Chapter 7: First Steps Below
The wind was deafening.
Clouds whipped past Kira's face, thick and wet like fog made of mist and air. Her cloak snapped against her back, and her gloves gripped tightly at the reinforced leather harness. The bird — Veyra — dove in smooth arcs, wings outstretched, silent as a shadow.
Below them stretched the endless ocean.
It was strange seeing it like this. After half a year of white clouds and skytrees, the deep blue stretched wide and unbroken, speckled with floating debris, gulls, and wind-swept currents.
Kira's eyes narrowed.
There was no welcome. No starting zone. No checkpoint or system message saying, "You've entered the Blue Sea."
There was just ocean.
And she was dropping into it with nothing but instinct and strategy.
Exactly the way she wanted.
Veyra began to slow after a long dive, gliding now instead of plummeting. Kira tugged the left line of her harness, a soft signal. The bird responded, descending gradually until a narrow island came into view — long and low, shaped more like a rocky sandbar than a true landmass.
It would do.
She tapped twice.
Veyra tilted, then flared its wings and dropped like a stone, slowing at the last second before landing hard on the wet sand.
Kira jumped down immediately, feet splashing into the surf, cloak soaked.
She unlatched the harness quickly and stepped away.
Veyra turned its head, blinked once, and gave a single, slow grunt before lifting off again.
No goodbye. No waiting.
It vanished into the sky the same way it had first appeared.
Kira didn't watch it leave.
She was already scanning the area.
The island was maybe fifty meters across, barely enough to count as land. Half rock, half sand, with driftwood scattered along the edges and no shelter. Waves rolled in gently on three sides. The sky above was bright and wide — morning, probably. Still early.
She moved to higher ground, found a flat stone, and sat.
Time to think.
She had two priorities now:
She needed to confirm her location — what part of the Blue Sea she'd landed in. She hadn't planned the descent with precision. Too risky. But she had theories.
Based on the descent angle, the clouds, and bird behavior, she was likely in one of the calmer skyshadow zones — maybe west of Jaya, or north of the Calm Belt.
Find land. Civilization. Not for comfort — for opportunity.
She couldn't stay isolated forever. To build power, she needed people. Not friends. Not allies. Assets.
She pulled out her metal-etched notepad and began jotting down rough coordinates based on the sun's rise and the angle of ocean currents. It wasn't precise, but it gave her a sketch.
After fifteen minutes, she stood and scanned the horizon.
There.
A speck of sail.
Small, low, maybe a fishing boat. Too far to signal.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Then opened them and extended one arm.
Lightning crackled to life at her fingertips — slow at first, then building in hum and glow until soft arcs coiled around her wrist and palm. Her cloak fluttered slightly from the buzz.
She lifted her other hand and aimed skyward.
Then fired.
A streak of light tore upward into the sky — a bright vertical javelin of blue-white current. It exploded above her with a sharp, thunderless flash.
Then silence again.
She lowered her arm and waited.
Ten minutes passed.
Then the boat turned.
It was coming her way.
It took nearly half an hour before the vessel arrived — a small, rust-stained skiff with a single patched sail and two fishermen aboard. They looked nervous as they approached, clearly unsure if she was dangerous or just strange.
Kira said nothing.
She let them speak first.
"You… alright?" one called.
She nodded once.
"You fell from the sky?"
Another nod.
They exchanged glances.
"You hurt?"
She stepped forward into full view, face expressionless, arms at her sides.
"I need a ride," she said. "To the nearest island."
They hesitated — but only for a moment.
Then they lowered the side ladder.
The boat creaked as she climbed aboard.
One man offered her a cloth. She took it, wiped her gloves, then sat at the back corner of the skiff without another word.
The two sailors didn't press her. Smart.
They introduced themselves — Damo and Rell — and began steering toward an island called Las Camp, a small port town about three hours away.
Kira said nothing during the ride.
She stared out at the ocean, eyes scanning the horizon, cloak wrapped tightly around her.
Her presence filled the boat like cold air.
They didn't ask questions.
By midday, land came into view.
Las Camp. A mid-tier island. Small port. Wooden docks. Dozens of low buildings, sails flapping on warehouse roofs, and a few marine patrols pacing near the harbor checkpoint.
No cannons. No fortress. Just another stop on the map.
Perfect.
The boat docked without issue.
Kira stepped off, handed them a small pouch of sky-gold nuggets she had saved from Skypiea, and walked away without looking back.
The dock guard eyed her as she passed.
"Name?"
"Kaia," she said instantly.
She didn't stop walking.
The guard scribbled something down, but didn't chase her.
The port town was noisy but calm. Sailors bickered over prices. Vendors shouted about fish. Marine recruits wandered lazily in pairs, bored and undertrained.
Kira ducked into a side alley, removed her cloak, folded it, and stashed it in her satchel.
Underneath, she wore a simple dark shirt, reinforced gloves, light armor at her ribs and thighs. Her short black hair was wind-swept and damp, but clean.
She didn't look like a Skypiean.
And that was good.
She spent the rest of the day gathering information.
No one knew her.
She learned three things:
Las Camp was neutral territory — not under strict Marine control, but watched. Smuggling happened, but quietly. A good place to lay low or vanish.
No rumors of Devil Fruit users recently. Even better. No attention drawn to electricity.
A ship would be arriving in two days. A freighter headed east to an island called Dagger Rock — a pirate-friendly zone known for underground deals and black market trading.
That was her ride.
That night, she rented a room in a back-alley inn and bolted the door with her own rope.
She stood by the window, watching the waves in the moonlight.
She was here now.
The Blue Sea.
The real story had begun.
And no one knew her name.
Not yet.
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