The alley was narrow and drowned in shadows. Wind whistled faintly between the stacked houses of Loguetown, carrying with it the scent of salt and smoke from distant chimneys.
A tall figure stood still at the end of that alley, the folds of his dark cloak shifting in the breeze as if it moved with a life of its own.
Monkey D. Dragon — the man whispered to be the most dangerous in the world — waited without turning, his eyes half hidden beneath the hood. He felt someone was searching for him with his haki, so he moved into the discreet alley.
From the mouth of the alley, another figure walked with quiet steps. His coat fluttered, boots clicking lightly on stone. Ben — or rather Edgar D. Benjamin, the magician of the Straw Hat Pirates — came to a stop a few paces away and gave a small, knowing smile.
"Hello," he said calmly. "I've been searching for you for a while, Monkey D. Dragon."
Dragon finally turned, sharp eyes like storm clouds locking on him. "And who might you be," he asked, voice even, "to go looking for me?"
Ben raised his hand subtly, and the air shimmered as if ripples passed through water. A faint hum enclosed them, muting the sounds of the world beyond the alley — footsteps, chatter, the cries of seagulls all vanished into silence.
"A small precaution," Ben murmured. "A charm. So no one can listen."
Dragon's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
Ben inclined his head slightly, courteous but firm. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Edgar D. Benjamin, magician of the Straw Hat Pirates. My captain," he smiled faintly, "is Monkey D. Luffy."
The air shifted — just slightly. Dragon did not move, but something in his gaze softened for a heartbeat. His son's name — spoken so casually, so boldly.
"I see," Dragon said finally. "So, you're with him."
Ben nodded. "That's right."
Dragon folded his arms, cloak rustling. "What is it you want from me, then?"
"I came to trade," Ben said simply. "Information — for information. I'm searching for a way to learn all forms of Haki, their principles, and training. In exchange, I can give you knowledge of immense value."
Dragon arched an eyebrow, skepticism flickering across his face. "Knowledge?"
Ben met his gaze steadily. "You see, I am a magician — but not in the way this world knows. My magic allows me to glimpse fragments of time: moments from the past, the present, and… what may yet come."
Dragon said nothing, but disbelief shimmered in his eyes.
"You don't believe me," Ben said softly, not accusingly. "Then let me prove it. Allow me to tell you of things only you would know — things buried beneath decades of silence."
A quiet pause followed. The wind whispered faintly through the alley. Then Dragon inclined his head once, almost imperceptibly. "Go on."
Ben took a slow breath. "You were there, at God Valley. Back then, you wore the uniform of the Marines. You witnessed the cruelty of the Celestial Dragons with your own eyes — the way they hunted the innocent for sport."
Dragon's expression froze.
"You disobeyed your orders that day," Ben continued, voice quiet but steady. "You fired a tranquilizing dart at a Celestial Dragon to save two children — slaves — from execution. You tried to rescue two babies with red hair, but you couldn't. One was taken. The other was lost in the chaos. That day — that massacre — was when the seed of rebellion took root in you."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Dragon's breath slowed, and his eyes — those fierce, unwavering eyes — dimmed for just a heartbeat.
In the depths of his memory, smoke and screams mingled again. The island is burning. The children are crying. The faces of the dying reflected in the firelight.
"How…" His voice was low, almost hoarse. "How do you know that?"
Ben looked at him gently. "I told you. I see into the echoes of time. The past whispers to me, and the future sometimes answers."
Dragon was silent again, studying him — truly studying him this time. The faint tension in his shoulders eased, but there was weight in his gaze.
Ben spoke again, softer now. "You wanted to know whether I'm worth listening to. Now that you do, shall I tell you about what's to come?"
Dragon's jaw tightened. "Go on."
Ben nodded. "There is a power beyond even the Five Elders — one that rules the world from the shadows. A single throne, and a being who sits upon it. His name is Nerona Imu. He is immortal — the hidden king of the world who has ruled for over eight hundred years, since the end of the Void Century."
The words hung between them like a curse.
Dragon did not flinch outwardly, but the faintest trace of something — a flicker of disbelief, of anger, of dread — passed through his eyes. For a moment, the air itself seemed to still.
Ben continued. "He is the true enemy. The one who maintains this world's chains. And when your son, Monkey D. Luffy, finds the One Piece… the world will turn upside down. Everything will burn, and the truth of the world will surface."
Dragon stared at him in silence. His face betrayed little, but within, his thoughts raced. Imu. A name he had never heard — or perhaps one buried by fear. Could such a being truly exist? And if so… could even the Revolution hope to stand against him?
"You claim to see the future," Dragon said finally. "How certain are you of this?"
Ben smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it. "I see glimpses — threads of what may be. I cannot say how true they will become. But every glimpse I've seen leads to the same storm — and your son stands at its center."
The alley grew quieter still.
Dragon turned away for a moment, looking toward the faint glow of Loguetown's harbor. "My son," he murmured. "He walks the path I could not."
There was a trace of emotion in his voice now — quiet pride tangled with sorrow. He had left his child behind in the East Blue, believing it safer that way. But to hear, now, that Luffy's destiny might shake the world — it stirred something in him that had long been buried under duty and cause.
Ben watched him silently, then said, "You know the Devil Fruit your son ate?"
Dragon nodded slowly. "Yes. The Gum-Gum Fruit. It made his body rubber."
Ben shook his head. "That's the lie the World Government spread. The fruit's real name was erased. It is a Mythical Zoan — Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Sun God Nika. Only when he awakens it will its true power return. And to defeat Imu… he must awaken it."
Dragon's eyes widened slightly, a flash of shock cracking through his calm exterior. Nika. The Sun God. A name he had heard only in stories and whispers, buried in forbidden texts.
For the first time, uncertainty shadowed his face.
Ben's tone softened. "You see now why I need the Haki manual. To guide him — and the crew — we'll need every tool the world can give."
Dragon exhaled slowly, long and heavy. "I don't have the manual here," he said finally. "But I can arrange for it to reach you."
Ben nodded. "Send it to Whisky Peak. We'll be there soon."
Dragon turned to leave, then stopped when Ben extended something toward him — a small mirror, framed with faintly glowing runes.
"This is a two-way mirror," Ben explained. "Speak into it, and I'll hear you. I'll contact you again when the time is right."
Dragon accepted it silently.
As Ben lowered his hand, the muffling charm faded. The sound of the world rushed back — distant footsteps, market chatter, the cry of gulls.
Ben stepped back into the light at the alley's mouth, his cloak brushing against the cobbles. "Take care of yourself, Dragon-san," he said. "The storm is closer than you think."
Dragon didn't reply, only watched him go — that quiet, thoughtful look etched deeper on his face. When the magician's figure vanished into the crowd, he stood alone for a long while, the wind tugging at his cloak.
The scent of the sea drifted through the streets — the same sea where his son now sailed, laughing somewhere beyond the horizon.
Dragon's fingers tightened around the mirror. For the first time in many years, he felt the faint tremor of something unfamiliar. Not fear. Not doubt. But hope — fragile, reckless hope.
He lifted his gaze toward the open sky, the wind swirling stronger around him as if answering his unspoken thoughts.
"Luffy…" he murmured quietly, the word almost stolen by the breeze. "The world is waiting for you."
And with that, the wind picked up again, sweeping through the alley like a promise of change — unseen, unstoppable, and carrying the scent of the coming storm.