A month and a half had passed since Krishna and ASL returned to the hills above Foosha Village.
The forest had grown quieter in that time — not in sound, but in presence. Even when the boys laughed, trained, or bickered, there was a stillness beneath it all. Something unwritten. Something waiting.
The sun still warmed the dirt paths around Dadan's hideout, but the air carried something quieter now. Weightless but waiting. Luffy laughed less often. Ace trained more often. Sabo meditates more. And Krishna… was harder to find.
He still lived among them — still shared food, still laughed when Luffy did something ridiculous, still meditated on rooftops or rested under trees with the peacock curled beside him and Sheshika slithering through sunlight. But there was something withdrawn in the way his eyes moved — like his gaze reached further than the world around him.
That morning, the wind carried a different scent — salt, leather, and steel. And the thunderous bark that followed told them who it was.
"OUTTA MY WAY, I BROUGHT MEAT!"
The door to Dadan's hut slammed open as Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp made his grand re-entry, dragging sacks of supplies and one half-chewed rice ball, tracking in mud, sea salt, and justice.
Luffy hurled himself into him like a cannonball. "Gramps!"
"You again?" Garp grumbled, lifting him with one hand and thwacking him on the head with the other. "Didn't I beat the softness outta you last month?"
"You tried!" Luffy beamed.
Garp grunted as Luffy escaped his hold and clung to his chest like a starfish. "What're you so clingy for, brat?"
"You've been gone forever!" Luffy wailed.
"Three weeks."
"That's forever!"
Makino, smiling as always, moved to take the supplies. Dadan cursed from the corner. "I just cleaned that floor."
Ace and Krishna sat on the porch steps, watching the chaos unfold. Ace rolled his eyes, arms crossed, pretending not to be interested. Krishna said nothing, his arms folded — just quietly waited as the familiar noise settled around them like an old blanket.
Eventually, they all settled. A campfire outside crackled against the damp morning. Garp pulled out a bottle and drank too fast for an old man. Ace grilled meat without comment. Luffy was chasing Sheshika around the trees again — she slithered just fast enough to let him believe he was winning.
As plates clattered and skewers sizzled, Krishna stirred. His voice was calm, almost curious.
"Any interesting news from the outside world, Grandpa?"
The old man grunted mid-bite. "You could say that."
He tore a hunk of meat and chewed thoughtfully before continuing, "Your red-haired friend made a mess near the Red Line. Made enough noise to shake the whole Grand Line sideways."
Ace perked up. "Shanks?"
Garp nodded. "Yeah. Fleet had to re-route just to avoid a clash."
"And?" Krishna asked.
Garp took a swig from his jug.
"He's a Yonko now."
Silence.
Even the fire popping beneath the skewers seemed to pause.
Luffy tilted his head. "What's a Yonko?"
Garp didn't laugh.
"Four Emperors. The top pirates in the world. The men — and woman — even the Marines don't mess with lightly. Shanks just became the youngest in history. Your mentor's now one of the biggest damn problems we have."
Krishna's eyes lowered for just a moment — not in fear or awe, but in quiet reverence.
"Shanks…" he whispered.
"He's earned it," Garp said, less gruff now. "Even Sengoku didn't fight that one. Man's too damn diplomatic."
Ace grinned. "Guess we trained under royalty, huh?"
Krishna didn't answer. Not yet.
Garp leaned back, watching the fire dance in front of him.
"Other than that," he said casually, "the Celestial Dragon finally showed up in Goa Kingdom. Delayed because of the chaos near the Red Line."
Krishna's eyes sharpened.
Garp continued casually, chewing on beef like it owed him money. "They're leaving soon. Good riddance."
There was no laughter in his voice this time. Even Garp couldn't make that funny.
No one spoke for a moment. The crackle of the fire filled the silence.
And then, as if tossing a side comment into an already overflowing pan, "Oh, and Jimbei's a Warlord now."
Ace blinked. "The Fishman?"
"Yeah," Garp said. "World Government made a deal. In exchange, they pardoned Arlong and his crew. Set 'em loose."
Ace froze mid-turn of the skewer. Even Sheshika paused, flicking her tongue as if tasting tension.
Luffy's eyes widened. "What's a War-load?"
"A Warlord, brat," Garp corrected with a snort. "Big shot pirate who works with the Marines. We use 'em to balance other pirates. Dirty deal, but it keeps the world spinning."
Krishna didn't speak.
Garp glanced at him. "You're awfully quiet."
Krishna stilled.
The fire crackled again.
"Released?" he asked, quietly.
"Pfft. What do you expect? Marines got what they wanted. Jimbei keeps other fishmen pirates in check, and the World Government calls it justice."
Krishna blinked slowly.
"Did they say where Arlong was sent?" he asked softly.
Garp waved his hand. "You know how it is — fishmen hate being caged. My guess? Far off sea. Some corner no one'll care about."
Medha's voice flickered in Krishna's ear.
"Analyzing timeline… based on Jimbei's confirmation, voyage time from Impel Down to East Blue with Celestial escort: complete. Arlong has had ample time to establish territorial hold. Probability of presence in East Blue: 93.6%."
Krishna's hands relaxed on his knees. He didn't twitch. Didn't clench. Didn't break.
But the fire in his gaze simmered deeper.
The old man narrowed his eyes. "You thinking what I think you're thinking?"
Krishna didn't answer.
Instead, he slowly stood and walked to the edge of the clearing, gaze drifting toward the horizon — beyond the trees, beyond the hills. Where distant waves lapped a sleeping coast.
"A fishman who enslaves humans," Krishna said finally, "is not free."
His voice wasn't angry. It was low. Measured. Icy.
Garp let out a sigh and leaned back, staring up at the sky.
He narrowed one eye.
"You thinking of chasing that down?"
Krishna stood slowly.
"I'm thinking of doing what no one else will."
"You're twelve," Garp muttered.
"I've already outgrown this age," Krishna replied, voice still gentle.
Garp looked at him hard for a moment. No jokes. No growls.
Just the unspoken understanding between monsters who recognized other monsters.
Krishna turned. "How long would a Celestial Dragon stay in East Blue?"
Garp raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because I need to know if what I'm about to do will happen before they leave… or after."
Krishna walked toward the edge of the clearing.
"I'll need a Den Den Mushi," he said over his shoulder.
Ace stood too fast. "Wait—what are you—?"
"I'm not asking for help," Krishna said, not looking back.
"I'm asking for silence."
The words weren't loud. They didn't have to be. Krishna said them without drama — no edge in his tone, no plea hidden beneath. Just fact. Like sunrise. Like storm.
Garp didn't react at first. He simply chewed slowly on the meat skewer still in his hand, letting the fire snap between them as the air cooled.
Ace, half-standing, hesitated — his fists curled tight, his voice stuck behind clenched teeth. Luffy just blinked, confused. Dadan chewed on the end of a toothpick, suddenly quiet. Sheshika, who'd been basking in a sunbeam, turned her head to look at Krishna. Even the peacock paused mid-preen, as if sensing something unspoken in the moment.
Garp finally exhaled. "What for?"
"It's mostly to contact you, just in case. And i'd like to be able to listen in," Krishna said calmly. "Discreetly. I won't act without knowing."
Garp studied him — not the way a soldier examines a weapon, but the way a grandfather stares at a tide he can't hold back.
"The hell are you planning?"
Krishna met his gaze. "Nothing you don't already suspect."
Garp grunted and stood up. The log beneath him creaked as he dusted off his coat. He stretched his back with a sharp crack, then motioned for Krishna to follow him toward the shed beside the hill slope.
Neither said a word on the walk there. Sheshika, as always, slid behind them in silence. The peacock stayed behind with Luffy, who was still gnawing on a half-eaten drumstick.
Inside the shed, it was dim, smells of old gunpowder and canvas in the air. Spare Marine gear, training weights, and a few storage crates lined the corners. Garp crouched near a weathered box with rusted locks and kicked it open with one boot.
He pulled out a small case. Inside — a plain, white-shelled Den Den Mushi.
"This one's off-record," Garp said, voice low. "No Marine cipher. I use it when I need to bypass HQ's... ears."
Krishna nodded. "I won't tamper with it."
"You better not," Garp grumbled. "Sengoku already thinks I've been too soft on you."
Krishna raised a brow. "Have you?"
Garp snorted. "You want the truth?"
"Yes."
"You scare me, kid."
Krishna said nothing.
Garp handed him the case. "You're the strongest person in these Blues, except me. Probably stronger than most New World rookies. Hell, maybe stronger than even most veterans in Paradise. You've got strength I've only seen a few times in my life, and every time I've seen it, it broke something."
Krishna didn't correct him. He didn't need to.
Garp stepped back and crossed his arms.
"And what if you're wrong? What if Arlong didn't come to East Blue? What if you raise a storm no one asked for?"
Krishna finally looked at him. Eyes clear. Unshaking.
"Then I'll be the one to clean it."
The Den Den Mushi blinked once, sensing his aura. It stirred from its sleep, slowly waking — as if aware this call would be different from all others.
Garp scratched his beard. "You're not a Marine."
"I never said I was."
"You're not a Warlord."
"I never will be."
"You're not even officially recognized by the World Government."
Krishna's fingers touched the snail's shell, calm and steady. "That's the point, isn't it?"
Garp let out a long, tired breath — the kind a man makes when he knows he's already lost the argument but keeps trying out of love anyway.
"You know, back when you were a baby, Makino cried every night because you wouldn't eat unless she sang to you."
"I remember," Krishna said softly.
Garp's mouth twitched into something like a smile. "You're the strangest brat I've ever met, and I've met dragons."
Krishna didn't flinch.
"Fine. You want the Den Den Mushi? Take it."
Krishna picked it up gently, and slipped it into a sealed inner strap beneath his cloak. He tucked it into his belt.
"But," Garp said, voice lowering, "if you're going after him, you better not get killed. Because if you die, I'll find your soul in the afterlife and beat it back into your body."
Krishna finally smiled.
"I understand."
Garp stepped back and crossed his arms, watching Krishna slip the case into a sealed inner strap beneath his cloak.
"This ain't about flexing muscle," Garp said. "You know that."
"I do."
"You sure you want to go through with this alone?"
Krishna turned his head, eyes half-lidded beneath the dawn-shadowed hood of his cloak. "If I go with others, they will be in danger. If I go alone, I can choose the weight I carry."
"You'll make enemies."
"I already have."
There was no arrogance in the words — only clarity.
Garp sighed again and leaned against the frame of the door, gaze turned toward the horizon.
"What are you becoming, Krishna?"
Krishna took a long breath. The scent of salt and moss filled his lungs.
"Someone I won't regret."
That, finally, pulled a huff of laughter from the old man.
"Damn brat. You sound like Dragon."
Krishna blinked once. "Would you rather I sound like you?"
"Hah! Hell no. One me is enough."
They stood in silence for a few seconds more.
Then Krishna bowed — a small, firm motion.
"Thank you, Grandpa Garp."
"For the Den Den?"
"For trusting me to carry it, and for being the only man in the world who still asks questions even when he already knows the answers."
Garp waved him off. "Just don't break the damn thing. It's got a temper."
Krishna smirked faintly. "I'll be gentle."
Garp's eyes scanned him one last time — this boy who wasn't really a boy, who spoke like a priest and walked like a god.
"If I wasn't me," Garp muttered, "I'd probably be scared of you."
With a grunt, Garp walked away, muttering curses about overgrown grandsons, immortal brats, and the stupidity of trusting monsters with snails.
As he stepped outside into the pale gold of the late morning light, Krishna tapped the shell of the Den Den Mushi once. It blinked awake, silently sensing the nature of its new bearer.
Krishna stood in the workshop, alone again. Sheshika coiled into the doorway, silent and watching.
"He's worried," she said.
"I know."
"You won't tell Ace."
"No."
"You won't tell Luffy."
"No."
"You won't tell Makino or Dadan."
"No."
"Because you already decided."
"Yes."
Outside, the forest buzzed softly, unaware that a divine path was about to be walked alone.
Krishna turned to the shelf where Medha's portable interface rested. A flicker of gold light lit up the screen.
"Would you like backup files enabled?" Medha asked calmly.
"No."
"Tactical feed support?"
"No."
"Combat mapping?"
"No."
"...Are you afraid?"
Krishna paused.
Then replied quietly,
"Only that I'll become too used to winning."
Medha's quietly hummed in his ear.
"External comms calibrated. Passive interception ready. Awaiting voice command."
Krishna walked ahead, the breeze pressing lightly against his back.
A storm was forming, and it wasn't in the clouds.
The clearing was quiet in that fragile way evening sometimes is — all golden air and shadows stretching long like whispers on the earth.
Dinner had just finished. The plates sat empty on the porch; the fire sizzled low. Luffy had passed out beside the peacock, both of them curled into mirrored half-spheres of warmth. Ace leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, forehead a little furrowed. Sabo sat a short distance away, carving lazy lines into the dirt with a stick — his eyes thoughtful, but unfocused.
Krishna sat cross-legged on the porch, back straight, gaze unfocused — as if he was listening to something only he could hear. Sheshika lay curled near his feet. The Den Den Mushi case was now secured beneath his cloak, unseen.
Makino had just served warm rice, fried fish, and fruit slices. Dadan handed out bowls with her usual grumbling.
It felt like peace. Unearned, perhaps. But peace all the same.
Krishna waited until everyone had taken a bite. Until no one expected anything strange. "I'm leaving tonight."
The words cut through the quiet like a blade — soft, but final.
Ace blinked. "What?"
Luffy stirred, mumbling. Sabo stopped drawing.
Dadan nearly dropped her drink. "Say what now?"
Makino, seated near the porch with a cup of tea, turned her head slowly. "What do you mean?"
"I've prepared," Krishna said softly. "Sheshika and I will be gone by nightfall."
No one spoke.
Even the birds stopped calling.
"Wait, wait—hold on," Ace said, rising to his feet. "What do you mean 'leaving'? Leaving where?"
Krishna didn't shift.
"I'm heading to Cocoyashi."
Ace pushed off the wall. "You're what?"
"Alone."
"No. No way," Ace said, stepping closer. "Why the hell would you—"
Krishna turned. "Because I have to."
Sabo looked up, eyes narrowing.
Makino stood slowly. "You found out something. Didn't you?"
Krishna met her eyes. "Arlong's been released. He's in the East Blue. Most likely already anchored."
Ace's mouth opened — then closed.
Sabo's fingers tightened around the stick in his hand.
Makino set her bowl down carefully. "Krishna…"
He met her gaze with a quiet tenderness. "It has to be me. No one else should carry this."
Luffy, now awake, looked confused. "But… can't we come too?"
"You could," Krishna said. "But you shouldn't."
"But why?" Ace's voice cracked a little — not angry, not yet. Just confused. "We trained together. We got stronger together. This is what we do."
Krishna looked down, pressing a hand gently to his chest.
"I need to know something," he said. "Something I can only understand alone."
"What's the point?" Ace snapped, voice tight.
"That I can end it. Without risking any of you. Without unnecessary damage. Without compromising the path we chose."
"That's not your decision to make alone!"
Krishna turned to him fully now, his tone finally sharpening — not harsh, but unmovable.
"If you follow me now, you'll fight beside me for the wrong reasons. Out of loyalty. Out of pride. That's not the path we chose when we became brothers."
Luffy stood slowly. His voice was quiet. "But we're supposed to go to sea together."
Krishna smiled at him — a rare, soft thing that made Makino's chest tighten.
"And we will. Just not today."
Krishna stepped forward, slowly. His voice didn't rise — it never needed to.
"Every one of us has a journey that can't be shared. This is mine."
Luffy looked up at that, quiet now.
Makino whispered, "You planned this, didn't you?"
"I prepared for it," Krishna said. "But the choice came today."
Dadan stormed out of the hut, hands on her hips. "What is it with you monsters and your drama? You're twelve, damn it! What kind of twelve-year-old runs off to deal with pirates like it's a grocery run?!"
"The kind who already stopped being twelve," Sheshika muttered under her breath, tail flicking.
Krishna took a breath and bowed his head. "I don't mean to leave as punishment. And I'm not disappearing. I'll come back. Soon."
Ace took another step forward. "You think you're better than us?"
Krishna's eyes flinched — just barely. But it was there.
"No," he said softly. "I know I'm not. That's why I'm doing this alone."
Silence again.
Then Ace said, shoulders tense, "Then let me come with you."
"No."
"Why not?!"
"Because I have to be the one who does this. Not because I'm stronger—"
"Bullshit," Ace snapped. "You are stronger."
Krishna paused.
"Yes," he admitted. "But that's not why I'm going."
Everyone froze.
Even Luffy looked shaken.
Krishna stepped forward, barefoot in the dying light.
"I'm going because I know what it means to fight with restraint. To end something without becoming it."
Ace said nothing. Luffy just stared, wide-eyed.
Sabo finally stood, brushing dirt off his pants.
"...You don't think we'd understand?"
Krishna turned toward him.
"I think you'd understand too well."
The silence that followed said everything words couldn't. Because Sabo knew. Sabo always knew.
He knew that Krishna wasn't acting out of arrogance. He was acting out of protection. Of burden. Of the weight he felt only he could carry.
Sabo looked down. His fingers itched.
Makino stepped forward finally, reaching for his shoulder. Her hand trembled just a little.
"You're sure you have to do this?"
"I am."
"And nothing we say…?"
"Nothing."
Makino nodded slowly, eyes shining. "Then promise me something."
Krishna looked at her.
"Promise you'll come back. Just once more. As a boy."
Krishna gave a faint smile.
"I'll try."
She pulled him in for a brief hug. His body remained still — but his eyes closed.
"I packed food," Dadan grumbled. "Not because I care or anything. Just don't die and make me look bad."
"I understand," Krishna said, the corner of his mouth lifting.
Ace stared at him. "You're really going, huh?"
"Yes."
Luffy didn't speak. He just walked up and hugged him from behind.
"Be careful."
Krishna knelt to meet his height, placed a hand gently on his brother's head.
"I always am."
Krishna stepped forward and gently took Makino's hands.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'll be back soon."
Makino said with trembling hands. "Don't make that a promise you can't keep."
Dadan tossed him a cloth-wrapped bundle from the side. "Blankets. And soap. I won't have people saying my kid smelled like a sewer."
Krishna caught it. "Thank you."
Ace was still glaring.
"You're still a bastard for not letting us come."
"I know."
"You better not die."
"I won't."
Luffy stepped up beside Ace, clutching his sash.
"Will you still be my brother when you come back?"
Krishna knelt down and placed his palm gently on Luffy's chest.
"I never stopped."
Sabo watched. His chest ached.
Krishna turned and began walking — cloak catching the wind, Sheshika slithering behind him like a line drawn between gods and men. The peacock rose gracefully and followed, not once flapping its wings, as if weightless in devotion.
Before he vanished into the trees, Krishna turned once.
"I'll see you soon."
And then he was gone.
The fire cracked again.
Makino sat back down, eyes wet. Ace turned away and punched the wall. Luffy crouched beside the peacock's feathers that still floated in the air, catching one like a falling memory.
Sabo… didn't move.
But in his eyes, something had shifted.
Something that would soon carry him far beyond the kingdom he once hated — and into the world he never thought he'd dare face.
That night, none of them spoke much.
Luffy eventually fell asleep beside the fire, curled up like a child who pretended he wasn't waiting. Ace kept pacing — back and forth across the same stretch of porch until the wood began to groan. Makino made tea she didn't drink. Dadan drank everything she shouldn't.
Sabo didn't sleep.
He sat just beyond the firelight, half-shadowed beneath a tree. The stick in his hand had broken somewhere in the middle, but he hadn't noticed. His eyes were open — watching the horizon Krishna had vanished into hours ago.
He was remembering.
Not just Krishna's words that day, but every word Krishna had ever said that sounded like something more than advice.
"Don't wait for permission to exist."
"There are roads only you can walk. That's not loneliness — that's freedom."
"If the fire in your chest scares you, good. That means it's real."
Sabo's mind went back further. To when he first met Krishna. That strange older boy who didn't flinch when Sabo snapped at him. Who didn't pity him for being a noble runaway — who didn't treat his trauma like a badge or a stain.
Krishna had seen him. And that had scared him more than anything.
But now… Sabo wasn't scared.
He was restless.
He stood at dawn, eyes half closing, but not in the mood to sleep.
Ace and Luffy were still asleep. The peacock had curled next to them like a bundle of light and scale. Makino had fallen asleep at the table. Dadan was snoring somewhere, half a bottle tucked under her arm.
The next morning came with too much silence.
Krishna was gone. Really gone.
No trace of his steps, no leftover gear. Just a folded blanket and a single feather from the peacock, left behind like a silent nod that he had ever been there at all.
Ace had barely touched breakfast. Luffy was pouting with his face in a bowl of rice. Sabo looked the same as ever — except quieter. Too still. Eyes too far away.
Makino tried to lighten the mood. "Eat up, you three. It'll get cold."
Dadan muttered, "Bet that brat forgot to pack socks."
The peacock didn't chirp once that morning.
Then Luffy's stomach growled.
Loudly.
"I want ramen."
Ace looked up. "Ramen?"
"In Goa Kingdom."
Makino raised an eyebrow. "Don't even think about dining and dashing."
"But Krishna's not here to scold us!"
Dadan smirked. "You think I won't throw a sandal after you from here?"
Sabo finally stood. "Let's just go. One bowl."
Luffy cheered. "Yay!"
Ace gave a tired smirk. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you two."
They left together, just like always — ASL, side by side. But the rhythm was off. Not broken. Just… quieter. Like music with a missing instrument.
The walk to Goa Kingdom was uneventful. The guards didn't question them. They looked like harmless kids — ragged shirts, dust-streaked hair, easy smiles.
Sabo kept his hood up.
Krishna's words echoed in his mind the entire time.
"There are battles that belong to you alone."
"Truth isn't always spoken. Sometimes it's chosen."
"Don't wait for the world to validate you. Make your own meaning."
He didn't realize how tightly he was gripping his side pouch until Ace nudged him.
"You good?"
"Yeah," Sabo said. "Just thinking."
"About Krishna?"
Sabo didn't answer.
They made it to a ramen stall near the merchant district — a place they'd snuck into more than once. The owner wasn't in yet. The assistant looked half-asleep. The boys slid onto stools like shadows.
"One bowl each," Ace said.
"Three bowls for me," Luffy corrected.
Sabo smiled faintly — just for a second.
They ate quietly, the way hungry kids always do. Chopsticks clacked. Broth slurped. Luffy inhaled noodles like a vacuum.
Then the voice hit the air like a nail in glass.
"Sabo?"
He froze.
His head turned before his body could.
A man in a velvet coat. Tall. Pale. Trim beard. Polished cane. Too-clean clothes. Eyes like frost and iron, and sharp with ownership. Guards flanking him. And that voice—
He remembered that voice.
He remembered it from the corridors of marble halls and locked doors. From dinners where silence was more valuable than food. From lectures about duty, lineage, honor.
From nightmares.
No mistake. No hallucination. That voice had that same chill of expectation. Of cold dinners and colder lectures. Of a name that was never said with warmth.
And the guards beside him were already moving.
Ace grabbed Sabo's sleeve. "Let's go."
They bolted.
Luffy shoved the last dumpling into his mouth and ran.
Down alleyways. Around corners. Through market stalls.
They didn't look back.
Sabo's heart was hammering — not just from fear of being caught, but from the terror of being dragged back into that world. That cage. That perfect house with its perfect rules and its perfect silence.
Ace finally shoved open a hatch and pulled them through a bakery back door. Luffy followed, still chewing.
They stopped in an abandoned courtyard.
Panting. Silent.
Sabo sat on the edge of a crumbled fountain.
Ace stared at him.
"You okay?"
Sabo didn't speak.
Luffy looked back toward the rooftops. "They stopped chasing."
Sabo wanted to laugh.
He didn't.
Instead, he said, "They saw me."
Ace's face changed. "Who?"
Sabo didn't answer.
Luffy stared. "Sabo?"
But Sabo's mind was already somewhere else.
Back in that moment. The way his father's voice had sounded like a verdict. The way those guards had moved — not like men protecting someone, but like men claiming property.
He wasn't scared of being caught.
He was scared of losing the fire Krishna had helped him kindle.
And for the first time in years…
He wanted to burn.
Ace turned to Sabo. "Was that…?"
"My father," Sabo whispered.
The words tasted like rust in his mouth.
It began with quiet questions and ended in fire.
That night, the wind was still.
Back at Dadan's hideout, the fire burned low. Luffy was slouched over a half-eaten piece of fruit. Ace sat sharpening a stick absently. Sabo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes heavy with things he couldn't yet say aloud. Makino and the others had turned in early. Even Sheshika had vanished into the trees. The peacock slept beside Luffy, feathers gently shifting with his breath.
Time passed. They hadn't talked about what happened in Goa. But the tension — it lingered. Stretched like an unspoken thread between them.
But Ace wasn't asleep.
And neither was Luffy.
And neither, of course, was Sabo.
Ace finally broke the silence.
"All right. Talk."
Sabo blinked.
Ace didn't smile. "Back at the ramen stall. The guy who shouted your name. That was your old man?"
Luffy looked over, wide-eyed. "You knew him?"
Sabo hesitated. He didn't answer immediately.
But his shoulders tightened. His jaw locked.
"…Yeah."
Ace sat up. "Seriously?"
Luffy tilted his head. "You have a dad? Like… a real one?"
"I didn't sprout from a cabbage, Luffy." Sabo rolled his eyes.
"Ohhh."
"I was born to nobles," Sabo said rubbing his temples.
The wind shifted.
"I ran away when I was eight. They didn't know where I went. Until today."
Ace's eyes narrowed. "Why?"
Sabo's voice was quieter now. "Because they didn't love me. They didn't see me. They only saw what I was supposed to become."
Ace didn't speak. Luffy just tilted his head.
"My whole life was a performance," Sabo continued. "When to smile. When to bow. Who to speak to. Who to pretend didn't exist. Every second was a rule."
He looked up.
"I used to think it was normal. Until I met you."
Luffy smiled.
Sabo didn't.
He glanced at both of them.
"I was disposable. A vessel for their pride. And when I ran… they replaced me with my younger brother. Didn't even come looking."
Silence.
Ace finally muttered, "Why didn't you tell us before?"
Sabo stared into the fire.
"Because I didn't want that world to follow me here." Sabo whispered. "Didn't want to ruin this."
"You didn't," Ace said firmly.
"You couldn't," Luffy added.
That would've been enough.
But the world doesn't like happy endings without a price.
They came at night.
Not with stealth, but with noise — confident noise. Rustling branches. Grunts. The stomp of boots. Steel dragging across bark. The kind of arrogance that only came from knowing your coin was noble-backed.
Bluejam and his men. About twenty total. Too many for most bandits. Too few for the wrong trio.
But these weren't the boys they tried to kidnap years ago.
These were Krishna's brothers.
It was Luffy who heard them first.
He snapped upright mid-sleep, the peacock hissing softly from her roost beside him.
"Ace."
Ace was already outside. Shirtless, bare-knuckled, jaw clenched. His Conqueror's Haki didn't flare — not yet. But it pulsed. Like the tide before the wave.
Sabo woke next. Quietly. Deliberately. He tied his boots with the calm of a boy who had waited too long for this moment.
They stepped into the clearing together — ASL, shoulder to shoulder.
And Bluejam, sneering at the edge of the treeline, thought they were the same brats he'd once tried to cage.
"Didn't learn your lesson, huh?" he spat, scarred lips curling. "Should've stayed hidden."
"You really don't know how to quit," Sabo said.
Ace cracked his knuckles. "You picked the wrong brothers."
"Funny," Bluejam grinned. "Your daddy didn't think so."
That was enough.
Ace vanished with a burst of Soru, reappearing mid-sprint, fist already cocked. He slammed into the nearest pirate — one of the bigger ones — and sent him crashing through a tree.
Sabo moved next — low, silent, precise. His Kami-e flowed like a ribbon. Shigan and open-palm strikes dropped two men in seconds. No wasted movement.
Luffy laughed, bouncing into the air with a Geppo-enhanced leap before crashing down on three clustered attackers, scattering them like bowling pins.
And still, Bluejam grinned.
"You punks grew teeth."
But his smirk faltered as the rest of his crew — maybe fifteen men — rushed in.
And Ace didn't hesitate.
He remembered Krishna's words,
"Don't use this unless you mean it. This isn't intimidation. This is your soul. It's your will made manifest."
Ace let his fists drop.
And then he breathed.
The ground shuddered.
A pulse, invisible, tore through the clearing like thunder underwater.
Conqueror's Haki exploded out of him.
Trees bent. Dirt curled upward like waves in a lake. The remaining pirates staggered — ten of them dropped instantly, unconscious before they hit the ground.
Sabo exhaled. "You've been practicing."
Ace grinned, breathing hard. "What can I say? That bastard taught me well." he said, still angry at Krishna for not letting him go with him.
The remaining pirates stared in horror, too shaken to charge.
Sabo took down two more with quick strikes. Luffy knocked out another with a Gum-Gum Pistol to the jaw. The last three turned to run — but Ace cut them off with Soru and dropped them cold.
Bluejam was already backing away.
Ace walked forward slowly.
"You brought this on yourself."
But before he could throw the final punch, Bluejam spat, "It's not over."
He retreated into the forest like a rat in smoke. — but his eyes promised something worse.
The next day, the sky turned orange before the sun even set.
Smoke curled above Grey Terminal.
The slums where they once lived. Where they'd stolen and scraped and dreamed.
Now reduced to flame and ash.
People screamed below. Some ran with children. Others tried to douse the flames with buckets. Nobles, far above in the city walls, simply watched. Fueled by intent.
Ace's fists were shaking. "They… they're burning it to the ground."
Luffy's eyes were wide, lips trembling. "Why would they—?"
"It' because people like my parents," Sabo said bitterly, "don't want their parties polluted by smoke from poor people's homes."
He stared into the fire. Into the destruction.
"Nobles burn what they don't want to see."
Sabo stood on the cliffside, fists clenched, as the inferno painted the sky red.
"This," he said softly, "is what I ran from."
Ace didn't speak.
Luffy looked like he wanted to run down there. Sabo grabbed his arm.
His voice cracked. "Can we stop it?"
Sabo shook his head. "Not now. Not like this."
Ace stared at the flames, as if willing them to die.
Sabo turned to them both.
"I'm leaving."
"What?" Ace snapped.
"I can't stay. Not after this. Not after watching them do this and thinking they'll get away with it."
Luffy's fists were clenched. "But we're brothers."
"We always will be," Sabo said. "But you two have each other. I need to find out who I am — out there."
Ace stared at him, jaw locked. "You're making a mistake."
"I'm not," Sabo replied, voice steady. "I'm making a choice."
"I won't let them keep doing this. To people like us. To people who didn't ask to be born into cages or trash heaps."
"You're not alone," Luffy said.
"I know," Sabo replied, smiling.
"But this path… I have to walk it."
He paused.
"Just like Krishna."
Sabo built the boat in silence by himself.
The wood creaked under his hands, the rope scratched his palms raw, but he kept working — not because he was rushing. Because he was ready.
It wasn't elegant — just planks and nails, bound by rope and urgency — but it was his. Flat-bottomed. A little crooked. Enough for one determined soul and the fire in his chest.
His hands blistered. His arms ached. But still, he worked. Not because he doubted escape.
Because this wasn't an escape.
It was a beginning.
By dawn, he stood at the dock, breath fogging in the morning chill. He looked over his shoulder once, expecting… something. A reason to turn back.
There was none.
He didn't wake Ace or Luffy. He couldn't.
But they were already waiting for him.
"Took you long enough," Ace said, watching from a distance.
Luffy rubbed his eyes. "You really were gonna leave without telling us?"
Sabo grinned. "I knew you'd catch me."
"Nice boat," Ace said, arms crossed, now standing beside the small cliffside dock.
Luffy yawned. "It's kinda crooked."
Sabo smiled, tired and genuine. "Didn't have time to sand the edges."
The three of them stood side by side, the wind pressing gently against their backs.
Sabo stepped forward and dropped something into Ace's hand. A single coin. Rusted.
"What's this?"
"First thing I ever stole. When I was five. I kept it to remind myself I could choose."
Ace stared at it.
Luffy muttered, "I don't have anything that cool."
Sabo laughed. "Then give me a promise."
Luffy tilted his head. "What promise?"
Sabo turned to both of them.
"Live the dream. All of it. Don't hold back."
The silence between them was comfortable. Heavy, but not sharp.
"You sure about this?" Ace asked.
Sabo nodded. "You heard what they did. You saw the flames. I can't wait anymore. I have to go now."
Ace looked down at the water.
"You sound like Krishna."
Sabo laughed, just a little. "He did what only he could do. Now I will too."
Luffy kicked at a rock. "But we just got strong together."
"You did," Sabo said. "You're the strongest brothers I could've ever had. And I'll come back."
Ace didn't say anything.
Sabo stepped forward, pulling them both into a hug.
"I love you guys."
Ace muttered, "If you die, I'll beat you up in the afterlife."
Luffy just clung tighter.
"Tell Makino and Dadan I left," Sabo said. "Tell them I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye. And tell Krishna…"
He pulled back and looked them in the eyes.
"Tell him I'm walking my path. Just like he said."
Luffy sniffed. "Come back soon."
"I will."
Then he stepped into the boat.
He pushed off with a pole, the current gentle beneath him.
And began to row.
The sun had barely begun to rise when it happened.
A massive ship, dark-flagged and gold-trimmed, sliced across the horizon like a blade. Celestial insignia gleamed across its hull — sickeningly pristine.
From its upper deck, a voice scoffed, "A filthy commoner at sea? Disgusting."
A single cannon rotated.
The trigger was pulled without hesitation.
The explosion tore through the silence.
Far across the East Blue — beyond wind, beyond speech, beyond all sight — Krishna's eyes opened.
He was seated cross-legged on a quiet clifftop, resting for a moment, cloak drawn tight around him. Sheshika was coiled nearby, asleep. The peacock rested beneath a tree. He was nearing Cocoyashi.
And yet, something struck him.
Hard.
It wasn't pain. It wasn't fear.
It was absence.
A void that flickered like a candle snuffed by wind.
His Observation Haki stretched — miles — piercing sea and silence. But the thread that had always connected him to Sabo…
…faded.
Not gone.
But dim.
"Medha," he said, voice barely a whisper. "Run resonance scan."
"Searching... One connection severed. No vitals. No death signature. Disturbance — unknown. Emotional signal: shock."
Krishna didn't move.
But the air around him thickened — heavy, waiting.
His eyes turned toward the horizon.
And he whispered,
"Sabo…"
Back near Foosha, Ace screamed as the cannon fired.
The Celestial Dragon's ship hovered above, massive and uncaring.
Sabo's boat shattered in the blast — wood splinters raining across the water.
Luffy collapsed to his knees. "NO!"
Ace dove in, splashing through salt and shards.
Makino arrived behind them, barefoot, panting, her hands to her mouth.
Dadan followed, footsteps rushing behind, with wide eyes.
Ace resurfaced, gasping, eyes frantic. "He's not here! HE'S NOT—"
Luffy fell to his knees, sobbing. "He's not gone. He's NOT!"
Dadan held him back.
Makino covered her mouth.
No one could speak.
Ace stared at the waves, eyes hollow. "I'll kill them."
Makino tried to reach for him, but he turned away.
"I'll make them pay."
Dadan grabbed Luffy before he could throw himself into the water too. "No! He's gone!"
"No," Luffy whispered. "He's not."
But the sea said nothing.
The sky above the Goa Kingdom was silent.
But far away, where the sea bent into clouds, a ripple of compressed air shimmered in the sky.
A man stood tall — unreadable eyes behind rounded glasses.
Bartholomew Kuma cradled a boy in his arms, unconscious and bleeding.
He set Sabo gently on the ground of a hidden shore, where no one could follow.
"He is important," Kuma said softly, as if remembering something not yet written. "He is not finished."
Then he vanished.
Back on the clifftop, Krishna exhaled.
He did not panic.
He did not scream.
But the wind around him shifted, rippling the grass, bending branches.
A quiet Conqueror's aura leaked from him — like thunder tucked beneath the world's breath.
"He's not dead," Krishna said quietly.
Sheshika stirred.
"How do you know?"
Krishna looked at the horizon.
"Because I'm not crying."
Author's Note:
Yo, divine degenerates and dharmic dreamers—
This one hurt.
Not because we lost Sabo — not really — but because this chapter showed what it means to stand at the edge of choice and consequence.
We saw Ace awaken the fire of kings.
We saw Luffy understand loss before he could name it.
And we saw Sabo take his first true step into the legend he was always meant to become.
But more than that… Krishna felt it. Across oceans. Across the wind. That flicker of pain in his chest wasn't dramatic. It was real. And when gods feel — not just act — that's when stories become myth.
We're entering sacred territory now.
This is the beginning of the end… of childhood.
If this chapter touched you, even a little — drop a review, whisper "the wind remembers," or just look east, and say: "He's not gone."
Next chapter: consequences.
—Author out.
(Sheshika is now officially jealous of the peacock. She claimed Krishna's shoulder and declared it "serpent territory." Luffy tried to intervene. He got tail-smacked.)