Later that evening, Naru moved silently through the forest path toward Dragon's location.
The Revolutionary Army's vessel loomed large under the sunlight, a big ship with a modest, almost humble design. There were no flags flapping in the wind, no proud insignias that declared their cause. It was as though the ship itself reflected the nature of its leader. Elusive, unassuming on the surface, yet powerful enough to shake the world.
The deck was alive with movement. Seasoned revolutionaries mingled with new recruits, many of whom were survivors from the Grey Terminal. Though their clothing was still torn and soot-stained, their eyes gleamed with newfound resolve, the kind that only those who had escaped the jaws of death could carry.
Naru watched from a hidden spot, her gaze unreadable. She had come here to speak to Dragon about Sabo, but she had no intention of stepping into the light or allowing any of them to notice her presence. She was not here to bond, nor to raise the banner of revolution.
Dragon might have been her father by blood, but she had no interest in being tied to the fate that came with such a connection.
It was not hatred that kept her distant, but it was practicality.
Naru had learned early that fame and bloodlines were dangerous burdens. The world had an unfortunate obsession with the children of famous men, and trouble followed such people like a loyal curse. If anyone ever learned that she was Dragon's daughter, her quiet, carefully constructed life would unravel piece by piece. Maybe not immediately, but it would happen eventually.
A faint swish cut through the stillness behind her, a whisper of movement against the leaves.
She had already sensed the presence before the sound even reached her ears. Without alarm or surprise, she turned.
There he was, Dragon himself. Her father, though that word always felt foreign on her tongue. He stood tall among the trees, wrapped in a dark green cloak that merged seamlessly with the forest shadows. His eyes, sharp and commanding, gleamed faintly beneath the hood. His expression, as usual, revealed nothing.
"Father," she greeted him.
That one word carried the weight of their entire relationship. It was formal. Distant. Like uttering the name of a stranger bound to you by blood but not by bond.
Counting today, it was the fourth time she had ever seen him. The third had been just yesterday. The second had occurred years ago when he had appeared only to deposit his newborn son in the care of his five-year-old daughter. The same daughter he had never once visited after after dumping her to his old father, who was also busy with his work. Therefore, the daughter had to be raised by bandits, who were also forced to become babysitters.
Naru doubted she would ever be able to call this man "Dad." That name belonged to someone else. Someone long gone.
"I sensed your presence," Dragon said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed almost at odds with the gentle evening air.
Naru blinked her eyes once. Of course you did, old man, she thought wryly. She had not exactly been trying to stay hidden. Had she wished for true stealth, not even the gods themselves could have detected her presence.
"I came to discuss something with you," she said at last, her gaze meeting his. His face remained a perfect mask of neutrality. Most people would find it impossible to guess what went on behind that stoic face.
But Naru was not most people.
Thanks to her unique sensing ability, one that dealt no damage yet was potent beyond words, she could sense the faint flicker of emotion beneath his calm surface. There was a subtle pulse of joy, faint but undeniable. He was glad to see her. He would never say it aloud. He would never show it. But she knew
Yesterday, after the fires had been quenched and the survivors taken to safety, Naru had confronted him briefly. She had asked why he was there, blunt as ever. Dragon had answered with simple honesty, saying that his current mission had brought him to this island. She had not pressed for more. She had only told him that she needed to check on her brothers before walking away.
Now, his tone softened slightly. "How is Luffy?"
There was a flicker of something close to longing in his tone. Regret, perhaps. Disappointment that his son had not come to see him, or maybe guilt that he had not earned the right to ask. A father who had forfeited the right to ask, yet could not stop himself from caring.
Naru raised one brow, her voice thick with dry, unavoidable sarcasm. "I thought you would never ask."
She leaned back against a tree, crossing her arms. "He's fine, more or less. You know how he is. Gets himself into a ridiculous amount of trouble even on a good day. Oh, and just recently, he ate a Devil Fruit without the slightest idea what it was. So congratulations, your son is now made of rubber. A literal Rubber Boy."
Dragon said nothing, but a slight crease formed between his brows, deepening the lines of his weathered face.
"Worried he won't want to meet you?" she asked, her tone softening—not entirely out of sympathy, but out of a reluctant recognition that, somewhere buried deep within the stone-cold revolutionary, there was a father who cared.
But caring wasn't enough. Not even close.
"I told him about you this morning," she added, watching him closely. "He seemed… interested. Curious, at least. I'll bring him to meet you later."
That was when Dragon's stoic mask cracked just enough for a small smile to slip through. It was faint, but it was real.
Before he could speak, Naru's voice cut in again, businesslike now.
"Actually, I came to talk about someone else. You remember the boy from yesterday?"
"The blond one?"
She nodded. "Yes. He wants to join you. Says he shares your ideals."
Dragon's eyes grew thoughtful.
He remembered Sabo clearly. How could he forget? The boy's eyes had burned with a fierce mixture of pain and conviction, the same defiance he had seen countless times in those who had suffered under tyranny. That raw fire of anguish and hope, was the kind of spirit that could change the world if guided properly.
The Revolutionary Army had long opened its doors to children like Sabo, those who had been crushed by the cruelty of the world and were desperate to rebuild themselves. The army did not merely offer shelter, but it offered rebirth. It offered choice.
Dragon inclined his head slowly, silently agreeing. He would accept the boy.
"Although his time with us has been short, he is a good kid," Naru said, her tone softening. "Smart, brave, reckless beyond reason, but good. I'm fond of him, honestly. He's like Ace and Luffy to me. A younger brother. Someone I would protect with everything I have, but not cage. I want him to grow on his own, to fight his own battles, and to become the person he is meant to be."
Dragon regarded her with quiet seriousness. Her words carried a weight he did not take lightly. He gave her a solemn nod, a silent vow written in the firm line of his jaw.
"I promise you," he said, his voice deep and sure, "when you meet him again, he will still be the same boy you knew, but stronger."
Naru looked up at him, and for the first time in a long while, her lips stretched into a true grin. Not the polite, practiced smile she showed to the world, but a genuine one, open and unguarded, meant only for those she trusted.
"That," she said, voice brimming with confidence, "I know you will."
.
.
.
It was already late by the time everyone had gathered. The skies stretching above Mt. Colubo were a dazzling ocean of midnight blue, scattered with stars so bright it looked as though someone had flung a handful of glitter across the heavens. Crickets chirped in the tall grass, their song weaving through the gentle rustle of trees swaying under the whispering breeze.
In the heart of the clearing, a campfire roared to life, wild and crackling. Sparks leapt into the air like tiny fireflies, waltzing their way up into the night.
They were all there.
Luffy was enthusiastically trying to roast a piece of meat on a stick, which he had somehow already set on fire. Ace was hollering at him for being a complete idiot. Dadan was barking sharp orders at Dogra and Magra, who were scrambling around with bowls and bottles, desperately trying to serve the food before it went cold. Naru sat cross-legged beside the fire, carving a stick into a spear with deliberate, almost meditative movements. For reasons nobody dared to question anymore, because some things were better left unasked.
Off to the side, a little apart from the chaos, Sabo sat quietly with his hands resting on his knees, eyes lost in the dance of the flames.
He was leaving tomorrow.
They all knew it. He had made up his mind.
He would be setting out early, chasing after the call of the sea to carve out his own path. And yet, now that the night was here, now that the moment was real, the weight of it pressed down on his chest like a heavy stone. Every joke, every clang of dishware, every flicker of firelight, it all seemed sharper, more vivid, like he was desperate to burn it into his memory.
He pushed himself up to his feet, drawing all eyes to him in an instant.
Nervous but unwavering, he cleared his throat. "I… I want to say something first."
The noisy chatter fell away, like someone had flipped a switch. Even Luffy paused, holding his burnt stick frozen mid-air.
The fire popped and crackled in the pregnant silence.
Sabo shifted his gaze around the fire, looking at each of them in turn. Naru's calm and unreadable stare, Ace's raised eyebrow of curiosity, Luffy's wide, expectant grin, Dadan's frown that, just barely, had softened at the edges. His voice was steady when he spoke, but underneath it trembled the barest bit, like a taut string about to snap.
"I know I haven't been here as long as the rest of you," he started. "And maybe I never really said it before, but… these months with you have been some of the happiest days of my life."
Luffy blinked innocently. "Even that time you fell into the poop pit?"
Sabo let out a breathless, choked laugh. "Yes. Even then."
A ripple of chuckles circled the campfire, but the gravity of the moment still lingered, heavy and real. Sabo's smile faded slightly as he lowered his eyes to his hands, watching his fingers curl in on themselves.
"I used to think… I didn't deserve this," he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "Being here. Laughing with you. Fighting beside you. Living like this. I didn't grow up on this mountain. I didn't know how to fish, or fight, or even climb a tree right until you all beat it into me."
"You mean until I beat it into you," Ace muttered just loudly enough to be heard, arms crossed stubbornly.
Sabo pressed on, eyes distant now, as if staring into another world. "I came from a house with walls so white and polished they felt fake. A place where no one ever raised their voice, but no one ever really smiled either. My parents are still alive, but… I never really felt like I had a family. Not like this."
He looked up then, and when he spoke again, it was softer, more raw.
"Even after you let me in, even after treating me like one of your own, part of me always wondered if I truly belonged here."
The words hung heavy in the air, silencing even the insects for a moment. It was the kind of pause that squeezed around the heart, pulled tight and unrelenting.
Ace stood up suddenly, hands jammed deep into his pockets.
"You're a dumbass," he said, with all the grace of a punch to the gut.
Sabo blinked at him, confused. "…What?"
"A full-blown, grade A dumbass," Ace said again, stepping closer. "You really think you're not family just because you didn't eat dirt with us when you were four?"
"We did eat dirt," Luffy added helpfully, bouncing slightly on his heels. "Naru dared us once! And Grandpa made us too!"
"You fell face first into the ground with your mouth open, Luffy," Naru pointed out, an amused smile tugging at her lips.
Unfazed, Ace continued his tirade. "You think you're not one of us? Bastard, we've eaten from the same pot, been chased by the same wild boars, jumped into the same freezing river in the middle of winter, and yes, taken the same beatings from that crazy old geezer. You snore like a dying walrus, drool all over the pillows, steal my socks."
"They're communal socks," Sabo mumbled weakly.
"They were my socks!" Ace snapped. "But you know what? I let it slide. You know why? Because you're not just some friend we picked up. You're not some outsider tagging along."
Ace jabbed a finger firmly into Sabo's chest, the firelight throwing sharp shadows across his determined face.
"You're our brother, you dumbass. You're one of us. Always have been. And if you really doubted that, I'll go tell Grandpa, and we'll make sure he punches that stupid doubt clean out of your skull. Hmph!"
Without missing a beat, Luffy threw himself at Sabo, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist with the brightest, goofiest grin. "Yeah! You're our Sabo!"
Sabo let out a shaky breath, the dam beginning to crack, but before he could respond, Dadan's gruff voice cut through the thick emotion.
"Hmph. Took you long enough to figure it out, brat."
Everyone turned toward her, surprised.
"I've fed you, clothed you, patched you up when you crawled back with broken ribs," she muttered, her voice suspiciously thick. "I may not have pushed you out of me, but don't you ever go acting like I never cared. Any of you."
At the side, Dogra lifted his cup in a quiet, almost reverent toast. "To the fourth nightmare child."
Sabo's vision blurred, tears shimmering stubbornly in his eyes. "You guys…"
Naru finally stood as well, moving closer with a quiet, almost ghostlike grace that made everyone hush instinctively.
She reached out and gently patted Sabo's head, her fingers threading once through his messy blond hair.
"The day you walked into this house," she said, voice soft as the night breeze, "you were already one of us. Family isn't blood. It's the people who choose you, who have always been with you."
Sabo's breath hitched.
And just like that, the tears broke free, slipping down his cheeks in hot, unstoppable rivers. He covered his face with his hands, trying and utterly failing to hold it back. Luffy clung to him tighter, and Ace rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Don't start bawling now, you idiot. You're going to get snot all over your shirt and blame me for it later."
"I'm not… hic… I'm not blaming anyone!" Sabo tried to protest, half laughing, half crying, completely falling apart under the wave of overwhelming affection.
That night, no one spoke about tomorrow.
They stayed gathered around the fire far longer than usual, basking in the warmth of each other's company. The stars burned fiercely above them, a silent witness to the bond they had forged. The breeze whispered through the trees, carrying with it the lingering echoes of laughter and tears.
And for one more precious night, before life dragged them down different paths, before the tides of fate pulled them apart, the whole family was home.
And in the back of his mind, even as the horizon of his future loomed large and unknown, Sabo knew without a shred of doubt that no matter how far he sailed, or what storms he faced, he would always have a home waiting for him on Mt. Colubo.