Kozuki Oden cut the final stroke, sheathed his blade, and sweat beaded his brow. He stepped back to regard the new line of script, young and bold beside the ancient characters, and pride swelled hot in his chest.
"Kuhahaha. Well done, Oden." Roger clapped the stone plinth as if it were not cold rock but the shoulder of a friend he had yet to meet.
Shanks and Buggy could not grasp the full weight of that sentence, yet the air itself seemed to lift their small shoulders. They stood straighter, as if they too had helped ink a deed worthy of the ages.
All of Shandora's ruins felt heavier for it.
History and the future braided together in the air, solemn and bright.
Kael Grylls stood a little apart, arms folded, quiet eyes taking it all in.
A wry smile tugged his mouth, part admiration for his captain's swagger, part wonder at the road that had brought them here.
Then a thought crept up like a vine.
Since I came this far.
In an era this vast, in a place made of legend, Roger had left a king's declaration and Oden the seal of a witness.
And me. Just watch from the backdrop.
Once the thought took root, it would not let go.
He was not the sort to fade into scenery. He had no interest in stealing Roger's thunder, and carving something beside it that read "same here too" would be idiotic.
He needed something more, well, Kael.
His gaze drifted along the plinth and settled on a corner at the rear, half hidden under the fallen rib of a column.
Unremarkable, weathered, the sort of spot a passerby would miss even if they looked.
Perfect.
Kael wandered off like a man idly admiring the goldwork. He turned his back to the others and bent as if studying a seam, while his right forefinger lifted.
A thread of invisible ripple gathered at his fingertip. The air warped faintly. The skin of ancient gold warmed.
He would use a miniaturized Heatwave Breath, infrared for a graver, and leave his mark.
But what to write.
A tease, perhaps. He smirked and let the tip move. Fine hairline strokes bloomed. "Hear the tides, watch the light, all things speak."
He stared, grimaced, and sighed. In a few centuries, anyone who found that would curse the pompous riddle maker.
The gold reheated and smoothed. The letters vanished.
No. Too pretentious.
A poem then. Show a little culture. He gathered a mood and wrote, "The golden bell is silent, the blue sea sings, until a new king."
He stopped on king. It tasted sour, a lovesick poet in a pirate's jacket.
Besides, he knew exactly how much ink sloshed in his gut.
He erased it again.
A haiku in the Kozuki style. Crisp and suggestive. He frowned, turning lines over and over.
"Deep in sky clouds, the City of Gold appears, a wanderer leaves his name."
He mouthed it twice and winced. It tied the tongue in knots.
Enough.
The irritation blew away as quickly as it had come. He laughed at himself. Why make it so complicated.
His fingertip glowed faintly. No hesitation this time. His hand flowed.
Four blunt, square characters branded themselves into the back corner of the Golden Bell's base, clear as day.
I WAS HERE.
Done.
He patted non-existent dust from his palms and admired the result, satisfied.
Four plain words, nothing fancy, honest as a footstep. They said everything that mattered.
Let the future and history shake hands without me. I came. That is enough.
He hummed under his breath and strolled out of the shade, folding himself back into the crowd as if he had never left.
"Hey, Kael, what are you daydreaming about," Rayleigh asked, catching his eye.
"Nothing," Kael said with a shrug and a secretive half smile. "Just thinking that if this bell rings, I bet you could hear it across the entire sky island."
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