A shiver traced Boa's spine as she settled into the cold silk, her full breasts already sensitive at the mere thought of sleep.
She slept naked now, a practical choice for the inevitable consequence of her dreams. They would come, dark and delicious, painting visions that left her dripping and desperate, her hand often slipping between her thighs.
Sleep took her slowly, and with it came the dream. But for the first time, she was not seeing it from Arlo's perspective. And it was not a sexual dream.
She was not Boa Hancock, Empress of anything. She was a nameless girl, barefoot on rough stone, wrists bound with old rope.
The air smelled of sweat and rain, the low murmur of voices filling the auction hall. Shadows stretched long under torchlight. Then, through the noise, someone stepped forward, calm, unhurried.
Arlo.
He didn't look like the man she knew. His clothes were plain, his eyes colder, but so strong that it made her feel like she could trust him with her life.
He spoke briefly to the auctioneer, tossed a handful of coins onto the table, and the rope around her wrists fell away.
The world blurred. Suddenly, she was outside, wind in her hair, sunlight on her face. The sea sparkled like liquid glass. Arlo stood beside her, saying nothing, only watching the horizon. When she turned to thank him, the words caught in her throat.
He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. An oddly tender gesture for someone Boa just watched rapping girls.
This dream was clearly different. It had some elements of what happened with Sasha, but the protagonist in it was Boa, and most of it was fictional. Even she could tell.
"Are you ok?" His expression softened as he asked.
Then he leaned closer and kissed her gently. It was almost like he was comforting her after saving her life.
And then, the world melted into white.
Boa's eyes fluttered open, the dim light of dawn creeping through the curtains. Her heart was racing, her lips tingling faintly as if the dream had left something behind.
For a long while, she simply lay there, hand resting over her chest, trying to make sense of what she'd seen.
It wasn't like her usual dreams. There was no power, no command, no heat, only warmth.
Besides, she was sure this dream didn't show any reality. So was that it, just a dream, just her mind creating a fantasy of what she desired?
"What… was that?" she whispered to herself, frowning slightly.
Did she really want to be saved by that terrible man?
No, of course not. The proud empress couldn't accept her feelings that easily.
օօօ
Vice Admiral Strawberry had rehearsed this moment a dozen times: the speech, the excuses to throw at a furious admiral and make the heat die down.
None of it mattered now. The room smelled of boiled tea and anger; the Admirals' chamber was packed, faces sharp as blades. At the head of the table, Akainu's gaze burned like a brand.
Strawberry stepped forward, palms slick against the dossier he'd been ordered to present. His voice wobbled only at first, then steadied into the formal cadence he'd used for years to hide his nerves.
"Sir," he began, and the single word was swallowed by the silence. "We engaged Saint Varrel's vessel on schedule. Boarding parties swept the decks. The ship was searched from bow to stern."
Akainu slammed his fist on the table; the cups jumped, and the room flinched. "And?" he snapped. "And where is he?"
Strawberry swallowed.
He had sent men; he had investigated every single corner of the North Blue, and expected to parade a captive across the docks and collect the triumph. Instead, he had an empty deck and a stack of questions with no answers.
"We don't know, sir," he said, voice thin. "We couldn't find Varrel, or his slaves, or Hina. We found no bodies, no stowaways, no signs of them. But as I said, I need more men; it has been hard to continue the operation with…"
Akainu's eyes narrowed until they were red rims of fury.
"More men?" Akainu slammed his fist on the table. "Stop giving excuses!"
"More than a week has passed! Haven't you found him yet? Do you think the Marines are a joke? Do your fucking job! Find that man, now!"
The words were a hurricane; they shredded whatever composure remained in the room.
Strawberry couldn't even muster a response.
"Vice Admiral," Akainu snarled, stepping until their faces were inches apart. "You are a senior officer. You represent the law. If you cannot accomplish a single, clear objective, you will answer for it."
Strawberry's throat worked. He tried to speak, but Akainu's fury consumed the words before they could form.
Then Sengoku's voice cut through; he had been quiet until now, hands folded, expression unreadable.
"Admiral," he said softly, and the word had weight. "Shouting will not change the facts."
Akainu's chest heaved; the red about his eyes burned like coals. He opened his mouth to retort, then closed it.
Sengoku turned his attention to Strawberry with clinical calm. "Vice Admiral Strawberry, present everything you have compiled. All logs, all reports, all surveillance feeds. Seal them and hand them to my office immediately."
Strawberry moved immediately, just wanting to escape.
Sengoku continued, voice measured. "This matter is no longer one for a single fleet. It concerns sensitive interests and a Celestial Dragon. I will instruct Cipher Pol — CP0 — to take up the investigation. They will examine intelligence angles, covert channels, but Marines should also continue investigating it."
"Then we should give him a bounty?" Akainu asked, annoyed.
"Yes," Sengoku agreed. "Actually, the office has already settled on a 500,000,000 Berry bounty."
The number was enormous, even more for someone who hasn't done anything noticeable up to that point. But they needed to capture that man.
"And there will be a bounty to whoever can give us useful information."
The Gorosei were desperate to find that man, and no effort would be spared.