The Oro Jackson glided across a mirrorlike sea, the wind gentle against its sails. The morning sun bathed the deck in gold, and the laughter of the Roger Pirates carried over the water like a song.
Seagulls followed lazily behind as the ship cut through the gentle waves, a rare peace after weeks of storms and chaos.
For once, there were no storms. No Marines. No danger.
Just peace — the kind Ada still didn't know how to trust.
Ada stood near the bow, leaning on the railing, the wind tugging at her crimson styled dress. The faint scent of salt and citrus lingered in the air as seagulls trailed the ship's wake.
Her pistols rested against her thighs, the sun glinting off the black holsters.
Below deck, the crew's laughter echoed — Roger's booming guffaw loudest of all.
It had been weeks since the world learned her name again.
And though the news spread like wildfire — Nyx D. Ada, the Crimson Shadow, now aboard the Roger Pirates.
The headlines called it "madness."
The Marines called it "an omen."
aboard this ship though, things were… surprisingly ordinary.
"Oi, Ada! You gonna eat or just brood at the sea again?"
The voice came from Scopper Gaban, who waved a spoon from the galley entrance.
He grinned, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "We made stew! Real meat this time — not Rayleigh's 'sea king mystery soup.'"
"Hey!" Rayleigh called from across the deck, cleaning his blade. "That soup kept us alive through a typhoon!"
Ada chuckled under her breath and walked over, her heels clicking lightly against the deck. "I'll take my chances with the stew."
When she entered, the warmth hit her instantly — laughter, the scent of food, the easy rhythm of a family.
For a moment, she hesitated. The Rocks crew had been power, chaos, and ambition — not this.
This was… camaraderie.
Roger grinned when he saw her. "Ah, Ada! There you are! Come sit, you can't fight on an empty stomach!"
"I'm not fighting anyone," she said dryly.
"Then all the more reason," he countered, slamming a mug of sake in front of her.
"And I'm fine," Ada said, though her stomach betrayed her with a quiet growl.
Rayleigh chuckled. "That's a yes in pirate language."
Rayleigh then leaned over from the next seat. "Careful. His 'hospitality' usually ends in someone being unconscious."
Roger barked a laugh. "Only the weak ones!"
The crew roared with laughter. Even Ada, despite herself, allowed a small smile.
She sighed and sat beside Gaban, who immediately ladled her a bowl.
"So, Lady Vice-Captain of the Rocks Pirates," Gaban began, leaning back, "what's it like working under that madman?"
Ada sipped her stew, unbothered. "Loud. Violent. Motivating. You learn fast or die faster."
Roger laughed heartily. "Sounds familiar!"
Rayleigh smirked. "Yeah, except you'd be the madman in this story."
Ada glanced at Roger's carefree expression. "You're not as reckless as he was."
Roger raised a brow. "Oh? That a compliment?"
She gave the faintest smile. "Don't get used to it."
The room burst into laughter. Even the ship's cook nearly dropped a ladle.
Then Gaban leaned his elbow on the table, eyeing her curiously. "So, You were really Rocks' right hand?"
Ada didn't flinch. "Vice-captain, yes."
"Hard to picture," Gaban said, grinning. "You look way too calm for that madman's crew."
Roger leaned forward, his grin wide. "Maybe that's why she survived that crew!"
Ada smirked. "Someone had to keep him from killing all of you back then."
That earned another round of laughter. Even Rayleigh chuckled, shaking his head.
"You're fitting in faster than I expected."
"I'm not sure if that's a compliment," she replied, but her tone was lighter now — almost teasing.
Later, when the noise faded, Roger leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Tell me something, Ada. That 'D.' in your name — Nyx D. Ada. What does it mean to you?"
Her spoon paused midair. For a moment, the air felt heavier.
"I don't know," she said softly. "Maybe… freedom. Or defiance. Every D. I've met has that same fire — the kind that refuses to bow."
Roger's grin widened. "Then we're alike."
She looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something unspoken there — the bond of those who carried a storm in their blood.
"Maybe we are," she admitted.
That night, Ada stood on the deck alone, the sea glimmering beneath the moonlight.
Her reflection shimmered faintly in the waves — a reminder of the past she couldn't quite wash away.
She remembered Rocks — his wild grin, his unshakable ambition.
She remembered the burning skies of God Valley, the screams, the betrayal.
And somewhere amid it all, she remembered saving a young man named Dragon.
The memory stung like saltwater on an open wound.
She didn't regret surviving — but she did regret the ghosts that followed her.
"Can't sleep?"
Roger's voice broke the silence. He leaned against the mast, arms crossed, his coat fluttering in the breeze.
"I'm not tired," Ada replied.
"Liar," he said with a grin. Then, softer: "You've got that same look Rayleigh gets before a storm. Thinking too much."
She turned to face him. "Doesn't suit me?"
He laughed. "It suits everyone who dreams of freedom."
They stood in silence for a while, just listening to the sea.
"Still not used to calm seas?" he asked, coming to stand beside her.
"Too quiet," she admitted. "Back then, there was always noise — shouting, fighting, chaos. This…" She gestured at the tranquil waters. "Feels strange."
Roger crossed his arms, smiling faintly. "You know, for someone who used to command pirates like Kaido and Linlin, you're awfully quiet yourself."
"I prefer silence," Ada said. "You can hear the truth in it."
He laughed at that. "You sound like Rayleigh."
"Roger," Ada said finally, "why do you do it? Chase these stones, these islands… this dream?"
Roger's eyes glinted like stars. "Because the world's too small. I want to see everything — every secret, every lie, every truth the world's hiding. I want to know what it all means."
Ada smiled faintly. "That's the difference between us."
"Oh?"
"I already know what the world is hiding," she said. "I've seen its cruelty. I just want to change it."
Roger's grin softened. "Then maybe our dreams aren't so different after all."
"Tell me something," Roger said finally, his voice softer. "Why'd you join him? Rocks, I mean."
Ada didn't answer immediately. Her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon.
"When I met him," she said at last,
She continued. "He was the first person who looked at me and said I was worth something."
Roger listened in silence.
Her expression then softened . "He said that my talents were being wasted killing small fries and that he could use my skills to help him become King of the World."
Roger's eyes softened. "So you followed him."
She nodded. "Until I couldn't anymore."
There was a long silence — only the creak of the ship and the sound of waves below.
"No one's ever asked me that before," Ada said quietly. "Back on the Rocks crew, nobody cared about your story or why you joined. Only your strength."
Roger smiled faintly. "Then maybe it's time someone did."
She looked at him then — really looked. Roger's grin had dimmed, but not his light. There was something unshakable about him — something honest.
For a brief moment, she wondered if that's why the world feared him more than Rocks now.
And then — as if on cue — a faint rumble of thunder rolled across the horizon.
Dark clouds gathered in the distance, shrouding the sea ahead.
Roger's grin returned, wild and unbothered. "Heh. Looks like the sea's waking up again."
Ada's eyes lingered on the storm, her hand resting on the railing.
"Calm never lasts long," she murmured.
Roger looked at her — really looked.
"Neither do walls," he said. "And you've built a lot of them."
She met his gaze, uncertain whether to smirk or scowl. "You talk too much."
He laughed — loud, free, like the storm itself.
"Then you'll fit right in."
The wind picked up, the first drops of rain tapping the deck. The crew rushed about, preparing for the storm.
Ada stayed where she was, her red dress flickering against the gathering gray, her expression unreadable.
In the distance, thunder cracked like the sound of war drums.
She closed her eyes, whispering to herself —
"Not again…"
The waves began to rise.
The Oro Jackson tilted into the wind.
And from the dark horizon, the storm roared to life.
That evening, the crew camped on a newrby island, fires glowing beneath the stars.
Laughter carried through the trees — songs, stories, the clink of sake cups.
Ada sat apart for a moment, polishing her weapons, watching the flames dance.
Rayleigh approached, handing her a drink. "You know," he said, "you fit in better than you think."
She raised a brow. "You mean for a supposed demon from Rocks' crew?"
He smiled. "I mean for someone who's seen hell and still finds reasons to laugh."
Ada accepted the cup and raised it slightly. "To hell, then."
Rayleigh clinked his against hers. "To those who made it back."
They both drank.
As morning came, the Oro Jackson set sail again, leaving the mysterious island behind.
The crew worked with easy rhythm — laughter, shouts, the flap of sails in the wind.
Ada stood at the helm beside Roger, wind in her hair, her crimson dress gleaming in the sun.
Roger grinned at her. "Feels like we're just getting started, huh?"
She returned the grin — faint, but genuine. "Then let's not stop."
And as the Oro Jackson sailed into the horizon, the sea carried with it the echo of two dreamers —
one chasing freedom, the other redemption.
Both bound by the same storm.