The grand tournament had concluded. The annual spectacle held to determine the strongest among the Kuja tribe had, as always, been a sight to behold. Boa Hancock, the Pirate Empress, presided over it from her elevated throne, gazing down upon her warriors with an indifferent yet commanding presence. Each clash of weapons, each roar of battle, stirred the air around her, but none stirred her heart. That is, until one warrior stepped forth and proved herself unmatched.

It was her. The one who now stood victorious, head held high, not in arrogance, but in quiet confidence. Her name whispered across the island by admiring tongues. She had bested every opponent, each strike, swift and graceful, each move displaying raw, undeniable power. Even Hancock, who was accustomed to being unmoved, found her gaze drawn to the warrior’s every step, every calculated motion, every intense look.

Pathetic, Hancock thought to herself, dismissing her own interest, flicking her black hair over her shoulder. No one could capture the Pirate Empress’s attention. No one.

But her heart, traitorous as ever, thumped a little faster as the feast began.

The banquet hall glowed under the warm torchlight, the music of celebration filling the air. Tables were laden with the finest dishes, Kuja warriors exchanging tales of their battles and victories. Yet Boa Hancock found herself seated at the grand table, her eyes resting solely on her—on the victor. She barely tasted the wine in her cup, her appetite for the evening’s pleasures having vanished the moment the warrior had emerged victorious.

“Why...?” she murmured under her breath, her long fingers tightening around the cup. Why do my eyes linger on her?

No answer came, save for the steady beat of her heart. It was unnerving. Unsettling. Boa Hancock, the woman whom the world adored, the one who could bring men to their knees with a mere glance, was captivated by this quiet, strong warrior who neither sought to curry her favor nor flaunt her triumph.

Clatter—the sound of Boa placing down her cup was sharp, drawing the attention of the room. The Empress rose gracefully, her golden snake earrings swaying with her movement, commanding immediate respect and silence from all. Her long, red gown trailed behind her as she moved, the eyes of her people following her every step.

But Boa's eyes? They were fixed on her.

As she approached the warrior, each step seemed to echo louder in her ears. Thud. Thud. Thud. She hated how her heart raced.

Finally, she stood before her. The warrior turned, their eyes meeting, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. A quiet tension filled the space between them. The sounds of the feast faded into a dull hum, barely noticeable. Hancock, normally so eloquent, felt a rare and unusual pause in her throat. Her lips, normally quick with dismissive remarks or arrogant praise, hesitated.

“How... remarkable,” she began, her voice soft yet commanding. Her gaze, sharp as ever, scanned the warrior’s face, searching for something she could not name. “To think that among all my warriors, you would stand victorious. I must say, I am... impressed.”

Her words hung in the air, and yet, there was more she wanted to say. But what? Boa Hancock—the Boa Hancock—was at a loss for words.

What is this... feeling?

She took a breath, her chest rising and falling with a steadying calm that she forced upon herself. The world had not changed. She was still the Empress. And yet... she was about to speak to her as no one else.

“Come, walk with me.” Her voice was firm, but her heart thundered with anticipation as she waited for the warrior to respond.