Early chapters on Pátreon.com/Herd99. (New multiversal fic on Pátreon called Weather Wizard SI. Check it out as the chapters are free)
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Kain lay flat on his back, limbs splayed out across a patch of soft grass growing on a bouyant ground made up of clouds. Not soil, or as the locals called it, Vearth- was valuable and could only be found in the upper yard.
No complaints from him though. Vearth was overrated. In comparison, the clouds beneath him were strangely solid, like a bed made by angels with zero work ethic.
The perfect place to rest his head. Given that, was it any surprise that he put off the system's mission for a brief nap?
His eyelids drifted shut again, the warm sunlight soaking into his skin. After a week of surviving Garp's island from hell, this—felt like compensation.
"I'm gonna live here now," he mumbled to no one.
The Sky Islanders, after his not-so-graceful crash-landing, had gathered in a curious little crowd, poked him once or twice with long sticks, then wandered off, whispering things like "Blue Sea dweller" and "He's probably cursed."
Kain hadn't moved from the shade.
If being mistaken for cursed meant uninterrupted nap time, he'd take it.
Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. Time didn't matter. Kain was halfway to dreaming about a world where he got paid BSP for staying unconscious, when something snapped him out of it.
Fwup-fwup-fwup.
Wings. Lots of them.
He opened one eye.
Soldiers on Dial-shoes were descending from above—Skypiean guards in pearly white armor, helmets shaped like birds, holding strange weapons that buzzed with stored energy. They loomed over him like righteous doves with a bone to pick.
"Intruder!" one shouted, voice tight with authority. "You're charged with unlawful trespassing on sacred ground!"
Kain exhaled long and slow. "Seriously?"
He sat up sluggishly, rubbed his eyes like a man deciding whether or not to hit snooze on life.
"I'm literally just lying here."
The Skypiean guards were having none of it. They formed a half-circle around him, weapons pointed. Their boots didn't crunch—Skypiea didn't have normal dirt—but the tension was heavy.
"You are to be detained immediately. Resist, and you'll be subdued."
Kain stared at them. Then looked at his makeshift nap spot. Then back at them.
He stood up, arms raised—not in surrender, but in an exaggerated stretch that popped every bone in his back.
"I tried to nap, you rudely interrupted me. So now I've gotta do the thing. Cool."
The fight lasted less than five minutes.
The Skypiean Air forces were fast, coordinated, wielded specialized dial weapons and clearly trained.
But they weren't Garp-trained.
Kain ducked under their first volley of dial blasts, yawning as he moved. His counter was slow, casual—almost lazy.
But every palm strike was loaded with Haki, and each time he breathed, a thin pulse of Lazy Dragon's Roar rippled through the air, knocking attackers back like invisible waves.
One soldier flew toward him with a spear crackling with electric energy. Kain sidestepped, chopped the spear in half with a two-finger flick, and nudged the guy gently into a tree.
"Nap was right there, and you ruined it," he muttered.
The rest didn't fare better.
When it was over, a dozen Skypieans lay scattered across the clearing, moaning and groaning in a way that was more embarrassed than injured. Kain stood in the center, cracking his neck and brushing cloud-dust from his pants.
He looked around. "Anyone else?"
No answer. Just the wind.
"Good."
He turned back toward the tree, dropped to the grass with all the drama of a man reclaiming stolen peace, and sighed.
"Now, nap time."
Just as his head touched the grass again…
A shadow passed overhead.
Kain didn't even open his eyes. "Nope. I refuse. I'm asleep. Come back in three to five working days."
A voice answered—calm, old, and way too serious.
"You've caused quite a stir, outsider."
Kain squinted upward.
Floating above him was an old man in armor, riding a winged horse. The man's mustache fluttered in the wind, and his eyes were sharp—but not unkind. He looked like someone who'd seen war, peace, and probably more naps than Kain had ever dreamed of.
"Who's this?" Kain asked, still lying down. He wasn't such an Oda fan that he could recall every character that came out of his twisted mind.
"I am Gan Fall," the man said. "Former God of Skypiea."
Kain blinked. "Former? Huh. Must've been a stressful job."
Gan Fall frowned. "Surrender peacefully, and you'll be treated with fairness."
Kain groaned and sat up. "You know what? Fine. I surrender."
Gan Fall paused mid-air, caught off guard. "...You surrender?"
Kain nodded. "Yeah. I was just trying to nap, man. If prison has a bed and no people flying at me with dials, that's a win. Plus, I feel like we can relate with the 'former' job thing. I'm seriously considering quitting mine."
Gan Fall studied him for a long moment. "Very well," he said finally. "You'll be taken into custody."
"Sweet," Kain said, standing with a stretch. "Do I get a pillow, or is that extra?"
-
Kain's new home was a stone-walled cell suspended above the clouds. No bars—just thick puffs of cumulus acting like a floor, barely solid underfoot. It looked like something out of a bedtime story, but the bed was real enough, and more importantly, no one was punching him.
So Kain made the best of it.
He fluffed up a patch of cloud into 3 soft pillows, cuddled one like a teddy bear and dropped onto the cot face-first. And didn't move for the rest of the day.
The guards outside whispered to each other in confusion. One leaned closer to the tiny cloud window.
"He's not even... trying to escape?"
"He hasn't moved since they brought him in."
"Is he dead?"
As if on cue, a snore floated out from the room.
"…Nope. Just sleeping."
-
The next morning, something changed.
Kain's eyes never opened. But his body moved.
He rose from the bed like a ghost possessed, yawned silently, and walked to the center of the cell. The guards perked up, weapons half-raised.
He dropped into a push-up position.
And then—
"One… two… three…"
Kain's body moved like it had been programmed. Not rushed, not showy. Just precise. Push-ups. Then sit-ups. Then he started jogging tight laps around the edge of the cell, like a prisoner in a cartoon loop.
The guards watched in stunned silence.
"Is… is he working out?"
"Is he still asleep?!"
One of them leaned closer. "Should we... stop him?"
The older guard next to him shook his head slowly. "Would you try waking a sleepwalking tiger?"
"…Fair."
"I wonder if all blue sea dwellers are like him..."
"I doubt it...something tells me, he's an enigma. A paradoxically lazy enigma."
This pattern continued. Every morning, before the sun had fully risen over the Sky Sea, Kain's body kicked into gear.
One thousand push-ups.
One thousand sit-ups.
Ten kilometers—calculated by steps—jogged in circles inside a space no bigger than a storage shed.
He moved with total calm, his face relaxed, his breathing slow and even. His eyes never opened.
He was asleep
And yet, somehow, the most disciplined man in the building.
The guards stopped questioning it after Day 2.
By Day 3, one of them was copying the workout through the bars.
By Day 5, three more joined in. A weird little fitness club had formed around the sleepy intruder. They watched him like disciples, imitating his moves, whispering like monks.
"He's still going."
"He didn't even drink water yet."
"This guy is built different."
Kain, completely unaware, shuffled through his squats and lunges like he was drifting through dreams. The system didn't interrupt. There were no missions. No sarcasm.
Just silence.
And the occasional sleep-mumble.
"...don't wanna run laps, Garp…"
At night, he'd eat, bathe, and sometimes answer questions—still asleep.
One evening, a curious young guard leaned into the door.
"Why are you here?" he asked quietly.
Kain, eyes still closed, replied, "Looking for silence… thought this was heaven… turns out it's leg day."
He turned over and continued sleeping.
The guards backed away slowly.
"…This guy might actually be divine."
All this talk of Gods and former Gods but the real G.O.D happened to be an unassuming convict.