The sea was unnervingly calm, mist curling around the sharp bow of the stolen clown-ship as it cut across the waves. Half-destroyed sails snapped in the wind, and the deck was so quiet that every footstep echoed.
Kuro stood at the railing, coat torn, glasses cracked but gleaming coldly in the morning light. A transponder snail sat on a crate beside him, its shell patterned like a tiny tuxedo, mirroring his expression with eerie accuracy.
A static buzz. Then a voice crackled through.
"We've searched every port," the voice reported. "Every island. Every dive bar. We questioned survivors of both pirate crews—no sign of the brat that stole your ship. East Blue is clean."
Kuro's eye twitched behind his cracked lens.
"Impossible," he whispered, adjusting his gloves with a deliberate, chilling calm. "No one escapes me. No one."
He leaned closer to the snail.
"Search again."
Before the voice could respond, the cabin door slammed open.
A Black Cat pirate stumbled out, panting, saluting so fast his forehead smacked his palm. "C–Captain! Urgent report! A crew in the North Blue claims they saw our ship sailing south yesterday!"
Silence.
Kuro turned slowly. A thin, wicked smile carved across his face.
"…North Blue."
He snapped the transponder snail shut.
"Set course immediately."
"Aye, Captain!"
As the pirate scrambled to relay orders, Kuro gazed toward the horizon—hungry, calm, and deadly.
"Running to another sea won't save you," he murmured.
"We'll find you… You so-called RedHeart."
Chains bit into Ace's wrists as he and Marco were marched down the crowded pier, a whole line of bruised, hungover pirates trailing behind them. Metal clinked with every reluctant step. Marine rifles prodded them forward with the kind of enthusiasm only bored soldiers could muster.
Ace let out a long suffering sigh.
"Okay, okay—this is mostly my fault."
Marco turned his head just enough to glare. A slow, simmering glare.
"Mostly?"
"You didn't stop me."
"I tried."
"You didn't try hard enough."
A Marine jabbed Ace sharply in the spine with the butt of his rifle.
"Silence, criminals!"
Ace yelped. "Ow!—hey, watch the spine! That's my favorite one!"
They were herded toward a gleaming white Marine transport cutter—towering like a floating fortress. Its fresh paint glimmered, cannons polished so bright they reflected the sun. Neat rows of Marines lined the deck, their uniforms crisp and their expressions promising zero fun.
And docked right beside it…
Ace froze.
Their stolen Black Cat ship.
Stationary. Guarded. Impossible to reach.
His smile wilted.
Oh, we are unbelievably screwed.
Marco muttered darkly, "We're being sent straight to headquarters… Wonderful. I blame you."
"You blame me for everything."
"That's because everything is your fault."
Ace opened his mouth to argue—but something flickered at the edge of his vision.
A shadow slicing across the rooftops.
He blinked, narrowing his eyes.
A figure danced from roof to roof with eerie lightness. No sound. No stumble. Moving with the stealth of a cat and the confidence of someone who knew exactly where every blind spot was.
"…Marco?" Ace whispered.
"Mm?"
"We're being followed."
Marco didn't even look over. "We're in chains, genius. Everyone's following us."
"No," Ace hissed. "Not Marines. Someone else. Small. Fast. Definitely sneaky."
That got Marco's attention. His expression sharpened—calculating, alert.
"…Huh."
Up above, the figure paused on a chimney, golden eyes gleaming before melting back into the shadows.
The stolen ship rocked gently in its moorings, deck empty except for seagulls and some forgotten rope coils.
Until—
A small figure popped up from behind the railing.
Purple hair. Gold eyes. Mischievous smile.
The girl—still nameless, still suspiciously nimble—slipped across the deck like she owned it. Not a single creak. Not a single sound.
She crouched beside a crate, prying it open with a knife she definitely hadn't bought legally.
"Treasure, treasure…" she whispered.
Inside were smaller boxes—coins, jewels, and valuables she immediately pocketed.
"That's a start… but where's the key that loudmouth was yelling about?"
She searched everywhere: the helm, behind barrels, under rope piles, inside a mop bucket—nothing.
She flopped dramatically against the railing, puffing out a sigh.
"Stupid key…"
But when she glanced toward the marina—
Her eyes widened.
A chain of prisoners trudged toward a Marine ship. Pirates she'd robbed earlier. Drunks she'd run circles around in the bar.
And at the front—
Two very familiar idiots.
Ace and Marco.
"Seriously?" she whispered, a grin tugging at her lips. "They got caught already?"
She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"…If they get dragged to Marine HQ, that treasure's going nowhere."
Her golden eyes gleamed with mischief.
"Well. Guess I better help them escape."
She hopped onto the railing, landing silently like a cat.
"And maybe steal that key while I'm at it."
She vanished from the ship, darting into the shadows of the rooftops—closing in on the chained pirates below.
The prisoners were shoved up the gangplank in a rattling line of chains. Marines barked orders. Boots stomped. A gull screamed overhead like it knew someone's day was about to get worse.
Ace stumbled aboard first, catching himself on the railing. Marco followed behind him, shoulders tense, eyes scanning every corner of the deck—even with shackles on, he moved like a man who was ready to break someone in half.
"Move it, scum!" a Marine snapped, striking Ace in the back with the butt of his rifle.
Ace winced. "You guys really have a thing for hitting spines, don't you?"
They were forced to stand in a row along the main deck. Other captured pirates from the bar fight muttered and cursed under their breath, hands bound, eyes darting nervously.
From the quarterdeck, a tall man in a white coat strode forward, boots clicking sharply. His uniform was spotless, his jaw square, and his confidence overflowing.
He spread his arms dramatically.
"I am Captain Darius of the Marines!" he announced loudly. "You stand before the very symbol of justice in the North Blue! Criminals like you—violent, unruly, and idiotic—are a stain that must be removed."
Ace raised an eyebrow. "Cool speech. Very inspiring. Can we get to the part where you stop talking?"
Marco groaned quietly. "Please don't antagonize the man who decides whether we live."
Darius smirked. "Oh, no. He won't live either way."
Ace glared. "You threatening me?"
"No," Darius laughed, stepping closer. "I'm informing you. You'll be executed the moment we reach headquarters."
Ace leaned forward despite the rifles aimed at him. "Put me in a ring with you and I'll punch that smug chin so hard it'll fly into the Grand Line."
The pirates behind them gasped. A Marine cocked his rifle.
Darius merely chuckled. "Empty threats. You'll be dead in a few minutes."
The purple-haired girl slipped silently from shadow to shadow, pressed against crates and rigging. She'd boarded unnoticed, small enough to fit through gaps and quick enough that no Marine even caught a flicker of movement.
Okay… okay… think, Carina. Keys? Distraction? A staged fire? Slide under the deck? No, too many soldiers…
She peeked down at the lineup of prisoners.
Her eyes locked on Marco's pocket—now empty.
And Ace's face—stupidly confident even in chains.
She sighed. These idiots really need help, huh?
BANG.
A Marine collapsed beside Ace, a clean bullet hole through his helmet. The man didn't even have time to gasp.
Silence.
Then—
BANG.
The Marine behind Marco dropped next, hitting the deck like dead weight.
Everyone—pirates and Marines alike—froze.
Darius whipped his head left.
A man stood balanced on the railing of the adjacent dock post—tall, thin, coat fluttering in the breeze. Glasses glinted. His rifle rested calmly on his shoulder, smoke wafting from the barrel.
His quiet voice carried across the water.
"You Marines really should tighten security."
Darius reached for his sword—
BANG. BANG.
Two shots cracked across the deck like thunder.
Ace's shackles exploded into metal shards.
Marco's chains snapped, clattering to the floor.
For half a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then—
Marco's eyes narrowed.
Ace grinned wildly.
"GO!"
Ace charged the Marine Captain, fist pulled back in a reckless arc.
Marco pivoted left—one fluid motion—and his boot slammed into the chests of three Marines at once. They flew backward like dolls, crashing into a stack of crates.
From above, a soft voice muttered, "Unbelievable…"
The purple-haired girl dropped down from the rigging as lightly as a cat. Two Marines guarding the gangway barely turned before her knives sliced through the air—
SHING. SHING.
They collapsed, eyes wide and uncomprehending.
Ace, meanwhile, hammered Darius with a barrage of punches—one, two, three—until the captain's eyes rolled back. His body crashed into a mast and slid to the deck, unconscious.
Silence hit the ship like a wave.
Ace stood panting, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Marco exhaled through his nose, unimpressed by the carnage around him.
The purple-haired girl twirled a knife idly, like she'd just trimmed a hedge.
And the distant gunman simply lowered his long rifle with calm precision, smoke drifting from the barrel.
All eyes turned to the remaining prisoners lined up against the deck rail.
One of them barked, "HEY! FREE US TOO!"
Ace blinked. "Will you join my crew?"
"NO!" they all screamed.
Ace shrugged, turned away, and flipped them off. "Then enjoy jail!"
Marco jerked his head toward the gangplank. "Captain. Before reinforcements arrive."
"Right, right! Let's go!"
The three of them—Ace, Marco, and the purple-haired stranger—burst down the gangplank, sprinting off the Marine ship as shouts and whistles erupted behind them.
Above, the gunman silently leapt from the rooftops, following at his own pace.
Behind them, chaos flooded the deck.
But the escapees didn't look back.
Ace skidded to a halt beside the crates, chest still heaving from the escape. Marco landed next to him silently, expression unreadable—but his eyes remained sharp, tracking every shadow, every footstep.
Their rescuers finally approached.
The girl reached them first—light on her feet, practically bouncing with mischief. She flicked her purple hair behind her shoulder, golden eyes sparkling with trouble.
"Name's Carina," she said with a smirk that was probably illegal in three kingdoms. "Professional thief. I steal treasure, keys, wallets… occasionally entire ships. And sometimes I save idiots before they get executed. You're welcome."
Ace blinked at her. "Wow. You introduce yourself like someone who has never once been caught."
"I haven't," she replied instantly.
Behind her, the gunman approached with slow, deliberate steps. Everything about him was the opposite of her—quiet, precise, calculating. He lowered his long rifle, adjusting his small round glasses.
"Van Auger," he said. His voice was soft but carried like a cold breeze. "Marksman. I took interest after hearing talk of treasure. And your… enthusiastic declaration to the entire bar."
Marco stiffened. His gaze flicked between them, feathers bristling with unspoken distrust. He crossed his arms.
Ace, oblivious, brightened. "Oh! The treasure! Right! We've got a map—well, not a map, a key—well, a key to a map—look, it's complicated, but I swear it's amazing!"
He dug into his shirt and held up the ancient vault key like it was the crown jewel of the world.
Carina inhaled sharply, eyes glowing—hungry.
Van Auger's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.
Marco muttered under his breath, "Fantastic. Two more thieves."
Carina leaned forward, finger tapping the key like she was already planning six heists ahead.
"A treasure vault with a Devil Fruit and a legendary sword? Count me in."
Van Auger tilted his head. "I suppose I shall accompany you as well. A journey like this… deserves to be witnessed."
Ace pumped his fist triumphantly. "YES! Two new crew members!"
Marco stared at all three of them.
"…This crew is going to kill me," he murmured.
Carina winked. "Only if we get bored."