The two unexpected stowaways had turned White Flame's quiet voyage into something far less peaceful.
At first, he'd felt his "private domain" had been invaded.
But in the end, even he had to accept the reality—
Baby 5 and Rebecca weren't going anywhere.
Baby 5 was obvious.
Once she'd decided to follow him, she clung to that choice with a fanatic's devotion.
As long as he lived, she would follow.
Rebecca, however, surprised him.
He'd thought she was the obedient, gentle kind of girl—
until she defied him and boarded his ship without hesitation.
When he confronted her about it, she confessed that Kyros, her father, had known all along—
and not only hadn't stopped her,
he'd actually encouraged it.
He wanted his daughter to learn as much as she could from White Flame—
and, as Kyros had put it with a shrug,
"If something more happens between you two… I won't object."
White Flame almost choked on his cigarette.
After all, he was barely seventeen himself.
Older in mind, maybe—but hardly an "old man taking advantage."
So now, by some cruel twist of fate,
White Flame found himself living with two stunning women—
and his once-lonely voyage turned into a blur of chaos, noise, and temptation.
Days were spent training.
Rebecca practiced swordsmanship, martial arts, and hand-to-hand techniques,
while White Flame guided her in the use of Haki—
both Armament and Observation.
Baby 5 trained alongside her, learning the same techniques,
often stubbornly matching Rebecca's effort stroke for stroke.
White Flame had made it clear:
"Right now, both of you are dead weight.
If you don't want to be burdens—get stronger."
That became their mantra.
Nights, however… were a different story.
When darkness fell, the ship belonged to Baby 5.
Dressed in a scandalously revealing maid outfit that barely counted as clothing,
she'd crawl into White Flame's quarters, skin pale as moonlight,
her body pressing against his in the shadows.
Even with his iron will and centuries of calm behind his eyes,
he was still a man.
And Baby 5's relentless affection tore through every defense he had left.
By the time dawn arrived, she was usually asleep against his chest,
and the cabin was filled with the scent of salt and smoke.
Ten days passed like that—
a strange rhythm of combat, exhaustion, and fleeting tenderness.
The New World — Angel Town
A small, forgotten settlement in the vast seas of the New World.
It had never produced heroes, or riches, or fame.
But for those who lived there, it had been paradise—
a warm, quiet town, aptly named Angel Town.
Now it was nothing but ruin.
Blackened walls.
Collapsed roofs.
The smell of ash and death lingering in the wind.
The earth was gouged and cratered, as if torn apart by a monster's claws.
The once-peaceful haven had become a graveyard.
Rebecca covered her mouth, eyes wide.
"Master… this is your hometown?"
White Flame stood among the ruins, a cigarette burning between his fingers.
"Home, huh…"
"I suppose you could call it that."
He exhaled, watching the smoke twist upward.
He'd expected something—some spark of memory or emotion.
But standing amid the wreckage,
he felt nothing.
No warmth.
No sorrow.
No anger.
His memories of this place were gone—
lost to time, death, and rebirth.
To him now, Angel Town was just another ruined name on a map.
And yet…
Even without the memories, the blood still called to him.
He'd been born here.
Raised here.
The Beast Pirates had destroyed it.
And for that alone—
they would die.
"Who's there? Come out!"
Baby 5's sharp voice cut through the silence.
In an instant, her hand morphed into a gleaming pistol,
aimed straight at a pile of rubble nearby.
"Don't shoot! Please, don't shoot!"
From beneath the debris, a group of people crawled out—
filthy, bruised, their clothes in tatters.
They fell to their knees, trembling, hands clasped in desperation.
There were children among them—
tiny faces streaked with soot and tears,
kneeling beside their parents because they didn't know what else to do.
"Baby, stop!"
Rebecca hurried over, pushing down the barrel of Baby 5's gun.
"They're just survivors!"
The refugees froze, watching the pink-haired girl approach.
Her voice was kind, her eyes full of pity.
They relaxed, ever so slightly.
"They're from Angel Town, aren't they?" Baby 5 muttered, lowering her weapon.
"Damn that Drought Jack… bastard."
Her voice shook with disgust.
But as soon as White Flame stepped closer,
her fierce expression melted back into the soft, dutiful tone she always used around him—
the switch so fast it almost made Rebecca's jaw drop.
"You're all from this town?" White Flame asked quietly.
An older man stepped forward, limping, his hands shaking.
"Y-Yes, sir. We're all from Angel Town.
Please, have mercy. We—we have nothing left.
Don't kill us."
Behind him, the children whispered.
Then one of them gasped.
"Wait! Isn't that… Big Brother White Flame?"
"It is! It's him! Big Brother White Flame's come back!"
"White Flame! You came home!"
Their small voices echoed through the ruins.
Rebecca blinked in surprise.
White Flame stared down at them for a long time—
then drew a slow breath of smoke.
"So it's true," he murmured.
"This really is my home."
If Da Niu's words in Dressrosa hadn't fully convinced him,
then these children's recognition sealed it.
They knew him—not by rumor or fear, but from the time before.
That could mean only one thing:
he truly had been born here.
"Master," Rebecca said softly,
"they're suffering… this is your hometown.
Please, can we help them?"
Her eyes shone with compassion.
White Flame flicked away his cigarette.
The ember glowed red for a moment before vanishing into the dust.
"Stand behind me," he said quietly.
His tone was calm—too calm.
The air grew heavy,
the faint hum of Armament Haki beginning to rise like the sound of a distant storm.
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