted my gaze, shaking my head to push away the unwanted thoughts. I needed to focus. I turned all my senses back on, trying to catch even the faintest sign of life.

Suddenly, I heard a barely audible sob, coming from the side, from some forgotten, shadowed part of the ruined space. I moved toward the sound, making my way through the wreckage, and when I reached the source, I saw a girl. She was very young, just a little older than me, sitting on the ground. Soft, almost silent moans of pain escaped from her throat. She seemed broken, just like the island itself, consumed by destruction.

I couldn’t remain indifferent. Approaching her, I leaned down to look at her face, trying to understand what had happened to her.

“What happened to you?” I asked, making an effort to keep the worry out of my voice. My gaze swept over her body, trying to locate any injuries, but I didn’t notice anything significant at first.

“My… my leg… it’s stuck,” she sobbed, cringing in pain. That’s when I saw it—her leg was pinned beneath a massive chunk of stone, and that explained her suffering.

“Alright, I’ll try to lift this stone a bit, and you try to pull your leg out,” I said, attempting to sound more confident. I hoped my words would reassure her, but in truth, they were more of an effort to convince not just her, but myself. I felt every muscle in my body tense up—the stone was truly heavy. Taking a deep breath, I began to shift it, using all the strength I had. It moved only a couple of centimeters, but that small shift was enough for her to free her leg. As soon as she was free, I saw her exhale in relief, but her face quickly twisted in pain and distress.

“Thank you so much!” she suddenly blurted out, unable to hold back her tears. And then, her composure completely broke—she started crying like a child, desperately choking on her sobs. It was painful and hard to watch.

“There’s no need to thank me,” I said, trying to sound calm, though inside, my nerves were tightly coiled. “Now, hold on to me. I’ll get you to a safer place.” I draped her arm over my shoulder and felt her body relax, even if just a little, as if she had found some support. We began moving slowly toward the temporary camp, stepping carefully through the ruined city.

Thanks to my enhanced hearing, I reacted faster than I fully understood what was happening. Soon, as we neared the camp, I picked up the faint sound of hurried footsteps. By then, I had already handed the girl over to the watchmen, and as I turned my head toward the source of the approaching sounds, I waited. Sure enough, after a moment, a man in his fifties appeared around the corner. His eyes were wide with panic, and he kept looking over his shoulder, as though trying to escape something—or someone—that was following him. I tensed. As my gaze dropped, I noticed that he was holding a bomb with a lit fuse—everything became clear. He was heading straight toward the civilians.

At some point, my actions became faster than my thoughts, as if my body knew instinctively what needed to be done. In an instant, I ran toward him, transforming on the move, and grabbed him in my clawed talons. I soared into the air, rising higher and higher, but my mind was clouded with questions. What now? What should I do? I couldn’t let this man get too close to the camp, but I wasn’t about to give up either. Dying wasn’t part of my plan.

Making a quick decision, I glanced at the fuse, noting how much time was left, and began to gain altitude, keeping a close watch on the process. The man in my grasp screamed and struggled to break free, but it was all in vain—my claws were dug deeply into his shoulders. When only a couple of minutes remained before the explosion, and we had reached a considerable height, I loosened my grip, and the man dropped toward the ground. Meanwhile, I rapidly ascended, my wings cutting through the air.

There was a sharp crack, something sprayed onto me, and a deafening ring filled my ears. Losing control, I didn’t notice how I began to fall, and only by some miracle did I manage to stop just before hitting the ground. I found myself in some thick, black liquid. I lifted my hand to my nose, then immediately jerked it back—what the hell was that?! It smelled like some kind of chemical, sickly sweet like caramel, but with a sharp, nauseating undertone. A few feathers had stuck to me, and despite my best efforts, they wouldn’t come off. It was revolting! I felt as though I’d just swallowed the sourest thing imaginable.

And at that moment, I thought I heard a strange sound, almost like a snap. But with the ringing in my ears still echoing, I dismissed it as a product of exhaustion and strain, convinced I was mistaken. However, as I would learn later, things were far more serious. The man with the bomb hadn’t just been mentally unstable—his mind had been shattered by grief and despair. He had lost his daughter, taken by the celestial dragons, and that loss had broken him. In his quest for revenge, he had decided to destroy everything in his path.

The celestial dragons… I had always held them in deep contempt. These creatures, devoid of any humanity, cruel and relentless, seemed to me like true monsters. They couldn’t even be called human, so alien were they to any understanding of morality or compassion. Their actions only brought destruction and pain. But now, looking at this man, I saw the situation in a new light. He hadn’t been just a madman—he had become a victim of their violence. In that moment, I truly felt sorry for him. But I didn’t excuse his actions.

Afterward, we helped the townspeople clear the rubble, removing debris and doing whatever we could to ease their burden. People came up to us, offering their thanks, and I could feel how their words and looks slowly began to weigh on me. I was thanked repeatedly for what I had done, with genuine concern for how things might have ended if I hadn’t intervened. I knew that without my help, the consequences would have been truly catastrophic. Garp didn’t overlook this. He told me that I was becoming a true, capable watchman. It didn’t quite feel real. After all, if the Watch hadn’t allowed such lawlessness from the nobility, perhaps no one would have needed to save the civilians in the first place. But I decided to keep these thoughts to myself and not voice them.

When I tried to wash off the black residue that seemed to have glued itself to me, I barely managed to get rid of it. Yet, despite all my efforts, the greasy feeling lingered, stubbornly clinging to my skin. And the strange smell, which I couldn’t seem to banish, continued to haunt me, like a foul stench that refused to fade away.

Somewhere on Grand Lan in the “New World”:

POV: Marco

The morning on the Moby Dick was truly calm, a rarity aboard this giant. The sun, as if trying to make the day as pleasant as possible, gently warmed the deck, and its rays, breaking through the sparse clouds, cast warm patches of light on the wooden surface. I quickly checked the course, confirming everything was on track, and stepped out onto the deck. Stretching, I tilted my face toward the sunlight, relishing its warmth.Pops was already seated in his usual spot, his face serene, while several nurses, as always, moved around him, connecting various machines. Everything was in order. I walked over to him, greeted him, exchanging a few obligatory words, when I noticed his gaze for a moment deepening, as if he were contemplating something. And in that instant, it seemed to me that nothing would ever disturb this peace—this world, this calm, this certainty that everything was under control.

“Hahaha, the sea devil, what the hell?” Thatch voice boomed from behind me, suddenly breaking the silence. I turned around with a touch of indifference, trying to understand what had so amused my brother. At that moment, I was slightly hunched, as if lost in my own thoughts, but his laughter was so contagious that I couldn’t help but pay attention. He laughed loudly, still not tearing his eyes away from the newspaper page.

“What’s that?” Izou stepped over to him, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. Thatch, still struggling to contain his amusement, handed over the newspaper with difficulty, continuing to chuckle. Izou took it and began studying it closely. His face slowly melted into a grin, and then the corners of his mouth lifted so high that he too couldn’t hold back and burst into laughter. With every passing minute, the atmosphere grew increasingly infectious. By now, even pops, who had been absorbed in his own tasks, noticed the commotion and, raising an interested eyebrow, looked over to see what in the pages of the newspaper had caught their attention.

“What’s that, sons?” Pops asked, his voice curious yet with a hint of impatience. However, no one answered him right away; everyone was laughing, unable to utter a single word. After a moment, recovering from the shock, I took the newspaper from Izou trembling hands and made my way over to Pops, deciding that we should all see it together.

I sat down on the armrest next to him, ensuring that the newspaper was visible to both of us. The nurses, who had been absorbed in their work until then, couldn’t resist either and, giving in to curiosity, leaned in to peek at the paper. We all stared at the page with tense anticipation. Only a second passed, but it was enough for us all to erupt in laughter simultaneously.

Staring back at us was the terrified figure of a young lookout, looking as though she had just survived some dreadful storm. She was covered in something dirty and unidentifiable, her face twisted into a mixture of disgust, fear, and bewilderment. The vivid array of emotions on her face was utterly hilarious. The feathers sticking out from her head only added to the absurdity of the scene. We all tried to figure out what had happened to her, but her expression remained a mystery: was she outraged, or simply stunned by some overwhelming revulsion? Beneath the photo was a caption that seemed even more ridiculous: “The heroic act of the young lookout saved the lives of innocent citizens.” We all exchanged incredulous glances, unable to believe our eyes, and the laughter became uncontrollable.

“Тhe soldiers is simply laughable, recruiting such small, frightened souls!” Pops said through his deep, booming laughter, his voice filled with his usual sharp sarcasm. He couldn’t hide his displeasure as he observed the absurdity of the situation. His words carried not only mockery but also a sense of disappointment in how low the standards of these “heroes” — the supposed guardians of order — had sunk.

I watched as his face contorted with laughter, his eyes flashing with sparks of discontent. We all stared at the photo, where the poor, exhausted girl stood like a lost puppy at the center of attention, covered in dirt, her eyes wide with fear. It was clear she hadn’t yet found her place in this role. And then Pops, who was always so strict about such things, couldn’t hold back and spoke with a seriousness that seemed to deepen with each word, his voice carrying the unmistakable tone of increasing disillusionment with what was unfolding before us.

Perhaps no one noticed it, but for a moment, I saw that familiar glint in Pops eyes—the one that always appears when he looks at helpless, lost children. It was a look filled with both deep sympathy and a sharp, assessing wariness, as though he saw in each of them a reflection of his own pain, once lived through. I couldn’t help but notice it, though I tried not to show that I had caught the fleeting moment.

As I looked again at the photo of the girl, I couldn’t suppress an involuntary laugh. Her face held so many strange and simultaneously amusing expressions, as though even she didn’t fully understand what was happening to her. She looked like someone who had stumbled into a world where no one was waiting for her, and everything around her seemed so absurd that the only option was to accept it with bewilderment. I chuckled to myself, noting that this girl was clearly an intriguing subject. With each passing minute spent with the image, she grew more mysterious, and yet, at the same time, almost too ordinary—a clichéd figure in this strange world.

Chapter Text

The realization of everything that had happened, and of what might have happened, hit me with such force that I couldn’t find a place for myself. Everything had unfolded so quickly, and now, in the silence of the night in the galley, every moment felt heavy and endless. I sat there, gasping for breath through my sobs, unable to stop. Every movement brought on fresh tears, and I tried to stifle them, making an effort not to wake anyone. It was a true internal storm, and it was unbearably hard to bear.

I felt the galley door creak open, and with a soft sound, Harp appeared in the doorway. At first, I didn’t even realize he was there. “Why are you crying? Everything turned out fine,” he said, sitting down next to me. I noticed how his gaze became cautious and confused. His face clearly showed he didn’t know what to say or how to comfort me. My tears seemed to confuse him, and I understood that, in that moment, he was almost as helpless as I was.

Through my tears and the stream of mucus, I could barely force the words out: “I could have died!” — and those words immediately became the trigger that unleashed the storm of my emotions. All the pain and panic I had tried so long to suppress burst out, and I could no longer hold myself together. My hysteria overwhelmed me like a wave, and Harp, sitting beside me, watched me in bewilderment. His eyes darted around the room, probably searching for a solution or a way to help, but it seemed he didn’t know how. He awkwardly reached out and tried to pat my back — the gesture was so clumsy that it was clear he had never been in a situation like this before and had no idea what to do.

How long we sat there in the silence, broken only by my sobs and wails, I couldn’t say. Time seemed to stop, and everything around us became part of that deafening, tense pause. Yet, despite everything, Harp’s presence brought me an odd sense of calm. His silence, even though it couldn’t soothe me, somehow helped — at least by not rushing me or forcing me to speak.

“Feeling better?” His voice was quiet and unsure, with a cautious tension, as if he feared that one wrong word might undo everything. He handed me a tissue, and I took it mechanically, but words of thanks didn’t come. I only nodded, sniffling.

“Thank you,” I whispered barely audibly, moving my lips just enough to form the words, too exhausted to say more.

The silence that hung between us felt so heavy it could have been cut with a knife. The tension was almost tangible; I felt it in every breath, in every sound. I didn’t even know how much longer it might have lasted, if Harp hadn’t finally decided to break the quiet.

“Do you remember, from our very first meeting, I told you that you reminded me of someone?” His words cut through the silence gently, and I froze involuntarily, processing them. I merely nodded, but his gaze was so heavy that it made it hard to breathe. In his eyes, there was such guilt, as though he carried a burden he couldn’t shed or hide. It seemed as if he was shrinking under the weight of it, and I realized that the words he spoke weren’t just words — they were confessions, filled with some unbearable sorrow.

“You remind me of my son,” he continued quietly, his voice full of an indescribable sadness. “He, too, always tried to help people, even those who, it seemed, didn’t deserve it. Then, when he realized he couldn’t save everyone…” He fell silent, and a heavy quiet settled in the room. After a long pause, he sighed deeply, as if shaking off a weight, and ran his palm over the back of his neck, as if trying to ease the burden, even just a little.

“He was a sentinel, too, but left the service and became a criminal,” he said with effort, and despite the words, there was a hidden pain in his tone, as though he blamed himself for it.

I didn’t know what to say to that. It was as if all my thoughts had suddenly disappeared, and I was left empty, unable to find a single response. I just sat there, staring at one spot, trying to figure out how to react. All I could do was remain silent, feeling every passing moment pull me deeper into this overwhelming silence. It was as if something had lodged itself in my mind, and I couldn’t find the words, nor the strength, to speak.

We sat in silence for a while. I felt a strange reluctance to break the moment, though there was something oddly calm about it — even a warmth, like something homely and familiar.

After that conversation, everything seemed to fall into place, though I still felt that something remained suspended, unspoken. We never brought up the topic again, and, in a way, we acted as though it had never been discussed. It was as if everything had returned to its previous state, but in the air, there lingered an elusive silence that seemed to conceal unresolved questions. We both seemed to have tacitly agreed not to speak of it, and for a time, that was enough.

Upon our return to Marineford, of course, we were met with a storm of reprimands from Sengoku. Not just a reprimand, but a full-on tempest. He yelled so loudly over that photograph that it felt as though the entire Marineford was shaking from the thunderous roar. His voice was like a storm, loud and merciless. He mostly yelled at Garp, showing no mercy to either of us. He accused him of failing to keep an eye on me, of letting me wander so far. And as if that weren’t enough, he added that someone had managed to take that very photograph, which, according to him, “tarnished the honor of the watch.”

All the while Sengoku was unleashing his storm, Garp couldn’t contain his laughter. He kept grinning and even chuckling, watching as I turned red. It seemed like he found it simply amusing to watch me struggle to maintain composure in the face of the situation. As for me, I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there, feeling Garp’s gaze pierce me like the tip of a knife.

Damn Morgans! If I ever see him, I don’t know how I’ll hold back — I’ll pluck every feather off him! He had no right to humiliate me like that! And even though time passed, I could still feel the echoes of their laughter behind my back. Because of that photograph, people kept whispering and snickering, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d never be able to hide from it.

Time passed, and before I knew it, a year and a half had gone by under the command of Monkey D. Garp. With each passing month, I grew more accustomed to the discipline and order, gradually becoming a part of this world. During this period, I had made significant progress in my training. Of course, my will still hadn’t awakened, and perhaps it’s best not to hope for that in the near future. Who knows if it will ever awaken at all? But there was no doubt that my physical abilities had improved — my muscle mass had clearly increased, and strength was evident in every movement. I could feel my body growing stronger, even if my inner resolve hadn’t yet solidified.

As for my Devil Fruit powers, there had been progress here as well. I had become better at controlling them, and what had once seemed an insurmountable challenge gradually started to feel more ordinary. Taming one’s power is a long journey, but I was ready to keep walking that path.

The most important change, however, was the world I was now building with my “neighbor.” We no longer argued, and my outbursts had become a thing of the past. Garp, though strict, still tried to support me, especially in moments when the battles became intense. He was always there, sometimes not interfering, other times becoming the one to hold me back or even fight in my place. In short, he was more than just a mentor; he was someone who truly cared for his charge.

The most vivid and memorable moment during all this time, of course, was meeting his grandchildren.

When Garp announced where we were being sent for patrol, I immediately realized we’d be heading to his hometown. Surely, he wanted to see his grandkids — I had no doubt about that. However, what I hadn’t expected was for him to bring me along and insist I meet them. It was completely unexpected, as I didn’t see any reason for it. I had assumed my role was limited to carrying out the patrols, not participating in family gatherings.

But despite my thoughts, my small resistance was noticed long before we reached our destination. As soon as we docked, Garp, without giving me a chance to protest, grabbed me and practically carried me toward the mountain. Every attempt I made to object or stop him was ignored, as if he hadn’t even heard me. I understood that this was important to him, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being pulled into something far bigger than I had expected.

Of course, as a fan, I was curious to meet his grandchildren, but I never imagined my role in this story would be so active. I had thought my task was simply to observe, not to be a participant in this family saga. But Garp seemed to think otherwise, and all I could do was hang in his grasp, unsure of what to expect next.

We were almost at the bandits’ house when suddenly a panicked scream rang out, making me flinch: “Grandpa, save me!” — and in the next instant, two figures shot out of the windows, darting toward the forest with lightning speed.

I barely had time to blink before Garp, clearly not wasting any, bellowed with a thunderous roar: “Ungrateful little brats! STAY RIGHT THERE!!!” His voice was so powerful that it felt like the entire forest shook. Birds, startled, flew up and scattered in all directions, creating chaos in the air. As for me, oddly enough, he let me go — perhaps not wanting to waste time — and immediately dashed into the forest after those who had decided to flee.

I was left sitting on the ground, completely confused, unsure of what to do. My thoughts were tangled, and I literally blinked, trying to decide whether I should run after Garp or stay put. Everything around me suddenly seemed so foggy and unclear. I might have sat there for a long time, lost in my thoughts, if it hadn’t been for the unexpected voice.

“Damn Garp, and who the hell are you?” came the voice, laced with obvious displeasure. I looked up and saw Dadan standing in the doorway. Arms crossed, smoking a cigarette, she eyed me with such suspicion that I immediately felt uncomfortable. I didn’t know what to say. What was I supposed to answer? My mind was a complete mess, and in front of me stood a woman clearly not in the mood for a conversation.

Before I could open my mouth to introduce myself, Garp suddenly emerged from the bushes, firmly holding his two grandchildren by the scruff of their necks. They looked rather amusing, both with enormous lumps on their foreheads that seemed to be exactly the same size. Even Garp had one, which surprised me even more. Of course, I couldn’t help but smile, but at the same time, a strange feeling settled in my mind — as though I should be happy, yet everything unfolding before me seemed both absurd and comical.

“Let us go, old man!” Ace shouted with fierce indignation, desperately trying to break free from Garp’s grip. He was clearly not pleased to be dragged off without any warning.

“I’m not letting you go! Grandpa’s here, and you run off as soon as you see me! I haven’t seen you in so long!” Garp said with feigned hurt, his voice sounding as though he was truly upset, but I knew it was just an act. He was a master at putting on performances, especially when it came to his grievances.

“Wouldn’t mind not seeing you again for another ten years!” Ace muttered, clearly less than thrilled about seeing his grandfather. It became clear to me that the brothers hadn’t expected this turn of events. Oh, it seemed like a real storm was about to brew. And sure enough, just as I thought, to confirm my suspicions, Ace immediately received a “Fist of Love” — a punch that Garp generously handed out when he was in a good mood. The two of them began shouting at each other, and I braced myself for a long, noisy exchange of words.

At that moment, I was slightly distracted by an unexpected voice from the left. I quickly turned around and, to my surprise, saw Luffy. I had been so focused on the scene unfolding that I hadn’t noticed when he’d approached.

“And who are you?” he asked with genuine curiosity, his eyes sparkling as always. It seemed that Garp had let him go when he started arguing with Ace.

“I… I’m Asta,” I replied, feeling a little nervous under his intense gaze. It seemed like he was noticing every little detail.

“Shi-shi-shi-shi! I’m Monkey D. Luffy, the man who’s going to be Pirate King!” he said with such enthusiasm that his smile was literally blinding. It was so bright that I had to squint for a moment, as if the light from it was almost physical. There was such sincere confidence, such a childlike belief in himself, that I couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Ouch, that hurts!” Luffy suddenly yelped, clutching his head. His face contorted in pain.

“You’re going to be a lookout!” Garp shouted firmly, fixing his gaze on Luffy. I could see how his elderly figure radiated confidence, as if that role for Luffy had already been decided long ago.

“No, old man, Luffy and I are going to be pirates!” Ace cut in with confidence. He was slightly annoyed but didn’t hold back his emotions. Ace was straightforward, and his words left no room for doubt. At the same time, I couldn’t help but notice the three lumps starting to form on his forehead, almost like trophies from a fierce battle.

The argument had been going on for a few minutes now, and the situation was becoming more and more tense. I stood off to the side, deciding not to interfere in their loud quarrel. At some point, I realized I could use the moment for myself. I stepped aside and introduced myself to Dadan, who was still standing in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. The argument between them was escalating, and it seemed no one had any intention of stopping.

Dadan looked me over with a scanning gaze, as if evaluating every movement I made, but then, apparently sensing I posed no threat, she finally let me in. With a light sigh, she added that they weren’t going to be finishing their argument anytime soon. It wasn’t surprising — I was already used to how stubborn Garp could be.

We were having a pleasant conversation with Dadan, enjoying the quiet exchange, when suddenly, the participants of this whole chaotic scene burst into the house. It was completely unexpected, and the noise they brought with them immediately filled the room.

“Ace, Luffy, meet Asta. Asta, these are my grandsons — Luffy and Ace,” Garp said, wearing that same proud expression he always had when he was boasting about his family. He looked so pleased that I felt a little awkward — as if I had instantly become part of this crazy but close-knit family.

“Shi-shi-shi-shi! I already know!” Luffy said, grinning from ear to ear. He didn’t waste any time and immediately focused on more pressing matters. A massive piece of meat had already found its way into his hands, and he was greedily shoveling it into his mouth, paying no attention to his surroundings.

Ace, however, wasn’t as open. He silently studied me with a gaze as sharp as a knife, as if trying to figure out who I was and what I was doing here. His cold stare was so intense that I could feel something inside me tense up. It seemed the position of a lookout really bothered him, or maybe it was just me. In response, I gave a hesitant smile, trying not to appear too hostile.

After a few seconds of silence, Ace scoffed and muttered something under his breath, then, following his younger brother’s lead, he too moved on. It was the strangest introduction.

I walked over to Garp and quietly whispered, feeling my frustration rising:

“Garp-san, why am I here? I’d be perfectly fine back on the ship.”

He looked at me as if I had just said something completely ridiculous, as if the very idea that I might not understand the situation was absurd to him. His gaze was filled with confusion and a touch of amusement.

“Why? I just wanted you here,” he replied simply.

I froze, feeling a mix of surprise and confusion beginning to form in my mind. Was he serious? That was it? I looked at him, bewildered. I was beginning to think that I might go insane just being around him, and it seemed I was finally starting to understand that I needed to stop being surprised by his antics.

All I could think of in that moment was that I wanted this endless absurd theater to finally end. I just wanted to return to the ship, lock myself in my cabin, and for at least a second, escape from everything that was happening. So much madness, noise, and meaningless chatter — I just wanted to run as far as possible and lose myself, even if only for a moment. It was impossible to remain calm with everything around me boiling over. I would have given anything to be somewhere familiar and quiet, where I could take a breath and rest from all this chaos.

“What can you do? Are you strong?” Luffy suddenly asked, as if my tired eyes and restrained demeanor were a signal for him to start asking questions. He was so straightforward, it felt uncomfortable. I sighed heavily, trying to ignore his question, but he wouldn’t let up, insisting.

“Luffy, get away from her!” Ace hissed, his voice filled with irritation as he yanked his younger brother away from me. I couldn’t help but notice the defensive aggression in his tone, and despite the emotional storm swirling around us, I felt an odd sense of relief. That hostility seemed to be his way of looking out for Luffy, and though I hadn’t expected to find myself at the center of their constant bickering, I appreciated the gesture.

For most of the time we were there, I barely moved, trying to blend into the background and become part of the decor so as not to draw unnecessary attention. But even so, deep down, I couldn’t help but watch the dynamic between this strange and noisy family unfold. At times, it felt as though I were a mere spectator, caught up in events that had nothing to do with me.

I was finally able to truly relax only when we returned to the ship. The moment I stepped across the threshold, I felt the tension slowly start to fade, along with all the chaos I’d just experienced. I could breathe freely again, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would be carrying the strange moments I’d spent with them for a long time.

At that moment, I was deeply concerned that I might accidentally influence the course of events or even spoil the anime’s plot. I really didn’t want to interfere with what was happening, let alone disrupt its logic. I felt like I wasn’t yet ready to face this world head-on, and I needed more time to become stronger. My plan was to retire once I gained enough experience and could protect myself. After all, the world of One Piece was incredibly dangerous, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to handle its challenges. When Luffy set sail on his adventures, that would be my time to leave. I dreamt of going somewhere peaceful, living a quiet life without worrying about anything. I just wanted to detach myself from everything that would unfold around me and enjoy the silence, far from all this drama.

Yes, several months had passed since that incident, and Ace had finally set sail. He even got his first bounty poster, which, unsurprisingly, upset Garp. We were at the Shabondy Archipelago at the time when we suddenly received orders: we had to head to the New World as quickly as possible. The mission was not an easy one—intercept a group of traitors who were planning to sell stolen, highly sensitive documents.

The ship was quickly covered in tar, and we began descending, making our way through the Red Line. Normally, a patrol on this route would have gone through The Holy Land Mary Geoise, but Garp wasn’t ready to part with his ship just yet. That meant we had to take a different path—through Fish-Man Island. It wasn’t the safest option, but Garp preferred it.

To my dismay, we didn’t stop at Fish-Man Island but decided to bypass it. The island, full of unique creatures, had always intrigued me, but it seemed that this time we weren’t meant to get a closer look. We were a few days into our journey to the island we needed when suddenly the ship slowed down dramatically and came to a halt. The atmosphere grew more tense by the minute—everyone sensed that something important was about to happen.

I stood on the deck, watching everything unfold. The wind lightly ruffled my hair, and the salty sea breeze stuck to my skin. Suddenly, I felt someone’s presence next to me. It was Garp. He approached with a white cloth in his hand, wearing a mischievous grin on his face. There was a playful gleam in his eyes, as if he was about to say something important but in a teasing manner.

“You’re just the one I need,” he said with a smile that immediately eased the tension. I looked at him in confusion, unsure of what he meant. He tied the cloth around my leg, then, without warning, scooped me up in his arms and tossed me into the air like a cannonball. Instinctively, I spread my arms—now transformed into wings—and realized that something interesting was about to happen.

Garp continued to look at me with amusement in his eyes, clearly enjoying the moment, and his sly smile never wavered. I stared back at him, bewildered, but there wasn’t even a hint of seriousness in his gaze. He was completely confident in his plan and seemed entirely unbothered by the absurdity of the situation.

“Fly for nine hours,” he said in a cheerful tone, “there’s a ship. Give the captain this letter.” Without wasting a second, he tossed me a rolled-up scroll. I managed to catch it deftly, my balance nearly faltering, but I quickly righted myself mid-flight. It felt as though the entire world paused for a moment, and all that was left for me to do was complete his task, trusting in my instincts and the absurd joy of the moment.

I flew in the direction he’d pointed out, feeling the wind against my face as it swept through my feathers. In the distance, at the edge of the horizon, a ship gradually began to take shape—first barely visible, but growing larger and more impressive with every passing second. It wasn’t just a ship; it was a giant, as big as several buildings stacked on top of each other. My heart skipped a beat, and I muttered in disbelief, “The bastard’s trying to get me killed!”

And that’s when I realized whose ship I was heading toward. My heart literally squeezed in my chest, and my brain immediately made the connection. The white cloth tied to my leg now took on its true meaning. In an instant, my mood flipped completely—anger, disappointment, and an overwhelming sense of irritation flooded over me.

“Has he lost his mind?” I thought, already ready to turn around and fly back to Garp, to tell him exactly what I thought of this stunt. He’d probably just laugh at me, call me a coward. But just as I was about to make that decision, I was spotted. I felt eyes lock onto me from the deck of that enormous ship, and I realized there was no turning back.

The situation left me with no choice. I extended my paw with the white cloth forward, trying as clearly as I could to signal my peaceful intentions, hoping they wouldn’t mistake me for an enemy and instantly decide to take me out. With each passing second, the gap between me and the ship closed, and I flew closer, unable to stop. Meanwhile, one thought kept swirling in my mind: How am I going to get back at that old tyrant?

“I will get him back, I swear I will!” I repeated to myself like a mantra, mentally bracing myself to endure this burden until the moment came when I could return everything to him in full measure.

POV: Marco

I sat in the med bay, lost in thought, when suddenly the deck erupted in chaos. The sound of footsteps, shouting, and pounding reached me through the doors. I sighed, removed my glasses, and, feeling the pull of unease, decided to see what was going on. As soon as I stepped into the fresh air, the scene before me became much clearer.

Pops stood on the deck, his body tense as he stared into the distance. His grip on his naginata was so tight his knuckles had turned white, and his gaze was fixed on the horizon, as if waiting for something dangerous. I followed his gaze, and that’s when I saw it—a bird. It was flying toward us, gliding smoothly through the air, but something about its flight felt off. In one claw, it held something, and from the other, a piece of white cloth fluttered in the wind. But what struck me the most were its eyes—there was a mix of anger and fear in them, as if the bird was trapped by its own emotions and circumstances.

Its flight was swift, yet careful, as if it expected something we couldn’t see. The whole scene felt like a warning, and I could feel the tension on the deck intensifying.

Chapter Text

The tension in the air was so palpable it seemed to hang over us, pressing down on our chests. For a moment, I even felt as if Whitebeard, standing on the deck, was subtly exerting his will, adding to the weight of the atmosphere. Taking a deep breath of fresh sea air, I landed on the bulwark, trying my best to hide my anxiety.

“Excuse me, may I come aboard?” I asked, striving to sound confident, though inside I was trembling with fear and uncertainty. A bead of sweat slowly slid down my temple, leaving a cold trail on my skin. My chest tightened with dread, and I knew—any wrong move, any unnecessary word, and I would be dead. In response to my question, there was a stir, and a faint wave of anger rippled across the deck. However, Whitebeard, without saying a word, simply looked at the crew, and they fell silent immediately. It was clear that he commanded their respect and held an undeniable authority.

“Come aboard,” he said calmly, then, without shifting his gaze from me, effortlessly returned to his chair in the center of the deck.

Descending onto the deck, I walked confidently toward Whitebeard’s chair, acutely aware of the many eyes on me. The crew had lined up along the sides of the ship, watching closely, while the commanders, as expected, stood beside him. Some of them I recognized, though I could only pinpoint a few with certainty. At that moment, I felt like a red flag before a bull—my figure in the watchman’s uniform, with my cloak billowing behind me, looked almost absurd. My footsteps seemed to echo across the deck, amplifying the strange silence that had settled over the entire ship.

As I approached Whitebeard and was about to hand him the letter from Garp, I suddenly felt someone stop me, blocking my way with a hand. I looked up and met his cold, almost metallic gaze. Inside me, everything seemed to tighten from that brief encounter.

“I’ll do it,” Marco said, his voice deep and almost hypnotic, as if each word had passed through a filter, making it sound all the more captivating.

Whitebeard, unhurried, read the letter carefully, his eyes scanning the lines with focused attention, as though trying to extract every subtle hint. With each sentence he read, his brows furrowed more tightly, and his expression grew increasingly discontented. This cold, restrained discomfort was not only apparent to him but to everyone around. The atmosphere on the deck grew tense, like a taut string. Even the sea seemed to sense the shift in mood, becoming calmer, as if everything around was holding its breath in anticipation of something important. The massive ship descended into silence, and each new glance, every movement felt heightened, for everyone was waiting to hear what judgment Whitebeard would deliver.

“This old dog!” Whitebeard bellowed, crumpling the letter in his fist, his voice shaking the very air around us. I nearly collapsed to my knees, feeling the crushing force emanating from the captain of this ship. It was as though my head was being squeezed in an iron vice, and the world before my eyes began to darken, as if the ground itself were slipping away. Miraculously, I didn’t fall to the deck, but the air grew heavy and thick, as if everything around me was starting to obscure. My strength drained away, and I barely managed to hold my breath, preventing myself from losing consciousness.

I could certainly understand his anger. Monkey D. was clearly the kind of person who could get under anyone’s skin, but in that moment, I felt so overwhelmed that I almost lost my footing. I wanted to shout at him, “Hey, I’m not involved in this, and we’re in the same boat!” But the words stuck in my throat, and instead of saying something sharp, I just stood there, feeling the weight of his fury pressing down on me.

“Marco, go to them and tell them to have him come here and say it himself!” Whitebeard shouted, and his words hit me like thunder on a clear day. I froze, unable to immediately comprehend what was happening. Wait, why am I here? Why me? What am I supposed to do now?

“Sorry, sir, but let me handle it,” I tried to find a way out, hoping he would change his mind. Was I really supposed to stay here? This wasn’t my business! How did I even end up in this mess?

“No, you’ll stay with us as a hostage, so that this dog doesn’t even think about attacking,” he said, his voice carrying a strange mix of mischief, as if my attempt to protest was somehow amusing, yet tinged with impatience, like someone who had no time for further conversation. His words seemed to freeze me in place. I felt as though my feet were anchored to the deck. Each of his words landed like a blow, pressing on me harder, leaving less and less room for movement or thought. Arguing with him was pointless, and to be honest, I didn’t dare.

A flare of blue flame suddenly shot into the sky, cutting through the darkness that was slowly descending like a blanket. It was an utterly mesmerizing sight. The flame spread its wings, like some mysterious creature, scattering sparks and reflecting them in the dark waters below. With every new flash of light, it felt as though I was freezing in place, as if something invisible was pulling me toward it. I couldn’t look away, even though I knew it was just the dance of fire, yet it still called to me, hypnotizing me.

The wind, meanwhile, gently wrapped around me, like a feather, its gusts so light I could barely feel them. Everything around me seemed to move in slow motion, and with each beat of the flame’s wings, it grew brighter, and I couldn’t stop staring, even though a quiet unease had already begun to settle inside me.

“Hmm, you remind me of someone… Have we met before by any chance?” His voice was calm, but there was a hint of mockery in it. I turned around and saw a man with a distinctive pompadour hairstyle. His gaze was too intense, and I couldn’t figure out why he had suddenly begun studying me so closely.

“I don’t think so,” I replied, turning away. It wasn’t so much that I didn’t want to continue the conversation, but more that I couldn’t bear how he was scrutinizing my face. His eyes were too penetrating, and I couldn’t tell what lay behind that look.

“Of course, you’re that funny lookout from the newspaper! Hahaha!” Suddenly, he burst into laughter, and the sound shattered the silence like a loud, carefree explosion. I felt an awkward heat rush over me. He kept laughing, completely oblivious to my discomfort. His hand clutched his stomach as though this moment were the height of comedy.

I tried to pull away from him, hoping to escape his gaze and the humiliation, but it seemed like it was too late. Far too late.

“No, you’re mistaken,” I said with effort, realizing that defending myself no longer made any sense. But my voice was quiet and unconvincing, as if I didn’t even believe my own words.

“No, it’s definitely you!” he insisted, not letting up. I struggled to hold back my frustration, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it. Inside, I was screaming with annoyance. Why did they always smile so broadly? Why did it seem so effortless for them?

“Hey, Pops, remember that confused lookout from the newspaper about a year and a half ago? Well, this is our prisoner!” His golden, penetrating eyes turned to me instantly. I felt the full weight of attention suddenly shift onto my figure, and I couldn’t help but notice something strange in Whitebeard’s gaze. Despite his imposing demeanor, there was an odd flicker behind his eyes. People always say he’s angry and serious, but standing there, I could see how even with his massive frame, there was a spark of mischief and mirth dancing in his eyes. It was so absurd that for a moment, I wondered if this was some kind of joke.

My gaze darkened slightly in confusion, and my heart involuntarily began to race. Why did all these powerful people always seem so unpredictable?

“Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra! So it’s you, that scared little brat!” His laughter, loud and uncontrollable, rolled across the deck like a thunderclap. I almost felt his words hit me, leaving a wave of awkwardness and fear in their wake. God, help me! I thought, feeling more and more uncomfortable under the weight of all those eyes on me. The gazes, fixed on me like invisible arrows, seemed to pierce through me, leaving me feeling exposed.

I can’t say I was scared—more like I was horrified by how this giant might interpret my reaction. I had no desire to draw the attention of such a powerful man, and now, with every pair of eyes on me, I sensed the rising tension that had hung in the air just moments before soften ever so slightly. But had it really softened, or was it just my mind trying to calm itself? I didn’t know. All I knew for sure was that I absolutely did not want to be the center of this spectacle.

Thatch threw his arm around my shoulders in a friendly gesture, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Hey, don’t worry, we don’t bite,” he said with a slight smirk, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

You don’t bite, you slit throats, I thought bitterly. Where is Garp when you need him? He had always been there when tensions ran high, his presence somehow absorbing the strain, but now he was nowhere to be found.

Before I could even exhale, Izou approached us. Without a word, he silently struck Thatch’s arm with his fan, showing no hint of friendliness. His gaze was cold and stern, and there was an unmistakable threat behind his eyes. It was as if he was silently saying, What are you doing here? She’s the enemy, stop playing the friend.

He didn’t utter a single word, but his gesture and gaze were more eloquent than a thousand sentences. His posture, his expression, even the way he held his fan—all of it made it clear that he wasn’t about to let Thatch joke around about this “prisoner.”

Garp had become my true savior, a real superhero. His confidence and calm in any situation were nothing short of admirable. The moment he stepped onto the deck, it was as if a certain ease followed him by habit, as though this entire situation were just another adventure for him. I approached him and stood behind him, trying to mask my unease. The tension between the two ships was almost palpable. It felt as though, at any moment, both crews, under their captains’ orders, would charge into battle. We were all waiting for the spark.

“Eddie, good to see you, how’ve you been?” His voice was light as always, with not a hint of seriousness about the situation. Garp’s carefreeness shattered all records at that moment. It was as if he hadn’t even noticed we were standing on the brink of war.

“So, the plan you proposed—what exactly did you mean by it?” Whitebeard raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze turning cold and sharply focused on his counterpart.

“We’ve received intel on the whereabouts of our fugitives, and I’ve also learned that a few individuals you’ve got a bone to pick with have joined them. So, I’m suggesting a temporary truce and the unification of our forces.”

My gaze, fixed on the back of Garp’s head, was filled with worry. I tried to telepathically convey to him the horrific image already forming in my mind. We were heading back to Marineford, and I knew exactly what awaited us there. In my head, the scene was painfully vivid: us reporting to Akainu, and how, without hesitation, he would immediately “melt” us down into paperweights. The thought sent a chill down my spine, and I involuntarily shuddered, realizing just how horribly things could turn out.

Usually, our reports were given to Admiral Aokiji, and his “lazy” attitude toward them suited me just fine. But this mission was under the command of Admiral Akainu, which meant our report would land in his hands. I knew that this admiral tolerated no interaction with pirates except for murder or imprisonment. He would definitely kill us for this “miracle” plan.

Our plan was, in general, quite simple. We decided to set a real trap for the enemy. Initially, our squad was to begin the attack, while creating the impression that we significantly outnumbered them. And as soon as the enemy began to retreat, they were supposed to fall right into the hands of Whitebeard’s pirates, who were already lying in wait for them. We were certain that this would leave them absolutely no chance of escape. Our course was set for the port where our target was located, and we had to be ready for any of their moves. Meanwhile, the Moby Dick sailed in the opposite direction, maintaining complete silence and concealing its presence until the last possible moment, ensuring that the element of surprise would work to its fullest.

“Garp-san, have you completely lost your mind? What were you thinking when you sent me aboard the Emperor of the Sea’s ship with this white rag and such a foolish letter?” I waved the miserable scrap of cloth right in front of Garp’s face, unable to contain my anger.

— “Bwa-ha-ha, well, all things considered, it wasn’t that bad. Why are you so angry?” he replied, clearly not taking the situation seriously.

— “Do you even realize what awaits us when we report to the admiral? I refuse to take part in this madness, this outright suicide! You deal with it yourselves from now on!” I exclaimed, barely holding back my fury, deciding I could no longer conceal my dissatisfaction.

To my outrage, he only laughed louder, as if he didn’t take my words seriously at all, brushing off my concerns with a wave of his hand. His carefree attitude was infuriating.

— “That’s it, I’ve had enough!” I blurted out. After all this, I desperately needed some rest, and you know, I’ve long been owed a solid two months away from Garp. The idea was so tempting that I couldn’t just ignore it. — “After this mission, I’m taking a leave of absence, and that’s non-negotiable!”

Maintaining constant communication with the pirates, we relied on the Den Den Mushi, which was our main tool for coordinating our actions. The task was clear — find the enemy’s exact location. We wasted no time and quickly pinpointed their position — they were on the outskirts of the city. We moved in small groups, trying not to attract unnecessary attention. The dark, almost deserted streets felt particularly ominous, and the air was thick with a sense of tense anticipation, as though everyone around us was bracing for something important. I was in a group with Bogart, and our task was to be on standby, always ready to assist. We stayed a little apart from the main group, listening intently to the world around us, keeping an eye on the signal, and maintaining communication with Whitebeard.

“Vere!” — Garp’s short, yet decisive command, and suddenly everything was set into motion.

Garp’s group stormed into the abandoned warehouse, and the battle erupted with incredible ferocity. The clash of metal, screams, gunshots, and explosions shattered the night’s silence. The air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder, and bullets whistled by, leaving deadly trails in their wake. We stood in the shadows, waiting for the signal, watching every movement, ready to act at a moment’s notice.

—«Bogart, they’ve left! Follow them, we’ll handle things here!» Garp shouted, his voice as confident and resolute as ever. We didn’t waste a second. The team moved toward the retreating figures, keeping our distance but ensuring they couldn’t get away. There were many enemies, but we stayed on their trail, neither falling behind nor closing in too quickly, knowing they might try to deceive us.

Behind us, chaos reigned. Metal structures were torn apart by explosions, and the sounds of battle filled the air like a deafening symphony. The enemies were scrambling, trying to find an escape, but we knew they had no chance. We kept them in a tight ring, leaving no opening for retreat.

— “Get ready, we’re almost at the target!” Bogart said into the Den Den Mushi.

— “Understood, waiting,” came the reply from the other side.

As we burst onto the beach, a small group of pirates greeted us. Realizing there was no escape and they were surrounded on all sides, they chose not to surrender and prepared to fight. Adrenaline surged through my veins as I fended off another enemy attack, fighting without giving myself a second to rest. At one point, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed one of Whitebeard’s pirates in danger — an enemy was sneaking up on him from behind.

I instantly transformed my arms into massive wings and my legs into sharp claws, launching myself at the attacker with swift, relentless force. In an instant, he was no longer there. I knocked him off his feet, and he fell without even managing to make a sound.

— “Thanks!” the rescued pirate exhaled, looking at me with relief, though still keeping his guard up.

— “No need to thank me, but keep your eyes open!”

It was beginning to dawn when the battle finally came to an end. Everything around us was soaked in exhaustion and the haze of gunfire, while the first rays of the sunrise barely touched the horizon, casting a soft glow over the battlefield. We stood amidst our victory, but the feeling of triumph was strange — as if the battle had lasted an eternity. The enemies, gathered in a heap, were quickly and wordlessly tied up, secured in place to prevent any chance of escape. The night had faded, and now the air was fresh but tense. Sunlight broke through the clouds, but the silence still hung heavy, broken only by the breathing of our people and the faint sound of the sea in the distance.

After gathering our prisoners, we began to move slowly toward the ship, more exhausted than ever. Each of us felt the weight of the night’s battle, but despite the fatigue, we had managed to avoid any casualties. Without wasting a moment, I shifted into my full Harpy form and effortlessly soared into the air, heading toward the ship. The wind caressed my feathers, but I could clearly sense someone’s gaze upon me. Due to my exhaustion, I couldn’t pinpoint who it was, but at that moment, I didn’t care. My wings carried me forward, and I lost myself in my thoughts, forgetting everything else in the world.

When I finally reached the Merry Dog, the last thing I remembered was collapsing onto the pillow, unable to keep my eyes open any longer, burying my face in its softness. As I closed my eyes, I felt my whole body release the accumulated fatigue. In an instant, the world around me vanished, and I slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Chapter Text

Stepping onto the sandy shore of this summer island, my feet feel the warm sand, soft as velvet, and with each step, it seems to embrace me. The wind gently wraps around me, and I listen to the rustling of palm leaves in its rhythm. Everything is bathed in light—the bright sun, with not a cloud in the sky. The water is clear and warm, glowing almost magically, as if it holds hidden secrets.

It feels as though this place is infused with an energy that is not easy to comprehend. Deep within the jungle, strange plants with vivid blooms hide, their scent wafting through the air and making me feel as though I’ve entered another world.

Here, the people are kind and open. I can hear music and cheerful voices from afar. Festivals are a part of their life, and it seems that every moment on the island is filled with joy.

Slipping on my sunglasses, I adjusted my wig and smiled. At last, after all those long months of preparation, I had finally made it to this island. I took a deep breath—the air here was like something out of paradise, a blend of salt and exotic flowers. Finally, everything was in place! My hands instinctively reached for my sunglasses, and I struck the pose of a confident traveler.

Getting time off was surprisingly easy. It’s almost strange how quickly everything can fall into place when your bosses aren’t particularly invested in your presence. I simply placed the completed leave form on Aokiji’s desk, and without even looking, he signed it. It was so effortless that I decided right then and there—no more wasted time. I’d focus on finding the perfect spot to unwind. And that’s when the real challenges began.

God, how inconvenient it is to find a place to relax in this world! In a nearly medieval world full of wonders and magic, there are no decent brochures or newspaper columns like “Top 10 Best Islands for a Vacation.” All I could find were crumpled maps and sparse mentions of places I’d never even heard of. You’d think with all this information, it would be easy to organize an expedition or build a house—yet, as usual, nothing is ever simple.

So, I had no choice but to dig through the archives and look for something worthwhile. Soon, I stumbled upon old data about islands in the “New World.” It wasn’t exactly what I was searching for, but still intriguing. A list of islands that had once been plagued by some sort of danger or security risks turned out to be my salvation. I settled on one of the summer islands, protected by Whitebeard. It might sound a bit foolish, but after thinking it over, I decided that for a solo vacation, it was nearly the perfect choice.

Security here is almost absolute. Of course, it’s not perfect, but when you think about it, the more defenders, the better, right? Besides, I discovered that there’s a whole month before the next pirate ship arrives on this island. By then, I’ll be off to the next one, and in the meantime, I can relax to the fullest.

I looked around, mentally taking stock of my little journey. And there, under the warm sun, I realized—I had earned this break. Ahead of me lay the long-awaited peace and no work. Just the summer island and an uninterrupted vacation!

In my life, I had only been to the capital of my country, and the luxurious resorts I’d seen on Pinterest were nothing more than a dream. But here I am, on this island, holding a crate of good alcohol in my hands, and I can hardly believe how much my life has changed. I stand there, like a little child, delighting in every little thing, unable to wipe the smile off my face.

As I walk along the cobbled streets of the town, I savor every step. The air here is special—warm, with a faint scent of the sea and flowers. I pass shops overflowing with vibrant blooms, and stores filled with candles, fruits, and various delightful little things. The people around me are so relaxed, smiling, and unhurried. It’s a strange, but pleasant feeling—being in a place where everything feels right and natural.

I decided I didn’t want to stay in a hotel, like all the other tourists, stuck in standard rooms with views of the pool. I want something more secluded, more homely. I’m planning to rent a small stone cottage with a lovely garden, where I can sip coffee on the veranda and read books in the shade of the trees. It will be my little personal sanctuary, a place to escape from everything.

And you know, after all my years of service, I’ve managed to save up a decent amount of money. To be honest, I could never really spend it—there was nothing to spend it on. But now… now I can afford almost anything, and I’m not going to waste a single minute. I’m going to live it up. First, the house, then—massive shopping! Oh yes, I’ve been dreaming of real clothes for so long, not the t-shirt and shorts I used to wear back home. Honestly, I was done with that, and it’s time for a change.

Stopping in front of a small café, I suddenly noticed how wonderfully it smelled—fresh bread, coffee, and something sweet that beckoned me to come in. Stepping inside, I took a quick glance around: cozy ambiance, soft lighting, a few tables where people were quietly chatting. In the corner, there was a board on the wall with the menu, and the atmosphere was so inviting that all I wanted to do was sit down, relax, and lose myself in the moment. But no, I needed to find out where I could rent a cottage.

Approaching the counter, I smiled politely and asked:

— “Hello, I’ve just arrived, and I was wondering if you know of any cottages for rent around here?” I managed to say these words, trying not to feel nervous, since I had no idea where to start.

The girl behind the counter looked up, paused for a moment, and replied:

— “Hello, sorry, I’m not sure, but you could ask at the town hall. Are you staying here long, or just passing through?”

— “Oh, I’m on vacation, just looking to rent a cute little cottage. Thanks for the info, I’ll head over there. Have a nice day!” I thanked her quickly and hurried out, hoping the town hall wasn’t too far away.

Stepping out onto the street, I realized I was heading straight for the town hall. Thoughts rushed through my mind about how convenient it would be to simply open an app on my phone, pick a cottage, confirm the booking—and that’s it, just like back in my world. But here… I had to go about it the old-fashioned way, and I was starting to appreciate the comfort that existed somewhere back in the past.

At the town hall, I learned that there were a few cottages available on the island, and without hesitation, I agreed to take a look at them right away. The mayor turned out to be quite friendly and offered to show me around personally. We walked down narrow streets, and I enjoyed every step, immersed in the atmosphere of this little town. It was beautiful, but rather noisy, and I was starting to doubt whether I’d be able to find that perfect place for tranquility.

The first cottage we visited was indeed very cozy. Its walls were decorated with flowers, and cute curtains hung in the windows. But… it was right in the heart of the town, and the noise from the streets and the crowds didn’t provide the solitude I was looking for. I stood by the door, deep in thought, realizing that it wasn’t quite what I needed.

But the second house—it was entirely different. As soon as I stepped inside, I felt that it was exactly the kind of place I was looking for. The beautiful stone façade, the warm light pouring through the windows, and the sense of coziness that seemed to seep into every corner of the house. I looked around, and the thought that I could stay here forever flickered through my mind. Even a strange idea to buy it crossed my mind, but then I remembered that this island was under Whitebeard’s protection, and all the potential consequences of such a decision, so I quickly dismissed those thoughts. This place was far too risky for such drastic measures.

After paying the mayor the necessary sum, I received the keys, and immediately, I felt the little cottage becoming mine. Finally, I could settle down and enjoy a true break, and ahead of me lay long days of peace, silence, and solitude that I had so longed for.

As I entered the house, I could almost feel the air of freedom and seclusion seeping in. The place was astonishingly quiet and cozy, and I couldn’t resist taking a little tour for myself. The interior was done in soft white and blue tones, giving the house a sense of lightness and freshness. In the living room, there was a wide, incredibly soft blue sofa that seemed to invite me to sit down and relax. Next to it, a coffee table held a few neatly arranged books and a cup left behind by the previous owners. But it was the giant bookshelf, stretching across the entire wall, that immediately caught my attention. It was clear that great collections had been amassed here.

The kitchen was fairly simple, but there was a charm to it. The sink, the old wood-burning stove—it felt like a special kind of allure, despite its simplicity. The dining table, perfect for inviting guests or having a cozy dinner by myself, all looked as though it belonged to someone who truly appreciated peace and serenity.

When I entered the bedroom, I immediately felt it was a place meant for rest. Just a bed with an incredibly soft mattress, the kind that made you feel like you could forget everything. Through the large window, soft sunlight poured into the room, casting warm, peaceful rays on the floor. Outside, a garden stretched out, filled with flower beds and fruit trees so lush and vibrant that I longed to step outside and wander through this paradise, listening to the birds sing.

Unable to resist, I made my way to the kitchen. I grabbed a glass and poured myself a bit of wine—wine that Donquixote Doflamingo had given me at one of the pirate meetings. Of course, he wasn’t the kind to bring wine labeled “from the finest vineyards,” but this particular wine had been so unexpected and memorable that I couldn’t forget it. When I took the first sip, surprise washed over me: the dessert wine from Dress Rosa was incredibly delicious—sweet, but not cloying, with a light aftertaste that lingered for quite a while. I remembered how Doflamingo had simply handed me the box, and now, savoring its flavor, I realized that this vacation was going to be just as vibrant as the wine. And, by the way, I still had an entire crate of that wine from Dress Rosa, so boredom was definitely not on the horizon.

Stepping out onto the wooden veranda with a view of the garden, I felt relaxation slowly enveloping me. A gentle breeze played with my hair, and the green leaves of the trees swayed in its rhythm, creating an overwhelming sense of solitude and peace. I settled into a wicker chair so comfortable it immediately felt like I had always been there. Placing my glass of wine on a small table beside me, I closed my eyes and simply soaked in the moment. I breathed in the fresh air, listened to the birds singing from the garden, and felt the tension melt away with each breath.

But that perfect moment of silence and solitude was shattered by a familiar sound from my pocket. Den-Den Mushi! It rang out suddenly, like thunder on a clear day, and instantly snapped me back to reality. I quickly picked up the receiver, and as soon as I heard shouting, I instinctively pulled it away from my ear, barely able to process what was happening. My finger pressed firmly against the speaker, trying to mute the awful noise that grated on my ears and disturbed my peaceful atmosphere.

— “Asta-chan, saaaaave meee!!” — Garp’s scream on the other end was so loud that I literally jumped.

— “See? I told you this would happen when Akainu reads our report,” I sighed tiredly, feeling the tension creep back into me. “And, by the way, I’m on vacation. Don’t bother me with trivial stuff!”

— “Trivial?! Your beloved boss is getting killed, and you’re so indifferent?” Garp clearly couldn’t accept that his complaints weren’t getting the attention he thought they deserved. I rolled my eyes, my shoulders slumping in exhaustion. You could never win with this old man.

— “Call me when he’s dead. End of transmission,” I replied curtly, not wanting to continue this pointless conversation. I hung up, settled back into my chair, and finally took a big gulp of wine, feeling its taste pull me back into a reality where there were no bosses, no reports—just me and this moment of solitude.

After finishing the wine, I felt a gentle sense of relaxation and decided it was time to head into town—both for groceries and, of course, a little shopping. A stroll through the market had always been more than just a trip to buy things for me; it was a real pleasure. The stalls were cozy, filled with vibrant flowers and smells, and the local vendors were always eager to share stories about their goods. I stopped at one of them, by a vegetable stand. Carefully picking out tomatoes and fresh zucchini, I thought about what kind of stew to make for dinner. I decided on a vegetable stew—perfect to pair with the wine I planned to open later. I imagined the kitchen filling with the aromas of fresh vegetables, and the evening ending with a delicious meal in a cozy atmosphere.

— “Good afternoon, I’ll take these,” I said, handing the vendor the bags filled with the vegetables I’d picked. A smile spread across my face without me even thinking about it—my choice had been spot on, and I felt pleasantly tired after my stroll through the market.

— “Of course, just a moment. I haven’t seen you around before,” the vendor replied with interest, carefully weighing my items. She wasn’t in any hurry, clearly eager to chat, and I happily obliged.

— “I just arrived today, rented a little house on the edge of the village,” I said as I paid her, deciding to share a bit about myself. It’s always nice when locals take an interest in a new face.

— “I hope you’ll enjoy our island. It’s so peaceful here thanks to Whitebeard’s protection. And what’s your name, beautiful?” she asked, smiling and looking me over with curiosity.

— “Kira. And could you tell me where I might find some decent clothes for a good price?” I couldn’t help but ask—shopping was one of my weaknesses, and being in a new place, I was eager to find something special.

— “Nice to meet you, Kira. I’m Eva. You can always get fresh veggies and fruit from me,” she said proudly, winking at me. “As for a good clothing store, there’s one near the library. You’ll find it easily—just go straight, then turn left.”

Thanking Eva for her help, I grabbed my bags and made my way home, savoring the warm air and the feeling of a fresh start. After placing the groceries on the kitchen table, I wasted no time and headed straight to the clothing store. My eyes sparkled with anticipation—a new island, new shopping opportunities, and maybe, just maybe, I’d find something truly unique.

The store was easy to find, and I stepped inside with clear excitement. There was so much to look at! Shelves were piled high with clothes, and the displays lured me in with their bright colors and unusual cuts. My eyes darted around, and I, like a child entering a toy store, started grabbing things almost without looking. Everything seemed essential, everything caught my attention—I moved through the aisles like someone enchanted, drawn in by the endless choices.

Once I had a decent pile of clothes in my hands, I decided it was time to try them on. In the fitting room, standing in front of the mirror, I was pleasantly surprised by how well so many of the items fit. I kept a couple of gorgeous skirts—short, but so beautiful—and couldn’t resist a few tops and denim shorts that would perfectly complete my summer look. But the most stunning piece was a lemon-yellow floral sundress. It was so light and vibrant that I couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful I’d look in it.

With a satisfied look and the confidence that I had made the right choice, I paid for my purchases. As I stepped out of the store, I felt a lightness envelop me, and a sense of contentment settled in my heart. All worries were left behind, and ahead of me lay a cozy evening in my new clothes. In high spirits, I headed home, knowing that this day would bring me nothing but joy.

Standing by the stove, preparing dinner, I found myself increasingly wishing for a world filled with phones that play music. Sometimes it feels like it’s exactly what’s missing in those moments of silence when all you want is to be alone with yourself. I softly hummed the songs I once remembered, moving in time with the familiar melody, feeling it in every motion. In those moments, nothing else matters — it’s as if the world stands still. And I allow myself to forget everything else.

I savored every bite of the stew, which turned out to be truly delicious. Each ingredient was perfectly balanced, and combined with the wine, it created an explosion of flavors in my mouth. I made a mental note to thank the “pink bird” for such a delightful gift. Sitting at the table, enjoying my meal, I caught myself thinking that these moments are the small joys of life. The wine flowed smoothly over my tongue, and the aroma of herbs and spices from the stew made everything else fade away. It was starting to get dark by the time I finished tidying up the kitchen, placing the dishes in the sink and feeling the warmth of coziness spread throughout the house. At that moment, I thought: what could be better than spending an evening on the veranda with a good book in hand? In the silence, when the world around you calms down and the sounds of the night become particularly vivid. There’s nothing more pleasant than evenings like these.

I settled comfortably into the chair on the veranda, wrapping myself in a light blanket, and began reading the novel I had taken from the shelf. It was the story of a girl who had fallen in love with a pirate. She was facing the challenging task of winning his heart despite all the difficulties and obstacles in her way. In order to reach her goal, she decides to form her own crew, and her courage and determination gradually become mesmerizing. The writing was captivating, and the plot was full of unexpected twists. I devoured the pages one after another, losing myself in the story. Time passed unnoticed, and it seemed I could read like this until morning.

I only came to my senses when it had become completely dark outside, and the night sky was filled with stars. The clock showed that the night had fully claimed its time. I rose from the chair, feeling a slight fatigue, stretched, yawned, and, as my muscles relaxed, suddenly realized it was time to go to bed. Everything had been perfect, and this evening left me with a deep sense of tranquility and peace.

The next morning greeted me with a silence and tranquility that I could easily come to embrace. I continued to set aside most of my salary, making plans for the future—the better life that awaited me after my service. In my mind, my ideal day was already taking shape clearly—I had been dreaming of it for a long time. Among my plans was the purchase of a two-story house with a cozy yard, where I could create my own little world. On the first floor, I would open a café, small and inviting, where people could come in the morning, sip a cup of fragrant coffee, and sample freshly baked goods made with love. I had once been passionate about baking, so why not bring that passion back into my life? I would brew the coffee, savoring the process, and then happily watch my guests enjoy what I had prepared. It would be my little idyll, a peaceful and quiet life—the very life I had longed for.

Getting out of bed, I made my way to the bathroom, going through my usual morning routine—taking my time and savoring each moment. Once everything was in order, I didn’t forget to put on my wig, just to slightly alter my usual look, as I didn’t want to give myself away. Stepping outside the house, I immediately felt the warm summer air. It was fresh and slightly dry, reminding me that summer was in full swing. The streets were just beginning to come to life, people hurried about their business, and small shops and cafés were opening their doors. I was heading to the café I had visited on my first day, looking forward to breakfast. The thought of it already lingered in my mind—how wonderful it would smell again. That scent, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked bread and strong coffee, stirred warm associations within me, as if everything in the world was exactly as it should be.

— “Good morning, I’ll have a croissant with cherry jam and a cup of espresso, please,” I said, smiling at the girl behind the counter who had suggested where to rent a cozy little house. I loved the homey atmosphere of this café—it made me want to come back again and again.

— “Good morning, just a minute,” she replied, immediately picking up a freshly baked croissant from the counter. It was still warm, with a crispy crust, and I couldn’t help but think about how wonderful it would be to enjoy it with a cup of coffee.

As the girl prepared my coffee, I decided to ask her a little about the local sights.

— “What interesting things are there to see on the island?” I asked, hoping she’d share something captivating. I had only been on the island for a day and hadn’t yet had a chance to truly soak in its atmosphere.

— “We have the Flower Festival next week; it’s going to be a lot of fun. All the locals take part—there will be exhibitions, concerts, carnival dances. I hope you’ll come!” she replied enthusiastically, smiling brightly.

— “Oh, that sounds wonderful! I’ll definitely be there!” I exclaimed, returning her smile as I took my order.

I found a cozy spot on the veranda, basking in the warm morning sunlight. Taking my time, I began my breakfast, watching the streets and observing the passersby. Everything around me was calm and peaceful, and I felt like a part of this small, charming world.

POV Haruta:

After the battle we fought with Monkey D. Garp, Marco started acting strangely. It was as if something had turned inside him, and he was no longer himself. He was constantly lost in thought, oblivious to everything around him, and his hands seemed to fumble with everything. Even the simplest tasks appeared to be a struggle for him. We, his brothers, noticed something was off, but no matter how hard he tried to hide it, we all sensed that something had changed. When we asked him about it, he stubbornly remained silent and pretended not to understand what we meant. It felt like some kind of game, but one he clearly didn’t want to play. Pops noticed something was wrong too, but chose not to interfere, simply saying that if Marco wanted to share, he would. It sounded wise, but it didn’t sit right with me. After all, I am the commander of the 12th division of Whitebeard’s pirates, and my unit handles not just combat tasks but also gathering information and espionage. We always need to know what’s going on with our brothers. So, I decided to find out what was happening and began collecting rumors and speculations that were circulating around the ship. With each conversation, it became clearer what was really going on with him, and that realization sparked a sly smile.

It was Thatch who cleared up the whole tangled situation. He was always good at these things. “Marco kept staring at our little prisoner for a long time, and even on the ship, he’d often glance her way. And honestly, that look was very ambiguous, if you know what I mean,” he said with a mysterious smile, playfully raising an eyebrow. Then, as if nothing had happened, he absentmindedly returned to his work in the galley. I, however, stayed behind, reflecting on his words. That was it—the puzzle was finally complete. At first, I couldn’t figure out what was going on, but now it was clear. I involuntarily grimaced at the thought of the lookout. Though, in all fairness, the lookout was a pretty normal person. She’d even saved one of ours and always spoke respectfully to Pops. So, in the end, as a good brother, I felt it was my duty to help Marco. After all, when your brother’s in trouble, you can’t just stand aside.

I immediately contacted my channels to gather as much information as I could about our “dove.” You know, when you’re trying to find someone, you’d be surprised at how much information you can gather these days. So, I managed to learn almost everything: her height, weight, age, where she’d served, what she’d done—basically, a detailed biography. But what really caught my attention was this: she had taken a two-month leave and sailed off in an unknown direction. That was strange, but I didn’t lose hope. After making a couple more calls, I started to think maybe there wasn’t anything of interest to uncover, when suddenly… I got a call from one of our former comrades, who had settled on one of our islands.

— “Commander Haruta, a woman who looks very much like the lookout from the newspaper just arrived on our island. She’s disguised as a civilian. What should I do—kill her or just keep an eye on her?”

— “No, don’t touch her. Just keep watching and call me if anything happens.” A sly smile crept onto my face. Well, it seemed like the fun was just beginning. I knew that once the game started, it would be far more interesting than just digging for information.

By evening, when Thatch was the only one left in the galley, I decided it was time to have a word with him. He was the kind of guy who was always up for some fun and pranks.

— “I found her,” — I said, narrowing my eyes slightly to build the suspense.

— “And? That can’t be it. I know you too well, so spill it—what have you come up with?” — Thatch replied, not giving me much time to draw it out. He looked exactly like he always did: with that mischievous grin, hiding a whole ocean of amusement.

— “Heh, you can’t hide anything from you!” — I smirked, figuring out how to present the rest. — “She’s on one of our islands right now, on leave.” I glanced back at him, waiting for his reaction.

The reaction came quickly. His eyes widened, but he regained his composure almost immediately. In the next moment, his gaze sharpened, and a glint of mischief danced in his eyes—he knew exactly where I was going with this. It seemed that thoughts were already forming in his head, and his hands instinctively rubbed together, almost as if anticipating what I would say next.

— “You think Marco will be happy about this?” — we both jumped when suddenly Izou’s voice cut through the air. He appeared in the doorway, as quiet as ever, but with a clear hint of displeasure.

— “We’re just trying to help him, get him back to his old self,” — Thatch responded without missing a beat, narrowing his eyes at Izou. He crossed his arms over his chest, as if bracing for what would come next in the conversation.

— “Help? Or just spice up your boredom? And besides, she’s a lookout, what are you even thinking?” — Izou said, his voice dripping with clear sarcasm.

— “As Pops always says, a lookout doesn’t mean a death sentence, and we’ve straightened out worse,” — I replied with a smile, feeling my calm demeanor starting to shift the mood. Pleased with myself, I watched them, knowing full well that Izou wouldn’t argue against Pops’ authority.

He sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose as if trying to process everything. It was clear he wasn’t too thrilled, but eventually, he relented. — “Fine, but I’m sticking with you to make sure you don’t do anything stupid!” — he said, already sounding a little more at ease. Thatch and I exchanged a quick glance, then, as if on cue, we slapped high-fives. It was our little victory gesture.

Chapter Text

POV Marco:

The lookout first caught my attention when I saw her in the newspaper. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, but that issue still ended up in my drawer, carefully kept. A strange coincidence, but when she landed on our ship, I, already familiar with her face, couldn’t help but watch her every move. Every action, every expression seemed to reveal some secret, and I, on edge, followed it all. It was like a play, where the actress performs her role, and to be honest, I could barely hold back a laugh as I watched her awkward attempts to grunt in fear of Pops. In that moment, she reminded me of a puppy—lost and confused, not understanding what was happening to it. It was almost pitiable. And with my enhanced hearing, not a single word of hers went unnoticed, even if she whispered or muttered under her breath. I could hear all her curses directed at Monkey D. — she made no effort to hide her irritation.

I burst out laughing once I’d gotten a good distance from the ship. I thought of her as nothing more than an amusing lookout, nothing more, nothing less; her role was clear, and I wasn’t expecting anything more from her. But every time I found myself thinking about her, there was this nagging feeling inside me, something strange that I’d have ignored before. And it seemed like the rest of the crew had started to notice too. Some even began eyeing me with suspicion, which only added to the tension.

I stayed silent, denying all those thoughts within myself, trying to maintain internal discipline and not give in to emotions. After all, if I allowed myself to relax, it would change everything, right? But with each passing day, it became harder to ignore those feelings, and I didn’t like it. Especially when strange things began happening, like how some of my brothers started acting differently. Even Pops, usually so calm and focused, began giving me these looks with some new expression — one moment at me, the next at the horizon. And those mysterious smiles of hers, with that glint in her eyes, kept gnawing at me.

But what really set me on edge were the looks and smiles from Thatch and Haruta. Those two were real pranksters, always on the lookout for a reason to joke around. Normally, they didn’t shut up for a second, but when the silence came, it was too much. And in those quiet moments, a headache would start to creep up on me. Something was happening, and I was sure of it — it had to be connected to me somehow. But what exactly?

— “Thatch, what are you up to?” — I stood in the doorway of the galley, leaning against the frame, arms crossed, eyes narrowed slightly. Staring at him, I felt the air around us tighten, as though something was off, though I couldn’t quite place what it was. He’d been unusually quiet lately, clearly hiding something, and I didn’t like the feeling it gave me.

— “What are you talking about?” — His face froze in surprise, like a child caught red-handed. But I knew him too well to fall for such cheap tricks. I raised an eyebrow in response, unable to hide my doubt. The unspoken question in my gaze was clear.

— “You don’t believe me?” — Thatch theatrically clutched his heart, his expression shifting instantly to one of mock offense, as though I’d just violated some unwritten law of brotherhood. His voice carried a touch of drama, but in the depth of his eyes, I noticed something more. His theatrics were overly exaggerated, yet beneath the performance, there was something hidden—something I didn’t want to see.

— “You know I’ll find out sooner or later, and for your own sake, it’s better if I find out before…” — I began, but didn’t finish the sentence before one of the cooks interrupted me. He appeared out of nowhere, as always, as if he knew exactly what I was about to say.

— “Thatch, something’s going to burn!” — he cried, and without waiting for a response, Thatch immediately bolted for the stove. His movement was so fast that it felt like he hadn’t even been listening to me. But before he disappeared, he threw over his shoulder, “Don’t work yourself up, it’s fine.” His words didn’t give me any time to think — he was already at the stove, and I watched as he effortlessly switched between tasks with the same casual skill, as if nothing had happened.

I stood in the doorway for a moment longer, pondering his words and wondering if he was hiding something.

Stepping onto the deck, I breathed in the fresh sea air and immediately noticed that we had veered off course. After all these years as a navigator, I could sense such shifts without even looking at the instruments. The realization hit me instantly: something was wrong. I was already moving toward the helm to figure out what was going on and find out why they weren’t keeping an eye on the course.

Suddenly, as if answering my thoughts, I heard the familiar voice of Pops.

— “Marco, son, where are you off to?” — his kind but slightly weary tone called out. He waved for me to come over.

I approached, not bothering to hide my confusion, and said:

— “We’ve drifted off course.”

He looked at me thoughtfully, then answered slowly:

— “I told them to change course.”

I frowned in surprise and immediately asked:

— “Why? What happened?”

Pops leaned back in his chair, took a sip from his cup, and replied with a grin:

— “Nothing, just decided to visit one of our islands. There’s going to be a festival soon, and, by the way, they’re promising some great booze. Gu-rah-rah-rah-rah!” — he said cheerfully, as if our conversation didn’t matter much.

I fell silent, still trying to make sense of what was going on, but it seemed this was just one of those random, almost magical whims of Pops, when he decides to do something and the world around him has to adjust to his decision.

We had been sailing for only four days, but it felt like an eternity. By evening, as the sky began to take on the warm hues of sunset, the long-awaited island appeared on the horizon. Its outline gradually grew clearer, and I felt the tension start to ease.

But here’s what was strange: we weren’t approaching the island from the port side, as I had expected. Instead, we were heading towards it from the opposite side — the side of the dense jungle. I couldn’t figure out why. When I asked, no one answered. At some point, I was simply waved off, as if to say everything was under control, and they didn’t offer any further explanation.

I was a bit surprised but decided not to press the matter. After all, everyone has their own reasons for making such decisions. Shifting forms, I rose into the air. My wings, as always, effortlessly found their rhythm, and I made my way toward the island. It was an island I was familiar with, one I’d flown over countless times before. Nothing unusual about it — just another stop along the way, soon to become part of the daily routine.

POV Asta:

Tomorrow’s celebration was supposed to begin closer to the evening, and I had decided that the day would be perfect for getting lost in a book and reading late into the night. A faint thought about the upcoming event lingered in my mind, but it didn’t distract me, as the book had completely captured my attention. I only got distracted once: I stood up to go to the kitchen, cut myself some more fruit, and poured a glass of wine. The cool evening air coming through the window added a touch of coziness to the atmosphere. When I returned and settled back into my chair, I thought I saw something strange in the sky. A flash of turquoise seemed to streak across the horizon.

“Did a star fall or something?” I murmured aloud, but quickly forgot about it as I immersed myself back in my book. Still, the odd feeling lingered, as if, at that moment, everything around me had shifted ever so slightly.

I only went to bed as the sun was starting to rise. The sky was just beginning to blush with soft shades of pink, and I could feel sleep pulling at me. Lately, I had been sneezing more often, and each time it felt like it wasn’t just a random occurrence. Could someone be thinking of me? Maybe it had something to do with Garp. He had been calling me often, begging me to come back, saying that he was so bored without me, and I was even starting to think he might be going a bit overboard. Sometimes it felt like he couldn’t understand how hard it was for me, how much I longed for my own space and time. But at some point, I started to daydream about Coby and Helmeppo joining in sooner rather than later, hoping that Garp would finally shift his focus onto them. I was desperately hoping they would soon become more important to him. With those thoughts, I slipped into sleep.

Morning came for me closer to evening. I woke up, stretched in bed, and, lying under the covers, thought about how delightful it was to sleep as long as I wanted. But, unfortunately, it wasn’t the right moment to enjoy a lazy morning: the festival was fast approaching, and I needed to hurry.

Slipping into that same sundress I had recently bought, I couldn’t help but notice how perfectly it fit. A glance in the mirror gave me a boost of confidence—it really suited me. I twirled a little in front of the reflection, checking if anything needed adjusting, then decided I was ready. After quickly finishing a cup of strong coffee, I dashed out of the house.

It was warm outside, and though the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, the city was already filled with the energy of the upcoming celebration. On my way to the center, I passed streets decorated for the festival: bright ribbons hung from houses, and flowers were scattered in baskets along the sidewalks. The air was filled with the scents of street food—roasted nuts, sweet pancakes, and fragrant shashlik. It promised that not only would there be spectacles ahead, but also delicious treats.

When I reached the main square, the true picture of the celebration unfolded before me. The entire central street had been transformed into a vibrant market. Bright tents stood in abundance, each offering something intriguing. One sold colorful toys, another featured handmade flower jewelry, and a third offered exotic spices and fragrant oils. Here and there, the sounds of laughter and cheerful shouts could be heard, as there were tents set up for games and attractions. Some were classic—ring tosses, carousels, and even circus performers—but others were more original: an obstacle course with floating balloons and dance workshops held right in the open air.

The air was filled with a sense of joy and lightness—people were out in bright outfits, smiles on their faces, with children happily hopping around the stage. Local melodies floated through the atmosphere, the music blending with the bright laughter and voices of street performers. Some were singing with guitars, others were dancing in pairs. All of it created an incredible feeling of celebration, as if the world around me had been infused with light, laughter, and joy.

A group of young people passed by, holding colorful balloons, while nearby was a tent serving aromatic cocktails and freshly squeezed alcoholic juices. I couldn’t resist—took a few steps in that direction and treated myself to a cold lemonade with alcohol. After walking a few more steps, I noticed a group of people deeply engaged in playing old-fashioned street games: some were tossing rings onto a target, others were trying to knock over figures with darts. The atmosphere around me was filled with a sense of ease, celebration, and a kind of elusive magic.

My eyes were practically overwhelmed by the abundance of entertainment and the irresistible smells of delicious food wafting from every stall. Everything around me felt like a fairy tale: colorful flags, garlands, music drifting from the farthest corners, and the laughter of people reveling in the moment. The air was saturated with the scents of food and some kind of fragrant oils drifting from nearby tents. The streets were packed with festive people, and every corner seemed like a living piece of art.

I darted from one stall to another, unsure where to start, as each one enticed me with its vibrant décor and unique offerings. At one point, I stopped by a stand selling Eastern sweets, then tried various types of street food—from fried pastries to fragrant burgers with exotic sauces. Everywhere I turned, I encountered cheerful faces, people just like me, completely absorbed in the festive atmosphere. Right there on the street, artisans were drawing intricate henna designs, while street musicians filled the air with even more enchantment.

In one corner of the festival, I spotted tents with games—ones where you could win toys as prizes and mysterious wheels of fortune. In one of the games, I managed to win a plush dog. It was so adorable, with big eyes and floppy ears, that I immediately decided to gift it to Garp. That moment felt like everything around me was becoming a part of one big, joyful celebration.

But at some point, I noticed that playing in these tents didn’t always come without “consequences.” Usually, losing a game meant having to drink a strong alcoholic shot. Some laughed, others reluctantly sipped their drink, and I, caught up in the flow of emotions, couldn’t resist either. With each new glass, the world around me seemed brighter, and the games became even more thrilling.

Unfortunately, the consequences didn’t take long to show up. After about an hour, I could no longer keep track of how many glasses I had drunk. My cheeks burned, like a character in an old film, and my mind was engulfed in a fog. Time seemed to slow down, as if I were in some other, enchanted dimension. Everything around me felt slightly unreal, almost magical—the laughter, the music, the palette of lights, and the people dancing and talking as if they were unaware of fatigue. I spun around in the midst of it all, losing track of time, savoring every moment. At some point, I even forgot why I had come to the festival in the first place.

I was standing by one of the tents, where another simple but engaging game was set up. People around me were fully immersed, some laughing, others nervously watching the results. The atmosphere was light and playful, but despite my determination, I couldn’t focus. The alcohol I had consumed earlier was definitely taking its toll: my coordination was off, and my hands were slightly trembling. I made several unsuccessful attempts, while the people around me giggled and cheered me on. But, of course, losing in these games meant a penalty—a shot of something strong.

I wasn’t really in the mood to keep going, but what could I do? It was all part of the fun. With each new sip, the world became brighter, the laughter louder, and I began to lose track of both time and space. Remembering how confident I had felt at the start, I tried to refocus on winning, even though I knew deep down that I had already sabotaged my own coordination.

“Beautiful, do you have a partner?” a girl with a basket full of colorful flowers asked me. She looked so cheerful and vibrant that she immediately caught my attention. The flowers in her hands seemed alive—each one unique, as if it radiated its own light.

“No,” I replied, a bit thrown off by the unexpected question. She smiled right away, and with skill, tucked a white flower behind my ear as if it were the most natural thing in the world, securing it with a bobby pin.

“Why’s that?” I asked, a little surprised.

“Because the dances are about to start, and this flower will let everyone know you’re free and can be invited to dance. Guys with the same flower, you can invite them to dance too,” she explained, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Her smile was so genuine and playful that I couldn’t help but smile back. She winked at me and, without wasting a moment, melted into the crowd, continuing to hand out flowers and filling the air with an atmosphere of lightness and celebration.

In the center of the city, a large circle formed, and suddenly, an energetic dance melody filled the air. It swept through the square, charging the atmosphere with energy, and people began stepping into the center to dance. The vibe was irresistibly infectious—everything around me seemed to vibrate with joy and anticipation. I stood a little on the sidelines, finishing my drink, savoring the moment and observing the scene.

At that moment, a guy approached me and extended his hand. He looked confident, his gaze full of curiosity and mischief.

“Would you care to dance with me?” he asked with a light smile.

I froze, feeling a bit embarrassed, as my knees started to tremble. The thought flashed through my mind that I really didn’t know how to dance.

“Oh, I don’t really know how to dance,” I said, stumbling over my words and smiling, trying to make an excuse. I already felt how silly my words sounded, and perhaps even a little tipsy.

“Don’t worry, it’s very easy! Trust me, I’ll lead!” he replied confidently. He winked at me, and before I could say anything, he pulled me into the center of the dance.

In the heart of the square, where the festive atmosphere was alive, the music suddenly grew even more vibrant, making my heart beat in time. Everyone started to move, as if at the beckoning of some magical call. I felt the guy next to me gently guide me further into the crowd, and suddenly, I was right there, in the thick of it all, surrounded by people dancing with such freedom and joy, as though each of them were an integral part of this grand celebration.

He took my hand and gently pulled me along. At first, I felt a little out of place—my steps were hesitant, and my body, as if unaccustomed to the rhythm, lagged behind. But the guy, almost as if he could sense my unease, quickly adjusted to my pace. He led me with ease, his movements confident and smooth, creating a space around us that allowed me to stop worrying about what I was doing.

We began moving in time with the music, and gradually, my doubts started to melt away. I felt the music seep into me—it became more than just sound, almost like a living thing urging every cell of my body to move. At first, it was simple steps, small turns, but with each passing moment, I felt the freedom of the dance envelop me. My body relaxed, and I suddenly realized that, perhaps, I had never felt so alive. The guy’s gaze was focused, attuned to my movements, as if he knew exactly what to do to help me feel confident. We moved in sync, as if the dance wasn’t just a series of steps but a part of some shared language we had suddenly begun to understand.

Around us, everyone else was dancing with the same full abandon, and the energy of the group was incredible. It seemed like people were dissolving into the music, laughing, smiling, moving with a trail of light and joy following them. We spun in the center, and I felt how the music, the lights, and the crowd around us blended into one. At some point, I no longer questioned who I was or what I was doing there—I was simply part of that moment, part of the dance, which was carrying me into a world without worries or boundaries.

The rhythm grew faster, the movements freer, and I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the lightness and joy that this moment brought with it.

A couple of times, we switched partners, spinning joyfully in the circle, each time moving from one person to another, and the music seemed to become part of this thrilling dance. Everything around me lost its sharp outlines, and the space was filled with light and motion. At one point, I felt a strong hand wrap around my waist, and another, equally confident, take my hand, gently pulling me further into the dance. I tried to make out the face of this person, but everything seemed blurred—the alcohol I had drunk had submerged me into a fog, and I couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t see who it was. My vision and thoughts seemed to abandon me.

He didn’t let go, guiding me through the dance as the music played on. I didn’t resist, nor did I try to understand why this person wouldn’t release me. Everything felt so harmonious and natural—his hand remained on me even after the music faded. We stayed in that invisible rhythm, as if time had stopped for us. I pressed against his open body, feeling his warmth and the reassurance of his presence. With each passing moment, I grew more relaxed, smiling and drunk on the atmosphere surrounding us. I gave him compliments without thinking, unaware of how easily I was dissolving into the moment.

He smelled of freedom, salt, the sea, and some mysterious scent of ink, as if he were part of something older than this world. The fragrance was unbearably pleasant, pulling me in, taking me to a place without worries. Each breath filled me with a sense of lightness, and I couldn’t shake off the soothing haze that wrapped around me.

He said something, but his words somehow got lost before they reached my consciousness. All my attention was absorbed by one thing—the scent. I just smiled, slightly drunk on excitement and joy, laughing as if the world around me no longer had boundaries. Each of his words became irrelevant, replaced by the carefree, unrestrained melody of laughter and happiness echoing in my mind.

The only thing I could make out in that moment was one short, seemingly ordinary word that somehow became significant: “Where do you live?” He asked it casually, as if inquiring about something mundane, but immediately, my mind erupted with a thousand thoughts. I struggled to gather my scattered thoughts and, stumbling over my words, began to explain that my little house was on the outskirts of the city. The answer should have felt simple, but at that moment, it seemed as if the words were being dragged out of me, as though I was trying to figure out the best way to put them together.

But then, there was a blank. In my mind, a gap appeared—a moment I couldn’t remember. Maybe I fell asleep, or perhaps my thoughts, tired and clouded by the alcohol, couldn’t hold onto what happened next. Everything around me blurred, as if I were neither here nor now, and all the events just vanished behind some invisible veil.

I woke up for two reasons. The first was the bright sun, shining directly into my face, and I couldn’t help but notice how its rays started to tickle my eyes. The second was the horrible dryness in my mouth, as if I had eaten sand. I struggled to sit up, barely managing to open my eyes, and immediately felt a sharp pressure in my temples. My head hurt so much that it felt as if someone had cracked it open with a hammer. But that, I could understand — I had drunk a little more than usual the night before. What didn’t make sense, though, was the pain in my entire body. It felt as if someone had given me a thorough beating overnight.

“Why the hell am I naked?” I rasped, trying to piece together my thoughts. Could the night have really ended that… vividly? I immediately reached up to feel my head, but the wig was gone. “Damn it,” I muttered, trying to recall what had actually happened the night before.

I immediately began scanning the room, hoping to find some kind of clue. Everything was in complete disarray, but the strangest thing was that I was alone. My belongings were scattered all over the place, as though someone had thrown them around in a hurry. I could barely tell what belonged to me and what might have belonged to my… adventure from the night before. But one thing caught my attention — items that definitely couldn’t be mine. It was that outfit, the one I distinctly remembered, but desperately didn’t want to. A purple shirt with pants that eerily resembled something worn by a particular person. My mind instantly filled with thoughts, and my throat went so dry that I nearly choked trying to swallow the air.

The noise coming from the bathroom confirmed my suspicions — that person was in there, and judging by the sounds, they weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon. That meant I had just enough time to grab my things and disappear as quickly as possible. My heart started to race, and all I could think was: “Get out. Get out now.” Oh, if Garpy finds out about this, I’m done for. Just thinking of him, I could almost feel his “loving” fists. If I survive this moment, I’ll certainly die from embarrassment and pain. One thought flashed through my mind: Better leave now than have to deal with all of this later.

Chapter Text

Quickly, slipping into shorts and a tank top, I grabbed my backpack and started shoving everything I could find into it. Bottles of wine that were still left, a few remaining belongings—everything was fair game. There was no time to think, I had to act. —“Thanks to the Watch for teaching me how to pack in seconds,” — I thought with frustration, grabbing the last items from the shelf. It was like second nature now—I had learned not to waste a single moment. Then I put on a wig, just to hide my features a little. In situations like this, it seemed essential. I had to remain as quiet as possible to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Every move had to be perfectly controlled, because even a single slip could betray me.

—“What the hell?” — I muttered, hearing strange sounds coming from the bathroom. —“They shouldn’t be here for at least another month! I’m never drinking like that again!” — I hissed under my breath, cursing my recklessness. I moved through the room like a shadow, each step echoing in my ears. The tension grew, and by the time I reached the door, my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of my chest. I stepped outside and, without hesitation, ran toward the town hall. I had to return the keys and get away as quickly as possible. Everything around me felt alien, and I realized this island was no longer safe for me. All I wanted was to disappear—far from danger.

It was early morning, and the city looked unusually empty. After last night’s festivities, there were hardly any people in the streets; only here and there could you spot those who hadn’t made it home and had passed out right on the pavement. They lay sprawled on benches, leaning against lampposts, oblivious to the world around them. Everything was quiet and abandoned, as if the city were trying to recover from the chaos of the night.

I ran through the streets, doing my best to avoid attention. Reaching the town hall in a matter of minutes, my legs numb, I began to knock nervously on the door, glancing around constantly. Every sound in the air made me flinch. I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting someone to appear from around the corner at any moment. My heart raced so violently that it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

—“Who’s knocking at this hour?” — came a gruff voice from behind the door, and I immediately recognized the familiar rasp of the mayor. It sounded like he had just woken up and wasn’t quite all there yet.

As soon as the door swung open, I shoved the keys into his hands without a second thought. The words tumbled out of me faster than I could process them:
—“Hello, sorry for the trouble, but I’m leaving—don’t bother returning the money.”

The mayor, as if completely confused by the situation, blinked at me, then at the keys I handed him. His gaze darted back and forth, his expression one of total bewilderment.

—“No, no, darling, that’s not how this works. Wait a few seconds, I’ll give you the money,” — he said, clearly not ready to let me go so easily. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared inside. I stood in the doorway, hearing him rummaging around in his room, and a few moments later, he returned with cash in hand.

—“Why are you leaving so early?” —he asked in surprise, as though I had shattered his entire concept of order.

—“I’ve got urgent matters to attend to, sorry again, and thank you,” — I replied, feeling the tension begin to lift. Bowing slightly, I turned quickly and ran off. The mayor stood in the doorway, watching me go, but I couldn’t afford to stop. My plan was simple: if Whitebeard’s ship had docked anywhere, it would have been by the port, meaning I had to head for the opposite side of the island. The jungle ahead seemed like the only safe option.

I ran for a short while, but as I turned the next corner, I suddenly collided with someone. Losing my balance sharply, I fell straight onto my backside. —“Oh, I’m so sorry!” — I blurted out immediately, scrambling to get up from the pavement. I was ready to continue on my way, but the person I had bumped into didn’t let go of me, holding onto my elbow.

—“Easy, are you alright?” — he asked, his voice not exactly stern, but laced with an unmistakable hint of mockery. I looked up at him and immediately sensed that he looked… strange. The guy was fairly young, his face vaguely familiar, as if I had seen him somewhere before.

— “Yes, I’m fine, thanks for your concern,” I replied, trying to sound confident, but it clearly didn’t work. — “Sorry, but I’m in a hurry.”

I nearly wrenched my elbow free to continue on my way, but he, as if unaware of my urgency, gripped my arm tighter.

— “Where are you rushing off to?” His smile was carefree, but something about it made me wary. It was as if he was enjoying the moment, playing with the situation.

— “I have urgent matters to attend to,” I tried to say as calmly as possible, but my voice trembled slightly. I felt like I was losing control of the situation.

— “Really? Because it seems to me like you’re running from someone,” his smile widened, and I felt a cold chill wash over me. This was no longer a casual question. He knew something I didn’t like.

A cold shiver ran down my spine. A thunderclap struck in my mind: Haruta. I recognized him. One of the commanders of Whitebeard’s pirates. Damn, this was definitely not part of my plan. In that moment, I realized my luck had run out. That was it. I was finished.

We stood facing each other, and the air between us was so thick I could practically feel its weight. I couldn’t tear my gaze from his face, sensing how each of his glances tightened my chest. My own expression must have been filled with fear, because I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. His face, however, was completely serene, almost mocking, like a cat who had just gorged on cream and now enjoyed watching the world around him. He seemed entirely confident in his victory, in his control over this situation.

The silence between us was so heavy I could almost hear it pressing against my ears. And then, finally, a new voice broke that silence.

— “Haruta, what’s going on…? Oh, so you’re not alone?” came Thatch’s voice, and I noticed Izou walking beside him. It was clear they couldn’t miss the tension between us. — “Hey, cutie!” Thatch continued with a grin, his tone genuinely playful. — “Why so scared? Haruta, why are you scaring the girl? Look at her, she’s about to faint!”

— “Hey, Thatch, what kind of opinion do you have of me? I didn’t scare anyone. She just bumped into me, and now I’m asking: where was she in such a hurry that she didn’t notice me!” Haruta said, his words laced with light mockery, as if the situation were something quite amusing. Both of them smiled almost in sync, like two mischievous imps, and, unable to contain their amusement, turned toward me. I couldn’t even understand what they found so funny.

But at that moment, something inside me snapped. My vision blurred, and despite my efforts to hold it together, tears began to well up. I couldn’t stop myself — I sniffled, and then, unable to hold back, I broke down completely, crying without shame. Gasping for air, I tried to say something coherent, but the words tangled in my throat, and my voice trembled with the tears.

— “Please, let me go…” I whispered, trying to hold back the terror that was overwhelming me.

In response, their smiles vanished instantly. They exchanged a glance, and I noticed their faces shift from amusement to something resembling fear, their movements growing more nervous and uneasy.

— “Hey, calm down, don’t cry, please,” Haruta said, finally releasing my arm. He even shook his head slightly, as if it was against his principles to see someone in such a state.

— “Cutie, it’s alright, we’re not going to hurt you, don’t cry, please,” Thatch babbled, as though my immediate calmness depended on his words. He spoke with such genuine concern that for a moment, I almost believed he truly cared.

I was beginning to calm down a little, but my voice still trembled. Stammering, I barely managed to ask for some water. They immediately nodded in unison, and like two people who had finally found a purpose, they rushed off somewhere. Trying not to reveal my confusion, I watched them from beneath half-lowered eyelids. However, my gaze inevitably drifted to the silent observer, who was watching the scene unfold with such interest, as though it were a play in which he had somehow ended up as an accidental spectator.

— “Stop this act, you won’t fool me,” Izou said in a stern, somewhat weary voice, but there was no trace of doubt in his tone. It was as if he had expected nothing else from me. It wasn’t a threat, it was a statement of fact.

I instantly straightened up, almost as if I was snapping back to reality, and quickly wiped away my tears, trying to hide my weakness. One thought flashed through my mind: “Damn, I couldn’t fool him.” I once again focused on his gaze — clear and impartial — and felt how he was reading me like an open book. I needed to do something, but for now, I simply waited, ready for the next move.

Izou didn’t seem in any hurry to continue the conversation. He raised an eyebrow and looked at me with such an expression that I realized: his patience was probably running out.

— “You can go, I’ll turn a blind eye to this,” he said, but his next question hung in the air like a knife in a misty forest. — “But first, tell me, where’s Marco and what happened to him?”

I quickly gathered my thoughts, trying not to betray my panic, and answered without meeting his gaze:
— “He’s at the house I rented, the one at the end of the town. He’s fine. I’m not stupid enough to do anything to him.” But in my mind, another thought flashed: “He’s the one who did something to me.”

He simply nodded in satisfaction, and in that moment, I realized there was no more time to think. Understanding that I needed to act fast, I ran without looking back. My mind was a whirlwind: fear, determination, and a deep desire to just vanish before his two friends returned. I ran faster than I ever had before, as if my feet no longer touched the ground but only sliced through the air. When I finally came to my senses, I found myself deep in the jungle. The silence was overwhelming, broken only by the occasional sound of distant animal footsteps.

Without stopping, I dropped my backpack and immediately began searching for what I needed. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest when I pulled out the Eternal Pose, the one that would guide me to the next island — the one that was supposed to be part of my vacation, the one I had almost forgotten about. I quickly strapped it onto my arm, and without a second thought, I transformed into a Harpy. Instantly, I felt a surge of new power fill me, and with one determined motion, I soared into the sky, following the compass with unwavering precision.

As soon as I gained altitude, the jungle below me became a vast, green sea, gradually giving way to the deep blue expanse of the ocean. And there, amidst those waters, I spotted the Moby Dick. It was the same ship, but it wasn’t where I had expected it to be. My intuition told me that I wasn’t in the right place, but it was too late to change anything now. In a panic, I accelerated my flight, hoping I could circle around it and veer off to avoid being seen.

But the gaze of the captain of that massive ship had already locked onto me from the moment I first spotted it. It was so intense, so penetrating, that I felt it even in the air, as if he were pursuing me, even as the ship disappeared behind the horizon, leaving nothing but a long trail in the water.

I flew at full speed, feeling the wind tearing at my feathers, carrying me farther away from that place. Every now and then, I shifted my hand back to its human form to check my course and make sure I hadn’t veered off track. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if I made a mistake, but fortunately, the next island was only a day’s sail away from where I was. That was a relief — not too far, and I didn’t have to worry about losing my way.

The island I was heading for was a winter one. Deep within its core, hot springs were hidden, and it was unclaimed by anyone — like a blank canvas that had yet to bear the marks of any authority. It didn’t belong to the World Government or any of the Sea Emperors. This place was nestled between Whitebeard’s and Shanks’s territories, and although both names commanded respect and fear, they had no power on this island.

The fact that this island had remained untouched by the major wars and intrigues was comforting, but on the other hand, I knew that such islands, free from the power of the Emperors, were few and far between in the New World. I couldn’t even imagine what would happen if I ended up somewhere else, where those names could shape my fate. “No more Emperor islands,” I thought, and the thought sent a chill through me. I definitely wouldn’t survive another trial like that.

POV Marco:

Having flown over the island, I stopped near the hotel. As much as I loved traveling by sea, after long days aboard a ship, the feeling of solid ground beneath my feet was truly priceless. When you spend so much time out on the open water, you begin to realize how essential it is to savor the simple pleasures—the warm air, the firm earth, and the solitude that can only be found on land. Almost all of us, as soon as we set foot on dry ground, immediately seek to book a room in a hotel, just to escape the endless rocking of the sea and give ourselves a chance to rest peacefully.

I lingered in the hotel lobby, waiting for my brothers to finally arrive. The hotel was quite cozy, with beautiful decor and a small fountain in the center of the lobby. Not wanting to waste any time, I approached the reception desk and asked the young woman what was happening in the city. She looked at me with mild surprise and replied that things were quiet, and no special events were expected. This pleased me—calmness had always been good news.

Hearing the familiar chime that rang whenever the door opened, I turned around, and my eyes immediately locked onto the figures of my brothers, who entered the lobby with smiles on their faces. Among them, I quickly spotted Thatch and Haruta. Their faces were so bright and full of enthusiasm that it seemed as if they had just stepped out of some childlike dream of adventure. They both looked as though they were about to head off to an amusement park, ready to try everything on offer. I couldn’t help but smirk to myself—they were definitely up to something.

But then I frowned, sensing that there was more behind those smiles. It was clear they were planning something unusual. While I was curious to find out exactly what, I was too tired after the long day to worry about the small details. That could wait until tomorrow. I decided that, for now, all I needed was a little rest.

I made my way to my room, and as soon as the door closed behind me, I collapsed onto the bed, unable to keep my eyes open any longer. Letting out a quiet sigh, I fell asleep instantly, drifting into the hazy silence of the night.

My morning started off terribly. First, I heard a loud knock on the door that jolted me awake. Someone was determined to disturb my peace, and it turned out to be Thatch. I knew right away that this was probably not going to end well. Irritated and a bit sleep-deprived, I got out of bed, rubbed my eyes, and headed to the door, already sensing that the morning would be anything but quiet.

— “Thatch, if this isn’t something serious, you’re in trouble!” — I said, slightly annoyed, looking at his pleased face. He stood there with a genuine smile, as though he had absolutely no worries in the world.

— “How long are you going to sleep?” — he said with lively curiosity in his voice. — “Come on, get ready! Let’s take a walk around the city. Maybe we can help the locals decorate, or maybe we’ll meet someone interesting!” — he added with an intriguing tone, as if he were about to reveal a world of exciting possibilities to me.

I frowned, but in the end, I didn’t argue. I knew he wouldn’t let me off the hook until I agreed. Even though his plans sounded strange, I understood that if I didn’t give in now, he’d pester me the whole day. So, despite my reluctance, I started getting ready. I had to go out anyway, and with or without him, the day certainly wouldn’t be boring.

We spent the entire day wandering through the city, helping the locals with their tasks. Thatch, as usual, was an avid observer, scanning the crowd for someone important. He kept stopping, carefully examining each passerby, as if looking for something—or someone. And each time his search proved fruitless, his mood grew darker, his face more tense. He became increasingly nervous, and it was clear that all of this was getting to him. I, however, took it all in stride. I didn’t care who he was looking for. I was enjoying the city’s atmosphere, watching the street vendors, listening to the lively music, and feeling how the festive spirit slowly spread through everything around us.

When the main celebration began, I stayed behind to chat with the mayor, thinking it would be useful for future plans. The mayor was busy discussing details with several local officials, and I thought it was a good opportunity to learn more about the local traditions and events. At some point, I noticed that Thatch had disappeared. He wasn’t around, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. However, as the festival kicked off, I began to sense that something strange was going on. And just as if on cue, there they were—those two mischievous troublemakers, Haruta and Thatch. They sneaked up on me, took me by the arms, and before I knew it, they were dragging me off in some direction.

The mayor, noticing our odd behavior, watched us with a look of surprise and confusion, clearly not understanding what we were up to. His gaze was full of questions, but I couldn’t explain anything to him. He probably thought it was some kind of joke, or something like that.

— “Where are you taking me?” — I sighed heavily, unable to stop myself from asking, trying to make sense of what was happening. My voice carried a mix of exhaustion and mild anger, but above all, I was confused by the whole situation.

Haruta, with a mysterious smile on his face, was the first to respond, not even trying to hide his satisfaction with the unfolding events.

— “It’s a surprise,” — he said, his smile so smug and forced that it made me uncomfortable. I could already tell this was going to be something strange, and possibly even unpleasant.

— “You’ll like it,” — Thatch added, his voice brimming with such certainty about what awaited us. He was clearly bursting with anticipation.

I grimaced and shook my head, completely unconvinced by their optimism.

— “I doubt it. After your antics, all I have from you is a headache,” — I replied, feeling the tension building. Everything around me was becoming increasingly unusual, and these two, with their mysterious suggestions and behavior, were only adding fuel to the fire. We stopped in the square, where people had already started gathering. A subtle atmosphere of anticipation hung in the air, and I realized that soon the dancing would begin, and this strange comedy would likely become part of something bigger. I stood there, growing more and more suspicious that we were about to witness something quite unusual — and, most likely, I wasn’t going to be too pleased about it.

As the dancing began to intensify, I found myself involuntarily watching what was unfolding around me. The music played loudly, creating an atmosphere of celebration, but at that moment, I wasn’t in the mood for any of it. Among the dancers, I spotted that same watchwoman. She was wearing a wig, and beneath it, her eyes seemed unable to focus on anything clearly, as if she couldn’t quite place where she was. She was dressed in a cute sundress, but her steps were unsteady, and it was evident she wasn’t quite in her right mind. It seemed her evening had been somewhat tainted by alcohol. I frowned as I watched her, and couldn’t help but notice that, as always lately, Thatch and Haruta were standing next to me.

They exchanged glances, and I could read one thing clearly from them — this was their idea. They were both holding onto something important with both hands, and their eyes shone with the excitement of children who had just received their long-awaited toy. The triumphant smiles on their faces made me sigh in frustration. This wasn’t just another one of their insane amusements. This was something much stranger.

I let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to process what exactly they had in mind.

— “And here I thought, what exactly are you planning?” — I said with irony, hoping at least they wouldn’t start laughing.

— “We told you you’d like it!” — Haruta said excitedly, his voice sounding as if he were absolutely sure everything would go just as he had planned. He cast quick glances between me and the watchwoman, almost as though to reassure himself.

— “Come on, go over there, dance with her!” — Thatch eagerly supported him, his eyes sparkling, as always, anticipating some incredible twist in events. He didn’t hide his excitement and, judging by his expression, seemed certain that a real surprise awaited me.

— “You are idiots!” — I couldn’t hold back, feeling someone shove me in the back, causing me to lose my balance and stumble toward the dancers. I turned around and found it was Izou. His gaze was so serious that I froze for a moment. My surprise was borderline shock — I’d expected anything from Thatch and Haruta, but certainly not from Izou.

A girl immediately caught me, and before I could gather my thoughts, we were already spinning in the dance. The music seemed to consume us like magic, and everything around us began to blur. All I could think about in that moment was one thing: what I was going to do to those two, who seemed to think they could surprise me. They had no idea what they were getting into. I had already decided they would definitely pay for this — and it would last as long and be as torturous as I pleased. To make matters worse, they’d even dragged Pops into it, and I couldn’t help but think this wasn’t going to end well for them.

We kept changing partners, and as soon as I felt her light hands on my shoulders, something inside me immediately went on alert. She was too fragile, her movements so smooth yet uncertain. And then, as I felt her body, I realized — this was my target. My attention immediately shifted to her. I looked at my dance partner and noticed how, despite her clearly tipsy state, she was still trying to move to the rhythm of the music. At first, it seemed light and free, but I noticed how her eyes slowly lost focus, how she could barely grasp where we were. Her laughter was almost painfully silly, and she kept smiling, completely unaware of who was standing in front of her.

It was almost a caricature: a drunken watchwoman who didn’t even know who was leading her in the dance. And yet, I couldn’t help but find it a little amusing, though it was all quite absurd. I sighed, gently holding her in my arms, noting to myself how small she was. It felt as if her body was almost as light as a feather, and her movements carried a certain helplessness. With every uncertain step she took, I felt more and more that I was in a situation where I had to keep my composure. I led her in the dance, yielding to her stiff movements, trying not to lose the rhythm. In this moment, there was nothing else for me to do but lead her carefully and calmly, avoiding any awkwardness. It was the best I could do: stay composed and not let my thoughts stray from the task at hand.

When the music suddenly stopped, I felt her body give a slight jerk, and before she could regain her balance, I led her a little to the side. She slid toward me as if she couldn’t keep her footing and practically leaned into me, smiling in a strange, carefree way. I noticed her sniffing me, and honestly, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. She was clearly lost in her own world, and her condition stirred up mixed feelings in me.

— “Are you okay? Everything alright?” — I tried to sound concerned, but she just kept laughing, almost foolishly, without any logic, mumbling something unintelligible in response.

— “Maybe I should get you some water?” — I suggested, but she didn’t react to my words, as if I wasn’t even there. It was clear she was already far beyond sober. I sighed, realizing it was probably time for her to get to bed.

— “Where do you live?” — I finally asked, hoping for at least some sort of answer.

Finally, she managed to mumble something coherent. I started heading in the direction she indicated, doing my best to support her so she wouldn’t fall. But even with my help, she kept stumbling, almost falling every time something got in her way. Each step was like a small trial. I kept steadying her, but it was clear that tomorrow she would be paying the price for this evening. Her body would remind her of it with every sore muscle and headache.

When we reached her place, I tried to be as careful as possible, knowing she had no sense of her surroundings. I wanted to find her keys, but it seemed like she had no clue what was going on. I stood beside her, sighing heavily, rummaging through her bag. After several unsuccessful attempts, when I was starting to feel like I’d be searching forever, I finally felt a slight resistance — and there they were, the keys. I opened the door and, with a sense of relief, led her inside.

The house was warm and cozy, but I needed to act quickly. I didn’t waste any time and, within a couple of minutes, found the bedroom. After laying her down on the bed, I was already on my way out when I suddenly heard a familiar sound — a thud that immediately grabbed my attention.

— “Yeah, this is going to be a fun night,” — I smirked, running a hand through the back of my neck as I returned to the room.

I hadn’t expected this turn of events. She was standing, swaying on unsteady legs, struggling to make her way to the table where the wine bottles stood. It became clear to me that this situation could spiral into an even bigger mess. Catching her halfway, I gently but firmly said:

— “No, that’s enough!”

She huffed, as if offended, and tried to break free. But I was much stronger. The odds were clearly not in her favor, and though she struggled, I knew that no matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t escape me.

At some point, when her strength finally gave out, she stopped resisting. I could feel her relax in my arms, and it was both a relief and a cause for concern. Gently laying her back on the bed, I was about to pull away when, unexpectedly, she propped herself up. Her face was suddenly very close, and she kissed me. It was so unexpected that I froze for a moment. Everything inside me seemed to stop, and I didn’t even know how to respond. But after a brief pause, I collected myself and carefully pulled away, covering her mouth with my hand.

— “I appreciate it, but I can’t… Not like this, not with you in this state,” — I said, trying to be as tactful as possible. — “When you sober up, then we’ll talk,” — I added, removing my hand from her lips.

Minute after minute dragged on, and despite my efforts to steady her and guide her, the night began to take its toll on us. She tried to get up again, to go somewhere, not realizing she needed rest, and I caught her once more, helping her back to bed. This continued for what felt like hours. My exhaustion was building, but I knew that until it was safe to leave her alone, I had to stay by her side.

At some point, she apparently couldn’t bear it anymore. She undressed, as though it made things easier, and lay down on the bed. I couldn’t tell how much of what was happening she was actually aware of, but I decided it probably wasn’t the right moment to intervene. Gently covering her with a blanket, I finally allowed myself to relax a little. I sat in the chair, closed my eyes, trying to shake off the feeling that the night would never end. My mind was clouded with fatigue, and all I wanted was to ride out this moment, to survive this strange and uncomfortable storm that stretched on like the night itself.

I woke up early, as the first rays of dawn gently filtered through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, almost weightless light. My gaze fell on her — she was still fast asleep, breathing peacefully, her face completely relaxed. I quietly got up from the chair, stretched, feeling the tension of the night slip away. In moments like this, I always realize how important that rest was, even if it was only for a few hours. I should probably take a shower — I could still smell the alcohol on me, and I didn’t want to feel off all day. Yesterday’s evening had definitely left its mark. I remembered how she had spilled wine on me when she grabbed the bottle. And even though everything was a bit clumsy, I couldn’t help but smile as I recalled that moment.

I stripped off my clothes and threw them over the chair without caring about the mess, then headed for the shower. Under the stream of warm water, I allowed myself to momentarily zone out, standing in a relaxed state. The water massaged my skin pleasantly, and my thoughts drifted back to what had happened last night. Instead of worrying, I quietly chuckled to myself because, despite how strange the situation had been, there was something amusing about how suddenly we had found ourselves in that situation.

I didn’t notice how time passed. My thoughts drifted back to the past, and only one small detail brought me back to the present — I felt her starting to wake up. My will, like a second observer, registered each of her movements. She began to move around the room, and I noticed how she was trying to be as quiet as possible. It was so absurd and amusing — she was clearly trying to sneak away, as if nothing had happened.

Smiling to myself, I turned off the shower and wrapped myself in a towel, feeling the fatigue slowly leave me. As I passed the mirror, I quickly glanced at myself — it seemed like the morning chaos had yet to fully settle. I walked over to the doorframe and leaned against it, watching her attempts to leave the house, muttering curses under my breath. Her behavior was almost like something from a comedy play: she tried to be quick, but her efforts to look inconspicuous only made her movements even more obvious.

Deciding not to startle her, I simply watched as she left. As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, I gave in and shook my head. Looks like the morning would be full of surprises. Getting up, I went to grab my clothes, but then I realized my shirt was missing. I stood there, a bit confused, before bursting into laughter. Did she take it as a trophy? Or maybe she liked my scent so much that she decided to take a piece of me with her? Either way, I kind of liked this unusual game. And, to be honest, I found it amusing, wondering what was going on in her head.

Pulling on my pants, I went to the kitchen, made myself some coffee, and slowly sipped it, enjoying every drop. Time moved slowly, and I didn’t feel in a hurry to go anywhere. Stepping outside and walking down the quiet streets that hadn’t yet woken up, Thatch and Haruta suddenly came rushing at me. Their faces were smeared with worry, and their eyes were full of panic.

— “Oh, Marco, you’re just in time!” — Thatch practically blurted it out, his face carrying an odd expression. — “We, uh, made that watchwoman cry!” — he added, as if expecting me to scold him.

I frowned, not quite understanding what he meant, but still followed them without asking too many questions. We reached the spot where we were supposed to meet her, but all we found was Izou. He was standing still, staring off toward the jungle, as if something important was happening there.

— “Where is she?” — Thatch finally asked, looking around, as if she might be hiding somewhere.

Izou turned to face us with an unfazed expression and said:

— “You were played like children. She left.”

Thatch and Haruta froze, stunned. Their faces clearly showed that they hadn’t expected this turn of events.

— “You let her go? Why didn’t you warn us?” — Haruta asked, almost hurt, as if it were his personal defeat.

Izou just rolled his eyes, sighed in exhaustion, and headed toward the hotel, clearly not wanting to continue this pointless conversation. I watched him, assessing how tired he seemed from everything that had been going on. Smiling to myself, I turned back to Thatch and Haruta, my gaze full of unspoken promise — today they were going to have a “fun” time. Fear flashed in their eyes, and it was hard to miss, despite their attempts to hide it. I couldn’t help but savor the moment, clearly anticipating what was to come for them.

Chapter Text

My teeth chattered uncontrollably; I was so cold that it felt like my entire body had condensed into a frozen lump. I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering so violently that my hands seemed to lose all control. I tried to rub myself to generate some warmth, but it was in vain. The cold pierced me to the bone, and with every step, it seemed to worsen. A single thought kept spinning in my mind: “God, why didn’t I buy warmer clothes?” It was absurd—how could I have been so unprepared?

Sniffling, I trudged on, desperately searching for any kind of shelter. The wind cut through me, and every movement felt like an effort. My feet sank deeper into the thick snowdrifts, and the thought that I might have to spend the night in this bitter cold only frightened me more.

As I walked along the old, yet still charming streets, I looked at the houses with smoke billowing from their chimneys. Though the smoke was thin, it seemed to promise warmth, a beacon calling to me. I stopped in front of one building, its appearance immediately catching my eye. It was something unusual. The architecture, blending elements of the East with that of old Europe, seemed to echo something distant and mysterious. It was like a half-timbered house, but with a distinct Asian touch, unique to this region.

On the sign, it said the place was a hotel with hot springs—and frankly, I couldn’t wait to warm up a little. As I stepped into the lobby, I shook off the snow, feeling the icy droplets run down my skin. Sniffling and trying to shake off the cold, I walked up to the reception desk.

—“ H… h… hello, I’d like a room, please?”— I stammered, still catching my breath from the cold air that clung to my lungs.

—“Oh, miss, why are you dressed so lightly?” — The young man behind the desk looked at me with a mix of concern and surprise. “Of course, of course, which room would you like, and for how long?”

—“I’ll take a standard room for one, for a month,” — I replied, finally beginning to relax, though still nervously scanning my surroundings. Honestly, I was just hoping nothing unexpected would pop up to stop me from staying here.

The young man quickly wrote my name in the notebook, calculated the price, then handed me the keys with a light gesture.

— “Thank you. And the hot springs?” — I asked, handing over the required amount, already imagining the moment when I could sink into the warm water and forget about the cold.

— “There’s a robe in your room. Change into it and head to the springs. They’re on the first floor, in the right wing,” — he said, pointing in that direction.

I nodded and made my way toward the stairs, feeling a growing sense of relief with every step.

The room wasn’t luxurious, but it was cozy, exactly what I wanted after a long journey. A spacious bed with a soft, thick blanket, a wooden table with a carafe of water—everything created a feeling of homely comfort. The bathroom was separate and looked recently renovated: snow-white tiles, neatly folded towels, marble shelves with fragrant shower products. Everything was simple, but there was a charm to it.

I dropped my backpack by the bed, and as I shed my snow-drenched clothes, I felt my body start to relax, shedding the weight of the journey. Throwing on the soft terry robe, which lovingly hugged my skin, I stepped into the hallway.

I made my way to the springs, and with every step, I felt the cold and fatigue slip away from under my feet. The spacious corridor, its walls adorned with wooden panels, led me toward the showers and the spring. Inside, it was warm, like a sauna; the air was humid yet light, infused with the scent of mineral water and pine.

After leaving my robe in a locker and quickly taking a shower, I finally submerged myself in the hot water. It enveloped me, relaxing every muscle in my body. The water was so hot that I felt a slight sting as I lowered myself in, but it quickly faded, replaced by a soothing warmth that eased away the exhaustion from the journey. I almost purred in pleasure, forgetting everything. The cold felt like a distant memory, and here, in this warmth, I thought of nothing. Even the fatigue from the grueling trip receded into the background.

I took a small towel, dipped it in the hot water, and placed it over my face, giving my body and mind a chance to fully relax. Leaning my back against the stone rim, I rested my elbows on the edge and simply sat, savoring the moment. It was so quiet around me that all I could hear was the gentle murmur of the water and my own breathing. The water shimmered in the light, creating ripples that brushed against my legs. I closed my eyes, sinking into this peaceful world, where time seemed to slow down.

“I slept with Marco, damn him, the Phoenix! This is insane,” I hissed to myself, feeling a rising anxiety inside. Yes, he’s ridiculously handsome—with those eyes that seem to look straight into your soul, and that piercing gaze that makes your head spin. But damn it, I’m a Watcher, not some naive girl ready to throw herself into an adventure without a second thought. I’ve always wanted a quiet life, without these crazy moments that leave nothing but questions and worry in their wake.

I carefully lifted the towel from my eyes, gently, as if I didn’t want to disturb that fragile moment, and began to examine my body. My gaze was searching, trying to find any trace of that night. My fingers glided over my skin, looking for even the smallest marks. I sighed in relief when I found no bruises, no hickeys. Nothing. But now I couldn’t decide which was worse—what had happened, or the fact that I couldn’t remember exactly how it had happened.

I had barely started to lose myself in these thoughts when, from behind the wall, cheerful voices reached my ears. Lively discussions, laughter—all of it shattered the silence I had been floating in so comfortably. “Damn, I hope they won’t be loud,” I thought fleetingly, instinctively pressing my lips together, trying not to give in to irritation.

It wasn’t long before the quiet slipped away entirely. It seemed that silence itself had filled the space, but as soon as I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate, it was broken. Through the thin walls, the laughter, the loud conversations, the noise poured in, as if a whole crowd of joyful people had gathered just behind the partition. I didn’t want anything to interrupt my thoughts, but the life beyond the walls, its vibrant movement, filled the room with its energy.

I sighed heavily, stood up, and made my way back to my room, hoping to find at least a few minutes of peace to restore my strength. I longed for complete solitude, to sink into tranquility and give myself a break from a world that never slowed down, not even for a moment.

Once inside the room, I immediately began securing everything: I closed the windows, tightly drew the curtains so that not a single beam of light could penetrate, then approached the door, slammed it shut, and wedged a chair under the handle, as if that might somehow protect me. I felt a bit odd, almost paranoid, but at that moment, it was crucial for me that everything around me felt completely quiet and safe. Maybe it was ridiculous, but it made my heart feel calmer.

When all was done, I collapsed onto the bed. My body was exhausted, and my head felt so heavy, as if it refused to process the world around me. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out everything that had happened that day, and in that moment, I realized I wasn’t feeling too well. Perhaps it was the fatigue or the emotional strain.

Morning greeted me in a way I hadn’t expected: a pounding headache, like a hammer to the skull, a throat burning as though I’d swallowed hot coals. My vision swam, and my body ached with fever, as if I were recovering from a serious illness. I lay in a half-conscious haze, completely unable to move.

— “Perfect, just what I needed—a sickness,” — I rasped, struggling to lift my hand to touch my forehead. It was hot, like a stove, and I couldn’t shake the sensation.

— “I’m a fruiter, damn it, and their immune systems are twice as strong! What the hell?” — I continued my monologue into the emptiness, as if someone should have heard me and answered. I tried to summon the strength to get up, but every movement felt like a struggle. Barely managing, I crawled out of bed and staggered to the table, my balance failing me. Sweating heavily, I filled a glass of water and drained it in one go without thinking. But the water didn’t bring relief. If anything, it made things worse—the shaking intensified.

— “It’s so cold,” — I barely managed to say, crawling back under the blanket, trying to hide from a world that seemed so alien and cruel.

I have no idea how long I lay there in delirium, but it felt as though everything around me was spinning, and my body was sinking deeper into the heat. The sheets beneath me were soaked with sweat, and the fever only seemed to get worse, burning hotter with each passing moment. When I finally managed to lift myself off the bed, the world swirled before my eyes for a few more seconds, but I forced myself to act. Wrapping myself tighter in the robe, I stepped into the corridor, trying to steady the trembling in my legs. I moved slowly, clinging to the walls, as if they could keep me from falling. Each step was a challenge, but I couldn’t afford to just lie there.

When I made it to the lobby, nearly losing my balance, I stumbled toward the reception desk, feeling how labored my breathing had become.

— “Do you have any medicine or a doctor?” — I barely managed to say, leaning heavily against the counter, unable to stand upright.

The young man behind the reception desk flinched at the rasp in my voice. — “We don’t have any medicine, and the doctors can’t come because of the blizzard. You’ll have to wait a few days,” — he said, clearly unsure how to help me.

— “Damn,” — I rasped, pressing my forehead against the counter and closing my eyes. The pain in my throat wouldn’t let up, and my mind was foggy, like a dense mist. I tried to pull myself together, figure out what to do next, but my thoughts were tangled, and everything around me seemed distant and unimportant.

— “I’ll try to contact a doctor, but I can’t promise anything,” — he said, reaching for a dusty phone. He seemed a bit flustered, though I couldn’t quite tell what he was hoping for. All I could think about was finding some way out of this state.

Before I could collect myself, someone spoke nearby. A deep, confident, and slightly flirtatious male voice made me tense up. I would have lifted my head to catch even a glimpse of him, but at that moment, all my energy was focused on not falling over.

— “Beautiful, I’ve got a doctor. If you don’t mind, I can help,” — he said, and I felt his words resonate oddly inside me. Maybe it was just an attempt to offer help, but I couldn’t ignore the slight mockery—or something more ambiguous—in his tone.

— “How much?” — I exhaled, trying not to let too much fatigue slip into my voice. After all, when your health fails, you don’t think about how things might look.

— “Oh, don’t offend me, I won’t take anything! What, can’t I help a beautiful lady in distress?” — His voice carried a hint of mock offense, but it still remained playful, as if even in this situation, he managed to maintain an air of ease and confidence.

— “Alright, go ahead, thanks,” — I said, agreeing with effort, though I felt a sense of confusion inside. There was no other choice, and I knew I had to act.

— “Great. What room are you in?” — His voice stayed light and almost carefree, but there was a barely perceptible note of seriousness, as if he wanted to make sure I wasn’t suspicious of his help.

— “Room 17, second floor,” — I replied, feeling my heart race, even though I tried to stay calm.

— “You think you can make it there on your own, gorgeous?” — His words were tinged with playful mockery, yet there was a subtle undercurrent of curiosity. I noticed his tone shift slightly, as if he was waiting for some kind of reaction from me.

— “No, thank you, I’ll manage on my own,” — I pulled away from the counter, feeling the exhaustion settle like a weight in my body. My limbs barely obeyed, but I kept moving. With slow, labored steps, I headed toward my room, each step feeling more difficult than the last. Maybe it was reckless not to accept the help from that man, but something in his voice made me feel like I had no choice. Well, I’d deal with the consequences later, when I felt even a little better.

Just as I collapsed onto the bed, feeling weakness envelop me completely, there was a persistent knock at the door. I tried to gather myself, but my head felt foggy, and my voice came out not quite as it should. — “It’s open, come in!” — I whispered with effort, barely louder than a breath.

— “Gorgeous, it’s us,” — came the familiar voice of the guy from earlier. His words made me lift my head, and almost immediately, I felt someone’s hand touch my forehead. At that moment, the second guy, who had been standing nearby, cursed under his breath, and his voice sounded more confident, as if he already knew what to do.

— “You’ve got a fever,” — he said, “I’ll give you something to bring it down. You need to drink plenty of water.” He carefully placed the pill on my tongue and helped me sip some water, and I felt a strange sense of calm settle over me from this small act. Time seemed to slow down, and all I could do was silently thank them for their care.

— “Thank you,” — I exhaled, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I couldn’t hold back my gratitude; in this state, any kindness felt like a breath of fresh air.

— “Captain, she’ll need another pill in the evening and someone should check if the fever’s gone down,” — one of the guys said, and there was something almost official in his tone, as if he were reporting the situation. At those words, I opened my eyes wide. “Captain?” — I stared in shock at Shanks and one of his nakama. The surprise hit me so hard that I coughed, trying to process what was happening.

— “Easy, gorgeous, it’s alright, you heard my doctor, you’ll be fine,” — Shanks said with a light smile, as if his words could literally dispel all my worries. — “We’ll head out now, get some rest, we’ll check on you again in the evening.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, I collapsed onto the pillow, covering my eyes with my hands, trying to process everything that had just happened. — “What the hell?” — I exhaled in frustration. My mind was boiling, and my thoughts tangled up. Two emperors — what the hell?! How did this happen? — “Who’s next? Big Mom or Kaido?” — I asked out loud at one point, with a nervous smile that I couldn’t hold back. I spat and knocked on wood, as if trying to drive away the bad thoughts.

God forbid! One Whitebeard was already more than enough, and now Shanks too. What next? Why is my vacation turning into a nightmare? What did I do to deserve this? With every passing hour, it felt like the world was losing its mind.

Shanks and, as I learned later, Hongo, came to check on me in the evening when I was starting to recover from the fever. Thank God the temperature had gone down, but just in case, they gave me another pill for prevention. They told me not to hesitate to call them if anything went wrong again. I thanked them and, as a token of my appreciation, handed them three bottles of wine I still had left. It was the only way I could show my gratitude, especially since they wouldn’t accept money.

Shanks was delighted, and as soon as I handed him the bottles, he started flirting. That sly grin appeared on his face, and I realized he was trying to cheer me up with his playful charm. But knowing his character, I understood that it was all just a game. He didn’t take these things seriously, and it was easier for me to just ignore his teasing without reacting. It made things simpler.

The rest of my vacation passed fairly quietly, as if, finally, I was starting to feel released from all the tension and turmoil. However, despite that, I still couldn’t fully relax. Sometimes, when I walked through familiar streets or sat by the shore, my eyes would automatically begin scanning for something suspicious around me — a movement, a glance. It was a strange feeling, like I was constantly being followed by a shadow, and I was expecting something to happen at any moment, some twist or unexpected turn. But day by day, nothing did, and life slowly returned to normal.

A couple of times, I ran into Shanks, and those were always light conversations, jokes, and sometimes he would ask questions or tell stories. We had some good chats, and I realized he was very good at connecting with people. During one of our encounters, he mentioned meeting Ace. It was unexpected and, in a way, shocking. I hadn’t thought their paths would cross so soon, but now it was clear: Ace would be in Wano soon, and from there, it wouldn’t be long before he was fighting Jinbe and joining Whitebeard’s crew.

By the time I was heading towards Marineford, my gaze fixed on the endless horizon, I found myself deep in thought. The wind gently tugged at me, and the world seemed to shrink to the size of my mind, where a single thought emerged: It’s time to close this chapter. To quit, leave it all behind — how long had I been longing for a place where I could simply be myself, without constant anxiety, without the tension, in a world where I didn’t have to always prepare for the next danger? I had become so accustomed to the movement, to living on the edge, that the idea of a peaceful life seemed incredibly desirable, yet, at the same time, terrifying. Where could I find that corner where I could just enjoy life? A place where it was calm, where there were no extra noises or threats?

— “Asta-chan, you’re back!” — No sooner had my feet touched the ground than I found myself in the strong, bear-like embrace of Monkey D. Garp. He was just as full of energy as ever, despite his imposing figure.

— “I’m glad to see you too, Garp-san, but you’re going to crush me!” — I wheezed, trying to wriggle free from his grip. My head spun a little, and it felt as though the air had been squeezed out of my chest. But despite my complaints, I couldn’t help but smile. He was so… warm and good-natured that I didn’t want this moment to end.

— “You’re still as tiny as ever! Bwa-ha-ha!” — His laughter boomed, echoing across the entire port. Garp held me as though I were a toy, not a grown woman.

— “It’s you all who are giants, I’m just ordinary,” — I muttered with a smile, always feeling that small yet proud nature of mine.

Once we finally parted, I changed into my Marine uniform and headed off to my duties. As I walked through the familiar halls of Marineford, my mind lingered on our conversation. I had so many thoughts racing through my head, but they all faded away as soon as I spotted the lazy stride of Admiral Aokiji.

— “Ara-ara, Asta-chan, are you busy?” — His voice, as calm and unruffled as ever, broke my thoughts. He seemed to live in his own little world, untouched by anything around him.

— “No,” — I replied, not stopping.

— “Great, then you’re coming with me. You’ll accompany me to the Shichibukai meeting,” — he said, continuing his walk toward the meeting hall. I followed him, and his steady pace somehow became my own rhythm; I adjusted to it, feeling the ease in the movement.

— “But the meeting was just recently, did something happen?” — I asked, surprised. What could be important enough to call a meeting so soon? They usually tried to hold those gatherings as infrequently as possible, and the last one had been almost immediately before my departure. Something had clearly changed, and I was curious to know what exactly.

— “Hanafuda was killed by the rookie ‘Fire Fist Ace,’ but he declined the Shichibukai title, so we offered it to Moriah Gekko, and he accepted.”

As I entered the meeting hall, I immediately looked around. The room was as it always was — heavy, filled with the scent of old books and fresh papers. At the table sat Doflamingo, his twisted smile, as always, promising nothing good. He was chatting animatedly with Crocodile, whose facial expression clearly conveyed his displeasure with the conversation. It seemed there was always a strange tension between them. Mihawk sat quietly in his corner, his eyes unreadable. It was surprising he even showed up to this meeting — his attendance was more of an exception than the rule. Kuma sat a little to the side, as always absorbed in his Bible. And Boa Hancock? As usual, she was causing a scene, scaring the poor regular Marines, who clearly didn’t know how to behave in the presence of such a formidable being.

The very person responsible for all this — the one who had caused this meeting to be called — sat in silence, observing what was happening. He didn’t interfere, but his presence was felt with every step. The hall also contained several vice-admirals, who, as always, tried to appear important, but at some point, they seemed more like mere decorations.

Aokiji took his place at the table, and I sat beside him. My task was simple, as always: to document everything that happened during the meeting, recording key moments for later inclusion in the report. I wasn’t supposed to get involved in the conversations or participate in the discussions, but everything in the room was crucial for the decisions to come.

— “Fufu-fufu, Asta-chan, good to see you. How’s the wine?” — Doflamingo turned to me with a satisfied smile, his gaze piercing and smug as always. He couldn’t just ask; he was always playing some hidden game.

— “Thank you, Mr. Doflamingo Donquixote,” — I replied, trying to remain calm. Everything about him was designed to unsettle the other person, and it was better not to give him a reason to smile. I knew: the fewer emotions I showed, the better.

Exactly at that moment, Sengoku entered, and all conversation instantly ceased. With his arrival, the meeting officially began, but, as usual, nothing of interest occurred. The discussions were about trivial matters and agreements that didn’t really catch my attention, but I couldn’t afford to let myself be distracted. My task was clear — to document everything that happened. I couldn’t forget anything important. So, I wrote down every word, trying to keep a neutral expression, not letting on how tired I was of these discussions.

At times, it felt like I was one of the few people trying not to roll my eyes at what was happening. Everything was so mundane, it sometimes made me want to just stand up and walk out. But in this kind of situation, you can’t show weakness, especially not in front of people like them.

Thankfully, Akainu wasn’t at this meeting. I always wondered how anyone could calmly work in the same room as him. He was constantly picking fights with the pirates, and his irritation often became so palpable that it was frightening to be nearby. Today was quieter, calmer. Maybe even too quiet.

Chapter Text

After the meeting, when everything had finally come to an end and I could breathe a sigh of relief, I reported to the admiral, taking the documents from him. These were the same papers that had piled up during my vacation, and I was eager to finally finish all the paperwork. Realizing that I would soon be submerged in a sea of documents again, I felt exhaustion wash over me. But then again, nothing new—I was used to it. As soon as the papers were in my hands, I headed to my room, deciding that I would carve out at least a little time for rest.

Ever since Garp discovered that I could fill out documents quickly and without errors, he had started “delegating” all the paperwork to me. It seemed he was certain I could handle it, and left me no room for protest. Still, I had grown used to it—there was no point in complaining. Work had to be done, even though it was becoming more and more tiresome each time.

As I walked down the corridor, I moved slowly along the walls, struggling to hold up the enormous pile of papers in my arms. They were stacked so high that I had no chance of seeing anything around me. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, afraid I would lose my balance and scatter everything. Suddenly, someone literally snatched the entire heap of papers from my hands. I was about to protest, ready to voice my displeasure, but when I saw who it was, I immediately fell silent.

— “Let me help you, Asta-chan, there’s no need to carry such heavy loads!” — Vice-Admiral Bastilia said in a soft, friendly tone.

I couldn’t help but let out a quiet sigh but quickly composed myself. Rolling my eyes at that moment would have been rude, so I simply nodded silently.

— “Oh, Vice-Admiral! It’s just paperwork, I can carry it all by myself!” — I tried to pull the documents out of his hands with some effort, but he wouldn’t let go. Despite my attempts, he continued holding onto them.

— “What are you talking about? How could I not help such a beautiful woman?” — He smiled, moving the papers aside as if he didn’t even notice my irritation. His smile was warm, even a bit playful.

The week leading up to my vacation became a real trial. Vice-Admiral Bastilia started showing me increasingly overt signs of attention. Every time we met, his gaze was softer than usual, and our conversations somehow became more personal. At first, I tried to avoid him, responding to his questions in a neutral way, but he persistently kept expressing his feelings. I, trying to control my awkwardness, gently turned down his advances, hoping he’d take the hint.

— “I heard you were on vacation. How was it?” — he asked, his interest clear as he watched me closely.

— “Thank you for asking, it was fine.” — I replied, trying not to show how much the situation bothered me. I paused for a moment, recalling my time off, but quickly snapped back to the present. I couldn’t let the conversation drift back to my personal life.

— “Ah, if I had known you were taking time off, I would’ve taken some too. We could have spent it together,” — Bastilia said, almost dreamily. He spoke so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His words sounded like a light joke, but there was an odd, thoughtful undertone to them.

The very thought of it made my stomach flip. God forbid that should happen. I quickened my pace, hoping that this awkward silence would pass as quickly as possible.

— “I have tomorrow off, so I’m inviting you on a date. Don’t worry, I’ll get permission from Garp for the day,” — he said with such certainty that it immediately made me feel like everything had already been decided. He was so calm that it made me uncomfortable, as I never expected him to be so forward. His directness left me feeling uneasy, but I tried my best not to let my confusion show.

— “Vice-Admiral Bastilia, I’m not sure I can go on a date with you…” — I stepped back, feeling the tension building inside me. We had stopped right at my door, and I couldn’t help but notice how intently he was looking at me. Opening the door, I quickly took the papers from his hands, trying not to linger too long. Without meeting his gaze, I hurriedly said, “I have a lot of work, I’m sorry.”

Once the door was closed, I leaned against it with relief, feeling the tension slowly fade away. I exhaled deeply, trying to calm my racing thoughts. It wasn’t that Bastilia was unattractive—he was, in fact, quite handsome—but… I certainly didn’t have any feelings for him. His persistence, however, was starting to wear me down.

I sat down at my desk and turned my attention back to work. The paperwork, as always, seemed endless, and the task ahead felt almost insurmountable. But what could I do? Work was work, and there was no avoiding it. Time seemed to drag on as I sifted through the papers, trying not to think about the whole day of this ahead of me. An hour later, when fatigue was starting to set in, I heard footsteps outside my door. It struck me as odd because there was supposed to be no one here but me. And then came loud knocking, as if someone was trying to break the door down.

— “Please don’t let it be Bastilia!” — I whispered to myself, feeling my pulse quicken. Getting up, I stifled an irritated sigh and went to open the door.

— “Why are you taking so long to open the door?” — came the familiar voice, and I immediately knew who it was. Garp. He didn’t wait for me to respond, brushing past me as he pushed the door open and entered without a second thought. Ignoring my attempts to delay him, he sat down in the chair across from my desk, as though it were his usual habit to interfere with my work.

— “As you can see, Garp-san, I’m working here,” — I replied, a bit tiredly. I tried not to emphasize it too much, but there was a subtle hint in my voice that I needed some privacy. After all, I wanted to finish at least one task, not spend time chatting. Though, I knew very well he hadn’t come here just to talk.

— “Oh, don’t grumble, you’re not an old woman! Tell me, how was your vacation?” — he said with a smile, pulling out a pack of cookies and starting to nibble on them as if we were just casually chatting about nothing. I noticed the usual curiosity in his face. He was always like this — never one for subtlety, and with an insatiable curiosity.

— “Nothing special,” — I answered calmly, trying to hide my irritation. I didn’t want to go into any details. — “First, I stayed on a summer island, then went to a winter one with hot springs.” — I tried to keep it as simple and neutral as possible, avoiding details I knew Garp would definitely pry into. He kept looking at me with such intense interest that I could feel a light sweat starting to form on my forehead. This was definitely not the kind of conversation I wanted to have.

Garp narrowed his eyes, as if he didn’t quite believe my words. He was always so observant, it felt like he could always tell when I was hiding something. My eyes, searching for some kind of excuse, scanned the room, and then I noticed my luggage, which I hadn’t had a chance to unpack yet. Immediately coming up with an idea, I decided that the little gift I had brought back would be a good way to steer the conversation in another direction.

— “Right, Garp-san, I brought you a gift!” — I said, suddenly remembering the small toy I had won at the festival. I acted as though I’d just realized it myself. — “I won this at the festival. As soon as I saw it, I thought of you.” I tried to sound confident, but inside, I still felt that Garp wouldn’t buy my explanation. He wasn’t that naive; he’d definitely notice I was avoiding details. But I hoped that at least the gift would soften his keen attention.

Quickly grabbing my backpack, I placed it on the table and started opening it. Soon enough, I felt the toy and pulled it out, but as soon as it came into view, a shirt fell out. Marco’s shirt. My heart raced, and my mind instantly flooded with anxious thoughts.

— “What the hell is it doing here?” — I thought frantically, trying to keep calm, but of course, I couldn’t help but panic. Desperately, I yanked the shirt to the side, trying to hide it, but Garp was faster. He grabbed it firmly and, without haste, began inspecting it, clearly intrigued.

— “And what’s a pirate’s shirt doing here?” — His voice was even, almost emotionless, but there was a subtle pressure in the question that made my nerves spike. He looked me straight in the eye, and I felt all my thoughts dissolve in an instant.

— “I don’t know…” — I said it, barely managing to keep the confusion out of my voice. Garp raised an eyebrow, as if understanding I was hiding something important. I felt the weight of his gaze pressing down on me, suffocating me with its intensity.

— “Pirates from Whitebeard’s crew arrived at the summer island. There was a festival, I had a bit too much to drink… And somehow, we ended up spending the night together. Well, and I guess I accidentally took his shirt,” — I quickly said, looking away. I was embarrassed, but I couldn’t lie.

Garp sighed, and I noticed his gaze suddenly filled with a kind of vague, paternal pain, as if he cared for me more than he probably should.

— “When I see him, I’ll rip all his feathers out!” — he growled, and I barely suppressed a smile, though everything inside me was protesting. — “Hide it, or better yet, throw it away. No need to fraternize with pirates! You should pay attention to Bastilia, he clearly has feelings for you. He’s a good guy, and most importantly—he’s a lookout. You’ll get married, have kids, and the next generation of lookouts will be born!” — His words carried not only discontent but a strange, almost dreamy certainty. He said it with such satisfaction that it almost seemed like he’d already pictured our future together. The wistful smile on his face was almost infectious—if it weren’t so ridiculous.

I sighed and tried to regain my composure.

— “Thank you for your concern, Garp-san, but I think I can handle my own personal life,” — I said, hoping that would at least cool his enthusiasm a little. But Garp was too stubborn to back down so easily.

He sighed again, and his gaze slid toward the shirt on the table, leaving me with no illusions.

— “I can see how you’re handling your personal life…” — he said, nodding toward the cursed shirt, and there was a barely noticeable hint of irony in his voice.

I just pressed my lips together at his remark, trying to keep myself composed. Nervously, I fumbled with my backpack, pulling out the toy dog and, somewhat flustered, handed it to Garp.

— “Here’s a souvenir for you,” — I said, feeling the strange tension in my chest refuse to dissipate.

Garp took the toy with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and his laughter filled the room.

— “Bwahaha, thanks!” — he chuckled, grinning, and without hesitation, ruffled my hair. — “Alright, I’ll go now, don’t let me distract you from your work.” — With those words, he left, happily shaking the toy in his hand.

As soon as the door closed, I let out a long sigh of relief, and, unable to hold back, collapsed into the chair, tilting my head back. A heavy sigh escaped me, and my eyes, already tired, became so heavy that, for a moment, they just wanted to stay shut. So many people lately trying to interfere in my personal life. Why does it irritate me so much? Even my mom never showed that much interest in my relationships.

I sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to calm myself. Then, gathering my thoughts, I reached for the documents and got back to work, feeling the desire to finish at least one task gradually return.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, consumed by paperwork, buried under miles of reports and applications. Time flew by unnoticed, and I only left my desk a couple of times for lunch and dinner, just to take a brief break. When the last paper was finally filled out, I glanced at the clock — it was already 2 a.m. Everything around me was blurry, my eyes were heavy with exhaustion, and I was barely staying on my feet. Realizing I couldn’t go any further, I slowly stood up, leaning against the table. Stumbling, I made my way to the bed. As soon as I collapsed onto it, I felt like the entire day evaporated, leaving only the weight of exhaustion. I didn’t even have time to think about falling asleep — I just instantly drifted into a deep sleep.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm, but it took me a moment to register where I was. The sleep had been deep and, honestly, rather heavy, leaving me with the feeling of not having rested properly. Also, sleeping in uniform wasn’t the best idea. My whole body ached, and the uniform was so wrinkled it looked like a crumpled ball on me. Struggling to get up, I blinked a few times and stretched, trying to shake off the grogginess. My vision was foggy, but I needed to get a few simple things done to start my day.

After washing up, I stood under the cold water for a while, feeling energy gradually returning and my thoughts beginning to clear. Changing into a fresh uniform, I headed to breakfast, hoping the meal would at least give me some strength and help banish the last remnants of morning drowsiness.

As soon as I approached the food counter, I was practically shoved a whole bouquet of bright red roses right into my face. I barely had time to blink before the flowers were at eye level. I instinctively stepped back, confused, staring at this unexpected gift. At first, I couldn’t even figure out what to do with it, as if everything happening around me wasn’t real.

— “Asta-chan, I’ve talked to Garp, so get ready and let’s go on a date!” — Vice-Admiral Bastilia said with a pleased look, effortlessly shoving the bouquet into my hands as if it were just a regular gift, not the start of some completely crazy situation.

I stared at the bouquet — beautiful, but so unnecessary at that moment — then at Bastilia himself. A million questions raced through my mind, but none of them had an answer. What is going on? Everything was happening so fast that I couldn’t even process it properly. My thoughts tangled, and my feet felt like they were glued to the floor.

At that moment, I felt someone gently but firmly place a hand on my shoulder. It was Garp. He had approached so suddenly and unexpectedly that I didn’t even notice how he ended up only a few centimeters away from me.

— “She’ll go,” — he said with a hint of humor in his voice, but then leaned in closer and added, — “Go on, you won’t lose anything. You’ll be the winner, I swear.”

I shot him an angry look, feeling how all this was beginning to wear me down. But what could I do? They were both like two stubborn rams, hearing nothing except “we’ll do it our way.” They didn’t even understand that I had already said “no” a hundred times. But there was no point in arguing with them — once they decided something, you couldn’t explain it. Threats, complaints, and pleas wouldn’t work here.

The Vice-Admiral led me to a restaurant located on the grounds of Marineford. It was considered one of the best establishments, and I couldn’t help but notice why. As soon as we entered, I was immediately enveloped in an atmosphere of impeccable elegance: the pristine white marble on the walls, polished to a gleaming shine, reflected the light, giving the entire space a sense of airiness and ceremony. Tall, majestic columns rose on both sides, creating the effect of a Roman amphitheater. The room was bathed in natural light — large windows offered a view of the docks where ships waited. There was a faint scent of fresh flowers decorating the tables, and a cool, almost refreshing breeze drifted in from the sea.

As soon as we stepped inside, we were swiftly seated at a table with a view of the main dining area. The tables were covered with snow-white tablecloths, and everything around us was neat and thoughtfully arranged — from the polished cutlery to the plush chairs that beckoned to be lingered in. The whole setting gave off an air of calm sophistication, almost theatrical in its precision.

— “What will you be ordering?” — asked a young waitress with a polite but slightly tired smile. As I already knew, Marineford was home to either the Watchers or their families, and it seemed that this girl was the daughter of someone in the Watch. Her eyes held the same focused expression seen in those who grew up in strict, military households.

I hesitated slightly, staring at the menu. It seemed like all these dishes were more for those looking for a quick bite than for someone seeking something extraordinary. But still, I had to choose something, or we’d be sitting here for ages.

— “I’ll have the seafood salad, an omelet with vegetables, and apple juice,” — I said, finally picking the simplest yet still delicious options.

— “I’ll take a steak, rare, and a bottle of good wine, whatever you recommend,” — Bastilia said, drawing attention back to himself. I relaxed slightly, though I couldn’t shake the feeling that this conversation was only the beginning of something bigger.

The waitress jotted down the order and, with a light nod, headed toward the kitchen. A silence fell between Bastilia and me. It wasn’t tense, but it felt… odd, especially for me. After all, I had expected something different, and instead, I found myself sitting here, trying to conceal my unease. Meanwhile, the Vice-Admiral appeared completely at ease, even slightly pleased, with a faint smile that never seemed to leave his face. He kept watching me, and I couldn’t quite figure out what he was thinking. Doubts gnawed at me, and I tried not to dwell on them, but his gaze kept holding me captive.

— “I’m so glad you agreed!” — Bastilia finally broke the silence, his voice filled with genuine happiness, as if he really cared about this moment.

I awkwardly smiled, unsure how to respond, and answered:

— “Heh, I’m glad…” — I said, but my thoughts immediately wandered to another place: — “I didn’t really agree… you didn’t give me a choice…”

He, as if not noticing my confusion, took my hand, which was resting on the table, and with a light, almost imperceptible motion, clasped it in his. Everything that was happening felt too strange, and his gaze, focused on me, didn’t release me.

— “Tell me about yourself, what are your interests?” — he asked with genuine curiosity, as though he wanted to learn something important.

I thought that maybe this was an opportunity to distract myself from what was going on, and awkwardly tried to pull my hand away from his, but he didn’t let me.

— “Oh, I don’t really have any particular hobbies… I used to love making coffee and baking, but now I just don’t have time for any of it.”

However, the vice-admiral didn’t let go of my hand; he continued to gently rub it with his thumb, with a soft persistence. It was incredibly awkward.

— “Oh, I would love to try whatever you make,” — he said, and there was not just politeness in his voice, but a genuine interest.

This absurd and awkward charade could have gone on for much longer if not for the waitress, who, like a saving angel, brought us our order. I literally sighed with relief, as her arrival interrupted that strange, lingering moment. We continued our date, strolling along the harbor, and though the atmosphere was less tense, I still felt out of place. Bastilia, on the other hand, was full of enthusiasm. He kept talking about his ambitions to take a high position in the Watch, as if it were the only meaning of his life. I tried to keep the conversation going, asking questions, but in reality, my thoughts were far away. I had no desire to waste time on endless monologues like this.

When we reached Monki D Garp’s office, he walked me to the door and, as if to add a touch of romance to this strange evening, kissed my hand. I froze for a moment, unsure how to react, but decided to simply ignore his gesture.

— “I hope for our next date?” — he said with a light smile, which seemed to hide some secret hope.

I awkwardly nodded, feeling a rising sense of indignation inside, and quickly walked in, not saying a word. When the door closed behind me, I felt the tension that I had been carrying suddenly disappear.

Garp was sitting in his chair, and he didn’t even try to hide his satisfied smile. I looked at him and, without wasting a second, said sharply:

— “Garp-san, no more dates!”

I didn’t explain what had happened, but I clearly felt that this was not the path I wanted to follow.

Chapter Text

Sitting at the table between Aokiji and Akainu, I felt, to put it mildly, uncomfortable — or rather, awful. On one side, there was searing cold; on the other, hellish heat. It felt like some monstrous trial, as if nature itself had decided to test my very limits of endurance: the tearing contrast of two elements clashing within my soul. I could barely focus, because every time I glanced from one end of the table to the other, I didn’t know where to turn.

The room was eerily quiet, but the silence was menacing. There was no lightness, no sense of calm — only the tension that seemed to pull me down, as if I were already a part of some grand, irreversible process. The three admirals and Sengoku sat across from me, silent, their faces set like stone, like statues. They weren’t looking at me but through me, as if I were just some incidental element that had accidentally found its place in this scene.

I didn’t understand how I had ended up here. Just a moment ago, I had been sitting in my office, peacefully drinking tea, enjoying my solitude, when suddenly a sailor walked in. He told me I was urgently summoned to the conference room, and that was it. No explanations, no warnings, nothing. As if I were just some servant who needed to step in and take my place.

Before I could grasp what was going on, I was already standing in this hall, among these people whose mere presence created an atmosphere where no normal person could feel anything but out of place. As soon as I stepped inside, I felt the weight of the tension almost physically: it was so thick it seemed to hang in the air, almost palpable. It was more than just stress — it was a threat, hidden behind their manners and the firmness in their gazes.

Three admirals sat like stone statues, and there was not a trace of warmth or humanity on their faces. They were true machines, tuned to solve some exceedingly important and delicate issue. The air was so thick with tension that I almost thought I could hear it creaking with each of their glances crossing mine. I felt as though I were trapped, where every step I took could be decisive. And I had no idea what they wanted from me.

— “Ensign Asta, you will be sent on a mission. The abilities of your Devil Fruit are perfectly suited for it,” — Sengoku said, his voice as cold and resolute as always. After a long pause, during which I was still struggling to recover from the shock, his words finally reached me. I felt something heavy tighten in my chest, almost physically. This was all too… sudden.

— “The ‘Sliding Hurricane’ pirates have kidnapped the daughter of one of the rulers of kingdoms under the protection of the World Government. They are demanding a ransom. Your task is to fly to the uninhabited island where they are hiding and rescue her,” — he continued. I stared at his face, trying to comprehend what he was saying. We had just been discussing minor assignments, and now… a mission I could scarcely even imagine.

— “Since the island is uninhabited, we cannot send any signals. Otherwise, they’ll spot us quickly and might kill the hostage,” — Sengoku added, and I felt the weight of each word pressing down on me. An uninhabited island. A place to hide, but also a place to disappear without a trace. The whole situation was beginning to take on a sinister tone.

I tried to pull myself together, swallowing the lump in my throat, and asked the question that had been tormenting me from the very beginning:

— “What if they detect me with Observation Haki? What should I do then?” — My voice trembled slightly, but I did my best to keep it steady.

— “And why not just pay them the ransom they’re asking for?” — I blurted out, unable to stop myself. Sometimes such solutions seem simpler than all this mysterious complexity with islands and covert operations.

— “Don’t worry, according to our intelligence, only two members of their crew have Observation Haki: the captain and the first mate. You’ll avoid them,” — Sengoku said, his voice steady, though there was a certain weight to it, as if he himself doubted the success of the mission. — “As for the ransom… it’s too risky. They might not honor their end of the bargain, and this girl is meant to become the wife of one of the Celestial Dragons. Given her importance, the success of this mission is critical.”

He paused, giving me time to process everything he had said. I noticed how his gaze became even more intense, as if he were considering the consequences, wondering whether anyone could handle such a task. I tried not to let my anxiety show.

— “Our ship will be positioned near the island, with an admiral onboard,” — he continued, and I felt the tension in the air become even more tangible. — “Your job is to retrieve the girl and bring her back to the ship, unharmed.”

His words felt like a verdict. It sounded simple: retrieve, deliver, but I knew it wouldn’t be as easy as he made it sound. I nodded, trying to suppress the rising tide of concern. This was far too important to give in to doubt.

***

Standing on the deck of the ship, I couldn’t help but feel that even the weather was against this plan. The night had turned eerie: the sky, as if on purpose, was covered with thick clouds, ready to burst into a storm. The rain hammered down on the deck, as if some great force were trying to stop us, turning it into a continuous, unbroken wall. The wind howled, and everything around me became foggy and grim. The moon, which I tried to catch a glimpse of through the clouds, was hidden, leaving only the dark, hostile sky. With every second that the storm drew closer, my heart filled with anxiety and tension. I could feel that something important, something inevitable, was about to happen.

In my mind, like engraved tablets, the images of the two pirates I had to avoid at all costs were clear. The first — the captain. He was tall, with one eye, and his gaze held such power that I involuntarily felt as if I were being drawn into a whirlwind. He was a Devil Fruit user of the Paramecia type, capable of creating real hurricanes and destroying everything in his path. His power was incredible, and I couldn’t afford to let myself fall into his line of sight. The second — the first mate. Tall, bald, with a heavy scar crossing his head like a reminder of brutal battles. He was like a warehouse, mighty and unyielding, with a temperament that promised no less danger than the captain.

At that moment, I felt a hand rest on my shoulder. It was unexpected, but I immediately recognized its owner.

— “Don’t worry so much, Asta-chan,” — said Admiral Aokiji, his voice calm, but I could feel a hidden resolve in it. — “The weather’s perfect for slipping by unnoticed. You’ve got the Eternal Pose, and the Bible Card is attached to your strap. Just don’t lose them.”

His words echoed in my mind, but I didn’t waste time thinking. With a restrained nod, I headed toward the bulwark, where I once again focused my thoughts. I was transforming into a Harpy, spreading my wings, and with each movement, I felt the energy course through me. Three powerful strokes — and I was already high in the sky, at a safe altitude, watching the ship with the admiral recede into the dark abyss of the night.

I tried to climb as high as I could, feeling the cold, biting wind tear at my feathers and nip at my skin. Below, where the island was hidden in the mist, there was no room for error. I had to avoid any chance of being spotted. Every moment was precious, and I knew the higher I flew, the less likely they were to detect me. An hour of flight passed in foggy silence, and on the horizon, a faint silhouette of the island appeared. I could barely make out its outline, and if it hadn’t been for the Eternal Pose, clearly pointing the way, I might have easily flown past, unaware of this secluded spot hidden in the sea.

It was almost time, and I realized I needed to act. Folding my wings, I shot downward like an arrow, plummeting into the void with incredible speed. The wind whistled in my ears, and the sound of my fall, as if the very air was resisting, nearly drowned out the rain. But despite that, I kept my focus, feeling the ground getting closer. Just before I reached the treetops, I spread my wings again and, gliding like a shadow, dove into the thick foliage, which instantly concealed me from the outside world.

Clinging to one of the sturdy branches, I felt the raindrops that had fallen from the sky slam into my body. Shaking myself slightly, I rid myself of the excess moisture, letting my feathers regain their lightness. At that moment, I tried to listen for any sounds, but the rain, pouring down in a solid wall, drowned out even the faintest noises. It felt as though the entire world had dissolved into this constant roar, and there were no birds, no animals — just me and the endless downpour.

Leaping from branch to branch, I focused all my attention on my senses — sight and hearing. Every slight rustle, every movement in the dark could become crucial. The forest around me was alive, but in this silence, it seemed hauntingly empty. I listened to every whisper of the wind, every soft crack, trying to catch any signs that I was nearing my goal. My entire focus was on not making a mistake, on not being seen. The trees I was navigating through were tall and strong, with branches full of lush foliage, which made my movements less agile and slower. Instead of simply jumping, as I was used to, I now planned each step, each leap, making sure not to draw unwanted attention. The rain poured down as if the heavens themselves were trying to hide me from prying eyes, but its coldness was brutal. The moisture seeped into my skin, making me feel the weight of my wings and the loss of strength. In this state, time seemed to vanish — everything blurred, and I couldn’t even tell how many minutes or hours had passed.

But at some point, I finally noticed it — a clearing, quietly nestled within the forest, and a river slowly flowing along its edge. It reflected the misty sky, as if nature itself were trying to hide what was happening on its shores. I spotted the ship — a black silhouette, barely distinguishable in the darkness, but it couldn’t be a coincidence. This was the ship, the one I had been searching for. And on the stony shore, surrounded by low bushes and rocks, was the pirates’ camp. I felt my heart begin to beat faster, my whole body tensing, ready for action. I lay in wait, continuing to observe what was happening ahead.

Stopping just before the clearing’s edge, I hung from a branch, hidden by dense foliage, as if I were a part of the forest itself. With every breath, I felt myself merge with the surrounding world, while at the same time, the tension in my muscles tightened. I needed to see more, to understand what exactly was going on beyond the clearing. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake; I couldn’t miss my chance. From my hiding place, I tried to make out the dark silhouettes, guessing their movements. In my mind, questions swirled: “How many are there? What are they doing? Is the one I’m looking for among them?”

Ideally, I needed to finish everything as quickly as possible, while the rain and night, like an invisible curtain, concealed me from prying eyes. In this dark refuge, I could act with more confidence, but as long as the captain and first mate were on the ship, my path there was closed. I knew that as soon as they spotted me, there would be no escape — they’d catch me instantly, offering not the slightest chance to flee. This wasn’t just a trap; it was real danger, the kind not to be taken lightly. Time seemed to drag on, and all I could do was wait.

And then, the moment came, and it arrived much faster than I expected. A commotion erupted in the camp — noise, shouting, bustling. People were running back and forth, and although I tried to discern what exactly was happening, it was nearly impossible to make sense of it. I was too far away to make out the details, but the atmosphere itself spoke of something important. And then, in that moment, everything suddenly froze. I saw them — two imposing figures, confidently stepping off the gangplank onto the ground. A flash of realization pierced me, and I recognized them without a doubt: the captain and his loyal first mate.

The captain, tall with a cold stare, stopped one of the sailors, and their conversation was brief but tense. I couldn’t make out the words, but by their stances and gestures, it was clear he was demanding something. After that, the three of them made their way deeper into the forest, as though deciding that the camp no longer required their presence. I froze, unwilling to let the slightest movement give away my position. This moment was crucial.

I waited for about ten minutes, ensuring they wouldn’t return, and I felt the tension start to ease. This was what I needed: time was slipping away, and I understood that every moment counted. The wind had calmed slightly, and the rain seemed to let up a bit, which meant it was time to act. Taking off from the branch, I shot up into the air, plunging into the gray darkness of the night. My trajectory was carefully planned: I circled around the open space, gliding just above the ground like a ghost, leaving no trace. I cast a quick glance at the crow’s nest — empty. Silence, only the sound of waves crashing against the shore and the faint calls of some strange birds. This was my chance.

When I found myself directly above the ship, I knew I had to act quickly, and I did everything to avoid falling into a trap. The silhouette of the vessel loomed against the night sky, and despite the dim light filtering through the clouds, I could make out its distinct shape. The ship was massive, with wide wooden sides, old and worn with time. Its hull was black, covered in boards darkened by salt, and in some places, they were marred by deep cracks. Everywhere, there were signs of old paint, peeling in spots, and at the ship’s bow, a massive, almost menacing sail hung, bearing an emblem I knew well. It was a pirate ship. The deck was cluttered with large crates and barrels, and the mast barely displayed a flag, fluttering weakly in the light wind. Rising above the ship, I landed silently on its deck, quickly slipping into the shadows.

As soon as my feet touched the wooden surface, I swiftly returned to my human form. It always felt strange — the shift that made me momentarily lose my focus. Everything around me seemed different: the air, the ground beneath my feet, even the ship itself. But time waited for no one, and I regained my composure. With quick steps, I headed for the doors leading deeper into the ship. Dark wooden walls surrounded me, and the dim glow from the oil lamps hanging from the ceiling created the kind of atmosphere I was all too familiar with on these ships: danger and desperate resolve. The corridors were long and narrow, and my footsteps echoed in the empty hallways. I moved cautiously, though the boards beneath my feet creaked — there was no avoiding that.

— “How much the observation haki came in handy!” — the thought flashed in my mind as I stopped by one of the doors, listening carefully and trying to catch any sounds from within. It was quiet on the other side, but I knew someone could be close, so I had to be cautious. Slowly, I opened the door and slipped inside, avoiding any unnecessary noise.

Descending the narrow stairs to the hold, I cracked open a heavy door, listening. It was dark inside, but I could make out the silhouettes of crates, barrels, crumpled fabric covers, and old ropes. The room looked more like a storage area, and in the far corner, I spotted a cage. And there it was — my target. My heart raced as I recognized her. Quickly approaching the cage, I crouched down and carefully peered inside. The woman inside looked exhausted, clearly worn from days of captivity. Her eyes met mine, and in them, I saw sparks of hope beginning to flicker. This was my mission, my moment.

Everything around me seemed frozen, as if time itself had slowed for a brief instant. In that moment, I focused entirely on her, on what needed to be done to free her. My actions had to be swift and decisive. Suddenly, I heard footsteps outside the door.

I pressed a finger to my lips, signaling the woman to stay silent. The sudden stillness was such a relief that I even held my breath. The footsteps grew closer, and I could catch fragments of conversation between the pirates. My heart beat faster, but I made sure not to give myself away. Quickly, I hid behind the stacks of crates, across from the cage, holding my breath. This turned out to be the moment when time worked in my favor — as soon as I hid, two pirates entered with a lantern, the faint glow dimly illuminating their faces.

— “Time’s on our side, beautiful,” said one of the pirates, the taller one. He approached the cage, tossed a loaf of bread inside, and gave a brazen smirk.

— “When we get the money, the captain promised us some fun with you,” said the second pirate, his smile so vile that for a moment, I felt it crawl under my skin.

The woman didn’t look away from them, but her eyes were full of fury and disdain. She didn’t respond with words or movement. She just stood there, fists clenched, as if ready for something. The pirates left, and the room was once again filled with silence. I cautiously emerged from my hiding spot and stepped toward the cage. It was even worse than I had imagined. My hand instinctively reached for the lock keeping her inside, and I started to think about how to open it.

— “How do I get this open?” I muttered aloud, unable to hide the frustration in my voice. With each passing minute, time was slipping away, and the lock seemed to mock me, refusing to yield.

— “The keys are only with the captain,” the prisoner said weakly, her voice almost lifeless. Her words were easy to understand—not just from exhaustion, but from despair.

— “That’s not an option, I can’t fight him,” I muttered, desperately twisting the lock back and forth. I’d never had to pick locks like they show in the movies, and each attempt felt more and more hopeless. I could feel the tension building; if we didn’t figure something out soon, I didn’t know what would happen next.

— “Maybe try knocking it loose with something heavy?” the woman suggested, looking at me with hope in her eyes. I felt her gaze fill me with resolve, though deep down I knew it wasn’t the best plan.

— “That’s a last resort, it makes too much noise,” I replied, still pondering the best course of action. “But what if…” Suddenly, a thought struck me. I focused, transforming my legs into the powerful, talon-like claws of a Harpy. Every muscle tensed, and with my newly formed claws, I gripped the lock and yanked it in every direction. There was a sharp crack—the sound that seemed to split the silence. It was deafening in that moment, but I knew it wasn’t loud enough to alert the whole crew. As the lock fell, I quickly grabbed it and set it down, feeling the tension drain away.

— “Alright, listen carefully and do exactly what I say,” I said, as the cage finally opened. My heart was racing. I knew this wasn’t just about our freedom; time was running out. We couldn’t waste a second. “Our top priority now is getting to the deck. It’ll be easier to act from there. I can fly you to the lookout ship. As we move, stay behind me and keep as quiet as possible. No unnecessary movements, understand?” She nodded, and in her eyes, I saw the same resolve, as if she’d made decisions like this before. It was the look of someone ready to go to the end, no matter the obstacles.

How strange, I thought, watching her. She was supposed to be a noble lady, a true princess, but she behaved so down-to-earth, so confidently. There wasn’t a trace of the snobbery I would have expected from someone of her station. And what was even more surprising was that she didn’t protest, didn’t raise objections as others would have done in her place. There was something dignified in her demeanor, something invisible to most eyes, but I felt it. There was real nobility in her, hidden beneath a mask of simplicity and practicality.

I drew the knife from my belt, feeling my hand tremble slightly from the tension, but the moment was too crucial to hesitate. We moved forward, each step sounding loud in the silence, like a reminder that at any moment, someone could stumble upon us. The quiet corridors were almost lifeless, with only the dim light from the oil lamps hanging from the ceiling skimming the floor, casting long shadows as if hiding our steps. We climbed up, trying not to betray ourselves, and every turn, every rustle made me freeze for a moment.

Suddenly, as we passed by one of the doors, I heard footsteps. It was that moment when even breathing seemed too loud. Grabbing the princess’s hand, I instantly yanked her around the corner, almost pressing her against the wall. Her back softly collided with the cold wood, and I, hovering over her, tried to breathe as quietly as possible, so we wouldn’t be noticed. At that moment, time seemed to freeze, and everything around us felt so fragile that I could hardly believe we might slip by unnoticed.

The footsteps grew louder, and I almost felt them right behind the door. We stood in complete silence, pressing ourselves into the shadow, as if that could shield us from the outside world. I couldn’t tell who it was, but with all my might, I hoped it wasn’t them — the captain and his first mate. My heart was pounding wildly, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. If they noticed us… we wouldn’t escape.

— “Where did the captain and the first mate go?” a low voice asked, and I froze in place, not daring to breathe. He stopped right by the door, so close to us that I could feel the tension freeze every muscle in my body.

— “You drunk fool, you’ll sleep through everything!” came another voice, slightly tipsy, but still coherent. “One of the sailors we sailed with is missing. He stole the devil fruit we found and tried to escape. They’re going after him.”

Suddenly, the door closed, and silence fell over the corridor once more. I glanced down at the princess, who seemed not to even breathe, watching every move I made with tense eyes. Her gaze met mine, full of questions and worry.

I quickly pulled away from her, scanning the corridor. It felt like each second hung in the air, thick with anticipation, but after listening carefully, I realized everything was calm. There was no movement, and, finally, I dared to peek around the corner. The way was clear.

I signaled her with a glance that it was time to move and waved my hand, silently urging her to follow. Our steps had to be as quiet as shadows, and I could feel every muscle in my body tensing, anticipating the possibility of new obstacles ahead.

I opened the door leading to the deck and cautiously peered outside, listening for any sound that could give away our position. My heart seemed to stop for a moment, but fortunately, all was quiet. Once I was sure it was safe, I stepped forward and extended my hand to the princess, gently yet firmly taking her palm. In her eyes, I saw a mix of excitement and trust, and I felt the weight of the moment. Moving swiftly, trying to avoid drawing attention, we hid behind a large barrel on the deck.

Glancing at her face, I gathered my strength and whispered, quietly but decisively:

— “I’m going to transform now. Climb onto my back and hold on tight to my neck. The most important thing is not to interfere with me; I’ll be flying fast.” My words were firm, though I could feel the tension building inside me. I hoped she’d understand and trust me in this moment.

She didn’t hesitate. She met my eyes, nodded, and quietly said:

— “I understand.” That was all I needed to hear.

I was about to transform when suddenly a loud shout rang out from the shore:

— “Captain!”

I froze in place, not daring to move. My heart leapt, and instinctively I clenched my fists, feeling the tension rising. A transformation now would be too dangerous. I needed to come up with something fast, or we’d be caught.

— “Damn it!” I hissed in frustration, gritting my teeth. My mind raced, trying to work through the possible options, but each one seemed worse than the last. I quickly scanned the surroundings, looking for an escape route. A plan began to form in my head, and without hesitation, I made my decision.

— “Listen carefully, jump into the water and head north. I’ll try to distract them!” I said, removing the Eternal Pose from my wrist and, without hesitation, slipping it onto the princess’s arm. Every move was deliberate, but the danger still lingered in the air.

— “There’s a Bible Card embedded in it for the patrol ship,” I continued, feeling a cold sweat on my brow. There was an odd sense of unease inside me, but I had to stay focused. I then pulled a small snail from my jacket and handed it to her. — “Once you’re a safe distance from the ship, call for help and ask them to come as quickly as possible. I’ll try to shake them off and fly back for you.”

She pressed her lips together firmly, and I saw her eyes darken slightly as she looked at me. There was no fear, no doubt—only resolve. She spoke quietly and decisively:

— “Okay, I’ll wait.”

Those words gave me the confidence I needed. I waited until she jumped overboard, diving smoothly but determinedly into the dark waters. Keeping an eye on her movements, I waited for her to swim toward the shore. Once she reached the land, I quickly turned and made my way to the opposite side of the ship, where the gangway could be appearing at any moment. Time was running out.

As soon as I reached the side of the ship, I took one last deep breath and shouted:

— “Hey, I’m here, and I’ve got your prisoner!” — The sound of my voice seemed to slice through the stillness of the night as I pulled myself over the side of the ship. My hands began to transform into wings, and my legs into sharp talons, ready to strike at any moment. I could feel the air vibrating around me.

— “What a disgusting night! We’ve got another rat, boys!” — The captain shouted.

He raised his saber, his voice filled with fury. The others followed suit, quickly drawing their weapons. Their movements were swift and precise, and I could feel the atmosphere on the deck shift — the readiness for battle was palpable in the air.

The sharp crack of a gunshot rang out, and I felt the bullet zip by just inches from my claw. In that split second, I realized it was a signal — the moment to take off. I wasted no time: gripping a nearby crate with my claws, I swiftly made a loop, dropping it down into the midst of the pirates. I kept my flight low, not soaring too high to avoid becoming an easy target for the next shots, yet maintaining enough speed to keep them on edge, never giving them a clear shot.

Suddenly, the sharp whistle of another shot pierced the air. I felt something cold and sharp graze my neck. It was so close that I barely had time to react. The bullet nicked me, and I could feel a warm trickle of blood running down, leaving a streak on my damp skin. For a moment, I thought I was losing control, but I gritted my teeth and pressed on, barely noticing as the blood lightly stained my feathers.

— “Next time, I won’t miss,” came the voice of the pirate first mate, his eyes glinting in the dark, his gaze so confident that it was clear he wasn’t used to losing. I felt the tension rise.

Flying another loop over the pirates, I weaved to dodge their bullets, feeling the pressure mount with every passing second. Keeping my composure, I sharply veered into the forest. My wings were pushed to their limits, each beat sending a sharp pain through my muscles. I had never flapped them so intensively before, and the growing fatigue was becoming nearly unbearable.

The sound of gunshots echoed behind me, bullets whizzing past, and I pushed myself to fly faster, unable to stop. At times, it felt like I was about to crash into a tree or be hit by a bullet, but I forced myself not to think about it. My muscles seemed to be giving out, but I made myself keep going, heading for the safety of some cover.

Just as I managed to distance myself from the pursuit, I decided to slow down and catch my breath. I was about to head back to the princess when, out of nowhere, a heavy blow struck me from above. I didn’t have time to react, and I crashed to the ground, losing my balance and nearly losing consciousness from the sheer force of the impact.

— “Gotcha, rat…” — the voice slid over me like ice, and right before my eyes, cold steel flashed, pressing against my throat. My gaze froze, and my breath caught as I saw the pirate captain looming over me like a shadow. His face was obscured by a rough bandage, but his eye burned with malice.

Grabbing the cold metal with my hand, I pushed him away by force, hissing in pain, and kicked him with my knee in the stomach, knocking him off me. He tried to grab me again, but I was faster - rolling to the ground, I instantly stood up, not giving him a chance. At that moment, something flashed in my chest, and the body began to change rapidly. I felt my wings spreading, and feathers appeared on my body. At the moment of takeoff, when I was gripped by the fierce power of the harpy, I suddenly felt a hellish pain on my back. A warm liquid whipped out of the wound, flooding my back and driving me crazy with pain.

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep the pain from taking over. Every beat of my wings sent searing pain through my back, but I couldn’t afford to stop. My wings kept beating relentlessly, lifting me higher, despite the agonizing burn with every movement, as if the wound on my back wasn’t just tearing me apart but scorching me with hot embers. My gaze was fixed ahead, blocking out the chaos—the roar of the wind created by my wings and the angry shouts rising from below.

But then, like a knife to the heart, a voice struck my back—sharp, full of malice.

—“Bitch, I’ll get you yet!” the pirate shouted, his words echoing in the emptiness, ringing in my ears. I didn’t turn around, but in his voice was such fury that, even through the pain, I felt my blood freeze in my veins.

I accelerated my flight, feeling the wind whistle in my ears. I couldn’t let him catch up to me. I couldn’t allow myself to die here, among these dark waters, at the hands of that cursed pirate.

The branches whipped my face, leaving painful marks on my skin. But ahead, I saw a clearing—a patch of light between the trees—and it gave me strength. I surged forward, feeling the air cut through me, but in an instant, I found myself on the beach. I quickly glanced around, searching for the princess. The moment our eyes met, I immediately soared toward her, grabbing her with my paws mid-air. Striving not to hurt her with my sharp claws, I held her gently, feeling the slight tremor of her body in my grasp. With great effort, I ascended, ignoring the shout below and the wind tearing at my wings.

— “Guide me toward the ship!” — I said through clenched teeth, trying to keep panic out of my voice.

The princess finally regained her composure and, a little calmer, answered quickly:

— “Fly straight, I called, they said they’ll be here soon!” — her voice sounded slightly out of breath.

Soon, our ship appeared on the horizon, its silhouette becoming clearer with each passing moment. I quickened my pace, my wings slicing through the air faster, and my heart pounding with double the force. As I landed on the deck, I carefully lowered the princess onto the wooden surface as gently as I could. But the moment I had fulfilled my task, my strength abandoned me. I collapsed onto the deck, unable to stay on my feet, losing consciousness. The last thing I heard was the princess’s anxious voice, the sound of her footsteps, and the bustling of sailors, seemingly rushing to help.

***

Opening my eyes, I immediately squinted, trying to shield myself from the bright light that seemed to scorch. It was so intense that just a few seconds in it were enough to obscure everything around me. I lost track of time as my eyes gradually adjusted to this blinding light. When I felt I could open them a bit wider, I tried to rise, but instantly felt a sharp pain in my back, as though every movement was a punishment. I gasped for air, sinking back onto the pillow. I gritted my teeth, trying to stifle a moan, realizing that I was most likely in the medical bay aboard the ship. It was obvious, as a sterile silence enveloped the room, and the scent of metal and disinfectants filled the air.

— “You’re awake, now…” — a soft yet insistent voice sounded. I barely had time to turn my head when someone brought a glass of water to me, gently supporting my hand. — “How do you feel?” — asked the person who had approached.

I could barely open my eyes fully and saw a woman in front of me. She was… a princess, rescued from that terrible situation. There was worry in her eyes, but her face radiated gratitude.

— “Thank you for your concern, Your Highness… I’m fine,” — I managed to utter with difficulty, though I could barely believe it myself. I felt the weakness in my body growing stronger, but I tried not to show it.

— “Thank you so much for saving me!” — her voice became even softer as she lowered her head, bowing in gratitude. — “My name is Azalia,” — she added with a warm smile, briefly meeting my gaze with an expression that was both full of respect and appreciation.

I stared at her in confusion, unsure of how to respond. Everything happening around me seemed unbelievable, but what was even more surprising was how this princess behaved—so unpretentious and sincere. In response, I barely managed to lift the corner of my lips, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity.

— “There’s no need to bow, Princess Azalia. You don’t have to do that,” — I said, attempting to steer the conversation back to a more formal tone. My words came out with a slight hint of embarrassment. I wasn’t used to such address, and it hardly seemed appropriate given the circumstances.

Azalia seemed completely unconcerned with formalities. Her face cleared, and she immediately smiled even brighter.

— “No, no! You saved me, and I am in your debt!” — she countered, cutting me off with a gesture. — “Just call me Azalia, alright? At least when we’re alone,” — she suggested with such genuine warmth that I barely noticed how her eyes began to glow with a faint light.

Her words were so genuine that I felt the wall of formalities begin to crumble, replaced by a sense of mutual respect.

— “Alright… Azalia,” — I said softly and uncertainly, unable to resist her insistence. I could feel the walls of my doubts starting to fall away under her warmth and sincerity. She certainly knew how to connect, and I could no longer keep resisting.

— “And how should I address you?” — she asked, her voice gentle, with a hint of curiosity. There was an open, sincere interest in her eyes, as if she was eager to understand me, to get to know me better.

— “You can call me Asta,” — I replied, a little flustered, but already with a sense of inner ease that had come after I’d agreed to her request.

No matter how much we tried to continue our conversation, we were interrupted by the nurse who entered the cabin. She quickly examined me, and upon noticing that I had regained consciousness, let out a relieved sigh.

— “You’re awake, wonderful,” — the nurse said with a slight smile, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement. — “The princess hasn’t left your side.” Hearing this, Azalia blushed deeply, and I saw her attempt to hide her embarrassment by turning her face slightly away.

The nurse didn’t waste any time and quickly issued her instructions.

— “Alright, Princess,” — she addressed Azalia. — “I must ask you to leave. I need to change the bandages on your ward’s back, and you… will be in the way.”

— “Alright, I hope we’ll meet again, Asta,” — the princess said, her voice warm and her gaze full of tenderness. She slowly turned and, without looking back, left the cabin.

The nurse carefully helped me sit up, supporting me so I wouldn’t lose my balance. Slowly, with a soft snap, she began to remove the old bandages, and I felt them tugging at my skin, leaving a rough trail behind.

— “The scar will be huge, across your entire back,” — she said as she finally removed the bandages and examined her work. Her voice held no pity, more like a statement of fact, though her eyes couldn’t hide the sympathy.

After that, everything seemed to quiet down. I sat there, feeling the heaviness in my body and the pulling discomfort in my back, while the nurse continued her work, taking her time. We both understood that speaking now was pointless, and silence was far preferable to words.

Once she finished, neatly placing the bandages and tools aside, the nurse paused, allowing me a moment to adjust to my new state. Finally, she spoke again:

— “You need rest,” — her voice was soft but firm. — “Until we dock in Marineford, don’t even think about getting out of bed. You need recovery, and any attempt to move too soon could only worsen your condition.” She spoke with authority, almost as if there was a threat in her words.

Chapter Text

Arriving at Marineford, I felt that, overall, I was alive, but somehow not quite myself. It seemed like I was standing on my own two feet, and my eyes weren’t closing from exhaustion, yet every step came with difficulty, as though I were carrying a weight twice as heavy as my own body. My back, despite all my efforts, continued to ache, as if an invisible force was pulling me along, preventing me from relaxing. But I could still walk, albeit slowly, carefully considering each movement.

The nurse who greeted me at the hospital was unyielding. She gave me such a stern look that I felt like a small child who had broken all the rules. The ban on exercise and physical strain was absolute — not a step further. And if I relaxed my guard even a little, the wound could reopen. Afraid even to meet her gaze, I didn’t argue. She warned that if anything went wrong, her order would be relentless — I’d end up back in bed, and for a long time. A shiver ran down my spine at her words.

Deciding that the best strategy was to stay out of the way, I simply nodded obediently, though my mind was swirling with thoughts. But one thing I knew for sure — arguing with her was not only pointless but also dangerous. Her gaze spoke for itself: “You’re still alive only because of me, so don’t take any risks.” And I wasn’t in the mood for conversation, not at that moment. Besides, I had to report to Sengoku. He was already waiting in his office.

“Well done, Ensign Asta! For the excellent execution of your mission, you have been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant Commander,” Sengoku said after listening to my report. His voice was calm, but with a slight hint of approval, which was rare.

The mission had indeed been of strategic importance, as evidenced by my promotion from Ensign straight to Lieutenant Commander, skipping two ranks. It meant I had achieved something significant, but it also made it clear that even greater things were expected of me. And while the promotion had been anticipated, the bonus came as a surprise.

When I saw the amount, my eyes almost popped out of my head. Of course, it wasn’t billions, but it was still a considerable sum. It would definitely be a good help for my future carefree life. I might have even felt a bit more confident, if it weren’t for that never-ending burden of responsibility that still weighed heavily on my shoulders.

***

— “Bwa-ha-ha! Well done, Asta-chan, you’re a true pride of the watch!” said Garp, grinning widely. His voice was full of approval, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. I can’t say I didn’t feel proud hearing those words, but I still felt a little flustered — Garp was always so genuine that his praise was impossible to ignore.

— “Thank you, Garp-san!” I replied, trying to hide my modesty and excitement.

— “By the way, that princess you saved requested an escort to her island,” Garp continued, giving a slight smirk.

— “Well, that makes sense. She was brought to Marineford because it was closer, but why are you telling me this?” A look of confusion appeared on my face. I didn’t immediately understand what he meant. Azalia and I had become quite good friends during the time we sailed toward Marineford, but why was he bringing this up to me?

— “Well, she said she’ll only go if you’re with her. And since you’re on leave because of your injury, you could refuse, and I’d accompany her without you, but you can come with us. So, it’s up to you: are you going, or staying?” Garp said the last part almost jokingly, but there was a note of determination in his voice.

I paused. Of course, I wanted to stay in Marineford and rest, enjoy the silence and peace, but at the same time, I was eager to spend more time with Azalia. She had become my first friend in this world, and that meant a lot to me. Strange, but I’d been here almost two years, and I still hadn’t made any friends. It wasn’t like I had been actively seeking them, but now, looking back, I realized it had always been hard for me to start relationships. Before, I had at least known how to build connections — I had a small but reliable circle of people with whom I felt comfortable. Now, in this new, foreign world, I felt rather alone. My fear of making new friends had only grown stronger, especially among the people of the watch. You couldn’t be too open; here, trust was something very fragile.

I got so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t immediately hear Garp, noticing my silence, step in:

— “Don’t get me wrong, I meant that you’ll be resting, just keeping the princess company!” His voice was so nonchalant that I realized he’d known all along that I’d need time to think.

— “I’ll go,” I answered, surprisingly even to myself. Honestly, I didn’t immediately understand why I agreed so quickly. But what was I losing? Nothing. Resting in Marineford or on a ship — there wasn’t much of a difference. The princess wouldn’t exactly disturb my rest, and the company on the ship might even be more interesting than endless talks with Garp about what’s going on at the front. I also remembered how the nurse had practically scared Garp off, telling him that if he even thought about pushing me again, she’d give him such a lecture that he’d be afraid to come near me for a long time. And, to my surprise, it worked. Garp seemed to understand that he definitely didn’t want to deal with her threats.

***

— “I’m so glad you agreed. I’m sorry if I put you in a difficult position with my request,” Azalia said once we were aboard the ship. Her voice sounded sincere, and I could feel her concern, even though she tried not to show it. It seemed like she always worried about others, even if she didn’t talk about it.

— “It’s nothing, I’m happy to spend a little more time with you,” I replied with a smile, trying to ease her doubts. Although I didn’t want her to think I agreed just out of politeness, I genuinely enjoyed her company. After all, we had spent quite a bit of time talking and bonding during the journey.

— “How’s your wound?” Azalia asked, her expression filled with concern. At first, her gaze lingered on my face, but then she couldn’t help but notice how I flinched slightly with each movement, and her eyes shifted to my back, where the wound had still not fully healed.

— “It’s fine, they said in the infirmary it should heal in a week. Since I’m a fruit user, it should heal faster. But I still feel discomfort when I walk,” I said softly, trying to reassure her that everything was under control. I didn’t want her to worry about me. Still, it was a little awkward — even though I was holding it together, every step reminded me of the pain.

She let out a relieved sigh but immediately focused back on me. — “I’m glad, but if anything happens, tell me!” Her voice was firm, and the sincere concern in her eyes was so touching that I couldn’t help but smile. She probably would’ve immediately offered to help if I’d asked.

— “I promise,” I said, feeling a warmth inside at her words.

— “By the way, I wanted to ask you something,” Azalia hesitated slightly, as if unsure how to begin. I noticed her momentary uncertainty and smiled to reassure her that it was alright.

— “What is it?” I asked, sensing that this conversation might be interesting. Azalia always knew how to start a discussion, but there was a slight tension in her voice.

— “Father wants to host a reception to celebrate my return. He would really like you to be there as a guest. If it’s too much or inconvenient, I’ll understand,” she exhaled, as if surprised by her own words, and now awaited my reaction. There was the same softness in her voice that accompanied all her requests, but I could still feel her concern.

A reception at the castle… It sounded quite appealing. I immediately imagined the beautiful halls, the soft glow of candlelight, elegant outfits, music to get lost in. Food, dancing, drinks… It all seemed like a great opportunity to escape the routine and truly enjoy the moment. Why not?

— “I’m fine with it,” I replied with a smile. It really was a good offer, and I wasn’t about to turn it down.

The rest of the journey was filled with light, casual conversations, enjoying each other’s company and the world around us. The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, as though there was no distance between us. I noticed how, with every new conversation, it became easier and more natural to talk to Azalia. I had a strange, but pleasant feeling that we had known each other our whole lives, that all these years had somehow passed by unnoticed, and we would have found each other anyway.

She told me a lot of interesting things about her island. It wasn’t just descriptions of local landmarks or customs, but a deep and sincere dive into the history of her homeland. Being so close to her native lands, I felt that this island had truly become a part of her. As we approached the territory of Whitebeard, I almost felt my heart rate quicken. It wasn’t just a fact; it was a real threat that she and her people had to live with every day.

Azalia explained that their island was so close to Whitebeard’s territory that, with a spyglass, you could easily see the flag flying over their land. I was stunned by this fact. It seemed like just a geographical detail, but it carried such immense danger. How could one live on an island that literally sat at the crossroads of two worlds: the world of pirates and the world of the government? This island had become a kind of buffer zone, where two giants collided — and neither showed mercy. A chill ran down my spine at the thought of being so close to this chaos. For the World Government, such an island wasn’t just a strategic point on the map, it was almost a center of power, a place around which the most critical questions of control and authority revolved.

But what truly struck me was Azalia’s calm as she spoke about it. She didn’t sound agitated, didn’t dwell on it, and there was no drama in her voice. She simply described the facts, as if it were a part of her everyday life. Yet, in her eyes, in the way she slightly pressed her lips together as she spoke, I sensed an underlying concern. Her gaze became a little more serious, her voice a bit softer. She clearly didn’t want to show how much it worried her, but I could tell that behind her words lay a great deal of unease. Azalia was a true princess, but behind her kindness and warmth, I saw how deeply she cared for her family and her people. They lived under the constant threat that their island might become a battleground — between pirates and the watch.

***

Damn, why did I agree to this?! When we first arrived, I met Azalia’s father. He thanked me and said I was a welcome guest. They had prepared a room for me to rest and even picked out an outfit for the evening. The moment I saw the dress, my inner child was overjoyed. It was the kind of dress you’d find in the most magical Disney fairy tales — the kind only princesses wore. I never thought I’d end up in something like that. It was fantastically beautiful: voluminous, ethereal, with a deep neckline and a closed back. The color was a delicate shade of blue, like a summer evening sky, with exquisite lace that seemed woven from light itself, and frills that danced with every movement, giving the dress an incredible sense of airiness.

The corset was adorned with tiny pearls that shimmered in the light like stars. It hugged my waist, but not in that comfortable way I was used to. This corset squeezed, and every breath felt like a small struggle against the fabric. The satin threads laid smoothly over my body, while the long skirt, like a cloud, flowed across the floor, accentuating every movement. I felt both magnificent and uncomfortable — the dress fit perfectly, but the pressure on my chest and waist grew more and more noticeable. Though they hadn’t tightened it too much because of my injury.

When I entered the ballroom, I froze. It was absolutely enchanting. The high ceilings were adorned with luxurious chandeliers that cast a soft light, like streams of warm sunlight. The marble floors gleamed, reflecting the light and creating the sensation that I was walking on clouds. In the corners of the hall stood large vases with exotic flowers, their fragrances mingling in the air, making it feel as though I had entered some other, almost unreal world. The grandeur of the scene was so overwhelming that I felt like a small part of something magnificent. Each of them, the flowers, the decorations, seemed like a separate story, like a living piece of the world, and I could almost hear them whispering about the time and history that had shaped them.

The tables were arranged along the walls, covered with white tablecloths that gleamed in the light of the countless candles. On the tables stood silver trays laden with exquisite appetizers, fruits, sweet treats, and drinks that beckoned with their tempting appearance. In the center of the hall were massive vases filled with roses and orchids, their bright colors seeming to contrast with the warm light, playing with the shadows. The orchestra’s waltz floated through the air, adding even more elegance and lightness to the atmosphere.

The guests, dressed in impeccable attire, danced and conversed, their laughter and chatter mingling with the delicate sound of the instruments. Their clothing held something both sophisticated and regal: silk dresses, velvet suits, golden brooches, pearl necklaces — all created to emphasize their status, yet adding a secret charm to every movement. There was no room in this hall for casual people — everyone here seemed part of some other reality, as if they weren’t just guests, but actors in some unknown theater.

The streams of music and light, the intertwining colors and luxury — all of it was not just a reception, but a true work of art. The hall seemed alive, and in that moment, I felt how deeply its magic was enveloping me. Everything around me was so beautiful that I almost forgot my pain and discomfort.

— “How do you like the reception?” Azalia asked, with a light smile on her lips, taking my arm. Her outfit was simply breathtaking, even more beautiful than mine. She looked like a true princess, with grace and sophistication, as if she had just stepped out of a fairy tale. I couldn’t help but notice how her dress perfectly highlighted her figure, and how her hair, elegantly styled, shimmered in the candlelight. There was an unmistakable regal air about her.

— “Incredibly beautiful!” I exclaimed, looking around, trying to take in the majesty of it all. I was amazed not only by her outfit, but by the entire atmosphere — the magnificent hall, the sparkling chandeliers, and the music that seemed to immerse you in a world full of luxury and beauty.

— “Hee-hee, I’m glad!” Her voice was soft and cheerful. “I’ll go greet the guests, and you enjoy yourself. If you want to rest or get some fresh air, there’s a balcony. You can step out there and enjoy the view if you want a little solitude,” she said, her face filled with sincere concern, and with a smile, she disappeared into the crowd. I stood by the drink table, savoring the moment and trying to figure out how to fit into this world, which felt at once so foreign and yet so alluring.

I took a glass of champagne and took a sip, savoring the cold taste. “Mmm, delicious,” I thought to myself. To be honest, I was trying to restrain myself from drinking too much—my past experience was still fresh in my mind. No, today I would definitely not let myself lose control. It was better to stay sober than regret it later.

Soft classical music played around me, gently filling the hall and creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere. The quiet, almost invisible rhythm seemed to beckon one to relax and melt into the world around them. I glanced around and realized that, apart from Azalia, I had no one to talk to. Everyone seemed busy with their own conversations, voices blending together, and I stood by one of the columns, in the corner of the hall, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention to myself. I took another sip of champagne and once again looked over the guests, enjoying the festive atmosphere.

Then my eyes caught a few people wearing masks, who stood out from the rest. Their posture was so regal that it was impossible not to notice them. These people didn’t look like regular guests. There was something about their presence that felt different from everyone else. Feeling a slight sense of unease, I continued observing them, but quickly realized that I shouldn’t focus too much on such things. The security was clearly there for a reason—besides, it wasn’t unusual at events like this.

The music suddenly picked up pace, its quicker, more energetic rhythm making me shift my attention to the center of the hall. Couples began to take the floor, waltzing in perfectly synchronized movements. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. It felt like a scene from an old film, where everything seemed grand and beautiful.

— “A dance, may I invite you?” — the man asked, gallantly extending his hand, with a smirk on his lips and a gaze full of confidence.

I immediately felt a strange déjà vu, as though this situation had already happened somewhere before, at some other time. Memories from my vacation flashed in my mind — not the most pleasant ones. This was clearly a bad idea.
— “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t dance,” — I replied, trying to smile, but inside I could already feel the tension rising.

— “But please, don’t refuse me. A beautiful lady like you should be shining in the center of the hall, not standing here all alone,” — he persisted, ignoring my refusal, as though he was sure he could convince me. His voice was insistent, which started to irritate me a bit.

— “Thank you for the offer, but I must refuse,” — I tried to be as polite as possible, though deep inside I was firmly sticking to my decision. Dancing with him was definitely not on my agenda, and I wasn’t about to give in.

Apparently, he wasn’t used to being refused, and his tone grew even more persistent, his gaze even more assured.
— “You don’t understand what you’re turning down. I’m a very influential person,” — he said, as though this should impress me. His voice carried a certain arrogance, and I could feel the desire to simply walk away.

I tried to subtly slip out of his sight, but clearly, he was not accustomed to being turned down. He stepped forward and reached for my wrist. At that moment, I felt his movement stop, as if restrained by another hand — a strong, masculine hand.

— “This lady has already promised me a dance,” — said a man’s voice behind me, firm and confident.

I looked at my rescuer’s face, and my heart seemed to stop. He effortlessly led me into the center of the hall, placing his hand on my waist. His confident movements left me no choice. I didn’t even have time to understand what was happening.
— “You?!” — all I could say, staring at Marco, unable to believe my eyes. He was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit that accentuated his figure, and a black shirt with subtle glimmers of light that created an enigmatic atmosphere. And, of course, the mask — the very same one I had seen on some of the guests. It was a part of the mystery, hiding more than it revealed.

— “I,” — he replied, not hiding his smile, leading me in the dance, perfectly attuned to every note of the music. His movements were smooth and confident, as though this dance was second nature to him.

I tried to pull my hand away and leave, but something about his presence kept me there. I felt as though he wasn’t allowing me to return to my usual reality, as if he was drawing me in with his power.

— “I won’t do anything to you, let’s just talk,” — he said with a light smile on his lips, but his eyes held a genuine playfulness, even amusement. It was as if he was playing a game, but what did he really want?

— “We have nothing to talk about. And besides, what are you even doing here?” — I couldn’t hide my irritation. All the events of the evening were blending into one confusing picture, and I couldn’t understand why I had allowed myself to get into this situation.

He pulled me a little closer and whispered calmly, but his words left a lot of questions.
— “Oh, you need to know everything, don’t you? We’re here on Pop’s orders,” — he said, his voice as firm as his confidence. — “And I’m also owed some kind of compensation for that evening. You left so quickly.”

I couldn’t believe his audacity. What kind of compensation was he talking about? Was he even in his right mind? All my internal brakes kicked in, and I couldn’t hold myself back.
— “What the hell kind of compensation are you talking about?” — I hissed angrily, giving him a look that must have made him feel all the tension in the air.

Marco seemed completely unfazed. He raised an eyebrow, as if this was normal, and laughed.
— “You don’t remember anything?” — he asked with such interest that I felt like he was studying every detail on my face. I immediately blushed, not understanding what he meant.
— “I was just trying to get you to bed,” — he said after a brief pause, his voice playful, as though he knew I didn’t quite understand what he was talking about.

Suddenly, I realized the absurdity of the situation, but I was completely confused. My eyes widened in shock, not knowing how to react. He laughed again, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
— “And what did you think?” — he asked mockingly, clearly enjoying my bewilderment. There was a light sarcasm in his voice that irritated me, but at the same time, it sparked my curiosity.

My face flushed with embarrassment, and to hide it, I quickly lowered my head. I tried to calm myself, but his presence, his gaze — all of it kept me restless. I could no longer hold back my feelings and, with all my strength, stepped on his foot with my heel, hoping that this would at least help me shake off some of the awkwardness.

— “I wasn’t thinking about anything,” — I muttered, trying to make my words sound firm, though in reality, I was far from sure of myself.

He didn’t even flinch at my action. I watched him, heart racing, but his face remained calm, as if it didn’t matter at all. I suddenly remembered that he could heal, and it felt as though I had been doused with cold water. Damn, I had completely forgotten about that. — “So, what did you want to talk about?” — I forced out, finally meeting his gaze.

— “Don’t be so angry, why did you run away last time?” — Marco said calmly, his look soft, but there was still a hint of playfulness in his voice.

— “What else was I supposed to do, if I’m a guard and you’re pirates?” — I retorted, instinctively raising my head and trying to look as confident as possible, though inside I was a bundle of nerves.

— “Well, at least don’t steal my shirt!” — Marco said with a grin, and a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. It seemed like he was actually enjoying this situation, though I couldn’t quite understand how that was possible.

— “It was an accident, honestly! If you need it, I can give it back!” — I quickly babbled, feeling my cheeks burn. I thought I sounded confident, but something in his gaze made me doubt myself.

— “You can keep it,” — he leaned toward my ear, and I felt his warm breath, unexpectedly close. He whispered, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Finally, the music stopped, and I hurried toward the balcony, eager to hide in the shadows and catch my breath. As I ran, my cheeks burned as if from heat, and my mind was a complete mess. My thoughts were tangled, and I couldn’t even figure out what to do next. I could clearly feel his gaze on me.

Leaning my hands against the cold railing, I ran one hand through my hair, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart that sliced through the silence of the night. Each thump of my heart seemed louder, and my thoughts — more chaotic. Everything around me felt wrapped in a strange, foggy uncertainty. What the hell were they doing here? These people… They clearly weren’t planning to attack, but then why were they here? Maybe negotiations? But why did the atmosphere feel so tense, like a taut string about to snap? Questions, like snowflakes, kept falling into my mind, but I tried to shake them off, tossing my head. It’s not my business.

The night was cold, and I rubbed my shoulders, trying to warm up. There was almost no wind, but the biting winter chill that pierced to the bone made me feel small, vulnerable. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, as if some invisible hand had scattered them from a bag, and each flake vanished upon touching the ground, as though it were part of something larger, something important. The stars, despite the darkness, shone brightly, like distant lights in the vastness. I sighed, feeling the air fill my lungs, and my heart slowed a little, though my thoughts still spun in my head.

— “So, nothing happened?” — I whispered, my breath escaping in a cloud that danced in the air, vanishing into the dark. Everything around me felt unreal, as if I were part of some movie.

— “Achoo!” — I sneezed, feeling my nose stuffy from the cold, and quickly sniffling. It didn’t help warm me up at all. At that moment, I felt a warm jacket fall over my shoulders. I spun around quickly, my eyes wide, and saw Marco. He stood right in front of me, his gaze calm, but beneath it, I could feel a hidden sense of unease.

— “Don’t look at me like that, I came to say goodbye,” — he said, his voice warm and soft despite the tense atmosphere. He took my hand, kissed it gently, and then, without saying another word, jumped off the balcony. I didn’t have time to say anything, just stood there, stunned and speechless.

Wrapped in his jacket, I continued to stand, unable to look away from his figure as it quickly disappeared into the dark of the night. I tried to understand what had just happened. He left… and everything inside seemed to tighten. My heart missed a beat, as if it had stopped for a moment, then suddenly started racing again. I clenched my fists, feeling the cold on my skin, and let go of his image, trying to grasp what this all meant.

I looked at my hand, as if trying to find an answer to all these swirling thoughts. — “Strange… I didn’t feel disgusted, like I did with the vice admiral, but even… pleasant…” — On that last word, I suddenly covered my mouth with my hand, as if trying to stop myself. — “No, no! This is nonsense!” — I exclaimed, trying to shake off these silly thoughts. “Right, I was just overly nervous, that’s all!” — I continued my internal monologue, which was beginning to feel more like an argument with myself. I sighed nervously, trying to regain my thoughts and put them back in a more reasonable direction.

— “Here you are, Asta!” Azalia exclaimed loudly from behind the door. I barely had time to blink before she hurried out and stood right in front of me. — “Come inside, it’s so cold out here! You’ll freeze!”

I stepped into the hall, immediately feeling the pleasant warmth overpowering the icy wind that had already started to creep into my bones. Without a word, Azalia led me into a cozy lounge where soft chairs and a low table with teacups looked so inviting, but her gaze, like a scanner, stayed fixed on my jacket, which still hadn’t left my shoulders.

— “Whose is this?” she asked with curiosity but also a hint of caution, her eyes firmly holding onto the fabric.

— “Oh, it’s nothing. Just some guy gave it to me,” I tried to dodge the question, but her persistence made me add, — “Nothing special. But… why were you looking for me?”

Azalia paused for a moment, as if thinking. She pressed her lips together, her face tense, as though preparing to say something important. When she spoke, her voice was low and restrained.

— “Right! I found out that pirates are here. I wanted to warn you!” Her eyes gleamed with worry.

I sat on the couch, scanning the room. It was all too quiet, too calm, and this comfort almost felt foreign in light of the events that had transpired.

— “Yeah, I noticed,” I said with a tired sense of resignation, looking down at the floor. — “But… what are they doing here?”

Azalia hesitated, clenched her hands, then, glancing away, replied:

— “Actually, they’re Whitebeard’s pirates. They came here to discuss the island’s protection. My father is still unsure. He doesn’t know whether to agree or not.” She sighed and looked at me closely, her voice tinged with uncertainty. — “But I’ll try to convince him not to accept their offer.”

Azalia’s words echoed in my mind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be easy. Her eyes held concern, yet there was an underlying worry, something unspoken.

I fell silent, then, not daring to lift my gaze, quietly spoke:

— “Azalia, you need to convince him to accept their offer.”

She looked at me in surprise, as though she hadn’t expected such a response from me. I knew this moment might seem ridiculous, but there wasn’t the slightest doubt in my words. I moved closer, my breath becoming quieter.

— “Why?” Her voice was full of confusion, as she looked at me as if she didn’t understand what I was saying. — “You’re a watchman, and they’re pirates. Pirates are bad, aren’t they?”

I sighed, my gaze falling to the floor. I hesitated, but in this moment, there was not a single second of doubt. I finally raised my eyes to meet hers and confidently said:

— “Edward Newgate, no. All of Whitebeard’s pirates are very good people. What they say about them is a lie. I’m sure it will be safer for everyone this way. Do you understand? And you know, they promised to marry you off to a Celestial Dragon, and believe me, Azalia, that will be awful. I don’t want you to end up in that position. So please, convince your father to accept this offer. We both know this is the best opportunity.”

She remained silent. Her eyes never left mine, as if she were searching for the smallest trace of doubt in my words. But she didn’t find any. Instead, confusion mixed with concern flickered in her eyes.

She pressed her lips together, rubbed her forehead, then quietly spoke:

— “Alright,” her voice was soft and thoughtful, but there was no longer the frantic uncertainty from before. — “This really will be the best decision. Thank you, Asta. I… I’ll try.”

I nodded silently, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety in my chest. I knew that neither of us fully understood the consequences of this decision, but I couldn’t help but hope it was the right one. In that moment, I was grateful for her trust, and all I could do was hope it would prove to be the right choice for both of us.

***

Standing by the gangway of the ship, I embraced Azalia for the last time, feeling how with each passing moment it became harder to let her go. We hadn’t known each other for long, and this moment felt like that milestone when you realize it’s time to part ways.

— “Promise me you’ll write!” Azalia said, her voice full of emotion, her eyes slightly misted. As a final whisper, she leaned close to my ear, ensuring that only I could hear: — “I talked to my father, and he agreed.” I nodded, trying to mask my feelings, but something inside me clenched relentlessly.

— “I promise!” I replied, feeling the words leave my lips before I could stop them, then added softly, almost to myself: — “I hope everything will be alright.” Azalia smiled at me, her gaze full of faith, as always.

Already drifting away from the island, I stood by the rail, my gaze fixed on the spot where the island had once been. The wind tugged at my hair, and my thoughts swirled around what awaited me ahead.

— “Whose jacket is this?” Garp approached me casually, pointing to the jacket I was holding. He was always so straightforward, liking to ask questions to which everyone seemed to already know the answer.

— “No one’s, Garp-san! And what have I told you about my personal life?” I furrowed my brows, feeling a slight fatigue from his incessant curiosity. The last words came with a light reproach in my voice.

He raised his hands in mock surrender.

— “Oh, don’t be so angry, Asta-chan!” he said, puffing up like a child, and then immediately tried to hide a smile he couldn’t quite suppress.

A strange tendency… At this rate, I’ll soon have enough of Marco’s things to fill an entire wardrobe. My cheeks flushed at the thought, and I tried to calm myself, running my fingers over the fabric of the jacket, striving not to think about how much everything was about to change.

Chapter Text

The sun’s gentle rays streamed through the porthole into the room, as though trying to warm everything around. The warm light flowed across the walls, illuminating every detail — from the speck of dust on the windowsill to the cozy table scattered with papers. The wind, gently swaying the curtains, brought with it the scent of the sea, and the papers on the table rustled as though they, too, were trying to express their feelings. Everything around me was filled with a quiet calm, and only the sounds from the street disturbed this idyll — the soft rustle of waves, which seemed to roll gently onto the sand, and the song of birds filling the air with bright, joyful notes. I lay on Marco’s chest, feeling his warmth, his steady, rhythmic breathing, as if the whole world paused for a moment, and we, together, remained in that moment forever. His hands were in my hair, gently combing through the strands, and I felt how carefully he touched each lock, as if they were the most precious part of his world. He hummed something soft, barely audible, but there was something magical about it, something soothing that made me forget all my worries. I squinted and rubbed my face against his chest, like a contented cat, hugging him tighter as though I never wanted to leave this cozy, warm world.

— “Look at me,” — said Marco, his voice soft and drawn out, like the soothing whisper of the wind.

Reluctantly, I tore myself away from his chest, struggling to lift my gaze. His song still echoed in my head, his warmth lingered, and when I looked at his face, everything around me suddenly seemed to fade. My eyes couldn’t believe what they were seeing: before me stood not the Marco I had just shared this moment with. He was broken, his eyes hollow and lifeless, no longer glowing as they once did. There was no light in them now. I sprang to my feet, my heart thudding in my chest, my hands falling helplessly to my sides. The room darkened — it was as though the sunlight that had just warmed us was dimming with every passing second. The room filled with darkness, and this darkness felt alive, as though it were tightening around me, not allowing me to breathe.

— “Why didn’t you save us? You knew everything,” — Marco said, and his voice became muffled, dead, as though coming from the deepest part of the world. He spoke with a sense of despair, with a pain that pierced through me. His hand slowly reached for my face, and I felt it grip me, but this touch wasn’t like before. It was something else — cold and foreign. I couldn’t move, couldn’t understand what was happening, and an inexplicable anxiety overtook me.

I woke up suddenly, drenched in cold sweat. My heart pounded so hard that for a moment I couldn’t tell where I was. I looked around — the room was dark, only the faint light of the moon filtered through the curtains. Sitting on the bed, I tried to catch my breath, feeling a lump of anxiety lodged in my throat. A tear rolled down my cheek involuntarily, and I absentmindedly wiped it away with my hand. My fingers were cold, and a short, muffled sigh escaped my chest.

My hand reached for the nightstand, grabbing a glass of water. My fingers felt as if they weren’t listening to me, but I managed to take a sip, feeling the water cool my throat but not bringing me any comfort. I glanced at the clock and realized it was still night. The darkness outside was impenetrable, yet it seemed like an entire day had passed. — “Damn!” — I hissed, throwing myself back onto the pillow, trying to pull myself back into reality.

Ever since our last meeting, nightmares had been haunting me. I would wake up in the middle of the night, feeling the anxiety grip my chest, making it hard to breathe. In each of these dreams, I seemed to repeatedly find myself among the pirates of Whitebeard. At first, they were warm and friendly, treating me like family — hugging me, laughing, joking. But then something changed. Their faces became lifeless, deformed, their eyes cold, and I realized they were no longer who they had been. At first, a slight chill of anxiety would set in, and then everything would turn sinister: they began chasing me, demanding explanations, asking questions to which I couldn’t answer. And their voices — they were always the same, like echoes from some other reality. The further it went, the harder it became for me to distinguish where the dream ended and reality began. Sometimes, it seemed as if they were real, and that I had to do something to stop this nightmare.

Most often, it was Marco who appeared in my dreams. These dreams were something unique and torturous. Everything happened so fast, so elusively, that I couldn’t say or do anything. I would see him, feel his presence beside me, but there was something in him that frightened me. He was always there, his body, his warm hand — it all felt so natural. But then his face… It became more and more unfamiliar, and in his eyes, something was lost, as if I were starting to lose him. And the more often I woke up, the more I felt him slipping away from me. It was as though I couldn’t hold onto him, as if he were dissolving into the air, leaving only emptiness behind.

***

My eyes were closing, and I could barely keep them open. In the last five minutes, I must have yawned about six times. Every movement was becoming harder, and my thoughts were tangled. But I couldn’t sleep — I had to finish these papers. I gritted my teeth and kept working. With great effort, I reached for the next sheet of expenses, but at that moment, another paper slipped out from under my hand. It floated down slowly, almost as if the world decided to pause for a moment. I looked at it indifferently, then read the text.

— “Are you kidding me!” — I said, with irritation and exhaustion in my voice, staring at the leaflet with Marco’s picture on it. His face looked at me from the photo. For a second, it seemed like something flashed in his eyes… judgment, as though he was asking me questions I couldn’t understand. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my face with my hands, trying to calm myself, although my chest tightened. Taking a deep breath, I felt the weariness penetrate my bones.

The silence was broken by a knock at the door, as though someone was reminding me that the world around me hadn’t stopped and I needed to keep moving forward. I slowly lifted my gaze.

— “Come in,” — I said, trying to hide the anxiety in my voice, but not entirely succeeding.

Garp peeked into the room, and without saying a word, sat down in the chair across from me, placing a cup of tea on the table — the very tea I loved so much. He did this with a kind of tired calm, as if he knew I had been waiting for it. My eyes involuntarily lingered on the cup — steam rose from it, and the scent of tea instantly reminded me of something homey, warm, although the room felt oddly silent.

— “When was the last time you slept? You look terrible,” — he said, concern in his voice, not taking his eyes off my face. He pushed the cup closer to me, and I felt his gaze pierce through me, as though trying to figure out what was wrong.

I turned my head to the left, as if hoping the mirror on the wall could tell me what I was even doing here. Indeed, my reflection showed what I had already noticed — huge dark circles under my eyes, and my skin was as pale as a sick person’s. I felt like I hadn’t slept in eternity.

— “It’s fine, just nightmares,” — I said, trying to make my voice sound as confident as possible. Taking Marco’s reward, I handed it to Garp, hoping it would distract us from unpleasant thoughts. — “It was among the documents.”

Garp took the leaflet, glanced at it, and his face grew serious. His lips pressed into a thin line, as though he had read something that clearly didn’t please him. He sighed heavily, then set the paper aside and looked at me.

— “Go see a doctor. Maybe they’ll prescribe you sleeping pills.”

I nodded, although I knew that this wasn’t a solution to all my problems. But maybe, at least for a while, I could escape this nightmare state. It seemed so simple, yet hopeless. Garp was about to leave the room when I called out to him.

— “Garp-san, what would you do if you knew something terrible was going to happen that would destroy many people?”

He slowed his steps, thinking. For a moment, I felt as if the entire world around us had frozen.

— “I would try to do everything I could to prevent it,” — and without saying another word, he left. I stayed seated, staring at the door, contemplating his answer. It felt like those words wouldn’t let me go, like an unclear warning.

I decided not to get involved in this. After all, it wasn’t my business, and I shouldn’t have been meddling where I wasn’t wanted. But my conscience had other plans. And now, instead of calmly going about my business, I felt it pulling at me, making me think about what I couldn’t just leave as it was. I would love to help, but fear… that ridiculous, yet so real fear, gnawed at me from the inside. It wouldn’t let me breathe easily and constantly reminded me that I couldn’t escape what was meant to happen.

Taking another paper, I felt the tension tighten in my chest. Almost unable to hold back, I almost whined aloud. This paper had to be urgently sent to the archive for filing, but it seemed like every movement was a struggle. I just wanted to leave, not think, forget. But no, I had to keep going.

The path to the archive turned out to be long and exhausting. This place had always seemed like some forgotten corner, where eternal silence and desolation reigned. Dust settled in every corner, and the smell of dampness mixed with the scent of old paper and dust. It was so heavy and unpleasant that I had to fight it off, not to cough.

I walked along the neatly arranged rows of documents, almost instinctively searching for the one I needed. Each watch base had its own archive, but in Marineford, it was something special. This archive was gigantic, like the fortress itself, and it stored an enormous amount of important and secret information. It was hard for me to imagine how many stories and destinies could be hidden in those thick, old folders, concealed from prying eyes.

— “Where are you…” — I whispered, squinting at the section titles. Every block I looked at only added to my fatigue. But when you’re here, in the archives, you have to search until the very end, not giving up. I kept reading the headings over and over again, but nothing matched. Dust hung in the air, and the silence around was almost ominous. — “Ah, here you are, finally!” — I exclaimed, feeling that I had finally found what I was looking for. Reaching for the necessary folder, I accidentally sneezed. — “Achoo!” — Dust scattered from the folder, and at that moment, several documents noisily fell to the floor.

Squatting down, I began to gather the scattered sheets, trying to arrange them neatly on my lap. I carefully reviewed each document, trying to understand which folder it belonged to. The documents were all sorts — some with red “classified” marks, others forgotten, yellowed with time.

My gaze unexpectedly stopped on one folder — it contained information about some pirate crew. That’s when it hit me. My heart skipped a beat, and a spark of hope ignited in my chest. Quickly gathering all the papers and neatly putting them back in place, I continued, moving a little deeper into the archive, trying to find the needed folder. This time, I didn’t have to wander through the shelves for long — my goal was closer than I had expected.

Grabbing a folder labeled “Whitebeard Pirates,” I eagerly opened it and began flipping through the pages, hoping to find some useful information. My hand couldn’t keep up with the text — I was literally skipping lines.

At the very end of the folder, among many documents, I came across two sheets marked “Top Secret.” They looked as though no one had touched them for ages, and I felt a slight shiver as I took them in my hands. The paper was a bit yellowed, the edges slightly bent, but the lines of text were still clearly visible, hiding crucial information. I sat down on the edge of the table to focus, and without tearing my eyes away, I began to read.

My attention was fixed on every word. From what I read, I uncovered vital information. Among the closest people on Whitebeard’s ship, one of the crew members was a traitor. This person had been leaking information and organizing sabotage, disrupting the internal workings of the ship. Everything that happened with the equipment — breakdowns, malfunctions — was no accident. One day the water purifier would break down, another time the sails would be damaged. But that wasn’t all. The most important thing I learned was that this person wasn’t just passing information to the watch. No, he was leaking it to the underground world, and now his betrayal had become even more dangerous. The information could be bought not only by the watch but also by other emperors, which meant the situation was much more serious than I had thought. Unfortunately, the name of the traitor remained in the shadows — he had hidden himself so well that I could only guess who this “rat” was.

My gaze fell on the second sheet. There was more terrifying and, at the same time, more useful information. Edward Newgate, the captain who sat on the throne of the pirate world, had been poisoned. I couldn’t believe it. How could this be? I kept reading. Several nurses on the ship, who appeared to be ordinary and completely harmless, were spies for the World Government. Their mission was to secretly poison Newgate, injecting minimal doses of poison with a cumulative effect into his IV drips. Every day, they added another dose to his body, slowly weakening him. The sheet listed their names and included photographs — everything was proven.

When I finished reading, thousands of thoughts were spinning in my mind. Everything that had seemed solid and unchangeable now appeared fragile. The story I held in my hands was filled with betrayal, manipulation, and clever games. Damn, how long would it take me to untangle this web?

— “Asta-san, is everything alright over there?” — asked the voice of the girl who worked in the archive.

I flinched, startled by her voice. It was rather calm, but there was an undertone of caution. I tried to pull myself together, not letting my anxiety show.

— “Y-yes, everything’s fine,” — I quickly replied, trying to sound as confident as possible, even though my chest tightened with worry. Hiding the documents under my blouse, I hurried toward her, feeling my hands trembling. — “It’s just so tangled here, it took me a while to find the right documents.”

She looked up and gave me an appraising glance, as if trying to figure out whether I was hiding something or not. Raising an eyebrow, she muttered something under her breath and, it seemed, decided not to press the matter, returning to her desk. But it didn’t calm me — she might have noticed everything. Maybe I was in too much of a hurry. Or maybe I had stayed too long.

I quickly sat at the corner desk, trying to act casual, but my thoughts were still in disarray. Signing the documents I had come with, I felt each movement becoming unnatural, as though everything happening around me had no connection to me at all. I awkwardly said goodbye and rushed out of the archive without even looking back. In the corridor, panic overcame me, but I forced myself to keep moving, almost running to my room.

As soon as the door closed behind me, I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. My fingers nervously tapped the desk until I walked over to the door to check the lock. My heart pounded in my chest, and my thoughts were racing in all directions. “What should I do now?” — that question wouldn’t leave me. What if they notice something is missing? Or if they find out I took something? Everything felt so fragile, so fleeting.

I sat back down at the desk and took out the stolen papers. I placed them in front of me, pausing for a second to gaze at the yellowing sheets. They were simple, nothing special, but within them was a truth that could change everything. I almost glued my eyes to them, as if they could explain to me what to do next.

— “I need to somehow pass them on, but how?” — I thought, slowly flipping through the pages. These weren’t just documents — this was an entire story, full of secrets and dangers. I couldn’t just walk up to him and drop them on the table as if nothing had happened. That would be too stupid, and it certainly wouldn’t go without consequences. I couldn’t take such risks. I needed to act carefully, thoughtfully, in a way that left no trace.

I thought about how I could pass them on without anyone realizing. Maybe I should find an intermediary, someone who was smart and reliable enough to handle such a task? But even if I decided to pass the documents through someone, I had to be sure that they wouldn’t betray me. I couldn’t afford to be found out. Neither my own nor others must know I’ve gotten involved in this game. Because if they find out, it will all end very quickly — a tribunal, and then Impel Down. No, that can’t happen.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. These thoughts tormented me day and night, and it seemed like they would never let go. Each morning began with the feeling that I was on the edge of a precipice, and each evening ended with the thought that the nightmares would finally catch me in their net. Maybe if I do everything right, if I manage to pass the documents without a trace, my conscience will at least find some peace. Maybe then the nightmares will stop haunting me, and I’ll be able to relax, even just a little. But no matter how hard I tried, I knew that all of these thoughts were just a temporary relief. The answer was simple — if I make a mistake, I might die.

***

I hadn’t left my room for several days, sitting at my desk, absorbed in thought. Thoughts swirled in my mind like in a kaleidoscope, and I couldn’t seem to find the right solution. I tried to piece everything together, but every new plan seemed imperfect, underdeveloped, or too risky. Each day dragged on like an endless, foggy stretch, and the only place I occasionally ventured to was the dining hall, where I quickly grabbed a bite, not wanting to linger. I wanted to hide, to retreat into my room, but at some point, I realized that isolation wouldn’t solve my problems. And so, today, when lunch came to an end, and I was about to return to my cage, I was intercepted by Garp.

— “You need to snap out of it! Let’s go to training; you’re sitting here like a mouse in a hole!” — he said, almost cheerfully tugging me by the arm and guiding me toward the training ground. I raised an eyebrow in surprise, pausing for a moment to think. I hadn’t noticed how I had spent entire days in these four walls, forgetting about physical activity. But Garp was right — I needed a change. I couldn’t keep sitting in this room, building up anxiety and fear.

— “Fine,” — I said, feeling a brief sense of relief that I could at least distract myself for a little while, — “Let’s go.”

We stepped out into the open, and immediately I was enveloped by a feeling of freshness, the smell of grass, and a light breeze. Inside, I felt the air filling me with energy. We started warming up, and once again, Garp took the lead, showing me the exercises I needed to do to prepare for training. I tried to keep up, even though every movement was difficult. The fear and tension in my body weighed me down like a sluggish burden, but I forced myself to keep going.

— “Who’s the sparring partner?” — I finally asked, looking at him with mild confusion.

Garp, as always, was in top form — his eyes sparkled with excitement, and he seemed like the very embodiment of fighting spirit.

— “Me!” — he said, as if this was the least surprising thing that could happen. I even thought I saw him smirk, amused by how scared I was. I stared at him in horror. My brain seemed to freeze for a moment, and it felt like I couldn’t breathe.

— “Garp-san, you’ll just kill me!” — I blurted out. My body tensed, and something inside me froze in fear. This wasn’t a joke. I never thought I would be fighting such a monster, even if it was just a sparring match.

He laughed, his laughter loud and infectious, and I couldn’t help but relax just a little. But it seemed like Garp didn’t even notice how his words were calming me down.

— “Just try to hit me; I’ll just dodge!” — he added with a light challenge in his voice. He was clearly enjoying this. — “Don’t worry, you won’t die. I won’t use all my strength.”

I nodded, still not entirely sure about this plan, and assumed my stance. In my past life, I had never done anything like this, never learned to defend myself, never gotten used to such a rhythm of life. In my old world, there was no such thing. I wouldn’t have even thought that I’d ever fight someone. But now, everything had changed. In this world, fighting had become part of reality, and I had to learn to defend myself in order to survive.

Not knowing exactly what to do, I instinctively took the right position. My body remembered the training I had gone through. And I noticed that, despite all my fears, my movements were becoming more confident. With each new step, I felt more and more how I was adapting to these conditions. There was no room for doubt on this path. In my new world, everything demanded clarity, willpower, and determination.

We stood facing each other on the training ground, and the tension in the air was almost palpable. I could feel every movement of Garp sending shivers down my spine — his confidence, his speed… Everything about him screamed that he was not just a master, but a true, seasoned fighter. And I was nothing but a novice who still didn’t know how to fight properly. But at the same time, this fact gave me determination.

— “Ready?” — Garp asked, his voice light and almost carefree, as if he wasn’t planning to do anything serious. I nodded, clenching my fists, though inside I was boiling with fear and nervousness.

He didn’t wait. He immediately moved forward, his movements so fast and fluid that I barely noticed how he appeared next to me. His hand shot toward me, but I managed to jump aside, narrowly avoiding the blow. Everything happened so quickly that I barely had time to process what just occurred. Garp didn’t smile; his face was focused, but there was a spark of playful excitement in his eyes.

— “Not so fast!” — he said as I tried to strike again. But once more, he was too quick. His body leaned slightly to the side, and like a shadow, he dodged my attack effortlessly. It all happened so naturally, as though he wasn’t even trying.

My attempts failed again and again. I tried to find openings, but with every move I made, Garp already anticipated it. It was as if he knew what I was about to do even before I did it; this wasn’t mere observation — it was battle experience. He dodged every strike, sliding sideways like a cat playing with a mouse. His feet moved with such ease that it felt like he was simply dancing, avoiding my attacks with grace. He didn’t stop or pursue me aggressively — on the contrary, his movements were light, almost airy. He was toying with me.

— “You need to be faster!” — his voice remained calm, almost mocking. I felt that every glance and gesture reminded me of my inadequacy. I was still trying to learn, trying to find that moment when I could catch him off guard.

I made another attempt, and this time I felt his hand glide just in front of my face, throwing me off balance. He was right behind me, his breath almost audible, and I could sense his presence close, but before I could turn around, he was already back in his starting position, as if he hadn’t spent a single second on me. His movements were absolutely effortless, and there was an invisible danger in them.

Garp grinned again and, noticing my confusion, said:

— “You’re too predictable.”

I felt a surge of anger rise within me from his words. I knew I wasn’t strong enough, but I couldn’t let him talk to me like that! I gathered all my strength, and in the next moment, I lunged to deliver an unexpected strike. But Garp was prepared. He easily crouched and dodged again, his body moving like warm wind, making me feel clumsy and slow.

— “You can do better!” — he said, with a note of satisfaction in his voice. His confidence, his ease, started to work on me like magic. I could feel that with every move he made, he was just playing with me. I was, of course, an unserious opponent, but this was too much. Inside, I was a mixture of anger and resolve.

But suddenly, almost without expecting it, I felt that I had finally caught the moment. I made another lunge, and this time my strike wasn’t as predictable, not as direct. Garp briefly slowed his movements, as if assessing that I was finally starting to adapt. In the next instant, I felt his body smoothly glide sideways, and his hand gently seized mine. But before I could even register it, he was next to me, laughing and stepping back, not allowing me to even feel a taste of victory.

— “Now that’s better!” — he said, returning to his starting position. His face was still full of mischief, as if the entire fight was nothing more than a game. I stood there, breathing heavily, but inside me, the fire was burning — I wasn’t going to give up. If he wanted to play, I would play until the very end.

For a while longer, we circled around each other, trying to find a weak point, but calling it a full-fledged sparring session would have been difficult. I could feel that Garp wasn’t exerting much effort, and his movements were so light that he seemed to float in the air, like a shadow, evading every one of my strikes. There was no hint of tension in his eyes — he was clearly playing with me. But I knew that if he wanted, he could have taken me down in an instant, not giving me a single second to catch my breath. He could have easily deflected every blow and turned this into a real lesson. But instead, he allowed almost every one of my movements to be aimed at him, giving me a chance — even if just for a moment — to feel like we were on equal footing.

At some point, I finally lost my strength and collapsed to the dusty ground with a dull thud, exhausted, drenched in sweat. I didn’t immediately realize that Garp had already approached me. He sat beside me slowly, with some kind of mysterious calm. I was still gasping for air, too tired to get up.

— “Not bad, but not enough, you need to train more often,” — he said, his voice soft but carrying a sense of determination. It was as though he truly cared about my progress, but with a slight hint of mockery.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath. It was hard to believe that I had actually lasted this long in the fight.

— “I can’t keep up with this kind of training,” — I replied wearily, not taking my eyes off the clear, cloudless sky, which now seemed so calm and distant. Everything around me slowed down, and I tried to find some balance between my exhaustion and the inner fire that seemed like it would never go out.

— “Bwahaha! Don’t sell yourself short!” — Garp chuckled, his laughter cutting through the silence. He wasn’t trying to comfort me, but his words carried an honest kind of encouragement. Garp was like that; he never took anything at face value, but at the same time, he always wanted me to become better.

I truly felt lighter after the sparring with him, but now, lying on the ground, exhausted and with a faint sense of emptiness, my thoughts returned once again to those documents. They were under my mattress, and even now, after the intense fight, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Everything I had seen in those papers continued to haunt me. The questions wouldn’t let go, and I couldn’t simply forget what had happened.

— “By the way, how’s that princess? Are you still in touch?” — Garp asked unexpectedly. I turned my head slightly in his direction, trying to understand what he meant. There was no hint of judgment in his eyes, only curiosity. He was genuinely interested. It made me feel a little awkward, but at the same time, I sensed that this was just his usual way of gauging how I was feeling.

— “It’s fine, yeah, we still write to each other sometimes,” — I said. In truth, these words could have spelled my doom if I had said them to someone else. But with Garp, it was different. He was so experienced in matters of strategy and manipulation that I felt safe, even though I was anxious about every word I spoke. After all, their island had raised the Whitebeard flag, openly defying the World Government. That was a real challenge, and breaking off the engagement with those aligned with the government only added to the tension.

Such conversations could lead to very serious consequences if overheard by the wrong ears. And we both knew very well that such a move could cause huge problems, if not a catastrophe, for that island. But with Garp, it was simpler — he was in his element, and I didn’t need to explain how important it was to keep many things a secret. Everything felt both ordinary and tense, as if the entire conversation was just the tip of the iceberg.

Suddenly, it hit me:
— “Of course, Azalia!” — I sat up sharply, feeling as though everything suddenly clicked into place. How had I not thought of this earlier? All the exhaustion that had accumulated over the past few hours seemed to vanish with an invisible hand. I felt the energy return to me. — “Thank you, Garp-san!” — I shouted quickly, rushing toward my room without looking back. Garp couldn’t understand, but I saw a small smirk in his eyes as I abruptly disappeared through the door.

— “It’s nothing, what did I even do?” — I heard his confusion, but it was already distant, behind me.

I rushed into my room, immediately pulling out my snail, and gripping it tightly in my hands, I began dialing Azalia’s number. We rarely spoke by voice, usually sticking to messages, but this time, texting wasn’t going to cut it.

— “Hello, Asta, what’s wrong?” — she asked, her voice filled with concern. I could tell she immediately sensed that this was an important call, even though she couldn’t possibly know what was going on in my mind.

— “Is this the white snail? Are you alone?” — I asked, not allowing myself any doubt. I was calling from a white snail, and this was a crucial moment.

— “Yes,” — she replied, her voice slightly confused, as it always was when she didn’t know what to expect from me.

— “Alright, Azalia, I need a favor. Send a bird to me, I’ll pass on an important document to you,” — I said, my tone turning serious with determination. I could have just asked, but I always feared that I wouldn’t be able to explain everything with words if she didn’t understand immediately.

— “Alright, I’ll send it today. What’s the document?” — Her voice quivered slightly, but she didn’t hesitate. Azalia was always resolute, though sometimes it seemed she feared anything connected to the World Government. And perhaps now wasn’t an exception.

— “Please, give it directly to Whitebeard, either to him personally or one of his commanders. Under no circumstances give it to anyone else!” — I emphasized the last part, knowing how crucial it was to be cautious. Even the smallest mistake could cost me my life. I thought I was doing my best to conceal my anxiety, but my voice still trembled a little.

— “Alright, I’ll ask my father to contact them. What’s in the document, or is it a secret?” — she replied confidently, clearly unshaken by my tone. Azalia knew how to act, she’d been raised in this dangerous world, and I appreciated her for it.

— “It’s information about a traitor, I can’t say more, it could be dangerous. And one more thing: if they ask where it came from, don’t tell them it was from me,” — I couldn’t give her all the details, not knowing how much my information could affect her safety. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I hoped she wouldn’t sense how hard this was for me.

— “Understood,” — she said, but I heard the resolve in her voice. Azalia was always like that — unshakable, even when the situation seemed hopeless.

***

I spent the next few days in tense anticipation, hardly leaving my room. Time dragged on slowly, like thick grass beneath my feet in the summer heat. But finally, the moment I had been waiting for arrived: a seagull, carrying the flag of their island, tapped on my window. I instantly jumped to the window and without a second thought, opened it, letting the bird into the room. It flew in gracefully, with a soft whistle of its wings, as though it already knew it was expected here. I poured it some water, watching its eyes stop darting from one side of the room to the other as it calmed down. Taking the document, I carefully slid it into a folder, as though this small piece of paper was far more valuable than mere paper. Then, I placed the bag around the bird’s neck, remembering that this moment was decisive.

Once the seagull was ready for flight, I made an important decision. I would send only one document — the one containing information about the poisoning. The other, more ambiguous one, I would keep for now. I needed to gather more information before handing it over to anyone. I knew this for sure — rushing in matters like these could come at a great cost.

When the bird finally soared into the sky, I felt a strange sense of relief. It had gone well, and I could only hope that everything would be fine.

But I couldn’t fully relax until Azalia finally told me that she had handed the documents to one of Whitebeard’s commanders. Those words, like a heavy stone lifting off my soul, brought me relief. Everything I had kept hidden and held inside for so long had finally been delivered. Azalia, as always, acted quickly and decisively, giving me no reason to worry. Yet, despite her confidence, I couldn’t fully settle until I knew that everything had gone as planned.

POV Thatch:

Bringing the spoon to my mouth, I carefully tasted the dish. “It’s done!” — I whispered, barely containing my satisfaction at the work I had done. At the same time, I somehow involuntarily hummed to myself, as if speaking aloud to myself. I turned off the stove and, glancing at Nick standing next to me, asked:

— “Nick, how’s it going on your end?” — I moved closer to him, casting a look at the pan he was attentively watching.

— “All set, Commander!” — he replied with a smile, and his face became a little more relaxed and content. It was clear that he was proud of his work.

I was just about to say that it was time to call everyone for lunch when suddenly Haruta stormed into the kitchen. He was like a whirlwind — with fiery eyes and a huge sense of determination on his face. He didn’t waste any time: walking up to me, he grabbed my hand and led me away.

— “What’s the rush?” — I asked, slightly surprised by his behavior.

— “I’ve got something to tell you!” — he declared, his voice brimming with impatience. But after a moment, as if reconsidering, he added, — “No, better if I show you first.” He opened the door to the dining room, and, pointing at Marco sitting at the table, he said, — “Look.” Marco was smiling, sipping his coffee, enjoying the moment.

I stared at Marco’s face for a few seconds. At first glance, it seemed like he was just in a good mood, but I knew him too well. Beneath his usual calm mask, I immediately noticed that special gleam in his eyes — it was something he couldn’t hide. We had known each other for so many years that I could read him like an open book. In his eyes, there was that same spark that was impossible to miss, even if I had tried.

Walking back into the room, I couldn’t help but ask. My gaze didn’t leave his face, and I curiously spoke, — “So, what happened that has Marco practically glowing with happiness?”

Haruta smirked slightly and, with a mysterious smile, answered:

— “The negotiations for the patronage that’s been haunting us for the past five years have finally turned in our favor. And…” — he slowed down his speech, savoring the moment. I already knew he was deliberately drawing it out to build up my interest. I raised an eyebrow.

— “What else?”

— “Oh, by the way, Asta the sentry was there,” — he added, and, as if surprised by his own words, gave me a sly smile.

— “And then what happened???” — I became unbearably curious, even though I clearly remembered how Haruta and I had last gotten involved in such matters and, to put it mildly, hadn’t been thrilled. We got our punishment: shifts, washing the entire ship — not exactly the most pleasant job, and it lasted a whole week. But curiosity was stronger. I was ready to hear something so unexpected that I couldn’t contain my excitement.

— “Well, I was busy with the negotiations, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw them dancing. Then they went out to the balcony, and things got even stranger. But when we came back to the ship, he was without his jacket!” — Haruta said, playfully raising his eyebrows.

— “Hahaha!” — I couldn’t hold back, and a grin spread across my face. — “He should bring her onto our team, not sneak around moving in with her and giving her his stuff!” — I burst out laughing, imagining how it might look. Haruta couldn’t hold it in either and started laughing. We both couldn’t stop. It was just too funny not to laugh.

***

The day began, as usual, with the serene silence typical of the vast ocean. The sea was astonishingly calm, as if it had frozen in anticipation of something. Gentle waves softly touched the hull, and the sun shone so brightly that it seemed like the entire world was drowning in its golden rays. Along the deck, as always, stood the sailors, savoring the moment. They had come out for the fresh air to warm up, hiding from the scorching heat in the shade of the masts. It felt as though each of us sensed something special in this moment, as if time had stopped, and we could all relax.

Father, as usual, sat in his chair on the deck. Drip bags hung from him, but it didn’t stop him from continuing to drink sake, enjoying the silence and peace. His eyes were closed, but his face bore a smile — this moment of stillness was precious to him. His gaze was distant, as if he didn’t notice anyone around him. His mood was excellent, despite the illness, as if the calm atmosphere around him was relaxing him, giving him the strength to keep moving forward.

I stood at the railing, taking my time. The sun warmly embraced my face, and I could feel its rays penetrating my very soul. The sea was still and silent, creating a sense of boundlessness and tranquility. We were heading towards the island where Jinbe was waiting for us, who had been fighting some cocky newcomer trying to challenge Pops. Probably, this young pirate had underestimated the strength of our captain, but I knew that soon everything would be settled.

Suddenly, a loud cry came from the crow’s nest:
— “Ship on the horizon!” — All eyes automatically turned to the horizon. I too looked out and indeed noticed a dark spot in the distance. The ship slowly emerged against the bright sky. Everyone on the deck tensed, but when it was reported moments later that it was one of ours, the tension immediately disappeared, and everyone returned to their business. We all relaxed, not hiding our smiles, and continued to enjoy the sea breeze.

Meanwhile, the crew was on a recently joined island. We had received an urgent call for help, and father, without hesitation, had sent Vista with several of the best crew members. We were asked to come quickly, with the situation being critical and requiring immediate action.

Vista approached Pops with a folder in hand and handed it to him. He didn’t waste time with words and immediately opened the documents. A shadow of concern flashed in his eyes as he pulled out two sheets and began reading them carefully. We all watched him, feeling the atmosphere around us gradually becoming tense. Each of us understood that something important was happening, but no one knew exactly what. With each word on the page, his face became more and more grim. It was noticeable — in his expression, how he pressed his lips together, how his brows furrowed deeper. He wasn’t just reading, he was troubled.

He slowly set the papers aside and raised his gaze. His voice was firm and strict, with such confidence that everyone on deck immediately felt — this wasn’t just a decision, this was an order.
— “Vista, gather the commanders and come to my room,” — he said, and his words hung in the air. He suddenly ripped off the drip bags, as though they no longer mattered to him, as if all concerns about his health were secondary in that moment. He stood up with such determination that everyone nearby instinctively stepped back, not daring to speak.

We all froze, unable to understand what was happening. The nurses, worried about his condition, rushed to him, trying to stop him. They exchanged anxious whispers, but Pops ignored them. He simply waved his hand, and his gaze was filled with resolve. He wasn’t ready to listen, and no one could stop him. He confidently walked to his room, leaving us with troubled thoughts. We felt that whatever was happening now was of special importance.

I felt that I had to follow him. Inside, there was no fear, no doubt — just the understanding that this moment was significant for all of us. I quickly followed Pops. It took about ten minutes before we gathered in his room. In that short span, all the commanders who were on the ship had arrived, and now we stood in the room, as if waiting for something great and inevitable. The silence was so thick that it could almost be felt. No one spoke, but everyone sensed: something serious, something important was about to happen right here and now.

Pops, handing over the folder, said:
— “Marco, son, read this,” — his voice was calm, but there was a hidden weight to it.

Marco, clearing his throat, began speaking, his voice slightly tense, as if he wasn’t entirely sure about what he was about to announce. He took the document, unfolded it, and began: — “Hello. You don’t know me, and don’t even try to find out who I am. I found this document by accident, and I think it might be useful to you. Please take it seriously, even if it’s hard to believe. At least check what’s written there.” His eyes met ours, but there was no fear or certainty on his face — just tension.

He exhaled and picked up the second sheet he had been holding, continuing: — “The names in this mission are Lily and Mari.” He paused, not knowing how to say it. In that moment, the whole room seemed to freeze. I felt the air become dense, as if it suddenly became unbearably heavy. These were our nurses, the ones we had known for so long, who had been with us through the toughest times. Their names… It was a shock, and I immediately felt my heart tighten. He continued, but the words were almost inaudible: — “Mission: infiltrate the Whitebeard ship, gain trust, and then, gradually, administer cyanide in small doses, poisoning Edward Newgate.”

I felt a buzzing in my ears. It was like a blow to the head, and suddenly everything seemed to darken before my eyes. All our thoughts, all the memories of those who had been with us, who had shared our joys and sorrows, just crumbled. How? Why? It was impossible. We knew these people, we trusted them. And yet, here we stood before this cruel truth, which could not possibly be true. But deep inside, I couldn’t help but think: “Why not? Why couldn’t they do this?” Questions surged in my mind, and when I looked at my brothers, I understood that there were no answers in their eyes either. Only fear and doubt.

— “This is nonsense! They couldn’t have done this! The medicines for father are always monitored! I’ve seen how thoroughly everything is checked!” — Rakuyo spoke with fury, his voice trembling with anger. His words sounded like a scream, but there was logic in them. We all knew how important it was to monitor the medications. We couldn’t imagine that anyone among us would do something so vile.

— “What if they could, though?” — quietly, almost like a whisper, Namur said. His voice was filled with doubt, and he looked confused, as if his mind had just erupted into chaos. He wanted to believe that this was a lie, that this was a mistake, but he increasingly felt that the truth had to be found. And if the truth was horrifying, we would have to face it.

A loud argument began. Some supported Rakuyo, others agreed with Namur’s doubts. Some tried to calm the others, while others stubbornly stuck to their theories. We all tried to find some meaning in what had just been said, but it was becoming more and more difficult. Only Marco and I stayed silent, absorbed in the thought that things might be far worse than we were ready to admit. We didn’t interfere in the conversations because at some point we realized: we didn’t have the words. We needed to act, not argue.

Suddenly, a loud and confident voice of Pops rang out. He stood in the center of the room, his gaze heavy and tense, but also filled with determination. “Silence!” — he said in such a way that the room instantly became quiet, as if Pops’ words were a final judgment. His eyes scanned each of us, and we understood: no one could be so calm at this moment unless they were certain of their decision. — “I don’t want to believe this either, but we cannot turn a blind eye. We must check. I don’t want to suspect my own people, but if this is true, we need to know now.” He glanced at Marco, and Marco understood what needed to be done. — “Marco, check the IV and all the medicines. We need to be sure.”

Marco stood up, as if his body moved automatically, and said quietly — “Okay, Pops.” He turned and headed for the door, while we all remained in silence, with various thoughts and feelings, waiting for what needed to be uncovered.

Minutes stretched on like hours. Every second seemed like an eternity, and we all sat in tension, each of us on edge. We waited for Marco and his verdict, which would likely change everything. The silence in the air was heavy and oppressive. We exchanged glances, but no one dared to break the silence.

And then, at last, the door opened, and Marco entered. Everything about him was familiar, but in that moment, his presence seemed a little more significant than usual. I straightened up, my back straightening as if something invisible had lifted me by the shoulders. I almost felt as if I were on the edge of something important.

— “So, what’s the verdict, son?” — Pops asked with interest, but his voice was tinged with tension, which couldn’t help but affect me.

Marco looked at us, his eyes weary, as if he had gone through a heavy trial. He took a deep breath and said:

— “He was right. I found traces of cyanide.” — he said heavily, running his hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the weight of this confession.

Chapter Text

Standing on the deck of the “Jolly Dog,” I was trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. My eyes still couldn’t fully open, and the cold night air only helped me slightly emerge from the haze of drowsiness. A few minutes ago, around 1 AM, Garp knocked on my room. I barely had time to understand what was happening before he grabbed me and wordlessly dragged me onto the ship. How I ended up here, on the deck, in this nightmare of a situation, I didn’t understand. I stood, closing my eyes against the cold, stupidly blinking, wrapped in a blanket and barefoot, feeling the cold wood beneath my feet, which had already chilled. The wind ruffled my hair, and I felt the cold spreading throughout my body—goosebumps wouldn’t go away. I was wearing short sleep shorts and a tank top with straps, completely unsuitable for the night sea breeze. I couldn’t gather my thoughts. Everything felt so absurd.

Suddenly, I was overcome with a feeling of confusion. I stood there, not understanding what to make of Garp’s senseless behavior, and at the same moment, everything inside me boiled with anger and rage. Gripping my teeth, I tried to hold myself together so that nothing unnecessary would slip out, but my patience was rapidly running out. I cleared my throat, looking at him with such an expression that he surely noticed my discontent. After a brief pause, suppressing the wave of anger, I said:

— “Garp-san, what the fuc… hell are you doing?!”

He, ignoring my state, laughed heartily and with pleasure:

— “Bwa-ha-ha! We’ve got an unscheduled patrol!” — he said with a satisfied look, not slowing his step, and began to turn to leave. At that moment, my hands involuntarily reached for his neck in an almost instinctive attempt to strangle the bastard, but I held myself back just in time.

— “What about Sengoku-san’s ban?” — I threw at his back, unable to hide my confusion. This was starting to go beyond reason. After that mission, Sengoku was furious. And not just because we had to work with pirates— that could still be hidden in some way—but it was much worse. All his anger was directed at the repair bills. After Akainu read the report, he clearly didn’t like the fact that we had worked with pirates, and not just any pirates, but with Whitebeard’s pirates. And that’s when half the building was buried under a flow of lava and rage. Now Garp couldn’t just leave Marineford without permission from the higher-ups. Although, to be honest, I wasn’t sure he even took those rules seriously.

— “But we’ve got an unscheduled patrol! And Senny has cooled down, so it’s all fine!” — he said with a smile, as if justifying himself, and disappeared into the cockpit so quickly that I didn’t even have time to respond. He was like a child who decided that everything would work itself out.

This was starting to annoy me. My eye twitched again from the surge of emotions. How lucky I was that I wasn’t responsible for this grown-up child! With every step he took, I felt my patience running out more and more. But then, a figure appeared, one that clearly occupied the role of the adult in this team. Bogart. He stood there like a statue, with such a look that I almost felt sorry for Garp. Judging by the expression on his face, he was ready not just to scold him, but to really drown him. With each glance, his face grew more and more angry. I couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction, which appeared on my face by itself, when I saw Bogart heading toward the cockpit.

I know it’s not exactly dignified, but, I admit, the mere thought that Garp was about to get it pleased me. But it’s better to gloat in my cabin, far from the storm that was about to break. No need to stay on the deck and freeze; I should go and try to fall asleep again.

***

We had been sailing for a day along our usual route, enjoying the calm and serene sea. There wasn’t a cloud in sight, and the ship glided almost invisibly over the water, like a huge shadowy giant. Everything seemed like it would go on this way for a while, when suddenly a loud, piercing ring of the den-den mushi sounded from the mast. The atmosphere instantly grew tense, like a string pulled to its limit. One of the sailors hurried over to grab the receiver. His face changed immediately—what had been serene and calmly focused turned pale, as if he had seen a real ghost. Everyone around noticed this, and the tension seemed to hang in the air.

— “GARP!!!” — Sengoku’s furious and angry voice blared through the speaker, and in that scream, there was more than just irritation—there was genuine, overwhelming displeasure.

The young guy clearly didn’t know what to do, and instead of answering, he just mumbled, “Coming,” before disappearing in a panic in search of Garp. He was so terrified that he looked ready to hide in any crack in the ship, just to avoid becoming a target for whatever awaited him. I couldn’t help but let out a small smirk. The show was beginning, and I knew it would be worth every bit of effort. I made myself comfortable in my corner, having claimed a spot in the raven’s nest, where I could both watch and listen to everything happening as if it were all happening just for me. Well, at this moment, I could have thrown a mini-party—just needed the popcorn. And, of course, everyone was waiting for Garp to appear.

He didn’t make us wait long. As always, his calm and confidence were there, like a mask he hoped to wear forever. He approached the receiver slowly, completely unaware that he was being summoned to the carpet, and answered, as usual, with that lazy tone that could drive anyone crazy.

— “Yeah, Senny, what’s up?” — his voice was so calm that it seemed like he didn’t even notice what was happening around him. I was almost sure he was probably picking his nose at that moment.

But Sengoku could no longer contain his fury. His voice rolled across the deck, and each of his shouts felt like a hammer strike. I almost felt his anger piercing the space around us.

— “Have you completely lost your mind? What the hell are you doing leaving without permission?” — the shout was not only angry but also filled with genuine bewilderment. He probably thought Garp couldn’t be this reckless, but Garp proved time and time again that he was capable of anything.

Garp wasn’t flustered. His reply was so confident that I almost thought he was deliberately stoking the fire to prolong the fun.

— “I’ve been sitting around doing nothing for almost three months, so I thought it was time to get some fresh air!” — his voice sounded almost playful, as if he hadn’t done anything terrible. The boldness with which he spoke could only irritate Sengoku even more. It was clear that this answer only fueled the senior officer’s anger.

Sengoku, clearly losing his patience, turned his outrage into something more terrifying. I could almost hear his breathing growing heavier, as if his blood were boiling in his veins.

— “Garp, get back here immediately, or TRIBUNAL! I don’t care that you’re a hero!” — the words flew like hail, filled with such fury that it seemed like the ship itself might crack from the force of that scream.

Garp, it seemed, was unfazed by the threats. His voice remained indifferent and confident, as if neither storms nor tempests could touch him.

— “We’ll come back when we finish the patrol, so, bye!” — he simply hung up, as if this was the most normal thing in the world, leaving Sengoku no chance to continue the conversation. But I was sure that if Sengoku had continued, he would have erupted into a real storm—complete with curses and threats I had never heard before.

***

The whole journey went almost peacefully, which, of course, disappointed Garp. He was hoping for something more exciting—at least a little clash with pirates or, at worst, a sea storm, just something to break the monotony. But the sea, as if mocking him, remained calm, and the tranquil waters didn’t give him the kind of wild activity he loved. We only encountered pirates once, and they were easy to ignore—they were rookies, so green that they didn’t even know how to deal with sea winds, let alone try to fight us. These guys had just entered the Grand Line and hadn’t yet figured out what the real pirate world was like. Now, they were all locked up in the hold, tied up, waiting for their fate to be decided. Everything was, as usual, boring and predictable.

Sengoku didn’t try to contact us anymore, which, in my opinion, was rather strange, given how persistent he had been before. But it seemed he realized that nothing special was happening. Garp just waved it off, saying he had “calmed down” and was no longer worried. When I asked him if he wasn’t concerned about being fired or sent to tribunal for all of this, he responded easily, saying “it’s not the first time.” And of course, there was no need to worry—it was just threats.

We were almost near Sabaody now. The sky, like a picture, was clear of clouds, and the sun was shining high, casting its rays onto the calm waters. Everything seemed so serene that for a moment, I wondered if we were getting too relaxed. When I stepped out onto the deck from the dining room, I enjoyed the coolness of the sea breeze tugging at each wave. I stretched, soaking in the moment, wrapped in a sense of carefree tranquility, as if time had stopped. Just as I was about to head back to my post in the crow’s nest, Garp stopped me. His sudden voice broke the dreamy atmosphere.

— “Asta-chan, fly over to Sabaody to the ‘Seashell’ bar and give this letter to the bartender.”

I looked up at him, with a slight expression of confusion on my face.

— “Garp-san, I hope there won’t be any Emperors there like last time?” — I recalled that unfortunate incident when everything went wrong, and we found ourselves in the middle of events we could never have imagined.

— “Nah, there won’t be!” — Garp answered, but his confidence seemed a bit excessive. He said it far too quickly. My doubts only grew stronger.

— “And why don’t you just deliver it yourself?” — I crossed my arms over my chest, looking at him with discontent. — “I’m not your carrier pigeon, or seagull!”

— “Come on, Asta-chan~ please!” — Garp made such a pleading face that I couldn’t help but feel a slight sympathy stir inside me. He always knew how to make me think and, in the end, give in. I raised an eyebrow, showing that I needed more time to decide.

— “There won’t be any Emperors, I swear!” — he added with a stubborn expression, clearly knowing that if he waited just a bit longer, I’d still give in.

I sighed heavily, already realizing that I couldn’t refuse him. Well, of course, as always, I’d give in. I extended my hand to take the letter.

— “Fine, I’ll take it.” — I replied with slight irritation, though deep down I knew I would do it anyway. He immediately handed me the letter with a pleased look, and I realized he was completely sure that I wouldn’t refuse.

— “But you’re buying me a treat at the best bakery in Sabaody!” — I couldn’t help but add. I had a feeling that this could be a good way to have a little fun and indulge myself after all these surprises.

— “Of course! Grove No. 21, you’ll see a big seashell on the roof!” — Garp told me all the details with a beaming smile. He was so sure of his success that I felt his enthusiasm starting to infect me.

The lawless zone… It was already strange. I knew that Sabaody was a place where things happened that were better not to think about, but I couldn’t refuse his request despite my inner doubts. I tucked the letter into my pocket, transformed, and took off. The wind rushed into my face, and despite all my caution, I still felt a small prickle of unease settle in my chest.

On the way, I quickly bought a cloak, as appearing in the lawless zone in my watch form was clearly a bad idea. I didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention—it could end badly in such a place. A slight change in attire should solve the problem: the cloak looked neutral enough so I wouldn’t be recognized. It was more important not to reveal my identity until I completed the task. As Garp had said, I quickly found the bar, and I didn’t waste much time searching for it. However, as soon as I stepped inside, I was immediately overwhelmed by a strange feeling.

Inside, the oppressive atmosphere was palpable, and I didn’t like it. The dirty floors, dim lighting, and loud conversations from people who clearly had no intention of being friendly. This place immediately gave off a sense of danger. I wasn’t picky, but even I felt uncomfortable as my feet stuck to the sticky floor while I walked to the bar. It smelled of beer, old sweat, and something else unpleasant. This was a place where beautiful guests were certainly not expected. The grime on the walls and the old tables only added to the unpleasant ambiance.

I approached the bar, and the bartender, a middle-aged man with a beard, didn’t even glance up at me. His voice was indifferent, and the dismissive tone made me feel out of place.

— “Hello, what can I get for you?” — he said, not distracted from the glass he was wiping.

I had no intention of ordering anything, so I quickly got to the point. It wasn’t the time for drink talk.

— “I have a letter from…” — I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if I should say Garp’s name out loud in such a place full of people who might not be the most law-abiding. I lowered my voice and leaned closer so he could hear better. — “Garp.”

The bartender froze for a moment, and in that instant, his face changed. His hands tensed, and he set the glass down, which he had just been wiping. He reached out, grabbed the letter with such speed as if he knew not to keep me waiting, and nodded. It all happened so quickly that I didn’t even have time to react before he went back to his business without saying another word.

As I left the bar, I headed toward the watch zone at the port, still feeling the unsettling tension lingering around me. Sabaody had always felt foreign to me. I had never wandered here, and I didn’t like the feeling that I could get into some conflict if I wasn’t careful. And though I knew I was unlikely to be kidnapped or sold, since I was a watchwoman, there was still some responsibility weighing on me. The slave traders had their own “taboos” when it came to us, the watchmen.

And then, strangely, I remembered the Celestial Dragons. It was something that always made me nervous, no matter how prepared I was. After all, it was better to avoid encounters with them. I always tried to stay out of their way and kept my distance whenever possible. I knew no one was immune to running into them, and it seemed they could appear at any moment. We all knew that these were very dangerous people, and any involvement with them could lead to real trouble.

My steps grew more resolute, but the anxiety still didn’t leave me. Sabaody was such a multifaceted and dangerous place that I felt like I was walking on a minefield. And no matter how much I tried to seem confident, that thought kept haunting me, following me like an inevitable shadow.

— “How strange,” — I thought, walking down the streets, trying to take in what was happening around me. Everything felt… too quiet, maybe? I had always imagined this place should be more crowded, noisy, and bustling; after all, this was the zone where there should be many pirates, and they weren’t exactly quiet people. But here, it was empty, and eerily silent. Thoughts rushed through my head: did I miss something? Why such silence?

I walked along the street, feeling like this place wasn’t what I had expected to see. A slight sense of unease grew with each passing minute. However, it could also have been because I had just completed a long journey, and my mind was all over the place. Finally, I arrived at the dock, in the watch zone, and my gaze stopped on the horizon. The Merry Paws wasn’t in sight yet, and that was a relief—it was time to rest.

Everything seemed to be going well, and nothing should have been bothering me except for waiting for the ship. But unexpectedly, a loud voice came from one of the ships that was docked in the port. It was the voice of a sentry, and his tone clearly suggested that something bad was happening.

— “Hey, what the hell’s going on? Cipher Pol has gone completely off the rails,” — the voice had a nervous undertone.

I stopped suddenly and listened carefully, trying to understand what was going on. But as soon as I heard the response, my heart sank.

— “You don’t know? Someone stole secret documents and leaked them to the pirates, which exposed our agents,” — the reply came, and in that moment, I felt my heart miss a beat. My mind froze, and I couldn’t immediately process what to do.

Could this be about me? Everything I’d done was now at risk? This can’t be true. I’ve followed the plan, I tried to leave no trace. Or maybe I made a mistake somewhere? Thoughts flashed through my head, and the tension kept rising.

— “So that’s why they turned our base upside down looking for something. Do they have anyone in mind, you know?” — one of the sentries continued. His voice was low, but the anxiety in it was palpable.

— “I think so, but you know how it is, they won’t tell us anything. We can only pick up things from rumors,” — came the response.

The ringing in my ears started, and I felt immediately nauseous. My mind was a whirlwind, trying to focus, but I couldn’t. My hands were trembling, and my body felt alien, uncontrollable. Damn, what should I do? This can’t be real. If they find out it’s me — they’ll catch me for sure, and it’s all over… They’ll kill me. I was panicking, and the fear only intensified. What do I do? Maybe it’s better to resign, hide somewhere on an island, run away? But what if that attracts even more attention? No, that’s too risky.

I was losing control, and then I felt a hand clap on my shoulder. I didn’t immediately realize it was Garp.

— “Asta-chan, how did it go?” — his voice was warm and familiar, but I could hear the worry in it. I involuntarily flinched and quickly turned around.

As soon as our eyes met, his smile faded. He had clearly noticed something was wrong. But what exactly? I couldn’t understand what was happening to me.

I immediately rushed to the dock, and as I leaned over the water, I felt a wave of nausea, and cold shivers ran down my skin. My hands were still shaking, and I couldn’t contain the panic. Everything felt so foreign and unpleasant, but I couldn’t stop myself.

— “Asta, what’s wrong with you?” — Garp’s concern became more obvious, and he steadied me so I wouldn’t fall. But I could barely hear his words. Everything was like a haze, and I was swaying from side to side. I tried to pull myself together, but I couldn’t. I tried to exhale, but I could only inhale. I was like a fish out of water.

Garp grabbed my shoulders, trying to bring me back to reality.

— “Listen to me carefully. Breathe. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.” He kept repeating it over and over, and I tried to follow his instructions. I barely managed the first inhale and exhale. But with every repetition, it got a little easier. He continued:

— “Good, keep going with me. Inhale… exhale…”

I followed his voice, and with every breath, I felt the tension slowly start to fade. My muscles relaxed, and my heart beat more steadily, but the sense of anxiety didn’t leave me. Gradually, I began to regain myself, but even when I felt a little calmer, some corner of my soul remained tense. The fear hadn’t gone away — it was like it had settled deep inside my chest, squeezing it with every new breath. I was still trembling slightly, and sometimes it felt like panic could sweep over me again at any moment. But at least breathing became easier, and I could control myself. I pulled myself together, realizing that I couldn’t let this weakness take over.

— “T-thank you, Garp-san, I’m feeling better,” — I said, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat that seemed reluctant to leave. I paused, gathering my thoughts, then continued in a quiet but tired voice: — “I delivered the letter.”

Garp observed me carefully, his gaze alert, and I realized he had noticed something. He didn’t press me, but he didn’t fully believe me either. No matter how much I tried to hide my anxiety, he could tell something was wrong. He sighed heavily and spoke:

— “To hell with the letter. What happened?” — his tone was serious, and in it, I felt his concern stirring once again. He wanted to know the truth, but he also understood that now wasn’t the time for unnecessary words.

I tried to force myself to come up with some kind of response, but my thoughts were a mess, and I couldn’t form them properly. I didn’t want him to see my weakness, but it was too hard to hide. I tried to do everything to not give myself away, but Garp seemed to sense that I was deceiving him. I couldn’t keep my feelings hidden any longer, but I tried to put on something resembling calmness.

— “It’s nothing, I just got a little worked up,” — I said, feeling my voice tremble despite my best efforts. I tried to put a smile on my face, but it came out weak and forced. Garp, of course, noticed this, and his gaze grew even more watchful. He didn’t believe in either the smile or my words. But perhaps that’s what I appreciated about him — he didn’t press me with more questions, he didn’t push, and he left me in peace, even if he didn’t trust me.

— “Alright, let me take you to the ship. You’re resting today,” — he said, his voice firm, yet there was an undertone of care that he seemed reluctant to show. He extended his hand to help me up, and I felt his support, as if he was preventing me from falling. He didn’t wait for my response, instead, he simply began to lead me toward the cabin, as if he knew I needed to calm down and just rest.

Everything that was happening around me felt suffocating, but perhaps, in that moment, it was his silence and support that I needed most.

***

Upon arriving in Mariford, I practically jumped out of the ship and, barely breathing from excitement, hurried to my room. The road was quick, but I barely noticed it. All that was on my mind was what I had to do and how much was at stake. My room, as always, greeted me with its usual silence, but I no longer heard it — my thoughts were too loud. I entered the room, closed the door, and, for a moment, leaned against it, taking a deep breath, trying to gather my strength.

However, panic was still pounding in my temples, and I had to act quickly. Running to my bed, I didn’t hesitate for a second, flipping the mattress and forcefully pulling out the documents I needed to hide as soon as possible. My heart was racing, my breath was quickening, but I forced myself to stay focused. The room felt too small, too bright — as if everything in it had been arranged in such a way that I couldn’t hide anything from prying eyes.

I cast a glance around, and at that moment my eyes stopped on the light fixture. It seemed so obvious, but for a moment, I felt a sense of relief. Grabbing the stool quickly, I placed it under the fixture, carefully removed it, and without a second thought, placed the documents inside. My breath slowed, and my heart calmed a little as I replaced the light fixture. If the light wasn’t turned on, it was unlikely anyone would suspect anything hidden there.

— “It’s not visible,” — I whispered, as though trying to reassure myself. I stared at the fixture as if I could see my fears inside it. If someone checked, it wouldn’t be anytime soon. I hoped I would be lucky, that everything would remain in the shadows, and my traces would vanish, just like the marks on that dusty surface.

Thoughts swirled in my mind: “Once things settle down and the tension eases, I’ll leave. I’ll quit, I’ll leave, I’ll start over. Keep away from trouble.” But for now, I had to hold on. Perhaps this was my only chance to avoid disaster. I tried to calm myself and closed my eyes. All that was left was to wait and hope it would be okay. That this risk wouldn’t lead to inevitable ruin.

A few days in Mariford passed quietly, and it seemed everything had returned to normal, but I still didn’t allow myself to relax. Even when the days stretched on monotonously and nothing alarming happened, some inner voice kept telling me that not everything was as smooth as it seemed. I tried not to panic, but every time someone called my name, I involuntarily flinched. My heart seemed to stop in my chest, and despite my efforts, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still wrong. Sometimes I began to think that I was just imagining all these fears, that maybe the talk wasn’t about me, but about someone else. Yet still, every new “Asta” spoken by someone made my nerves tighten like a string.

And then, in one of those tense moments, I heard a voice.

— “Lieutenant-Commander Asta, please come with us,” — said a man in a sharp suit. His voice was even, but I could feel something more beneath it — a hidden threat, or perhaps just the formality of the situation. He didn’t smile or make any unnecessary gestures, just gave me a cold glance.

“Cypher Pol,” — I realized immediately. The thought pierced my mind, and something inside me jolted. I tried not to reveal my anxiety, but my heart wasn’t in place. I hoped I could hide how much I was struggling. I nodded without saying a word and followed him. Two other agents followed behind, silent and steadily trailing after me like shadows.

We entered a small but very austere room next to my quarters. There was only a table, two chairs, and a few strict, dark shelves along the walls. They offered me a seat on one of the chairs, and I took it, placing my hands on the table to hide their trembling. I felt the tension in the room rise, and every gaze from the agents remained persistent and cold. I tried to relax, but my brain couldn’t stop thinking: “What if this isn’t just a check? What if they really know what I’ve done?”

I took a deep breath, but even that didn’t calm me. One agent stayed in the room with me, while the other two, as I understood, continued searching my quarters outside the door. The room grew even quieter, as if the silence itself was trying to press down on me, forcing me to think about every little detail.

— “We would like to know what you were doing in the archive,” — said the agent, not removing his attentive gaze from me. His tone was strict, but not aggressive, yet I felt how his words struck me, making my heart beat faster.

I tensed, but I couldn’t allow myself to lose composure. With every question, I felt the walls of the room getting tighter.

— “I needed to fill out the mission expense reports, and for that, I had to go down to the archive to get the mission reports,” — my answer was quick and confident. I was even surprised at how calm and clear I sounded, as if I truly believed my version of events.

— “Alright, let’s assume that’s the case. We’ll need to search your room,” — the agent continued, and there wasn’t the slightest hint of doubt in his voice. This wasn’t a question; it was a statement of fact. He spoke as if the decision had already been made.

— “Of course, no problem,” — I said, though deep down, I understood they didn’t need my permission. It was just a formality, an automatic response from me in an attempt to maintain at least the illusion of control.

We continued sitting in silence, and each moment felt like an eternity. I was still trying to stay calm, but inside, emotions began to rage, and I struggled to suppress them. My thoughts were jumping in every direction, and I had probably stopped thinking rationally a while ago. Time dragged on slowly. I could hear the agents’ footsteps outside the door, likely searching my room. I couldn’t even imagine what they might find, but the fear of the unknown tightened around me.

The agent sitting across from me kept watching my every move. He was clearly trying to catch any subtle shift in my behavior. I felt his gaze piercing into me, searching for weaknesses. But I couldn’t afford to give in. I knew I couldn’t show any sign of weakness. I sat still as a stone, trying to think of anything but what was happening right now.

I almost jumped when the door suddenly swung open with an unexpected noise, and two agents walked into the room. They moved with such cold, assured confidence that I couldn’t tell if they had found something or not. Approaching the one sitting next to me, they whispered something to him, and then I sensed an urgency in their voices. The atmosphere immediately darkened, and I felt the tension in the room rise. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but something in their behavior unsettled me.

— “You’re free to go,” — said one of the agents, his voice even, but cold as ice. He stood up from his chair with the look of someone who had already made a decision. I didn’t know what to think. They were letting me go? But a lingering unease still gnawed at my mind.

Although I was grateful that everything had ended without major complications, I still couldn’t relax. Taking a deep breath, I took a step back to leave the room. But as soon as I opened the door and stepped into the corridor, I was immediately struck by the fact that my room was wide open. Everything around me was turned upside down. It seemed like every corner had been scattered, and objects were lying in the most unexpected places. It all looked as though there had been a real storm in my room. My heart involuntarily stopped, but I tried not to show it.

I took a few steps inside, but then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the agents were standing nearby, still watching me. I felt anxiety rising in my chest again and tried to avoid drawing too much attention. In that moment, I almost wished I could just stop and take a pause to process what had happened. But this time, I wouldn’t allow myself to show any emotions. I decided not to risk looking at the light fixture right away.

Only when I had entered the room and closed the door did I feel a small wave of relief wash over me. I sighed, unable to hold it back, and looked up. The light fixture was in place, untouched, and I felt a bit lighter. That small moment became significant for me. I understood that nothing was supposed to have happened, but the tension still wouldn’t let go.

As soon as I felt that everything was fine, I began to tidy up. All those things that seemed chaotic and out of place now needed to be put in order. I cleaned up, but my thoughts still wouldn’t stop jumping around my head, just as the questions that tormented me wouldn’t stop. Did they understand? Will they kill me? But I forced myself to focus on the cleaning, not letting these thoughts overwhelm me.

When I finished, evening settled over me with its calm. I realized that I just couldn’t swallow a bite. I felt empty, drained. I wanted to forget, to sink into sleep, to detach myself from it all for a while. But once again, the images flashed before my eyes — anxiety, questions, worry. I lay in bed, unable to rid myself of these thoughts, trying to forget, even if only for a few hours. But the night, as always, was filled with unspoken silence that wouldn’t let me rest.

Getting out of bed, I immediately felt the tension that gripped my entire body. My hand instinctively reached for the backpack that was standing on the floor beside my bed. I didn’t think about what I was doing — just on automatic, I began packing my things. My heart pounded in my chest, but I didn’t pay attention to it. Now, I had to act. I carefully folded the money, wrapping it in a small cloth to prevent it from being damaged. I checked the first-aid kit to make sure it had all the necessary supplies — bandages, plasters, antiseptic. I placed them in the backpack as if it was something entirely ordinary, not preparing for a possible escape.

When I took out the Eternal Pose, its cold surface made me pause for a moment. It was important, no less than everything else. Sabaody — everything could be decided there, and I couldn’t take any chances. Everything had to be thought out to the smallest detail.

I checked the backpack once more. Everything was in place, but the feeling of anxiety didn’t go away. I understood that I was packing not just out of habit, but also in case something happened, as though I could sense something. Being ready at all times — it was probably like an instinct for survival. But this backpack, with its contents, seemed more than just ordinary; it seemed like something that could determine my fate. I left it on the edge of the bed but couldn’t calm down.

The night passed strangely — every sound, every rustle seemed louder. I lay in the dark, thinking about what would happen if I really had to leave. If I had to risk everything. But when I tried to fall asleep, my thoughts kept returning to the backpack, to what was in it. I curled up into a ball and closed my eyes, trying to calm down, but my heart still beat too quickly. The room was silent, but it felt like I could hear every sound, every movement, even if it was just the rustle of the night wind outside the window.

The morning didn’t bring any relief. The overcast sky and the fog that had crept into every corner of the city created an atmosphere of hopelessness. A light, cold wind blew through the slightly open window, bringing with it the scents of rain and earth. I quickly gathered my things, hurrying not to waste any time. The day promised changes, and I could feel it.

— “Asta-Tyan, come to my office and take the documents,” Harp said, approaching me with a clear determination in his voice. It sounded unexpected, because he usually always brought the documents himself.

I nodded, but questions began to arise in my mind. Why did he ask me to take them instead of just handing them over? A strange sense of unease crept inside me. Leaving my breakfast almost untouched, I hurried to his office. I tried not to think about what might happen, but the tension in the air was almost palpable.

When I entered the office, Harp didn’t hesitate. His gaze was direct and confident. He didn’t ask, didn’t drag things out—he just said what he needed to say.

— “Asta, tell me honestly, did you steal the documents?” — his words hung in the air, like lightning slicing through the darkness.

I froze, feeling my heart begin to race, panic seizing me, but I tried to pull myself together.

— “No,” — I answered, trying to sound confident, but my voice trembled. It was too obvious, but I had to at least try.

— “Don’t lie to me,” — he said calmly, though his tone was tense. — “I won’t say anything, I just want to hear the truth.”

I looked into his eyes, trying to find even the slightest hint that he might not understand, that he might be wrong. But no, all I saw in his gaze was seriousness and concern. I remained silent, feeling everything inside me tighten. It was hard to tell the truth, but I knew I couldn’t keep hiding what I had done.

— “Yes, it was me,” — I said, feeling the weight of my confession settle like a stone on my chest. I looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

Harp only sighed heavily. His face remained still, but there was pain in his eyes.

— “Why?” — he asked, and there was no malice in his voice, only weariness, as if this question had already been asked many times before.

I fell silent, struggling to find the words. It wasn’t easy; my thoughts were tangled, but one phrase, one thought, kept coming back to me.

— “Do you remember, I asked you what you would do if you could prevent something terrible?” — I began, feeling the weight of my words tighten around my throat.

— “Yes, but what does that have to do with this?” — he looked puzzled, not understanding how all of this was connected.

— “It’s hard to explain, Harp-san. You see, I’m not from here, or rather, not from this world, the one where I know about you… there’s a story, it’s like a tale I read. A boy who will become the Pirate King, but for that, he will have to endure many trials. And one of those trials is the death of his brother,” — I said, feeling how difficult it was to get the words out. I couldn’t stay silent anymore.

Harp frowned, and for a moment, his gaze became even more focused, but he didn’t interrupt. He was ready to listen.

— “You know them…” — I continued, unsure of what would come next.

— “Luffy, Ace…” — he whispered softly, almost with pain.

I nodded, feeling the weight of the words pressing against my chest. My heart was beating in sync with each word, but I had to continue.

— “Ace will be captured, and he will be executed. And Luffy, despite everything, won’t be able to not help his brother. But, unfortunately, Ace is already dead. He died in Luffy’s arms,” — I spoke with a pain that tore at me from within.

Harp clenched his hand so tightly that even the pen snapped. He ran his hand over his face as if trying to stop the storm of emotions that were raging inside him. But in his eyes, I saw not just anger, but despair. He was trying to be strong, but I could see how painfully difficult it was for him.

— “Alright, Asta-chan, you need to run as fast as you can,” — he said, his voice now firm and resolute.

I froze, not understanding what he meant. It was like a thunderclap on a clear sky.

— “Cipher Pol wants to arrest you. So you need to run,” — he said with a firmness that made me shiver.

I felt the ground slip from beneath me. What now?

Before leaving the room, I paused, feeling the need to ask one important question. I turned around, looked at Garp, and, with a mix of anxiety and determination, said:

— “Garp-san, why did you believe me? This sounds like nonsense, and I myself could hardly believe it. How did you decide to take such a step?”

He raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, then smiled brightly, and with his usual ease, almost as if it didn’t matter, he replied:

— “I don’t know, I just believe, that’s all. You lie pretty badly, even when you try to hide. You’re good at hiding, but you’re bad at lying. Bwa-ha-ha!” — he said with a laugh, his eyes sparkling. — “But that’s not important. What matters is that you don’t lose yourself in difficult situations. So, you’d better fly off now, the fog will give you a head start. Otherwise, you’ll waste time.”

His words were mixed with humor and care, and I couldn’t help but smile. I bowed to him, holding back my emotions, and with sincere gratitude, I said:

— “Thank you for everything! It means a lot to me.”

He stood up from his chair, slightly tilting his head as if thinking about something, then approached me. His movements were smooth and confident. Placing his hand on my head, he spoke softly, as though predicting something important:

— “I wish you good luck. I hope you will be happy, wherever you end up.”

In a surge of emotion, I hugged him and felt his warmth transfer to me. He was so large, warm, and reliable that, in that moment, it seemed everything would be okay, despite all the difficulties and uncertainties that awaited me. Feeling a bit vulnerable, I said:

— “You won’t miss me for long, soon you’ll have new students, very good ones. And they will respect you as much as I do.”

He burst into laughter, his laugh sincere and kind:

— “Bwa-ha-ha! I’ll be waiting,” — said Garp, and his words sounded so familiar that tears welled up in my eyes. As I walked away, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that this moment would stay with me for a long time.

I entered the room and stopped, feeling an odd sensation as if something was wrong. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside. My gaze swept over the familiar objects I had packed just yesterday; everything was in place. The bag with my things stood in the corner, as if reminding me that time was relentlessly moving forward. I quickly grabbed the documents, snatched up the bag without much thought, and hurried toward the door. My heart was pounding faster, and fragments of thoughts rushed through my mind.

— “Just as I felt!” — I muttered, quickly scanning the room. It wasn’t so much a statement as it was confirmation that I couldn’t afford to make a mistake. This room, this life — it was no longer mine. All that remained was to move forward.

I closed the door behind me, and immediately felt how everything around me became foreign, even the street under my feet. The thick fog that hung in the air obscured everything. The world had become unrecognizable and muted, like a nightmare where nothing can be made out, but everything feels dangerously close. I walked along the sidewalk, trying not to draw attention, as if I, too, were becoming part of this gray world, dissolving into its shadow. The fog seemed to absorb everything, even the sound of my footsteps. With each step, it grew colder, and I could feel fear filling my mind, as the fog swallowed not only the light but every thought I had.

By the time I reached the harbor, all my thoughts were gathered into one, foggy idea, as though the atmosphere itself had imposed it. I looked around, took a deep breath, and realized — there was no turning back now. In that moment, I felt the power within me begin to change. My flesh, my skin — everything transformed. I quickened my pace, preparing for what was about to happen.

In an instant, my body ceased to be as it once was. Muscles, bones — everything shifted, changing under the pressure of inevitability. My wings unfurled, filling me with strength and determination. My body became light and powerful, capable of rising into the sky where no earthly weight could hold me down. I soared upward, and as soon as I was in the air, I felt my mind sharpen, and everything around me began to clear.

The fog enveloped me, swallowing me whole, as if I had become part of it. Flying was easy, though the winds were strong, and with each gust, the cold grew sharper. The wind blew against my beak, biting into my skin and stinging my eyes, but I flew forward, not thinking about what lay behind. The most important thing was not to look back. The most important thing was to prevent my legs from becoming part of the earth again. Legs that could run across the sky, just as people run on the ground. My wings, however, gave me far more possibilities. I was free.

Driven by a growing sense of fear, which only intensified, I didn’t notice how I accelerated, swiftly flying higher. Each moment felt like an eternity, but I kept flying, no matter what. There was something inevitable in this flight, something indescribable. The fog surrounded me, hiding everything around me, and it was only I, with my wings spread wide and my gaze cast into the void, who continued to fly through this impenetrable world.

Chapter Text

Sabaody greeted me with rain that promised nothing good. It was a barely noticeable drizzle, but I knew that in a few minutes everything would change, and a heavy downpour would start. I quickly pulled out my cloak, threw it over my shoulders, trying not to attract too much attention. I didn’t want anyone to notice me. Thinking of the recent events, I quickened my pace, walking down the narrow street, flanked by towering trees, almost losing myself in their shadows. The air was filled with a deathly silence, but I couldn’t relax. I knew that time was not on my side. I needed to find shelter, stop for at least a couple of hours to gather my thoughts and figure out what to do next. Cypher Pol would not tolerate my escape, and surely, very soon, the search for me would begin, which meant I had to be far from here before they started their operations.

My gaze skimmed over the old building, and finally, I spotted what I had been looking for — a hotel, though it had seen better days, but it was still a chance. Without hesitation, I pulled up my hood to cover my face and headed inside. I didn’t want anyone to remember my face. This place looked almost abandoned, which suited me just fine.

Inside, the hotel looked like a true ruin — shabby walls, a floor with cracks that creaked oddly under each step, and cobwebs hanging in the corners like decorations in an old horror movie. But what mattered was that it was quiet, and it was unlikely anyone would pay attention to me. I approached the reception desk, where an old, scratched counter stood, and quietly pressed the bell.

Soon, a man with sharp features came out from behind the door. He was wearing a leather jacket, with a sly grin that seemed to never leave his lips. He looked like a typical thug.

— “What do you need?” he asked, his voice rough with an aggressive tone.

I didn’t flinch and, trying to stay calm, answered, trying to sound as confident and cold as possible.

— “A single room, for one night,” I said, as if it was something I did regularly.

The man looked me up and down with a scanning gaze, as though I were nothing more than an object of his disdain. After a moment, he casually placed the keys on the counter. I handed him the money, and without another word, I left. His cold stare made me feel uneasy, but I tried not to show it. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I made my way to the room. The moment I stepped through the door, I was met with a musty, almost suffocating smell that made my head ache instantly. Mold and dirt soaked the air, as though this place hadn’t seen sunlight in ages.

After closing the door behind me, I immediately opened the window, letting fresh air into the room, which felt so alien and clean compared to the stagnant atmosphere. The smell of rain and wet earth filled me with a sense of freedom. The freshness and coldness instantly revived me, clearing my thoughts a little. I almost felt like I could breathe easier. I took off the wet watchman’s uniform and changed into civilian clothes. The uniform no longer suited me — it was too obvious a reminder that I was still caught in their web.

As I paced around the room, I tried to focus, but my thoughts were tangled, and making decisions was difficult. What should I do next? Where should I go to avoid being tracked? There were two ideal options where they wouldn’t find me. The first was Skypiea. But before I could even reach there, I could be caught. And considering it was ruled by Enel, staying safe there would be anything but easy. It was too risky. The second option was Zou. But to get there, I needed to find Mink with a Vivre Card. He would be the perfect guide, but where could I even find one?

Realizing that time was slipping away, I began to understand that I needed something more tangible and safe. Cypher Pol, with their ruthless methods, wouldn’t leave me many chances if I didn’t find shelter. They wouldn’t stop until they found me. I needed to hide and find somewhere they definitely wouldn’t look. The island of Azalea seemed like the perfect option — a secluded place, protected by the strongest person. I felt it was the chance I couldn’t afford to miss.

But to get there, I needed to find a ship that went through Ryugu Kingdom. Standing by the window, I closed my eyes again, trying to picture my journey. It would be long and dangerous, but I had no other choice. Time was running out, and I had to move.

Placing the key on the table, I immediately felt my heart race. I had wasted too much time sitting in that room, risking too much. Sighing, I headed toward the window. Glancing around to make sure no one could spot me, I leapt outside without a second thought. Going through the door was too risky — I couldn’t afford to be seen. What if someone noticed me? Or someone who wanted to profit from the information? No, that would be far too dangerous.

My path was now clear — to the port. Along the way, I stayed in the shadows, doing my best not to make eye contact with anyone who might recognize me. The port wasn’t far, luckily the 27th grove was within walking distance, and I didn’t waste a second. Swiftly crossing the streets, I reached the shore. The ships were docked at the pier, their masts gently swaying in the weak wind, and I realized the choice was before me. There were several vessels, and they each went about their business in different ways. I couldn’t risk getting on just any of them, but I had no choice. Pirates? It was a risk I was willing to take, for there was no other way.

I stopped one of the sailors standing on the shore and quickly asked a question:

— "Do you take passengers?"

He looked up, sizing me up from head to toe. A spark of displeasure flickered in his eyes, but his face remained impassive. He took his time answering, and that silent moment felt like an eternity.

— "Got money?" he finally asked. I nodded, and he gave a faint smile. That smile promised nothing good, but at least I knew I wouldn’t be turned away.

— "We set sail in a week."

— "Any sooner?" I couldn’t afford to wait that long. He simply shook his head, his face turning to stone again. In that instant, I realized I wouldn’t get anything more out of him.

Deciding not to waste any more time, I hurried to ask other sailors at the port, but they all echoed the same thing. The nearest ship wouldn’t leave for three days. Three days! That was too long. I didn’t have that kind of time, that luxury! Cypher Paul was surely close, and every extra day in this place was a step closer to being found.

I left the port and walked down the street, trying to stay out of sight. I needed to remain unnoticed, even if it meant sticking to the edge of the road. I pulled my hood over my face, hiding it, and with every step, I felt the tension growing. My thoughts kept spinning: "What do I do? What do I do?" I had no more than a day, and that wasn’t enough time to find a safe haven and avoid the trap. But where could I go? What options did I have? I couldn’t just wait; I had to act.

I hadn’t been walking long when I snapped out of my thoughts and found myself in the Saboadi amusement park. Everything around me felt surreal—the flickering lights, bright signs, deafening laughter, and screams. The air was filled with the smell of cotton candy and roasted nuts, the scent of freedom, fun, and… carelessness. This place was full of contrasts. But despite all the vibrant imagery, my mind wasn’t empty. I needed to focus, to think, not just wander aimlessly. In a situation like this, I couldn’t afford to lose concentration—I was risking too much to let myself drift. The park was a good place to slip away from pursuit, but it was too crowded, too many eyes. And I needed to disappear, to stay invisible.

I turned into a dark alley, away from the hustle and bustle, and stopped, leaning against the cool wall. I closed my eyes, trying to piece my thoughts together like a torn patch of fabric. "What next?" I tried to figure it out. I had to be smart, not show weakness, hold myself together. I wondered: maybe I should go back to the hotel and rest? Gather my strength to keep moving later. But in this city, in this situation, I didn’t have time for rest. I needed to hold out for three more days, until the ship finally set sail. Just three days. But those three days could be decisive.

— "Maybe I should go back to the hotel? Or keep wandering?" I continued my thoughts aloud, more to dispel the anxiety tightening inside me. Time was passing, and I still wasn’t sure what to do. I couldn’t just sit and wait for things to resolve themselves.

Suddenly, my inner monologue was interrupted by a loud curse. An angry voice echoed through the quiet alley.

— "Get lost, brat!"

I instantly tensed. This wasn’t just a rough voice; it was a voice of power, of threat. I slowly peeked around the corner and saw an unpleasant scene. In a small stall selling cotton candy and other treats, a vendor—a burly, rough-looking man with a red face, clearly furious—was yelling at a boy in a worn but still fairly clean cloak.

— "I have money!" the boy said with such desperation that his voice trembled. I saw him pull out a few coins, but his attempt to pay was futile.

— "What, you don’t understand me? Scram, you little runt!" The man practically spat venom, and when the boy didn’t move, he stepped out from behind the counter and swung at him. I noticed the boy instinctively cover his face with his hands, but it wasn’t enough to protect him from the blow.

My nerves snapped. I felt a wave of anger wash over me. This was too much. I could’ve walked past, but damn it, this was a child. I couldn’t stand by and be indifferent when violence was being used against a child right in front of me. No matter how much I wanted to stay quiet and unnoticed, I couldn’t just walk away when I saw a child being mistreated in plain sight.

— "Ugh…" I sighed heavily and decisively moved toward them. My steps quickened, and I felt strength gathering in my legs. I couldn’t let this boy remain defenseless, even if it meant risking something important to me.

— “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” — I said, giving my voice a stern tone to express the seriousness of the situation. Standing between the man and the boy, I quickly grabbed the boy by the hand and carefully but firmly moved him behind me. The man’s gaze was confused, but I didn’t pay it any attention. My face was cold and focused, and I couldn’t afford to waste time. — “What did my brother do?” — I asked, not looking away from him.

— “Brother?” — The man looked at me as if I had just told him that I flew to the moon. His surprise was so evident that I barely held back a smile. I merely raised an eyebrow, not trying to explain, — “I don’t sell to brats.” — he declared, clearly annoyed that I was interfering in his business.

— “Let me buy what he wanted?” — I suggested, once again forcing calmness into my voice. But inside, a troubling signal began to stir — I knew time was against me.

— “I told you, I won’t sell!” — he insisted, growing angrier. His voice became even rougher, and his expression darker. But I wasn’t going to back down.

I quickly took out my patrolman’s ID and showed it to the man, not giving him a second of doubt. A brief acknowledgment flashed in his eyes, the realization that he had already lost, and his expression instantly changed.

— “Now!” — he muttered, staring at the ID as if he had seen a mirage. He quickly started winding cotton onto the stick. I couldn’t help but think how strange it was that this document was so effective. Good thing I hadn’t thrown it away.

— “Here, now get lost!” — he threw at me with clear annoyance, handing over the cotton, but his voice no longer sounded as confident as before. I handed him the money and, without wasting any time, dragged the boy into the alley where we had been just moments ago.

Once we were in a secluded corner, I crouched down in front of the boy to avoid looking threatening. My smile was genuine, and I handed him the cotton candy, hoping to ease his worry, even just a little.

— “Here, take it,” — I said in a soft tone, watching his eyes change. At first, he looked at me with a puzzled expression, as if he couldn’t believe someone would help him so simply and without any ulterior motive. I saw the boy hesitantly lift his gaze and immediately realized something was wrong. There was something unusual in his features. He was different, not like other children.

When he looked at me, I realized he wasn’t just a boy. He was a Fish-Men child. My intuition hadn’t let me down. I tensed slightly, though I tried not to show it. It wasn’t anything particularly shocking in this world, but seeing it up close was… unsettling in its own way.

— “Thank you!” — he said, smiling, showing his sharp teeth. He clearly tried to appear confident, but I noticed a slight unease on his face. It seemed he was afraid of my reaction. In fear, he quickly covered his mouth with his hand, as though trying to hide his true nature.

— “You’re welcome!” — I replied, patting his head. My smile was warm and sincere; I wanted to show him that everything would be fine. — “What are you doing here? Where are your parents?” — I couldn’t help but ask. This place definitely wasn’t safe for a little boy, especially one like him.

— “I came by myself!” — he declared proudly, his voice filled with a confidence that didn’t match his eyes. Perhaps he wanted to show that he didn’t need anyone’s help, that he could manage on his own. But I could see that he was truly scared.

— “It’s not safe,” — I said gently, trying not to frighten him any more. My heart clenched as I realized he had probably never been in a situation like this before. — “Let’s go, I’ll take you to the water.” I extended my hand to him, deciding that until we reached a safe place, I wouldn’t be able to relax. The boy hesitated but, in the end, his small hand reached out to mine. I knew it was the right move, but the feeling of unease wouldn’t leave me.

His skin, or scales, what was it really? I still couldn’t figure it out exactly, but it felt surprisingly pleasant — a bit cool to the touch, but incredibly smooth, like a thin layer of wax, but more alive. I ran my finger over his hand, feeling its surface glide smoothly, and honestly, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. We reached the water quickly, barely noticing the time, because all the while, the boy was eagerly devouring the cotton candy, as if nothing else in the world mattered more than the sweet treat.

I watched him as he joyfully chewed, forgetting everything else. Occasionally, he would turn his head toward me, catch my eye, and with a surprised look, as though checking if I was still watching, he would lift the corners of his lips into an unsure, but still genuine, smile. It warmed my heart.

Suddenly, he stopped, looked me in the eye, and quietly asked:

— “Aren’t you scared of me?”

I laughed, shaking my head. His question had slipped out on its own, but there was a kind of innocent seriousness in it.

When we stopped by the water, I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. The boy, not taking his eyes off me, continued to examine me.

— “Don’t go alone anymore, there are a lot of bad people here,” — I said with a slight caution. These words were not just advice but a warning I felt with every fiber of my being. In a world where everything could change in an instant, his safety was the most important thing to me.

He immediately smiled, not understanding the seriousness of it all.

— “Okay, sis!” — he said cheerfully, as if this wasn’t about life or death, but just a casual meeting between two people. “Sis?” I raised an eyebrow. He surprised me again. But don’t think this was strange. I probably just hadn’t expected him to take my words so sincerely. After all, I was the first to call him “brother,” so maybe that was his way of responding in kind.

I wanted to continue, but then his eyes suddenly lit up, and he asked with such anticipation:

— “Will you be here tomorrow?” — His voice was full of hope, as if he were waiting for an answer that might change everything he thought he knew. His small, yet expressive eyes seemed full of life, and I realized how badly he wanted to maintain this connection.

— “Yes, why?” — I still didn’t fully understand what exactly he meant, but I couldn’t help but answer.

— “Can I come?” — he asked, with a plea and genuine hope in his eyes. I could feel his vulnerability, though he tried to mask it with an air of confidence. This question, his words… I saw a child in him, perhaps one who didn’t believe that there were people out there who wouldn’t fear him or hate him.

I thought for a moment, trying to find the right words, the ones that would protect him and not break his small faith in people.

— “No, it could be dangerous!” — I said firmly, although there was still a trace of tenderness in my voice, trying to soften my harsh words. But I couldn’t forget how cruel this world could be.

— “I’m not afraid of danger,” — he said defiantly, as if ready to risk everything for this meeting. I felt a pang of pity for him — so small, and already so self-assured, as if he knew he was stronger than he appeared.

I looked at him, unsure of what to say. So much was at stake, and I wanted to protect him, to stop him from following his impulses.

— “It’s not about whether you’re afraid or not, it’s about the fact that it’s dangerous,” — I said, trying to imbue my words with all the possible explanations that might have some effect. But it seemed I hadn’t reached the result I’d hoped for.

He became offended, puffing up like an upset child. He looked as if he hadn’t gotten what he wanted, but wasn’t about to give up. I watched him as he tried to hide how upset he really was.

— “I’ll come anyway,” — he said, and with those words, he plunged into the water, as if casting aside everything that had been said.

I stood still, unable to move for a long moment, but then, unable to resist, I sighed heavily, speaking to myself, as if cursing my own nerves and doubts.

— “Ugh…” — I exhaled, turning toward the shore and walking in the opposite direction, feeling how each step pulled me back into reality, where I had to be ready for anything.

***

Deciding not to return to the hotel or search for a new one, I made the decision to spend the night in a tree. The sounds of the night surrounded me, and I felt the dark chill wrap around my body. The branches swayed gently beneath my hands, creating a sense of safety, and the half-dream that enveloped me allowed my mind to wander, but not too far. Every time I woke, I immediately heard the ticking of my own heart, feeling how the air around me was filled with the silence of the night. But with each passing hour, the night slowly retreated, and when the first rays of morning pierced through the leaves, my stomach, which had barely adjusted to the night’s trials, demanding reminded me of its need. Garp always said that if you don’t want to grow weak, you have to eat on time. It was time to look for food.

I descended from the tree, glancing around in confusion. Soon, I was lucky enough to find a small café with a cozy interior, where the smell of freshly baked bread and coffee filled the air. These scents relaxed me so quickly that I almost forgot all my worries. I ordered a light salad with an egg and sat in the corner, eating it, enjoying the silence and simplicity of this morning. The food was light and tasty, quickly bringing me relief. After finishing breakfast, I left, feeling a little stronger and ready to continue my journey.

My goal was clear: I was heading to the place where I had last said goodbye to the boy. Climbing the nearest tree, I settled comfortably among its branches. Sitting in the shade, I could observe what was happening below, waiting in silence for what would happen next. The wind rocked the leaves, and I, focusing, began to wait, hoping that the boy would not come.

But he did not make me wait long. An hour later, his head appeared on the water’s surface, like a dolphin’s fin gliding through the waves. I spread my wings, they gleamed in the light, and with a few slow flaps, I descended, landing beside him with the ease and grace of a bird just leaving the clouds. In his eyes, I could see genuine wonder, and I couldn’t help but notice how he stared, fascinated, at my wings.

— “Woooow, sis, you look so cool!” — he said, his eyes shining like a child who had just seen something completely new and amazing. He literally couldn’t tear his eyes away from my wings, which rose and fell, reflecting the light, shimmering like a mirror.

I smiled and extended my wing toward him, letting him touch it, feeling not only admiration but a slight shyness on his face.

— “Do you want to touch them?” — I asked, watching him cautiously reach for my feathers. His fingers glided over the surface, barely brushing against the feathers, and I could feel his amazement growing. He looked as though he had just discovered an entirely new world.

— “They’re so soft!” — he said with sincere surprise. His face glowed with joy, like someone who had just learned something truly important and astonishing. I noticed how he still couldn’t believe that these wings were real, and nothing like anything he had ever seen.

— “I told you not to come!” — I said, squinting, but with a soft care in my voice, though I understood he wouldn’t listen. Despite the stern words, inside I felt myself starting to understand him — he simply couldn’t resist the urge to see it all with his own eyes.

— “But I said I would come!” — he replied defiantly, his gaze full of confidence. He knew exactly what he was going to do, and nothing could stop him. It was a little naive, but at the same time very determined.

I sighed, trying to gather my thoughts.

— “It’s not safe…” — I began, but his stomach, which growled loudly, interrupted me. I raised my eyebrows in surprise, and instead of continuing the conversation, I couldn’t help but smile. He was so carefree, as if in his world, there were no complications, only simple desires and needs.

— “You haven’t eaten?” — I asked, noticing how he shook his head, and I understood that he urgently needed food. He was still a child, and his needs were as simple and understandable as any other boy’s.

He blushed but remained silent, clearly not wanting to admit his weakness. I smiled again and, deciding that this was a good moment to relax a little, said:

— “Let’s go, I’ll treat you, and then you’ll go home,” — I softly suggested, feeling a desire to take care of him, even though I knew it was better for him to go home, where it would be safer. But right now, at this moment, he needed something simple and good, and I was ready to offer that.

Taking him to the café where I usually had breakfast, I felt the familiar atmosphere of coziness and warmth. It always smelled of fresh bread, coffee, and something sweet, and the bright sunlight streamed through the large windows, creating a sense of peace. I sat at the table and noticed how he cautiously looked around, clearly not used to places like this. The boy was a bit tense, which was perfectly understandable given his unusual nature and unfamiliar surroundings. I decided to ease his tension a bit and, leaning closer, quietly asked:

— “Is there anything that Fish-men can’t eat?”

He quickly glanced at me, his expression a little wary, but he immediately replied, pulling his hood over his face so that it nearly hid his features:

— “No, I eat everything.”

I was surprised by how calmly he said it, and it seemed like he didn’t want to continue the conversation on this topic. I ordered him pancakes with blueberry jam and apple juice, and I also got myself a cup of coffee, picking up the menu, although I already knew what I would order. We sat at the farthest corner of the café, where there was no unnecessary noise, and we could either focus on the conversation or just relax in silence. The boy immediately dug into his breakfast as if nothing else existed — only him and his food. Every movement was somewhat hasty, but at the same time, he tried not to rush, savoring the taste.

I couldn’t help but remember my younger brother as I watched him eat. He was almost the same age as this boy, and I often imagined how he would look if I could see him in person. But it had been several years since I last saw him, only seeing him in pictures or communicating through video calls. When I was seventeen, Mom remarried and moved to another city with her new husband, and I stayed in our hometown. I decided not to leave my life behind, so I only saw my brother occasionally through the phone screen. I smiled involuntarily at the thought of him. It was a strange feeling — seeing him only in pictures but still feeling connected to him.

When he finished, wiped his mouth with his hand, and said:

— “Thanks! Sis, I wanted to introduce you to my friend. He promised he would come soon.”

His words surprised me a little, but I felt something stir inside me. I couldn’t help but agree, despite the wariness that began to rise in me again. But he was still as determined as ever. He said he would bring his friend, and his words sounded sincere, despite all the circumstances.

— “Alright, alright, just let’s go back,” — I replied, getting up from the table, feeling a slight unease growing in my chest. Although I understood that the boy would decide everything for himself, no matter what I said, I wanted to be there to control the situation.

Walking along the awakening streets, I listened to my little friend, who, unable to contain his enthusiasm, talked about his friend. His voice was filled with genuine pride when he spoke of how strong and incredibly cool he was, and in general — “the best of the best.” Every word, said with such confidence, made me smile for a moment. It was almost like something out of a movie, where the hero admires his friend as if he were a real superhero. But I kept walking, listening to his words, while also listening to the surrounding sounds.

Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something strange. A black silhouette, quickly disappearing into a dark alley. It moved swiftly and smoothly, as if it knew exactly what it was doing. My instincts alerted me. Something pricked inside, and I immediately felt that the situation was taking a dangerous turn.

— “What’s your name?” — I asked, trying not to reveal the anxiety that was washing over me.

— “Shu,” — he replied, not noticing anything suspicious about what was happening. His gaze was directed ahead, full of the same enthusiasm he had when talking about his friend.

My instinct was right. I quickly grabbed him by the shoulder, stopping him. My voice became quiet but filled with determination, as though I felt tension building inside me:

— “Listen carefully, Shu. Right now, you run as fast as you can to the water, without looking back. Got it?” — I said, trying to hide my fear. Every word was driven by the need to protect him, to keep him out of danger.

— “Why?” — he asked, confused, and there was a hint of annoyance in his voice. He couldn’t understand why I suddenly became so serious.

I looked him in the eyes, no longer hiding the tension in my voice:

— “Because it’s dangerous, they’re after me. So…” — I pushed him in the back, urging him to move faster. “RUN!!!”

His face changed in an instant, and finally, he understood the gravity of the situation. He dashed toward the water, not looking back. But in that moment, I couldn’t relax. Spinning around, I quickly scanned my surroundings, and suddenly my gaze locked onto the dark spot where I had seen the silhouette. He emerged from the alley, moving slowly, as if he knew I would be here. A tall man in a sharp suit, with a predatory confidence in every step. He raised his arm, and I saw the glint of a gun in the sunlight, pointing directly at me. My heart skipped a beat. A moment that stretched into eternity.

Time seemed to slow down, and the sensation was terrifying. My heart skipped one beat, then another — as if it couldn’t keep up with what was happening. In that instant, everything around me became unbearably clear, as if I were reliving this second forever. A moment of pure terror, and everything in front of my eyes froze. Transforming my arms into wings, I felt every nerve tense with anticipation. I shot into the air with everything I had, barely avoiding the bullet aimed at my heart. As I soared upward, I immediately knew I had to pick up speed.

But the agent, as expected, wasn’t about to fall behind. He rose into the air after me, giving me no chance to catch my breath. I felt his presence as firmly as the air around me, and there was nothing left to do but fly faster. Every move mattered, every flap of my wings was critical. I worked my wings frantically, trying to maneuver and distance myself from my pursuer. Flying close to the treetops, I could feel their branches brushing against me, but with each passing moment, I grew more agile, more confident in my movements.

Every moment was charged with tension. I weaved between the branches, trying to throw him off, to make him lose sight of me. But then, without noticing the second agent, I suddenly realized I no longer had time. He was so close, and his actions happened in an instant. The second agent used one of the Rokushiki techniques, and I didn’t recognize it until the very last moment. Damn, how do you even differentiate them? Time seemed to freeze, but I understood that it was already too late. I hadn’t adjusted my course quickly enough.

As I tried to shift my trajectory and dodge, his finger still managed to reach me. In the blink of an eye, it pierced through my defense, and the pain shooting through my side made me gasp. I felt as though I might lose control and fall from the sky, but I forced myself to hold on. My body veered slightly to the right, and I could feel every movement becoming more difficult, but I couldn’t afford to give up.

I shot out into the open space near the water, feeling the wind on my face, bringing with it the salt and freshness of the sea air. But there was no time to enjoy the moment — every second counted. I was about to turn around and make a loop to regain control of the situation when, suddenly, I felt a powerful strike to my back. A leg, reinforced by either a Rokushiki technique or sheer will, hit me at a moment when I didn’t even have time to react. I hit the ground with a dull thud, and in that instant, I vomited. The pain in my back was so sharp that I lost consciousness for a brief moment. I could feel the blood trickling down my body, and I knew that bruises were not the worst thing awaiting me.

I tried to get on all fours, but my arms were too weak, and my body wouldn’t obey. At that moment, another strike interrupted me, this time so powerful that everything around me seemed to blur. The agent stood in front of me, his face expressionless, a mask of cold determination.

- "You Won'T Be able to run anymore" - his voice was calm, but there was a threat in it. A moment, and he kicked me, throwing me aside. I crashed into a tree, leaving a deep dent on it, feeling every millimetre of pain in my body. The feeling of the blow was as if I had hit a huge metal wall. - "A couple of ribs are definitely broken" - I thought.

With great effort, I managed to rise, feeling a tremor run through my entire body, my legs barely holding me up. Pushing through the pain, I focused all my strength on standing. There was only one thing I was missing — time. Quickly transforming my arms into wings, I shot into the air. The wings unfurled, and I felt the strong updraft lift me. Soaring upward in an instant, I realized there was no more time for hesitation. My head throbbed with pain, and my sense of direction was gone. Everything around me swam, and it felt like I was losing consciousness, but I fought with every ounce of my will to stay awake.

As I flew away from the island, I felt the presence of someone pursuing me, and soon, strong hands grabbed my paw, leaving me no chance to escape. Suddenly, I was yanked upward, and I couldn’t hold back a cry of pain — it felt as though my entire body erupted in flames. Instantly, without thinking, I tore my other paw free and, stretching it out in front of me, struck with all my might, claws extended. Hearing the familiar sound, I knew I had hit the mark. The grip loosened slightly, and I felt myself being pulled down instantly, as the world around me began to dissolve into darkness.

My strength was fading, and each movement became harder. My vision began to dull, and my thoughts seemed to dissolve into the cold abyss that was consuming me. As I found myself submerged in the icy water, I felt the cold seep into every cell of my body, as if freezing me from the inside. With each passing second, it became harder to breathe, and my strength was slipping away faster than I could realize.

Before consciousness slipped away completely, I noticed the air, escaping from my mouth, rising upwards in bubbles, vanishing into the darkness as it made its way to the surface. — “So this is the end…” — my last thought. That moment, when the world around me turned hazy, and my breath grew fainter, was the last thing I saw before the fog enveloped me, and I lost consciousness for good.

Chapter Text

POV Haruta:

I was upset because I didn’t even get the chance to properly introduce myself to that funny new recruit who had challenged Pops. But alas, there was no time for introductions — everything happened so fast. Namur, Rakuyo, and I were tasked with an important mission: escorting Jinbe to Fish-Man Island. It was a place we had visited several times, so the trip was fairly dull, surprisingly short, and not particularly exciting. Throughout the journey, I kept getting calls from Thatch, who vividly described everything Ace had been up to since he woke up. All those wild stories had me laughing out loud. That newbie couldn’t avoid trouble, getting himself into absurd situations. His actions were both strange and amusing, and I regretted not being able to witness it firsthand.

When we finally arrived at the island, we headed straight to the palace to meet with King Neptune. As always, he was majestic and calm. His composure and confidence always reminded me of Pops. However, we had to keep moving. We walked through narrow streets, leading us past lively market squares. Everywhere around us was filled with life and beauty. The air was thick with a sense of relaxation and lighthearted fun, while laughter and conversation echoed from the street cafes. We walked, a bit tired from the long journey, but this place brought a sense of tranquility to us. Our path led us to the mermaid café, where we were always greeted with warmth and hospitality. The mermaids, as usual, greeted us with bright smiles and treats. I had grown used to the way things were set up here, where resting was a true pleasure. We sat down at a table, ordered drinks, and began to enjoy the peaceful moment. Finally, we could relax and forget about the responsibilities awaiting us.

But as soon as we sat down, a small Fish-Man named Shu, an old acquaintance, ran into the café. He was so lively and energetic that even his presence in our conversation filled the air with joy. Shu was an unusual child — a cheeky little guy who could start a conversation with anyone and easily make friends. He was the son of one of the mermaids who worked at the café. We had known him for a long time, and he was an integral part of the local life. It was always fun with him around, as he radiated such energy that it was impossible not to notice him. Shu often told us about how he spent his time on the island, discovering new places to play, or encountering something unusual. We laughed at his stories because his approach to life seemed so simple and genuine that it was impossible not to fall in love with his world.

— “Shu, where have you been?” — Mera asked him, her voice tinged with light concern. Her attention was fully focused on him, and it was clear she was worried about his safety.

— “Mom, Mom! I was on the surface and ate cotton candy!” — Shu said excitedly, his eyes sparkling and his smile never leaving his face. He was clearly thrilled that he had made it to the surface and enjoyed this new experience.

Mera, momentarily stunned, dropped the empty tray she had been holding. Then, she quickly grabbed Shu’s face, turning it from side to side as though trying to find any signs of injury. Her face showed concern, and it was obvious she wanted to make sure he was alright.

— “Are you okay?” — she asked, trying to hide her worry.

— “Yeah, mom, I’m fine!” — Shu confidently replied, but it was clear that his face was beaming with happiness. He was full of energy and in a great mood.

— “Shu, what did I tell you about the surface? You know it’s dangerous there!” — Mera scolded him in a stern voice. She was clearly worried, but deep down, she knew that her little troublemaker always managed to get out of tight spots.

— “But mom! I’m fine, my sister helped me, she’s nice, just like the Whitebeard pirates. She even bought me cotton candy! We agreed to meet tomorrow.”

— “You’re not going anywhere! Who is this sister?” — Mera said firmly, looking at her son with an expression of care and concern. It was as if she was trying to pull him close, to protect him from something she couldn’t understand. Slightly shaking her head, she poured juice into a cup, her movements precise and assured, as if she were trying to regain control over the situation. — “You promised me you’d listen, Shu. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

Shu, on the other hand, could feel his words losing their power, but despite this, he was resolute in his decision. He was filled with determination and pride over his little discovery — his “sister,” whom he thought was kind and trustworthy.

— “No, I’m going! I promised her!” — Shu replied with a touch of frustration in his voice, his little eyes sparkling as he looked at his mother. He was so sure of his decision that he hardly noticed how his words must have sounded to her, like a plea for understanding. — “She’s nice, and I can trust her, she helped me!” — he added, as if justifying his actions, trying to convince both his mom and himself that he was doing the right thing. Shu believed that no obstacle was too big, and if he made a promise, he had to keep it.

Mera, like any mother, worried about her son. She couldn’t help but worry about who might be in her little boy’s life, especially when it came to strangers. But to her, his words mattered because she saw in them that sincerity which is only found in children. Yet her maternal concern wouldn’t let go.

At that moment, Namur stood up from the table. He had been quietly observing the conversation, knowing he was the one who could step in and make sure the situation didn’t spiral out of control. He understood how important safety was in moments like these. If someone had lured Shu, he had to intervene and stop him. Namur wasn’t ready to let a child take risks.

Approaching Shu and Mera, Namur placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently said:

— “Don’t worry, Mera, I’ll swim with him tomorrow and find out what this ‘sister’ is about. If she really helped Shu, we’ll thank her.” — Namur’s voice was calm but firm. He was an adult and knew that there were many people in the world who could hide their intentions behind good deeds. He wasn’t ready to think the worst immediately, but he always stayed vigilant. Shu was like a little brother to him, and he always had to look out for him. It could be a random encounter, or it could be a trick. That’s why Namur decided to personally check the situation, to eliminate any possible risks.

Upon hearing Namur’s words, Shu’s face immediately brightened. He was so happy that the adults were starting to understand him that he couldn’t hide his excitement.

— “Really?! Awesome!” — his face lit up with a broad smile, and he bounced around with joy, completely forgetting about his mom’s recent words. That confidence that everything would be fine returned with full force. The boy believed that if the adults agreed to support him, then everything was truly as he thought.

Mera, looking at Shu, who was once again in a good mood, sighed in relief. She could see that her little one cared about his words and actions. Not knowing how else to express her gratitude, she bowed in respect and appreciation.

— “Thank you!” — she said, as if acknowledging that sometimes it wasn’t worth fighting against things that couldn’t be controlled. Her words carried gratitude, concession, and even a sense of acceptance.

Namur nodded in response, his face still serious.

***

Today was the day of our departure, and we were all eagerly awaiting the completion of the last preparations. The waiting felt endless, each of us lost in our own thoughts. We were all ready to set sail, just waiting for the return of our brother. Time passed, but we were all certain — soon Namur would return, and we could finally leave.

Suddenly, the door to the mess hall burst open, and a sailor rushed in. He looked shaken and out of breath, his face pale, and his breathing was heavy, as if he had just run a long distance.

— “Commander, Namur and Shu are here, and they’re carrying someone!” — his voice trembled, panic evident in it.

At that moment, everyone tensed. Rakuyo and I exchanged glances and silently made our way to the exit, hurrying onto the deck. As soon as we stepped outside, our eyes immediately found Shu. The boy was crying uncontrollably, and in Namur’s arms, with great care, was something small and fragile, covered by his t-shirt.

— “What’s happening?” — Rakuyo asked, his voice filled with concern and uncertainty, as he stepped closer.

Shu, with tears streaming down his face, wiping them away with his sleeve, could hardly speak, so shaken by what was going on.

— “S-sister, she’s hurt, help her!” — his voice quivered, and we could all feel how deeply he was in pain and fear. He looked as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

At that moment, Sara, the ship’s medic, wasted no time and stood up, shouting sharply:

— “Clear the way!” — her voice was strict, but it carried the confidence of someone used to handling emergencies. She rushed to the patient, and Namur carefully lowered his hands, giving her the opportunity to examine the injured person. She lifted the t-shirt and gasped at what she saw underneath. She froze in horror but quickly regained her composure and ordered:

— “Get her to the infirmary immediately!” — her words were decisive, and we understood that there was no time to waste. She immediately began to act, not wasting a single second.

Standing off to the side, I tried to make sense of what was happening. But as soon as I saw who was in Namur’s arms, a deep sense of unease washed over me. It was that very scout, Asta, with whom we had crossed paths several times, but I never imagined she would end up in such a state. We were all shocked by her condition. Even I, lacking medical knowledge, could immediately tell that her injuries were extremely serious. There was a huge, bleeding wound in her side, so large that I couldn’t believe she was still alive. Her exposed skin was covered in massive bruises and cuts, indicating severe blows, and all of this clearly suggested that her condition was critical.

But what struck me the most was her leg, dark purple in color. It was twisted in such a way that it seemed to be broken in several places. With each glance at her body, it became clearer that she desperately needed help.

Namur and Sara quickly disappeared into the infirmary, and I remained standing on the deck, feeling my heart fill with rising anxiety. With each passing second in anticipation, the tension only grew stronger. I saw Shu nervously huddling in the corner, looking as though he was about to cry, and I couldn’t leave him alone. I walked up to him, placed a hand on his head, and gently ruffled his hair — a gesture that used to calm me down in such moments. I hoped it would offer him at least a little comfort.

— “It’ll be fine, Sara’s a professional, she’ll definitely help her.” — I said, trying to sound confident, though I knew that none of us could be entirely sure of the outcome.

Shu looked up at me, his eyes filled with hope and fear, and whispered:

— “Really?” — His voice was barely audible, filled with childlike innocence, but also immense anxiety. He was clearly looking for reassurance in my words, hoping that everything could still be fixed.

— “Really.” — I replied, though inside, I too had many questions and uncertainties. But this was the moment: supporting Shu was more important than anything else.

After I walked Shu home, the rest of the commanders and I gathered in the mess hall to discuss what had happened. The atmosphere was heavy and tense, none of us knowing what to do next. Uncertainty hung in the air, and we all understood that a decision needed to be made.

— “Namur, what happened?” — Rakuyo asked, his voice calm, yet carrying a sense of caution. He lit a cigarette, rolling it around in the corner of his mouth, as he always did when lost in thought. He was trying to gather his thoughts, but he also wanted to know the truth as soon as possible.

Namur began his account, keeping it brief but tense:

— “I went to get Shu this morning, as we had agreed. But Mera said that the little rascal didn’t wait for me and left. I followed him. Just as I was nearly at the surface, I met Shu. He was holding Asta, who was injured. He said she had been chased by men in suits, fought with them, and got hurt.” — Namur’s story was short but intense.

After his words, a heavy silence fell over the room. We all fell silent, each of us trying to process what we had just heard.

Rakuyo, not waiting for the silence to end, spoke the first logical remark:

— “Most likely, those men were Cipher Pol agents, but why would they fight with a scout?” — His words came out as a cold, sharp question, to which none of us had an answer. I, for my part, nodded in agreement. All of this seemed too strange and absurd. If they really were Cipher Pol agents, why would they decide to fight with Asta? It didn’t make sense, but clearly, we couldn’t just ignore this fact.

The room fell silent once again. We all felt an invisible shadow descend upon us, and our thoughts, like tangled threads, knotted us in confusion. With every passing second, the situation was becoming more and more complicated.

— “We need to ask Pops,” — said Namur, his voice dry but filled with determination. He was always like that — straightforward and confident, especially when it came to making decisions in critical situations. We all knew that in this situation, Pops could not only give us the right advice but also point us in the direction we needed to take in these challenging circumstances. We needed clear guidance, not uncertainty.

I pulled out the Den Den Mushi and, slightly trembling from nervousness, dialed Moby’s number. The sound of the dial tone seemed incredibly loud, almost vibrating in my chest. In moments like these, time seemed to stretch on endlessly. I tried to concentrate, but my thoughts, like a storm, rushed through my head, making it hard to focus. On the other end of the line, the phone was picked up quickly, and I immediately heard Marco’s voice. He sounded a bit tired, but his usual calm tone remained:

— “Listening, are you heading back yet?”

— “Marco, give the phone to Pops,” — I said, trying not to let my anxiety show in my voice, though inside, everything was on edge.

— “What happened?” — Marco asked, his tone turning serious.

— “Don’t ask, just give the phone to Pops,” — I said impatiently, almost unable to hide my irritation. We couldn’t afford to waste another minute, because we knew the situation was critical.

Marco muttered something indistinct, something like “everyone’s annoying,” but his words quickly dissolved into noise, and I realized he was heading to Pops. I knew that there would always be someone on board to take care of us, even if it meant a lot of effort on their part. From Thatch’s stories, I knew Marco had been getting busier after Ace’s antics.

A few moments later, Pops’ voice came through the line, as confident and calm as ever:

— “Yes, son, I’m listening.”

— “Pops, what should we do? We met that scout Asta, she’s seriously injured. We think Cipher Pol attacked her.” — I said, trying to speak clearly, without hesitation, though I could feel the anxiety growing inside me.

There was silence on the line. Even Pops didn’t immediately have an answer, and I realized that he was deep in thought. Every minute of his consideration was important. We all waited for his decision.

— “How’s her condition?” — After a pause, with obvious concern in his voice, he asked. The words “critical condition” left him no choice.

I was about to explain that we didn’t know all the details when suddenly a voice came from behind. I turned sharply and saw Sara standing in the doorway, her gaze tired but with something resolute in it that made it impossible to doubt her determination. She held a medical kit in her hands, and her face showed she had just completed a massive amount of work.

— “She’s in critical condition. I could really use Moby’s equipment and Marco’s help. I’ve managed to stabilize her for now, but it won’t last long.” — Her words were calm, but there was worry in them, and I knew she fully understood the seriousness of the situation. Her work had been vital, but she was already pushing the limits of her abilities.

— “Then head back,” — Pops said, and there was not only resolve in his voice but confidence, as though he had already taken all necessary measures. It was the moment when everything around us became clear and certain. Pops knew that time was of the essence, and every order he gave carried weight.

***

When we finally arrived at Moby Dick, the atmosphere was light and joyful, which gave us strength. We knew we had a difficult conversation ahead with Pops, so we didn’t waste any time and headed straight to him. He was in his usual spot — in the chair, with his hands resting on the armrests, as always calm and focused, ready to listen to us. We knew that a lot of responsibility rested on his shoulders, but he never lost his head in tough situations.

When we told him the whole story, he listened attentively, sometimes furrowing his brow, sometimes nodding, analyzing every word. When he finished listening, silence fell, and Pops fell into thought. His gaze was distant, as though he was trying to understand not only the facts but also the hidden motives behind everything that had happened.

He didn’t rush to respond, and that was normal for him. He was always the kind of person who thinks before acting, and that reassured me. After a short pause, he finally said:

— “Let’s wait until she wakes up, and then we’ll question her.” — He said this with such ease, as if there was nothing difficult about simply waiting for the situation to clarify. But I knew that in reality, his words held much more — he already knew what to do, but he didn’t want to rush. His decision carried strength and maturity.

Then I took out the documents I had found with Asta and handed them to Pops. He took them in his hands, but I noticed how his gaze immediately changed. He examined the papers carefully, and I saw his face shift slightly as he read the information I had brought. It wasn’t easy. For us, it was a blow, but for Pops, it was a real challenge.

— “While we were sailing, I found these documents with her.” — I paused to emphasize the importance of the moment. — “They have the same serial number as the ones we recently received.”

After reading the documents, Pops remained silent. In his eyes, I saw the reflection of pain, heaviness, and the realization that there were still traitors among us. He was more serious than ever, and despite his usual firmness, he couldn’t hide how much this news had affected him. It wasn’t just bad news — it was a reality we would have to face, and it was hard for everyone.

— “Keep quiet about this for now, we need to figure out who it is,” — Pops said, his voice not just commanding, but full of real determination. This was the moment when he showed his resolve and readiness to act. I knew he was right — we couldn’t let the traitor feel safe. We had to find them, and as quickly as possible.

— “If this lookout really helped us, then she’s not leaving this ship. Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra!” — His eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, as always, when it came to new members of his family. He loved to take in people he considered worthy, and this time he was sure Asta would become part of our family.

— “Haruta, son, find out what happened with the lookout.” — His voice became firm, and I felt that his decision was unquestionable.

A satisfied smile spread across my face. — “Alright, Pops!!!” — I responded with confidence.

At first, I decided to check how things were going in the medical block. As soon as I entered, I immediately felt the heavy atmosphere, as if there was something painful and oppressive in the air, like an invisible cloud overshadowing everything around. Fatigue reigned here — not just physical fatigue, but emotional fatigue as well. In the corner of the medical block stood Marco, and I couldn’t help but notice how much his condition had changed. He looked awful — his face was so pale that it seemed like his skin could barely hold his strength. His eyes, once bright and full of fire, were now dull, like extinguished embers. It was clear that he had pushed his abilities to the limit, and this was visible even to the naked eye.

Whistling softly, I walked over to my brother. He was busy, and I could only guess that he was going through clearly more than we were.

— “You look like crap,” — I said, trying, at least a little, to break the tension.

Marco didn’t respond, just rolled his eyes, as he often did when he was tired and didn’t want to discuss the obvious. However, I could see how his movements were slow, as though each one was a struggle. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion, but more the signs of emotional depletion that he was carefully hiding.

I nodded toward the bed behind the curtain where Asta was lying. And as difficult as the moment was, I had to ask.

— “How is she?” — I said, not hiding the worry in my voice.

— “Better, but when she wakes up — who knows. Too many severe injuries, she’s lost a lot of blood,” — Marco said this calmly, but there was a slight uncertainty in his voice that hadn’t been there before. I noticed that his face reflected not just physical strain, but some internal struggle, as if his thoughts were trying to process everything happening and find a solution, even though he knew that sometimes the solution wasn’t something you could control.

In his eyes, almost casually, I read a certain lost feeling, one he had probably faced more than once. We all hoped we could save everyone we cared about, but when confronted with reality, we understood that sometimes we were powerless.

I didn’t say any more words. I just placed my hand on his shoulder, supporting him silently. Words about everything being alright would have been useless. We all knew that at such times, there aren’t always answers, and that just being there — sometimes, that’s all you can do.

***

I spent three days searching for information, a full three days, during which there were hours of interrogations, checks, and covert searches. In the end, I found out that Asta was officially considered dead. It wasn’t a surprise, considering the information the lookout had given. They said she had died while carrying out her mission, as is customary for those who stand guard. However, if you dig a little deeper, behind the official version, there was another, much more interesting truth.

My theory was confirmed: she was the one who had passed on the documents. I knew her role in this affair was much more significant than it appeared at first glance. Pops, as always, didn’t build any illusions. He simply leaned back in his chair, took a sip of sake, and that contented smile appeared on his face, the one that always showed up when he knew his instincts had been right. He didn’t rush to comment, but his gaze said it all. Thoughtfully and calmly, he observed what was happening, never once losing confidence in his decisions.

After we rid his body of the poison, Pops’ condition improved significantly. He still didn’t feel great, but he was definitely much better. The illness hadn’t completely released him yet, but now it was clear that his body was starting to fight. We reduced the number of IV drips and medications, and that was a clear sign that the recovery process was moving in the right direction. It seemed like everything was gradually returning to normal, but the tension still hung in the air, and each of us understood: this was only a temporary improvement.

Chapter Text

Pain. The first thing I felt when I regained consciousness was a searing, unbearable pain, as though my entire body was being torn to pieces. Every cell, every nerve seemed to scream with fear and suffering. At first, I didn’t understand where I was or what had happened to me, but this pain was so real that there was no doubt: I was alive. And despite the horrific sensation, this thought became some strange source of solace. “If it hurts, it means I’m alive,” as if that was the only truth I could accept at that moment.

The second thing I felt was an overwhelming exhaustion, as if I had walked hundreds of kilometers without rest. There was not a drop of strength left inside me, and I couldn’t even move a finger. My body felt foreign, heavy, like stone, and every breath was a struggle. I tried to concentrate, but everything before my eyes was blurry, and chaos reigned in my mind. I felt my eyelids weighing heavily, but opening my eyes felt like an impossible feat.

On my third attempt, I managed to crack my eyes open. The world around me was covered in a thick darkness, as if I had found myself in a void. I couldn’t comprehend where I was, and at one point, I even began to doubt if I was alive at all. Fear gripped me, but it was quickly replaced by an even greater despair: I tried to call out to someone, anyone, but only a hoarse, barely audible sound escaped my throat. I couldn’t utter a word, and that feeling of hopelessness was terrifying. The whole world seemed to have vanished, leaving me alone in this misty, soundless space.

Somewhere at the periphery of my vision, a soft orange light flickered. It was warm and cozy, like the rays of early morning sun breaking through curtains. The light wasn’t blinding, but rather seemed to gently embrace me, making me feel that everything around me wasn’t completely lost. I tried to focus, but the image before my eyes remained vague. My gaze drifted around the room until it landed on a curtain. It was right next to me, and though I could barely make out its silhouette, it felt as if I could still describe every fold of the fabric. The curtain suddenly moved, and I felt the world around me start to take on clearer shapes.

— “You’re awake! Right now,” a soft, warm female voice said, tinged with concern yet also wearied, as if she had just woken up herself.

A minute later, the woman returned. Her steps were quiet and cautious, as if she feared I might be startled by her presence. She gently cradled my head, as though I were too fragile to hold it on my own in that moment. She brought a glass of water to my lips, and I felt the cold glass touch my skin. I took my first sip, and suddenly, it seemed like this wasn’t just water. It was a gulp of life, a gulp that returned me to reality, making me feel alive. Until that moment, I hadn’t even realized how thirsty I was. The water seeped into me, and with it, a bit of strength returned.

— “Th…thank you,” I rasped, my voice sounding muffled and fragile. My throat was dry, and the words came out with great difficulty. — “Where am I?” That was all I could manage to say, and in my question, there was not only confusion but also a faint hint of fear. Everything around me seemed so strange, so unfamiliar, and I couldn’t grasp what was happening.

— “You’re on the Whitebeard ship. How do you feel? It’s a miracle you were saved, you’re lucky,” the nurse said calmly, her gaze examining me with undisguised curiosity.

I tried to gather my thoughts, but my head felt foggy. Where, where am I? What the hell is going on? Just a minute ago, I was on Sabaody, amidst all the hustle and bustle, when suddenly… damn, I don’t remember anything! How did I get here? How did I end up on this massive ship? And what’s going to happen to me now? Fragments of thoughts flickered in my mind, and my body, as if sprawled across the bed, refused to move. I tried to lift my arm, but only a sharp pain in my stomach shot through me. My entire body felt as though it were on fire from pain. Damn, I can’t even move!

— “Hey, can you hear me? How are you feeling?” the nurse waved her hand in front of my face, showing no real concern, more as though she were checking if I was okay.

My eyes barely opened, and each glance was agonizing. Oh, how it hurts! I struggled to collect myself and say something, but the sound of my own voice felt foreign, as if I weren’t the one speaking it.

— “Everything hurts,” I exhaled, cutting off the stream of questions in my head, and managed to gather myself, just a little. My heart was pounding like crazy, and I could barely comprehend what was happening.

— “That’s not surprising, considering the injuries you’ve sustained. I’ll give you some painkillers, rest a bit,” the nurse said, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. She took out a syringe and, without hurry, administered it through the IV. I felt the medicine begin to take effect. The pain slowly receded, and sleepiness gradually pulled me into the world of dreams.

***

I woke up when the beams of the daytime sun filtered into the room. Their golden streams gently touched the wall, illuminating its old, slightly faded boards. My eyes slowly opened, and I felt everything around me becoming clearer. It was morning, and the air was still, as though the world outside had not yet awakened. My body still ached, but it was no longer as sharp as before. I tried to move, and despite the fatigue, I realized I could move my arms and legs, though every muscle screamed with tension. I could lift my arm with ease, but it trembled like that of an alcoholic, and I knew I would struggle to hold anything heavy.

Suddenly, the curtain by my bed was drawn back. In the doorway stood a girl with light blonde hair that shimmered almost like the sunlight that poured into the room. Her face was soft, her gaze caring. She smiled, and the moment seemed to slow down.

— “Oh, you’re awake?” — her voice was warm, with a slight intonation of surprise and joy. Stepping closer, she asked, — “How do you feel?” — Her eyes immediately flicked to the IV drip, and she jotted something down on her tablet. There was no rush in her movements, everything was done with consideration for my condition. I tried to answer, but my throat was dry and painful.

— “Better, but the pain hasn’t gone away,” — I rasped, and realizing I couldn’t speak any further, I cleared my throat. It was unpleasant, but at least it made things a little easier. I added, — “Could I have some water?”

— “Yes, right away,” — she said, quickly finishing something on her tablet. She then turned and went behind the screen. I tried with effort to sit up. Every movement was a struggle, and weakness overwhelmed me, but I didn’t want to give up. Finally, I managed to rise, though not without difficulty. I felt my muscles protesting, but I was able to get a better view of the world from a slightly higher vantage point. Just then, the nurse returned, a glass of water in her hands.

— “Here, do you need help, or can you manage on your own?” — Her voice was calm again, with a slight trace of concern. She stood by me, ready to assist if needed.

— “I can do it,” — I replied, extending my hand, still shaking slightly. The nurse raised an eyebrow as if amused that I was still determined to do it myself, but with a smile, she handed me the glass.

Spilling a little water, I still managed to drink the entire glass. It wasn’t easy: my hands trembled from weakness, and some of the liquid ended up on the sheets. Handing her the empty glass, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, feeling the tension in my body ease slightly. The slight irritation from the discomfort quickly faded, and finally, I felt a little better. After what felt like an eternity of silence, I finally spoke:

— “Thank you,” — I said, trying to sound as confident as possible, despite the lingering fear in my voice.

— “Anytime,” — she said with a playful smile, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. I noticed her light grace, as if her movements were guided by inner harmony rather than haste. She was about to leave, but I couldn’t miss the opportunity to ask the question that had been tormenting me for hours.

— “How long was I asleep?” — I asked, struggling to inhale, as if the words were stuck in my throat. The time spent in this semi-conscious state felt endless. I couldn’t understand how serious my injuries were or how long I had been lying here.

— “Three days,” — she answered calmly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

Three days?! I looked at her in confusion, trying to comprehend that with each passing day, I was drifting further from the familiar reality. My mind was filled with questions, but I found it hard to answer them. Was three days too long, or was it normal to take that long to recover from injuries? I looked at my leg, which was neatly in a cast. It felt heavy and uncomfortable.

— “Three days! How did I end up here?” — I asked in surprise, barely managing to utter the words. My eyes searched her face for any answers, but she was about to speak when the curtain to my bed was suddenly drawn open. Into the room walked Thatch, carrying a tray on which I immediately smelled an incredibly appetizing aroma. It was so rich that the air seemed to be filled with something delicious and familiar. My stomach couldn’t take it anymore, and, as if rebelling, it let out a long, drawn-out sound.

— “Oh, beautiful, good morning! Looks like I’m right on time, ha-ha!” — he said cheerfully, setting the tray down on the table next to my bed. His voice carried the usual playful tone, but there was something unusual — a softness in his demeanor that I didn’t remember. He had always been lively, with a hint of sarcasm, but now there was genuine care in his eyes. — “How are you feeling?” — he asked, his gaze sweeping over my face, as if evaluating my condition.

— “N…not bad,” — I replied, startled, instinctively pulling away from him. It was all too unexpected. I flinched, trying to hide my awkwardness, and looked at the tray of food as if it were something important that now required my full attention.

— “Well, that’s great, looks like your appetite’s back,” — he said, sliding the bowl of soup closer. His voice was casual, and his gaze was sly and almost mischievous. The scent in the air was so rich and warm that it seemed to fill the room on its own, making me feel hungry.

The nurse standing nearby clearly didn’t share his cheerful mood. She sharply crossed her arms over her chest, and her gaze became as prickly as pine needles in the winter chill.

— “Thatch!” — she said sternly, almost hiding her displeasure. — “She needs rest.” Her voice was as firm as a rock, and there was not only weariness in it but also irritation, as though he had once again disturbed the silence.

— “Lisa~ don’t be mad, I just want to chat with our guest,” — he said, winking playfully at her. There was a teasing note in his voice, as if it were part of some innocent jest, and he wasn’t too concerned with who was watching. He clearly wasn’t taking her stern gaze seriously. But I noticed how she rolled her eyes and for a moment lost her patience. She was clearly tired of his constant antics, but her face didn’t give it away completely.

She paused, and before leaving, she turned to him and said:

— “Not for long” — her voice had something abrupt about it, as though it were a final warning, but she didn’t allow the conversation to linger. I could tell her patience had run out, and she would rather not stay there a second longer than necessary.

Then, she turned to me, and now there was a certain weariness in her voice, as if she were ready to take control of the situation again, should I need help:

— “If he gets on your nerves, just call, I’ll quickly kick him out of the medblock.”

I simply nodded at her, and after giving Thatch one last warning, she left. The silence in the room was almost tangible, but I didn’t have much time to enjoy it. As soon as my stomach growled again, I realized it was time to try what the cook had brought. With trembling hands, I reached for the tray, but couldn’t quite reach it, and just then, Thatch, as if anticipating my move, took the tray and gently placed it on my lap.

— “Let me help you,” — he winked at me, a light smirk already forming as he prepared to grab a spoon and feed me.

— “Thanks, but I’ll manage from here,” — I replied sharply, feeling a slight chill of awkwardness run down my spine from his offer. — “The last thing I need is being fed from a spoon,” — I thought, imagining the scene and literally feeling myself burn with embarrassment.

— “Whoa, alright,” — he said, raising his hands with a smile, as though he hadn’t offended me, but in reality, his playful demeanor only made me feel more uncomfortable. He truly knew how to act in a way that made me lose confidence in myself. But his smile was so genuine that I couldn’t get angry.

I decided not to test my luck and, setting the spoon aside, I picked up the plate, consumed with thoughts of how long it had been since I’d eaten and how badly I wanted to feel full. As soon as I looked at the soup, I realized that its appearance was in itself a true work of art. Thick and rich, it looked like something incredible. Its surface gleamed, as though illuminated by candlelight, and thin steam rose from the bowl, carrying a fragrance that immediately enveloped my senses.

The soup was a bright golden color, like a warm autumn day, with tender chunks of potato smoothly and organically blending with soft vegetables. It was clear that this was not just food, but real care put into every ingredient. The light herbs sprinkled over it enhanced its aroma and gave it a sense of freshness. Additionally, beneath the herbs, there seemed to be a hint of something special — maybe a spice I hadn’t even noticed. This was a soup where every element was in its place, perfectly balanced.

I carefully brought the plate to my lips and took the first sip. It was something incredible! It was warm, like an embrace, yet refreshing at the same time. On my tongue, different flavors unfurled — the rich broth, the slight sweetness of the potato, a touch of spice, and the herbs that gave the soup freshness and lightness. This wasn’t just soup — it was a whole symphony of flavors! With each new sip, I felt my body fill with warmth and calm, and the hunger disappeared, replaced by a sense of complete satisfaction. It was that moment when even the most ordinary, seemingly simple soup could become something truly magical.

God, this is so delicious! I’ve never tasted anything like this in my life. I didn’t even notice how I started drinking it almost like tea, savoring every sip, feeling how it filled me not only with physical energy but also with an incredible sense of harmony. I realized I could drink it endlessly. Forgive me, Grandma, but even her famous recipes couldn’t compare to this soup. I caught myself thinking that if she had made something like this, she would probably have said, “This soup is definitely worth remembering.” But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that at that moment, I felt alive and completely at peace, absorbed in every sip.

As soon as I finished the soup, I felt a lightness in my body, and a calmness settled over me. Without realizing how much time had passed, I leaned back on the pillow and closed my eyes. There was not a single unnecessary thought in my head. The only thing that mattered was the soup that had given me a sense of peace and warmth I hadn’t felt in so long.

— “Pfft, hahahaha!” — Thatch tried to hold back his laughter, but he couldn’t, and his laugh rang through the room. He laughed out loud, wiping invisible tears away, as if the situation were so funny that it was impossible to contain himself. His laugh was infectious, and even though I felt awkward, I couldn’t help but smile, though I tried to look serious. However, the laughter was so sincere that it left me no choice but to relax a little.

— “If I’d known you were this hungry, I would’ve brought you something yesterday,” — he continued, grinning broadly. — “But honestly, I’m flattered that you reacted so well to my help.”

His words made me a little flustered, but I didn’t allow myself to show it. I took a deep breath, yielding to his kindness, but then, in a restrained manner, I responded:

— “Thank you, it was delicious,” — trying to maintain some distance and not reveal how uncomfortable I was. Inside, I was boiling with a mix of emotions, from gratitude to awkwardness, but I gathered myself and tried not to let anything slip. Maybe it was because, in the past, I’d had to deal with unreasonable people like Garp and Akainu, and it had taught me to be composed in the most unexpected situations, no matter how things unfolded. The whole atmosphere with Thatch, his carefree laughter, his attentive attitude — it all felt somewhat foreign, but now I could calmly accept it. I kept a poker face, though thoughts were already swirling in my head, wondering what was really going on.

He noticed that I didn’t add anything and perhaps decided that his jokes were over. Softening a little, he continued:

— “I’m glad you liked it. Pops wants to meet you, but that’ll be when you can move around.”

I knew that sooner or later, I would have to meet Edward Newgate, and though this thought was inevitable, it didn’t bring me any peace. To be honest, I was trying to somehow block out this event, push it to the far corner of my mind, but of course, that wasn’t working. Thinking about the fact that I was going to have to meet such a person again was, to put it mildly, unpleasant. Not that I was afraid, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety. It seemed like I wasn’t ready for this. I didn’t even want to hear his name, let alone discuss him. But no matter how much I tried to delay the moment, I knew I would have to face it sooner or later.

I don’t think they’re going to kill me, because why would they be treating me if they were? That doesn’t make sense, does it? If they really wanted to get rid of me, they’d just leave me alone, no medical procedures, no nothing. But then a thought crosses my mind that in this world, where all the familiar rules have long become part of the past, logic plays a secondary role. Here, things often happen the opposite way: life can depend on something that makes no sense from the point of view of normal norms. I’ve thought about this more than once, and the more I reflected, the more I came to the conclusion that in a world where entities like the World Government can rule, logic really isn’t a priority.

As I sank deeper into my thoughts, Thatch didn’t seem to be in a hurry. He sat nearby, not interfering with my silence, not trying to interrupt me. Apparently, he knew well that I needed to figure things out for myself. Not everyone knows when to leave someone alone, but Thatch seemed to be a master at it.

The minutes stretched on, and I felt the heavy silence in the air begin to weigh on me. At some point, I decided I had thought enough, but just then, I heard the sound of some kind of rustling. It wasn’t loud, but it was clear, and after a few seconds, it grew louder, quieting and continuing, as if someone were clumsily searching for something or trying to find something. It lasted about three minutes, then there was a short pause. All this time, I listened, not understanding what was happening, and suddenly the curtain in my room was pulled back, and Haruta stared at us.

He was wet and out of breath, as though he had just swum a marathon or had been running away from something. His face was so tense that it was immediately clear he hadn’t caught his breath after something important. He scanned the room, looked at me, and there was something like surprise in his eyes, but I couldn’t tell what exactly he felt upon seeing me. His gaze quickly returned to Thatch, who, judging by his smile, was already prepared for something funny.

Thatch looked at Haruta with an expression as though this was something he had already encountered before, and couldn’t hold back his laughter. He laughed openly and loudly, his laughter seeming to slice through the silence in the room. I, on the other hand, felt awkward and turned away, trying not to show how uncomfortable I was in such a situation.

— “So, how do you like it? You were so eager to get closer to Ace,” — Thatch said with light sarcasm, his voice cheerful, almost playful.

Haruta wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He practically exploded with his reply, not hiding his irritation and anger.

— “You know what, Thatch? Just shut up,” — Haruta hissed, glaring furiously. He was clearly upset about something, and I could feel his anger growing with every word.

Sitting in the corner, I continued to watch them, not understanding what they were talking about. It seemed like I wasn’t in the loop, and the conversation was so personal and important to them that I didn’t feel entirely comfortable being part of it.

Thatch, apparently, didn’t notice or didn’t care about my gaze. He continued with the same light tone, as if all of this was perfectly normal.

— “Our newbie tried to kill Pops, but of course, he didn’t get anywhere,” — he said, as though it was just another ordinary situation. — “Sometimes Pops doesn’t gauge his strength properly, and yeah, he ends up going overboard,” — Thatch added, as if this happened in their lives almost every day.

He turned to Haruta, asking the next question with genuine interest, as though this incident was just part of his job.

— “What attempt is this?” — he asked, as if curious about the statistics.

Haruta didn’t hesitate to answer. His reaction was quick and without thought.

— “The thirtieth,” — Haruta said, without a second thought. It was obvious to him.

— “Alright, everyone out, now!” — came the sharp voice of the nurse, and she suddenly appeared between Haruta and Thatch, as though she had just grown out of the floor. Her appearance was so sudden that both men froze, not even blinking. I noticed how their faces immediately stiffened, and for a moment, they seemed to forget that, here in the medical wing, they were not the most important figures.

— “But, Nora, I just got here, I didn’t even have a chance to talk to Asta!” — Haruta said, making an even more pitiful face than usual, speaking with such a tone of longing that it seemed like he was about to start complaining about his poor fate. I barely held back a smile as I watched how his attempts to justify himself looked somewhat ridiculous.

— “I told you: OUT!” — the nurse repeated, her irritation growing, her voice becoming firmer, as if she was already tired of their presence. When she spoke the last word, it sounded almost like an order, one that left no room for doubt. As if by the will of some invisible magnet, both pirates began to retreat, their tails between their legs. But Nora was clearly ready to see it through to the end. — “Haruta, you’re dripping water everywhere, you’ve made a mess!” — she added, her voice full of reproach, giving him a stern once-over, like a strict mother pointing out the smallest details. At that moment, I barely managed to hold back my laughter: the contrasts between their personalities were almost too glaring.

Haruta and Thatch, almost in unison, started moving toward the exit, but their usual confident strides, always accompanied by at least a self-satisfied smirk, were now much less assured. Even their posture seemed strangely tense, as if they had just encountered something that wasn’t in their plans. Both looked like children caught in a prank, and now they had to leave to avoid further discussion.

Before disappearing through the door, Thatch turned to me, glanced at me with a sort of careless interest, and tossed over his shoulder: — “I’ll come back tomorrow.” His voice was still as confident, though I noticed a hint of light irony in it now.

***

A few days passed, and finally, I was allowed to get out of bed. They handed me crutches so I wouldn’t strain my leg. I was a little clumsy with them, but still felt a slight joy—finally, I could move a bit, even if it was with difficulty. My gaze was fixed on the ground, and my thoughts were occupied with not losing my balance. But overall, I felt better than I had before.

— “Don’t overstrain your leg!” Nora said sternly. As I learned, she was the head nurse, and no one dared argue with her. — “Even though you’re a fruit picker, it’s better not to stress your leg too much, and make sure the wound doesn’t reopen.”

I listened to her advice, trying not to show any impatience, and finally managed to leave the medical block. The corridor was quiet, and the few pirates I passed on my way looked at me with curiosity, but immediately stepped aside, allowing me to pass. Everything felt slightly unusual: I was used to a certain rhythm of life, but now, with crutches and in a state far from ideal, I felt extremely awkward. Each step was a struggle, and I tried not to give in to weakness.

When I reached the stairs, I almost cried out loud. Climbing them was unbearably difficult—each step felt endless, and the pain in my leg kept reminding me of its presence. But at that moment, as if on cue, a voice called out.

— “Do you need help?” someone asked from behind. I turned and saw Vista. He was standing nearby, slightly leaning forward, smiling.

— “I’d appreciate it,” I replied, though inside, I felt a strange mix of gratitude and awkwardness.

He gently took my elbow and carefully helped me up the stairs. Each step, as before, was tough, but his steady actions gave me strength. Finally, we made it to the deck, and immediately felt the sharp change in the air. A fresh breeze, almost spring-like, enveloped me, filling my lungs with the clean, crisp air. Cold droplets from the deck splashed on my face, and the high sky, bathed in bright yet soft sunlight, created the feeling of midday. The light, warm wind teased my skin, as if caressing every cell of my body, bringing with it the scent of the sea—fresh, salty, and slightly bitter. It felt as if the calm was about to settle on the horizon, and all life around would stop to savor this moment.

The warm sun wasn’t too bright, but strong enough to warm my shoulders, making me feel alive, like a part of nature. Suddenly, in this secluded moment, I longed to spread my wings and fly. All I could feel was freedom. The wind in my hair, the lightness in my body, the gentle rays of the sun, and the sea—endless, like my dreams. I would just leave this world, dissolve into it, and fly on, soaring higher and higher.

The only thing that spoiled the moment was the gaze that relentlessly pierced into me. It was so intense that it felt almost physical—like a heavy burden on my shoulders. I tried to ignore it, but it was becoming harder. It seemed to penetrate into my very soul, making me feel lost. I swallowed, then finally decided to meet it. The captain of this ship was sitting calmly in his chair, serene, like someone who was used to controlling everything around him without a second thought. In one hand, he held a cup of sake, while his other arm rested casually on the armrest. His smile was light, but his eyes burned with the same fire I knew so well. It was the same kind of fire that occasionally flickered in Garp’s eyes when he was about to do something that made me lose my balance, while Sengoku would sit in silence. That gaze was full of determination and confidence, and in that moment, I felt as if he were reading me like an open book. I felt my fingers tighten on the crutches, and I began to look around for a way to escape the tension.

My gaze darted across the deck, and I could feel everything around me becoming more vivid. Every detail on the ship now seemed too sharp, too hostile. I searched for escape in the emptiness, hoping that something would distract me, but the captain’s gaze didn’t relent. Then, a cheerful voice rang out, breaking the atmosphere a little.

— “Who are we looking for, sweetheart?” Thatch came up from the side. He slung an arm around my shoulder, as if we were old friends. His voice was light, but there was the same playful glint in his eyes as always. I sighed with difficulty and rolled my eyes.

— “Marco is not on the ship right now…” Haruta approached from the other side. I noticed there was some hidden meaning in his words. Over the past few days, I had observed that Thatch and Haruta were inseparable—like two little parrots, always together, wherever they were.

But what did Marco have to do with this? I was curious where he was, and how it happened that he wasn’t aboard. After all, he was the doctor, and it was strange that he hadn’t stopped by the medical block even once. I remembered our last conversation, and thoughts of that encounter, of what he had said, immediately brought a faint feeling of embarrassment. I couldn’t quite understand what was making me feel awkward—his words or that moment, our farewell.

Shaking my head, I tried to push all these unnecessary thoughts away. They were distracting me from focusing on what was in front of me. I glanced back at the captain, who was sitting patiently, like an unmoving rock, calmly watching me. He was waiting, showing no sign of impatience, but his gaze held something that seemed to say, “I know you’ll come when you’re ready.” I could feel that the moment we both anticipated was near, and I needed to take a step forward.

With each step, I felt a growing urge to simply turn around and run, to disappear into the darkest corners of the ship. I imagined hiding in the most secluded spots, far away from the captain’s intense gaze and from all those around, watching my every move. It was unbearable—the endless silence, the eyes that were clearly waiting for some dramatic turn of events. But it was already too late, I couldn’t leave. I stood right in front of him, like a sacrificial offering, unable to escape. The entire deck seemed frozen, as if time itself had stopped, and everyone present was motionless, waiting for a performance. Their faces were tense, as though they were waiting for me to finally make my move.

And then, like thunder out of a clear sky, his voice broke through the silence. It was so loud and sudden that I almost jumped.

— “Well, hello there!” His words echoed across the entire deck, and it felt as if everything around me shook from the power of his voice.

I slightly tilted my head, trying to hide the confusion on my face. This moment seemed so important, yet I tried to remain calm. Too many eyes were on me, and I couldn’t let anyone see how nervous I was.

— “Hello, Mr. Newgate. Thank you for your help,” — I said these words with restraint, although inside, everything was far from as calm as I tried to appear.

His response was brief but incredibly powerful.

— “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra! No need to thank me, I couldn’t leave my daughter in trouble!” — He said this with such a cheerful, booming laugh that I froze. My legs seemed to turn heavy, and I stood still as if I were a statue. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. His words were so confident, so undeniable, that I couldn’t grasp that they were meant for me. My thoughts began to blur, and my body remained motionless, as though I lacked the strength to move.

I was so flustered that I could barely utter a word. My lips felt dry, and I tried to make sense of what I had just heard.

— “Wh… what? I must have misheard,” — I awkwardly mumbled, feeling my face pale and my heart stop. My brain stubbornly repeated that I had misunderstood, but everything inside me told me otherwise.

He leaned toward me slightly, his smile growing more mischievous, and something sly flickered in his eyes. I saw him wink at me, and his voice came again, soft but carrying that same unmistakable resolve.

— “Am I speaking too quietly?” — His words weren’t just a question; they were a challenge, as if he knew my words would be full of doubt, and his reaction would only stoke the fire. I could feel how this was becoming even more overwhelming for me, and at the same time, how his smile seemed to make me believe I had to accept everything that was happening as a given.

— “You know, I must have hit my head really hard…” — I murmured, feeling my vision blur slightly and my eye twitching nervously. I tried to make myself believe it was just a hallucination, but somehow, it wasn’t working. Maybe it was a concussion? Or had I completely lost my mind? Maybe it was just the aftermath of that blow… But honestly, I even started hoping I was just hearing things, or that it was some nightmare that would end soon.

The deck I was standing on suddenly erupted in laughter, and it was such a loud and powerful wave of sound that I couldn’t help but pay attention to it. Every laugh sounded like a thunderclap, and Whitebeard’s laugh was the loudest of all. His laughter was so deep, so infectious, that it felt like the entire deck was swaying from the energy. He was clearly relishing the moment, and it was obvious that he took real pleasure in watching my confusion.

— “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra! I said, welcome aboard, daughter!” — His words, filled with mighty cheerfulness and a strange kind of confidence, echoed across the deck. Everyone around him began laughing even louder, as if his laughter itself were an invisible force, infecting everyone.

Despite this storm of laughter, I tried to gather my thoughts. My fingers tightened around the crutches, and I felt the tension inside me grow. This was the most difficult situation I had ever found myself in. I realized that I had to act. Since softness didn’t work, I would try a different tactic.

— “I refuse!” — I spoke clearly and decisively, without hesitation. The words came out with such force, as if this were my last attempt to regain some control over the situation. I stood there, eyes fixed on him, and took a step back, as if trying to slip away from the heavy atmosphere that had enclosed me in a vice.

Whitebeard, as if he had been waiting for this very moment, raised one eyebrow, and his smile widened, becoming even more playful. He looked at me as if everything I had just said was a childish whim, something that didn’t mean anything.

— “Kid, I’m a pirate, and a pirate takes what he likes!” — His voice was loud and confident, as if he were talking about something simple and obvious, beyond question. I felt his words, heavy and powerful, land like hammer strikes, making everything inside me shudder.

I opened my mouth to retort, but then something happened that stopped me. From behind Whitebeard, like a flash of lightning, a flame appeared. The fiery energy shot toward him with such force and brilliance that I barely had time to realize what was happening.

Whitebeard, unfazed by the attack, calmly swatted it aside with his hand, as if it were nothing more than an everyday occurrence. The flash tore through the air and crashed into the mast with a loud crash, leaving behind swirling clouds of smoke that slowly ascended into the sky. The noise and shock filled the air instantly, but all attention shifted to Ace. He was sitting on the deck, clutching his nose tightly, blood streaming from it. His face twisted in pain, his eyes blazing with fury and confusion.

— “Damn old man!” — Ace hissed with rage, his words cutting through the air like sharp arrows. Holding his breath, he lunged forward again, intending to grab Whitebeard. But despite all his determination, the struggle didn’t last long. With a subtle flick of his hand, barely noticeable to most, Whitebeard sent Ace flying aside, as a cat swats away an annoying fly. Before Ace could comprehend what had happened, he was flung off the deck like a projectile, and in his eyes was a single thought—helplessness.

— “Man overboard!” — A shout rang out from the crowd, and its echo bounced off the wooden sides of the ship.

I stood there on the deck, frozen, unable to move. The last glance at the captain was filled with displeasure and anger. I tried to convey the storm of emotions that raged inside me through my gaze, but he just smirked, took a sip of sake, completely ignoring me. His face remained as unyielding as a wall, and that smug look only served to infuriate me even more.

Realizing that the conversation was over and no one would pay attention to me any longer, I sighed, turned, and headed toward the medical block. My thoughts were tangled and anxious. This old man — he was the very embodiment of stubbornness, as if the whole world revolved around his rules and laws. Like ninety percent of the people in this world, he was incredibly obstinate, and in that moment, it became clear to me — my only option was to escape.

Chapter Text

This is really not funny. After Whitebeard made his absolutely insane statement (I can’t call it anything else), my life changed drastically. Crowds of pirates started showing up at my room, and it felt like a pilgrimage—frankly strange and annoying. Some people tried to talk to me, asked questions, but there were no more than a few of them. Most just stood around, gawking at me as if I were some exotic beast in a cage. It drove me absolutely mad—I felt like I was on display. The only thing missing was glass, so everyone could stare at me like I was a zoo animal. And the worst part was that this annoyed not just me, but the head nurse, Nora as well.

As soon as I realized the nurses couldn’t stand outsiders in the medical block, I tried not to irritate her—I didn’t want to be the target of her wrath. But the final straw came with one of these “visitors.” Another young guy who came to “check out” what kind of fruit I was, accidentally bumped into some equipment and dropped something. I think he broke a device. Immediately, Nora snapped at him—she gave him a proper telling-off, so intense that everyone present froze. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him. He looked so frightened. But, of course, I quickly realized that this wasn’t the time for pity, and I suppressed the feeling. He had it coming.

— “I’m done with this!” — Nora exploded, finally losing it. She was standing next to me, removing the cast from my leg and replacing it with an elastic bandage. Her face was stern, her hands slightly trembling from irritation. She was clearly not used to working in such conditions. And I understood her.

— “I’m not to blame here!” — I said, trying to sound as innocent as possible, playing the sympathy card. — “Just drop me off on some island, and all of this will stop!”

I opened my eyes wide, trying to show how sincere I could be. Just in case, I shrugged my shoulders a little, as if to say I didn’t care where they sent me.

Nora, giving me a skeptical look, immediately realized that I was trying to play her. She snorted so loudly that I felt a bit guilty, even though I knew they wouldn’t let me go.

— “Pops’ orders are not to be discussed!” — her voice was as hard as stone, and it sounded like she was completely sure of her rightness. But then, with a slight smirk and a clear hint of amusement, she added: — “The sooner you accept it, the better. Get used to it, you’ll like it here.”

After finishing with my leg, Nora took a bottle of disinfectant solution. Slowly, she pulled the screen across, hiding us from prying eyes, and sat closer to me on a small chair beside me. Her movements were confident, and I immediately felt that everything would be fine.

— “Take off your t-shirt, let me see how the wound looks,” — she said calmly, looking at me. Her voice was a little stern, but there was care in it, and I couldn’t help but notice her professionalism.

I nodded, quickly removing my t-shirt and feeling the cool air touch my skin, goosebumps spreading over my body. She carefully examined the wound, and I noticed how focused she was, her gaze never leaving the damaged area.

— “It’s amazing that it didn’t hit any organs,” — she said, continuing to carefully treat the wound. She added a few more layers of disinfectant solution, calmly and unhurriedly, applying a new bandage. She did it with such ease, as if she had done it a thousand times. There was a slight smile on her face.

— “That’s it. On fruiters, it heals like it’s nothing,” — she added with a hint of irony in her voice.

With that last remark, I felt the tension ease. The wound didn’t seem as scary as it had before, and I almost stopped thinking about the pain.

***

Sitting on the hospital bed, I felt how each moment pulled me deeper into the abyss of waiting. Time seemed to slow down, and everything around me became foggy, unclear. Thoughts were racing in my mind about how to escape. The plan was simple, yet crucial: I had to run while everyone was asleep. And the most important thing was to fly before they caught me. Every detail had been thought through, but at some point, I realized that staying in the room meant giving up. I gathered all my strength and slowly, deliberately, got out of bed.

The silence in the ward was almost tangible, and I listened, hoping not to hear footsteps. It seemed as if the world around me had frozen, and only my steady, almost inaudible breathing broke the stillness. Once I was sure everyone was asleep, I took a few steps toward the door. I stepped into the hallway. The dim light of the lamps illuminating the half-dark walls created a particular atmosphere in which one could hide. I paused for a moment to look around, ensuring no one had noticed me. A pleasant calm seemed to envelop me.

— “Seems clear,” I whispered quietly to myself, feeling my heart beat faster. Stepping forward, I was ready for anything.

I tried to move as quietly as possible, every movement measured as if I were part of the night’s silence. Step by step, I moved through the hallway, trying not to make any noise. Everything was happening quickly, but despite the rush, I didn’t forget to monitor each movement, trying to blend into the shadows, avoiding attention. On my way to the deck, I felt the tension building in my body, but fear no longer felt so terrifying.

At one point, I encountered a small obstacle—a staircase. It was creaky, and every step could give me away. I had to stop and wait for a moment. At that point, I felt my pulse quicken. The wounds I had made it difficult to move freely, but despite the pain, I took a few steps. These wounds had become not just a physical challenge but a moral barrier I had to overcome. They couldn’t stop me. When I heard no one approaching, I continued.

The sounds of footsteps echoed in the empty hallway. Finally, I made it out onto the deck. A light night breeze greeted me, and despite all the fear, I felt a sense of relief. But this was just the beginning. I had to be especially cautious now, for I was as exposed as ever.

If someone looked at me from the outside, it might have seemed like I was a thief hiding in the night or some villain plotting something bad. With every step, I felt the tension ease, but at the same time, I felt an increasing need to act quickly and carefully.

And then it came, the moment I had been waiting for. Everything around me froze, and I, as if freed from chains, felt how true freedom lifted me. All that remained was to take the final step. My heart was pounding, and I knew that ahead of me, only air and emptiness awaited—into which I was about to disappear. Quickly, without a second thought, I climbed onto the bulwark. At that moment, it felt like I was no longer on the ground, but in the sky. I spread my wings, feeling how each curve of them responded to me, preparing for flight. It was an incredible sensation—lightness, as if I could fly anywhere, and the world below was just a dot on a map, insignificant.

But as soon as I took the first decisive step, it came—the sharp, cutting voice that broke the silence and pulled me back to reality.

— “Stop!” the voice was strong and commanding, and, like magic, I was instantly grabbed by the scruff of my neck, deprived of freedom.

It was like a jolt of electricity—in an instant, all my confidence disappeared. I gasped, trying to understand what was happening, and instinctively, I struggled, making a few failed attempts to break free. My whole body was tense, like a stretched string, and all I wanted was to escape, to feel the air beneath my wings again.

— “Let go!” I shouted, unable to contain my fury and desperation. I jerked into the air, but immediately realized—it was in vain. Even with all my strength, Izou’s grip was incredibly tight, leaving me no chance. It was like iron, like death itself—determined and merciless. I tried once more, but it was pointless.

All that was left for me was to hang there and struggle, although it was already clear there would be no victory in this fight.

— “I was wondering when you’d try to escape,” he said, smiling. This smile was neither warm nor kind; on the contrary, it felt mocking, almost taunting. It seemed as if he was enjoying my distress, as though he had been waiting for this moment. I held back my irritation, though inside I was seething. Unexpectedly, I puffed up, crossing my arms over my chest. It was a defensive gesture, an unconscious attempt to shield myself from his gaze. I understood that my pretenses were not working against him. He saw everything. Every movement I made, every attempt to hide my emotions, he caught with ease. This frustrated me even more, but I couldn’t allow myself to give up.

***

Damn Izou, may he be cursed a thousand times over! Does he ever sleep? Or is he always walking around with his surveillance mode on? I don’t even know what’s worse: his presence or the thought that he’s constantly watching me. He’s like a shadow, it never disappears, and you can’t escape it. Every attempt I made to leave, to escape just for a moment, to feel free, was immediately cut short before I could even take the first step. I tried, I really tried, but he was always one step ahead.

So there I was, sitting in the cafeteria, surrounded by people, yet feeling so alone. I lethargically poked at my plate with a fork, not feeling the slightest bit of appetite, because all my thoughts were consumed by Izou. My gaze never left him—I practically bored holes into him with my eyes, trying to convey all the hatred, anger, and resentment that had built up inside me. Hoping that with just this look, I could somehow reach him. But he… He didn’t even notice. It seemed like he didn’t care at all. He just kept sitting there, calmly smoking his kiseru, his gaze locked on the newspaper he was reading so seriously.

— “Ze-ha-ha-ha! Did you like our Izou?” — Marshall D. Teach said with such smug, unapologetic amusement as he sat down on the bench beside me. His laugh was loud, unpleasant, sticky, and disgusting.

I made a face, not bothering to hide my displeasure. — “Just what I needed!” — the thought flashed through my mind. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, feeling a mix of disgust and anger growing inside me. With every word he spoke, I became more and more irritated and nervous.

— “Don’t look at me like that! I may look scary, but I’m actually a nice guy, ze-ha-ha-ha!” — he said, wearing his ridiculous, overly cheerful smile, as if trying to justify himself. For a while, I stayed silent, even though everything inside me was boiling. His words felt so insincere, it made me want to tell him exactly what I thought of him. But I held back, deciding that it was better to say nothing. After all, there was no point in arguing with someone who was clearly determined to have a conversation. I sighed, barely containing my irritation, and exhaled, muttering: — “Marshall D. Teach, I’m from the second division.”

Of course, Marshall didn’t let up. He couldn’t just leave me alone. I was already openly uncomfortable, and I decided it was best not to show my true feelings. No need to make it too obvious, that would be too suspicious. I quickly thought of something and, suppressing my irritation, said simply: — “Asta!” — as if I were in a hurry, trying to return to my meal. The sooner I finished eating, the sooner I could get away from him, hide, and never encounter him again.

But of course, Marshall didn’t back off. He kept looking at me, as if giving in to some strange desire to see my reaction. — “You’re not very talkative!” — he said, still smiling, watching me intently. I felt disgust catch in my throat. At the highest speed, I shoved food into my mouth, and, feeling his eyes still on me, I decided the best thing was to leave. I quickly stood up, almost not waiting for the meal to end, and retreated from him.

Once on the deck, I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with the fresh, saltwater-scented air, feeling how it cleansed me, as if washing away everything unnecessary. With each breath, I felt more alive, more free, immersed in the moment. The sky above was clear, not a single cloud, as if someone had brushed a paintbrush across it, leaving only a perfect azure. The sea, in turn, calmly reflected its serenity, its smooth surface seeming incredibly soothing. If not for the gentle wind barely brushing my skin, one might have thought we were in the Calm Belt — that mysterious part of the ocean where everything seems frozen, where time and space lose their power.

I had always enjoyed being on the deck. Here, in the fresh air, under the warm sunlight, I felt free. I savored every moment, each sunbeam like a gentle hand, warming me, and in those moments, I forgot all my worries and troubles. It was like a moment of absolute calm, a pause that life itself had granted me.

Sometimes, standing on the deck and gazing at the endless horizon, I dreamed of climbing into the crow’s nest, which had always enticed me with its inaccessibility. It was located high, at the very top of the mast, and from a distance, it seemed so small, but at the same time so tempting.

My longing for high places had begun long ago, after I ate the Devil Fruit. Since then, something in my nature had changed. Harpies, as is known, like to build their nests in the tallest trees, and perhaps there was something special in that, something that drew me. Now, I constantly felt the need to be higher, on the peaks where it felt like the world beneath you became so small, and you yourself became part of the vast, infinite sky.

But alas, I was forbidden to climb there; that prohibition had been placed on me by Izou. He couldn’t control my impulses or my attempts to escape, so every memory of not being able to reach that coveted nest became even more painful. Yet, despite this prohibition, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someday, maybe, I would be there, at the very top, in that unattainable nest where freedom awaited me.

— “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra! You want to climb up?” — Whitebeard laughed, his booming, mighty laugh echoing across the deck, sending a strange mix of anxiety and admiration through me. He was the kind of person who could find joy in the simplest moments, even in something as mundane as sitting in his chair and enjoying the warmth of the sunlight. In those moments, he became almost invisible, dissolving into the world like a majestic ship accustomed to the endless stretches of the ocean. This moment was his. He knew how to find peace, even when the world around him was full of storms.

I shifted my gaze from the nest, which beckoned me with its unreachable height, and met his eyes. There was something in his gaze that always left the impression that he saw far more than just what was before him. For a second, it seemed like he understood my desire, as though he too had once been the same, yearning for height and freedom. I exhaled and said: — “Yes, Harpies love heights.” My words sounded like something more than just an explanation. It was an admission of my inner need, my yearning for something more. I added, no longer hiding my irritation: — “But what I want most is to get out of here.” My heart clenched with that desire, which I couldn’t suppress. I couldn’t stay here; I couldn’t just look at these seas and skies that weren’t mine.

Whitebeard, hearing my words, laughed again. His laugh was so infectious that I couldn’t help but smile, despite all my inner turmoil. — “Another cheeky brat,” — he said with a slight grin, but there was no judgment in his voice. On the contrary, he seemed pleased with my determination, though I couldn’t understand exactly what about it amused him. Perhaps it was his way of gauging how far I was willing to go, to seek my freedom, and not be afraid of the trials this path would bring.

***

Sitting and doing nothing had finally worn me down. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, and I could feel the boredom slowly consuming me. When there’s nothing to do, when even your thoughts start wandering in the void, you begin to sense your energy draining away, as if you’re being squeezed like a lemon, leaving you nothing but a shell. It used to be different: I was always surrounded by piles of papers, tasks that demanded immediate attention, or the constant antics of Garp, which, though irritating, gave a sense of movement. Back then, I didn’t have time for boredom—every day was filled with some kind of action, some tension. But now… Now, I had to face this idleness head-on. And it was simply killing me.

I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed something—anything—to distract me, so I wouldn’t lose my mind from the silence. I walked around the deck, aimlessly looking around, as if something—or someone—should appear and pull me out of this state. And then, when I noticed Tetch, something inside me stirred, as if the universe itself were hinting that he might be my salvation. He was always in the thick of things, always doing something.

— “Of course, sweetheart, the kitchen is always busy, and extra hands are never a bad thing. You can wash the dishes,” he said cheerfully. He pointed to a massive pile of dishes, and I gladly accepted his offer. What could be easier than just washing dishes? A simple task that didn’t require any deep thinking, which was exactly what I needed to avoid thinking at all.

I rolled up my sleeves and, stepping up to the sink, got to work. The monotonous routine always calmed me down. Sometimes you get lost in the repetition, and your thoughts begin to recede, as if they lose their strength in the whirl of simple movements. Washing dishes, drying plates, putting everything in its place—this was exactly what I needed to find even the smallest peace. They couldn’t have trusted me with anything serious, like cooking, after all—I might have been an intruder trying to poison them.

And as for documents… That would have been downright stupid. Who knows, maybe I was a spy, masquerading as a regular crew member, waiting for the right moment to reveal my true nature? That thought, in itself, seemed absurd. So, while I washed the dishes, I tried to let go of these worries and focus on the process, enjoying the silence that surrounded me and the repetitive work that gave me at least a minimal sense of control.

— “They’ll be back soon,” one of the entering cooks said, his voice calm and relaxed.

— “Yeah, I heard, Commander Izou went to meet them,” replied his companion.

— “Why meet them?”

— “I don’t know, I heard there were some issues, so Pops sent him.”

I perked up my ears, unable to ignore how those words pierced through me. Izou isn’t on the ship! I felt a spark of hope for escape rising inside me.

Wiping my hands on a towel, I tried to appear as calm as possible, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. Reaching out, I casually approached them, making my step look natural. I didn’t want to seem too curious, but my curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to ask: — “When will they arrive?”

— “About an hour,” answered the one who was closer. His voice trembled slightly, but he quickly masked his unease with a friendly smile.

This was my chance, and I knew I couldn’t miss it. Escape the ship—now or never. My heart began to race, and I ran to my room to grab my things. Thoughts raced through my mind, but before they could settle, I had already grabbed my backpack and was stuffing everything I could into it on the go.

Quickly stuffing everything into my backpack, I darted out onto the deck, feeling my heart and breath begin to race. Everything around me seemed slowed down, as if in slow motion. The world, somehow, lost its sharpness, and in that moment, I felt the tension building with every step. The deck was crowded—apparently, everyone had come out to greet the rest of the crew, and each of them was busy with something of their own. They were talking, laughing, pulling out barrels of alcohol, preparing for some big party. The atmosphere felt festive, but I wasn’t in the mood for celebration. I walked confidently, like a machine, with a firm resolve not to stop. I maneuvered through people, trying not to draw attention, avoiding bumping into anyone or tripping, though if they saw me, it could all be ruined. My path was the only thing that mattered; I couldn’t afford to stray.

— “Asta, where are you going?” a familiar voice suddenly asked. I turned and saw Haruta, who, like everyone else, was standing on the deck, but his eyes already showed suspicion. He definitely noticed something was off.

Without answering, I quickened my pace, not wanting to engage in conversation. My plan was simple—slip away unnoticed and as quickly as possible. Time was of the essence. But then, a shout rang out from behind: — “She’s running away!” These words hung in the air, like an alarm bell. And in that moment, I realized that escaping would be much harder than I had anticipated.

In an instant, I felt the surge of strength within me. I was ready to act. I didn’t hesitate. Spreading my wings, I soared into the sky, as if they couldn’t possibly catch me. Freedom filled me to the brim. Everything around me felt light and effortless, as if I had flown countless times before. Behind me, on the ship, there were shouts, but I was already far away. I glanced back for a moment to see what was happening with those who had been left behind. In that instant, my eyes met Whitebeard’s. He was standing there, relaxed, with a slight smile that said it all. His eyes conveyed not just confidence, but also a strange amusement. He was clearly enjoying the scene, and I realized that for him, this was just a game, not the end of the game.

Some time passed, and I noticed another ship appear on the horizon. It was a ship flying Whitebeard’s flag. That meant Izou was there, and he was already getting closer. I decided to climb higher. Though the chances of escape were dwindling, I still had to be prepared for any turn of events. I flew at ease, enjoying the wind rushing through my wings, but then, at some point on the horizon, I saw a bright blue flash shoot up into the sky from that ship. The air around me seemed to freeze.

— “Damn!” I shouted, feeling fear and adrenaline surge through me. I sped up, sharply changing my flight direction. Marco—this was completely unexpected. He hadn’t been part of my plans, but it seemed he was now the one who would prevent me from moving forward.

Shifting into my full form, I instantly accelerated, pressing my wings against my back and starting to loop, as the air forcefully rushed into them. Every movement was calculated, and I could feel my pulse pounding in my temples, the wind whistling in my ears. If I flew too far, he would definitely abandon the chase—but I couldn’t let that happen. My only weapon was maneuverability, and I was ready to use it to the fullest. Turning around, I didn’t see him, but I felt his presence, like an elusive threat. I wasn’t wrong—suddenly, a phoenix dove at me from the sky, like lightning.

Without a second thought, I sharply veered to the side, making a steep turn, almost brushing my wings against the clouds. He was clearly larger than me, but his massive wings worked like windmills—powerful but not as fast. “He’s not as maneuverable as I am,” I thought, diving downward, knowing he would try to catch me again. The phoenix repeated his maneuver, but I folded my wings and entered a dive, plunging straight into the heart of the air current. Like an arrow, I swept everything in my path, speeding forward as though someone was waiting for me ahead.

And just when the water was almost within reach, I spread my wings, and a powerful gust of air slammed into the water, sending up massive splashes that blinded me for a moment. But I didn’t stop. Clenching my teeth, I accelerated, skimming across the water’s surface like a polar star, unable to slow down. The wind tore at my feathers, and behind me, I could hear the sound of his wings again—almost tangible in the air. He wasn’t falling behind. His fiery trail continued to pursue me like an infernal blaze.

My brain screamed—time to gain altitude. I could already feel the water beneath me, like a cold river, pulling both of us down, and if I didn’t lose him, we’d both be trapped. Flying directly into the water was too dangerous—we’d definitely drown. So, I quickly began to climb higher. Then, out of nowhere, I felt a shadow cover me, like a giant cry from nature, engulfing everything around me. “Shit, he’s above me!” My heart clenched in tension.

Instantly, I flipped over, finding myself face-to-face with his fiery gaze, and in that moment, a look of surprise flashed across his face. I didn’t let that surprise distract me from my plan and lunged for his claws, grabbing them with my own. My whole body tensed, and with wild strength, I yanked him down like a lever, while I continued my path.

— “Haha, now I’m definitely free!” I thought, feeling every gust of wind pumping through my wings. My body unlocked an incredible speed, and my heart beat in rhythm with this breakneck flight. The lightness and adrenaline filled me, and it felt like this was freedom! I relaxed slightly, not slowing my pace. And though the air cut through like a knife, I was confident I had gotten far ahead—until I felt something below me, as if tearing through my thoughts, when the phoenix’s claws seized my wings, right at their base.

— “Let go!” I screamed, desperately trying to break free, scratching at his belly with my claws, trying at least to hurt him, to make him release me. But what could I do? He was a phoenix, and every attempt I made to leave a mark on him vanished instantly as I tried to breach his defense. His claws, like steel pincers, squeezed me, leaving no chance to escape.

— “Well, no way, we have some strange tendency, you’re always running away from me,” Marco said, his voice calm, as if he hadn’t been chasing me for what felt like an eternity. There was a lightness in his tone, as though this chase was something playful, almost mundane to him. His calmness only made me angrier, but at the same time, I could feel something in the air — maybe it was amusement, which only intensified my sense of helplessness.

I just exhaled heavily, feeling my strength slipping away. My body, still tense, but now with the realization that running was pointless, gradually let go of all resistance. I hadn’t managed to escape, and now I had accepted that I’d been caught. There was something freeing in that acceptance, though it was unbearably frustrating.

Landing on the ship’s deck, I felt my wings painfully revert to arms, and the air around me became thick and heavy. I only glanced around when I saw a familiar figure. Emerging from the crowd with a cold expression was Izou.

— “Now she’s your headache, I’m tired of constantly watching her to make sure she doesn’t run,” Izou said, his voice not only weary but tinged with irritation. His gaze was firm and calm, as always, but perhaps no day on this ship had been as calm as he appeared. He added with a slight smirk, as though he was tired of being the one who had to catch me and control my “flying” antics.

Marco, just ahead of me, spreading his fiery feathers, seemed almost pleased. His eyes gleamed with a spark of amusement, and his face broke into a sly grin.

— “Of course, it was an interesting experience, I haven’t flown like that in a long time,” he replied, almost carelessly, as if the whole chase had been just something exhilarating and not too serious. He spoke without trying to hide his satisfied smile.

As for me, feeling the weight of the chase, I sat tiredly on the deck, trying to conceal my irritation. Inside, a storm of anxiety mixed with disappointment churned, and I mentally cursed everyone around me. The wind rustled through my hair, as if reminding me that I was back in a cage, even if it was on the open sea.

Chapter Text

When we returned to the ship, the first thing that caught my eye was the deck, as if it had undergone some magical transformation. Tables were set up everywhere, literally overflowing with food: fried chicken wings, baked fish, cheese platters, fruits—all beautifully arranged, as if waiting for some important feast. And next to them were barrels of alcohol, countless in number! Some pirates, slightly swaying on their feet, greeted the officers with huge smiles on their faces. They were clearly not in the most sober state, but it seemed to only add to the fun of the situation. Laughter on their faces, and mugs with something strong in their hands.

As soon as everyone exchanged greetings and pleasantries, the first sounds of music suddenly echoed from some misty corners of the deck. Old sea melodies started playing, of course, it was Binks’ Sake. All the pirates, as if on command, jumped up and started having fun. Lively dances, loud toasts, laughter, jokes—the entire deck was filled with these sounds, creating the atmosphere of a real celebration. I, as if a mere observer, sat on one of the old crates by the side, holding a mug of beer in my hand. The sight was surprisingly cheerful and somehow lively—drunken laughter, lively dances, and drunken conversations intertwined with the vibrant sunset on the horizon.

— “Hahaha! Couldn’t fly away, sweetheart!” — a familiar mocking voice of Thatch sounded. I felt his hand heavily and clumsily land on my shoulder. He had definitely overdone it with the alcohol, and it was visible in his slightly unfocused gaze and loud laugh. As soon as his hand touched my shoulder, I instantly brushed it off, forcefully pushing him away. Then I shot him a nasty, almost venomous look, hoping he would understand how much his presence annoyed me.

— “Thatch, get out of here, you’re pissing me off!” — my words were filled with displeasure, and I hoped he wouldn’t argue.

— “Come on, don’t be mad, it’s your first party on board, have some fun!” — he said with his usual ease and a smile on his face, and then, not paying attention to my irritated words, he moved toward the joyful crowd, where another round of merriment seemed to be waiting for him. I watched as he disappeared among the other pirates and suddenly felt the tension in my body ease a little.

If he hadn’t left, I would have definitely exploded, I wouldn’t have been able to hold it in and would have started yelling, swearing. It would have been inappropriate, but at that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself. It was so frustrating! I was so close to my goal, almost on the verge of freedom, when this happened. Marco! Everything was going according to plan, I was almost free, and then he… He became an obstacle, and now all my attempts to escape were in vain.

Yes, despite actively flapping my wings, itching to soar into the sky, I couldn’t leave. I could feel how tense my wings were, as though they could carry me anywhere, but I just didn’t have the strength. By the way, speaking of wings… thinking about what had happened, I couldn’t help but recall how Marco had grabbed me. It was such a strange moment when his image wouldn’t leave my head. How odd that he hadn’t used his claws on me, he could have acted more harshly, but he tried to be careful, not wanting to hurt me.

And you know, it was… strange. I can’t explain what exactly about this attracted me so much. While he could have acted more decisively, he simply allowed me to try.

I certainly wouldn’t say that to him out loud, but honestly, I absolutely loved flying with him. It was something unexpected, not like a usual flight. Flying alone is of course great, and I absolutely love the feeling of freedom, but flying with someone is entirely different. I was ready to forget everything, to think about nothing except flying. The sensation was incredible, as if I was lifting off from everything in this world like never before. I didn’t want to land, didn’t want to return to reality. The thoughts of how we were soaring together in the sky were unexpectedly pleasant, even though at that moment I couldn’t allow myself to fully realize it.

— “Aren’t you going to join everyone for fun?” — Marco’s familiar voice suddenly came, and I jolted, not expecting him to be so close. I didn’t even notice how he had quietly sneaked up and sat next to me, as if he had always been there. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt awkward because I hadn’t expected such sudden closeness.

— “No” — I answered shortly, avoiding looking at him. At that moment, I didn’t want to talk, nor be around anyone, I was lost in my thoughts and not ready to return to the noisy crowd, which seemed to swallow anyone who got close.

Marco smiled at me with ease and confidence, extending a plate with pieces of roasted meat. He probably didn’t even notice how I automatically took the plate from him and ate a piece. Without thinking. It had become a habit, like all those little things he did for me. I grimaced slightly at this action. Damn, how much I hated this! It was clear that Harp and his cookies had wormed their way into my memory so much that now I automatically grabbed food, not even realizing what I was doing. Perhaps this was his small victory—making me believe I should always be eating. It’s funny how habits form without warning.

— “I’ve heard from Izou how you’re constantly trying to escape. He said that just a bit more, and he’d have sent you straight to the medbay” — Marco said with a mischievous smile, watching me chew. His words had a slight undertone, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. He clearly enjoyed the fact that I couldn’t resist his words. I felt a slight irritation but still couldn’t help but smile.

— “Since you’re going to keep an eye on me now, can I finally go up to the crow’s nest?” — I tried to change the subject, hoping to free myself from this suffocating atmosphere that felt too heavy. I wanted to focus on something else, something lighter and less troubling.

— “Of course, but in case of anything, I’d be happy to fly with you again!” — he responded with such enthusiasm, with such genuine interest and a little spark in his eyes. His words were like a promise of a new adventure. His voice held sincere joy, as if for him it was just as important as it was for me. It was unexpected—and at the same time very pleasant. To fly with him again… In those moments, I felt like I could forget everything, trust him, even if just for a moment. But I merely clicked my tongue, unable to hide my inner struggle.

I’m not going to tell him that I’d really like to soar into the sky again. Oh, how much I wanted that! But damn, it was too embarrassing. Too vulnerable and unfamiliar—to admit such things. Better to keep all those feelings inside, without saying anything. Still, something tells me he’s already noticed.

— “Pops wanted to talk to you,” — he said, looking toward Whitebeard, who, in turn, was also staring at us, smiling so widely as if the world was just his toy.

I nodded, feeling the cold wooden deck beneath my nails, making me shiver slightly, and stood up from the crate. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the air, filled with the sea breeze, as I made my way toward the captain of this massive ship. As soon as I stood before him, a silence fell between us, stretching on forever. We stared at each other as if we were two opponents in the ring, deciding who would speak first. I could feel the tension building, and at some point, I exhaled heavily, realizing that if I didn’t speak first, we would stand like that for another hour.

— “Did you need something, Mr. Edward Newgate?” — I said, barely holding back a smile. His reaction was exactly what I had expected: his face twisted slightly in mild annoyance, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of irritation, as though my formal address was getting under his skin. I couldn’t help but notice how his lips curled into a barely noticeable, displeased grin.

— “Brat! The youth today are too bold. When will you understand that you’ll leave this ship?” — he said, taking a swig from a barrel of rum. His voice was loud and confident, like that of an old, seasoned pirate who was used to getting his way. The laughter that followed filled the atmosphere, as though he considered the whole situation something amusing, some silly thing completely under his control.

— “You won’t believe it, but I have the same question for you: when will you understand that I don’t want to be here?” — I retorted, crossing my arms and clenching my teeth to keep from showing my irritation. His words had struck me, but I decided not to show any weakness. After all, I wouldn’t let him think he could command me.

— “I don’t want to, and I won’t understand that. I’m a pirate, and pirates take what they want!” — he declared, as if this was the most obvious and correct explanation. His voice was so loud it felt as though he wanted the whole army to hear him. He was like a child insisting on getting a new toy. In that moment, I couldn’t help but think of Garp, his stubbornness, persistence, and that strange blend of childish naivety.

— “Mr. Whitebeard, could you tell me which factory makes such stubborn people like you? Maybe I’ll go there and destroy it, because its products have been ruining my life for a long time!” — I couldn’t contain my frustration and said it with obvious annoyance. Even the air around seemed heavy with my barely contained anger. I was ready to do something, because this situation felt almost absurd.

— “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra! You’ve made me laugh, I’m the only one like this!” — his laughter was loud and full of confidence, and he didn’t even try to hold it back, as though this joke was the best gift he could give to the moment.

I just raised an eyebrow and looked at him with disbelief, unsure how to react to yet another display of his character.

— “I wanted to discuss your duties with you. Now that you’ve recovered, you’ll be helping out,” — he said with a slight smirk, as if this wasn’t a serious remark, but more like part of some old pirate ritual. His voice was warm and confident, but there was a playful undertone, like someone who had just won in a funny joke.

I looked up, noticing how his eyes gleamed in the dim light, and his crooked smile made me feel a little uncomfortable. Though I was ready to work, now that the question was phrased like this, I wanted to understand exactly what was expected of me. I knew perfectly well that no one would keep me on the ship just like that, without expecting something in return. But this was strange — suddenly all these pirates, with their uneasy faces and loud conversations, seemed to care about me? That was odd.

— “And what will I be doing?” — I asked, even though I already knew I would have to work. But still, I wanted to hear how he would define the boundaries of my duties. I felt a slight knot of unease tighten in my chest. Mentally, I was already preparing for what I’d have to do, and no one was going to feed me for free, that was certain.

He paused slightly, his gaze softened a bit, but his voice held no trace of pity — only firmness and confidence. He continued, not giving me time to think:

— “For now, you’ll help wash the deck or dishes. But if you accept my invitation to join the crew, you’ll be doing something else. For now, we can’t trust you,” — he said, and I noticed his expression turn more serious. In his words, there was not only a soft threat but also the certainty that anyone wanting to be part of this crew had to earn their place. There was something about this that made me think — this wasn’t just a ship; it was a whole philosophy where every step mattered.

After that, he suddenly shouted a name, and his voice echoed across the deck: — “Kai, son, come here!”

A few seconds later, a tall guy approached me. His red hair, like bright tongues of flame, fluttered slightly in the wind. He wore an eye patch, and his gaze was both confident and observant. Everything about his posture suggested he had long been used to paying attention to every detail.

— “Yes, Pops, what’s up?” — his voice was calm, with a slight tone of respect, yet it wasn’t forceful or overly soft. He seemed like the type of person who was used to being part of something bigger and didn’t need unnecessary words.

— “Son, this is Asta, and she’s the new member of the crew. Show her the ship and her duties tomorrow,” — Whitebeard said, his words clear and direct. I saw a spark of interest flash in Kai’s eyes, but he quickly returned to his calm demeanor and nodded at me. Everything happened so fast that I barely had time to fully grasp it.

— “You can go have fun now,” — Whitebeard added with a slight wave of his hand, as though that gesture finished everything.

I made my way back to my spot, where my old crate awaited me, which had become my temporary refuge for the evening. I sat on it, grabbed another mug of beer and a plate of snacks, enjoying the moment of silence after the difficult conversation. Marco had been watching us the whole time, and now that I returned, he was already waiting for me, his lips barely curling into a smile. That was how he was — a little mysterious and unflappable, but easy to talk to.

— “So, did you have your talk?” — he asked when I settled down next to him, trying to keep myself from overloading with thoughts or emotions.

I looked at him, not hiding my mild fatigue. Sometimes, all these talks with stubborn people wore me out, especially when it was about solving something, and everyone around was so pigheaded.

— “Ugh… why are you all so stubborn?” — I asked this question more to myself than to him, as if I were searching for an answer inside me. But I still wanted to understand what drove them to act this way.

He shrugged, unfazed, as if the answer was obvious to him. I noticed the glint of irony in his eyes, but he didn’t rush to answer.

— “Never thought about it,” — he said, almost admitting that he hadn’t even considered such things. His words weren’t empty; they raised a question that I still had to figure out for myself.

— “That’s a shame, it’s a really interesting topic to reflect on!” — I said with a touch of frustration, leaning back against the crate. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that all our conversations were just a game, and the meaning behind them was lost unless you sought something deeper.

He turned towards me, his gaze becoming more serious, and the question he asked made me pause for a moment.

— “But I’m curious, why are you so categorical? Why don’t you want to join the crew?” — he asked, watching everything on the deck as though nothing escaped his notice. He was like someone who could hold not just the wheel of the ship, but every moment of life aboard it.

I looked at him, trying to find some real reason for my refusal, but everything I could come up with didn’t sound very convincing.

— “I just don’t want to, alright?” — I answered with annoyance. The words escaped me with irritation, as if I were surprised by my own response. I didn’t even want to try to explain why, but the inner protest was too strong.

He laughed. It was a kind laugh, but also slightly mocking, as if he had already grown accustomed to all of this. Still, despite that, his cheerful demeanor relaxed me, making me feel a bit more at ease.

— “Ha-ha-ha, I’ve already noticed you’re quite the troublemaker!” — he said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with the same expression someone might have when they aren’t afraid of tough questions or easy answers.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer; I felt a wave of indignation rise, and all my thoughts tangled together.

— “You… you know who you are!?” — I said, almost out of breath from the overwhelming irritation, not understanding how he could joke about such things so easily.

He looked at me and laughed even louder, as if it was all just a game for him, and my words weren’t anything important.

— “Don’t get mad, I’m just joking,” — he said, and there wasn’t a hint of malice in his voice. It all seemed like part of some deeper understanding, something that I wasn’t quite able to grasp yet.

I turned to him, the thought flickering in my mind that I could just leave, but the desire to understand him was stronger.

— “Lend me a cigarette,” — I muttered with a light sigh, realizing I needed to at least relax a little.

— “You smoke?” — he asked with interest, raising an eyebrow slightly. He took a cigarette from the pack and handed it to me, his gaze almost childlike in its curiosity.

— “I quit, but I smoke sometimes when I drink. Bad habit, but hard to get rid of,” — I replied, leaning toward the lighter Marco had kindly provided me.

Exhaling the cloud of toxic smoke, I watched it slowly dissipate into the air, vanishing into nothingness. Everything around me seemed a bit more blurred, as if the world had stopped for a moment. Lost in my thoughts, I felt the nicotine gently swirl through my head, calming my nerves and creating an illusion of lightness. Stumbling slightly, I tilted my head back, savoring the moment when everything seemed to freeze, and I could just relax.

— “Commander Marco, come here!” — suddenly cut through the silence, someone’s shout. I flinched, slowly coming back to reality, and turned my head toward the source of the sound. But still, my thoughts clung to me.

— “Are you coming or staying here?” — Marco asked, finishing his cigarette. He flicked it overboard, as if nothing had happened, like everything was so easy and natural. Everything around seemed so simple and understandable, but for me, it was far from that.

I shrugged and lazily answered:

— “Go ahead, I’m fine here.” — With my fingers, I casually twirled a strand of hair and stared off into the distance. His smile was soft, and he didn’t insist. He simply nodded and walked over to the others, not paying me any more attention. It felt peaceful in a way, but at the same time, I could feel a rising sadness inside.

The thoughts returned to the main issue: I needed to find a clear reason to refuse, but the more I tried, the more I felt that I didn’t want to make any decisions. I used to dream of a quiet life with no wars or problems, but now I had destroyed that ideal by giving those documents to the pirates. And now I couldn’t turn back. I’m sure Cypher Pol will soon learn that I’m alive, and they will search for me to finish what they started. While I’m here, on this ship, I’m safe, but it’s only temporary. I can’t interfere in such important events, even though my actions have already started to change the course of history. After all, Luffy is supposed to become the Pirate King, and for that, other things must happen that are beyond my control. But if I stay, I will break down and tell Whitebeard about the traitor. I couldn’t allow myself that.

My gaze once again turned to the cheerful crowd. I saw Thatch and Marco, their happy faces, light laughter, and carefree attitude. They were like two complete opposites, but both so alive and real. One of them would die soon, and the other would be left alone, having lost everyone he loved—his father, his brothers, his purpose. Losing everything that gave meaning to his life. I couldn’t take my eyes off them; it troubled me so much. And then Thatch, noticing my gaze, nudged Marco with his elbow and nodded toward me. His eyes met mine, and in that look was such softness and tenderness that I couldn’t help but feel my heart tighten with bitterness. As if everything happening would, at some point, collapse, and they didn’t even know what they would lose.

I involuntarily twisted my face and looked away. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I hurriedly turned, trying to hide them. I remembered the moment when Marco had been talking to Nekomamushi, when he was crying. My heart clenched, as if I were in his shoes. It was too hard.

Unable to stay in place any longer, I suddenly stood up from the crate, feeling my legs weaken, and hurried inside the ship. I knew that if I stayed, the tears would inevitably begin to fall. And I didn’t want to show weakness, didn’t want anyone to notice.

— “Asta, where are you going? What happened?” — a concerned voice called from behind. Marco’s tone was full of worry, and despite being absorbed in my own thoughts, his words made me quicken my pace. I felt the tears, like raindrops, uncontrollably streaming down my cheeks. It felt as though everything around me became blurred—the world seemed to slow down, and the only thing I could feel was the weight of the tears and the emptiness inside. I tried to shake off that feeling by walking faster, but it was impossible to rid myself of the pain that was growing inside me.

His footsteps continued to get closer, and I realized he wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t allow myself to stay in sight any longer. My fingers quickly found the nearest door, and without hesitation, I pushed it open, stepping inside. The door creaked, and I immediately shut it behind me, trying not to make any noise. Leaning against the cold wooden door, I froze, listening to the steps still audible on the deck. I kept crying quietly, trying to stifle my sobs, pressing my hand to my face.

— “Hey, who are you?” — suddenly a voice came from the darkness, and I flinched, not expecting anyone to be in this room. The question was so unexpected that I couldn’t gather my thoughts for a moment. My hand nervously wiped my tears, but they kept appearing, like rain, never stopping.

Suddenly, the room was filled with a soft light. It was warm and pleasant, as if the very air had become lighter. Looking up, I saw Ace standing in front of me, an expression of displeasure on his face. In his hand, a flame flickered, bright and warm, but instead of bringing comfort, his presence made my heart skip a beat. I remembered the Ace who was no longer there. But the Ace in front of me was alive, and his gaze was full of confusion, as well as curiosity.

— “You? I’ve seen you somewhere,” — he asked, squatting down in front of me. I couldn’t respond immediately; the words got stuck in my throat, and I felt my face turn red, as though I had fallen into the trap of my own memories.

— “I was with your grandfather. Asta,” — I replied, sniffling. It was as if I was trying to remember myself at that moment, when I was next to him. But everything was so tangled and strange that I didn’t even understand why it mattered to me.

Ace frowned, and suddenly a spark of realization lit up in his eyes. He pointed at me, as though confirming his guess.

— “Exactly, it’s you!!!” — he said, and I felt his words tremble in the air. But with each word, it seemed like he wasn’t just saying it, but confirming the fact that everything I had gone through was real. My lip trembled, and I involuntarily shuddered. Before me stood the living Ace, but all I could see was his disfigured dead body.

His gaze softened, and his lips quivered slightly when he noticed my reaction.

— “Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” — his tone became warm, and I felt something inside me begin to break. I couldn’t tell him the truth. I couldn’t admit that his death still hadn’t let me go, that it was hard for me to accept his presence in this world where everything seemed so fragile.

— “It’s nothing, everything’s fine,” — I replied, but the words sounded empty. Even to me, they made no sense. I wished I could say something else, but all I could do was remain silent, hiding my feelings behind a weak attempt to be strong.

— “Hey, don’t cry, it’s okay, alright?” — he said awkwardly, noticing the tears rolling down my cheeks and clearly not knowing what to do with the situation. He nervously looked around, as if trying to find the right words, but they didn’t come. His hand helplessly reached for my shoulder, then dropped. — “But you’re a pirate, pirates don’t cry.”

His words sounded like something completely banal, but at that moment, they only worsened my inner state. I no longer understood who I really was, and I probably couldn’t meet anyone’s expectations.

I clenched my fists to keep from crying even harder, but despite my efforts, the tears kept flowing.

— “I’m not a pirate,” — I said, trying to give my voice confidence, even though inside I felt empty. I looked into his eyes and hoped he would understand that it wasn’t as easy for me as it might seem at first glance.

He furrowed his brow, his eyes narrowed, and his face reflected confusion. It was clear that the words I had just spoken were a real shock to him.

— “What do you mean, you’re not a pirate?” — he asked, surprised, and I noticed how he tilted his head slightly, as though trying to process what I had just said. He clearly hadn’t expected to hear that. There was a faint hint of concern in his voice, as if this world with its harsh laws and tough people didn’t fit with my image.

I sighed, and in that sigh was so much indecision that even I could barely listen to it. I didn’t know what to answer, didn’t know how to justify my actions and choices.

— “I’m here, like you, kind of a prisoner,” — I said, hoping that this explanation would clarify things a little. But at that moment, I wasn’t even sure of my own situation. My thoughts were tangled, and I didn’t want to talk anymore about what had brought me here.

He didn’t respond immediately. There was a storm of emotions in his gaze, and suddenly, as if unable to contain his anger, he clenched his fists. His face twisted in fury, and I felt his energy overwhelming me.

— “Damn Whitebeard!” — he growled angrily, and those words cut into my consciousness. I felt his anger and disappointment cutting through the space between us like a live fire. This wasn’t just irritation—this was fury he couldn’t hide.

***

— “Hahaha, yes, Grandpa is exactly like that!” — Ace exclaimed with loud laughter as I described another funny incident with his grandfather. Sitting next to me, he couldn’t contain his laughter and clapped loudly on the floor. His infectious laughter immediately spread to me, and I couldn’t hold back either, laughing along with him.

We had been in this storage room for thirty minutes already, but time, as it often does, passed unnoticed. We chatted, exchanged stories, and laughed, forgetting about all our worries. I shared with him the funniest moments that happened with Garp, and each time, he laughed, imagining the scene. He, in turn, shared his stories about Luffy, which always made me smile. Sometimes I felt as though I could literally “hear” his voices, as if I had become a part of his world, his story. With each moment, we grew closer.

— “When I first saw you, I didn’t know you were this funny and cool. Not everyone can escape from Cipher Pol. Sorry for acting like… well, you know!” — he said, stumbling a little at the end, and a slight blush appeared on his face.

— “No worries, we didn’t know each other then!” — I replied, smiling and patting him on the shoulder. We both understood perfectly that back then, at that moment, we were each a mystery to the other, and there were no hard feelings.

— “Hey, join my crew! As soon as I defeat Whitebeard, I’ll set off on another adventure!” — he shouted, jumping to his feet, his eyes shining with enthusiasm, and I could feel how genuinely he believed in what he was saying. His energy was so contagious that I even paused for a moment. If I could be part of his world… his journeys, maybe that would be really interesting. But I knew that wasn’t my path.

— “I’m flattered by your offer, but I have to decline. Piracy is not for me!” — I said with a smirk, trying to make my statement light and casual. Despite all the adventures that a pirate life could offer, I understood I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

— “Ah, I get it, but think about it carefully!” — he said, slightly curling his lips, as if hoping I would change my mind. But I was sure of my answer. Although, I’ll admit, the thought of such travels — under sails, to the ends of the world, searching for treasure — sometimes tempted me. But I knew it wasn’t meant for me.

— “Hahahah, alright!” — I replied, unable to hold back my laughter. His reaction was so cute that I felt his playful nature once again infecting me. And then, suddenly, a thought flashed through my head. I quickly turned to him, grabbed his shirt, and moved closer, feeling that something important hung in the air. I spoke quietly, so only he could hear me. — “Listen, Ace, maybe you could help me escape?”

He froze for a moment, then raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. I could feel his gaze becoming more attentive, as he tried to understand what I meant. His look was sharp, and his voice was quiet but determined when he finally spoke: — “Hmmm… Okay, but what do I need to do?”

— “We’ll need to distract Marco, and then I’ll be able to fly out of here!” — I said quickly, almost not believing I was saying this out loud. It was a risky plan, but at that moment, it seemed like the only way to get out of here. The hope for success burned in me, and I couldn’t help but suggest it to him.

— “Fly out?” — he looked at me in confusion, not immediately understanding what I meant. His eyes widened, and I could see him trying to process my words. There was surprise in his eyes, and I realized I had made an incredible statement.

Smiling, I stretched out my hand and with a smile, transformed it into a wing. It spread out, shimmering with the sheen of feathers. — “I’m a Zoan Harpy,” — I said, and my voice carried pride in my ability.

— “Cool!” — he exclaimed, touching my wing. He was genuinely surprised and amazed, as if it were something incredible. His gaze moved across the wing, and I could feel his deep respect. But, looking around, he said with an air of importance: — “I think this is cooler than Phoenix.”

— “Hahahah, thanks! But I still think Phoenix is cooler,” — I replied, laughing. I knew Phoenix was a symbol of power and immortality, but I liked being a Harpy. Everyone has their own strength, and this one was mine.

So, sitting in the small storage room, surrounded by laughter and conversation, we sank back into the pleasant, friendly atmosphere. Yawning, I realized it was already late and it was definitely time for me to sleep, but I couldn’t get up.

— “Hey, Asta, I wanted to ask you something…” — Ace began, with noticeable tension in his voice, and I noticed how he nervously glanced to the side, as if searching for the right words. His gaze shifted around the room but still avoided meeting mine. I understood this conversation wouldn’t be easy, as Ace rarely brought up such topics. His uncertainty only made me more curious.

— “What’s up?” — I sleepily asked, rubbing my eyes and trying to sit more comfortably. My head felt a little heavy from wanting to sleep, and my voice was muffled, as if I were in a half-sleep. But I could tell he definitely wasn’t expecting me to be so calm.

— “What do you think about Roger? I know you were a lookout, but still…” — Ace continued, his voice now sounding even more uncertain. He slightly turned his head to the side, but his gaze still didn’t return to me. He was lost in his thoughts, and I understood that this was an important question for him. He tried to be casual, but the tension radiating from him was almost palpable. Suddenly, I felt the entire atmosphere in the room shift. This conversation was no longer lighthearted. I immediately understood what he was trying to say, and I would need to choose my words carefully.

My heart skipped a beat when I heard Roger’s name. He was the man that so much had been said about, so much had been told, and nearly everyone in the pirate world knew his name. Whether he was alive or dead didn’t matter — his name was like a curse, a symbol of greatness and destruction. I understood that for him, this was too important, and I needed to be careful with my response.

— “Roger? Hm… well, I didn’t know him personally, so I can’t really say much,” — I tried to smooth over the situation, my words were detached, but I tried to stay calm, not showing what I was really thinking. — “But from what I’ve heard, he was a great pirate, no doubt. He wasn’t just strong, he was a symbol of something bigger. Many respected him, and some feared him. But something tells me you want to hear something else from me?” — I tried to steer the conversation back to a more neutral ground.

In his eyes, I once again saw something shift. He frowned just slightly, as if realizing I knew where he was going with this. And that made me a little uneasy. Pausing to look at the wall, he took another deep breath and finally continued:

— “What if… well, what if he had a son?” — he asked, and now I could clearly sense the anxiety in his voice. He said it with such doubt that I could feel the fear of possibly revealing a terrible secret pass over his face. He avoided looking me in the eye, but his face was tense, and his voice trembled. I understood that he wasn’t asking this question out of curiosity.

I exhaled slowly, trying to collect my thoughts. Everything became much clearer. I knew that this question wasn’t just about some old pirate legend, but about Ace himself.

— “Well, honestly, it wouldn’t matter much to me,” — I answered, trying to sound more confident. I felt something heavy tighten in my chest but showed no signs of it. — “But I do feel a bit sorry for that boy. After all, many hated Roger, and his son’s life wouldn’t exactly be easy. The world was cruel, and even if he weren’t Roger’s son, his life still wouldn’t have been easy.” I felt the tension ease just a little, and the shoulder I had laid my head on relaxed. I knew it was hard for him to admit this, but I was trying to ease his pain, letting him know there was no shame in who his father was.

— “But here’s some advice, Ace: don’t ask questions like that if you don’t want anyone figuring it out. It’s pretty easy to guess who you really are, it’s that obvious,” — I continued, trying to calm his worries. I spoke softly but with firmness in my voice. This was the moment when I had to tell the truth but in a way that wouldn’t hurt him any more.

He tensed again. I saw how his body became even more rigid, as if he was trying to hold back some storm inside. He abruptly turned his head toward me and looked at me in a way that I couldn’t help but notice his eyes widen in surprise.

— “What… that’s not true, I’m not…” — his words broke off, and I heard him exhale in relief, but it sounded almost like a surrender. Apparently, he didn’t believe it himself, but something in this conversation had shattered his confidence.

I felt his fear start to subside slowly, although it still left a heavy trace in his soul. I pressed my shoulder against his, trying to reassure him that these questions weren’t the end of the world.

— “There are a lot of dumb people who would never guess, but how likely is it that there are those who would make the connection?” — I tried to lighten the mood a bit. I searched for words to ease his pain, and although I wasn’t sure of the answers myself, my words needed to comfort him, at least a little. This was the moment when I had to show that, despite everything he was going through, he still had somewhere to go.

He was silent, but in his eyes, I could see that he was starting to think, to process everything.

Standing up, I felt the blood rush to my legs, and the muscles, stiff from sitting too long, started to come back to life. Rubbing the back of my neck and shaking off the dust that had unexpectedly settled on my clothes, I winced slightly. This place was strange and cramped, and the air was lacking, but I needed to keep moving. Taking a couple of steps toward the exit, I suddenly stopped, realizing I hadn’t said something important to him. We both stayed silent for a while, but I knew I couldn’t leave without saying it.

Turning back, I noticed how he stood, as if frozen, with a clear expression of confusion on his face. He clearly didn’t expect me to say something like this and was trying to process what I meant. I caught his gaze — he was bewildered, as if I had just said something that didn’t fit with his idea of how everything was supposed to be. I smiled, but it wasn’t a joke, more like a thought spoken aloud. He expected something else, probably like everyone else, but this was how it turned out.

Stretching slightly and pressing my lips together to avoid revealing my emotions, I spoke with a slight hint of curiosity in my voice:

— “By the way, you look more like your mother than him.”

My words hung in the air. They probably weren’t that heavy, but the moment they left my mouth, I felt how they truly began to affect the situation. His face immediately changed. It froze, a mixture of surprise and confusion, and an unspoken question was so obvious in his eyes. I couldn’t help but notice how he was trying to understand something, to piece it together in his head, but nothing was clicking. His gaze darted around the room, but he couldn’t find the words he needed.

— “Where did you…” — he began, but his voice trailed off mid-sentence. Apparently, he was trying to find the right explanation but didn’t get the chance. I felt the tension in the air lighten just a bit, and despite his question, I knew it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t finish, and sensing that no more words were needed, I took the final step toward the door. I didn’t look back, but I could feel his gaze still trying to catch up with mine. And without saying another word, I quietly closed the door behind me, leaving silence and questions that no longer had answers.

It seemed I had left him with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

I didn’t get to my room—the one the captain had so kindly provided for me—right away. Before that, I had to sleep in the med bay, but staying there all the time wasn’t exactly convenient. So, eventually, they gave me a tiny little space—between the nurses’ rooms and Whitebeard’s cabin.

Though, to be honest, calling it a “room” was a stretch. It was more of a cramped, stuffy storage closet that had previously been used to keep all sorts of supplies—mops, buckets, ropes, and other miscellaneous stuff.

Of course, they would have gladly let me stay with the nurses, but they simply didn’t have any free space. And sending me to sleep among the sailors or other crew members wasn’t even considered—for obvious reasons. In the end, I had to make do with what was available.

Still, I slept pretty well. The noise from the deck was sometimes distracting, but as long as I pulled a pillow over my head, sleep eventually came. Not right away, not easily—but it came.

Surprisingly, breakfast was on time. That was odd, considering Thatch had clearly had a bit too much to drink last night—along with half the kitchen staff. I had assumed that after nights like that, the kitchen wouldn’t be up and running at dawn, but closer to midday—when the most resilient finally started coming back to life.

But apparently, things worked differently here. When I arrived early, dreaming of a strong cup of coffee, the kitchen was already bustling. The cooks were busy at the stoves, stirring, chopping, plating food. Their faces showed exhaustion, their movements were sluggish, but despite the obvious hangover, breakfast was being prepared at its usual pace.

— “Good morning,” I said, peeking into the kitchen.

— “Good morning!!!” — came a chorus of replies, hoarse but in unison.

Their voices carried the weight of the previous night. Someone yawned, someone wearily rubbed their face—but the work continued. I glanced around, hoping to spot a cup of coffee, but of course, there was none.

— “Thatch, is the coffee ready?” — I asked, lazily leaning against the doorframe.

— “Sorry, sweetheart, not yet!” — Thatch called back, rushing past with a huge bowl in his hands. He was stirring something vigorously, not even looking at me.

Of course. What was I even expecting?

I let out a heavy sigh and rolled my eyes.

— “I can make it myself. Where’s the pot and the coffee?”

Naturally, using a coffee machine would have been much easier—but there wasn’t one. Everything had to be done manually, the old-fashioned way.

— “Top shelf of the left cabinet, everything’s there. The ground coffee is in the same spot,” — he shouted over his shoulder.

I stepped up to the cabinet, opened the door, and peered inside. The pot was easy to find, and right next to it was a pouch of finely ground coffee. Perfect.

I placed the pot on a free burner, measured out four spoonfuls of coffee, poured in water, and patiently waited. The aroma of the strong brew quickly spread through the kitchen, overpowering even the scent of breakfast. The cooks seemed to pause for a moment, glancing hopefully in my direction.

When the foam formed on the surface, I carefully removed the pot from the heat, poured the coffee into a carafe, and added a bit of cold water to settle the grounds.

— “Grab another cup! Another morning coffee lover is about to show up,” — Thatch called out without even turning around.

I pursed my lips in mild annoyance but grabbed another cup anyway. So much for enjoying my coffee in peace.

Sitting down at a far table, I finally took my first sip. Hot, strong, rich in flavor—exactly what I needed this morning. I closed my eyes, savoring the aroma, and whispered quietly:

— “Perfect.”

For a moment, it felt like the whole world had stopped while I simply sat there, relishing my drink. But the silence didn’t last long.

The dining hall door creaked open, shattering the calm, and I instinctively turned my head. In the doorway stood a drowsy-looking Marco. He looked as if he had just crawled out of bed and hadn’t quite figured out what was going on yet. His lazy gaze swept over the room, landed on me—and, apparently, on something else. Or rather, on something specific.

Coffee.

— “Morning,” — he mumbled, dropping onto the bench across from me and immediately pouring himself a cup.

— “Morning,” — I replied, watching as he took his first sip.

Marco frowned, tasting it carefully, then gave an approving nod.

— “Mmm, Thatch really made better coffee this time,” — he mused, as if analyzing what had changed.

I didn’t have time to say anything before Thatch’s voice sounded from behind me.

— “That wasn’t me, our second little bird brewed it,” — he said, sitting down nearby and grabbing a cup for himself. Taking a sip, he nodded in satisfaction. — “Not bad at all.”

— “I used to work as a barista,” — I said automatically, then immediately bit my tongue.

That was me from the other world who worked as a barista. But the me from this world? Apparently, she was a scout. Why did I say that so carelessly?

Thankfully, no one seemed to notice my slip.

— “So, you’re a pro!” — Thatch said cheerfully. — “Good to know who to go to for great coffee from now on.”

I just smirked, raising my cup to my lips again.

Meanwhile, the dining hall was slowly filling with people. Judging by their sleepy and somewhat miserable expressions, they had definitely gone overboard last night. Some were rubbing their temples, some were sluggishly poking at their food with a fork, and some just sat there, staring into space as if trying to remember why they were even here.

I grabbed a portion of breakfast—toast with eggs and bacon—and was about to dig in when I casually asked:

— “Where’s Ace?”

Haruta, sitting next to me, lazily glanced up at me from under his bangs.

— “He doesn’t accept food from us, so he doesn’t come to breakfast,” — he said with a shrug. Then, after a pause, added thoughtfully: — “Though I’m pretty sure he still sneaks food from somewhere.”

I huffed. Yeah, that sounded just like him.

Finishing my meal quickly, I turned to Thatch.

— “Can I get another plate?”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise.

— “Didn’t get enough, sweetheart?” — he asked, handing me another plate.

— “I did. It’s not for me—it’s for Ace.”

Thatch let out a quiet chuckle and shook his head.

— “Well, good luck with that. Doubt it’ll work. He’s as stubborn as you.”

I just rolled my eyes, clicked my tongue, and got up from the table.

Stepping out onto the deck, I took a deep breath of fresh morning air. The light sea breeze was refreshing, and the sun was already rising over the horizon, painting the sky in soft pink hues.

I walked forward slowly, scanning the deck, trying to figure out where Ace might be. But I didn’t have to look for long.

He was sitting by the mast, leaning against the wood, arms wrapped around his knees, face buried in them.

I stopped, watching him.

Well, now there was only one thing left to do—see if I could convince him to eat.

— “Ace, eat,” — I said, sitting down beside him and holding out the plate.

Ace lifted his head slowly. His gaze was sharp, wary—like I had just offered him poison instead of breakfast. But after a few seconds, he seemed to recognize that it was me, not one of the pirates. The tension in his face eased slightly, but his expression remained displeased.

— “I don’t want to. Thanks,” — he muttered, frowning.

At that moment, his stomach growled loudly.

He coughed, as if hoping I hadn’t heard that betraying sound, and pushed the plate back toward me.

— “Ahem… I don’t want anything from them.”

I rolled my eyes.

— “You need strength to fight Whitebeard. So just eat,” — I said calmly, sliding the plate back toward him. — “By the way, what attempt is this?”

Ace stared at me for a long moment, as if deciding whether to continue this conversation. Then he glanced at the food, frowned—but finally picked up the spoon.

He ate quickly, like someone was chasing him. Within seconds, the plate was empty.

— “If I’m not mistaken… this is attempt number 89,” — he muttered, still chewing.

I was about to say something when suddenly, his body swayed forward.

— “Hey!”

I barely managed to put my hand out before he face-planted onto the deck.

Ace jolted, eyes snapping open, then sat up straight again, looking utterly bewildered.

— “What happened?!” — he asked abruptly.

— “You fell asleep.”

He froze, frowning as if processing my words.

— “You’re not even surprised?”—he asked, tilting his head slightly, studying my face intently.

I shrugged.

— “Not really. It’s narcolepsy, right?”

Ace paused, staring off to the side.

— “Yeah… I think that’s what Deuce called it,”—he drawled.

Then his gaze snapped back to me—but this time, there was something different in his expression.

His eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to see something in me.

— “You sure do seem to know a lot,”—he said slowly.

A cold knot tightened in my stomach.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.

I quickly looked away, pretending to suddenly find something very interesting on the deck.

— “Just a coincidence,”—I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady and confident.

***

Sitting on the yardarm wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but I didn’t really have a choice. The crow’s nest was already occupied by the lookout, and there was clearly no room left. Not that I minded too much—this spot still gave me a decent view of the deck.

At first glance, everything seemed to be going as usual. The crew was busy with their usual tasks—some were cleaning weapons, others were lazily chatting, and a few were simply enjoying the rare moments of peace. Nothing out of the ordinary. But if you watched a little longer, the picture started to change.

Thatch and Haruta. The two of them were sneaking across the deck so carefully that it was obvious—they were up to something. They were holding something, but from this distance, I couldn’t make out what it was. Not that it really mattered. The important part was where they were heading.

And their target was Vista, Jozu, and Marco. The three of them stood by the bulwark, deep in conversation, completely unaware of the two professional troublemakers creeping toward them. I was almost certain that whatever those clowns had planned would end with Marco making them regret it.

Of course, I could warn them. One word and the ambush would be ruined. But where’s the fun in that? So instead, I shifted slightly to make myself more comfortable on the yardarm and kept watching with interest. Whatever they were up to, it was bound to be entertaining.

They were almost there. I held my breath, watching as Thatch and Haruta inched closer, step by step, to their unsuspecting victims. How had they not been noticed yet? Was Observation Haki not working, or was everyone just so engrossed in their discussion that they’d completely let their guard down?

I was already anticipating the outcome. What was their plan? Would they pull it off, or would they get caught red-handed? I leaned forward, completely absorbed in the scene…

—“Asta, what are you doing up here?”

A voice came from right beside me, and I shrieked in surprise. My heart dropped, my hands jerked, and—

I fell.

Worse, in my panic, I instinctively grabbed the one who had startled me.

—“WHAT THE HELL?!”—Ace’s outraged yell reached my ears.

The fall was long. Too long. Moby Dick was a massive ship, its masts stretching high into the sky, so we had plenty of time to realize just how badly we had messed up.

—“What the hell?!”—Ace shouted, desperately trying to grab onto something.

I finally snapped out of it, clenched my teeth, and without wasting another second, transformed my arms into wings.

—“Ace, hold on to me!”—I yelled, trying to be heard over the rushing wind.

He immediately grabbed onto my neck, and after a few more chaotic tumbles, we landed on the deck in a relatively soft crash.

I let out a shaky breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

—“Ace… you can let go now,”—I muttered.

He quickly released me, took a few steps back, and shot me a suspicious look.

—“Don’t scare me like that again…”—I murmured, attempting to steady myself. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest. Deep breath in, slow exhale—I needed to calm down.

Someone gently took my arm and helped me up. My head spun slightly, my legs were shaky, but it seemed like nothing serious.

—“Are you okay?”—Marco’s voice held a note of concern. He studied my face carefully, as if checking for any serious injuries.

—“I’m fine, just startled,”—I shook my head, trying to regain composure before glancing at Ace.—“What about you?”

Ace looked surprised for a second but then just grinned and shrugged.

—“Huh? I’m fine, I’m a Logia,”—he smirked lazily, waving off the issue. But in the next moment, his expression darkened as he shot Marco an irritated glare.

—“LAND!!!”—a joyous shout rang across the deck, instantly brightening the atmosphere.

I immediately lifted my head and looked ahead. On the horizon, still hazy but already visible, an island began to take shape. The waves rocked the ship gently, and the wind carried the sharp scent of salt and something fresh and earthy. The shore was close.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to take in as much detail as possible. What kind of island was it? Bustling, full of people, markets, and taverns? Or wild, with towering palms and untouched beaches?

Excitement bubbled up inside me, and I unconsciously gripped the railing tighter.

—“I wonder if they’ll let me go ashore,”—I mused, letting my gaze sweep over the endless blue of the sea. I longed to step onto solid ground, breathe in different air, and stretch after such a long voyage.

***

I was finally allowed to go to the island, but of course, not without conditions. There was only one — I had to be accompanied by one of the commanders.

I was about to open my mouth to argue, but the moment I heard who exactly would be my escort, I changed my mind.

Izou.

Of course. Who else?

I sighed in resignation, feeling my hopes for a normal walk vanish before my eyes. Judging by the look on his face, he was just as displeased as I was.

— “If you try to run, I won’t hesitate to use…” — he slowly pulled out his pistols, making it perfectly clear how things would end if I attempted to escape.

I quickly raised my hands in surrender, taking a step back.

— “Alright, alright, I get it! I won’t even think about it!” — I said hastily, fully aware that he wasn’t joking.

The island was under Whitebeard’s protection, which meant I could relax — there was practically no danger here. But Izou had no intention of relaxing. He had a list of tasks, and judging by his determination, he planned to follow it to the letter. All I could do was trail behind him, silently praying it wouldn’t take all day.

First, we stopped by the fabric workshop — last time, Izou had placed an order there, and now it was time to pick it up. That didn’t take long, but then we headed to Pose’s workshop, and that’s when I completely lost my patience.

The owner turned out to be an old acquaintance of the crew, which meant a long, detailed conversation awaited us. Izou was calmly discussing something important while I… I sat in the corner, dying of boredom.

After thirty minutes, I started sighing heavily.

After forty — rolling my eyes.

After forty-five — producing the most dramatic, suffering noises I was capable of.

Finally, Izou turned to me, rolled his eyes, and said irritably:

— “You can stop sighing and rolling your eyes. We’ll drop off these purchases on the ship — then we’re going to the bar.”

I perked up instantly.

A bar? Now that sounded better.

Well, things had never really worked out between us. We were never particularly close, and it wasn’t like he was eager to change that. Unlike Thatch and Haruta, who happily played along with any of my antics, Izou would just frown and roll his eyes whenever I tried to put on a dramatic act. He never bought into my performances, never fell for my tricks, and always knew when I was bluffing.

And… he clearly had little patience for me.

Not surprising, considering how many times I had driven him crazy with my endless escape attempts. He probably still believed that the second he let his guard down, I would vanish into thin air.

Though, to be fair… Ace irritated him far more than I ever could. Even I couldn’t compete with that.

Evening was fast approaching. The sun was slowly dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and lilac. The salty scent of the sea mixed with the aromas of fresh pastries, spices, and fruits, all laid out generously on the market stalls.

Izou and I walked unhurriedly through the bustling streets of the town, which was going about its usual carefree life. Families strolled together, laughing and chatting, merchants haggled over prices, and in cozy cafés with open terraces, people dined at a leisurely pace, engaged in unhurried conversation. Somewhere in the distance, music played, blending softly with the murmur of voices.

Izou walked ahead, carrying several rolls of fabric, while I trailed behind, clutching a small box containing three Eternal Pose.

To be honest, I was a little bored.

I absentmindedly watched the people around me, observing their ease, their smiles, their happy faces. The whole world seemed bathed in warmth and tranquility.

And then my gaze caught onto something familiar.

No. Not something. Someone.

Messy blond hair, a leisurely stride…

— “Marco?” — The thought shot through my mind before I could even process it, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a clearer look through the crowd.

Why? Why now?

I didn’t know. Or maybe I didn’t want to know.

The crowd shifted slightly, and suddenly, I had a full view.

Marco was walking arm in arm with a woman. They were heading toward a jewelry shop, moving at an easy, unhurried pace. She was clinging to him too closely, almost pressing into his side, and he, relaxed and content, was saying something to her with a soft smile.

She laughed, tilting her head back, and in that moment, he looked at her with warmth in his eyes.

Something twisted unpleasantly inside me.

I turned away sharply, refusing to trust this strange feeling in my chest.

— “Why the hell does this bother me so much?” — I snapped at myself mentally, tightening my grip on the box.

— “He’s a man. A pirate. Of course, it’s normal for them to spend time with women.”

But if it was so simple, why did this strange, sticky emptiness spread inside me? Why did it suddenly irritate me, the way he smiled at her so easily?

I clenched my teeth and quickened my pace, determined not to look at him again.

The rest of the way back to the ship, I walked in a daze. The excitement I’d felt just minutes ago had completely evaporated, leaving behind a strange emptiness. I tried to distract myself, to focus on the sounds of the street, the scent of the sea and spices—but nothing helped. That image was still burned into my mind.

Marco and that woman.

The way he looked at her. The way he smiled.

I clenched my teeth, shook my head sharply, and quickened my pace, as if that could somehow make the unwanted thoughts disappear.

By the time we reached the ship, Izou wasted no time dropping off the purchases and was already preparing to head to the bar.

— “I’m not going. I don’t feel great,” — I muttered when he approached me.

Izou raised an eyebrow, slowly giving me a once-over.

— “Alright,” — he finally said. — “But you do realize you’re not running away, right?”

— “Yeah, yeah…” — I sighed tiredly, giving him a half-hearted nod before turning toward my cabin without another word.

I just wanted to lock myself inside, bury my face in a pillow, and stop thinking—at least for a little while. Walking quickly down the corridor, I suddenly stopped in my tracks.

A few steps ahead, clinging to the wall for support, Ace was swaying unsteadily.

I frowned, taking a closer look at him. His face was bruised, blood trickled from his nose, his lip was swollen—he looked like he’d just lost a serious fight.

— “Ace! Oh god, what happened to you?!” — I exclaimed, rushing over to him.

He winced but didn’t resist when I threw his arm over my shoulder to help him stay on his feet.

— “I’m fine…” — he croaked, though he looked anything but.

— “Let me take you to the med bay.”

— “No need! I said I’m fine!” — he snapped, only to immediately wince, clearly regretting his outburst.

I just rolled my eyes.

— “Alright. Then at least come to my cabin. I’ll clean you up.”

Ace gave a silent nod, and we slowly made our way to my room. Thankfully, it wasn’t far.

A thought crossed my mind—it was obvious. He’d gone and picked another fight with Whitebeard. And judging by his condition, the result was the same as always.

I helped him sit down on what barely passed as a bed—more like a mattress tossed on the floor—then quickly rummaged through my bag for the first aid kit.

— “How many times are you gonna do this…” — I muttered, pulling out a bottle of peroxide.

Wrapping some cotton around my fingers, I carefully brought it to his lip. Ace flinched, hissing in pain.

— “Suck it up.”

He grimaced, and to ease the sting a little, I gently blew on the wound.

— “Better?”

— “A little…”

Once I finished cleaning him up, I handed him a tissue.

— “Here, hold this against your nose.”

Ace took it without a word, pressing it to his face.

— “Thanks.”

— “Don’t mention it.”

As he worked on stopping the bleeding, I sat beside him, staring blankly at the floor. My thoughts kept circling back to what I’d seen on the street.

Marco. That woman. The way she held onto his arm. The way he smiled at her.

Like it was… natural.

I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling into a fist.

— “Hey, what’s wrong?” — Ace’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I lifted my gaze to meet his.

— “I’m fine.”

— “You sure?”

— “Yeah. It’s not about you, it’s just…” — I hesitated.

Just what?

Why had it hit me so hard? Why couldn’t I shake it?

I tightened my grip on the first aid kit. The answer was obvious—I just didn’t want to admit it.

A deep breath. I closed my eyes.

I care about him.

No…

I like him.

I exhaled sharply, running my hands through my hair.

— “Oh, shit…”

Ace raised an eyebrow.

— “What?”

I didn’t answer. Just sat there, fingers buried in my hair, staring at the floor.

That’s it. No turning back. This was the end of me.

— “Hey…” — Ace’s voice was softer now. His hand rested on my back, rubbing slow, comforting circles.

— “You can tell me. I’m a vault.”

I lift my eyes to him, exhausted. He watches me intently, seriously. His lips press together, but he doesn’t look away. A deep breath.

— “I like Marco…”— a whisper. But in this silence, even a whisper sounds deafening.

Ace tenses. I see how much he wants to spit at the mere mention of the first mate. But, surprisingly, he restrains himself.

— “Well, seems like he cares about you too,”— he says, grimacing slightly. — “He ran up to you so fast today… And when they first brought you aboard, he looked pretty miserable.”

I smirk — “I don’t know…”

A heavy breath. My hands instinctively reach for my hair. The cabin is dark. The only light— the moon filtering through the porthole.

— “It’s just…”— a hesitation — “I saw him in town today” — a pause — “he wasn’t alone and…” — I trail off again — “I don’t know what to think.”

Ace frowns. His fists clench — “That bastard,”— he hisses angrily.

I smirk — “Wanna drink?”

The words slip out unexpectedly. Even for me. Ace blinks, raising a surprised brow.

— “I wouldn’t mind. You got any alcohol?”

I shake my head silently.

— “No, but I know where to find some.”

He gives me a skeptical look.

— “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I get up. Walk briskly toward the galley. I know exactly where Thatch hides his bottle of rum. I grab it. Just as quickly, almost running, I head back. I lift the large bottle of strong rum in triumph, giving it a little shake.

***

The second bottle—another “borrowed” one—was already empty. We sat on the cabin floor, drunk out of our minds. My head was spinning, my thoughts were a mess, and my tongue could barely move.

Ace leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling with a satisfied smile.

— “You’re so cool…”—his voice was slow, stretched out, as if the words were dragging through thick syrup.

I smirked—“Thanks?”

— “No, thank you… for not hating me…”—he frowned slightly, as if trying to remember what he wanted to say—“For me being his son.”

I rolled my eyes—“Ace…”

— “No, really”—he raised a hand, as if to stop my objections, but then just waved it in the air.

I sighed.

— “It’s fine”—a pause—“It’s not right to hate kids for what their parents did. That’s… messed up.”

Ace stayed silent. Then, all of a sudden, he threw his hands up.

— “See, that’s what I’m saying!”

He nearly lost his balance but managed to steady himself, eyes flashing indignantly.

— “Screw Marco! He clearly doesn’t deserve you!”—a brief pause—“You could find someone better!”

I snorted, unable to hold back a laugh—“Hahaha, thanks…”—but my smile quickly faded—“I’m afraid it’s not that simple”—my lips pressed into a thin line—“You can’t just tell your heart what to do.”

Ace grimaced—“Yeah… true.”

For a while, we sat in silence, passing the bottle back and forth. It was a comfortable silence, but it didn’t last long.

— “Luffy would like you”—Ace’s voice was unexpectedly soft. I froze—“He’ll be setting sail soon.”

A pause. Too long.

— “Yeah, Luffy is…”—my heart skipped a beat—“Cheerful and carefree…”

Damn. The moment the words left my lips, I realized my mistake. I clamped a hand over my mouth. But it was too late. Ace narrowed his eyes.

— “And there it is again”—his voice had turned serious.

He leaned forward, locking eyes with me—“You talk like you already know everything.”

My breath caught. One thought raced through my mind: Shit. My gaze darted around the cabin, searching for an escape. But there wasn’t one.

— “Who are you?”

Silence. My teeth clenched on their own. Ace didn’t look away. A heavy inhale.

— “Do you want the truth?”

— “Yes”—not a second of hesitation. I swallowed.

Why not? He trusted me. I could trust him.

— “I’m not from here…”—a pause—“Or rather, not from this world.”

The cabin suddenly felt smaller.

— “Where I lived, there were no pirates, no Marines, no World Government.”

Ace stared straight into my eyes. I continued:

— “I wouldn’t say it was better there… but it was definitely safer.”

Silence. Long, stretching. Then Ace let out a breath.

— “Well, shit…”—he leaned back, staring at the ceiling. More silence.

— “That must be tough…”—his voice was quieter—“Ending up in an unfamiliar world, trying to survive here”—a short pause, his breathing heavier—“Without family or friends… I wouldn’t know what to do if I were in your place.”

We sat there for a long time, talking about everything and nothing. Ace told me about his adventures—places he’d seen, fights he’d been in, chases he’d escaped. His stories were vivid, full of life and emotion. I shared pieces of my own past too. A life that now felt distant. Things he had never known and maybe never would. Laughter. Pauses. Conversations that pull you in like the tide.

At some point, Ace just passed out. I froze for a second, then smirked. His head had lolled to the side, hands resting limply on his stomach. He looked younger. Calmer. Almost vulnerable. I sighed, carefully shifting him onto the bed and pulling a blanket over him.

For a few moments, I just stood there, watching. Then I shrugged, grabbed a pillow, and was about to settle down on the floor…

A knock on the door. Quiet, but firm.

I flinched. Who else…?

Slowly, I stood up, walked to the door, and cracked it open.

Marco.

I blinked, not immediately processing why he was here. He smelled of alcohol, but he wasn’t drunk.

— “Izou said you weren’t feeling well”—his voice was even, calm. But his gaze was sharp.

I opened my mouth to say something, but he suddenly looked past me. His eyes narrowed. His expression darkened.

— “What’s he doing here?”—his tone had changed.

I frowned.

— “Nothing”—sharp, a little irritated. I hadn’t meant to snap, but it just came out.

Marco didn’t look away.

I exhaled, softening my tone—“We were just talking. If it’s nothing important, I’d like to go to sleep now.”

I reached to close the door. But Marco didn’t let me. His hand pressed against the wood, keeping it open. I froze, glancing up at him in surprise.

— “Let me take him,”—he said calmly, nodding toward Ace.

I immediately frowned—“No need. Let him sleep.”

Marco squinted slightly but didn’t argue. Instead, he pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.

My fists clenched.

— “Then you go sleep in the infirmary,”—his voice was steady, but there was a firmness to it.

His eyes swept over the room. And then—his gaze caught on something on the floor.

Pause.

I followed his eyes.

Three empty rum bottles.

I didn’t even get a chance to say anything before his lips pressed into a hard line. His expression tightened.

I quickly crossed my arms over my chest, as if shielding myself.

— “I don’t want to,”—I shot back stubbornly—“I’m fine right here.”

At the same time, I stepped forward, pressing my palms against his chest, trying to push him out the door. Useless. Marco didn’t even budge.

— “I insist,”—his voice was even firmer now.

I froze. Something flared up inside me. My heart pounded in my ears. I almost choked on his audacity. What right did he have to tell me what to do?! He had been out there, sweetly hugging and flirting with some other girl, and now he had the nerve to give me orders?

The alcohol burned in my veins, making me bolder. Or maybe just reckless. My eyes narrowed, my teeth clenched in anger.

I spoke quieter, but my voice rang with fury—“Don’t you dare tell me what to do”—and with that, I jabbed a finger into his chest.

His fingers closed around my wrist. Warm. Strong.

He pulled me with him, leading me out of the room, but I jerked back hard, grabbing onto the doorframe.

— “Let. Me. Go!”—I hissed, struggling to break free.

— “No.”

His voice was firm. Absolute.

I dug my nails into the wood, tensed my muscles, trying to resist, but Marco didn’t even notice my struggle.

Then, suddenly, he turned.

I didn’t react in time—I crashed right into his chest.

The heat of his body surrounded me, my pulse spiked. I tried to pull back, but he stepped closer.

— “And why the hell not?”—I ground out, forcing myself to hold his gaze.

— “I don’t like you staying in a room alone with a guy,”—his voice was tight. Sharp.

I narrowed my eyes.

— “You’re no one to me. You have no right to tell me what to do.”

The words were venomous, slipping out before I could stop them.

Marco didn’t respond right away. His eyes narrowed slightly, a muscle tensed in his jaw.

Then, he exhaled. And when he spoke again, it was quieter—but his voice sent shivers down my spine.

— “What if I want to be someone?”

I parted my lips, but no words came.

Something in his gaze made my heart clench. I turned away quickly.

— “I don’t believe you,”—I murmured, barely above a whisper.

And immediately, an image of him with her flashed before my eyes.

Marco stilled.

Then—before I could process what was happening—his fingers caught my face.

Warm hands slid along my cheeks.

And in the next instant—his lips crashed against mine.

Quick. Sudden.

I froze. A shock ran through me like a bolt of electricity.

Marco pulled back just as fast.

Our eyes met.

And in his, there was something… strong. Deep. Overwhelming.

— “Do you believe me now?”—he whispered.

I couldn’t answer. My thoughts were a mess. My chest rose and fell too quickly.

The alcohol that had blurred reality just a second ago was gone.

My mind had never felt so terrifyingly clear.

Chapter Text

POV Marco:

Ever since I returned to the ship, I tried not to pressure Asta. I didn’t want to scare her off. She was still unsure whether she should join the crew. If I started rushing her, forcing her to make a decision… she’d just retreat into her shell and stop listening to us altogether.

And then—that evening happened.

I saw her tears. They glistened on her cheeks in the moonlight. Her lips trembled, hands clenched into fists. And then—a sharp turn, and she was already running away.

I didn’t hesitate.

Instinct took over—I rushed after her. Wanted to catch up. To understand. To figure out what had happened. But she was faster.

I could’ve used Observation Haki, found her in seconds. But I didn’t.

She didn’t want to be found. I knew that.

If someone had told me then that all of this would bring her closer to Ace… I would’ve done things differently. Made another choice. But what’s done is done.

Since that evening, they started spending too much time together. Laughing, exchanging glances, talking about things only they understood. I didn’t like it. It pissed me off. But I had no right to interfere. I couldn’t forbid her.

And yet…

My patience wasn’t infinite.

And when I saw Ace wrap his arm around her neck, anger boiled inside me.

It enraged me like nothing else. Not even the Marines.

***

Walking through the bustling market toward the bar where we were supposed to meet with the commanders after finishing our errands, I enjoyed the warm breeze and the lively hum of the crowd. Vendors shouted over one another, praising their goods, children darted between stalls, laughing and chattering, and the air was thick with the scent of fresh fruit and spices.

Suddenly, someone gently took my arm. I turned—and there she was, Ebi, beaming with a warm smile.

—“Commander Marco!”—she exclaimed joyfully. —“I’m so happy to see you! How have you been?”

I smiled, squeezing her hand a little tighter.

—“Ebi! It’s great to see you! We’re doing fine. What about you? How’s life?”

She used to be our medic but had long left the pirate life, choosing to settle on an island under Pops’ protection. Five years ago, she and Claude—one of our crewmates—left the crew together when she found out she was expecting a child.

—“Everything’s just wonderful!”—she answered enthusiastically. —“But tell me, are you very busy right now?”

I glanced around at the bustling street, where merchants called out their prices and the aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from one of the stalls.

—“Not really. The guys and I are heading to a bar. I’d be happy if you and Claude joined us.”

—“Oh, that’s great!”—Ebi’s eyes lit up. —“It’s our anniversary, and I need your help picking out a gift. After that, we’ll definitely drop by!”

We strolled toward a jewelry shop, continuing our conversation. But just as we were about to reach it, an odd feeling crept over me.

I felt someone’s gaze on me.

Stopping in my tracks, I glanced around discreetly. The crowd was still bustling—people laughing, chatting, hurrying about their business. Yet, for some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to pick out an unfamiliar face from the sea of people, but I couldn’t pinpoint who exactly was observing me so intently.

We didn’t take long to choose—Ebi almost immediately settled on a pair of engraved rings. She turned them over in her hands with a smile, tracing the delicate pattern with her finger as if trying to memorize every detail.

—“They’re perfect,”—she finally said, her voice so warm that I couldn’t help but smile.

—“Claude will love them,”—I nodded.

She gave a satisfied nod, then squeezed my hand.

—“Thank you, Marco.”

After that, we parted ways—she headed home with a small box in hand, while I made my way to the bar.

By the time I arrived, the place was already in full swing. Thatch and Vista were seated at a table, both in high spirits.

—“Oh, Marco! What took you so long?”—Thatch called out with a smirk as I dropped into a chair.

—“Ran into Ebi. Invited her and Claude to join us,”—I replied tiredly, picking up the mug of rum that had clearly been ordered for me already.

—“Haven’t seen them in ages,”—Vista mused, stroking his mustache thoughtfully.

I simply nodded and took a sip.

One by one, the other commanders began to join us. The table grew livelier—some were sharing wild stories, others were already challenging each other to drinking contests. Only Izou was still missing. But knowing his meticulous nature, I was sure he wouldn’t be showing up anytime soon.

Then, as if on cue, Haruta narrowed his eyes mischievously, glanced at me, and asked with an innocent smile:

—“So, Marco… how are things with Asta?”

I immediately frowned and shot him a warning look.

—“Stay out of it,”—I said curtly.

—“Oh, come on, Marco, we’re all curious!”—Thatch grinned, pouring himself another drink.

I was about to shut them down again, but as I looked around the table, I realized they weren’t going to drop it that easily. Everyone was watching me with open curiosity, waiting for any kind of reaction.

I sighed, tightened my grip on the mug, and muttered reluctantly:

—“I don’t want to scare her off.”

For a moment, silence settled over the table. Then, someone hummed in understanding, someone chuckled quietly, and someone even nodded approvingly.

Luckily, they didn’t press me further this time.

If only it would stay that way.

Soon, Izou walked into the bar—but to our surprise, he was alone. The moment he stepped through the door, the guys and I exchanged glances.

—“Where’s…?”—Haruta started, but trailed off when Izou simply shrugged.

—“She’s not feeling well. Said she’d stay on the ship,”—he explained briefly, taking a seat at the table.

—“Got it,”—I muttered, but didn’t press the subject.

Meanwhile, the night was in full swing. The bar echoed with laughter, loud voices, and the rhythmic clatter of mugs against wooden tables. At a nearby table, someone had already started singing drunken sea shanties, while in the far corner, two pirates were arguing heatedly over who had the stronger grip.

Our table was no exception—stories were told, jokes were traded, some were racing to down their rum the fastest, while others simply enjoyed the moment. Nights like these were always special—rare days on land let us feel just a little freer, even if only for a short while.

But time passed. Outside, the sky had long turned dark, the bar slowly emptied, and fatigue began to creep up on me. The last remnants of rum in my mug no longer seemed as enticing, and after one final sip, I let out a breath and stood up.

—“Alright, I’m heading out,”—I said, stretching.

—“Already?”—Thatch asked, rocking back in his chair.

—“Got a lot to do tomorrow,”—I replied, pulling on my jacket. —“And I want to check on Asta, see how she’s feeling.”

At that, Haruta smirked meaningfully but said nothing.

The night air greeted me with a crisp freshness, carrying the scent of the sea, bonfires, and something else—something faintly pleasant and elusive. The bar faded into the distance behind me, and ahead lay the path back to the ship, wrapped in the deep, heavy silence that only the latest hours of the night could bring.

***

I had definitely gone too far. The realization didn’t come immediately—only when the emotions settled and my mind cleared a little. But back then, in that moment… there was no stopping me.

It all started when I stepped into her cabin. I just wanted to check on her, to see how she was feeling—but instead, I froze in the doorway, barely holding back my anger.

Ace was sprawled across her bed. Shirtless.

Something inside me snapped. My mind shut down, leaving nothing but raw emotion in its place. I don’t remember all the details, don’t remember what I said—but I remember her face. The shock, the confusion… and then—that kiss.

She froze. Just for a moment.

And then she suddenly jerked back, as if snapping out of a dream. I saw the instant realization flicker in her eyes, saw the faint blush spread across her cheeks.

But before I could say anything—before I could even process what the hell I had just done—she spun around and ran.

I was left standing there, breathing heavily, fists clenched, my mind in complete chaos.

And now—two days have passed.

Two days, and she hasn’t said a single word to me.

Two days, and she’s been avoiding me.

***

POV Asta:

Damn Marco!

What kind of emotional rollercoaster is he putting me through!? I feel like some kind of puppet in his hands—one moment he pulls me close, the next he pushes me away. One moment he looks at me like he’s ready to lay the whole world at my feet, and the next he acts as if nothing ever happened. How am I even supposed to react to all this?

No, I get it—I like him. More than I probably should. But that doesn’t mean I’m ready for all of this! It’s too sudden, too fast… And if I were to respond to him, it would mean accepting his invitation to join Whitebeard’s crew. Am I even ready for that?

Honestly? I don’t know.

That’s why for the past two days, I’ve been doing my best to avoid any close interactions with the pirates. Especially with Marco. I’m just not ready. First, I need to sort out my thoughts, get my emotions in order, and only then… then we’ll see.

And now—here I am, sitting on the yardarm, swinging my legs in the air, trying to weigh all the pros and cons of joining the crew. My mind is a mess.

How did I even get to the point where I’m seriously considering this? Not long ago, I was completely against it, didn’t even want to listen… and now? Now I’m hesitating.

What a nightmare.

How do they do it? How did they slip into my head so unnoticed, plant these doubts, make me rethink everything? I’ve told myself so many times that I’d never be part of a pirate crew, that I don’t need all these adventures, battles, constant risks…

And yet, here I am.

Thinking.

Doubting.

Damn pirates.

My thoughts were interrupted by a scene on the deck—the moment when Ace, frowning in confusion, asked:

—“Why do you call him Pops?”

Soon, Ace will become part of their family.

I didn’t even notice how he got to this point after a hundred attacks on Whitebeard. So much resistance, so much hatred… and it all crumbled in an instant.

When Ace bowed his head, unable to hold back his tears, something inside me snapped. I took a deep breath, lifted my gaze to the evening sky, and whispered softly:

—“There goes my last hope of escape…”

Ace gave in. He stopped fighting. And if even he, with all his stubbornness and fiery determination, couldn’t resist Whitebeard—then what chance do I have?

I closed my eyes, trying to process it all, but suddenly, I felt someone’s presence. I opened them—and immediately noticed Thatch standing nearby.

—“Pops wants to see you,”—he said quietly, as if afraid to scare away my thoughts.

I simply looked at him, reading some strange calmness in his eyes, and without a word, nodded.

Slowly diving down from the yardarm, I headed toward the captain’s quarters.

The closer I got, the harder my heart pounded. At the door, I froze, hesitating to go in, even though I knew for sure—he already knew I was here. Of course, he did. He always knows everything.

As they say, no use taking a deep breath before death.

I took a deep breath anyway, knocked, waited for permission, and, gathering all my resolve, stepped inside.

Whitebeard was sitting on his enormous bed—so massive it looked like an entire house could fit on it. In one hand, he held a book; in the other, a large sake cup. He looked completely at ease, as if enjoying a quiet evening, but the moment I stepped inside, his gaze shifted to me.

I instinctively pressed my lips together.

The room was filled with an almost eerie silence, broken only by the occasional crackling of candles. Everything here suited the captain—massive, sturdy, imposing. Even the chair across from him looked like it could comfortably fit someone three times my size.

I let out a weary sigh. To even get onto the chair, I had to shift my arms into wings and hover slightly. It was only after I sat down, folding my legs beneath me, that I realized how strange this scene must have looked: me, so small in this enormous chair, facing Whitebeard, whose silhouette seemed to dominate half the room.

He calmly closed his book, set it aside on the table, and looked at me again.

—“You wanted to see me?”—I tried to sound composed, but there was a slight tension in my voice.

Truth be told, I had neither the energy nor the desire to engage in a staring contest with this giant. My mind was still tangled with recent events, and a heavy melancholy refused to let go.

—“Yes,”—he said evenly. —“Ace has accepted my offer. Now it’s time for you to do the same.”

My fingers clenched into a fist before I could stop myself.

—“I already told you—”—I began, but before I could finish, Whitebeard, his expression unchanged, handed me a folded piece of paper.

I frowned but took it, unfolding it cautiously.

As soon as my eyes scanned the text, something inside me twisted into a knot.

—“It was in the papers this morning,”—Whitebeard added offhandedly, taking a sip of sake.

I stared in silence at the wanted poster in my hands.

The photo was clearly taken from my Marine file—a standard, official shot, emotionless. Just a face, just a name. Everything about it seemed routine… except for one detail.

Bounty: 100,000,000 Berries.

I exhaled sharply, my heart skipping a beat.

—“What the hell…?”—I barely found my voice. —“A hundred million?”

My eyes darted up to Whitebeard, but he simply watched me, his expression unreadable, as if analyzing my reaction.

—“Why so much…?”—I muttered, feeling unease stir deep in my gut.

I knew I’d crossed a line when I stole those classified documents and handed them over to the pirates… but a hundred million? That was excessive.

—“From now on, they’ll be hunting you,”—Whitebeard stated matter-of-factly, setting his cup down. —“You might be able to handle bounty hunters, but the Marines and Cipher Pol? You won’t.”

I swallowed hard. He said it so simply, as if it was an undeniable truth, not even worth arguing over.

Whitebeard tilted his head slightly, and when he looked at me again, his voice softened.

—“But here, you’ll be safe.”

Silence settled over the room once more.

Slowly, I lowered my gaze back to the poster, rereading the text, but the numbers remained unchanged.

A hundred million berries.

They wanted me dead.

Pressing my lips into a thin line, I let out a heavy breath, crushing the last remnants of my hesitation.

A storm of thoughts still raged inside me—fear, uncertainty, the vague sense of losing something important. But as I met Whitebeard’s gaze, I suddenly understood: the decision had already been made. It had been waiting for me to say it out loud.

Lifting my head, I let my resolve burn in my eyes.

—“I accept.”

My voice was steady, unwavering.

To hell with everything.

I’d live the way I wanted.

They had tipped the scales in their favor.

***

Everyone had gone completely mad.

The entire next day, the crew was in a frenzy—rushing across the deck, hauling things, cooking, setting up, shouting to each other. The sheer scale of it made it seem like they hadn’t just recruited two problematic people but had actually found the One Piece itself.

I did my best to stay in the shadows, blending into the walls, pretending I wasn’t even there. I didn’t want to talk to anyone right now, didn’t want to see those beaming faces, hear the congratulations, or feel the excited stares on me. Somewhere deep inside, there was still a lingering unease, as if I had betrayed myself—first adamantly refusing to join this crew, then suddenly agreeing so easily.

So I leaned against one of the ship’s structures, hiding in the shade, away from all the chaos. From this safe distance, I watched as the pirates laughed, argued, and prepared for tonight’s celebration with almost childlike enthusiasm.

—“Ah, so here you are!”—a cheerful voice rang out beside me. Before I could react, Ace plopped down next to me.

He already looked like he had fully integrated into the crew, his face lit up with a wide grin, a massive piece of meat in his hand.

I glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.

—“I see you’ve already gotten your tattoo?”—I asked, nodding at his bare back.

His grin widened immediately. He turned around and proudly showed off a fresh tattoo covering his entire back.

—“Yeah! You’re the first one to see it! Well, besides Izou, of course—he’s the one who did it.”

I couldn’t hold back a quiet chuckle. He was such a kid.

—“Looks awesome,”—I said, giving him a thumbs-up.

Ace beamed, adjusting his position, and then shot me a curious look.

—“When are you getting yours?”

I stretched lazily, glancing at the noisy deck where tables were already being set, and smirked.

—“Later. There’s a party tonight, and my plan is to get drunk. Definitely not the time for a tattoo.”

Ace burst into laughter, taking a huge bite of his meat, and nodded in agreement.

—“Fair enough.”

—“I see you’ve already started raiding the kitchen,”—I teased, folding my arms and watching him with amusement.

He tore into the meat like a starving wolf, not even thinking of slowing down.

—“Thatch’s cooking is divine,”—he mumbled through a full mouth, licking his lips.

I smirked as he rolled his eyes dreamily, savoring every bite.

—“Poor guys… They’re going to suffer with your bottomless stomach.”

Ace snorted indignantly, tossing the bone aside.

—“Hey! I’m not that much of a glutton!”—he protested, squinting at me. —“Luffy would’ve eaten twice as much!”

I laughed. There was no arguing with that.

—“By the way, I wanted to ask you something…”

His voice came unexpectedly close.

I flinched slightly. He had leaned in, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes locked onto mine. His lips curved into a familiar smirk, but there was a mischievous glint in his gaze.

—“You know both the past and the future, don’t you?”

My heart skipped a beat. I forced myself to stay calm, even as something inside me twisted.

—“Well… something like that,”—I muttered, deliberately shifting my gaze to the side.

Ace smirked, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head.

—“Then tell me my future!”—he said excitedly. —“I’m going to be an amazing pirate, right?”

I clenched my teeth.

—“You will,”—I murmured, barely audible.

His eyes lit up. He even sat up straighter, probably imagining all the great things he would achieve, all the legendary feats he would accomplish.

And I couldn’t look at him.

I was part of this crew now. I wouldn’t let things play out the way they were meant to.

Ace… He had become my friend. A real, warm, radiant friend. And the thought of losing him—of him ceasing to exist—was unbearable.

—“You’re a terrible liar,”—he suddenly said, tilting his head. There was amusement in his voice, but doubt flickered in his eyes. —“Come on, tell me the truth.”

—“No,”—I cut him off sharply.

—“Why not?”

—“You won’t like it.”

—“It’s fine,”—he shrugged, as if it were nothing. —“I’ll be okay.”

My fingers tightened around the fabric of my pants.

—“No…”— I whispered, forcing myself to meet his gaze. —“I’ll make sure my words become the truth.”

Ace frowned slightly, studying me intently. But within seconds, that familiar, cocky, mischievous grin returned to his face.

—“Aww, come oooon, just tell me!”— he drawled in a deliberately whiny voice, tilting his head like a spoiled child.

I couldn’t hold back any longer.

—“You’re going to die.”

The words slipped out faster than I could stop them. They hung in the air, heavy and inevitable.

Ace froze. The smile vanished.

I swallowed but didn’t look away.

—“And the whole world will finally know the truth about you,”— I continued, quiet but firm.

Silence.

—“But I promise,”— I added, my voice steadier now, —“I will stop it from happening.”

Ace kept staring at me. And for the first time, it seemed like he didn’t know what to say.

Then, in a near whisper, he said:

—“I believe you.”

I smiled, but the tension inside me refused to fade.

—“Just… don’t go around telling people where I’m from, alright?”

—“Of course! I’m not an idiot,”— Ace huffed, frowning slightly.

I chuckled softly.

—“Of course not. Just making sure.”

Before he could protest further, I reached out and ruffled his hair. He jerked back immediately, shooting me an indignant glare.

—“The only ones who know where I’m from are you and Garp.”

Ace blinked.

—“Gramps?”

—“Yeah,”— I nodded. —“He’s the one who helped me escape Cipher Pol.”

Ace’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he didn’t say anything. I could almost see the puzzle pieces clicking into place in his mind.

—“Hey! Asta! Ace! Get over here!”— a bright, cheerful voice called out.

We turned to see Thatch hurrying toward us—slightly out of breath, but clearly thrilled about something. His hair was a mess, his eyes gleamed with excitement, and the grin on his face made it look like he had just found buried treasure.

Ace shot to his feet instantly, like a coiled spring. I glanced at him with mild envy. That speed, that ease… Why couldn’t I move like that?

He caught my look and smirked before holding out his hand.

—“Come on, let’s go.”

I rolled my eyes but took his hand anyway, choosing, for once, not to overthink whatever was coming next.

As we walked toward the center of the deck, I tried to steady myself. The entire crew’s attention would inevitably be on us. I wasn’t too thrilled about that, but…

Honestly?

At that moment, the world felt too kind to worry.

The sun bathed everything in a soft, golden warmth. The waves lazily lapped against the ship’s hull. A light breeze tousled my hair.

It was as if the day itself was blessing us with a new beginning.

And then the air split apart with a booming, powerful voice:

—“Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra!”

That laugh alone sent warmth flooding through me.

—“My children!”— Whitebeard’s voice rang out like rolling thunder as he rose to his full height, towering over us like the ocean itself. —“Let’s welcome our new crewmates!”

A heartbeat later, the deck erupted.

Cheers, whistles, laughter, the clinking of mugs—someone was already pounding their fist against the table in excitement. The atmosphere hit us like a wave—loud, wild, electric.

—“Enjoy yourselves!”— Whitebeard grinned, looking at us like a proud father. —“This celebration is for you!”

And just like that, chaos broke loose.

Music soared into the night air, someone broke into a song, and a few pirates were already dancing off to the side. Hands clapped me on the back, voices called out welcomes, and before I knew it, one of the guys was dragging us toward the center, clearly roping us into some kind of game.

But I didn’t even get a chance to protest before Ace grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the food tables.

—“Come on, come on—before they drag us into something stupid!”— he laughed, weaving us through the crowd.

I just let out a small huff of amusement. Well, at least the night was shaping up to be interesting.

The party kicked into full swing. Music blared, some pirates were already dancing on the tables, mugs clashed together in boisterous toasts, and the air buzzed with laughter, shouting, and the salty scent of the sea.

Ace, of course, dived straight into the madness. He barely had time to finish his meal before he was swept away—either into a drinking game or some loud argument over who was the strongest among them.

I lingered for a moment, just watching.

—“So, what do you think of our little family?”— came a familiar voice beside me.

I turned to see Thatch, grinning.

—“Chaotic but fun,”— I replied, smirking.

—“Get used to it. We’re always like this.”

He clapped a hand on my shoulder before nodding toward a small group already swapping wild stories by the fire.

—“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest properly.”

I shrugged and followed him in.

—«So!»— Thatch dramatically raised his hand, drawing attention. —«Meet our newcomer, Asta!»

—«Ooo, a newbie!»— someone drawled excitedly, immediately grabbing my shoulder. —«Come on, come on, tell us—how did you end up tangled with us?»

I had just opened my mouth when someone nearby loudly slammed a mug on the table.

—«Wait, wait, how about this instead! Newbie, answer this: have you ever seen an island where rum bottles grow instead of trees?!»

—«What?»— I blinked, unsure whether to laugh or be surprised.

—«Don’t listen to him, he just loves telling tall tales,»— someone else cut in, waving a hand.

—«Tall tales? That was the absolute truth! I was there!»

—«Sure you were. Just like you were on the moon, right?»

The group burst into laughter, someone patted me on the shoulder, and someone else held out a mug, offering a drink.

—«Well, what do you think? Like it here?»— Thatch asked, winking.

I glanced around—Ace was already deep in an argument with someone, gesturing wildly, another person was humming a pirate song, and someone else was eagerly rolling dice. Laughter, warmth, noise—the feeling of belonging.

I smiled and nodded.

—«Yeah. It’s great here.»

The celebration continued, but I stayed on the outskirts of the crowd, watching the fun without becoming part of it. I was never the type to easily blend into loud gatherings.

Especially when it came to… dancing.

Dancing had recently become a harbinger of disaster for me.

Every time I allowed myself to relax and join in, it always ended in a nightmare.

So when I heard Haruta’s loud, enthusiastic voice, I instantly tensed.

—«Asta!»— he called out happily, weaving his way through the crowd toward me.

I shrank inwardly. Please, not this…

—«Come dance with me!»

Of course.

—«Uh… no, thanks,»— I gave him a nervous smile, stepping back.

But Haruta looked as if he hadn’t even heard me.

—«Oh, come on! It’s fun! No one’s watching, no one’s judging—just dancing!»

—«I… really, I don’t want to,»— I took another step back, but Haruta had already grabbed my wrist.

Something inside me froze.

—«Haruta, let go,»— my voice came out quieter than I intended, but there was still a trace of panic in it.

And then, as if by magic, Izou was suddenly there. He didn’t intervene immediately, but his voice—calm yet firm—instantly cooled the situation.

—«Haruta, don’t,»— he looked at him with a slight smile, but there was a warning in his eyes.

—«Oh, come on, Izou,»— Haruta huffed, still not understanding the problem. —«It’s just a dance!»

—«Not for her,»— Izou replied, adjusting his hair.

Haruta froze, then shifted his gaze to me and finally noticed how tense my face had become.

—«Oh… uh, sorry, Asta,»— he quickly let go of my hand, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. —«I didn’t mean to…»

—«It’s okay,»— I said quietly, though inside, I was still trembling a little.

A few seconds of tense silence hung in the air, but it was quickly broken by a familiar voice—Ace’s.

—«Haruta, are you scaring Asta?»— He gave him a suspicious look, clapping him on the shoulder.

—«I’m not scaring her!»— Haruta protested, though he looked a bit flustered. —«I was just trying to help her relax!»

—«Then let’s try something else,»— Namur cut in, having silently observed the exchange. He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. —«How about a friendly challenge, Asta?»

I blinked in surprise.

—«A challenge?»

—«I’ll give you a riddle. If you solve it—Haruta has to grant you one wish. If you don’t—you have to answer one of his questions.»

Haruta immediately perked up.

—«Oh, I like this!»

Ace chuckled.

—«I’m in, too!»

I hesitated. On one hand, this idea seemed a bit strange. On the other… it was definitely better than dancing.

Taking a deep breath, I nodded.

—«Alright.»

Namur grinned in satisfaction.

—«Then listen carefully…»

And for the first time that evening, I felt like I wasn’t just standing on the sidelines but actually becoming part of the crew—on my own terms.

Namur gave me a knowing smile.

—«Alright, here’s your riddle: what can be broken without touching it?»

I frowned. The question sounded simple, but the more I thought about it, the more confused I became.

Ace, standing nearby, crossed his arms, watching me with amusement. Haruta was practically bouncing in place, clearly eager to celebrate his victory.

—«Come on, Asta,»— he urged. —«You still have time!»

I bit my lip. Something you can break without touching… Something abstract? A promise? No, that felt too obvious. Or maybe…

—«Time’s almost up,»— Namur drawled lazily.

—«Wait!»— I strained my memory, hoping the answer would surface. But… nothing.

Namur raised an eyebrow.

—«So? Your answer?»

I gave up.

—«I don’t know…»

—«Ha!»— Haruta threw his arms up in victory. —«That’s my win!»

—«The answer is—a promise,»— Namur said calmly.

I froze.

—«A promise…»— I echoed. Of course. The most obvious answer.

— “Don’t worry about it,”— Ace patted me on the shoulder. — “You’ll definitely get it next time.”

Haruta, on the other hand, was already beaming with excitement.

— “And now, Asta, you have to answer my question!”

— “Just don’t make it something stupid,”— Izou interjected with a slight warning, clearly sensing trouble.

— “Yeah, yeah, I know,”— Haruta waved him off. Then he squinted mischievously and pointed at me. — “Hmm… Now, what should I ask you?”

I tensed up inside. Judging by that sly grin of his, nothing good was coming.

— “Oh!”— he suddenly snapped his fingers, making me flinch. — “Asta, what are you most afraid of?”

I blinked.

— “What?”

— “Well, everyone has fears, right?”— Haruta shrugged. — “So, what’s the thing that scares you the most?”

Izou adjusted his hair with a slight smile.

— “Good question.”

Ace looked intrigued as well.

— “Yeah, Asta, let’s hear it.”

Namur, who had been silently watching the conversation until now, let out a restrained chuckle.

— “Careful, Haruta. What if she says she’s afraid of annoying pirates who ask too many questions?”

I almost went with that answer, but Haruta beat me to it:

— “No, no, no, a real fear! The kind that gives you chills!”

I sighed.

— “You know, I could’ve just avoided this if I hadn’t lost that stupid riddle…”

— “But you did!”— Haruta reminded me cheerfully.

I rolled my eyes.

— “Fine,”— I muttered. — “But if anyone laughs, I’m hitting them.”

— “Fair enough,”— Ace smirked.

I hesitated for a moment. Saying I was afraid of death? Too cliché. Loneliness? Too obvious. And honestly, way too personal.

—“Deep water,”— I answered, surprising even myself.

Haruta blinked.

—“You’re a pirate, and you’re afraid of water?”

—“I’m afraid of deep water,”— I clarified. —“When you can’t see the bottom… when you don’t know what’s down there…”

Ace tilted his head thoughtfully.

—“Well, that sounds reasonable.”

—“Yes, it makes perfect sense,”— Namur agreed. —“The depths of the ocean hide many things a person would be better off never encountering.”

—“Exactly!”— I pointed at him. —“You get it!”

Haruta sighed.

—“Alright, I was expecting something more dramatic, but this works too.”

—“Sorry to disappoint,”— I scoffed.

—“It’s fine. I’m still going to call you ‘Asta, Conqueror of Puddles’ from now on!”

—“Haruta, I swear I'll naile…”

Ace laughed, while Izou just shook his head, watching our bickering with a slight smirk.

And despite all of it, I suddenly realized that, perhaps… I felt comfortable among them.

***

I’d lost count of how many tankards I had emptied, but I knew one thing for sure—it was too many.

My head was pleasantly spinning, warmth spread through my chest, and even the noise around me no longer seemed so deafening. I sat on a barrel, swinging my legs, smiling to myself as Ace and Haruta argued over something ridiculous.

—“Asta, are you even listening to us?”— Haruta narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

—“Of course!”— I nodded confidently… and nearly toppled backward.

Ace caught me by the shoulder just in time.

—“Oh no, you’re definitely out of it,”— he chuckled.

—“Nonsense!”— I waved him off, nearly knocking over a nearby tankard. —“I am perfectly sober!”

Namur snorted.

—“Yeah, that looks exactly like sobriety.”

Izou just smirked.

—“Give her ten more minutes”— and she’ll be asleep right on the deck.”

—“Never!”— I declared proudly, thrusting my fist into the air.

Haruta narrowed his eyes mischievously.

—“Oh yeah? Let’s test that… Walk ten steps in a straight line.”

—“Easy!”

I hopped off the barrel… and immediately realized that the floor had somehow become very unstable. I took one step, then another… By the third, I was tilting dangerously, and I definitely would’ve hit the ground if someone hadn’t caught me by the shoulders.

—“Careful,”— a calm, slightly lazy voice said.

I froze. I recognized it instantly. Marco.

My head was still spinning from the alcohol, but even through that haze, a nervous chill ran down my spine.

He was too close.

The memory of that kiss flared in my mind, making my face burn. It had only happened a few days ago—a mistake, an accident, a moment of weakness. But now, every time I looked at him, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was thinking about it too.

—“You drank more than you should have,”— he noted evenly, his hands still steady on my shoulders.

—“I’m perfectly fine,”— I muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Marco tilted his head slightly, studying me.

—“You can’t even stand straight.”

—“I can,”— I tried to argue… but I might have swayed a little, because his grip on my shoulders tightened.

Damn.

I could feel the stares of Ace, Haruta, and Izou on me. They were definitely noticing something, but for now, they stayed quiet.

—“Alright, this is already entertaining, but I think I should take her to her cabin,”— Ace chuckled.

—“I’ll do it,”— Marco said calmly.

I immediately tensed.

—“No need!”

Everyone froze.

Marco narrowed his eyes slightly.

—“Why?”

I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. That I couldn’t handle another awkward minute alone with him? That just one look from him made my heart skip a beat? That I was still mortified about that damn kiss?

—“Just… don’t,”— I muttered.

—“You don’t want to collapse somewhere in the middle of the deck, do you?”— he asked with a faint smirk.

—“I can walk by myself,”— I said stubbornly.

—“Of course you can,”— he snorted.

And then, before I could do anything, he simply leaned down, scooped me up, and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

—“Hey!”— I struggled, feeling the blood rush to my head. —“Put me down right now!”

—“Oh, things are getting interesting,”— Haruta drawled, watching the scene with amusement. —“Should we all leave so we don’t interrupt?”

—“Yeah, the night is long,”— Izou added, adjusting his hair to hide his smirk. —“Maybe they have important business to attend to.”

I froze, my face burning even hotter.

—“What business?!”— I protested, trying to wriggle free, but Marco just held me tighter.

—“Don’t interfere, kids,”— he said lazily, not even looking at them.

—“Oooooh,”— Haruta exchanged a glance with Namur.

—“Alright, now I’m officially intrigued,”— Namur smirked.

—“Marco…”— I hissed quietly, but he just kept walking, completely unfazed by my embarrassment.

—“Goodnight, Asta!”— Haruta called after me, clearly enjoying this far too much.

—“Sleep well,”— Izou added with a laugh. —“You’ll need the energy.”

Ace stifled a snicker behind his fist, and I squeezed my eyes shut in horror.

Marco just let out a short chuckle but said nothing.

And I, burying my face in my hands, could only pray that by tomorrow, everyone would have forgotten about this. But knowing them… there was no chance.

I could still hear their laughter all the way to the cabin doors.

—“They got it all wrong!”— I muttered, still dangling over Marco’s shoulder.

—“Mhm,”— he replied calmly, clearly unbothered.

—“You’re not even trying to correct them!”

—“Why would I?”

I froze.

—“What do you mean, why?! They’re going to start spouting all sorts of nonsense!”

Marco finally stopped, casually pushed open the door, and before I could react, he set me down gently on the bed.

—“If I started explaining myself, it would only fuel the fire,”— he said, looking down at me. —“It’s better to just ignore it.”

—“Easy for you to say…”— I mumbled, hiding my face in my hands again.

Marco sighed and sat down beside me, leaning against the edge of the bed.

—“You’re overthinking this.”

—“Of course I am! Now they’re going to make comments, drop hints—”

—“Let them.”

I snapped my head up.

—”Let them?!”

Marco looked at me lazily, something unreadable flickering in his gaze.

—“Are you that afraid they might be right?”

—“What?!”— I nearly jumped.

—“Just asking,”— he shrugged.

I opened my mouth… then closed it again. For some reason, my heart was beating faster.

—“You’re just messing with me…”— I muttered, turning away.

Marco let out a quiet chuckle.

—“Alright, get some sleep, Asta.”

I heard him stand up from the bed, and to my surprise, I felt… disappointed.

But even after he left the cabin, I still sat there in the dark, gripping the blanket tightly in my fists.

“Are you that afraid they might be right?”

Why couldn’t I get those words out of my head?

I couldn’t take it anymore.

My head was still spinning, my heart pounding too fast, but I knew one thing—if I didn’t ask him now, I never would.

I ran out of the cabin, nearly crashing into the wall, and looked around. Marco was already almost out of sight, disappearing around the corner.

I gathered my courage and called out:

—“Marco!”

He stopped, lazily turned his head, then fully turned to face me.

—“Did you forget something?”

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to be brave.

—“That kiss…”— the words were hard to get out, but I pushed on. —“What did it mean?”

Marco was silent.

I waited for something—any reaction—but he just stared at me, as if trying to gauge how serious I was.

—“You’re not in the right state to talk about this,”— he finally said.

I gritted my teeth.

—“I’m not drunk enough to not know what I’m asking!”

He tilted his head slightly, studying me.

—“Really?”

—“Really!”

Marco sighed, running a hand through his hair, but he didn’t look surprised.

—“You really want to have this conversation?”

—“Yes.”

He took a step forward, and I froze.

—“Alright,”— his voice was as calm as ever, but there was something in it now—something that sent a shiver down my spine.

I clenched my fists tighter.

—“So? What did it mean?”

He looked straight into my eyes.

—“What do you think?”

I opened my mouth… but had nothing to say.

I didn’t answer right away.

But something in his gaze—that quiet, patient confidence—made me realize.

He knew.

He knew what I felt. Knew that I had been trying to deny it. Knew that I was afraid.

—“Are you still scared?”— his voice was low, almost rough.

I swallowed hard.

—“Yes,”— I whispered, my heart pounding somewhere in my throat.

Marco nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

—“But you’re not running anymore.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

I took a deep breath.

—“No.”

He stepped closer, and this time—I didn’t move away.

—“Good.”

His hand slid along my waist—lightly, yet firmly—as if asking a question while already knowing the answer. His fingers tightened just slightly, pulling me closer until not even an inch remained between us.

—“Tell me if I should stop.”

But there was nothing to say.

Because in the next moment, his lips claimed mine—and nothing else mattered anymore.

It wasn't a hesitative, cautious kiss. It was a response to weeks, months of tense silence, to looks that lasted a little longer than they should have, to random touches that made the heat rise up the skin.

Marco didn't leave me a chance.

I felt his fingers slide down my back, pulling me closer, as his lips demandingly opened mine, deepening the kiss. I groaned into his lips, feeling the heat overwhelming me.

The hands themselves found their way to his shoulders, fingers clung to the fabric of the shirt, trying to stay in this whirlwind of sensations. I felt him - the warmth of his body, the strength of his hands, his breathing, hot, intermittent, almost breaking.

Marco finally pulled away—but only for a second, just enough to let me catch my breath.

—“I was hoping you’d finally admit it,”—he said hoarsely, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

I looked at him, still breathing heavily, and for the first time in a long while, I felt no doubt.

I smiled, still clutching his shirt, and before he could say another word, I pulled him back to me.

As soon as the cabin door clicked shut behind us, I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. But before I could say anything, Marco suddenly wrapped an arm around my waist and effortlessly tipped me onto the bed.

—“Hey!”—I protested, heat rushing to my cheeks at the feel of his hands.

He only smirked, bracing one hand against the mattress beside my head. Moonlight streamed through the porthole, casting shadows across his face—
and suddenly, breathing became much harder.

—“You didn’t really think I’d just let you go after a question like that, did you?”—his voice was low, soft, but laced with unmistakable amusement.

I swallowed nervously.

—“It’s not fair to catch me off guard like that…”—I muttered, holding his gaze stubbornly.

—“And it wasn’t fair to make me wait this long,”—he shot back.

I bit my lip. He was right. For too long, I had run from my own feelings, hiding behind fear and doubt.

But I wasn’t running anymore.

Slowly, I lifted my hand and brushed my fingers against his wrist, feeling the way the muscles tensed beneath his skin. Marco didn’t move—he only waited.

—“I still can’t quite believe this is real…”—I admitted quietly.

He lowered his head just a little, closing the last inches between us.

—“It’s real.”

His breath ghosted over my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

—“Then I need time to get used to it.”

His lips curled into a faint smile.

—“I’ll help you.”

His fingers traced along my palm before intertwining with mine, and in that moment, I knew—there was nothing left to fear.

Chapter Text

How long had I been asleep? Time had lost its meaning. I woke up from thirst — my throat was so dry, it felt like I had wandered through a desert for days. I craved water, desperate to drink to the last drop.

I sat up, yawned, lazily rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. The air in the room was heavy, stifling, as if it had settled in place and had no intention of leaving. No surprise — it was a former storage room, windowless, with not even a hint of fresh air. Dim light filled every corner, objects blending with shadows, forming ghostly outlines.

Surprisingly, my head didn’t hurt, but my body ached, as if I had spent the entire day hauling heavy crates. Though, if I thought about it, it wasn’t exactly pain — just a strange, sluggish discomfort, like after being still for too long.

I reached out, groped around the floor, found a piece of fabric, and pulled it over me. Only then did I realize — it was Phoenix’s shirt. The fabric was warm, slightly rough, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was warming up, feeling even a little bit cozier.

The pitcher was nearby. I grabbed it, quickly poured water into a glass, and drained it in one gulp. The cold liquid burned my throat in the best way, spreading through my body like a refreshing wave. I closed my eyes, savoring this simple yet essential moment.

— “It suits you,” — a rough, half-asleep voice suddenly sounded behind me.

I flinched, almost dropping the empty glass, not expecting him to be awake.

— “What are you talking about?” — I asked, turning to him.

He was lying on the mattress, propping his head up with one hand, the other casually thrown behind him, as if the whole world belonged to him. That lazy smile on his lips was as unbothered as his gaze — holding that strange, barely noticeable glimmer of something unreadable.

— “My shirt,” — he said, not hiding his amusement, as if he had just won some clever game. His smile widened, something playful flickering in his eyes. He patted the mattress beside him, a silent invitation. — “Come here.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to mask my doubt, but my eyes still narrowed slightly. Something about his voice, about that mischievous glint, unsettled me. I took a step closer.

The moment I was within arm’s reach, his hand, fast as lightning, seized my wrist. And in the next second, I was falling onto the bed, the sheets crumpling beneath me, and he was above me — as if he had decided he wasn’t letting go.

His face was so close — I could feel his breath on my skin, and his smile was so confident that I involuntarily held my breath.

I tried to speak, but the words stuck in my throat. His gaze traced my face, lingering on my lips. He was savoring every second of this moment, knowing he had complete control over it.

— “You like playing dirty,” — I exhaled, trying to hold onto the last shreds of composure.

— “I like winning,” — his voice was low and velvety, and his fingers lazily trailed along my arm, lingering at my wrist.

His touch was unhurried, exploring — as if he was savoring the very fact that he could touch me like this, without haste, without fear of being pushed away.

— “And what exactly are you trying to win?” — I lifted my chin, determined not to show how close he was to victory.

— “You,” — he answered simply, without a trace of doubt in his voice.

I pressed my lips together, but before I could say anything, he leaned in, his lips brushing against my cheek, leaving a barely perceptible warmth in their wake.

— “You’ve already won,” — I whispered, feeling his hand slide along my waist, pulling me closer.

He stilled, his lips barely touching my skin, but I knew he was smiling.

— “I know.”

And before I could respond, he captured my lips in a kiss — slow, assured, carrying that same smile I could no longer see but felt in every fiber of my being.

His fingers trailed leisurely down my back, sending pleasant shivers across my skin. I pressed closer, burying my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, warm scent — the one that always made me feel safe. His breath ghosted over my skin, steady and calm, and in that quiet moment, there was so much comfort that I didn’t want to move.

— “Are you always this sure of yourself?” — I murmured, lazily tracing a finger along his collarbone before tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

Marco smirked, his fingers sliding into my hair, pushing it back slightly so he could see my face better.

— “When it comes to you?” — his voice was low and soft. — “Always.”

I huffed a small laugh, resting my forehead against his shoulder, but he only pulled me closer, his palm slowly, lazily gliding down my back, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

— “You know…” — he suddenly spoke, breaking the silence. — “I like seeing you in my shirt.”

I propped myself up on my elbow, glancing at him from beneath my lashes.

— “Yeah?” — a small smile tugged at my lips. — “And what do you like more — the shirt on me, or…?”

I deliberately left the sentence unfinished, watching as a faint spark flickered in his eyes. His hand slid to my thigh, slow, almost lazy.

— “Or?” — he raised a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching in a mischievous smirk.

I leaned in just a little, feeling his breath mix with mine.

— “Or when it’s not on me,” — I whispered, watching as his gaze darkened.

In the next second, he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my temple before he murmured, barely audible, almost affectionate:

— “Good question… Let’s find out?”

The cabin door burst open with a loud crash, making me jerk in surprise.

— “Hey, Asta! How are you feeling after last night? I came to get you for breakf—”

Ace froze, staring at us.

Marco, who had just been leaning over me, lazily lifted his head, as if this wasn’t the absolute worst moment for an unannounced visit. His hand was still resting on my waist, and my shirt had treacherously slipped off my shoulder.

Ace blinked. Then again.

I panicked, yanking the fabric up, feeling my cheeks heat up instantly.

— “Oh…” — he tilted his head thoughtfully, examining us with extreme curiosity. Then his lips stretched into a wide grin. — “So that’s why you didn’t show up for breakfast.”

Marco let out a slow breath, looking at him like he was seriously reconsidering whether recruiting him had been a mistake.

— “Ace,” — his voice was calm, but laced with quiet exhaustion. — “Get out.”

— “Wait, wait!” — Ace raised his hands but didn’t move from the doorway. — “I just wanted to make sure Asta was okay… And now I’m absolutely certain that she’s more than okay.”

Marco rolled his eyes, and I, still burning with embarrassment, grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at Ace with all my might.

He dodged effortlessly, then laughed, clearly enjoying himself.

— “Alright, alright, I’m leaving! But if you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming back with a breakfast tray. And don’t ask where I’ll put it.”

— “Ace, let’s go already!” — Thatch’s voice called from the hallway, and a second later, he simply grabbed Ace by the collar and dragged him out of the doorway. — “Give people some damn privacy!”

— “But this is so much fun!” — Ace protested before the door finally slammed shut behind them.

Silence settled over the cabin.

Slowly, I turned to Marco, who was already shaking with barely contained laughter.

— “Don’t you dare,” — I warned, poking his chest.

But he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He laughed, covering his eyes with one hand.

— “Did you hear that? He wanted to bring us breakfast.”

— “I’m never leaving this room. Ever.”

Marco just smirked and pulled me into a hug, pressing a light kiss to my temple.

— “You’ll have to. Otherwise, Ace really will come back. With the tray.”

***

As soon as we approached the table, all conversations instantly died down. All four of them—Ace, Izou, Thatch, and Haruta—turned to us in perfect sync, their faces alight with barely concealed curiosity and amused smirks.

— “Well, finally!” — Thatch exclaimed, clasping his hands together. — “I was starting to think we’d have to bring your breakfast to the cabin!”

— “To bed,” — Ace corrected with a wide grin, watching us with clear amusement.

Marco, unfazed, casually patted him on the shoulder as he walked past.

— “Oh, you definitely would,” — he chuckled. — “But stay out of our way, or next time, we won’t be talking to you in the morning.”

Ace let out a laugh, then turned his attention back to me, smirking.

— “So, Asta, holding up alright?” — his gaze flickered over my face before shifting to Marco. — “We were just worried you wouldn’t tell us how your night went!”

Marco, ever calm, but with a subtle edge to his voice, replied:

— “Well, Ace, looks like you need more sleep. Don’t worry, Asta and I managed just fine without your help.”

— “Without help?” — Haruta chimed in, unable to hold back his laughter. — “So what, did you need something other than help?”

I felt a wave of heat rush to my face, embarrassment threatening to swallow me whole. But Marco noticed instantly and pulled me in, subtly shielding me from their teasing.

— “If you’re talking about nightly activities,” — he said, glancing at Haruta, — “we managed just fine without you. But I can tell you that there were certainly enough of us for a good morning.”

Ace, refusing to back down, smirked.

— “Ah, so that’s what you call ‘morning business.’ I mean, I’m glad you’re having such a fun time in bed, but how about breakfast?”

Marco shook his head, but his eyes gleamed mischievously.

— “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be this interested, Ace,” — he said with a grin, tugging me just a little closer. — “But if you want, we can go over the details for you. Or… would you rather watch us in action?”

Haruta couldn’t resist adding with a playful tone:

— “Oh, well that explains why they took so long to come out… Maybe they didn’t need to get up at all. Smart choices, as they say!” — he grinned.

I turned an even deeper shade of red, lowering my head in a desperate attempt to avoid everyone’s eyes.

— “Exactly,” — I muttered, hiding behind my coffee cup. — “I could’ve slept a couple more hours, honestly.”

Ace, of course, wasn’t done yet.

— “Yeah, yeah, we got that part. The important thing is that everything went well. But you know…” — he flashed a teasing grin at me, winking. — “I think Asta could use another morning check-in just to be sure!”

Marco immediately cut in, effortlessly shielding me.

— “Ace, if you wake us up too early, I promise you—next time, you’ll wish you’d just stayed in your own cabin instead of standing outside ours.”

Haruta, always eager to stir the pot, added with a smirk:

— “Oh, Marco, seems like you already have your own morning coffee routine. Just make sure it doesn’t get… too hot.”

Marco let out a sharp huff, while I groaned and covered my face with both hands, utterly mortified.

— “Great. Now everyone knows everything,” — I mumbled, pressing my lips together.

Marco, still chuckling quietly, leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear as he murmured:

— “Don’t worry, little bird… This is just the beginning. It only gets more fun from here.”

***

How shameful! It’s simply awful! I had always thought that on a ship, where space is catastrophically limited, people sooner or later begin to seek any means of entertainment. But it’s one thing—gambling or even fighting out of boredom—and quite another—endless gossip that makes your ears burn.

Take, for instance, the watch on deck. They had a code, yes, and discipline seemed to be in place as well, but even the strictest rules couldn’t stop the sailors from coming up with new ways to kill time. But the pirates on this ship… These people could never be satisfied—they would rather gossip about someone’s bones than not gossip at all! The rumors spread so quickly here that it seemed like if the wind had just calmed down a little, you could hear your name being discussed in the farthest cabin.

The moment you let your guard down—someone would throw a sly glance your way, someone would smirk, and someone, almost casually, would drop a remark that made you want to sink through the deck. With each passing day, it became harder to look people in the eye: their gazes were filled with too much interest, mockery, or—worst of all—clear expectation for a continuation of the spectacle I hadn’t even planned.

— “Why has my personal life, and Marco’s, become such a hot topic for gossip?” — I lamented, lowering my head and sighing heavily. Leaning against the edges of the raven’s nest, feeling how the fatigue pressed me into its cold, hard planks. My gaze wandered along the horizon, trying to find some excuse for this absurdity, but instead, everything around seemed even more ridiculous. It was as if every whisper, every word on this ship was dedicated solely to Marco and me, as if everyone was living our stories, ignoring their own. “Honestly, they’re worse than Garp. And that guy loved sticking his nose in everything! What are we even talking about! My mother cared less about my relationships than these gossipmongers!”

My emotional storm was suddenly interrupted by Whitebeard’s gaze—it was so heavy, so commanding, that it couldn’t be ignored. It felt like his eyes were penetrating into my very soul. He beckoned me with his hand, and I, almost instinctively, immediately flew to his enormous palm. I didn’t even realize how giant it was at first because, sitting on his hand, I felt like a small, almost insignificant creature, one that could hardly compete with this mountain of a man.

— “So, daughter, how do you like it here?” — he spoke, his deep voice like the roar of the sea, and there was a glint of mischievous fire in his eyes. He squinted, as though humorously evaluating my first impression.

— “It’s fun,” — I replied with a hint of sarcasm, holding back an almost uncontrollable laugh that was about to burst out.

— “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra! What has got you so upset?” — his voice, as always, was powerful and cheerful, like thunder on a clear morning.

— “Their tongues, which they can’t keep behind their teeth!” — I replied, still trying to calm my nerves. “At first, it really embarrassed me, but seriously, discussing our relationship for a whole week?! This is just beyond the pale!” I waved my hand sharply, trying to shake off the awkwardness.

— “Don’t be so angry with them,” — Whitebeard said softly, as if soothing a naughty child. “They’ll calm down soon.” His voice was warm and soothing, almost like an old sage who had seen everything in the world.

— “Yeah, I’m sure,” — I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t suppress a smile, even though I tried. In his presence, even the most annoying things stopped feeling so important.

— “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra! Don’t be sad, I’ll talk to them,” — he said with a smile, as if it were the most natural and simple thing in the world.

— “Thanks,” — I muttered, feeling his care, despite its simplicity, still manage to make me relax. Suddenly, I felt his warm energy fill me, and all my irritation began to evaporate, like mist under the morning sun.

My gaze inadvertently slid to the horizon, where the sun was slowly sinking, painting the sky in crimson and golden hues. At that moment, everything around seemed so balanced, so harmonious. We sat in silence, simply enjoying the moment, forgetting everything else. I couldn’t believe how easy it was for me to sit on the hand of the strongest person in the world, the one whose name even frightens children, and here I was, completely relaxed, sprawled on his palm as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

Had you told me this a couple of years ago, I would have just laughed and twirled my finger by my temple. I never imagined my life could turn out this way. So much has changed since then, and I still couldn’t fully believe it was real.

— “How is your health?” — I asked, holding back the anxiety in my voice, though I tried to make it sound like a casual question. The IV drips had certainly decreased, but they still reminded me of the illness, of the fact that he wasn’t fully recovered yet.

— “It’s fine. You’ve already done a lot,” — he replied, as if tired of discussing it. His voice was calm, but there was a certain heaviness in it, as if everything that had happened no longer surprised him.

— “So, you know after all…” — I whispered, and my voice betrayed a little more confusion than I would have liked. What had I expected? Of course, they already knew.

— “You shouldn’t think about it,” — he said with a sad smile. “We all die sooner or later.”

I couldn’t help but look him straight in the eyes, as though he were about to tell me something that couldn’t be true. With some inner resolve, I replied directly:
— “It’s too soon for you to die.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, and then his face was lit by a slight smirk, like someone who had long been accustomed to facing the inevitable but didn’t lose their optimism.
— “I’m not planning to die as a sick old man. I want to go out fighting, like a true pirate,” — he said with such certainty, it almost sounded like a philosophical statement.

I silently shook my head, though I knew there was no arguing with him. After all, his life was an endless adventure, full of risk and struggle. But…

— “Of course, it’s your choice,” — I said, feeling something cold rise in my throat, — “But have you thought about your children?”

He sighed, and something light, almost carefree, flickered in his eyes.
— “What will happen to them? They’re all grown and strong pirates, they’ll manage without me.” — His voice became firm, and his words sounded as if he had long since accepted this reality. There was no regret in his words—only certainty.

Ugh… I don’t like these kinds of conversations, but sometimes you have to speak the truth. I gathered all my emotions into a tight fist and quietly said:
— “You know, it’s terribly painful to realize that your father is gone, leaving behind a heart full of pain and the feeling that you couldn’t save him. That will gnaw at them for the rest of their lives.” — I noticed his face shift slightly, as if he was thinking for a moment, but didn’t argue. I bit my lip and, unable to hide my emotions, turned my gaze back to the horizon.

— “It’s much easier to bear the loss when you know that your loved ones’ final moments were filled with peace, calm, and that they passed surrounded by those they loved. In silence and tranquility…” — I added, staring at the fiery pink clouds that slowly dissolved into the dark sky, as if carrying away all my worries with them.

Silence fell, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud. The whole deck seemed to freeze, even the wind seemed to quiet. Whitebeard stood, as if in some other reality, absorbed in my words. I could see his gaze drifting into emptiness, as though he was trying to understand and process what I had said. He was the captain, but to his crew, he was more—he was a true father. And if he had been just a captain, perhaps they could survive his death. Of course, it would be terrifying and hard, but with time, they would find the strength to move on, to start a new chapter. But he was the one who raised them, the one who took them on board as children and made them real people. How could they bear the loss of such a person? I couldn’t even imagine how they would live without him, and just the thought of it made my heart tighten.

Lost in thought, I almost forgot about the time. My shift at the raven’s nest had long passed, but I was still standing here, unable to pull myself away from my thoughts. But eventually, realizing I couldn’t delay any longer, I quickly jumped off his hand. A moment later, I turned back to Whitebeard.

— “Good night, Mr. Whitebeard,” — I said quietly, but he seemed not to hear.

He was lost in his thoughts, as though in some distant world, and didn’t reply. I had almost stepped into the darkness when a roar sounded from behind—so powerful and loud that I nearly jumped in surprise:

— “Call me Pops!!!”

I couldn’t help but smile. Inside, everything turned upside down, but in my soul, there was a shadow of a cheerful echo. I turned around and mentally stuck my tongue out at him. No, I won’t call him that so easily. Even if this old man seems like the most reliable, the strongest, and somehow even like family… It hurts too much—to gain a father only to lose him. And I’m not ready for that kind of loss.

***

The heavy aftermath of my conversation with Whitebeard hung over me like a dark cloud, refusing to dissipate throughout the following day. Even Marco, always perceptive and attentive, noticed that something was off. He blew against my mood like the wind against a flame, trying to coax out what was troubling me. But I was like stone—brushing him off, insisting that everything was fine. It wasn’t. Not in the way I wanted it to seem. He didn’t believe me. Apparently, it was too obvious, and by the evening, he was dragging me to the mess hall with quiet determination, as if he knew it was the one place where I might find some distraction.

— “And why are we here?” — I asked wearily as we stepped into the kitchen. — “Dinner was over long ago!”

— “To clear your head a little,” — Marco said evenly, though the slight upward tilt of his lips betrayed him. He knew I had something to hide but wasn’t about to press me on it.

As soon as we entered, I heard a loud laugh that could have drowned out a storm. I knew instantly who it was.

— “Ze-ha-ha-ha! Commander Marco! And not alone, I see—what lovely company!” — Marshall D. Teach laughed shamelessly, lounging in his chair with that ever-unsettling expression on his face.

I barely stopped myself from grimacing or rolling my eyes in the most undignified way. And that laugh—God, how it irritated me.

— “Asta! Over here!” — Ace called out cheerfully, patting the empty seat beside him and Thatch. — “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Fun? This was probably the moment I realized I felt like a character in some absurd horror film about a killer and his unwitting victims. Or maybe just a terrible reality show where I was the unwilling observer, and everyone else was just playing their roles. Only Whitebeard was missing to complete the picture. The thought made me shudder as if I were surprising myself with where I had ended up. I sat as far away from Teach as possible, though I knew perfectly well that even from across the room, his gaze would still find me.

But, as always, Marco anticipated my reaction. Shifting closer, he sat beside me, subtly shielding me from Teach as if forming a barrier between us. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around my waist. His touch felt like an anchor. He was here, and though the heaviness inside me hadn’t vanished, it was easier to bear.

— “Everyone here?” — Thatch asked lightly, giving us a quick once-over. Standing up, he added, — “Then I’ll grab us some snacks and a bottle of rum.” — Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the kitchen.

— “Well, well, seems like our lovely lady wasted no time wrapping our Phoenix around her finger,” — Teach drawled, his voice laced with blatant amusement.

A cold chill ran down my spine. It was that familiar feeling, one I knew many women had experienced—that moment when you realized someone wasn’t looking at you as a person but as an object. A sexual object. And sometimes, that feeling was so overwhelming it nearly made you lose your composure. That’s exactly what I felt when his gaze swept over me.

— “Teach, watch your mouth,” — Marco’s voice came sharp and low, carrying a quiet, almost animalistic growl—like a predator ready to defend what was his.

— “Whoa! Commander, I’m just joking!” — Teach lifted his hands in mock innocence, as if he were the most harmless man in the room. But that glint in his eyes remained the same.

— “Come on, Marco, Teach is great!” — Ace chimed in, his tone light, laughter in his voice. He was always the one trying to smooth over tension, even when he failed to see the danger right in front of him. I sighed involuntarily. He had no idea what game he was playing into.

But before the conversation could spiral further, Thatch returned, effortlessly balancing a plate of meat, a bottle of rum, and five glasses like a seasoned juggler arranging everything in its rightful place. His movements carried the ease and confidence of an experienced sailor—or no, more like that of a skilled cook who knew exactly how to keep things running smoothly.

— “So, what did I miss?” — he asked with a playful grin, plopping into his seat and immediately reaching for a glass. His infectious energy should have lightened the mood, but the tension still lingered in the air. — “And why does Marco look so riled up?” — he added, not even bothering to hide his curiosity.

— “Oh, nothing serious, just pointing out the bond between our little ‘birds.’ Ze-ha-ha-ha!” — Teach declared with a sense of pride, clearly trying to make a joke out of it, but there was a faint taunt in his tone. He always enjoyed making remarks like that, just to get a rise out of someone.

— “Teach, you never cease to amaze me!” — Thatch said, his voice genuinely shocked. — “People have been gossiping about this for a week now—how are you only just finding out?” — He seemed unable to believe that Teach was so out of the loop.

— “Guess I just never paid attention,” — Teach admitted with an expression that made it seem like the most natural thing in the world. With his carefree attitude and casual manner, everything in his life seemed simple and effortless. But I knew better. Beneath that easygoing facade, there was always something more, something he wasn’t willing to show.

The conversation gradually flowed into a more relaxed rhythm, and I noticed how much lighter I felt in this new atmosphere. Without realizing it, I had been leaning against Marco’s side the whole time, as if his presence alone could shield me from everything happening around me.

At some point, the conversation naturally drifted toward Devil Fruits, and I felt a small wave of tension ripple through me.

— “So, now we have two more Devil Fruit users on board?” — Teach asked, his sharp gaze flitting between me and Ace, that familiar spark of curiosity already glinting in his eyes. — “You have the Mera Mera no Mi, and you…” — He paused, looking at me expectantly, clearly eager to know more than I intended to share.

— “Harpy,” — I answered curtly, devoid of emotion, unwilling to elaborate.

— “Harpy… A powerful bird,” — Teach mused, as if testing how the name sounded in his mind. He was one of those people who always tried to decipher others, though most of the time, it was just masked curiosity.

— “You seem awfully interested in Devil Fruits,” — Ace remarked with a casual smirk, speaking between bites as if the words were just an afterthought. He was the kind of guy who might not always grasp the full weight of a situation but knew exactly how to keep a conversation light. — “Thinking of getting one for yourself?” — His question was nothing more than sincere curiosity, and he made no effort to hide it.

Teach and Thatch exchanged glances, and I immediately knew they were up to something. It was like one of those old movies where two characters start speaking in perfect sync. With matching conspiratorial grins, they chimed together:

— “Every man dreams of this Devil Fruit… Suke Suke no Mi.”

Then they both burst into laughter, as if they had just shared the greatest joke in the world.

— “So he can peek at women,” — Thatch added, his voice carrying a mischievous undertone.

Teach nodded in agreement, and the two continued laughing without the slightest hint of shame.

— “Are you two really this pathetic?” — I blurted out, my tone both sharp and incredulous. It was hard to believe that grown men, who I thought would have far more life experience than me, could be serious about something so ridiculous.

— “What do you mean, sweetheart?” — Teach asked with an exaggeratedly innocent look, as if he truly had no idea what was so wrong with what he’d said. His fake confusion was so obvious that I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

— “You need a Devil Fruit just to see a woman naked?” — I asked, dripping with sarcasm, my smirk laced with open mockery. The absurdity of it all was almost too much to process.

Beside me, Marco clearly struggled to keep a straight face. He turned away slightly, but his shaking shoulders betrayed him. I knew he was barely holding in his laughter. Ace, on the other hand, didn’t even try. He doubled over, bursting into loud, uncontrollable laughter, slamming a hand against the table as if this was the funniest thing he had heard in days.

Teach and Thatch, meanwhile, looked like they had just been doused with cold water. Stunned, they glanced at each other, clearly unsure whether to be offended or pretend it was all just a joke.

— “Hey, I’m not that bad!” — Thatch protested loudly, jumping to his feet and puffing out his chest like a peacock.

— “Oh, sure, we totally believe you, Casanova,” — Marco drawled, flashing a wide grin as he clapped Thatch on the shoulder. He tried to keep a straight face, but within seconds, he let out a snort before breaking into laughter.

Ace snorted with laughter right after, while I just rolled my eyes.

The rest of the evening passed much more easily. The atmosphere was light, laughter echoed around the table, and the rum spread a pleasant warmth inside. I finally managed to relax, though deep down, I knew—Teach and Thatch wouldn’t let me forget this conversation anytime soon.

By the time I reached my third mug of rum, my eyelids had begun to grow heavy, my body sinking into a comfortable drowsiness as warmth settled deep in my bones. Stretching lazily, I let out a yawn, not even bothering to hide it.

— “We’re heading to bed,” — Marco’s voice rang out. He was the first to stand, effortlessly pulling me up by the waist.

— “Are you sure about just sleeping?” — Ace narrowed his eyes predatorily, tilting his head with his arms crossed over his chest. His smirk was so suggestive that words weren’t even necessary. — “Just so you know, I’ll be checking in on you two tomorrow!”

Too tired to bother with a response, I simply raised a lazy middle finger in his direction. Marco rolled his eyes, muttering something about children, headaches, and nights that dragged on too long.

I chuckled softly, pressing closer to him.

We walked slowly through the dimly lit corridors of the ship, and I was so lost in my thoughts that I barely noticed when we stepped into… unfamiliar territory.

I blinked, coming to a halt as I glanced around.

— “This isn’t my cabin,” — I stated, frowning.

The room was much larger than mine. In the corner stood a massive desk, cluttered with stacks of papers, inkwells, and maps. Against the wall, an invitingly large bed stretched out, looking far too comfortable. On the opposite side, a wardrobe stood tall, though instead of clothes, it seemed Marco had filled it with yet more endless documents. The air carried a familiar scent—aged books, ink, and… him.

— “Of course not. This is my cabin,” — Marco replied nonchalantly, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it lazily over the back of a chair. He cast me a slow, amused glance before adding with a smirk, — “Ace definitely wouldn’t dare barge in here.”

I huffed, biting my lip. Fair point.

Without a second thought, I quickly stripped out of my clothes and all but dove into the bed, sighing in satisfaction as the soft sheets embraced me. Marco slid in beside me, and I immediately curled closer, wrapping myself around him.

— “Good night,” — he murmured, pressing a light kiss to the top of my head and pulling me in even tighter.

— “Night…” — I whispered back, already halfway asleep, breathing in his warm, familiar scent.

He always had a way of making me feel at peace…

***

In the morning, when the first rays of sunlight cautiously pierced through the curtains, I lay on Marco’s chest, listening as his steady, deep heartbeat seemed to merge with my own. Each of his breaths was like a melody, familiar and soothing. The warmth of his body enveloped me, and for a moment, I forgot everything. But no matter how hard I tried, thoughts still lingered, like a shadow following each of my steps.

I knew I had to save the Whitebeard pirates. I had already made that decision, but how? How to turn my intentions into reality? If I reveal to everyone the truth about Teach being a traitor, I risk losing their trust. Everything would change. It’s impossible to predict how they will react to my words. And what if Marco looks at me differently? What if his gaze, which had always held so much warmth, love, and acceptance, becomes cold, unfamiliar? I cannot let that happen. No. Not for anything.

I closed my eyes, trying to release the fear that tightened my chest. No, not like that. I can’t afford to doubt. I have to find another way.

But what?

What if I simply wait? Wait until Thatch finds that cursed fruit, and then appear at the crucial moment to prevent his death? Or bring Marco so he can see everything for himself and save Thatch? Yes, that’s something. That makes sense.

I quietly smiled, pressing myself a little harder against Marco, feeling his warmth, which now seemed like comfort and support.

— “The plan is as reliable as Swiss watches,” I whispered, and something inside me quickened, as if I had finally found the key to the solution.

— “What plan?” — the grip on my waist tightened slightly, and I felt his body tense.

— “Nothing important, just a plan for the day,” I answered, trying to keep calm, even though inside, everything was turning upside down. I didn’t want him to guess that this “plan” hid far more serious things.

— “Alright, but if anything, let me know. I’m always ready to help,” Marco said in such a tone that even if I hadn’t known him for long, there was something soothing and incredibly confident in his voice. As always, he was ready to do anything to keep me safe.

— “I will,” I replied with a faint smile, and without thinking, I reached for him, kissing him on the chin. How much I cherished these moments when I could forget all worries and just be close to him.

We would have stayed in bed much longer, enjoying the silence and warmth of each other, if it hadn’t been for that sudden, deafening explosion that shattered the morning peace. It was more than just a sound — the noise, rolling through the ship like thunder, made me flinch. Following that, footsteps and shouts rang out, and the chaos on deck grew louder and more tense.

I quickly raised my gaze to Marco. His face became stone-like, his eyes clouded with focus. He stood up without a word, getting dressed in the blink of an eye. His whole body tensed, every movement full of resolve and strength.

— “Stay here, we’ve been attacked,” he threw over his shoulder with a predatory grin. After quickly scanning me, he returned to dressing.

— “Okay,” I replied, though inside I already understood that it wasn’t just “okay,” but more like “I’ll stay here because it’s safer for me here.”

Well, why not? I’m not a strong fighter. Heck, I’m not even brave, in the end! Why should I get involved in a fight when I know I’d be of no use? I don’t need to play the hero. I’m not foolish enough to throw myself into the middle of this slaughter. I’m perfectly fine here, in warmth and safety. And the pirates who dare attack Whitebeard are either complete idiots or definitely strong. Why test that for myself? I’m not ready.

After Marco disappeared through the cabin door, I quickly threw on some clothes, hurriedly as if trying to calm the internal storm that raged within me. I sat on the bed, leaning my back against the cool wall, curling my legs to my chest, trying to at least calm myself a little. I listened intently to the sounds coming from the deck. It was almost physically palpable tension, as if something great and terrible was about to happen. The anxiety, like fog, slowly engulfed me. The Whitebeard pirates — they couldn’t lose. It was impossible. But even if they win, there will be injuries… and deaths. I felt my throat tighten, and I shook my head sharply, trying to push those thoughts away. Everything will be fine. They will be fine. I must not think of the worst. Yes, the life of a pirate is full of dangers, and they’re used to those risks. But at some point, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Lost in thought, I almost missed the footsteps in the corridor. Something heavy, insistent, like the echo of someone’s steps, broke the silence, and I immediately felt my heart begin to beat faster. I frowned and, barely breathing, quietly got up, stepping on my toes as if I had become part of this tense space. Pressing my ear to the door, I froze, trying to distinguish any sounds that might give me a clue about what was happening. Thoughts swirled in my mind, but fear held every step still.

— “Where is it…” — came a quiet, yet distinct voice from behind the door. I didn’t know who it was, I couldn’t distinguish their faces or recognize their voices, but my intuition, that vague sense of foreboding, told me — these weren’t our people. There was a certain anxiety in those words, a concern, as if someone couldn’t find what they were looking for, and now it was somehow tied to us.

I wasn’t sure who it was, but the sense of alertness intensified. Standing behind the door, I positioned myself in a way that, if needed, I could quickly immobilize the unwanted guests. My muscles tensed, and my heart beat louder. Everything around me grew quieter, like those moments when you suddenly realize the world around you has frozen — and it feels like only you are still moving, waiting for the right moment. And they didn’t make me wait long. The doorknob jerked, turning with a faint screech, and a sinister face appeared in the doorway, one of the unwanted guests.

I froze for a second, and my heart seemed to stop. In the doorway stood them — the pirates of the “Sliding Hurricane.” The same ones who had kidnapped Azalia. And worst of all, standing before me weren’t just random thugs, but the captain and his first mate. My brain momentarily refused to function, and an icy panic gripped my chest.

— “Damn it, I hope they don’t remember me!” — I cursed mentally, clutching my chest, trying to calm the tremble in my hands. Every one of their gazes sent a chill to my bones, and I knew time was running out.

I quickly scanned the cabin and made a decision. I needed to find someone from the crew and urgently warn them that the “rats” had infiltrated the ship. Every second was precious, and I couldn’t let them notice me first.

I stepped back, trying to hide in the shadows, but they were already moving toward me, like predators sensing their prey. Panic surged within me once more, but I couldn’t afford to give up. I swallowed hard, remembering how I once escaped from their traps. But this time, it wasn’t going to be as easy.

The first mate spotted the movement and growled:

— “Hey, stop!” — his voice was low and menacing, like an animal’s growl, and I barely managed to dodge, nearly slipping on the floor. He lunged at me, swinging a chain, and I just managed to leap to the side, feeling the air scorch as his blow barely missed.

But in that moment, the captain, his dark gaze never leaving mine, followed after him. I froze as soon as his eyes met mine — and in his gaze, there was something familiar, something that made me stop in my tracks.

— “You…” — his voice was hoarse, filled with hatred. He recognized me. It was inevitable. He remembered.

At that moment, the first mate lunged at me again, throwing a chain over me — “Damn, is that Kairoseki?” — I mentally screamed, feeling my strength drain away. I couldn’t dodge forever. He grabbed my arm, yanking it forcefully toward him. I screamed, trying to break free, but he was too strong. My attempts to fight him off were futile. My fist couldn’t break through his defense.

Suddenly, I felt someone grab my hair, forcing my head back. It was the captain. His hands, like chains, tightened around my throat, and I felt unbearable pain. He leaned in close, his breath cold as death.

— “The world and truth are small, huh?” — he said, his voice filled with poisonous threat. — “You stole what was mine. And now, you’ll pay for it.”

He sharply twisted me toward the first mate, who, smirking, pinned my arms. I felt all my strength leave me. They were strong, and I… I couldn’t resist anymore. Everything around me blurred from pain and despair.

The captain stepped closer, and I heard his footsteps echoing like a deep thud in my head.

— “Time for revenge,” — his voice was as cold as ice. — “Looks like you’re important to the Whitebeard pirates. I wonder how much they’ll pay for your skin.”

I tried to fight back, but weakness, like shackles, bound my every movement. All my attempts to escape were in vain. I felt one of his hands tighten around my wrists, and his gaze pierced me through.

My body no longer obeyed me, and the only thing I could do was look into his eyes, full of determination and cruelty.

They dragged me down the corridor, each step making my head throb with pain. It felt like my hair was being ripped from the roots, and I couldn’t suppress the muffled groans. I struggled, but the Kairoseki held me fast, draining what little energy I had left. I was like a toy in their hands, helpless and vulnerable. They were heading for the deck, and this was my chance, I knew I couldn’t let it slip away.

As soon as we stepped onto the deck, I felt the cold air burn my lungs. I immediately inhaled as much oxygen as I could and screamed, as if desperately clutching at a lifeline:

— “MARCO!!!”

The response came in the form of a brutal kick to my stomach, forcing me to release a sharp hiss of pain. But in that moment, like thunder from a clear sky, a burst of azure flames flashed from the side, lighting up everything around me. With each spark, hope surged, and my heart began to beat again. Marco! He charged at the first mate holding me, crashing into him with a wild force, and in that instant, the grip on me loosened. I broke free in an instant, but I was weak. I nearly lost consciousness when I fell to the deck and, instead of standing, could only barely crawl away from the fight.

Then, another flash of fire erupted from behind me, this time much more familiar, searing. I raised my eyes, and before me, like that fire, appeared Ace. He knelt beside me, his gaze full of concern, and I felt his worry fill me.

— “Are you okay?” — he asked, looking me over, his hands ready to support me at any moment.

— “More or less,” — I breathed out with difficulty, raising my hands still bound by chains. — “If only they’d take this damn Kairoseki off, it’d be perfect…”

My weakness was clear, but I couldn’t allow myself to panic. I knew I had to fight, I had to survive.

Ace looked at me, his face clouded with determination, and he stood, taking up a battle stance, confident and fully prepared. His energy, his strength, seemed to pass to me. He wouldn’t let me fall, he wouldn’t let me give up.

— “Alright, stay behind me,” — he said, assuring me with his look and gesture that I wasn’t alone. In his presence, I felt a slight return of strength, and I was ready to go on, no matter what.

Chapter Text

Leaning on my knees, I greedily gulped the air, trying to calm the frantic rhythm of my heart. A hot drop of sweat slid down my temple, curling along my skin and teasingly disappearing into the strands of my hair. My muscles ached, as if every part of them had been run over by a steamroller, and my lungs burned as though I’d just run across scorching sand. Damn it, I could barely even stand!

But no, I couldn’t stop. After that incident, everyone decided that I absolutely had to toughen up, train, push my body to the limit—just to make sure something like that never happened again.

And now here I was, standing before Nick, drenched in sweat, wrung out to the last drop of strength. And that bastard just stood there, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with a smug grin. His eyes gleamed with undisguised interest—like he was expecting me to collapse onto the ground at any moment, completely exhausted.

— “Maybe we’re done for today?” — I exhaled, clutching at the last remnants of hope.

Nick lazily raised an eyebrow, and a slight smirk slid across his lips. It was as if he was savoring this moment, enjoying my suffering.

— “One more round, and I’ll let you go,” — he drawled with the kind of careless indifference that made everything inside me boil.

I fixed him with a glare, trying to figure out if he was really that heartless, or if he was just getting pleasure out of watching me suffer.

A monster. Simply a monster who had no idea what compassion was.

I took a deep breath, straightened up despite the buzzing pain in my body, and took my stance. If he wanted another round, he’d get it.

Nick lazily rolled his shoulders, loosening up his muscles, and took a step forward. There was no tension in his movements — he didn’t take me seriously. That thought stoked the irritation in me, turning my exhaustion into a searing lump that demanded release.

I was the first to attack. I pushed off the ground, taking a quick step forward, and struck with my palm toward his chest. Nick barely moved back, letting the attack slip by, but I was already in the next phase — using the momentum, I pivoted on the ball of my foot and swung my leg in a sidekick.

This time, he blocked the attack with his forearm, but squinted slightly. Good. At least he felt something.

— “Not bad,” — he smirked, before suddenly closing the distance.

I managed to dodge, narrowly avoiding his strike, and jumped to the side. But he was faster. Almost immediately, he caught up with me, looming over me like a storm cloud, forcing me to retreat. I blocked one punch, then another, tried to grab his wrist, but he easily avoided it, playfully tearing through my defenses.

At one point, I found a gap — he left his side open, and I didn’t hesitate. I ducked under his arm and delivered a sharp, targeted punch to his ribs. I felt him tense his muscles, softening the blow, but he still recoiled slightly.

— “Now that’s better,” — he grunted, pulling his arm back.

I braced for his next attack, but didn’t get the chance. He moved too fast.

A sudden lunge — and his elbow paused just before my face for a split second, before I realized I was knocked off balance. In the next moment, he grabbed me by the shoulder, spun me around his axis, and yanked me downward.

The ground met me harshly, the impact knocking the breath out of my lungs. The world before my eyes jolted, and my ears rang from the fall.

— “Down you go,” — Nick lazily commented, looking down at me. — “Well, how about it, surrender?”

I exhaled heavily, still recovering, then squinted and rasped through my labored breaths:

— “Go to hell.”

He grinned, extended his hand, and I, suppressing an annoyed sigh, accepted it.

Leaving the training hall, I felt like I’d just been run through a meat grinder. My legs barely moved, my arms trembled, and my breathing was still out of control. But, of course, there was no break — Izou was already waiting on the deck, leisurely twirling a pistol in his hands, looking at me with clear interest.

— “So, ready?” — his voice was calm, but I could almost hear the mockery lurking beneath it.

— “Do I have a choice?” — I muttered, tiredly brushing a strand of hair from my forehead.

Izou hummed, turned the gun with the handle facing me, and handed it over.

— “Here. Let’s see what you can do.”

I hesitantly reached out, but as soon as my fingers wrapped around the metal, the weapon jerked downward sharply.

— “Are you kidding me?!” — I exhaled, nearly dropping the damn gun onto my foot. — “This thing weighs as much as a cannonball!”

Izou just smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

— “Welcome to the world of real weapons.”

I shot him a murderous look but said nothing. Adjusting my grip, I thoughtfully twisted the gun in my hands. It seemed like a regular… maybe? Or not? Hell, I had no idea, I wasn’t an expert.

I bit my lip, recalling something I had once heard: I think you’re supposed to hold it with both hands? Or was that a different kind of weapon? Or was it not a weapon at all?

— “Fine,” — I muttered, tightening my grip on the handle. — “Just don’t laugh if I miss.”

— “Oh, I’m already looking forward to it,” — Izou replied cheerfully.

Izou gave a smirk and nodded toward the wooden targets lined up along the deck.

— “Let’s start simple. Just aim and shoot.”

Simple, yeah. Of course.

I sighed, adjusted my grip, and stretched my arms out in front of me. The gun still felt way too heavy, but to my surprise, not as uncomfortable. I took a deep breath, focused on the nearest target, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

The shot rang out, the recoil jerked my hands back, but…

— “Did I hit?” — I asked skeptically, squinting at the hole in the center of the target.

Izou raised an eyebrow in surprise.

— “Well… that was unexpected.”

— “What do you mean?” — I turned to face him.

— “I mean, you hit dead center,” — he walked closer, inspecting the target. — “On the first shot, no less.”

I shifted my gaze to the gun in my hand. I had expected anything — to miss, for the bullet to fly off into the sky, for the recoil to send me flying across the deck — but certainly not that I’d actually manage it.

— “Let me try again…” — I muttered, aiming at the second target.

Shot. Hit.

Third target. Shot. Hit.

With each shot, it became easier to hold the gun. My fingers started to automatically adjust to its weight, and my movements grew more confident. At some point, I even started to enjoy it.

I fired the last round, and once again, it hit dead center. Slowly lowering the gun, I turned to Izou.

— “Well?” — I asked, grinning.

Izou stood silent for a while, then smirked and shook his head.

— “Well, it seems swords really aren’t your thing. But with a gun, you’re clearly a natural.”

I flashed a victorious grin and twirled the gun in my hand, but immediately almost dropped it and nearly shot myself in the foot. Izou covered his face with his hand.

— “Alright,” — he muttered. — “Time to teach you safety techniques before you shoot someone.”

I nervously laughed and quickly tightened my grip on the handle.

— “Alright, time to make it more challenging,” — he said with a smile I clearly didn’t like.

— “You want me to shoot at something alive?” — I asked, throwing him a confused glance.

Izou just shrugged.

— “Well, Ace won’t get hurt. He’s a Logia. And you’re not shy.”

He turned and shouted toward the other end of the deck.

— “Hey, Ace! Come here.”

I felt something lurch inside me. Ace? He was nakama. Well, yeah, I know we have a different relationship, and he’s like a brother. But… still, it felt kind of strange.

I looked at him, and he, noticing that he was called, lazily walked over, continuing to chew on his apple.

— “What now, guys?” — he asked with a yawn, not paying attention to me.

— “Become the target,” — Izou said calmly.

Ace stared at him, clearly not believing his ears.

— “What do you mean — the target?!”

— “Relax, you’re a Logia. Nothing’s going to happen to you,” — Izou replied, no longer paying attention to his dissatisfaction. — “Well, Asta, try to hit him.”

Ace glanced at me, then back at Izou.

— “Are you serious?” — His voice was full of confusion, and he finally swallowed the apple.

— “Are you scared?” — I couldn’t hold back a smirk.

Ace sighed, but there was already a spark of excitement in his eyes. He leaned forward, ready for action.

— “Fine, shoot, but not in the face, okay?”

I smirked and raised the pistol. Honestly, I felt… strange. Not that I was against it, but he was my nakama, not my enemy. And suddenly the thought of shooting at him felt wrong, even though he wouldn’t get hurt.

But at the same time… he constantly teased me, laughing at my relationship with Marco.

Ace suddenly lunged forward, and I took aim. He was fast, too fast for an ordinary person, but the pistol was new to me, and I was determined to handle it.

The shot.

The bullet passed right next to him, not even grazing a fragment of his fiery essence. He quickly slid to the side, and I barely caught his movement.

— “Miss!” — Ace laughed, appearing in the spot he had just been. — “That was too slow, kitten.”

I smirked, but there was still some uncomfortable feeling inside me.

— “Don’t worry, you’re a Logia, it doesn’t hurt,” — I tried to joke, but my voice trembled slightly.

He darted to the side again, trying to throw me off, and I took another shot. He slid past again, and the bullet sliced through the air where he had just been.

— “Are you kidding me? You missed again!” — He laughed, but I could feel how his words irritated me.

— “Don’t underestimate me!” — I gripped the pistol tighter, aiming again.

Ace kept moving, his fiery form blending with the deck, but at some point, I noticed his intentions — he slowed down. I fired.

The bullet passed through the fire, but this time, he didn’t manage to dodge completely. The angle of his arm was vulnerable, and the bullet grazed him — almost tangentially, but still, it hit.

He froze, and I felt my heart race.

— “Damn!” — He looked at me in indignation, but there was not only mockery in his voice now, but also respect. — “You hit.”

I stared at him, stunned, realizing what I had just done. It didn’t seem like a big deal, but at the same time… I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

Izou quietly hummed nearby, a barely noticeable smirk on his lips. His gaze was filled with curiosity, perhaps even surprise.

— “You’ve got talent, didn’t expect that,” — he said, as if it were an important acknowledgment.

I felt a bit embarrassed, but I wasn’t about to give up.
— “I didn’t expect it either…” — I whispered, still not believing in my own abilities.

Izou furrowed his brows and fell silent for a few seconds, studying me carefully. His eyes grew more serious, almost stern. He straightened up, took a deep breath, and spoke without losing confidence:

— “Alright, tomorrow we start training. I’ll teach you to shoot. But know this, the pistol must always be in perfect condition. If you start treating it carelessly or negligently, it will fail you at the worst possible moment.”

His voice was like iron, firm and uncompromising. I felt a cold wind of responsibility pierce me to the bone. And despite the fear that now my skill — and my safety — depended on me, I nodded.

***

Over the past week, Nick and Izou hadn’t given me a moment’s peace. No, I hadn’t become a super-fighter capable of destroying enemies with a single glance, but at least now I could boast of better endurance and decent accuracy. Although, to be honest, it wasn’t what occupied my mind at the moment. The only thing I cared about right now was the warm rays of the setting sun gently warming my skin and the light sea breeze sifting through my hair. I had just started to relax, closing my eyes, when suddenly…

— “HEY, ASTA!”

I jumped and let out a muffled groan, mentally cursing whoever dared disturb my peace. It didn’t take a genius to guess who it was.

Ace, grinning with joy, was running toward me like a child who had just discovered a treasure chest.

— “We’re going on a mission together!” — he blurted out, practically jumping in place from excitement.

I propped myself up on my elbows and stared at him in confusion.

— “What mission?”

Seriously, I thought my existence on the ship was limited to training, eating fruit, and trying not to die of boredom. I hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might send me on a mission. Why the hell would I need to go anywhere?

— “Who knows!” — Ace shrugged carelessly. — “A few guys from the second division are going, Haruta’s bringing his crew, and you’re coming too.”

— “And what do you need me for?”

— “Well, probably for your beauty. To blind the enemies with jealousy,” — he laughed.

I rolled my eyes.

— “Very funny. And what division am I in?”

Ace suddenly froze, stared at me, then burst into laughter. He literally bent in half, slapping his knee as though he had just heard the funniest joke of his life.

— “Ha-ha-ha! Are you serious?!” — he gasped, still laughing. — “You’ve been living on the ship for months, and you still don’t know what division you’re in?”

— “Yeah, yeah, hilarious,” — I muttered. — “But you still haven’t answered me!”

Ace finally regained his composure, grinned slyly, and raised his eyebrows conspiratorially.

— “You’re in the first division. Marco earned the right to your precious body.”

I snorted.

— “Sounds like he won me in a card game.”

— “Well, it’s not impossible!” — he laughed.

— “And about the mission?”

Ace shrugged again.

— “How should I know? Something happened on our territory, and they’re sending us to check it out.”

I sighed heavily, officially saying goodbye to my relaxation. Well, it seemed like I wouldn’t get to rest anytime soon.

Ace looked like he had just received the best assignment of his life. He practically glowed with enthusiasm, and his smile seemed to threaten to split his face in half.

— “Alright, we need to pack up,” — he said, impatiently tapping the deck with the toe of his boot.

— “What should I even bring?” — I raised an eyebrow skeptically.

Ace thought for a moment.

— “I don’t know, decide for yourself what you need.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, I just waved a hand toward the cabins.

— “Fine, I’ll go pack my… uh… stuff.”

Ace nodded in satisfaction.

— “Just don’t take too long! We’re setting sail tomorrow night!”

With those words, he turned and walked away briskly, leaving me alone with the thought that I had no idea what I was supposed to bring on this mission.

***

I clench my fists, trying not to scream at him right now. The waves rock our ship, and Marco stands before me, arms crossed over his chest, looking at me as though he’s already made the decision for me.

—“Asta, I said no.” — His voice is calm, but I see the tension in his jaw. He’s trying to hold himself back. —“It’s too dangerous.”

—“Too dangerous?” — I almost laugh in anger. —“Are you serious, Marco? Since when am I the ‘damsel in distress’?”

—“This isn’t just a mission,” — he takes a step toward me, but I don’t back down. —“There are too many risks. I can’t let you go.”

—“‘Let me go’?” — I repeat, feeling everything inside me boil over. — You’re acting like I’m your property.

—“I’m just looking out for you, damn it!” — His calm breaks, and a fire sparks in his eyes. —“You could get hurt!”

—“I’m just as much a member of this crew as anyone else, Marco! I’m not a child, damn it!” — I push him in the chest, but he doesn’t budge. —“You think I’m weak, don’t you?”

—“No, that’s not it!” — He grabs my wrists, but his grip isn’t tight. —“You’re strong, Asta. It’s just… I don’t want to lose you.”

For a second, my anger and fury clash with something else — something warm, but I push that feeling away instantly.

—“If you really believe I’m strong, then trust me, don’t lock me up in the hold like some fragile doll,” — I whisper.

He looks into my eyes for a long moment, then sighs heavily and releases my wrists.

—“You’re stubborn,” — he says with a tired smile.

—“And you’re way too caring,” — I snort.

Marco shakes his head, clearly trying not to raise his voice.

—“You’re stubborn, Asta.”

—“And you’re too caring,” — I retort, crossing my arms over my chest.

I’m still angry. The waves are rocking the deck, but the fury inside me is stronger than any sway.

—“You just don’t understand,” — Marco continues. —“This isn’t the kind of mission where you can take risks.”

—“What’s wrong with you? Why are you so sure I can’t go?” — I snap, feeling everything inside me boil.

He sighs heavily, but there’s that same stubbornness in his eyes.

—“Because I don’t want to drag you back to the ship injured. Or worse.”

I clench my fists.

—“You’re talking like I won’t manage.”

—“I’m saying it because I know it’s going to be too dangerous for you.”

—“So, it’s not dangerous for Ace and Haruta?” — There’s bitterness in my voice.

Marco frowns but doesn’t answer immediately.

—“They’re risking too, but…”

—“But you still trust them. And not me.”

—“It’s not about that,” — his voice hardens.

—“Then what is it?”

We stand facing each other, both unwilling to back down.

—“You can be angry with me as much as you want, but you’re not going,” — he finally says, looking me straight in the eye.

I don’t look away.

—“You know what? Damn you, Marco. Do whatever you want.”

I turn on my heels and walk away, not waiting for his response.

Behind me, I hear him exhale, but he doesn’t call me back.

Each of us remained firm in our position.

I walked to my cabin, teeth clenched, trying to calm my anger, but with every step, I only grew more agitated. The waves hit the ship’s hull loudly, but the noise in my head was louder.

—“I can’t stand it when people tell me what to do!”

I clenched my fists. He thought he could forbid me from doing something? That he could just say “no” and I, like a good little girl, would stay on the ship, watching the squad leave? Damn it, who the hell was he to decide for me?

But at the same time… something was pulling me back.

Marco was worried. It was obvious. This wasn’t just his need to control me — he truly feared that I wouldn’t manage. He was afraid I’d get hurt. Or worse.

—“Maybe I shouldn’t have snapped at him like that…”

I slowed my pace, feeling my anger being replaced by something heavier. Guilt? Disappointment?

I understood he didn’t want to hurt me. He was genuinely trying to protect me.

But that only made it worse.

I hate it when people tell me what to do. I’m not weak. I’m not some porcelain figurine that needs to be protected.

I exhaled quickly, trying to calm myself.

—“To hell with it.”

I’ll go, no matter what. Let Marco think what he wants. Let him be angry. Let him turn the whole ship upside down — I won’t change my mind.

My fingers involuntarily reached for my lips, where I could still feel the warmth of his hands from just a moment ago.

He really does care about me…

I quickly pushed those thoughts away.

Now isn’t the time for doubts.

***

All day, the tension between Marco and me hung in the air, almost palpable. I didn’t look his way, didn’t speak to him, didn’t even try to accidentally bump into him. If he ended up near me, I simply turned away, pretending to be busy with something important — even though I was really just trying not to explode with anger.

When his hand accidentally brushed against mine, I immediately pulled back, as if I’d been burned. You want to hold me back? Not happening.

The crew could tell something was going on. No one dared to get involved, but curious glances followed us around the ship. Haruta even passed by twice, barely holding back a smirk, but when he met my icy stare, he quickly retreated.

—“This is some dangerous silence we’ve got here…” — someone muttered behind me as I once again dramatically turned away from Marco.

Well, let him be. He needs to understand: he can’t decide for me.

However, fortunately (or, more accurately, to his dismay), even he couldn’t cancel my departure. The order came from Whitebeard, and Marco had no choice but to silently seethe.

By evening, I stood on the deck, gazing at Mini-Moby Dick — our transport for the mission. The wind tangled in my hair, and the night sky began to fill with the first stars, but I couldn’t care less about the beauty of the landscape.

By the end of the day, I had figured out the nature of the task. On one of the islands under Whitebeard’s protection, there had been suspicious activity. Lookouts, dressed as civilians, were intensely searching for something (or someone).

The details of the mission had finally become clear: it was now obvious why they needed me specifically and why they were sending Haruta’s division. However, the second division… How should I put this gently? They were everything except quiet and inconspicuous.

Seriously, what kind of camouflage are you going for when you’ve got a group of loud, laughing, and fighting guys behind you? Maybe they were just brought along as backup in case things turned to brute force?

I pondered this as I studied Mini-Moby Dick, when suddenly a sharp voice rang across the water:

—“Hey, Asta, stop standing there like a statue! We need to leave!” Haruta shouted, already settled on board.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Taking a deep breath, I let my body change, and in a moment, instead of me, a harpy soared into the air — its translucent, bluish wings against the dark sky looked particularly striking.

I made a circle in the air before sharply diving down and landing softly on the crow’s nest, settling there as if it were the most natural place to rest.

—“Well, now I’m on board, are you happy?” I lazily called down, dangling one leg over the railing.

Below, Haruta just snorted, and someone from the crew muttered something about “the show starting.”

Yeah… This mission definitely isn’t going to be boring.

***

The rain doesn’t stop. It’s the third day now, pouring down without any signs of easing. Thick streams of water pour from the sky, as if someone decided to dump a bucket of dirty water right onto the city. Fog, dampness, and cold—these are what surround me. But honestly, it’s getting a bit tiring. It feels like I’m soaked to the bone, and the cold seeps deeper with every passing hour, as if trying to break me.

I shake my wings, trying to shake off the excess moisture from my feathers, but it’s useless. The water immediately soaks everything again, leaving only heavy drops that fall down like stones. I wonder how much longer I can sit in this rain and watch, until the city finally swallows me whole.

Since morning, I’ve been focused on one part of the city, where an old, abandoned district is visible, right next to the forest. It’s not the most welcoming place. Grim alleys, buildings with cracked walls, and that persistent, threatening feeling that someone is watching you from every corner. This is clearly not a place for casual strolls, but my task is precisely here: to observe, analyze, look for the slightest signs of movement from the patrol.

But, as expected, nothing. No shadows, no signs of activity.

In moments like this, I start to doubt whether I’ve chosen the right spot. To engage in open conflict with the patrol would be foolish and dangerous. We can’t afford to risk lives over insignificant details. And, really, what could we even learn? All we need is information, not a fight. So, all that’s left is to observe, wait, spy.

But in reality, it’s not that simple. When you’re sitting in the rain, everything around you is wet and slippery, the silence becomes oppressive. You start hearing every breath, every rustle of your wings, every sound, as if everything around you has compressed into a tiny, tense point. I don’t know how much longer I can endure this silent battle with the rain and time.

Minutes dragged on, feeling like hours. The rain continued its relentless dance on the ground and roof, but in the air, besides the noisy pelting of the rain, something else emerged. An undefined tension. I squinted, listening closely. In the distance, in a dark alley, I noticed movements that immediately caught my attention.

A group of people, seemingly ordinary civilians, moved with an incredible synchrony. Unnaturally synchronized. They didn’t behave like random passersby, as the locals did. In formation, with cold certainty in every step, they moved in one direction, almost in unison, like soldiers. They smelled of alertness, unnatural calm. I saw one of them glance briefly in my direction, and his eyes, full of hidden intent, swept over my feathers, but he didn’t stop.

The patrol. It was them. There was no doubt about it. Even in civilian clothes, even with the appearance of ordinary citizens, their manners and behavior gave them away.

I took a few steps to the side, hiding in the mist that had begun to rise from the rain. As soon as they completely disappeared into the building, I pulled out my mini Den Den Mushi, which I always kept close at hand. A slight tremor ran through my fingers as I switched it on.

— “Who?” came the familiar, almost irritated voice from the other end.

I answered almost without thinking, but my words were clear and confident:

— “Asta. I’ve spotted them.”

— “Where are you?” The voice on the other side suddenly became more alert. I knew that everything I said mattered now, and there was no room for mistakes.

— “On the outskirts, near the mayor’s building.” I spoke quickly, but with cold clarity, trying not to forget any details.

There was silence for a moment, then I heard the familiar response that somewhat reassured me, though I was still far from relaxed:

— “Got it, we’ll be there soon.”

I put the Den Den Mushi back into my pocket, and once again, glancing around, I felt the rain starting to tap on my wings again. It felt like thousands of tiny needles piercing my skin, but I didn’t allow myself to shiver. Instead, I pulled my cloak tighter around myself, trying to warm up just a little. My hands slid over the fabric, but the sharp cold that had seeped into my bones still lingered in my nose. I snorted, distracted for a moment, but as always, I quickly returned to my thoughts.

— “How’s the situation?” came Genus’s voice from behind me, a little sharp, yet still caring.

I jumped, not expecting him to appear. Turning, I met his gaze, full of hidden concern.

— “They went into the building about ten minutes ago and haven’t come out since,” I said, trying to remain calm, though my head was already throbbing from exhaustion. Sneezing, I covered my nose with my sleeve and felt the icy air burn my skin.

Genus didn’t say a word, but his gaze became even more insistent.

— “Listen… go to our people, have some hot tea, warm up a bit. I’ll keep watch here, everything will be fine,” he said, and without waiting for my response, he patted me on the shoulder, as if reminding me that he was older and more experienced. — “You haven’t had a proper sleep in two days. Rest for at least a little while.”

— “But the mission…” I didn’t manage to finish when Genus sharply interrupted me.

— “Nothing bad will happen if you sleep for a couple of hours,” he said, gently nudging me aside. His hand, touching my shoulder, was warm and confident. — “Come on, go. If something happens to you, Commander Marco will tear us apart for you.”

I just rolled my eyes, the exhaustion hitting me again, but I didn’t have the strength to argue. In fact, I didn’t want to. If he insisted, then it really was time to rest. Silently turning, I made my way toward the temporary base, feeling my legs reluctantly dragging me forward.

We stopped at an old bar, tucked away at the very corner of the port, as if hidden from sight. Inside, it was quiet, and the faint sound of waves outside blended with the atmosphere of this forgotten corner. When I stepped into the bar, my gaze automatically landed on the bartender, and I simply nodded, acknowledging his silent presence. He nodded back lazily, as if he weren’t surprised I had ended up here. His almost imperceptible glance swept over the room, and then he subtly motioned with his eyes toward the door behind him.

The bar was nearly empty — only a few people sat at the tables, their faces obscured by shadows, and their conversations barely audible. The angular furniture, the dim light from the cracked lamp — everything here spoke of a place that had long since lived its own hidden life, away from the world. But there was something about this place that made me feel calm, almost sheltered. Without saying a word, I headed to a small room, where it was dark and cozy. The lamp on the table illuminated only its corners, casting a half-darkness in which one didn’t need to fear overshadowing their own identity.

And there, in the very corner, in the shadows, sat Ace. With a closer look, I noticed that his gaze immediately found me, and I, in turn, headed toward him. He sat by the wall, motionless, lost in his thoughts, as if he were part of this space.

— “How’s it going? Found anything?” — his voice was calm. He lifted his eyes, and I met his gaze, one that held neither surprise nor fear — only the understanding that he had been waiting for me.

— “I spotted the patrol, Genus is keeping an eye on them, and he sent me to rest,” — I said, sitting next to him. My body, exhausted and consumed by the cold, finally found refuge. I leaned on his shoulder, as if forgetting everything else in the world, and felt his warmth fill me.

He grunted, and without saying another word, as if sensing my fatigue, he used his fruit. The room grew warmer, and I felt the tension begin to melt away. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself to drift. Just a little more — and I fell into a light slumber, forgetting everything that lay beyond the door of this small, sheltered room.

***

Sleep did not grant me peace, each rustle in the darkness yanking me from the world of dreams. I often woke, nearly gasping, but as soon as I closed my eyes again, I would slip into another restless slumber. Only when Genus returned did I fully awaken, as though a wave of sudden clarity had washed over me. I detached myself from the warmth of Ace’s shoulder, feeling his presence slip out of my sight, though his scent still lingered in the air, an invisible tether.

— “So, what did you manage to find out?” — Haruta’s voice was direct, as always, but there was something more in his tone, as if he, too, was uncertain of what he expected to hear.

— “It’s quiet for now,” — Genus replied, taking a drag from his cigarette out of habit, as if the smoke could draw out his thoughts. He chewed it thoughtfully. — “But at least we know where their base is. We’re close. Now we just need to keep an eye on them… Though, it’s strange, they’ve headed into the forest for some reason. I didn’t dare follow — too risky.”

— “Understood,” — Haruta said, his gaze remained focused, and there was a certain confidence in his voice that made the air feel a little heavier. — “Then tomorrow, Asta will track them in the forest.”

I gave a slight nod, as if unsure of my own decision, but at the same time, it seemed the most logical course of action. After all, with the power I had, and without the use of my will, I would be indistinguishable from an ordinary bird — albeit a rather large one.

— “But you won’t be alone,” — Haruta continued, as though reading my thoughts. — “Ace will be on standby. He’ll stay at a distance, ready to assist if needed, but we’d better not take any unnecessary risks. Let him take action, but carefully. We need to be prepared for anything.” He paused, his gaze growing even more intense. — “We’ve already reported this to Pops. He said he supports our actions, but insists everything must be done carefully and quietly. We can’t afford to draw attention.”

— “Then tomorrow evening, everyone be at your posts,” — Haruta said, his voice firm and resolute. With that, he gave a slight nod, and without saying another word, turned toward the door. His footsteps echoed in the silence as he left the room, leaving us to dwell on the thoughts of the night ahead. In the air hung a palpable sense of anticipation — as though this night could prove decisive.

Chapter Text

I spent the whole day in a state of sweet drowsiness, only occasionally turning over and muttering something incoherent if someone tried to wake me. But, no matter how much I tried to delay it, evening came, and I couldn’t put it off any longer — it was time to move out.

—“Well, are you ready?”— Ace asked, too cheerfully for this time of day, and a familiar spark of anticipation flashed in his eyes.

I squinted at him, scanning him with a scrutinizing gaze, as if I were seeing him for the first time.

—“Ace, do you remember that we’re supposed to be watching, not putting on a fireworks show?”— I asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

He merely snorted and waved a hand dismissively.

—“I remember, I remember. Do you even trust me?”

I stared at him for another second, but deciding not to continue this pointless interrogation, I sighed heavily.

—“Fine, just don’t do anything reckless.”

With those words, I transformed into a bird and soared into the sky.

The evening sky was already beginning to darken, and the sun was lazily sinking below the horizon, painting the treetops in crimson hues. The forest below looked ominous and mysterious, as if it hid hundreds of eyes, watching my every move. I tried to make out something — any signs, the flicker of campfires, or signs of movement. But the twilight worked against me, and without particularly good night vision, the task became more difficult with every passing minute.

I was about to make another pass when a shadow flickered below. A light, almost imperceptible movement between the trees. Someone was slipping through the undergrowth, trying not to give themselves away.

I slowed my flight, hovering higher, and focused. Soon, I made out several figures. They were moving carefully, but in sync — definitely not local hunters or lost travelers. A patrol? It looked like it.

I made another pass, trying to memorize their numbers, weapons, and the details of their uniforms. They weren’t just regular patrolmen — they were too well-armed, too focused.

Descending a little lower, I listened.

—“Confirmed, he’s hiding here,”— one of them said.

—“Do you think he’s still on the island?”

—“If we’re lucky, we’ll find traces. The Admiral said we need to be quick.”

I tensed. “Hiding? Who?”

—“What if Whitebeard shows up?”— a new voice asked, clearly concerned.

—“Then we won’t be here,”— another voice smirked. —“We’re just checking.”

I held my breath, waiting for more.

—“They say he wants to contact the Revolutionary Army,”— another voice spoke, low and raspy.

The Revolutionary Army? And what’s their connection here?

—“If he’s really on the island with Whitebeard, then it’s either madness or he has very good connections,”— someone mumbled. —“Damn, why are we even dealing with this? Let CP handle him.”

—“Our job is to find him,”— the senior officer in the group replied curtly. —“If we confirm, we report up. We don’t need problems.”

I thought for a moment. A deserter, a runaway sailor, who wants to make contact with the Revolutionary Army… and he chose Whitebeard’s island for this? It seemed too strange, too reckless. Why here and not Baltigo?

I dug my claws into the branch, continuing to watch. Flying off to tell Ace would be wise. But something inside me whispered: if I leave now, I might miss the most important part.

The patrol didn’t waste time. The group split up: some went to scour the nearby underbrush, others disappeared into the shadows of the trees, setting up a perimeter. They moved confidently, cautiously, like hunters sneaking up on prey.

I followed the main group, gliding silently through the air. Soon, they reached a small ravine, where, among the boulders, traces of human presence could be seen — a campfire, lightly covered with dirt, broken branches, bootprints in the damp soil.

“Looks like him.”

—“He was here just a few hours ago,”— one of the patrolmen whispered, inspecting the traces. —“He won’t last long.”

—“Cut off the routes to the shore,”— the gray-haired man ordered. —“If he tries to escape, we’ll take him.”

“You’d have a hard time if this were one of ours…”

I soared higher, keeping a close watch on their movements. They were cornering the fugitive, cutting off his escape routes. If he couldn’t find a way out, they’d have him by morning.

I couldn’t wait any longer. Stretching out my clawed paw, I grabbed the small Den Den Mushi attached to my leg and quickly dialed the number. A few seconds later, Haruta’s voice came through.

—“So, what did you find out?”— he hissed.

—“They’re after a deserter. He wants to contact the Revolutionary Army, and it looks like he chose our island for it.”

There was a tense silence on the other end of the line.

—“Save him.”

I froze.

—“Are you serious?”

—“It’s an order from the commander. Get him, and we’ll figure things out later.”

Damn.

I quickly put the snail away and refocused on the scene below. Everything was unfolding just as I had suspected—the fugitive had been cornered in a narrow gorge, surrounded on three sides by the patrol. The only exit was littered with stones and broken branches—he still had a chance to escape, but he’d barely make it.

I saw him.

The guy was young, with messy dark hair and a face hidden under a hood. He was breathing heavily, his back pressed against a boulder, while the patrol closed in around him like a ring.

—“Give up,”— one of them rasped, holding a pistol at the ready. —“You have no way out.”

The guy didn’t respond, only tightened his grip on his bleeding side. He was wounded, but there was still fire in his eyes.

“Not tonight.”

I folded my wings and dove straight down. The wind howled in my ears, the ground rapidly approaching, and just before impact, I stretched my paws forward, grabbing the fugitive’s shoulders.

—“WHAT THE—?!”— he shouted, and in the next moment, I was lifting him into the air.

The patrol’s shouts were left behind. Bullets whizzed past us, but I weaved between the branches, carrying him higher, out of the trap.

—“Don’t move, or I’ll drop you,”— I called, but the guy was already clinging to me with a death grip.

—“CATCH THEM!”— the patrol leader yelled, and their steps quickened, trying to catch up.

I flapped my wings, rising higher, but I couldn’t go too high with the weight I was carrying. I could feel them getting closer.

“I have to hurry.”

—“Hold on tighter!”— I ordered, feeling his fingers digging into my paws.

He mumbled something quietly, but I didn’t pay attention. Instead of focusing on the fight, I concentrated on one thing—getting him as far away from these people as possible.

A little lower, on the hill, I spotted Ace’s silhouette standing guard, ready to meet us. He had his arms crossed, but his eyes were filled with determination.

“Perfect timing.”

When I lowered my altitude and hovered beside him, the patrol had reached the bottom of the hill, quickly sliding over the rocks and earth. They were closing in, but this time, they were up against someone they shouldn’t touch.

Ace smirked, raising an eyebrow.

—“I’ll hold them off here. You take him and get out of here, no delays.”

I didn’t hesitate, flying past Ace toward the port. I glanced back one last time to see how things were going with our fighter.

Ace took a step forward, and I heard flames erupting from his hands, hot and fierce. It was a signal. He created a barrier as the patrol tried to push forward, but they couldn’t do anything now—Ace was ready to fight, and I wasn’t about to waste any more time. I turned back and continued my flight.

I could feel the guy I was carrying trying to regain his composure. His breathing was erratic, but he held on tightly, knowing that if he started struggling now, he would just collapse.

—“Who are you?”— he rasped, but I didn’t answer. No time for talking.

Ahead, the lights of the city were already visible—the bar where our people were staying. Haruta should be there, so I needed to get the fugitive to safety as quickly as possible.

I dove down, landing right in front of the entrance. The guy awkwardly tumbled out of my arms, landing on his feet, but immediately staggered—his wound was taking its toll.

—“Hold on,”— I said, keeping him steady by the shoulder to prevent him from falling.

The bar door opened immediately, and Haruta appeared in the doorway. He gave us a quick glance, lingering on the injured man.

—“Fast,”— he smirked, then narrowed his eyes and added: —“Let me see.”

The guy didn’t move.

—“Don’t worry, they’re not going to kill you,”— I added, nudging him forward.

He finally lifted his hood, and Haruta whistled.

—“They did a nice job decorating you.”

I raised an eyebrow questioningly, but Haruta was already turning around, gesturing for us to come inside.

—“Well, well… Looks like we have something to discuss.”

I hooked my arm under the guy’s elbow, helping him inside. The bar wasn’t too lively—just a couple of drunken sailors in the corner, some card players at the counter, and the old bartender lazily wiping a mug. The air smelled of rum, tobacco, and something fried.

Haruta waved at us, pointing to the door leading to our temporary hideout. We made our way to the room slowly. As the guy sat down on a chair, he groaned, gritting his teeth, and immediately grabbed his side, pressing his hand to the wound.

—“If you can walk, you’ll live,”— Haruta commented, sitting down opposite.

I crossed my arms and finally got a better look at the guy. Young, barely twenty, with dark, tangled hair and sharp facial features. His eyes were sharp, calculating, but there was weariness and tension in them. The Order’s uniform had been cut off, but the remnants of the insignia were still visible.

—“So you’re a deserter?”— I asked, tilting my head.

The guy smirked.

—“You could say that.”

Haruta leaned back in his chair, twirling a knife in his hands.

— “Now, my friend, tell me, what made you venture into the heart of the pirates’ lair, and on Pops’ territory no less? And what the hell did you do that has the Order hunting you down?”

Ryu hesitated for a moment, then sighed heavily.

— “My name is Ryu. I was the captain of the Order… but recently I decided to leave.”

I pressed my lips together. Deserters from the Order—something about that felt familiar. Shaking my head, I pushed the unwanted memories away.

— “Go on.”

Ryu leaned his elbows on the table, lowering his voice slightly:

— “I could no longer turn a blind eye to what the World Government is doing. To the slavery, to the genocide, to the mass purges for the whims of the gods… For a long time, I convinced myself I was fulfilling my duty, bringing order. But one day, I saw what this ‘order’ is turning the world into.”

He exhaled, as if shedding a great burden.

— “I want to join the Revolutionary Army. But leaving the Order isn’t so simple.”

Haruta studied him with a long, hard look before smirking.

— “So, you’re not just a runaway soldier, you’re a potential revolutionary. But what are you doing on Whitebeard’s territory?”

Ryu grew nervous and swallowed, a bead of sweat running down his forehead—he was clearly uneasy.

— “I knew that Whitebeard controls this island, so the government wouldn’t dare openly intervene here. That’s why we arranged to meet the revolutionaries here.”

I glanced at Haruta. He was clearly weighing his next move.

— “What do you think?”— I asked.

— “I think Pops should know about this guy and the revolutionaries.”— he tapped his fingers on the table. — “Looks like you’ll be staying here for a little while, buddy.”

Ryu nodded.

— “The key is for no high-ranking members of the Order to arrive; otherwise, we’ll be in trouble.”

I squinted and sighed heavily, thinking to myself, “The last thing we need is that.”

***

Ryu had already received first aid and was now resting, recovering. Meanwhile, I didn’t waste any time and followed Haruta, who was hurriedly dialing Whitebeard’s number on the Den Den Mushi.

— “Yes, I’m listening,”— came the familiar voice of Marco from the other end.

Haruta nervously tapped his fingers on the bar, as if trying to calm his nerves.

— “Yo, Marco, pass the phone to Pops, we’ve got some news that might interest him,”— he said, shooting me a quick glance.

Only a second passed, but the silence while waiting for a response stretched on painfully. Then, the Den Den Mushi’s face shifted, taking on the characteristic features of Whitebeard, and his deep, commanding voice came through the receiver.

— “Haruta, son. What did you find out?”

Haruta leaned in closer, lowering his voice as if we might be overheard even here.

— “They’re looking for a deserter who wants to make contact with the revolutionaries,”— he paused for a moment, as though carefully choosing his words, then added: — “Pops, what should we do?”

There was a heavy breath on the other end, then Whitebeard let out a long, thoughtful hum.

— “Hmm…”— he drawled, before bursting into loud laughter. — “If the Revolutionary Army owes us, that only works in our favor! Gura-ra-ra-ra-ra!”

He was still chuckling slightly, but his tone quickly became serious again.

— “Get in touch with the revolutionaries,”— he said shortly, then handed the phone over to Marco.

I crossed my arms, thinking over what I’d just heard, and before the conversation came to a close, I decided to add something important.

— “By the way,”— I started, making sure everyone was paying attention. — “They mentioned something about an admiral.”

— “Which one?”— Marco immediately asked for clarification.

I shook my head.

— “I don’t know. But the fact that he’s involved doesn’t sit well with me.”

There was a tense pause on the other end before Marco responded:

— “Got it. We’re a day’s journey away. Do you think you can hold out if something happens?”

Haruta smirked, waving his hand dismissively.

— “No problem!”

***

After the conversation, Haruta went out for reconnaissance, leaving me with Ryu and Genus. We sat in silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of the injured man. It seemed that as soon as Ryu realized he wouldn’t be abandoned, the tension left his body, and he immediately lost consciousness.

The silence stretched on, thick as syrup, and if not for Ryu’s occasional groans, one might have thought time itself had frozen. I settled more comfortably into my chair, watching the candlelight flicker in the draft. We might have continued sitting like this, each lost in our own thoughts, but then Genus suddenly decided to break the stillness.

— “So, are you still angry at Commander Marco?”

I was so unprepared for the question that I nearly choked on the air. Blinking rapidly, I turned my head towards Genus and gave him the most bewildered look I could muster.

He immediately hesitated, looked away, and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. It honestly looked rather comical. The brute, whom even hardened pirates preferred not to anger, was now sitting in front of me, shifting uneasily and looking like he didn’t want to bring up the subject.

— “Don’t be mad at him,” he mumbled, poking at a dent on the table with his fingernail. Then, as if afraid I would interrupt, he quickly added, — “He’s just worried about you. He’s like a mother hen, you know? He worries about everyone, but especially about you.”

I blinked… and then burst out laughing.

— “Pff… Hahaha!” — the laughter escaped on its own, and I bent over, hiding my face in my hands.

Genus stared at me, clearly not understanding what in his words had triggered such a reaction. But I just waved my hand, wiping away the tears from laughter.

— “God, Genus, I’m never going to unsee Marco as a mother hen now,” I exhaled, slowly calming down.

Genus frowned.

— “I’m being serious!”

— “I got it, I got it!” — I took a deep breath to finally get myself together. — “And yeah, to be honest, I’m not angry anymore. After all, I’m not perfect either; I went too far myself.”

Genus nodded, a look of relief appearing on his face. Or maybe he was just glad the conversation was ending.

The door to the room slammed open, hitting the wall with force, and Ace stormed in. He looked like he had just crawled out of hell — soot on his cheeks and hands, disheveled hair, and his eyes still glinted with the reflection of flames.

— “Phew… What a day,” — he wiped his face with his hand, then only noticed our stares. — “What’s with the looks? Do I have ‘I ran from the Watch’ written on my forehead?”

— “You didn’t run, you held them off,” — I corrected him, crossing my arms.

— “Yeah, yeah, something like that,” — Ace smirked and collapsed onto the nearest chair, stretching his legs out.

Genus snorted and returned my serious gaze, as if saying, “Well, now you have another reason not to be mad at Marco.” I just rolled my eyes in response.

— “How’s the situation?” — Genus asked, handing Ace a cup of water.

— “The Watch retreated, but they’ll definitely be back,” — Ace took a few gulps, set the cup down, and rubbed his neck, clearly exhausted. — “I overheard something… It seems like there was someone serious with them.”

I exchanged glances with Genus.

— “An Admiral?” — I asked.

Ace shrugged.

— “Maybe. They were whispering about ‘his’ arrival. I, of course, tried to eavesdrop, but at that moment I was a little busy, you know, shooting back.”

— “Shit…” — I rubbed my temple. This didn’t bode well.

— “I take it Marco already knows everything?” — Ace asked.

Genus nodded.

— “Yeah. They’re about a day’s journey from here. Told us to hold on.”

Ace snorted.

— “Like, it’s nothing new for us?”

I smirked, but there was a gnawing unease in my chest. If an Admiral was really involved, holding out until Belous’ arrival wasn’t going to be easy.

***

We split up: some of the second division’s fighters stayed with Haruta, Ace, and Ryu, waiting for the revolutionaries, while the rest were combing the city. Haruta led the ground search, and I patrolled the skies, flying around the island in search of any suspicious movements.

The first round yielded nothing — everything was quiet. Perhaps, even too quiet.

But on the second, as I flew along the shore on the opposite side of the port, a dark spot appeared in the distance.

I squinted, straining my eyes.

A ship?

As I got closer, I felt my insides tighten with a knot of anxiety.

Ships.

The Watch.

— “Damn…” — I exhaled through clenched teeth, turning sharply in the air.

There was no time to think. They were still far off, but considering their speed, we barely had any time left.

I shot off, ignoring the harsh gust of wind blowing against me. The bar where the others were waiting approached quickly, but it felt like I was flying too slowly.

As soon as the building came into view, I didn’t slow down — I flew straight through the doorframe, shifting into my human form mid-flight.

— “Asta, what’s going on?” — Haruta looked up sharply, rising from his seat.

The room had everyone who needed to be there: Ace was sitting next to Haruta, looking slightly tense, as if he could sense a fight was coming. Across from them was the fish-man Hak and a few others I didn’t recognize.

All eyes were on me.

I stopped in the center of the room, trying to catch my breath. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel my pulse throbbing in my temples.

— “It’s bad,” — I finally forced out, leaning my palms against my knees. — “The Watch ships. I don’t know how many, but they’re coming from the other side of the island.”

The room froze.

For a moment, silence hung in the air — thick, heavy, oppressive.

Then Ace exhaled loudly, standing up.

— “Well, here we go…” — he muttered, cracking his fingers.

Haruta turned his gaze to Hak. He had already gotten up, quickly assessing the situation. It seemed the revolutionaries were ready for this turn of events.

— “How much time do we have?” — Haruta asked.

I shook my head, standing up straight.

— “An hour at most… If they speed up, even less.”

Ace smirked, but there wasn’t a trace of amusement in his eyes.

— “Well then…” — he stretched, rolling his shoulders, and his fingers were already trembling with the oncoming flame. — “Looks like we’re gonna have some fun again.”

Haruta snapped out of his shock quickly and clapped his hands, drawing everyone’s attention.

— “Alright, we don’t have much time. Ace, you’ll take a part of the team and hit them from the flank. I’ll lead the rest to the shore, we need to meet them before they land.”

Ace nodded, already swinging the door open. His fists flared with flames, and he shot me a brief glance.

— “You with us?”

I shook my head.

— “I’ll stay here.”

He raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. Haruta simply nodded, as though he expected that.

— “Right. Someone has to stay with Ryu and keep an eye on him.”

— “I’m staying too,” — a new voice chimed in.

We turned.

A woman with long red hair tied in a low ponytail stood up. Her brown eyes were serious and unwavering.

— “Koala?” — Hak asked, surprised.

— “If the Watch is really coming after the deserter, we can’t leave him unprotected,” — she said firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. — “Someone has to stay.”

Haruta assessed her with a glance, then nodded.

— “Alright. But if anything goes wrong, you leave.”

Koala smirked.

— “Got it.”

Haruta, Ace, and the others didn’t waste any more time — they dashed out and disappeared through the door, leaving us in tense silence.

I exhaled and sat back down on the edge of the bed, glancing at Ryu. He was still unconscious, but his breathing had steadied.

Koala stepped closer, watching him.

— “Are you sure you don’t want to fight?” — she asked quietly.

I shrugged.

— “I’m not a fighter, so it’s better I stay here than get in the way.”

Koala nodded, agreeing, but her fingers curled into a fist.

After long hours of waiting, the first sounds of battle reached us from outside — distant screams, explosions, the clang of metal.

I took a deep breath, pushing aside the worry. We just had to wait.

The ring of the Den Den Mushi cut through the tense silence of the room, making me flinch. Koala raised an eyebrow, and even Ryu stirred slightly in his sleep but didn’t wake.

I quickly grabbed the receiver.

— “Yes?”

— “Yo.”

Marco’s voice was warm, but there was still a hint of weariness in it.

— “You okay?”

I smiled, pressing the receiver tighter.

— “Yeah, I’m not in the fight. Stayed with the wounded.”

— “Phew.”

I couldn’t even imagine what his face looked like right now, but the sound of his relieved sigh sent a warm wave through me.

— “I’m glad you didn’t jump into the fight,”— he continued. —“The Watch isn’t the company you want to mess with if you have a choice.”

— “And who are you dealing with now?” — I smirked.

— “Those who’ve stuck their noses in the wrong business.”

I heard him snort, and I relaxed a little. If Marco’s joking, then everything’s under control.

— “We’re close,” — he added. —“We’ll be there with backup in less than an hour. So hang in there.”

— “Good news,” — I sighed.

— “Of course. Have I ever brought you bad news?”

I rolled my eyes, but the smile never left my face.

— “Waiting for you.”

Marco chuckled briefly.

— “Me too.”

The call ended.

I put the receiver down, taking a deep breath. The tension inside me eased slightly.

Koala was watching me with a slight smirk.

— “Judging by your face, that was your boyfriend.”

I shot her a look.

— “Maybe.”

She smirked but said nothing.

Outside, the battle still raged, but now I felt lighter. Reinforcements were on their way.

***

The sounds of the battle grew closer, but fortunately, we remained in relative safety. Time stretched slowly, and the tension in the room was palpable, like an almost tangible weight. Koala and I sat in the shadow, trying to make as little noise as possible. I could even feel the air trembling with anticipation, the room growing more cramped and uncomfortable with each passing moment. Despite the calm exterior, each of us could feel that everything was about to change.

And just at that moment, there was a rustling by the door. Koala and I exchanged a glance, instantly on edge. Each of us reached for nearby weapons, preparing for an unexpected threat. My heart raced, and my hands involuntarily clenched into fists. But when the door slammed open, we didn’t find enemies—just a familiar face.

— “So fast!” — Nik exhaled, not giving us time to relax. His face was tight, and his eyes sparkled with exhaustion. — “It’s about to get hot here, so we need to evacuate to the ship, quickly!”

— “We’d love to, but we’ve got a wounded one,” — I replied, gesturing towards Ryu’s unconscious form. He lay there, his face pale and breathing steady, but we knew his condition was far from normal.

Nik frowned, taking a breath as if realizing the situation was far more complicated than it had seemed.

— “Shit!” — he muttered, scanning us all. — “Don’t worry, I’ll be back with backup.” With that, he dashed out, leaving no time for objections, no extra words.

Several long minutes passed, but it felt as though everything around us had frozen, like time was slowing down. Every movement outside the door, every echo of footsteps in the hallway made us tense. Time seemed to stretch, and we couldn’t tell what would happen next.

Finally, Nik returned, and this time he was accompanied by two others — they looked determined, their movements confident and quick. Nik practically flew into the room and shouted:

— “Hurry up! Time’s running out!” — his voice was firm, and his eyes were filled with resolve.

He immediately approached Ryu, and with the help of him and another new ally, they carefully lifted the injured man. Ryu was heavy, but their coordinated efforts ensured not a second was wasted. Koala and I didn’t waste any time either and quickly followed them. I could hear my steps echoing in my ears, and every movement outside made me flinch.

We burst out into the street, and the air hit my face, fresh and thick with the smell of smoke. I quickly scanned the surroundings: there was no visible danger from the side of the island, but the feeling that time was against us was unmistakable. And then, cutting through the fog of fear and uncertainty, we ran toward the ship, where we were already expected.

Chapter Text

The main battles raged near the forest, on the outskirts of the city—where smoke already veiled the sky and the ground hummed with explosions. In the city itself, only occasional flashes of combat could be seen—brief and tense, like lightning strikes. Near our ship, there was silence, almost eerie against the backdrop of the overall cacophony. We boarded without interference—hard to believe everything went so smoothly.

Ryu was unconscious, and they immediately took him to the medbay. Koala went with him, her fists clenched, as if that could somehow keep him between life and death. I stayed on deck, where everything hummed with movement—crew members scurrying around, tightening ropes, raising the anchor, preparing to depart. My heart beat in time with the steps, in rhythm with the anxiety.

We knew—once we left the shore, the Watch would follow our trail. But that was exactly what we wanted. If they chased us, they would leave the city in peace. The people would remain safe. It would be easier to fight without worrying about those behind us.

The wind whipped at my clothes, the salty air burned my face, and my palms already had blisters from the ropes—but I didn’t even think of stopping. On deck, everyone worked in sync, like a well-oiled machine, but time was catastrophically short.

— “Hey, hold it tighter!” — someone shouted as I pulled on the thick rope, trying to raise the main sail. The old rigging creaked in response, as if complaining about its fate, but it gave way. I gripped the rope with both hands, looping it around the cleat, feeling my fingers go numb from the strain.

— “Done!” — I shouted, pushing off from the side and scanning the surroundings. Everything was in motion: someone was checking the lifeboats, someone was securing the supply crates, someone was inspecting the weapons. The ship was alive, waking up like a beast preparing to pounce.

I darted towards the mast, helping to secure the flag more firmly. The fabric billowed in the wind—a black cloth with the Whitebeard symbol—swaying as if it knew the time had come. In the distance, on the horizon, the silhouettes of Watch ships already appeared. My heart skipped a beat—but only for a second.

— “Asta!” — someone called from below. — “Help with the sails!”

The wind from the ocean was sharp and moist, the sky above darkened as if time itself was urging us on. The deck trembled from the stomping of feet and the clashing of metal—the crew was working quickly, but fatigue was evident. I lost not a second. In a semi-animalistic form, my movements became faster, sharper. Feathers covered my arms and shoulders, claws replaced my nails, and powerful wings unfolded behind me—though they weren’t yet fully fit for long flights.

With a sudden push, I launched from the crow’s nest, soaring up and clinging to the yardarms. My body was light, my tendons stretched tight like strings. From up here, the ship seemed like a living organism—bubbling, breathing, ready for battle.

— “Hold the sail!” — someone shouted from below.

One of the upper sails was being torn by the gusting wind. I nearly slid to it, gripping the rope with my claws, wrapping it with my legs, and pulling with all my might. The feathers on my arms helped me keep my balance; my muscles burned, but I succeeded—the sail was tightened, and the ship went back on course.

I descended from the mast with a long jump, helping to secure a supply crate that almost slid off the tilted deck. In my human form, I wouldn’t have handled it so quickly—but now, with my bird’s vision, sensitivity, and grip, everything was different. Much faster. Much sharper.

On the horizon—faint silhouettes. The Watch. The wind shifted. Everything signaled that time was running out.

— “Everything’s almost ready!” — I shouted, grabbing one of the last ropes and helping to secure the lifeboat.

— “Asta, darling, come here,” — boomed Whitebeard’s mighty voice, like thunder rolling across the sea chaos.

I turned, shaking off the last bits of rope dust from my hands. The lifeboat was securely fastened, and I could breathe a little easier. Spreading my wings, I easily lifted off from the deck and, catching the current, soared into the air. A single, sharp flap—and I was already descending onto the giant’s outstretched arm, as if I had been doing this since childhood. His palm—like half of the deck, warm and steady.

He looked at me with that rare expression, seen only by a few: a mixture of care, trust, and the weight of command.

— “The second division isn’t responding,” — he said grimly, his gaze fixed on the horizon, as though he could already feel the storm approaching. — “Marco is swamped… can you fly over? Let them know everything is ready. We’re leaving in a minute.”

I nodded without a word.

— “Got it,” — I said briefly, and, pushing off from his hand as if from a cliff, I shot upwards.

The sky above was turbulent, the wind tugged at my feathers, the salt from the sea stung my skin, but in flight, none of that seemed important. The world below dissolved—the only thing left was the goal. I raced over the deck, over the water, over the rooftops, feeling the air tickling my face and my heart pounding in my chest.

The view from above was clearer than ever. Moby Dick was shrinking in size until it became a speck at the dock. I peered ahead, toward the city—somewhere out there was the second division. I had to hurry.

I caught another updraft and soared higher, leaving everything unnecessary behind. It was just me, the sky, and the mission.

I flew over another district and finally spotted them — the second division fighters were already gathering near the old warehouse. Their tired movements showed that the fight with the Watch had taken its toll. I planned a lower pass, turned in place, and shouted:

—“Everything’s ready! The ship’s waiting! Let’s move!”

They looked up, some nodded, others waved. Everything was going according to plan. I was about to head back when I suddenly heard a hoarse, but painfully familiar voice:

—“Astaaa!”

I turned my head — and of course, there he was. Ace. His hair was disheveled, covered in soot, with bruises, but still wearing that same childish smile. He raised his arms and waved at me as if he were calling me not from the battlefield, but from a picnic.

—“What now?” I shouted, hovering above him.

He jumped up, looking at me from below with puppy-like enthusiasm:

—“Give me a lift to the ship! Please! I can barely move my legs, and you’re so fast! Please, Asta, please!”

I rolled my eyes slightly, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me and twitched upwards. He was definitely like a little kid. Just moments ago, he was fighting the Watch, and now he was jumping around, asking for a ride on a swing.

—“You sure you won’t fall on the way?” I teased, descending closer.

—“I promise! I’ll be stuck to you like glue!” Ace immediately moved closer, jumped, and clung to me like a koala to a tree. — “I’m ready! Let’s go!”

—“Stop smiling like an idiot,” I muttered, flapping my wings. — “This isn’t a ride.”

—“For me, it’s the best ride ever!”

I soared into the sky, carrying us away from the city. The wind struck my face, the rooftops, streets, and remnants of smoke from the battle flashed beneath us. Ace laughed with joy, and I just shook my head, feeling the tension of the fight slowly fade, replaced by a familiar, almost domestic ease.

***

The ship was in complete chaos, but it was a chaos that felt familiar and almost comforting. Ace, after devouring several dozen plates of meat, was practically crackling with energy. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and he couldn’t stand still, hopping from one side of the deck to the other, as if this meat attack that lasted only a few minutes was just a small snack. He was like a young storm, ready to do anything to dive into battle with the approaching watch ships. I even saw him freeze for a few seconds, as if waiting for the right moment to charge into battle, ignoring everything around him.

I stood by the railing, watching the dark silhouettes of the ships slowly drawing closer. Mentally, I ran through all the possible outcomes, sensing how dangerously close we were to the edge. My hands trembled slightly, and though I tried to stay calm, deep inside, I still felt that tightening sensation. My eyes never left the horizon, and I felt the tension building as the watch ships, despite our speed, didn’t fall behind.

And then, as if sensing my unease, I suddenly felt Marco’s arm wrap around my waist. A warm, familiar gesture, and his breath lightly brushed my ear.

— “Worried?” — his voice was low and soft, with the same concern that always calmed me, even when the world around us became unstable.

I barely flinched, not expecting him to get so close, but the feeling of his presence immediately eased some of the tension. He was here, and in that moment, it meant more than anything else. I let out a heavy breath and looked again at the rapidly approaching ships.

— “A little…” — I replied, but there was no confidence in my voice, the kind that usually came in moments like this. I couldn’t hide my worry.

Marco, sensing my tension, tightened his hold around my waist, and his hand gave me reassurance. I glanced once more at the approaching watch ships and exhaled heavily.

Ace, on the other hand, seemed completely consumed by the upcoming battle. He bounced around on the deck, unable to sit still. With each step, his impatience became more and more evident.

— “So when are we starting?” — he blurted out, hopping over to us. — “I’ve eaten so much meat, I’m ready to tear these ships to pieces!”

Marco and I exchanged glances and couldn’t hold back a laugh. His energy was contagious, but in that moment, it felt so… childish. We both knew that Ace couldn’t sit still for even a minute if something interesting was going on around him.

— “You just ate a mountain of meat!” — I laughed as he continued jumping from place to place. — “Are you really going to survive all of this until the fight begins?”

Marco smirked and joined in, shaking his head slightly.

— “You’re just like always, Ace… As soon as there’s a chance for a fight, you turn into a living lightning bolt.”

Ace simply shrugged, not offended, and gave us a grin.

— “It’s not my fault I’m built this way!” — he said, jumping again. — “When there’s a chance to stretch my muscles, I can’t just sit around and wait!”

Marco and I laughed again, and I could feel the lightness returning in that moment. Even despite the seriousness of the situation, Ace’s presence and his thirst for battle reminded me that sometimes, even in the tensest moments, it’s important to be able to laugh. Ace, as always, was the one who didn’t let us forget that on this journey, it wasn’t just about victory, but also about the fun spirit he brought with him.

— “Asta, I ask you not to get involved in the fight…” — his voice was a little unsure, and this was something new for Marco. He was usually so confident, calm, and composed, but now I saw a strange bewilderment on his face.

It was so unexpected that I couldn’t hold it in. At first, I looked at him, trying to figure out if he was joking, but when I realized he wasn’t, I just burst into laughter.

— “Pff-haa-ha!” — I laughed so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. It was just too funny, the great Marco Phoenix, the right hand of Whitebeard himself, always unflappable and composed, now standing there, unsure and asking me not to get involved in the fight. I could barely hold back my laughter, feeling his bewilderment only made me laugh more. — “I was planning on sitting up in the crow’s nest, helping from above and only interfering in the fight if there was absolutely no other way!”

At first, he stood there, shocked, as if he didn’t expect me to react like that. But then his face changed, and he relaxed. A familiar glint of mischief flashed in his eyes, and he gave in to the moment.

— “Aren’t you ashamed of laughing at me?” — he asked, and his voice sounded completely different. He came closer, pulled me in by the waist, and leaned in slightly, as if playing with the idea of how I would resist. — “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” — he added with such a light grin that I could hardly believe he had just asked me not to interfere in the fight.

I felt his hand grip me firmly, and his proximity, despite the seriousness of the situation, made me laugh even more. And of course, I couldn’t resist that mischievous mood.

— “You’re funny, Marco!” — I said, replaying everything that had happened. — “You’re always so serious, but you can’t help but flirt!”

He smiled even wider, not letting me go. His gaze softened, and I felt his care and humor fill the moment with a surprising warmth. It was hard not to notice that in his eyes, those sparks of life and energy had returned — the same ones I always associated with him, the ones that could make everyone around him laugh.

— “Well, if you think so…” — he said with a tone that suggested he was preparing for the next step, as if this moment was just the beginning of something else.

As I continued to smile, savoring the moment, the familiar voice of Ace, full of mischief and amusement, rang out.

— “Hey, you two! Don’t you want to save those sweet words for a more private setting?” — he said, teasing us from across the deck with a smirk. His voice held the usual playful tone, and it was clear he was ready to joke.

I turned around, unable to suppress my smile, and couldn’t hold back.

— “Marco and I are just discussing important matters!” — I said with feigned seriousness, but my eyes gave me away — I couldn’t keep from laughing.

Ace shook his head again, grinning.

— “Oh yes, important matters, of course. Right here, on the deck, where everyone can hear. Don’t you want to find a more private spot?” — His voice was filled with playful sarcasm, and he was clearly enjoying watching Marco and me try to justify ourselves.

But before I could respond, Haruta approached us, wearing the same sarcastic expression.

— “Oh yeah, of course, important matters. Listen, maybe you two should just go to your cabin so no one interrupts?” — he said, crossing his arms over his chest. There was a slight hint of mockery in his tone, and his gaze was full of amusement. — “Otherwise, I’m thinking we’re about to have a romantic drama on this ship!”

I laughed again, and Marco shook his head, unable to stop his own smile.

— “You two are definitely not going to leave us alone!” — he said with a grin, but it was clear — he wasn’t upset. On the contrary, he liked the lively mood.

Ace and Haruta kept laughing, continuing to tease us, and I finally managed to calm down.

— “Well, since you’re so interested,” — I teased them. — “We were just discussing battle tactics against the watch ships. Maybe you should focus on the upcoming fight!”

We all burst into laughter. Those friendly jabs were so important in that moment, and I knew that despite all the sarcasm, there was genuine understanding and support behind it.

Our warm atmosphere was shattered by the deafening sound of a cannon fire from the watch ships. In an instant, the air seemed to thicken, and the laughter and conversations died away. A deep rumble sounded, and everything on the ship, from the people to the boards, shook under the force of the explosion. I didn’t even have time to blink before everything around us turned sharply tense. The jokes and cheerful banter were gone in an instant.

Marco’s hands, which had been gently resting on my waist, suddenly tightened, his muscles tense, and I could feel him becoming completely focused. This was the moment when reality began to awaken, and ahead of us, a true storm awaited.

— “Get to the crow’s nest,” — his voice was heavy and clear, with no trace of the playful tone from before. Everything inside him switched to battle mode.

I nodded, understanding that the responsibility now lay with me. Folding my arms, I swiftly transformed them into wings. Without a second thought, I soared into the sky. The wind hit my face immediately, sharp and cold, but I was used to it. Every movement of my wings was sure and fast. I ascended quickly, feeling the sharp edge of the battle drawing closer.

It had barely been a few minutes when I noticed one of the patrol ships, which had entered our waters with such speed that its massive silhouette nearly filled the entire horizon. Their decks were packed with people ready for battle, and I saw the cannons at the far end of their ship being prepared. It was already too late to retreat; time had run out. A collision was inevitable.

The Moby Dick shook under the first salvo, and the explosion deafened everything around us. I felt the air come alive with sharp commands, people shouting on the decks, and some running quickly with weapons. The enemy’s cannons kept firing shells, causing the ship to tremble. I watched it all from the crow’s nest, gripping the edges tightly.

From the height of the crow’s nest, I observed the battle unfolding on the Moby Dick’s deck. The clash was fierce, every corner of the ship filled with the sound of booming, chaos, and shouts. The pirates had to hold the line, fighting against the patrols who wouldn’t give us a break, tearing through the barricades, and trying to break through our defenses.

Ace was in his element. His fiery bursts shook the air, and I could barely keep up with his movements as he darted across the deck, setting enemies ablaze with his scorching strikes. His hands and feet would turn into flames upon contact, and the enemies would burn where they stood, like scarecrows caught in a fiery trap. He laughed, his insatiable desire to fight and win evident. His flame was not just a weapon but a symbol of his wild energy. Everything around him blazed.

I continued to monitor the situation, ready to intervene. Gripping my pistol, I listened to the sounds of the battle on the deck. Suddenly, I turned sharply and noticed two patrolmen sneaking through the gunwales, trying to flank our pirates from behind. In a moment, I had aimed. With a shot, the pistol made a dull pop, and the bullet hit its target. A second shot, and another enemy disappeared from view, falling into the sea with a scream.

Every movement on the deck became more chaotic. I scanned for more patrolmen heading for weak points on the ship, and each time, I stopped them with a well-placed shot, not giving them a chance to get any closer.

I saw Ace fighting alongside Thatch. They were driving the enemies back, but I knew another patrol ship was already approaching on the horizon, and time was running out. I fired again, aiming at one of the soldiers sticking out. The bullet knocked him off his feet, and his comrades dropped to their knees, trying to figure out what had happened.

The battle on the deck raged on in its disordered pace, and I, without pause, watched every movement, accurately taking out patrolmen who tried to sneak up from behind. There were many of them, but I had enough time and skill to put them in their place before they could strike. Every shot was precise and confident, and with each pull of the trigger, I felt the tension grow.

Everything was going as usual until suddenly, another patrol ship appeared on the horizon. It moved too confidently, too close. And when I saw who stood on its deck, I instinctively shuddered. Inside, everything froze.

My heart seemed to stop. I quickly shifted my gaze to Whitebeard. His eyes, like mine, betrayed everything I was trying to hide. He had also seen who was on that ship. It was obvious—now it seemed the whole crew felt it. The atmosphere on the deck changed instantly.

With each passing second, the ground beneath my feet grew colder. It felt as if life itself had frozen on the deck, as though the air had become heavy and viscous. I felt the icy energy seep into every cell of my body. And then, under the bright blue sky, Aokiji landed in front of us.

He stood there, and the ice beneath his feet spread rapidly, covering the deck. It seemed as though the entire Moby Dick had instantly been submerged in cold, despite the warmth still lingering from the recent battle. This ice was not just cold-hearted but impenetrable, like Aokiji himself.

The silence became tense, as taut as a string, when his voice rang out, calm and unmoving:

— “Don’t ruin my ship, brat!” — Whitebeard’s loud, authoritative voice thundered. His words were full of rage, but there was also confidence, as if he knew that the whole world was on his side.

Aokiji simply smirked, his calmness unchanged, as he lazily added:

— “Ara ara, this is awkward” — his voice carried no hint of regret, only a cold, almost unbearable tranquility.

He stood there like an icy cliff, not in a hurry to make the next move.

Once the exchange of pleasantries was over, the tension on the battlefield became almost tangible. Everything changed in an instant, and the fight took on an entirely new, almost primal intensity. Marco, without wasting a moment, instantly transformed into his half-beast form and charged towards Aokiji. His fiery wings spread wide, illuminating everything around him, and, like a flash of lightning, he dove into the fray. With every movement, the air grew warmer, and the space around him more charged. Everything was in this battle—wild fury and absolute precision. He was like a beast, directing his power at the enemy, while still maintaining control, as if he were dancing within the chaos.

I couldn’t take my eyes off the scene. Of course, I worried for Marco. But the more I watched the battle, the more it felt like I had stepped into a movie, where the grand battle scenes echoed in my soul. It was like watching a high-quality action film with perfectly chosen stunt doubles, where every movement was carefully thought out to the smallest detail.

When I looked over the battlefield, a strange silence enveloped me. I hadn’t noticed when all the sentries were taken down, and now only a few exhausted figures remained, barely standing on their feet. It felt like the final act, but everything had happened so quickly and quietly that I hadn’t even had time to savor the victory. Then, Aokiji, noticing that the fight was coming to an end, raised his hands in his characteristic gesture, as if accepting defeat with a light, indifferent smile.

— “Ara-Ara, how unfortunate, you see, we’ve lost,” he said in such a carefree tone that it felt more like waking up in the morning after a night’s sleep. There was no trace of regret in his voice. I knew well that, in reality, he was pleased. After all, who else but him would enjoy lazily lying around, swinging his legs, without a care for victories or defeats?

He kept a careful eye on the remaining members of his team as they returned safely to the battleship. When the last sentry finally made it on board, Aokiji raised his head, and his gaze met mine. He winked at me with such ease, as though everything that had happened was just a game to him. Waving his hand, he said:

— “Ara-Ara, Asta-chan, I’m glad to see you alive and well, you’ve clearly become more beautiful since our last meeting!” And, as if pondering, he jumped back onto his ship, his silhouette quickly disappearing into the distance, leaving me standing at the cliff’s edge, as though nothing of importance had ever happened.

As the battleship faded behind the horizon, I finally couldn’t stay in place. Leaping effortlessly from the edge, I landed on the ground and immediately sensed someone approaching. My gaze met Ace, who walked up to me with the same expression I knew so well.

— “Do you know Aokiji?” Ace asked curiously as he approached me. His voice was slightly cautious, and the scent of charred flames still lingered in the air.

— “Well, yes…” I drawled, not immediately understanding why he seemed so concerned. “I served in the watch under Garp’s command, and Aokiji was part of that circle, as you might imagine.”

— “I already knew that,” Ace muttered, twisting his lips into a disgruntled grimace. “But he spoke like you weren’t just occasional acquaintances, but actually good friends.”

I couldn’t help but smile slightly, replying:

— “He often took me with him to important meetings. I write quickly and summarize well, so I handled all the paperwork. And him… Well, he liked to sleep. He often got scolded by the higher-ups because of that.”

I involuntarily recalled how I’d always been amazed by his ability to stay relaxed, even when everything around him was on fire. He was the type of person who could nap through an important meeting, knowing someone else would take care of all the issues anyway.

— “He… slept?” Ace looked, to put it mildly, puzzled. “Yeah, that’s typical for him. Not much of an admiral, to be honest.”

— “He wasn’t that bad, honestly,” I replied, trying to defend him. “If you only knew how many times I saved him from penalties for missing documents!”

Ace scoffed, but there was still a mix of confusion and mild envy in his eyes.

— “Well, sure, you’re probably good at dealing with people like that.”

I simply smirked in response.

— “Aren’t you worried that our mother hen might get jealous?” Ace asked with a playful squint, tapping me on the shoulder. He glanced towards Marco, who was approaching with an expression that suggested he was already ready to say or do something.

— “Is there a reason to?” I asked innocently, tilting my head and raising an eyebrow, as if the thought that Marco might get jealous had never even crossed my mind.

— “Hahahah, well, you got me there!” Ace couldn’t hold back and laughed, doubling over with amusement. It was clear he was enjoying teasing Marco, all while keeping the drama outside of our little circle. He clearly loved moments like this.

— “Well, you know, Aokiji’s preferences in women are a bit…” I continued, with a light hint in my voice, gesturing to my own curves and laughing, “He flirts with every woman he meets. I’m clearly not his type.”

Ace laughed again, leaning back in amusement, clearly enjoying Marco’s helpless expression as he approached us, his eyes holding a mix of surprise and displeasure.

— “Really?” Marco asked, his voice not as sure as usual. He was clearly a little puzzled by my words, though I could argue that beneath his calm demeanor, there was a subtle storm brewing.

— “Yeah, he never seriously flirted with me,” I replied calmly, though an internal smile lingered on my face. I noticed Marco tense up slightly, but he chose not to make a big deal out of it.

At that moment, Thatch joined us, clearly unable to resist jumping into such a friendly teasing conversation.

— “So, were there other candidates?” His tone was playful and ominous at the same time, and it was clear he was enjoying how the situation was unfolding. I couldn’t help but notice that his face was full of the amusement he was getting out of this moment. Not every day did you see Marco in such a state.

My gaze darkened involuntarily as I recalled Vice-Admiral Bastille. That man, with his endless “advances” and, to put it mildly, awkward attempts to “invite me to dinner.” It was both uncomfortable and amusing, but I tried not to show just how awkward it made me feel.

I looked away, trying to calm my thoughts.

— “No… not really,” I said with effort, trying to hide the disgust in my voice. I noticed all three of them freeze for a moment, their faces filled with surprise. It was clear they hadn’t expected that response from me.

There was a slight confusion in their eyes. It was… interesting. I knew Thatch was always ready to poke at someone’s most personal topic, but he clearly hadn’t anticipated this question would lead to such a reaction.

Thatch and Marco exchanged glances, then looked at me with interest. I, on the other hand, felt a little uncomfortable but decided to remain calm and not make a big deal out of it.

— “Not really?” Ace asked, finally calming down a bit, raising an eyebrow mischievously. He was clearly relishing my discomfort. “What about Vice-Admiral Bastille, who so diligently tried to invite you on a date?”

I literally froze. Thoughts instantly rushed through my mind about who I wanted to hit more: myself for revealing this story to the curious, fiery guy, or Ace for not being able to keep his mouth shut. My gaze darted to Marco, who was watching us with some strange expression on his face, clearly trying to figure something out.

— “Now, that’s some drama,” Thatch said with a mysterious smile, his gaze shifting back and forth between me and Marco, who now looked like a cat that had been given fish but hadn’t been told how to eat it.

Feeling the weight of his stare, unsure where to hide, I decided to act. In the blink of an eye, I transformed into a bird, soaring into the air with a quick and light movement. Inside, I was practically screaming at myself, “Why did this conversation even start?!”

As my thoughts raced, I glanced around, searching for a quiet spot to hide from the unwanted questions and gazes. My eyes stopped when I spotted Whitebeard, who was looking at me with a cheerful expression, his gaze almost saying, “Come here, daughter, I’ll hide you.” Instantly feeling a sense of relief, I flew to him, landing gracefully, then slipping under his arm.

Like a small child curling up in a ball, I hid under his massive arm, feeling safe as if I had my own little corner in this vast world where I didn’t have to explain anything. I could hear the storm raging outside, with calls for me to be delivered for questioning. But Whitebeard only laughed, showing no intention of giving me up.

Chapter Text

It’s been almost two years since I became a part of Whitebeard’s pirate crew. Two years, Cards and Winds, how did that even happen? It feels like just yesterday I first stepped onto the deck of this enormous ship, and now I can’t imagine my life without it. Time here flows differently — sometimes it rushes by like a galloping horse, and other times it freezes in one long day.

Ace, as expected, after a few loud clashes with the Navy, earned his well-deserved spot as the commander of the second division. We celebrated it like he had become the new king of the seas. Seriously, I never thought there could be so much alcohol. It felt like even the air on the deck was drunk that night. Some, by the way, still recall that night with a tremor in their voice and pain in their heads.

As for me — I’ve been sent on a few missions, but overall… life has become unexpectedly “paperwork-heavy.” Who would have thought that the most dangerous weapon on this ship would be reports and ledgers? It feels like paperwork now haunts me like the curse of an ancient chest. Most of the time, I’m holed up in Marco’s cabin, drowning in documents. Yeah, they said it’s the romance of pirate life. Adventures and freedom, they said.

This time, I was sitting in his office — or rather, almost my own — and methodically, with the face of a perpetually suffering clerk, filling out another receipt. Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door.

—“Come in,”— I grumbled without even looking up.

The door cracked open, and in flew Thatch — as always, glowing like he had just won the jackpot.

—“Asta-chan! I brought the fourth division’s expense report and the form for tomorrow’s mission!”— he said cheerfully, skillfully tossing the papers onto the desk as if it were an ace in a card game. Then, of course, he started adjusting his damn hair — it was more important to him than his weapons.

I mumbled something affirmative, continuing to focus on filling in line after line. But time passed, and he didn’t leave. Silence, tension, and finally — I tore my gaze away.

—“Is there something else?”

He sighed heavily, dramatically, as if about to tell me about his broken heart, and collapsed into the chair opposite me. Resting his cheek on his hand, he gazed at me with an expression of deep sorrow.

—“Ah… Our feathered friend doesn’t spare you. How can they dump all this bureaucratic nightmare onto fragile little shoulders like yours? It’s a crime!”

I barely stopped myself from snorting.

—“Thatch, you sound like Marco when I was fighting him for this job. Right now, he doesn’t need to think about papers, he needs to think about Pops. I’ll handle it.”

—“Sure, sure,”— he drawled, squinting at me mischievously, —“and then you’ll forget what sunlight even looks like…”

I just rolled my eyes, but deep down, it warmed me. Because even in the midst of this routine, surrounded by reports, budgets, and confusing wine expenses, these small moments remind me — I’m part of a family. A loud, slightly crazy, but real one.

Thatch mumbled a few more words to himself — seemed like he was complaining about the injustice of the world, where such beautiful girls like me are forced to drown in paperwork. But my look, heavy and saying, “one more word and you’ll be overboard,” worked better than any threat. He immediately shut up and, puffing like an offended cat, slipped out of the cabin, closing the door behind him.

I sighed. Slowly leaned back in the creaky chair and blissfully closed my eyes. Peace. Finally. Even if only for a couple of seconds.

Pops’ health… Better than it was originally, yes. But still — you can’t cheat age. No matter how eternal, mighty he seems, how he stands like a mountain before every enemy — time quietly chips away at even the strongest walls.

Pops. That word still sounds a bit unfamiliar in my head — as if it’s foreign, but at the same time, so familiar. I didn’t even notice when I started calling him that. I remember I resisted it to the very last. What’s with “Pops,” I’m not a kid! But… These pirates know how to convince, like no one else. Quietly, patiently, with genuine warmth. So now, that word slips from my lips naturally — soft, warm, like a woolen blanket in a storm.

I couldn’t help but smile, recalling that day. When everything changed. When I first called him that — not out of habit, not under pressure, but truly, from the heart.

***

The morning had just begun, yet the deck was already buzzing like a disordered beehive. People were running around, hauling things, laughing, arguing, shouting — in short, the usual “calm” morning aboard the Moby Dick, when the air smells like a celebration.

I stood at the front with a massive mug, filled to the brim with thick, amber ale from the island of Sphinx — the homeland of Whitebeard. Honestly? I’ve tried drinks in many places, but no one brews ale like this. It doesn’t just get you drunk — it tells a story: of the lands where it was brewed, the people who made it… and in every drop, you can feel home.

Around Whitebeard’s chair, the commanders had already gathered — bright, noisy, always disgruntled, but terribly dear to me. And, of course, at the center of attention stood Ace — proud, with a slight smile on his lips and fire in his eyes.

—“From today, Ace is the commander of the second division!”— Marco announced with obvious pleasure, raising a mug of something strong and burning.

At that very moment, the deck practically exploded — someone yelled, someone clapped, someone launched fireworks (I still don’t know where he got them from), and someone simply tried to hug the nearest neighbor, collapsing into a heap of laughter.

Marco, of course, didn’t miss the chance to have fun. He slung an arm over Ace’s shoulder and, grinning, said:

—“Come on, enjoy yourself! This is your day!” — and before Ace could even say a word, he swiftly shoved a hefty piece of meat into his mouth. Ace, without missing a beat, managed to swallow it… along with the bone.

I just raised an eyebrow and stepped closer:

—“Are you serious? You’re eating with the bone?”— I asked, looking at him like he was a walking threat to himself.

He merely shrugged apologetically and mumbled something like, “It was good,” with his mouth full. Pirates, what can you do?

I quickly ruffled Ace’s hair and whispered a few warm words in his ear, then turned toward Marco, who was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, looking far too pleased. His eyes were shining, his lips stretched into a lazy grin, and his gaze clearly said: “Well, finally.” I narrowed my eyes and stepped closer, giving him a playful squint:

—“I see you’re really pleased. But I can’t quite figure it out — are you so happy because Ace has earned his recognition and become a commander… or because you no longer have to split yourself between your duties and the second division?”

Marco, that fox in human form, theatrically pressed a finger to his lips, pretending to ponder deeply. Then his smile grew even wider, almost predatory:

—“Hmm… I don’t know… But you know what’s certain? Now we’ll have a lot more time for just the two of us.”

I scoffed and burst into laughter, rolling my eyes as if he’d just said something unbearably cheeky — which, in his case, he did. He always knew how to throw a line that made your cheeks burn, even if you tried to hide it.

At that moment, Ace literally barged in between us, in his signature style — abruptly, loudly, and with a gleam in his eyes, as if he’d just come up with something genius.

—“Hey, Marco!”— he poked him in the chest with an important look. —“What if I take Asta into my division? You know… the commander of the second gets to pick the best!”— His face was clearly trying to throw Marco off balance.

Marco and I exchanged glances. Our eyes met — one second, and we both responded almost in unison, with identical smirks:

—“Never.”

Ace pulled a dramatic face and immediately groaned, as though his heart had been broken:

—“Hey, that’s not fair! I was trying!”

—“Trying doesn’t mean you get,”— I grinned, tugging at Marco’s sleeve.
—“Learn, commander,”— Marco added, winking.

Ace just snorted, but judging by the smile, he knew — he may have lost this round, but the fight was far from over.

The celebration was just getting started — the music was blasting, laughter filled the air, and the joy overflowed like a poorly closed barrel of rum. It felt like I had already chatted with every crew member — from the eternally silent Jozu to the wildly talkative Thatch, who for some reason was trying to teach me some strange dance to a drunken rhythm.

The ale I drank… well, definitely more than one mug. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an empty barrel with my name on it somewhere nearby. My walk was already a bit wobbly — unsteady, like a drunk sailor on a storm-tossed dinghy. But leave the deck? Not a chance! The energy here was contagious, like laughter in a bar when everyone’s already tipsy.

Humming “Binks no Sake” under my breath, I swayed slightly as I made my way to the drink table, when suddenly the deck beneath my feet sighed — whether it was a sudden lurch or just my internal balance deciding to give up. I slipped on nothing and was about to crash in a most embarrassing way when suddenly…

A huge hand gently but firmly caught me. I looked up and met a familiar, warm smile.

— “Goo-ra-ra-ra-ra! Careful there, kid,” Whitebeard laughed, carefully lifting me up as if I were not a person, but a little kitten.

— “I think… I might’ve had a bit too much,” I murmured, leaning against his arm. My head was spinning pleasantly, like a carousel, and it was… very comfortable here. — “Can I sit here? It feels like a hammock.”

— “Goo-ra-ra-ra-ra! Of course, sit, keep an old man company.”

I immediately scowled and poked my finger into his palm (well, I tried, since his hand was so huge that it looked more like a soft tap from a feather).

— “Oh, come on, Whitebeard! What kind of old man are you? You could still outpace half of these brutes!”

— “How many times have I told you — call me Pops, you troublesome girl!” Whitebeard boomed, looking down at me with such severity, as if I had broken his favorite vase, not just disobeyed him again.

I rolled my eyes so deeply I almost lost myself. Puffing up like a spoiled child, I crossed my arms and muttered indignantly:

— “I won’t.”

I almost would’ve stuck out my tongue — and it would’ve been the perfect picture: a parent arguing with a stubborn teenager. Only instead of a parent — a legend of the seas, and instead of a teenager — a battle-hardened kitty who’d had a bit too much to drink.

— “And why not?” he asked with a squint, as if he already knew he was about to hear something “special.”

— “Because I don’t want to call Pops someone who’s going to die!” I blurted out before my brain could put on the filter. Alcohol was definitely doing its work. And my voice cracked halfway through — somewhere between reproach, pain, and desperate honesty.

Whitebeard snorted, as though he had heard those words before, but something in his gaze shifted. He muttered something under his breath about “cheeky, bold kids,” then reached for the nearest barrel, took a swig, and suddenly — calmly, almost thoughtfully — said:

— “I’ve been thinking about what you said… And, you know, you’re not entirely wrong.”

I froze, blinking a couple of times. It felt like my heart missed a beat. I was used to his strength, his loud laugh, his always-confident nature… but now he had become — real. A person. A father.

— “Really?” I exhaled, quietly, almost whispering.

He nodded, staring ahead at the starry sky, and in his eyes was that same depth I had only ever seen in the ocean.

— “Sometimes even old wolves like me can rethink a thing or two. Especially when someone shoves it in their face — as persistently as you do.”

I smiled quietly. For the first time in a long while — truly warmly.

I lowered my gaze, suddenly embarrassed by my own audacity. Yes, I had said that… right to his face… to Whitebeard. But he hadn’t gotten angry. On the contrary. His voice, calm, gravelly, almost warm — touched something deep inside me.

— “You didn’t say that just because, did you?” he asked more softly, without the previous severity. — “You were scared. For me.”

I nodded. Almost imperceptibly. And then I blurted out:

— “Aren’t you afraid?..”

He laughed. Softly, not like usual, without his signature “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra!” Just humanly.

— “Being afraid is not shameful. But being afraid doesn’t mean stopping. I’ve lived a long life, little one. I’ve seen a lot. Lost more than I’ve had the chance to tell. But now, looking at you, at my sons, at you…”— he paused for a moment, — “I don’t feel fear. I feel pride.”

My eyes stung. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. This man— a giant, a legend, a captain… called me his daughter. And in that moment, I understood—whatever happens, I’ll always be by your side. Until the end.

— “And yet…” — I exhaled, struggling to find the words, — “if… if you ever feel tired again… like you have no strength left… just let us know, alright? We’ll carry it. All of it. I will. Marco. Even Ace, if he’s not busy fighting with the couch.”

He smirked, placing a finger on the top of my head like a father, almost affectionately ruffling my hair.

— “You’re stronger than you think, kid. And certainly no worse than any captain.”

I bit my lip, holding back a smile.

— “Then I hereby declare myself the captain in charge of retiring you with honors. And maybe with a cake.”

— “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra!” — he finally laughed loudly again. — “Never thought aging could be so fun.”

We both laughed. We just sat there, under the stars, amidst the cries and music of a merry celebration, and for a moment, everything became warm, simple, and real.

It was one of those rare moments when even the sea holds still to listen.

Down below, on the deck, suddenly there was some kind of commotion— not the usual kind that comes with fun, but louder… Ace, completely drunk, standing on a barrel, waving his mug and shouting at the top of his lungs:

— “I’ll make Pops the Pirate King! Do you hear me?! KING!”

The crowd of pirates immediately echoed his cries with enthusiastic roars. Some whistled, some applauded, and some— especially the particularly tipsy guys from the fifth division— for some reason started waving mops like flags.

I just quietly chuckled, hiding my smile in my palm. The scene was impossibly… homely.

Whitebeard raised an eyebrow and glanced at me.

— “What’s got you so amused?” — he asked with a sly half-smile. — “Don’t you want to help me get the title of Pirate King?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I met his gaze— direct, heavy, full of wisdom and years lived. And with a light mockery, but no anger, I asked in return, emphasizing the last word:

— “Do you… want that?”

— “What do you think?” — he asked, not breaking his gaze. His voice held genuine interest, not a casual joke, but a challenge. Soft, yet real.

I averted my eyes for a moment. I looked down at the ship, at these noisy, crazy, happy pirates. Some were dancing with a bottle, others with a nurse. Some had already fallen asleep, their cheeks pressed against a barrel. Everything around me was alive, breathing, real. A family.

I turned back to him and, with a warm, almost tender smile, said:

— “You don’t need that title… You don’t want a crown, you want a family. You don’t need a place on a throne, you need a place in someone’s heart.”

He suddenly laughed— that signature “Gu-ra-ra-ra-ra!” rang out over the deck, like a clap of thunder.

He didn’t say anything. But in his gaze, full of warmth and quiet pride, I saw— that was the right answer. Settled on his arm, dangling my legs like on the edge of a pier. From above, the whole celebration seemed even brighter: flashes of light, laughter, the smell of roasted meat and freedom— it was almost mesmerizing.

And so, sitting on Whitebeard’s arm, singing songs, I suddenly caught myself thinking— I’m home.

We sat like that for another hour— without speaking, just watching the stars slowly replace the merriment on the deck. The alcohol started to give way to a lazy, cozy sleepiness. I yawned. Then again. And again… On the fifth yawn, Whitebeard threw me a mocking look from under his thick brows.

— “You’re going to dislocate your jaw, little one,” — he smirked, watching me nearly fall asleep right in his hand.

— “Maybe I will…” — I mumbled, stretching my words, and, unwillingly shifting, stood up. — “Please, put me down. I’m about to curl up like a little ball on your hand and fall asleep forever.”

He carefully lowered me to the deck, as if I were not a pirate, but a porcelain doll, and with a soft smile said:

— “Good night, little one.”

— “Good night…” — I began, about to turn and leave, but suddenly stopped. Something inside me tightened. I quickly turned away so he wouldn’t see my face, but still, almost in a whisper, added:

— “…Pops.”

And just as he didn’t have a chance to respond, I slipped into the darkness, hiding in the shadow of the masts and stairs, as if I’d been caught doing something forbidden.

Behind me came a satisfied, low laugh, so warm that I wanted to wrap myself in it like a blanket.

***

The memories spread through my body like a warm wave, as if someone had tucked me in with a blanket made of the past. My lips instinctively curved into a soft, almost imperceptible smile. But… only for a moment. Instantly, like the shadow of a cloud, a heavy sense of foreboding settled on my heart — everything would change soon. Very soon, Thatch would find that damn fruit… and time would flow differently. The paper routine that I once hated suddenly became my salvation — some kind of shelter from the looming disaster.

I flinched when someone’s lips gently brushed my forehead. My heart skipped a beat for a moment.

— “Rest,” I heard Marco’s familiar voice. Quiet, tender. — “You’re already overloaded. You haven’t been yourself lately…”

— “My heart almost stopped,” I muttered, pressing my cheek against his palm. — “I didn’t even notice when you came in…”

— “I wasn’t hiding,” he replied with a smile, gently, almost imperceptibly, helping me sit up. — “You’re just so lost in yourself. It’s time for me to put you to bed by force.”

— “How’s Pops?” I asked, not resisting, allowing him to guide me toward the bed.

— “Do you even know how to relax?” he chuckled, looking at me with a half-smile, one that held tenderness and just a touch of irritation.

— “Learning from the best,” I quipped lazily, but my voice faltered — I was just too tired, too much had piled up…

Marco smiled — quietly, in a homely way. It was the kind of smile you give to someone you fear losing.

— “If you learn from me, sooner or later you’ll just fall asleep with reports on your face,” he grumbled, carefully seating me on the bed, as if I might break with the slightest wrong move. — “But, to be honest, you look like you’re already sleeping with your eyes open.”

I smirked, weakly resting my head against his shoulder:

— “Maybe I am… Just in my dreams, I’m still on the ship, still with you, still… in this world.”

Marco looked at me silently. His gaze was deep, like the sea during a storm. He didn’t joke in return, didn’t argue. He simply covered me with a thin blanket, as if I were a precious thing to be hidden away from time.

— “Pops is strong. Not like before, of course, but he’s holding on. He’s happy when you’re around. And so am I.” — The last words came out almost in a whisper.

I looked at him through half-closed lashes:

— “And me? I’m happy when you don’t hide your thoughts behind your smirk.”

He froze for a moment, then, leaning slightly toward me, whispered:

— “You know, sometimes I just want to take you away from here. Just… whisk you away. To a little island where there are no endless battles, cursed fruits, or the weight of responsibility. Just you and me…”

I closed my eyes, feeling how reality began to fade, how sleep crept up gently, almost lovingly.

— “Just promise me one thing,” I whispered, already sinking into sleep. — “If everything starts to fall apart… you’ll be there.”

Marco leaned down and kissed my hand.

— “Always.”

And the darkness, at last, took me into its warm embrace.

***

It only took a couple of days before Marco, with his endless patience, finally snapped. He ripped the papers from my hands like a child taking a toy and literally shoved me out of our cabin.

— “As your commander — and, by the way, your boyfriend — I’m officially giving you the day off. And if I see you within half a meter of the paperwork, I’ll sew up the cabin door!” — he said sternly but with a smile, slamming the door behind him, leaving me standing in the corridor with a sulking face and empty hands.

Well, fine. If it’s the air, then it’s the air…

I went up to the deck and immediately took a deep breath of salty, lively, sun-drenched ocean air. The sunset painted the sky in orange-pink strokes, the sun lazily sank toward the horizon, and a light breeze tangled in my hair. Leaning my elbows against the rail, I allowed myself for a second to just be.

Crew members slowly wandered across the deck, some laughing, others yawning — the ship seemed to have fallen into a sleepy post-afternoon mood.

— “Ship on the horizon!” — a voice rang out from the crow’s nest.

I raised my head, squinting toward the thin shadow on the horizon. My heart skipped a beat — could it be trouble? But within a couple of minutes, the shout came again, this time with relief:

— “Fourth Division is returning!”

I quietly exhaled, letting the tension leave my shoulders. At least one day without battles — that’s already a celebration.

The crew began gathering on the deck, chatting cheerfully and preparing to greet their comrades. Through the noise of voices, I made out a familiar:

— “Yo-ho-ho! Miss me?” — and immediately saw Thatch leading his men behind him. He noticed me at the rail and waved at me, beaming.

I smiled and waved back. My heart lightened — a real home, when everyone is in place.

— “Look what I found!” — Thatch shouted, holding up something that gleamed purple.

My heart sank immediately. A Devil Fruit. That Devil Fruit.

I turned sharply, almost instinctively, and caught Teach’s gaze. He stood a little apart, his eyes fixed on the fruit with some strange, almost predatory hunger. A chill ran down my spine. There was no wonder or surprise in his gaze. Only… hunger.

I was instantly twisted up.

My throat dried, and my stomach knotted into a tight ball. I pressed my palm to my stomach, but I already knew — I wouldn’t hold it in. Without even thinking, I bent over the rail and threw up everything in my stomach into the water.

Behind me, there were hurried footsteps, and then a warm hand rested on my back:

— “Asta?! What happened?” — Ace’s voice was tinged with worry.

— “It’s… it’s fine. Probably just exhaustion…” — I whispered faintly, though my stomach still twisted in an uncomfortable knot. My voice trembled, and even I sounded unconvincing to myself.

Ace still stood beside me, his face furrowed with concern. But before he could say anything, Marco appeared beside us, walking quickly. He took me in with a look of worry.

— “What happened? You’re as pale as a sail, your eyes are cloudy…” — His voice was soft, yet wary.

— “She’s feeling unwell. I think she needs to go to the infirmary,” — Ace stepped forward, seemingly ready to scoop me up in his arms and carry me to the medics.

I waved my hand, stopping him.

— “No. Don’t… I just need to lie down for a bit. Rest,” — I whispered, forcing myself to meet his eyes.

Marco didn’t speak further, but gently, yet firmly, tucked his arm under mine. His hand was warm and steady, and strangely enough, that was a little calming.

He escorted me to our cabin, sat me on the bed, wrapped me in a blanket like a child, and sat down beside me as if he had no intention of leaving.

— “I’ll stay,” — he said quietly, his gaze filled with concern.

— “You don’t need to… Really. Go. Eat, talk to the guys. I’m not hungry right now. Otherwise, it’ll all be back overboard,” — I tried to joke, but my voice came out weak.

Marco paused for a second, studying my face, then slowly nodded.

— “Alright. But if it gets worse — call me. Don’t play the hero,” — he said, rising and gently touching my cheek.

I only nodded silently, watching him with my gaze. When the door closed behind him, I dropped my head to the pillow, inhaling the scent of him still lingering in the room. My heart pounded heavily. What was coming was terrifying. And I was afraid that stopping it would already be impossible.

Lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, I replayed the plan in my head for the hundredth time. All I needed — the right moment. Just one moment to change everything. To stop the nightmare before it began. The problem was, I didn’t know exactly where it would happen… Damn it, why didn’t the anime show the exact location? I think it was on the deck… but I’m not sure. Or was it somewhere below? Damn my memory.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice when night fell outside the porthole. The warm light from the lamp made the cabin feel cozy, almost homely, but inside, I was teetering on the edge of panic.

The door creaked softly, and Marco entered the room. He immediately walked over to me, sat on the edge of the bed, and gently touched my forehead to check my temperature.

— “How are you feeling?” — he asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

I just nodded.
— “I’m better,” — I exhaled, and he handed me a cup, from which aromatic steam rose.

— “Ginger tea. It warms you up and helps with nausea,” — he said with a slight smile.

I took the cup, took a sip, and closed my eyes for a moment. The taste was spicy, soothing… But the fear still throbbed in my mind.

I looked at him seriously, hesitated for a second, as though weighing whether I should speak.
But I spoke anyway:

— “Marco… I need your help. Please, don’t ask questions. Just trust me, okay?”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise but nodded without hesitation.

— “Alright. What do you need?”

I lowered my gaze, my fingers clutching the cup tightly.

— “I have… a bad feeling. A very bad one. Just… stay close, okay?”

He looked at me with confusion, but there was no doubt in his gaze. Only determination.

— “Alright,” — he said calmly, then, after a short pause, added: — “I’m here. For as long as it takes.”

I felt the tension ease a little.
There was still everything ahead. But I wasn’t alone. And that — meant a lot.

***

The night slowly enveloped the ship, like an old, warm shawl. Everything grew still. Only the creak of wood and the steady splash of the waves reminded me that we were still on our journey, in the middle of the endless sea. Somewhere far off, the sail flapped lazily, and this monotonous rhythm lulled… but not me.

I quietly rose from the bed, trying not to disturb Marco, who had been reading for the past few hours, and went to wash up — I needed to clear my mind before starting my plan. The coolness of the water refreshed my face, but inside, the turmoil remained.

When I returned to the cabin, I froze in the doorway. Marco was asleep. Calmly, steadily, almost too… too deeply.

— “Marco…” — I whispered, stepping closer and lightly touching his shoulder. Usually, he’d wake up even from my breath near him, but here…

He didn’t stir.

My voice grew louder, and my movements became more desperate:
— “Marco! Wake up!” — I shook him with both hands.

No reaction.

What the hell? Why isn’t he waking up? My heart clenched, and a cold bead of sweat slid down my temple. Panic began to rise in my chest. I tried to push it away. No, it’s not the time. He’s just tired. He’s safe. This is definitely just a deep sleep.

Clenching my teeth, I turned and almost silently slipped out of the cabin. My feet moved confidently through the corridor, though they trembled. The first target — Thatch’s cabin. My heart beat dully in my chest as I cracked the door open, holding my breath.

Empty.

— “Damn…” — I exhaled almost inaudibly.

Of course. It couldn’t be this simple.

“Will hasn’t awakened yet…” — flashed through my mind. Izou had said I was close. But close doesn’t mean enough. I didn’t need instinct right now. I needed to know.

I turned and hurried toward the deck. My footsteps were almost inaudible — I knew how to move so silently that even the night itself wouldn’t notice. By the door, I heard a thunderclap and… the sound of rain hammering on the wood.

A downpour had started on the deck.

And I had a feeling — everything would happen in this rain.

Opening the door to the deck, I didn’t expect to see this.

The scene seemed to leap straight out of a nightmare: Teach, with a twisted face and a knife in his hand, hovered over Thatch, who, unsuspecting, was rummaging near the barrels. In that moment, when the blade went down, the sky was torn open by a blinding lightning bolt, exposing everything, as if the very elements wanted to expose the traitor.

My heart slammed painfully against my chest. I didn’t think. I just screamed:

— “MONSTER!!!”

It seemed like my voice ripped through the sky and drowned out even the raging storm.

In an instant, my arms stretched, transforming into wings, and my legs shifted into clawed paws. The wind lifted me, and I shot forward like a missile, aiming straight at Teach’s side in an attempt to knock him off course.

The strike hit just in time — the blade still grazed Thatch, but not as deeply as it should have. He fell to the side, letting out a painful groan.

Teach’s eyes widened in panic, but almost immediately narrowed into a malicious smirk.

— “Ah… now it makes sense. You weren’t at dinner,” he hissed, looking at me with disdain.

My brain quickly pieced together the puzzle. Dinner. Marco. Everyone had been asleep too deeply. I blinked, realizing:

— “You… you spiked the food…”

The memory of Teach offering to help with the meal distribution flashed before me. At the time, it seemed just odd. Now everything clicked into place. That’s why no one woke up. That’s why Marco…

— “Just a little sleeping powder,” he casually tossed out, twirling the knife, as if playing with the expectation of another strike.

The bastard. The traitor.

I took a step forward, my gaze fixed on him, muscles trembling with rage and adrenaline. But still, I glanced toward Thatch:

— “Thatch? Are you alive?” — my voice betrayed a crack of uncertainty.

There was no answer.

Only the rain beginning to lash against the deck and the faint, uneven breathing behind me.

Biting my lip until it bled, I hissed:
— “You’ll die here if you don’t back off…”

But Teach only smirked — and stepped forward.

— “You won’t stop me!” — he hissed, lunging toward the fruit again.

I lunged at him, my claws digging into his arm, yanking it back. We fought on the slick deck, rolling through the mud, blows coming down like hail. He was stronger, but I was faster, angrier, and I had time. His hand reached for the fruit, but my leg kicked out, sending it flying backward.

— “WAKE UP!!!” — I shouted to the sky with all my might. — “ACE! MARCO! POPS! ANYONE!”

— “NO ONE WILL HELP YOU!” — Teach yelled, but this time his voice lacked its usual confidence.

— “You’re in my way!” — he hissed, lunging for the fruit like a beast sensing its prey.

I gave him no chance. My claws sank into his hand, pulling him back with such force that he staggered. Our bodies collided again, and we fell to the deck, sliding across the wet planks. The rain poured down as if trying to wash away the sin that had almost occurred.

We rolled in the mud, in the puddles and blood, like animals. His fist struck my cheek, but I didn’t retreat. In response, I drove my knee into his stomach and then spread my wings, shielding the fruit, which sparkled under the flashes of lightning.

— “Give it to me!” — he shouted, no longer able to restrain his fury. — “You don’t understand! This is my chance! MINE!”

— “Yours?” — I hissed, spitting blood. — “You wanted to kill your comrade for power. You don’t deserve it!”

I knocked him to the deck, pinning him with my knee on his chest and holding his arms down with my hands. He froze, disoriented. That was enough for me to strike him with my foot under the ribs.

But then a voice came from behind:

— “Asta?! What are you doing?!”

I turned around. Ace stood in the doorway, his hair wet, fire dancing on his shoulders from the emotions overwhelming him. He was in shock, staring at me, bloodied and dirty, with a twisted face, hovering over Teach.

— “Ace…” — I breathed out, gasping for air. — “Don’t get involved. He tried… he wanted…”

— “You attacked Teach?!” — he rushed forward, bewildered. — “Are you out of your mind?!”

And then his gaze shifted aside…
… and froze.

Thatch. Lying by the barrels. Alive — but bloodied, with a wound on his shoulder. He tried to rise, but every breath was labored.

— “Thatch…” — Ace whispered with his lips, then suddenly turned to us. His eyes narrowed, the flames flaring brighter.

— “…What happened?” — his voice dropped, steady, dangerous.

Teach tried to stand, but I pressed him into the deck with my foot.

— “He wanted to kill him for the fruit. It was all planned… and he put sleeping pills in the food. That’s why you didn’t wake up.”

Ace stared at him in silence, as if not believing it. Then he turned his gaze to the fruit, still lying under the barrel, and everything fell into place.

— “You… betrayed the family…” — he whispered.

Ace slowly approached, and with each step, the fire around him flared higher, burning the raindrops before they could touch his skin. No more confusion in his gaze — only rage. He moved like judgment, like punishment, like a brother.

— “You betrayed us, Teach,” — he growled, — “You sentenced yourself.”

I stood between them, still holding Teach on the deck. My heart pounded like crazy. I could feel my muscles trembling, the torn wounds aching, but I didn’t retreat. I just needed to buy Ace some time…

But in an instant, Teach twisted violently, his body sliding beneath me, and before I could react —
a blow.

A dull, nasty sound, like the tearing of wet fabric.
Something sharp entered my stomach.

I looked down — and saw the handle of a knife protruding from me.

— “No…” — I gasped, falling to my knees.

Teach yanked the knife out, and I gasped in pain. Everything around me seemed to freeze. The world swayed. A lightning bolt flashed somewhere in the sky, but the sound never reached me.

— “ASTA!!!” — Ace’s voice cracked into a scream, filled with terror.

I didn’t see him move, but in a second, the fire surged forward. Teach tried to dodge, but it was already too late. It was as if the storm itself had entered Ace’s body — he struck like a force of nature. A flaming fist slammed into Teach’s chest, sending him flying back into the mast. The wood cracked from the impact.

— “FOR THIS…” — Ace roared, — “…YOU WILL PAY!!!”

The fire engulfed the deck, burning the rain as if it were oil. Teach struggled to rise, but the next blow knocked him back down, then another, and another. Every move of Ace’s was precise, sharp, full of fury. He was no longer holding back.

I lay on the deck, clinging to consciousness, to each breath that seemed to tear through my blood. Through the haze in front of my eyes, I saw Teach, scorched, burning under the fiery blows. He screamed, begged for mercy, but Ace didn’t listen. He kept striking until Teach collapsed, unconscious.

And only then, breathing heavily, did Ace rush to me.

— “No, no… Asta, hold on!” — his hands shook, his voice breaking. He pulled me to him, my blood soaking into his clothes.

I tried to smile through the pain.

— “I… managed… to stop him…”

Ace shook his head, tears mingling with the rain on his cheeks.

— “You’re stronger than all of us…” — he whispered. — “You won’t die. I promise.”

The world slowly faded… but I could still hear his voice. And that was enough for me.

***

POV Marco:

I woke up with a strange, sticky feeling of unease, as though something was whispering in my ear, but there were no words. I sat up suddenly, my breath ragged, and it felt like someone was hammering in my head.

— “Damn…” — I groaned, clutching my temples. It was like I’d been drinking rum all night, chained to a sea stone.

I turned — Asta was gone.

— “Asta?” — I called out, but in response… only oppressive silence.

And then — as if struck by thunder:

— “FOR THIS… YOU WILL PAY!!!” — Ace’s booming cry shook the deck.

The world jolted. I sprang to my feet, stumbling, holding onto the wall — my legs were like jelly, but my heart was already racing forward. I opened the door to the deck — and froze.

Everything inside me tightened.

— “ASTA… THATCH… TEACH?!”

Teach was lying by the mast — scorched, unconscious. Thatch, bloodied, was sitting, clutching a wound on his side and shoulder. And Asta…

Asta was lying on the wet deck, in the rain, her hair clinging to her face, and blood was seeping from her stomach, crimson streams soaking into the planks. Her arms were splayed out like a broken doll.

It felt like someone had yanked the air from my lungs.

— “MARCO! Don’t just stand there like a statue, HELP!” — Ace’s voice cut through the numbness.

I snapped into motion, and in a second, I was kneeling beside her, pressing my hands to the wound. Flames flared — blue, hot, healing, and I pressed my forehead to her shoulder.

— “Hold on, Asta… hold on, do you hear me?” — I whispered.

— “Ace!” — I barked, not taking my hands off her. — “Check on Thatch and Teach! And get the medics here, NOW! What the hell happened, did we get attacked?”

— “It wasn’t a raid…” — Ace replied hoarsely, — “Teach… he… he attacked. Thatch. And Asta tried to stop him…”

And he disappeared into the ship.

I couldn’t think or breathe — all I could do was keep her here. People began gathering, the noise rising.

— “MOVE BACK, I SAID!” — Nora shouted, forcing her way through the crowd. — “Marco, get her to the infirmary, NOW!”

— “Lisa!” — she shouted, turning back, — “Check on Thatch and bring him right behind us!”

I carefully lifted Asta into my arms. Her blood burned my chest through my clothes, and her eyelids fluttered, as if she were fighting for every breath.

— “I won’t let you disappear… do you hear me, you fool…” — I whispered, holding her close and heading for the infirmary.