Kuma’s POV
The air slled of salt and wet grass.Kuma had been sitting beneath the skeletal remains of a half-collapsed watchtower, his massive fra folded in a way that made him seem almost harmless. The ruined island was quiet—too quiet—except for the occasional gull and the whisper of waves curling into the shore. He had been waiting here for days, because King had told him to wait, and because the one person who could make waiting worth it might finally be coming.
He had replayed her face so many tis in his head that he worried the mory would fray. The tiny scowl, the way her pink hair always seed just a bit too untad, the sharpness in her voice that always softened at the edges when she was tired. He had not seen her in two years. Two years of cold steel and orders that weren’t his own. Two years of being a weapon instead of a man.
The wind shifted.
It was faint, but Kuma felt the pressure in the air change—a ripple far above, like sothing large cutting through the sky. His head tilted up. He didn’t need to squint to see King descending from the midday glare, one arm holding sothing small, another form slung over his shoulder. The sun burned bright off King’s black wings. The shadow that swept over Kuma felt like a Chapter being turned.
When King landed, the ground cracked. The force of it sent grit skittering over Kuma’s boots. The tall Lunarian said nothing—just laid his cargo down gently: first the unconscious woman in a Cipher Pol coat, then a limp, pink-haired girl who couldn’t be more than twelve.
Kuma’s eyes locked on her. His chest tightened in a way that felt... foreign after so long.
"Bonney," he rumbled. His voice was too low, too gravelly, but it still cracked when he said her na.
She stirred, eyelids fluttering. Her gaze was foggy at first, unfocused... and then she saw him. For a heartbeat, she didn’t move, just stared—mouth open, disbelief warring with hope.
"Papa?" Her voice was so small it barely reached him.
Kuma swallowed hard. Yes. It’s . It’s always been . But words felt like they would shatter if he tried to force them out. So he opened his arms instead.
She was on her feet before she even realized she was moving. She crashed into him with all the force her little fra could muster, her fingers curling into the thick fabric of his coat. He felt her shaking against him, her tears soaking into the seam of his chest.
His own eyes burned. He’d forgotten that could happen. The world blurred at the edges, and a single tear slipped free, cutting a warm track down the cold skin of his cheek. He hadn’t thought he had that left in him.
For a long mont, they didn’t speak. There was no need. Her heartbeat thudded against his ribs, and he let himself morize the rhythm. Two years gone, but she still fit against him like she always had.
When she finally whispered, "I missed you," it was like being given back a piece of himself he thought the World Governnt had stolen forever.
"I missed you too," he said, and his voice—soft, broken—was more human than it had been in years.
The wind gusted again, carrying the salt and the warmth of her hair. Kuma closed his eyes for just a second, allowing himself that single indulgence before the world demanded they move again.
When he opened them, King was already nodding toward the sea. It was ti to go.
Kuma didn’t let go of Bonney. Instead, he raised his massive paw-shaped hand, the pressure building until the air shimred. The bubble swelled outward, wrapping them in its impossible softness. Bonney’s grip tightened, but she didn’t pull away.
Then—fwump!—the air folded, and the world bent. The sea, the ruins, the island—all vanished into a blur of white spray as Kuma sent them soaring back toward Egghead in a single paw-shaped burst.
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