Ten days had passed since Ezra D. Vale and Tsuru had set out to sea together. Now, their journey brought them to the remote island of Baterilla.
The navy warship cut through the calm southern waters, finally docking at the island's quiet harbor. As the gangplank lowered, hundreds of marines marched in formation behind the two officers.
"Team One, you're with me! Team Two, follow Commodore Vale "
Before Tsuru could finish her command, Ezra had already started walking toward the town nestled deeper within the island.
"Hey! Ezra, where are you going?" she called after him.
Ezra waved lazily over his shoulder without turning around. "Relax. I'll handle my own investigation. Don't worry about me, alright?"
Tsuru's face flushed slightly. "W-who said I was worried about you?!" she huffed, stamping her foot in frustration. Then, brushing off the embarrassment, she turned to her troops. "Never mind him. We'll start the search over there!"
Her team nodded and followed her lead into the narrow streets, disappearing among the small shops and houses.
Baterilla Island sat in a far corner of the South Blue quiet, isolated, and unremarkable. The town wasn't large; its streets were simple, its people unassuming. Perfect for someone who wanted to disappear.
Ezra stood at the edge of the harbor, his eyes half-closed. "I didn't want to do this," he murmured, "but I really do want to meet your mother, Ace..."
A faint trace of nostalgia flickered in his expression. Portgas D. Ace one of the most beloved figures in history, a man whose death left an ache in the hearts of countless fans, including Ezra himself in his previous life. He used to dream that Ace might somehow come back to life. But fantasy was just that fantasy.
Shaking off the thought, Ezra exhaled softly and focused his spiritual pressure. His perception spread across the entire island, like invisible ripples in the air. Every heartbeat, every whisper, every life came into view in his mind's eye.
Finding Rouge should have been simple. According to what he remembered from the original timeline, she was already pregnant by April. That meant all he had to do was locate a pregnant woman. Easy, right?
Except…
"Wait a second... one, two, three... fifteen?!" His expression froze. "Are you kidding me? Is this island some kind of maternity village?!"
He groaned aloud. "There aren't even a thousand people on this island, and fifteen of them are pregnant?! Roger, did you rent out this place just for her or what!?"
Rubbing his temples, Ezra sighed. "Ugh. Fine. One by one it is..."
Hours passed as he methodically checked each household, his patience thinning with every door that opened to reveal yet another expectant mother who wasn't the one he was looking for.
"Ten... twelve... thirteen... none of them! Are you serious right now?!" He threw his hands up. "What, did my luck suddenly go bankrupt?"
Finally, he reached the last house on his list a small wooden cottage near the edge of town. With a weary sigh, he raised his hand and knocked.
Knock, knock, knock!
A clear, feminine voice came from inside. "Who is it?"
"Ahem. Navy," he replied, straightening his posture. "Please open the door."
Silence. Then came the sound of hesitant footsteps, and the door slowly creaked open.
Standing before him was a woman with long, soft pink hair and a gentle face sprinkled with light freckles.
Ezra's eyes sharpened in recognition. Finally.
"I've found her," he whispered to himself, a glint of triumph flashing through his gaze.
"Um... can I help you, officer?" the woman asked, her tone polite but cautious.
Portgas D. Rouge was nervous rightfully so. Two months ago, Roger had left her, promising to return. Not long after, the Navy arrived on the island. The timing was too close for comfort.
"Ah, forgive me," Ezra said, offering a charming smile. "How should I address such a lovely lady?"
"Portgas D. Rouge," she replied quietly, distracted by her thoughts. Her heart ached with worry. Had Roger already turned himself in? Was he safe?
Ezra could see the unease in her eyes. He gave a light chuckle. "Would you mind if I come in for a bit?"
Rouge blinked in disbelief. "What? Now? I uh, that's not really hey! Wait!"
Before she could finish protesting, Ezra stepped past her and entered the house, as casually as if he owned the place. Technically, it was breaking and entering, but he didn't seem to care.
The room was simple modest furniture, clean floors, a faint scent of herbs lingering in the air. But notably, there wasn't a single trace of anything belonging to Gol D. Roger. Not a letter, not an ornament, not even a photograph.
"So," Ezra muttered under his breath, "she's already prepared herself for the worst."
Without hesitation, he sat down in the nearest chair. Rouge, flustered and indignant, hurried after him.
"What do you think you're doing?! You can't just barge in "
"Careful," Ezra interrupted softly, his tone suddenly calm but commanding. "Don't strain yourself. I don't think Roger would want anything to happen to the child you're carrying."
Rouge froze. Every muscle in her body tensed as his words struck her like thunder. But she bit her lip and stayed silent. She couldn't show weakness if this was a trick, one slip could doom her and her unborn child.
Ezra sighed, sensing her fear. "Relax. The main force of the Navy is searching on the other side of town. It's just me here."
Rouge swallowed, trying to suppress her anxiety. Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke. "Who are you? What do you want from me?"
Ezra smiled faintly as he removed his crimson gloves and placed them neatly on the table. His movements were slow, deliberate, and strangely refined.
"Ezra D. Vale," he said finally. "Commodore of the Navy."
He met her eyes, his voice steady but laced with quiet gravity.
"And I'm here for one reason only..."
He stood, the faint rustle of his coat breaking the silence.
"You're under arrest, Portgas D. Rouge."
The air grew heavy. The soft light filtering through the window seemed to dim, and for a moment, time itself stood still. Rouge's face went pale, her hands instinctively resting on her stomach.
Yet behind Ezra's calm, unreadable gaze, something deeper flickered a trace of pity, of reluctant resolve.
Because even he knew... this was a part of history that should never have happened.