They did not announce him.
They did not need to.
Sanji felt it before he saw anything change.
The island's rhythm shifted.
Not stopped.
Adjusted.
Like a great weight somewhere had changed position.
"…Something just woke up," Sanji muttered.
REM, standing beside him on a high training terrace, did not look surprised.
"…He has been awake," she said. "You have simply become loud enough to notice."
The tower had always been there.
A thin, impossible structure of pale stone rising far above the village, spiraling into the clouds like a needle stuck into the sky.
No one went in.
No one spoke about it.
Until now.
The sound that came from above was not a shout.
Not a command.
Just… a step.
And yet the entire village went still.
Every movement stopped.
Every voice disappeared.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
"…That's your boss, I'm guessing," Sanji said quietly.
REM nodded.
"The Master."
They were summoned without messengers.
They simply… knew.
And when they arrived at the tower's base, Sanji finally saw him.
The Tribe Master was tall — taller even than REM — his long neck marked with old, ritual scars. His hair was completely white, not with age, but with something closer to time. His body was lean, not weak. Still. Dense.
His eyes were calm in a way that had nothing to do with kindness.
They had the look of something that had outlived arguments.
"So," the Master said.
His voice was quiet.
But it did not need to be louder.
"So you are the one who refuses to leave."
Sanji met his gaze.
"…Seems that way."
The Master looked at him for a long moment.
Then looked at REM.
"…He is noisy."
REM said nothing.
"Follow," the Master said.
He turned.
And began to climb the tower.
Not stairs.
The outside.
Handholds carved into the stone like an afterthought.
"…You people have a weird definition of welcoming," Sanji muttered, but followed.
The top of the tower was not grand.
No throne.
No symbols.
Just a wide, open stone circle and the sky.
And the sea.
And the whole island beneath them.
"This is where we correct mistakes," the Master said.
He looked at Sanji.
"You are a mistake."
Sanji blinked.
"…You know, people usually start with 'hello.'"
The Master did not smile.
"You have learned to feel," the Master said. "But you still want."
"…Yeah," Sanji replied. "That's kind of how being alive works."
The Master turned to REM.
"Show him."
She stepped forward.
Sanji's instincts sharpened.
"…Again?"
"Yes," she said simply.
This time, it was different.
She did not hold back.
Not cruelly.
Completely.
Sanji moved.
And immediately realized—
He was behind.
Every step he took, she was already correcting.
Every angle he chose, she had already denied.
It was not speed.
It was priority.
She was not reacting.
She was deciding.
Sanji was driven back to the edge of the tower's platform.
Sweat ran down his neck.
"…Tch."
He hardened his leg.
Busoshoku gathered.
He struck.
She avoided it by not being there.
A light touch to his chest.
He stumbled.
One more step and there would be nothing but sky behind him.
"…You're kidding me…"
"Enough," the Master said.
REM stepped back.
"You see?" the Master asked.
"She was born listening," he said. "You learned to."
"…And?" Sanji replied.
"And," the Master said, "she will always be ahead of you."
REM did not react.
But Sanji did.
"…Then why are you bothering to teach me?"
The Master looked at him.
"Because you stay."
He turned to both of them.
"From today," he said, "you train together."
Sanji raised an eyebrow.
"…That sounds like a bad idea."
"It is," the Master agreed.
He looked at REM.
"You will not slow down for him."
She nodded.
He looked at Sanji.
"You will not chase her."
Sanji frowned.
"…That's new."
"You will hold ground," the Master said. "If you move because she forces you to, you fail."
"…And if I get knocked off this thing?"
The Master looked over the edge.
"Then you will learn very quickly."
That day, Sanji fell.
Three times.
REM did not.
Not once.
At sunset, Sanji lay on his back on the stone, staring at the sky.
"…You're a monster."
REM sat nearby.
"…I was trained since I could walk."
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Lucky."
She looked at him.
"…No."
He blinked.
"…You too?"
She did not answer.
From above, the Master watched them.
Two different paths.
One born into the sea.
One carved by it.
"…Let us see," he murmured.
"…Which one learns faster."