Galit Varuna and Jannali Bandler exchanged a look that carried the weight of a dozen unspoken questions. His emerald eyes narrowed, the corners tightening, and he pressed his lips together into a thin, skeptical line. His long neck coiled into a tight S-curve, the muscles standing out in sharp relief—a tell that only someone who had fought beside him would recognize as deep uncertainty.
Jannali shifted her weight, her golden hoop earrings swinging. Her hand rested on Gosan's collapsed form at her hip, not from threat, but from the habit of someone who had learned to keep her weapons close when surrounded by strangers. Her headscarf remained in place, covering her third eye, but her brown eyes—large and expressive—flicked from Zahi Rukun's massive frame to Captain Ataboy's watchful stance to Lieutenant Tori Miniku's exhausted but alert face.
The Papaho officers stood in a loose semicircle, their attention fixed on the transponder snail with an intensity that bordered on intrusion. Zahi Rukun's clouded left eye glowed faintly, his massive arms crossed over his chest. Captain Ataboy Shitomi Kusaba had his hand on Kuroi's hilt, a reflexive gesture, his feather boa hanging limp. Lieutenant Tori Miniku leaned against Adana's shaft, her multicolored hair still tangled from her transformation, but her eyes—those luminous, perceptive eyes—missed nothing. Lieutenant Mani Lucheres gripped Suley's haft, the massive axe's blade scraping against the stone floor. Lieutenant Cleo Grahisto stood slightly apart, Sashito's stock pressed against her shoulder, her bronze eyes scanning the cove even as her ears tracked every word.
They were listening. Every single one of them.
Galit's jaw tightened. He did not trust them. He could not afford to trust them—not with Marya's voice crackling through the transponder, not with the plan unfolding, not with the weight of everything that had happened in the past hour pressing down on his shoulders.
---
In Dr. Maven Trance's clinic, the silence had teeth.
Aurélie Nakano Takeko stood with her back to the wall, her silver hair loose, her steel-gray eyes sweeping across the room. She cataloged every face, every posture, every twitch. Eliane Anđel sat on the edge of an examination table, her white chef's jacket unbuttoned, her silver hair escaping its ponytail. Beside her, Sanza Kaplan Figarland stood with his arms crossed, his red hair still disheveled, his heavy Gallagher eyebrows drawn down in a scowl. Jelly "Giggles" Squish bounced in place, his translucent blue body wobbling, his permanent toothy grin somehow holding despite the tension.
Ciel Nguyen crouched near the window, his soccer ball tucked under his arm, his dark brown eyes wide and alert. Vie Briehanoi wrung her hands, her charm bracelet clinking, her face pale. Amaru Valentine leaned against the doorframe, his long neck extended, one hand resting on the grip of Left Kiss. Captain Umeko Ozias stood in the center of the room, his plum-colored hair glistening disheveled his dark horns casting shadows on the wall behind him. Akako Zinnia perched on a stool, her red pigtails drooping, her massive mallet Heartbreaker leaning against her leg. Ozul Crow sat cross-legged on the floor, Aetherius across his lap, his iridescent black skin shimmering in the dim lamplight.
Dr. Maven Trance stood behind his examination table, his white coat wrinkled, his wire-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose. He did not push them up. He stared at the transponder snail in Aurélie's hand as if it had grown a second head.
Everyone listened. Everyone waited.
Aurélie's expression hardened. Her jaw set. Her eyes narrowed. Something shifted behind her face—a decision, cold and final, like a blade being drawn from its sheath.
Maven broke first. "You can't be serious!" His gravelly voice cracked across the room, sharp as a scalpel. "That is—"
Aurélie did not look at him. She raised the transponder snail to her lips and spoke over him, her voice cutting through his objection like a sword through silk. "What is the plan?"
---
Marya Zaleska stood on the deck of the Kura-Kura Kingdom Coast Guard ship, the salt wind whipping her raven hair across her face. The ship cut through the dark water, its engines humming, its bow pointed toward the distant shore where the Navy ships waited. Behind her, Atlas Acuta leaned against the railing, his rust-red fur bristling in the breeze, his blue sapphire eyes scanning the horizon. Vesta Lavana knelt beside Ember, still fussing over the unconscious woman, her rainbow hair blazing in the dying light. Ember's mismatched eyes—one icy blue, one gold—fluttered, her neon-pink space bobs wobbling as Vesta shook her awake.
"We're almost there," Vesta chirped, her voice melodic. "Wake up! You don't want to miss this!"
Marya ignored them. She placed her hands on either side of the snails and spoke, her voice flat, measured, each word placed with care.
"I am currently on a ship en route to inform the Navy of the King's decision and declaration."
Aurélie's voice crackled through the snail's shell. "That will surely be problematic."
Marya nodded, though Aurélie could not see her. "Yes. I am expecting that."
She paused, drew a breath, and continued. "While I am supporting the King, Aurélie, Jannali, Eliane, Bō-Zak—get to the Dreadnought Thalassa and retrieve a Red Hair Pirates flag. Then fly to the main flag pole on the island at the top of the mountain and swap it out. Replace the World Government's flag."
Her voice carried no emotion. It did not need to. The words themselves were enough.
"Galit." She turned her head slightly, as if she could see him through the transponder. "Move the Dreadnought Thalassa. Position it behind the Navy ships on the dock. Submerged. Weapons armed and ready to fire."
From the other end of the line, Jannali Bandler let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell."
Aurélie's voice followed, sharp and tactical. "What is the current position of the Dreadnought Thalassa?"
Galit's voice answered, calm despite the weight of the moment. "We are still just outside the cove. We will wait for you."
Then another voice cut through—lower, rougher, carrying the weight of a man who had spent years in the shadow of a tyrant. "Do you think you can do it?"
Marya lifted one eyebrow. "And you would be?"
"Captain Umeko Ozias." His voice did not waver. "Captain of the now fallen Beast Pirates."
Marya blinked. Her golden eyes—ringed like her father's, sharp as her sword's edge—narrowed. "This does not involve you."
Umeko Ozias smirked. Even through the transponder, his amusement carried. "It will involve me if I choose for it to."
Marya's jaw tightened. "Why are you talking to me?"
A beat of silence. Then Umeko spoke again, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had spent too long drifting. "The remnants of my crew need a new flag to fly. And a new island to dry dock."
Marya's eyes narrowed further. "I am not here to recruit for the Red Hair Pirates. I have my own reasons for claiming this island."
Umeko's voice did not waver. "If I decide to align with the Red Hair Emperor, it will be my choice."
Marya sighed—a long, slow exhale that carried the weight of a woman who had run out of patience. "What is your point?"
Umeko glanced at his crew. At Amaru Valentine, who raised an eyebrow. At Akako Zinnia, who bounced on her heels with excitement. At Ozul Crow, who tilted his head as if reading a prophecy in the air.
"We help you take the island," Umeko said. "You let us stay on the island. And you put in a good word with the Red Hair Emperor."
Marya blinked. "I don't care where you stay. And I have no intention of saying anything to my—" She stopped. Corrected herself. "—to the Red Hair Emperor. That is something you will have to work out yourself. We don't—"
Aurélie's voice cut through, calm and strategic. "They have proven themselves to be competent fighters. They could be assets. We may be in need of ground reinforcements as we traverse the mountain." A pause. "Additionally, we may have a lead on the Hebi Hebi no Mi: Bhūta Kāla."
Umeko Ozias interjected, his voice sharp with interest. "The Bhūta Kāla? You are looking for it?"
Aurélie raised an eyebrow, "Yes."
Umeko's smirk returned. "We know where it is."
Marya made an audible sigh—a sound that carried across the transponder, through the cove, through the clinic, touching every ear. "Go on."
Umeko's voice was steady. "It so happens that one of our crew possesses it. Kaburo Gusaki."
Marya's jaw flexed. The black void veins on her arms pulsed with her heartbeat. "That was very forthcoming."
Umeko grinned. "That is because he was taken by the Navy."
Marya's voice dropped, cold as deep water. "Do you know where they took him?"
Umeko's grin widened. "It sounds like we have a mutual interest now. We help you with taking the island and getting Kaburo Gusaki. You put in a good word with the Red Hair Emperor."
Marya scowled. Her golden eyes flashed. "Fine."
She turned her attention back to the transponder, her voice sharp. "Aurélie, they are with you. Get that flag on the pole."
Aurélie's voice came back, steady and certain. "Understood."
"If there is nothing else," Marya said, "you know what you need to do."
Aurélie hung up. The transponder snail's shell went still.
From the cove, Galit's voice carried one last time. "Understood." Then the line went dead.
---
Jannali Bandler turned to Galit, her brown eyes wide. "Shall we—"
Zahi Rukun cut her off. His voice was low, dangerous, like the rumble of distant thunder. "The Red Hair Emperor?"
Jannali and Galit both looked up at him. He had closed the gap between them, his massive frame a silhouette in the cove entrance, his clouded eye glowing with that eerie inner fire. His hand rested on Toshito's hilt.
"You are a part of his fleet?"
Galit sighed—a long, weary exhale. "It's not that simple. Let's just say we have a connection with him and his crew."
Zahi raised one eyebrow. "And he wants the island."
Jannali and Galit exchanged a look. A long look. The kind of look that carried uncertainty, hesitation, and the weight of details too vague to trust.
Zahi rested his hand on Toshito's hilt. The leather creaked under his grip. "I cannot let another emperor take the island."
Jannali snapped, her accent thickening with frustration. "Bloody hell, look around!" She gestured at the cove, at the churning water, at the debris from the Tetramorph's destruction. "This place is crawling with Navy! What are you going to do? Try and take the island—"
Zahi cut her off. His voice was flat, final. "From you." He nodded, once. "Yes. We can handle the Navy. But if you think I will let you take the island—especially now that you know its secret—"
Galit stepped forward, his long neck coiling into a defensive S-curve. His voice was tense, measured. "If Marya has the support of the Kingdom, then what do you hope to accomplish? This is what the Kingdom wants."
Zahi's eyes narrowed. "And what happens when you leave?"
Jannali threw her hands in the air. "Bloody hell! What happens if you leave?" She pointed at the cove entrance, at the open sea beyond. "Everyone knows the Red Hair Pirates' flag. No one has any idea what that flag is." She gestured at the Papaho ship, at the Mnemosyne symbol flying from its mast. "Which do you think is more of a deterrent? The flag everyone knows? Or the flag of some distant secret sovereign from a sea that no one has heard of?"
Zahi's eyes narrowed further. He shifted his weight, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the stone floor. He looked over his shoulder at his people—Captain Ataboy Shitomi Kusaba, his hand still on Kuroi's hilt; Lieutenant Tori Miniku, leaning against Adana, her eyes tracking the conversation; Lieutenant Mani Lucheres, Suley's blade reflecting the dim light; Lieutenant Cleo Grahisto, her bronze eyes fixed on Zahi's back, waiting for the order.
The silence stretched. The water lapped against the stone. The Tetramorph's crumbling wax body sank deeper into the cove.
After a long moment, Zahi Rukun spoke. His voice was calm, controlled, carrying the weight of a decision made.
"Lieutenant Tori Miniku." He turned to face her. "Take to the sky. Find this vessel."
Tori nodded, pushing herself off Adana's shaft. Her wings unfurled—not the massive rainbow wings of her full transformation, but the smaller, practical wings of her hybrid form. She beat them once, twice, and lifted off the ground, her multicolored hair streaming behind her.
"The rest of you," Zahi continued, turning back to face the cove entrance, "let's go. I am going to have a talk with the King. I will find out for myself."
He strode toward the ship, his massive frame moving with the coiled grace of a predator. Captain Ataboy Shitomi Kusaba fell into step behind him, his feather boa bouncing. Lieutenant Mani Lucheres followed, Suley scraping against the stone. Lieutenant Cleo Grahisto brought up the rear, Sashito's stock pressed against her shoulder, her bronze eyes scanning the water.
Tori Miniku rose into the air, her wings beating steadily, and disappeared over the cove's rim.
Jannali watched them go. She let out a long breath and shook her head, her afro bouncing. "Well." She turned to Galit. "That will be a fun meeting."
Galit nodded, his emerald eyes still fixed on Zahi's retreating form. "Yeah." He turned toward the tunnel entrance. "Let's go."
Jannali fell into step beside him, her hand resting on Gosan's hilt. "Fair dinkum."
They walked toward the Dreadnought Thalassa, the water lapping at the stone, the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down on their shoulders.
Behind them, the cove grew still. The Tetramorph's wax body dissolved into the water. And somewhere above the clouds, Tori Miniku flew toward the Navy ships, her wings beating a steady rhythm against the darkening sky.
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