It started with a rumor.
Sayida had heard it in a smoke-choked alley tavern near the west docks — a small crew of rookie pirates had docked their ship two days ago and gotten drunk ever since. The vessel was new, barely christened, stolen from a merchant yard, and barely defended.
Kira's eyes narrowed when she heard that.
"Where's the ship now?" she asked.
Sayida tapped the table map.
"Dry dock. Pier Seven. Supposed to leave tomorrow. Five men left on board."
Kira rolled the map up. "Then we take it tonight."
Sayida didn't flinch.
She just nodded.
The plan was simple.
Wait until the crew was drunk and distracted. Climb aboard from the sea. Eliminate resistance quickly and quietly. Claim the ship before the rest even knew it was gone.
They scouted the dock from a cliffside ridge, lying flat in the shadows. The ship below was modest — mid-size cutter, sharp hull, twin sails, open deck. Nothing fancy, but fast and manageable.
It had no name painted on the side yet.
Good. Kira would give it one.
The Blue Winged Pirates needed a vessel.
This would be their first.
They moved at midnight.
No lights on the dock. No patrols.
Sayida waited on a rooftop nearby while Kira slipped into the water, gliding silent and low. Her boots were wrapped. Her gloves sealed.
She reached the stern, climbed up between two iron struts, and crouched on the railing.
One pirate stood guard — barely awake, leaning on a spear.
Kira moved without hesitation.
She extended her staff and tapped his neck.
A whisper of electricity surged from her weapon — focused and sharp.
He collapsed instantly.
No sound.
She dragged the body behind a coil of rope and stepped onto the main deck.
The rest were below deck.
She heard snoring. Low voices. Someone laughed.
Kira didn't wait.
She descended the stairs slowly, staff crackling faintly in her hand. Her body buzzed with controlled power. She didn't glow unless she wanted to. Right now, she was a shadow with lightning veins.
The first pirate she saw was seated, playing cards with two others.
She didn't give them time to react.
Her staff snapped outward — a sharp arc of current surged across the room.
Two dropped instantly, convulsing violently.
The third reached for a pistol.
She was faster.
A bolt shot from her palm and struck his chest.
He slammed into the wall and didn't move.
A fourth man came from the far room — big, bearded, shirtless.
He charged.
Kira stepped into him, staff spinning. She drove the tip into his sternum and unleashed a high-voltage burst.
He screamed once.
Then collapsed, smoke curling from his chest.
She didn't pause.
Her face didn't change.
She checked each body — no movement.
No survivors.
She went back up.
Tapped the edge of the railing twice.
Sayida climbed aboard seconds later.
They worked fast.
Sayida took the wheel and began cutting the dock ropes. Kira hoisted the sails, then used a burst of lightning to ignite a small barrel of smoke powder and hurl it back onto the dock.
A distraction. If anyone came running, they'd assume a prank or small fire.
Not theft.
By the time the first alarm bell rang, the ship was gliding out of the harbor.
Sayida turned the rudder with confidence.
"You killed them," she said softly, not as a question.
"Yes."
"You didn't even blink."
"I won't ever," Kira replied. "Not when they're in my way."
Sayida said nothing.
Just kept steering.
Kira moved to the front of the deck and looked back.
Dagger Rock was shrinking behind them.
Her first enemy pirates — dead.
Her first stolen ship — taken.
Her first real step forward — made.
Dawn broke red over the ocean.
The wind picked up. The sails caught full.
Kira stood at the bow, hair damp, face calm.
Sayida came up beside her.
"What now?" she asked.
Kira didn't answer immediately.
She pulled a small pouch from her coat and opened it.
Inside were three pieces of white sky-shell, smoothed and polished — trophies she had taken from Skypiea. She dropped one into the sea.
A silent goodbye.
Then she turned to Sayida.
"Now we carve a path. East, then south. No big islands. We stay quiet. Build up. Strike when we're ready."
Sayida raised an eyebrow. "Strike what?"
"Anything that gets in our way."
Kira paused.
"Eventually? Paradise. The Grand Line."
Sayida whistled low. "Ambitious."
"No," Kira said coldly. "I'm just getting started."
They spent the next two days at sea learning the ship.
Kira named it Tempest Wing.
Fitting.
The sails were light but fast, the rudder responsive, and the storage hold was surprisingly deep. Sayida mapped everything while Kira calibrated the angles of the deck, practicing short-range lightning bursts across open air.
Every move she made was exact.
She trained morning to night, experimenting with current range, pulse delay, conductivity on wet wood. She could now arc her power across the entire mast or down the rigging like a trap.
She even practiced focusing electricity through her staff — mimicking Enel's "El Thor" strike, but reduced in scale for precision.
Sayida watched all of it with a quiet mix of awe and caution.
On the third morning, a sail appeared on the horizon.
Kira spotted it first — merchant colors, small, heading north.
She didn't blink.
Sayida looked over. "Pirates?"
"No," Kira said.
"But?"
"Resources."
They adjusted course.
The merchant ship was slow. Within the hour, the Tempest Wing had caught up. Kira launched a bolt over their bow — not to hit, just to warn.
The merchant crew surrendered before she even boarded.
She took three barrels of dried food, one case of maps, and a pair of sea lenses — valuable navigation tools.
No blood. No threats.
Just quiet robbery.
They never even saw her face.
That night, Kira sat on the upper deck as stars filled the sky.
Sayida joined her, quiet.
"You don't like being seen, do you?"
"I like being remembered," Kira said. "But only after I've left."
Sayida tilted her head. "You plan to rule the seas from the shadows?"
Kira smirked — a rare flicker of amusement.
"Not the shadows. Just the right distance."
They sat in silence for a while.
Sayida finally said, "I think I want to stay."
Kira glanced over.
"Good."
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