The Polar Tang surfaced just beyond Hanabira's coral reefs, its sleek yellow hull glinting under the midday sun. From the deck, the island looked like a painting come to life—sloped hills blanketed in cherry blossoms, their pink petals swirling in the breeze like confetti. Paper lanterns hung from every tree and rooftop, their gold-and-crimson hues glowing even in daylight. The distant thump of taiko drums pulsed through the air, syncopated with laughter and the sizzle of street food.
Marya leaned against the railing, her bandaged arm tingling as the scent of grilled squid and sugar-roasted almonds wafted across the water. Eternal Eclipse hummed at her back, its presence a cold counterpoint to the island's warmth.
"Crystals first," Law repeated, stepping beside her. His voice was a blade sheathed in boredom, but his eyes scanned the docks with a surgeon's precision—assessing threats, exits, weaknesses. "The sub needs a new core panel. We find the parts, patch your junk heap, and leave. No detours."
Marya rolled her eyes, snatching the candied apple Bepo offered her. The polar bear had been nervously peeling the wrapper off since they'd anchored. "Relax, Captain Gloom. We'll be in and out before you can say 'festival fun.'"
Law's glare could've frozen magma. "This isn't a vacation."
"Could've fooled me." She bit into the apple, the caramelized sugar crunching between her teeth. The sweetness was cloying, undercut by the metallic aftertaste that always lingered now—the void's curse, leaching into her senses like poison.
Bepo's ears drooped. "Um… maybe we could get bubble coating? The Tang's looking a little rusty…"
"No." Law turned on his heel, coat flaring. "Ikkaku, Jean Bart—secure the parts. Shachi, Penguin, eyes on the perimeter. Marya—"
"—sticks with you. Yeah, yeah." She flicked the apple core into the sea, grinning as it vanished in a snap of jaws from some unseen reef predator. "Wouldn't want me accidentally enjoying myself."
Hanabira's streets were a kaleidoscope of chaos. Vendors hawked steamed buns shaped like sea kings, children darted underfoot with sparklers clutched in grubby fists, and dancers in flowing yukata twirled through the crowds, their fans painted with blooming peonies. Marya trailed Law through the throng, her gaze snagging on a stall selling fireworks—rockets as long as her arm, their casings wrapped in rice paper and stamped with dragons.
Vaughn would've bought the biggest one.
The memory hit like a gut punch: Vaughn, two weeks before his death, balancing a stolen firework on his shoulder as he regaled Charlie with increasingly implausible stories about pyrotechnics. "This baby could light up Mariejois! Think the Elders would notice?"
She blinked hard, forcing the image away.
Law stopped at a weather-beaten stall tucked into a shadowed alley, its shelves crammed with salvaged ship parts. Ikkaku immediately began haggling with the merchant, a wizened old woman whose teeth were stained betel-nut red.
"Coolant coils," Ikkaku demanded, slapping a wad of berries on the counter. "And don't try to pawn off last century's junk. I'll know."
Jean Bart hefted a crate of scrap metal, his tattooed arms flexing. "Found the crystals. Low grade, but they'll hold."
Marya lingered at the alley's mouth, her attention snagged by the fireworks display erupting over the bay. Chrysanthemum bursts of gold and azure bloomed in the sky, their reflections fracturing in the waves. For a moment, the world was nothing but light and sound—no curses, no ghosts, just beauty.
Then the fireworks detonated early.
The first explosion shattered a vendor's cart, sending skewers of grilled octopus spiraling into the air like flaming shrapnel. Screams erupted as the crowd stampeded, smoke billowing between the cherry trees.
"Oooh, pretty!"
Marya spun. A girl in a frilly Lolita dress stood behind her, slingshot rifle propped on her shoulder. Ember twirled a sparkler in her free hand, her smile wide enough to show molars. "But these… these'll be spectacular."
She snapped her fingers.
The fireworks battery on the hillside erupted in a chain reaction, rockets careening wildly into the crowd. One slammed into a sake barrel, igniting a river of fire that raced toward the docks.
Marya drew Eternal Eclipse, the blade's runes flaring crimson as its edge split the smoky air. The girl in the frilly Lolita dress giggled, twirling her sparkler like a baton.
"Who are you?" Marya demanded, her voice sharp as steel.
Ember tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Guess!"
"Marines? World Government lackeys?"
"Boring!" Ember stuck out her tongue. "Try again!"
Marya's grip tightened. "Revolutionaries? Black Market?"
Ember sighed, loading a pellet into her slingshot rifle. "You're no fun." She fired—not at Marya, but at a nearby lantern. It exploded in a shower of flames, igniting a silk banner that read Happy Blossom Festival! "We're the Syndicate, dummy! Casimir's our… uh… sugar daddy now?" Ember giggled, loading a pellet into her slingshot. "He's super mad about his eye. Me? I'm just here for the boom."
Marya froze. "Syndicate?"
The pellet struck Marya's wrist, exploding on impact. She hissed, her grip on the sword faltering as blood slicked her palm.
"Yuppers!" Ember backflipped onto a vendor's stall, her dress flaring. "Turns out, your mommy's notes pissed off lots of people. Now there's a huge bounty on your head!" She mimed an explosion with her hands. "Boom!"
"Tag, you're it!" Ember sang, vanishing into the smoke.
Marya lunged, Eternal Eclipse carving a black crescent through the air. Ember detonated a pellet mid-dodge, the blast hurling Marya into a stack of sake barrels.
"Aw, don't be mad!" Ember pouted, reloading. "We're just here to play!"
The porcelain mask stall erupted into a hailstorm of shrapnel as Ember's pellet detonated. Fragments of painted clay—smiling Oni faces, delicate Geisha visages—sliced through the air like jagged blades. Penguin hit the ground rolling, his jacket torn by ceramic shards, and snatched the first weapon within reach: a flimsy wooden katana from a nearby festival rack.
"Stay still, you lunatic!" he roared, swinging the prop sword at Ember's knees.
She cartwheeled backward, her Lolita dress flaring to reveal bandoliers of pellet grenades strapped to her thighs. "Boom-Boom Burst!" she sang, lobbing a cherry-red explosive over her shoulder. The blast vaporized a tower of rice cakes, sending sticky shrapnel raining down. Penguin shielded his face, the wooden katana splintering in his grip.
Ember giggled, twirling her slingshot rifle. "Aw, is Mr. Grumpy out of toys?" She perched atop a lantern pole, blood dripping from her burned fingers where the firework had scorched her. The scent of charred flesh mingled with gunpowder.
Penguin lunged, snatching a cast-iron frypan from a nearby food stall. "How's this for a toy?!"
Ember's eyes lit up. "Oooh, kitchen warfare! Yes!" She fired a pellet at the pan. The impact exploded, wrenching it from Penguin's hands and sending it spiraling into a sake barrel. Flaming liquid cascaded across the street.
"Hot, hot, HOT!" A vendor dove into a water trough as the blaze spread.
Penguin ducked behind a teetering stack of mochi boxes, breath ragged. Ember's laughter echoed from the rooftops, her silhouette backlit by the festival's still-raging fireworks—innocent bursts of gold and blue now juxtaposed with her carnage.
"C'mon, Mr. Grumpy!" she called, reloading her slingshot with a pellet shaped like a tiny skull. "Let's play tag!"
He vaulted over the stall, frypan forgotten, and tackled her mid-leap. They crashed through a paper screen into a tea house, scattering patrons and upturning tables. Ember squirmed, her grin unhinged as she pressed a pellet to his chest.
"Boom."
Penguin twisted, slamming her wrist into the floor. The pellet rolled free, detonating a decorative koi pond. Water and fish rained down as he pinned her, knee on her ribs.
"Game over," he growled.
Ember's smile widened. "Silly Penguin… I'm it."
Her boot kicked a hidden pellet strapped to her ankle. The blast hurled him through the wall, back into the fiery street.
Gasping, Penguin staggered upright, ash coating his face. Ember blew him a kiss from the roof's edge, her dress singed but spirit unbroken.
"Til next time!"
As she vanished into smoke, Penguin spat out a tooth. "Law's gonna kill me…"
The air reeked of burning lacquer and charred silk as the stall's flames roared higher, casting erratic shadows across the panicked crowd. Shachi stumbled back, nearly tripping over a spilled crate of persimmons, their orange flesh smoldering underfoot. Across the chaos, Souta leaned casually against the stall's splintered support beam, sleeves rolled to reveal tattoos that slithered like living ink beneath his skin. His expression was one of profound boredom, as if the festival's destruction were a tedious puppet show.
With a flick of his wrist, the serpent coiled around his forearm detached itself, ink pooling into three-dimensional form. It lunged at Shachi, fangs glistening with iridescent venom, scales shimmering like oil on water. Shachi barely dodged, the serpent's jaws snapping shut on empty air where his shoulder had been.
"The hell?!" Shachi spat, scrambling behind an overturned cart of roasted chestnuts. The serpent hissed, its forked tongue flicking hungrily.
Souta adjusted his cufflinks, unbothered by the embers singeing his tailored coat. "You're 'Unimportant Stuff,'" he drawled, examining his nails. "But… mildly entertaining." Another flick, and the serpent dissolved into a swarm of ink wasps, their wings buzzing with a sound like grinding gears.
Shachi bolted, ducking under a flaming banner as the wasps pursued. He vaulted over a mochi vendor's stall, grabbing a bamboo ladle to swat at the swarm. The ladle passed harmlessly through them, splattering droplets of ink that hissed like acid where they landed.
"Captain!" Shachi yelled, skidding into a puddle of spilled soy sauce. "We've got a living sketchbook over here!"
Law didn't glance up from cleaving a collapsed timber with Kikoku, its blade a silver blur as he carved a path toward Marya. "Figure it out!"
Souta sighed, plucking a persimmon from the ruined stall and biting into it. Juice dripped down his chin, ignored. "How… pedestrian."
One of the wasps dive-bombed Shachi's arm, its stinger piercing fabric before he smashed it against a wall. The ink burst into a cloud of spidery tendrils that recoalesced into two smaller wasps. "Oh, come on!"
Souta chuckled, low and humorless. "Persistent, aren't they? Like regrets." He stepped forward, the shadows around him deepening as a wolf tattoo peeled from his collarbone, solidifying into a snarling ink beast. "But don't worry—you'll be 'Unimportant' and dead soon."
Shachi grabbed a clay sake jug and hurled it. The wolf dissolved into ink mid-leap, drenching him in black sludge that reeked of iron and salt. Gasping, he wiped his eyes—just in time to see Souta yawn.
"Yawn. Is this really the best the Heart Pirates offer?"
"Nah," Shachi grinned, bloodied but defiant. "Just the warm-up act."
Behind Souta, the burning stall collapsed in a shower of sparks. The assassin didn't flinch, but the distraction gave Shachi an opening. He snatched a smoldering timber and swung it at the swarm, the heat scattering the wasps into evaporating mist.
Souta arched an eyebrow. "…Adequate."
But Shachi was already gone, melting into the crowd as Law's voice crackled over the transponder: "Fall back! Now!"
Marya's world was a muffled haze. Smoke and saltwater stung her lungs as Law's crew dragged her limp body from the flaming wreckage of the festival. Her right arm hung useless, the void veins pulsing like poison under her skin, while Eternal Eclipse's hilt remained clenched in her left fist—its grip unyielding even in unconsciousness. The crew half-carried, half-dumped her onto a secluded stretch of beach, sand gritting into her wounds as they retreated to regroup.
The moon, sharp as a sickle, cast silver light over the tide. Waves lapped at Marya's boots, their chill seeping through the leather. In the distance, fireworks still burst sporadically over Hanabira, their colors bleeding into the night like dying stars.
She woke to the taste of copper and brine. Every muscle screamed—the aftermath of Ember's explosives and the void's corrosive toll. Sand clung to her cheeks, gritty and damp, as she pushed herself upright. Eternal Eclipse lay beside her, its obsidian blade drinking the moonlight, the crimson runes throbbing faintly.
Get up. Move.
Her legs wobbled, but she staggered to her feet, the world tilting. The beach stretched desolate, flanked by jagged cliffs and the skeletal remains of shipwrecks. And then—him.
"Dracule Marya."
The voice slithered from the shadows, smooth and refined—Klahadore's veneer. Kuro stepped into the moonlight, his cracked glasses perched precariously on his nose, Cat Claws glinting. The crescent moon painted his face in monochrome, half gentleman, half beast.
"The prodigy," he sneered, the growl beneath his words surfacing. "What a… disappointment."
Marya spat blood into the sand. "You're with the Syndicate as well."
Kuro's glasses flashed as he adjusted them, the gesture fastidious, practiced. "Retirement requires funds. Your head will suffice."
He lunged.
Marya barely parried, Eternal Eclipse meeting his claws in a shower of sparks. The impact rattled her bones, but she held, the sword's void energy humming in her veins. Kuro pressed closer, his breath sour with desperation.
"You're slow," he hissed, Klahadore's cadence fraying. "Weak. Nothing like your father."
"Shut. Up."
She twisted, breaking his guard, and slashed upward. Kuro danced back, claws screeching against her blade, but his footwork was precise—measured. Controlled.
Then the crescent moon crested fully, its light catching his glasses.
A tremor ran through him.
"Plans…" he rasped, saliva dripping onto his cravat. "Need to… kill…"
His attacks turned erratic, frenzied. Klahadore's poise shattered, replaced by feral swipes and animalistic snarls. Marya faltered, the void veins in her arm burning as the sword's hunger surged, drawn to Kuro's madness.
Eternal Eclipse whispered: Let go. Let me feast.
"Black Crescent!"
The void slash tore through the night, a crescent of pure darkness that shattered Kuro's glasses and carved a gash across his chest. He staggered, blood soaking his tailored shirt, but his lips peeled back in a grin.
"Yes… YES!" he gurgled, claws raised. "More!"
A blue sphere engulfed the beach.
"Gamma Knife."
Law's voice cut through the chaos as his blade pierced Kuro's abdomen. The assassin collapsed, organs seared, his claws digging furrows in the sand.
"My plan…" Kuro choked, fingers scrabbling for his broken glasses. "Can't… fail…"
Law yanked Marya back, his grip bruising. "Move. Now."
Ember's explosives rained down behind them, the beach erupting in geysers of fire and sand.
Back on the Polar Tang, Marya slumped against the med bay wall. The void veins had retreated, leaving her arm pallid and numb.
Law tossed her a blue crystal—salvaged from the festival's ruins. It glowed faintly, reflecting in his gold eyes. "Your sub's repaired. For now."
Penguin leaned in the doorway, a fresh bandage wrapped around his bicep where Ember's explosives had grazed him. "Who the hell were those freaks? And why's a glorified babysitter like Kuro mixed up in this?"
Shachi, nursing an ink-stained cheek from Souta's wasps, chimed in. "Yeah, since when do assassins dress like they're going to a tea party?"
Marya stared at the crystal's faint glow. "They're Syndicate. Black market dealers, mercenaries—whatever. They sell secrets. And right now, the biggest secret is whatever my mother found in the Dawnless City."
Bepo paused mid-rice-ball-offer. "Syndicate? Like… spy Syndicate?"
"Worse," Law interjected, his voice cold. "They're scavengers. They bury truths for the highest bidder."
Marya's grip tightened on Kuro's glasses. "Casimir hired them. The World Government probably ordered him to silence my mother… and now me."
Penguin whistled. "So we've got a bunch of nerdy assassins and the Navy on our tails? Classic."
Shachi fake-swooned against Jean Bart. "Just another Tuesday!"
Law shot them a glare. "The Syndicate doesn't fail contracts. They'll regroup. Stronger."
She nodded, exhaustion weighing her voice. "They'll come again."
"Obviously."
Bepo shuffled to her, a singed rice ball balanced on his paw. "Um… thought you might be hungry?"
Marya took it, the gesture so achingly Vaughn that her throat tightened. "Thanks, Bepo."
The polar bear's ears twitched. "You're, uh… scary. But cool. Like Mihawk."
She snorted. "Mihawk doesn't eat rice balls."
"He should," Bepo mumbled, retreating.
As the crew dispersed, Law lingered. "You really think you're ready for what's in that city?"
She glanced at Eternal Eclipse, its blade humming faintly. "Does it matter?"
On the beach, Kuro crawled ashore hours later, saltwater stinging his wounds. His glasses hung askew, one lens missing, the other cracked.
"Plans…" he rasped to the indifferent moon. "New plan…"
The tide erased his bloodstains, and the festival's ashes drifted on the wind.
Somewhere, Eternal Eclipse hummed.