The air over Wano was different.
Sharper. Older. Alive with something that felt like the whisper of history itself.
The Oro Jackson cut through the mists surrounding the coast, its golden figurehead gleaming faintly through the fog. As the ship emerged, cliffs rose on both sides — sheer walls of green and stone carved by centuries of isolation.
"WHOOOSH—!"
The sails snapped taut as the winds shifted, carrying the scent of sakura and steel.
Roger stood at the bow, his cloak fluttering. "So this is Wano…" he murmured. "The land the world's been shut away from."
Behind him, Oden stood proud, his eyes bright with nostalgia. "My home," he said, voice thick with pride. "After all these years… I've returned."
The Roger Pirates gazed in awe — terraced mountains, rivers winding like silver threads, and distant villages wreathed in morning mist.
Rayleigh whistled low. "Beautiful place to hide secrets."
Ada stepped beside him, eyes narrowing slightly. "Or to bury them."
The crew celebrated quietly — sake cups clinking, laughter mingling with the rhythm of the waves.
Roger stood at the helm, watching the crew. "We're close now," he said softly. "Just a few more stones… and we'll see the truth."
Ada joined him, arms folded. "Truth has a way of cutting deeper than a blade, Captain."
Roger laughed. "Then let's hope it cuts clean."
Far below deck, Toki lay in her cabin, pale and trembling. Crocus knelt beside her, checking her pulse, his face grim.
"She's burning up again," he muttered. "It's not a normal fever."
Outside, the wind howled —
WHOOOOOSH—
Ada turned toward the cabin door, her sharp gaze softening. "She's sick?"
Crocus nodded. "A sea voyage won't help. She needs rest… maybe more."
Ada lingered for a long moment, her hand resting on the doorframe. "The past always finds a way to catch up, doesn't it…" she whispered.
—————-
Later — Wano's Hidden Valley, Near Kuri
Deep within a sacred cave, light flickered across a massive crimson stone.
The Red Poneglyph loomed before them — ancient letters carved into its flawless surface, pulsing faintly with the weight of centuries.
Oden placed his hand on the stone, his expression solemn.
Roger stood nearby, barely breathing. The crew fell silent, the echo of history surrounding them like a heartbeat.
With careful strokes, Oden began to make the rubbing — parchment pressed against the Poneglyph, charcoal tracing the grooves of an ancient language.
Every sound in the cave felt amplified:
shhhk… shhhk… shhhk — the soft drag of charcoal over sacred script.
Roger's fists clenched at his sides. "Another piece of the puzzle…" he whispered. "Just two more, and we'll find it — the last island."
Oden smiled faintly. "You and your impossible dreams, Roger."
Roger grinned, voice echoing through the stone chamber. "You say 'impossible,' I hear 'inevitable!'"
Ada leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching quietly as Oden finished the rubbing. The faint torchlight glinted in her eyes — curiosity mixed with something sharper.
Outside, Toki waited with Momonosuke and Hiyori, the children chasing fireflies beneath the fading dusk.
Oden approached them, folding the rubbing carefully into a satchel.
"Toki," he said softly, "it's time."
Her smile faltered. "You're leaving again."
Oden knelt, taking her hands. "Only for a while. I have to see this journey through — to the end."
He looked at his children, voice firm but kind.
"You'll stay here. Wano needs you more than the sea does."
Momonosuke frowned, his voice small. "But Father, I want to go too—!"
Oden placed a hand on his son's head, smiling proudly. "One day, you'll see what I've seen. But not yet."
Toki's gaze lingered on him. "You sound like you already know where this path leads."
Oden looked toward the sea, where the Oro Jackson waited. "Maybe I do. But it's worth walking anyway."
As Oden rejoined the crew, Ada stayed behind a moment, watching Toki hold her children. The light in the woman's eyes reminded her of something — a strength that wasn't forged by battle, but by time itself.
Then Ada turned to Oden, her tone suddenly sharp. "Oden."
He blinked, confused. "Huh?"
"Do you know any master craftsmen here in Wano? The kind who can shape steel to a whisper?"
Oden grinned. "You're in the right country for it! Why?"
Ada reached into her satchel and pulled out a rolled parchment covered in dense sketches, complex symbols, and notes scrawled in midnight ink.
She handed it to him. "Something I've been designing for months," she said. "But I need a smith who can turn thought into iron."
Oden unrolled it — his eyes widening. "What is this…?"
The blueprint revealed a sleek, foreign weapon — long, slender, with interlocking gears and a mechanism unlike any firearm known in the world.
"It's… an automatic sniper rifle," Ada said quietly. "A weapon that fires with speed and precision — powered not by powder, but by mechanism."
Oden looked from the parchment to her face. "This is unlike anything I've ever seen. You sure the world's ready for this?"
Ada's gaze turned distant, her voice low. "The world doesn't wait for readiness. It changes… and we change with it."
They traveled deep into Kuri Village, where the forge fires burned bright under the starlit sky.
Sparks rained like falling embers as Tengu Yamabushi, the masked swordsmith, examined Ada's design.
He stroked his beard beneath the mask. "An ingenious device… but cursed in the wrong hands."
Ada smiled faintly. "Then I'll make sure it stays in mine."
The old man chuckled, then nodded. "Very well. It will take time — and the hardest steel of Wano. But I'll forge it."
Ada turned to leave, the forge light glinting in her eyes. "Good. We'll be back soon. Don't die before then."
Tengu laughed as the Roger Pirates departed into the mist once more, the sound of hammer and flame echoing long after they were gone.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
—————
A few days later, torches burned bright in the village forge. Sparks danced in the air as hammer struck steel, filling the room with ringing rhythm.
An old Wano blacksmith, skin streaked with soot and pride, knelt before Ada and presented the result of sleepless nights—the weapon she had designed by hand and entrusted to his craft.
"Lady Ada," he said, bowing low. "It is finished."
He uncovered the weapon—a sleek, silver sniper rifle, its body etched with faint inscriptions of focus and destruction. A faint hum of power thrummed through the metal as Ada ran her fingers down its frame.
Oden leaned against the doorway, watching. "So that's what you've been planning," he said with a grin. "Something even samurai couldn't imagine."
Ada smirked faintly. "A creation of precision and will."
Roger, Rayleigh, and the others gathered, murmuring in awe. "Looks dangerous," said Gaban. "Like something that could punch through the heavens."
Ada looked at the blacksmith. "You've done well. The craft of Wano truly lives up to its legend."
He bowed again, trembling slightly. "It was an honor."
—————
By dawn, the Oro Jackson drifted just off Wano's northern coast. Mist curled across the sea like ghostly threads. The air was still.
Ada stood alone on the deck.
Her new weapon gleamed under the light — the sniper she had designed and the forges of Wano had brought to life.
Sleek. Deadly. Beautiful.
The silver metal shimmered faintly with etched kanji — symbols of focus and destruction. She ran a hand along the barrel, feeling the hum of power within.
Behind her, Oden approached, arms crossed. "So that's what you were working on, huh?"
Ada didn't look back. "A masterpiece of precision."
Her voice was calm, but there was a dangerous edge in it — pride mixed with curiosity.
Oden tilted his head, watching as she knelt and positioned the weapon across the railing. "You planning to test it?"
She gave a small nod. "There's a mountain five miles out. Perfect target."
A small smirk tugged at her lips. "Watch closely."
She dropped to one knee, pressing her cheek against the stock. The rifle glowed faintly—her Devil Fruit energy pulsing through every rune etched into the barrel.
She loaded a single black bullet, its surface engraved with tiny runes — her Devil Fruit energy pulsing through the casing.
She inhaled deeply, focusing her Haki until it merged with her breath. The world around her seemed to narrow—sound fading, air thickening.
The moment her hand brushed the trigger, the air thickened — a ripple of energy spreading outward like a silent warning.
"Pierce," she whispered.
BOOOOM—!!!
The rifle roared like thunder.
A crimson flash tore through the sky, faster than light — a streak of destruction that screamed across the ocean and slammed into the side of a distant mountain.
KRRAAASH!
The impact was instant — a shockwave erupted, the mountain shattering from within as if reality itself had been pierced. The explosion bloomed like a dying star.
When the smoke cleared…
The mountain was gone.
Only fragments drifted over the horizon, dissolving into the sea.
The Roger Pirates froze mid-motion. Even Roger's laughter cut off.
"WHAT THE HELL—?!" Buggy yelled, clutching his hat as the shockwave rolled over them.
Shanks' jaw hung open, eyes wide with awe. "That… that was one shot?!"
Crocus stumbled out from below deck, his cigar falling into the sea. "Remind me never to make her angry."
Oden's expression was unreadable as he stared at the distant crater. "That wasn't just gunpowder…"
Ada stood, her long coat whipping in the wind, eyes half-lidded and calm.
"I combined my Pierce-Pierce Fruit with Haki," she said simply. "The result? Absolute penetration."
Rayleigh sighed. "And here I thought we were done breaking islands."
Roger burst out laughing again, half-terrified, half-thrilled. "BAHAHAHA! You could split the heavens with that thing!"
Ada slung the rifle over her shoulder, indifferent. "Maybe one day."
As the crew celebrated, Oden's gaze lingered on the sword at Ada's hip. Even at rest, its presence was oppressive—dark steel wrapped in faded cloth, humming with restrained hunger.
Oden's gaze drifted downward — to the sword hanging at Ada's hip.
The steel glinted darkly beneath the sun, its aura almost alive — quiet, but heavy enough that even the air seemed to bend around it.
"That blade…" Oden murmured, eyes narrowing. "I've seen many cursed swords in my life… but that one feels different."
Ada paused, hand resting lightly on the hilt. "It should. It belonged to Rocks."
Oden blinked, stepping closer. "You keep calling it his sword."
He looked at her, something wary flickering in his eyes.
"That's not just any weapon, Ada. That sword…"
He knelt, fingers brushing the scabbard without touching it, feeling the oppressive weight emanating from within. His voice dropped to a reverent whisper.
"…is one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades called Muramasa."
The deck fell silent again. Even the sea seemed to still.
Ada looked down at the blade, her reflection dancing along its black edge. "Muramasa…" she repeated softly.
Oden nodded. "They say those swords drink the will of their masters. If Rocks truly wielded this one… it must've feasted on storms."
Ada's gaze hardened, memories flickering behind her eyes — screams, steel, and the red sky of God Valley.
"Then it's fitting," she said at last. "Because I carry his storm now."
Oden's lips curved into a half-smile, half-grimace. "Just make sure it doesn't carry you first."
Ada gave a quiet, knowing smile. "I've tamed worse."
—————-
By noon, the Oro Jackson prepared to sail. Oden stood on the shore with his family—Toki resting against a cherry tree, her children waving through the blossoms. She smiled through her illness, her eyes shining like moonlight on still water.
"Take care of him," she whispered to Ada as they clasped hands. "He'll need your strength."
Ada nodded. "And you… keep your flame alive. The world still needs your light."
The sails caught wind, the ship slowly gliding away. Oden stood on the pier until they vanished into the fog.
Roger's laughter echoed across the sea. "Next stop—Zou!"
Ada stood at the bow, the wind whipping her hair, rifle glinting at her back, cursed sword at her side.
The sea stretched ahead like destiny itself.
Roger's laughter then echoed again over the waves.
"Wano behind us, the world before us! We're one step closer to the end!"
Ada closed her eyes, feeling the cold breeze.
The air was alive with promise — but also with the weight of everything to come.