Beginning-2

A dozen ships, sails full, cut through the waves. They halted at the sight of a marine fleet. From the deck, the Elephant Mink took it all in with a knowing gaze.

Marines gathered, their voices a low, urgent murmur against the sound of the sea.

"We'll check for the prisoners," one said, his words clipped and direct.

It was then that Smoker stepped forward from the fleet, his white hunter's smoke billowing around him like a cloak of authority. Bullet, a sentinel awaiting orders, met him on the deck.

"We will take it from here," Smoker declared, his voice steady, leaving no room for debate.

The marines pressed into the belly of the prisoner ship, their boots thudding on the wooden planks. The air was stale, heavy with the silence of uncertainty. As they advanced, the dim light revealed a grim tableau; Hiyori lay motionless, the delicate skin of her face marred by darkening bruises, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Beside her, Hana was sprawled, her consciousness having slipped away, leaving her vulnerable.

The sight struck a chord in Smoker's hardened heart, igniting a silent fury. Yet his exterior remained unchanged. He gave a cold nod to Douglas, hired pirates, who understood the unspoken directive.

***

The prisoner was swiftly transported to the marine ships, a silent operation under the cover of the stars.

At midnight, within the confines of the ship's dimly lit quarters, Hiyori sat bandaged and conscious. Her eyes, reflecting a depth of resilience, met Smoker's steady gaze. He sat across from her, a sentinel in the quiet room. Little Hana, with a small bandage on her forehead, was there too, her tiny hands clutching a spoon as she ate rice pudding, the sweet simplicity a stark contrast to the gravity of their situation.

"Who is responsible behind this?" Hiyori's voice was firm, seeking the hard truth.

"Baccarat," Smoker answered, his voice low.

Hiyori nodded, her response a whisper against the weight of her realization. "It makes sense."

She turned to the little girl, her eyes brimming with a mother's fear and love. Hana looked up innocently, her spoon paused mid-air. "They are after me, not my baby, right?"

"Yes, that seems to be the case," Smoker affirmed.

"I don't care what happens to me, but commander, please," Hiyori's voice broke, "I can't have her harmed, no matter the cost."

"You know who is behind all this, don't you?" Smoker's question hung in the air, heavy with implication. "Just her puppet Baccarat was able to find you. It won't be long before they find out about her."

"They don't know for now," Hiyori clung to that sliver of hope. "They won't care for some kid with an unknown father, not as much as me."

Smoker remained silent, his demeanor unyielding like the sea itself.

"Take me to them," she implored. "After she has her revenge on me, she will probably ignore the child. If I am with her, her life will be in constant danger."

"What if they don't," Smoker reasoned.

"She'll be with someone who is capable of protecting her," Hiyori's resolve was ironclad.

"No guarantees," he rasped, the words harsh but his eyes softer. "Even Yamato can't protect a butterfly in a hurricane."

Smoker continued, a dry, bitter sound. "No one in the world can save her."

Hana finished her rice pudding, sticky fingers wiping across her lips. She crawled into Hiyori's lap, a small, warm weight. Hiyori stroked her hair, the gesture a whispered prayer against the coming dawn.

"You don't need to worry," Hiyori said, and there was a fire kindled in her gaze, a fierce determination that lit her from within. "I'll serve as their distraction. She'll be preoccupied with concealing the fact that she's captured the Shogun's sister. By the time she turns her attention to search for the child, the moment will have passed. It will be too late."

Smoker looked at her, his expression unreadable, the lines on his face etched by years of smoke and sea salt. "You've got confidence," he said. "But I don't see its source."

From the side, Yamato's voice cut in, a growl that seemed to rise from deep within. "I want to save both of you." Her words were a fierce whisper, an echo of battles past.

Hiyori's eyes held Smoker's for a moment longer. "Can you leave us?" she asked. Smoker nodded and stepped away, his departure silent as the night.

"With this, we are equal," Smoker said. He was not a man given to unnecessary words. "You saved my life during the great war. Now, I am betraying the World Government." Yamato nodded, her face a mask of stoicism that her eyes, fierce and tumultuous. She was pissed after listening to all the talk.

Yamato's patience frayed, and a storm brewed within her. She unleashed her frustrations, her voice a tempest, her words crashing against the walls of the cabin like waves. 

Hiyori watched her, understanding the depth of her fury and her fear. She waited for the gusts of anger to subside before she spoke, her voice a calm harbor. "Take Hana with you," she said. "It is the only way."

Hiyori's resolve was unyielding, and in the quiet spaces between her words lay an unspoken plea that even Yamato could not ignore.

Finally, Hiyori extended her hand, a small paper card between her fingers. "Deliver her to him," she implored. "You have influence; your disappearance will not go unnoticed. They will come looking for you."

Yamato's hand trembled as she took the Vivre Card, her eyes now pools of unshed tears that threatened to spill over. "Whose vivre card is this?". Hiyori grinned unconsciously, hearing that question. "Only person in the world who can protect her!"

***

Yamato sat, the helm before her, and the sleeping child, Hana, cradled in her lap. The ship cut through the water, a path of moonlight guiding their way. The child's breathing was even, a soft counterpoint to the creak of the timbers and the whisper of the sea.

The marines watched, as the ship drifted away in the night sea. 

"We have the girl, leave the ship be. It may be a trap," Smoker said to the marine crew, watching the ship drifting away in the endless ocean.

***

Little Hana, in a small room aboard the ship, and within it, she raged like a tempest. "I want my mother!" she declared, her small fists clenched, her face a storm of emotion.

Yamato knelt beside her, her own face a study of patience. She was not used to this kind of battle, where the adversary was so small and her will so fierce. "Your mother is a brave woman," she said, "and you are brave too."

But bravery was far from Hana's mind. She stamped her foot, the sound lost in the creak of the ship and the sigh of the sea. "No!" she cried. "I want to be with her now!"

Yamato tried to gather her into her arms, but Hana was quick and slipped away, her small body fueled by a mixture of sadness and stubbornness. "I want to go home," she wailed.

A smile touched the corner of Yamato's mouth, despite the situation. She remembered the fierceness of Hiyori in her own protests, and now she saw it mirrored in her daughter.

Yamato leaned in, a whisper of strategy in her voice. "We are going to see your father," she said, the words a lullaby meant to soothe the wild seas of Hana's heart.

The effect was immediate. Hana's stormy seas calmed, her cries quieting to sniffles. "Father?" she echoed, the word laden with the magic of a child's hope.

"Yes," Yamato affirmed, her voice a steady ship in the night. "We will go to him, and your mother will be alright."

Hana looked up at Yamato, her eyes searching for the truth in her gaze. Finding it, she allowed herself to be gathered into Yamato's arms, her small world temporarily righted by the promise of a parent's protective embrace.

Hana's tears had receded, but her questions were like ripples upon the water. "Where is mom?" she asked, her voice small in the vastness of the ship.

"Some demons have her," Yamato said, the truth veiled in the simplicity of a tale, a way to translate the complex dangers into a language a child might grasp.

Hana's eyes grew wide, and her lips quivered. She buried her face into Yamato's lap, her small body shaking with sobs. "Can you bring her back?" she asked, her voice muffled against the fabric of Yamato's clothes.

Yamato's face was a canvas of sorrow, the lines etched deeply by the battles she had seen. "I wish I could," she whispered, her hand stroking Hana's hair in an attempt to offer solace.

Hana lifted her tear-streaked face, her resolve returning. "Then I will ask papa," she declared with the innocence of a child. "He will bring her back."

"Can he bring her back?" Hana's voice was a thread of hope in the dim cabin. "Is he strong enough to save her from the demons?"

Yamato's eyes held a depth of understanding as she looked down at the small face filled with worry and wonder. "He rules over the demons," she said with a soft confidence. "If you ask him nicely, he will bring her back."

Hana's eyes, so much like her mother's, brightened at the thought. The demons in her mind were no match for her father, a towering figure of strength and power.

"Will you help me ask him?" Hana's voice was now a whisper, her earlier tantrum forgotten, replaced by a child's trust in the power of her protectors.

he nodded, not wanting to extinguish the hope that shone in Hana's eyes. "Yes," Yamato said, "we will ask him together."

Hana, in her lap sniffled, wiping away the last traces of tears, and looked up at Yamato with a new sense of determination.