-Real World-
Sabo had recovered his memories months ago—far earlier than the original timeline where he'd remained amnesiac until Ace's death at Marineford shocked him back to awareness. The Sky Screen's constant broadcasts about the Straw Hat Pirates had accomplished what trauma couldn't, gradually chipping away at the mental blocks until everything came flooding back.
Luffy. Ace. The three sake cups shared under that tree. The promise to set sail together. The noble brat who'd been "killed" by his own family, only to be rescued by Monkey D. Dragon and given a second life.
He remembered everything now.
"No wonder Dragon's been making so many trips to the Goa Kingdom in the past," Sabo muttered, removing his trademark top hat and running fingers through his blonde hair. "Every time I asked him about it, he'd deflect with vague answers. There's been a huge misunderstanding this whole time."
The woman sitting across from him—his childhood friend and current colleague in the Revolutionary Army—did not show sympathy for his revelation. Instead, Koala reached out with both hands, grabbed Sabo's cheeks, and pulled in opposite directions with vindictive enthusiasm.
"Don't. Change. The. Subject!" she punctuated each word with another tug, physically distorting his face into something resembling a cartoon character. "Nico Robin—that beautiful, sophisticated woman—calls you 'little master' on the Sky Screen! And you two seem awfully close five years from now! EXPLAIN!"
"Ith noth whath ith lookth like!" Sabo tried to speak through stretched cheeks, his words emerging as unintelligible mush. "Koala, pleath—"
"I don't want to hear your excuses!" Koala's face had flushed red—not from exertion but from the complicated mix of jealousy, insecurity, and righteous anger that only a woman in love could generate. "Using 'future crimes' to judge 'present innocence' is completely fair when it comes to potential cheating!"
Sabo could only endure the torture, his face being kneaded like dough while other Revolutionary Army members wisely made themselves scarce. This domestic dispute was legendary throughout the organization—everyone knew Sabo and Koala were together, and everyone knew better than to get involved when Koala's jealousy flared.
Everyone except Monkey D. Dragon, apparently.
The Revolutionary Army's supreme commander lurked just outside the room, periodically peeking through the door crack like a nervous teenager rather than a man who'd toppled multiple kingdoms. Sweat beaded on his tattooed face—not from physical exertion but from pure anxiety.
This is worse than that time we lost three bases simultaneously, Dragon thought, wiping his forehead. Route disputes. Internal division. The Devil's Child five years from now implied the Revolutionary Army splits into factions. How do I prevent that?
The Sky Screen had revealed uncomfortable truths about the Revolutionary Army's future—specifically, that ideological differences between Dragon and Sabo would eventually fracture the organization from within. Not through external pressure or Marine aggression, but through internal philosophical conflict.
The left wing infinitely subdividing until they're expelling each other, Dragon thought with bitter recognition. Nothing new under the sun. Just history repeating itself in a new context.
The fundamental problem was simple: Dragon was conservative. Sabo was radical.
Dragon believed in careful planning—only launching operations when success was virtually guaranteed, maintaining deep cover agents for years before activation, choosing battles based on statistical probability rather than ideological purity. His approach minimized casualties and maximized efficiency, but it was slow. Painfully, frustratingly slow.
Sabo, by contrast, wanted to act now. Launch simultaneous grassroots revolutions in ten countries at once. Accept that eight might fail catastrophically if it meant two succeeded. Embrace risk as the price of rapid change rather than treating caution as wisdom.
"Better to do something than nothing" versus "better to do one thing right than ten things poorly." The eternal revolutionary debate.
And I can't even say he's entirely wrong, Dragon admitted privately. My caution has cost us opportunities. Commanders captured while I hesitated. Allies dying while I calculated odds. Maybe bold action would have saved them.
Commander Ginny—captured by Celestial Dragons, forced to bear a child, the Revolutionary Army unit accompanying her completely wiped out. Dragon had sweated in his headquarters, running probability calculations, and ultimately decided rescue was too risky. Bartholomew Kuma had been left to shoulder that burden alone.
Ivankov and Inazuma—imprisoned in Impel Down for years. Dragon had told people it was intentional, a deep cover operation. But the truth was simpler and more humiliating: he'd been unable to mount a rescue without unacceptable casualties.
And Kuma. Sweet, loyal Bartholomew Kuma who'd joined the Shichibukai at Dragon's request, who'd been transformed into an emotionless cyborg by Vegapunk, who'd sacrificed his very humanity for the cause. Dragon had introduced them, facilitated the connection, then stood back and watched it happen.
I thought Vegapunk would help us, Dragon remembered with shame. Old friends, shared ideals, surely he'd see reason. But he never cared about our revolution. The Marines' funding was too valuable. I was a fool for hoping otherwise.
Kuma hadn't even quit the Revolutionary Army for ideological reasons—just to save his adopted daughter Bonney's life through a deal with the World Government. All of Dragon's careful manipulation, all his strategic positioning, meant nothing in the face of a father's love for his child.
They called me a genius, Dragon thought bitterly. Said I was playing one step ahead from my enemies. But I was never that.
His power—the Kaze Kaze no Mi (Wind-Wind Fruit), a Logia that granted control over atmospheric currents—was formidable. But lately, Dragon wondered if he'd actually eaten the Shinrai Shinrai no Mi (Trust-Trust Fruit), a hypothetical Paramecia that granted the ability to blindly trust others beyond all reason.
Trust Vegapunk to help. Trust that Kuma's sacrifice will be worth it. Trust that slow, methodical progress is better than bold action. Trust that my decisions are wise rather than merely cautious.
He'd failed to save Ginny. Failed to rescue Ivankov. Failed to protect Kuma. But when his own son Luffy had been in danger at Loguetown, Dragon had personally intervened without hesitation—breaking his own rule about avoiding direct confrontation to save his boy.
The double standard was glaring. Other people's family members could be sacrificed for the greater good, but his own son warranted immediate, reckless action.
Sabo's right to question my leadership, Dragon concluded. Even if his methods are too extreme, at least he's willing to act. That's more than I can say for myself lately.
He took one final look through the door crack—Sabo's face still being enthusiastically mangled by Koala, the young couple's relationship drama playing out with innocent obliviousness to the organizational crisis looming in their future—and made his decision.
"Leave everything to the wind," Dragon murmured, stepping away from the door. "That's all I've ever done. All I've ever been good at. The wind blows where it will, and I follow. Perhaps it's time to stop pretending otherwise."
-Broadcast-
Robin and Sanji approached the unconscious giant deer carefully, their footsteps crunching through snow that shouldn't exist in an underground chamber. Monet's Yuki Yuki no Mi (Snow-Snow Fruit) had transformed the battlefield into a frozen wasteland—ice coating every surface, temperature hovering below freezing, and their ship's doctor lying at the center of it all.
"Chopper..." Robin's voice carried maternal concern as she knelt beside the enormous reindeer form. Her hands reached out to touch his fur, finding it frozen stiff—individual hairs coated in ice crystals that made him look like a sculpture rather than a living being. "You worked so hard. I've dealt with the woman who hurt you. Our battle is over now."
The giant deer stirred at the sound of his name, consciousness returning gradually. His eyelids—each one the size of dinner plates in this form—lifted with visible effort. When his gaze focused enough to recognize Robin, and then Sanji standing behind her, relief flooded his features.
"Sanji-kun came... to help..." Chopper's voice rumbled like distant thunder, his enlarged vocal cords making even whispers sound dramatic. "I'm so useless... couldn't hold on when it mattered... I wish I was stronger... stronger..."
Tears formed in his enormous eyes—each droplet the size of a fist, rolling down his furred cheeks to freeze before hitting the ground. The sight was heartbreaking despite his monstrous size, a child's anguish trapped in a giant's body.
Robin couldn't bear seeing him cry. She reached up to wipe the tears away, her comparatively tiny hands managing to clear the liquid before it froze solid. "Chopper, don't blame yourself. Without your protection, I never could have defeated that man. You deserve credit for this victory. You're already amazing."
"Really?" Hope flickered in those massive eyes. "Really, Robin?"
"When have I ever lied to you?" Robin's smile carried genuine warmth despite the circumstances. A few gentle words, some reassurance from a trusted friend—that was all it took to soothe the ship's doctor's self-recrimination.
The Rumble Ball's effects chose that moment to expire completely. Chopper's massive form began shrinking rapidly—muscle mass compressing, bones retracting, fur condensing. Within seconds, the giant deer had been replaced by a tiny reindeer barely half a meter tall, his usual Brain Point form that made him look like a stuffed toy rather than a warrior.
But the injuries didn't vanish with the size change. They simply transferred to his new proportions—frost burns covering his small body, bruises darkening his fur, exhaustion making his legs wobble. He collapsed into Robin's waiting arms, unable to even stand on his own.
"He's hurt badly," Sanji observed, his expression shifting from relieved to concerned. "Where's his medical kit? He always carries first-aid supplies."
"It got knocked away during the fight," Robin said, cradling Chopper carefully against her chest. "Probably buried in the snow somewhere. We'd need to return to the Sunny for proper medical treatment."
The three of them relaxed slightly, tension bleeding away now that the immediate danger had passed. They'd won. Survived. Accomplished their mission despite overwhelming odds. Time to regroup, tend wounds, and—
CRACK.
The sound of ice fracturing drew their attention to a figure they'd forgotten in their moment of relief.
Baby 5 knelt in the snow perhaps twenty meters away, cradling Buffalo's corpse against her chest. Tears had frozen on her cheeks, but her eyes—those eyes burned with something beyond grief. Beyond rage. Something that transcended sanity entirely.
"Everyone's dead," Baby 5 said quietly, her voice carrying eerie calm. "Monet-nee. Buffalo. All my family—gone. Erased. Nothing left."
She looked up, meeting Robin's gaze across the distance. Her expression held no hatred. No anger. Just hollow acceptance of terrible purpose.
"If I'm going to lose everything anyway..." Baby 5's body began to glow—not the metallic sheen of her weapon transformations, but brilliant white light that seemed to emanate from her very soul. "...then let's all go to hell together."
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