Chapter 13: Name on the Wind
The wind shifted.
Not with weather — but with weight. Kira felt it as soon as the Tempest Wing dropped anchor outside Arume Port, a sloped coastal town built into the bones of old stone ruins. There was tension in the air. Too quiet. Too clean.
Too many eyes.
Sayida picked up on it as they stepped into the harbor square. "Marines?"
"Not the problem," Kira murmured.
She scanned the rooftops, alleys, vendors. No uniforms. No flags. But faces that held back words. A silence that didn't belong.
This place was afraid.
And that made it useful.
They posed as simple traders again — easy cover by now. Sayida handled the talking, selling a few bundles of sea cloth and dryroot while Kira moved through the town like a shadow.
She stopped only once — at a stall selling sealed books.
Old maps. Navigation logs. Ledgers written in three languages.
Behind the counter sat a thin man with half-moon glasses and a pipe that wasn't lit.
He saw her. Really saw her.
And he didn't flinch.
"You don't move like someone from around here," he said quietly. "Light steps. Like you don't trust the ground."
Kira's eyes flicked up.
He smiled faintly. "People who walk like that usually carry silence with them."
She didn't reply.
He reached into a crate and drew out a small, unmarked ledger.
Worn. Soft leather. Heavy.
"Careful where you step. Even ghosts leave footprints in the dust."
Kira took the book.
Left payment without speaking.
They returned to the Tempest Wing before sundown. Sayida closed the hatch while Kira sat below deck with the ledger on her lap.
It wasn't normal ink.
Coded phrases.
Names that meant nothing on their own.
And then one that stopped her cold.
"Archaeologist passed through Giran Reef. Black hair, cloaked. Quiet. Dangerous. Worth watching. Unknown buyer asking for her."
Kira stared at the line.
She didn't blink.
Sayida came down with tea and set it beside her. "Find something?"
Kira's voice was low.
"A rumor."
Sayida sat across from her.
"Bad?"
Kira turned the page again, then shut the book.
"Important."
That night, the merchant from the book stall walked past the Tempest Wing's mooring. He didn't stop, didn't glance over. But he dropped a coin as he passed — a smooth disc of carved shell.
Sayida picked it up. "Code?"
"Location," Kira said.
They met him the next night in an abandoned quarry above town. No moon. Just stone walls and wind.
He didn't bother pretending.
"You read it."
Kira didn't answer.
He adjusted his coat. "I'm not with the Marines. Or Cipher Pol. But I do work in-between."
Sayida tensed.
Kira didn't move.
"There's a name rising again," the merchant continued. "A girl with knowledge people don't want spoken. Some say Ohara. Some say worse. I've heard she's still moving. Quietly. Alone."
Kira's voice was cold.
"What do you want from me?"
He smiled. "I want to see what kind of ghost leaves lightning in its wake."
Kira stepped forward, slowly.
He didn't flinch.
"Be careful," he said softly. "When the World Government is afraid… the world burns."
By the time the sun rose again, the merchant was gone.
No trail.
No prints.
But the line had been drawn.
Nico Robin wasn't just alive.
She was already being hunted.
Sayida sat on the edge of the map table that morning, watching Kira.
"We're not ready."
"I know," Kira said.
"But when we are…?"
Kira looked down at the map, then tapped Giran Reef.
"We follow the storm."
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