POV Elyndra
The thudding of boots echoed softly down the warship corridor. Elyndra wore a white training uniform with blue stripes on the sleeves. Her hair was now neatly braided back, the scar on her face left uncovered—she had refused the offer to hide it. It was part of her, part of her rage.
They had been sailing for two days from the neutral base, heading to a branch base in the West Blue for further training.
Gion stood at the ship's stern, gazing at the calm sea. The wind swept through her shimmering pink hair. Without turning, she said, "Did you sleep well last night?"
Elyndra hesitated a moment. "No."
"Good. That means you're not satisfied with yourself."
Elyndra stepped forward, standing beside her. "Do all strong people live without sleep?"
"No. But the strong don't sleep because they don't want to stop. Not because they can't."
Elyndra fell silent. In the distance, the shadow of another island shimmered on the horizon.
"I want to be strong. Strong enough to destroy the world of pirates," she murmured.
Gion turned to her, those golden eyes seeming to pierce her soul. "Then stop being an angry little girl and start becoming a woman who knows where her sword is pointed."
Elyndra lowered her head, then nodded. "I understand."
As Gion turned back to the sea, Elyndra stared at her own hands. The wounds had started to heal, but not vanish. She knew her strength wasn't enough. Deep in her heart, she knew the world would offer no mercy to a little girl seeking revenge. The world only acknowledged those strong enough to change it.
In the silence, she made a vow—to herself, to her slain family, to every scar on her body—that she would never be a victim again.
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POV Bastien
On the far end of the West Blue, a small island named Ovelia greeted them with dense jungle and a quiet beach. There was no harbor, only roots and rocks jutting out from the land.
They landed that morning, now walking along a mossy path. Tropical birds chirped from above, and the scent of wet earth filled the air.
"This the place?" Arthur asked, gripping the handle of the knife at his waist.
Lazhar nodded. "I once hid here… when the whole world was after me."
Bastien looked around. The air felt different here. Cleaner. More… empty.
"Are there people?" Bastien asked.
"A few. But they don't ask questions. And they don't care," Lazhar replied, stepping deeper into the forest.
In the heart of the jungle, they found an old wooden cabin, partly covered in roots and leaves. But the structure still stood strong.
"We're staying here?" Arthur stepped closer, checking the walls.
Lazhar lit a small campfire inside. "For now. Until you're ready to face the world again."
That night, they sat around the fire. Arthur fell asleep first, his body exhausted.
Bastien leaned back, gazing at the stars above. The night wind sent chills through his bones, but his heart felt warm. There was a different kind of silence here. Not loneliness, but a pause. A rare moment to breathe.
He thought of that girl again.
Was she still alive? Did she blame them? Would they meet again—with swords in their hands?
Lazhar opened his eyes from the corner of the room. "You're thinking of her again?"
Bastien didn't answer.
"She'll grow. Just like you. But you won't walk the same path."
Bastien stared into the fire. "But maybe we're meant to stop each other."
Lazhar didn't reply. Only the fire kept burning, dancing slowly between the forest shadows.
And beneath the starlight, two fates moved on paths growing farther apart. But not necessarily never to cross.
Because the world of One Piece is not about black and white choices.
But the clash between dreams, scars, and resolve.