Everything was dazed and blurry.
It all felt like a series of aged oil paintings, making it impossible to see anything clearly...
"Sky Island? Mama, are there really islands floating in the sky?"
A cute little girl with beautiful silver hair sat restlessly in her chair. She tilted her head toward her mother, her adorable, large eyes filled with doubt.
"There are, you know. Sky islands truly exist."
The mother doted on her daughter, rubbing the little girl's head before pointing to a Log Pose on the table. "If there weren't islands in the sky, why would the Log Poses of the Grand Line be shaped like spheres?"
"Besides, according to the notebooks your grandfather left behind, he traveled to many places in his youth aboard a 'friend's' ship. One of those places was a Sky Island. Based on his descriptions, his friend's ship was not only massive, but it could also fly~"
At this point, the happy mother, who looked incredibly young for her age, took a cookie from a plate and gently popped it into her daughter's mouth.
"Oh, right. Your grandfather also visited Fish-Man Island—that deep-sea island with so many beautiful mermaids. He even brought back the secret recipe for these snacks from there. I'm so jealous; he got to travel to so many places... Sherlock, would you like to try some of the cookies Mama just baked?"
"Mm, I'll have some in a bit," a young, black-haired boy sitting across the table replied without looking up. His eyes were focused intently on the notebook in front of him, and he was rapidly sketching and writing with a quill. It looked as though he were teaching himself something.
"Honestly, Sherlock."
Seeing her younger brother looking so possessed, the silver-haired girl puffed out her cheeks in a feigned pout. "I don't know what's so interesting about those gibberish squiggles. You wouldn't even come outside to play with me these past few days."
"If you keep staying indoors like a shut-in, you're never going to find a wife in the future~"
"..." The young boy raised an eyebrow slightly but didn't respond, his expression remaining calm. He was already well-acquainted with his older sister's flighty personality and erratic train of thought.
"Eh?! He won't find a wife? How could that be? My son is clearly so cute."
The mother shook her head solemnly. Then, this beautiful woman—whose own mental wiring was equally unconventional—suddenly looked worried. "But... what if Sherlock really can't find a wife later on?"
"Mama, you don't need to worry about that at all."
The little silver-haired girl ate another cookie, her cute face putting on a look of forced maturity. "If Sherlock can't find a wife, then as his older sister, I'll naturally help him find one!"
"And, someone worthy of my precious little brother..." The little girl looked her brother up and down—while he sat there with literal black lines of exasperation over his face—pondered for a moment, and then stated as if it were the most natural thing in the world:
"...At the very least, she has to be the 'World's Number One Beauty'! Or a 'Princess' from some country would do in a pinch."
"Oh? That sounds wonderful!" The mother looked greatly relieved. "Then I'll leave it in your hands, Lisanna..."
"No problem! That's what an older sister is for, right?" The little girl waved her hand and grinned.
Snap! A crisp sound rang out. The quill in the boy's hand had snapped in two.
(This conversation is jumping all over the place. We were just talking about Sky Island; how did we transition to my future marriage?)
(And it's one thing for Lisanna to be off her rocker, but Mama, why are you joining in on the nonsense!)
Hearing his sister and mother playing off each other, the boy no longer had the heart to continue studying. He placed the broken quill on the table and looked at his sister with an incredibly strange expression.
"Sherlock, what's with that look?"
The silver-haired girl first looked at the boy's disappointed face with confusion, then suddenly had an epiphany. "Oh! I get it! You must think one wife isn't enough! Haha, I didn't realize you were such a playboy, Sherlock!"
"Huh?..." The boy was stunned.
"Hmph, you think a little thing like that could stump your sister? Don't worry, as long as your body can handle it in the future, I'll help you build a massive Crystal Palace!"
The little girl smiled confidently and gave a thumbs-up, wearing an adorable "Leave it to your sister, there's absolutely no problem!" expression.
"Ara, ara... so Sherlock's dream is to have a Crystal Palace?"
The mother covered her mouth and giggled demurely. "If your father said that, I'd have to hack him to death with a cleaver. But since it's Sherlock... Do your best, son! You have to have lots and lots of babies~ Mama loves children the most."
(I really have to "thank" you both. You really are my own sister and mother!!!)
The black-haired boy stared blankly at his mother, then stiffly turned his head toward his sister. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
(Dad, stop doing business and just come home already...)
At that moment, the boy suddenly missed his father—who was at least a somewhat normal person. Staying alone with these two women, whose brains were wired so differently from the rest of the world, was simply too much pressure.
"What... is that still not enough for you?"
Seeing the boy's pained expression, the little girl's delicate brows furrowed slightly. After thinking for a moment, the flighty girl misinterpreted his look once again...
"Sherlock, you... you can't be like this..."
For some reason, the silver-haired girl's cheeks, which looked soft enough to squeeze water out of, suddenly flushed a deep red. She cast a reproachful glance at the boy and said shyly:
"You naughty little boy with your unhealthy thoughts~~ We... we're biological siblings!"
BOOM!!!! A bolt from the blue!
" (O 口 O)!!!!"
The boy was completely dumbfounded; his mind went totally blank. His only thought at that moment was to pry his sister's head open and see exactly what kind of weird things were stuffed inside!
"This is just stupid!"
No longer able to remain calm, the black-haired boy scrambled to his feet, intending to flee this den of chaos. He had been completely defeated by his sister's logic-defying imagination.
However, just as he turned around, a sudden, inexplicable sharp pain shot through his brain, as if a bomb had detonated inside his skull!
(Wake up...) An ethereal voice drifted in from all directions. The voice sounded very young, yet it was filled with anxiety.
His sister, his mother, the books, the broken quill, the cookies on the plate, the table, the chairs... everything around the boy shattered like a reflection in a mirror, gradually fading into mist.
As it turned out, this was nothing more than a beautiful dream woven from past memories.
(Sherlock, wake up quickly...) The strange voice from nowhere rang out again.
(Who is speaking?) Sherlock's slowly awakening consciousness questioned.
(Sherlock! Wake up! There's danger!!!) The strange voice spiked in volume, like a clap of thunder!
BOOM!!
Gaining strength from some unknown source, Sherlock's originally hazy consciousness suddenly became clear. At the same time, he snapped his eyes open.
His vision was instantly filled with light.
"Oh? You're finally awake, Blue Sea dweller!" a deep, mocking male voice drawled.
(Who is this guy?)
Lying on the bed, the Occultist was stunned. The first person he saw wasn't any member of the Straw Hat Pirates, but a strange man wearing goggles and a pilot's outfit, with two small wings on his back.
Judging by the knight's lance pointed directly at him and the cold, tangible killing intent in the man's eyes, this stranger was definitely a foe, not a friend.
(How long was I unconscious? Can someone tell me what on earth happened? Where did everyone else go?)
Though he had many questions, Sherlock forced himself to calm down immediately. He instinctively reached up to push his glasses, only to find to his shock that his body was fastened to the bed by several ropes. They were tied so tightly it was as if someone were terrified he might leave the bed.
(And whose handiwork is this?!)
Looking at the sharp tip of the lance just inches away, Sherlock felt a strong sensation of having been sabotaged by his "idiot teammates." Even with his calm temperament, he felt a sudden, violent urge to hit someone.
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