The frozen moment stretched, thick and brittle as ancient ice. Framed in the doorway, the newcomers were silhouettes against the blinding white of the mountain peak. Marya's grip on Eclipse's hilt was white-knuckled, her golden eyes narrowed to slits as she assessed the two armed men flanking the island's rulers. Galit stood beside her, his body a coiled spring, one hand hovering near the sinuous length of his Vipera Whip.
Dr. Kureha broke the silence with a dry, cackling laugh. "Well," she rasped, her sharp eyes sweeping over the bizarre assembly. "What do we have here?"
The tension shattered as Chessa, utterly oblivious to the standoff, ran forward with a bright smile, Jelly wobbling enthusiastically at her side. "Dr. Kureha! King Dalton! I brought you a patient!" she announced, beaming with pride. "Their friend is sick!"
Jelly, caught up in the excitement, attempted a celebratory bounce. But a fierce gust of wind howled through the open door, carrying a blast of arctic air. The gelatinous hero let out a final, muffled "Bloo—" before his entire form flash-froze into a solid, perfectly spherical popsicle. He clunked to the stone floor with a sound like a dropped cannonball and rolled a few feet.
"I see," Kureha said dryly, her gaze lingering on the frozen Jelly before returning to the group, her assessment swift and merciless.
Natalie, seeing her professional idol, quickly wiped the remaining tears from her eyes, composing herself with a visible effort. She stepped forward, her voice regaining its steady, clinical tone. "Dr. Kureha. I am Dr. Natalie Blackwell. It is a profound pleasure to meet someone with your renowned reputation."
Kureha chuckled. "Nice to meet you too, girl. Is this your patient?" she asked, nodding toward Atlas on the stretcher.
"No, but I can give you a quick assessment of his vitals and what I've observed," Natalie replied, falling into step beside the older doctor as they moved toward the unconscious Mink, their conversation immediately descending into a rapid-fire exchange of medical terminology.
This left the warriors to their standoff. Vista and Haruta's attention had never left Marya. Her tall frame, the sweeping black coat, the way she held that massive sword—it was a hauntingly familiar silhouette.
Vista's hand rested comfortably on the pommel of one of his own blades, a knowing smirk playing on his lips beneath his magnificent mustache. "Dracule Marya," he called out, his voice calm but carrying easily across the hall.
Marya's eyes cut to him on reflex, a flicker of annoyance in their golden depths.
In unison, Vista and Haruta drew their swords. The soft shiiing of steel clearing leather was a deadly promise in the cold air. Marya adjusted her stance, her boots scraping on the flagstones, and Eclipse was drawn a few more inches from its sheath, the obsidian blade seeming to drink the light from the room. Galit's whip was now free, held loose and ready at his side.
"The resemblance is astounding," Vista remarked, his tone almost conversational. "It's like you're his shadow."
Marya's eyes narrowed further. Beside her, Galit whispered, his voice low. "You seem to get that a lot."
Marya gave a barely perceptible nod, her gaze never leaving the Whitebeard commanders. "Yeah," she muttered back. "It's kind of annoying, but I'm getting used to it."
Haruta grinned, a flash of white in the dim hall. "Jinbe says you took something that doesn't belong to you. He'd like it back."
"Jinbe," Marya stated, her voice flat and final, "is just going to have to live without it."
Vista chuckled, a rich, deep sound. "That is what we thought you would say."
Muscles tensed. The air crackled with the imminent violence. They were a heartbeat from lunging at each other when, to everyone's astonishment, Natalie suddenly jumped between them, her arms thrown out wide.
"HOLD IT!" she yelled, her voice sharp with an authority that brooked no argument. Her face was flushed, but her eyes were fierce. "Not near the patient! This is a place for healing, not maiming!" She locked eyes with each of them in turn—Vista, Haruta, Marya, Galit. "Whatever your issues are, they are going to have to wait until after the patient has been treated!"
A beat of stunned silence followed. Then, Dr. Kureha let out another rasping laugh. "You've got guts, girl. I like you."
Vista and Haruta opened their mouths to protest, but Kureha cut them off. "She's right. It'll have to wait. My castle, my rules."
Dalton, who had been observing the scene with a king's solemnity, nodded toward a nearby window. "And you may be waiting for a while. There's a storm about to blow through." Outside, the sky had darkened to a bruised purple, and the first heavy flakes of a blizzard were beginning to swirl.
Vista, Haruta, Marya, and Galit all glared at each other for a long, tense moment, a silent war of wills raging between them. Finally, with a sigh that spoke of seasoned patience, Vista was the first to smoothly sheath his blades. "Know this," he said, his voice losing none of its iron resolve. "You will not leave this island."
Haruta nodded in firm agreement as he followed suit, sheathing his own sword. "Count on it."
A slow, challenging smirk spread across Marya's lips as she fully sheathed Eclipse. "We will see," she said softly, "who gets to leave the island."
Dr. Kureha just chuckled again, shaking her head at the folly of the young and armed. "Natalie, was it? Let's see this patient of yours. Boys!" she barked at Riggs and Galit. "Bring him this way. And try not to drop him."
As Riggs and Galit moved to lift the stretcher, Chessa carefully scooped up the frozen, spherical Jelly, cradling him like a strange, glassy pet. She then pushed the massive castle door shut with a grunt, sealing them all inside against the rising storm.
An uneasy, heavy silence descended, broken only by the howl of the wind outside and the collective breath no one realized they'd been holding. Together, yet utterly divided, the strange assembly began their ascent up the spiraling stone staircase, the weight of their unresolved conflict following them like a ghost.
*****
The mist of Kuraigana clung to Perona's frilly dress like a damp, unwanted blanket as she floated through the skeletal remains of a petrified forest. "Ugh! This is so boring! And gross!" she complained to the empty air, her voice echoing strangely in the stillness. "Why do I always have to do the fetching? 'Perona, get the explosive girl.' 'Perona, don't let her break anything important.' He's not the boss of me! I'm a ghost princess, not a babysitter!"
She huffed, crossing her arms and tapping her foot mid-air. "Where even is she? She has to be around here somewhere. She's too loud to hide for long."
As if on cue, a thunderous KA-BOOM! ripped through the silence, followed by a familiar, glass-shattering cascade of giggles. A plume of dust and smoke bloomed from behind a jagged outcrop of black rock a hundred yards away.
Perona groaned, slumping in the air. "What is she doing? That better not have been something historical!"
She zipped toward the sound, her form phasing through the twisted branches of dead trees. She found Ember standing in a small crater of her own making, covered in soot and beaming with pride at a newly shattered boulder. Mr. Cinders dangled from her hand, looking even more singed than usual.
"Hey! You!" Perona yelled, pointing a dramatic finger. "Stop that! Right now!"
Ember cocked her head, her mismatched eyes blinking slowly. A wide, unnerving smile spread across her face. "Oh! You came to play! Want to play? We can play boom-ball!"
"No, I do not want to play!" Perona snapped, floating closer. "Stop blowing stuff up! It's not cute! It's not fun! It's zero percent adorable!"
Ember's smile didn't falter. She giggled and started skipping away. "Hide and seek! You're it!" she trilled, disappearing behind another rock.
Perona's eye twitched. Frustration boiled over. "That's it! You need to calm down!" She conjured one of her Negative Hollows, a small, transparent ghost with a long tongue and a comically sad expression. It zipped after Ember, plunging through her back to drain her spirit and leave her in a state of profound despair.
The ghost passed straight through. Ember shivered for a second, then let out a giggle. "Ooh, that tickles!" She spun around, still grinning. "Do it again!"
Perona stared, her jaw slack. "What… what is wrong with you?!" Nothing—nothing—was supposed to be immune to the depths of despair! This was an outrage against the very laws of gloominess!
She floated down until she was right in Ember's face, her own features arranged in her most intimidating scowl. "Listen to me! Stop! Blowing! Things! Up!"
Ember's giggles subsided into a happy sigh. "So much fun!"
"It is NOT!" Perona shrieked, her voice cracking.
Then, a idea sparked in Perona's mind. A brilliant, devious, utterly perfect idea. Her scowl melted into a sly smirk. "I know," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey… do you want to play a different game? A better one?"
Ember's eyes lit up, all her manic energy focusing on Perona. Her head tilted. "A new game?" she breathed, captivated.
"A new game," Perona confirmed, nodding sagely.
Ember squealed, clapping her hands. "Let's play! Let's play! What game?!"
Perona pointed a pale finger toward the brooding, dark silhouette of Mihawk's castle looming in the distance. "See that big, spooky castle?"
Ember nodded vigorously, her pink space buns bouncing.
"Okay," Perona said, her smile widening. "Let's play tag. And you're it." She leaned in, her voice a playful taunt. "Bet you can't catch me!"
For a glorious second, Ember was perfectly still, processing the rules of this new, wonderful game. Then, an ecstatic squeal tore from her lungs. She exploded into motion, a pink-haired cannonball shooting across the bleak landscape. "I'M GONNA GET YOU!"
Perona giggled, a genuine, amused sound, and shot into the air, leading the chaotic whirlwind directly back toward the castle gates. The job was done. Now she just had to make sure the "it" girl didn't decide the best way to tag her was with an explosion.
The oppressive gloom of Kuraigana's plains was nothing compared to the heavy silence that had settled in Mihawk's grand hall. The six visitors were arranged in plush, high-backed chairs around a massive marble table that felt like it could seat an army. The air smelled of old wood, polished stone, and the rich, dark wine Mihawk poured into a single, oversized glass. The only sound was the soft crackle of a fire in a hearth large enough to roast a sea king.
Bianca fidgeted, the quiet scraping at her nerves. "So," she began, her voice too loud in the stillness, "like, did Marya live here too?"
Mihawk took a slow sip of his wine, the crimson liquid catching the firelight. "Yes," he said, the word simple and final. "For a time."
"Did she, like, have to fight those ape things too?" Bianca pressed, trying to build a picture of her friend's life.
"The Humandrills?" Mihawk's gaze, for a fleeting second, shifted to Aurélie, who was calmly thumbing through her poetry notebook, seemingly indifferent. "They were more of an annoyance for her. She overpowered them… quickly." A hint of something that might have been pride, or perhaps merely assessment, colored his tone.
Bianca leaned forward, a hopeful look on her face. "So, like, which room was hers?"
Mihawk's eyes flicked back to her, and the subject closed as decisively as a slamming door. "What exactly are you in need of?"
Bianca deflated slightly but launched into her list, pulling a grease-stained schematic from her overalls. "Okay, so, like, the primary flux coupling is totally fried, and the phase alignment manifold is out of whack. I need either, like, a Mark VII condensate coil or enough raw seastone-infused copper and a micro-calibrated spanner drive to build one."
Mihawk raised an eyebrow, the gesture conveying a universe of skepticism. "And you possess the expertise to fabricate such components?"
Charlie, unable to contain himself, interjected. "Ahem! Ms. Clark is a preeminent engineering savant! Her capabilities in field fabrication are nothing short of extraordinary! She is more than capable!"
Their discussion was interrupted by the sound of distant giggling growing rapidly closer. The doors to the hall burst open, and Perona floated in, her hair slightly askew, panting with exertion. "She is such a pest!" the ghost princess snapped, pointing a dramatic finger back the way she'd come. "Do you have any idea what I had to do to get her to come here?!"
Everyone turned to look at her for a moment before resuming their conversation, dismissing her theatrics. Mihawk took another sip of wine. "You may find the materials you seek in the ruins of the nearby town. The original inhabitants were… resourceful. You will, of course, have to deal with the Humandrills."
Aurélie didn't look up from her notebook, her pen scratching across the page. "That will not be a problem. They are of little consequence."
Mihawk's eybrow arched higher. Kuro, sensing an opportunity to steer the conversation, smoothly added, "I concur. We need only—"
"Captain Kuro," Mihawk interrupted, his voice a low rumble that silenced the room. He set his glass down with a soft, definitive click. "I am curious. What does a former pirate captain, one who meticulously faked his own death, want with my daughter?"
Aurélie's pen stopped. She slowly looked up from her notebook, her compound eyes fixing on Kuro. The air in the room grew several degrees colder.
Kuro adjusted his spectacles, the lenses flashing opaquely for a moment. He had walked into a trap of his own making. Every eye was on him. He could feel the weight of Aurélie's suspicion and Mihawk's piercing gaze. A lie would be detected instantly. A truth could be just as dangerous.
"It is not her that I am interested in," Kuro said, his voice measured and cool. "But those who are pursuing her. I find her, I find them."
Mihawk leaned back in his throne-like chair, steepling his fingers. "And who would that be?"
The tension was a physical force. Bianca held her breath. Charlie looked confused. Souta's hand drifted subtly toward his hidden blades.
Kuro considered his next words carefully, weighing the consequences. "I seek… Admiral Casimir of the Celestial Vanguard."
Charlie's chair shrieked against the marble floor as he bolted upright, his face pale. "The Gilded Raptor?!"
Kuro gave a single, slow nod. "Yes."
Bianca looked at Charlie's horrified expression. "He is the one that…?" she started to ask.
Aurélie cut her off, her gaze still locked on Kuro. Her voice was like chilled steel. "It appears our interests align more than I originally thought."
Mihawk cut in, his focus on Kuro unwavering. "And you believe he is searching for Marya."
"I have it on good authority that she is his primary target," Kuro confirmed.
Mihawk leaned back again, retrieving his wine glass. He swirled the dark liquid, seemingly unconcerned. "She is more than capable of dealing with him. He is of little concern to either of us. The last I saw him, we were… together… on Nouvèl Orléon. I know her skill has increased since then."
Souta, who had been a silent observer until now, spoke. "You seem unconcerned."
Mihawk took a sip. "I am."
Perona, who had been fuming quietly, finally blurted out, "Wait, who is Marya?!"
Everyone turned to look at her, expressions ranging from confusion to annoyance.
Bianca blinked. "She's, like, Mihawk's daughter."
Perona's eyes bulged. She spun in the air to face Mihawk. "YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER!?"
Mihawk didn't look at her, his attention still on his guests. "Curious. She mentioned you. I thought you two had met."
Perona blinked, her anger forgotten as she racked her memory. Her face went through a series of comical contortions before it finally dawned on her. "Soon after Zoro arrived… another girl came for a very short visit. She was all quiet and… sword-y." She pointed an accusing finger at Mihawk. "That was your DAUGHTER!?"
Mihawk took another sip of wine. "Yes."
"Holy crap! She's just like you!" Perona exclaimed, the realization hitting her.
"That is to be expected," Mihawk replied flatly.
Charlie, desperate to return to the matter at hand, cleared his throat. "Ahem! If you would be so kind as to, ah, direct us to these ruins, it would expedite our departure and be most helpful."
Mihawk gestured vaguely with his glass. "Perona will show you."
Perona immediately bulked. "What?! Why me?! I'm not a tour guide! This is so—!"
Aurélie stood, snapping her notebook shut. "That would be most helpful. I do not wish to delay."
Perona groaned, floating in a frustrated circle. "FINE! But I am NOT chasing after that pyro-freak again!" She zipped toward the door, muttering about ungrateful ghosts and bossy swordsmen. The hunt for parts—and the far more dangerous game of hidden alliances—was about to begin.