1) North of the Wind
The Grand Line bared its winter teeth as Heaven's Embrace cut toward Drum Island. Mountains rose like old kings wearing crowns of ice; valleys breathed fog; the sea hissed against floes that bumped the hull, thought better of it, and drifted aside when the ship's runes purred.
Nami tightened her scarf and squinted at the barometer. "Front rolling in from the west. We'll have whiteout bands and crosswinds shaped like insults."
"Then we'll be polite back," Vegito said, hands folded behind him, tail looping lazy figure-eights. His white coat—Newgate silhouette, clean-cut and fur-collared—snapped in the cold. "Anaerobic laugh therapy for everyone when we get there."
Bell-mère rapped the rail. "We're not tickling a tyrant, Captain. Wapol's not just a glutton, he's a coward with a crown."
"Perfect. I speak coward with a crown," Vegito said. "It's a dialect of folded like laundry."
Reiju stood near the prow, pink hair taking the light, gaze on the cliffs that guarded Drum like teeth in a grin. "Country like this needs a doctor more than a king."
Kaya smiled up from her bundled notes. "Then let's give them both. And a winter festival."
Kuina watched the sawtooth ridges. "There's a scent on the air," she murmured. "Snow, pine… and something shy. Like a song that doesn't want to be overheard."
"Reindeer," Nojiko said, eyes dancing. "Wait until you meet him."
2) The Footprints with a Pulse
They dropped into sea mode and ghosted into a sheltered inlet. Snow hushed the world; the sound of the ship's keel brushing powder was almost soft enough to qualify as a secret. Villagers in thick coats peered from doorways—mulish wariness, the kind people wear after years of being taxed for breathing.
"Heavy coats," Bell-mère ordered, already in mom-sergeant mode. "We work, we warm, we don't leave fingers as offerings to the snow gods."
The crew disembarked. Flurries kissed faces; breath plumed. Heaven's Embrace lowered a gangway like an arm offering a hand. Vegito hopped down last and looked toward the treeline where the drift lay smooth and unbroken—save for a line of neat, heart-shaped tracks.
"Doctor," he said to Kaya, nodding at the prints. "Let's go meet a patient."
They followed the trail through whispering firs until a clearing opened like a held breath. There—small, brown, blue-nosed, wearing a little cap and backpack, four hooves planted, arms wide like he could hold off the world with stubborn alone—stood Tony Tony Chopper.
"Don't come any closer!" he squeaked, trying to sound ferocious. "I am a monster and I will… I will…" He glanced at his hooves as if they might suggest an end to that sentence.
Kaya kneeled a few paces away, gloved hands up. "Hi," she said, simply. "I'm a doctor."
The cap brim twitched. "D-Doctor?"
She nodded. "I brought bandages and cocoa."
Chopper's nose twitched; the cocoa got him first. Then he saw the way Vegito stood—loose, amused, warm in a way that ate fear like kind fire does. He stamped once, as if to be sure the earth knew he was serious, then dropped his arms.
"Okay," he whispered, "but only because she said cocoa."
Nojiko produced a thermos with a flourish. Nami produced a tin of cookies like she'd been waiting to be the hero. Bell-mère produced a blanket and wrapped it around Chopper with such efficiency he made a startled eep noise and then melted into it like an honest marshmallow.
Kaya checked his pulse, checked his eyes, checked the old scar where bullets had once tried to write a different ending. "You're cold, hungry, and very brave," she said gently. "Let's fix the easy parts first."
Chopper didn't preen, exactly. He performed a complicated routine of denial and delight that ended with him kicking the snow in a circle and shouting, "I-it's not like I'm happy you said that or anything, idiot!"—which fooled nobody and charmed everybody.
Vegito crouched. "We're here to make your island safe," he said. "We're also here to hear about your doctor."
Chopper's head came up like someone had struck a bell. "Doctor Kureha?" His voice went reverent. Then a hitch. "And… and Doctor Hiriluk."
"We'll visit them both," Vegito said softly. "One in her castle, one in your heart."
The little reindeer swallowed hard, blinked, squared up. "Okay. But if you try to hurt my country, I'll bite your kneecaps."
Bell-mère saluted. "Noted. Kneecaps are under union protection."
3) The King Who Ate and Ran
Drum's snow villages held stories in their windows: shutters that closed too fast, soup stretched thin, a poster of a smug face with a crown tacked up crooked, someone's knife buried in it for honesty. The name Wapol tasted like cold grease.
"He fled when pirates sniffed his crown," Nami said, scanning broadsheets at a corner notice board. "Sailed around stealing supplies and bragging about jaw strength."
"Jaw strength?" Kuina said.
"He eats things," Nami explained. "And people, when he thinks no one is looking."
Reiju's smile didn't reach her eyes. "He'll choke on a consequence today."
A bell clanged down the bay. Spyglasses bloomed on the town walls like mushrooms after rain.
"Speak of the glutton," Nojiko murmured.
A steel-jawed ship, ugly as malice and twice as proud, crawled toward the harbor. At its prow: Wapol, furred coat, crown like a joke, mouth already opening in a complaint.
"Citizens!" his voice boomed over a snail amplifier. "Your king has returned! Prepare a—"
He didn't finish because something else arrived.
A second wake cleaved the water, fast and jagged—a pirate craft limping but loud. On its deck: a man with a grin like a knife and three scratches scored across his chest as if fate had attempted to edit him and he had refused. His eyes were void-born and bright.
"Teach," Bell-mère said, and everything in her voice tilted toward danger.
Marshall D. Teach—Blackbeard—threw his head back and laughed. "Zehahaha! Looks like a banquet. A king, a village, and a whale of a rumor. The Sky-Treading Devil in the snow."
Vegito smiled without teeth. "I was hoping we'd cut this thread early."
Wapol blustered, outraged by being upstaged in his own tyrant monologue. "Who dares speak while—"
"Shh," Vegito said, and the amplifier snail went silent because it was a smart snail.
Teach's gaze prowled the snowy shore, found Vegito on the quay, found Heaven's Embrace behind him, and widened like a man seeing the first interesting thing in years. Darkness licked across his fingers, a wet gravity like tar. "So it's true," he said, delighted. "A man who breaks scales. Zehahaha! Come then—"
He didn't finish either. Vegito was there, in front of him, boots on Blackbeard's deck, coat tails snapping.
"You don't get a fight speech," Vegito said, almost apologetic. "We're on a schedule."
Teach's smirk broadened. "You think—"
Vegito flicked him in the forehead.
The deck buckled. Air thumped. Teach's pupils went wide, then unfocused, then still. The darkness around his hand wrinkled, unhappy, then evaporated like a bad mood after a nap. He slumped like a sack of poor decisions.
Silence has temperatures. This one was very, very cold.
Kaya exhaled. "Good. I did not want to see what his gravity does to bones."
Bell-mère spat into the snow. "Trash day's early."
Vegito propped Teach's body against the gunwale like untidy cargo and turned to Wapol, who had decided very suddenly to remember other appointments. His ship began to crab sideways.
"Uh-uh," Vegito said kindly, and pinched two fingers together. The bay's water thickened beneath Wapol's keel like honey cooling; the ship stopped. Vegito lifted his other hand; the hull groaned as if embarrassed about the life choices that brought it here.
Wapol gulped hard enough to make his crown wobble. "We can… discuss—"
"No," Vegito said, and that was the end of Wapol's reign. Later, the villagers would argue over whether Vegito had backhanded him into a snowbank, or folded him 90 degrees and set him on a sled labeled TO JAIL, or just pointed, and the universe did paperwork. The truth was simpler: humiliation first—Wapol forced to apologize house by house while Bell-mère took notes—and then a polite, permanent removal from the board with a sigh that sounded like justice flossing.
4) The Witch on the Mountain
"Doctor Kureha will throw bottles at you," Chopper warned as they hiked the switchbacks cut into Drum's spine. The wind carried ice like thrown rice. "Don't take it personal. She throws bottles at everyone."
"Good arm?" Kuina asked.
"The best," Chopper said, with the proud sorrow of a student praising a merciless teacher.
The castle perched on the peak like a dare. Torches stuttered in sconces; snow tried to erase the stairs and failed because stubborn people had built them. A door banged open at the summit and Dr. Kureha appeared—a long coat, longer legs, hair like winter fire, a grin full of knives someone had sharpened properly.
"Who's making noise on my staircase?" she demanded. "If you're selling anything, I'll buy your dignity and throw it off the cliff."
"Hi, Doctor," Chopper said, bouncing. "I brought pirates."
"Obviously," Kureha said, eyes rake-raking the newcomers with clinician's hunger. "Which one has the impossible ship?"
Heaven's Embrace chose that moment to rise into view from the valley mist, wings unfurled, figurehead laughing. Kureha's grin sharpened. "Hah. You'll do."
Kaya stepped forward, bowed, then held out her hands. "Doctor to doctor," she said. "I have toys."
Kureha took her pulse without asking and nodded. "You're a real one. Come break my liquor and tell me how you intend to change my island."
They took the hall by storm—Kureha's bottles clinking with accusations, Kaya's notes spilling out like confetti, Reiju's poison lore twining into recipes, Nami and Nojiko already drafting a supply map, Bell-mère setting up a triage station in the corner because if she wasn't organizing, she got itchy. Kuina sat on the sill and still managed to look like a blade at rest.
Kureha's laugh filled the rafters, bright and mean in the best way. "You'll do," she said again. "You'll do fine."
Chopper pressed his nose to the glass for a heartbeat, looking out at the village lights dotted below like stars someone had dropped, and then decided, finally, to bring his new friends his best cocoa recipe because hospitality is a love language.
5) Pink Snow
The festival started with a whisper and became a shout. When the ship's runes pulsed and the wind obeyed, when the clouds seeded the valley and snow fell not white but pink—hushed, glowing, petals from a sky that had decided to be kind—the island cried. Old hands found each other. Children laughed the way only children who have known the taste of fear can laugh. Chopper ran in circles and then ran out of circles and made new ones.
"Cherry blossoms," Vegito said softly, watching the drift. "Like someone we all miss decided to color the day."
Kaya slipped her arm through his. "You promised him pink snow," she murmured, meaning a man in a memory with a silly hat and a laugh that echoed in a small reindeer's chest.
"And here we are," Vegito said.
Kureha stood at the castle balcony, hair a banner in the wind, bottle dangling, eyes suspiciously bright. "Hiriluk," she said to the air, "you idiot, you were right."
Chopper clambered onto the rail beside Vegito. "It's beautiful," he breathed.
"Get used to beautiful," Vegito said. "We carry it with us or we build it where it's missing."
Chopper's little chest puffed. "Then I'll come with you! I'll be the best doctor and the cutest too!"
"Both true," Nojiko said.
"Unfair, but true," Nami said, pretending to frown and utterly failing.
Kaya bent, smoothed his hat, and smiled. "Welcome aboard, Doctor."
6) Rumors, Posters, Paperwork
The News Coo came like it had been tipped off by a gossip-loving ship. Posters spilled onto the snow.
WANTEDVEGITO – 200,000,000 BERRIESFor continued destabilization of recognized territories; confirmed assassination of Marshall D. Teach; overthrow and public humiliation of King Wapol; unlawful aerial navigation; suspected illicit technology; general piracy; specific nuisance.
Vegito studied the likeness. "They keep flattering me," he observed. "Unprofessional."
Another sheet fluttered out—small, almost rude in its stinginess.
WANTEDTONY TONY CHOPPER – 50 BELLIPet Reindeer (Suspicious).
The deck fell silent. Then Bell-mère barked a laugh so loud Kureha heard it on the mountain and demanded a copy. Nami wheezed, clutching her stomach. Kuina actually sat down on the stair because she couldn't stand under the weight of the comedy.
Chopper looked at the paper, then at Vegito, then at the paper again. "F-fifty…?"
Vegito knelt, dead serious. "This is the highest honor," he said solemnly. "They fear you. They know your true power. They hope to lull you into a false sense of security. We will frame this and put it above the infirmary."
Chopper made the sound you make when joy trips over disbelief and both sit down for cocoa.
Kaya took the poster gently and tucked it into her bag. "It goes above the infirmary," she agreed, eyes soft.
A third insert—an internal memo leaked like all honest things leak—mentioned a meeting in Mariejois about "revival phenomena," "anomalous medical incidents," and "the Sky-Treading Devil." Sengoku's handwriting wasn't on it, but his furrow was.
"Let them talk," Bell-mère said. "We'll be busy doing."
7) The Quiet Heartbeat (Private)
Night drew curtains across the valley. Lanterns flirted with flakes. The crew had scattered—Bell-mère swapping stories with Kureha; Nami negotiating winter shipping rates from a position of absolute charm; Nojiko teaching kids how to make candy with snow; Kuina meditating under a fir until the snow gave up trying to land on her; Reiju walking the ridge alone, thinking about what freedom tastes like in the lungs.
Vegito stood on Heaven's Embrace's aft deck, hands in pockets, watching the snow run its fingers through the mooring lines. The ship hummed in his bones, content and a little smug, like a cat after head pats and a brawl.
A door opened, soft.
She stepped out wrapped in a pale cloak the ship had woven: Vinsmoke Sora—gentle eyes with steel under the softness, smile that erases old bruises without pretending they never happened. The moon made a band of silver across her hair.
"Evening," Vegito said, voice lowering the way voices do when rooms become sacred.
"Evening," Sora answered, just above a whisper. She came to the rail beside him, gloved hands finding the wood like it was an old friend. For a moment, they said nothing and that was the right size for the moment.
"I wasn't sure you'd want to be on deck tonight," he said. "Cold."
"I like the cold," she said. "It's honest. It does what it says it will do." Her breath made a small cloud. "Besides… I couldn't sleep."
He turned. Concern wrote itself across his face before he could edit it. "Headache? Nausea? The fabrics are wrong? I can wrestle the fabrics."
She smiled. "The fabrics are lovely." A pause. Her gloved hand found his. "I think… I think I know why I can't sleep."
His heart—invincible in battle, unbothered by kings and beasts—did a simple, ordinary, terrifying thing: it skipped.
Sora placed his palm gently against her lower belly, over layers of cloak and dress and warmth. "Kaya checked, then checked again," she said, laughter and tears braided in her voice. "She's very thorough. Reiju scolded her for being too thorough and then scolded me for walking on stairs."
"And?" he breathed.
"And there's a secret under my heartbeat," Sora said, eyes bright as starlight on snow. "Small. New. Ours."
The world narrowed: snow, breath, the ship humming like a lullaby, the weight and lightness of a future condensing to a point of impossible gravity beneath his palm. He laughed once, helpless, a sound that cracked and healed on the same note. He gathered her into his arms with a care that could have been mistaken for worship.
"Hi," he told the secret. "I'm your idiot."
Sora laughed damply against his shoulder. "You are," she said. "But you're a kind idiot."
His mind skittered—names, rooms, worlds, promises. His tail curled around her waist of its own accord, protective, awed. He kissed her hair. "We'll keep this… ours, for now," he murmured. "The world doesn't get to have it until we say so."
Sora nodded, relief loosening something in her posture. "Later, when the world needs a miracle," she said. "Not a headline."
"Later," he promised.
They stood like that until the cold suggested they go inside, and even then they lingered because some nights are the spine of the book.
8) Breakfast, Bombshells, and Boundaries (Crew)
Morning came with the smell of porridge and laughter. The galley steamed; Kureha critiqued the coffee; Bell-mère refereed a sugar dispute with the authority of a woman who can end wars with a wooden spoon.
"Crew brief," Vegito said, stepping in with Sora at his side. Snow shook from coats, pink light still hanging on the windows like a shy guest. "Private one."
Ears perked. Smiles flashed. Chairs scooted.
He looked at Sora; she looked at him; they smiled like conspirators. "We have news," he said. "It's good. It's… family news."
Reiju, eyes sharp as scalpels when she wanted them to be, inhaled. Nami's hand flew to her mouth. Nojiko made a sound that translated to I KNEW IT. Kaya pressed her hands to her chest, vibrating like a tea kettle. Kuina's eyes went wide, then bright, then soft.
"Yes," Sora said, laughing now because she couldn't not. "Yes, that. I'm… we're…" She put her hand on her belly. "Kaya confirmed last night. We wanted to tell you first."
The room detonated in joy. It wasn't delicate. It was honest—shouts, claps, tears, laughter, Bell-mère's HOOO HO HO! filling the beams. Reiju crossed the space in three strides and hugged her mother, fiercer than she knew she was allowed to be. "I will bully you into rest," she declared. "Mother, I will bully you."
"You will try," Sora said, and kissed her daughter's forehead.
Nami circled, rapid-fire planning: "We need to recalibrate the clothing fabricator for maternity, adjust the bed, redo the galley hazard zones, forbid ladders, veto storms, and I swear I will punch the weather if it looks at you wrong."
Kaya wiped her eyes shamelessly. "I have vitamins, teas, med schedules, and a binder. Two binders."
Nojiko squeezed Sora's hands. "We will keep this quiet until you want it loud."
Kuina bowed, formal and heartfelt. "I will cut anything that moves badly near you."
Bell-mère kissed Sora's cheek and then thumped Vegito so hard on the back the ship pretended not to notice. "You did good," she said. "Now do better. No heroics near her. We're a village before we're a legend."
"Aye," Vegito said, gladly.
He drew a breath. "This stays on-deck," he added, gentle but iron. "Until we say. The world can gossip about bounties. It doesn't get this."
Nods all around. Family shapes itself with agreements people feel in their bones.
Chopper climbed onto a chair and flung his little arms wide. "I'll be the baby doctor!" he cried, then turned beet-red. "N-not that I'm excited or anything, idiot!"
"You are," Kaya said, hugging him.
Kureha, at the doorway, watched with an expression that could have been mistaken for grumbling if not for the way her eyes shone. "Eat," she barked. "You can cry and eat at the same time; I've seen you do it."
9) The King Is Dead; Long Live the Clinic
The rest of the day belonged to Drum. Wapol's banners burned and were replaced with simple markers: CLINIC, SCHOOL, STORE. Bell-mère drilled a town watch in ten minutes flat and made them feel like they'd done it themselves. Reiju taught antidotes that turned into soups. Kaya trained a dozen apprentices who would call themselves doctors because they were and because someone had told them first.
Vegito stood with Kureha on the ridge above the village and watched it move like something alive that had remembered how. "We'll leave you a relay bead," he said. "Ship-to-shore, for supplies, emergencies, gossip."
"Good," Kureha said. "If you run out of common sense and need mine, I'll send you a bottle with notes on how to find it."
He grinned. "Deal."
Chopper tugged at his coat hem. "Can I come now?"
"If you want," Vegito said. "We'll bring you back every time the cocoa changes recipe."
Chopper flailed. "It will never change! …Okay, it will change a little."
Nami knelt and tapped his hat brim. "You'll have a flag," she said. "And an office. And a drawer just for stickers."
"Stickers," Chopper whispered, transcending.
Kureha cuffed him lightly. "Don't let them coddle you into nonsense," she said, which is grandmother for they will and it will be good for you and I will complain anyway.
Chopper saluted so hard he almost toppled. "Aye aye, Doctor!"
10) Cast Off, Petals in the Wake
Heaven's Embrace lifted on a wind the ship half-made. Pink snow skirled after her in little contrails, a handful of petals following a promise out of the valley. Drums beat once from the square, not a march but a thank you. Kureha raised a bottle; the crew waved until the figures below were brave dots.
Sora leaned on the rail; Vegito's hand covered hers. The ship's hum—protective, pleased, conspiratorial—threaded through their bones.
"Alabasta?" Nami asked at the wheel.
"Alabasta," Vegito said. "We've got a princess to help, a tyrant to unmask, and a stone that wants a reader."
"Also," Nojiko added, "a pantry to restock and a craving for pickled plums to satisfy."
All eyes swiveled to Sora. She shrugged, smiling, a little guilty and a lot delighted. "They're… nice," she said.
"We will put a jar in every room," Vegito vowed.
Reiju tilted her head at him, amused and grateful and dangerous all at once. "You are collecting responsibilities at an alarming rate, Captain."
"I like being rich," he said. "In obligations."
Kuina drew Tensei a thumb's width, then let it slide home. "Let's go make the world more honest."
Chopper climbed onto the rail, spread his arms, and yelled into the wind, "I'm a pirate doctor! And my bounty is terrifying!"
Nami held up the 50-belli poster. The crew screamed laughing again. Chopper preened, then pretended he had not.
11) Status Check — Drum Kingdom Cleared
[Status Screen]Name: VegitoRace: Saiyan (Full-Blooded)Titles: Sky-Treading Devil (Regional), Captain of Heaven's Embrace, Snow-Caller (Drum, colloquial)Bounty: 200,000,000 Berries (Grand Line notice)
Attributes:
Strength: ∞
Speed: ∞
Endurance: ∞
Intelligence: S+
Ki Control: S+
Haki Mastery: S+
Core Techniques:
Kame Style Arsenal (stable; showmanship ↑)
Rokushiki + Rokuogan (teaching protocols enabled)
Wood Release (architecture, restraint, festival engineering)
Instant Transmission (restricted public use)
Kaioken (no backlash)
Ultra Instinct (Omen) in Base
Ship: Heaven's Embrace (Supreme-Class) – Mood: Smug, Protective, Gossipy.
Library (Ohara Index): Access expanded.
Hyperbolic Room: Cooling complete; available.
Clothing Fabricator: Maternity profiles enabled (Sora).
Private Realm (Sakai): Idle; ready.
Crew:
Nami – Navigator (Morale: high; cravings logistics lead)
Nojiko – Ops/Morale (Town-watch drill dev; cocoa QA)
Bell-mère – Quartermaster/Small Arms (Local militia advisor)
Kaya – Doctor (Heal-Heal; Apprentices: 12—Drum)
Kuina – Swordswoman (Haki growth steady; snow kata unlocked)
Reiju – Combat Medic/Poison Specialist (Antidote library sync)
Nico Robin – Archaeologist (Alabasta route notes placed)
Tony Tony Chopper – Doctor (Small, Terrifying; Bounty: 50 belli — framed)
Key Events:
Blackbeard neutralized (fatal, immediate)
Wapol deposed (humiliation → exile/incapacitation)
Drum liberated (medical network seeded; pink snow instituted)
Private: Sora pregnant (crew-only knowledge; do not circulate)
Next Objective:
Alabasta — Intercept Baroque Works; recruit Vivi; acquire key agents (Zala/Mikita); unmask Crocodile; restore the rain; keep secrets.
The mountains fell behind. The air warmed molecule by molecule. Somewhere ahead, a desert waited with a story about water and lies and a kingdom being told who it was by a man who wanted to sell it back to itself.
On the quarterdeck, Vegito rested his hand over Sora's, over the quiet promise under her heartbeat. Around them, family made noise. Above them, the ship purred. Ahead of them, the horizon tried to look unimpressed and failed, again, with style.
"Next stop," he said, and the crew echoed with all the eagerness of people who have finally learned the trick of being happy while dangerous.
"Alabasta."