The sea breeze was thick with salt and blood.
A single arm floated in the harbor, still gripping the hilt of a rusted sword — a token of sacrifice left behind by a red-haired pirate who had smiled in the face of death. The waves carried it gently, as if the ocean itself mourned the price paid for a reckless boy.
That boy now sat alone on the dock, legs dangling over the edge, the sun already casting long shadows behind him.
His name was Monkey D. Luffy.
But something had changed.
He blinked at the sky. The clouds twisted like brushstrokes, and for a fleeting second, he saw patterns in their dance — forms of forgotten footwork, arcs of spinning kicks, and the phantom memory of roaring winds.
He clutched his chest. His heart beat slower, heavier, as though it had just restarted from a long silence.
His eyes, wide and childlike yesterday, now held something new: focus.
Not thought — not memory — but instinct.
Luffy slowly stood. His body felt… different. Lighter. Stronger. Every muscle twitched with precision. Balance came naturally, like his feet had always known the shape of the earth beneath them.
He raised a hand, flexed his fingers. There were no memories. No name like Jin Mori. No gods. No war. But there was something else — a whisper in his limbs, like his bones remembered what his mind could not.
Behind him, Makino stepped out from the bar, carrying a tray of food. She paused.
"Luffy?"
The boy turned. His movement was fluid, like wind curling through trees. His usual slouch had straightened. Even his gaze, though still warm, held something... ancient.
"You alright?" she asked gently.
Luffy scratched his head. "I… I think so. Just… weird dreams."
Makino smiled. "That's normal. After what happened yesterday…"
He didn't respond.
He barely remembered the Sea King. He barely remembered why Shanks had jumped. All he remembered was the overwhelming shame — standing frozen, helpless.
And now? His body itched for motion. For redemption. For strength.
Makino placed the tray beside him. Luffy stared at the food. Then, suddenly, his body moved — but not in hunger. Without knowing why, he leapt upward and landed in a crouch atop the nearby fence post. A perfect landing. Balanced, breath steady.
Makino gasped. "Luffy!"
He looked at her, puzzled. "Was that… weird?"
"Yes! Since when can you jump like that?!"
"I… don't know."
He dropped back down, eyes narrowing. The memory of Shanks' smile before the Sea King closed in flashed through his mind — but not as grief. As fire.
Luffy turned toward the open sea. He clenched his fist.
Next time… no one saves me. I'll save them.
A breeze rolled over the water, tousling his black hair. Somewhere in the distance, a Garp-shaped storm was approaching. But for now, Luffy simply closed his eyes, let the instincts whisper, and began to move.
First stance. Low kick. Spin.
The dock creaked beneath him as he flowed from one form to another — moves he had never learned, but his body remembered perfectly. Not childish punches.
Taekwondo. Renewal Style. Divine Movement.
Makino watched, stunned. The boy had always been strange — now, he seemed something else entirely.
Something dangerous.
Something divine.