Gunnar stirred as the first light of dawn filtered through the thin curtain of the medical tent. Smoothie's arms were wrapped around him, her long silver hair cascading over his chest. She was still asleep, her breath slow and steady, her cheek resting gently against his shoulder.
He shifted slightly, wincing at the pain that flared in his side. Immediately, Smoothie stirred and blinked open her eyes.
"You're awake," she whispered, her voice still heavy with sleep, but her smile wide with relief.
"Didn't want to be," Gunnar murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Waking up like this… I could stay in this dream forever."
Smoothie leaned up and kissed his forehead. "You're an idiot."
"Your idiot," he corrected with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes, but couldn't stop smiling.
"Always."
They stayed like that for a while.
Later That Day
Gunnar lay on a stretcher, his upper body slightly propped up, bandages wrapped across his chest and side. Smoothie stood at his side, arms crossed protectively, her expression unreadable.
Whitebeard stood tall before him, arms folded, his great shadow falling over the room. His smile was wide and proud, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement beneath his massive mustache.
"You make your father proud, my Son" Whitebeard boomed, his laughter shaking the walls.
Gunnar gave him a tired grin. "Didn't mean to steal the spotlight, pops."
Whitebeard tossed a wanted poster onto his lap. Gunnar's eyes flicked down.
"Edward Gunnar" — ฿880,000,000 Berries
Gunnar blinked. "This… isn't a joke?"
"You think the World Government's got time to joke?" Whitebeard chuckled. "You took down a warlord, two big pirates, froze half the battlefield, destroyed a whole castle and cracked the earth open like a damn nut. They're scared of you. Good. That means you're doing something right."
Smoothie smiled, pride softening her eyes.
Marco stepped into the room, arms relaxed. "He's got a few broken ribs, some burns, and a whole lot of nerve damage from that final attack. But he'll recover." He smiled at Gunnar. "Give it a week. You'll be back to wrecking ships and charming women."
Gunnar raised an eyebrow. "You saying I'm not charming now?"
Smoothie answered for Marco, brushing a hand over his hair. "You're annoying, reckless, and stubborn."
"But?" Gunnar prompted.
"But… you're mine," she said, softly.
---
That Night
The moonlight pooled through the open flap of the tent. Gunnar lay on the cot, bandages freshly changed. Smoothie lay beside him, half under the blanket, one arm resting across his chest. Her fingers curled gently into the fabric of his shirt.
Neither of them said anything for a while.
He turned to her, brushing her cheek. "There's something in your eyes."
Smoothie blinked. "What?"
"You want to say something," Gunnar said, voice gentle.
She looked away. "You're thinking too much again."
"No," he said, pulling her closer. "I'm thinking just enough."
Smoothie kept her gaze down.
Gunnar cupped the back of her head and pulled her into his arms, tighter this time, cradling her like the only thing in the world that mattered. "It's fine. You don't have to say it now. You can tell me when you're ready."
Her arms closed around him slowly, a long silence following. Then, just a whisper—
"…Thank you."
And with that, they lay under the stars, in the silence of a warship at peace.
***
Few Days Later
Sunlight bathed the training grounds on the deck of the Moby Dick. The salty breeze rolled over the ocean, fresh and wild, carrying with it the sounds of clashing steel and young voices shouting with effort and excitement.
A group of rookie pirates, wide-eyed and burning with ambition, charged at a single man in the center of the ring.
"Come on! All at once!" Gunnar grinned, shirtless now, bandages off. His muscles flexed as he rolled his neck, exhaling steam in the morning light. "You won't learn a damn thing unless you get serious!"
Five rookies came at him—swords raised, footsteps frantic. One lunged straight at him, aiming for his midsection.
Gunnar's body tilted effortlessly, the blade slicing nothing but air. Another pirate swung from behind, but Gunnar dipped, grabbed his arm, and flipped him over with a crash.
His eyes glowed faintly—a flicker of Observation Haki. He didn't need to look. He felt them all.
"You're telegraphing too much," he called out, catching one sword mid-air with his bare hand and shoving its wielder to the ground with a boot. "The moment you decide to attack, I've already dodged it in my head."
One pirate tried to shoot him—Gunnar stepped sideways, grabbed the rookie's collar, and slung him into the others like a cannonball.
"Feel the flow," Gunnar said calmly, standing in the middle of the groaning pile. "Don't force it. You don't fight the sea, do you? You move with it."
The rookies gasped for breath, grinning in defeat.
From the ship's railing, Smoothie watched, arms crossed. Her long legs draped lazily over the edge of a barrel, a bottle of juice in one hand. Her usual cool detachment lingered in her posture, but her gaze didn't leave Gunnar for a second.
Beside her, Ace leaned on the railing, watching with a smirk. "He's good with people," Ace said. "Not what I expected when I first met him."
Smoothie raised an eyebrow. "You expected someone quieter?"
Ace chuckled, flames flickering briefly on his shoulder. "No. I expected someone worse."
She snorted softly. "That's fair."
Ace's gaze drifted to the sea. "Do you miss it? Totto Land?"
Smoothie took a long sip from her drink before answering. "No," she said flatly.
Ace turned to her, surprised. "Really? Not even a little?"
"Not even once," she replied. "That place was a cage with cake walls and sugar bars. I don't miss being watched, being used for deals or power plays. I'd rather be broke and free on a junk ship than be back there."
Ace grinned. "Yeah, I get that."
A soft clink interrupted them.
Isshin, sitting on a stool nearby, was polishing his katana. The blade gleamed with a cold, deliberate shine. The old swordsman didn't look up as he spoke, his voice deep and steady.
"She's telling the truth. When a warrior leaves home and never looks back, it means she was already gone long before her feet crossed the shore."
Smoothie turned to him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You write poetry now, young man?"
"I speak truth," Isshin replied, lifting the sword and examining it with a satisfied nod. "And truth often sounds like poetry to those who don't expect it."
Ace let out a sharp laugh. "You're getting real philosophical for someone whose first entry on ship was to kill her Husband."
Isshin smirked. "People Change."
---
Later That Afternoon
The sun began to dip, casting long shadows across the deck.
Jozu, hulking and broad as ever, strode across the deck, a thick scroll in his hands. He approached the mast where Whitebeard stood overlooking the sea, arms crossed.
"Pops," Jozu said, his voice gravelly but respectful. "All squads are ready. We finished the final drills this morning. Division Zero's formation can commence."
Whitebeard turned slowly, his massive frame creaking like an old ship hull. "So... it's finally time."
Jozu nodded. "Everything's in place. Just waiting on your word."
There was a moment of silence as the old titan of the seas looked up at the horizon, the sun bleeding into the ocean like gold spilling from a cracked chest.
"Then we begin," Whitebeard said, voice like thunder muffled in velvet. "The world's been quiet too long. Let's remind them why they feared the Whitebeard Pirates."
The wind rose.
Seagulls scattered.
And deep in the belly of the ship, the drums of Division Zero began to beat.