It was night. The moon shone bright against a scattering of stars, and a gentle breeze carried a hint of coolness, making the air feel incredibly refreshing.
Ten thousand meters above the sea, on the Island of God: Upper Yard.
"So, Luffy really just sent Enel flying like that?"
Sherlock, who had only recently regained consciousness, sat up on his blanket. He quietly watched the large crowd reveling around a bonfire nearby; the soaring flames seemed to illuminate the very depths of the night sky.
"Indeed. As a rubber man, he might be the only natural enemy that 'God' has." Sitting beside the Enchanter, Nico Robin gently stirred a bowl of broth. She nodded and continued:
"After defeating Enel, Luffy rode the Sky Knight's bird high into the sky to ring the Golden Bell. If he hadn't, the Shandia warriors would likely still be trying to overthrow the former God."
"However..." The elegant and intellectual archaeologist glanced at the Shandia and Skypieans celebrating together, a soft smile gracing her lips. "...it seems no one has the heart to keep fighting anymore."
When the lights of Shandora are lit once more, and the song of the island rings out again, the fighting shall cease. Looking at it now, the prophecy seemed to have held quite a bit of truth.
The centuries of hatred between the Shandia and the Skypieans seemed to have been completely incinerated within that roaring bonfire.
"What a farce..."
Sherlock shook his head with a wry smile. This muddled journey to Skypiea had been bizarre beyond words, with "surprises" popping up one after another.
First, there was the discovery that his grandfather was actually connected to Shiki the Golden Lion. Then, the blood-spear he'd looted from the Blood Wolf, Kohler Haska, back on Little Garden turned out to be capable of absorbing lightning. Even more incomprehensible was the fact that there was another version of himself in a world inside the mirror...
"Sss..." A sudden, sharp throb of pain lanced through Sherlock's mind, causing him to hiss and draw in a cold breath.
Seeing the Enchanter in such pain, Robin asked with immediate concern, "Sherlock, what's wrong?"
"It's nothing. Just a headache."
Sherlock massaged his temples. Not long ago, his consciousness had inexplicably crossed over into the mirror world, only to be pulled back by the resonance of the Golden Bell. While the transition seemed simple enough, it had inflicted severe trauma on his spirit.
"Headaches again? Even though you rarely sustain physical injuries, you're constantly suffering from migraines and fainting spells."
This was actually something Chopper had been wanting to complain about. Compared to the "Monster Trio" who were constantly covered in bruises and blood, the Enchanter—who rarely even got a speck of dust on his clothes—made the little reindeer feel quite out of his element.
Robin looked Sherlock up and down carefully and smiled. "Though, I must say, that intangible state you were in was quite interesting. You looked just like one of those vengeful spirits described in horror novels."
"I wouldn't call that 'interesting,' Robin. And you really should say things like that in front of Usopp and the others—the 'effect' would be much better." Sherlock was left speechless by the dark-humored woman's morbid streak.
"Heh heh." Robin gave a non-committal chuckle and handed the broth to Sherlock. "Eat something. Mr. Cook prepared this specifically for you. Oh? What's this bite mark on your hand?"
"This?"
Taking the wooden bowl, Sherlock glanced at the small, neat ring of tooth marks on the back of his right hand. The corners of his mouth curled up slightly.
"This... was from an unruly little puppy."
A ball-shaped object the size of a fist came flying toward the Enchanter's head from behind. However, under the perception of Sherlock's Observation Haki, a sneak attack of this level was meaningless.
With a tilt of his head and a reach of his arm, he caught the object firmly. Looking closer, Sherlock saw it was an incredibly tempting red apple.
"Hmph! Who are you calling a puppy?"
Aisa stomped over, huffing as she carried a basket of apples. She handed the basket to Robin, then glared crossly at the composed Enchanter.
"I can't believe you were talking bad about me behind my back! I've totally misjudged you! To think I went out of my way to pick fruit that helps with headaches for you... You... Ugh! I'm never talking to you again!"
The little Shandia girl looked like she wanted to pounce on Sherlock to dish out some "punishment," but seeing his somewhat haggard appearance, she changed her mind. She stuck out her tongue, made a face, and then bolted away.
"What an uncute little girl..."
Watching Aisa's retreating back, Sherlock shook his head helplessly. Then, as if sensing something, he turned his head and locked eyes with Robin, who was watching him with a very meaningful gaze.
"Hey, Robin, what's with that look...?" For some reason, Sherlock suddenly felt that the charming woman in front of him had misunderstood something.
"Ara, is there something wrong with my look?"
Nico Robin's deep, sapphire-flecked eyes flickered. She took an apple from the basket and began to skillfully peel it with a small knife. Her technique was superb; the bright red peel came away in a single, thin, elegant ribbon. It was quite a mesmerizing sight.
"I just didn't expect that a man who seems as cold and aloof as you would have such a gentle side. So, you like children?"
(And you're quite popular with the little girls, too...) Robin added silently to herself.
"Like children? Hardly. I have no fondness for such audacious brats—well, except for a certain obedient and cute little girl like you were back in the day," Sherlock replied casually, before turning his attention back to the curly-browed cook's cuisine.
Snap.
Robin's hand slipped, and the long ribbon of apple peel instantly broke. Fortunately, she wasn't the obsessive-compulsive type, or she might have been driven mad. She blinked, a subtle change crossing her refined features, before she wordlessly resumed peeling as if nothing had happened.
The bonfire party in the distance was uproarious. Everyone was eating, drinking, laughing, and playing; even Nola, the Master of the Sky, was excitedly writhing its massive body in an authentic "snake dance."
The duo over here, however, was much quieter. The man sipped his soup in silence while the woman peeled her fruit in peace. For a moment, the atmosphere felt slightly surreal.
"In any case, I should thank you, Sherlock."
Having finished peeling the apple, Robin held it up and spoke to the Enchanter with genuine sincerity. "Thank you for saving me back then. I'm still not sure how you did it, but if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have been targeted by that Thunder God."
Sherlock finished the last of his broth and adjusted his glasses. "It was nothing. We're partners on the same 'pirate ship' now, after all. There's no need to give it a second thought."
"I see. I'm glad to hear that."
With that, under the astonished gaze of the bespectacled man, Robin took a dainty bite of the freshly peeled apple.
"Oh? This apple really does taste wonderful." A satisfied smile bloomed on her face.
"..."
Watching the mischievous woman eat the apple herself, Sherlock was momentarily stunned. After all that buildup, the apple wasn't even meant for him—her savior!
"Hmm? What is it? Do you want some, too?"
Noticing the Enchanter's look of utter disappointment, Robin gave a cunning smile. She then added, with mock innocence, "If you want one, you can peel it yourself~"
(Did I say something wrong just now? How foolish...)
Sherlock fell silent. Even with his sharp wit, he couldn't fathom why this manipulative woman had reacted this way. He sighed, looking at Robin with a calm expression, and she met his gaze with equal resolve. One pair of sapphire-dark eyes was soul-stirringly beautiful, while the black eyes behind the lenses were as deep as the sea.
They locked eyes, their silhouettes reflected in each other's pupils.
The night deepened. The feast in the distance grew even rowdier under the instigation of a certain dim-witted captain. A cool night wind brushed past, but the man and woman felt none of the chill. They continued their silent standoff, locked in a wordless competition.
After a long while.
"Pfft—"
Both of them let out a sudden, soft chuckle. Whether they had found something genuinely funny or it was for some other peculiar reason, neither could say.
The night was still young.
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