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.
Movement.
Golden scales shimmered and danced through my vision like sunlight on water. They were familiar in a way that made my chest ache.
The merman.
Now isn't that a surprise.
For a second, I thought I might've died and washed up in some warped version of heaven. But then I tried to move.
Pain made sure I remembered 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 me.
And then she pushed me 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 me 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 movement. But everything below the waist?
Gone.
Blown clean off.
The cannon had worked. Too well.
I raised a hand, almost instinctively, to check for something that mattered more than pain. More than my legs.
The locket.
Gone.
Panic hit hard. Not loud. Not messy. 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 something had to hurt that wasn't just inside me.
I'd done everything. Fought monsters. Burned blood. Been torn apart. And I still lost the one piece of memory 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 something soft broke through the edges of my vision.
A hand.
Small, scarred, steady.
Holding the locket.
She knelt beside me, 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 me 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.
Something tight and quiet in me uncoiled, just for a second. I didn't deserve that moment, but I took it anyway.
Then she started to speak.
Her voice wasn't soft. Not gentle.
She wasn't treating me like glass.
She spoke. With volume. With rhythm. With feeling.
I didn't understand a word.
But I listened.
It came in waves—berating me 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—somewhere in between—it turned into praise.
Not flattery. Not comfort. But acknowledgment.
I'd done what she couldn't. Or wouldn't. Or never dared to try.
Then came 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 me restructured what was broken. Even after the burning stopped and I could've spoken—I didn't.
I just listened.
Time passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe more.
And then she said something I recognized.
Words.
Not many. Just fragments.
"Nami."
"Cocoyashi."
"Kimi no wa."
"Nojiko."
"Nezumi."
Each one felt like a memory I didn't have.
But knew.
I felt something 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 me again. Her eyes weren't just beautiful anymore—they were searching. And I realized she'd been trying to ask the same question all along.
And now she said it again, clearly.
"Kimi no wa…?"
What's your name?
It was the first time I saw her ask it with hope.
And for the first time since waking up, I opened my mouth.
Air moved. Words formed. But I stopped.
Would it matter?
Would my name—my name—mean 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 names can be forgotten.
The merman shouted—a sudden burst of sharp syllables, cutting through the moment like a thrown stone across still water.
It pulled me 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 merman 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 merman 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 someone 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 message was clear. She wasn't coming with me.
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 merman moved to push the raft back into the water.
I watched them prepare to leave—watched the strange new chapter close behind them. Something in me 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 name. Not even the name I went by most of my life. But in this world?
In this place?
It was the only name that felt honest.
The girl—Nojiko—looked at me. Her face softened into something almost unreadable. Not sadness exactly. Not joy either. Just that kind of look you give someone 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 shimmered.
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 merman gave me a small nod. One warrior to another. One survivor to something not quite human anymore.
And then they pushed off.
Back into the sea.
I turned away.
Behind me, the forest waited.
Dense. Wild. Unknown.
I took one step. Then another.
Every time I cheated death, fate answered back. Louder. Bigger. Crueler.
I'd won a few times now. Maybe more than I should have.
And I had the feeling—deep down—that the next game it would throw me 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 me.
Dirt kicked up in a blast of force, and I stopped instantly.
I looked up.
Figures.
People—armed—emerged from the edge of the trees like wraiths in soldier's skin. Their weapons gleamed in the light, polished and raised, all aimed straight at me. Eyes squinting. Mouths tense. Hands jittering on triggers.
And standing at the center of it?
A long-nosed brat.
He shouted something in Japanese, voice high and trembling. Probably something 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 aimed his slingshot at me, hands visibly shaking.
I met his eyes.
"Oi." I said, tone flat but steady. "Usopp."
That's all.
Just his name. Spoken like it meant something.
Because now I knew where I was.
And I had a feeling the game… had just started.
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Vol.1 END. No chapter till Sunday.