Calm Belt — Amazon Lily, Royal Palace
Something was wrong with Boa Hancock.
That much had become obvious to everyone in the palace by noon.
The Pirate Empress, who usually carried herself with impossible elegance and absolute certainty, was now sprawled across her lavish bed in a state that could only be described as catastrophic. Silk sheets were twisted around her legs, several pillows had been thrown onto the floor, and the curtains had been drawn halfway shut to keep out the light that, according to Hancock, was "far too bright to be endured by a maiden in agony."
Her cheeks were flushed.
Her breathing was uneven.
And every few moments she would clutch at her chest and whisper something incomprehensible into the pillow before rolling onto her side and staring blankly into space.
Sandersonia and Marigold stood by the bedside looking genuinely alarmed.
Several attendants hovered nearby, unsure whether they were supposed to panic, cry, or simply wait for their Empress to issue commands. None of them had ever seen Hancock like this. Not in anger. Not in sorrow. Not even in embarrassment.
This was something else entirely.
Marigold stepped forward first, her voice soft with concern.
"Sister… are you in pain?"
Hancock slowly turned her head on the pillow and gave her a look that was somehow both miserable and offended.
"Obviously," she said weakly.
Sandersonia frowned, folding her arms.
"But what kind of pain is it?" she asked. "You don't have any wounds. There's no poison. You don't have a fever."
Hancock shut her eyes.
"It hurts," she muttered.
"Where?" Marigold asked quickly.
Hancock placed a hand over her chest and whispered, as if confessing some terrible truth to the heavens themselves—
"Here…"
Sandersonia and Marigold looked at one another.
Then back at Hancock.
Then to the maids.
No one understood anything.
One of the attendants opened her mouth as if to suggest medicine, but before she could speak, the doors to the chamber swung open.
Gloriosa entered.
The old former Empress of Amazon Lily moved with surprising speed for someone her age, cane tucked beneath one arm, sharp eyes immediately scanning the room and its atmosphere. The moment her gaze landed on Hancock's condition, her expression changed.
Not to surprise, but recognition.
She walked forward without a word and hopped up onto the edge of the bed with the familiarity of someone who had long since given up respecting royal furniture.
"Move," she said.
Sandersonia and Marigold obeyed at once.
Gloriosa leaned over Hancock, checked her forehead, then her pulse, then the look in her eyes.
And then she let out a long, knowing sigh.
"Oh dear."
Marigold stepped closer.
"What is it, Elder Nyon?" she asked. "What's wrong with sister?"
Gloriosa looked at them both.
Then said, in the grave tone of someone diagnosing a terminal illness—
"She has been struck with love sickness."
Silence followed.
Absolute silence.
One maid dropped the cloth she had been holding.
Sandersonia blinked.
"…What?"
Marigold looked even more confused. "Love… sickness?"
Neither of them recognized the term.
Neither did most of the attendants.
Gloriosa folded her arms and nodded gravely.
"Yes. Love sickness."
She turned slightly, the room naturally drawing around her as she began to explain.
"It is an old illness," she said, "one deeply tied to the women of Amazon Lily. Especially those who bear the burden of the throne. When a woman of this island falls truly, deeply in love and refuses to accept it, or is unable to act on it, her body begins to wither beneath the strain."
Sandersonia and Marigold stiffened.
Gloriosa continued.
"The symptoms begin with restlessness. Then fever. Then pain in the chest. Loss of appetite, distraction, weakness, confusion. The heart and body become consumed by feelings too large to remain contained." She glanced down at Hancock, whose face had gone even redder at being discussed so directly. "If left unresolved… it can kill."
That last part landed heavily.
The attendants gasped.
Marigold's eyes widened in horror. "Kill?!"
Gloriosa nodded once.
"The women of Amazon Lily are warriors. Proud women. Strong women. But some things cannot be conquered through strength alone." Her voice softened. "There were former Empresses who succumbed to this sickness. They died because they could not follow their hearts."
Sandersonia looked from Gloriosa to Hancock and back again.
"You mean…"
"Yes," Gloriosa said. "This is no ordinary ailment."
Hancock covered half her face with the blanket.
"I did not ask to be diagnosed in front of everyone," she muttered.
Gloriosa ignored her.
Marigold's brows furrowed as she processed everything. "So the cure is…"
"To stop resisting it," Gloriosa said. "To accept the feeling. To follow it."
A strange look came over Sandersonia's face.
Then realization.
Slow.
Terrible.
Inevitable.
She turned toward Hancock.
"…It's him."
Marigold nodded immediately. "Of course it's him."
The attendants looked confused again.
Gloriosa, however, had already arrived at the same conclusion.
Her eyes widened.
Then narrowed sharply.
She turned toward Hancock with sudden intensity.
"It's that boy, isn't it?" she demanded. "That Marine!"
Hancock's blanket shifted higher over her face.
"Silence."
"That North Blue boy from the newspaper!"
"Silence!"
"The one who punched the Celestial Dragon!"
Gloriosa shot to her feet atop the mattress, scandalized.
"Have you lost your mind?!" she barked. "A Marine?! Of all people, you chose a Marine?!"
Hancock sat up at once, blanket still draped around her shoulders, eyes flaring with outrage despite her condition.
"I did not 'choose' anything!" she snapped. "My heart merely recognized an extraordinary man!"
Sandersonia and Marigold did not look shocked.
Not even a little.
After all—
Their sister had proposed marriage to him in front of everyone.
Gloriosa pointed at Hancock with her cane, trembling with exasperation.
"You reckless girl! A man punches one Celestial Dragon and now you've collapsed into romance-induced near-death?"
Hancock looked away, cheeks burning.
"…He was beautiful."
Gloriosa nearly choked.
Marigold rubbed at her forehead.
Sandersonia sighed deeply.
"Yes," Sandersonia said. "We're aware."
Gloriosa took several calming breaths, none of which appeared to work.
Then she looked back at Hancock and said, with the full force of an old woman who had already lived through too much nonsense—
"If you don't deal with this properly, it will get worse."
Hancock's expression softened slightly.
Her hand drifted once more to her chest.
And quietly, almost helplessly, she whispered—
"I know…"
---
Grand Line — Marineford, Fleet Admiral's Office
The atmosphere inside Fleet Admiral Sengoku's office had gone from tense to intolerable.
The lead information specialist stood before the desk sweating through his uniform, posture rigid with the terror of a man who had delivered bad news and then been forced to remain in the room while the consequences spread.
Sengoku was still seated.
But only barely.
His entire body looked like it wanted to stand up, shout, throw a desk through the wall, and retire all at once.
Across from him, Vice Admiral Garp sat like a man at a festival.
Laughing.
Actually laughing.
"Hahahaha!" Garp roared, slapping one hand against his knee. "That brat really did it! He went after Ace!"
Sengoku's eye twitched.
"This is not funny, Garp."
Garp wiped at the corner of one eye. "It's a little funny."
Tsuru, seated nearby, rested her chin lightly on one hand and gave the information specialist a look that encouraged him to continue before Sengoku exploded.
The man swallowed.
"Captain Tenjin forced his way into the Information Center," he said. "He demanded the closest major pirate sightings. When he heard Fire Fist Ace was last seen in the Kingdom of Lulusia, he concluded, on what he described as a 'hunch' that Ace may next appear at Banaro Island."
Garp grinned wider.
"He's got instincts."
"He's got a death wish," Sengoku snapped.
The information specialist nodded frantically and continued.
"He then proceeded to commandeer a warship fitted for Calm Belt travel and forced the maintenance crew to take him toward Jaya."
That did it.
Sengoku stood.
Immediately.
His chair scraped backward across the floor.
"Jaya?!" he barked. "He's already left Marineford?"
The specialist nodded so hard it looked painful. "Yes, Fleet Admiral."
Sengoku grabbed a Den Den Mushi from his desk at once and dialed the harbor gates.
"Answer," he muttered. "Answer!"
The line connected.
"This is Sengoku. Report. Did Captain Tenjin depart?"
A nervous voice came from the other end.
"F-Fleet Admiral! Yes sir. He departed some time ago. We were going to file the irregular movement report but—"
Sengoku hung up.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like a man who knew the next wrong movement might kill someone.
Garp, meanwhile, looked deeply entertained.
"Do you think he can really do it?" Garp asked. "Capture Ace?"
Sengoku turned his head so sharply that it should have been illegal.
"Why," he asked in a dangerously calm voice, "are you proud right now?"
Garp shrugged. "He's aiming high."
Tsuru let out a soft sigh, though a small part of her seemed almost impressed despite herself.
Sengoku rubbed both hands over his face and reached for another Den Den Mushi.
"If he engages the second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates on his own," he muttered, "then the paperwork alone will kill me."
He dialed.
This time, Tenjin answered.
---
Grand Line — At Sea, Aboard Stolen Warship
The wind was fierce out on open water.
It tugged at Tenjin's coat, sending its white fabric snapping behind him as he stood at the bow of the commandeered warship. The maintenance crew he had forced into service moved nervously around the deck, none of them willing to meet his eyes for too long.
Tenjin's gaze remained forward.
Fixed on the sea.
On the future.
On the possibility of Fire Fist Ace.
Then—
Purururururu.
He reached into his coat and pulled out the Den Den Mushi.
"Yeah?"
Sengoku's voice hit him immediately.
"Tenjin. Do not do this."
Tenjin blinked once.
He shifted the Den Den Mushi slightly against his ear.
"…Fleet Admiral?"
"Yes, Fleet Admiral," Sengoku said, voice tight with controlled strain. "You are not to pursue Portgas D. Ace. He is a commander of an Emperor's crew. If you engage him without authorization, you will cause an international incident on top of all the other chaos you've already created."
Tenjin listened.
Calmly.
He did not look particularly troubled.
Once Sengoku was done, he answered in the same relaxed tone he used when discussing the weather.
"If I capture Ace, then all of this will sort itself out."
There was a stunned silence on the other end.
Then—
"No, it will not—"
But Tenjin had already moved the snail away from his ear.
"Thanks, Fleet Admiral."
And clicked the line shut.
---
Marineford — Fleet Admiral's Office
Sengoku slowly lowered the Den Den Mushi.
The silence that followed was terrible.
Garp looked delighted.
Tsuru looked thoughtful.
The information specialist looked as though he had just witnessed the moment a natural disaster became self-aware.
Sengoku closed his eyes.
Then pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose.
A headache began forming with the inevitable certainty of fate.
"He hung up on me," Sengoku said.
After a long pause, Garp let out another laugh.
Sengoku did not even look at him this time.
He simply sank back into his chair, stared at the mountain of paperwork on his desk, and felt, with perfect clarity, that his career was being personally dismantled by one extraordinarily motivated North Blue lunatic.
---
Find early chapters and daily updates on my patreon
[Patreon.com/tenten100?]
Follow me on Instagram [www.instagram.com/tenten100_?]