Flashback
The Oro Jackson drifted silently through the night, its sails swaying with each pull of the tide.
Ada sat at the bow, her brown cloak wrapped around her shoulders, eyes fixed on the horizon. The moon painted the sea silver, and the air carried that quiet stillness that came only before a storm.
From her coat, a faint pero… pero…pero broke the silence — the soft, muffled ring of a black Den Den Mushi.
Ada's gaze lowered, her expression sharpening. She hadn't heard that particular tone in years.
She reached into her pocket and set the snail on the crate before her. Its shell was marked with the faint insignia of a coiled dragon — a symbol she had not seen since Sabaody, nearly seven years ago.
The snail's eyes opened slowly, mirroring a man's calm, commanding voice.
"It's been a long time, Ada."
For a moment, Ada said nothing. The waves brushed softly against the hull, the night breathing around her. Then she smiled faintly — a rare, genuine smile.
"Dragon."
His voice, though calm, carried something deeper beneath it — the weight of purpose, the same fire she had glimpsed in him years before.
"I wasn't sure if you'd still be using this line."
Ada leaned back slightly, eyes half-lidded.
"I don't throw things away just because the world changes."
There was a small pause. The snail blinked, echoing Dragon's silence as if he, too, were trying to find the right words.
"Word travels fast, even across the seas. You've made quite a name for yourself, Emperor."
Ada's smirk was almost teasing.
"So you've been keeping an eye on me."
"It's hard not to," Dragon replied evenly. "Your actions in Fishman Island reached us before the ink on your bounty even dried. The seas are shifting, Ada. You've seen it yourself."
Ada glanced at the horizon, her reflection flickering against the water like a shadow of the past.
"I have. The world government's losing its grip, one island at a time."
"That's why I want to see you," Dragon said, his tone lowering. "In person. There's something I need to ask you."
Ada raised an eyebrow. "You could've asked through the line."
"Not for this."
The way he said it made her sit a little straighter.
There was something in his voice — not command, but quiet urgency.
"Where?" she asked finally.
The snail's eyes narrowed — Dragon's tone calm but deliberate.
"There's an island east of Baltigo — uncharted, off any map the World Government dares to print. You'll know it when you see it. Black cliffs. Red sky at dusk."
Ada's fingers brushed the snail's shell lightly.
"And if this is a trap?"
"Then you'll kill me," Dragon said simply.
For a heartbeat, silence lingered — then Ada chuckled softly.
"Fair enough."
Dragon's voice softened — almost imperceptibly.
"It's good to hear your voice again."
Ada's eyes flicked toward the horizon, the moon now half-hidden behind drifting clouds.
"Careful, Dragon. You almost sound sentimental."
"Only with people who make the world shake," he replied, and the line clicked dead.
Ada stared at the Den Den Mushi for a moment longer, the faint echo of his words still ringing in her mind.
Then she set the snail down, pulling her hood up as the wind caught her hair.
"Red sky at dusk, huh?"
She smiled faintly — the kind that carried both danger and memory.
"Let's see what you've become, Dragon."
And with that, Ada turned away from the rail, the wind brushing against her cloak. Tomorrow, she would tell her crew that she'd be leaving — just for a while.
End of Flashback
—————-
The Revolution's hidden base on Baltigo was quiet that night — too quiet for a place that plotted against the world.
Inside the dim command hall, a faint wind fluttered through parchment maps and coded messages. The air smelled of ink and steel — and tension.
At the center table stood Ivankov, eyes like half-lidded lanterns, makeup cracked slightly under the flickering light.
Beside him, Bartholomew Kuma loomed in silence, his massive frame half in shadow.
Across from them, the doors opened.
Dragon entered, coat brushing against the floor, his face unreadable — calm as the still sea before a storm.
Ivankov grinned, but the expression carried unease.
"Oi, Dragon~! You vanish for almost a month and come back lookin' like you saw a ghost! Spill it! Where'd you go?"
Dragon didn't answer immediately. He walked to the window instead, staring out at the pale glow of Baltigo's moons.
Kuma tilted his head slightly. "You met someone."
Dragon paused — just long enough for both of them to notice.
Ivankov's grin widened. "Ohhh~ someone special, hmm?"
Dragon's reply came without turning. His tone was calm, clipped. "Mind your own business, Ivankov."
Ivankov chuckled under his breath, exchanging a knowing glance with Kuma.
"Touchy, touchy~."
Ivankov chuckled. "Please, honey, when you come back smellin' like the sea and nostalgia, even a blind fish could tell somethin's up."
A pair of footsteps echoed from the hallway. Ginny entered, carrying a stack of coded reports, her eyes sharp despite the late hour. She glanced between them, her expression curious.
"Don't tell me— he actually left for her?"
Dragon finally turned. His gaze was steady, his voice low.
"Yes."
Ginny's breath caught slightly. Even Ivankov froze for a moment.
The words lingered heavy in the air. It had been only a month since the news spread.
Nyx D. Ada — The First Emperor of the Sea.
"The new Emperor?" she asked quietly. "Nyx D. Ada?"
Dragon nodded once.
Ivankov blinked, the grin fading from his face. "You mean— that woman? The one from God Valley?"
Kuma's voice, though soft, carried the weight of old memory. "She's the reason we lived that day."
Ginny set her papers down slowly. "She bought us time… stood against those monsters when no one else dared."
The room fell into silence, their shared memories painting the air — flashes of fire, screams, and a woman who faced the world itself without fear.
Ivankov then blinked, shock flickering through his painted face. "You actually went to her?! Dragon, you're either brilliant or suicidal!"
Ginny leaned forward. "And? What happened?"
Dragon exhaled slowly, his hand brushing the edge of the table. "She hasn't changed."
Ivankov leaned forward. "Meaning?"
"Still cold," Dragon murmured. "Still sharp enough to cut the world in half with her words."
He glanced down — then, almost imperceptibly, smiled.
"But also still human."
Ivankov raised a painted brow. "Human, eh?~ You don't talk about people like that unless they've gotten under your skin, darling."
Dragon didn't reply, which only made Ivankov smirk wider.
Kuma spoke again, steady as a wall. "She refused your offer?"
Dragon nodded once. "She walks her own path. Always has. But she'll cooperate… quietly."
He looked at the maps pinned to the wall — red marks of revolution spreading like veins across the world.
"She's not joining us," Dragon said softly. "But she's not against us either. She'll be… a shadow ally. For now."
Ivankov tapped his chin thoughtfully. "So, the world's first emeperor and the head of the revolutionary army are in cahoots, eh? That's one way to make history."
Kuma's gaze shifted toward the moon outside. "The Government will tremble if they ever learn of this."
Dragon's voice was calm, but the faintest smile touched his lips. "Then let them tremble."
The room fell silent for a while, the only sound the distant hum of the wind through the stone hall.
Kuma finally broke the silend, his voice heavy. "She was already a storm then. Now she commands one."
The room grew still again.
Then Ivankov smirked faintly, breaking the tension. "Well, ain't this poetic~. The woman who defied the Celestials and the man who seeks to overthrow them… sounds like destiny to me."
Dragon shot him a quiet glance. "Destiny's for dreamers."
But a ghost of a smile touched his lips as he turned back to the window.
"She's not an ally to rely on," he said softly. "But she's someone the world should fear standing against."
Ginny watched him carefully. The faint change in his tone — the distant warmth, the echo of something like memory — didn't escape her.
She didn't ask, though. She simply nodded. "Understood, Dragon."
Kuma crossed his arms, voice calm as ever. "The Government will panic if they ever suspect the truth."
Dragon's eyes gleamed faintly under the moonlight. "Then let them."
A quiet moment lingered — rare peace in the heart of rebellion.
Ivankov stretched lazily and turned to leave. "Hmph~ well, I don't know about you, but I'll drink to this. A new Emperor, a quiet alliance, and the look on the Gorosei's faces when they find out? Priceless."
Ginny smiled faintly, gathering her papers. Kuma followed, wordless but thoughtful.
When the door finally shut behind them, Dragon stood alone.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, weathered vivre card — the edges glowing faintly with life.
For a long moment, he stared at it, thumb brushing the paper's edge.
"She's still the same," he murmured. "Still walking ahead… even when the world burns behind her."
A soft smile — rare and fleeting — crossed his lips before the storm outside swallowed the sound of his voice.
———————-
The Nyx Pirates — Aboard the Oro Jackson
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the dense clouds of the Grand Line. The Oro Jackson cut through the waves like a beast reborn, its sails emblazoned with the crescent moon of Ada's flag.
The crew was gathered on deck — Mihawk, sharpening his blade with silent precision; Bullet, lifting weights carved from ship debris; Enel, sitting cross-legged on the mast, sparks dancing idly between his fingers; and Fisher Tiger, standing at the rail, watching the sea below with calm, watchful eyes.
Mihawk was the first to speak.
"She's been gone for almost a month days." His tone was flat, but his golden eyes betrayed curiosity. "Long enough to make even the sea restless."
Bullet snorted, tossing a weight over his shoulder. "Tch. Maybe she went off to sink another island. Wouldn't surprise me."
Enel's sparks crackled faintly as he frowned. "You think something happened to her?"
Fisher Tiger folded his arms. "No. That woman doesn't disappear unless she means to."
A familiar, soft thud echoed from the deck. The crew turned.
Ada stood at the top of the gangway, her cloak trailing, the ocean wind tugging strands of her hair.
Mihawk's eyes narrowed slightly. "You return without warning, and you expect us not to ask where you've been?"
Ada descended the steps, her boots tapping lightly on the wood. Her expression was calm — but something in her eyes had changed.
A quiet warmth lingered there, like a flame hidden behind glass.
Bullet crossed his arms. "So? Where'd you run off to, Captain?"
Ada paused near the helm, gazing out at the sea. For a moment, the wind drowned out everything. Then, softly.
"I met an old friend."
The crew exchanged glances.
Mihawk raised an eyebrow. "A friend? You have those?"
Ada smirked faintly. "One or two survived the years."
Enel tilted his head, sparks flickering with curiosity. "Someone strong?"
Ada's gaze softened for just a heartbeat. "Strong… and dangerous."
Fisher Tiger rumbled low in his chest. "Then you trust them."
Ada turned her eyes toward the horizon, her tone calm — but distant. "Enough."
The wind shifted, carrying the faint scent of rain.
Mihawk studied her quietly. For all his sharpness, he could read the smallest cracks in people — and he saw something in her then. A memory, maybe. Or a ghost she hadn't decided whether to chase or bury.
He sheathed Yoru with a quiet click. "Whoever he is," Mihawk said softly, "he left a mark."
Ada's lips curved in a shadow of a smile. "Maybe."
She turned back toward the sea. "But marks fade. The sea doesn't."
Bullet grinned. "Heh. Whatever it was, seems you came back stronger."
Ada's voice grew quiet — almost thoughtful. "Sometimes strength isn't in what you destroy… but in what you remember."
For a long moment, no one spoke. The waves brushed against the hull, the sails whispering above them.
Finally, Ada looked toward the sky. "We've been still too long. Set the course for whatever Island is near. There's a storm waiting — and I want to see who survives it."
Mihawk smirked, tying his coat. "As you command."
Fisher Tiger moved to the ropes, his massive hands steady.
Enel leapt from the mast in a crackle of light.
Bullet laughed, tightening his gloves. "Back to chaos, huh? My kind of day."
Ada stood at the bow, cloak fluttering, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her pistol.
Far away, on an island hidden by clouds, a man with a dragon tattoo watched the same horizon.
Two storms — one bound by justice, one by freedom — moved quietly toward each other.
And between them, something more dangerous than war began to stir.
Not vengeance.
Not power.
But understanding.