The silence in the room was suffocating. Dadan sat frozen, her hand still reaching out as if she could grasp the memories that had just evaporated from Maye's mind. "I'm... Maye," the girl said, her voice tilting with a slight question. She looked at her hands, turning them over. "I live here, on the mountain. I mean, I know these woods. I know the smell of the pine and the way the tigers growl at night. But..." She looked up at Dadan, her ocean-blue eyes wide and searching. "I'm sorry, ma'am. Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong?" Dadan choked back a sob, turning her face away to wipe her eyes aggressively. "No... no, kid. You didn't do a damn thing wrong." "I feel like I've been asleep for a long time," Maye continued, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She felt light, strangely untethered, as if the last few years of her life had been a heavy coat she'd finally stepped out of. To her, the war at Marineford, the blood, the fire, and the giant man she called 'Pops' were gone. She was just a girl from the East Blue, a wanderer of the trash heaps and forests. She reached up, her fingers once again finding the ruby pendant. It felt warm, oddly alive. "Where did I get this? It's beautiful." "You... you've always had it," Dadan lied, the words tasting like ash. She couldn't tell her. Not yet. How do you tell someone they died? How do you tell them they're the daughter of a legend and the heart of a broken man? Over the next few weeks, Maye stayed at the bandit's hut. She was helpful, agile, and fiercely protective of the younger bandits, but the "Crimson Mark" was gone. She didn't use her blood to form blades; she didn't even realize she could. She spent her days wandering the forest, often standing on the high cliffs of Mt. Colubo and staring out at the sea with a deep, aching longing she couldn't name.
---
The Moby Dick was gone, replaced by a smaller, faster vessel that cut through the waves like a jagged tooth. The atmosphere on the ship was grim. The Whitebeard Pirates were no longer a family on a joyride; they were a strike team. Ace stood at the bow, his shirt off, his back, marked with the proud Jolly Roger, crisscrossed with new scars. His eyes were harder now, the boyish spark replaced by a cold, calculating intensity. He had spent the last year hunting Blackbeard's commanders, burning through the sea with a ferocity that worried even Marco. "Ace," Marco said, walking up behind him. "You need to eat. And you need to sleep." "I'll sleep when Teach is in the ground," Ace replied, his voice a low growl. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the glass vial. Inside, the tiny piece of white paper was thrashing. It wasn't just pointing; it was slamming against the glass, desperate to head back toward the calmest sea in the world. "It's been six months since it came back, Marco," Ace whispered, his gaze softening only when he looked at the card. "I've stayed away because I was afraid. Afraid it was a trick. Afraid I'd get there and find a grave instead of her." Marco looked at the card. He had seen many strange things in the Grand Line, but a Vivre Card returning from ash was a miracle he couldn't explain. "The war changed everything, Ace-yoi. But the card doesn't lie. Someone is waiting for you in the East." Ace gripped the vial tight. He looked back at the crew-his brothers, the ones who had survived the hell of Marineford. "Marco, take command. I'm taking a Striker. I need to know. If there's even a one-percent chance she's breathing... I'm going home." He didn't wait for a response. He launched his small, fire-powered boat into the water, the flames from his feet igniting the sea as he sped off toward the horizon. He was a man possessed, a streak of fire racing across the ocean, heading back to the mountain where it all began.
---
Back on Mt. Colubo, Maye sat on a fallen log, sharpening a simple wooden spear. Suddenly, her heart gave a violent, painful leap. She gasped, dropping the spear and clutching the ruby pendant. It was glowing, a brilliant, searing crimson that felt like a sun against her skin. "What is this?" she whispered to the empty forest, her breath hitching. "Why does it feel like... like someone is screaming my name?" She stood up, looking toward the coast. She didn't know who was coming. She didn't know she had a brother training on a nearby island or a lover crossing the sea. All she knew was that for the first time in a year, she didn't feel like an ordinary girl. She felt like she was waiting for a fire to start. The sea between the New World and the East Blue was a blur of salt spray and scorching heat. Ace pushed his Striker to its absolute limit, his fire-fruit acting as a literal engine of desperation. He didn't sleep. He didn't eat. He simply stared at the Vivre Card in the vial, watching it beat like a frantic heart against the glass. Don't be a dream, he prayed, a thought he'd repeated a thousand times. If this is a dream, I'm never waking up.