"Kouya. Kouya. Kouya!" A voice called out to me, slicing through the suffocating fog of confusion that enveloped my mind. Who was this person? I blinked, trying to peel back the layers of my disorientation and make sense of my surroundings. A man stood before me, his mouth moving rapidly with a fervor that hinted at urgency, but the words eluded me like wisps of smoke slipping through my fingers. I could hear the richness of his voice, thick with emotion, yet the syllables danced just beyond my grasp, teasing me with their implications.
As I focused on him, I took in the details of his features, each one striking in its intensity. His furrowed eyebrows knit together in deep concern, casting shadows over his sharp, angular jawline that spoke of strength and determination. His hair, a vibrant shade of red that seemed to flicker like flames in the dim light, framed his face in a halo of warmth. A jagged scar cut across one eye, a stark contrast to the brightness of his gaze, suggesting a turbulent past—one that resonated with my own sense of loss.
My heart raced as I stared at him, an unfamiliar yet undeniably potent familiarity surging within me. It was as if a hidden thread connected us, a bond buried beneath layers of forgotten memories. Yet my mind sat stubbornly blank, a white canvas with no strokes of experience to color it.
"Who?" I whimpered, my voice trembling and laced with rising distress—an anxiety coiled tightly within me, a visceral knot that tightened with every passing second. There was an urgent pulse in the air, an overwhelming sense that I should recognize this man, that he held a key to a part of my life I could not access. I watched as his expression morphed, confusion mingling with worry, as if he was wrestling with the shadows of concern. It solidified my belief that he was integral to my existence—if only I could remember why, if only the fog would clear.
"Sweetheart. I'm Shanks. Your Kouya, and you're a member of my crew."
The moment those words left his lips, my body reacted with an instinctive jolt. I flinched, a rush of adrenaline surging through me, making my heart race wildly in my chest. He was Shanks—my captain. Oh god, the realization hit me like a thunderclap. In an instant, memories from the last two adventurous years cascaded back, crashing down upon me with an overwhelming force, akin to a tidal wave swallowing everything in its path.
Every moment that crew all shared—the joyous laughter, the boisterous parties, the quiet nights under the stars, the chaotic battle of natural disasters—flooded my mind like a relentless tide. The weight of those recollections pressed heavily against my chest, constricting my breath as if the very air had been snatched away. I struggled to inhale, my lungs gasping for something that felt as elusive as water for a fish flopping helplessly on land. Emotions churned violently within me—joy, fear, longing—colliding in a chaotic storm that left me disoriented and reeling. Each heartbeat echoed the depth of my connection to him, igniting a firestorm of feelings that threatened to consume me whole.
"Shanks." My voice emerged softly, almost a whisper, as I called out his name, the sound barely rising above the gentle lapping of waves against the ship's hull. The tranquil rhythm of the sea felt both calming and disorienting, as if the vastness around us could swallow my words whole.
"Yes, Kouya, breathe," he replied, his tone both soothing and steady, a lifeline in my chaotic thoughts. His presence was reassuring, a sturdy anchor amid my swirling emotions.
"Sorry," I murmured, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up my cheeks, warmth spreading through me like the fading glow of the sun on the horizon. I couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability that accompanied my admission, and I cast my gaze down, fixating on the worn wooden deck beneath our feet, grounding myself in the moment.
"As long as you're all good," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper yet brimming with an intensity that locked my gaze with his, revealing a genuine concern that made my heart swell. I took a moment to scan the deck, my eyes flitting over the rest of the crew huddled nearby. Their faces were etched with worry, a tapestry of emotions ranging from fear to determination, each one mirroring the unbreakable bond we had forged through thick and thin.
"Okay," I said, attempting to reassure them, though I could hear the tremor in my own voice—a sound that betrayed the calm I was still desperately trying to cultivate within myself. My thoughts swirled like a storm, chaotic and disjointed, but through the turmoil, one truth shone brightly like a lighthouse guiding me back to safety: I was a member of the Red Hair Pirates. This rambunctious family, with all its quirks and flaws, had welcomed me with open arms, infusing our ship with laughter, camaraderie, and an undeniable warmth that felt like home. As I looked out over the deck of the Red Force, I almost smiled at the thought of all the cherished moments we all shared.
"Let's get you on land then," Shanks said as he slowly released his hold on me, making sure I was steady on my feet.
When we made it down, I stared intently at the boy who caused all my distress. The boy wonder Monkey D. Luffy. I stood behind Shanks out of shyness and weariness. Watching Shanks interact with Luffy was a conflicting thing. I was both eager and concerned. Luffy held the future of the whole world in his hands.