"Intruder, why have you dared to invade our royal castle?" the man on the throne enquired, his voice echoing around the throne room.
I hesitated, grappling with the weight of my thoughts. "Powder…" I attempted to articulate, but the tumult of emotions swirling in my mind made it difficult to form coherent words. The silence pressed in on me, heavy and oppressive, as I struggled to convey the urgency of my situation.
"My King, this man has revealed a bag filled with dance powder," the guard with purple markings on his uniform said, his voice tense as he approached King Cobra, holding the small pouch of dance powder that I had stolen from Crocodile's stash.
"Dance Powder! That is strictly forbidden!" the king exclaimed, his brow furrowed with concern, while the other men surrounding him echoed his alarm, their voices rising in a chorus of outrage. "No wonder there have been so many issues with rain and drought!" the king exclaimed, his voice filled with outrage as he gestured widely. His brows knitted together in frustration, and he leaned forward, his eyes scanning the bag in front of him. "Where on earth did you uncover the dance powder? It seems to shed light on everything that has gone wrong!"
"Rrra..n..Base." The words barely escaped my lips, a faint whisper laced with anxiety as I struggled to find my voice. I longed for the comfort of Shanks' presence, wishing he could speak for me in this tense moment. Being isolated was already daunting, but now I had the added pressure of trying to communicate with strangers in a desperate bid to save them from years of torment. My heart raced as I grappled with the urgency of my mission, yet the reality of my clumsy speech made me feel increasingly inadequate. In my past life, I had moved through conversations with ease, seamlessly engaging with colleagues and friends. Yet, ever since my unexpected arrival in this vibrant yet perilous world of One Piece, my confidence had eroded, leaving behind a dark cloud of spiraling depression.
What once fueled my ambitions had been reduced to ash, my dreams dissipating like smoke in the air. Here I found myself in a fantastical realm where the very embodiment of freedom danced just beyond my grasp, and yet I felt more like a trapped animal—wounded and weary—endlessly haunted by echoes of past traumas and lingering pain. It was a cruel irony: surrounded by liberty and adventure, I felt shackled by a sense of uselessness, battling both the weight of my despair and the urgency to act.
"Call!" I shouted, my voice bursting forth with such intensity that I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, turning them a deep shade of crimson.
"Call?" King Cobra furrowed his brow in confusion, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity.
"Snail…" I hurried to clarify, the urgency in my tone growing stronger.
With a light of understanding dawning in his eyes, King Cobra glanced over at one of his men, who promptly retrieved a peculiar device—a snail phone—and handed it to me.
I eagerly seized the phone, my heart racing as I prepared to dial Benkman. I was acutely aware that Shanks, despite his good intentions, had a tendency to be unreliable when it came to answering calls.
"Kouya! Where on earth have you gone? You vanished without a trace, and Shanks is practically losing his mind, fretting over your whereabouts!" Beckman's voice crackled through the line, each word laced with a mix of concern and palpable relief that I had finally reached out to him.
"Castle…" I attempted to communicate, my mind racing as I struggled to convey my situation. It was a barebones explanation, but I feared my sparse words would hardly string together anything comprehensible.
"The castle? Are you saying you're in the Capital? You've really drifted quite a distance away…" Beckman sighed, exasperation seeping into his tone. "Why on earth are you in the castle?"
"Future… problem… a lot… sad," I murmured, each word coming slowly as I tried to piece together a coherent response. Meanwhile, I could feel the sharp gazes of the guards and the king fixed on me, their curiosity palpable, intensifying the pressure to explain myself.
"HAHAHA, did you see something that didn't sit well with you?" Beckman chuckled, his voice warm with camaraderie. "Now that we know where you are, we'll come to pick you up and sort this whole thing out."
"Yeah…" I replied, my voice trailing off as the call ended. A wave of relief washed over me, and the whirlwind of emotions slowly began to settle. After that brief exchange with Beckman, I realized just how lucky I was to have friends and family who stood by me, even when I felt like I was spiraling into darkness. Taking a deep breath, I finally dared to meet King Cobra's gaze again, my resolve steadying. "Crocodile… powder… lots…" I articulated carefully, using my hands to weave a tapestry of gestures in an effort to construct some semblance of clarity in my thoughts.
"Crocodile? The warlord!" The words echoed through the room, sending a palpable shockwave amongst everyone present. Gasps filled the air as the realization set in; their nation's so-called "Hero" was nothing more than a cunning puppet master, orchestrating a web of deception that fueled public unrest and rebellion.
"Are you telling me that Crocodile has been secretly using dance powder to manipulate the weather?" A sense of disbelief hung in the air as the implications sank in. "He's been making it rain exclusively in the Capital and Rain Base while leaving the rest of the land parched and desperate, only to sow chaos and boost his reputation?" The enormity of the revelation hung heavily, casting a shadow over the room, where fear and betrayal mixed with the scent of damp earth and urgency.
"Yeah." I nodded vigorously, my enthusiasm contrasting with the heavy atmosphere around us. Cobra's body slumped back into his ornate throne chair, his form appearing to deflate as if the surge of life had been suddenly drained from him. The weight of his newfound understanding hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the harsh realities facing Alabasta—a kingdom grappling with the devastating drought that had plagued it for so long. His expression was one of profound exhaustion, as if the revelation had stripped him of all energy, leaving him a mere shadow of his former self.
…
Before I realized it, I found myself ushered into a warmly lit guest room adorned with rich tapestries and elegant furnishings. As I was escorted away, I could sense the weight of the king's gaze lingering behind me, the sound of hushed voices rising like a murmured tide as he conferred with his guards, intent on discreetly verifying the truth of my claims. Despite their potential skepticism, a wave of relief surged through me, washing away the tension that had knotted in my chest. The burden of worrying about how to convey the dire circumstances of this kingdom—its dwindling resources and the pervasive despair among its people—was finally lifted. I had done what was necessary, and now all that remained was to wait for my crew to retrieve me, to be reunited with the faces that brought me comfort.
Sitting alone in this unfamiliar guest room, I felt an overwhelming sense of solitude. The stark realization that I no longer yearned for a life apart from my crew gripped my heart; the thought of existing without them felt daunting, laden with fear, hardship, and a profound loneliness. It forced me to recognize just how cozy my life had been alongside them. Even in the midst of this chaotic experience that I had both loathed and dreaded, a sense of appreciation began to bloom within me—an understanding of the simple joys I had taken for granted before. It felt almost healing, this newfound perspective that reminded me of the warmth of companionship and the bonds that anchored me in even the most tumultuous of times.