The days that followed blurred together in a steady rush, each one folding into the next without ever truly slowing. Trafalgar found himself moving constantly, shifting from place to place, conversation to conversation, as if standing still was no longer an option. Mornings turned into afternoons before he realized it, and evenings arrived with the quiet exhaustion of someone who had done too much yet felt there was still more waiting.
He met with Zafira, then Cynthia and Xavier, spoke at length with Bartholomew, crossed paths with Arden and Marella, and made time for Garrika as well. None of those meetings felt trivial. Each carried its own weight, its own tone, its own unspoken understanding. Some conversations were short and practical, others lingered longer than expected, touching on things left unsaid before. Even so, Trafalgar never rushed them. No matter how tight his schedule became, he made room, adjusting his time like a blade finding its balance.
