Flashback
The small village of Port Luminous had never seen visitors quite like the trio that arrived on that rainy afternoon in late June. The red-haired young man with strange glowing eyes, the orange-haired woman with a sharp tongue and sharper mind, and the blind old sailor who moved with surprising confidence despite his disability.
They kept to themselves, renting rooms at the single inn, purchasing supplies with minimal conversation, and returning to their unusual ship each evening. The locals whispered about them, of course—strangers always inspired gossip in isolated places—but unlike other ports they'd visited recently, no one seemed particularly interested in their origins or business.
"It's refreshing to be anonymous again," Nami remarked as they walked through the village market, gathering provisions for the next leg of their journey. "No one's followed us for at least three days."
Kai nodded, adjusting the light cloak he wore despite the summer heat—a concession to practicality rather than secrecy now. While he no longer hid his metallic red hair, his distinctive heart-shaped tail remained tucked away, more for comfort in crowded spaces than from fear of discovery.
"The information control strategy is working," he replied quietly. "Red Queen's analysis shows the rumors have either faded or mutated into unrecognizable tales in most areas."
"And Captain Vassago?"
"Last spotted near the Grand Line entrance. Apparently, he found a buyer for the information—someone in the Revolutionary Army, according to Red Queen's sources."
Nami frowned. "The Revolutionary Army? That could be trouble."
"Or opportunity," Kanto interjected, his hearing as keen as ever. "Dragon's people aren't known for their allegiance to the World Government. They might view an outsider with advanced technology as a potential ally rather than a threat."
"We're not taking sides in this world's conflicts," Kai reminded them, selecting fresh fruit from a vendor's stall. "Not yet, anyway. Our priority remains joining Luffy and following the path we know leads to the Grand Line."
As they continued through the market, Kai noticed a newspaper vendor and purchased the latest edition. The headlines spoke of increased Marine activity throughout the East Blue—unusual for what was considered the "calmest" of the four Blues.
"They're searching for something," Kanto observed when Kai described the articles. "Or someone."
"Do you think—" Nami began, but Kai shook his head.
"Not us specifically. The pattern doesn't match. This is widespread, systematic—they're looking for something bigger." He folded the paper thoughtfully. "Still, it's another reason to maintain a low profile."
After completing their purchases, they returned to their ship, a modified fishing vessel they'd acquired two weeks earlier after abandoning their previous, more recognizable craft. As they stowed their supplies, Kai noticed Nami's unusual quietness.
"What's wrong?" he asked when they were alone in the small galley.
She hesitated, arranging dried provisions in the storage cabinets. "I've been thinking about the orphanage. It's been over a month since we've checked on them."
The Forgotten Island Orphanage had become something of a passion project for both of them—a place where Kai's technology and Nami's organizational skills had transformed a struggling facility into a beacon of hope. Director Mila and the children had become like family during their repeated visits.
"You're worried about them," Kai said, understanding immediately.
"With these rumors spreading, with people hunting for your technology... what if someone makes the connection and targets them?" Nami's eyes reflected her concern. "Those children have already lost enough."
Kai considered this. The risk was real—the orphanage contained several pieces of his technology, from the guardian robot Momo to the advanced water purification system and medical equipment.
"We should go to them," he decided. "At minimum to upgrade their security protocols, possibly to relocate them if necessary."
That evening, they plotted a course for Forgotten Island, calculating that a three-day diversion wouldn't significantly impact their rendezvous timeline with Luffy. As Kanto charted the most discreet route, avoiding known Marine patrol patterns, Kai worked in the ship's small cabin, modifying several devices for the orphanage's protection.
"Your concerns for these children are admirable," Kanto remarked as he entered the cabin later that night, his enhanced hearing allowing him to navigate the narrow space without assistance. "You've both grown attached to them."
Kai nodded, then remembered the old man couldn't see the gesture. "They remind me of my own situation, in a way. I was orphaned young, too."
"On your homeworld?" Kanto asked, settling into a chair.
"Yes. My parents were researchers—explorers charting the fringes of Devilukean space. Their ship was lost on a mission when I was very young." Kai rarely spoke of his past, finding it easier to focus on the present. "I was raised in a science colony—not unlike an orphanage, though more institutional."
"And now you create family wherever you go," the old sailor observed with a gentle smile. "The children at Forgotten Island, the navigator who's become more than a partner, soon this Luffy and his crew... you build connections in foreign soil."
Kai paused in his work, struck by the insight. "I suppose I do."
They reached Forgotten Island on a misty morning three days later. As their ship approached the hidden cove that served as the orphanage's private harbor, Kai felt a growing unease. Something was different.
"There's smoke," Nami said, pointing toward the island's center. "A lot of it."
Through his enhanced vision, Kai could make out multiple columns of smoke rising above the treeline—not the thin wisps of cooking fires, but the thicker plumes of substantial structures burning.
"Red Queen, scan the island," he ordered, activating his wrist communicator.
"Multiple heat signatures detected," the AI reported after a moment. "Fifty-seven human life forms in the central compound area. Fifteen additional life forms moving in a search pattern through the surrounding forest. Structural damage to the orphanage's east wing. Guardian unit Momo is active and engaged in defensive protocols."
Dread settled in Kai's stomach. "Pirates?"
"Negative. Movement patterns and equipment signatures suggest military training. High probability these are Marine special forces."
The news hit like a physical blow. The World Government had found them after all—not Kai and Nami, but the innocent children and staff who had benefited from their technology.
"We need to help them," Nami said immediately, her knuckles white as she gripped the ship's railing.
Kai was already activating his equipment. "Red Queen, prepare the emergency teleportation system and signal Momo that we're coming. Nami, take the ship around to the western cove—it's more defensible if we need to evacuate everyone."
As Nami nodded and adjusted their course, Kanto spoke up. "I'll remain with the ship, ready to receive refugees if necessary. Be careful, both of you. If these are indeed Marines, they're not simple pirates you can outwit or outfight."
Minutes later, Kai and Nami materialized at the edge of the forest, just out of sight of the orphanage compound. The situation was worse than they'd feared. Several buildings had been damaged, though not destroyed, and armed figures in unmarked but distinctly military-style uniforms were herding children and staff into the central courtyard.
"They're not killing anyone," Kai observed, his enhanced vision allowing him to survey the scene clearly. "This looks like an extraction operation, not an attack."
"They're taking the children?" Nami whispered, horrified.
"No... they're cataloging them. Look." He pointed to several officers moving among the gathered orphans, taking notes and occasionally examining specific children more closely. "They're looking for something—or someone."
"Devilukean traits," Nami realized. "They think some of the children might be like you."
The absurdity would have been laughable in any other situation. None of the orphanage's children were aliens—just ordinary human children who had benefited from advanced technology. But from the perspective of Marines investigating rumors of "metal-haired beings with miraculous powers," the orphanage—with its unusual technology and mysterious benefactors—would seem a logical place to search.
"Momo is holding position at the tree line," Kai noted, spotting the guardian robot maintaining a defensive perimeter. "Good. The protocol is working—protect rather than engage unless directly attacked."
"What's our plan?" Nami asked, her face set with determination.
Kai considered their options. A direct confrontation would endanger the children and staff. Stealth extraction of over fifty people was logistically impossible with their current resources. They needed to diffuse the situation rather than escalate it.
"We need to give them what they want," he decided. "Or at least, what they think they want."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I'm going to show myself—as the mysterious benefactor, not as an alien. I'll convince them I'm the source of the technology, that there are no 'Devilukean children' here, just human orphans I've helped with my inventions."
Nami grabbed his arm. "That's insane! They'll arrest you—or worse!"
"Not if I control the narrative." Kai tapped his wrist communicator. "Red Queen, activate Project Mirage."
"Project Mirage initialized," the AI confirmed. "Identity overlay prepared. Warning: this protocol has an 87% success probability with civilian populations but only a 64% success rate with military personnel."
"Noted. It doesn't need to be permanent—just convincing enough to de-escalate the immediate situation."
As Nami watched with concern, Kai's appearance subtly shifted. His metallic red hair darkened to a more natural auburn. His glowing eyes dimmed to a normal human brown. The heart-shaped tail was already hidden beneath his clothing. To all outward appearances, he now looked like an ordinary, if somewhat unusual, human.
"Holographic overlay," he explained to Nami. "Combined with subtle perception filters. They'll see what they expect to see—a gifted human inventor, not an alien being."
"And if it fails?"
"Then we move to Plan B—emergency teleportation of the children in priority groups while you and Momo provide covering fire." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "But let's try diplomacy first."
With that, Kai emerged from the forest edge and walked confidently toward the compound, hands raised to show he carried no weapons. Almost immediately, several armed men turned in his direction, rifles raised.
"That's far enough!" one shouted. "Identify yourself!"
"My name is Kai Zarathius," he replied calmly, continuing to walk forward at a measured pace. "This orphanage is under my protection. I'd like to speak with whoever's in charge."
A tense moment passed before a tall woman in a captain's uniform stepped forward. Her sharp features and calculating eyes marked her as someone accustomed to command.
"Captain Veritas, Marine Special Intelligence Division," she introduced herself. "You've saved us the trouble of finding you, Mr. Zarathius. We have many questions about your activities here."
"I imagine you do," Kai replied with a disarming smile. "And I'm happy to answer them. But first, I'd request that you allow the children to return to their unburned dormitories. They've been through enough trauma in their lives without being treated like criminals."
The captain studied him for a long moment before nodding to her subordinates. "Escort the children back to their quarters, but maintain the perimeter. Director Mila may accompany them."
As the relieved children were led away, many of them casting grateful glances toward Kai, Director Mila approached. The middle-aged woman's usually calm demeanor was strained, but she managed a small smile for Kai.
"Your timing is impeccable as always," she said softly.
"I'm sorry we weren't here sooner," he replied. "Is everyone alright?"
"Scared, but unharmed. They arrived at dawn, demanding information about our 'alien benefactor' and the 'non-human children' we were supposedly harboring." She shook her head. "I tried to explain that you were just a generous inventor with advanced techniques, but they insisted on searching everything."
Captain Veritas approached, interrupting their conversation. "You'll both come with me for questioning. My men will continue their inspection of the facility."
"You won't find what you're looking for," Kai told her directly. "There are no 'alien children' here, no 'Devilukean specimens' or whatever term your intelligence has provided. Just ordinary human orphans benefiting from advanced technology."
The captain's eyes narrowed. "And you expect me to believe that you, a single individual, developed technology decades beyond anything our own scientists have achieved? Technology that, by some reports, includes automated guardians, matter replication, and energy shields?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything without evidence," Kai replied. "Which is why I'm willing to demonstrate exactly how my inventions work, explain their principles, and prove they're based on human ingenuity, not alien intervention."
For the next several hours, Kai led Captain Veritas and her senior officers through a carefully choreographed demonstration of the orphanage's technology. With Red Queen's assistance through his concealed communicator, he provided plausible, technically sound explanations for each innovation—descriptions just advanced enough to seem revolutionary but not so advanced as to be beyond human comprehension.
The guardian robot Momo was explained as an advanced automaton using principles derived from ancient texts found in the East Blue. The medical bay became a refinement of traditional herbal medicine enhanced by precise distillation techniques. The water purification system was positioned as an adaptation of natural filtration processes observed in certain sea creatures.
By evening, Captain Veritas's skepticism had visibly diminished, though not disappeared entirely.
"Your explanations are... coherent," she acknowledged as they sat in the orphanage's main hall. "But they don't address the rumors of your own unusual nature. Several witnesses claim you possess non-human characteristics—metallic hair, glowing eyes, even some form of extendable appendage."
Kai laughed, the sound carefully calibrated to convey amused disbelief. "Captain, surely you've been in the Marines long enough to know how sailors' tales grow with each retelling. I use metallic compounds in my work—perhaps some residue in my hair caught the sunlight. I've experimented with luminescent materials that might explain the 'glowing eyes.' As for extra appendages..." He spread his hands. "I'm as human as you are."
The captain studied him intently. "Perhaps. But the World Government takes potential threats to global security very seriously. Unknown entities with advanced technology qualify as such threats."
"I'm not a threat," Kai said firmly. "I'm an inventor who chose to help children in need. If the World Government is concerned about my work, I'm happy to share non-military applications with their scientists. In fact, I'd welcome collaboration that could bring medical and agricultural benefits to more people."
This approach—offering limited cooperation while maintaining control—seemed to resonate with the captain. After further discussion, a tentative agreement was reached: the Marines would withdraw from the orphanage, taking detailed reports but no technology or persons. In exchange, Kai would provide regular updates on his "research" to designated Marine scientists.
It was well past midnight when the last Marine vessel departed from the island's shore. Kai, Nami, and Director Mila watched from the orphanage's hillside as the ships disappeared into the darkness.
"Do you think they believed you?" Nami asked quietly.
"Enough to de-escalate for now," Kai replied, deactivating his holographic disguise and allowing his natural appearance to return. "But they'll be watching. We've bought time, not permanent freedom."
Director Mila sighed heavily. "What does this mean for the orphanage? For the children?"
"It means we need to make some changes," Kai said, his expression resolute. "Starting tonight."
Over the next week, Kai and Nami worked tirelessly to implement a new protection strategy for the orphanage. The most advanced technology was either removed or concealed beneath more primitive-appearing exteriors. Momo the guardian robot was reprogrammed with new protocols that made him appear less sophisticated to outside observers. Most importantly, a network of early warning sensors was established around the island, designed to alert them to any approaching vessels.
"It's not ideal," Kai admitted to Nami as they finalized the modifications. "But it should keep them safe even when we're not here."
"And what about us?" she asked. "The Marines might have accepted your story for now, but they'll keep investigating."
"Which is why we need to disappear for a while," he agreed. "At least until we join Luffy and gain the protection of being part of his crew."
On their final night at Forgotten Island, a celebration was held in the orphanage's great hall. What had begun as a simple shelter had evolved into something more like a village, with over fifty children and twenty adult staff members creating a thriving community. During their week-long stay, several families from neighboring islands had arrived, seeking to adopt children or join the growing settlement.
"You've created something remarkable here," Kanto observed as he sat beside Kai, listening to the sounds of laughter and music filling the hall. "Something that will endure even when you're gone."
"We all did," Kai corrected him, watching as Nami taught a group of children a dance from her home village. "And they'll continue to build it themselves."
Director Mila approached, carrying a small wooden box. "Before you leave us again, we wanted to give you this." She opened the box to reveal a beautifully crafted medallion made from local materials—polished wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl and tiny fragments of sea glass. "The children made it. They call it the 'Protector's Star.' No matter where your journey takes you, you'll always have a home here."
Kai accepted the gift with genuine emotion, the simple token meaning more to him than any advanced technology. "Thank you. We'll return when we can."
The next morning, as dawn broke over the island, their ship set sail with minimal fanfare. The official story was that Kai Zarathius, the mysterious inventor, had departed to continue his research in distant lands. Only Director Mila and a few trusted staff knew they were heading to Loguetown to rendezvous with a young pirate who would one day become the Pirate King.
As Forgotten Island receded into the distance, Kai stood at the stern, the medallion hanging around his neck catching the morning light.
"You made the right choice," Nami said, joining him. "They'll be safer without us drawing attention to them."
"I know," he agreed. "But it's still difficult to leave them."
"We'll come back," she promised. "After we've found the One Piece and changed the world, we'll come back."
The conviction in her voice brought a smile to his face. In the months they'd traveled together, Nami had transformed from a guarded thief focused solely on her own survival to someone who believed in larger possibilities—in finding the One Piece, in changing the world, in building a future where orphaned children didn't need to fear Marines or pirates.
"Yes," he agreed. "We will."
For the next months, they maintained a deliberately low profile, avoiding populated ports and traveling through lesser-known sea routes that Kanto guided them through. Word reached them occasionally of continued Marine interest in the "Devilukean rumors," but without fresh sightings or incidents, the story gradually faded from immediate priority.
By late november, they had successfully dropped out of official notice. Kai used this period of relative calm to refine several key technologies they would need for the Grand Line journey, while Nami focused on perfecting her cartography and navigation skills under Kanto's expert tutelage.
"Your ability to sense approaching weather patterns has improved remarkably," the old sailor commented one afternoon as they charted their approach to Loguetown. "Few navigators twice your age could detect a directional shift so subtle."
"I had a good teacher," Nami replied with a smile. "Two good teachers, actually." She nodded toward.