Guts's eyes snapped open. He was in a dense forest, lying on the ground, but feeling nothing beneath him. Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, his gaze sweeping across the surroundings. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, dappling the forest floor with shifting patterns of light and shadow.
He glanced down at his left hand, the flesh and blood from the sea world replaced once more by the familiar rigidity of his prosthetic.
A frown creased his brow as he touched his right eye, his fingers tracing the rough scar tissue around the empty socket. His eye...it was gone again.
He drew a deep breath, but the air was flat and lifeless. No earthy scent, no hint of vegetation, no trace of animal musk.
Guts realized what was happening. He was dreaming. Something that hadn't occurred since he'd entered this sea world.
A sense of unease settled over him. He needed to understand the nature of this dream. Without hesitation, Guts began to walk, pushing through the dense undergrowth.
He walked for what felt like an eternity, the silence broken only by what he perceived as the sound of his own footsteps - or perhaps just an auditory hallucination in his head.
Finally, he came to a clearing. And what he saw there stopped him dead in his tracks.
In the center of the clearing, a crackling fire burned merrily, casting dancing shadows on the surrounding trees.
Around the fire sat his former comrades... the members of the Band of the Hawk. They were laughing and talking, skewering chunks of meat and roasting them over the flames.
Pippin, the gentle giant, was carefully roasting meat over the flames with a serene smile on his face.
Corkus, ever the cynic, was teasing the young blacksmith, Rickert, who was excitedly bragging about his latest invention.
The calm and collected Judeau, ever the mediator, was trying to calm the situation, while Gaston, always the optimist, chimed in, saying that Rickert's invention sounded pretty cool.
And then Guts saw her... Casca. She was laughing, a full, hearty laugh that he hadn't heard in... well, too long.
It seemed as though they noticed him, because Gaston's head turned, and a wide grin split his face as he waved Guts over. "Captain! Please, come sit down with us!" He gestured towards the circle, making a space for Guts to join them.
Guts hesitated for a moment, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Staying a while wouldn't hurt, he thought to himself.
He chuckled softly and walked towards the fire, settling down among his old comrades.
As Guts settled down between Casca and Pippin. Almost immediately, Gaston bounded over with a wooden mug filled with rum, offering it to Guts.
Guts nodded in thanks, reaching for the mug. He took a long drink, and to his surprise, he could taste it. The sharp, sweet burn of the rum filled his mouth, chasing away the emptiness. And then, he began to feel the warmth of the fire on his skin, the savory aroma of the roasting meat filling his nostrils, and the gentle caress of a breezy wind.
The dream was becoming...real.
He glanced back at Gaston with a silent thank you in his eyes.
Judeau, with a warm smile on his face, turned to Guts and asked, "So, Guts, how's life been treating you out there?" Casca and Rickert chimed in, urging him to share his adventures. Corkus, ever the skeptic, scoffed, "I bet Guts has been living the high life."
Guts looked around at his comrades, his heart swelling with a mixture of joy and melancholy.
A smile touched his lips, and with a sigh that spoke of long-held emotions, he began to narrate his journey.
He started with how he first set foot in the world of sea on Ohara, saving Robin from the Buster call, he told them how suddenly a sea monster swallowed the small boat of Robin and guts, carrying them away from Ohara.
"A sea monster?!" Rickert exclaimed, his eyes wide with wonder.
Guts chuckled. "Yeah, a big one. After that, Robin and I spent about a decade on a place called Shell Island."
Guts told his life with Robin about a decade in Shell Island, about their visit to Ryugu Kingdom, and how wonderful the underwater world is.
Hearing how beautiful the mermaids were, Gaston and Judeau whistled appreciatively, while Corkus grumbled jealously. "Mermaids...probably just fish-faced broads."
Guts grinned. "You'd be surprised, Corkus. They're quite a sight to behold."
Casca, with a hint of playful pouting on her face, asked, "You must have been happy surrounded by all those mermaids, huh?" Guts chuckled, gently caressed Casca's cheek, and leaned in to kiss her lips.
Casca's face flushed a deep crimson. She then wrapped her arm around his prosthetic arm, clinging to him as he continued his story, telling them how he trained under the legendary swordsman Silver Rayleigh on an island full of women.
Pippin couldn't contain himself. "Wait a minute...an island full of women? Were there any strong ones? Beautiful ones?"
A chorus of groans erupted from the men.
"Yeah, on an island full of women." Guts chuckled with a knowing glint in his eye. "Let's just say the island was full of incredibly strong and beautiful women. Some of them could probably break a giant boulder with a single punch."
Pippin's jaw dropped. "No way..."
Guts grinned. "I even know one of the Snake Princesses of Amazon Lily, Boa Marigold, and you know what, Pippin, I think the two of you might actually get along quite well."
Gaston, noticing Guts's empty mug, chimed in, "Let me refill that for you, Captain!" He took the mug, and Guts nodded with a smile.
As Gaston handed back the refilled mug, Guts continued, "And now, I even own an island of my own." A wistful smile touched his lips.
"A dream we all shared, a dream that treacherous Griffith could never fulfill." He took a long drink from the wooden mug. "I even have a neighbor who opened a liquor store and produces some truly excellent rum."
The group fell into a comfortable silence, the crackling fire the only sound for a few moments.
Then, Judeau, with his soft and thoughtful voice, broke the silence. "Guts," he said, "are you happy now?"
Guts paused, considering the question. If Judeau had asked him that before, he wouldn't have known how to answer.
But now, with everything he had - his own land, and his beloved daughter - he could finally say it with confidence.
A wide, bright smile spread across his face. "Yes," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "Yes, I am."
Casca smiled, though a faint trace of sadness flickered in her eyes. "Then you're ready to form your own new Band of the Hawk, aren't you?"
Guts's smile vanished. "No!" he said, a sudden edge to his voice. "No one can replace you all."
Pippin furrowed his brow, his gentle face hardening slightly. "Don't say that, Guts." He reached out and gave Guts a soft pat on the shoulder. "Would you say the same to Puck, Isidro, Farnese, Schierke, and Serpico? Aren't they proof enough that they are worthy to be your companions?"
Guts looked away with a shadow passing over his face. "They are...but they are gone too."
Judeau then spoke with his calm and reasoned words. "If you could accept them then, why not now? Look at yourself, Guts."
Guts's gaze dropped to his prosthetic arm, the cold metal a stark reminder of the past. Despite everything, was he still trapped?
Judeau's question hung in the air, but before Guts could respond, a loud, insistent sound from the real world ripped through the tranquility of the dream - a sharp KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK on his inn room door.
In the dream, the sound manifested as a deafening thunderclap, making the fire crackle and spitting sparks in the air.
The members of the Band of the Hawk all turned towards the sound, their expressions shifting from warmth to understanding.
Judeau smiled knowingly. "Sounds like they need you, Guts. Your new companions. Don't keep them waiting."
He offered a final, encouraging nod, and as he did, the edges of the dream began to dissolve, fading like mist in the morning sun. The fire flickered and died, the faces of his comrades blurred, and the forest vanished into nothingness.
He wasn't in a forest. The fire, the camaraderie... all gone. He was back in the dim, musty room of the Loafer Street inn, the weak morning light barely making it through the grimy window.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The knocking was real this time, insistent and urgent.
He sat up, the rough blanket sliding off his chest and pooling in his lap. He glanced down at his hands. Crinkled in his right was the bounty poster for "Hachi the Fish-Man," the 30 million Berry value a harsh reminder of the world's prejudices.
Beneath it lay the morning newspaper, its headlines screaming about the inn owner's death and the Sea King guarding a ship at West Port.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Guts reached for Dragonslayer. With a face like carved stone, he strode to the door and yanked it open before they could knock again.
Standing in the cramped, dimly lit hallway was Hachi. His face was a mask of frantic desperation, sweat beading on his brow. But it wasn't Hachi's panic that stopped Guts in his tracks. It was the two small children he was carrying.
Clutched in one of Hachi's remaining tentacles, like a sack of potatoes, was a girl with short, choppy orange hair, her head lolling limply. Clinging tightly to Hachi's neck, her arms wrapped around him with fierce protectiveness, was another girl. This one was strikingly different, with a cascade of long, two-toned black and white hair and wide, crimson eyes that stared at Guts with a mixture of fear and defiance. Both of them looked no older than twelve.
"Guts-san!" Hachi gasped, his voice a choked whisper, laced with a desperate plea. Sweat plastered his Gray hair to his forehead. "Please... you have to help them! Please!" Despite the 30 million Berry bounty hanging over his head and the murder he'd been framed for, his terror was entirely focused on the children he held. His tentacles trembled slightly, a silent testament to his fear.
"So, it wasn't enough to be framed for killing the innkeeper." Guts's tone dripped with dangerous sarcasm; each word was as sharp as a blade. "Now you've decided to become a kidnapper, too?"
"NO!" Hachi cried, shaking his head so vehemently that the girl clinging to his neck whimpered. "It's not like that! I would never kill that old man, he was kind to me! He always gave me extra Berries! And these girls... they needed help!"
Robin, awakened by the commotion, sat up in her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with small fists. Her gaze darted to Hachi, then lingered on the two girls he was carrying. Her brow furrowed in concentration, her brown eyes studying them with an unnerving intensity for a long moment, as if she could see straight into their souls.
Then, she turned her gaze to Guts, her expression clearing into one of absolute certainty, the last vestiges of sleep vanishing from her face.
"He's telling the truth, Father," she said, her voice soft but firm, carrying a quiet authority that belied her age. "His heart is in a panic for them, not for himself. There's no deceit in him."Guts's hardened expression softened almost imperceptibly, the lines around his eyes relaxing just a fraction. Robin's word was bond, her intuition a compass he trusted implicitly.
He let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to carry a weight of suspicion and caution.
He stepped back from the doorway, opening the door wider with a resigned gesture. "Get inside. All of you."
As Hachi shuffled into the room, burdened with the two girls, Guts's sharp sense caught a flicker of movement outside the window. He moved to the grimy glass, peering through the gap in the curtains.
Dozens of Marines, clad in their crisp blue uniforms, were surrounding the inn. They were positioned strategically, blocking every exit, their faces grim and determined. This was no mere investigation; it was a full-scale blockade.
"Keep quiet," Guts growled, his voice low and urgent. He didn't want to alarm the children any further, but they needed to understand the gravity of the situation. He turned to Hachi. "And try not to drip any more seawater on the floor. It's attracting unwanted attention."
He then turned to Robin, gesturing towards a small corner of the room. "Stay here with them."
Guts strode over to his meager belongings and rummaged through his pack until he found a Den Den Mushi. He held the snail-like creature to his ear and spoke in a low, clipped tone. "Buggy, bring a large barrel to the back of the Loafer Street inn. Big enough to fit a large adult, understand? And bring a couple of those ridiculous circus costumes you're so fond of. Now!"
He hung up the Den Den Mushi, a grim satisfaction settling on his face. He then walked towards the staircase, Dragonslayer thumping heavily against the wooden floorboards with each step. He paused at the top of the stairs, his senses on high alert.
As he descended into the dimly lit common room, he immediately identified the source of the strongest presence. A tall, imposing figure stood near the entrance, radiating an aura of quiet authority. It was a woman; she stood confidently with sharp and observant eyes. Marine Leutnant Miranda.
Guts stopped a few feet away with his face as cold as ice. The clanking of his armor and the heavy thud of his boots against the wooden floorboards seemed to amplify the sudden silence. "What's this about, Miranda?" he asked, his voice devoid of warmth.
Miranda's lips curved into a subtle, almost amused smile. "Whatever those Marines o'side r' up to isn't my business," she said, her voice smooth and controlled. "Me simply here t'relay a message from me superiors. They'd like t'have a private word with ye, if ye're willin to grantt im the courtesy."