A trace of amusent appeared in Rei Ao's eyes.
He walked over, his footsteps making almost no sound on the sand.
"How does it feel?"
"Like there's endless power," Hancock blurted out.
"More or less."
He raised a hand and lightly pointed at her forehead with a hovering fingertip.
"But rember—power is just a tool. Don't let the tool end up controlling you."
Hancock caught his hand and pressed it to her cheek.
"Then keep an eye on more, my lord. If I lose control, you're responsible for pulling back."
It was half pout, half earnest.
Rei Ao's hand paused for a beat, then he gently patted her head.
"Alright."
…
That night.
Inside the bedchamber, candlelight wavering.
Hancock leaned against Rei Ao's shoulder, her fingers unconsciously tracing circles on his chest—the Kuja Island crest.
Circle after circle, never ending.
"The power you taught is so strong," she murmured.
Her voice carried that lazy, husky softness afterward, like silk rubbed by sandpaper.
Rei Ao caught her wandering hand, his gaze sliding to the side of her neck.
Faint red marks hadn't faded yet, and beneath her collarbone, golden patterns flickered indistinctly.
They were the signs of that power rging with her body.
"Adaptation takes ti," he said, his palm gliding along her spine as he spoke.
The touch made Hancock narrow her eyes.
She rolled over and straddled him.
Her black hair spilled down like a waterfall, forming a small private curtain between them.
Candlelight seeped through the gaps in the strands, breaking into scattered flecks of gold.
"My lord," she called softly, voice lowered.
"Do you think I can beat monsters like Kaido now?"
Rei Ao opened his eyes, a faint smile in them.
"You want to try?"
"A little," Hancock admitted.
"But after thinking about it… forget it."
"Why?"
"Even if I win, there's no benefit."
She said it with complete confidence.
"Territory needs managing, underlings need feeding—what a hassle. I'd rather sunbathe on Kuja Island."
Rei Ao laughed.
This ti it was real—his chest vibrating slightly.
Hancock rarely saw him laugh like that.
She stared for two seconds, then lowered her head and bit his chin.
"Don't laugh."
"Alright. I won't."
He said it, but the smile in his eyes didn't fade.
A small cluster of golden fla suddenly lit at Hancock's fingertips.
Just a tiny spark dancing there, the temperature controlled perfectly—warm, not hot.
She let that fla drift slowly down Rei Ao's chest.
It traced the lines of his abs, circled once at his waist.
"This move is called 'Marking,'" she announced.
"From now on, you'll have my seal on you."
"Wherever you go, you won't be able to run."
Childish words—but she said them seriously.
Rei Ao watched as the fla finally went out against his skin, leaving behind a faint golden, snake-shaped mark.
It flashed once, then sank out of sight.
"What is this?"
"Insurance."
Hancock leaned down, her forehead resting on his shoulder.
"If you run off for months again, I can follow the mark and find you."
After saying it, even she felt it sounded too clingy—but she still wanted to say it.
Rei Ao was silent for a while.
His arm tightened around her waist.
"It won't be that long," he said.
It sounded like a promise—and an attempt to soothe her.
Hancock didn't press further.
She only pressed closer, listening as their heartbeats gradually fell into sync.
Outside the window, seabirds swept past with long, drawn-out cries.
Kuja Island's night deepened.
…
The day they left the island was overcast.
The clouds hung low, and the sea was a brooding lead-gray. The docks were packed with people.
The Kuja Pirates' ships were undergoing a final inspection.
Warriors ran back and forth; the chants of hauling supplies rose and fell.
Hancock stood high up, watching it all.
Today she was dressed formally.
That vivid red gown, golden snake-shaped earrings, her hair pinned high—she was once again the empress who looked down on all.
Rei Ao stood beside her in an outer robe.
But his gaze cut past the island's boundary, fixed on the distance.
He was watching a "wave" no ordinary person could perceive.
Hancock followed his line of sight. All she saw was sea and sky.
"What do you see, my lord?"
"Sothing interesting," Rei Ao answered vaguely.
Hancock pressed her lips together.
She turned and tied his cloak cords for him.
Her fingers brushed the skin at his neck—still on the cool side.
She tied it slowly, loosened it, and retied it.
Again and again.
Rei Ao let her fuss, until Hancock finally stopped on her own.
"That… 'interesting thing'…"
Her voice was very soft, almost scattered by the sea wind.
"Is it more important than ?"
She regretted it the mont she asked. It sounded too much like a jealous wife—but she couldn't stop herself.
Rei Ao drew his gaze back and looked at her for a long ti.
So long that Hancock thought he wouldn't answer.
"It's not the sa," he finally said.
"You're my woman."
Hancock froze, then heat rose in her eyes.
She turned her face away and took a deep breath.
"Then co back early. I'll wait for you—always."
Rei Ao lifted a hand and lightly touched her earring.
The golden snake-shaped ornant swayed, reflecting the dull light from the sky.
"Okay," he said.
Then he turned and took a step.
His foot landed in midair as if on solid ground, ripples of transparent light spreading outward.
His figure began to fade, like ink dropped into water, dissolving little by little into the air.
Hancock didn't move.
The sea wind snapped her skirt and long hair, fluttering hard.
She stared at the place where Rei Ao had disappeared, for a long ti.
Only when Sandersonia ca over to report that the ships were ready did Hancock finally look away.
All softness drained from her expression—she was the imposing empress again.
"Set sail," she ordered.
Her voice was crisp and cold.
As she turned toward the warship, the fingers hidden in her sleeve quietly tightened, gripping a warm golden mote of light.
Sothing Rei Ao had left behind.
She'd called her mark "insurance"—and he'd left one for her in return.
Hancock clenched that light, nails digging into her palm, and still couldn't stop the corner of her mouth from lifting.
…
The West Blue.
In a dim tavern on so unknown island.
The coffee in front of Nico Robin had long gone cold.
A thin film of oil had ford on top, nauseating to look at.
She didn't touch it.
With her hood up, half her face hidden in shadow, her ears worked at full capacity, catching every scrap of information flowing through the tavern.
"They burned every last World Noble flag!"
A drunk in the corner shouted, drawing a wave of laughter.
"For real?"
"My brother saw it with his own eyes!"
"The World Governnt's gone—so who's in charge now?"
"Who cares who's in charge? As long as we pay less tax!"
Crude. Chaotic. But packed with information, all the sa.
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