The sky above East Blue was pale and soft that morning — the kind of fragile light that felt too gentle for a world that had seen so much war.
A single ship cut quietly across the calm waters, its sails marked with no emblem, its crew consisting only of one man and a child swaddled in white cloth.
Dragon stood at the helm, silent as the wind brushed against his cloak. The baby in his arms stirred, a small sound escaping him — half-yawn, half-cry.
Dragon glanced down. The silver pendant around the child's neck — the one Ada had given him — shimmered faintly in the morning light.
"Shh," Dragon murmured. "We're almost there."
The island ahead was small, hidden beneath layers of mist and forest — a quiet, unassuming corner of the East Blue.
It was a place Dragon had once called home, long before the name Monkey D. Dragon became a whisper of rebellion across the seas.
Foosha Village.
And waiting on that island was a man who carried the same blood.
Monkey D. Garp stood with his arms crossed, gazing out at the sea.
The breeze tugged gently at his cloak, carrying the faint salt smell that had followed him all his life. He had been waiting since dawn, though Dragon hadn't told him exactly why.
When he finally saw the lone ship approaching, Garp sighed, half-annoyed, half-relieved. "Took you long enough, brat."
The ship anchored quietly. Dragon stepped off, his boots crunching against the sand. He carried something in his arms, wrapped carefully — protectively.
Garp frowned. "What's this now? You finally learned how to babysit?"
Dragon ignored the jab. "Dad," he said, his tone low. "I need your help."
That alone was enough to make Garp blink. His son never asked for help. Not once since he'd left home and walked the path of revolution.
Dragon walked closer and gently shifted the cloth in his arms.
A baby.
A small face, peaceful and curious, framed by soft tufts of dark hair.
The child stirred, tiny fingers clinging to the edge of Dragon's cloak.
Garp blinked. "You've gotta be joking."
"He's mine," Dragon said simply.
For once, the Hero of the Marines was speechless. "Yours? As in— YOU—?"
Dragon's eyes met his, calm but firm. "Yes."
Garp's jaw dropped open. "You went and had a kid? With who?!"
Dragon's gaze drifted toward the horizon. "That doesn't matter."
"Doesn't matter—?!" Garp's voice cracked with disbelief. "It damn well does! You're the most wanted man alive next to those monsters in the New World, and now you've gone and—!"
"Father."
Dragon's voice cut through the rising storm of Garp's frustration.
"She's… a pirate."
The word hung heavy in the air between them.
Garp froze. His fist clenched instinctively. "A pirate."
"Yes."
He wanted to yell. To demand names. To demand how and why.
But the look in Dragon's eyes stopped him — that quiet, unshakable conviction that had once belonged to another man Garp had sworn to capture, but could never truly hate.
A pirate and a revolutionary.
Garp let out a slow, tired laugh. "So that's the kind of woman you fell for."
Dragon said nothing.
"What's her name?" Garp asked finally.
"…It's better if you don't know."
Garp studied him for a long time. There was pain in Dragon's eyes — buried beneath his calm exterior, but there all the same.
So Garp nodded. "Alright. Keep your secrets."
He looked down at the baby again, who now cooed softly, waving his little arms in the air like the wind itself was something to play with.
"What's his name?"
Dragon hesitated — just a heartbeat — then said quietly, "Luffy."
Monkey D. Luffy.
Garp repeated it under his breath, and for a moment his stern expression softened.
"Luffy, huh… A good name. Has some punch to it."
"He'll need it," Dragon said. "The world isn't kind to those who carry the name D."
Garp's expression darkened slightly. "Then why give it to him?"
Dragon turned away, looking toward the sea — the same direction Ada had faced the day he left her behind.
"Because it's his birthright," he said quietly. "He deserves the freedom to carry it. To define it."
The baby — Luffy — sneezed suddenly, startling both men. Garp chuckled.
"Well, he's got your stubborn lungs, at least."
Dragon almost smiled. Almost.
Then the wind shifted, carrying the faint sound of seagulls overhead. Garp noticed the flicker in Dragon's eyes — the same flicker he saw the day his son walked away from the Marines forever.
"You're not planning to stay, are you?" Garp asked.
"No."
Dragon's voice was steady, resolute. "The Revolution won't wait. But… he'll be safe here. With you."
Garp sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Safe with me? The Marines would call that irony."
"You're the only one I trust."
Garp froze at that. It wasn't something Dragon said lightly — or ever, really.
Then Dragon stepped forward and handed the child to him.
For a man who could shatter stone with his fists, Garp's hands trembled slightly as he took the baby.
Luffy blinked up at him, eyes wide and curious. Then, in a burst of laughter, he reached up and grabbed Garp's nose.
Garp froze — then barked out a laugh. "Bwahahaha! Strong grip already! You really are a D."
Dragon's lips quirked, just barely. "He'll need that strength."
The silence that followed carried the weight of farewell.
The sea breeze brushed against them, cold and salt-heavy.
Garp finally sighed. "Alright. I'll raise him as my grandson. But, Dragon…" His voice softened. "He'll want to know, someday. About his parents."
Dragon's gaze hardened. "Then tell him what you must. Tell him his mother was a pirate… and that his father was a fool chasing the wind."
Garp stared at him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "You really think you can change this world, huh?"
"I don't think," Dragon replied. "I know."
He turned toward his ship, cloak whipping in the wind.
As he stepped into the surf, Garp called out one last time.
"Hey! You're leaving your son in the hands of the Marines' biggest pain in the ass, you know!"
Dragon paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "That's exactly why I trust you."
Garp blinked — then burst out laughing. "Bwahahahaha! Fair enough!"
As Dragon boarded his ship, the wind caught his cloak and lifted it high, the emblem of the Revolution hidden beneath its folds.
He didn't look back again — not even once.
Garp stood there on the beach, rocking the baby gently in his arms.
The boy had fallen asleep again, the silver pendant resting against his chest, glimmering faintly in the dawn.
The Hero of the Marines looked down at him, and for a fleeting moment, his grin faded.
He could see both of them in that tiny face — the fire of his son, the quiet storm of whoever that woman was.
He let out a low chuckle. "You've got one hell of a family, kid."
He looked toward the horizon, where Dragon's ship had vanished into the mist. "Your father's out there trying to save the world… and your mother…"
He shook his head. "Something tells me she's already set it on fire."
Garp sighed, his tone softening. "Guess it's up to me to keep you from blowing it up completely, huh?"
The baby stirred, his tiny hand brushing against the pendant — the same one once worn by Ada, once gifted by Rocks D. Xebec himself.
Garp's eyes caught the faint shape of it. "Heh. Even your necklace looks like trouble."
He turned and began walking back toward the village, the baby in his arms, the wind at his back.
Above them, the sky split open with morning light — warm and bright, like the first promise of a new era.
————————-
A month had passed since Dragon gave Luffy to Garp.
The night had long since settled over the small island — calm, gentle, and unknowing of the storms it had quietly birthed.
Inside a modest wooden hut nestled among palms and stone, Ada sat near the window, the faint moonlight tracing the soft curve of her face.
The sea was calm tonight, its rhythm slow and steady — almost like a heartbeat she could no longer hold close.
The small bed behind her was empty now. The warmth that once filled her arms had sailed away with the dawn.
She exhaled slowly, her hand resting on her abdomen, where life had once stirred.
It was strange, she thought — to feel so full and empty all at once.
The wind brushed against her hair, carrying the faintest echo of laughter — perhaps a trick of the tide, or perhaps her heart trying to remember what it had just let go of.
She reached up, fingers brushing the bare space at her neck where her necklace once hung.
It had always been there — a token of the past, a reminder of everything she'd survived. Now, it belonged to someone else. To him.
The thought made her smile, faint but real. "You'll wear it better than I ever did," she whispered into the night.
Outside, the waves lapped softly against the shore, and for the first time in a long time, Ada allowed herself to simply breathe.
The door creaked open behind her. Dragon stood in the frame, half in shadow, the moonlight catching the edge of his tattoo.
Dragon approached quietly, boots brushing over the sand. His expression was the same as always — unreadable, composed — yet the faintest trace of exhaustion lingered in his eyes.
Ada turned her head slightly, her voice calm but laced with warmth.
"You went through with it."
Dragon stopped beside her, hands still buried in his coat pockets. "Yes. He's with Garp now."
Ada's eyes softened — not with regret, but with a quiet kind of peace. "He'll be safe there."
Dragon nodded once. "Garp will raise him as his own. Away from the eyes of the world."
The wind stirred between them, carrying the faint cry of distant seabirds. Ada's gaze followed the horizon — not toward the past, but somewhere far beyond it.
"So… he'll grow up thinking he's a Marine's grandson," she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe that's for the best."
Dragon's tone was low, almost hesitant. "I didn't tell him anything about you. Or about us."
"Good," Ada replied, her eyes never leaving the sea. "The world doesn't need to know who his mother is. Not yet."
She touched the base of her neck, where her necklace had once hung. It was gone now — left around their son's tiny neck as a promise neither of them could ever break.
Dragon watched her quietly. "He looked peaceful… holding that necklace."
Ada smiled faintly, her voice barely above the wind. "It was Rocks' once. He said it belonged to someone strong enough to bear the sea's weight. I gave it to Luffy so he'd never forget where he came from — even if he doesn't know why."
Silence lingered between them — not heavy, but full of understanding. The kind of silence shared only by those who've walked through storms together.
After a while, Dragon spoke again. "He'll carry both of us — whether he knows it or not."
Ada turned to him then, her eyes sharp but tender. "He'll surpass both of us. That's what children do."
Dragon's expression softened — a rare, fleeting glimpse of warmth beneath his hardened exterior.
He moved closer, kneeling beside her. "He has your spirit."
"And your will," she replied. "A dangerous mix."
They shared a quiet laugh — brief, fragile, but real.
Then Ada's voice grew quieter. "You should go soon. The world will be watching for you."
Dragon didn't move. He just looked at her — really looked — as if memorizing every scar, every shadow that made her who she was.
"I'll leave when you're ready."
Ada's gaze wavered for the first time. "If you stay, you'll only make it harder."
Dragon reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek — a touch so gentle it almost hurt. "Some things are worth the pain."
Her eyes met his, steady and defiant. "Don't say things like that. I might start believing you."
He smiled — that quiet, rare smile she had come to know too well. "Maybe that's the point."
The waves hissed against the shore, the sky deepening into twilight.
Ada looked up, her voice barely a whisper. "Do you ever think about what kind of man he'll become?"
Dragon's gaze drifted toward the horizon. "Every day."
She smiled. "Then we both have something to fight for."
A long pause stretched between them — then Ada rose to her feet, standing before him. Her coat fluttered in the wind, dark and regal, her silhouette carved against the dying light.
"Dragon," she said quietly. "Before you go…"
He looked up, eyes meeting hers — and before either could think, Ada reached out, pulling him closer.
Their lips met — slow, certain, and filled with everything neither of them dared to say aloud.
It wasn't a goodbye. It was a promise.
When they parted, Ada's voice was barely audible. "For him."
Dragon nodded once, his voice steady but thick. "For him."
He turned to leave, stepping back toward the shore. The sea embraced him once more, the sound of the waves masking everything else.
Ada watched him go, her hand resting over her heart. "We'll meet again," she whispered. "When the tides demand it."
And as Dragon's silhouette vanished into the horizon, Ada stood alone beneath the vast sky — the First Emperor of the Sea, the woman who had shaken the world, now watching over the calm that would one day give birth to a storm named Luffy.
The wind rose, carrying her final words across the waves —
"Live free, my son. And when you set sail… let the sea remember our names."