"Come on, honey. He's not reckless," Goki tried to reason, his voice slightly strained but still calm. "Just trust him. He's already an adult now. He'll be fine."
"Adult?" Miria, Zino's mother, snapped from the other end of the line. "He's 'seventeen', Goki. A teenager! Don't act like he's thirty."
Goki flinched slightly at her tone but held his ground. "He's not a kid anymore. He's trained under Father for years. He can handle himself."
Miria wasn't having it. "Handle himself? Do you not remember how many times he came home with injuries? Cuts, bruises, broken bones—overtraining himself because he didn't know when to stop. He has no sense of limits! You really think that 'suddenly' changed?"
"That was years ago—"
"Years ago?" she cut him off, furious. "He was still pulling stunts just before he left! Always getting into trouble, picking fights he didn't need to, sneaking out at night just to spar with people twice his size. That boy might have grown taller, but he's the same reckless Zino, and you know it."
Goki sighed. "Look, Miria. I get it, okay? I really do. But you can't hold his hand forever. He wants to forge his own path. You should be proud."
"Proud?" Her voice wavered slightly, a mix of anger and pain. "I'd rather have him safe than celebrated. Do you think pride will bring him back if something happens to him?"
There was a brief silence. Then, in a quieter tone, she added, "We already lost Yohan, Goki. I won't go through that again. Not with Zino."
He tried to soften his tone. "Miria… I know losing Yohan broke us both. But Zino isn't Yohan. He's not walking the same path."
"No? Then explain to me why he's suddenly on a Marine ship of his own, with a lieutenant rank, fighting known pirates in East Blue. That sounds exactly like the same path to me."
Goki ran a hand through his hair. "Zino earned that promotion. He brought down Captain Morgan and Kuro—corrupt Marines turned pirates. That's no small feat."
"You think that kind of responsibility belongs on a teenager's shoulders?" her voice rising. "What if something goes wrong next time?"
"I'm worried too. And it does concern me about his safety." Goki muttered. "But stopping him would've crushed him. You know how stubborn he is. And once Father gave his blessing, that was it."
"Then you fix it," she said firmly. "Go find him and bring him back."
"Miria, I can't. I'm in the New World right now. Zino's in East Blue. It's not exactly a short trip. And I have obligations here."
"Oh, I see. Suddenly you're *too busy* to look out for your only son?" she asked, voice ice-cold. "You're fine letting him wander the Grand Line, but not fine taking a detour to bring him home?"
"Miria, please don't overreact—"
"I'm not overreacting! I'm a *mother*! If you won't go after him, then I will. I'll find him myself. And I *will* bring him home, whether you like it or not!"
"Miria, wait—"
*KLAK!*
The call ended.
Goki stared at the transponder snail in stunned silence, its little eyes now closed in rest. He resisted the urge to crush it in frustration.
First his father, now his wife—both cutting him off mid-conversation. Can't anyone let him finish a damn sentence?
He slumped into his chair and reached for the cup of tea on the table. It had gone cold.
"Great," he muttered. "Just like everything else today."
...
South Blue — Miria's Residence.
Miria paced across her veranda, the newspaper still clutched in her hand, its headline burned into her memory:
*"Lieutenant Monkey D. Zino captures infamous pirate Kuro!"*
As she paced around, a plan is already being generated in her mind, on how she should bring Zino back. First and foremost, she needs to find Zino.
She quickly turned back inside and sat at her desk, brushing aside some paperwork. A map of the world was laid flat before her as she began plotting possible routes to East Blue.
Currently stationed in South Blue, she knew the direct paths were few—and dangerous. The Calm Belts surrounded the Grand Line like a deadly moat, filled with Sea Kings and void of wind. Not ideal for solo travel.
"Crossing the Calm Belt, then the First Half of the Grand Line, and then the Calm Belt again…" she murmured, tracing the long path with her finger. "That's one way to get to East Blue… but far too risky and inefficient."
She paused.
"Unless…"
Her eyes lit up.
"The Reverse Mountain. I can sail through South Blue to the base of the Red Line, then take the upward current and pass through the canal to enter the East Blue. Or better yet…"
Her finger hovered over the entry point to Paradise.
"If the report is right, Zino is already heading for the Grand Line. That means I don't need to chase him into East Blue. I just have to wait for him… here." Her finger tapped the entrance of the Grand Line. "Reverse Mountain. That's where he'll come through."
A firm nod followed. It was a better plan—faster and less dangerous. She wouldn't interfere with his current mission, but she could meet him as soon as he crossed over. That was acceptable.
Having made her decision, Miria began preparing a list of supplies: food rations, medical kits, sailing gear, transponder snails, and a change of clothes. Despite not having sailed in years, her body still remembered the rhythms of travel. Her muscle memory kicked in almost immediately.
She dressed simply and tied her long dark hair into a ponytail before stepping out. The midday sun warmed her face as she made her way toward the town market.
Along the way, a familiar voice called out. "Good day, Instructor Miria! Going shopping?"
She turned with a polite smile. "Hello, Aunt Yaga. Just heading out for some groceries."
Aunt Yaga, a plump and cheerful woman in her sixties, nodded with a knowing grin. "You always say that, but somehow come back with enough to feed a battalion."
Miria chuckled softly. "Old habits."
As she walked down the stone path, many familiar faces greeted her. People she'd trained, saved, or advised in her years of service. Though she hadn't served in the active Marines for nearly a decade, her reputation still lingered.
Whispers followed her.
"That's Instructor Miria… She looks just the same as ten years ago."
"She's 42 and still more beautiful than half the girls in town."
"Rear Admiral Goki's a lucky man."
"I swear, if Goki ever kicks the bucket, I'd propose to her myself."
"Shhh! Are you insane? She might hear you!"
Miria kept walking, pretending not to notice the murmurs. She had no interest in their flattery. Her mind was already halfway across the sea, chasing the image of her son sailing toward the unknown.
No… She wouldn't sit by and wait. Not again.
A few hours later.
With her supplies already packed and her mind made up, Miria stood at the harbor, staring at the marine battleship docked before her. Its hull bore the marks of age and long service, but it was still sturdy and reliable—more than enough to carry her across the sea.
"This will do nicely," she murmured with a satisfied nod.
Beside her stood a broad-shouldered man with a greying beard, arms crossed and expression unreadable. He glanced at her sideways and asked, "Are you sure about this, Miria?"
"Absolutely," she replied firmly, her gaze still locked on the ship. "I won't rest until I've seen Zino with my own eyes. Safe, alive, and in one piece."
Her brother, Miro, sighed and shook his head. "You're just like him, you know. Reckless to the core."
Miria smiled at that, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "What can I say? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'm Zino's mother, after all."
Miro grunted. "Yeah, that's what I'm worried about."
The ship before them had once belonged to Miro himself—a retired marine vessel that had seen many battles under his command. Though he had long since stepped away from frontline duty, the ship remained well-maintained.
"I've already arranged for two of my boys to go with you," he said, gesturing toward the ship where two young men stood checking the rigging and supplies. "Hibari and Binko know how to handle the ship. They'll make sure everything runs smoothly."
Miria nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, brother. I owe you."
"You owe me more than one favor by now," Miro muttered, though a faint smirk betrayed his affection. "Just don't go picking fights out there. I know you can handle yourself, but still… the sea isn't as kind as it used to be."
"I'll be careful," she promised.
With everything settled, Miria made her way aboard, greeted by her two nephews. "Aunt Miria," Hibari said, offering a salute. "All systems are ready. We can depart any time."
"Good," she replied. "The sooner we leave, the sooner we reach the Red Line."
Binko, the younger of the two, added with enthusiasm, "I've always wanted to see the Reverse Mountain! This'll be awesome!"
"Focus on the mission," Hibari scolded him lightly. "We're not tourists."
Miria chuckled. "Let him enjoy the journey a little. It's not every day you cross between Blues."
As the anchor was raised and the sails caught the wind, the old battleship creaked to life. Slowly, it began to pull away from the dock, drawing the attention of a few curious villagers who waved at the departing ship.
Miro stood at the edge of the dock, arms still crossed, watching them leave. He didn't wave, but the quiet pride in his eyes was unmistakable.
Miria remained on the deck, eyes on the horizon. The sea stretched out endlessly ahead of them, glittering beneath the sunlight. A soft breeze tugged at her coat and hair as she whispered to herself:
"Zino… wait for me. Your mother is coming."
...
At the Baratie Restaurant.
The scent of freshly cooked meals filled the air as Sanji gracefully delivered a full tray of food to the table where Alvida and the Orca crew were seated. Each dish was steaming, vibrant with color, and arranged with care—a reflection of Sanji's pride as a cook.
Zino nodded in appreciation as his plate was set before him. Without ceremony, he picked up his utensils and began eating. But just as he was enjoying a particularly flavorful bite, a sudden itch tickled his nose.
"Achoo! Achoo! Achoo!"
He sneezed three times in rapid succession.
Fortunately, he managed to turn his head just in time, narrowly avoiding launching half-chewed food across the table. Instead, it sprayed harmlessly onto the floor beside him. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, frowning slightly.
"Ugh... who's talking about me behind my back?" he muttered. "Is it Grandpa again? Tch, probably gossiping to someone."
For a moment, Zino rubbed his nose and blinked, puzzled. But soon enough, he shrugged it off, chalking it up to superstition, and resumed eating.
However, just as he lifted his spoon again, his eyes caught movement at the restaurant's entrance—and he froze.
A man stood there, swaying unsteadily on his feet. His clothes were tattered and dirty, his hair disheveled, and his skin pale with visible signs of malnutrition. His cheeks were sunken, and his eyes hollow. It was clear he hadn't eaten properly in days.
"F-Food…" the man whispered hoarsely, staggering forward. "Give me… food… I'm… starving…"
Gasps echoed throughout the restaurant as the man took one more step—and nearly collapsed.
Zino's eyes narrowed in recognition. That face, despite being thinner and looked worn out, was familiar to him. He leaned forward slightly, muttering under his breath:
"…Gin."