The air split open like a wound.
Marya arrived with the force of a thunderclap, the ground beneath her feet buckling and cracking as she slammed to a halt. Dust and debris erupted around her in a violent plume, and the shockwave rippled outward, flattening the tall grass for a hundred feet in every direction. The sound of her arrival echoed across the plains, a rolling boom that sent birds scattering from the trees and buffalo stampeding in the distance.
She stood twenty feet in front of Dracule Micah Aliter, her chest heaving, her raven hair wild from the wind. Her leather jacket with the Heart Pirates insignia was streaked with dust, and her golden, ringed eyes—Mihawk's eyes—locked onto her brother with an intensity that could cut steel.
"Found you," Marya said, her voice carrying a note of breathless satisfaction. The corner of her mouth quirked upward in that familiar, infuriating smirk.
Micah blinked. His yellow eyes, so like her own, went wide with shock and disbelief. His chest expanded and collapsed in a series of ragged breaths as he attempted to process what he was seeing. His hand, the one that had been making that slow, rhythmic sawing motion, fell still at his side. The Phantom Bowing Hand stopped for the first time in years.
He did not speak. He could not.
---
The God's Knights felt the shift in the air before they saw the source. Bovee Rin Ethanbaron, Marcella Vio Marcus, and Hao Silvera Shepherd stopped in their tracks, their bodies turning toward the disturbance. Darcy Rue's head snapped around, her silver eyes narrowing at the figure standing opposite Micah.
Marcella's amber eyes widened, her voice carrying a note of genuine curiosity. "Who is that?"
Darcy Rue's jaw flexed, her teeth grinding together. Her voice came out as a low, guttural growl. "How is she here?"
---
Artie Grimly scrambled to keep his massive, feathered tricorn hat from blowing off his head. His plum-colored velvet tailcoat billowed behind him like a banner, and his gold-plated den den mushi megaphone was clutched in one trembling hand. His wide, manic eyes fixed on the two figures standing in the center of the clearing.
His jaw dropped.
Then he burst into motion, his voice rising to a fever pitch. "GET THIS! GET THIS!" he screeched, his words tumbling out in a manic rush. He spun to face his camera crew, who were stumbling to their feet after being knocked down by the shockwave. "THIS IS PEAK DRAMA! I SENSE A PLOT TWIST! DON'T MISS THIS! I CAN FEEL THE TENSION! THE EMOTION IS... IS... EXPLOSIVE!"
The camera crew scrambled to recover, their equipment clattering against the stone. Lenses adjusted, dials turned, and the faint hum of recording equipment filled the air. They moved with the frantic energy of professionals who had learned that Artie's whims were not to be questioned.
"Get the wide shot!" Artie shouted, his voice echoing across the plains. "I want to capture every moment of this! The lighting! The drama! The tension!"
---
Garrett Hasapis broke the silence.
His voice cut through the air like a blade, cold and flat. "It is you."
He pointed Stinger at Marya, the dark steel gleaming. The dry, clicking sound of chitinous legs scraped against the blade's steel form, a constant reminder of the blade's sentient nature.
Marya's brow furrowed. She tilted her head, her golden eyes studying Garrett with a curious expression. "Have we met?"
Garrett's jaw flexed, his teeth grinding together. His voice came out as a low growl. "Ohara."
Marya's eyes drifted upward, her hands moving to her hips as she attempted to recall. Her lips moved soundlessly, forming the word. "Ohara..."
Then it came to her. Her face lit up with recognition, and she pounded a fist into an open palm with a sharp crack.
"Oh right!" she said, her voice carrying a note of genuine realization. "We were—"
She did not finish the sentence.
Darcy Rue charged full force from the sky, her executioner's sword sweeping toward Marya's head with murderous intent. The air screamed with the force of her descent, her silver eyes blazing with fury.
Marya moved with the fluid grace of a predator, Nisshoku appearing in her hand in a flash of dark steel. She blocked Darcy's attack with a sharp clang, the impact sending sparks flying in all directions. Marya's heels dug into the ground, carving furrows in the earth as she absorbed the force of the blow.
Marya narrowed her eyes, her voice carrying a note of dry amusement. "You were too, right?"
Darcy Rue screamed in frustration, her voice a raw, guttural sound that echoed across the plains. She pressed her attack, her blade raining down blows that Marya blocked with casual ease.
---
Micah turned to Garrett Hasapis, his voice carrying a note of shock and disbelief. "You have fought her before."
Garrett nodded, his expression grim. "Yes."
Bovee Rin Ethanbaron, Marcella Vio Marcus, and Hao Silvera Shepherd landed next to Micah, their bodies tense, their eyes fixed on the battle unfolding before them.
Bovee's voice carried a note of quiet intensity. "Who is she?"
Hao's warm brown eyes studied the fight with analytical curiosity. "She is holding her own against Darcy Rue. That is not an easy feat."
Marcella's amber eyes widened, her voice carrying a note of genuine surprise. "No, she is toying with her. Look at her footwork. She is not even trying."
The three of them turned to Micah, their expressions demanding an explanation. Micah's yellow eyes remained fixed on Marya, his jaw tight, his muscles coiled.
"She is my sister," he said, his voice carrying a note of quiet resignation.
Bovee, Marcella, and Hao gasped in unison. Hao's voice carried a note of disbelief. "Sister?"
Micah nodded, taking a step forward. "Yes."
The three of them exchanged confused and concerned expressions. Marcella's voice carried a note of quiet wonder. "Your sister... is that the one who...?"
"Yes," Micah cut her off, his voice flat. "That is her."
---
High above the battlefield, Aya and Yuma felt the shift in the atmosphere before they saw the source. Yuma stopped in mid-air, his golden hide shimmering in the afternoon light. As he pivoted to survey the canyon below, the midday glare splintered against the sharp, lyrate crown of his antlers.
Aya leaned forward, her fingers gripping his fur. "What is that?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of confusion.
Yuma shook his head, his dark eyes fixed on the scene below. "I don't know. I think it is a person." He glanced back at Aya, his voice carrying a note of quiet intensity. "Do you feel it?"
Aya nodded, the wind pulling at the stray strands of her dark hair. "Whoever they are, they are powerful."
Yuma's voice carried a note of grim acknowledgment. "Yes, but are they friend or foe?"
Aya leaned in, with a note of quiet hope. "Right now, we appear to have the same enemy."
Yuma nodded, his muscles tensing beneath his golden fur. Without another word, he charged forward, his hooves finding purchase on the empty air as he raced toward the clearing below.
---
Marya was starting to get bored.
Their eyes locked, and Marya's voice carried a note of dry amusement. "Thanks for the warm up," she said, her voice flat. "But you don't interest me."
With a single, final swing, she sent Darcy Rue flying backwards through the air. Darcy flailed for a moment, her arms windmilling, before she righted herself and landed on her feet. She skidded to a halt next to Garrett, her teeth gritted in frustration.
She was about to charge in when Garrett put his hand up to stop her. With a voice note of cold command. "Wait."
Marya locked eyes with Micah again. Micah's gaze fell to Nisshoku, the obsidian blade with glowing runes. He recognized that blade and jolt of intense, heated emotion surged up his spine.
Garrett's voice cut through the air. "Why are you here?"
Marya's eyes cut to Garrett for a brief moment, then back to Micah. In a single, unnoticed movement, she appeared directly in front of Micah.
Bovee, Marcella, and Hao took a terrified step back. In a voice breathless wonder Marcella swallowed. "She is... she just..."
Bovee's interjected in quiet understanding. "She is like him."
Micah's jaw flexed, his muscles tensing at the display of speed. He glared at Marya, his yellow eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and confusion.
Marya's lips began to quirk upward in that familiar, infuriating smirk. "I am here for you, brother." Her voice carried a note of genuine warmth. "Will you—"
Micah did not let her finish.
He raised Kogoroshi, the straight-edged claymore, in a sweeping, slicing blow, the dark steel cutting through the air with deadly intent. Marya's Nisshoku met his blade with a sharp clang, the impact sending sparks flying in all directions.
Their eyes locked, and Marya's smirk widened. "Is that any way to greet your big sister, little brother?"
Micah's voice carried a note of cold fury. "You are not my sister. You are a ghost from a past I buried long ago."
He launched into an onslaught of swings, his blade a blur of motion. Marya blocked each blow with casual ease, her movements fluid and unhurried.
"You're angry, I see," she said, her voice carrying a note of dry amusement. "You always did have a temper."
Micah's replied in cold fury. "He abandoned me. Left me behind and took you. It was always about you."
Marya's expression shifted, a flicker of something—pain, perhaps, or regret—passing across her features. "He did not abandon you!"
"Liar," Micah hissed, his blade pressing against hers.
---
Sparks flew as their blades clashed, the sound of steel against steel echoing across the plains.
Artie Grimly squealed in the distance, his voice rising to an operatic pitch. "This is a masterpiece! The drama! The tension! The turmoil! Get it all! We have to get it all!"
---
Yuma and Aya were closing in when the flash came.
A blinding, white-hot light erupted from the center of the clearing, engulfing everything in its path. Yuma, Aya, Marya, Darcy Rue, Garrett Hasapis, Dracule Micah Aliter, Bovee Rin Ethanbaron, Marcella Vio Marcus, and Hao Silvera Shepherd vanished in an instant.
The light faded as quickly as it had come, leaving behind nothing but an empty clearing and the echoing silence of a battlefield abandoned.
---
Artie Grimly froze when he realized they were gone.
His head swiveled, his manic eyes scanning the empty clearing. He looked up at the sky, down at the ground, behind the trees. He called out to them in desperate confusion.
"Hello? Where did you go?"
He scrambled to a cluster of rocks, peering behind them. He lifted a fallen branch, looking underneath. He circled a tree, his hand pressed to his forehead in theatrical anguish.
Finally, he stopped. His balled fists planted on his cocked hips in petulant frustration. "Where did they go?"
A long, awkward silence stretched across the clearing. His camera crew exchanged confused glances, their equipment still whirring.
Artie threw his hands into the air, his voice rising to an operatic screech. "My masterpiece! A dramatic plot twist with no resolution!" He placed a hand on his head, his expression one of pure theatrical despair. "This is a catastrophe!"
One of the camera men stepped forward in hesitant confusion. "What do you want to do, boss?"
Artie thrust a dramatic arm out in renewed determination. "Back to the beginning! Maybe the Navy has something to offer!"
He spun on his heel, his plum-colored velvet tailcoat billowing behind him, and marched toward the distant encampment. His camera crew scrambled to follow, their equipment clattering as they hurried to keep up.
"CHOP! CHOP!" Artie's voice echoed across the plains, a sound that set teeth on edge. "We have a new scene to capture!"
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