The sea was quiet again.
No laughter, no orders, no voices — only the Oro Jackson creaking softly beneath the weight of memory.
Months had passed since the disbandment of the Roger Pirates. The ship, once filled with the thunder of adventure, now moved with solemn grace under the hand of a single figure.
Ada stood at the helm, wind in her hair, coat fluttering behind her like a shadow of the past. The Jolly Roger still flew — tattered but proud — its once bright emblem faded by salt and sun.
Her gaze traced the horizon, half-searching, half-remembering.
The world felt both bigger and emptier now.
"You'd laugh if you saw me like this, Roger," she murmured. "A pirate ship, manned by one fool chasing ghosts."
The sea didn't answer — but somehow, she thought it understood.
After days of endless sailing, a jagged island appeared on the horizon — small, uncharted, nothing remarkable.
Ada dropped anchor and stepped onto the shore, her boots crunching against pale sand. The air was sharp and heavy with solitude.
She moved inland, her senses alert. It was then she felt it — a faint, precise pressure, a presence sharp enough to cut through the stillness.
Steel sang.
A blade slashed through the air toward her. Ada sidestepped it easily, her hand rising, catching the sword mid-swing between two fingers.
The boy holding it froze — young, barely a man, but with eyes like a hawk, golden and unflinching.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Ada smirked faintly. "That's quite the welcome. You always greet strangers with steel?"
The boy didn't flinch. His stance remained calm, refined — far too precise for his age.
"You're not just any stranger," he said. "You're Nyx D. Ada — a crew mate of the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger."
Ada's eyes narrowed slightly. "So you've heard of me."
"Your face is on wanted posters," he said flatly. "And your bounty's still one of the highest in the world."
A soft, humorless chuckle escaped her. "So it's fame, then. I didn't know the world was still talking about ghosts."
The boy lowered his sword slightly. "You're sailing alone. Why?"
Ada's expression darkened just a little — not from sorrow, but from memory.
"The crew's gone. Roger… he had his own path to walk. The rest found theirs."
She turned her gaze to the horizon, voice quieter.
"As for me — I'm not done yet. The sea hasn't finished its story."
The boy studied her for a long moment, then sheathed his sword. "You said ghosts. You sound like someone running from one."
Ada glanced back at him, eyes sharp but amused. "And you sound like someone chasing one."
He didn't deny it. "I'm training," he said simply. "I want to master the sword. To be stronger than anyone."
Ada raised an eyebrow. "That's a dangerous ambition for someone your age."
"Then it's worth having," he replied, calm and certain.
Ada's lips curved faintly — the smallest hint of approval.
"You've got the eyes for it," she said. "You see things most people don't."
He looked at her then, curiosity glinting in those golden irises. "And what are you seeing, Ada?"
Ada stepped closer, her expression unreadable.
"A world still shackled by fear. By the same lies we saw at the end of the sea."
Her tone softened, almost like she was talking to herself.
A silence passed between them, broken only by the waves crashing far below.
Then Ada tilted her head slightly. "You never told me your name, boy."
The young swordsman hesitated for a breath, then answered, "Dracule. Dracule Mihawk."
Ada studied him for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Dracule Mihawk… quite a name."
She glanced around at the untamed forest and rocky cliffs. "And what island is this, exactly?"
Mihawk sheathed his sword. "Kuraigana Island. It used to be a kingdom. War and time took care of that."
Ada smirked faintly. "Figures. The sea does love taking back what man forgets."
A silence fell between them again, filled only by the distant crash of waves.
Mihawk finally spoke. "Why are you here? Someone like you doesn't just drift into ruins."
Ada turned to the horizon, voice cool but steady.
"Roger said someone will be born to change it… maybe I can help make the world ready for them."
He frowned slightly. "And you think one person can do that?"
Ada smiled — the kind of smile that carried both exhaustion and fire.
"One person never can. But two might be a start."
His brows rose. "What are you saying?"
Ada looked him dead in the eyes. "I'm saying — if you've got the strength to wield that blade, then maybe you've got the strength to change something too. The world's too small for men who only train. It needs people who act."
The boy hesitated — for the first time, unsure.
"You want me to join you," he said slowly.
She turned back to him, the faintest glint in her eyes. "Maybe that's fate. Or destiny."
He frowned. "Destiny?"
Ada nodded slowly, stepping closer. The wind caught her dress, the tattered red fabric fluttering like an echo of old glory.
"Dracule Mihawk — you've got a fire in your eyes that reminds me of the age that's gone. The world's about to change, whether it's ready or not."
Her voice dropped, firm and quiet.
"If fate brought us to the same shore… then come with me. Let's change this world before it swallows itself."
Mihawk stared at her, shocked for the first time. "Change the world?"
Ada smiled faintly — not soft, but sharp, certain.
"Why not? I'm offering you the sea. What you do with it is up to you."
For a long time, Mihawk said nothing — only the faint cry of seabirds filled the ruins.
Then, after a moment, he gave a small, almost reluctant smirk.
"If it's destiny… I'll see where it leads."
Ada turned, her silhouette framed against the sea and sky.
"Then pick up your blade, Mihawk. The sea remembers those who dare to move it."
Ada turned, starting to walk away toward the edge of the forest.
He stood there for a long moment, the wind rustling through the trees. Then — with quiet steps — he followed.
————————-
The wind whispered across the ruins of Kuraigana Island.
Time flowed differently. Days bled into weeks, weeks into months — and the ruins that once echoed with silence now rang with the clash of steel.
In the heart of the desolate land, two blades clashed again and again — the sharp cry of steel echoing across the cliffs.
CLANG! CLANG! SHING!
Ada's blade moved like liquid — smooth, unyielding, merciless. Mihawk met her stroke for stroke, his concentration unwavering, his eyes narrow with focus.
Sweat rolled down his temple as he twisted his sword to block another strike that sent shockwaves rippling through the ground.
"Your timing's off," Ada said coolly, her expression unreadable.
"You rely too much on sight. Feel your opponent. Read their intent."
Mihawk grimaced, his muscles straining. "I'm trying!"
"Then stop trying," she said sharply. "Just be."
With a sudden burst of speed, Ada disappeared from sight. Mihawk's eyes widened — his instincts screamed. He turned just in time to block, the clash ringing like thunder.
The ground beneath them cracked.
Ada stepped back, lowering her sword. "Better."
Her tone softened just slightly. "Your Haki's growing stronger. You're beginning to listen to the world."
Mihawk straightened, chest heaving. "Observation Haki… it's like the world speaks, doesn't it?"
Ada nodded. "It does — if you're willing to hear it. But most people are too loud with their own thoughts to listen."
She turned her back, gazing toward the horizon. "The sea doesn't shout, Mihawk. It hums. When you understand that hum, you'll never lose a battle again."
Mihawk exhaled sharply, lowering his sword. Sweat glistened on his forehead, his breathing steady despite the exhaustion. "You make it sound easy."
Ada's lips curved faintly. "Nothing worth mastering ever is."
She stepped forward, eyes sharp as her tone softened just slightly. "Again."
SHING!
Their blades met once more, sparks illuminating the gray dusk. Mihawk's movements grew tighter — more deliberate. His eyes began to follow her body, her rhythm, rather than her sword.
Ada noticed the shift, a faint smirk ghosting her lips. "Good. You're learning to see without seeing."
He frowned. "You mean… my Observation Haki?"
Ada nodded. "Exactly. It's not about predicting your opponent. It's about understanding them — their rhythm, their breath, their will. The sword only follows what your spirit already knows."
She tapped her chest lightly. "The strongest swordsman isn't the one who cuts the deepest. It's the one whose heart never wavers."
Mihawk held her gaze for a moment, then bowed his head slightly. "Then I'll master it — all of it. I'll surpass everyone."
Ada turned away, her expression unreadable. "Then you'll need to surpass yourself first."
—————————-
Months passed that way — a rhythm of steel, silence, and stars.
Every morning began with duels, every night ended in quiet meditation beneath the pale moonlight.
Mihawk learned not only to fight but to see, to feel the intent in a falling leaf, to sense Ada's approach before she even spoke. His strikes grew refined, his eyes calm and sharp.
Sometimes, when their swords rested, they would sit at the cliff's edge, watching the tides move endlessly below.
"You're different from other pirates," Mihawk said one evening. "You fight like you're chasing something invisible."
Ada's eyes stayed on the sea. "Not chasing," she murmured. "Listening. The sea has its truths… and I've spent my whole life trying to understand them."
Then, one clouded afternoon, the skies broke with the caw of wings.
CAW! CAW!
A News Coo swooped down, dropping a rolled newspaper beside the campfire. Mihawk caught it before it could blow away.
He frowned at the bold headline.
"Gol D. Roger Captured — Public Execution in Loguetown, One Week From Now."
The paper crumpled slightly in his grip. "Captured?" he muttered. "The Pirate King?"
Ada froze mid-step. For a long moment, she said nothing. Her expression didn't shift — but her knuckles turned white where she held her sword.
Then, quietly, she took the paper from his hands.
Her eyes scanned it once. The corners of her mouth lifted, not in joy, but in something that looked almost like sorrowful understanding.
"No," she said softly. "He wasn't captured."
Mihawk turned to her. "What do you mean?"
"He's sick," she said, her voice steady but trembling underneath. "He told us long ago his time was running out. Roger doesn't get caught… not unless he chooses to."
She folded the newspaper carefully, as if it were something sacred.
"This is his last voyage. He's turning himself in."
Mihawk's gaze dropped to the sand. "Then… this is the end?"
Ada shook her head. "No."
She looked out toward the open sea, where sunlight pierced through the clouds in golden shards. "For men like him, death isn't an end. It's a beginning."
She smiled faintly, almost wistfully. "The world's about to change — and Roger will be the one to set it in motion."
That night, Ada didn't sleep.
She stood at the edge of the cliffs, her cloak fluttering, her eyes fixed on the endless horizon.
The memory of Roger's laughter echoed faintly in her ears —
"Maybe fools like us are the ones who change the world."
She exhaled slowly. "You fool… you're really going to do it."
——————-
The next dawn broke with quiet resolve.
Mihawk stood at the shore, the waves brushing against his boots. "You're leaving," he said simply.
Ada nodded, fastening her sword at her hip. "There's something I need to see before it's too late."
He looked at her — no fear, just curiosity. "The execution?"
She met his gaze, her expression firm. "The end of an era… and the beginning of another."
Mihawk hesitated, then asked quietly, "Can I come?"
A faint smirk crossed Ada's face. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Her lips then curved slightly. "If you're ready to see how legends are born, then come with me."
He nodded once, decisive. "Then I'll go."
Ada smirked faintly. "Then it's decided. We set sail for the East Blue."
She looked toward the morning sky, the sun painting gold over the ruins.
"Roger has one week left," she murmured. "Let's make sure the world's ready when his story ends."
The Oro Jackson pushed off from the shore once more — its black sails billowing against the wind, the waves glinting like liquid fire beneath them.
Ada stood at the helm, Mihawk beside her, both staring ahead.
Two blades bound by fate.
One chasing mastery, the other chasing meaning.
And somewhere across the sea, a man who had conquered the world waited for his final dawn.