Sea Calendar Year 1520 – Maris, Age 17
The East Blue sun burned high, scattering golden light across the waves as the small fishing town near the coast bustled with life. Maris had spent weeks learning the rhythms of human civilisation—watching, listening, studying—but the call of adventure had already begun tugging at her chest. Her bounty hunting had grown more ambitious. Smaller-time pirates were no longer enough; she needed challenges to test her skill, to stretch the limits of her abilities.
Today, a tip from a travelling trader brought her to the outskirts of a harbour village. Rumour had it that a band of pirates—reckless, brash, and poorly disciplined—was extorting merchants, taking food and supplies without thought for consequences. Maris's blue eyes sparkled with interest. She had been waiting for a target like this.
She crouched behind a stack of crates near the dock, watching the pirates harass a group of merchants. She noted their patterns: two on lookout, three moving the goods, one carrying a particularly heavy crate with a sneer. Maris smiled to herself. Simple, predictable… and perfect.
She stepped forward, silent as the wind, her movements a dance learned over months of practice and instinct. In an instant, she had toppled the nearest pirate with a single, precise strike, the force of her kick amplified subtly by the Devil Fruit powers she had awakened back on Lunaris Island.
The remaining pirates froze, their confidence faltering as a strange, unidentifiable aura radiated from her. It was small, subtle—just enough to make them pause. Then came the voice.
"Who are you to interfere?" a low, commanding tone demanded.
Maris turned, curious. Standing before her was a young woman, slightly taller than Maris, with sharp eyes that gleamed like steel. Her black hair had streaks of violet, whipping behind her in the wind. Twin cutlasses glinted in the sun, the polished steel reflecting the fearsome reputation that preceded her. She moved with the calm efficiency of someone who had fought far more battles than she had words to speak.
"I… I could ask you the same," Maris replied, tilting her head innocently but keeping her stance defensive.
The woman's eyes narrowed, scanning Maris for signs of weakness—or power. "I don't let anyone interfere in my hunts," she said. "But… you're not like the others."
Before Maris could respond, the pirates recovered, their fear replaced by rage. One charged, swinging a heavy club; another tried to flank her from the side. Instinctively, Maris moved—feet brushing the ground like water, arms guiding the wind. Branches of energy-like vines sprouted from her hands, twisting and knocking the assailants off balance.
The black-haired woman leapt beside her, blades flashing in harmony. Steel met steel, cutting the air in precise arcs, disarming one pirate before he could strike again. The two of them worked without words at first, a rhythm forming naturally, unspoken but undeniable. Maris had never fought alongside anyone so skilled. And yet, instead of intimidation, she felt… exhilaration.
They backed the pirates toward the edge of the docks. Maris leapt onto a stack of crates, vines wrapping lightly around her arms, vines nudging a swinging lantern to topple toward the pirates. The black-haired woman spun through the air, slicing a rope to send a net tumbling onto the remaining attackers. The pirates screamed, tripping over themselves and the sudden obstacles.
When the dust settled, the merchants were safe, and the pirates were tied up—or nursing bruises, too stunned to continue. The black-haired woman landed gracefully, twin blades crossed in front of her chest, and finally turned her gaze fully to Maris.
"You move… differently," she said, voice softer now, less guarded. "I've never seen someone fight like that at your age."
Maris shrugged, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "I like to play," she said simply. "And I like helping people."
A faint smirk curved the woman's lips. "I'm Rei," she said finally. "Kuroha Rei. People call me the Black Fang."
"Maris," she replied, offering her small hand. "Maris D. Luna."
For a moment, they simply studied one another. Maris sensed a strength in Rei that was different from anything she had encountered—not raw power like her own, but precision, discipline, and the kind of authority that made people listen without force. Rei, for her part, studied Maris with a mixture of curiosity and caution.
"You're… reckless," Rei finally said, shaking her head. "But there's something in you. Something that doesn't belong with ordinary kids. Why were you here?"
Maris shrugged again. "I heard there were pirates. I… thought I could help."
Rei's dark eyes softened fractionally. "You could've gotten yourself killed. You're not ready for the East Blue yet."
Maris tilted her head, thinking carefully. "Maybe I'm ready."
Rei laughed softly, the sound like blades sliding past one another. "Maybe," she said. "Or maybe you just don't know better yet."
For the next several hours, they moved through the village together. Maris followed Rei as the woman demonstrated tracking, combat techniques, and situational awareness. Maris copied as best she could, laughing at her mistakes and marvelling at Rei's skill. In turn, Rei watched Maris closely, impressed by how the child adapted, how she moved almost instinctively, and how her powers subtly shaped the environment around them.
It was a bonding unlike either had experienced. Not words, not promises—but trust formed in the heat of battle, trust forged by movement, laughter, and shared purpose. Maris felt a spark of something warm inside her chest: respect. Admiration. Friendship. And Rei—though she would never say it aloud—felt the same pull of interest toward the unusual girl with the strange, untamed power.
As the sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the village and sea in gold, Maris and Rei stood on a hill overlooking the docks. The pirates had been handed over to the local authorities, and the merchants were returning to their routines, grateful but still bewildered by the unlikely pair who had saved them.
"You fought well today," Rei said finally, lowering her twin blades. "Better than I expected."
Maris grinned. "You too! You're amazing!"
Rei shook her head. "You've got potential, Maris. But potential isn't everything. You need control, discipline… and understanding of what it means to wield power."
Maris blinked, absorbing the words. "I… I want to learn. Can you… Teach me?"
Rei's expression hardened slightly, though the edge was softened by curiosity. "I won't be your teacher," she said firmly. "Not yet. But… if you want to survive in this world, you'll need to keep up with me. We'll see how far you go."
Maris nodded eagerly. "I can do that!"
The two of them stood in silence as the wind carried the faint smell of salt and smoke from the docks. The bond had formed, though unspoken. Not recruitment, not promises, not a name on a roster. Just shared experience, shared struggle, and a mutual recognition of skill. It was a beginning, and beginnings were fragile, but also full of potential.
As Maris made her way back to the small inn she had been staying at on the outskirts of the harbour, her mind buzzed with new thoughts. She had encountered someone strong, disciplined, and cautious—and yet… someone who could, perhaps one day, be a partner in her future adventures. But that day was not today. Today was for practice, observation, and growth.
The East Blue stretched before her like an endless sea of possibilities. Pirates, merchants, and hidden dangers awaited. Allies might appear—or vanish. But the spark she had felt fighting alongside Rei—working together without words—would linger, shaping the way she approached challenges from now on.
And somewhere in the distance, the sun sank behind the horizon, casting the water in a molten glow. The adventure had only just begun, and Maris' path toward building her crew—and her ship—was becoming more real with every step.
For now, she was not recruiting. She was learning. Bonding. Testing herself. And the East Blue had much to teach a girl like her.