They came at dawn.
Not in groups.
Not from hiding.
One person.
Sanji felt her before he saw her.
Not killing intent.
Not hostility.
Clarity.
The mist over the black beach parted like it had been instructed to move.
And she walked out of it.
For a moment, Sanji forgot to breathe.
She was tall, even among her people, her long neck giving her an almost unreal, swan-like elegance. Her posture was perfect — not trained into her, but natural, as if the concept of imbalance had never applied to her.
Her hair was long, jet black, falling like liquid night down her back… but when the light touched it, threads of silver glimmered through it like starlight trapped in shadow. Not dye. Not age.
Something… other.
Her face was calm. Beautiful in a way that did not invite desire, but reverence. The kind of beauty that made the word itself feel insufficient. Like looking at a clear sky and realizing no painting could ever capture it.
Her eyes were deep, quiet, and impossibly clear.
And around her—
The air felt… ordered.
Not heavy.
Not oppressive.
Aligned.
The others stayed back.
Watched.
Silent.
One of them spoke a single word:
"REM."
She stopped a few meters from Sanji.
Looked at him.
Not at his wounds.
Not at his stance.
At him.
"So you are the one who keeps standing," she said.
Her voice was soft. Clean. Without hesitation.
Sanji exhaled slowly.
"…You're the first one who decided to talk to me."
She tilted her head slightly, studying him.
"You do not move like a hunter," she said. "Or like prey."
"…I'm a cook."
She looked at him for a second longer.
"…You are lying."
He smirked.
"…Yeah. A little."
She stepped forward.
The world tightened.
Not pressure.
Focus.
Sanji's instincts sharpened.
"…You're the one they're measuring me against," he said.
"Yes."
No pride.
No arrogance.
Just fact.
"…Great."
She did not warn him.
She did not pose.
She did not test.
She simply—
Was there.
Sanji's Haki flared.
Too late.
Something touched his chest.
Not hard.
Not fast.
Perfect.
He was suddenly three steps back.
He hadn't seen the movement.
Hadn't felt the intent.
Hadn't felt danger.
"…Tch."
He reset his stance.
"…Again."
She came again.
Sanji moved—
—and missed.
Not because she was faster.
Because she was already somewhere else.
A light strike touched his shoulder.
Then his ribs.
Then his leg.
Not damaging.
Educational.
"You are not attacking," he said.
"You are not ready to be attacked," she replied.
He exhaled slowly.
Closed his eyes.
Felt the space.
Felt the air.
Felt her.
He stepped in—
And this time…
His fingers brushed her sleeve.
A whisper went through the watching crowd.
REM blinked.
Once.
Then—
She smiled.
Not mockery.
Recognition.
"Good," she said.
They fought until the sun was high.
Not violently.
Not gently.
Precisely.
She dismantled his habits.
He forced her to move seriously.
He never landed a clean hit.
She never knocked him down.
When it ended, both were breathing hard.
"You have trained," she said.
"…Yeah."
"Not here."
"…No."
She looked at him more carefully now.
"…Why are you here?"
Sanji thought.
"…My ship broke."
She waited.
"…And I don't leave places that tell me I don't belong."
For the first time—
Her expression changed.
Just slightly.
"You are not our enemy," REM said finally.
"But you are not our guest."
"…Figures."
"You will earn words here," she continued. "The way we do."
Sanji nodded.
"…By standing."
She met his eyes.
"…By enduring."
One of the elders stepped forward.
Spoke quietly to REM.
She listened.
Then turned back to Sanji.
"You may stay," she said. "For now."
"…Nice of you."
"This is not kindness," she replied. "This is interest."
As she turned to leave, Sanji asked:
"…You were born like this, weren't you?"
She paused.
"…Yes."
"…Lucky."
She looked back.
"…No."
Then she walked back into the mist.
Silver threads in her black hair catching the light like fading stars.
That night, Sanji sat alone and stared at the sky.
"…So that's what 'natural' looks like."
He clenched his fist.
Not in jealousy.
In resolve.
"…Alright."
Far away, REM stood with the elders.
"He is unfinished," one said.
"Yes," she replied.
"…But he is not empty."