Grand Line · Baltigo, the White Earth
Dragon sat slumped on a bench outside the field hospital, snail phone dangling from one limp hand.
Behind him, Emporio Ivankov was fighting a losing war against biology itself.
Every time sunlight hit the wounded soldiers, rainbow-colored lesions bloomed across their skin like toxic flowers. Grown men whimpered like children.
"That's the whole story," Dragon said, teeth clenched so hard the snail squeaked. "Word on the underworld wire is you're the best medic alive. I wouldn't ask if there was any other way."
"Send me coordinates. I'm already moving."
Aboard Leviathan, Sakura killed the call without a second thought.
The Revolutionary Army had dropped everything to help her free slaves.
Turnaround is fair play.
"Meet us at the Kamabakka Kingdom—pink sand, peach trees, the works!"
"Roger that. Hold tight."
Click.
The chart drawer rolled open on its own. Cabin lights flicked on. Compass, ruler, and parallel plotter floated out of their box and lined up beside her elbow like obedient pets.
"Thanks, girl."
Sakura high-fived the air. Leviathan's little pink raincoat sleeve waved back.
She spread the Grand Line chart, pen flying.
Shortest route from the North Blue to the Kamabakka Kingdom? Straight over the Calm Belt—through the Sea King nesting grounds.
"Hey, big girl, you cool with a Sea King mosh pit?"
Sakura leaned back until her head bonked the ceiling.
A sleepy voice drifted down from the overhead beam.
"Leave~it~to~me~!"
Sails dropped. Deep-sea currents surged under the hull.
Leviathan turned into a torpedo and vanished beneath the waves.
One week later—Peach sand, peach sky, peach everything.
A lone figure sat on the beach, golden hair dancing in the breeze.
He turned—stubble, square jaw, winked with the wrong eye.
A mile out, thunder cracked in a clear sky.
A Sea King the size of a battleship cartwheeled through the air, belly-flopped, and didn't get back up.
A pink-haired girl stood on the prow of a tiny speedboat, fists pumping.
"LAND HO, BABY!"
She snagged a long coat from nowhere, threw it on, and reached for the storage scroll.
"Sa~ku~ra~chan, no scroll, ple~ase. It's dark and lonely in there!"
Two tiny arms hugged her waist from behind.
A miniature girl in a pink raincoat pouted up at her.
"Whoops—sorry, forgot you're a real girl now."
Sakura ruffled the ship-spirit's hood. "Stay outside, then. Guard the—"
Idea spark.
"Wait. Can you EAT a Devil Fruit?"
She produced the purple swirl-melon Doflamingo had tossed her weeks ago.
"Dunno~ But if it means more adventures with Sakura-chan, I'll try!"
CHOMP.
Leviathan stuck out her tongue. "Blecch. Tastes like old socks."
"Anything happening?"
Leviathan spread her arms.
The speedboat glowed.
Black coating ballooned around the hull.
Wings—twenty meters each—unfolded like theater curtains.
Obsidian feathers sprouted.
A razor beak speared forward.
One golden slit-pupil eye squeezed out of the anchor port.
The mast split into yellow-scaled talons.
With one flap that blotted out the sun, the boat-bird launched skyward.
"THE SHIP TURNED INTO A GIANT BIRD!!!"
Every queendom resident's jaw hit the sand.
"SO COOL!!!"
Inside the bird, Sakura whooped, looking through Leviathan's eyes—pink beaches, candy-colored palaces, the whole island in 4K.
"Perfect! Now we can fly anywhere!"
A beak opened and politely spat Sakura onto the beach.
"?????????"
She rolled, sat up, and stared.
"S-sorry~!"
A wingtip scratched the bird's head in embarrassment.
"Details later—tell me the fruit!"
Sakura dove into the fluffy chest feathers.
"Bird-Bird Fruit, Mythical Zoan, Night Sparrow Form!"
"It lets me—"
"LEVI I CAN'T SEE!"
"Oops. My feathers carry darkness."
Peck—darkness lifted.
The giant bird shrank, flapped once, and landed on Sakura's shoulder as a dinner-plate-sized sparrow.
Right on cue—footsteps.
Monkey D. Dragon strode up, dragging a seven-foot glitter bomb in red spandex and fishnets.
"Sakura—thank you for coming."
"Friends don't let friends' soldiers melt. Let's move."
Dragon gripped her hand, eyes shining with relief.
A voice like a disco ball exploded behind him.
"SO YOU'RE the infamous Ohara Witch, Slave Liberator, Lead-Disease Slayer—Haruno Sakura?! HEE-HAW!"
Ivankov spun in on one high heel, palm out.
Sakura matched the grip. "And YOU'RE the legendary Newkama King, Miracle Worker, Country-Reviver—Emporio Ivankov?!"
Ivankov head-slammed the sand in joy. "A celebrity knows my name?! I'm so touched I could—PSYCHE! Still not crying! HEE-HAW!"
Sakura laughed, then went dead serious.
"One question."
"Shoot, darling!"
"Can you turn me into a dude?"
Dragon and Ivankov both bluescreened.
Ivankov recovered first. "Technically? Sure. Permanently? Nope."
"Why not?"
"My Horu-Horu hormones can flip anyone… unless they're packed with high-grade Haki. Your Conqueror's alone would purge my juice in ten seconds flat."
He glanced sideways at a phantom gold hook glinting in his memory.
"Unless you ditch the Haki forever, Sakura-boy?"
"NEVER."
A ripple of Conqueror's rolled out; thunder answered overhead.
"See? Told ya—no can do."
Sakura deflated. "Dang it."
Dragon stepped between them, worry lines deep. "Save the gender crisis for later. My people are dying."
Sakura saluted with two fingers. "Lead the way, Chief."
Side by side—pink witch, tattooed revolutionary, and glitter peacock—they marched toward the hospital tents.
On Sakura's shoulder, Leviathan chirped, "I'll dim the lights so the patients don't hurt~"
Night fell early over the peach kingdom.
Hope had just landed with black wings.