Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Somewhere in the New World, the sun had shone on the Moby Dick. T he colossal ship, a fortress upon the sea, cut through the ocean with steady grace. Beside it, two smaller vessels sailed in tandem—each adorned with wooden dragon figureheads, one painted emerald green, the other a deep, fiery red.

On the main deck, a gathering had formed, all eyes drawn to a young blonde standing before them. He was tall-ish for his age, with sharp, determined features, and a confident smile playing on his lips. His black top hat sat slightly askew, a pair of blue goggles perched atop it.

"So, you're our new crewmate!" Thatch grinned, arms crossed as he took in the newest addition to their ranks.

"I'm here to train and learn," the boy replied, voice steady and sure. "One year—I'll spend one year on this ship, strengthening our alliance and improving my combat skills."

Whitebeard himself stood at the front, a towering presence, his deep voice cutting through the murmurs. "Sabo, of the Revolutionary Army. You'll be staying aboard our ship under the command of the First Division."

Sabo nodded, his expression unwavering, but beneath his composure, excitement bubbled. This was no ordinary journey. 

The gathered revolutionaries, having escorted their comrade, exchanged final words before departing. Their smaller ship pulled away, bound for Baltigo, leaving Sabo to face the world of pirates alone.

Marco, the First Division Commander, stepped forward. "Since you're with us, you’ll be under my wing—yoi." The blonde pirate smirked, his casual demeanor at odds with the sharp intelligence in his eyes. It was the gaze of a hardy pirate, one that had spent their whole live on the deep blue sea. 

Sabo took note of his distinctive look—almost laughing, but he held it back. He would hate to do a bad first impression, not after the weight of everything he represented. The first alliance between the Red Hair Pirates, the Whitebeard Pirates, and the Revolutionary Army. A Moment that might as well be stuck in the history books.
Instead, he straightened, introducing himself with confidence before Marco led him below deck to his quarters.

As they walked, Marco explained the workings of the ship—the structure, the daily routines, the responsibilities. Their daily life was organized, each and every member having their role, allowing the machinery of the World's biggest Pirate Crew to work. But one particular topic, something significant, remained unsaid. They had already agreed that it wasn’t Marco’s place to be the one to reveal it, and the bonde boy would find out soon enough.

Before Sabo could dwell on the slight hesitation in Marco’s voice, someone passed by them—a figure close to his age. Cloaked, he could barely make out their face, but much to his luck, they turned on their heel, greeting Marco first. Their stance relaxed, the exchange casual, Sabo could immediatly read a friendship between the two. But as their conversation ended, they turned toward Sabo, their crimson eyes sharp with curiosity. At first, it sent a shiver down his spine. Their gaze was intense, the slit pupils barely hiding a certain ferocity underneath. 

"You're the new one, huh?"

Sabo took them in—tall, almost as tall as Marco, with a presence that made him instinctively straighten his posture. Their black cloak concealed much of their form, but the faint gleam of sharp canines peeked from their lips as they spoke.

"The name’s Riley," they continued, shifting their weight slightly, their grin growing just a bit wider. "Red Hair Pirates. But for now, I’m staying here—just like you."

Their teeth—razor-sharp—caught Sabo’s attention. He’d seen similar in the many fishmen who trained under the Revolutionary Army, but Riley lacked the other common traits. It was the first of the many mysteries he would meet on this ship.

However, as fast as they had appeared, Riley had disappeared again, having tasks they needed to fulfill. This prompted Marco to show his guest his room. As they walked through the first floor, Sabo was impressed by the sheer size of everything. The ship had so many floors, so many rooms. It almost looked like a castle, with corridors adorned by dozens of doors on each side. The guest quarters were on the first floor, separate from where most of the crew slept. Since Sabo was here temporarily, he was given his own space—directly across from Riley’s.

The room itself was modest. A single bed with blue covers, a wooden desk, a storage chest, and a small circular window that overlooked the never ending sea. It wasn't much, but he wouldn't be lacking anything. As long as he could sleep somewhere, that was all that mattered. He hadn't planned to spend much time in his quarters anyways, the life of the decks seeming much more exciting.  

Marco vaguely gestured toward it. It was the first time the revolutionary had noticed the commander’s language tick.

"You’ve traveled a lot, yeah? Take some time to settle in-yoi. Rest up. We’ll have dinner later."

Sabo wanted to explore, to meet more of the crew, to start training—it was what he came for. But exhaustion clung to him. He barely had time to respond before sleep claimed him. If it wasn't for the mysterious stranger knocking on his door, he might not have awakened for a few more days.

He blinked groggily, dragging himself upright.

Outside, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, Riley was waiting. "Dinner’s starting," they informed him, tilting their head toward the deck, where the sound of laughter and conversation echoed. 

Sabo’s stomach grumbled in response.

He followed them up, stepping into a world of lively chaos. Tables overflowed with food, and crewmates ate wherever they pleased—some seated, others perched on barrels or even sprawled across the deck itself.

Only one table seemed to be only occupied by half. It was one of the central tables, smaller than the others. There, he quickly spotted Marco, sitting next to others he recognized from meeting earlier, but had already forgot the names of. 

Riley sat down first, on the opposing side of the first commander, next to what seemed like a shark fishman. Maybe they really were a fishman, Sabo wondered, but his thoughts dissipated as the first commander invited him to join their table, patting the empty space that was left next to him. 

Marco waved him over. "C’mon, kid, sit-yoi."

Grabbing a plate of food from the kitchen—meat and a generous helping of vegetables—the blonde joined them. At first, he only spoke with those at his table, but soon more and more pirates came to introduce themselves. The meal stretched on, a whirlwind of stories, jokes, and occasional brawls breaking out between crewmates. The revolutionary was somewhat more disciplined - thus he was almost surprised at first, but he did not take a dislike to their traditions. After all, he had chosen to live the Pirate Life for a year.

Yet as much as he wanted to stay up and take it all in, exhaustion weighed him down once more. Finally, he excused himself, retreating back to his quarters.

The next morning arrived quickly, and Sabo was woken up early. By that time most of the people were already working. A few were handling the sails, trying to get the best out of the wind which was grazing upon the sea. As he looked over the rail of the ship, he saw that the Red Hair pirates were doing the same on the Red Force. 

It seemed like they were preparing to gather more speed, possibly to sail to a new destination. 

He turned to Thatch, who leaned casually against the ship’s side, a smirk playing on his lips. He had been showing him around the kitchen earlier, parading the sheer size of all the provisions they had to carry.

"Where are we headed?"

Thatch’s grin widened. "Foodvalten. A little island under our protection got raided—some no-name pirates thought they could get away with it. We’re heading there to remind them why that was a bad idea."

Excitement immediately sparked in Sabo’s chest. A real battle—his first chance to see the Whitebeard Pirates in action.

"But if you wanna fight," Thatch added, drawing one of his swords with a practiced flick, "you gotta prove yourself first, army boy."

Sabo didn’t hesitate. Grabbing his metal pipe—the same one that had been with him since the day Dragon found him—he took his stance.

The sound of clashing metal could be heard across the whole deck, drawing some curious people who looked at the fight. Such brawls were no rarity, as the divisions all sparred regularly to keep their skills sharp, yet they still attracted the crew mates who made bets on who would win. But the fight didn’t last long. In a swift maneuver, Thatch had disarmed him.

"Not bad," the Fourth Division Commander admitted, helping him back up. "But your reflexes need work."

Before Sabo could respond, a voice cut in—Riley, watching with an amused smirk.

"Already bullying the new guy?" They rolled their eyes dramatically before stepping forward. "If you wanna fight, fight me instead."

For the first time, they shed their cloak, revealing more than Sabo had seen the night before—scaled claws, curved horns, and an anthracite tail, all marked with strange blue patterns. A pair of dark wings folded against their back.

Sabo had trained under the Revolutionaries. He had met fishmen, minks, and warriors from every sea. But he had never seen anything like this, and he was still far from understanding what had just revealed before his eyes. 

However Thatch didn’t wait for the boy's mind to make up. He lunged, suddenly on the other side of the deck with a single stride.

Riley dodged, leaping over his strike and landing behind him. With a well trained flick of their tail, they swept his legs out from under him. But Thatch was quick—rolling back onto his feet and slashing in a sharp counterattack.

Riley jumped back again to evade—

CRACK.

Everyone froze. Riley dangled awkwardly, their horns somehow embedded in the mast behind them.

Silence stretched for a beat before the entire deck erupted into deep laughter.

Riley struggled for a moment before finally yanking themselves free, landing in a heap on the deck. They shot Thatch a glare, crossing their arms.

"Next time, I win!" They declared, huffing.

Thatch only grinned. "Looking forward to it."

Chapter Text

A few days had passed on the Moby Dick, and Sabo was slowly adjusting to life among the Whitebeard Pirates. Every day brought a new challenge—a different crew member stepping up to spar with him. Some even used their Devil Fruit powers, which made the fights all the more exciting.

One of his biggest highlights had been Marco, the First Division Commander, who wielded the mythical Zoan fruit of the Phoenix. Watching him fight was something else entirely, the blue flames gloating stronger than the sun itself.

However, one day, while catching his breath after a match, a thought struck Sabo. There had been quite a few wielders of Zoan powers on the ship that had proudly named their powers. All, except for one.

“Does Riley also have a Zoan fruit?”

It made sense to him. They had wings, horns, a tail—it only seemed logical that they were another Zoan user.

Marco, wiping sweat from his brow, paused. His usual easygoing smile faltered, replaced by something more pensive.

He knew the question would eventually come, it always did. 

But that wasn’t his question to answer.

Most new recruits eventually figured it out on their own, but Sabo was curious and direct. Marco made a quick decision as his eyes trailed over the deck.

“Oi, Riley! Come here for a sec—Sabo’s got a question-yoi.”

At that moment, Riley was in the middle of sparring with another pirate, practicing their backward jumps. They barely turned their head, amusement flashing in their crimson eyes. But as the fight got into their opponents favour, they stopped mid-attack, raising a hand to signal that they were listening.

Sabo wasted no time.

“Do you have a Zoan fruit?” he asked, his voice filled with curiosity. “I saw you flying yesterday, so I figured…”

At those words, Riley took a deep breath and closed their eyes.

Even their sparring partner instinctively took a step back, as if sensing the weight of what was about to be revealed.

Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, Riley spread their wings—a massive display of black and blue, stretching from their back with an undeniable presence.

“I do not have a Zoan fruit.”

They opened their eyes again, glinting a deep crimson. A sharp-toothed grin spread across their face.

“I am of the race of the dragons.”

It was the first of many silences. 

Sabo simply stared. His mind scrambled to catch up with the words, but nothing made sense. And yet, the excitement on his face was impossible to miss.

“Dragons? They exist?!”

Beside him, Marco let out a soft chuckle. This reaction never got old, as rarely as it happened. 

Riley nodded, their wings still extended proudly. “They do exist, and you have one of the last two standing right in front of you.”

However, that piece of information only left Sabo with more questions than it had answered. So many came to his mind, like a child that had just learned about the many wonders of this world. Why? How? Where? Why?

“Wait—only two? Who’s the other one?”

That question made Marco and Riley exchange looks. Usually, the new mates would eventually find out by themselves, the question had rarely been asked. 

Sabo noticed the slight shift in atmosphere, rubbing the back of his blonde hair awkwardly. Had he said something wrong? He started berating himself, it was fairly intrusive after all,

But they answered, their pride on full display once more. 

“The other dragon is my uncle, Red-Haired Shanks.”

Another silence.

And then—enthusiasm.

“Shanks?! That’s so cool!!”

Then, as the excitement settled, confusion set in.

“…Wait. How the hell does nobody know about this?”

If Shanks was a dragon, the Marines would have plastered that information everywhere by now. He was, after all, one of the most famous pirates in the world.

Riley grinned, crossing their arms. “That’s where we’re smart.”

They leaned in slightly, as if revealing a grand secret.

“We have a crewmate on the Red Force with a special Devil Fruit—the Secret-Secret Fruit.”

Sabo’s brow furrowed. “Secret-Secret Fruit?”

“Yep! It means that apart from me and Shanks, no one can talk about our secret to others who don’t already know.”

“…What? I don’t think that makes sense…”

“Basically, well, it’s a long story but-” Riley continued, trying to find the right words, “if someone finds out, they can talk about it to others who also know, but they physically cannot tell someone new. The words just won’t leave their mouth, and they cannot write it either. It’s a fairly good system.”

Sabo processed that. At first, he struggled getting it, but after a few moments of quietness, a metaphorical lightbulb turned on. 

“…But what if someone accidentally sees it?”

Riley shrugged. “Then it’s like I told them myself. But even if a Marine saw, it’s not like they could report it to their superiors.”

Sabo let out a breath, shaking his head in amazement. “That’s insane.”

He definitely had a lot to think about, however those moments of reflexion were quickly cut short as they had approached their destination. 

The weather had quite significantly shifted, giving away to grayish clouds, obstructing the usual warmth that reigned in those waters. Foodvalten was usually a summer island, occasionally having served as a tourist destination - at least, whenever pirate raids did not plague them. 

It was still a relatively small island, its dense forests hiding scattered villages along the sandy coast. The buildings were old, simple, yet sturdy. But every village also bore the same scar—a path of destruction left by an unknown pirate crew. If it wasn’t for the unusual rain, the small patch of land would still be burning. 

A few hours before their arrival, Whitebeard himself had given the orders:

“Thatch, take the Fourth Division. Investigate the island alongside the Red Hairs and find out who did this. The other divisions will be providing help to the inhabitants or stay back. I don’t think we’ll need to go all out.”

The Yonko then turned around, facing the First Division’s lead. 

“Marco, ask around if someone wants to fly with you around the island. See if there are any ships we haven’t spotted yet.”

As they finally let down their anchor, Sabo watched in awe as the whole crew got ready. His first time seeing them in true action; an opportunity to see if they were truly as good as he had heard. And on top of that, he could follow their lead and fight alongside them. It was the true beginning of their alliance, an opportunity to prove himself.

“You’re not going.”

“But I want to!”

“I said no, if we need you we’ll call you. Until then, you stay here.”

Sabo’s little bubble of joy had quickly burst as he turned around, seeing Riley argue with whom he recognized as being Shanks. It was the first time he had actually stood in face of the infamous pirate, as he rarely left his own ship. 

“I’m going! I’m not asking!”

“And I’m not asking you either. This is an order.” 

At that point, the brown haired pirate turned on their heels. They knew they had nothing more they could say - words only futile.

But they didn’t fully give up, loudly growling as Sabo witnessed the first dragon transformation of his life. In a split second, a massive, quadrupedal dragon stood a few feet away. At 15 meters long, it stretched through most of the deck, the wooden planks painfully creaking under its weight. Covered in dark gray scales , it was marked with blue symbols. He had never even dreamed of ever seeing a creature like this in front of his eyes. 

Yet, their might didn’t change the Red Haired pirate’s mind, who treated it like nothing more than a tantrum. They would stay on the ship. 

For a second, his heart was torn in two. Sure, he was so excited to go, yet would he want to leave them alone? He understood that there wasn’t much he understood - they had barely met, as he had been on the ship for maybe a week. 

Sabo wasn’t someone mean. He wasn’t someone to leave people behind - but. Seeing how much they wanted to go. He wanted to go. And with the resolve to go because one had to celebrate their freedoms - because it meant they would fight for others. He went. And they were glad he went. 

He was thrown in the midst of the action, the air heavy with the typical smells of war. It was mostly metalic. That was the best way he could describe it. As a revolutionary - it wasn’t something new - but nothing he’d ever get used to. It was also, somewhat, home. He could not describe how - most of his memories still hidden to him - but he knew it was were he belonged. 

The only moment of glee was when Marco had grazed the skies barely above their head, a sudden burst of heavenly light amidst the gray smoke of war. 

Back to work. The rush of beauty an instant already long gone. Back to the people that needed them, the ones that his now crew had vowed to protect. Back to the people he had vowed to protect. 

From above, it was almost possible to forget the train of destruction. The gaze was just naturally drawn to the unending horizon instead. However, he knew how easy it was to lose one’s goal, and thus he lowered his head, his eyes drifting from village to village, following the trail. And after a few minutes of concentrated flight, he easily spotted a medium-sized pirate ship, nestled in the false security of two cliffs. 

While the New World was filled with the most extraordinary of crews, rare were the ones to measure to the Whitebeard pirates, and thus the fight was short. They were Fifteen men of various ages, sporting an unknown to him Jolly Roger. It almost made him feel pity - it was truly the bad efforts of a small crew that had taken a bite way too big to chew.

But Marco was not one to forgive such wrongdoings. Many people had suffered, and well above that, they had shown the largest of disrespects to his captain. 

He didn’t even call reinforcements, deciding to make the job quick. The faster he was done, the faster they could go back to help the remnants of civilization. 

The blue flames engulfed the ship.

One by one, the enemy pirates fell.

By the time the others of the fourth division and the Red Hair pirates had caught up to him, nothing was left of the pirate ship, now a mere pile of burning wood. The pirates had been left mainly unharmed, instead having learned a tough lesson. After all, it was the way his captain always wanted.

Chapter Text

“Long live Sabo!” they all cheered at the big feast they had prepared for the blonde rookie.

The deck was adorned with lanterns casting a warm glow over the festivities. Tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and barrels of ale were tapped, filling mugs to the brim. Laughter and music filled the air as pirates danced and shared tales of their adventures. Stories of the most distant places he had never heard of, of gold and treasure, 

To accommodate the large gathering, the feast was held on the flagship of the fleet. While this choice was practical, Marco had earlier expressed concerns to their captain about the potential risks. 

"Do not worry, my son. We have weathered many full moons without incident; tonight will be no different," Whitebeard had assured his right-hand man, placing his trust in their ship and their two friends. Since the beginning of their alliance, now almost half a year, the Moby Dick had been modified. Bigger, stronger, and sturdier than the Red Force, it brought with it a large hold, where rations were normally stocked. Now, it had received a new mission; once a month, the two dragons would disappear behind its door, their consciousness lost, stolen away by the pull of the moon.

More dangerous, there was no difference between a wild animal and the huge reptiles, but at least, they would usually spend the night sleeping in their makeshift cage. It had never truly been needed, but a mandatory bit of security still. No one had ever been eaten in such a night, yet no one had ever stood in front of them, and they were not ready to change a working system. Working, until now.

Sabo was sitting at a table with his captain and Marco. He was radiating with pride, yet he felt a little sting noticing the lack of the two people at the party. He had hoped that they would have thrown the party on another day, but Riley had reassured him days prior that it was alright, and that he should enjoy it without having to worry about them. Yet, that was an impossible task, no matter how loud the music played. 

Crew members approached him throughout the evening, offering congratulations on his induction into their pirate family, providing a welcome distraction from his thoughts. However, a sudden rumble from the ship's hold interrupted the merriment. While most aboard recognized the source and dismissed it as a monthly occurrence, Sabo couldn't ignore the escalating noise. Maybe it was because it was the first time he heard it, and the others had simply grown accustomed, maybe they were simply too drunk to notice.

"Marco, Jozu, go see what's happening below," Whitebeard commanded, his tone firm yet measured, aiming to prevent undue alarm among the crew. Sabo wasn't the only one that had grown worried, as he quickly understood.

The two commanders rose without hesitation. Sabo watched them intently, curiosity gnawing at him. He yearned to understand the cause of the commotion and to ensure his friend's well-being, despite knowing the potential dangers. He had heard tales of feral dragons but had yet never witnessed one himself. Maybe it was a mix of concern and curiosity, maybe he was simply attracted by the truth - he excused himself under the pretense of needing the restroom. With the crew engrossed in the celebration, no one noticed him heading in the opposite direction, trailing close behind the commanders that paid no attention to their backs. 

Outside the festive area, the night was only illuminated by a full moon, casting a silvery glow over the Moby Dick's deck. For a moment, he stopped in his tracks, taking in the light producing eery shadows.

"I'll go in first. Can you stand by in case they attempt to escape-yoi?" Marco suggested to Jozu, who had already transformed his arms into diamond and nodded in agreement. They had rehearsed these scenarios. Producing a hefty key, Marco unlocked a reinforced iron door from which the unsettling sounds emanated, parts of his body already cloaked in glistening blue flames. 

As the door creaked open, the noises intensified. Hisses became deep growls, became mighty roars. 

Marco disappeared into the darkness of the hold, followed by a loud crash. Suddenly, a dragon's head and claws emerged, straining against the confines of the doorway. With a brown mane and piercing red eyes, Sabo instantly recognized the young pirate.

Jozu was prepared to strike the dragon, forcing it back where it belonged, but the impulse cry of Sabo startled him as he was about to hit the anthracite snout. The slit pupils left for no room of interpretation, however he could not watch such pain happen. 

"RILEY!"

In that brief moment, the first dragon broke free, demolishing the doorframe. From his vantage point, all that he discerned were flashes of light in all colours. But then came the first consequences of his action. His call had drawn the creature's attention, the same eyes he had just felt pity for, looking at him like a mere meal. His stupidity would now mean his end. 

"SABO, GET BACK!" Jozu shouted, now rushing towards him. From inside, the Phoenix was still engaged in a struggle with the second dragon, all but a blur of clawed strikes.

"He's here?!" Marco's now worried voice echoed from within. In seconds, he finally noticed Riley's escape. This was only the start, he felt deep down. 

Before Riley could act, Jozu positioned himself between the dragon and Sabo, enduring a fiery breath attack thanks to his diamond form, shielding the young pirate from harm.

"I'll get the kid to safety. Lead them away from the ship!" Jozu directed Marco between shaken breaths. Within moments, Marco emerged once more, partially enveloped in blue flames, pursued by a larger dragon with a red mane and three prominent scars over its left eye—unmistakably the Red Force's captain. The moon's light had long given away to the fire of destruction of the scene unfolding in front of the pirates' eyes. Seeing their uncle in pursuit, the smaller reptile abandoned their focus on Jozu and joined the chase. Seizing the opportunity, the Third Division Commander scooped up Sabo and hurried to a nearby vacant cabin.

"What about Marco?!" Sabo asked, his voice laced with guilt and concern.

"He'll manage. We trained for such scenarios, he knows what to do. But why did you follow us?" Jozu's tone was a mix of agitation and disappointment. Was this how Sabo had wished to spend his own party? Putting the satiation of his curiosity before the safety of those who had taken in with open arms?

Sabo remained silent, unable to justify his actions even to himself. Words disappeared from his mind, filling instead with a deep feeling of shame.

After a tense pause, Jozu sighed, informing the young revolutionary that both Whitebeard, and later Shanks, would need to be apprised of the incident. Without waiting for a response, he left to report to their captain, leaving the young man stuck with his own thoughts. 

Meanwhile, Marco, now in full phoenix form, took to the skies, the two dragons in relentless pursuit. His plan was to lead them to a nearby uninhabited island he had noticed hours prior, keeping them occupied until dawn when they could safely return. Yet, despite the dragon's attacks, his agility and speed allowed him to evade most strikes, at least until they had arrived to the deserted stretch a land, becoming like an arena to the oncoming fight. 

Fire fighting fire, fighting fire, the forests had started burning around the island, animals screeching in fear as they tried to find respite away from the coast. Despite all of this, Marco could do nothing but deflect. While he saw himself as lucky, this scenario never having happened before, the novelty of it also meant that he had troubles seeing two people he trusted as nothing more but mere agents of chaos. He did not want to hurt them, but it got ever harder with every blow launched in his direction. He would not have struggled as much had it been one of the feral creatures, however the two vastly overwhelmed him. At least, he knew that they would have to do it differently next time. 

The onslaught of offenses also gave him no time to think. Why were they so aggressive? What was different this time around, compared to the usual routines of the once a month ocurance?  This would be questions for later, once the dust had settled, if that moment ever came. 

Thus, the battle lasted till dawn. Nothing much was left of the once dense greenery, the earth forever charred. And just like the island, nothing much had been left of Marco's endurance. Until the end, he could barely land any blows himself, the two dragons never slowing down. At least, until the moon had finally left its place for the arrival of the sun. Never had the phoenix been happier upon seeing a sunrise, as he almost collapsed on top of the last tree still standing.

His mission had been accomplished though.

Everyone survived.

Chapter Text

As the first light of dawn pierced the horizon, the shadows quickly gave away.

The Red Haired pirate was the first to regain his mind, his massive frame shrinking and contorting back into his human self. His crimson mane receded, revealing his familiar scarred visage. Beside him, Riley underwent a similar metamorphosis, their scales dissolving into skin. Suddenly, there was nothing left of the fierce dragons, now stood as weary humans, the weight of the night's events pressing heavily upon them. Maybe, if they just flew away, they could pretend that nothing had happened.

Perched atop the lone tree, Marco observed the scene with a small smile. At least, it was over.

However, the toll of the night's battle was evident. His body bore numerous injuries—burns, gashes, and bruises—a testament to the ferocity of the nocturnal skirmish. And despite his regenerative abilities, the pain was palpable, the adrenaline slowly running out of his body, leaving behind it a deep feeling of affliction.

"You both gave me quite a workout tonight-yoi," Marco remarked, attempting a lighthearted tone as he wiped a stray streak of blood from his lip. He hadn't been hit this hard in many months, almost forgetting how lucky he was to be granted with his devil fruit.

Riley and Shanks exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of guilt and concern. The memories of their actions were hazy, but the aftermath was clear. Something had gone wrong. Something was different.

"What... did we do?" Riley's voice trembled, the weight of unintentional betrayal evident. They first looked at their scaled hands, still stained by foreign blood, then up to the phoenix, who's lone tree sat in front of the rising sun, casting him in a soft glow.

Marco sighed, his usual stoic demeanor softening. He had wanted to pretend it was alright, but every breath had started hurting him a little more.

"During Sabo's celebration, something triggered a heightened aggression in both of you I'm guessing. Pops sent us down to check on you, but Sabo... he followed us. You then broke free from the hold, causing quite a commotion on deck. Jozu and I intervened to prevent any harm I managed to lure you both away to this island to prevent further chaos."

Riley sank to the ground, burying their face in their hands, before violently trying to stop the tears from flowing.

"Is Sabo... did we...?"

"He's safe," Marco assured, giving a reassuring half-smile. "Jozu got him out in time before you got a bite out of him. But we need to understand what caused this anger. This wasn't like the previous times."

Shanks clenched his fist, but kept his voice leveled. His face however betrayed how he truly felt, his eyebrows furrowed in a worried look. 

“How severe are your injuries?”

“I’ll be alright, I survived worse-yoi.” He shrugged, wiping some more stray blood from his clothes.

“I’ll be completely healed in a few days at worst. There’s a reason why keeping you two under control is my job.” With those words, he transformed his arms into blue wings and leaped from the tree, landing next to the two pirates.

"For now, let's get back to the ship. We all need rest, and the crew will be worried if we linger any longer." He added, signaling for them to follow him. He was in no power to carry them however, thus it was Riley who took to the skies, carrying both men on their scaled back.

As the trio ascended back to the ship, the horizon still blazed with the last hues of dawn, casting a stark contrast to the remorse weighing heavily upon the two dragons. Their only solace was the hope that their nocturnal terror had gone unnoticed by the crew. Yet, the radiant sky seemed to mock their inner turmoil.

Upon landing on the deck, Sabo stood waiting, his eyes mirroring the guilt that burdened him, especially upon witnessing the extent of their injuries. Before any words could be exchanged, Marco collapsed, revealing the severity of his wounds. They swiftly escorted the first commander to the infirmary, with Sabo trailing closely, his desire to apologize stifled by the urgency of the moment.

The ship's doctor, forewarned by Jozu the previous night, greeted them without surprise, all of his utensils spread in front of him in anticipation.

"He'll recover, won't he?" Riley inquired, their voice trembling with fear.

The doctor offered a reassuring smile. "Of course. This is Marco we're talking about. It would take more than this to bring him down." Turning his attention to the first commander, the doctor assessed, "The wounds have already begun healing. They're not deep but numerous. With daily fresh bandages and ointment, you should be back to full strength in a few days. Just ensure you don't overexert yourself."

He then added, "But exercise more caution next time. Had it been worse, we'd be facing a different situation now."

Marco, ever the stoic, responded with a shrug. "I'll just train harder until I can manage you two without getting scratched." His abilities made him the ideal candidate to contend with their transformations, but his reluctance to harm them seemingly left him bearing the brunt of their feral aggression. At least, it had been a learning experience, he thought to himself.

After ensuring Marco was properly bandaged, the doctor turned his attention to Riley and Shanks. Their injuries were superficial and required minimal intervention, healing best if left undisturbed.

Exiting the infirmary, Marco, now adorned with fresh bandages, walked steadily despite a particularly severe wound on his left arm. Outside, Sabo awaited alongside Vista.

A heavy silence hung between them until the trio emerged, each bearing the physical and emotional scars of the night's events. With a concerned expression, Vista informed them, "Pops wants to see all of you. Right now." The revolutionary's heart immediately sank, anticipating the reprimand he felt he deserved for his reckless actions. T

hey walked in silence, except for Riley, who hurried to his side.

"Are you okay?" They asked, their voice tinged with worry.

"I'm fine... but I'm really sorry for what happened. I shouldn't have followed them, it's all my fault," Sabo replied, his gaze fixed on the ground as his face became an uncomfortable red.

Riley sighed as an answer, shaking their head. "It wasn't your fault. Please don't say that." They didn't want to assign blame, especially when they felt responsible for losing control.

Upon entering Whitebeard's expansive quarters, they found him seated behind a massive desk, his usual medical equipment surrounding him. Lately, it had become more numerous. His expression however was a mix of amusement and sternness.

"I don't even know where to start with you troublemakers," he chuckled softly, though his eyes remained serious. Everyone, except Shanks, avoided his gaze. Shanks stood confidently, knowing he was more of an equal than a subordinate.

Summoning his courage, Sabo stepped forward. "This is all my fault. I apologize for following Marco and Jozu yesterday. I'll take full responsibility. I knew the risks but ignored the warnings. I endangered everyone."

Whitebeard shook his head. "It's good you're acknowledging your actions, but this is a lesson learned. I didn't call you here to punish or chastise you. We need to find a solution to prevent such incidents in the future instead." He crossed his arms, his demeanor thoughtful.

Marco spoke up first, recalling the gaze with whom the dragons had laid eyes upon him, "They were obviously more aggressive than usual. It might be wise to inspect the hold to see if anything was different."

Shanks nodded in agreement. "There are certain... things that could cause such effects." Although he had no memory of the events, he blindly trusted Marco's observations.

"We also need to repair and reinforce the door," Riley added, their voice filled with remorse.

Whitebeard nodded thoughtfully. "Agreed. We'll investigate the hold for any anomalies and strengthen the door." He then looked at Sabo, his gaze softening.

"Sabo, curiosity is natural, but it can be dangerous. Let this be a lesson in caution. You're part of this family now, and we look out for each other."

The revolutionary however was taken aback by the mention of these mysterious "things", couldn't fathom how they had ended up there and sought more information from Shanks. Despite the unusual dynamic of a sixteen-year-old pressing him for details, Shanks remained unoffended, his remaining hand placed under his chin.

"I have heard of ancient flowers, harnessing the power of a full-moon. They are old tales and I had never encountered one before but... it might be worth taking a look. Forgotten stories often carry forgotten truths."

"Wait, if there really are some strange plants... does that mean someone deliberately placed them here? I mean, I don't see how they would arrived there on their own..." Sabo inquired cautiously, his voice subdued.

But the realization struck them all with shock—the young blonde was right.

It must have been deliberate.

Someone had wanted them to lose control.

"We need to investigate immediately," Whitebeard declared, rising from his seat and detaching himself from the medical apparatus. Without delay, they all proceeded to the scene.

As anticipated, peculiar red plants littered the ground. Sabo hurried ahead, carefully collecting some specimens while maintaining a safe distance from the dragons, mindful of any lingering effects.

"It smells normal," he observed after a tentative sniff, having somehow expected an unusual odor.

"Let me see," Riley suggested, approaching him. However, as they neared within a few meters, the younger dragon began to growl menacingly out of the blue.

Reacting swiftly, Marco grasped Riley by the shoulders and pulled them back, making them fall backwards on the wooden floor. At least, they were at a safe distance once again. Their uncle had done much the same, taking a step back. Just in case.

"We have our plant." Whitebeard concluded, moving closer to Sabo to search for clues about who might have placed it there. Unfortunately, there were no footprints or remnants to be found.

"First, we need to remove most of it so you can safely be in this room again. I'll keep a small sample hidden away for identification purposes. It's best to keep this situation confidential to prevent alerting the culprit," he continued, his voice tinged with sorrow. The thought that one of his own could commit such a heinous act, endangering countless lives, pained him deeply. He had built this family piece by piece, trusting each and every of his men with his life. But somehow, someone had taken advantage of that.

"Do you agree, Redhead?" he asked, turning to his equal. Shanks' agreement was crucial, as he was a primary target in this scheme.

"I agree. But we must act swiftly, as we don't know if they have more," Shanks responded, his brow furrowed in contemplation over who could be responsible. He felt a profound unease, targeted not for his piracy, but for the very nature he had ran away from for so many years. Now, everything he had built, had started slowly falling apart. 

They all concurred, and Sabo took on the task of gathering the plants hidden in the room. He disposed of most by casting them into the sea but preserved two branches in an airtight bag, which he discreetly handed to Whitebeard.

Chapter Text

Over the next few days, those who knew about the plan did everything they could to uncover clues. They listened in on conversations, subtly searched rooms when no one was around, and even kept an eye out for any sign of the strange plants resurfacing. But no matter how hard they looked, they found nothing.

For Riley, this only made things worse. The uncertainty gnawed at them, the fear of the night repeating itself weighing heavier with each passing day. They couldn't shake the image of their own hands—claws—hurting the people they loved. So, they started pulling away. Conversations became shorter, interactions rarer, until eventually, they spent most of their time alone.

One afternoon, after another fruitless search, Sabo spotted the young dragon leaning against the ship’s railing, gazing out at the endless stretch of ocean. Something about their posture—the slump of their shoulders, made his chest tighten.

Without hesitation, he walked over and stood beside them.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You doing alright?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he winced. Of course they weren’t alright. None of them were.

Riley didn’t answer right away. For a moment, it seemed like the wind might carry their voice away entirely. But then, in a voice barely above a whisper, they finally spoke.

“It never stops feeling strange,” they murmured, eyes still fixed on the horizon. “No matter how many years I spend hiding, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling. Of knowing that there are people out there who would rather see me dead... over something I can’t change.”

Sabo stayed quiet, letting them speak. He knew how rare it was for the pirate to open up like this.

“I don’t always understand my uncle,” they admitted after a moment. “It’s like he’s accepted the whole situation, and instead of fighting it, he just... rejects who he really is. When I was younger, it confused me. I was raised to be proud of what I am, but he spent his whole life trying to hide it.”

Riley finally turned to face him, something raw and vulnerable in their expression.

“I still try to be proud of it,” they said, voice tight. “But it’s hard when I know that... maybe those people are right. Maybe I am dangerous. Maybe I do hurt the people I care about just by existing.”

Their head hung low, and Sabo’s heart twisted at the sight. Even their tail, usually left unhidden, was tucked away beneath their cloak as if they wanted to disappear entirely.

He frowned, eyes searching theirs, but he didn’t rush to respond. Instead, he let the weight of their words settle between them, knowing that whatever he said next had to matter.

Sabo understood the other pirate’s point of view,  especially when it came to Shanks. It was true. In all the time he had spent around the Red-Haired captain, he had never once seen him embrace his dragon side with anything close to pride. The only times Shanks ever revealed that part of himself were out of necessity, and even then, it was quick, controlled, and never spoken of again. It was as if he wanted to erase the evidence the moment it was over.

“I promise you,” Sabo finally said, offering a small, determined smile, “we’ll find that plant. No one’s getting hurt because of it again.”

Riley looked at him, their expression complicated—grateful yet wounded. Because in his words, Sabo had never denied it. Never said that the people who wanted them dead were wrong. Never said that Riley wasn’t dangerous.

And the dragon noticed.

Their lips parted, pain flickering behind their eyes, but before they could say anything, Sabo suddenly shifted, his posture straightening as something clicked in his mind.

“Wait… the plants,” he said, voice sharper now. “Were they already there when you entered the hold? Before the moon came out?”

His brows furrowed in thought, one hand resting under his chin as his mind raced through the implications.

Riley blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden change. For a second, they just stared, thrown by what felt like the most random question imaginable.

“What?” they said, confused. “I—no? At least, I don’t remember there being any random plants but we would have noticed straight away.”

They frowned slightly, trying to piece together what Sabo was getting at.

“What are you thinking?” they finally asked, watching as the revolutionary’s expression grew more serious by the second.

“Someone came into the room during the night, and placed them there. That means that that person has to be strong enough to be able to enter a room full of dragons, or know you well enough to know how to distract you, and…” he started explaining, yet Riley needed no further words.

Someone had the key.

Their pulse pounded in their ears as their mind raced through every possibility. It couldn’t have been some random crew member with a grudge; no, this person had known exactly what they were doing. 

They took a step back, shaking their head in disbelief. “This… this means it wasn’t just anyone,” they whispered. “It had to be someone who knew us—who knew me. ” Their stomach churned at the thought.

Sabo clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists. “And if they had the key…” he trailed off, his voice tense, “then we’re not just dealing with a traitor. We’re dealing with someone who’s been close enough to earn that trust.”

Riley exhaled sharply, a mix of frustration and unease settling in their chest. How had they not seen this before? How had they been so blind to the possibility?

“We need to tell the others,” They said, their voice firm now. There was no time for doubt—not when their enemy could be right beside them, hiding in plain sight.

Both came to an abrupt halt, both panting heavily as they stood before Whitebeard’s massive desk. Their frantic words had turned into an incoherent mess, and the captain was clearly not in the mood for chaos.

“THEY HAD THE KEYS!!”

“T’WAS A FRIEND-”

“MARCO!!”

“THE KEYS!!”

“CALM DOWN!” Whitebeard’s voice boomed through the room, making the walls seem to shake. He rubbed his temples, his patience wearing thin. “Now, you each talk in turn—and be clear. ”

The command was enough to snap them both into silence. Sabo swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a deep breath before stepping forward.

“We figured something out,” he said, his voice steadier now. “The plants in the hold—they weren’t there before the full moon. That means someone placed them there after they went inside.”

Whitebeard’s expression remained unreadable, but his gaze sharpened. “Go on.”

Riley nodded quickly, their tail flicking anxiously behind them. “That person had to be strong enough to sneak past a room full of dragons, or smart enough to distract us long enough to do it unnoticed,” they said. “But more importantly…” Riley hesitated, their throat dry. “They had the key. ”

Silence fell over the room. Whitebeard’s brow furrowed slightly, a rare show of concern crossing his face.

“Marco and Shanks are the only ones with a key to that room,” he said, his deep voice carrying weight.

“Unless someone made a copy,” Sabo added grimly. “Or stole it.”

Riley clenched their fists. “That means we’re not dealing with just any crew member who hates dragons. It’s someone close to us. Someone who’s trusted enough to have access to those keys—or get them.”

The weight of their words settled heavily in the room. If the traitor was someone close to them, then they had been living among their enemy all along.

“We need to get the other two troublemakers and discuss how we’ll go forward with this. This might be worse than what I initially thought” The old man declared after long moments of silence, taking out a log book with the name of every single crew member.

Sabo didn’t waste a second, sprinting across the deck in search of Thatch. He weaved through the bustling crew, ignoring the confused looks shot his way. If anyone called out to him, he didn’t hear it. His mind was already racing ahead.

Thatch was near the kitchens, as expected, deep in conversation with a few crewmates. Sabo barely gave him a chance to react before grabbing his arm and pulling him away.

“Hey—! What’s with the kidnapping?!” Thatch protested, stumbling after him.

“No time to explain, where’s Marco?” Sabo demanded.

Thatch blinked, finally processing the urgency in Sabo’s voice. “He should be in his quarters, why?”

“Because we have a serious problem,” Sabo muttered, before running once more towards the quarters.

Meanwhile, Riley had already left the Moby Dick, wings spreading wide as they launched into the sky. The salty wind rushed past them, but they barely noticed. Their thoughts spun in circles, replaying the realization over and over. Someone close to them had done this. Someone with access.

They touched down on the Red Force’s deck, barely pausing before storming toward Shanks’ office. Without hesitation, they shoved the door open.

“We have more information about the person who placed those flowers or whatever,” Riley announced, their breath still uneven from the short flight.

Shanks, seated behind his desk, raised an eyebrow at their abrupt entrance. He looked like he was about to chastise them for not knocking, but the moment their words registered, his expression darkened. Slowly, he set the papers in his hands down onto the desk.”

“I assume I’m expected at the old man’s place to discuss next steps?” he asked, already standing.

Riley nodded. “Yeah. Whitebeard wants to go over everything and figure out how we handle this.”

Shanks ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. Normally, even in dire situations, he’d keep up his easygoing attitude—cracking jokes, throwing grins, reassuring everyone that things would be fine. But this time, there was none of that.

Riley noticed the change, and it unsettled them.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Shanks said, grabbing his coat.

The atmosphere in Whitebeard’s quarters was tense, thick with the weight of uncertainty. The soft flicker of the lanterns cast shadows over the gathered figures, their faces hardened in thought.

Marco turned the keys over in his palm, his frown deepening. “I swear, no one got close enough to take them,” he said firmly, tapping his fingers against the cool metal. “If someone copied them, then it has to be a Devil Fruit ability.”

Shanks leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. “If that’s the case, then we need to figure out who has that kind of power. Either someone who can duplicate objects or someone who could slip inside without being noticed.”

Riley ran a hand through their hair, mind racing. “Does anyone even have that kind of ability? I can’t think of anyone on either crew with a fruit like that.”

Sabo, who had been silently running through the possibilities, snapped his fingers. “What if it’s not duplication? What if it’s someone who can shrink themselves? They could’ve slipped in through the keyhole or under the door.”

The idea hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed like they might be onto something. But then Whitebeard let out a heavy sigh, flipping a page in the massive logbook before him. His sharp eyes scanned the list of names, stopping briefly at a few before moving on.

“There are no people on this ship with the abilities you’re describing, I would have noted it here. What about you, Red Hair? Do you have anyone on the Red Force who could match these theories?” His voice was level, but there was something else beneath it. Frustration, yes—but also the faintest flicker of hope, one that was quickly extinguished.

Shanks shook his head. “No. No one on my crew has those kinds of powers either.”

Silence followed his words, stretching uncomfortably. 

“So we still have no idea who it could be or how it happened,” Marco muttered, his voice flat. He had sat down on a large treasure chest by his captain’s desk, and exhaled sharply before sitting up straighter, threading his fingers together in his lap.

Riley clenched their jaw, their tail curling tightly around their leg. It wasn’t just frustration—it was fear. If they didn’t solve this right now, how many more would have to get hurt?

But before they could voice their concerns, Shanks spoke up, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Next time, we’ll stay on the Red Force. I’ll have guards posted at the door.”

His voice was even, composed—but Riley knew him too well. He was exhausted. And beneath the exhaustion was something else. 

A low hum of agreement echoed around the room. It was a plan, but they all knew it wasn’t a solution. It was just a way to buy time.

Marco sighed and pushed himself to his feet, his movements slower than usual. “It’s late. We should end this conversation for now.” He walked to the door and opened it, pausing only for a second before stepping out.

His posture was different—his shoulders lower, the fire in his usual confident stride dulled. Even his golden hair seemed to lack its usual shine.

Riley watched him go, a deep unease settling in their chest. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

Chapter Text

As they all departed, Riley went to their room in silence, none of them had seemed satisfied at the end.

They immediately jumped on their bed face first, and stayed in silence for a few minutes. Whoever had organized the whole coup was miles ahead of them, and they were desperate feeling like there was nothing they could do. The waves of helplessness got higher and Riley drowned, feeling the immediate threat getting closer and closer. On the other side of the ship, their only relative felt no different.

In the following days, unbeknownst by the crew members, the atmosphere on the ship had shifted. Riley had started staying more time in their room, away from the others. Only a select few people were still allowed to visit them, while they scribbled in their notebook everyday.

This time, the knock came from Marco. Riley didn’t even look up, before muttering;

“Any news?”

Marco answered with a single no; that question wasn’t the reason he had come. Yet, Riley was not surprised by the answer. It has been the same every single day. The only difference, was that Marco was smiling. It was an earnest smile, one Riley had not seen in quite a while. Yet, that smile did not please Riley, who immediately got defensive.

“So what are ya smiling at?”

Marco chuckled, explaining that he thought of something they could do to pass the time; ”You haven’t trained in a while. I organized a little tournament, the winner gets an extra round of dinner tonight. I think you should join us-yoi.”
The dragon raised an eyebrow, skeptical of the proposal. They really did not feel like going out and seeing everyone again, especially now that they felt like they could trust no one. However, with a few gentle pleads of Marco, who had sat down on the wooden crate on the corner of the room, they conceded.

“It’s important we’re prepared for the confrontation once we find the culprit, so we need to continue honing our skills.” With that, Riley faltered, and followed him out of the room. The stark light of the sun almost them, but their face finally sported a slight smile, seeing everyone prepared. Sabo, who they had not spoken to in days, had also joined.

“I already prepared 1v1 matches. Winner moves up a rank, until there’s only two left-yoi.” Marco explained, holding up a sheet of paper with all the pairings. The first ones to fight were Vista and Atmos.

“Shouldn’t Vista be much stronger than Atmos, since he’s the 5th division commander, while Atmos is 13th?” Sabo asked, as he had sat next to Riley, who was observing the fight with intent. The dragon found the question quite funny, chuckling as they noticed this was a common misconception.

“Just because one number is higher than the other doesn’t mean Vista’s stronger. All the division commanders are approximately equally as strong, there is no strict hierarchy between them.” They explained, their eyes still glued onto the fight that was unfolding in front of them. And just as Riley had said, both seemed quite equal in strength, up until Atmos tripped. Despite his size, he was agile, yet Vista had already his sword in front of Atmos’ heart, which forced the latter to capitulate.

”You’re lucky I tripped, next time I won’t let you win this easily.” He muttered, and Marco announced the next pair.

The sparring kept going for about an hour, some matches quicker than the others. But none of them complained, as they kept cheering, the spirits high. Sabo also enjoyed the show, making further notes on everyone’s tactics.

It was now Riley’s turn, fighting against Jozu.

“Guess it’s a rematch.” The dragon laughed, taking on their starting stance. Their claws were out, looking as sharp as ever, only waiting for the starting sign. As soon as they heard the gong, they launched themselves towards Jozu, their red eyes flickering. It was incredibly fast, but their claws did no damage to Jozu’s diamond skin, who pushed the dragon away, sending them flying across the deck. They slid on the wood until they found grip again, immediately repeating the same steps. Except this time, instead of trying to hit him, they jumped over Jozu, imitating the fight they had had with Thatch, hoping they could somehow destabilize Jozu. However, Jozu was just as fast, catching their tail as they jumped over him, throwing them across the deck once again, which made Riley fly over the railing and into the ocean where they disappeared under.

“Don’t worry about them, they know how to swim-yoi.” Marco laughed as he watched Sabo’s facial expression from the corner of his eye. And just as he had said, Jozu had no much time to rest, as suddenly the full grown dragon jumped out of the blue waters and onto the ship once again, this time with a better idea. The ship’s wood loudly creaked as Riley landed, not wasting any time before unleashing a torrent of crimson flames onto Jozu. While the flames did not hurt him, they momentarily blocked his vision, which allowed Riley to run towards him, grabbing him by his arm. While their teeth could not sink into the diamond skin, they started flapping their wings, creating gusts of air across the deck. With much force, they were finally able to lift Jozu, and before he could repost, they dropped him into the ocean, just like he had done moments before.

They fished him out moments after, and dropped him on the ship once again, where he struggled to catch his breath, still incapacitated by the water.

“And we have our winner!” Marco declared loudly, quite amused by the tactic the dragon had used.

After about two more hours, the tournament finally came to it’s final. Sabo, who had won his first match, had lost against Vista.

“Final match… me against Riley!”
He put his papers down, rolling up the sleeves of his purple shirt as he joined the dragon on the field, promising them to not make it easy for them.

What followed were very quick successions of kicks by Marco, who used his wings to quickly soar across the board, leaving no room to breathe for the dragon who tried deflecting each and every attack. But they noticed a certain pattern in the phoenixes attack, which they took quick advantage of, jumping away which made him hit the air instead. They then launched themselves once more, catching Marco by his shoulder, throwing him towards the cabins of the ship, where people were watching.

Luckily, no bystanders were hurt, but amidst the confusion they took advantage and launched another attack on Marco, who dodged as well. They stood across each other once more, both sporting big smiles, their eyes full of determination.

“Let’s crank this up a bit.” Riley laughed, before spreading their wings and transforming once again, taking to the skies. Marco followed immediately as he transformed fully, his blazing wings shining as bright as the sun itself.

The two clashed mid-air, their movements a blur. The dragon exhaled a torrent of fiery breath, but Marco spined, weaving through the flames with ease as he was left unharmed. He retaliated with a barrage of blue fireballs, each one striking Riley’s scaley sides.

“Your flames can’t burn me. I’m fireproof.” The dragon loudly exclaimed with a large smile, but was quick to meet his glowing talons, slashing at them, which ripped a pained roar out of them.

“Good thing I’m not just about burning stuff-yoi.”

The dragon countered by whipping their tail, sending the phoenix crashing into the same spot he had crashed earlier, further damaging the ship. However, amidst the flourish of adrenaline, none of them cared about the broken wooden boards.

“Not bad, but you’re gonna need more than brute strength.” The phoenix said as he was on his feet again, having reverted back to his human form to show the instant healing his body was capable of.

The dragon charged forward once more, their claws glowing with energy. They swiped at Marco, who ducked, sidestepped, and countered with a fiery punch to their jaw. Riley absorbed the blow and grappled him, lifting him into the air once more, planning to redo the same tactic they had used on Jozu.

“You really think I’ll let you do that-yoi?” Marco said mockingly, kicking his way out of Riley’s iron grip, before charging with his phoenix flames, glowing brighter than ever before. He dived toward the dragon, unleashing a spiraling cyclone of blue fire.
The flames engulfed Riley, but their scales held firm, the dragon firing their own beam of fire at Marco who dodged once more. However, the huge beam left them temporarily blinded, and with that, he finally had the opportunity to claw their maw down with his talons, forcing them to forfeit as they loudly crashed onto the dock, sending a wave of dust flying.

It was only now that they realized the extent of damage they had done to the beloved ship.

“One day I’ll beat you, I promise that.” Riley grinned once they had been released from his grip, shaking up their body as they caught their breath.

“Can’t wait to see that happen-yoi.” He laughed back, patting them on the back before he thanked them for the good fight.

With that, the night had started setting once more, and the next week passed relatively fast, until one night, on which Shanks could not sleep.

Chapter Text

As usual, the red haired pirate had left on a facade of strength and a strong will, yet the insomnia had started taking a toll on him. Every night he had flashes of memories long gone by plaguing his tired mind, never giving him a moment of respite, all while he was so desperately looking to find whoever had smuggled the plant in.

He decided to go walk on the railing, which was relatively deserted. Only a few crew-members were still awake, guarding the ship overnight, but they did not react to their captain, opting to leave him alone. They all had noticed the dark rings growing underneath his eyes. 

Then, suddenly, his mind filled with rage. It was for only an instant, his mind immediately reverting back to his usual composed self. 

It meant- 

A burst of Conqueror’s Haki swept across the deck.

Suddenly, an insect that had just appeared twitched violently, its tiny body spasming as if it had been struck by an invisible force. And then, in the blink of an eye, it expanded—morphing, twisting, limbs stretching unnaturally—until a fully grown man collapsed onto the deck with a strangled gasp.

He had been a fly just moments before, and in his hands, the mysterious plant. 

About 10 minutes later, Marco, Whitebeard and Ben Beckman had all joined Shanks, looking at the still passed out man. Neither of them recognized him.

”Guess we found him.”

The first reflex they had was to put sea stone shackles on him and remove the plant he had in his hand, to make sure he could not use his devil fruit again to flee. However, none of them had immediately recognized his uniform, torn and bloodied from his capture. The intruder’s trembling hands clutched at the chains binding him.

Marco sighed deeply, wiping sweat from his brow. The relief of finally catching the person who had caused so much damage to their crews was palpable. The sight of the man, so pathetic and pitiful, didn’t inspire sympathy—only frustration. Marco stepped forward, delivering a light but firm kick to the marine’s leg.

“Talk,” Marco ordered, his voice sharp. “You’re going to tell us everything, now-yoi.”

The marine flinched, his whole body shaking violently. His lips moved, but no words came out, only strangled gasps. His fear was clear—his wide, darting eyes refused to meet the pirates’.

Ben Beckman’s voice broke the tension, calm yet deadly as it usually was. 

“I don’t think he understands the position he’s in.” He pulled out his pistol, cocking it with deliberate slowness before pressing the barrel against the back of the marine’s head. The sound of the metal clicking against the marine’s skull was enough to send a shiver down even Marco’s spine.

“Start talking,” Beckman hissed.

The marine’s breath came out in rapid, shallow gasps before he finally stammered out a response. “I… I w-was sent… by the marines…”

That made all four men stiffen. Shanks’ normally relaxed demeanor turned deadly serious. Whitebeard, who had been silently observing with his arms crossed, narrowed his eyes. Marco exchanged a quick glance with Beckman before stepping closer.

“The Marines?” Marco repeated, his tone laced with suspicion. “Why? What were you sent here to do-yoi?”

“I… I don’t know,” the marine stuttered, shaking his head desperately. “I swear, I d-don’t know! They just told me to p-place the plant… in that room… on certain nights. That’s all!”

Shanks had stepped forward, his towering figure casting a shadow over the trembling man. “You’re telling me you risked sneaking onto this ship—knowing full well whose ship it is—and you don’t even know why?” His voice was low, but the dangerous edge in it made the marine flinch even harder.

“I swear! I d-don’t know what it does! I just followed orders!” the marine pleaded.

Before any of them could press further, the marine’s eyes darted around wildly, his body tensing. In a sudden, desperate burst of movement, he flung his bound hands toward a small pouch strapped to his side. From it, he pulled out a crumpled handful of the strange, sinister plant. The last bit he had of it. 

“No!” Marco shouted, lunging forward, but the marine threw the remnants directly at Shanks. 

The plant landed at Shanks’ feet. The effect was immediate. Shanks froze, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits as a guttural growl escaped his throat. His body trembled violently, his hands twitching as if fighting against an invisible force.

“Boss!” Beckman called out, stepping back and aiming his pistol at the marine, who had taken advantage of the chaos to slip his hands into Marco’s pocket, stealing the keys to his shackles.

Shanks staggered back, his breaths coming in ragged, growling gasps. His muscles rippled under his skin as his body fought the plant’s influence. For a moment, his form flickered with hints of scales and claws, but he managed to stumble farther away from the cursed plant, keeping himself just barely under control.

“Damn it!” Whitebeard roared, slamming his bisento into the floor. “What kind of poison is this?!”

“I’m fine,” Shanks growled, his voice low and rough, like a beast barely restrained. He sank to one knee, digging his apparent claws into the wooden deck to anchor himself. “Just… get that bastard!”

But it was too late. While their focus was on Shanks, the marine had used the keys to unlock his shackles. A faint buzzing noise filled the air as his form shimmered, his body shrinking and transforming into a small beetle.

“No!” Beckman snarled, firing his pistol, but the marine was already too small and too quick. The beetle zipped into the night, disappearing before any of them could react.

A tense silence fell over the deck, broken only by Shanks’ heavy breathing as he regained control. Finally, he stood, shaking off the lingering effects of the plant.

Marco swore under his breath. “We had him,” he muttered, his fists clenching tightly.

Beckman holstered his pistol with a sharp click. “We underestimated him.”

Whitebeard’s booming voice cut through their frustration. “The Marines won’t let this go. Whatever that plant was, they’ll use it against us again. And next time…” His gaze landed on Shanks. “We might not be able to stop it.”

Shanks straightened, his usual calm returning to his expression, though a dangerous glint remained in his eyes. “Next time,” he said, his voice steady, “we’ll be ready. But first…” He glanced at the remnants of the plant still scattered on the floor. “We figure out exactly what we’re dealing with.”

The room was heavy with the weight of their failure as Whitebeard bent down, carefully scooping up the remaining fragments of the strange plant with a piece of cloth. He wrapped it tightly, ensuring no further exposure to its scent. 

“This thing is dangerous,” Whitebeard said, his deep voice cutting through the silence. “If the Marines are using it, then they know exactly what it does. We need to figure out where it comes from and how to stop it from spreading. If this plant is rare or has a limited supply, we could seize it and keep it out of their hands.”

Marco, standing to the side, crossed his arms and frowned. “That’s assuming the supply is limited, Pops. Even if it is, the Marines already know enough to use it. We need to figure out how they got their hands on it in the first place. Someone had to know what it was and what it does.”

Whitebeard’s brow furrowed, his sharp gaze turning to Marco. “You think they’ve been researching dragons, boy?”

Marco shrugged, leaning against one of the wooden posts attached to the deck. “I wouldn’t put it past them. The Marines don’t just stumble onto something like this by chance. Whoever planned this knew exactly what they were doing. They had a purpose.”

Shanks leaned against the wall, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by a contemplative expression. He hadn’t spoken since regaining his composure, but now he pushed off the wall and joined the conversation.

“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Shanks muttered, his voice low. “How much do they know? And more importantly, how did they find out?”

Whitebeard turned his piercing eyes to Shanks. “The secret-secret fruit should’ve kept this hidden from them, shouldn’t it?”

“It should’ve,” Shanks admitted quietly, his jaw tightening as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. “But nothing is foolproof. Maybe there’s some kind of loophole we’re not seeing. Or maybe…” He hesitated, his gaze growing darker. 

“Maybe what?” Beckman asked, narrowing his eyes at the red-haired captain.

Shanks exhaled heavily, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “There’s one person that could be behind this. Akainu.”

The mention of the name sent a ripple of tension through the room. Marco’s frown deepened, and Whitebeard’s grip on his bisento tightened slightly.

“Akainu?” Whitebeard growled, clearly unhappy. His gaze was fixed on the red-haired pirate, pressing him for answers. 

Shanks didn’t immediately answer, his gaze fixed on the floor as if lost in thought. “It’s a long story,” he said finally, his tone evasive. For a few instants, the others waited for him to continue, yet he stayed quiet. 

Marco stepped forward, his voice sharp in frustration. “We don’t have the luxury of keeping secrets, Red Hair. If Akainu knows, then he’s the key to understanding what their next move might be.”

“I know,” Shanks snapped, his usual calm cracking for a brief moment. He ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. “I just… I don’t understand why he’s stayed quiet all this time. What motivates him now?”

“Maybe he’s waiting,” Beckman suggested, his voice steady but grim. “For the right moment, the right strategy. Testing out the waters, now that they have the plant.”

The room fell silent again as the implications of Beckman’s words sank in. Shanks finally broke the tension, pushing off the wall and straightening his posture.

“Whatever their plan is, we can’t just sit around waiting for them to strike again,” he said firmly. “We need to figure out what this plant is, where it comes from, and how to counter it. And we need to find out how much the Marines know about dragons—and how they know it.”

Whitebeard nodded, his expression grim but determined. “Agreed. Marco, you’re in charge of analyzing this thing. Take it to our best doctors and scientists. If there’s any trace of where it came from, I want to know.”

Marco nodded. “I’ll get started right away.”

“And Shanks,” Whitebeard continued, turning to the red-haired captain, “if you know anything that could give us an edge, now’s the time to speak up.”

Shanks hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “I’ll tell you what I can, but some things… I need to figure out myself first.”

Whitebeard grunted, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to press further. “Fine. But don’t take too long. We’re already playing catch-up, and the Marines aren’t going to wait for us to figure this out.”

The meeting ended with a sense of uneasy determination. As the captains and their crews set to work unraveling the mystery of the plant and the Marines’ intentions, one thing was clear: the battle for the truth was just beginning, and the cost of failure was far too high.

Chapter Text

The moonlight still clung to the Red Force as the crew retired for the night, the weight of the recent events bearing down on everyone. Marco had left with the plant sample, already planning his investigation, and the captains had retreated to their respective quarters. Yet, even with the intruder subdued and the immediate danger removed, a lingering unease gnawed at them. They all knew that while this battle had ended, a much larger storm loomed on the horizon—one they couldn’t yet see, let alone prepare for.

The next morning, Shanks sat at his desk, his fingers idly tapping against the wood as he mulled over his conversation with Whitebeard and the others. He wasn’t one to shy away from danger, but this situation was different. The plant, the Marines’ involvement, and Akainu’s lingering shadow all pointed to something far more sinister than they’d yet uncovered.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Shanks called out, already knowing who it would be.

Riley stepped inside, their arms crossed and a frown etched across their face. Their frustration was clear even before they spoke. “Did you find the intruder?” they asked, their voice sharp with impatience.

Shanks leaned back in his chair, offering them a small smile in an attempt to ease the tension. “We did. The intruder’s been subdued, and the danger’s been dealt with. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Riley’s eyes narrowed in betrayal.

Shanks hesitated, the smile fading slightly. He had made up his mind the night before—not to tell Riley about the Marine’s involvement, at least not yet. The risk was too high - considering their lack of knowledge of the marine’s exact plans. 

“That’s all you need to know for now,” he said gently. “The worst is over, and the crew is safe. Isn’t that enough, kid?”

Their frown deepened. “No, it’s not. I’ve got questions, uncle. Like who sent them and why they were even here. You’re just not telling me for some reason.”

Shanks sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Riley, you need to let me handle this.”

Riley’s frustration simmered just below the surface, but they didn’t push further. They knew from experience that Shanks wouldn’t budge once he’d made up his mind. “Fine,” they muttered, turning toward the door in defeat. “At least it’s over now.”

The captain watched them go, his shoulders sagging as the door clicked shut behind them. “I hope it is,” he murmured to himself, though he knew it was wishful thinking.

Riley stepped out onto the deck, the salty breeze ruffling their brown hair as they unfurled their wings. With a powerful leap, they launched themselves into the air, heading for the Moby Dick. They needed to clear their head, and nothing worked better than annoying the Whitebeard pirates.

It didn’t take them long to spot Sabo perched on a barrel, pen in hand as he scribbled intently on a piece of parchment. His expression was focused but relaxed, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he wrote. Riley landed beside him with a soft thud, startling him slightly.

“Don’t you ever get bored of writing?” They asked, plopping down next to him and peering at the letter.

Sabo chuckled, pulling the parchment closer to shield it from their view. “These are updates for the Revolutionary Army. Gotta keep my friends in the loop about all the excitement out here.”

The dragon sighed dramatically, leaning back and staring up at the sky. They stayed silent for a bit, the rolling of the waves fading in the background as the winds picked up, pushing their boats further into the blue unknown. The sails had to be readjusted, which meant quite a bit of ruckus on board as various commands were shouted across the deck, yet Riley paid no attention.

Sabo glanced at them, his smile fading slightly as he struggled understanding what had changed the atmosphere. “What’s wrong?”

“I know he’s hiding things from me,” they said, their voice tinged with bitterness. “I get that he’s trying to protect me or whatever, but it just makes me feel like I’m still a kid he has to shelter. I’m not.”

Sabo set down his pen, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe he’s not trying to shelter you,” he said after a moment. “Maybe he’s just scared of losing his family.”

Riley turned to him, their gaze searching. “I just… I want to help. I don’t want to be left in the dark while he carries everything on his own.”

“Then show him that you can handle it,” Sabo said simply. “He’ll come around eventually. But until then, give him some time. I think he’s still scared from what happened a few weeks ago.”

Riley sighed again, but this time it was less dramatic. “I guess.”

Sabo smiled, picking up his pen again. “Good. Now stop bothering me. I’ve got a lot of writing to do.”

Riley smirked, their mood lightening. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sabo replied with a chuckle, turning back to his letter.

As Riley sat there, watching the waves lap against the Moby Dick, they couldn’t shake the feeling that Sabo was right. For now, they would give Shanks the space he needed. But they wouldn’t wait forever.

The morning sun cast a golden glow across the decks of the Red Force and the Moby Dick, the two ships sailing side by side in a rare moment of calm. Life aboard the pirate crews continued as usual, the air filled with laughter, the occasional clash of swords, and the faint scent of breakfast wafting from the kitchens.

Riley, perched on a railing of the Red Force, watched the activity with a distant gaze. Their thoughts were elsewhere, caught in the tension that had simmered ever since the attack on the hold. The unresolved questions nagged at them, and while they didn’t show it openly, a certain sharpness lingered in their tone when speaking to others, their frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

It was midmorning when Marco arrived on the Red Force, a focused expression on his face. He greeted the crew with his usual calm demeanor, but his eyes flickered toward Shanks, Ben Beckman, and Riley.

“Shanks,” he said evenly, “We need to talk. Somewhere private.”

Shanks, catching the subtle seriousness in Marco’s voice, nodded. “Beckman, you can come with us.”

“What about me? I’m right here as well!” Riley immediately shouted, jumping on their feet and approaching Marco who stayed quiet. 

“This is between us three. I need you to stay here.”

“No, I'm not staying here! I’m tired of you all telling each other secrets! I am entitled to know!”

“I said no. There is no room for discussion, Riley. This is an order.”

“I know this is about the weird plant. I remind you, I am as much a dragon as you are. I deserve to know.”

They could have continued arguing for hours if it wasn’t for Marco who shut them both up by pointing out he had no infinite time and had to go back to his other duties. 

“I do also think Riley should come with us as well.” 

With that, Riley did not wait for any of Shanks’ further arguments, thanking Marco quietly as they started following him, ready to hear about these great secrets.  

The four made their way to Shanks’ quarters, where they found Whitebeard already waiting. Once the door shut, Marco wasted no time.

“I’ve identified the plant,” Marco began, setting a rolled-up parchment on the table. He unfurled it, revealing a map of an island near Sabaody Archipelago. “It’s called the Piranha Plant. Rare, but not unheard of. It only grows on this specific hill on the island, a slope exposed to just the right mix of sunlight and humidity.” He tapped the map. “This spot here.”

Shanks leaned over the map, studying it with a frown. Beckman stood silently to his side, his sharp eyes scanning for any tactical advantage. Riley stayed back a little, arms crossed, their expression unreadable but their jaw tight.

Marco continued. “The plant got its name because it vaguely resembles a fish, but it’s what it does that’s dangerous. Its spores can affect creatures with heightened instincts—dragons are one of them. As we saw, it makes them aggressive, harder to control.”

Whitebeard let out a low rumble of a sigh. “And it grows that close to Sabaody?”

“Exactly,” Marco said grimly. “The marines must already know about it—they wouldn’t have used it otherwise. It’s likely they’ve been monitoring or even cultivating it for a while. That worries me. A plant this dangerous, this close to one of their strongholds?”

Shanks didn’t reply immediately. He was staring at the map, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

Beckman finally broke the silence. “What’s your plan, Marco?”

Marco leaned forward, his calm tone edged with urgency. “We need to act quickly and quietly. If we leave the plant alone, the marines will continue to weaponize it. But if we send a small team to destroy it—burn it down, make sure it can’t grow back—we might be able to cut off their supply before it’s too late.”

Shanks nodded slowly. “A small team would draw less attention. But Sabaody’s crawling with marines. If they’re spotted…”

“They won’t be,” Marco assured him. “We’ll keep the team small and unrecognizable. In and out, no unnecessary risks.”

Riley finally spoke, their voice quieter but still firm. “I can go.”

The adults turned to look at them. Shanks’ expression immediately darkened. “No.”

Riley stiffened, their arms tightening over their chest. “I’m not a child.”

“You’re seventeen,” Shanks countered, his tone sharp.

“Exactly,” Riley snapped back. “I’m old enough to help. You can’t keep treating me like I’m useless!”.

“No,” Shanks repeated, more firmly this time, his eyes boring into theirs. “You’re not going. End of discussion.”

“But why?” Riley protested, their voice rising as their frustration built. “I would be fast, I can do it! I can—”

Shanks slammed his hand on the table, silencing them. “Because I said so!” His voice carried the weight of a captain’s authority, one Riley couldn’t challenge. “You don’t understand the danger of what we’re dealing with. You’re staying here, and that’s final. I won’t risk losing you.”

Riley’s hands clenched into fists at their sides, their face burning with indignation. “You never let me do anything. You always keep me locked away like some useless—”

“Enough!” Shanks barked, and the room fell into a suffocating silence. The other adults exchanged uncomfortable glances, but no one dared to intervene.

Without another word, Riley turned on their heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind them. The sound echoed through the ship like a gunshot. For a few moments, the room remained quiet, everyone unsure of what to say.

Finally, Marco cleared his throat, trying to return focus to the mission. “So… about the plan.”

Shanks took a deep breath, rubbing his temples before nodding. “Continue.”

Meanwhile, Riley was stomping through the ship, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. They didn’t bother wiping away the tears of frustration that pricked at their eyes. “He never trusts me. Never lets me do fucking anything,” they muttered under their breath.

Spotting Sabo leaning against the railing of the Moby Dick, once more writing something in his notebook, Riley made a beeline for him. “Sabo!” they called, their voice still sharp from their earlier argument.

The young man raised an eyebrow, immediately sensing something was off. “What’s going on?”

Riley didn’t give him time to think. “The captains just gave me a mission,” they lied smoothly, their face set in determination. “I need you to come with me to Sabaody Archipelago. Now.”

Sabo blinked in confusion, closing his notebook. “Wait, what? Sabaody? Why would—” He stopped himself, his brow furrowing. “No, hang on. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would they send you there? It’s way too dangerous, especially with—”

“It’s an order,” Riley interrupted, crossing their arms and glaring at him. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Sabo hesitated, his gut telling him something wasn’t right. “I don’t know, Riley… The last time we talked about something like this, you were already upset. Are you sure this is actually what they told you?”

Riley’s eyes narrowed with a pained look. “What, you don’t believe me?” They leaned in closer, their voice lowering to a near growl as they decided to change their tactic. “What are you, a chicken? Too scared to go on a mission with me?”

Sabo’s jaw tightened. “It’s not about being scared,” he said firmly, though he couldn’t help but feel his pride sting at Riley’s taunt. “It’s about not walking into something stupid.”

“Well, I’m going,” Riley shot back, shrugging. “And if you’re too scared, then I’ll go alone.” They turned away as if to leave.

“Wait,” Sabo called out, sighing deeply as he ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But I still don’t think this is a good idea.”

Riley grinned triumphantly, though they quickly hid it as they transformed. “Good. Then climb on.”

Sabo raised an eyebrow. “Climb on? What do you mean?”

Riley spread their wings in one swift motion, the powerful appendages stretching out to their full span. “We’ll get there faster if we fly,” they said matter-of-factly.

Sabo hesitated again, staring at the wings. “How long is this going to take, anyway?”

“Only a few hours,” Riley lied, knowing full well that the journey to Sabaody from their location in the New World would take much longer. “Now, come on. Let’s go.”

Still feeling uneasy, Sabo climbed onto Riley’s back, and with a mighty beat of their wings, they took off into the sky, leaving the ship behind. The cool air rushed past them as they soared above the waves, but in the back of his mind, Sabo couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something wasn’t right.

Chapter Text

The meeting concluded as the sun dipped lower into the horizon, painting the ocean with hues of orange and gold.
Shanks, Marco, Beckman, and Whitebeard parted ways, each mulling over the upcoming mission. They trusted Ben and Vista to handle the reconnaissance, and as the ships adjusted their course toward the Sabaody Archipelago, the crews resumed their usual routines.

Dinner came quickly aboard the Red Force, and as always, the crew gathered around large tables piled high with food and drink. Conversations were lively, laughter rang out, and the scent of freshly grilled meat filled the air. But as the plates were passed around, someone finally noticed the empty seat.

“Where’s Riley?” Yasopp asked, frowning as he handed over a plate of roasted fish. “Haven’t seen them all day.”

“You know ‘em,” Lucky Roux chimed in, shrugging between bites of his third drumstick. “Probably still sulking after that spat with Shanks earlier. Can’t blame ‘em—dragon or not, they’re just a kid. They’ll come around once they’re hungry enough.” He chuckled, patting his belly.
The explanation seemed plausible enough, and the crew nodded in agreement. No one thought much of it—until a member of Whitebeard’s crew arrived.

Haruta climbed aboard the Red Force briskly, looking around the deck for familiar faces. Spotting Lucky and Yassopp, they approached quickly.

“Hey,” Haruta greeted, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Sabo anywhere? He hasn’t been on the Moby Dick since this afternoon.”

Yassopp’s brow furrowed, his relaxed demeanor vanishing in an instant. “Sabo?” he repeated, straightening up. “No, I haven’t seen him. But why would he leave your ship?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Haruta replied, their tone laced with concern. “We’ve searched every corner of the ship, and there’s no sign of him.”

A cold realization began to dawn on Shanks who was overhearing the conversation, his mind racing back to Riley’s outburst earlier that day. His hands tightened into fists, and he turned sharply toward Beckman, who was already reading his expression. “Damn it,” Shanks muttered under his breath, his voice low but filled with anger. “That brats’ not sulking—they’ve run away.”

Beckman’s jaw tightened, his usually stoic expression darkening as well. “You think they took Sabo with them?”

Shanks didn’t hesitate. “It’s exactly what they’d do,” he growled. “Riley wants to prove themselves. And after I told them no…” He trailed off, his frustration palpable. “They must’ve lied to Sabo to get him to go along.”

Haruta paled slightly, glancing between them. “Wait, you’re saying Riley and Sabo are both gone? Where would they even go?”

“The Sabaody Archipelago,” Shanks said immediately, his voice cold. “It’s the only place that makes sense. Riley must’ve decided to take matters into their own hands.” He turned to Marco, who had just walked over, alerted by the missing teens.

“What’s going on?” Marco asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Riley and Sabo are missing,” Beckman explained grimly. “And we think they’re heading to Sabaody.”

Marco’s expression shifted from confusion to alarm. “If they’re caught—”

“They won’t be caught,” Shanks interrupted, though his voice betrayed his worry. “But if they think they can pull this off on their own…” He shook his head, cursing under his breath. “They have no idea what they’re walking into.”

“We can’t waste any time,” Marco said, already turning back toward the Moby Dick. “We’ll double the speed of our ships. If we’re lucky, we might catch up before they get themselves into trouble.”

Haruta nodded quickly, already heading back toward their own ship. “I’ll let Pops know. He’s not going to like this.”

As Haruta disappeared over the side of the ship, Shanks clenched his fists at his sides, his mind churning with worry and anger. Beckman placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find them,” Beckman said, his calm voice cutting through the storm of emotions. “They won’t get far without leaving a trail.”

Shanks exhaled sharply, trying to rein in his emotions. “They better hope they don’t. Because when I find them, they’re going to wish they’d stayed on these ships.”

The wind howled softly as the two teens soared through the darkened sky, the vast ocean below glistening under the pale crescent moon. Riley’s wings beat rhythmically, their focus fixed on the horizon, while Sabo shifted uncomfortably on their back, trying not to disturb their balance. He was used to precarious positions—tree branches, ship rigging—but this was entirely new territory. Sleep was a distant thought, and as the hours dragged on, his mind swirled with unease.

Riley had lied. Sabo knew it. They’d been flying for hours, far longer than Riley’s earlier claim of “just a few,” and the distance to the Sabaody Archipelago wasn’t getting any shorter. He wasn’t angry—he could understand why Riley felt the need to deceive him—but worry had begun to gnaw at his resolve. They were heading straight toward danger, and the stakes felt impossibly high.

The silence between them stretched thin, broken only by the occasional rush of wind. Needing a distraction, Sabo finally decided to speak. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” he called over the wind, his tone casual but curious.

Riley tilted their head slightly, a flicker of surprise evident in the way their wings adjusted mid-flight. “A question?” they repeated, as if unsure what he could possibly want to talk about. Still, they nodded. “Go ahead. Just… make it quick. I need to focus on not flying us into the middle of nowhere.”
Sabo smirked slightly at their sarcasm, but his expression quickly grew serious. “How come you and Shanks are the only dragons? What happened to the others?”

The question hung in the air like a weight. For a moment, Riley didn’t respond, their focus seemingly fixed on the dark horizon. Sabo wondered if he’d overstepped. It was a deeply personal question, after all, and he hadn’t exactly earned a reputation for tact.

But then, Riley finally spoke, their voice quieter than before, almost as if the effort of saying it aloud hurt. “It’s… a long story,” they began. “I’ve never told anyone, really. I mean, most people just assume they’re all dead—and they’re not wrong—but the truth is… I don’t know exactly myself.”
Sabo frowned, leaning forward slightly to hear them better. It sounded almost impossible that they were missing such crucial information. “You don’t know?”

“No.” Riley’s voice was sharp, tinged with frustration—not at Sabo specifically, but at the unanswered questions that had haunted them their entire life. Never ending, their life felt like secrets after secrets that they had no power to unlock. “They all died when I was really little, barely a year old. I was obviously too young to remember anything. All I know is what Shanks told me, and you know he doesn’t tell me much. He keeps everything about our past locked up like it’s some big secret.”

Sabo hesitated, sensing the bitterness in their tone. “But… do you know how they died? Or who…?”

Riley let out a heavy breath, their wings faltering for just a moment before steadying again. “Not exactly. Shanks never told me outright, but I’ve pieced together enough to have a hunch. It wasn’t an accident. Someone killed them—wiped them all out.”

Sabo’s eyes widened, his grip tightening instinctively on Riley’s shoulders. “All of them? Your whole clan?”

Riley nodded stiffly. “Yeah. I don’t know who, but I have my suspicions. The Marines, the World Government… someone high up. It had to be, right? Dragons don’t just disappear for no reason. And if they were anything like me or Shanks, they wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.”

Sabo was silent for a moment, processing what he’d just heard. It made sense - if the World Government had been involved… It wasn't unheard of them destroying entire islands that they considered dangerous.

“That’s why you want to prove yourself, isn’t it?” Sabo said softly. “You feel like you owe it to them.”

Riley hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t just want to prove myself. I want answers. I want to know what happened, and why. And if the people who did it are still out there…” Their voice hardened, their wings flaring slightly. “I’ll make sure they pay for it. While I might not remember the hurt, I know my uncle does. They need to pay.”

Sabo’s grip tightened again, but this time it was more supportive than cautious. “You’re not alone in this,” he said firmly. “Whatever happens, I’ll back you up. Even if you dragged me into this without giving me the full story.”

Riley let out a dry laugh, the tension in their shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Thanks, Sabo. I mean it.”

The night dragged on, the crescent moon crawling slowly across the sky as Riley continued their relentless pace. The steady beating of their wings filled the silence between them, and while they didn’t speak, the air between them felt lighter after their earlier conversation. Sabo leaned back slightly, trying once more to find a comfortable position, though it was impossible to shake the unease lingering in his chest.

Occasionally, Riley glanced at the ocean below, their sharp eyes catching fleeting shadows in the water—sharks, perhaps, or something worse. They didn’t say anything, but their muscles tensed each time. The New World was unforgiving, even in the air. The wind carried whispers of storms in the distance, though for now, their path remained clear.

Chapter Text

“You doing okay back there?” Riley asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

Sabo blinked, jolted from his thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wondering how much longer this flight’s going to take.”

Riley smirked, though Sabo couldn’t see it from where he sat. “I told you, it’s not far.”

“That’s not what my legs are saying,” Sabo muttered, shifting again. “You should’ve brought a saddle or something. This is brutal.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t make you fly yourself,” Riley shot back with a teasing edge. “I’m the one doing all the work here.”

“Fair point,” Sabo admitted with a sigh. “Still, if I fall off, it’s on you.”

Riley chuckled, the sound low and brief. “Don’t worry. I’d catch you… probably.”

Sabo narrowed his eyes but decided not to push the joke further. Instead, he turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the faintest hint of dawn began to creep in. The dark navy sky shifted to a lighter hue, and with it came a renewed sense of urgency.

After another continuous day of flying, the many islands forming the archipelago finally arrived in sight. The sight of it was unmistakable—the scattered groves rising from the ocean, their towering mangrove trees glimmering faintly with the reflective sheen of resin bubbles floating through the air. The morning light cast an almost serene glow over the island, belying the danger that lurked within its boundaries.

“There it is,” Riley said, their voice quiet but firm.

Sabo leaned forward, squinting to get a better look. “So that’s Sabaody, huh?” He’d heard plenty about it from the Revolutionary Army—its chaotic mix of pirates, bounty hunters, and Marines, not to mention the dark underbelly of human trafficking and the terrifying presence of the Celestial Dragons.

“It’s prettier from up here,” Riley remarked, though there was little warmth in their tone. “Don’t let it fool you.”

Sabo nodded, his jaw tightening. “Yeah, I heard.”

Shanks leaned heavily against the railing of the Red Force , his sharp eyes fixed on the dark horizon as the ship cut through the waters. His jaw was tight, and he hadn’t spoken much since the ships set sail, his mind clearly elsewhere. Beckman, standing a few feet away, observed him quietly for a moment before taking a slow drag of his cigarette.

“You know,” his second started, exhaling smoke into the crisp night air, “you’re awfully certain Riley’s going to fail. Not saying they won’t mess up—kid’s reckless—but are you sure you’re not dooming them by assuming the worst?”

Shanks turned his head slightly, his expression hard to read, before shaking it with a low sigh. “It’s not about thinking they’ll fail,” he muttered, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s... I can feel it. Something’s wrong.”

Beckman raised an eyebrow, taking another drag. “Feel it, huh? What kind of feeling are we talking about here? Instinct of an overprotective uncle? Or... the instincts of a dragon?”

Shanks’s hand tightened on the railing. He looked down at the dark waters below, his lips pressed into a thin line before answering. “Probably both,” he admitted.

Beckman let out a soft chuckle, blowing a stream of smoke toward the ocean. “You know,” he said, almost casually, “you’ve done a real one-eighty lately.”

Shanks frowned, finally turning to look at his first mate. “What do you mean?”

“You used to never say the word dragon in front of anyone,” Beckman said, his tone calm and somewhat amused. “Like it was some shameful secret you had to keep buried. You avoided it like the plague. But now...” He gestured vaguely toward the crew below deck. “You don’t use it much—still keep it close to the chest—but you’ve gotten a little more... open about it. At least enough to acknowledge it without spitting the word like it tastes bad.”

Shanks didn’t respond right away. He glanced back out to the sea, the tension in his shoulders somewhat dropping. Finally, he spoke, his voice lower than before. “It’s not something I’m proud of, Ben, you know that. It… comes with more burdens than I can count. And for years, it felt easier to pretend it didn’t matter - to act like it wasn’t a part of me. But... it’s not just about me anymore, is it?”

Beckman took this in silently, flicking the ash from his cigarette over the side of the ship. “Fair enough,” he said after a moment. “But if you ask me, that responsibility’s part of what’s eating at you. You’re trying to teach them how to be something you’ve spent years running from, something you’re still running from.”

Shanks didn’t deny it. He stared out at the waves, his expression troubled. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t matter how I feel about it. What matters is that they don’t end up like me—stuck with these burdens without knowing how to harness it.”

Beckman gave him a long look, his sharp mind turning over the weight of those words. “Well,” he said finally, his voice dry but not unkind, “here’s hoping they don’t pick up your stubborn streak along the way.”

That earned a faint, almost reluctant smile from the captain. “They already have,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s the problem.”

His second-in-command smirked, finishing his cigarette and tossing the butt overboard. “Then they’ll be fine. They’ve got a head start on figuring it all out—better than you did, at least. And they have you, so maybe you could help them along the way, instead of keeping the truth away.”

The Red Haired Pirate didn’t reply, but his lips curved just slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing for the briefest moment. The two stood there in silence for a while, the gentle sound of the waves and the creaking of the ship filling the space between them.

But his gaze lingered on the horizon, his instincts still gnawing at him. Somewhere out there, Riley and Sabo were flying toward danger. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t know if he could reach them in time.

Back on the archipelago, Riley had opted for an undercover landing on an inhabited island, deep in the night. The soft rustle of the willow tree’s leaves above them was the only sound as both teens laid side by side, their bodies on the cool grass. The night was quiet, the stars barely visible between the thick clouds overhead, and the moonlight cast faint shadows over the island. It was a quiet place, and that gave them some comfort.

Sabo turned his head toward Riley, his eyes narrowed slightly in the dim light. He’d been quiet for most of the journey but now, with the initial shock of their arrival fading and the weight of the mission settling in, he couldn’t hold back his thoughts any longer.

“So, what’s the actual plan here?” Sabo asked, his voice casual but laced with a bit of skepticism. “You know, other than just showing up at some random island?”

Riley’s chest tightened as they turned their head to glance at Sabo. They opened their mouth to answer, but no words came out immediately. It wasn’t that they hadn’t thought about the plan—they’d just... been hoping the answers would present themselves once they arrived. Marco’s map had been vague, and Riley hadn’t seen the exact location of the plant on it, which made things even more uncertain. But they couldn’t admit that. They couldn’t admit to Sabo that they hadn’t thought this through as thoroughly as they’d led him to believe.

“We—We’ll figure it out once we get to the right spot,” Riley said, trying to sound confident, but even they could hear the uncertainty in their own voice. “We just need to stay low, gather intel, and then track down the plant. We’ll find it.”

Sabo didn’t buy it for a second. He raised an eyebrow, the glint of suspicion in his eyes growing. “That’s it? ‘We’ll figure it out’? You came all the way here with nothing more than that?”

Riley shifted uncomfortably, but tried to mask it with a shrug. “What’s your plan, then? You don’t have anything figured out either. So stop complaining.”

Sabo’s expression remained calm, but he sat up a little, clearly not backing down. “You’re the one who dragged me into this mess, remember? You’re the one who insisted we take on this mission and head into the archipelago. And now you’re telling me you don’t even have a plan? You just assumed you’d figure it out on the fly?”

Riley’s fists clenched. They hated being called out, hated being forced to admit their own doubts. “I didn’t ask for your judgment, Sabo. This was supposed to be my shot—to prove I can handle things on my own. It’s not like you had any better ideas, did you?” They glared at him, their frustration boiling over. “So stop making it sound like it’s my fault we’re in this position.”

Sabo sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I get it. I do. But this isn’t just some game, Riley. You don’t get to play the hero without having a clear plan. This is a big deal. We’re talking about a plant that can mess with you and potentially mean the death of many people, and you can’t even tell me how we’re supposed to find it.”

Riley bit their lip, the weight of Sabo’s words sinking in, before standing up from the patch of grass they had been sitting on, brushing the dirt off their clothes as they tried to get their thoughts in order. Sabo, still sitting on the ground, watched them with a critical eye, though his expression was more thoughtful now than angry.

“Look,” Riley started, their voice firm. “we’re here now anyway. Maybe I didn’t think this through. But here’s the plan.” They paused, taking a deep breath to steady their nerves before continuing. “First, we’ll scout this island. If we’re lucky, this is the right one, and we don’t waste any more time. We can start from here.”

Sabo tilted his head slightly, his arms crossed. “And if it’s not the right island?”

Riley gave him a sharp look. “If we have to, we’ll check out the main islands. We’ll stay away from the busy areas, keep low. We’ll ask around in small shops, pretending it’s just for an ingredient we need or something.” They paused, their brow furrowed as they thought. “We’ve got at least two days before the old guys are here, granted they even noticed we’re gone. That gives us time to finish the first half of this. If we can’t find it on this island, we’ll head to the main one. There’s no need to involve them.”

Sabo raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “You really think they won’t notice your absence? You think Shanks and Whitebeard will just… let this slide?”

Riley’s eyes flashed with defiance. “They don’t need to notice. They’ll be fine without me. I can do this myself. This is my mission, Sabo. I don’t need them to swoop in and take it over. I need to be the one who destroys that plant.”

There was a tense moment of silence. Sabo shifted his position, clearly not agreeing, but he didn’t argue further. He had learned when to push and when to let things go. Riley had made up their mind.

“But it’s not just about destroying the plant, is it?” Sabo asked softly, more to himself than to Riley. He had been observing them ever since they started this journey, and he couldn’t help but feel that there was something more to Riley’s insistence on handling this on their own. Something personal.

Riley, caught off guard by the question, hesitated for a moment before responding, though their voice remained steady. “It’s about control. It’s about taking something that feels like it’s been controlling me, and taking it out. It’s about keeping you all safe, safe from what it makes of me.” They paused, eyes hardening with resolve. “I need to do this, Sabo. So that we can sail the seas just like we always have without being worried about intruders and losing control.”

Sabo didn’t push them further on that, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more Riley wasn’t saying. Instead, he sighed, leaning back against the willow tree, his eyes scanning the night sky.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I’m with you,” he said, though his tone was cautious. “But don’t think this is going to be easy. You’ve got a hell of a challenge ahead of you.”

The night stretched on, finally allowing them a few instances of rest, and as the first hints of dawn began to light up the horizon, they both stood, ready for the day ahead. The plan was in motion, and even though it wasn’t perfect, Riley felt the first real stirrings of hope. This could work. It had to work.

Without another word, Riley and Sabo gathered their things and set off toward the nearby coastline, preparing to start their search. The clock was ticking. 

Chapter Text

Quickly, they recalled Marco’s earlier words about it growing on a hill, so their goal was to look through those first. The island, due to its mostly tropical atmosphere, had many plants and flowers scattered across it, in more colors and variants than the two had ever seen. However, as a security measure, they had established a ritual; everytime they would find a new plant, Sabo would go and check it out, keeping a safe distance with Riley. As he was the one to find it first, weeks ago on the ship, they could be certain that he would recognize it.

After many hours and many hills searched through, their morale started getting weaker once more, doubting it being on this island in the first place. With that assumption they were right - at the end of the day, they had gone through every hill, every cave, every forest, and had yet not found anything.

“We’ll sleep here once more. Tomorrow, we’ll take that ship we have found earlier, I’m sure it’ll be able to carry us to the main island.” Riley explained with a frown, laying down on the exact spot they had laid down the day before. 

Once the sun had taken it’s spot upon the sky once more, the two had been able to drag the remnants of the small fishing boat towards the water, seeing that it seemed, at least mostly, watertight. Thus, they lost no time climbing upon it, hoping for it to hold strong for the short stretch of water they had to cross. 

However, life rarely happens the way one plans it. 

Riley and Sabo trudged out of the water, both drenched but unharmed, their clothes clinging to their bodies as they climbed onto the shore. Riley couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Of all the things that could have gone wrong, a boat sinking wasn't what they'd expected. But it was just another obstacle to overcome, just like everything else on this crazy mission.

“Great,” Sabo said, dripping wet, but with a grin tugging at his lips. “At least we’re officially on a new island now.” He shook out his hair, but only managed to make himself wetter. Riley laughed, shaking their head at him. 

After a moment of pause, Riley’s face shifted into something more serious. “Now, we get to work.” They motioned to the rundown street ahead of them, their cloak swishing around them like a shadow, once it had dried in the strong sun.

The street they were on was a far cry from the busy, well-maintained parts of the island. This area was worn down, with crooked buildings and the faint smell of dampness in the air.

The local grocery store they approached was no exception. Its wooden sign creaked in the wind, reading "Grosts and Greens." Riley had seen places like this before on their travels. They weren’t the cleanest or most well-stocked, but they had what locals needed, which might include very valuable information.

Walking through the creaky door, the bell above it announced their arrival. The store was dimly lit, with the smell of must and stale air. Shelves were lined with jars, dried herbs, and various unknown plants that could be anything from medicinal to culinary. The storekeeper, a woman in her late fifties with a haggard face, looked up as the two entered. She didn’t seem fazed by their entrance, her eyes merely flickering for a moment before returning to the jar she was inspecting.

Riley scanned the room, their hood low, attempting to keep a low profile. They kept an eye on the woman, who looked like she could be either helpful or a potential danger. Sabo was already at one of the shelves, rifling through jars and dried plants, checking for anything that might be the one they were looking for.

The woman finally spoke. “Can I help you two with something?”

Riley hesitated, unsure how much to reveal, but in the end, decided to stick with their plan. They needed information, and the only way to get it was to ask.

“I’m looking for something, an ingredient. Something rare,” Riley said, keeping their voice calm and nonchalant. They stepped closer to the counter, keeping their eyes on the woman. “It’s a plant. Maybe you’ve heard of it… something called Piranha Plant?”

The woman paused, her wrinkled face unreadable. Then, she set down the jar she’d been inspecting and gave them a long look, as if she was weighing whether or not to answer.

“Piranha Plant, huh?” she murmured, almost to herself. “I know the one. It’s a dangerous plant, if you’re asking. Grows only in certain spots. Some people come in looking for it. Others, for things related to it. It’s rare... not something I keep in stock.” She looked past them, as if avoiding their gaze.

Riley’s heart skipped a beat. They were on the right track.

“Do you know where I might find it?” Sabo asked from the side, his voice quiet but urgent.

The woman’s eyes darted to Sabo, then back to Riley. She was clearly torn, but after a few moments of silence, she leaned in, speaking lower.

“Like I said, it doesn’t grow around here. But I’ve heard of people getting their hands on it near the hills on the western side of the island. The hills past the old docks. It’s a dangerous area, though. Might want to think twice before heading out there.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. The hills . They had to be the same ones from Marco’s map. They had found their lead.

“Thank you,” Riley said, nodding their head in appreciation. “You’ve been helpful.”

The woman didn’t respond, just watching them closely as they turned to leave. As they stepped out into the cool night air, Riley couldn’t help but feel the weight of the mission pressing down on them.

“Well, we’ve got our lead,” Sabo said quietly, his voice low. “But I have a feeling this won’t be as easy as walking up to the hill and picking it up”

Riley didn’t respond immediately. They were too focused on the path ahead, trying to keep their mind clear. There was no turning back now.

“We’ll see,” they muttered. “Let’s just get to those hills before anyone notices we’re here. But I wonder, Marco did not say it was here, but another smaller island. So either the shopkeeper is wrong, or Marco is, which could play in our favor.”

The two of them set off toward the western side of the island, unaware that their every step was being observed by someone much more dangerous than they realized. The Celestial Dragons had eyes everywhere, and they had their own plans for what was about to unfold.

The hike to the western side of the island had already worn them out by the time Riley and Sabo arrived near the docks. The heat of the day was starting to fade, but the tension in the air had not. Beads of sweat formed on their forehead, but they refused to complain.

“I’ll be honest,” Riley muttered after a stretch of silence, “I have no idea where we’re going. I’ve never been here before.”

Sabo shot them a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised, but didn’t say anything at first. He seemed to be debating whether to scold them for their lack of preparation, but eventually, he just sighed. “Yeah, I figured as much,” he said. “You’ve been winging it since we got here.”

“I wouldn’t say winging it ,” Riley retorted, a bit defensive. “It’s more like... adapting to the situation.”

“Right,” Sabo said with a smirk, though it lacked malice. “Let’s just hope this adaptation doesn’t get us killed.”

Riley rolled their eyes, tugging their hood further over their head. “I know what I’m doing, okay? We just need to-”

Their words trailed off as they caught sight of the docks in the distance. They were bustling, with pirate ships of varying sizes anchored along the shoreline. Some were rough and battered, with mismatched wood and patched sails that spoke of years of wear and tear. Others were painted in vibrant colors, their hulls carved with intricate designs. One ship in particular caught Riley’s eye—it was smaller than the others, but the flag was unmistakable. It bore the mark of an allied crew to Whitebeard’s fleet. Riley’s stomach twisted at the sight. They pulled their hood further down as they muttered a curse under their breath.

“Think they’d recognize you?” Sabo asked, glancing back at the ships.

“They might,” Riley replied tightly. “And I’d rather not take that risk.”

They turned to take a narrow road leading away from the docks, but before they could move more than a few steps, a sharp noise echoed through the air. It was the unmistakable clang of metal, followed by muffled shouting. Riley froze, and Sabo immediately turned back toward the docks. Both of them instinctively moved toward the sound, ducking behind the corner of a building to get a better look. Ahead of them, a small plaza came into view, centered around a beautifully crafted fountain. Unlike the rundown streets they had been walking through, this area was well-kept, the cobblestones clean and the buildings more refined. It was almost out of place compared to the rest of the area.

But what really caught their attention was the scene unfolding by the fountain. A group of five men—pirates, judging by their ragged attire and weapons—had cornered someone. The lone figure stood with their back to the fountain, unarmed but defiant. They were dressed in simple, travel-worn clothes, but the way they carried themselves spoke of confidence. Even from a distance, they could see that the person wasn’t afraid.

One of the pirates stepped forward, brandishing a cutlass. “We don’t want any trouble,” he said, though his tone suggested the exact opposite. “Just hand over your valuables, and we’ll let you go.”

The figure didn’t move. “I don’t think so,” they said, their voice calm but firm.

Riley felt a surge of curiosity, but Sabo was already moving. “We should leave,” he whispered, tugging at Riley’s sleeve. “This isn’t our problem.”

Riley hesitated, their eyes fixed on the scene. “What if they need help?”

“They look like they can handle themselves,” Sabo said, his tone impatient. “Besides, we can’t risk drawing attention.”

Riley bit their lip, torn. They knew Sabo was right. Getting involved could jeopardize their mission, especially if someone recognized them. But at the same time, they couldn’t just walk away.

“We have to do something,” Riley whispered, already stepping forward, but Sabo grabbed their cloak and yanked them back.

“No, we don’t,” Sabo said firmly. “We’re not here to play heroes. Stay out of it.”

“But—”

“Look.” Sabo pointed to the far side of the plaza, where a group of marines was approaching. Their uniforms were pristine, their weapons drawn as they began shouting commands. Riley’s breath hitched, and they ducked back behind the building.

“They haven’t seen us,” Sabo continued in a low voice. “As long as we stay put, we’re safe.”

Riley clenched their jaw, conflicted. The pirates had begun arguing with the marines now, their voices rising over the sound of the fountain. The man they’d been attacking was shrinking back, clearly overwhelmed.

Before Riley could say anything, another figure entered the scene, and the atmosphere shifted. A celestial dragon, clad in their grotesque protective bubble, sauntered into the plaza with a small entourage of guards trailing behind them. The pirates froze, their bravado evaporating as they turned to face the newcomer.

“You dare cause such a disturbance in my presence?” the celestial dragon demanded, their voice dripping with arrogance. They pointed at the pirates, their lips curling into a sneer. “You lot will make perfect new slaves for my collection.”

The pirates looked at one another, their earlier confidence replaced by panic. The marines, meanwhile, immediately snapped to attention, bowing toward the celestial dragon as if their earlier mission no longer mattered.

The scene had spiraled into pure chaos. The pirates began to protest, but the celestial dragon waved a hand dismissively, ordering their guards to apprehend them. Shouts and scuffles filled the plaza, drowning out all other sounds.

“We have to go,” Sabo said sharply, pulling Riley’s sleeve. “Now.”

Riley hesitated, their eyes still fixed on the man who had been the pirates’ original target. He was cowering by the fountain, unnoticed in the pandemonium. But Sabo’s grip on their arm tightened, and his voice dropped to a growl.

“If we step into that mess, we’ll be caught. Is that what you want?”

Riley bit their lip, their heart pounding as they weighed their options. Finally, they pulled their hood lower and nodded reluctantly. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The two slipped away from the scene, keeping to the shadows as they moved further from the plaza. Riley couldn’t help glancing back one last time, their chest tight with frustration. They hated leaving things unresolved, but they couldn’t afford to make a mistake now; not when everything was on the line.

Chapter Text

The rest of the trip was nothing short of nerve-wracking. Riley and Sabo moved quickly, their steps hurried and their focus razor-sharp. Every corner they turned felt like a gamble, every shadow an opportunity for disaster. Riley led the way in silence, their usual confidence replaced by an uneasy determination. Guilt crept in with every step, an unwelcome companion that whispered Shanks’ words back to them over and over. Maybe he was right.

Sabo followed close behind, his sharp eyes darting around for any signs of danger. Both of them stayed pressed against the edges of buildings, ducking low whenever voices or footsteps echoed too close. Especially the revolutionary had been used to similar scenarios.

But unnoticed by them in their concentration, the bustling chaos of the city faded behind them, replaced by a quieter, more eerie stillness. Greenery peaked from more and more corners. 

It didn’t take long for the transition to become stark. The last rows of houses gave way to thick vegetation as the ground beneath them shifted from cobblestone to the soft, springy floor of the mangrove forest. Massive roots sprawled across the terrain like skeletal fingers, creating an intricate web of paths, alcoves, and towering trunks. Sunlight filtered through the leaves in patches, dappling their path with light and shadow.

Riley paused for a moment, catching their breath as they glanced around. Despite everything, the sight was breathtaking. The air smelled of fresh leaves and damp soil, a far cry from the stench of the docks or the heavy tension of the plaza. The forest teemed with life: birds fluttering between branches, insects buzzing in the air, and distant rustles of unseen animals moving through the undergrowth. One could almost forget how close they were to one of the world’s most busy cities.

Then - a new type of plant appeared along their path. Bright red flowers dotted with white spots, shaped like a fish, clung stubbornly to the roots of the mangroves. Their vibrant colors were mesmerizing, standing out against the otherwise muted greens and browns of the swampy terrain.

“That’s them,” Riley muttered, their voice hushed yet grim.

Sabo took a step closer, squinting to get a better look. “The piranha plant flowers…” His voice trailed off as he took in the sheer number of them scattered across the area.

Riley nodded, a knot tightening in their stomach. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Sabo asked, his usual calm edged with unease.

Riley exhaled sharply, scanning the area. “We burn them,” they said flatly, their tone brooking no argument. “Every last one of them. We can’t leave even a single flower behind. They need to be gone.”

Sabo glanced around the mangrove forest skeptically. The air was damp, and the ground beneath them was moist from the humidity and the swampy terrain. Even the roots of the trees glistened faintly in the filtered light. “Burn them?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not going to be able to start a fire here, that’s for sure.”

Riley took a deep breath, grounding themselves. “I’ll handle it,” they said, their tone steady despite the flicker of nerves in their chest. They knew what to do.

The revolutionary boy’s eyes narrowed slightly as he turned towards them. “What do you mean, you’ll handle it?”

Riley finally looked at him, their expression resolute. “Dragonfire.”

Sabo blinked, surprised. “Dragonfire? You… you’re planning to use your own flames?”

“That’s right,” Riley said, their voice firm. “It’s the best way. The flames will be hot enough to burn even in this damp forest, and—” They hesitated for a moment, their voice softening in a rare moment of vulnerability. “It feels right. If anyone should destroy these things, it’s me.”

He studied them carefully, noting the slight tension in their frame. “Are you sure about this?” he asked. “After everything that just happened… with the celestial dragons back there—”

“I know,” Riley cut him off, their voice sharp but not angry. “I know what could happen. But I can control it. I have to. This isn’t just about getting rid of the flowers. This is about making sure something like this never happens again.”

Sabo didn’t press further. He could see that Riley’s resolve was unshakable. Instead, he gave them a small nod. “Alright. Just… don’t go overboard. We can’t afford to make this worse.”

Riley nodded back and stepped forward, their hood slipping down to reveal their face. They could feel their heart pounding as they approached the first cluster of flowers, their vibrant red petals swaying slightly in the humid breeze. Memories of the earlier chaos flashed in their mind—of the celestial dragon, the marines, the suffocating weight of the situation—but they pushed it all aside. This wasn’t the time for hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, before transforming and opening their maw, a plume of golden fire erupting forth. The heat was immediate and overwhelming, cutting through the dampness of the mangrove forest like a blade. The flames engulfed the first cluster of flowers, their bright red hues curling and blackening as the fire consumed them. The acrid scent of burning petals and foliage filled the air, sharp and choking, but Riley didn’t stop. They moved to the next cluster, unleashing another blast of dragonfire, ensuring that no trace of the flowers would remain.

The fire spread quickly, licking up the roots of the mangrove trees but fizzling out when it reached the moist bark and wet ground. Each burst of fire was deliberate, targeting the flowers and leaving the forest around them mostly untouched.

As the last cluster of flowers burned, they stepped back, their breathing heavy but controlled. The clearing was filled with smoke, the once vibrant red flowers reduced to smoldering ash. For a moment, there was only silence, the crackle of dying embers the only sound.

“It’s done,” Riley said quietly, their voice steady but laced with exhaustion. “They’re gone.”

Sabo walked up to them, his expression softening. “You did it,” he said simply.

Riley gave him a small, tired smile. “I told you I could handle it.”

Sabo nodded, glancing around the clearing one last time. “We should get moving. The smoke might attract attention.”

“Yeah,” Riley agreed, pulling their hood back over their head as they had taken back their human form. “Let’s go.”

Without another word, they disappeared back into the shadows of the mangrove forest, leaving the smoldering remains of the piranha plant flowers behind them. For the first time in a long while, Riley felt a sense of closure. They had done what they came to do, and now they could only hope it was enough.

The walk back was heavy with a happy silence. The weight of their completed mission and the dangers they’d just navigated both hung between. They kept to the quietest streets, staying in the shadows and away from any commotion. The mangroves were always close, as they were still far away from the docks.

Sabo finally broke the silence with a dry laugh, somewhere between humor and resignation as the truth dawned on him. “So, what’s the plan now? Sit around and hope the ships show up?”

Riley shrugged, their cloak shifting slightly with the motion. “Pretty much. Unless you’ve got some brilliant alternative?”

He shook his head as he turned around to face them, his lips curling in a wry smile. “Not really. But you know they’re not exactly fans of docking at places like this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Riley waved him off, trying to lower the tension that had suddenly arisen. “But what else can we do? They’ll figure it out. They always do.”

Just as the words left Riley’s mouth, their names rang out loud and clear, cutting through the quiet.

“RILEY! SABO!”

The two of them froze, instincts kicking in. Riley’s claws were out, ready for battle, their heart pounding as their head whipped around toward the source of the voice.

It didn’t take long to spot the two figures heading their way. The first was instantly recognizable—tall, broad, and with a calm confidence in his stride. The silver hair and rifle slung over his shoulder left no doubt: it was Benn Beckman.

The second figure might have been cloaked, but Riley lost no time to recognize who it was.

Sabo didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked amused. “Looks like they figured it out,” he muttered under his breath, his tone teasing.

“Great,” Riley replied sarcastically. Even when what they felt was genuine relief, they could not look forwards to the lecture they were about to receive and that was nowhere ending.

As Beckman and Shanks got closer, the latter pulled back his hood, revealing the shock of red hair that Riley had always associated with home. Shanks didn’t say a word at first. He just stared at Riley, his expression unreadable, as though trying to decide whether to yell at them or hug them instead.

He chose the latter.

Before Riley could react, Shanks closed the gap and pulled them into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around them with a ferocity that almost knocked the air out of Riley’s lungs. For a moment, they stiffened, unsure of how to respond. But then they felt the slight tremble in his grip and heard the sharp intake of breath he took as he buried his face into their shoulder.

“You reckless idiot,” Shanks muttered, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

Riley swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “I—”

Shanks cut them off, pulling back just enough to look them in the eyes, his expression a mix of anger, relief, and something that looked a lot like pride. “How could you just run away!! you could’ve been killed!”

“I’m fine and I told you I was going to be!” Riley said less quietly now, as they suddenly remembered their impressive feat and how they finally proved him wrong.

“You’re lucky you are,” Shanks shot back, his tone sharp. But then his eyes softened slightly, and he shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You did it, though, didn’t you? You destroyed them.”

Riley nodded. “Every last one.”

Shanks exhaled, his hand briefly ruffling the back of Riley’s head in an almost protective gesture before letting them go. “You’re still an idiot,” he muttered, though his tone was gentler now.

Beckman, standing just behind his captain, smirked slightly and glanced at Sabo. “Guess you both had quite the adventure.”

The revolutionary crossed his arms, nodding as he still smiled. “You could say that. Though I wouldn’t exactly call it my idea of fun.”

The captain now turned to him, his expression softening further. “Thanks for keeping them alive.”

Sabo shrugged, grinning. “What can I say? It’s part of the job, right? I didn’t want you and Whitebeard chewing me out for letting them die on my watch.”

The young dragon groaned, rolling their eyes at the discussion unfolding. “I didn’t need babysitting.”

“No?” Beckman said, raising an eyebrow. “Sure looked like it from where we’re standing.”

Riley opened their mouth to argue but quickly closed it, realizing it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, they looked back at Shanks, who was still watching them with a mix of exasperation and fondness.

“Let’s get out of here,” Shanks finally said, slinging his only arm around Riley’s shoulders. “The ships are anchored out of sight. We’ve got a lot to talk about and our job is still not done.”

As they began walking toward the hidden dock, Riley felt the weight of their actions settle fully. They had defied Shanks, risked everything, and somehow came out the other side. And while Shanks was furious, there was also a part of him that understood. Riley could see it in his eyes. They had proved themselves. 

Without further inconveniences, the four pirates reached their respective ships. As Riley and Sabo prepared to part ways, they exchanged a quick but heartfelt farewell.

"Try not to get into any more trouble," Sabo said, smirking as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

"You too," Riley shot back, grinning. "But, knowing you, that's probably asking too much."

The two chuckled, then they turned to board their ships, each ready to face the consequences of their actions.

Chapter Text

As Riley stepped onto the deck of the Red Force, they were immediately met with enthusiastic greetings from their crewmates. The crew cheered and patted them on the back, relieved and glad to see Riley safe and sound. The boisterous energy of the crew felt warm and welcoming, but Riley couldn't shake the pit growing in their stomach. They knew what was coming next, as they walked straight to Shanks’ office, who was already seated in his large captain's chair. A faint tension filled the room as Riley sat down on a small stool across from his desk. They started swinging their legs absentmindedly, bracing themselves to tune out of what they assumed would be a long, scolding lecture.

But to their surprise, Shanks began gently.

"I'm proud of you," he said, his voice steady but laced with emotion. "You managed to find the flowers, and you destroyed them. Especially without a map or Marco's notes. That couldn’t have been easy."

Riley blinked, caught off guard by the compliment. "Uh, yeah. Thanks," they mumbled, sitting up straighter. "It wasn’t easy, but... I asked this old lady at a herb shop near the outskirts of town. She pointed me in the right direction. Said I wasn’t the first to ask about them."

Shanks leaned forward slightly, resting his elbow on the desk. "The marines, then?"

"Probably," Riley agreed. "We saw them too—along with a celestial dragon. But we stayed far away. Didn’t cause any trouble." They glanced up, hoping this would earn them some points.

Shanks exhaled a slow breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I’m glad you at least had the sense to keep your distance," he said. "But do you have any idea how much risk you were taking? Do you even realize what could’ve happened?"

Riley tensed, knowing this was coming. "I handled it," they muttered.

"Handled it?" Shanks repeated, his voice rising slightly. He gestured sharply toward the window overlooking the deck. "You could’ve been captured! Do you know what they do to people who cross their paths? A celestial dragon doesn’t care who you are—they’d have you in a human shop or worse! They might’ve dragged you all the way to Mariejois just for fun!"

Riley flinched, but Shanks wasn’t done. "And that fire breath of yours? Do you think they wouldn’t notice? Do you think they wouldn’t see you as some rare, exotic creature to be displayed in chains? You’re lucky— damn lucky—that I didn’t have to storm Mary Geoise myself to pull you out of there!"

Riley’s head hung low, guilt weighing heavily on them now. They mumbled, "I didn’t mean for it to get that dangerous..."

Shanks sighed, leaning back in his chair. The anger in his expression softened, though the worry remained. "Riley," he said, his tone quieter now. "I get it. You wanted to prove yourself. You wanted to do this your way. And you did. But next time... let’s just say there won’t be a next time."

There was a long pause before Riley nodded slowly. "Aye capt’n”

Shanks studied them for a moment, wondering if he should point out their mockery, before nodding. "Good. Because I don’t care how proud I am of you—I’m not letting you put yourself in that kind of danger again. Got it?"

"Got it," Riley said, meeting his eyes.

A faint smile tugged at Shanks’ lips, though he still looked tired. "Now get out of here. Your crewmates are probably dying to hear the whole story, and I don’t want you sulking around here all day."

Before heading for the deck, Riley hesitated, turning back toward Shanks as a question nagged at the back of their mind. It was one that had bubbled up on the island but had never quite found the right moment to be voiced—until now.

"Shanks," Riley began, their tone almost tentative. "Why are they even called Celestial Dragons? They're not dragons."

The question caught Shanks off guard, his brows lifting slightly. For a moment, it seemed like he might brush it off or dismiss it entirely, but instead, he leaned back in his chair, giving it some thought.

"They used to wage wars on… dragons," Shanks finally said, his voice even but carrying an undertone of something deeper—resentment, maybe, or regret. "When they defeated us, they took our name. Like an insult added to injury. I think it’s their way of saying they’re the most powerful beings in this world. So powerful, they didn’t just beat dragons—they claimed our name for themselves."

Riley blinked, their curiosity piqued by the unexpected depth of Shanks' response. This was one of the rare times he had said anything concrete about their species' history. It was almost surreal. "They waged wars on us? Why?" Riley pressed, leaning forward slightly.

Shanks shrugged, his usual relaxed demeanor returning, though his gaze remained distant. "I don’t know every little detail. It was hundreds of years ago, long before my time. But we… were seen as enemies of the world back then."

He let the words hang in the air for a moment before shaking his head, his expression firm. "That’s all I’m willing to tell you for now, kid. Don’t push your luck."

Then, with a sharper edge to his tone, he added, "Now get out of here before I figure out a proper punishment for your reckless behavior."

Riley straightened, a faint grin tugging at their lips despite the seriousness of the conversation. "Got it," they said quickly, grateful for the unexpected insight Shanks had shared. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a glimpse into a past they knew so little about.

Without another word, Riley left the cabin, heading for the deck where their crewmates awaited, their mind still turning over Shanks’ words. It felt like the beginning of something—a thread of history they might one day unravel. But his meaningful words quickly faded to the back of their mind as they were questioned by everyone about their adventure, having to recall the whole story from the start. 

The celebratory mood on the Moby Dick was as lively as ever, with the entire crew gathered around a large table, eagerly awaiting Sabo's return. The scent of hearty food filled the air, and laughter echoed across the deck as everyone prepared to welcome him back. But just as Sabo was about to take a seat and join in the festivities, Whitebeard, who had been sitting at the head of the table, raised his hand.

"Sabo," Whitebeard called, his voice a little quieter but still carrying the weight of authority. "Before we dig in, I’d like a word with you."

Sabo, who had been smiling from ear to ear, nodded eagerly. He was both tired and elated from the mission’s success, but he had a feeling that Whitebeard wouldn’t let him off the hook so easily. The big man was always like that—stern but with a heart as vast as the sea.

Whitebeard led him to a quieter part of the ship, away from the rest of the crew. As they stood there, the wind tugging at the sails, Whitebeard's gruff voice softened just slightly.

"So, how did it go?" Whitebeard asked, his weathered face breaking into a small, genuine smile.

Sabo chuckled, his usual mischievous grin appearing. "Riley… well, they definitely tried to play it cool. But I could tell from the start that they were lying to get me to join them. They even pretended that it was an order from both you and Red Hair at first. I knew they'd succeed, though. I guess I just had this feeling. It wasn’t easy, though. Keeping them from charging headfirst into a fight with the Marines was like trying to herd a wild bull." He let out a light laugh, shaking his head. "Still, we managed. I’m proud of them. They got it done."

Whitebeard’s deep, rumbling laugh followed, echoing across the quiet deck. "Sounds like you had your hands full, huh? But that’s Riley for you—stubborn as a rock and twice as tough." He shook his head fondly. "I’m proud of you both, you showed some real courage stepping up. I’m glad to have you as part of the crew, kid."

Sabo’s face softened for a moment, the pride and affection he felt for his captain clear in his eyes. "Thanks, Pops. I’m just doing my part. And... I'm glad I could help."

Whitebeard’s expression turned thoughtful, a flicker of something deeper passing across his face. "These dragons," he muttered almost to himself, as though reflecting on something long past. "So much to them, so much we still don’t know. But we do what we must, and we move forward.“

The older man gave Sabo a hearty clap on the back, nearly knocking the younger man off balance. "Alright, enough of that. Let’s get back to the others. I think your stomach is about to join the festivities whether you’re ready or not!"

Sabo laughed, nodding as he followed Whitebeard back toward the center of the deck, where the rest of the crew was eagerly waiting, plates piled high with food. As they walked, Sabo couldn't help but feel a warm sense of belonging. Even with all the tension and uncertainty, he had found a family—one that would always have his back, no matter what. The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and hearty cheers, as the Moby Dick's crew celebrated another victory.

The morning on the Moby Dick had begun as it always did, with the crew stirring into motion. However, the mood was much heavier today. Whitebeard and Shanks had retired to a secluded part of the ship, away from the bustling crew, to discuss the situation at hand.

Whitebeard leaned back against the wooden rail, his eyes gazing out over the horizon. "I’ll be honest, Shanks, I have no idea how to proceed. This is too big for us to just rush in and expect to handle it with our usual tactics." His voice was low, tinged with frustration, a rarity for the powerful captain.

Shanks, standing at the other side of the deck, crossed his arms and nodded. "We can’t just sit back and wait either." He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. "I understand if you want to leave, though. I’m dragging you into this mess with my own problems. This has nothing to do with you or your crew."

Whitebeard sighed deeply, running a hand through his moustache. "Don’t say something stupid, Shanks. You know I promised Roger I’ll keep an eye on his kids." His tone softened slightly, but his words were still firm. He wasn’t about to walk away now.

The two men stood in silence for a moment, each lost in their thoughts, contemplating their next move. Shanks finally spoke again, his voice more measured but still carrying a hint of uncertainty.

"Here’s what we know," he began, turning to face Whitebeard. "The Marines, or at least some faction within them, have access to the piranha plants. They know what those flowers can do." He paused, looking out over the ocean as if searching for some answer in the distance. "But here’s the thing—we don’t have all the answers. The Marines haven’t attacked yet, and that tells me they don’t have a finished plan. Whatever they’re working on is still in development."

Whitebeard listened intently, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. 

Shanks added. "We need to be prepared for whatever they’re planning, and if possible, slow down their progress. But we can’t wait forever. The longer they get to refine their weapon, the more dangerous they become." His voice tightened, the weight of the situation evident in his eyes.

Whitebeard leaned forward, his expression grave. "You’re right. But even with a clear goal, it’s not going to be easy. We can’t just march into Marine Headquarters and demand answers." He shook his head. "That would be suicide. And trying to get someone inside to work as a double agent... that would take too long. We don’t have that kind of time."

The red haired pirate let out a breath, his hand going to his chin as he thought deeply. "I know," he muttered, frustration creeping into his tone. "The only concrete idea I have, is that we could ask Rayleigh. I know he’s been in town for a while. He knows more about this place than anyone else.” 

The name lingered in the Moby Dick’s captain’s mind, stirring up memories of the past. It had been years since he’d last thought about Roger’s right-hand man. 

“Rayleigh, huh?” Whitebeard mused, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder. “That old coot is still around?”

Shanks, seated casually on the edge of a crate, nodded with a small smile. “He’s still kicking, as sharp as ever. If anyone has the knowledge or connections to help us figure out what the Marines are up to, it’s him.”

“I’ll admit, it’s a start. If anyone can wrangle information out of someone like Rayleigh, it’s you, Red Hair.”

The red-haired captain laughed, recalling the memories of the many years he had spent on the Oro Jackson. “I’ll head out then. No need to drag anyone else into this just yet.”

Whitebeard nodded, his expression softening. “Aye.”

Onboard the Red Force, Ben was the only one informed by his short excursion. 

“Heading off somewhere, Boss?” Beckman asked, exhaling a stream of smoke.

Shanks nodded, his expression calm but determined. “Yeah. I need to meet someone. Won’t be gone long, but I trust you to keep things in check up here.” 

Beckman studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “This have anything to do with what you and Whitebeard were talking about?”

Shanks didn’t answer directly, instead giving a small shrug. “Just tying up a few loose ends. Nothing to worry about.”

Beckman’s gaze didn’t waver. “Just be back in three days, Boss. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

A grin spread across Shanks’ face. ”I’ll be back before you know it.”

With that, he gave a final nod before stepping into one of the smaller boats tied to the ship. As the crew worked to lower it into the water, he glanced back at the Red Force. 

Once the boat hit the water, Shanks took the helm, steering it toward the distant shore. The waves were calm, the sky a clear blue, but his mind was racing. Meeting Rayleigh again after all these years wasn’t just about gathering intel—it was about reconnecting with a piece of his past. As the shoreline of Sabaody Archipelago came into view, Shanks pulled up the hood of his cloak, steeling himself for the task ahead.

He had three days. 

Chapter Text

For the rest of both crews, this small vacation brought needed rest, but that same calm bred mischief. With fewer crew members around, many having ventured off to nearby islands to stave off boredom, Haruta decided it was the perfect time to liven things up.

It began innocently enough. A few missing shoes here, some misplaced weapons there. Haruta chuckled to himself as his small pranks went unnoticed, but it wasn’t long before Sabo caught wind of what was going on.

“I knew something was up the moment I saw you sneaking around with that glue,” Sabo teased, leaning casually against the mast.

Haruta raised an eyebrow in defiance. “What? You going to rat me out?”

Sabo smirked. “Nope. I’m going to help. Two heads are better than one, right?”

And with that, the chaos began.

The first target was Izo, Haruta’s longtime rival when it came to these antics. They found his polished shoes, pristine as always, sitting neatly by his quarters. With a shared grin, they glued them firmly to the floor.

It wasn’t until later that afternoon that Izo discovered the trick. He knelt to grab his shoes, tugging once, then twice. When they didn’t budge, he sighed, his patience as immaculate as his wardrobe.

“Haruta,” he muttered, loud enough to be heard from across the deck. “You’re really testing me today.”

Haruta and Sabo, hiding behind a stack of barrels, stifled their laughter.

Their next victim was Speed Jiru, whose prized hat became the focus of their next prank. With stealth that surprised even Haruta, Sabo managed to sneak the hat onto one of the smaller boats bound for the Red Force. By the time Jiru noticed it was missing, the boat had already left.

“Where’s my hat?! Anyone see my hat??” Jiru asked anyone who would listen, pacing up and down the deck with the greatest of worries.

The rumors spread fast. The crew on both ships soon became involved in the hunt, convinced the pranksters had infiltrated both ships.

Unbeknownst to the pranksters, their mischief didn’t go unnoticed for long. Marco, ever watchful, caught them red-handed as they attempted to set up their next prank—an elaborate setup involving a bucket of seawater and Vista’s hammock.

“You two,” Marco said, arms crossed, his tone flat.

Haruta froze, his usual grin faltering. “Uh, Marco, hey! Lovely weather we’re having, huh?”

Sabo, trying to suppress his laughter, added, “Yeah, really perfect for… teamwork?”

Marco sighed, shaking his head in discontentment, however he could not hide the smallest of smiles. “You’re lucky this ship has enough chaos as it is-yoi. But trust me, if I end up as one of your targets, you’ll regret it.”

Haruta and Sabo exchanged nervous glances but nodded obediently.

Meanwhile, on the Red Force, the misplaced hat caused its own stir. Yasopp and Lucky Roux began pointing fingers at each other, claiming sabotage.

“You probably took it to mess with Jiru!” Yasopp accused.

Roux, mid-bite of his snack, frowned. “Me? Why would I waste my time stealing a hat? I’m too busy!!!”

Beckman finally stepped in, silencing the argument with a sharp look. “Enough. We’ve got bigger problems to worry about than a missing hat.”

That didn’t stop the crew from combing the ship for the “culprits,” though they had yet no idea the prank was orchestrated from the Moby Dick.

By the end of the day, the prank war had spiraled so far out of control that both crews were on high alert, looking for invisible enemies and culprits who didn’t exist.

The pranksters, now laying low after nearly getting caught multiple times, sat on the edge of the Moby Dick’s deck, stifling laughter as they watched the chaos unfold.

“You know,” Haruta said between chuckles, “I didn’t think we’d get away with this much.”

Sabo grinned. “They should be grateful that we’re providing some entertainment!”

Haruta raised an eyebrow, then burst out laughing. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

Unbeknownst to them, Marco had overheard and was already plotting his revenge. The pranksters weren’t the only ones with a knack for chaos, after all, and while he did not often show this side of him, he used to be known as quite the prankster himself in his youth. 

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the pranks had reached a boiling point. The missing hat incident on the Red Force had left Jiru paranoid, and Izo was still grumbling about his ruined shoes. Meanwhile, Haruta and Sabo were feeling victorious—until Marco decided it was time for payback.

Marco wasn’t one for petty revenge, but he wasn’t about to let two troublemakers run rampant without consequences. With a smirk, he enlisted the help of Thatch, who was always up for a little fun.

“You know,” Thatch said, leaning against the railing, “Sabo and Haruta are getting a little too comfortable. I think we should remind them who they’re messing with.”

Marco nodded. “I have just the plan.”

The first move in Marco and Thatch’s counter-prank was subtle. The morning after their shenanigans, Sabo and Haruta woke up to find that their clothes had been replaced with identical versions—but two sizes too small.

Haruta pulled on his now absurdly tight shirt and scowled. “Alright, who did this?”

Sabo, stuck trying to squeeze into his pants, sighed. “I don’t know, but I know it’s revenge.”

The rest of the crew watched with barely contained laughter as the two tried to act normal while clearly struggling in their shrunken outfits, however the two pranksters were struck with a sudden bit of anxiety, knowing that Marco and Thatch had planned more. 

Thus, that night, the pranking duo decided to be on high alert. There was no way they’d let Marco get them again. But they underestimated just how creative their revenge could be.

Sabo and Haruta awoke to the usual sounds of the crew bustling about on deck. But as soon as they tried to move, they realized something was very, very wrong.

Their sheets, their clothes, even their hair—everything was coated in a thin, sticky layer of honey.

Haruta groaned, struggling to sit up as the sheets clung to him like glue. "Oh, come on! This is disgusting!"

Sabo, meanwhile, had one hand stuck in his own hair, his fingers hopelessly tangled. "This is definitely Marco’s work."

As the two managed to untangle themselves and stumble out of their quarters, they were met with snickering crewmates.

Marco, leaning lazily against the railing, raised an eyebrow. "Sleep well-yoi?"

Haruta crossed his arms, glaring. "Oh, you’re really funny, aren’t you?"

Thatch, happily munching on a honey-covered biscuit, gave them a mock-serious nod. "You two wanted to start a prank war. We just finished it."

Sabo sighed, still trying to wipe the sticky residue off his arms. "Fine. You win."

Haruta grumbled but nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Truce. But next time, we’re teaming up against you two ."

Marco only laughed. " We’ll see about that ."

Chapter Text

The scent of salt and varnish lingered in the humid air of the Sabaody Archipelago, mixing with the rhythmic hammering of tools against wood. The shipyard was alive with its usual bustle, but Shanks barely noticed the noise as he stepped into a shaded workshop, wearing his hood low. The shipyards were famous for being filled with bounty hunters. He wasn’t specifically worried for them - most of them were fairly weak, biting on things too big for them to chew. However, they often brought attention with them, which was the last thing he’d need. Finally, after lounging the run down buildings, he arrived at the Dark King’s shop. It was dimly lit, he quickly found him in the back, hunched over a half-finished coating job. 

"Still working hard after all these years, Rayleigh?"

Rayleigh straightened up, his silver hair glinting under the sparse light. He turned, wiping his oil-coated hands on a rag, before his gaze fell upon the red-haired pirate standing at the entrance. A slow grin spread across his face as he spotted his former pupil. 

"Well, well, if it isn’t the troublemaker himself," Rayleigh chuckled, stepping forward. "Last time I saw you, you were getting all misty-eyed over some kid with a big dream. What brings you back to my shop?"

Shanks laughed, the memory of Luffy bringing a short flicker of warmth to his expression, but he quickly sobered. He did not have any time to talk about sweet memories. Instead, he glanced around, ensuring no prying ears were near, then stepped closer.

"No one knows more about this place than you do, Rayleigh."

Rayleigh’s brows furrowed slightly as he noted Shanks’ serious tone. He gestured to a quieter corner of the shop, away from the loud streets. The two men settled in the shadows, and Shanks lowered his voice once he had taken off the hood from his hair. 

“What or who do you need to locate.” He carefully asked. He had long given up the tumultuous life, however he couldn’t shake off the feeling that this might be a bigger issue. With a calmer life came a bit of boredom, but he did appreciate the calm that his new situation had provided, and he wasn’t easily willing to give it up. 

"I ran into an issue with the marines. I’ve had one infiltrating the Red Force, he was carrying a rare type of flower.” Shanks explained, but Rayleigh responded with surprise.

"A flower? I might have heard things, but I need to know more.” He said with skepticism, not really knowing what to do with that information. It wasn’t a lack of trust that he was feeling, but this seemed like a harmless thing at first. 

“It’s called the piranha plant, it’s a quite stupid name… It grows on this island, and emits spores that are toxic towards certain people, it makes them lose control, and become highly aggressive.” 

“Certain people?” Rayleigh had to hold in a chuckle, as he was quite confused by the younger pirate’s wording. He started to piece the puzzle together, but he felt like he had a child in front of him once again, afraid to say the things how they were.

“Certain people that can grow scales. The plant was put in the hold during the full moon.”

“See, now I get you.” The Dark King smiled, before agreeing to help Shanks. “Yeah, I’ve heard whispers about a certain Marine subdivision poking around here. They’ve been spending an unusual amount of time near the mangroves it seems. Given the rumors and your words, I’d bet my last bottle of rum that they’re the same ones after that plant."

Shanks exhaled sharply. "They’re not outright targeting us yet, but I can’t let them have such a weapon in their hands. I cannot risk the life of my entire crew like this, because of what I could do if we had another such incident. So I want to ask, do you have any idea where they might be based?"

Rayleigh scratched his chin, thinking for a moment before nodding. "There’s been talk of a research facility; it’s newly built, just two islands over. Cost them an arm and a leg, and it’s quite fortified. If they’ve got those flowers you’re talking about, that’s where they’d be." However, his expression darkened slightly warning the red haired pirate; "There’s one more thing. I’ve heard Akainu’s name being thrown around in connection with this, t’seems like it was his idea.”

The air between them grew heavier. Shanks felt a cold weight settle in his stomach, he had prayed for anything but this. 

“Of course that bastard had to be involved…”

Rayleigh placed a hand on Shanks’ shoulder, his voice quieter now. "I don’t know what they’re planning exactly, but I can tell you this won’t be easy."

Shanks exhaled slowly, then straightened, his usual confident smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Nothing ever is, old man."

Roger’s second chuckled. "You always did have a knack for getting in difficult situations."

"Thanks, Rayleigh. I owe you one." Shanks said once he had turned to leave, pausing a last time at the doorway. However, the older man waved him off with a grin.

"You owe me plenty already. Just don’t get yourself killed, kid."

In the next two days, the two captains met regularly again. Their plan came more and more to fruition, yet their discussions were loomed with the threat of the full moon once again. These nights had never been just a peaceful happening, but they had taken a much darker meaning. They could not have the last full moon repeat itself.

“Beckman, Yassopp, you both are going to stay in front of the door. All night. I trust you two-”

"And if anything goes south, we handle it before it turns into a mess," Yassopp finished with a cocky grin. "You don't have to repeat it like we're rookies, Boss."

Shanks ran a hand through his hair, offering a tired smirk. "You say that, but I know you. The second it gets quiet, you'll start slacking."

Beckman chuckled, leaning on his rifle. "Don't worry, Boss. I’ll make sure he stays awake."

"Hey! I can be serious when I need to be," Yassopp protested.

"Mm-hmm," Beckman hummed, unconvinced.

Shanks shook his head but let their banter slide. He could count on them, he had always counted on them. But even with their confidence, a shadow of doubt lingered in his chest. Yassopp's question from earlier still echoed in his mind.

"Are we doing this ‘old school’ because of what happened last time?"

Shanks had barely answered at the time, but now, staring at the sea, he felt the guilt creeping back in. They had spent the last few full moons on the Moby Dick instead, where Whitebeard’s monstrous ship had provided more security, more control, more strength. But tonight, it was just them.

"I should never have involved another crew in this."

"I still asked Marco and Jozu to be on standby," Shanks muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Just in case."

Beckman gave him a long, assessing look, but nodded. "Understood."

"We won’t need them," Yassopp said, his grin faltering just slightly. "You know that, right?"

Shanks turned to look at his old friend, noting the confidence in his words. Yassopp believed that. He truly did. But Shanks had spent a lifetime preparing for worst-case scenarios. He had seen worst-case scenarios.

"I hope you're right," he said finally, but the unease didn’t leave his chest.

A few hours later, the Red Force was a ship transformed. The usual liveliness had faded into an eerie stillness as final preparations were made. The crew moved with practiced efficiency, their voices hushed, their steps deliberate. They knew the drill.

By now, most of the rookies had been ferried off to a nearby island, a precaution that Shanks had tried not to compromise. Those who remained had been ordered to stay in their cabins, and even the more seasoned members had chosen to retreat below deck, away from the inevitable pull of the moon. The ship had been moved even further from the bustling ports of Sabaody, drifting in isolation.

The Moby Dick, stationed a few miles away, would act as a lookout, its presence both a reassurance and a silent promise. If anything went wrong, they would intervene. But Shanks prayed it wouldn't come to that.

Beckman and Yassopp stood at the entrance to the hold, their backs straight, their faces unreadable. They had been given the most important job of the night—if something did go wrong, if Shanks and Riley so much as moved the wrong way inside that hold, they would be the first to react.

And if needed… they would be the first line of defense.

(The captain hated that it had come to this).

He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he approached the hold. Riley was already waiting, their arms crossed, a flicker of tension in their stance. They didn’t say anything as Shanks walked up beside them, but the unspoken understanding between them was enough.

“You good?” Riley finally muttered.

Shanks smirked, but there was little humor behind it. “What, worried about me?”

Riley scoffed. “More worried about them.” They gestured vaguely at the rest of the ship.

Shanks sighed. That was fair.

Beckman, who had been stuck in the large room, finally spoke as he stepped out, accompanied by the ships’ sniper. “We checked the hold already. Twice. There’s nothing in it, it should be safe.”

“So no plants?” Riley asked. They had shown a lot less worry than their uncle, but their voice didn’t speak easily. 

Yassopp shook his head. “Nothing. No sign of it. No way in or out except through us.”

Shanks nodded, but the worry in his gut didn’t ease. They had checked the hold last time, too.

And yet, somehow, the damn plant had still been there.

Riley shifted beside him, their fingers twitching slightly, a sign that the pull of the moon was already starting to settle into their bones. They had to get into the room.

Shanks took one last look at his crew—the silent unease in their faces, the quiet tension in their shoulders. They trusted him. They had to trust him.

And he had to make sure that trust wasn’t misplaced.

He turned, stepping into the hold, Riley following right behind.

The heavy door slammed shut behind them, the lock sliding into place with a deep, metallic clang.

Outside, the ship remained still.

Above them, the moon began its slow ascent.

And deep in the reinforced hold, the two dragons prepared to lose themselves once more.

Chapter Text

The moment the door locked, Riley exhaled sharply, rolling their shoulders as they felt the first stirrings of the moon. One thing their uncle had taught them was to always transform in advance, so as to not go through a forced transformation under the influence of the moon. Those were much more painful, starting as aches deep inside of their bones, clawing it’s way out, while a voluntary transformation was the most natural thing a dragon could do. After all, it was a short moment in which they could shed their human disguises, living as the mighty beasts they were. 

Thus, once the celestial body rose above the seas, their change of mind was quick. It was like quickly falling asleep, while their ancient, reptilian minds took over them. 

Riley was the first to fall victim, their eyes momentarily closing, before waking up with a low growl. They were truly awake. 

The night stretched on, the full moon glowing bright above the ship. Despite the tension that always accompanied these nights, everything remained… calm.

At least, as calm as it could be.

Beckman leaned against the wall near the hold, arms crossed, ears trained for any signs of trouble. Yassopp, sitting on an overturned crate beside him, yawned loudly, stretching his arms above his head.

“Man, if I’d known it’d be this quiet, I would’ve brought a drink,” Yassopp muttered.

“Like I’d let you drink while on guard duty,” Beckman shot back.

The crew’s sniper huffed, but didn’t argue. Instead, he tilted his head, listening to the occasional thump from within the hold. The heavy movements of creatures too large for their confinement, the occasional scrape of claws against wood.

Then-

A deep, guttural growl.

Yassopp tensed for a brief second before realizing… that was it. Just a growl. No crashing, no sudden bursts of Haki, no horrifying roars of unrestrained fury. Just a dragon making dragon noises.

He snorted. “Yep. Real terrifying.”

Beckman smirked. “We’ve had worse.”

“Much worse.”

They both fell into silence again, keeping their post. It was routine by now—one of those things you did because you had to, even if nothing happened. The crew still avoided getting too close to the hold, but there wasn’t the same tension in the air as last time.

At one point, the transponder snail crackled to life, Marco’s voice coming through.

“Oi. How’s it going?”

Beckman picked up the receiver. “Quiet.”

“…Really?” Marco sounded suspicious.

“Yeah.”

A growl rumbled from the hold again—long and low, like a distant thunderstorm.

There was a brief silence on the other end.

“…That sounded real quiet,” Marco deadpanned.

Yassopp snickered. “Calmest full moon we’ve had in a while, honestly. Just a little background noise.”

Marco still sounded skeptical, but he exhaled in relief. “Guess I’ll stop worrying, then-yoi.”

Another deep thud came from inside. Maybe one of them had turned over in their sleep, their massive tails knocking against the wall. Beckman didn’t flinch. Neither did Yassopp.

“Yep,” Yassopp said. “Totally peaceful.”

And despite everything, it was .

For the first time in a long time, a full moon night passed without chaos. Without escape attempts. Without blood or destruction. Just two dragons, contained and resting, and a crew keeping watch, just in case.

Yassopp yawned again, his eyes drooping. Beckman nudged him with his foot.

“Stay awake.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Beckman shook his head, but allowed himself to relax, just a little.

Things were under control. Just like they were supposed to. 

Soon enough, the morning sun cast long golden streaks across the deck of the Red Force as the heavy wooden doors to the hold creaked open. The scent of salt and wood filled the air, mixing with the lingering warmth that had built up inside overnight.

Beckman stepped inside first, the dim light filtering in to reveal the two slumbering forms of the dragons. Coiled up against the walls of the hold, their large bodies rose and fell with each deep, steady breath. The quiet was almost surreal after the tension of the night before.

Shanks’ crimson scales gleamed faintly in the light, his massive tail curled around himself. His mane fanned over his closed eyes, his claws tucked beneath his body. Riley was curled up much the same way, their mostly anthracite scales blending into the shadows of the hold, the occasional twitch of their tail the only sign of life.

Beckman paused, taking in the rare sight. It wasn’t often he saw Shanks like this - transformed, unguarded, peaceful. Maybe a handful of times, and each time, he was reminded just how much his captain kept hidden.

Yassopp stepped in behind him, rubbing his eyes. “Damn, they really did sleep through the whole night, huh?”

“Looks like it.” Beckman exhaled through his nose. “Usually they’re awake by now.”

Yassopp hesitated. “So, uh… how do we wake ’em up? Because I’m not poking a sleeping dragon, even if it is the boss.”

Beckman sighed, stepping forward. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either, but they couldn’t leave them in here all day. “I’ll handle it.”

Carefully, he stood beside Shanks, a firm hand poking the warm scales of his shoulder. “Time to wake up, boss.” His voice was low but steady.

The red haired pirate didn’t stir.

Beckman frowned and gave a small shake. “Oi. Morning’s here.”

Still nothing.

Yassopp smirked. “What, you afraid to shake him properly?”

Beckman shot him a look before shifting his weight and pushing harder. This time, there was a deep, sleepy rumble from within Shanks’ chest, his massive tail twitching slightly.

Then, slowly, sluggishly, his eyes blinked open.

For a brief moment, there was nothing but groggy confusion. Then, realization dawned, and Shanks let out a deep sigh, his body shifting as he started the slow process of stretching. A massive yawn escaped him, rows of sharp and massive teeth flashing before he shook his head, sending a faint shimmer through his scales.

“Morning,” Beckman greeted dryly.

Shanks slowly blinked while avoiding eye contact, then exhaled, his voice still rough from sleep. “Already?”

“Yeah. You slept like a rock.” Beckman glanced at Riley, who had yet to stir. “And so did they.”

Shanks huffed, finally uncoiling his limbs as he moved to shake Riley awake. 

But before, his eyes landed on them.

It wasn’t a glare, not exactly. But it was clear. A silent, pointed look that spoke louder than words.

Leave.

Beckman understood immediately. Shanks had never liked being seen like this—lingering in his dragon form longer than necessary. This moment was something he did not want an audience for.

Without a word, Beckman gave a small nod and stepped back. Yassopp, catching on just as quickly, followed suit.

“Don’t take too long,” His second in command muttered as they exited, leaving the door cracked just enough to let the morning light filter in. No one would dare enter anyway—not when they knew better.

By the time they stepped onto the deck, the ship was already stirring with life. Crew members moved about, resuming their duties as if the night before had been nothing more than routine. The tension was gone, the fear of the full moon buried beneath the normalcy of the day.

Chapter Text

The air inside the captain’s cabin was still, save for the occasional rustle of parchment as Marco carefully unrolled the map onto the wooden table. The inked outlines of the Sabaody Archipelago and its surrounding islands stretched across the surface, but one particular island stood out—a dark circle drawn around its jagged coastline.

Shanks leaned forward, arm crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on the marked island. "So, that's our target," he murmured. 

The phoenix nodded. "You said Rayleigh seemed sure about it.”

Beckman exhaled, burdened by the fact he was not allowed to smoke as close to all the important parchments and maps. "And we avoid a full-on fight?"

"Preferably." Shanks' lips quirked into a wry grin, but there was little humor in his voice. "We go in quiet, grab whatever research we can find, and get out. Nothing flashy, no unnecessary risks."

Across the table, Yasopp chuckled. "That doesn’t sound like us at all."

His captain let out a sigh, shaking his head. “Since we started dealing with admirals. And I’d really rather not run into Akainu… or any of them, if I can help it.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

"We observe for two days," He continued, tracing a finger over the coastline of the marked island. "Hongo and Limejuice read on the guards, their movements, and their security."

"Why them?" Yasopp asked, tilting his head at his boss’ decision. The two were rarely sent alone. 

Shanks leaned back against his chair, tapping his fingers on the wood. "I know they’re not going to run head-on into issues. They know how to stay quiet, and I trust them to come back in one piece.”

Beckman nodded. "I agree."

Marco studied the map he had brought once more, then glanced up at Shanks. "And what about us?"

Shanks shook his head. "You stay back. We’re not dragging you into this unless we have no other choice. If things go south, then we will call—but only in the worst-case scenario."

A heavy silence filled the room as they all took in the plan.

After a moment, Beckman leaned back in his chair, cracking his neck. "Sounds simple enough. Let’s just hope it stays that way."

Shanks let out a slow breath, staring down at the island on the map. A quiet infiltration, in and out.

For all their sakes, he hoped Beckman was right.

Lush greenery swayed gently in the warm ocean breeze, rustling just enough to mask the barely audible breaths of the two men crouched within it. Limejuice and Hongo lay low behind the thick foliage, their gazes locked onto the Marine facility’s dock just a few dozen meters ahead. Though the island itself was uninhabited, its dense jungle provided natural cover, making it easy for them to observe unseen. So far, so good. 

For the past two days, they had scouted the area, mapping out the patrols, the entrances, and most importantly, the supply schedule.

Limejuice nudged Hongo with his elbow, then gestured toward the water. Right on time, just as it had the previous two days, a small supply ship approached the dock. The vessel wasn’t heavily guarded—just a crew of five dressed in standard Marine attire, unloading heavy wooden crates onto the pier.

At the entrance to the facility, only two low-ranking Marines stood watch. Their posture was relaxed, almost bored. Complacent. They would not be any big threat. 

Hongo smirked, pointing towards their goal . “You’d think for a research base, they’d at least put some effort into security. They are asking for trouble.”

“Fine by me,” Limejuice murmured back, adjusting his glasses. “Less trouble sneaking in.”

They watched as the dock workers moved the crates into a side entrance; a cargo bay, separate from the main gates. The doors were wide, easy to slip through unnoticed if one had the right cover.

“That’s our way in,” Hongo confirmed. “We hijack the next delivery, swap in our guys, and walk right through that door like we belong there.”

Limejuice adjusted his goggles, the plan already forming in his mind. “And to keep up appearances, we’ll need a distraction on the other side of the island. Something loud enough to keep their eyes off us.”

Hongo grinned. “Good thing we know just the crew for that.”

The reconnaissance was complete. It was time to move.

Night fell quickly over the island, the sky deepening into a blanket of navy and starlight. The Red Hair Pirates had gathered just beyond the tree line, their presence masked by the jungle’s thick underbrush. Shanks, Benn Beckman, Yasopp, Rockstar, Limejuice, and Hongo stood in a tight formation, whispering over the final details.

“The supply ship will be here at dawn,” Hongo reported. “Minimal guards, same as before. We wait for them to dock, then we take it.”

Benn Beckman exhaled a thin stream of smoke, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder. “And the distraction?”

“Already in motion,” Limejuice grinned. “Our boys will hit the eastern shore just after sunrise. A fake pirate raid should pull enough attention away from the base.”

Shanks nodded, arms crossed. “Good. No unnecessary casualties. We want them focused elsewhere, not on a manhunt.”

Rockstar cracked his knuckles, grinning. “And once we’re inside?”

Hongo pulled out a forged set of Marine documents, courtesy of Rockstar’s handiwork. “We move as a resupply team. If anyone asks questions, we flash these and keep walking.”

Yasopp smirked. “And if they don’t buy it?”

Benn Beckman tapped the barrel of his rifle. “Then we improvise.”

The plan was set. Now, all they had to do was wait.

The sky was still dark, the horizon just beginning to show the first hints of dawn. The Red Hair Pirates moved like shadows across the docks, their footsteps muffled by years of experience.

Their target, the small Marine supply ship, was right where it should be, moored at the pier, its crew unaware of what was about to happen.

With precision and speed, they struck.

Benn Beckman took the lead, pressing his rifle against the back of the helmsman's head before he could raise the alarm. Yasopp and Limejuice made quick work of the rest, disarming them without spilling a single drop of blood.

The Marines barely had time to register the attack before they found themselves bound and gagged, lined up along the deck with their backs against the railing.

"Nothing personal," Rockstar muttered as he finished tying up the last one.

"You'll be fine, once someone finds you."

Hongo double-checked their restraints.

"That should keep them out of our way until this is over."

Shanks exhaled, adjusting the collar of his coat. Everything had gone smoothly so far. Minimal conflict. No alarm raised. Now, all that was left was to change into Marine uniforms and blend in.

But just as they were about to don their disguises—

A sudden thud.

Then another.

The pirates turned, hands instinctively reaching for their weapons as two figures landed on the deck from above.

A girl with wild blue hair and a taller, pink-haired woman stood before them, the latter gripping the hilt of her sword while the former cracked her knuckles with a mischievous grin, her weight partially carried by a cane that she seemed to use for mobility. 

"Looks like we picked the wrong ship, Sonoko.”

The blue-haired pirate, Sonoko, narrowed her eyes, taking in the scene-the tied-up Marines, the Red Hair Pirates mid-disguise. Then, recognition flickered across her face.

'Red Hair's crew," She muttered.

Limejuice cursed under his breath, stepping forward with a hand on his gun. "Great. More complications."

"Wait," Benn Beckman cut in, eyeing the two newcomers. "They're not with the Marines."

The blue haired girl tilted her head. "Smart guy. No, we were about to steal this ship ourselves."

Rockstar scoffed. "Then you're late, it’s ours already."

The taller pirate studied them carefully before lowering her hand from her sword. Her piercing gaze landed on Shanks, who had been watching in silence.

"Shanks." Her voice was quiet but firm.

Shanks finally gave a small smirk. "And you are?"

"Mule, and this is my captain, Sonoko." She didn't offer more than that.

But there was something sharp in the way she looked at the Yonko. As if measuring him, assessing him, not just as a legend but as a man, and the dangers that he could pose to the small pirate crew.

Yasopp exhaled. "Alright, I don't know who the hell you are, but unless you're planning on fighting us for this ship, we're on a tight schedule."

Sonoko, who Shanks now understood to be the captain, let out a juvenile laugh. She must not be much older than Riley, he assumed.

"Relax, sniper. We were just looking for a ride inside." She tossed a glance at Mule. "Looks like we found one."

Shanks arched a brow. "And why should we bring you along?"

Mule met his gaze evenly. "We have our own reasons for infiltrating that base. We won’t be in your way."

There was a moment of silence before Benn Beckman let out a short sigh, shaking his head. "This is a mess."

"We've got two extra uniforms," Hongo suddenly pointed out.

Rockstar groaned. "Seriously?"

Shanks glanced at the two intruders once more, then smirked. "You two get in, we stay out of each other's way."

Sonoko gave a mock salute. "Aye aye, captain."

Her subordinate remained silent, but she stepped forward, accepting the Marine disguise.

The alliance, temporary and unspoken, was set.

The first few minutes went by without a hitch.

The disguised pirates moved efficiently, unloading cargo from the small supply ship just as they had observed over the past two days. Flash the badge. Nod. Move along. The Marines barely spared them a glance, more focused on their own tasks than the arrival of yet another routine shipment.

But once they stepped inside the facility, the atmosphere shifted.

The cold gray stone of the exterior gave way to an eerie, almost unnatural lushness. Vines and strange plants crawled along the walls and ceiling, twisting into impossible shapes. Some leaves glowed faintly under the artificial lights, while others swayed, moving as though they were aware.

It was undeniable, this was a research facility.

Shanks, walking near the front, kept his expression calm but his senses sharp. His eyes flickered to a strange red flower with sharp teeth, its petals trembling slightly as they passed. A piranha plant. It remained motionless, but he had no doubt it could lunge at any moment.

The other Marines barely registered them. Everyone seemed preoccupied, moving with purpose toward deeper sections of the facility, focused on whatever research was being conducted here.

For a moment, it almost felt too easy.

Until—

A voice. Loud. Commanding. Furious.

A voice that sent a chill through the air.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S NOT READY?”

The group froze.

The shout was distant, muffled by the thick walls and layers of vegetation, but unmistakable.

Akainu.

Shanks’ jaw tensed. So he really was here.

A confirmation that none of them had wanted.

They didn’t let Akainu’s presence shake them.

Moving quickly yet carefully, the disguised pirates continued their infiltration. They had no clear path, no map, only the cover of routine, drop off a box here, scan the room, move on.

Most of the rooms they passed were nothing but storage holds, lined with hundreds of crates packed with dried plants, rare herbs, and preserved specimens. But then, they entered a room that was different.

At first glance, it looked like a simple office. A large wooden desk sat in the center, its surface cluttered with stacks of paper. Behind it, a modest library of neatly arranged binders and books lined the wall. The air smelled of old parchment and ink, a stark contrast to the sterile corridors outside.

Jackpot.

But with that discovery came a new danger. This room belonged to someone important. Someone with knowledge. Someone who, at any moment, could return.

For a moment, no one spoke. They exchanged glances, their senses on high alert. Then, a flicker of reckless courage.

Beckman was the first to move. Silent but precise, he started scanning the binders and loose sheets, eyes darting over text with practiced efficiency. The others followed suit, flipping through notes, searching for anything.

Minutes passed in tense silence, the weight of time pressing on their shoulders.

Then- 

A sharp intake of breath.

Beckman had found it.

Buried deep in one of the desk’s drawers lay a set of handwritten notes. The ink was slightly smudged, the script rushed—but the word was clear.

“Dragon.”

His fingers tightened around the pages as he re-read the line, as if making sure it was real. Then, without hesitation, he turned to Shanks, his expression unreadable.

Shanks took the papers from Beckman’s hands. As his eyes scanned the text, his face shifted.

Relief. Fear. Confirmation.

They had found what they were looking for.

Beckman slipped the notes into a bag, one he had brought for this exact reason. But they weren’t done.

There was no guarantee that this was all the information hidden here. If these notes existed, then surely there was more. They had to be thorough. So they kept searching. Minutes stretched on. Page after page. But most of it was useless. Notes on marine logistics, on failed experiments, on anything but what they needed. Their bags filled painfully slowly, the weight of their risk growing heavier with every second.

But they couldn’t leave yet. They hadn’t dug deep enough.

Then—another stroke of luck.

Beckman again.

From the depths of a locked drawer, he pulled out a second folder. This one was different—thicker, heavier. And as he skimmed the pages, his chest tightened.

A full report.

This time, it wasn’t just notes. This was a compiled study. A full analysis on the particular plant. The very thing they had come for.

His head snapped up, eyes flashing to Shanks. They shared a look. This was it. They weren’t leaving empty-handed, and that caused a quick ripple of excitement. Brief, silent, but tangible nonetheless. 

With renewed focus, they continued their search, eager to squeeze out every last scrap of information before retreating. However, their plans were quickly thrown on their head as Rockstar misstepped. Concentrated on the books, he had moved too fast, not noticing as he caught his foot on the edge of a rug. He staggered, reaching out instinctively to catch himself, but the only thing he could grab was a statue. Beautiful, made of a golden materiel, it shattered with a deafening sound against the stone floor. 

Silence hung for half a breath—then the alarm blared.

Red lights flashed.

A siren screamed through the halls.

Footsteps, heavy, rapid, rushing toward them. They had been found.

It only took a few moments.

Two marines rushed into the room, looking more annoyed than alarmed, as if they had expected a simple malfunction. Maybe the alarm blaring was a regular occurrence, but their eyes immediately darted towards the shattered statue, and then the pirates standing around it. For a minute, they were merely confused as to why 6 marines were standing in the office, but realization hit them fast. 

There was no mistaking it now.

Thieves.

They turned on their heels, bolting back down the hallway, their voices ringing through the base.

“Intruders! We’ve got intruders!”

That was all the Red Hair Pirates needed to hear.

No fights. They would follow the plan. 

They weren’t here to make a stand—they were here to get what they came for and get out.

“Move!” Shanks ordered, a steady hand drawn to his blade. Just in case.

The team scattered into motion, slipping through the doorway and racing down the corridors. Behind them, the echoes of boots hitting stone filled the air.

The chase was on.

Chapter Text

The pounding of boots against metal echoed through the corridors as the Red Hair Pirates sprinted down the halls of the Marine facility. The blaring alarm was deafening, but the shouts of the Marines pursuing them were even louder. They didn’t care for a plan anymore. There was no need for one; just run. Get out of here before it was too late. 

They had what they came for after all. Even now, their mission was still a success, and it shall remain one; their legs had to carry them fast enough.

The captain of the pirate crew watched as his second clutched the bag tight against his chest, his mind racing. They couldn’t let these documents fall back into Marine hands. He wouldn’t allow it. 

The iron doors loomed ahead, their last barrier to freedom. With a heavy slam, they burst through, stepping into the open air.

Fresh air. A moment’s respite.

It was over. They had the papers.

For a brief second, they could almost believe they had escaped. The sky above them stretched vast and blue, the salty scent of the ocean filling their lungs. Now, all they had to do was waltz to their boat and sail far away. 

Then, reality struck.

A wall of Marines stood before them, as far as the eye could reach. There was no gap for them to slip through.

Ranks of soldiers, rifles aimed, blades drawn; waiting. 

They hadn’t escaped at all. They had been herded right into a trap.

Shanks cursed under his breath, his hand gripping Gryphon as the crew immediately fell into formation. After all the careful preparation, it would still be a fight.

But before a single blow could be exchanged between the Pirates and the Marines, the ground rumbled. 

A deep, low vibration beneath their feet, like the earth itself was growling. Rocks started jumping, as the thud became louder with every passing moment. For a moment, one could believe it was an earthquake, or other geological phenomena, but those were futile thoughts. 

Then came the heat.

It struck like a wave, suffocating and thick, distorting the air around them. A split second later, they heard it—the slow, heavy footsteps. 

Behind them, from the very facility they had just fled, a shadow emerged.

A towering figure. A coat draped over broad shoulders.

Admiral Sakazuki.

Akainu had arrived.

The marine’s gaze was unreadable, his expression carved from stone, but the magma dripping from his clenched fist spoke for itself. He had not come to talk, and there was nothing he would shy from to get the stolen goods back, no matter how much blood they’d have to shed for it. 

“I was wondering who’d be reckless enough to break into a Marine facility.” His voice was low, like the distant rumble of a volcano before it erupted. His eyes settled on Shanks. “Of course, it’s you.”

Silence.

For the Red Hair Pirates, the true battle had just begun.

The moment Akainu stepped forward, the battle ignited.

Gunfire cracked through the air, the sharp clash of steel rang out, and in an instant, every pirate was locked in combat.  

The facility’s soldiers, though numerous, were clearly more accustomed to research than battle. They were no match for the Red Hair Pirates outside of their numerical superiority. But that didn’t matter. The real danger was elsewhere, not in their sheer numbers. 

A fist of molten rock came hurtling forward.

Shanks dodged a first time. Easy.

The impact behind him however melted the very ground after creating an explosion that swiped some of the men off their feet.

Another came, he sidestepped. Again, he parried with his Haki-infused sword. 

The battlefield was a furnace, every move leaving behind scorched marks and rising steam. Even the other marines seemed to struggle with the heat, taking their shirts off as they fought. There was the real danger of the fight as the ground become more and more uneven with each passing moment. 

Shanks had speed on his side. His single sword allowed for quick, precise movements, while Akainu’s attacks, though devastating, carried weight; every strike leaving him just vulnerable enough. It was these openings he’d have to go for.

The problem was, it wasn’t enough.

He moved fast, but not fast enough to land a decisive blow. Every time Gryphon slashed forward, it was just barely short of breaking through, getting deflected by yet another wave of magma, who was now covering most of the stone floor. It added an additional curse - as most of the battlefield had become devastated, huge sheets of rock shattered, moving a bit further with each hit. Soon enough, there’d be nothing left. 

The air crackled as Shanks coated his blade in Haki once more. His Haki, which he had spent so many years training to make up for his perceived weaknesses. The one weapon that would make them all equal, the one that allowed him to keep the hideous truth hidden. The one that had protected him all this time.

Each swing came closer, closer, closer—

But still, Akainu held firm.

On the other side of the battlefield, Beckman had barely been touched. He had climbed on a pole, gathering a better view. It allowed him to keep track of his surroundings, and kept him somehow out of view. However, that had not been necessary. 

The Marines around him were hopeless with firearms. They fired blindly, panicked, while he moved with calculated precision. Each shot from his rifle hit its mark, each movement was deliberate. But even with his advantage, the battlefield was far more chaotic than they had anticipated. The molten rock had also left smoke, both an advantage and a hindrance. 

They needed to get out.

His sharp eyes darted across the battlefield, scanning, analyzing—until they landed on his captain. Trusting him blindly, the sniper had not even paid attention to what his captain was doing, never having felt any kind of worry. But this time was different. 

Suddenly, he understood. 

Akainu wasn’t trying to overpower Shanks. It had not been about death, at least not yet.

He was keeping him busy, forcing him to constantly move. 

The admiral wasn’t fighting to win—he was fighting to stall.

He was cornering him.

With each relentless strike, Shanks was pushed further and further back, pinned against the battlefield’s natural barriers. A molten fist crashed into the ground beside him—he dodged, but his space was shrinking. Akainu was cutting off his exits, forcing him into a fight on his terms.

And then the teasing started.

“Is that all you’ve got, Red Hair?” Akainu sneered, stepping forward with deliberate menace. Lava dripped from his fists, the heat making the air shimmer around them. “You’re holding back, I can tell. Why?”

Shanks said nothing.

Another strike. He parried. A blast of magma exploded to the side, setting the rest of the battlefield ablaze.

“You disappoint me.” Akainu’s voice was low, almost amused. “I thought you were stronger than this. But I guess in the end, you’re still the same coward you were back then.”

Shanks remained silent, but his grip on Gryphon tightened.

Akainu’s lip curled. He could feel it, slowly he was getting to him. Every word brought him closer. The world would finally know the truth.

“You know, if I had known this is what would become of you, I wouldn’t have let you walk away all those years ago. I should have killed you back then, along with the rest of you filthy monsters. Would have saved me a lot of trouble in the long run.”

The words cut deep.

For the first time, Shanks faltered.

It was only a flicker - a momentary pause in his movements - but Benn saw it.

And in that split second, he felt it too.

He had rarely seen true rage in his captain’s eyes. Not frustration, not irritation, but something deeper. Something that made the air feel heavier, something dangerous, clawing its way out, through every restraint he had spent years building. 

Even from meters away, Beckman felt the dragon stirring. 

If he didn’t stop this now, everything they had worked for would be in vain.

He had to act.

His eyes darted across the battlefield, searching; then he saw it: a gap in the docks. An opening just wide enough for an escape, if he could buy them the time and somehow distract their opponents. 

Without hesitation, he moved.

In one smooth motion, he loaded a special round into his rifle; a bullet filled with a dense, black smoke. He never joined a battlefield without, even if they were rarely needed. They typically represented a double edged sword; their opponents would be blind, but so would the rest of the crew be. But in the moment, it was all he had, praying that the others would somehow find the way. 

He aimed.

And fired.

The shot landed perfectly, and within seconds, the battlefield was swallowed in the thickest smog imaginable.

Fighting was impossible. Sight was gone, and they could barely breathe.

And in that instant, Ben Beckman made his move. 

Chapter Text

A few hours had passed since their escape, and the Red Force sailed far from the archipelago, deeper into the open sea. Through sheer luck, the marines had somehow been too slow to catch up, leaving them in somewhat security as they disappeared from view behind the horizon. 

By some miracle, none of them had been seriously injured. They had taken their share of blows, sure, but nothing that couldn’t be healed with time enough. Even more astonishing, they had managed to keep the stolen documents.

And yet, victory felt short-lived.

The Marines would not let this go. They all knew it. Their enemies would grow more relentless, their pursuit more vicious. This had only been the beginning of a larger storm that brewed above. 

The usual atmosphere of relief after a successful mission never came. No loud cheers, no feast, no rowdy laughter. The crew was quiet, trying to recover. The weight of what they had learned, what they had almost lost, hung over them. They had no time to rest, they had to get ready for what was to come.  

Shanks sat at the table in his quarters, the bag of stolen documents resting heavily in front of him. He hadn't touched it since they boarded, staring at them instead. 

For a while, he had told himself he’d start with the books, take his time, and read through the research carefully. But he couldn’t get himself to open them. Instead, his mind lingered on the loose notes that Beckman had found.

They were the most dangerous.

They were also the most important.

With a slow breath, he reached for them first. He hesitated, retreating his arm once more, as if an invisible force field surrounded them. 

But then finally came the resolve. His fingers brushed over the first page, left blank, before flipping to the next one. The ink was dark, written in a hurried manner, the edges of the letters having smudged. It was also old; not ancient, but written at least a decade ago. 

And on the page, in bold lettering, stood a single word:

Dragon.

Nothing else. No explanations, no context, just that one word, sitting there like a challenge. It stared into his soul, almost forcing him to close the notes once more. 

Shanks exhaled sharply, gripping the paper a little tighter.

For the first time since they’d left, he wasn’t just worried.

He was afraid.

The pages turned like whispers in the dark, now displaying large diagrams. 

Rough, imprecise sketches, yet unmistakable. Wings, sinew, scales, claws. His kind, reduced to ink on a page, studied like a feral creature of ancient times, a monster to be slain. 

Beside it, the plant. The same one that had led them here in the first time, its twisted vines drawn in intricate detail. And below, words that felt heavier than they should have. Notes on vulnerabilities, weaknesses, how best to cut deep and kill quickly. 

A cold feeling settled deep in his chest, a familiar ache running through his veins. Maybe the feel of doom, of hopelessness; he knew there was no coming back from this. His fingers curled around the fragile edge of the page, as if holding it too tightly might crumble the past into dust.

For a fleeting moment, he imagined tossing the entire bag into the sea. Letting the ink run and the words dissolve into oblivion. If knowledge like this could be erased, perhaps the fear that came with it would disappear too, sinking deep where no one would ever find it again. 

But he knew better.

Instead, he let out a slow breath and pressed forward.

The next page brought a map, hand-drawn again, just as uneven, yet unmistakably familiar. A rough outline of the West Blue, key locations marked in careful script. 

And there, near the center, a red circle.

Small, seemingly insignificant, anyone else would brush it off as an inhabited island, yet it pulled at something deep inside him.

It was home. Or rather, it had once been.

Shanks didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

That place was nothing more than a memory now. Buried in ash, swallowed by time. Yet someone had circled it, traced its shape with knowing hands.

With quiet deliberation, he turned to the next page.

This time, it was not diagrams or maps.

It was a journal.

The ink wavered, the script hurried, as if written by someone whose hands would not still. It was probably a different author than the one of the first few pages. He scanned the first few lines, and an old, familiar weight settled in his chest.

Fifteen years ago.

Each word dragged him further back.

The panic. The orders. The fire. The death.

This was not just a report. This was a memory. The firsthand account of a Marine who had been there, who had seen the sky burn and the ground turn red. Who had watched an entire race fall.

And who had left only two behind.

The words blurred for a moment before sharpening again. The past had never truly left him, but tonight, it had come knocking with ink-stained hands. For once, there was nothing he could do about it. For the first time, he did not fight it.

Shanks exhaled slowly, reached for the whiskey at his side, and prepared for a long night.

For two days, the captain remained locked away, the weight of ink and memory pressing against the wooden walls of his cabin. The few who dared to intrude were met with a sharp dismissal, leaving him alone with the words that refused to loosen their grip.

At first, he read, methodically, relentlessly, as if there were something hidden between the lines, some overlooked detail that might shift the weight of it all. Then, when the words began to blur, he paced, sandals dragging across the floor in restless circles, the echoes of his own movements filling the silence. 

And still, he could not shake it.

No matter how many times he turned the pages, the past would not change. It bled through the ink, seeping into the spaces between each word, each carefully recorded observation. A cold, clinical retelling of the nightmare he had once lived.

He tried to focus on the details, to break them down into something manageable. But the deeper he went, the more the lines blurred with memory. Firelight against the night, voices swallowed by screams, the weight of dust and blood in the air. Things he had buried for years, forced into the quiet corners of his mind where they could no longer reach him. Where he could be safe.

But they had never truly left.

They had only settled, like a shadow that stretched long behind him, always present, always waiting. A ghost that lingered in the way he avoided speaking of the past, in the way he let silence fill the gaps whenever Riley asked the wrong questions for which he could not answer. 

For years, he had told himself it was for their sake. That there were things better left unsaid, burdens they did not need to carry. But now, as he sat there, staring at the words that laid it all bare, he could no longer deny the truth.

It had never been just for them.

It had been for himself.

Chapter Text

Weeks had passed since the incident, and life aboard the Red Force had gradually returned to normal. The crew had rejoined forces with the Moby Dick, whose members were deeply concerned upon hearing about the ordeal. However, little was spoken about the events, and daily routines resumed as if nothing had happened. Over time, even Shanks had reverted to his usual self, with all the books now neatly stacked behind locked cabinets, ensuring they would never reach anyone's hands but his.

In the meantime, Riley had grown restless. Ordered to stay on the ship during their adventure and receiving no answers to their questions, they found themselves increasingly isolated. Shanks spoke even less to them, prompting Riley to spend more time on the Moby Dick, engaging in its own activities. Despite the orders, the Whitebeard Pirates had developed a sense of camaraderie with the dragon, allowing them to join their excursions whenever they set foot on land. A new ritual had also begun with Sabo, where they would spar every morning, switching out different weapons each time they clashed. For a moment, this became the dragon's whole life, seeking attention on a ship that was not theirs.

One crisp morning, as the sun painted the horizon with hues of orange and pink, Riley stood on the deck of the Moby Dick, awaiting Sabo for their daily sparring session. The clinking of metal and the distant chatter of the crew provided a familiar backdrop. Sabo approached, a wooden staff in hand, a grin spreading across his face.

"Ready for today's match?" he asked, tossing Riley a similar staff.

Catching it effortlessly, Riley nodded. "Always. What are the rules today?"

Sabo twirled his staff thoughtfully. "How about we focus on disarming techniques? First to disarm the other wins."

"Sounds fair," The dragon agreed, taking a defensive stance.

As they began their bout, the rhythmic clashing of their staffs echoed across the deck. Each move was calculated, a dance of skill and strategy. The crew occasionally glanced their way, offering nods of approval or murmured bets on the outcome.

Midway through the spar, Riley noticed Shanks observing from the upper deck of his ship, his expression unreadable. A pang of longing surged within them, but they quickly refocused as Sabo launched a swift attack. With a deft maneuver, Riley sidestepped and attempted to disarm Sabo, but he countered with equal finesse.

"You're getting better," Sabo remarked, slightly breathless.

"Thanks," Riley replied, their eyes briefly flicking back to where their uncle stood, only to find the spot empty.

The sparring continued, each trying to outwit the other. Finally, with a swift twist, Sabo managed to knock the staff from Riley's grasp, sending it clattering to the deck.

"Victory is mine," Sabo declared with a playful bow.

Riley laughed, a genuine sound that felt foreign after weeks of tension. "Well played."

As they retrieved their staffs, Sabo placed a hand on Riley's shoulder. "You know, if you ever want to talk about what's been bothering you, I'm here."

Riley hesitated, the weight of unspoken words pressing down. "I appreciate it, Sabo. Maybe someday."

Sabo nodded, understanding in his eyes. "No rush. Just know you're not alone."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Moby Dick, Riley and Sabo found themselves leaning against the ship's railing, the gentle sea breeze tousling their hair. The camaraderie between the dragon and the revolutionary had deepened over the past weeks, their daily sparring sessions fostering a bond that transcended their individual pasts and worries. Life felt lighter, like their burdens disappearing for a moment in time. 

Riley glanced at Sabo, noting the distant look in his eyes as he gazed at the setting sun. "You know," Riley began, breaking the comfortable silence, "we've spent all this time together, but I realize I never asked about your past. Where do you come from?"

Sabo turned to face Riley, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "It's not rude at all," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of melancholy. "The truth is, I don't remember much about where I come from. My earliest memory is being picked up by the revolutionaries many years ago when I was just a boy. My name was sewn into my clothes; that's the only clue I have about my origins."

The dragon’s eyes widened in surprise. "That's... quite a story. Do you ever wonder about your early years?"

Sabo nodded, his gaze returning to the horizon. "Sometimes. I feel a longing for people I can't remember, faces that are just like they’re beyond my grasp. But I don't regret joining the revolutionaries. My life has purpose now, fighting for those who can't fend for themselves. And the training... It's given me strength and discipline, I guess.” 

Riley leaned back, stretching their arms above their head. "It's interesting. In a way, we're similar. Both searching for answers."

"True," Sabo agreed, a thoughtful expression on his face. "But I believe that someday, I'll meet those people who mattered to me, even if I don't remember them now."

The conversation gradually faded into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As the first stars began to twinkle in the night sky, Riley pushed off from the railing. "I should head back to the Red Force, they’ll be upset if I stay too long."

Sabo nodded, offering a warm smile. "Take care. We'll continue our sparring tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it," Riley replied, returning the smile before making their way across the deck, the night enveloping them in its embrace.

Thus, the next days were filled with more sparring, in which more crew members joined. After so many complications and days spent recuperating, it felt good to let go steam. But the air of serenity was not meant to last forever - they never were - as they started preparing once more. 

The salty breeze of the New World swept across the deck of the Red Force, ruffling Riley’s cloak as they leaned against the railing, squinting into the shimmering blue horizon. The ship hummed with familiar energy; ropes creaking, footsteps above and below deck, someone laughing faintly near the galley; but none of it reached the dragon’s heart that day. Most of the crew was preparing for an excursion to that small island they’d visited nearly a year ago, the one with the good sake, and supposedly, the bad wildlife now.

Riley sighed, knowing the pattern well. Shanks would lead the team ashore, laugh with the locals, tell stories, maybe fight something wild, and Riley? They would stay behind. Again.

At least, that’s what they thought.

Two days before their scheduled arrival, Shanks had called out to them casually from the upper deck.

“Oi, Riley. Come here a sec.”

They had been caught off guard—not just by the fact that he was seeking them out for the first time in a while, but by the smile on his face. A real one. Not the half-hearted ones he had given to brush people off, but the kind that lit up his entire expression, the kind they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“I want to show you something,” he said.

Riley blinked. “What, now?”

“Not now. We’re close to a smaller island—half a day off course, maybe less. It’s completely inhabited, and there’s a grove there,” Shanks continued, “with these ridiculously sweet, exotic fruits. They don’t grow anywhere else. People call them moonplums, or something like that. You want to go check it out? Just the two of us.”

Riley blinked, taking a second to process the offer. They had been expecting orders, maybe another reminder to stay put when they reached the island. But this? This sounded like an invitation.

“Wait, you’re asking me to come along?” They asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“Well, I’m not asking Beckman,” Shanks said with a wink. “He’d lecture me the entire walk. Thought you might want to stretch your wings a bit.”

Riley didn’t answer at first, staring up at him with narrowed eyes. “…Are you trying to bribe me with fruit?”

Shanks shrugged. “Is it working?”

There was a long pause. Riley studied him carefully. The offer was unexpected, genuine, even. Maybe he remembered how cooped-up they’d been lately. Maybe it was just a whim. Or maybe he really did just want to show them something cool. Either way, it wasn’t an offer Riley was about to turn down.

“Alright,” they said, crossing their arms. “But if these fruits aren’t as good as you’re hyping them up to be, I’m never trusting you again.”

Shanks laughed, clapping a hand on their shoulder. “Deal. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

For the first time in weeks, Riley actually felt a flicker of excitement. Maybe this trip wasn’t going to be so boring after all.

But they had no time to linger in their thoughts, as he disappeared over the railing. Their heart nearly stopped as they rushed to look over the side, expecting to see him plummeting toward the sea, only for a massive crimson dragon to erupt from near the water instead, shaking off droplets like they were nothing.

"Wait! But the others! They can see you!!" Riley shouted, their voice rising in panic.

But Shanks only laughed, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the wind as his wings beat against the air. "You're already losing!" he called back.

Riley scowled, their panic quickly replaced by indignation. “Oh, hell no.” Without wasting another second, they threw themselves over the edge, shifting midair just before they hit the water. Their smaller frame cut through the sky, wings straining as they flapped furiously to catch up.

But catching up was easier said than done.

Shanks was fast. Far faster than Riley remembered him being. For a moment, they almost wondered if someone had swapped their uncle out for a different person altogether. Where was the brooding, distant Shanks who spent more time locked away with his books than with them? Where was the man who spoke to them in half-sentences and unreadable glances?

This version of him, darting through the sky with wild energy, practically taunting them with how effortlessly he moved, was completely different.

And yet, Riley didn’t mind.

In fact, they grinned as they flapped harder, pushing themselves to their limit even as their wings ached. They wanted this. The challenge, the rush of wind against their scales, the game. 

But no matter how hard they tried, Shanks remained just out of reach, his powerful wings carrying him forward with an ease that made Riley grind their teeth in frustration. He wasn’t even trying.

The island approached fast. Too fast.

Before Riley knew it, Shanks landed smoothly on the sand like it was the easiest thing in the world. He turned just in time to see Riley come barreling in less gracefully, nearly collapsing from exhaustion as they hit the sandy ground.

Shanks raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s up with you?” he teased, sporting the biggest grin Riley had seen in months.

But the dragon groaned, rolling onto their back to catch their breath. “What’s up with me? What’s up with you!! Since when are you this fast?”

Shanks just chuckled, stretching his arm over his head. “Since always. You just forgot.”

Riley squinted up at him, breathing heavily. Maybe they had forgotten. Or maybe this was just the first time in a long time that Shanks had let himself be like this again. Either way, for the first time in weeks, Riley didn’t feel like they were chasing after a ghost.

They were chasing him. And that was something they could live with.

Chapter Text

They barely had time to catch their breath before Shanks was already on the move. They expected him to shift back into his human form at any moment, but to their surprise, he stayed as he was, a full-fledged dragon. 

On land, though, he wasn’t as fast. His missing arm forced him to walk differently, relying on his wings in the guise of forelimbs. It worked, but it was awkward, slowing him down just enough that Riley had no trouble keeping pace.

They trailed after him through the dense foliage until they reached a clearing where tall grasses and thick bushes thrived. Nestled among them were strange, oversized fruits. They were greenish in hue, their rough surfaces covered in thick, menacing spikes. The younger dragon instinctively took a step back, scared of their sharp edges.

Shanks, on the other hand, had no such hesitation.

With a practiced motion, he plucked one of the massive fruits from the bush, carefully avoiding the spikes, before setting it down in front of Riley.

They eyed it skeptically, not quite sure of their uncle’s plan. "That thing looks dangerous."

But he only huffed, a puff of hot air escaping his nostrils in amusement. Then, using the tip of a claw, he found a horizontal groove running along the fruit's surface. With a swift and precise motion, he cracked it open, splitting it cleanly in two.

The inside was nothing like its harsh exterior.

Juice dripped from the deep red flesh, its texture resembling that of a watermelon but richer and more vibrant in colour. A sweet, almost floral scent filled the air, making Riley’s mouth water despite their initial skepticism.

He nudged one half toward them. “Go on,” he rumbled, his voice amused.

While they hesitated for a second, they quickly went in for a bite. Immediately, their eyes widened. It was sweet, but not overwhelmingly so, with a tangy aftertaste that made them crave another bite. They had never tried anything like it.

Shanks let out a chuckle as they eagerly took another handful. "Told you it was good."

Riley grinned, licking the juice from cheeks. "Alright, I'll admit it. You were right. This is amazing. How do you know this stuff?”

The older dragon let the question hang between them for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the horizon. When he finally spoke, his voice was unusually soft, touched with an old warmth that Riley had rarely heard from him.

“We got some of these when we were kids,” he began, rolling a piece of the fruit between his claws. “We struggled for hours trying to figure out how to open them. Your mom—” he hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, “—tried roasting them over a fire, but all that did was make them explode in a thousand pieces.”

Riley blinked in surprise. “Explode?”

Shanks chuckled, nodding. “Yeah. Sent juice flying everywhere. We were sticky for days.”

Despite the lighthearted story, Riley could tell that mentioning their mother wasn’t something he did lightly. They remained quiet, afraid that if they spoke, he might shut down again.

“Your other uncle, my twin brother, he was the one who figured it out,” Shanks continued after a pause. “Saw that groove and finally managed to pry it open. Before that, we were this close to giving up and using them as balls instead.” He snorted. “But the spikes hurt too much when we tried throwing them at each other.”

Riley let out a small laugh, the image of three wild whelps pelting each other with spiked fruit playing out vividly in their mind. “That must have been so funny,” they said, eyes alight with curiosity. 

Shanks’ expression softened, and for the first time in a long time, there was no trace of sorrow in his features, just the remnants of an old, treasured memory. “Yeah,” he admitted, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “It’s one of my favorite memories from when we were kids.”

Riley didn’t say anything at first, simply watching him, memorizing the way his face looked when he spoke about the family they had never known. Their mother. Their other uncle. Names they barely remembered, faces that had always been shadows.

“Tell me more about them,” Riley finally said, their voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Shanks exhaled, looking down at the half-eaten fruit in his claw. He was quiet for a long moment. But then, to Riley’s surprise, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “But only once we’re done eating. It’s a crime to let good fruit go to waste.”

No matter how excited Riley was to hear more of their uncle's stories, they took their time to finish their meal before getting up, ready. He quickly joined them, walking towards the beach once more once he had picked up some more fruit, this time way more similar to an apple, and balancing it on his tail with skill. "We used to play this game, you'd use a ball for it but we popped them so often that we resorted to whatever we found laying around. You'd have to throw the ball in the air using your tail, and then quickly smash it and try to touch a target. But it got so easy with time, especially for your mom, that we'd have to invent harder rules. At one point, we all played with our eyes closed, and she'd still win." Riley watched with intent as he mimicked the game, throwing the apple towards a nearby palm tree, shaking it so hard that two coconuts fell off it's leave, falling onto the sand in a loud thud. The younger dragon immediately run to the coconuts, trying to replicate his movements. While they managed to get it in the hair, the barely hit it a second time, instead hurting their tail. Shanks started laughing, gently mocking them as he explained that they'd have to start smaller.

Riley huffed in frustration, rubbing their tail as they glared at the offending coconut now half-buried in the sand. Their uncle, still grinning, lazily tossed the apple back into the air with his tail before catching it with practiced ease.

“I told you to start smaller,” he teased, balancing the fruit effortlessly before flicking it toward another tree. This time, it hit a lower branch, sending a shower of dried leaves to the ground.

Riley narrowed their eyes at him. “You make it look too easy,” they grumbled, bending down to pick up a smaller, rounder fruit that had fallen from a nearby bush. “How do you even see where you’re aiming? The time that it’s in the air before you have to hit it is way too short!!”

Shanks smirked. “You don’t,” he said, taking a few steps closer and nudging their shoulder with his wing. “It’s all about instinct. The moment you think too hard, you lose.”

Riley sighed, shifting their weight as they attempted to balance the smaller fruit on their tail. Their movements were careful, focused, maybe too focused, if Shanks’ amused expression was anything to go by. They took a deep breath, flicked their tail, and sent the apple into the air.

This time, they actually managed to hit it. The fruit went flying… just not in the direction they intended. Instead of hitting the palm tree, it smacked the older dragon square on the snout.

There was a beat of silence.

Riley’s eyes went wide.

Shanks blinked, then let out a deep, exaggerated sigh, dramatically rolling his eyes up to the sky like he was questioning his life choices. “Oh, so this is how it’s gonna be, huh?”

Riley slapped a paw over their maw, failing miserably to stifle their laughter. “I-It was an accident!” they wheezed, their whole body shaking.

Shanks slowly turned toward them, a dangerous glint in his eye.

Riley immediately took a step back. “Wait-”

Too late.

In the blink of an eye, Shanks grabbed another fruit, launched it into the air, and flicked it hard. Riley barely had time to dodge before it soared past them, hitting the sand with a dull thump.

“You missed!” they yelled triumphantly.

He smirked. “Did I?”

Riley turned their head, just in time to see a wave of sand come crashing down on them from where the fruit had hit the beach, sending them into a coughing fit.

Spluttering, they shook the sand from their mane, their expression caught between shock and betrayal. “That was so unfair!!”

Shanks just laughed, tossing another fruit with his tail. “Lesson number two, kid: if you’re gonna play, be ready to lose.”

Riley wiped the sand from their face, narrowing their eyes as a wicked grin spread across their lips. They bent down, grabbed another fruit, and balanced it on their tail.

“Oh, it’s on.”

Chapter Text

The salty breeze carried the scent of gunpowder and the remnants of battle as the Red Force and Moby Dick sailed side by side, the setting sun casting long shadows over the deck. The battle had been won, but the ship bore the scars of their victory, the hull cracked in places, sails tattered, and the dragon figurehead nearly unrecognizable. The crew moved across the deck, making quick repairs, their laughter and chatter unfazed by the damage. For them, this was just another step in proving themselves.

Riley leaned against the railing, watching the ocean churn beneath them, like they had done so many times during their years on the ship. They had seen many battles in their life, but this one had been different. Their enemy had not just been another pirate crew or marines trying to make a name for themselves, instead it had been another Emperor. A old figure from the past, a rival of the Pirate King himself, had deemed their crew worthy of their attention. And somehow, they had won. 

Shanks stood nearby, his coat draped over his shoulders, his gaze set on the horizon. His usual grin was absent, replaced with something thoughtful, calculating. Even with the Red Force in its current state, his confidence never wavered. If anything, this battle had only solidified his place in the New World.

“Well,” he finally spoke, grabbing a bottle that had survived their last celebration, “I think that means we’re finally getting somewhere.”

Riley turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Somewhere? The ship’s barely floating, but at least now our bounties are going to increase, I guess.”

Shanks chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle. “That means we’re doing something right.”

A loud voice cut through the conversation.

“We’re gonna need a damn shipwright before we do anything else!” Yasopp called from across the deck, kneeling beside the shattered wood near the mast.

Benn nodded in agreement, arms crossed. “The Red Force won’t last much longer in this condition. We need a proper dry dock, and I doubt anywhere in our current territory can handle repairs of this scale.”

Shanks hummed in thought before looking at Riley. “I think I know just the place.”

It took Riley only a second to catch on.

“Water 7,” they said, the name tasting like a new adventure on their tongue.

Shanks grinned. “Exactly.”

As the Red Force and Moby Dick continued their journey, a new destination in mind, Riley couldn’t help but feel a shift in the winds. This battle had proven that the world was watching them now. The bounty increase, the growing territories, the enemies they were making - it was all leading to something bigger.

And for the first time, Riley wondered if their uncle was ready to bear the weight of the new title. Yonkou. 

The night sky above the Moby Dick and the Red Force burned with the glow of countless lanterns, their flickering lights reflecting off the waves like stars fallen from the heavens. Laughter and music echoed across the decks as both crews reveled in their hard-earned victory, sharing stories, drinks, and the occasional drunken brawl.

It was a feast worthy of their achievements, yet beneath the celebration, an unspoken understanding lingered. This was the end of an era, at least for now.

Riley sat cross-legged on the railing of the Moby Dick, watching as their uncle clinked sake cups with Whitebeard. Their relationship had always been complicated, shaped by respect and growing rivalry in equal measure. And now, after over a year of fighting side by side, they were parting ways once again, not as allies, but as equals.

The title of Emperor had changed things. Shanks wasn’t just another pirate anymore. He had fought for his place, and now, the world had acknowledged him.

“You’re not getting soft on me now, are you?” A familiar voice pulled Riley from their thoughts.

They turned to see Marco leaning beside them, arms crossed, a smirk on his face.

Riley huffed. “I could say the same to you. You look like you might actually miss us.”

Marco chuckled. “Maybe a little. It was nice having you lot around. It kept things interesting-yoi.”

“Guess we’ll just have to cause some more trouble next time we meet.”

The two of them shared a rare moment of quiet, listening to the sounds of celebration. Eventually, Marco exhaled, tilting his head toward the Red Force.

“You sure your ship’s gonna make it all the way back?”

Riley rolled their eyes. “It’ll hold.”

Marco didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the matter. They both knew the Red Force had taken a beating. It would be a rough journey to Water 7.

As dawn broke, the festivities died down, replaced by the quiet preparations of departure. The Red-Haired Pirates stood on their ship, waving as the Moby Dick grew smaller in the distance. There were no hard feelings, no sorrow, only the certainty that their paths would eventually cross again. 

Shanks stood at the helm, watching Whitebeard’s ship disappear over the horizon. He adjusted his coat, a small smile on his face. “Back to business, then.”

The journey ahead would be long, and the Red Force would need to hold out just a little longer. The New World awaited them, and before that, Water 7, the only place capable of giving their ship a second life.

Riley leaned against the railing, staring out at the vast ocean ahead. The world had changed for them in the past year. And now, as the Red Force set sail once more, they couldn’t shake the feeling that even greater challenges lay ahead.

The Red Force groaned as it settled into its resting place, the wood creaking under the strain of one last voyage. The ship had served them well, through storms, battles, and endless travels across the Grand Line. But now, even the legendary craftsmanship of Water 7’s shipwrights couldn’t save it.

Standing on the dock, Riley exhaled, watching as the crew dispersed, eager to enjoy their week of freedom. The city loomed ahead, a maze of canals and towering buildings, bustling with merchants, craftsmen, and travelers from all over the world.

But while the crew celebrated their temporary respite, Shanks had a different mission. Cloaked in a heavy coat to avoid unwanted attention, especially now, as a newly recognized Emperor, he turned to Riley and nodded toward the heart of the city.

“We’ve got an appointment to keep.”

Navigating Water 7’s winding streets and bridges was no easy feat, but Shanks walked with purpose, his boots echoing against the stone pathways as he led Riley toward Dock One. The air smelled of sawdust and salt, and the rhythmic pounding of hammers filled the air as shipwrights worked tirelessly on vessels in various stages of construction.

“The original Red Force was built here.” Explained the hooded man, while the two walked towards the first Dock of the Galley-La Company, which had been founded only recently. However, they had already amply proven their merits, and become one of the best shipwrighting companies across the oceans. There was another big ship in construction there, surrounded by skilled workers. 

“Where can I talk to Mister Iceburg?” Shanks asked one of the workers, who was making complex knots with ropes that were attached to different pieces of wood. Riley tried understanding what the man was building, but figured out it was unfinished as they could not make out what it was supposed to be. 

The blonde man cleaned the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his denim jacket, before answering the question. While he only had been promoted on Dock 1 recently, he was used to being interrupted like this, be it pirates who were searching for trouble or potential customers. 

“You have to walk through the Dock, at the end is the Headquarter of the company.” He explained, barely lifting his eyes off the wood. Shanks nodded in gratitude, but was taken aback as he paid a closer look to the shipwright. But he shook his head, in front of the confused Riley, before following the man’s direction. 

“Have you ever heard of a Calico Yorki? You remind me of him.” Shanks finally said, not being able to shake off this weird feeling that was growing in his chest. He expected the man to say no, after all it was impossible for his feeling to be right, however the shipwright lifted his eyes for the first time from the wood, locking eyes with the red haired. 

“You mean the pirate? He was my grandfather.” The blonde man answered, no less surprised than Shanks. It was the first time anyone had ever made this connection.

“How do you know him? You do not look old enough to have known him from his pirate days.” The blonde added, lifting one of his eyebrows. Of course, it was a test to ask that question. If one were to know his grandfather from anything else but being a pirate, it would mean that he was not the only one surviving. 

“I used to live on Figarland, I grew up hearing his stories from his old days. I assume you are Paulie then?” The shipwright nodded in disbelief. Figarland was a name he had last heard fourteen years ago, and that he had expected never to hear again. Both men looked calm, but were burning internally with questions for the other. But before they could burst from shock, Shanks looked around him and realized how many workers were around them. It was definitely not a safe place to talk.

“I still have a lot of work ahead of me, but I am done at around 6, then you meet me here so we can talk.” Paulie declared, having come to the same conclusion. 

As soon as they were in safe distance, Riley turned to Shanks and made a sign for him to come closer, so they could whisper in his ear. 

“What’s Figarland, and who is that?” they asked innocently, having never heard of that name. Shanks sighed, as he had not yet planned to explain those things to Riley, but had been so caught up in his emotions that he had not thought of that. At the same time, he knew that they had the right to know the truth, no matter how hard it was, thus he decided to try his best to explain it without going too much into details. 

“Figarland is the island we are from, the one that was destroyed in the Buster Call, 14 years ago.”

It didn’t take Riley long to connect the dots. 

“Wait, if he’s from that island, that means he’s a…?” 

Shanks nodded, not needing to hear the word. Paulie was a dragon, like the two of them. 

Chapter Text

As dawn started to slowly color the skies, Shanks was waiting next to the huge gate of the first Dock, like they had convened. He had told Riley to stay back at their temporary place, as to guard it, not wanting to tell them that there were so many things about Figarland that they did not know yet, and that he did not want them to know. 

The blonde man appeared through the gates, lighting up a cigar as he spotted the hooded man. 

“Let us go to a safer place to speak.” He whispered, pointing towards the edge of the city, where the large amounts of water fell into the ocean with an incredible force. Shanks followed him without a word, watching as the reddish hues seemingly colored the canals of the city. 

Once they had reached their destination, Paulie leaned against the rails made out of stone, that protected the inhabitants from falling into the ocean, as he looked towards the horizon. 

“You’re a waterdragon, aren’t you?” Spoke Shanks, finally lowering his hood, showing himself to the shipwright who nodded, recognizing him back. Shanks laughed, congratulating him on choosing a new home that was so suited to him. Water 7 was like its name suggested, full of canals, with all of its transportation networks based on the water. 

“I ended up here by coincidence. When it all happened… I was a kid. As soon as I heard the first gunshots, I ran to the sea and swam away for two days. When I came back, everyone was already dead. So I ran away, knowing that no one but me had survived. I swam non-stop until Reverse Mountain, where I snuck into a pirate ship that took me to the Grand Line. I had fallen unconscious between a few barrels for like a week, until they found me. And they weren’t too happy to have a brat on board, so I jumped off ship, until I arrived here. An old man found me and took me in, before I got adopted by a nice family, and became a shipwright.” He told his full story, for the first time ever. Shanks understood way too well what the younger meant, and the warm winds felt comforting as they each opened up. 

“When I heard the gunshots, I took Riley, they’re my sister’s kid, and hid in the basement of their house. We stayed there for five days without moving or making any sound. Once I was sure no one was around anymore, we got out. It was hard, because my father’s body was lying on the door of the basement and blocked it. But we eventually made it. I realized the same thing as you, no one had survived. So I took a week to dig an individual grave for every dead person. The dragons are all buried on top of the hill, and the marines on the forest by the shore.” 

The first tears were shed by Paulie, who felt massive relief. He had never returned, which meant that he had believed for so many years that his childhood friends, his family, were still lying there. But knowing that they at least had real graves meant a lot to him.

He quickly cleaned the tears out of the corner of his eyes, not being prone to expressing such emotions. 

“Thank you for digging the graves, Shanks.” He said whispering, as the night set on the island, no traces left of the red and violet hues. Shanks smiled, understanding that Paulie had recognized him back. 

“How did I not know you were a dragon? Since we build quite a lot of ships for pirates, we’re somehow forced to always be on top of the news when it comes to them, yet I have never heard anything about you being like me, which surprises me, you’re one hell of a pirate.” Paulie added, slightly smiling again. 

Shanks laughed, everytime someone new learned about his secret, they asked the exact same question. But that also meant that he was prepared to answer.

“We have someone on our team with a devil fruit, the secret secret fruit. His ability makes it so that when someone knows my true nature, they are unable to communicate that to people who do not know. It makes it physically impossible to spread that information unless either me or Riley spread it.” 

Paulie lifted an eyebrow, impressed by how practical such an ability was, before asking if there were no weak points to such a power, but Shanks denied. 

“It has worked for the last 15 years, so I assume it must not have any circumvention, at least we have not found any.” 

“How long do you plan to stay here?” Paulie changed the subject, as he stared at the moon. It was almost full, but not quite yet. Shanks followed his gaze, and understood immediately why he asked the question. 

“I’m here to get a new ship built, so as long as that takes. Where do you usually spend those nights?”

Paulie ashed his cigar, before lighting up a new one. Even if his conversation was with a fellow dragon, he did not like the subject, even if he knew how important it was. 

“Water 7 sinks more and more every year. There are entire houses and streets which are meters underwater, and which are inaccessible for any regular person. In particular there’s one building which used to be a bank, which means that all of its walls and doors are reinforced through steel. It’s pretty much unbreakable, so I lock myself up in there. But it’s not a solution for you, as you need to be able to breathe underwater.” The blonde explained, thinking of all possible places that could house two additional dragons. 

Shanks wondered if there were any non inhabited islands near that could keep them safe, but Paulie shook his head, explaining that since Water Seven was currently going through an economic boom thanks to the Sea Train, all islands close to the city were filled with people. 

“There’s an annual storm that sweeps Water Seven. During the high tide civilians are allowed in the underground of the docks, as they are completely isolated from the outside. Only the foremen have the keys to the respective docks, so I can get you in there if I can access the keys, and close it behind you. But I’ll have to drop you off quite early so that I can reach my place in time, and we need to make sure that no other foreman goes in there.”

Paulie was thinking, trying to make out a timeline for everything to work out. The workers of the Galley-La were done with their day at 6pm. Until everyone truly left, it was easily 7pm. The moon would come out at 8pm. So he had more or less a one hour window. That was pretty tight, especially as he already expected things to turn wrong and make them lose even more time. That’s how it was every time. 

“You’ll meet me in front of Dock 1 at 7pm, not a minute later. I’ll let you in there, but you need to understand how precious the Dock is. So I need you to behave and try to do as little harm as possible.”

Shanks nodded sternly, but still reminded Paulie how hard of a demand that was with a short-lived smile. He wished their conversation could last forever, but he also realized with each word that there was something else he had to tell him. After their expedition in Sabaody, and once he had read through the books, he had somehow hoped that the whole marine debacle was over, as if sweeping it under the rug. But while he could take responsibility for himself and Riley, he had to be honest towards his new pal. 

“There’s something else I need to tell you… A few months ago, our allies’ ship got infiltrated by who we found out were marines, during one full-moon night. The marines… they are doing research on this flower, called Piranha plant. This flower has a weird power, they hypothesize that it stores the energy from the moon, and when a dragon touches it… it makes you exponentially more aggressive, like your blood suddenly starts boiling, and it forces you to transform if you stay in contact for too long.”

“…What?”

“A few men were stationed in this research station on the Sabaody Archipel… After that attack happened, we infiltrated the place and stole most of their research but… Some of them had been there on the buster call, so they do know more than I had anticipated, and even if I said that the secret-secret fruit does not have any circumvention… We have to be careful, and so do you. I don’t think they’ll target you anytime soon, but it’s important you know this. At least, the word cannot spread further, but that’s one of the reasons I came here. A clash with them will be inevitable in the future, and we need a good ship for when that will happen.”

Paulie nodded understanding, yet also scared. It was in those moments that he was grateful to be a simple shipwright, not having to have too much contact with the marines outside of his field of work, but a shudder still went down his spine. For a moment, it felt like he was that kid again, and while the loneliness had been harsh, it had been comforting to know the marines assumed him dead and would never come back to look for him. How wrong he was. 

“Well, I must thank you for the information even if I would rather not have known... But I’m sure you don’t have to worry about this right here, we have quite a lot of marines but they’ve been busy doing their own thing, and we have the best shipwrights so I can guarantee nothing will happen here but truth be told... I think I need to sleep over this information” Paulie declared before yawning. Their conversation had taken quite a while, and they both started to get tired. At least, they had everything planned out for the next few days and Shanks had gotten rid of that guilty feeling he had first felt. 

Thus, the two dragons wished each other good night, before departing in opposite directions.

Chapter Text

The next three days were not very eventful. Shanks had talked to Iceberg who had accepted his request. He would build a new Red Force, bigger and better for the new Emperor. It would take them a month, which the pirate crew would spend on the island. Most of the crew had dispersed on the surrounding islands - after all Water 7 laid in an area rich of many different cities that had experienced an economic boom - and thus there was quite a bit to visit and to spend a month of vacation, which they all had desperately needed after the eventful months that had proceeded this unplanned arrival. 

Thus, the fateful day arrived. Just like on any other such day, Riley’s head hurt. It wasn’t a terrible pain - but one that persisted for hours and slowly crept to one’s mind. With the years, they had gotten more used to it, but it was not something they’d ever get truly over. The dull feeling like a reminder of the danger that grew closer, of the moon’s draw. But they could not keep wailing, and had to eventually get on their feet, while their uncle explained the last details to them. Their headache however grew with every passing minute, and they felt their ability to concentrate fading farther and farther away. As long as he knew the plan, they thought. 

Once they were ready, they met the blonde shipwright at the dock. Like predicted, all workers had already left, as the lights were all turned off and no noise came from it. In front of it was the shipwright, holding a pair of keys in his hand. 

“You got them?”

“I told one of the foremen that I forgot something there. He told me to pick it up and give back the keys tomorrow while at work. It was pretty easy, so let’s hope the rest works as smoothly.” He answered Riley’s question, who had started rubbing their eyes and spoke in a low tone. 

They all seemed ready, at least somewhat, so once they were sure no one was following them, Paulie opened the main gate, and led them to the stairs bringing them to the underground. 

Outside of the yearly storm, the room was mainly used for storage and for construction of smaller pieces. There was wood lying around everywhere, as well as iron and other metals. It was quite large, being able to house hundreds of people simultaneously, which meant the two dragons would fit easily inside and even have some space to move - for better and for worse. 

“I’ll turn on some of the lights so you can get comfortable. It should be pretty calm down here, there’s no houses or anything near us. The door we went through is the only one. Since it’s built to survive the storm, I’m not worried about it not being strong enough, everything should be just fine.” He explained very confidently, before wishing them good night and closing the door with the keys. On his way back, he made sure to close all doors and to lock the main gate. 

Once outside, he looked at the clock on his wrist, which indicated to him that he had about half an hour left. If everything went by plan, it should suffice for him to join the underwater ruins by the time the moon would come out. 

But as he feared, he first was halted by Tilestone, who had been sitting in a bar, but had spotted him through the window. The taller foremen had come jumping out, asking Paulie if he had been able to find the object he had forgotten. After all, he had been the one to lend him those keys.

Not wanting to show any disrespect, Paulie stopped in his tracks, and reassured his superior that he had indeed found what he had searched, and would give him the keys the next day, like they had convened. But Tilestone was adamant about spending time with the blonde, and invited him for a glass at the bar, which was something they regularly did at the first dock. 

“Come on, you always join!”

He refused while smiling, trying to come up with an excuse on why he couldn’t. After all, there were no more than 15 minutes left by that time. But almost as if his wish for an excuse manifested, his wallet was snatched from him while he was talking to the older man. He immediately turned around and tried running after whoever the thief was. He already had enough debt and couldn’t let a criminal steal his hard earned money, but the time…

The thief was incredibly agile, jumping on the roofs of the blue city with ease. 

“GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK!!” Shouted Paulie, trying to follow the hooded figure. But as fast as he had climbed up the roof, the thief had already jumped off it. It was a hopeless chase. 

“COME BACK!!!” He almost pleaded, spotting the thief next to one of the canals. With a skilled throw, he was able to wrap his signature rope around a light pole mere meters from the thief and pulled himself near it. But by the time he was about to reach the unknown person, he fell into one of the canals.

Being a skilled swimmer, he was able to reach the surface of the water with ease, but by that time, it was already too late. 

There it was. The silver coin that had brought him nothing but trouble.

Under the light of the moon, Paulie’s body began to change. Muscles twisted and bones reshaped, his skin shifting into glistening azure scales. In mere seconds, where the shipwright once stood, a towering water dragon now faced the sky, its gleaming blue eyes locked in a furious stare at the moon above.

The transformation erased any trace of human clarity, but not the previous anger that had sparked it. The dragon snarled low in its throat, scanning its surroundings until its gaze fell on the famous thief: a young figure, standing frozen in awe, with catlike ears and furred paws—and clutched in her hands, the stolen money.

The dragon roared and lunged through the water toward the thief. She snapped out of her daze just in time, scrambling out of reach and leaping up to the rooftops. There, out of the dragon’s reach, she darted away into the maze of Water Seven’s narrow alleys, slipping through the shadows with practiced ease.

Enraged, the dragon rampaged through the lower district, tearing through wood and stone in pursuit of its prize. But the girl was gone, swallowed by the city’s unlit backstreets, and the beast was left to thrash and rage with nothing to grasp but its fury.

When the moon set, the creature’s rage faded along with its form.

Paulie came to with aching limbs and a pounding head, stumbling ashore in a quiet stretch of rubble. His thoughts were scattered, the memory of the night no more than a handful of jagged fragments: being robbed… then the sudden blaze of fury… the blur of destruction. He clenched his fists and cursed under his breath.

Then he froze.

The keys.

Frantically, he patted his soaked pockets—and exhaled in relief. Still there. Still intact. There was no time to dwell on guilt or panic. Not yet.

He had to get Riley and Shanks out before the Galley-La workers arrived. Before anyone else saw the aftermath. At least, he hoped, they would have spent a calmer night. 

Without sparing another thought, he broke into a run toward the dock, blocking out the worry that clawed at the edge of his mind. If only he had a dry cigar to calm his nerves…

As he finally opened the heavy door, the two dragons were resting on the floor. Shanks had sat down, looking like he was deep in thoughts, while Riley was laying on the floor. Both looked fine, with only dark shadows under their eyes betraying the truth. 

“You look like you got in a fight.” Riley noticed as they got back on their feet, patting the dust off their pants. 

“I look like I need to go to work. We’ll talk tomorrow, you two should rest. And no need to worry, I’m fine.” The blonde tried reassuring them, moving aside to give them more space. Yet the two dragons were not so easily lied to, clearly noticing the slight wheezing in the blonde’s breath, as well as his posture.

The two stayed quiet, breathing in the fresh outside air. 

“Tomorrow at 7, here. You know the way out, I need to get ready now. Have a good rest.”

Paulie added, closing the doors behind him and locking them. The first workers would be here any minute and he’d rather not have to give any more explanations, wishing for nothing more but an easy day as to not collapse. Without arguing much, the two others left, wishing him good luck at work. 

“I wonder what happened.” Riley muttered into the cold morning as they were walking away from the dock, stretching their arms behind their back, trying to relieve the sores they felt everywhere. 

“Hmm…” Shanks hummed as a reply, quietly deciding that he would ask around town in the afternoon. 

Chapter Text

The streets of Water Seven were buzzing as always, the smell of sawdust and seawater thick in the air. Paulie walked ahead of Shanks and Riley, hands shoved deep in his pockets, still fuming.

“I’m telling you, the damn brat must be around here somewhere! No one gets away with stealing my wallet,” Paulie grumbled, scanning the busy docks. They had all recovered well enough from the full moon, and thus could go back to their usual activities, including solving the mysteries of petty theft.

Riley was practically bouncing on their heels, eager to help after a few uneventful days, mostly spent waiting for time to pass by. 

“Come on, Shanks, let me go with him. It’ll be fun!”

The Red Haired Pirate, who had been unusually quiet, gave them a firm shake of his head. “No. We should lay low.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument once more - just like Riley had gotten used to. But there was something more in his voice, like a precognition. 

Riley groaned however, shaking their head at the refusal. “You’re so boring. It’s just a wallet, I ca-“

Shanks cut them off, not giving them any room to argue. “It’s not about the wallet. Have you noticed the marines?”

Paulie finally turned around, arms crossed. “So you caught on too.”

Shanks nodded. “They’re everywhere. And not just any marines, I saw some more high ranking ones. I figured this had to be a normal thing at first, we’re not far from Enies Lobby after all.”

Paulie exhaled sharply, explaining that while they always had a fair amount of government presence, this was way more than the usual.

”But that’s not the only weird thing going on lately. Like half of the shipwrights are gone, working on some big secret project. Meanwhile, the rest of us are stuck doing double the work to make up for it. It’s a pain in the ass.”

The Emperor narrowed his eyes, facing the shipwright who had stopped in his steps, lowering his voice. “A secret project?”

Paulie waved his hand vaguely at first, holding a cigar he was about to light. “Yeah, no one really knows what it is. The higher-ups are keeping it tight-lipped. I even applied for it, but they rejected me.” 

Riley snorted as they saw Paulie’s face get red with anger, the more he talked of it. “They rejected you?”

The blonde clenched his fists, before vaguely gesturing towards the sky. “I know! The nerve !! I’m one of the best damn shipwrights in this city, and they pass me up for what? Some no-name amateurs?”

Shanks smirked slightly as he ranted, watching him continue gesticulating wildly. “You done?”

Paulie exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “I guess.”

Shanks’ expression turned serious again. “Look, this project might be bigger than we think. If the Marines are involved, we need to keep our ears open, but not draw attention to ourselves. That means no reckless fights over stolen wallets.”

Paulie grumbled but nodded. “Fine, fine. But if I see that kid, they’re getting tossed into the canal.”

Shanks chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Riley, despite their frustration, couldn’t help but grin. “Alright, so we keep an ear out and don’t get caught. Easy enough.”

Shanks, however, had a bad feeling. Nothing involving the World Government was ever easy. 

“I think I’ll go around town, hear what the folks around here say. I’m probably going to start at some bars, people always have loose tongues there.” He thus decided, remembering the places he had noticed during the first few days. He sounded completely serious, like a secret agent on a mission, but his relative couldn’t stop themselves from chuckling, knowing that it was also a partial excuse to just go drink. They hadn’t had many opportunities to grab a glass lately, and Riley knew how much their uncle liked the enjoyment of a glass of rum on a beautiful and sunny island. 

But before he could react to their chuckle, Riley had already straightened up and with a polite smile agreed that might be a good idea, and that they would go back to the rooms they were staying at, just to be safe. 

”Since when do you willingly stay safe? You’re not going to argue?” He raised an eyebrow at them, but Riley reassured them that it was alright and that they understood. Not wanting to risk them changing their mind, he agreed, turning on his heel as he waved them goodbye.

”So where do we start looking for your stolen goods?” Riley turned around towards Paulie as soon as Shanks was out of reach. They sported a grin so big that it almost looked too big for their own face, their sharp teeth shining through. 

“You’re a stubborn kid, but I don’t mind some extra help. Let’s start where this brat stole it in the first place.” The shipwright answered, chuckling along, before being taken by anger once again at the thought of the thief. 

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on that little bastard…” Paulie continued muttering, arms crossed as he scanned the rooftops. 

Riley snickered, nudging him after having listened to his tirade for more than a quarter hour at this point. “I totally get it, Paulie. That wallet was your pride and joy, the most valuable thing in your possession-“

The shipwright scoffed. “Don’t mock me, kid.”

“I’m serious!” Riley dramatically threw their hands in the air. “A crusty, falling-apart wallet with probably no money in it? A priceless artifact.”

“Tch. You’re laughing now but be careful or I’ll tell Shanks you’re out here instead of at the motel.”

“And then he’ll get mad at you for not making sure I was safe, so I will keep laughing.”

”Got me there…” Paulie admitted after a moment of silence, in which he had tried to come up with some clever answer, but to no avail.

After another fifteen minutes of bantering, they had finally arrived at the spot where he had lost the wallet days before. A narrow bridge stretched over a canal, with alleyways on either side and a line of blue buildings towering above them. Paulie kicked at a loose stone, still brooding.

“The little rat was quick,” he admitted, eyes flickering up to the rooftops. “Not that tall, probably some kid, but they jumped up there and were gone before I could even swear properly.”

Riley chuckled once again, enjoying this new company. Everyone around them had always been so serious, and this change of atmosphere had been more than welcome. “So, basically, they made you look like an idiot.”

Paulie clenched his fists once more. “Don’t push it.”

Still, after a moment, his scowl softened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a brand-new wallet, flipping it open with a grin.

“Anyway, joke’s on them, ‘cause I finally replaced that old piece of crap. Got myself real leather this time, look at this craftsmanship.” He held it up proudly, showing it off like it had been his first born, his anger flown away as quickly as it had arrived at the sight of his precious belonging.

Riley feigned amazement, pretending to look at it closely. “Wow. Truly the peak of sophistication.”

“Damn right.” The shipman grinned, but his pride was short-lived.

A blur of movement. A black shadow streaked from above.

Snatch.

“…Huh?” Paulie blinked. His hand was empty.

Riley barely had time to process what happened before they saw it; a small, nimble figure landing on a rooftop across the canal, aforementioned wallet in hand.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He looked at his empty fingers in disbelief, blinking a few times to make sure it was not just some nightmare.

The young pirate, eyes wide with shock, suddenly burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. “Again?!”

But Paulie whirled toward them, face red with rage. “This isn’t funny!!”

However, Riley was already moving, having kept the dark figure in the corner of their vision. Just like last time, they tried fleeing through the rooftops, jumping with ease over the sometimes large gaps. “Come on! We’re not losing them this time!”

Paulie cursed under his breath, but wasted no time in chasing after the thief, however quite a bit slower than Riley, until he had the idea to use the ropes he always carried with him to swing behind them. 

“Come on, give it back before it’s too late!” The younger dragon called with amusement, following the thief closely behind. While their jumps were not as smooth, their determination was unmatched, feeling genuine fun during the chase. The hardest part was to not unfold their wings, hidden under the cape, continuing through the air, but they knew they couldn’t risk it. Not now, with the marine presence around them. 

Another issue presented itself in the meantime; The thief was fast. Too fast. The dragons were strong, sure, but speed in a city like Water Seven meant knowing every alley, every rooftop, every hidden shortcut. And the criminal definitely knew the city like the back of their hand.

Paulie was already panting, lagging behind, while Riley pushed themselves to keep up, their claws itching to snatch their wallet back.

But then, to their luck, the thief took a wrong turn.

They skidded to a halt at the very edge of the city. The canal stretched out before them, the dark waters glistening under the streetlights. There was nowhere left to run if not the vast expanse of the ocean. 

Riley slowed their pace, catching up quickly. Their grin was sharp, teeth bared in amusement as they took a step forward. “Alright, you little rat. Last chance. Hand over the wallets, and we might just forget about this whole thing.”

The thief didn’t answer. Instead, they reached up and pulled back the hood of their jacket.

Fluffy, cat-like ears twitched on chestnut hair, under the late afternoon sun. 

Riley blinked. “Huh?”

And before they could process what was happening, the thief shrunk. Her body shifted, limbs twisting, fur sprouting—and in an instant, a tiny, impossibly adorable kitten sat in her place, staring up at Riley with the biggest, roundest, most innocent eyes imaginable.

Riley gasped, their eyes almost turning into stars as they watched the cat. “AWWWWWWWWE.”

Paulie, finally catching up, was bent over, hands on his knees. “Did they stop-? Did you get the-?”

He lifted his head, only to see Riley crouched down, cooing over the literal criminal.

Paulie’s face turned red with fury. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Look at them, Paulie! Look at this little kitty! This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!” Riley had already forgotten the wallets, completely taken by the kitten’s charm.

Paulie stomped over and kicked Riley’s shin. “GET IT TOGETHER!!! YOU’RE BEING TRICKED!”

Riley yelped, rubbing their leg. “Geez, calm down! You can’t tell me this sweet little angel is a thief!”

“Oh yeah? Then why is this sweet little angel trying to sneak away right now?”

Riley turned around, and sure enough, the kitten was trying to slink off, tail flicking smugly.

Paulie lunged, grabbing the tiny feline by the scruff of its neck before it could escape. The kitten let out an indignant squeak before flailing in defeat.

With a defeated sigh, the thief morphed back into her human form, ears drooping. “Alright, alright,” she muttered, pulling both wallets from her sleeve and tossing them back.

Paulie snatched his out of the air, flipping it open—

His eye twitched.

“THEY’RE EMPTY!!” he roared.

The thief only smirked with pride. “Well, duh.”

“Come on, you have nowhere to go, give us back the money, pretty please?” Riley said, pointing out the dead end once more. Not like they had much of a choice anyways, and thus, the thief grabbed the money from deep in their pocket of their jacket, before throwing it without much care. 

Riley couldn’t stop chuckling as they caught the stolen money mid-air. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” they teased, tossing a few coins up and catching them again.

The thief - Salem, as they’d later learn - crossed her arms and scowled. “Tch. I needed that money, you know.”

Paulie, still fuming, jabbed a finger at her. “Yeah? And I needed my wallet! You ever heard of working for a living?”

Salem however groaned dramatically. “Ugh, spare me the lecture, old man.”

Riley grinned, cutting in before Paulie exploded. They couldn’t deny the genuine fun they were having on their little adventure. “Look, be happy we’re not hauling you to the Marines or something. Next time, try pickpocketing actual bad guys.”

The thief rolled her eyes, remembering the many marine wallets she had already stolen. “Yeah, great idea. Except the Marines barely carry anything worth taking.”

That caught Riley’s interest, who was surprised to hear that. They always imagined that the executioners of the world government’s order were fairly well paid, seeing how huge their ships and equipment were. “Wait, really?”

Salem shrugged. “They get food and supplies straight from their own ships. Most of them don’t even need money when they’re stationed here.” She huffed, adjusting her jacket and turning away. “Anyway, this was fun and all, but I’m outta here.”

Before she could vanish into the evening, Riley stepped in front of her, hands on their hips. “Hold up. What do you even need the money for?”

Salem paused, narrowing her eyes. “Why do you care?”

But Riley shrugged, offering a toothy grin. “I guess I was just feeling like helping, you know being generous and stuff. It’s like the opposite of what you were doing.”

Salem scoffed at the dragon’s words, mocking them at first. “Help? I don’t even know you.” She studied them for a second, then sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “But whatever. If you must know, I’m trying to get enough money to get out of Water Seven. I wanna travel, see the world. Not much of a future for someone like me here.”

Riley tilted their head. “Someone like you?”

Salem smirked. “You know. A troublemaker.”

Riley grinned back at Salem’s words, their excitement barely contained. “A troublemaker, huh? Guess that makes two of us.” They folded their arms, tilting their head playfully. “If you wanna travel so bad, why not just join a pirate crew?”

Salem blinked, taken aback. “What?” She scoffed. “And what makes you think I’d want to be something as lame as a pirate?”

The dragon shrugged at their words. “I mean, it lets you travel, see the world, get into all sorts of trouble. Sounds like a perfect fit to me.”

The cat narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather not spend my life running from Marines.”

Before Riley could counter, Paulie smacked them on the back of the head. “Oi! Are you seriously inviting someone who just tried to rob us onto your uncle’s crew?”

Riley rubbed the spot where the blonde had hit them, unfazed. “Why not? She’s got skills. Fast, agile, good at getting away-”

“From us,” He interrupted flatly, still keeping an eye on Salem with a distrustful air. 

“Yeah, but imagine if she was on our side,” Riley said with a grin, trying to convince him otherwise with grand gestures. 

But the thief looked between the two of them, arms still crossed. “…You’re actually serious about this?”

Paulie groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

Salem shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she said simply, before turning on her heel. With the same speed and agility that had allowed her to slip through their fingers earlier, she disappeared into the maze of narrow canals, this time without any stolen goods in her pockets.

Riley watched her go, a warm smile lingering on their face. They couldn’t explain why, but something about this whole interaction left them feeling lighter than they had in a while, and left them wishing that they’d cross paths again.

Paulie sighed, shaking his head as they started heading back. “You can’t just invite random people to your crew, you know. I’m sure Shanks would’ve been pissed.” He had counted the money over and over again, making sure no bills were missing. Once he was sure he had everything back, he exhaled loudly, happy to have that issue resolved. However, Riley wasn’t listening to his lecture, lost in thought. They kept smiling, replaying the chase, the laughter, the way Salem had smirked before vanishing into the city.

Paulie noticed their silence and let out a deep exhale, lighting up a cigar. “Anyway, I’m dropping you off at that hostel you’re staying at. I gotta get back to work. Real work.” He puffed a few smoke rings into the air, watching them fade into the bright blue sky. “And don’t do anything dumb until that redhead is done with whatever the hell he’s doing.”

Riley just chuckled. “No promises.”

Chapter Text

Patiently waiting behind the door until the blonde shipwright was out of sight, Riley’s mind was racing. As if they were just going to wait and be bored, they huffed. Especially, when there was still so much to see in the city. But their stomach quickly betrayed them, and with a swift movement of their clawed hand, they grabbed the little money they still had. 

“Only for emergencies.” He had instructed, but that thought was shoved in the back of their head as they walked towards the closest food stand in excitement. There were dishes with names they could barely pronounce, and they bought whatever the coins could pay for, before eating it all with joy. The textures and the taste of each bite was refreshing and new, like a meal they had craved for years and that they could finally have again.

Once satiated, they got up, now overflowing with joy. They still had about 3 hours before the sun would go down and Shanks would return, and they wanted to make the most of it. There was this train that they had heard about…

They leaned back in their seat. The Sea Train rocked gently beneath them, and they watched the canals zip past through the window.

“I’ll just ride until the first stop,” they thought, crossing their arms behind their head. “Nothing bad can happen in that time.”

Then, the sound of approaching footsteps pulled them from their comfortable daze.

“Tickets, please.”

Riley blinked, slowly turning to see the controller that had started walking between the rows of seats. He was stiff-looking man in a clean uniform, standing just a few feet away.

Right. Tickets. The thing they absolutely did not have.

They patted their pockets instinctively, as if a miracle would have placed a ticket in there. Nothing. Just crumbs from all the food they had blown their money on.

“Damn it. Shanks is gonna kill me if I get in trouble again.”

The controller was moving closer. Riley’s brain worked fast. They had a few options:

1. Pretend to be asleep. Unlikely to work.

2. Charm their way out. Also unlikely to work.

3. Jump off the train. Probably the worst option.

4. Lie.

Option four it was.

“Ticket?” the man asked, extending a hand expectantly.

Riley patted the pockets of their cloak with exaggerated confusion. “What. That’s weird. I just had it.”

The controller didn’t look amused. “Sure you did.”

“No, seriously! I must’ve dropped it when I sat down.” Riley turned, patting the seat and checking under it, then dramatically looking around the floor. “Maybe it slid forward? You know, with the movement of the train and all.”

The controller sighed, already tired of the act. “Alright, that’s enough. You’re getting off at the next stop.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Riley held up their sleeves, stalling for time. They needed a backup plan. Fast.

And then they saw it.

A few rows ahead, two marines sat deep in conversation. However wasn’t the interesting part. In one of their hands lay a thick stack of papers, clearly some kind of cargo manifest. Even from a distance, Riley could make out the bolded title at the top:

“Naval Project - Water 7.”

Their stomach flipped. That had to be connected to whatever Paulie was talking about…

The controller yanked on their sleeve with a hard movement, seeing as the pirate had stopped in their tracks. “Come on.”

But Riley wasn’t thinking about their lack of a ticket anymore.

They were thinking about how the hell they were going to get a closer look at those documents.

The first idea that came to their mind was to pretend to faint just next to the marines, but the risks were just too great. They still had their hood on, and didn’t want to expose their horns to a train full of people, even less with marines in there. However, they also couldn’t do nothing and let this once in a lifetime chance pass up. It was like fate dangling some golden key in front of their eyes, just a bit out of reach. But they were not one to be passive, and they thus pretended to trip instead, falling on their knees for an instant. Most passenger had put their bags under their chairs, just like they were asked to, but that gave them a tiny opportunity; most Baggage was highly flammable. Thus, without even anyone noticing, a flicker of fire left their mouth, instantly igniting upon contact with the luggage under the marine’s seat. The perfect distraction. 

The fire caught faster than Riley had expected. Within seconds, the acrid scent of burning fabric filled the train car, and a thin curl of smoke began rising from beneath the seat.

The marine holding the documents barely had time to react before someone from a few rows back shouted, “Fire!”

Panic spread like wildfire. Passengers jolted to their feet, some scrambling away, others trying to smother the flames with their jackets. The marines instantly jumped into action, one of them kicking the burning bag away while the other yelled for water.

And in the chaos, they moved.

They dropped low, blending into the mess of people shifting around, and with a swift, practiced motion, their fingers brushed against the marine’s stack of documents. Not the whole thing, that’d be too obvious. But just a few pages, smoothly slipped away before they backed off into the crowd.

The controller was too busy dealing with the commotion to notice Riley had slipped away from his grip. Good. That meant they still had time.

They kept their head down, heart pounding as they shuffled toward the opposite end of the train car. No one had seen. No one had noticed.

Now, all they had to do was get off this train before someone did.

Riley needed to act fast. They couldn’t just walk to the next car, not with marines everywhere. Their eyes darted around, scanning for options.

Then they saw it.

A service door near the back of the car, slightly ajar. It likely led to a small maintenance area or a storage closet. That would do.

Keeping their head down, Riley moved with the flow of panicked passengers, weaving through the chaos. The marines were still busy stomping out the fire, one of them even cursing about how the smoke was ruining his uniform.

When the moment was right, they slipped behind a cluster of people and into the storage area, shutting the door as quietly as possible behind them. The space was cramped, barely big enough for them to crouch between cleaning supplies and stacks of unused seat cushions.

They held their breath, listening. Outside, the commotion continued. The fire had been put out, but the marines were still trying to figure out how it started.

“Probably some idiot’s cigarette,” one muttered.

“We’ll check the security snails at the next stop,” another said.

Shit. Riley pressed their lips together. That meant they had to be off this train before then.

But for now, they were hidden. They just had to wait for the next stop and slip out unnoticed. The moment the train began to slow, they tensed. Their muscles coiled like springs, ready to launch the second the doors opened.

As soon as the train jerked to a stop, Riley bolted. They pushed past confused passengers, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. A few shouts rang out behind them but they did not dare look back, walking ever so faster the further they got from the train.

Their lungs burned as they sprinted through the station, ignoring the curious stares from bystanders. It didn’t matter. Get out, disappear, then figure out the next step. That was the plan.

Only when they were a few blocks away, hidden in the shadow of an alley, did they finally stop to catch their breath. Their fingers instinctively went to their pocket, crumpling the stolen papers inside. At least that part of the mission was a success, they thought, with a large smile on their face as they celebrated for a moment.

But now came the harder part.

Water Seven’s train station was swarming with marines. Even from the alley, they could hear their voices. The city was a maze of canals and bridges, making it both a perfect escape route and a nightmare if they got cornered.

Riley exhaled sharply. Great. Now what?

Going back on the train was obviously out of the question. Stealing a boat was risky, but maybe if they found the right moment…

Their eyes scanned the streets, searching for an opening. One way or another, they had to get back before Shanks even realized they were gone, and the clock kept ticking. 

Riley let out a deep sigh as they finally stepped onto solid ground. The cargo ship they had snuck on had done its job, getting them back to Water Seven in one piece, but the exhaustion weighed heavy on their body. Maybe, just maybe, they had gone a little overboard with their adventures today. But as they reached into their pocket and pulled out the folded papers they had swiped, a satisfied grin crept onto their face. It wasn’t all for nothing, and they could proudly show them to Shanks. 

They tucked the documents away, rolling their shoulders as they walked back toward their temporary stay. This time, there would be no detours, no distractions, just waiting for the red haired pirate to return like they were supposed to in the first place. They didn’t even fight the sleep creeping up on them, letting themselves doze off for a bit, curled up comfortably on the old couch. 

The sound of the door creaking open pulled them from their nap. The familiar scent of alcohol hit their nose before they even opened their eyes. With a knowing smirk, Riley sat up, stretching lazily as they watched a slightly wobbly Shanks enter the room.

“So?” they asked, their voice laced with amusement. “Did you actually gather some intel, or was that just an excuse to go on a drinking tour?”

Shanks huffed, running his hand through his messy red hair before plopping down onto an old chair with a dramatic sigh. “Oi, give me some credit,” he grumbled, waving a finger at them. “I did some listening while drinking, thank you very much.”

Riley snorted. “Right, and what did you learn? The best places to get blackout drunk?”

Shanks gave them a lazy grin, leaning back on the chair. “Maybe. But I did hear something interesting about a certain shipwright project.”

That caught Riley’s attention. They sat up properly, tilting their head. “Oh?”

Shanks nodded, his expression shifting ever so slightly, the usual playfulness in his eyes dimming just a fraction. “Yeah. Seems like we weren’t the only ones snooping around today.”

Riley blinked, instinctively reaching for the papers they had hidden under the pillow. “…Go on.”

Shanks chuckled, reaching for a bottle from his coat and taking a swig. “Nah, you first. Something tells me you’ve got a story of your own.”

Riley grinned, holding up the crumpled papers with a smug look. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Riley stretched out their legs, tossing the papers onto the floor between them and Shanks. “Alright, so, it wasn’t that big of a deal,” they started, leaning back on their hands. “I just… took a little ride on the Sea Train. Y’know, for fun.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow, still swaying slightly from the alcohol in his system. “For fun?” he repeated, his grin widening. “You mean to tell me you just so happened to hop on the train, totally by accident?”

Riley shrugged. “Okay, maybe not accident, but it wasn’t a big thing! I just wanted to check it out.” They purposefully skipped over the whole ticket issue, the fire, and the very close call with the marines. “Then, I found myself in a bit of a situation, but I handled it, no problem.”

Shanks snorted, clearly seeing through the downplayed explanation. “Right, riiight. You just happened to get into a ‘situation’ and then handled it.” He picked up one of the papers, squinting at the text. “And these? Just, what… souvenirs?”

Riley smirked. “Something like that.”

Shanks hummed, flipping through the documents with exaggerated care. He wasn’t mad. In fact, he looked like he was having the time of his life hearing about Riley’s antics, even if they were leaving out the finer details. But that was probably due to his intoxication, and the dragon knew that tomorrow they’d get a much sterner talk. “You’re not gonna tell me what this ‘situation’ really was, are you?”

“Nope.”

Shanks chuckled, shaking his head. “You menace.” He leaned forward, waving a paper in the air. “Alright, let’s see what you actually got us, then.”

Riley leaned in too, their tiredness momentarily forgotten. Whatever these documents were, they had to be worth the trouble.

Shanks leaned back against the chair, rubbing his chin as he skimmed through another document. “So, it’s ships,” he muttered, eyes scanning the dry logistical details. “That doesn’t tell us who they’re for, though.”

Riley groaned, flopping onto their back. “Yeah, yeah. Boring stuff.” They kicked their legs idly, staring up at the ceiling. “But hey, I also might’ve found us a new crewmate.”

Shanks immediately looked up, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “Oh? And when did we start letting you pick new crew members?”

Riley sat up again, grinning. “Technically, I didn’t pick them. She doesn’t even want to join. But I’ll convince her.”

Shanks snorted, shaking his head. “You can’t just force people onto the crew. That’s not how it works.”

“I know that,” Riley shot back, rolling their eyes. “But listen, she’s fast, smart, and really good at sneaking around. She’d make an excellent addition.”

Shanks raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained but skeptical. “And I assume she’s about as much of a troublemaker as you?”

“Maybe,” Riley admitted, their grin widening. “But that just makes it better! At least I’d finally have someone my age on board.”

Shanks chuckled, shaking his head. “You really want this, huh?”

Riley nodded, determined. “You’ll see. Once I convince her, you’ll be thanking me.”

Shanks let out a low laugh, tossing the documents aside. “Alright, alright. But don’t go scaring her off by trying too hard.”