Beginning-1

"Hana... Hana..." echoes Hiyori's voice, as she weaves through the throng in pursuit of the five-year-old.

Hana bolts and collides with Yamato. She glares up at her, her anger flaring in a swift punch. Yamato merely watches, a matured lady now, yet as robust as ever.

Hiyori catches Hana, her hand gently tapping the child's tousled green hair. Her gaze lifts to meet Yamato's, an apology forming for her child's behavior.

Their eyes lock. Recognition sparks. Hiyori, a woman now, mature and steady. Yamato, silent. Hiyori, a hint of fear in her eyes, turns to leave, the child in tow.

"Hiyori," Yamato's voice halts her.

She tenses, her hand instinctively going to the sword strapped to her back, "Hana, stay behind me."

Yamato raises his hand, "I didn't come to apprehend you, quite the contrary."

Hiyori lowers her weapon, trust in her former hero apparent. "I'm doing fine on my own," she replies.

Yamato's gaze shifts to Hana, "She bears a striking resemblance to you," he notes, studying the child's petite frame and flowing green hair.

"You've been found out, I'm here to ensure my daughter's and also my granddaughter's safety," She informs her.

Hiyori pales, "What? How? I don't believe you," she stammers. She was used to her calling her daughter.

"Not here," Yamato insists, "We need to converse in a more private setting." Hiyori glances at the gathering crowd, the stirred attention not lost on her. "They used a seer, I'll explain later."

Seers, those who could glimpse the future, were not uncommon in places like Fishman Island. But their visions were unpredictable, and the thought that one could be used to locate them was absurd.

"I'll meet you here," he hands Hiyori a scrap of paper with an address. "9 am sharp," She adds, his tone firm.

The midnight was quiet, the world shrouded in darkness, a solemn blanket of tranquility. Hana lay in the hush, her innocent slumber undisturbed. She was a little creature of five years, her life just beginning to unfurl. Her hair, long and green, lay scattered across the pillow, alive like a silken river. In the dim light, her face was a tranquil mask of childhood dreams, untouched by the worries of a world she was yet to comprehend.

Not far from her, Hiyori sat rigid on a chair, her sword resting in her lap. The steel was cold and unyielding, a silent testament to the weight of the night. Her face was stern, her eyes unblinking, staring into the abyss of the darkness. This was her longest night, each tick of the clock stretching into an eternity.

***

Baccarat, the wielder of the luck devil fruit, stood solemnly before the ministers of various nations. They bowed their heads in shame, their pride swallowed by the fear of her power. "You're all fortunate," she said in a voice that echoed through the silent hall, "another late payment and you'll forfeit the pleasure of breathing." Her eyes gleamed menacingly behind her lifted glasses.

Above her, flying ships hummed in the air, their bellies heavy with loads of gold. With a final glance at the disgraced ministers, Baccarat turned on her heel and walked towards her chariot. It was a vision in gold, resplendent in the midday sun, pulled by two winged unicorns as white as the clouds they would soon traverse.

Settling into the plush seat of her chariot, Baccarat watched as the world began to shrink beneath her. The ringing of the transponder snail broke the peaceful hum of the chariot's flight. She picked it up, her face a mask of calm expectation.

"The target's been found, madam. It's definitely Hiyori," the voice on the other end informed her. Baccarat let out a sigh of relief, a small smile playing on her lips. The news, however, did not end there. "She's not alone. There's a little girl with her."

"A little girl?" Baccarat's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"She called Hiyori 'mother'," the voice added.

A shock ran through Baccarat, her body stiffening. An evil grin spread across her face. "I need both of them... alive. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," the voice confirmed.

Baccarat relaxed back into her seat, her mind racing with plans and possibilities. "Change the chariot's course," she commanded, her voice filled with anticipation, "Let's visit master."

***

Midnight.

The silence was so profound it felt as though the world itself was holding its breath. Only the sound of quiet footsteps broke the stillness. Hiyori moved with a hunter's grace, her every step calculated and silent. She slipped towards the door, her grip firm around the hilt of her katana.

On the other side of the door, a man clad in dark clothes readied himself. His shadow stretched out behind him, a dark specter against the moonlit ground. He was not alone. A hundred men, armed to the teeth, waited anxiously behind him. Yet, atop a nearby tree, a man rested, his arms folded across his chest. Douglas Bullet, known to have sailed with the first Pirate King, watched the scene with disinterest.

As the dark figure reached for the door, the sharp edge of Hiyori's katana pierced through the wooden barrier. The man gasped, a surprised look on his face as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Screams erupted from the crowd of men. They charged, a wave of fury and vengeance, towards the shabby old building. Weapons gleamed in the moonlight as they swarmed towards their fallen comrade.

Hiyori steeled herself, her eyes flickering to the sleeping child tucked away in a corner of the room. A silent promise passed her lips as she turned back to the door, her sword ready.

She danced among the men, her movements graceful and deadly.

Hiyori moved like lightning, her blade an extension of her will. The first man lunged at her, a brutish sword raised high. She sidestepped his clumsy attack and, with a swift upward stroke, disarmed him. Even before he could comprehend his loss, her blade found his neck, and he slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Two more men converged on her, their movements synchronized. They were seasoned fighters, their attacks coordinated. Hiyori parried the first strike, her blade ringing against the attacker's. The second man swung at her, but she ducked, the edge of his sword whistling above her head. With a swift twist, she drove her blade into the first man's gut, then pivoted on her heel to meet the second man's renewed attack.

She danced around him, her body swaying like a reed in the wind. His sword came down, missing her by a hair's breadth. She retaliated, her blade slicing through the air to find its mark. He fell, joining his comrades on the blood-soaked ground.

A rain of arrows descended upon her. Hiyori moved with the grace of a dancer, her body twisting and turning to avoid the deadly projectiles. She closed the distance between her and the archers, her blade singing as it cut through the air. One by one, they fell, their bows useless at such close range.

More men charged at her, their faces masks of rage. Hiyori met them head-on, her blade a blur of silver. She was a whirlwind of death, her movements fluid and precise. She cut down man after man, her blade never missing its mark.

The child woke up. Her eyes widened at the sight of the chaos. She saw bodies strewn across the room, some still, some writhing in pain. At the center of it all was Hiyori, her clothes torn and bloodied, her breathing ragged. The child's heart pounded in her chest, but she stayed silent, her instincts screaming at her to not draw attention.

In the distance, Douglas Bullet watched the scene with a cold, detached gaze. He turned to the Elephant Mink who stood next to him. The Mink was a hulking figure, his elephantine features imposing and fearsome. "Subdue her," Bullet commanded, his voice as cold as ice.

The Mink lumbered forward, his heavy footsteps echoing through the silent night. Hiyori squared her shoulders, her grip on her katana tightening. She was ready, even as exhaustion tugged at her limbs.

The Mink charged, his massive body a blur of motion. Hiyori moved, her sword slicing through the air. But the Mink was fast, faster than any creature his size had any right to be. He dodged her attack, his massive fist connecting with her side. She stumbled, pain shooting through her body.

Hiyori swung at him again, her movements desperate. The Mink parried her attack, his own blade cutting through the air. She blocked, the impact jarring her arm. She attacked again, her movements a blur. But the Mink was relentless. He attacked, his blows coming faster and faster.

Hiyori faltered. Her movements slowed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her vision blurred, her strength waning. The Mink struck again, his blade cutting through her defenses. She fell, her body hitting the ground with a thud.

The child watched as Hiyori lay on the ground, unconscious. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear gripping her. But she remained silent, her instincts keeping her still.

The Mink turned away, his job done. Douglas Bullet watched as Hiyori's body was dragged away, his gaze as cold as ever. The night was silent once again, the chaos of the fight a stark contrast to the stillness that followed.

The Mink barked out an order, his voice echoing in the silent night. A man lunged at the girl, his meaty fingers closing around her arm. She bit down on his hand, her tiny teeth sinking into his flesh. "Let go!" she hissed, her voice surprisingly fierce for one so small.

He yelped, releasing her. She fell to the ground, but quickly scrambled to her feet. The man lunged at her again, but she was ready. Her hand closed around a dagger on the ground.

With a cry, she drove the dagger into his skull. He fell, a lifeless heap on the ground. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her small frame shaking with the effort of the fight.

From a distance, Douglas Bullet watched the scene unfold. Until now, he had been uninterested, his gaze distant and detached. But now, his eyes gleamed with fascination. The child had spirit, he had to give her that.

Others rushed forward, their chains clinking ominously. They grabbed her, their hands heavy and unyielding. The child struggled, but their grip was too strong. They chained her, the cold metal biting into her skin. She glared at them, her eyes flashing with defiance.