I opened my eye.
Just one. The other was still swollen shut or missing—I couldn’t tell. Didn’t matter.
What I could see was gold.
Not a reflection. Not light.
Movent.
Golden scales shimred and danced through my vision like sunlight on water. They were familiar in a way that made my chest ache.
The rman.
Now isn’t that a surprise.
For a second, I thought I might’ve died and washed up in so warped version of heaven. But then I tried to move.
Pain made sure I rembered exactly where I was.
I tried pushing myself up, groaning through a cracked throat. My arms obeyed, barely. I made it halfway—just enough to see what was left of .
And then she pushed back down.
The blue-haired girl.
She wasn’t gentle, but she wasn’t cruel either. It was a solid push—calculated. Necessary. She wasn’t going to let snap my spine trying to be a hero again.
And as I lay back, I caught a glimpse.
My torso—half-regenerated. Skin rippling like disturbed water, bone knitting itself together with slow, purposeful movent. But everything below the waist?
Gone.
Blown clean off.
The cannon had worked. Too well.
I raised a hand, almost instinctively, to check for sothing that mattered more than pain. More than my legs.
The locket.
Gone.
Panic hit hard. Not loud. Not ssy. Just... deep.
A quiet, rising nausea. Like watching a part of your soul sink into the sea.
I’d lost it.
Even that.
Even her.
I let my arm fall, useless.
Let my head roll sideways into the dirt.
And I started pounding the ground with what strength I had left.
Not because it would change anything.
But because sothing had to hurt that wasn’t just inside .
I’d done everything. Fought monsters. Burned blood. Been torn apart. And I still lost the one piece of mory that mattered.
What a failure of a man.
I stared up at the sky—empty now, no shadow, no Leviathan—and I wallowed in it.
Wallowed in my own pity. In the uselessness. In the waste.
Until sothing soft broke through the edges of my vision.
A hand.
Small, scarred, steady.
Holding the locket.
She knelt beside , the blue-haired girl, arm outstretched. The gold of the chain dangled like salvation. The locket spun once in the wind before settling.
She’d kept it.
Through all of that—through waves, fire, blood—she had saved it.
I looked at her. Really looked.
And I gave her a look that was more than thanks.
It was everything.
I reached for it slowly. My hands shook. It took two tries to open it.
The latch stuck. Probably warped from the blast. But finally, it clicked open.
And there it was.
The picture.
Still whole.
Still smiling.
Still hers.
I smiled.
Sothing tight and quiet in uncoiled, just for a second. I didn’t deserve that mont, but I took it anyway.
Then she started to speak.
Her voice wasn’t soft. Not gentle.
She wasn’t treating like glass.
She spoke. With volu. With rhythm. With feeling.
I didn’t understand a word.
But I listened.
It ca in waves—berating at first, her tone sharp and frustrated. Like she was angry I’d tried to throw myself away. Like I was a fool, a stubborn idiot, a suicidal wreck of a man.
Then it shifted—there was anger, yes, but also relief.
Relief that I’d made it. That I hadn’t let the sea finish the job.
And then—sowhere in between—it turned into praise.
Not flattery. Not comfort. But acknowledgnt.
I’d done what she couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. Or never dared to try.
Then ca the sigh.
The kind that carries weight. History. Exhaustion.
The kind of sigh that says, "We’re still here. What now?"
Still, I said nothing.
Because this wasn’t a conversation.
It was a release.
And I let her have it.
Even after I healed. Even after the blood inside restructured what was broken. Even after the burning stopped and I could’ve spoken—I didn’t.
I just listened.
Ti passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe more.
And then she said sothing I recognized.
Words.
Not many. Just fragnts.
"Nami."
"Cocoyashi."
"Kimi no wa."
"Nojiko."
"Nezumi."
Each one felt like a mory I didn’t have.
But knew.
I felt sothing tighten in my chest. Like a hook pulling at my ribs. I sighed.
I had a feeling.
A terrible, growing feeling.
About where I was.
About what this world really was.
She looked at again. Her eyes weren’t just beautiful anymore—they were searching. And I realized she’d been trying to ask the sa question all along.
And now she said it again, clearly.
"Kimi no wa...?"
What’s your na?
It was the first ti I saw her ask it with hope.
And for the first ti since waking up, I opened my mouth.
Air moved. Words ford. But I stopped.
Would it matter?
Would my na—my na—an anything here?
In this world, this broken, blood-soaked place where monsters wept and gods swallowed bones...
Did it even count?
I looked at her again.
Those ocean eyes.
That hair.
That heart.
And I said nothing.
Because nas can be forgotten.
The rman shouted—a sudden burst of sharp syllables, cutting through the mont like a thrown stone across still water.
It pulled and the girl—Nojiko—out of the soft, tangled quiet we’d been sitting in. I turned my head.
An island. Small, wild. Dense with green that clawed at the sky.
The rman had spotted it and was already paddling faster, arms slicing through the water with that odd, powerful grace of his. I didn’t ask where it was. I didn’t care. After everything, land was a miracle, even if it held monsters too.
The raft bumped against the shore—rough, but controlled.
We had arrived.
The rman didn’t wait. He reached behind him and tossed a small, worn satchel into my lap. It thudded against my chest with the weight of food, tools, odds and ends. Things you’d give soone if you didn’t know when you’d see them again.
Then he pointed.
Into the forest.
No words. Just that firm, unwavering gesture.
Go.
I looked back at him. Then at Nojiko.
I pointed to her. A quiet question.
Her too?
They both shook their heads.
No hesitation.
The ssage was clear. She wasn’t coming with .
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I sighed and looked up at the sky. It was bruised with cloud and gold, like the sun was still recovering from the Leviathan’s scream. I closed my eye and gave it a slow nod.
"Alright. Fine."
The rman moved to push the raft back into the water.
I watched them prepare to leave—watched the strange new Chapter close behind them. Sothing in twitched. A string being pulled.
So I stood, steadying myself on the soft, mossy ground.
And I called out.
"Kimi no wa!"
They paused. Turned.
I pointed at myself.
"Lovecraft."
It wasn’t my birth na. Not even the na I went by most of my life. But in this world?
In this place?
It was the only na that felt honest.
The girl—Nojiko—looked at . Her face softened into sothing almost unreadable. Not sadness exactly. Not joy either. Just that kind of look you give soone when you know the Chapter is ending but you still want one more page.
She repeated it, testing the syllables.
"Lovecraft-san."
She waved. Her hand held steady, but her eyes betrayed her.
They shimred.
I waved back. Didn’t smile. Didn’t speak.
Just lifted a hand and let it fall slowly.
"Nojiko..." I muttered under my breath, voice low and worn.
"I guess I really am in your debt."
The rman gave a small nod. One warrior to another. One survivor to sothing not quite human anymore.
And then they pushed off.
Back into the sea.
I turned away.
Behind , the forest waited.
Dense. Wild. Unknown.
I took one step. Then another.
Every ti I cheated death, fate answered back. Louder. Bigger. Crueler.
I’d won a few tis now. Maybe more than I should have.
And I had the feeling—deep down—that the next ga it would throw into wouldn’t be one I could walk away from so easily.
The thought was still burning in my chest when the ground exploded in front of .
Dirt kicked up in a blast of force, and I stopped instantly.
I looked up.
Figures.
People—ard—erged from the edge of the trees like wraiths in soldier’s skin. Their weapons glead in the light, polished and raised, all aid straight at . Eyes squinting. Mouths tense. Hands jittering on triggers.
And standing at the center of it?
A long-nosed brat.
He shouted sothing in Japanese, voice high and trembling. Probably sothing about surrendering. About stopping where I was.
I didn’t understand it word for word.
But I felt it.
And I sighed.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t pause.
I took a single step forward.
The boy—Usopp, I guessed—stiffened. He aid his slingshot at , hands visibly shaking.
I t his eyes.
"Oi." I said, tone flat but steady. "Usopp."
That’s all.
Just his na. Spoken like it ant sothing.
Because now I knew where I was.
And I had a feeling the ga... had just started.
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Vol.1 END. No Chapter till Sunday.
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