While the world buzzed with the news of Mary Geoise, life continued as it always did.
On the Grand Line, cutting through waters that bordered the upper Calm Belt, a ship found itself in desperate straits.
It was being attacked.
The attacking ship was magnificent. At its prow, two massive serpents pulled the vessel forward with effortless power. They were called Yuda, venomous sea creatures native to the Calm Belt, tamed by only one crew in all the world.
The Kuja Pirates.
A crew consisting entirely of female warriors from Amazon Lily, the legendary island of women hidden deep within the Calm Belt. Their combat prowess and fame were known throughout the seas. Their history stretched back generations. And their captain...
Boa Hancock, the Pirate Empress, stood at the head of one of the Yuda with her arms crossed beneath her chest.
Her beauty was said to be unmatched anywhere in the world. A tall, slender figure with long black hair that cascaded past her waist. Her cold but exquisite eyes surveyed the ongoing attack with complete disinterest.
"How tedious," she murmured, watching her crew overwhelm what little resistance remained. "Hardly worth the effort of stopping."
Her sisters, Boa Sandersonia and Boa Marigold, looked on from the prow of the ship. Both watched the raid with casual attention, ready to step in if necessary.
"The cargo appears ordinary," Sandersonia reported, eyes scanning the sinking deck. "Nothing exceptional."
"Take what's useful. Sink the rest." Hancock's voice was dismissive.
The attacked ship was already in poor condition, water flooding through the holes the Kuja's arrows had punched in the hull. Within minutes, it would begin to sink.
The Kuja moved with practiced ease, transferring crates and barrels onto their own ship.
"This one's heavy!"
Two warriors had paused before a large barrel near the ship's stern. One of them, a muscular woman with short-cropped hair, tapped it experimentally with her knuckle.
"Really heavy," she confirmed. "Must be something good inside."
They quickly transferred it to their own ship, and others gathered around, curiosity piqued. Heavy barrels often meant precious metals or other valuables worth the extra effort.
"Open it," someone suggested.
The short-haired warrior grinned and reached for the lid.
Without warning, the barrel exploded outward.
Wood splinters flew in every direction. A blur of motion, barely visible, erupted from within the container.
A fist connected with the woman's face.
The impact was devastating. Her head snapped back, feet leaving the deck entirely, body flying backward before crashing into one of the cabins on deck with a crack that silenced the nearest voices.
She didn't get up.
For a moment, no one moved.
Then a figure emerged fully from the remnants of the barrel.
A teenager. Fifteen or sixteen at most.
Brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Ragged clothes stained with both fresh and dried blood. And most notably, cold eyes that surveyed his surroundings.
Before anyone could react, he moved again.
His hand shot out, fingers closing around the throat of a young Kuja woman standing too close. He lifted her off her feet with surprising strength, using her body as a shield between himself and the others.
"What rotten luck I have," he muttered, his voice flat and toneless. "Of all ships..."
Panic and alarm erupted across the deck.
"Intruder!"
"He's got Mira!"
"Someone get a clear shot!"
The women brought out their weapons, prepared for immediate attack. But the young man had already moved, backing toward the ship's railing, positioning himself against the wall so he could only be approached from one direction.
The Kuja Pirates quickly stabilized, their training overcoming the initial shock. They spread out in a semicircle, cutting off any avenue of escape.
Not that there was anywhere to escape to. The nearby ship was sinking fast, already tilted at a sharp angle. Within minutes, it would be beneath the waters entirely.
"Let her go," one of the senior warriors commanded, arrow drawn and aimed at his head. "You're surrounded. There's nowhere to run."
The teenager didn't respond. His grip on the hostage's throat didn't loosen.
His eyes swept across the assembled warriors.
"Surrender," another woman shouted. "Release the hostage, and we'll—"
"You'll what?" His voice remained flat. "Spare my life? Take me prisoner?"
The standoff continued, tension mounting with each passing second.
"Enough."
The voice cut through the chaos like a blade.
The Kuja warriors parted immediately, creating a path. Through the gap strode three figures—Boa Hancock, flanked by her sisters.
The Pirate Empress approached without hesitation. Her heels clicked against the deck with each step, and her eyes fixed on the teenager who had dared to take one of her crew hostage.
"You dare attack my crew. To take one of my warriors hostage. On my ship."
The teenager met her gaze. He didn't flinch, nor look away.
Hancock felt something strange. It was an uncomfortable flicker of recognition.
She had seen those sorts of eyes before.
They reminded her of something she hated remembering.
"Release her," Hancock commanded. "Now."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then I will—"
She stopped suddenly.
Her eyes had drifted downward, catching something no one had noticed during the chaos.
Blood.
Dark and wet, soaking through the teenager's ragged shirt. A wound, no, multiple wounds, were bleeding freely.
"Sister," Sandersonia said quietly, having noticed the same thing. "He's injured."
"Severely," Marigold added. "It's a wonder he's still standing."
Hancock's eyes narrowed.
She looked at the teenager again and saw what she had missed before.
He wasn't standing firm. He was barely standing. His legs trembled so slightly that most would miss it. His grip on the hostage's throat, while still tight enough to threaten, lacked the crushing force it should have had. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
He was running on nothing but willpower.
And that willpower was reaching its limit.
"Who are you?" Hancock asked, her tone shifting slightly. Less commanding and more curious.
"No one," the boy replied. "No one important."
"Liar." Hancock took a step closer. "Someone who can knock out one of my warriors with a single punch while severely wounded is not 'no one.' So I'll ask again—"
She never finished the sentence.
The teenager's eyes flickered and rolled back.
His grip on the hostage slackened, and the young woman quickly removed herself from his grasp, choking and gasping, before stumbling away.
And the teenager began to fall forward.
The warriors who had kept their bows trained on him were stunned for a moment before shouting.
"Grab him!"
"Tie him down before he—"
They surged forward, ready to restrain the unconscious intruder.
But before they could touch him—
A wave of force erupted from the unconscious teenager. It carried with it a weight that pressed down on everyone present, a pressure that seemed to crash the very air itself.
The women closest to him dropped first. They collapsed where they stood, foam bubbling from their mouths, as they lost their consciousness.
More started to fall.
The wave expanded outward, and everywhere it touched, bodies dropped.
One by one. Then in groups. Until the entire ship was engulfed.
Even the two Yuda at the ship's prow recoiled, their massive heads lowering in what could only be described as fear. They retained consciousness, but their serpentine bodies were trembling.
When the pressure finally faded, the deck was littered with unconscious Kuja.
Only a handful remained standing.
Boa Hancock.
Her sisters.
And a few of the strongest members, who staggered.
Everyone else was down.
Hancock stared at the unconscious teenager, her composure finally cracked. Her eyes were wide. Her breath came faster than it should.
Sandersonia's voice trembled. "That was..."
"Impossible," Marigold finished.
Hancock said nothing for a long moment.
"Supreme King Haki..." she whispered.
Sandersonia and Marigold exchanged horrified glances.
"Only one in several million people is born with it," Sandersonia muttered, her voice strained. "And we just happen to come across a kid hiding in a barrel having it..."
Marigold swallowed, eyes still wide. "What is going on...?"
Hancock stepped forward, carefully navigating around the bodies of her fallen crew. She knelt beside the unconscious boy, studying his face.
Up close, he looked even younger than she'd thought. Sharp features marred by exhaustion. And even unconscious, his expression didn't seem to soften, as if some part of him remained on guard.
Hancock's gaze drifted downward, to his back.
His ragged shirt had torn during the fall, exposing the skin beneath. She reached out with two fingers and pulled the fabric aside. What she saw made her pause.
Scars. Dozens of them, layered atop one another. Whip marks, burns, cuts, everything you could imagine.
But amidst the scars, there was one area that stood out.
A brand, burned deep into his flesh.
A circle with three claw-like marks extending forward and one trailing behind.
The Hoof of the Soaring Dragon.
The brand of a slave.
Hancock's hand moved involuntarily to her own back, where an identical mark lay hidden beneath her clothes.
"Sister..." Marigold's voice was barely a whisper. She had seen it too. "He's..."
"Yes," Hancock said quietly.
Something shifted in all three of them. The initial enmity, the anger of having their crew harmed, was replaced by something far more complicated.
Something like sympathy, or rather understanding.
They knew what that mark meant. They knew what he must have endured to earn those scars. They knew, in a way that no one else could, exactly what kind of hell this boy had survived.
"Hebihime-sama."
A voice snapped them out of it.
Four women approached. They were the strongest members of their crew, the ones who had remained conscious through the wave of Haki. They looked shaken but functional, awaiting orders.
Hancock quickly adjusted the boy's ragged clothes, hiding the brand from view, before she rose to face her crew.
"Treat Hetha's wounds," she commanded, gesturing toward the woman the boy had sent flying into the cabin. "Then tend to the others and try to wake them. We're returning to Amazon Lily."
The four women nodded, though their eyes kept drifting to the unconscious teenager on the deck.
"...What about him?" one of them asked hesitantly.
Before Hancock could answer—
A cry sounded from above.
They all looked up.
A News Coo circled overhead, its wings beating steadily against the sea breeze. Spotting the ship, it descended, releasing a single newspaper before banking away toward its next destination.
The paper fluttered down, landing directly in Hancock's outstretched hand.
She opened it, her eyes scanning the front page.
Her sisters leaned over her shoulder, reading along.
Their faces paled as they read.
Seven thousand slaves escaped in a single night...
Hancock's grip on the newspaper tightened. Her sisters' eyes went wide with shock.
Slowly, almost involuntarily, they looked from the article to the unconscious boy on the deck.
The brand on his back. The fresh wounds. The timing. It couldn't be a coincidence.
Then Hancock turned to the next page.
As she did, dozens of loose papers flew out from within the newspaper, far more than usual. Those papers were wanted posters. They scattered across the deck, blown by the sea breeze.
One poster drifted down and settled near the boy's face.
The four crew members who had remained standing saw it first.
A young face. Brown hair. Sharp features. And cold eyes.
"HOLLOW"
350,000,000 Berries
"Huh...?"
Slowly, almost mechanically, they turned to look at the unconscious teenager.
Then back to the wanted poster.
Then back to his face.
"...?!"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Hancock bent down and picked up the wanted poster. She studied it in silence.
Then she reached into the scattered mess of loose sheets and found what she was looking for. It was the official charge sheet that would reason the bounty.
Her gaze narrowed as she read.
Thirty-eight counts in total, of which twenty-seven were redacted.
"'Criminal Conspiracy,'" she murmured, reading aloud. "'Incitement of large-scale insurrection.' 'Murder of World Government personnel.'"
Line after line of black bars followed. Whatever lay beneath those redactions, the World Government had chosen not to reveal, but why even bother including those?
"Are you telling us..." Marigold's voice trembled slightly. "...that the kid lying in front of us is one of the main causes for what happened at Mary Geoise? That he did something like Fisher Tiger...?"
No one could blame her for the disbelief.
An event of that magnitude didn't happen often.
"After the Ohara Incident and the founding of the Revolutionary Army," Sandersonia said slowly, "this is probably the most significant event to happen in the last two decades."
"Hebihime-sama..." one of the crew members spoke up nervously. "Should we... should we restrain him? That bounty... if we turned him in to the Marines, your position as one of the Seven Warlords would be unshakeable. The World Government would owe you a tremendous debt, and—"
"No."
The word came out sharper than Hancock intended.
The crew members recoiled as if struck.
"But Hebihime-sama, three hundred fifty million—"
"I said no." Her eyes flashed with something dangerous, and the temperature of her voice dropped. "We will not be turning him over to the World Government. We will not be restraining him. And we will not be speaking of this to anyone outside this ship."
She swept her gaze across the four conscious crew members, her expression leaving no room for argument.
"Is that understood?"
The women exchanged uncertain glances, then nodded quickly. Questions remained in their eyes, confusion, concern, perhaps even suspicion about their captain's unusual reaction.
But when Hancock used that tone, argument was not an option.
"Yes, Hebihime-sama," they said in unison, bowing their heads.
"Return to your duties. Wake the others and prepare for immediate departure. We're returning to Amazon Lily."
The crew members hurried to comply.
Hancock waited until they were out of earshot before turning to her sisters.
"Marigold. Sandersonia." Her voice softened slightly, though the intensity remained. "Treat his injuries. Use whatever supplies we have."
"Yes, Ane-sama," they responded together.
Sandersonia knelt beside the unconscious boy. She slid her arms beneath his frame and softly lifted him from the ground.
He weighed almost nothing. For someone who had just knocked out nearly their entire crew, his body felt disturbingly fragile. She could feel his ribs through the torn fabric of his shirt.
She carried him toward one of the cabins below deck, Marigold following close behind with medical supplies gathered from their stores.
The door closed behind them.
❦ —『 Wᴀʀᴍ Wᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ 』— ❦
I woke to the scent of flowers and medicine.
There was no smell of blood, nor rot, nor human waste.
Everything about this felt wrong.
I was lying in a bed, an actual bed with sheets, pillows, and a blanket that had been drawn up to my chest. The cabin I was in, was modest in size but surprisingly well-appointed. It unmistakably had a female touch to it.
Bandages wrapped my torso, arms, and left leg. Whoever had treated me knew what they were doing. The pain remained, but it had dulled to a persistent ache rather than the agony I remembered.
"You're awake."
I turned my head.
A woman sat in a chair near the door, watching me with sharp, assessing eyes. She was far larger than any normal human, with a serpentine quality to her features and a curvaceous figure that seemed almost exaggerated. Her head was disproportionately large, and green hair fell past her shoulders in loose waves.
Her posture suggested readiness, but not immediate hostility.
Recognition surfaced slowly through the fog clouding my thoughts.
The Kuja Pirates.
I had attacked them.
And yet here I was lying in a bed rather than chained in a hold, my wounds treated rather than left to fester.
"...How long?" My voice scraped out, dry and hoarse.
"Two days," she answered evenly. "You've been unconscious since you collapsed on deck."
"The woman I struck," I said. "Is she well?"
The green-haired woman's expression flickered with surprise, perhaps at the question itself or perhaps at the fact I had bothered to ask at all.
"Hetha will recover. You broke her jaw and three ribs, but she'll be fine."
"I see."
Silence settled between us.
"You don't seem particularly remorseful," she observed.
"Would remorse change anything?"
The woman studied me for a long moment, then rose from her chair.
"Hebihime-sama wishes to speak with you. Can you walk?"
I pushed myself upright, ignoring the protest of my wounds. The room tilted briefly, colors bleeding at the edges of my vision, before stabilizing.
"I can walk."
...
She led me through the ship's corridors and up onto the main deck.
The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in gradients of orange and crimson. The sea stretched endlessly in every direction.
There was no wind. The water lay completely still. Not a single wave disturbed its surface.
The Calm Belt, huh?
We were already deep within it, yet no Sea Kings had surfaced to attack the ship. I turned my attention to the ship's prow, where two massive serpents cut through the water, dragging the ship along.
I see. Their aura forces the sea monsters to retreat.
Then, below the two serpents, commanding main attention without doing anything, a woman was leaning against the railing. She stared out at the endless sea, her back facing me. Long black hair cascaded down her back, catching the dying light. Even from behind, her posture radiated absolute confidence. The bearing of someone who had never once doubted their own supremacy.
She turned as I approached.
And for a moment, I understood why people spoke of her beauty as if it were a natural disaster.
Her features seemed almost artificial. High cheekbones, full lips, eyes that held cold elegance. She was tall, taller than most men, with a figure that artists would weep to capture. Everything about her seemed designed to overwhelm the senses, to render rational thought impossible.
Boa Hancock.
The Pirate Empress. One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, known as the most beautiful woman in the world.
Neither of us said anything.
Then she glanced at the green-haired woman who had escorted me. "Leave us."
The woman nodded and withdrew without a word, her footsteps fading until only the two of us remained on the forward deck.
Hancock turned her attention back to me, her gaze sweeping over the bandages visible beneath my borrowed shirt.
"How are your injuries?"
"Better," I replied. "Whoever treated them knew what they were doing."
"My sisters. Sandersonia and Marigold." She paused. "They have experience with such things."
"I'll have to thank them."
"You can do so by not attacking any more of my crew."
"I'll consider it."
Her eyebrow arched slightly. Whether from amusement or irritation, I couldn't tell.
The silence stretched between us. After a moment, I moved to the railing beside her, letting my gaze drift toward the sea, at the horizon that seemed to stretch forever.
"You're not staring," Hancock said suddenly.
"At what?"
"At my body."
"Should I?"
"Most men can't help themselves." There was open disgust in her voice. "The moment they see me, they lose every shred of reason. They drool. They stammer. Some even pledge their undying devotion on the spot."
"That sounds rather inconvenient."
"It's revolting." She glanced at me from the corner of her eye. "Which makes it interesting that you're watching the ocean instead of me. Most would grovel just to earn a second of my attention."
"I've never been good at groveling," I said calmly. "Bad for the knees."
"...Was that meant to be humorous?"
"Was it not?"
"It was unexpected."
I turned to face her properly. Her expression had shifted again, curiosity faint but unmistakable in her eyes.
"You truly don't care, do you?" she asked. "About my appearance."
"You are very beautiful," I replied evenly, "but I currently have more pressing concerns than admiring it."
"Such as?"
"The fact that I'm standing on the ship of one of the Seven Warlords," I said, "surrounded by a crew with ample reason to want me dead, sailing through waters filled with sea monsters." I paused. "Among other things."
Hancock's lips curved slightly. "You're insufferable."
"So I've been told."
"I can imagine." She shook her head, though the faint amusement lingered. "This is... refreshing. I can't recall the last time I conversed with a man without wanting to turn him to stone."
"You can do that?"
"Would you like a demonstration?"
"I'll pass."
"A wise choice."
"But setting aside my current predicament," I continued, "the reason your beauty doesn't affect me like it does others is simple. My body and mind are still pure. I am fifteen, after all."
She snorted, clearly unconvinced. Then she reached into her robe and tossed a folded bundle of papers at me.
"Yes. Completely pure."
I caught it and unfolded the pages.
The article was written with careful wording. The World Government's propaganda machine was already working at full capacity. It spoke of dangerous criminals, threats to civilized society, and the noble sacrifices of valiant guards.
As I flipped through, I saw familiar faces. Some I had worked beside. Others I'd only seen in passing.
Then my own face stared back at me.
350,000,000 Berries.
Impressive. Perhaps I should consider turning myself in.
"When did this arrive?" I asked.
"Two days ago," Hancock replied. "Shortly after you collapsed."
"That was fast." I folded the paper and set it aside. "They seem eager to see me captured. Or killed."
"Can you fault them?" Dark amusement laced Hancock's voice. "You humiliated them and wounded them in ways they haven't been in over a decade. The last incident of this magnitude was Fisher Tiger's rampage thirteen years ago."
"So," I turned to face her, "what do you intend to do with me?"
"We're currently traversing the Calm Belt toward Amazon Lily. It's my hometown, a land of women, hidden from the rest of the world." She glanced at me. "Men are forbidden from setting foot there. It has been our law for centuries. However... given the circumstances, I'm willing to make an exception. You could remain with us until you've fully recovered."
I weighed her offer carefully.
The logical choice was evident. Amazon Lily lay hidden within the Calm Belt, shielded by natural barriers that rendered it virtually unreachable. The Kuja Pirates possessed enough strength to discourage all but the most determined pursuers. And Hancock herself, as a Warlord, enjoyed political protections extending to her territory.
Objectively, it was among the safest locations in the world for someone in my situation.
And yet.
"Why?" I asked.
"Why what?"
"Why offer sanctuary to someone who attacked your crew? Three hundred fifty million berries is no small sum. Turning me over would strengthen your position as a Warlord and earn the World Government's favor."
Hancock's expression hardened. The elegance evaporated, replaced by something far colder.
"I don't require their gratitude. And I don't require their money." Her voice carried an edge of barely restrained hatred. "The World Government. The Celestial Dragons. The Marines who serve them. I despise them all."
She turned to face me fully, her eyes burning with an intensity that belied her earlier composure.
"You did something I've dreamed of doing for years. You hurt them. You freed people who had no hope." Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "Why would I ever hand you over to the ones who deserve far worse than anything you did?"
I searched her face for deceit and found none.
That hatred was real and deep-rooted.
I wanted to confirm something.
"If you despise them so thoroughly," I said slowly, "why align yourself with them? Why accept the title of Warlord?"
Her face tightened. For a moment, I thought she wouldn't respond.
"I joined solely to protect my people." The words emerged measured. "Amazon Lily is an unaffiliated nation. Without protection, the World Government would inevitably turn covetous eyes toward us. Our only options were becoming an Emperor's territory... or securing Warlord status ourselves."
She looked back out at the sea.
"As a Warlord, Amazon Lily maintains independence. The Marines won't interfere with, and the World Government won't claim us." Her grip tightened on the railing. "That is the only reason I bear the title. The only reason I attend their summons and tolerate their games."
The suppressed revulsion in her voice was unmistakable.
Her fingers drummed against the railing. Even though I only knew her for the duration of this conversation, it seemed out of character for someone like her.
Finally, without looking at me, she spoke.
"How long were you in Mary Geoise?"
"Five years."
There was little anyone could accomplish with that information, and no reason to conceal it.
I watched her grip on the railing tighten, her knuckles whitening.
"Five years," she repeated quietly. Then, hesitantly, "How... how were you captured?"
The question emerged hesitantly. Almost reluctant. As though she wasn't certain she wanted to ask but couldn't prevent herself.
"I went to a plaza in my hometown," I said. "The next moment, a Celestial Dragon was firing at me for the offense of existing in his presence."
Again, no reason to hide the truth. If it improved her impression of me, all the better.
Silence followed.
"You were young," she said eventually. "Ten? Eleven?"
"Ten."
She didn't reply. When she turned back to the sea, her composure had returned, but the emotional distance between us had narrowed just slightly.
"My offer stands," she said. "You may stay on Amazon Lily until you've recovered. Longer, if you wish. No one needs to know you're there."
I considered it again. It was the logical choice.
And still—
"I appreciate the offer," I said quietly. "Truly. But I have to refuse."
I looked out at the sea, at the horizon stretching endlessly before us.
"I need to reach the East Blue."
Hancock frowned. "The East Blue? Why? It's the weakest of the four seas. Nothing there would benefit someone with your capabilities."
"Precisely the reason. There, I might find a few years of peace."
Something like sympathy crossed her features.
"The Calm Belt separates all four Blues from the Grand Line," she said, her tone turning practical. "We're currently bound for Amazon Lily, positioned between the South Blue and the Grand Line. Reaching the East Blue would require a month or two of travel."
I sighed. "That's unfortu—"
"We'll make the detour." She cut me off before I could finish.
I looked at her. "You would do that? Why? It would cost you time."
"Don't misunderstand." Her chin lifted imperiously. "I simply refuse to keep a man on my ship any longer than necessary. If sending you to the East Blue means you'll be gone sooner, then it's in my best interest to accommodate you."
"Of course. My profound thanks, then."
Hancock narrowed her eyes, attempting to discern whether I was sarcastic. I maintained a neutral expression.
"There it is again," she said.
"There's what?"
"That tone. I can never determine if you're being sincere or insufferable."
The corner of her mouth curved slightly upward before she stepped away from the railing. "I'll inform the crew of the course change. Rest while you can."
"I appreciate it."
"You don't need to thank me."
"My apologies."
"That's somehow worse." She began walking toward the ship's cabin, her heels clicking against the deck.
I remained at the railing, watching stars emerge as twilight surrendered to darkness.
The conversation had been unexpectedly pleasant. Talking with Hancock had felt almost natural.
I glanced at the sky. The sun had been setting when we began speaking. Now it was fully dark.
Time seemed to fly.
...One month, huh?
❦ —『 Wᴀʀᴍ Wᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ 』— ❦
One month passed in the blink of an eye.
During that time, I regularly spoke with Hancock and her sisters, Marigold and Sandersonia. What surprised me was that they never broached the topic of Mary Geoise, nor asked questions about what had truly happened there. Our conversations were simply ordinary.
About the sea, about the customs of Amazon Lily. About our favorite food. Just normal conversations one would have with their friends.
Most of the crew still kept their distance, wary and uncertain. That was expected. But a handful grew bolder over time and approached me willingly. They had warmed up to my presence on board.
Nearly four weeks had passed since we departed the Calm Belt separating the South Blue from the Grand Line, entering Paradise, the first half of the Grand Line. From there, we had navigated carefully, avoiding major islands and other ships. We made only one stop to resupply.
For most people, crossing the Blues was a fantasy. The seas were vast and treacherous to cross. Most people would never leave the place they were born, not because they lacked the desire to explore the world, but because the world itself made leaving impractical.
There were only a few ways to cross the four Blues.
Over the Red Line, which required World Government permission or the ability to fly over the Red Line.
Under the Red Line, through routes, very few were able to survive.
Or across the Calm Belt, which was something nearly suicidal for ordinary ships.
The Kuja used the last method.
A week ago, we entered the Calm Belt separating Paradise from the East Blue. And yesterday, we emerged on the other side.
The East Blue.
Now, land appeared on the horizon.
The island that emerged from the morning mist was small and unremarkable. Green hills, a modest harbor, a scattering of buildings. It was a place that probably existed in thousands of similar versions across the world.
Too insignificant to draw attention.
Perfect for me.
The Kuja ship remained far offshore, distant enough that it could pass for a large merchant vessel, assuming anyone was even looking. I stood on deck, wearing clean clothes provided by the Kuja. Simple garments in muted colors. My old clothes had been discarded long ago.
A small rowboat was lowered into the water, rocking gently against the hull.
"Are you certain about this?" Hancock asked, approaching from behind. Marigold and Sandersonia flanked her, as always. "The East Blue may be weak compared to the Grand Line, but the Marines still patrol it. With your bounty..."
"I'll manage."
She clicked her tongue. "'I'll manage,' he says. Such confidence. Some might call it arrogance."
"Coming from you, that's quite the compliment."
Marigold snorted before coughing to hide it. Sandersonia didn't bother suppressing her smile.
Hancock's eye twitched, though there was no real anger behind it. "You're fortunate I find your insolence amusing rather than offensive."
"I'll consider myself lucky."
I moved toward the rope ladder leading down to the rowboat. Before I could descend, Hancock spoke again.
"Wait."
I paused and turned back.
She reached into her robes and tossed a small pouch toward me. I caught it easily and felt the weight of coins inside.
"For supplies," she said. "Don't misunderstand. It's not charity. Consider it payment for the entertainment you've provided during this trip."
"Entertainment?"
"You're the first person in years who hasn't tripped over themselves trying to please me or stared with that idiotic lovestruck expression." She tossed her hair. "It's been a new experience."
"I'm glad my emotional unavailability could be of service."
Sandersonia laughed openly. Even Marigold smiled.
Hancock regarded me blankly for a moment before a small smile surfaced.
"Go," she said, waving dismissively. "Before I change my mind and keep you as a pet."
"I doubt I'd make a good one."
"No," she agreed. "You'd be unbearable."
I tucked the pouch away and descended the ladder. Halfway down, I stopped.
"Hancock."
She looked down at me from the railing.
"Marigold. Sandersonia."
I met each of their eyes in turn.
"Thank you. Take care of yourselves."
I dropped into the rowboat and took up the oars.
Above me, the three Gorgon Sisters stood watching.
Sandersonia raised her hand. "Good luck!"
Marigold nodded. "Don't die."
"I'll do my best."
Hancock remained silent, her expression unreadable.
I began rowing toward the shore, the distance growing with each steady pull.
Then I turned one last time.
"Oh. One last thing," I called. "My name is Kiyotaka. Ayanokoji Kiyotaka."
I faced forward and continued rowing toward the distant shore.
...
Hancock and her two sisters watched the small rowboat shrink in the direction of the distant shore.
"Kiyotaka," she murmured, testing the name. It sounded foreign, but it suited him somehow.
"Ane-sama," Sandersonia said softly, "we should go."
"I know."
She turned away from the railing.
"Set course for Amazon Lily."
The Kuja ship began to turn, the two Yuda pulling it back toward the direction of the Calm Belt.
❦ —『 Wᴀʀᴍ Wᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ 』— ❦
Since the incident in Mary Geoise, over two years had passed.
In the East Blue, a pirate ship cut through the water toward the harbor of a small town. At its mast fluttered a black flag emblazoned with a skull wearing a straw hat.
The moment it came into view, panic rippled through the port.
By the time the ship docked, a crowd had gathered at a safe distance. The local security forces had assembled in a hasty formation, rifles raised and pointed at the crew.
Four figures descended onto the dock simultaneously.
One was a young woman with short orange hair, wearing an orange mini-skirt and a short-sleeved shirt. Her eyes darted nervously between the armed men and her companions.
Behind her was a slim, tan-skinned young man with medium-length black curly hair and a prominently long nose. He looked even more anxious than the woman, practically trembling as he tried to hide behind her.
The third figure commanded immediate attention. It was a tall, muscular man with close-cropped green hair and three swords hanging at his hip. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt, a green haramaki wrapped around his waist, black trousers, and black boots. His expression was one of casual disinterest, as though the dozen guns pointed at them were beneath his notice.
And leading them all was a young man who still looked like a teenager. He wore a red vest, blue shorts, and simple sandals. Perched on his head was a straw hat that matched the flag above.
He strolled down, hands behind his back, head swiveling left and right as he inspected his surroundings with open curiosity. The rifles aimed at him might as well have been invisible.
"H-Halt!" one of the officers stammered. "State your business, pirates!"
The straw-hatted boy didn't even glance in his direction. He was too busy inspecting the scenery.
The green-haired swordsman stepped forward, and several officers flinched. His hand drifted toward one of his swords.
"Th-That's—" one of them choked out. "That's Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro!"
"What's he doing on a pirate ship?!"
Zoro's hand paused on his sword hilt. "Relax," he said calmly. "We're just here to resupply. We'll pay. No need for anyone to do something stupid."
The officers exchanged uncertain glances. The woman and the long-nosed man remained tense behind their companions, clearly ready to bolt at the first sign of serious trouble.
But the boy in the straw hat had already wandered off, heading into town with the casual gait of someone on a stroll.
Zoro sighed and followed.
The other two trailed behind, still casting nervous looks over their shoulders.
...
Not far from the docks, in a quieter stretch of the village, a shop sat open to the street.
The building was spacious and open-air, with no proper door to speak of. Instead, a wide entrance spanned nearly the entire front wall, allowing customers to wander in and out freely. Shelves lined the interior walls, stocked with tools, ropes, basic supplies, and a modest selection of weapons. Everything was organized with careful precision.
Behind the counter sat the owner. It was a young man appearing to be in his late teens. He had broad shoulders, thick arms, and a physique shaped by discipline and training.
This was Ayanokoji Kiyotaka, known to the wider world as 'Hollow,' though no one in this town had made that connection.
He rested an elbow on the counter, gaze drifting toward the empty street.
Strange.
This was usually his busiest hour. People always passed through around this time, yet the street outside was deserted.
His eyes flicked briefly toward the harbor, though he couldn't see it from here.
Minutes passed in silence.
Then footsteps approached. They were hurried and uneven.
A man stumbled into the shop, breath uneven, eyes darting wildly. His clothes were worn and mismatched, and sweat slicked his brow despite the mild weather.
In his trembling hand, he clutched a knife.
"D-don't move!" the man stammered, pointing the blade toward Kiyotaka with shaking hands. "Give me all the money in that register! And anything valuable! Now!"
Kiyotaka looked up.
"You picked a bad time," he said evenly.
"Shut up!" The man's voice cracked. "I said, don't move! Just—just give me what I want, and nobody gets hurt!"
Kiyotaka didn't respond. His gaze drifted past the robber, toward the entrance.
Four figures had appeared outside the shop.
The group from the harbor. The orange-haired woman. The long-nosed man. The green-haired swordsman. And the boy with the straw hat.
They had stopped just outside, witnessing the scene unfold in front of them.
The straw-hatted boy leaned in slightly, eyes widening. "Oh! A robbery!"
The long-nosed man stiffened. "H-Hey! That guy's got a knife! We should help, right?!"
"Someone should do something!" the woman agreed, already tugging at the swordsman's sleeve. "Zoro! Luffy!"
Zoro's hand shifted toward his sword.
Then—
"Wait."
The straw-hatted boy lifted a hand.
The boy tilted his head, watching with sudden interest. The swordsman's eyes had narrowed, focused not on the robber but on the young shopkeeper behind the counter.
Inside the shop, Kiyotaka sighed. He rose from his seat with unhurried calm.
"Hey! I said don't mo—"
The kick that followed was too fast to track.
One moment, Kiyotaka was standing behind the counter, and the next, his leg had already completed its arc, connecting with the robber's midsection with a muted thud.
He flew out of the shop, rocketing through the air, before slamming into the stone wall of the building across the street.
Despite Kiyotaka holding back, the crack of breaking bones echoed through the quiet district.
The four pirates stared.
The long-nosed man's jaw had dropped. The woman's eyes were wide. Even the swordsman looked mildly impressed.
The boy with the straw hat was grinning.
Kiyotaka stepped out of the shop and crouched beside the man. The robber was unconscious, breathing shallowly, his knife lying forgotten several feet away.
He rifled through the man's pockets and found a small pouch filled with coins that he slipped into his own pocket.
He straightened, turned, and walked back toward his shop.
Only then did he seem to fully acknowledge the four strangers standing at his entrance.
"Oh?" He regarded them with mild interest. "Customers?"
He gestured toward the interior.
"My apologies for the mess. Come in," he added. "I'll give you a great price."
[END]
***
A/N: Thank you for reading, and I truly hope that you have liked this story. Now, regarding what I mentioned in the opening note. This one-shot was originally planned to end here. However, because I truly love One Piece, I've been considering turning this into a proper crossover as a third fic.
I'm still unsure whether it would continue from this point or if I would start over with a new prologue. There are a few elements in this one-shot that I would have approached differently had I intended it to be an ongoing story from the beginning.
That said, One Piece is long... too long, which leaves me uncertain whether I should write a fully cohesive story or instead choose to focus on singular, standalone chapters of specific arcs/moments.
For both these points, I would love it if you could give me your honest thoughts and what you would prefer, because, to be completely honest, I'm feeling a bit lost.
There's a lot more I could talk about, including the Kiyotaka portrayed here, my thoughts on some of the scenes, and much more, but I think I'll stop here and leave the rest up to your own interpretation.
In any case, feel free to save this book to your library, and you'll get notified when I've made my decision on what to do with this 'fic.'