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When Buggy opened his eyes, the first thing he thought was that he'd drunk far more than he should have the night before.
The second was that he was definitely never drinking again.
The ceiling above him was far too high for any ship he knew, supported by thick dark wooden beams adorned with golden carvings that shimmered beneath the glow of oil lamps. Heavy white curtains framed the room, the mattress beneath him was far too soft to belong to any pirate, and the entire cabin was saturated with such a strong floral fragrance that his head began throbbing immediately.
He sat up slowly, still trying to piece together the previous night.
He remembered being in Orange Town.
He remembered Cabaji and Mohji arguing over something stupid. He remembered complaining because Richie had eaten his last meal.
After that...
Nothing.
"My Lord? You're awake?"
Buggy snapped his head around so quickly his neck nearly gave out.
The door had just opened, revealing a man in a spotless white uniform. The moment their eyes met, the man bowed deeply.
"I'm relieved to see you've awakened, Saint Asteria Buggy."
...
Buggy stared at him.
The man remained bowed.
"...Who?"
The attendant raised his head, visibly confused.
"You, my Lord."
"No, no... The name you just called."
"Saint Asteria."
"Don't know him."
The man blinked.
"...Lord Saint Asteria."
"I already told you, I don't know him."
"It's your name."
Buggy frowned.
"My name is Buggy."
"Correct."
"...Just Buggy."
"Naturally. Lord Saint Asteria Buggy."
"..." Buggy stared at him for several long seconds. "...Did you hit your head?"
The attendant looked genuinely concerned.
"No, my Lord."
"Then why the hell are you making up a last name for me? And where the hell am I?"
"I'm not inventing anything. Your family name was confirmed through the Sacred Archives, as well as the bloodline examinations conducted after your discovery in the East Blue. You are the last living descendant of House Saint Asteria."
Silence.
Buggy continued staring at him.
Then he burst out laughing.
Not a nervous laugh. A loud, utterly disbelieving cackle escaped him.
"Good one!" He clapped once, even wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. "That was really good! Who hired you? Was it Shanks? I knew it! That red-haired bastard finally decided to get revenge for the time I stuffed gunpowder into his hammock!" He pointed triumphantly at the man. "Ten out of ten performance. Now take me back to my island. I've got better things to do."
No reaction.
The attendant remained perfectly still, hands folded neatly before him, posture flawless, as though he hadn't heard the joke at all.
Buggy's smile faltered.
"...Seriously. I've got things to do." He climbed out of bed and walked toward the cabin window, pulling aside the heavy curtain. Outside, nothing but the ocean stretched to the horizon, broken only by a fleet of ships escorting the enormous vessel in perfect formation. There was no sign of Orange Town, his little ship, or even an island in the distance. "...You really did take me far away..."
"My deepest apologies for the inconvenience, Lord Saint Asteria Buggy." The man offered another respectful bow before continuing. "Your bloodline remained lost for over two decades. Locating you required years of investigation. Once your identity was confirmed through preserved records and blood examinations, Your Holiness was immediately escorted back to the place that rightfully belongs to you, alongside the other families of the Celestial Dragons."
The silence that followed felt almost too heavy for the room.
Buggy stood with his back turned for several seconds, staring out at the sea. Slowly, he glanced back at the attendant, searching for any trace of irony. Any hidden grin. Any indication that this was all some elaborate prank.
He found absolutely nothing.
"...I..." His voice came out quieter than he'd expected. "I'm... A Celestial Dragon?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"And why the hell would I want to be one of those bastards?"
The attendant's eyes widened so much Buggy thought they might fall right out of his face.
"My Lord!" He exclaimed, utterly horrified. "Those words must never be spoken! Especially not by a member of one of the Families!"
"Listen here, starch-shirt..." Buggy crossed his arms, already feeling a vein pulse in his forehead. "I'm a pirate. A pirate. And I'm also an orphan, so stop making up fairy tales and tell me where the hell I am."
The attendant inhaled deeply, regaining his composure almost instantly.
"We are currently sailing toward the Red Line. In a few hours, we will arrive at Mary Geoise."
"...Mary Geoise?"
"Correct, my Lord."
Buggy went pale.
"You people have lost your minds."
"I'm afraid not."
"Then I have."
The man said nothing.
Somehow, that made everything even worse.
Buggy had always known he was an orphan. He'd never hidden it, not from his crew, not from anyone who asked. Roger had found him when he was only three years old, completely alone on a small prehistoric island somewhere in the Grand Line. No one knew how a child that young had ended up there, much less how long he'd survived on his own. When Roger found him, Buggy couldn't remember his parents or a single detail about his life before then.
The only thing he could tell them was his own name.
And for Roger, that had been enough. The man had simply hoisted him onto his shoulders, announced to the crew that they'd picked up another brat, and carried on as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
From that day onward, the Oro Jackson had become his home.
Roger was his father.
Rayleigh raised him like a second son, dividing lectures, training sessions, and countless knocks on the head between him and Shanks. Crocus patched him up every time he got carried away during one of their games, while Gaban swore, every single week without fail, that one day he'd throw both brats overboard just to enjoy a little peace and quiet.
That was his family.
Which was precisely why hearing a complete stranger calmly insist that his true place was among the Celestial Dragons sounded so utterly ridiculous that Buggy simply couldn't believe it.
Sure, he liked money.
He liked money a lot.
If someone asked him what his greatest dream was, he'd probably answer, "A gigantic treasure", before even considering anything else.
But there was a world of difference between loving riches and becoming...
That.
The Celestial Dragons were completely insane.
They surrounded themselves with slaves, treated people like possessions, bought human lives at auctions the way someone picked fruit at a marketplace, and somehow had the audacity to wear ridiculous fishbowl helmets because, apparently, breathing the same air as the rest of humanity was simply beneath them. Just imagining that transparent bubble over his own head sent a shiver racing down his spine.
"No fucking way..."
"My Lord?"
"Nothing."
The attendant maintained his impeccable posture, as though he hadn't heard the muttered complaint.
"We have prepared garments appropriate for Your Lordship. I shall send servants to assist you in dressing. Within a few hours, we will arrive at Mary Geoise, where you will be formally received by a member of the Holy Knights."
Buggy blinked.
"...By who?"
"A Holy Knight."
"...This keeps getting better and better..."
Without another word, the attendant bowed deeply before leaving the cabin, carefully closing the door behind him.
Silence settled over the room.
Buggy stood frozen for several seconds before slowly turning toward the wardrobe. Its door was slightly ajar, inside hung the exact same clothes worn by the Celestial Dragons.
His left eye twitched.
"This is a dream..." Another twitch. "...No." He buried both hands in his face. "It's a nightmare." He walked toward the wardrobe like a man approaching his own execution. Reaching out, he gingerly touched the fabric with the tip of one finger before immediately pulling back, as though it might be contagious. "I was minding my own business in the East Blue..." He muttered to himself, staring blankly ahead. "Not bothering anybody. Doing my raids, stealing my treasures..." He let out a long, exhausted sigh. "...Goddammit."
The ship glided through the massive gates of Mary Geoise while Buggy stood perfectly still at the bow, surrounded by attendants who seemed determined to ensure that not a single strand of his hair fell out of place.
He wasn't even trying to escape anymore. After three spectacularly failed attempts during the voyage, he'd come to the conclusion that fleeing from a ship escorted by an entire World Government fleet probably wasn't his brightest idea.
Even so...
Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him the moment they disembarked.
Mary Geoise was enormous.
White marble buildings towered in every direction, immaculate gardens filled every open space, monumental fountains poured crystal-clear water into pristine pools, and dozens of people dressed exactly like the Celestial Dragons strolled through the streets as though such absurd extravagance were the most natural thing in the world.
A chill crawled down Buggy's spine.
"...I want to go home..."
"Welcome to your home, Saint Asteria."
"...Don't call this home." Buggy answered automatically, never taking his eyes off the city before him. "My home had a lousy bar, a falling-apart harbor, and a bunch of idiots fighting over food."
The attendant merely smiled politely.
"I'm certain Your Lordship will grow accustomed to it soon."
Buggy gave him the deadest stare imaginable.
"...I sincerely hope not."
Without giving him time to say another word, they escorted him off the ship.
The moment his feet touched the docks of Mary Geoise, dozens of heads immediately turned in his direction. Servants bowed deeply as he passed, World Government officers stood rigidly at attention, and several Celestial Dragons watched the newcomer with unmistakable curiosity, whispering among themselves as they realized that the last surviving member of House Saint Asteria had finally been found.
Buggy hated every second of it.
This place was... Too much.
Too clean.
Too quiet.
"...I want to go home..." He muttered for what had to be the tenth time since arriving.
Then his eyes landed on someone standing several yards ahead.
Red hair.
Perfect posture.
Formal clothes worthy of the World Nobility.
No straw hat.
A sword rested calmly at his hip while some soldiers stood behind him.
For one brief moment, Buggy became absolutely certain he'd finally lost his mind. Across from him, Shanks froze just as completely.
The two of them stood motionless, staring at one another.
Buggy's mouth slowly fell open.
Shanks' eyes widened at exactly the same pace.
Neither of them had expected to find the other here.
"...I've officially gone insane..." Buggy muttered under his breath.
One of the attendants stepped forward, blissfully unaware of the silent catastrophe that had just been born.
"Lord Saint Asteria Buggy, allow me to introduce Saint Figarland Shanks, the Holy Knight assigned to formally receive you upon your arrival in the Holy Land."
Buggy's brain simply shut down.
"...What?"
Before he could ask another question, another servant approached carrying a camera.
"If you would be so kind, please stand closer together. This is a historic occasion. The photograph will appear in newspapers across the world to announce the return of House Saint Asteria."
Neither of them moved, because both men were far too busy staring at each other as if they'd just seen a ghost.
Shanks was the first to recover enough of his senses to walk. He approached slowly, maintaining a courteous smile simply because everyone around him expected it.
Buggy did the same.
When they finally stood face to face, both of them were still smiling for the crowd.
Their eyes, however, were telling an entirely different story.
"What the hell are you doing here, you bargain-bin redhead?" Buggy hissed through clenched teeth, barely moving his lips.
Shanks' smile never wavered.
"I could ask you the exact same question." He replied just as quietly. "How the hell did you end up in Mary Geoise?"
"A bunch of lunatics showed up in the East Blue claiming I'm a Celestial Dragon!"
"I noticed." The redhead let out an almost imperceptible sigh. "They informed me a few days ago that one of the old Celestial Dragon Houses had finally been found. I never imagined it'd be you."
Buggy fell silent for a moment.
Then he narrowed his eyes.
"...And you?"
"Hm?"
"How the fuck did you become 'Saint Figarland Shanks'?"
Shanks grimaced so subtly it was almost invisible.
"...That's a story for another time."
"The hell it is. I want answers right now."
"Trust me..." The redhead kept smiling politely at everyone watching the ceremony. "You are not going to like a single one of them."
"I've hated everything since the moment I woke up."
"Then let's get this over with."
"I hate you."
"Love you too."
Before Buggy could fire back, the photographer called out loudly.
"Excellent! Now, if you would, please shake hands."
The two men remained frozen for a brief moment.
Buggy looked at Shanks' hand as though it were venomous.
Shanks regarded Buggy's with exactly the same expression.
At the exact same moment, they both sighed. Wearing the most painfully artificial smiles ever seen on the faces of two men, they extended their hands and shook.
Click.
The flash illuminated the dock.
In the photograph, destined to occupy the front page of newspapers around the world, two noblemen smiled cordially as they celebrated the reunion of two ancient families of the World Nobility.
Reality, however, was a little different.
And both of them had the deeply unpleasant feeling that this was only the beginning of one truly monumental headache.
.
One week later, the photograph dominated the front page of newspapers sailing across every sea.
To the rest of the world, it was simply another story involving the World Nobility. An ancient Celestial Dragon bloodline, believed extinct for decades, had finally been rediscovered. The last surviving member of House Saint Asteria had returned to Mary Geoise, where he was formally welcomed by Saint Figarland Shanks, one of the Holy Knights.
The image of the two men shaking hands occupied nearly half the front page, both wearing the same diplomatic smile that any outsider would mistake for cordiality. To anyone who didn't know them, it was a perfectly ordinary photograph. To a handful of men scattered across the Grand Line... It was complete and utter insanity.
At Sabaody, Rayleigh was strolling leisurely along the docks when a newspaper vendor passed by shouting the day's headlines. He bought a copy out of habit, thanked the man with a distracted wave, and continued walking as he unfolded the paper.
He never even reached the second page.
His footsteps simply stopped the instant his eyes landed on the headline. Rayleigh stood perfectly still, staring at the photograph without so much as blinking. Then he slowly lowered the newspaper, gazed out at the sea for several long seconds as though expecting the image to disappear before he looked again...
... And raised the paper once more.
The photograph was still there.
Buggy.
Shanks.
In Mary Geoise.
Dressed like Celestial Dragons.
Shaking hands.
"...What the fuck is this...?"
It wasn't the headline that had caught his attention. Nor the article explaining the rediscovery of House Saint Asteria.
It was their expressions.
Rayleigh had known those boys since before they could properly hold a sword. He'd watched them grow up aboard the Oro Jackson, fight over every ridiculous thing imaginable, cry whenever he grounded them, and get beaten side by side during training.
He knew their genuine smiles.
Their smug smiles.
And, most importantly...
He knew the fake smile both of them wore whenever they were completely screwed and trying to convince everyone everything was fine. The smile in that photograph... It was exactly that one.
On the other side of the world, Scopper Gaban had much the same reaction.
He was finishing breakfast when he casually unfolded the morning paper. The moment he saw the front page, his coffee mug slipped from his fingers and shattered against the floor.
He didn't even notice.
He simply kept staring at the photograph, as though his own brain refused to process what his eyes were seeing.
"...No..."
He pulled the newspaper closer to his face.
Then farther away.
Tilted it sideways.
Read the headline once.
"...No..."
Shanks... Shanks could almost be explained. The boy had always carried a few unanswered questions about his past ever since Roger found him as a baby. But Buggy?
Buggy was just... Buggy.
The loudest brat on the ship, somehow capable of turning even the simplest chore into a full-blown disaster. The kid who hid food in his cabin because he was convinced Shanks kept stealing his sweets.
The Den Den Mushi rang only a few minutes later.
Gaban didn't even need to look to know who was calling.
"You saw it?"
"I did."
Silence.
The two men remained quiet for several long seconds, as though each of them expected the other to declare the whole thing fake.
"...Do you believe it?" Gaban finally asked.
Rayleigh looked at the photograph again, he didn't answer immediately. Instead, he studied the two faces with the patience of someone who had known them for over twenty years.
Their eyes gave everything away.
"No."
"Neither do I."
"Look at their faces."
Gaban studied the picture once more.
"...They're terrified." Another silence settled between them. "You think they were kidnapped?"
"I'm almost certain of it. Because there isn't a universe where Buggy would willingly set foot in Mary Geoise."
"Or one where Shanks would happily pose for a newspaper."
Rayleigh carefully folded the front page, never taking his eyes off the photograph for even a second. The article claimed it was a historic meeting between two ancient noble families.
He saw something entirely different. He saw two boys he'd helped raise, trapped in the one place they would least want to be.
Gaban sighed on the other end of the line.
"...So?"
Rayleigh smiled faintly.
A small, calm smile. Exactly the sort of smile he usually wore a few minutes before doing something completely insane.
"...We're going to bring our sons home, aren't we?"
"...Thought you'd never ask." On the other end, Gaban was already grabbing his pack. "So... Where are we meeting?"
"The last port where we left the Oro Jackson."
"...You're serious?"
"Completely."
"After all these years..."
Rayleigh slowly folded the newspaper shut.
He looked at the photograph one last time. Then he smiled with that same quiet expression that always preceded absolute chaos.
"If someone was crazy enough to put my two brats inside Mary Geoise..." His voice was dangerously calm. "...I think it's time the World Government remembered why the Pirate King's crew was never a group of reasonable people."