One Week Later — First Half of the Grand Line, Revolutionary Army Headquarters, Baldigo
The dimly lit room carried a weighty, almost suffocating atmosphere. Monkey D. Dorag—Dragon—stood over the rough stone map table, draped in a dark green hood that shadowed most of his face. His fists were clenched, shoulders rising and falling subtly, betraying the unrest simmering beneath his calm exterior.
"Bartholomew Kuma's departure… the loss to our Revolutionary Army is incalculable." Dragon's voice was low, tinged with a subtle rasp, a mixture of sorrow and restrained anguish.
He lifted his head, eyes under the hood sweeping over the figure seated opposite him—Emporio Ivankov—whose face mirrored a similar complexity.
"You know this as well as I do," Dragon continued, voice heavy with emotion. "It was you who told me… that Kuma's lifelong wish has always been to become a hero capable of rescuing those deprived of freedom, those drowning in suffering.
"That pure ideal… it aligns perfectly with the Revolutionary Army's principles. One could even say he was born to be our comrade!"
His tone rose slightly, charged with a raw, unspent grief. "And his power! A Bakkanian warrior at the peak of his growth, combined with the limitless potential of the Nikyu Nikyu no Mi… he is an absolute force to be reckoned with.
"This is the very Devil Fruit that was once fought over in God Valley alongside Kaido's Mythical Zoan, Azure Dragon form! Its power is unquestionable!"
Dragon inhaled deeply, letting the weight of his next words settle heavily in the room. "Measured against this vast sea… Kuma had the potential to become a man fit to be an Emperor. His presence gave us hope—immense, unimaginable hope."
"So, his departure—" Dragon slammed a hand onto the coarse stone table, the heavy thud echoing in the chamber. His voice trembled with a mix of regret and frustration.
"Kuma leaving… it hurts me more than anyone else!!"
The room reverberated with the echo of Dragon's emotional declaration.
Ivankov watched him carefully, the intricate light in his large, expressive eyes reflecting a storm of emotions. After a few moments of silence, he spoke, voice calm, precise, and cutting straight to the heart.
"But Dorag…"
Ivankov's gaze seemed to pierce through Dragon's hood, as if trying to see the truth beneath the shadow.
"When Kinney was in danger… potentially facing an even worse fate… when Kuma was forced to choose between the Revolutionary Army's 'greater cause' and the life of the one he loved…"
Each word landed like a pin, sharp and unyielding, pressing into Dragon's heart.
"You… chose silence. Didn't you?"
It was not a question in the accusatory sense—it was sharper than any accusation could be. It tore open the rawest scar of Dragon's soul, the cold yet painful choice he had made for the sake of the 'greater goal.'
Dragon's body tensed. His hand, still on the table, clenched slowly, knuckles whitening under the pressure.
He remained silent. The shadow under his hood deepened.
Ivankov's words left him with nothing to counter.
Baldigo felt heavier than ever in that moment, the silence almost suffocating.
Ivankov looked at Dragon, sitting there in stoic shadow, and felt a complicated surge of emotions. To claim he harbored no resentment or bitterness would have been a lie.
Because unlike the lofty ideals of the Revolutionary Army leader, Dorag, it was Bartholomew Kuma and Kinney—friends since childhood, family in all but blood—who had truly shaped Ivankov's world. That bond was ingrained to the bone.
It was why, after he had joined the Revolutionary Army and established himself, Ivankov's first thought had been to reach out to Kuma and Kinney, to invite them into the fight for freedom, to realize the childhood dream of saving the oppressed together.
When Kinney was imperiled in the Holy Land, and Kuma faced the agonizing choice between the 'greater good' of the Revolution and the life of his beloved, Ivankov felt that torment more acutely than anyone.
He had longed for the Revolutionary Army to throw everything into rescuing them, to stand by them as comrades.
But as a senior officer of the Revolutionary Army, he also understood the situation Dragon faced.
At that time, the Revolution was still fledgling, fragile, vulnerable. To strike directly at the World Government's Holy Land, Mariejois, for the sake of a single officer—even one as critical as Kuma—would have been to challenge a mountain with an egg. It could have dragged the entire organization into ruin, wasting years of effort and countless sacrifices.
Dragon chose silence. He chose the 'greater good.'
And in that moment, Ivankov's heart… truly ached. Pain tore at him, nearly leaving him breathless, as if it could rip him in two.
He understood the cold logic behind that choice. Rationally, he could not call Dragon's decision wrong. Standing as the leader of the Revolution, bearing the hopes of countless people, Dragon's choice was undoubtedly the 'right' and 'rational' one.
But that 'rightness' came at a cost—the sacrifice of their mutual friends, the betrayal of a bond as deep as blood.
The conflict between reason and emotion, knowing someone is not at fault yet being unable to forgive, gnawed at Ivankov like a venomous serpent.
He looked at Dragon, incapable of scolding him like an ordinary friend, yet also unable to fully forgive.
The radiant ideals of revolution were blinding, yet the path toward them was littered with cruel, unyielding thorns.
As Ivankov wrestled with this complex, wrenching mix, torn between understanding and bitterness, Dragon—long silent—suddenly spoke, tentative, almost as if testing the waters.
"Ivank…."
His voice cut through the frozen air, halting Ivankov's thoughts.
"You think… after everything… is there any chance Kuma… would choose to come back?
"Now that… Kinney is safe… and Gern seems to have… handled things on his end…"
"DORAG!!!!"
Ivankov's head snapped up, shouting as if to physically shake Dragon into comprehension.
The characteristic enormity of his eyes had abandoned their usual exaggeration; now they were locked tightly onto the shadowed hood. His chest heaved with emotion, fingers trembling.
That shout carried a storm of feeling:
Shock that Dragon could even hope for such a possibility.Scorn at the audacity to seek 'recovery' after having made a choice to abandon.Anger that Kuma and Kinney's suffering was treated so lightly.Utter disappointment at the naivety—perhaps even selfishness—displayed by the Revolutionary Army's leader.
This was no longer a comrade's call. It was a resounding slap to Dragon's face.
"Kuma and Kinney… they're… my friends!!!"