Sea Circle Calendar Year 1505
Far from Baltigo, the sea glimmered beneath the faint glow of the moon.
A small island — hidden by perpetual mist and ringed by reefs — lay silent under the stars.
Ada sat near the edge of the shore, her cloak draped over her shoulders, a faint glow of life beneath it.
Her hand rested on her stomach as she whispered to the waves, "You like the sound of the sea, don't you?"
Behind her, Dragon approached quietly. "He'll be born to it," he said softly.
She turned slightly, smiling faintly. "You came sooner than I expected."
"I had to," Dragon said. "I couldn't leave you to do this alone."
She arched an eyebrow. "You're sure your people won't notice you're gone?"
"They'll manage," he said simply, sitting beside her. "The world doesn't end if I disappear for a few months."
Ada chuckled, a low, tired sound. "That's ironic coming from you."
He glanced at her belly, then at the horizon. "How far along?"
"Six months now," she said, voice gentle. "He kicks sometimes. Strong little thing."
Dragon's expression softened — a rare warmth flickering behind his calm demeanor. "He'll need to be. The world isn't kind."
Ada tilted her head toward him. "You're the one trying to change that."
"Trying," he murmured.
The two of them sat in silence for a while, watching the stars. The air between them carried something both fragile and unspoken — the weight of shared defiance and growing tenderness.
For a while, neither spoke. Ada watched as Dragon stood by the window again, his hands clasped behind his back, his gaze on the horizon.
"He'll be strong," Dragon said finally. "He has to be."
Ada smiled faintly. "He will be. He's our son."
Ada finally spoke, her tone quieter. "Have you thought about what we'll do when he's born?"
She spoke again. "I don't want him to grow up in war. Or hate. Or the shadow of our names. The world will take care of that soon enough."
Dragon nodded slowly. "You were right before. He can't stay with either of us. Not in this world."
The silence that followed was heavier than any storm.
Dragon turned slowly to face her. "You've already decided."
"I have." Her tone was soft, but unshakable. "He can't grow up in the New World. Not around pirates, not around the revolution. He deserves a chance to choose what he'll be."
Dragon's eyes darkened. "You mean… we give him away."
Ada met his gaze — unwavering. "To someone who can protect him. Someone outside this war."
The faintest flicker of emotion crossed Dragon's face. "Garp."
Ada nodded. "You trust him, don't you?"
Dragon exhaled. "Enough."
"Then it's settled."
She leaned back again, her strength fading slightly as fatigue caught up. But her voice never wavered. "He'll grow up safe — far from here. Far from us."
"I've arranged for a ship," Ada said. "When it's time, take him to Dawn Island. Garp will take care of him."
Dragon exhaled. "My father… he'll be furious."
She smiled faintly. "He'll do what's right. He always does, no matter how loud he yells."
Dragon almost laughed, shaking his head. "That's true."
They fell silent again.
Then Ada said softly, "He'll be free, Dragon. That's all I want."
Dragon looked at her, the moonlight catching the scar on his face. "You think freedom comes easily?"
"No," she said. "But he'll have our will."
He studied her for a long moment, then whispered, "You really believe he'll change the world."
Ada turned to him, her eyes glinting. "He already has."
———————-
Months passed quietly.
Dragon stayed with her through it all — through the sleepless nights, the quiet mornings, and the rare moments of peace.
Sometimes he would wake before her and watch the sea, the faint hum of revolution stirring even in stillness. Other times, he'd catch her tracing old maps, naming islands after stars.
They spoke little about their pasts — only of what came next.
And in that silence, they found something like peace.
One night, as the storm raged outside, Ada stirred from her rest, wincing slightly.
Dragon was beside her instantly, steadying her hand. "It's time," he said quietly.
She nodded, sweat beading her brow. "It's early."
The rain howled against the wooden walls, but inside, the cabin burned bright with the firelight.
———————-
Hours passed — long, agonizing hours — until, finally, the storm broke.
A cry echoed into the night.
When Ada awoke again, Dragon was sitting near the foot of the bed, his coat draped over the back of the chair. The child rested in his arms now, sleeping peacefully.
Ada's voice was soft, almost teasing.
"Careful with him. You look like you're holding a bomb."
Dragon looked up. "He might be one."
Ada laughed quietly. "Then he takes after both of us."
Ada's breath trembled as she held the small, wrinkled form in her arms. The world seemed to still — as if the sea itself bowed to the moment.
Dragon sat beside her, silent, his usual stoicism undone.
Ada smiled faintly, exhausted but radiant. "He has your eyes."
Dragon exhaled shakily, reaching out to brush a finger across the child's tiny hand. "And your will."
They sat together in silence, staring at the miracle they'd created.
Dragon spoke again — the question that had been lingering since the birth.
"You've already chosen his name, haven't you?"
Ada hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
He studied her, calm but curious. "I want to hear it."
She looked down at the sleeping baby, her expression unreadable — equal parts strength and sorrow.
"Monkey D. Luffy."
Dragon blinked. The words hung in the air, gentle but heavy with meaning. "Monkey D…?"
He frowned slightly. "Why my name? Why not Nyx D.? You're the one the world knows. You're the one they'll fear."
Ada's gaze drifted toward the window, where the ocean stretched out in endless blue. Her voice was quiet — but firm.
"That's exactly why."
He said nothing.
She continued, her tone calm but carrying that unmistakable steel beneath it.
"The name Nyx D. carries too much weight now. The world calls me the Emperor of the Sea, the woman who defied the Marines, the monster who split the Grand Line. If he bears my name, they'll see him as a threat before he even learns to walk."
Her hand brushed over the infant's hair — soft and black like Dragon's.
"I want him to be free."
Dragon's eyes softened. "And you think my name will protect him?"
"No," Ada said simply. "But it will hide him."
She turned her gaze back to him. "You're known to the world as Dragon. Just Dragon. They whisper about the revolutionary, the traitor, the man who vanished into the storm — but few know the truth. Fewer still remember the name Monkey D."
She leaned back against the headboard, exhaling softly. "He'll be safer that way. If the world ever finds out he's my son, they'll hunt him from the moment he's born."
Dragon fell silent for a long time. The logic was undeniable — and yet something in his chest ached at the thought.
Finally, he murmured, "You're thinking like a captain again."
Ada smirked. "Old habits die hard."
———————-
Night fell once more, and the stars spilled across the sky like shattered glass.
Dragon sat by the window again, Luffy sleeping in his arms. The child's tiny hand gripped one of his fingers, refusing to let go.
Ada watched quietly, her heart aching in ways she couldn't put into words.
She had fought gods, Marines, Emperors — but this, this was harder than any of it.
Dragon looked at her. "He smiles in his sleep."
Ada chuckled softly. "Then he takes after you."
Dragon almost smiled. "Doubtful."
They sat together in silence, the soft crackle of the fire the only sound between them. Outside, the ocean whispered against the shore, the eternal rhythm of a world that neither loved nor hated — it simply was.
Finally, Ada spoke again, her tone quieter now.
"When the time comes, you'll take him to Garp."
Dragon nodded once. "You won't come?"
"No." She closed her eyes briefly. "If the Marines learn I had a child, they'll never stop hunting him. They already watch my every move. The fewer who know, the better."
Dragon studied her face — the strength beneath the exhaustion, the quiet fire still burning behind her eyes. "You've already thought this through."
"I always do."
He stepped closer to the bed, crouching beside her. For a long moment, they just looked at each other — two storms meeting at the calmest point of their lives.
"You'll see him again," Dragon said, as if to reassure them both.
Ada smiled faintly. "Maybe. When the seas are kinder."
————————
The night deepened.
The child slept soundly between them, the soft rise and fall of his chest steady as the waves. Ada's hand brushed the baby's hair one last time, lingering.
Dragon reached out and covered her hand with his. For a moment, everything else — the war, the government, the endless tides of fate — disappeared.
It was just them.
Two souls carved by storms, holding the quiet miracle they'd brought into a world not meant for peace.
"Monkey D. Luffy," Ada whispered again, almost to herself. "May the world never chain you."
Dragon's gaze softened, a rare warmth breaking through his usual calm. "He'll carry both our wills — whether he knows it or not."
Ada looked at him, her eyes shimmering in the faint light. "You should go soon."
Dragon hesitated. "And you?"
"I'll stay here for a while. Until the seas forget the sound of his cry."
He nodded slowly, his hand brushing against her cheek. For once, Ada didn't flinch.
"Take care of yourself," he said quietly.
She smiled, tired but genuine. "I always do."
Dragon hesitated, then leaned forward — and for the first time, their lips met.
It wasn't desperate or rushed. It was quiet, slow, filled with every word they didn't have time to say.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of waves and quiet breathing.
Then Ada reached toward the small chest by her bedside — the one she had kept locked since her days aboard the Rocks Pirates.
Inside lay a single object wrapped in worn black cloth.
She unwrapped it carefully.
A necklace, silver dulled with age, glinted faintly in the candlelight. Its pendant — a cross split by a jagged line — still carried the faint scratches of countless battles.
Dragon looked at it, then at her. "That necklace… you've worn it for as long as I've known you."
Ada nodded, her gaze distant. "It was given to me long ago… by my first captain."
She paused — the name carried too much weight, too many ghosts.
"Rocks D. Xebec," she finally said. "He told me it was a symbol of ambition — that whoever bore it should never kneel to the world, even if the sea itself tried to drown them."
Dragon's expression darkened slightly. "And you kept it all this time."
Ada smiled faintly, brushing her thumb over the pendant. "Because he was right. That fire — that refusal to bow — built the era we live in."
She looked down at the baby in her arms, the faintest tenderness softening her sharp features. "But ambition alone destroys. Maybe this time, it can protect."
She held the necklace above the infant — the silver pendant catching the dim light like a small crescent of captured moon.
"Rocks gave this to me when I was barely old enough to understand what freedom meant. Now…" she fastened it carefully around the baby's tiny neck, "…I'll give it to him."
Dragon blinked, taken aback. "You'd give him that symbol? The mark of Rocks?"
Ada's tone was calm — but her eyes glimmered with something fiercer than resolve.
"Let the world misunderstand it. Let them think it's a curse. For me… it's a reminder that even monsters once dreamed of freedom."
She brushed the pendant lightly. "And that my son will be free — truly free."
The baby stirred, a soft sound escaping his lips. Ada smiled, the first real warmth she'd shown since giving birth.
"See? He can already feel it."
Dragon watched her in silence, his chest tightening. "You've always carried the weight of history like it was nothing."
Ada's smile turned wistful. "Maybe it's time someone else carries it for me."
They sat together in the flickering candlelight, neither speaking for a long while — both knowing this peace couldn't last.
Finally, Dragon asked quietly, "What will you tell him… when he's older?"
Ada looked at the pendant again, her thumb tracing the sharp line through the cross. "That this world was built by men who wanted to be gods… and that he doesn't have to be one of them."
She met Dragon's gaze. "He just has to be free."
—————————-
Morning broke again.
Dragon stood at the shore, the child wrapped securely in his arms. Ada stood behind him, watching silently as the small ship waited at the edge of the water.
The storm outside calmed completely, the first rays of dawn piercing the horizon.
For a long time, neither spoke. They didn't need to.
The world outside could wait — for this moment belonged to them alone.
Finally, Ada looked at Dragon, her voice soft but firm. "You should go soon. If anyone discovers us…"
"I know," he said, eyes still on the child. "But not yet."
She smiled tiredly. "You always were stubborn."
"Go," she said softly. "Before I change my mind."
He looked at her then, truly looked — the woman who had shaken the seas, the first Emperor, the mother of his son.
And for the first time, he allowed himself to show what he'd hidden for years.
Dragon leaned forward and kissed her — soft, steady, and full of everything words could not hold.
When they finally parted, Ada whispered, "He'll be the one to find your freedom… and mine."
Dragon's voice was barely a breath. "Then the world better be ready."
As the sails caught the wind, Ada stood at the cliff's edge, her hair whipping around her face, the sea roaring beneath her feet. She didn't move. Didn't cry. Didn't breathe.
Only when the ship vanished into the horizon did she whisper, barely audible against the wind.
"Live freely… my son."