The air in the Stubborn Mule's cockpit was thin and stale, recycled one too many times. It tasted of cold metal and the faint, clinging scent of Emily's herbal tea, a small luxury she'd managed to preserve. The only illumination came from the ghostly glow of the console screens, painting Kuro's sharp features in shades of grim blue as he monitored the silent comms. His gloved finger, the one that hid the seastone claw, tapped a slow, impatient rhythm on the edge of the control panel.
Souta stood slightly behind him, a silent specter. His dark eyes, absorbing the dim light, scanned the star-dusted void beyond the reinforced viewport. The tattoos peeking from his open collar seemed to shift in the low light, the intricate lines of Wano cartography a silent testament to the legacy he carried.
"Anything?" Emily's voice was soft, but it cut through the quiet. She leaned forward, her Celestial Monastery robes whispering against the pilot's chair.
"Static and cosmic background radiation," Kuro replied, his voice a low, cultured baritone that barely concealed a razor's edge. He adjusted his cracked spectacles with a practiced push of his palm. "The universe is not in a talkative mood."
Just then, a frantic, crackling burst of sound shattered the silence. A voice, high with strain, fought its way through the interference. "—anyone copy? This is the independent freighter… uh… hang on, Pete, what did we decide to call her this week?"
A second, more exasperated voice cut in. "Does it matter? They're in a world of hurt, not an art gallery! This is the freighter Stubborn Mule, we read your distress call. What's your—"
"Don't touch my console! Are you fucking crazy, man?" the first voice screeched.
Emily jolted, then quickly keyed the transmitter. "This is a merchant vessel. We read you, Stubborn Mule. Our primary power coupling is failing and our life support is at forty percent. Can you assist?"
She was met not with an answer, but with a heated argument already in progress. "—because if you'd checked the fuel gauge like I said, we wouldn't be running on fumes and hope!"
"Hope is a renewable resource! Your nagging is what's draining the batteries!"
Emily tried to interject, "Please, if you could—" but the transmission dissolved into a squabble over navigational charts and a misplaced nutrient paste packet before cutting out with a final, sharp pop. She sat back, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Well. Help appears to be on the way."
Kuro's lips thinned into a humorless line. He didn't turn from the viewport, his gaze fixed on the infinite, indifferent dark. "Are we sure that constitutes 'help'? It sounds more like a traveling psychiatric ward."
Souta's chair creaked as he shifted. "They are the only option currently on our scanners. A chaotic rescue is preferable to a orderly demise."
Below, in the cavernous cargo hold, the air was thick with the smell of rust, lubricant, and the faint, sweet tang of alien mold growing in the darker corners. The deck plates groaned underfoot, a constant, metallic complaint. Light came from a few flickering glow-panels, casting long, dancing shadows that made the stacked crates seem like sleeping giants.
Aurélie moved with a swordsman's economy, her silver hair a flash in the gloom as she directed the stowage of their most precious—and illicit—cargo. Her blade, Anathema, was a familiar, comforting weight on her hip. Bianca, her hands protected by grease-stained fingerless gloves, slid a heavy crate of random parts into a hidden compartment behind a false wall. Her ever-present multitool holster belt, clicked softly with her movements.
She glanced sideways at Ember, who was hefting a crate of crystal core parts with a focus that seemed new. The charred plush rabbit, Mr. Cinders, swung from her belt.
"So," Bianca began, her words peppered with her habitual tic. "You don't get, like, random urges anymore? To just go and, you know, blow stuff sky-high?"
Ember's lip quirked, a faint, almost-smile. She shoved the crate home with a grunt. "Um. I wouldn't exactly say I don't get the urges." She paused, wiping a smudge of grime from her cheek with the back of her wrist. "It's more like… I can have a conversation with myself about them now. Convince myself not to do it."
Bianca nodded, grabbing another, smaller crate of crystalline circuitry. "So, like, you're having a chat with yourself. In your head."
"Yeah. Sort of." Ember's mismatched eyes—one blue, one gold—lost focus for a moment, looking at something only she could see.
"So, do you think you'll be able to, like, always talk yourself into being, you know…?" Bianca trailed off, searching for the right word.
"Sane?" Ember finished for her, a real, if weary, smile touching her lips. She slid the hidden compartment shut with a solid thump. She shrugged, the gesture less manic and more genuinely uncertain. "I don't know. Aurélie says it was—is—a defense thing. To protect me. It could be that if I get really scared, or if my feelings get too… intense…" She trailed off, the old ghost of Josiah's voice a faint echo in her newly quieted mind.
Bianca hefted her crate. "Then you'd probably…"
Ember nodded, her neon-pink space buns bobbing. "Yeah. Maybe. But I don't know."
From across the hold, where he was meticulously cataloging the contents of an open crate with a glowing loupe, Charlie cleared his throat. "Ahem! That capacity, while volatile, could be a considerable benefit. In the appropriate, clearly delineated circumstances, of course."
Bianca shot him a look. "Like, yeah, as long as she can, like, snap back from it. You can't exactly schedule a meltdown between, like, tea and biscuits."
Aurélie's voice cut through the banter, cool and sharp as her blade. "Stay focused. We don't know when—"
A deafening, wailing alarm blared through the ship, a sound that was pure, undiluted panic. The red emergency lights flared to life, staining the hold the color of fresh blood.
In the cockpit above, Emily's voice crackled over the ship-wide intercom, tight with controlled stress. "All hands, brace. We have company. And it's… complicated."
*****
The sub cut through the tranquil waters of the New World, the terror of their crash-landing fading into the steady rhythm of the waves. Before them, an island grew from a hazy silhouette into a distinct, imposing shape. Sphinx Island rose from the sea, its towering central peak sculpted by wind and time into the vague, noble jagged pillar , watching over the harbor with a silent, stony gaze.
At the bow, Vesta was practically vibrating, leaning so far over the railing that only her grip and the tips of her sturdy boots kept her from becoming a rainbow-colored offering to the sea. "My first Blue Sea island," she breathed, her voice thick with wonder.
Mirroring her with unbridled enthusiasm, Eliane and Jelly had adopted identical poses. The young Lunarian chef leaned out just as far, her silver ponytail whipping in the salt-kissed breeze, while Jelly wobbled precariously, his gelatinous form jiggling with every small wave. "Shiny rock!" Jelly declared, pointing at the distinctive peak.
"Not so fast, squirt," Jannali said, her tone dry as the Outback. She reached out and firmly gripped the back of Eliane's chef's jacket, hauling her back from the edge a few inches. "I don't fancy having to jump in after you. These waters look chock-full of things that'd find a little chef a right tasty snack."
Further down the railing, Marya and Atlas reclined with a more practiced casualness. The Lynx Mink watched the approaching shore with a predator's assessing gaze, his tail nub giving an occasional, lazy flick. Marya stood beside him, her arms crossed over the Heart Pirates insignia on her leather jacket, her expression unreadable behind her usual calm.
Kuzan Aokiji stood a little apart, his large frame leaning against the railing, his eyes fixed on the island as it grew larger. The sea wind tugged at his loose coat. "Sphinx Island, they say this is where Whitebeard and Ace were buried," he commented, his voice a low rumble that carried easily over the water. "After the War of the Best."
The name acted like a lightning rod. Marya's head snapped around, her golden eyes sharpening on the former admiral. "Ace?"
Aokiji nodded slowly, turning his gaze to her. "Did you know him?"
A faint, wry smirk touched Marya's lips. "You could say that," she said, the words laced with a history she didn't elaborate on. "But that was a long time ago. Before..." She chuckled softly, a real, unexpected sound that held a ghost of nostalgia. "He had this thing for his hat. Always fussing with it." She shook her head, a few strands of her raven hair catching the sun. "And for falling asleep in the middle of a sentence. Right in the middle of a card game, once. Snoring." Her smirk faded slightly as she looked back at the island. "I was surprised he passed. Stupid, but... surprised."
Aokiji let out a long, slow sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire Marineford war. "Many lives were lost during that conflict."
Marya's eyes narrowed, her gaze turning analytical as she studied the former admiral. "You were there."
"I was," Aokiji confirmed, his voice flat. "So was your father."
A shadow passed behind Marya's eyes. She sighed, a sound of resigned acceptance. "Yeah, I know. That's when..." She cut herself off, shaking her head as if physically dispelling the thought. "Anyway. I think I will pay my respects while we are here."
Aokiji gave a single, solemn nod. "I think I will do the same."
The somber mood that had settled over them was abruptly punctured by Jannali. "Right, enough of the history lesson, you two," she said, her practical nature reasserting itself. She jerked a thumb towards the hatch. "Do you wanna try and put together that compass thingy now we're not plummeting to our doom?"
Marya pulled her gaze from the hallowed shore, the moment of personal reflection shifting back into focused purpose. She nodded, her calm demeanor firmly back in place. "Yeah," she said, her voice clear and decisive. "As soon as we get there." The past would have its moment, but the present, and the secrets of the Celestial Tideglass Compass, would not wait.
The sub settled in the shadow of the mountainous stone pillar, nestled in a vacant, rocky cove where the water was calm and clear. The crew disembarked onto a crescent of pale sand, the air rich with the smell of salt, warm stone, and distant pine from the island's interior. They huddled around Marya as she stood with the final fragment, the pieces of the Celestial Tideglass Compass laid out on a flat rock.
With careful hands, she fitted the last glowing shard into the intricate device. It clicked into place, the whole assembly humming with a faint, potential energy. Marya held it aloft. Nothing happened. The compass remained inert, its promised guidance silent.
Vesta cocked her head, her rainbow hair shifting. "Um... is that it? Not much of a light show."
Marya lowered the compass, a faint line of frustration between her brows. "I'm not sure," she admitted, her voice low. "The mechanism is complete. It should be active."
All eyes turned to Jannali. The three-eyed woman was staring at the compass, her gaze distant and unfocused, as if listening to a voice on the wind. Her usual lively expression had gone slack. She began to ramble, her voice a low, monotone murmur. "The sea's memory is key... not for mortal hands to command on dry land... requires immersion in saltwater... and the light of a full moon to wake the path..."
Aokiji, observing her strange state, placed a large, consoling hand on her shoulder. Eliane, looking concerned, reached up and took one of Jannali's hands in both of her small ones.
Jannali blinked, shuddering as if waking from a dream. "What? What did I say?"
Galit's mind was already working, his emerald eyes sharp. "So we need to try tonight," he deciphered, looking skyward where the sun was beginning its descent. "Fortunately, I think there is a full moon tonight."
The group's dynamic shift was so abrupt it was almost physical. A man with lazy, confident strides and a shock of blond hair and a pineapple shaped head was walking towards them from the tree line. "Well, hello there!"
Aokiji's entire posture changed. It wasn't a flinch, but a subtle coiling, a readiness that made the air feel several degrees cooler.
Marya's eyes flicked to him. "What is it?"
"Nothing," Aokiji murmured, though his gaze never left the newcomer.
It was Marco. His easy, welcoming smile began to falter as his eyes landed on the towering former admiral. He slowed his pace, his casual demeanor hardening. "I got word that we had some visitors hiding out in one of the coves." He stopped a dozen feet from the group, his arms crossing. "I can see why you wouldn't want anyone to know you were here." His tone turned dark and accusing. "Aokiji."
Marya's eyes shifted between the two men, reading the untold history in the tension that crackled between them. The rest of the crew braced themselves, Atlas's hand drifting toward his seastone chui, Galit's fingers twitching.
Then, Vesta, gloriously oblivious, bounded out from the back of the group with a beaming smile. "Hi! I'm Vesta! I'm going to take the Blue Sea by storm with my music! You want me to play a song?" She swung Mikasi from her back, and the guitar gave a cheerful, welcoming strum that seemed to vibrate in the sudden silence. "I can sing anything you want. If you like, I can play for your whole village! That is, if you have a village. If you don't, that's okay, I can do private venues, but they aren't as fun."
Marco stared, his stern expression dissolving into pure bewilderment.
A snort of laughter escaped Jannali. The rest of the crew relaxed by a fraction, a few chuckles breaking the tension.
Vesta plowed on, a force of nature. "We could have a concert! It will be super fun, and we can have a barbeque! I can go into town and get supplies!"
Jelly and Eliane bounced up from behind her, their faces alight. "Bloop! Party time!" Jelly chirped, while Eliane cheered, "Yes! A feast!"
Marco stood blinking, completely disarmed by the torrent of enthusiastic nonsense.
Vesta took his stunned silence as agreement. "That's a great idea! It can be my debut concert on the Blue Sea!" She waved a hand in the air as if seeing a massive venue sighs beaming back at her while Eliane and Jelly began a celebratory dance.
Jannali stepped forward, her practical nature reasserting itself. "Oh, no you don't. You are not going off shopping by yourself, especially not with the mutant jellyfish in tow."
"Food and party time!" Jelly reiterated, bouncing in place.
Galit pinched the bridge of his nose, a long-suffering sigh his only comment.
Marco watched the chaotic exchange, and then a genuine, surprised laugh burst from him. The sound was so disarming that the remaining tension bled from the crew in a collective, silent sigh of relief.
Without waiting for further debate, Vesta, Jelly, and Eliane began marching off in the assumed direction of the nearest village, a whirlwind of musical ambition and culinary excitement.
Marya looked over her shoulder. "Atlas."
The Lynx Mink nodded, understanding the unspoken order to keep an eye on them. "Right, Boss. On it."
"Back by nightfall," Marya called after his jogging form.
Marco looked at Marya, a curious glint in his eyes. "Boss?"
Marya met his gaze with a deadpan stare. "Yeah. Something like that, anyway." She pocketed the dormant compass. "We aren't staying long. But while we are here, I would like to pay my respects to Ace."
Marco's eyes narrowed, the easy humor fading back into a guarded intensity. "You knew him."
Marya gave a single, firm nod. "Yes. Do you know the way?"
Marco's gaze swept over the three of them standing before him: the enigmatic swordsman, the former admiral, and the tactical genius. He glanced over his shoulder at the four disappearing figures, then back to Marya, Galit, and Aokiji. He seemed to come to a decision.
"I will show the way," he said, his voice quieter now, graver. "Come with me."
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