Hancock awoke before dawn, breath steady, instincts sharp even in stillness. Her hand moved on its own, fingers sliding across her lower back where pain had once lived permanently, where memory had etched itself into flesh.
There was nothing.
No raised scar. No phantom ache. Only smooth, unbroken skin beneath her palm, warm and undeniably real.
She froze for a heartbeat, then let out a quiet breath that bordered on laughter.
"So… it's finally gone," she murmured, voice light, almost amused. "I really am free."
After washing and dressing, she left the palace without escort, the halls oddly silent behind her. The world outside felt different—brighter, sharper, as if someone had quietly turned the saturation up overnight.
Her Haki responded to that change.
Observation spread farther than ever before, brushing the island's edges with effortless ease. Armament felt denser, heavier, like compressed steel waiting beneath her skin. Even her Conqueror's Haki—normally wild and absolute—felt refined, honed, obedient to her will.
She smiled faintly as she walked.
The port lay farther than usual, the outer docks reserved for one particular guest at her command. It took time to reach, but she did not mind the walk; the island felt alive beneath her feet.
When she arrived, the Kuja guards straightened instantly. Hancock raised a hand, expression calm but firm.
"Stand down. Go rest," she ordered. "I will take over."
They obeyed without question.
She boarded the ship alone, steps measured, curiosity sharpening with every quiet creak of wood. Ren's door was shut. She knocked once, then again—silence answering both.
After a pause, she moved to the window and peered inside.
Ren lay sprawled across the bed, dead asleep, chest rising evenly. His clothes were still torn and worn, scars faintly visible where fabric gaped. He looked younger like this—unguarded, human, far removed from the absurd power she had witnessed.
She frowned slightly.
"I should give him proper clothes," she muttered, then stopped. "But… Kuja don't exactly keep men's attire."
The thought lingered. Then twisted.
A mischievous idea slipped in uninvited, vivid enough to make her lips curl.
"…How would he look in mine?"
The image struck her hard enough that she laughed—soft, surprised, genuinely amused. She covered her mouth, eyes still fixed on him.
Dangerous, she decided. Even asleep, he was dangerous.
"I'll have to be careful around you," she thought, smiling despite herself.
She knocked again, louder this time.
Inside, Ren jolted awake with a groan.
"Coming!" he shouted, voice rough with sleep. "Damn it…"
She listened as he shuffled toward water, muttering irritably.
"Who wakes a man up like this? I was having a great dream too…"
Hancock leaned against the wall, amused, arms crossed.
The door slid open. Ren stood there, hair damp, eyes unfocused, clearly not fully awake. He blinked once, then froze as he registered who stood before him.
"…So," he said slowly, rubbing his face, "what do I owe the Empress this early visit?"
She tilted her head, expression composed but entertained by his exhaustion.
"I want two more Senzu beans," she said calmly. "Name your price. As long as it's reasonable."
Ren stared at her for a second, then barked out a laugh.
"Well, that's convenient," he said. "I was just about to look for you about something similar."
He leaned against the doorway, more alert now.
"I want a few strong Kuja to spar with me until the next patrol cycle," he continued. "And instructors for Armament and Observation Haki."
Hancock considered him in silence, gaze sharp, measuring intent rather than strength. After a moment, she nodded.
"Reasonable," she said simply. "Agreed."
Ren reached into his pouch and tossed her two small beans without ceremony.
"Already prepared," he said, then turned toward the ship's kitchen.
She caught them easily, watching his back.
"Your food will arrive in a few hours," she said.
"No need," Ren replied over his shoulder. "Just send ingredients. I'll cook."
She raised a brow and followed him.
"Oh? You cook?"
He stopped, glanced at her, then resumed walking without answering. What was there to say? It was her ship.
Ren moved through the kitchen with practiced ease, hands steady, movements efficient. Hancock leaned against the counter, watching closely.
"Make enough for me as well," she said. "I'll send the best instructors for both Haki."
His knife paused for half a second.
Internally, his eye twitched. Two Senzu beans, he thought flatly. And I'm still negotiating.
Outwardly, he only sighed.
"…Fine," he said, adjusting ingredients. "I get it."
As he worked, he reflected wryly. Manga and anime never showed this part, he decided—the way Boa Hancock could act innocent while absolutely knowing what she was doing.
Hancock left the kitchen quietly.
Outside, unseen, she paused near the doorway.
Inside, Ren muttered to himself as he cooked.
"Seriously… Yamato and Shirahoshi are way easier to deal with."
He snorted softly.
"Yamato's probably still locked up by Kaido. Great. Another task—go to Wano and kick my future father-in-law's ass."
He shook his head.
"Shirahoshi's still a kid. If not, I might've married her or Yamato. Guess that dream stays a dream."
Silence followed.
Outside, Hancock's expression darkened.
"So… there are women better than me?" she muttered, irritation flaring into sharp curiosity. "Kaido has a daughter? And he locked her in a cell?"
Questions burned fast and hot.
She straightened, eyes narrowing toward the kitchen.
"How beautiful are they," she whispered, jealousy curling tight, "to be compared to me?"
She turned away sharply, encountering the morning watch. Hancock handed them the Senzu beans with precise instructions for her sisters, then returned to the ship without another word.
By the time she sat down, the food was already ready.
Ren emerged carrying dishes, heat shimmering faintly around them. His Samadhi flames had cooked everything evenly, perfectly—fast, controlled, without a trace of burning.
She tasted it.
"…Damn," she admitted, surprised.
It wasn't palace cuisine. It wasn't refined. But it was satisfying in a different way—warm, honest, powerful.
Ren ate as well, more for enjoyment than necessity. With his ability, he could survive indefinitely without food, energy stored and refined at will. But eating was a pleasure he refused to abandon.
He watched Hancock as she ate, relaxed, genuinely enjoying herself.
Another dream completed, he thought quietly, pride blooming where ambition usually lived.
She noticed his gaze but did not bristle. There was no desire in it—only satisfaction, the simple joy of someone pleased that she liked what he made.
For once, Hancock let it be.
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