[Zephyr's POV]
Inside the dimly lit infirmary, I stare at my right arm, or rather, what's left of it. Just a stump, tightly wrapped in thick, sterile bandages. A dull ache pulses from it, crawling up to my shoulder. But the pain doesn't compare to the fury simmering in my chest.
'I should've finished him when I had the chance... damn it, letting someone with such potential realize they could die, what a mistake.'
My jaw clenches. The memory of those teeth sinking into my flesh flashes back. That moment burned itself into my mind.
"Damn it!!"
I slam my left fist into the wall behind me. The impact echoes sharply through the room. An infirmary nurse standing in the doorway flinches but stays silent.
I slowly sit down on the edge of the bed, every muscle coiled tight.
'Pirates... Always the damn pirates.'
"Are you alright, Mr. Zephyr?" the nurse asks cautiously as she steps further into the room.
"I'm fine." I answer coldly without looking at her. "How many made it out?"
She hesitates, then says quietly. "Only Ain, Binz and Shuzo… The others didn't make it."
Without waiting for a response, she quietly exits the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
I sit there in silence.
'I already lost my wife… and my son…' My voice drops to a whisper."Now my division too... to former recruits that I trained."
Grief burns, but it's wrapped in something darker now. A bitter finality. A rage sharpened by failure.
The Den Den Mushi on the table rings, breaking the silence. I pick it up. It's Kuzan. "Hey, how are y—"
"I'm done." I interrupt him before he can finish.
A pause. Then his voice turns serious. "What do you mean, Zephyr?"
"I'm retiring." I say, my tone flat and unwavering.
[Morca's POV]
I stared at the wanted posters. There I was my image printed in bold ink, eyes cold.
"MORCA — 220,000,000 BERRIES — DEAD OR ALIVE."
Next came Mihawk's.
"DRACULE MIHAWK — 175,000,000 BERRIES."
And then Beckman's.
"BENN BECKMAN — 148,000,000 BERRIES."
I chuckled, the motion tugging at the bruises along my ribs. "Well…" I muttered under my breath. "looks like we've made our entrance."
[Zephyr's POV]
A few days had passed. The wounds had begun to scab over, but the bitterness hadn't.
The den den mushi crackled to life. "I heard the news, so you're quitting, huh? Giving up?! You coward!" Garp's voice, loud and brash as always.
I narrowed my eyes. "Your provocations won't work on me, Garp. I've made my decision." And with that, I hung up.
I turned to face them, what was left of my division. Just three. Three out of an entire unit. They stood tall, fists clenched, eyes resolute.
"You're sure about this? About following me?" I asked.
Without hesitation, they answered in unison: "Yes, Commander Zephyr!"
A beat passed. I studied them. Still so young. Still with hope in their eyes.
"Very well... Then let's move."
"Mihawk, why?" Ain whispered.
[Monkey D. Garp's POV]
"Huh... he actually hung up on me." Sigh.
"If someone had told me back in the day that Zephyr would quit before I did... I'd have laughed right in their face."
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed behind my head, letting out another tired sigh as I glanced at the messy pile of wanted posters stacked across my desk. The ink was still fresh on some of them. The faces were young. Too young.
I shuffled through them slowly.
"Crocodile... Morca... Shanks..." My eyes narrowed slightly. Then I pulled out another one. A face I knew all too well.
"Dragon."
I leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands steepled.
"All these kids... coming out of nowhere. Stirring up storms all over the seas."
I stared at the posters in silence for a long while, the weight of generations pressing on my shoulders.
"That damn Roger... you really left us with one hell of a mess."
And yet, somehow... I smiled. The sea was never meant to stay still.
[Morca's POV]
We were now on course for the Grand Line. The wind was steady, the sea calm, for now.
During the past few days, we'd managed to get our hands on a better ship. Larger, sturdier, faster. One that could actually handle the madness ahead. The old one had done its job, barely, but if we wanted to stand a chance beyond the Red Line, we needed more than sails and luck.
I stood at the bow, the salty breeze brushing against my face, coat swaying behind me.
Beckman was at the helm, steady hands as always. Mihawk leaned against the railing, arms crossed, his eyes half-closed in thought, or maybe in boredom.
The calm before the storm.
Later...
"There it is. Dead ahead." Beckman said, his voice cutting through the wind.
I stepped up beside him at the helm. What lay before us defied everything I thought I knew, the sea itself was climbing. A raging upward current spiraled along the face of the Red Line like a monstrous serpent made of water, pulling ships toward the sky.
Rain hammered down in thick sheets, the waves below thrashing with violent intent. Our ship groaned as it was lifted by the unnatural pull of the current.
"You good, Beckman?" Mihawk asked, standing near the mast, his eyes locked on the chaos ahead.
"Yeah. Don't worry, I've got this." Beckman replied, calm and focused, hands steady on the wheel.
And still, we pressed forward. I let out a low, sharp grin. "Let's raise."
The sea roared beneath us as we surged forward, the ship pulled violently into the upward current of Reverse Mountain. Rain lashed against the sails, waves pounded the hull, and the wind howled like a beast hungry for shipwrecks.
Beckman stood firm at the helm, eyes sharp, jaw clenched. For a moment, it felt like we were going to crash straight into the rocky wall of the mountain. The current shifted fast, too fast, and the bow tilted dangerously close to the jagged cliffside.
"Beckman!" Mihawk shouted, bracing himself.
But Beckman didn't panic. His fingers flicked across the wheel, twisting it with the skill of a man born at sea. The ship veered just in time, missing the rock wall by a breath.
The tension snapped, we were in the clear, the current pulling us straight through the inner passageway.
Beckman let out a breath and looked over his shoulder at us with a cocky grin.
"I told you, I got this."
We continued to climb, pushed by the waves until we finally reached the summit.
We were at the top above the clouds and now it was time for the descent.
"We're going down, Grand Line, here we come." Beckman announced, steady at the helm.
The descent began. The ship glided fast. My eyes locked onto the horizon, and then, there it was, Laboon, the giant whale, not so giant now.
Mihawk narrowed his eyes, pointing. "There's a whale ahead. It's shouting..."
But it wasn't just a shout. Not to me.
Even though I already knew his story, I really understood him.
I heard the sorrow in the sound as words echoed in my head "Why did you abandon me?"
"He's crying because he was left behind." I said.
Beckman glanced at me. "You can understand it?"
I nodded. "Yeah. But it's not our business."
We kept moving forward until we were face-to-face with the massive creature. Laboon's eye locked onto me, unblinking. Then, something strange happened.
Rather than attack or block our way, the whale's expression shifted. His eyes widened slightly, and slowly, deliberately, he moved aside, letting us pass.
It caught me off guard at first... but then it made sense. Killer whales. That's what they call Orcas.
We were finally in the Grand Line.
"Did you double-check the Log Pose we took from the Marines? And the charts?" Mihawk asked, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Beckman, calm as ever, nodded. "Yeah, it's all good. We're on course."
"Good." I said, stepping forward. The wind had picked up, thick with salt and heat, the atmosphere here was different. Wilder. Unpredictable. "We should be nearing Sandy Island soon. We'll stop there."
"It's been a while since we last touched solid ground." I added, glancing back at them.
We had finally arrived, Alabasta.
It was evening. The city lights shimmered across sandstone buildings, and the streets bustled with life.
As we walked through the busy thoroughfares, Beckman took a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes wandering toward a group of belly dancers performing in front of a tavern.
"I wouldn't say no to a little... relaxation." he said with a smirk, the flame of his lighter briefly illuminating his face.
"Treat yourself." I told him, glancing around. "You too, Mihawk. Let's regroup here later."
"No thanks." Mihawk replied dryly, adjusting his cloak. "I'll find a quiet place to eat and drink."
And with that, we split up.
I kept walking through the city, taking in the atmosphere, the music. But before long, something pierced the calm.
Shouts.
I had been lost in thought, really. 'A little time to unwind with some good company... wouldn't hurt.' I was thinking to myself, a faint smile at the corner of my lips.
But then more shouting. Louder this time, mixed with the sharp bark of laughter. "We know you're cheating! Get the hell out!" a man yelled, followed by more jeering.
I started walking toward the commotion.
"Prove it!" came a woman's voice, defiant and sharp. "You've got no evidence."
As I turned the corner, I found myself standing in front of a bustling casino. Neon lights flickered, gold-trimmed doors swung open with the noise of a crowd inside. But near the entrance, a confrontation was taking place.
Two guards stood over a woman, slender, confident, and a smug grin.
"You're scaring off our customers, girl. I won't say it again, get lost." one of the guards growled.
I stepped forward, letting my voice cut through the tension. "Is there a problem, or can we still get into the casino ?"
One of the guards turned to me, face already twisted in irritation. Sigh "Don't you see, shit can't you wai-" His tone dropped mid-sentence. He had just seen me. His words dried up.
In that brief hesitation, I noticed the woman, gently brush her fingers against the guard's back. So subtle most wouldn't have noticed.
"You were saying?" I asked. "Speak up, I didn't quite catch that."
"Uhh... I was...I was saying that..." The guard stepped back awkwardly, then stumbled, his pants suddenly slipping down to his ankles. Off balance, he tipped over and slammed face-first into the ground with a dull thud. Unconscious.
His colleague came to pick him up.
I turned my gaze to the woman beside me.
"You did that." I said flatly, not as a question, but as fact.
She gave me a playful wink, then pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh… Baccarat. A pleasure."
Her smile was the kind that spelled trouble. The interesting kind. In a way she reminded me of Selina, I hope she's well.
'Wait, wait… Baccarat... That name rings a bell.' It clicked in my head.
'Right… now I remember, Baccarat ate a Paramecia Devil Fruit that gives her the ability to steal the good luck of anyone she touches.
Anyone who has their luck stolen will be met with a rapid series of unfortunate events and accidents.
By stealing enough luck, she becomes extremely lucky, which makes her almost invincible in battle, since most attacks will miss her, and even something as simple as throwing a coin will cause a chain reaction of disasters to befall and harm her opponents.
Having someone like that wouldn't be a bad idea.'
"Pleasure's mine. I'm—" I began.
"Morca, I know." she cut in smoothly, sliding on a pair of sleek gloves. "I saw the wanted poster."
She said it so casually.
"Thanks for stepping in." she added, her tone softening just a bit. She dusted off her coat, eyes still studying me, and I was doing the same. I won't deny it, she was attractive.
I nodded once. "No problem."
"I know we just met." I said, "but any chance you're looking to join a crew?"
"Actually." Baccarat replied, tilting her head, "I just joined one not too long ago."
"I see." I said, deciding not to press further.
"But let's not dwell on that." she added smoothly. "Did you have plans for tonight?"
"No, but it sure seems like you have something in mind." I said. It was obvious we were flirting, which, given my current appearance, was a bit surprising to me. 'But then again, in a world this bizarre, nothing should surprise me.' I thought.
"Follow me." she said with a sly smile.
I did, but kept my guard up. You never know, this could all be a trap.
After a few quiet minutes of walking, we stopped in front of a narrow, two-story home tucked behind the livelier streets of Alubarna.
The door creaked open, revealing a warm interior. Dim lights lit the room just enough to make out a curved sofa, a polished table stacked with cards, and a decanter of something golden on the sideboard.
No traps.
She walked ahead. "Make yourself at home," she said without looking back, her voice dipping lower.
I followed, instinctively on guard… but also drawn in. The tension between us wasn't gone.
She turned to face me. No more teasing now. Just the silence of understanding. I stepped closer, hands moving to her waist, her fingers already finding the edges of my tie.
Clothes hit the floor.
And from there… what followed didn't need to be spoken.
A few hours later, I was getting dressed in silence, buttoning up my shirt slowly. Moonlight slipped through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room. Baccarat lay in bed, still naked, lazily covered by the sheets. She watched me.
"You're leaving?" she asked, her voice soft.
I nodded. "Yeah."
She didn't respond right away. Just kept watching as I grabbed my shoes.
I stepped out into the cool night, closing the door behind me without another word. The streets of Alabasta were quiet, shadows stretching under the pale glow of street lanterns as I made my way back.
Later, I found Mihawk and Beckman waiting at our meeting point.
"Well?" Beckman asked, cigarette dangling from his lips.
"We're all here. Let's go." I replied plainly.
We found a quiet place to settle for the night. The following day, we resumed our usual training routine. The sun was harsh, the sand hot under our feet, but none of that mattered, not when we were focused.
I could feel it the shift. My movements were sharper, my strikes heavier, my control stronger. The Haki of Armament was becoming an extension of me.
I was growing stronger, and I knew it.
"So, Captain, what did you get up to last night?" Benn asked, taking a drag from his cigarette, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.
"I met someone interesting." I replied simply, offering no further detail.
"And you?" I shot the question back at him.
"I had a good time with a few of the dancers. Real friendly girls." he said, exhaling a stream of smoke.
"Hmph." Mihawk grunted nearby. He hadn't looked up from where he sat, carefully cleaning Yoru, but he was clearly listening.
"And you, Mihawk?" I asked, glancing over at him. "How was that restaurant?"
He paused for a moment, running the cloth slowly along Yoru's blade. "Actually," he said coolly, "someone tried to recruit me."
[ Mihawk's POV — The Day Before ]
I had wandered through the streets, eyes scanning the buildings until one particular restaurant caught my attention, nothing too flashy, but refined. We had passed by it earlier while walking through the town. Now alone, it seemed the perfect place to eat in peace.
I stepped inside, took a seat near the corner, and ordered a simple dish. Nothing extravagant.
"Will that be all, sir?" the waitress asked politely.
"Yes. That's all." I replied, not bothering to look up from the table as she walked away.
Moments later, a voice interrupted the quiet.
"Excuse me, mind if I sit here? I'd like to have a word."
I looked up to find a man, probably around my age, sharp suit, composed demeanor, but something in his eyes told me he wasn't here for pleasantries.
"Why?" I asked flatly.
"It won't take long," he said with a slight smile. "May I?"
"Go ahead."
"I'd like to introduce myself." he said smoothly, folding his hands on the table. "My name is Gild. Gild Tesoro."
I didn't respond right away. I wasn't the type to pretend interest where there wasn't any.
"And what do you want from me?" I asked, just as the waitress returned. She set down my plate and a glass of wine. I gave her a brief nod, picked up the glass, and took a sip.
"I want you to join me." he said directly, his tone calm but firm. "More accurately, I want you, and the other members of your crew, to join my organization."
"And what exactly does this organization of yours do? And why would joining it be worth my time?" I asked, tone flat, uninterested, eyes half-lidded as I swirled the wine in my glass.
"To make us rich." he said with conviction. "To rise above everything and everyone. With people like you on my side, I'm sure I can reach that goal."
But I could tell, his confidence was genuine, but there was something else buried beneath. A hidden agenda. A lie tucked between his words.
"You're hiding something." I said plainly, taking another sip of wine. Then I placed the glass back on the table. "Whatever it is, I'm not interested."
Without waiting for a reply, I began eating.
He paused for a moment, clearly understanding the message. Then, without another word, he stood up, adjusted his tailored suit, and walked away.
[Morca's POV – Back to the Present]
"Gild Tesoro… I see." I muttered to myself, eyes narrowing slightly.