An Hour Later...
The vibe inside the grand hall of the Kamabakka Kingdom was a world away from the raging sea outside.
Everyone was gathered around a long, spotless white table. Steam wafted up from platters piled high with roasted meats, fresh fruits, and local specialties. In the center, a small mountain of alcohol bottles loomed, and Jack was already gripping a massive, frothy mug of rum like it was his lifeline.
He took a deep, satisfying gulp, letting out a blissful sigh. "Ahhh. Finally, civilization."
Crocodile traced a finger along the rim of her wine glass, casting him a sideways glance. "I thought you said civilization was all about libraries and laws."
"No, my dear," Jack replied, lifting his mug in a toast. "Civilization is about enjoying alcohol indoors, away from the rain, and without someone trying to chop my head off. Everything else is just a boring pile of paperwork."
Across the table, Gibbs had somehow slipped into his groove as the crew's unofficial storyteller.
"So, that's how we ended up finding him," Gibbs said, casually gesturing toward Dragon. "Ohara."
Ivankov rested his massive chin on his hands, leaning in with keen interest. "Oh? The Scholar's Island? Dragon-boy had been there before."
Dragon stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on his drink, his expression a mystery.
"Aye," Gibbs continued, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "We weren't exactly on a mission to find the Freedom Fighters. Honestly, we didn't even know who he was back then. He just happened to be standing on the shore while we were picking through the wreckage."
Jack nodded, his usual playful demeanor fading for a moment as a rare seriousness took over.
"We crossed paths because the World Government decided to torch an entire island. Such a shame to waste a perfectly good port, if you ask me."
"You were trying to swipe ancient books, Jack," Gibbs pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
"I was preserving history, Gibbs! I was engaging in a noble act of charitable heroism!" Jack retorted, his voice filled with passion.
"You were looting a burning library," Gibbs shot back, unimpressed.
Jack waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing off the accusation. "Semantics, my friend. It's all about terminology. The important thing is, the books made it through, we made it through, and our stoic companion here played a key role in saving them."
Crocodile sat quietly, her golden hook resting against the polished wood of the table, listening intently.
She was well aware of the tale of Ohara—every notable pirate had heard bits and pieces of the tragic Buster Call that erased the island from existence. The demon child who survived. The last one standing, and part of her crew, no less.
"They obliterated an entire civilization," Crocodile said softly, her voice laced with a rare bitterness. "So much knowledge... extinguished just because a few old scholars dared to ask the wrong questions."
Dragon finally broke the heavy silence, his voice slicing through the tension like a blade. "The World Government doesn't fear weapons, Sir Crocodile. Weapons can be destroyed. They fear ideas. An idea can't be shot down, and it can't be executed."
A thick silence enveloped the hall. Jack shattered it by taking another long swig from his drink. "I've noticed. They seem awfully sensitive about their secrets." He set his mug down with a soft thud and locked eyes with Dragon. "So, my friend, what brings the world's most wanted man to a pink forest in the middle of nowhere?"
Ivankov opened his mouth to respond, but Dragon smoothly interjected before the giant could say anything. "Ivankov is an old friend. I came to talk logistics."
Jack nodded, clearly satisfied. "Fair enough. A man could use a change of scenery every now and then."
Gibbs scratched his graying beard, eyeing Dragon with a mix of respect and disbelief. "You really don't seem to hide much for a guy with the highest notoriety on the seas."
"I only showed up because I recognized the Black Pearl and your crew," Dragon said, his tone straightforward. He shot a quick glance at Ivankov. "Otherwise, Ivankov would have handled those unknown pirates approaching this island with a much less... diplomatic approach."
Ivankov puffed out his enormous chest with pride. "Hee-haw! You bet I would have! They would have been sent right back to the sea!"
Jack regarded the giant Okama thoughtfully. "Yes... I think I made a brilliantly wise decision by not starting a revolution today."
Crocodile nearly rolled her eyes at him. "You start too many revolutions as it is."
"I've started exactly two, darling! Or maybe it was more."
"That's already two too many for a single calendar year."
Before Jack could defend his record of political endeavors, the heavy double doors of the hall swung open. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed across the polished stone floor.
Van Augur's hand instinctively moved toward the stock of Senriku, his fingers tightening.
A mountain of a man stepped into the room.
He towered over seven feet tall, with a broad, immensely powerful frame that nearly filled the doorway. His dark, serious clothing stood in stark contrast to the bright, whimsical decor of the hall.
Under one massive arm, he cradled a large leather-bound Bible. Curly black hair framed a remarkably calm, stoic face, partially obscured by small, round, reflective glasses. Despite his intimidating size, every movement he made was measured, deliberate, and almost gentle.
He walked over and quietly stood beside Dragon.
Before the crew could reach for their weapons, Dragon spoke up. "He is a comrade. Lower your arms."
Augur slowly relaxed his grip on his rifle, though his gaze remained fixed on the newcomer.
Gibbs leaned in, his eyes widening. "...Bartholomew Kuma."
The enormous man offered a slow, barely noticeable nod. "I know of your crew."
Gibbs looked genuinely impressed. "The former King of the Sorbet Kingdom? Wow, it seems our Captain has a knack for running into people at the very top of the food chain."
Jack, clearly baffled, waved his hands around in exasperation. "I don't pick these encounters, Gibbs! I'm not out there hunting down monarchs and revolutionaries! They just seem to pop up in front of me. It's like a curse or something."
"It does happen suspiciously often, sir."
Kuma stood like an immovable statue next to Dragon, his silence adding to the weight of his presence, making the vast dining hall feel even more enclosed.
Dragon shifted his focus back to Jack. "So, Captain, what has your crew been up to since you dropped off the Marines' radar? You've been making quite a splash in Paradise."
He started listing off the reports. "You took down the pirate Jamie Carragher and defended Arabasta. And then... nothing."
Jack nodded with pride. "We were super busy. Mostly with tourism."
"Then two months ago, new reports came in," Dragon continued, his sharp gaze fixed on Jack. "Drum Kingdom. The sudden death of the King. The complete overthrow of Prince Wapol."
Ivankov suddenly leaned in, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Hee-haw! You know, Dragon-boy... you call yourself a freedom fighter, but Captain Jack here has toppled more tyrants than we have since the founding!"
Jack straightened up, brushing off his lapels with an air of supreme confidence. "I'm remarkably efficient when I'm properly motivated. It's a talent."
Dragon actually smiled—a brief but genuine flash of amusement. "It certainly seems that way."
Even Kuma's reflective glasses shifted slightly, his quiet gaze lingering on Jack just a moment longer.
Ivankov leaned across the table, his dramatic makeup almost overwhelming Jack's view. "So! What brings such renowned, world-shaking pirates all the way to our little Momoiro Kingdom? You're not just passing through, are you?"
Jack took one last, lingering sip of his rum before placing the empty mug down on the table. The playful glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by a heavy, grounded seriousness.
"We're searching for a cure."
Ivankov's flamboyant smile instantly disappeared. "A cure?"
"For our crew," Jack replied softly. "A mother and her young daughter. They're battling a horrific, agonizing illness, and we're running out of time."
Crocodile observed Jack from the corner of her eye, noting how he spoke without a hint of hesitation. He was completely open, not playing any mind games or weighing whether Dragon or Ivankov might exploit this vulnerability.
To her, it went against every survival instinct in the perilous world of pirates. Every pirate she had ever encountered kept their weaknesses close to their chest, like precious treasure.
But Jack? He laid everything out on the table.
Gibbs noticed Crocodile's puzzled expression and offered a soft, knowing shrug. "He does that, ma'am. When it really counts."
Van Augur nodded in agreement. "That's just how he is."
"No," Crocodile muttered under her breath, turning back to the table. "It's really not normal."
Dragon folded his scarred hands on the table, his demeanor shifting. "You came straight from Drum Kingdom. That island has the highest concentration of medical expertise in Paradise. Did they not offer any help?"
Jack shook his head, his dreadlocks swaying slightly. "They tried. They gave it their all. Dr. Kureha, a man named Hiriluk, and the whole medical council. They're researching it right now, but they've never encountered it before. They couldn't find a cure."
Dragon's expression darkened, becoming intensely serious. "What's the name of the illness?"
Jack met Dragon's gaze, his voice dropping to a harsh, quiet whisper.
"Sapphire Scales."
The hall fell into a heavy silence. Jack took a deep breath, briefly closing his eyes.
"We are trying to save... Ginny."
The moment that name left Jack's lips—
Bartholomew Kuma moved.
For the first time since entering the room, the mountain of a man's flawless, unbreakable composure utterly shattered.
His head snapped up. His hands, usually buried in his coat, twitched violently. Behind the reflective lenses of his glasses, his eyes went wide with a sudden, devastating shock.
The Bible beneath his arm slipped, hitting the stone floor with a heavy, echoing thud.
"...Ginny?" Kuma whispered, his voice trembling.
----
AN: You might've noticed a change in style. Also correct me if I get the timeline wrong or events wrong.
It's currently two and half years after Roger's death.