The moment Grandine remembered her human identity—truly, completely remembered who she'd been before the centuries of draconic existence—her death became inevitable. Perhaps this was her fate all along. A tragic destiny written in the very nature of the Devil Fruit she'd consumed so long ago.
The monster mother covered with blood-white feathers and soft down began transforming before her daughter's horrified eyes. The draconic form she'd maintained for countless years dissolved like morning mist beneath the sun.
She turned back into a human being at the moment she approached death.
It turned out Grandine had always been human fundamentally—but with the passage of time measured in centuries rather than decades, she'd forgotten her original appearance entirely. The beast form had consumed her identity so thoroughly that humanity became distant memory, then myth, then nothing.
The mother aged rapidly before the girl, as if hundreds of years of suspended time suddenly crashed down upon her mortal frame in mere seconds. Skin that had been smooth and vital beneath the feathers became wrinkled and liver-spotted. Hair that had been lustrous turned white and brittle. Bones that had supported a massive dragon's weight became fragile and bent.
This horrific change was utterly irreversible. No medicine, no surgery, no Devil Fruit power could halt the temporal cascade.
Yet a smile of profound relief appeared on Grandine's wrinkled face despite the agony of rapid aging. She could finally embrace death—the death that had been delayed for centuries by her fruit's power. Her only remaining concern about this life was how her adopted daughter Wendy would move forward alone.
"Wendy," the dying woman whispered, her voice crackling like dry leaves, "don't be sad for me. I have been waiting for this moment of death for a very long time. You must remember carefully what I'm going to tell you next. This is important."
In her final moments, Grandine briefly recounted what had happened to her all those centuries ago.
It had all begun because of eating a fruit by mistake.
She'd been young then—barely twenty years old, adventuring across the seas with her crew. They'd found the strange fruit on a deserted island, its swirling cloud patterns and peculiar coloration suggesting something unusual but not necessarily dangerous.
Hungry and curious, she'd taken a bite.
The taste was indescribably awful—like rotten meat mixed with sewage and burning rubber. But the power that flooded through her body afterward was transcendent.
Later, after the initial transformation had subsided enough for rational thought, a sage she'd encountered during her travels identified the fruit. The Devil Fruit she'd consumed was none other than the Tori Tori no Mi, Model: Seiryū (Bird-Bird Fruit, Sky Dragon Model)—a Mythical Zoan of extraordinary rarity.
Dragon-type fruits were among the rarest classifications in this world. Only a handful existed across all the seas, scattered through history like precious gems hidden in endless sand.
This Sky Dragon Fruit granted Grandine numerous special abilities far beyond typical Zoan transformations:
Telepathy – Reading surface thoughts, sensing emotions, detecting lies through mental resonance.
Magic Resistance – Immunity to certain supernatural effects, reduced vulnerability to curses and hexes.
Sky-Attribute Mastery – Control over weather phenomena including wind manipulation, lightning summoning, and cloud generation.
Flight – Natural aerial grace rivaling any bird, capable of sustained travel across vast distances.
Enhanced Longevity – And here was the curse disguised as blessing.
If the user maintained the beast state continuously, they gained almost endless life. Immortality through transformation. The body simply stopped aging while in draconic form.
The price for this eternal existence was steep: memory erosion.
With the passage of time, recollections faded. Personality dissolved. Identity crumbled like ancient parchment exposed to moisture and heat.
Memories were worn away little by little—first the trivial details, then important events, finally even core aspects of selfhood—until the user forgot everything about their previous human life.
They became something else entirely. A beast with only hunting and sleeping instincts remaining. Intelligence without consciousness. Power without purpose.
Grandine wasn't even her original name. She'd forgotten her birth name centuries ago—couldn't remember what her parents had called her, what friends had shouted when they'd sailed together, what lovers had whispered in the dark.
Time had passed so extensively she'd lost count of how many years she'd lived. Decades blurred into centuries. Centuries compressed into vague awareness of "long time."
Many of her past events had simply... disappeared. Erased from mental archives as thoroughly as if they'd never occurred.
She'd gradually devolved into a wild beast, a creature of pure instinct without human connection or emotional complexity.
Fortunately, the appearance of Wendy had brought her relief. The baby's crying had pierced through the fog of bestial existence, triggering something dormant in Grandine's consciousness. Maternal instinct—or perhaps deeper recognition of shared bloodline—had awakened fragmentary humanity.
Caring for the girl, teaching her languages and knowledge, watching her grow... these activities had slowly restored Grandine's human memories. Piece by piece, her original identity reassembled itself from scattered fragments.
But the sage she'd met centuries ago had warned her: recovery brought death.
Once a Seiryū user fully remembered their human identity, the fruit's immortality effect terminated. The body would reclaim all its suspended aging in catastrophic cascade.
Grandine had known this was coming the moment she recognized Mjosgard's bloodline.
The sage had also mentioned something crucial about dragon-type fruits specifically: their unique inheritance pattern.
When a user of a dragon fruit died, that particular Devil Fruit didn't appear randomly somewhere on the sea like most fruits did. Instead, it grew near the previous user's location—often within meters of where they'd died.
This proximity-based rebirth allowed certain families to continuously inherit dragon fruits across generations, creating dynasties of draconic power.
There had once been a glorious Dragon Empire approximately one thousand years ago—a civilization where most powerful rulers possessed dragon-type Devil Fruits of various models. Azure Dragons, White Dragons, Black Dragons, Golden Dragons. An entire pantheon of draconic rulers who'd commanded respect through overwhelming power.
But the time gap was so vast that no written records survived intact. The Dragon Empire existed now only in legends and poems passed down through oral tradition. How much of those stories could still restore historical accuracy after a millennium of embellishment and distortion?
Grandine had forgotten nearly everything about her past except the sage's teachings. She'd preserved those memories with desperate focus because they represented her only connection to understanding what she'd become.
She told these words to her adopted daughter Wendy to give the girl a genuine choice. Whether to eat the Devil Fruit would be determined by Wendy's free will alone.
The adoptive mother didn't want her daughter following the same painful path. It would be too agonizing for a person to live too long—watching everyone they loved age and die while they remained trapped in eternal youth, memories gradually eroding until nothing remained but empty immortality.
After Grandine died of catastrophic old age—her body collapsing into dust within minutes of her final breath—something miraculous occurred.
Just as the ancient sage had predicted, a strange fruit with distinctive cloud patterns suddenly appeared in the exact position where Grandine's heart had been moments before.
The Tori Tori no Mi, Model: Seiryū manifested physically, its spiral patterns seeming to shift and flow like real clouds drifting across a summer sky. The fruit was approximately the size of a pineapple, colored in ethereal white and pale blue that seemed to glow faintly in the afternoon light.
The girl stared at it for a long time, unable to decide whether to take this Devil Fruit immediately.
This was her mother's legacy. The source of Grandine's power, her curse, her immortality, her eventual death. Consuming it would mean accepting all of that history, all of that burden.
As a fundamentally kind-hearted man despite his Celestial Dragon upbringing, Saint Mjosgard made no attempt to snatch his sister's Mythical Zoan Devil Fruit for himself or his family. The temptation must have been significant—such fruits commanded astronomical prices, granted legendary power, elevated families to prominence for generations.
Instead, he hoped Wendy would consume it herself. That she'd gain the ability to protect herself in a world that showed no mercy to the weak.
In this reality where the strong preyed upon the weak without restraint, everything ultimately came down to who possessed the bigger fist. If you lacked sufficient personal power—like Celestial Dragons who relied entirely on external protection—then once something happened to your guards, you became a pig awaiting slaughter.
Big pirates didn't care about noble identities. They'd kill Celestial Dragons without blinking if the opportunity presented itself and the strategic calculation favored violence over negotiation.
If the identity of a Celestial Dragon was truly that useful as absolute protection, Saint Mjosgard wouldn't have experienced his shipwreck. He wouldn't have drifted to this isolated island in a wooden box, wouldn't have met his sister under such desperate circumstances.
He could only do his best to protect relatives and friends within the scope of his personal ability. Everything beyond that was uncertain, subject to fate's whims and circumstance's chaos.
Wendy hadn't yet processed her half-brother's advice sufficiently to make a decision. After burying Grandine with her own hands—digging the grave in soft earth near the mountain cave where they'd lived together, marking it with stones arranged in the pattern of constellation Grandine had taught her—she simply wanted to keep the Devil Fruit nearby.
This relic of her mother would be gone after consumption, digested and transformed into power. But keeping it whole, preserving it as physical reminder, would allow her to remember Grandine. To recall the good times they'd lived together. The lessons learned. The warmth of sleeping beneath protective wings.
The girl experienced profound emotional whiplash in a single day. Great joy at discovering blood relatives in this world—an older brother who genuinely cared for her welfare, who'd proven his kindness through consistent action rather than empty promises.
Great sorrow as the mother who'd raised her passed away quietly, dissolving into dust before her eyes. The protective umbrella that had sheltered her entire childhood was gone.
Wendy spent the next few days crying almost constantly. This world was too cruel for someone her age. Before she'd even glimpsed the outside world Grandine had prepared her to join, she'd lost the most important source of protection and guidance.
A feeling of helplessness and profound confusion surrounded her like fog. What was she supposed to do now? Where was she supposed to go?
Saint Mjosgard—who'd suddenly acquired a younger sister and naturally felt very happy about this unexpected family expansion—wanted to bring Wendy to Mary Geoise to live with him.
Their living conditions would be quite superior under the Celestial Dragons' protection. Luxury accommodations. Abundant food. Educational opportunities. Cultural enrichment. Everything civilization offered.
It was certainly easier than Wendy's current life on this uninhabited island. Opening treasure chests from shipwrecks was purely gambling on luck—she rarely obtained useful supplies even once per month.
Her main meals usually consisted of Sea Kings caught from the ocean by Grandine, then roasted over open fire with minimal seasoning. Perhaps a little salt if she'd salvaged some from a merchant wreck. The variety of available food was extremely limited.
Even an ordinary person with normal empathy would feel distressed witnessing such living conditions. Someone as kind-hearted as Saint Mjosgard—a relatively compassionate Celestial Dragon who'd already demonstrated reformed behavior—would never allow his savior and sister to continue enduring such hardship.
However, having just experienced her adoptive mother's death, Wendy didn't want to leave the place where she'd lived since infancy.
Everything here was familiar. Comfortable despite the hardships. Safe in its isolation.
The outside world was too unfamiliar. Too vast. Too complicated. The girl hadn't yet decided whether to take that first terrifying step away from everything she'd ever known.
Saint Mjosgard could only respect his sister's wishes. Since she didn't want to leave immediately, he'd stay with the girl for an extended period.
He called nearby Marine supply ships—vessels that patrolled this region periodically—and arranged for occasional supply deliveries to this previously-uninhabited island. Fresh food. Clean water. Medical supplies. Books for entertainment and education.
The two siblings lived together for more than a month, establishing routines and strengthening their bond. Mjosgard told stories about Mary Geoise's politics, the complexities of Celestial Dragon society, interesting places he'd visited. Wendy showed him the island's geography, taught him which plants were edible, demonstrated Grandine's lessons about navigation by stars.
It was peaceful. Almost idyllic despite the grief underlying everything.
But external obligations eventually intruded.
A major event was approaching in Mary Geoise that required Saint Mjosgard's urgent return. The member nations would soon arrive at the holy land to participate in the World Conference—a gathering held every few years where fifty kings discussed global politics, proposed treaties, voted on resolutions affecting billions of people.
The World Conference represented one of the few occasions when the World Government's decentralized power structure actually coordinated meaningfully. Missing it would create political complications.
More importantly, the man was deeply worried about his friends on Fish-Man Island.
Queen Otohime had died several years ago—assassinated by extremists who opposed her reconciliation policies. Her sons now ruled the Ryugu Kingdom, trying to continue their mother's peaceful vision despite facing constant opposition.
Princes Fukaboshi, Ryuboshi, and Manboshi would likely attend the World Conference representing Fish-Man Island. They'd be vulnerable in Mary Geoise—surrounded by Celestial Dragons who viewed fish-men as subhuman, who'd enslaved their people for centuries.
Saint Mjosgard feared his benefactor's children would be bullied, humiliated, possibly even attacked during their visit. He could only rely on his identity as a Celestial Dragon to stop other nobles from committing crimes against the fish-man royalty.
It was impossible to hope that CP0 would maintain order fairly. Those loyal lackeys would only join the persecution army, enforcing Celestial Dragon supremacy rather than protecting vulnerable visitors.
Before departing, Saint Mjosgard explained the situation to his sister carefully. He didn't want her worrying unnecessarily or feeling abandoned.
He gave Wendy a piece of his Life Card—a magical paper created by infusing someone's fingernail clippings into special parchment through alchemical process. The result was a small card that always pointed toward its creator regardless of distance, slowly burning away as the person's life force diminished.
As long as his sister kept this Life Card safe, she could use it to find him no matter where either of them traveled. The paper would guide her across any ocean, through any storm, to wherever he was located.
With this navigation tool, brother and sister would never be separated for too long. Even if circumstances prevented regular visits, Wendy could always find her way to Mjosgard if she truly needed him.
Wendy was alone on the island after her brother's departure, which worried Saint Mjosgard considerably. A young girl living in complete isolation faced numerous dangers—injury without medical care, illness without treatment, simple loneliness eroding mental health.
He had to request assistance from the Marine, asking them to send several female sailors to care for his sister's welfare during his absence.
This matter wasn't particularly difficult to arrange. Saint Mjosgard had developed friendly relations with Vice Admiral Momousagi —a powerful female Marine officer who commanded respect throughout the service. Sending a few lower-ranked sailors to watch over his sister was a simple matter of issuing orders through proper channels.
Three female Marines arrived within the week. Young women in their early twenties who'd volunteered for the unusual assignment—partially because Vice Admiral Gion had personally requested their service, partially because the duty sounded more interesting than standard patrol rotations.
They brought additional supplies, medical equipment, and companionship for the isolated girl.
Wendy watched her brother leave on his ship with profound reluctance, standing on the beach until the vessel disappeared beyond the horizon.
Saint Mjosgard had promised to return within one month. The World Conference would conclude, he'd ensure the fish-man princes departed safely, then he'd sail back to visit his sister.
But she didn't expect that three months would pass without any sign of him.
Three months of waiting. Three months of checking the horizon daily. Three months of the Life Card pointing steadily toward Mary Geoise—proof he was alive but distant.
The female Marine tried to keep Wendy's spirits up, but they had no information about what was delaying the Celestial Dragon's return. Orders had simply been to stay and care for the girl until relieved of duty.
Something must have happened. Something complex enough to prevent even a Celestial Dragon from keeping his promise to his sister.
Wendy held the Sky Dragon fruit in her hands each night, still undecided.
Perhaps it was time to make a choice.
Perhaps the outside world was calling whether she was ready or not.