The weeks that followed were a quiet, agonizing blur. Ace had traded the high-stakes warfare of the New World for a small, rickety bed in Dadan's hut. He stayed, not as a commander of the Whitebeard Pirates, but as a ghost haunting the edges of Maye's new, simple life. Every morning was a fresh wound. He would walk into the kitchen, and for a fleeting second, he'd expect her to greet him with the sharp, knowing smirk of the "Crimson Mark." Instead, she would offer him a polite, distant smile and ask if he'd like some tea, treating him with the gentle kindness one might show a traveler who had lost his way. One evening, after Maye had retired to her room, Ace sat on the porch, staring at his calloused hands. The silence of the mountain was louder than the cannons of Marineford. "I can't do this, Dadan," he rasped, his voice thick with a raw, jagged edge. "Looking at her is like looking at a grave that won't stay buried. She's right there, but she's a thousand miles away." Dadan, uncharacteristically quiet, leaned against the doorframe and exhaled a long cloud of smoke. "She gave her memories to the sea so you could keep breathing, brat. You think you're the only one hurting? Look at her hands." Ace looked. Through the thin wall, he could hear Maye restless in her sleep, her fingers constantly twisting the ruby pendant. Even in her blank state, she was searching for something she couldn't name. "She's a puzzle with half the pieces missing," Dadan said gruffly. "If you run now, you're leaving her to finish it alone."
A few days later, Ace convinced Maye to walk with him toward the higher ridges of Mt. Colubo. He told himself he was just looking for food, but in reality, he was chasing shadows, hoping that a familiar view or a specific turn in the trail would spark a fire in her mind. The air was crisp, and the sun filtered through the canopy in golden shafts. Maye was hummed a tune she didn't recognize, her movements fluid and athletic despite her belief that she was "just a girl." "You used to love this view," Ace said, gesturing toward a break in the trees that revealed the vast, sparkling East Blue. "You said it looked like freedom." Maye stopped, her blue eyes scanning the horizon. "It's beautiful. But it feels... heavy. Like there's a storm hiding just behind the blue." Before Ace could respond, the bushes to their left exploded. A Giant Tiger, scarred from years of mountain skirmishes and twice the size of a carriage, lunged from the shadows. It wasn't interested in a warning; it was a blur of orange fur and yellow fangs, aiming straight for the "stranger" who had invaded its territory. Ace's instincts flared. His hand went to his hip, fire already licking at his fingertips, but he was too slow. He had been so focused on Maye that he'd let his guard down. "Ace, look out!" Maye screamed. It happened in a heartbeat. Maye didn't think; she didn't have time to. Her soul reached for the power it had wielded for a decade. As the tiger's claws whistled through the air, Maye's skin paled, and the blood beneath her surface surged with a violent, rhythmic pressure. "Crimson Edge." A thin, razor-sharp blade of hardened, dark-red blood erupted from the palm of her hand, extending like a jagged saber. With a grace she didn't know she possessed, she spun, parrying the tiger's massive claw with a metallic *clang* that echoed through the woods. The tiger recoiled, confused by the scent of iron and the sheer force of the girl. Maye stood her ground, her eyes glowing with a sudden, predatory intensity, the blood-blade shimmering in the sunlight. The beast sensed the shift in the air, the presence of a New World predator, and scrambled back into the bushes, whimpering. Silence returned to the forest. The blood-blade dissolved, soaking into Maye's skin as if it had never been there. Maye stared at her hand, her breath coming in panicked, shallow hitches. She looked at her palm, then at Ace, her face turning a ghostly shade of white. "What... what was that?" she shrieked, her voice rising in a pitch of pure terror. She began to scrub at her skin as if she could wash the memory away. "Ace! My hand... it turned into... it was red! It was made of... was that my blood? Am I a monster? What's happening to me!?" She collapsed to her knees, hyperventilating, her mind recoiling from the sudden eruption of a power she didn't understand. Ace knelt beside her, his heart breaking all over again. He wanted to tell her it was a gift. He wanted to tell her she was one of the strongest pirates he'd ever known. But seeing her so small, so frightened of her own nature, he simply pulled her into a tentative embrace. "You're not a monster," he whispered into her hair, his own eyes burning. "It's just part of who you are. I promise, Maye. It's okay."
---The Revolutionary Army HQ – Baltigo---
Sabo sat in the dim light of his office, a single report spread out before him. It was a coded message from a contact in the East Blue, detailing a "miracle" on Mt. Colubo, a dead girl walking, and a Fire-Fist who refused to leave the mountain. He had stayed away at first, buried in work, telling himself that the mission came first. He told himself that seeing her would only reopen wounds that were finally starting to scab over. But as he read the description of her state, the vacant eyes, the lost history, Sabo felt a familiar, cold ache in his chest. He touched the scar over his eye, remembering the years of his own life that had been a hollow blank. He remembered the feeling of being a man without a soul, wandering a world that meant nothing to him. "She's in the dark," Sabo whispered to the empty room. "She's exactly where I was." He stood up, grabbing his top hat and his pipe. He didn't ask for permission. He didn't file a report. "Koala!" he shouted as he burst into the hallway. "Get the crow ready. I'm heading to the East Blue. My sister is lost, and I'm the only one who knows the way out of the fog."