"Phew… Finally, we're safe."
On the merchant ship, having narrowly escaped disaster, a sailor collapsed onto the deck, gasping for breath.
Several companions lay sprawled beside him in the same exhausted posture.
One of them muttered curiously,
"I wonder what that island was. I swear I heard those pirates shouting 'One Piece.'"
"Yeah, yeah, I heard it too."
Another sailor quickly echoed.
"Then should we—"
Before he could finish, the man beside him cut in sharply,
"We didn't hear anything. And we didn't see anything."
He raised his voice deliberately before lowering it to a tense whisper.
"Are you insane? We don't even carry proper firearms. Those were pirates—real pirates. Men who kill without blinking. You think we can compete with them for some so-called Great Treasure?"
The earlier speaker frowned, still reluctant.
"But that's the One Piece…"
"Something's happening!"
The greedy sailor was interrupted yet again.
"What now?"
"Don't tell me pirates are chasing us again!"
Grumbling, the sailors scrambled to their feet anyway. Complaints were one thing—survival was another.
Before they could fully orient themselves, a massive shadow swallowed their ship whole.
They looked up in horror.
A colossal vessel—several times larger than their merchant ship—had drawn alongside them.
Upon its mast fluttered the flag of the World Government.
The gangway descended.
Black stepped down, this time without riding a slave, accompanied by Stella, Aramaki, and two CP agents clad in black suits.
"A… a Celestial Dragon?!"
"How is that possible? Why would one appear in the West Blue?!"
"Get down! Kneel, you idiots! Do you want to die?!"
Soft laughter escaped Black's lips.
Turning slightly toward Stella, he remarked with faint amusement,
"The World Government's propaganda truly is efficient. Even these provincial merchants recognize me at a glance."
Stella bowed her head slightly, smiling gently.
"It is Your Highness's noble bearing that robs them of the courage to even raise their eyes."
A flicker of surprise crossed Black's gaze. He reached out and casually ruffled her golden hair.
"You're getting quite good at providing emotional value."
That adaptability—her ability to survive and even thrive in suffocating environments—was precisely what he appreciated most about Stella.
But there was someone aboard this vessel who interested him even more.
Inside the merchant ship's cabin, Black moved with eerie familiarity, passing through the narrow corridor until he reached the door of a storage room.
Aramaki stepped forward immediately, opened the door, and positioned himself ahead of Black, vigilant.
Black patted his shoulder lightly.
"Relax."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Aramaki stepped aside.
Though labeled a storage room, most frequently used tools were stored elsewhere, leaving the interior relatively sparse.
Black walked to a particular section of the wooden floor, crouched, and suddenly lifted a concealed panel while shouting dramatically,
"Wah!"
"Wah!!!"
A terrified squeal echoed from beneath the floorboards.
—
Back aboard his own ship, Black sighed helplessly as he handed the unconscious little girl in his arms to Stella.
"She's far too timid. Take care of her for now. We'll discuss the rest after she wakes."
Stella let out a small giggle.
Black shot her a glance.
She stiffened instinctively but was not truly afraid. Bowing respectfully, she departed with the child in her arms.
As she walked away, she murmured softly,
"His Highness… is actually quite gentle."
After a year by his side, Stella had begun to understand him.
In public, Black behaved no differently from any other Celestial Dragon—arrogant, aloof, untouchable.
Yet she had noticed something subtle.
He did not genuinely enjoy the extravagance and suffocating ceremony. He merely tolerated it because his identity demanded it.
Moreover, he treated the maids with unusual leniency. Minor mistakes went unpunished.
In the entire year she had served him, she had never once seen him cripple or execute a maid for trivial errors—something tragically common among other Celestial Dragons.
And the childish way he had frightened that little girl…
Yes. Beneath the calculation, there was something almost boyish about him.
—
Meanwhile, Black reclined back into his lounge chair, mildly dissatisfied.
He had boarded the merchant ship for one reason alone.
His Observation Haki—now capable of perceiving distant presences with clarity—had detected a hidden compartment beneath the storeroom floor.
Within it, he sensed the faint aura of a child.
A girl of perhaps two or three years old.
Long pink hair.
Large, bright, restless eyes.
Combined with the nearby presence of Moria's drifting island ship, the answer had been obvious.
Perona.
The future Ghost Princess.
Recalling her infuriating personality in the original timeline—her arrogance, her laugh, her reliance on the Horo Horo no Mi—Black had decided to startle her slightly.
He hadn't expected her to faint instantly, eyes swirling.
Regardless, encountering Perona placed him in a pleasant mood. He even ignored the fact that Aramaki had stopped training since boarding.
Reclining beneath the parasol, Black began contemplating another matter.
"At her current age, she hasn't eaten the Horo Horo no Mi yet. So where is it?"
"In the original timeline, Moria took her in and raised her as his 'daughter.' Could it be that the Ghost-Ghost Fruit is already in Moria's possession?"
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Aramaki."
Swish.
Aramaki appeared instantly, kneeling on one knee.
"Your Highness!"
Black exhaled faintly.
"You are my retainer—not a guard, and certainly not a slave."
Slaves were tools.
Retainers—especially future top-tier combat assets—required a different approach.
Officially, even Marines were not obligated to kneel before Celestial Dragons.
The fact that most subordinates did so without hesitation was a testament to centuries of indoctrination.
"Yes, Your Highness!"
Judging from his expression, Aramaki had clearly absorbed none of it.
Black suppressed a sigh.
That stubborn loyalty would need gradual correction.
For now, he focused.
"Return to the merchant vessel. Search thoroughly. If there is a Devil Fruit aboard, bring it to me."
He paused before adding,
"If you find nothing, investigate that island ship."
His tone turned calm but sharp.
"The owner is Gecko Moria. A pirate who once challenged Kaido in Wano."
A faint, knowing smile tugged at his lips.
"With your current strength, he should not pose a threat. Do not disappoint me."
Aramaki's expression hardened with solemn resolve.
"Your Highness, this subordinate will not fail."
He bowed, then vanished, launching himself skyward with Geppo—Moonwalk—heading toward the merchant ship.
Moria was roughly a decade older than Aramaki and, in theory, still near his physical prime.
But talent ceilings differed.
Aramaki's potential far exceeded Moria's.
Furthermore, Moria had only recently suffered catastrophic defeat at Kaido's hands. His crew had perished. His will had been shaken.
A pirate who loses ambition loses strength.
In that condition, even if he still possessed Haki, it would be fractured.
Sending Aramaki was more than sufficient.