One Piece: SSS-Rank Haki at Age Seventeen

When the final echoes of the last melody slowly faded into the air, the Crystal Resonance Towers above Elegia, the Kingdom of Music, gradually dimmed.

In front of the live broadcast cameras, Uta's figure swayed slightly.

Her slender fingers pressed gently against the ornate microphone stand at the center of the stage, using it to support her somewhat unsteady body.

Half an hour of uninterrupted singing had pushed her to her limit.

Even though she was the most compatible user of the Uta Uta no Mi (Sing-Sing Fruit) in centuries, the ancient power of the Devil Fruit still left a heavy burden on her body.

The healthy flush on her cheeks from the performance had faded, replaced by a pale, almost translucent complexion.

Tiny beads of sweat seeped from her temples, glimmering under the stage lights before sliding down along the delicate line of her jaw.

The eyes that had shone like stars while she sang now appeared slightly unfocused. Her long lashes drooped, unable to hide the deep exhaustion beneath them.

Her breathing was faster than usual, her chest rising and falling with each breath, as though she had just finished an invisible marathon.

At the same time, the tens of thousands of viewers immersed in the "Uta World" were gradually waking.

The sensation felt like being suddenly dragged from a warm dream back into a cold reality.

First came a moment of confusion.

Then consciousness flooded back like the returning tide.

The illusion created by Uta's voice had been too beautiful.

In that world—

There were no burdens of life, no oppression from nobles, no threats from pirates.

Only pure music and vibrant waves of emotion resonating together.

But now, the weight of reality settled back onto their shoulders.

"Is it… already over?"

After a brief silence, murmurs mixed with sighs spread through the crowd.

"How did that half hour pass so fast? It felt like five minutes…"

"Uta, please sing one more song! Even just a short part!"

"Sigh… back to reality again!"

"Can't we stay inside Uta's songs forever…?"

Disappointment and longing spread through the audience.

Yet strangely, there were no true complaints.

These fans—who proudly called themselves Uta's faithful believers—all seemed to share an unspoken understanding of their idol's situation.

"Uta's performances are always this short. There must be a reason."

"She always looks so tired afterward… she needs to rest."

At the center of the stage, Uta forced herself to straighten her back.

She raised her slightly trembling hand and tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

Then she took a deep breath, as if gathering the last remnants of strength in her body.

"Everyone…"

Her voice was softer than when she sang, carrying a faint trace of hoarseness—yet it remained warm.

"Today's musical journey ends here."

She stepped forward, leaving the support of the microphone stand, and bowed deeply at a perfect ninety degrees.

Her red-and-white hair cascaded downward like a waterfall.

She held that posture for three full seconds.

It wasn't the routine gratitude of an idol.

It was closer to a sincere act of reverence—gratitude mixed with apology.

"Thank you… for entering my world."

When she straightened again, a complex emotion flickered through her eyes.

Gratitude.

Exhaustion.

And a faint loneliness that was difficult to describe.

Before her words had even finished echoing—

The screen began to dim.

The broadcast signal was being cut.

Moments later, the display turned completely black.

Only the words "The performance has ended. Thank you for watching." lingered briefly in the darkness before disappearing entirely.

Gordon stepped forward two paces.

His wrinkled hand lifted instinctively, only to stop halfway in the air.

His gaze followed the gradually retreating figure.

She wasn't walking quickly.

In fact, she seemed unsteady—each step as though it consumed the last of her strength.

"Uta… go get some rest," he said softly.

His voice was lower than usual, every word filled with the worry accumulated over ten long years.

"Your health comes first."

"Okay."

Uta's reply was as light as a sigh.

She didn't turn around, merely waving a hand behind her.

She walked down a corridor covered in deep red carpet.

At the end of the hallway was her room.

Behind the wooden door carved with musical notes was the place she had lived for the past ten years.

Gordon remained where he stood, listening as her footsteps gradually faded.

At last, they were replaced by the soft click of a door locking.

The sound echoed clearly through the empty theater.

And somehow, it sounded unbearably lonely.

He slowly walked toward the window.

Outside, the sunset over Elegia Island was still beautiful.

Shanks…

Gordon's fingers unconsciously traced an old scratch on the window frame.

Uta had made that mark when she was eight years old.

She had stood here on tiptoe, waiting an entire day.

Until sunset.

Yet the familiar pirate ship never appeared.

Leaving an eight-year-old girl behind to keep an old lonely man company… honestly…

He closed his eyes.

In his mind surfaced the memory of that night ten years ago.

The Red-Haired Pirates' ship gradually disappeared over the horizon.

Little Uta had stood on the dock.

At first confused.

Then screaming in heartbroken desperation.

She had tried to run into the sea.

Gordon had grabbed her and held her tightly.

That day, her tears soaked his chest.

And they continued soaking countless memories in the nights that followed.

Too cruel…

Gordon's hands trembled slightly.

For these ten years, he had been a witness.

A protector.

And, in some sense… an accomplice.

He had watched Uta change.

From the silent girl who spent every day sitting at the dock, hugging her knees and staring out at the sea—

To the fragile child who woke from nightmares crying,

"Dad… why don't you want me?"

And then, after years of waiting…

Gradually falling into silence.

Until several months ago.

On a rainy day.

Uta ran back soaked to the bone, something clutched tightly in her arms.

When she carefully opened her hands, revealing a trembling Den Den Mushi, Gordon saw a light return to her eyes for the first time in years.

"Grandpa Gordon, look! It has music patterns!"

From that day onward, everything changed.

Uta began to sing.

Not on a stage.

But in her room—singing to that Den Den Mushi.

At first it was just soft humming.

Later, complete melodies.

She started composing music, writing lyrics, filling notebooks with dense rows of musical notes.

Her eyes became bright again.

Yet deep within that light was a longing Gordon understood—but never dared to speak aloud.

If her voice could reach the entire world…

Would that person hear it?

"I know overusing her ability is hurting her…"

Gordon murmured to the outside world.

It sounded as though he were explaining himself to the distant Shanks—or perhaps trying to justify his own indulgence.

But when Uta ran up to him holding newly written sheet music, her eyes sparkling as she asked,

"Grandpa Gordon, does this melody sound good?"

When she practiced a single high note again and again for the livestream until her voice turned hoarse—

When she read messages from fans and smiled with genuine happiness—

How could he possibly tell her to stop?

"I even…"

Gordon shook his head with a bitter smile.

Under the moonlight, his graying hair looked even older.

"I even helped her tune the sound equipment… arranged the broadcast signals… and built the stage."

He had become an accomplice to her dream.

From deep within the theater came a faint cough.

It came from the direction of Uta's room.

Gordon's heart suddenly tightened.

He instinctively took a step toward the corridor—then stopped.

Right now, what she needed wasn't worried eyes.

It was uninterrupted rest.

Just like on countless nights during the past ten years.

All he could do was watch from afar.

Prepare warm milk and medicine.

And appear quietly whenever she needed him.

Inside this magnificent music theater—

An old man stood by the window, sighing silently.

A young girl slept in her room, exhausted.

What bound them together were ten years of time…

Unspoken guilt…

An inseparable family bond…

And the thing that had both saved her—and might also be consuming her—

Her voice.

Gordon gently touched the old pocket watch hanging on his chest.

Inside the case was a faded photograph.

Young Uta was smiling brightly.

Beside her stood a red-haired man laughing heartily.

And on the other side stood Gordon himself—his hair not yet fully white.

"At least…" he murmured softly.

"At least her songs made her smile."

Even if the price of that smile was something only the two of them understood.

…

Gordon's sigh still lingered in the evening breeze—

When suddenly a sharp, unnatural flash pierced the horizon.

At first, he thought it was merely sunlight reflecting off the waves.

After all, the seas around Elegia Island often refracted dreamlike halos because of the island's unique crystal veins.

But the next second—

That "light" tore across the horizon.

It wasn't light.

It was a blazing azure streak that split sky and sea.

Violent.

Burning.

Stretching from the heavens to the ocean.

It shattered the calm of dusk, violently ripping the purple-and-gold clouds apart.

Where it passed, the sea surface instantly vaporized from the terrifying speed and heat.

Massive walls of white steam rose dozens of meters into the air.

"What… is that?!"

Gordon's breath stopped.

His wrinkled hand gripped the windowsill tightly, his knuckles turning white.

For ten years.

A full decade.

Elegia Island had been like a forgotten musical score lying quietly in a corner of the Grand Line.

No visitors.

No messengers.

No intruders.

But now—

That thunderbolt-like figure was approaching at a speed beyond reason.

Countless thoughts flashed through Gordon's mind.

The Marines?

No… there was no warship.

A pirate crew?

What kind of pirate ship could move this fast?

A secret unit of the World Government?

Or…

His gaze instinctively shifted toward Uta's room.

The girl had just finished an exhausting performance.

She was sleeping deeply, completely unaware of the coming change.

The blue streak drew closer.

So fast it dragged a long afterimage across the sky—

Like a blue comet falling toward the island.

The peace built by ten years of solitude was violently shattered in an instant.

"Uta…"

He whispered her name.

His voice carried both deep protectiveness—and a faint sense of foreboding.

Who was coming?

And why?

The answer was already tearing through Elegia's dusk with unstoppable force.

◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇

◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!

◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.

◇ Read 70 chapters ahead on P@treon → /Chakraflow789