The sea was quiet that morning.
Too quiet for the kind of silence Ada had learned to love.
A thin mist rolled over the surface, curling around the hull of the Oro Jackson as it glided through the New World's uncertain waters. The ship looked almost ghostly against the rising sun — a relic of another age, captained now by the woman the world called The First Emperor of the Sea.
For months, the deck had gone without the weight of her footsteps.
But that morning, the crew stood in stunned silence as a familiar shadow approached from the longboat drifting toward them.
Ada had returned.
Bullet was the first to spot her. He froze mid-conversation, his usual arrogance cracking into something like disbelief.
"…No way," he muttered, leaning over the railing. "It's her."
Mihawk closed the book he'd been reading, his sharp eyes narrowing toward the approaching silhouette. "Took her long enough."
Enel blinked, still half-drowsy from a nap on the crow's nest. "Captain's back? After all this time?"
Even Fisher Tiger, calm as the sea before a storm, found himself exhaling a quiet sigh of relief. "She's alive. Thank the tides."
The longboat bumped softly against the side of the ship. Ada stepped aboard with the same quiet grace as always — but something about her felt… different.
Her eyes still burned like molten gold, but there was a softness now, like moonlight dimmed behind a veil.
She wore a dark cloak drawn tight against her frame, the faint glint of her sword visible beneath. Her hair had grown slightly longer, windswept and untamed.
And though her voice carried the same steel as ever, it trembled with an emotion no one could quite name.
"I trust you didn't sink my ship while I was gone," she said.
Bullet crossed his arms, smirking. "Almost did — but Mihawk wouldn't let me."
Mihawk tilted his hat with a quiet scoff. "Someone had to keep this crew from turning into a circus."
Enel jumped down from above, lightning crackling faintly around his fingers as he grinned. "Where'd you even go, Captain? You just vanished."
Ada met his gaze. "I had business that couldn't wait."
Fisher Tiger frowned slightly. "You were gone for months. We thought something happened."
Ada's expression didn't waver. "If something had happened, you'd have known. The sea would've told you."
Mihawk studied her — the calm, unreadable face, the faint edge of fatigue in her eyes. He'd seen warriors lie before, but never her. Whatever she was hiding, it was buried deep.
"Business, huh?" he said quietly. "Must've been important."
Ada's smile was faint, almost wistful. "It was."
She turned toward the helm, her cloak billowing with the salt wind. "Prepare to sail. We've been still long enough."
Bullet raised a brow. "You just got back and you already want to move?"
Ada looked out across the horizon. "I've been still for too long."
Her crew obeyed without question — though unease lingered among them like a shadow they couldn't quite name. Ada's presence commanded silence, but today, even silence carried weight.
———————
Baltigo
Far from the sea, in the heart of the revolutionary stronghold of Baltigo, another silence lingered.
The headquarters was alive with quiet movement — coded messages carried across halls, faint echoes of typewriters, the hum of a thousand unspoken plans.
But at the center of it all, Dragon had returned.
He entered without announcement, his long green cloak brushing against the white stone floor.
The revolutionary officers in the hall paused mid-conversation, straightening instinctively. Even without words, his presence filled the space like a storm waiting to break.
Ivankov spotted him first, dramatic as ever, eyes wide and lips curling into a teasing grin.
"Well, well, well~! Look who decided to stroll back in after vanishin' into thin air, darling! Thought the wind had blown you away for good!"
Dragon gave a low exhale, brushing past him. "I had… things to attend to."
Ivankov followed, his heels clicking loudly. "Oh, I bet you did~! You've got that look again — like you just walked outta a storm with a secret, eh? Don't tell me you met her again, hmm~?"
Dragon stopped. The briefest flicker crossed his face — a shadow of emotion too deep to name.
Ivankov froze mid-step, reading more than Dragon ever said aloud. "Ohhh… so you did."
"Mind your own business, Ivankov," Dragon said flatly.
The okama chuckled but didn't push further. "You've been actin' all stoic for years, hun, but today… you've got warmth in your eyes. Scandalous~!"
Dragon ignored the teasing, heading toward the central table where maps of the four blues were spread out like veins across parchment.
He traced a finger along the West Blue — the scar where Ohara once stood.
His expression hardened again. "While I was gone, what's the situation?"
Ivankov shrugged. "The usual chaos. The Yonko are claimin' more seas. The Navy's losin' sleep tryin' to keep up. Oh, and the rookies? They're callin' your friend The pirate of the New Era. Romantic, huh?"
Dragon's gaze didn't move from the map. "She's earned it."
Ivankov smirked knowingly. "You talk like a man defendin' his lover's reputation."
"Enough," Dragon said sharply, though his voice lacked its usual edge. "We have work to do."
Ivankov raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright~! Just sayin', it's nice seein' you actin' human again, leader-sama!"
Dragon didn't answer. He simply turned toward the open window, the wind tugging at his cloak.
Far away, across seas and storms, he could almost feel her presence — strong, untamed, unyielding as ever.
"She's back with them now," he murmured under his breath. "Where she belongs."
——————-
On the Oro Jackson, night had fallen.
The crew had turned in, their laughter fading into snores and the creak of ropes against the mast.
Ada stood alone at the bow, staring into the horizon. The stars shimmered faintly across the waves, their reflections broken by the slow rise and fall of the tide.
She rested a hand over her abdomen — flat now, but still aching with memory.
The sea breeze whispered softly, brushing her hair across her face.
From behind, Mihawk's voice broke the silence. "You've been staring at the same horizon for an hour."
She didn't turn. "Haven't seen it in months."
He joined her at the railing, arms folded, eyes following her gaze. "You're different."
Ada smirked faintly. "That obvious?"
"To those who pay attention," he said. "You carry something in your eyes now. Like you've seen something worth protecting."
Ada's hand tightened slightly against the rail. "Maybe I have."
Mihawk regarded her quietly, his sharp gaze flicking toward the distant sea. "Whatever it is, I hope it's worth hiding it from your crew."
Ada's lips curved — not in mockery, but in understanding. "Sometimes, the sea keeps its own secrets. I'm just learning from it."
He didn't press further. He knew her well enough to recognize when she'd drawn the line.
After a moment, he turned and left her to the waves.
Ada closed her eyes, the sound of the ocean filling the silence between her thoughts.
Luffy… live free, she thought, her hand brushing against the faint mark where her necklace once hung. Let the world see you, not me.
A faint smile touched her lips — tired, but real. "You'll have his will," she whispered. "And mine."
———————-
Baltigo
Dragon sat alone in his chamber, the candlelight flickering over the maps scattered across the desk.
His coat hung loosely from his shoulders, and for once, he wasn't reading reports or drafting plans. He was simply… still.
A soft knock came at the door.
Ivankov's unmistakable voice followed. "Yo, Dragon~! Just droppin' by to say— you're actin' way too broody tonight, sweetheart. Need a drink?"
Dragon didn't answer right away. "No. Just… thinking."
Ivankov leaned against the doorway, eyes glinting mischievously. "About her, I bet."
Dragon's gaze flicked up, sharp as ever. "Go to sleep, Ivankov."
"Fine, fine~! Just don't forget, darlin' — even the strongest hearts need somethin' to keep 'em warm."
With a laugh, Ivankov left him in peace.
When the door shut, Dragon leaned back in his chair, letting the silence settle once more.
He reached into his coat, pulling out a single folded piece of parchment — a sketch Ada had left behind, drawn in quick, uneven strokes.
A small ship under a crescent moon.
Two figures standing at the bow.
And beneath it, scrawled in her handwriting. For when the tide turns.
Dragon traced the ink with his thumb. His voice was quiet — a whisper meant for no one but her.
"I'll make this world worthy of him," he said. "Of you."
———————
Back on the Oro Jackson, dawn was beginning to break.
Ada remained on deck, eyes fixed on the horizon as the first light of day spilled across the waves.
The world was moving again — faster, harsher, louder.
The Marines were expanding their fleets. The Yonko territories were taking shape. The Revolutionary Army was stirring beneath the surface.
And through it all, the woman who had once stood beside the Pirate King now stood alone — silent, resolute, unshaken.
Her crew began to wake. Bullet yawned loudly, Enel stretched, Mihawk adjusted his hat, and Fisher Tiger emerged from below deck.
Ada turned to them, her captain's voice cutting through the morning air. "We sail east. There's work to be done."
"Another conquest?" Bullet asked, cracking his knuckles.
Ada smirked. "No. A message."
Enel raised a brow. "To who?"
Her eyes turned toward the horizon, where the sunlight bled into the sea. "To the world."
The sails unfurled, catching the morning wind. The Oro Jackson surged forward once more — the sea parting before the woman who could pierce it.
——————-
Far away, on Baltigo, the wind rose suddenly, scattering papers across Dragon's desk.
He looked toward the east — the same direction she sailed — and for a brief moment, the faintest smile broke his calm.
Two storms, bound by fate, now moved in opposite directions — one across the sea, one through the winds — but their purpose, their will, remained the same.
To change the world their son would inherit.