Foosha Village looked the same.
The trees still bent lazily in the breeze. The fence still leaned to the left near the goat pen. The same patch of road near the well still had that muddy spot no one ever fixed. The scent of wet wood, early sea wind, and fried rice drifted in the air like memory. The sun hadn't yet fully risen, but the world was awake — animals stirred, fishermen grumbled as they prepped their nets, and Makino hummed a soft song while washing dishes in the kitchen.
She didn't notice it at first. Just a shape near the path.
A boy.
Krishna stood at the edge of the path.
His coat hung across one shoulder, travel-worn and faded. His boots were coated in red dust. His shoulders held no tension—but not because he wasn't carrying any. It was simply how he walked now.
A year away had lengthened him. Grown him out. He stood taller than Ace, broader too, and quieter in a way that made even silence feel full.
He stared at the house.
Then took one step forward.
Just one.
It was enough.
Because inside the kitchen, Makino turned her head and saw something through the window—something she didn't dare believe at first.
Then she looked closer.
Her breath caught. A plate slipped from her fingers and shattered against the floor.
She didn't scream. She didn't call. She didn't say anything.
She just ran.
Krishna looked up at the door right as it flew open.
Makino burst out barefoot, apron still tied around her waist, tears already starting to rise.
Makino hit him like a memory with arms.
She wrapped herself around his chest, gripping tight, fists bunching into his shirt. Her face buried into his collarbone, her breathing stuttering with sobs she didn't have words for yet.
"You're here," she whispered. "You're actually here." she tightened her grip around him.
"You're okay," she choked between sobs. "You're okay, you're okay…"
Krishna stood still, arms loose at first, then slowly tightening around her.
"I told you I'd come back."
"You're late."
"I'm sorry."
Makino didn't let go. Her fingers bunched into his shirt like if she let go again, he'd vanish.
"I thought maybe this time—" Her voice cracked. "I thought maybe I wouldn't get to see you like this again."
"I walked," Krishna said softly. "And I came back."
Then she hit his chest once — not hard — and hugged him again.
"You idiot," she said, crying harder.
...
Footsteps skidded across the porch, with a yell came from behind her.
"MAKINO WHAT THE HELL—"
Luffy barreled out next, hair wild, a piece of toast still in his mouth, shorts crooked like he hadn't bothered dressing properly.
He saw Krishna.
And stopped dead mid-run, frozen in shock, and stared for a second—
The toast fell from his mouth.
"KRISHNA?!"
He didn't wait.
He launched.
Krishna barely had time to brace before the twelve-year-old missile hit him square in the stomach, legs wrapping around his waist like a monkey, latching onto him like he was the only tree in a windstorm.
"YOU JERK! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!"
Krishna stumbled back a step with the weight, one arm instinctively cradling Luffy's back.
"I'm not," he said.
"I wrote your name on a tree! That means you were supposed to come back!"
Krishna laughed, just a breath. "Then I'm glad I listened."
"You were GONE for SO LONG!" Luffy yelled into his neck. "I thought you got eaten! Or married! Or turned into a bird!"
Krishna blinked. "I—what?"
Makino laughed through her tears. "He meant kidnapped. Probably."
Luffy was crying now, loud and childish and shameless. "Don't do that again. Don't go so far. You said you'd come back but you didn't say it'd be a whole year!". He started hitting Krishna with his rubbery, floppy arms, which served no purpose other than to release some of his frustration and sadness.
His arms dropped to the side after tiring himself a bit, and hugged Krishna tightly.
"I missed you," Luffy said, quieter now, arms around his older brother's shoulders.
"I missed you too."
"Liar."
"Not really."
"Okay fine. But you still suck."
...
A voice came from behind the well. Calm. Older. Almost bored.
"Luffy's gonna squeeze your ribs into soup if you don't shake him off."
Ace walked up slowly, arms crossed. His shirt was too big, his jaw was set, and he stood like someone trying not to show he'd been waiting at that road for a long time.
Krishna looked up.
Ace stopped three feet away.
"You look... older," he said. "And tired."
"You too."
"I'm not tired. I just don't cry when people leave."
Krishna raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Ace stared for a long moment.
Then his voice cracked.
"You're late."
Ace stepped forward and punched him once in the arm. Hard, but not too hard. Then wrapped his arms around him quickly, roughly, like it wasn't allowed to last long.
"Stupid," he muttered. "Took you long enough."
Krishna grinned. "I had to walk past three broken navies and five idiots to get here."
"You're still late," Ace muttered.
Krishna rested his chin lightly on Ace's head.
"I know."
...
Makino finally stepped back, tears still leaking from her eyes.
She tried to compose herself, but her smile wouldn't stop shaking.
"You're not allowed to grow another inch without telling me."
Krishna glanced down. "I'm trying."
"You look like you could lift Dadan with one arm."
A booming voice answered from the trees.
"THE HELL IS ALL THIS SCREAMING?!"
Dadan appeared from the tree-line, arms crossed, cigarette unlit and dangling from her mouth, slippers not even matching.
She saw Krishna.
And stopped cold the moment she saw him.
Eyes wide.
Hands frozen.
Then stormed forward like she wasn't crying already.
"ONE YEAR," she shouted. "You vanish, not a letter, not a call, not a pigeon—"
"I sent Garp a message—"
"THAT OLD BASTARD DOESN'T COUNT!" she snapped, voice cracking. "I thought you were dead, you dumb, moody, feather-hoarding bastard!"
Then slapped him in the shoulder.
Then punched his other shoulder.
Then threw her arms around him and pulled him down into a bear hug.
Then punched him again while still hugging him.
Krishna coughed. "Are you crying?"
"No! Shut up!"
"Your nose is leaking."
"That's tactical stress!"
Makino wiped her eyes and smiled. "He's back. That's what matters."
"You little shit," she whispered, voice tight, still hugging him tight, afraid he would disappear again. "You silent, ungrateful, stupid little shit."
Krishna just smiled.
...
The sun rose fully now.
And for the first time in what felt like a year, the courtyard behind the Foosha bar felt full.
Not perfect.
Just full.
They stood like that for a while.
All of them.
Krishna stood in the center of it all.
Luffy clinging to his left side.
Ace hovering just close enough on the right.
Makino dabbing her eyes behind him.
Dadan pretending her nose wasn't running.
It wasn't clean.
It wasn't poetic.
But it was real.
When they pulled back, Krishna looked around.
The trees hadn't changed. The smells hadn't either.
But something in his chest had loosened.
Like a string drawn too tight for too long had finally let go.
And in the space it left?
Peace.
Not the quiet kind.
The human kind.
Krishna didn't smile wide.
But his midnight eyes warmed.
"I missed dinner," he said quietly.
Luffy snorted. "Idiot."
"You're the idiot," Ace muttered.
"Both of you are idiots," Dadan snapped.
Makino wiped her face and said, "Come inside, before I cry again."
Krishna nodded.
"I'm home."
...
Krishna stepped in last, ducking slightly under the frame like he wasn't used to fitting here anymore.
Time passed slowly.
Inside, Makino put the kettle on while yelling at Luffy to wipe his face, while Luffy was clinging to Krishna's arm like a baby panda.
Ace sat on the steps, elbows on his knees, glancing at him like he didn't believe he was real, while smirking at Luffy getting scolded again.
Sheshika slithered in through the window and immediately curled around the sunspot near the corner of the room, already half-asleep and content.
Medha's voice hummed softly in his neural channel, private and unseen.
"Confirmed. Emotional damage bypassed. System warming."
Krishna replied in his mind, "No system needed. This... is mine."
He just sat at the table.
His hand still shook slightly.
But his heart... no longer did.
"You didn't cry."
Krishna responded inside his head. "Didn't need to."
"That's new."
"I think I remembered how this feels."
"Which part?"
He glanced toward Luffy trying to steal sugar.
"The part where someone knows who I am and wants me anyway."
Makino handed him a towel and a plate.
Dadan threw a spoon at Ace.
Luffy laughed like nothing had ever gone wrong.
And Krishna?
He sat.
And let himself eat.
He looked around the room and let his shoulders fall by an inch.
It wasn't a battlefield.
But it was his ground.
And the war had stopped — if only for today.
...
The kitchen in Dadan's house hadn't changed.
There was still that one chair with a missing leg Ace refused to fix. Still a cracked teacup Makino wouldn't throw away. Still a scorch mark above the stove where Luffy tried to toast bread with a candle.
Krishna took it all in quietly, letting the sounds fill him. Makino poured tea like it was ritual. Dadan yelled at Luffy for putting his feet on the table. Ace threw a bread roll at Luffy's head and missed, hitting a window.
"You two didn't burn this place down while I was gone?" Krishna asked.
Luffy grinned. "Almost!"
Makino groaned. "Don't encourage him."
Ace leaned back, arms crossed behind his head. "Define burn."
Dadan narrowed her eyes. "Don't define burn."
Krishna just sipped his tea, settling into the chair like it had been waiting for him.
...
Luffy, mouth full of rice, leaned forward. "We did all kinds of cool stuff! You missed everything!"
"Oh?" Krishna raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"
Ace smirked. "We freed some locked-up animals from a noble's transport caravan."
"They had a bear," Luffy said proudly.
"A baby bear," Ace clarified. "That stole Luffy's sandal."
"And I stole it back!"
Krishna tilted his head. "The sandal or the bear?"
"Yes," said Luffy.
Makino massaged her temples. "They also set fire to the warehouse next to the noble's storage yard."
"Accidentally," Ace added quickly. "Luffy sneezed while holding a torch."
"I yelled 'fire in the hole!'" Luffy declared.
"You were the hole!" Dadan snapped.
...
Krishna didn't laugh, but his mouth twitched.
He rested his chin on one hand. "And what about consequences?"
"Garp laughed," Ace said. "Then punched us."
"Then laughed again," Luffy added. "Then punched Ace harder."
"Only Ace," Ace muttered.
Makino sat down beside Krishna and placed a new cup of tea in front of him. "Honestly, it was only a matter of time before they got involved in something ridiculous."
"I didn't think it'd involve explosives," Dadan said. "Or nobles. Or pineapples."
Krishna raised an eyebrow again.
"They tried to build a catapult with fruit baskets."
"Key word: tried," Ace grumbled.
"Key word: basket," Luffy whispered dramatically.
...
The room settled into laughter, warm and uneven. Even Makino smiled behind her teacup. Dadan leaned back and lit a fresh cigarette.
"You should've been here," Luffy said, suddenly quiet.
Krishna looked at him.
"I mean," Luffy went on, "not that we needed help. But…"
"But it felt off," Ace finished. "With just us."
Krishna didn't answer immediately.
He looked around the table.
Ace, cocky and sunburned, still with scabs on his knuckles.
Luffy, bouncing slightly in his chair like sitting still was a death sentence.
Makino, eyes full of everything she'd never say aloud.
Dadan, pretending she wasn't watching him just as closely as everyone else.
"I missed this," Krishna said simply.
...
They all nodded.
Then Luffy ruined it.
"Wanna see the pit we dug behind the house?!"
"No," Makino said instantly.
"Yes," Dadan said. "So I can throw you in it."
Krishna nodded toward the window. "Show me after dinner."
Luffy grinned. "You'll love it. There's worms."
Krishna blinked. "What a pitch."
...
Later, they sat outside on the back porch, Luffy drawing lines in the dirt with a stick, Ace lying on his back using Sheshika as a pillow. She didn't complain.
Makino braided her hair slowly, eyes half-lidded, humming something no one recognized.
Krishna leaned back against the wall, sipping from a clay cup. The sky was warm and slowly darkening, pulling stars out one by one.
It felt like childhood had returned.
But only because he was here again.
...
The sun was gone. The stars had settled overhead like grains spilled from a divine hand. Inside the kitchen, the windows glowed golden with lamplight, and the scent of onion, oil, and warm spice had just started to build.
Krishna stood in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled and his back to the door, the faint clink of spices the only sound in the room.
He hadn't said a word about cooking.
He just stood from the porch, walked into the kitchen, and opened the spice cupboard like it had always been his.
The pot on the stove hadn't started boiling yet.
But something about the way he stirred the onions — slow, clockwise, measured — felt like it had already begun.
Makino leaned against the doorframe, watching. "You're cooking?"
Krishna nodded without turning. "I want to."
Dadan raised an eyebrow. "You even remember how?"
He flicked a dried chili into the oil. "I never forgot."
...
Makino hovered near the cutting board, gently dicing tomatoes with a rhythm that said she'd done this a thousand times. Her eyes glanced at Krishna now and then — not in suspicion, but curiosity.
"You've gotten more precise," she said softly.
Krishna nodded. "I remember how you chopped. I copied it."
Makino smiled. "I used to do that when you were five."
"I know. I still do."
She looked at him — and for a second, saw the little boy again. The one who used to peek over the counter, watching every move like it was an ancient dance.
He wasn't that boy anymore.
But maybe a part of him still lived there, behind the silence.
Ace sat on the countertop with a spoon in his mouth, arms crossed. "You're being mysterious again."
"I'm making noodles."
"You always sound like you're about to drop a prophecy."
"Sometimes I am."
Luffy was already bouncing beside the table. "What's it called again?!"
"Maggi," Krishna replied.
Makino repeated it thoughtfully. "Maggi. That a name or something?"
"No."
"You invent this?"
Krishna paused, his expression changing minutely, like he wanted to say something, but decide not to say it for the sake of the sanity and wellbeing of the people around him and his own.
"Well... Yes."
"ADD BUTTER!" Luffy screamed from the table, mouth full of boiled peanuts.
"You scream butter one more time," Dadan warned, "and I'm putting wasabi in your soup."
Luffy held up both hands in surrender, grinning.
"Don't put curry leaves in it," Ace muttered. "You ruined it last time."
"That was Luffy's idea."
"You still did it."
"I was manipulated. Emotionally."
...
Inside his neural link, Medha's voice hummed softly — smooth, focused, and warm.
"Running taste profile scans. Cross-referencing pre-incident Earth memories. Locating the masala ratio used during 'First Maggi Event' — Foosha, post-Shanks departure, ASL present."
Krishna stirred the onions slower.
He remembered that day.
Sabo still had soot on his nose. Luffy cried twice during the boil. Ace pretended not to care, but ended up licking the pot clean. Krishna had only known the taste for two weeks then — but somehow, it already felt like something ancient.
Comfort. Salt. Silence. Family.
...
"The base has turmeric," he murmured aloud.
Makino walked over and set a bowl of chopped tomatoes beside him.
"You really did invent this, huh?"
Krishna stirred in the turmeric, watching it hiss.
"In one life or another."
Dadan opened the cabinet behind him and frowned. "You're using coriander?"
"Yes."
"And black pepper?"
"Yes."
"...And soy sauce?"
"Yes."
"Damn," she muttered. "This some God-tier gut cleanse."
Krishna stirred the boiling water gently. Medha's voice buzzed softly in his head — low, precise.
"Masala profile reconstructed. Optimal blend achieved. Begin final sequence: noodles soul."
Krishna adjusted without speaking. His movements were careful, restrained. Every motion felt practiced — not flashy, not divine, but deliberate.
He reached into a simple cloth bag and pulled out two compact noodle cakes he'd packed from the last island. East Blue grain — not ideal, but usable.
He broke them gently, added them to the bubbling mixture, and stirred once, and turned the flame down.
Then he dropped in diced onions, green chili, crushed garlic, and a dash of garam masala — just enough to spark something familiar.
The scent changed instantly. The smell hitting the room like a punch made of memories.
Ace blinked.
Makino stopped chopping. "Oh."
Dadan sniffed. "That smells… weirdly good."
"It's the same thing you made with the boys that day," Makino said. "After Shanks left."
Krishna nodded once. "I remembered."
Luffy hovered beside him, wide-eyed. "Is it spicy?"
"Balanced."
"Is it crunchy?"
"It's noodles, Luffy."
Luffy whispered to Ace, "I'm gonna slurp so hard I pass out."
...
The pot boiled with purpose now.
Krishna lowered the flame and added the final touches: half a spoon of chili powder, a trace of jaggery, fresh coriander, and butter — one clean scoop, right in the center.
"Let it melt without touching it," he said softly.
Everyone stared.
"Why?"
Krishna turned toward them. "Because food should feel like something before you eat it."
Sheshika coiled near the table and let out a soft hum. "He always gets like this with Maggi. Too much memory."
Ace leaned down. "Was he this dramatic the last time? I don't remember much."
"He was worse. Far worse"
Luffy leapt from the chair. "IT'S READY!"
"No running in the—OW!"
Ace pushed past him, muttering, "If he used too much chili again, I swear—"
"I didn't," Krishna said calmly. "This time, it's perfect."
Dadan sat down with a grunt. "It better be. Or I'm disowning you."
Krishna served it in five uneven bowls, giving Luffy the biggest one without comment.
Makino handed out spoons.
Luffy's eyes sparkled. "It's like golden noodles!"
Dadan grunted. "It better not kill me."
Ace sniffed it. "I take back everything bad I said about coriander."
...
It wasn't graceful.
Luffy slurped like it was a contest. Ace chewed with half-closed eyes. Dadan blew on hers dramatically. Sheshika flicked her tongue into a small bowl set aside for her.
Makino tasted hers quietly. Then set her spoon down and smiled.
"It's perfect."
They didn't eat like they were honoring something.
They ate like they were starving. Like kids. Like nothing else in the world mattered but the warmth sliding down their throats.
Krishna sat down last.
Slow.
Measured.
Quiet.
Just a boy eating dinner with his family.
...
"This is so good," Luffy mumbled.
Ace pointed his spoon. "You still added chili."
"You always notice, and still finish it," Krishna said.
"Shut up."
Luffy slurped the entire bowl in under a minute.
"More!"
"No," Krishna said.
"Please!"
"It's sacred. One bowl per soul."
"THAT'S NOT FAIR!"
"You don't have a soul. You traded it for rubber."
"YOU MADE ME THIS WAY!"
Dadan wiped her mouth and sighed. "Goddamn. That really is good."
Makino took another bite, savoring. "This is... really good."
Krishna looked at her, a hint of smile at the edge of his lips.
Ace set his spoon down. "This should be illegal."
Dadan glared. "If you cry, I'll smack you."
"I'm not crying. I'm sweating flavor."
There was something sacred in the way they ate.
Not in the food itself — though it was divine.
But in the space. The noise. The joy. The fullness of it.
They hadn't shared a meal like this in months.
Not one without someone missing.
...
Makino watched Krishna between bites. He was focused, but not tense. Present. The lines in his brow were looser, his shoulders more relaxed.
She nudged him gently. "This might be your greatest act of service so far."
"I think so too."
"No world saved. No village rescued."
"Just spice ratios."
Makino grinned. "The people most worth saving are the ones who'll eat with you."
Luffy reached over and grabbed Ace's bowl. "If you're done—"
"Touch it and I'll stab you with a carrot."
"Violence doesn't solve things!"
"You stole my socks yesterday."
"That was strategic borrowing!"
Dadan chuckled under her breath. "I missed this."
Krishna nodded. "So did I."
...
For a while, no one spoke.
Just bowls scraped. Mouths chewed. Cups refilled.
It wasn't silent.
But it was peaceful.
The meal ended slowly.
Behind them, Ace leaned back in his chair and groaned. "I'm full in my soul."
Luffy was passed out on the floor, noodle bowl still clutched to his chest.
Dadan pulled a blanket over him. "Finally. Peace."
Dadan and Makino cleaned up.
...
As they scrubbed, Makino glanced over.
"Did it help?" she asked.
Krishna looked up. "What?"
"Cooking. This. Us."
He paused.
Then nodded. "More than I expected."
She didn't ask why.
She didn't need to.
...
Krishna stayed by the sink, quietly rinsing the pot.
Sheshika slid up the wall beside him. "You good?"
He didn't answer at first.
Then, "I didn't think I'd be able to make it the same way."
She rested her tail near his foot. "Memory lives in the hands."
He nodded.
"I know."
...
Inside his mind, Medha's voice was calm, even — but quietly proud.
"Confirmed: First Joy Echo registered post-journey. Welcome home, Krishna."
He smiled faintly to himself.
Then whispered back,
"Thank you."
They didn't say grace.
They didn't need to.
The meal had already been a prayer.
And Krishna — quiet, precise, kind — had cooked it without saying a word about how much it mattered.
...
The evening stretched out, golden light from the setting sun spilling across the porch, casting long shadows on the ground. The air had settled into that familiar warmth that only came when the day was winding down and the night was still a promise.
Krishna sat on the edge of the porch, leaning against the wood railing, his fingers tracing the grain absentmindedly. His coat hung over the back of his chair, forgotten. The rest of the family scattered around, cleaning up after dinner or sitting in their own spaces, the sound of Luffy's occasional outburst and Ace's laughter filling the air like the soundtrack of home.
It was peaceful. But the kind of peace that came only after a storm had passed and no one wanted to speak of the wind just yet.
They weren't done yet, though.
Krishna glanced up at the sky, watching the last few rays of sunlight touch the horizon. And then, without thinking, Ace spoke up.
"So, what did you actually do while you were gone?" Ace's voice wasn't demanding — it was just curiosity wrapped in familiar irritation.
Ace sat cross-legged near the steps, arms folded like he wasn't waiting for anything—but his eyes didn't leave Krishna. Luffy was lying in the grass nearby, chewing on something rubbery.
Dadan was somewhere behind them, probably sipping tea and pretending not to listen. Makino wiped down the last dishes in the sink before quietly stepping out to join the others, drying her hands on a towel.
Krishna didn't answer immediately. He looked up at the stars.
"They weren't important."
Makino sat down next to him on the steps. "Maybe not to you. But to us, they are."
Luffy leaned over the railing, upside down. "Did you fight sea kings?"
"No."
"Pirates?"
"A few."
"Steal treasures? Get in trouble?"
Krishna shifted slightly, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I did. But only when I had to."
"So you didn't do anything crazy?" Luffy asked, leaning forward.
"I didn't go looking for trouble. But it found me."
Luffy clapped. "Nice!"
Makino leaned against the window frame and crossed her arms. "What do you mean?"
Krishna hesitated for a moment before speaking, his tone quiet, as if measuring each word. "There was one place I went. A village. The kind you wouldn't think needed saving."
"What happened?" Ace asked, his voice turning more serious, his arms crossed.
"They were under the control of a gang. The usual kind of thugs. But this village… they didn't need saving because they were too weak or too poor. They needed saving because they were afraid." Krishna's voice dropped a little. "Afraid of everything."
Luffy frowned. "Afraid of what?"
"Of power. Of silence. Of the unknown."
Makino's eyes softened, and she walked over to sit next to Krishna. "What did you do?"
"I fought the gang, of course," Krishna said, but his voice was measured. "But after, they were afraid of me. Not for what I did. But for how I did it. There was a child… maybe five or six years old. He looked at me like I wasn't real, like I was something that shouldn't exist."
Dadan exhaled smoke behind them. "Dumbass villagers."
"That's stupid," Luffy said quickly. "You helped them. You saved them. Why be scared?"
"It's easy to fear what you don't understand." Krishna paused, watching the dust swirl in the evening air. "I don't need their gratitude. I didn't do it for that. But…" He paused again. "I left them behind, and when I did, I thought, maybe I wasn't doing this right. Maybe there's something about me they don't see."
Ace sat up straighter, his expression turning thoughtful. "So, what did you do? Did you yell at them for not appreciating it?"
Krishna shook his head. "I didn't yell. I didn't stay."
Makino frowned. "Why?"
"I left them a feather. And I walked away."
"That's it?" Ace's voice was almost incredulous.
Krishna shook his head. "Silence is cleaner. You don't have to defend yourself when you know who you are."
"They're wrong," Ace muttered.
"They were afraid of something they didn't understand," Makino added gently.
"I understand them," Krishna said. "I do. But it doesn't make it easier."
...
They were all quiet for a moment, each of them digesting the weight of what Krishna had said.
Ace sighed and leaned back against the post. "That's... messed up. They were lucky to have you, and they didn't even see it."
"People don't always see what's in front of them," Krishna said. "Sometimes, they don't want to."
Luffy looked angry now, his jaw clenched. "That's so dumb. They should've been grateful. You saved them! You gave them their lives back!"
Makino reached out, touching Krishna's shoulder gently. "You did the right thing, Krishna. Don't doubt it."
"I don't doubt it," he said softly. "But I don't think the fear was about me. It was about what I represent. Something they couldn't control."
Ace stood up and stretched, his eyes narrowed. "You always say stuff like that. And I don't get it." He smiled slightly. "But I think that's the part of you I'm still trying to figure out. You do things that don't make sense, but they still matter."
Krishna looked at him and nodded. "I'm learning, too."
Dadan, who had been quietly smoking her cigarette in the corner, chuckled. "You're all idiots. But I guess that's why I like you."
They all looked at her, and Dadan waved her hand dismissively. "He saved them, didn't he? That's what matters. The rest is their problem."
Krishna turned to her, a faint smile on his lips. "You always know how to say the right thing."
"I know," Dadan whispered, but there was something in her eyes — something softer, almost wistful.
There was a beat of quiet.
Then Dadan muttered, "You should've let me visit that village. I'd have cracked a few heads."
Ace grinned. "Yeah. Let's teach 'em a lesson."
Krishna looked at them all — his loud, ridiculous, infuriating, loyal family.
And he felt something tighten in his chest.
Not pain. Not even pride.
Just warmth.
"You all would've started a riot," he said.
Luffy raised a fist. "YEAH WE WOULD!"
...
"You know, I almost believed them."
That changed everything.
"They looked at me with fear… and I started to wonder if they were right. Maybe I've changed too much. Maybe I don't walk like a boy anymore. Maybe I don't feel like one either."
He flexed his hand. "Maybe the world made me something it can't understand."
Makino placed her hand gently over his. "Even if it did… you're still you. You came back. That's proof enough."
Ace scoffed. "You're a freak, but you're our freak."
Dadan leaned around the door. "And if you ever start thinking like that again, I'm hittin' you with a soup pot."
Krishna looked up at her, and gulped silently, fear in his eyes. "Gently?"
"Depends on how dramatic your monologue is."
...
Sheshika slithered onto the porch and curled near Krishna's feet.
Luffy watched her with wide eyes. "Did she bite anyone?"
"No," Krishna said.
"She helped me fly."
Everyone stared.
"You FLEW?" Luffy shouted.
"Briefly."
Ace threw a leaf at him. "Liar."
Krishna shrugged.
...
He turned back toward the others.
"There were others I met too."
"More villages?" Makino asked.
"People," Krishna said. "There was a boy I met, a swordsman. He had lost someone important to him, someone he thought was everything. His grief… it was his only weapon." He paused. "He didn't speak much. Just trained. Over and over. Like he was trying to reach someone long gone."
Luffy looked curious. "What did you do?"
"I didn't give him a sword," Krishna said. "I just told him to use his heart. To train with his grief, but not let it define him."
Ace's eyes narrowed. "So, you did give him something."
Krishna didn't answer right away, his eyes focused on the horizon. "I gave him a chance to move forward."
Makino stood, gently rubbing her temples. "And there was someone else, wasn't there? Another person you met."
"Yes. A boy. A cook," Krishna said. "Young. Fiery. Lived on a floating restaurant. He cooked for a living. And no one understood him, not even himself. He was lost, like a fire burning with no direction. Kindness buried beneath it."
"You taught him how to cook?" Dadan smirked.
"I gave him a recipe," Krishna said simply. "But it wasn't about the food. It was about giving him something he could control."
Dadan snorted. "A recipe. That's your solution?"
Krishna smiled, the smallest tilt to his lips. "Food has a way of teaching us what we need to learn. More than words can. I reminded him why he started."
...
The silence that followed wasn't heavy.
It was soft. Earned.
Luffy lay back and stared at the stars.
Ace leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
Dadan lit another cigarette.
Makino leaned her head gently on Krishna's shoulder.
She was quiet for a long moment. "You're not just walking across the world, Krishna. You're finding pieces of yourself in people."
"I'm still learning who I am," Krishna said softly. "But I'm learning."
"Maybe you're teaching yourself," she said, her voice quieter.
"Maybe," Krishna agreed, looking at his hands again.
Ace raised his brow. "Are you gonna leave again?"
Krishna shook his head. "Not yet. Not yet."
Luffy leaned in, grinning. "What about me? Am I teaching you something?"
Krishna looked down at Luffy's eager face. "Yes."
Luffy's eyes widened, and he grinned even wider. "What?!"
Krishna's smile softened. "You remind me to laugh, even when it's hard."
Luffy blinked. "Huh. I do?"
"Yes," Krishna said. "You do."
...
They sat in silence for a while after that. Not the quiet that filled up with words, but the kind that settled comfortably. The kind that only comes with family.
"You're not becoming a god," Makino said quietly.
Krishna didn't move.
"You're just seeing more of the world than most ever will. And you're carrying it the only way you know how."
He exhaled.
"I don't want to be worshipped," he said. "I just want to do the right thing."
"Then do it," Dadan said. "But don't forget you're allowed to come home, too."
Luffy's voice broke in.
"Hey Krishna?"
"Yes?"
"Next time you meet someone scary… tell them we're scarier."
Krishna smiled faintly. "Deal."
Krishna knew his journey wasn't over. But in this moment — in the presence of his brothers, his mothers, his companions and the unspoken promise of home — he felt at peace. He didn't need to explain. He didn't need to move forward right now. Not yet.
He was allowed to be here.
And that, for the first time in a year, was enough.
...
Something exploded on the east end of the village.
It wasn't fireworks.
It was him.
A tree cracked somewhere in the distance, followed by a crash, a roar, and the sound of something being punched directly into a river.
A distant voice bellowed louder than a marine cannon, scaring every bird from their tree and two goats from their fence. Luffy, half-asleep on the porch, jolted upright and fell backward into a bucket.
"HE'S HERE!" Luffy screamed, already climbing the porch post to get a better look.
Makino sighed, already setting down her teacup. "That man does not know what a door is."
"I HEARD THAT!" Garp's voice echoed before he even arrived.
Ace groaned, rolled off the bench, and muttered, "Here comes the storm…"
"No, no, no—don't open the door!" Makino shouted, mid-sweep.
Too late.
The door flung open — not slammed, not kicked, but launched off the hinges with marine-grade enthusiasm. A large silhouette filled the frame like a warship in fog.
"WHERE ARE MY USELESS GRANDSONS?!"
Garp grinned like he'd been looking forward to this entrance for a year. Sack of fish over one shoulder, fists like cannonballs, grinning with enough force to break the moon, teeth flashing under the wildest mustache East Blue had ever known.
"I brought fish! And pain!"
He dropped the fish with a thud that made the floor wince.
Dadan groaned. "Ah shit! Here we go again."
Makino smiled despite herself. "Welcome back, Garp."
Ace stood up, already bracing.
Luffy screamed with joy, "GRANDPA!" — then ran directly into a fist that was half-hug, half-punch.
The man himself raised an eyebrow at the smell of leftover spices in the air, and then squinted at the boys gathered near the kitchen.
"Well well well," he said. "One, two... we're only missing one moron and the set's complete."
Krishna stepped into the light.
Garp's expression froze.
Just for a moment.
Krishna raised a hand in greeting.
Garp blinked. "Huh. You're taller."
Krishna tilted his head. "You got louder."
"Damn right I did."
...
What followed was not a conversation.
It was a brawl disguised as a family reunion.
Without warning, Garp lunged forward and grabbed all three boys—Krishna, Ace, and Luffy—into a bear hug so violent it knocked over a chair.
"You brats made me look like a sentimental old man!"
"You are a sentimental old man!" Luffy wheezed.
Ace grunted. "Let go or I'll bite your arm!"
Krishna just blinked and muttered, "This is assault."
Garp finally let go, stepping back and eyeing Krishna up and down.
"You don't look like you broke."
"I didn't."
"But you bent."
Krishna's expression didn't change, but his voice lowered. "Yes."
Garp nodded. "Good."
...
After the chaos settled, they all found themselves back on the porch. Garp sat on the stairs with a fish bone in his mouth and a mug of Makino's spiced tea in his hand. Luffy and Ace wrestled barefoot in the grass nearby while Sheshika circled them lazily like a referee waiting to disqualify them both.
Later, with plates scraped clean and Dadan pretending not to tear up from laughter, the night finally softened. Garp sat on the back porch, cross-legged, sipping another cup of Makino's strong tea, eyes scanning the treeline.
Krishna sat beside him in silence.
The noise from inside had dulled. Ace and Luffy were still arguing about whether goats had souls. Makino was washing up with Sheshika sunbathing near her feet.
The old man didn't say anything for a long time.
Garp exhaled. Not tired. Just… reflective.
"You found something out there, didn't you?"
Krishna didn't answer immediately.
"Yes."
"What?"
"Myself. I think."
Garp took a long sip from his mug. "That's rare. Most people die before they even ask."
"I didn't ask either," Krishna said. "I just started walking."
"That's how the best paths begin," Garp replied. "You see something wrong. You take a step. And then suddenly you're five oceans deep and you can't remember where your old life ended."
Krishna nodded. "I know that feeling."
"There was a village," he said after a pause. "They were ruled by a group of thugs. The usual kind — small-time pirates. Took their food, water, and dignity."
Garp listened.
"I helped. Took them out, clean. Gave the supplies back. Healed a few people. Thought that would be enough."
Garp didn't interrupt.
"But after it was over… they looked at me like I was something worse. Something they hadn't asked for."
"Why?" Garp asked.
"I moved too fast. Said too little. Fought too efficiently. I wasn't human to them. I was something they didn't want to believe in."
Garp scratched his chin. "And you let that get in your head?"
"No," Krishna said. "Not at first."
"But later?"
"I started to wonder if they were right."
...
Garp looked into his mug, the tea reflecting his face, weary and tired with things most people can't even imagine.
"You scared some people."
"Yes."
"You regret it?"
Krishna paused. "No. But I understand it now. I see what they saw."
"Good." Garp set his mug down. "If you didn't see it, you'd be dangerous."
Silence stretched.
Then Garp let out a long breath and said, "That's what happens when you start doing the right thing without waiting for applause."
Krishna looked at him.
"The world's not used to someone like you, someone who saves them and leaves," Garp said. "They want to know your name. Your reason. Your weakness. If you don't give them that, they invent one."
Krishna looked at his hands. "They called me a weapon."
"Well," Garp shrugged. "Sometimes, the world needs one. But don't forget, weapons don't choose where they're pointed.Youdo."
Garp went on, slower now. "Strength… real strength… makes people uncomfortable. Not just the kind that breaks walls. But the kind that doesn't break when others do. It unsettles them. Especially when they can't label you."
Krishna exhaled. "Then maybe I shouldn't be so quiet."
"No," Garp said. "Stay quiet. It's scarier."
Krishna didn't deny it.
...
They sat in silence again.
Then Garp said, "I've seen a lot of powerful men."
"Pirates?"
"Pirates. Marines. Revolutionaries. They all wanted the same thing—respect. Love. Control. Even when they said they didn't."
Krishna watched the fireflies.
"But the rare ones," Garp continued, "the rare ones don't ask for anything back. They don't save because they want to be remembered. They just can't not save."
He looked over. "You one of those?"
Krishna didn't respond right away.
"I'm trying to be."
Garp nodded.
"Good."
Then he turned fully toward him. The weight of his age, his title, his history suddenly very real.
"But here's what matters more than power, more than kindness, more than silence — do you still care?"
Krishna blinked. "What?"
"Do you care about people?"
"Yes."
"Then don't let that get buried under control."
Garp leaned forward.
"Look, kid. You're not cold. You're just scared to feel too much. You think if you detach, you won't get dragged down. That if you stay high above it all, no one can bleed on you."
Krishna remained quiet.
"That's not strength. That's running with good posture."
Krishna's fingers curled slightly.
"You're saying I'm afraid of caring?"
"I'm saying it's easier to walk through fire than to sit at a table and let someone call you family."
...
The silence stretched again.
Garp's eyes stayed fixed on the night sky. Krishna's followed.
Then the old man said, almost casually, "You ready to leave again?"
Krishna's shoulders stiffened. "Not yet."
"Good. Because they're not ready either."
"I know."
"But you're already thinking about it."
"I always am."
...
Luffy's voice broke through the quiet.
"KRISHNA! Tell Ace that I beat the last bandit!"
Krishna didn't even look away. "Ace is faster. You're louder."
"WHAT?!"
Ace laughed.
Garp chuckled. "Still got it."
Krishna's smile flickered.
Then faded.
"You think I'm doing the right thing?" he asked suddenly.
Garp blinked. "The cooking or the vigilante god-walking thing?"
"The second one."
Garp grunted. "You're asking the wrong man."
"Then who's the right one?"
"There isn't one." Garp picked up a pebble and flicked it into the forest, breaking a few trees in half by the sheer force of it. "You think I knew what I was doing when I raised a pirate's kid and let you three climb trees and punch marines?"
Krishna tilted his head. "I assumed it was a plan."
"It was chaos," Garp said. "And I made peace with that."
...
After a long pause, Krishna said,
"I thought if I stayed calm… emotionless… I'd never have to question myself, that if I just kept walking the right path, I'd stay clean."
"And now?"
Krishna looked out over the hills where Luffy was now climbing a tree upside down while Ace yelled at him.
"Now I realize that there's no such thing as staying clean. And this world doesn't need another cold god," Krishna said, eyes focused and determined. "It needs someone who can still feel."
Garp grinned, like he knows the fire he lit today will change the whole world. "There it is."
...
Luffy called again. "GRANDPAAA! Ace is cheating!"
"I'M NOT!"
"HE BIT ME!"
Garp sighed, rising to his feet with a dramatic grunt, joints groaning in protest. "Duty calls."
Krishna remained seated. "You're not going to hit them, are you?"
Garp grinned. "Of course I am."
The wind blew through the porch slats. Somewhere a bird called out. Sheshika rustled but didn't stir.
"Don't lose the fire in trying to tame the storm, kid"
Krishna stood too. "I'm not trying to tame it anymore."
Garp looked at him, straight in the eyes. "Then what?"
Krishna didn't flinch under that heavy gaze, "I'm trying to walk with it."
Garp leaned back, his back cracking, making him grunt in satisfaction.
"Good," he said. "Because the world's about to get a lot worse."
Krishna didn't ask how he knew.
He just nodded.
"I'll be ready."
...
Inside, Makino called out.
"Luffy's stuck in the tree again!"
"I'M NOT!"
"His pants are."
"OH NO! ARRGH! LET GO OF ME, YOU TREE BASTARD!" Luffy flailed violently.
Ace cackled in the background.
Garp shook his head. "Every time."
And then, as he strode off into the night, cloak flapping behind him, Garp shouted over his shoulder,
"You ever forget who you are — just remember who's waiting for you to come back!"
Krishna stood still for a long time, the paper tight in his fist, the stars burning quietly above him.
...
The stars were wide tonight.
Foosha Village had settled into its breathless hush — the kind of silence that belonged only to places where family had laughed, fought, eaten, and finally surrendered to sleep. The only noise now was the wind brushing through the trees and the gentle creak of the house as it shifted in the night.
The house was finally quiet.
It was a rare kind of quiet, the kind that didn't ask for anything — not attention, not explanation. Just presence. The kind of stillness that only came after full bellies, exhausted limbs, and a dozen arguments over the last spoon of Maggi.
Krishna sat by the window, back against the wood, long legs folded loosely beneath him. His coat hung nearby on a nail. His boots were off. The lights were out.
The home didn't need brightness to feel lit.
The kind of light here came from breath, and closeness, and knowing that if you shouted into the dark, someone would answer without hesitation.
Luffy lay upside down on the couch, arms splayed, mouth open, a half-eaten biscuit clutched in his hand like treasure. Ace had passed out on the rug nearby, one leg over a cushion, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and stubbornness.
Dadan snored from her favorite chair in the corner, arms crossed, head leaned back, dead to the world but definitely ready to deny sleeping if asked. She'd say she was "watching the ceiling for leaks."
Makino was in the rocking chair, on the far end of the room, had curled up with a book still open on her chest. Her fingers twitched occasionally — as if reading even in her dreams.
Sheshika lay in the shadows near the kitchen, coiled and breathing softly.
Krishna didn't speak. He barely moved.
He just watched.
He traced the lines of the walls with his eyes — the carvings on the doorframe, the old scrape on the windowsill from Luffy's first slingshot accident, the slight dip in the floorboards where Ace always paced when angry.
He remembered everything.
He always had.
Even when the world was wide and loud and pulling him in every direction, his mind never stopped recording. But for the first time in a long while, he realized his body had recorded too.
He felt the floor under him. The smell of woodsmoke and spice in the air. The echo of Dadan's earlier shouting still tangled in the rafters.
This wasn't just nostalgia.
It was reality.
And he was part of it again.
Sheshika slithered around the far wall, curling gently beside the doorframe. Her head rested on a folded towel someone had left there. Her body moved in rhythm with the breeze that slipped in through the cracked window.
"You're not tired?" she asked softly.
"No."
"You should be."
"I know."
...
"Vitals steady," Medha whispered gently in his inner neural feed. "Emotional output: stabilized. Processing core has reduced spiritual feedback loops by 83%."
Krishna blinked slowly.
"That means I'm not breaking down?"
"It means," Medha replied, voice almost soft, "you're home."
Krishna exhaled. "It means I feel… human."
"A rare condition for you."
He smiled faintly.
"Don't get used to it."
A small silence. Then her tone shifted into its usual mischief,
"Would you like me to simulate a lullaby?"
"No."
"Too bad. Uploading lullaby protocol… now."
"Medha—"
A pause.
"Just kidding," she said.
He smiled faintly.
...
Krishna closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.
"I thought I needed to leave to become something," he murmured.
"Did it?"
"Yes. And no."
He opened his eyes.
"I thought strength came from distance. From detachment. From leaving things behind. Now I realize… I was walking to remember what I never lost."
Sheshika flicked her tail gently against the floor. "And what did you remember?"
Krishna looked at Luffy.
Then Ace.
Then Makino and Dadan.
"That family isn't what you protect. It's what teaches you how to protect."
Sheshika stirred but didn't rise. "You're still meant to leave again."
"I know."
"But now you know what you're leaving for."
...
He walked over to the window, pushed it open wider, and let the night air in. It carried a hint of seawater, of ash from the fireplace, and the faintest trace of masala still clinging to the rafters.
The stars were loud tonight.
Not bright. Loud.
As if they wanted him to remember that the world was still waiting. That the journey was only resting. Not done.
"I saw strength in places that never spoke of strength. A cook whose hands knew rage. A swordsman whose blade was shaped by grief. A village that feared me more than their oppressors."
He looked down at his palms.
"And I saw myself in all of them. Too quiet. Too sharp. Too strange to be trusted."
...
Sheshika watched him with still, golden eyes. "And now?"
"I still don't know what I am," Krishna admitted. "But I know where I come back to."
He looked around the room.
"This."
He closed his eyes.
"I saw loyalty in silence. Hope in strangers. And hunger… so much hunger."
He opened his eyes again.
"Not just for food. For meaning."
Medha responded, quiet and careful, "And what did you hunger for?"
Krishna didn't speak at first.
Then, "I wanted to be seen. And not feared."
...
The wind pushed gently against the curtains.
Sheshika flicked her tail once. "They will see you, eventually. But it starts here. With them."
Krishna turned around and looked at the room again.
Ace's arm had flopped onto Luffy's face in his sleep. Luffy swatted it like a fly, still unconscious.
Dadan snorted and muttered something about taxes in her dream.
Makino shifted slightly, lips twitching into a smile mid-sleep.
...
He walked quietly to Makino's side and gently lifted the book off her chest. He closed it and placed it beside the lamp with care, fingers brushing the spine.
She shifted in her sleep, murmuring something — a name, maybe — but didn't wake.
He moved to Luffy next, crouched, and slowly took the Maggi bowl from his fingers. Luffy didn't stir.
Then to Ace, whose forehead had a faint bruise from earlier that he hadn't mentioned. Krishna placed a cold cloth beside him.
Finally, he stopped near Dadan, who still snored like a sleeping bear with pride issues.
He stood over her for a moment.
Then smiled.
"You're loud," he said softly.
"You're all loud," he added, not unkindly.
Krishna felt his throat tighten.
He didn't cry.
But he allowed himself to feel the ache — the full weight of returning to something worth protecting.
...
"You told me something once," he said quietly, turning to Sheshika. "That warmth isn't weakness. That mercy doesn't dilute strength."
Sheshika blinked slowly. "You remembered."
"I didn't want to."
"But you did."
...
The stars outside were sharp now — like spears hanging above a world that had forgotten how to rest.
But here, in this little wooden house on the edge of nowhere, rest had returned.
And it had Krishna in its heart again.
...
Medha's voice turned reflective.
"This will be remembered, you know."
"What will?"
"This moment. This peace. Your brothers will speak of it. Makino will write about it. Even Dadan will tell the story to the next idiot who tries to burn her roof down."
Krishna didn't speak.
"You may be a myth out there," Medha continued, "but here… you are simply Krishna."
Sheshika added gently, "And that's the name that matters most."
The old version of himself — the one who left this village a year ago — would've seen this moment as a break. An intermission.
But now?
Now it felt like a heartbeat.
Something essential. Not separate. Not removed from the journey.
A core.
A root.
...
He sat down slowly near the doorway, back against the wall, knees bent. His arms rested lazily on them.
And for a long time, he didn't move.
He just listened.
To the creak of wood. To the rise and fall of Luffy's breathing. To the shifting of Dadan's chair. To the soft shuffle of Sheshika's coils and the whisper of Medha's quiet data pulses beneath his skin.
Then finally, he whispered to no one in particular,
"This is why I walk."
Not for glory.
Not for legend.
Not for justice.
But for this.
For family that slaps you and feeds you in the same breath.
For laughter that fills the cracks silence leaves behind.
For a place to return to.
And a reason to keep going.
...
He closed his eyes.
And let the house hold him.
Sheshika uncoiled just enough to rest her head near his foot.
"You're going to leave again," she said.
"Yes."
"Soon?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
Krishna looked at his sleeping brothers.
"Because I want to stay a little longer. Just a little bit."
...
And in that silence — that sacred, unrushed silence — the myth of Krishna stepped aside.
And the boy named Krishna, the brother, the son, the quiet storm, simply stayed.
Just for tonight.
That was enough.
...
Author's Note:
Yo, divine degenerates and dharmic believers—
This chapter was about stillness, not stasis. About home, not rest. And most of all — about why we keep walking, even when no one sees it.
After everything Krishna's seen, fought, and felt over the past year, I didn't want his return to Foosha to feel like just another checkpoint. It had to be earned. This wasn't about new powers, new enemies, or myth-making.
It was about family.
About Maggi made from memory, laughter that hurts your ribs, Garp's chaos punching through the walls of grief, and a boy realizing that the most sacred thing he could ever protect… was already here.
This is a quieter chapter. But it's also one of the most important ones. Not because it's loud — but because it doesn't need to be.
And from now on, I'll be including more of these quiet, grounding chapters between the storms. Because even gods need to come home, sit down, and eat with their family.
Thank you for walking this far with me.
The silence between wars matters too.
— Author out.
...
Omake – How to Train Your Divine Serpent
The sun had barely dipped past the hills when Luffy climbed up onto the roof with a triumphant yell:
"TODAY… I RIDE THE DRAGON!"
Ace looked up from the porch, blinking.
"What in the seven shades of Garp's baldness are you on about?"
"I'm gonna ride Sheshika!"
Sheshika — who had been peacefully sunbathing near the garden — opened one golden eye, narrowed it, and hissed like someone had insulted her cooking.
"No," she said.
"Yes!" Luffy declared, pointing dramatically. "For too long, I have walked the earth like a mere mortal. Today… I ascend!"
"You can't just—" Ace started, but it was too late.
Luffy leapt from the roof, arms wide like a flying squirrel.
He landed directly on Sheshika's back.
What followed was a moment of absolute, still silence.
Then a very long, very tired sigh came from the corner of the porch.
Krishna had stepped outside, holding a cup of tea, his expression blank. He slowly turned his head toward the scene, eyes narrowing into the visual equivalent of the "disappointed Pakistani cricket fan" meme.
Complete with the hands on the hips.
Unblinking.
Sheshika arched her back like an unbothered snake goddess and, with zero warning, yeeted Luffy ten feet into the air.
He screamed. "I REGRET NOTHING!"
Ace dove to catch him, slipped, and they both rolled into a barrel full of laundry water.
Sheshika slithered over to Krishna and flicked her tongue. "I warned him."
Krishna took a sip of tea.
"Should've yeeted harder."
Makino stepped out of the house, saw the soaked barrel, saw the snake, saw Krishna, and sighed the sigh of an exhausted mother who had signed up for none of this.
"Do I even want to know?"
"Luffy tried to achieve flight via divine serpent," Krishna said.
"Of course he did."
Dadan came stomping down the stairs with a ladle. "Who broke the rain barrel?! I swear to the gods, if one more idiot—"
Luffy popped out of the water dramatically like a war refugee. "THE SKY TASTES LIKE REGRET!"
Ace emerged after him, soaking wet, holding one shoe. "My lungs are filled with betrayal."
Dadan narrowed her eyes. "Why are you like this?"
"Ask the universe," Ace wheezed.
Sheshika was now coiled proudly near the porch, tail swishing, smug as a cat who just knocked over a sacred vase.
Luffy pointed dramatically again. "YOU SHALL NOT DEFEAT ME, O HOLY SNAKE. I AM THE DRAGON TAMER!"
Krishna finally spoke, tone dry as desert stone, eye twitching.
"You're barely a noodle tamer."
...
At this point, Medha's voice crackled into Krishna's ear, clearly trying not to laugh.
"Should I deploy drone footage? I could frame this as a mythic tragedy."
"No," Krishna said.
"How about a training documentary? 'How Not To Mount a Divine Serpent, Episode 1.'"
"No."
"What about... 'Luffy Gets Violated by a Celestial Cobra'?"
Krishna blinked.
"...Save that for the blooper reel."
...
Meanwhile, Luffy had attempted to mount Sheshika again.
This time, he had a makeshift saddle made from a towel, three spoons, and a belt.
"WHO TAUGHT HIM THAT?!" Makino screamed.
Ace shrugged. "I think it's innate stupidity."
Sheshika didn't even yeet him this time.
She simply turned.
Lifted him gently.
And placed him inside the pig trough.
Luffy sat there in silence for five seconds before yelling,
"THIS IS DISCRIMINATION!"
...
Krishna watched from the porch, unmoving.
Expression:
That one Gordon Ramsay meme.
You know the one.
Where he says: "You used so much oil, the U.S. wants to invade the plate."
Makino sat beside him, head in hands.
"Is this what godhood is like?"
Krishna nodded. "Apparently."
...
Finally, Garp — who had gone into the woods to "punch some trees for fun" — returned just in time to see Luffy sitting in a trough, Ace trying to wring his shirt over a torch, and Dadan threatening everyone with a soup ladle like it was divine judgment.
He took one look and nodded sagely.
"Ah," he said. "They're bonding."
...
And that night, in the quiet of Foosha's sky, Medha archived the scene into her database under a very special tag:
[Operation Serpent Rodeo – FAILURE: 100%]
Attached to it was a freeze-frame of Krishna's face…
…expression locked in the most disappointed desi uncle energy ever witnessed by god or snake.
...