By June 1505 ASC, two years had passed since the chaos of God Valley. Isla Solida, their refuge and training ground, was no longer enough. Argento and Veyra stood on the familiar shore, the surf rolling in softly as sunlight caught the silver shimmer tracing Argento's hands.
"It's time, Geheheh," Argento said, voice steady but alive with excitement. His gaze stretched to the endless horizon. "We've trained, survived, and grown… now we take the seas. West Blue awaits!"
Veyra grinned, fists clenched. "Aye aye, Captain! Full speed ahead!"
Argento threw back his head with a laugh, his metallic fingers catching the sun. "Geheheh! Vice-Captain, we'll explore the world together! GEHEHEH!"
There was a pause.
"…Captain," Veyra said dryly, tilting her head, "…shouldn't we… y'know… get a ship first?"
Argento froze mid-pose. The dramatic wind seemed to die as realization sank in. "…Geheheh… ah. Right. A ship."
Veyra crossed her arms, fighting back a smirk. "Kinda hard to sail the seas without one."
"Details, details!" Argento said, scratching the back of his head. "Geheheh! We'll just… build one!"
Veyra's practical glare could have cut steel. "Brother Arg… or we could just… steal one. There are Marines here, sure, but… we take a ship, repaint it, fix it, and we're gone before anyone notices."
Argento blinked, imagining them with sails full, laughing as Isla Solida shrank behind them. Tempting—but the thought of dragging the villagers into trouble pulled him back. He looked toward the harbor: the faint crest of the Shishano Kingdom on a distant flag, figures moving with mundane purpose. The woman who'd fed them months ago.
"…We could," he said slowly, testing the word, "but there are Marines here. And…" His chest tightened at the memory of Celestia's final stand, "…we can't bring trouble to the village. If anyone suspects us, the wrong people will pay. We can't risk that."
Veyra's grin sharpened, defiant. "So we don't steal at all? Just wait for some captain to hand us a ship? Come on, Arg, we're not kids anymore."
Argento forced a laugh, but it faltered. "No… we're not. But stealing a naval cutter under Kingdom watch is exactly the kind of plan that ends in chains."
Veyra's eyes glittered with mischief and danger. "Okay, okay. Not a cutter. What about a small fishing sloop? Abandoned ones exist. Quiet. Easy to slip out at night. We repaint, fix the hull, and sail before dawn. No one needs to know."
"Hold on," Argento said, raising a hand. "Rules. If anyone's on watch, we don't touch it. If villagers will be harmed, we don't take it. We leave no blood. Only what we need."
Veyra's grin turned knife-sharp. She jabbed a finger at him. "Brother… we're pirates, right? Who cares if a few old farts die? This place is a World Government island anyway. Cicicicici."
The words hung in the salty air. For a heartbeat, Argento's laughter died; the ocean seemed to hold its breath.
He looked at her, really looked. The stubborn set of her jaw, the fire in her eyes—half dare, half steel. She was everything he had trained her to be, and the thought made his chest tighten.
"Veyra," he said, voice low, captain's authority threading through each word, "we are pirates. But we're not monsters. We don't kill for a boat. We don't drag this village into the kind of blood we ran from."
His shadow fell over her, silver shimmer dimming to a steely glint. "We've learned something… not just how to strike and run, but to be something else. If we break our line now, steal a cutter, slaughter anyone who stands in the way… who pays later? The woman who gave us bread. The children who played at the well. We aren't pirates for blood. We're pirates to be free. Nothing more."
Veyra's bravado faltered. Her grin thinned, replaced by thoughtfulness. "You… you sound like Mom," she whispered.
The black sheen curling along Argento's arms eased back into silver. He crouched, softening. "We'll take a ship," he said, measured, deliberate. "Abandoned, useless to them. No blood, no trace. For the village… for us. Only what we need."
The laugh that followed was low, deep, edged with hunger and steel. Argento's grin widened to a near-snarl, silver glowing faintly along his fingers. "CP0… slave auctions… the World Government… the Celestial Dragons," he whispered. "All of them. They sit fat on other people's suffering. We take from them. We take everything."
Veyra's breath caught. The fierce spark in her eyes mingled with awe and fear. "We… we can do that?"
Argento straightened, resolve radiating from him like sunlight on steel. "We will," he said quietly. "Not for thrill… for every broken thing they left behind. For Mom. For everyone treated like a prize to be tossed aside."
Then, as if the tension had been cut with sunlight, they both broke. Laughter spilled over the shore, sharp, bright, and wild. Veyra shoved him, Argento barked a deep laugh, and for a heartbeat, vengeance felt like a promise, not a burden.
"Brother, CiCiCiCiCiC! We'll be rich!!!" Veyra cried, glee sparking in her voice.
"Vice-Captain, GEHEHEHEH! It'll all be ours! GEHEHEHEH!" Argento roared, silver hands flashing in the dying light.