The violent current of the sea monster's passage became a distant, muffled hum. Inside its vast, bioluminescent gullet, Guts drifted, suspended in a profound, dreamless sleep.
His Berserker Armor had finally receded, leaving him in his human form, though still covered in dried blood and soot, his Brand a dark, angry testament on his neck.
His body, ravaged and reformed countlessly by Sakazuki's magma, was in deep slumber from mental exhaustion.
But within his mind, a space beyond the physical, Guts was awake.
He found himself in a place of infinite, featureless white.
A boundless, blinding void that stretched in every direction, devoid of sound, light, or sensation beyond his own existence.
This was his soul space, the raw, unadorned canvas of his consciousness.
And then, they appeared.
Flickering into existence around him were translucent, shimmering forms.
Hundreds, thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of them.
They were the souls of Ohara, the lives he had absorbed in the maelstrom, the very essence that had fueled his horrifying denial of death.
The fading one, a group of souls that surround Guts, never stop crying, shouting, screaming to Guts for whatever regret they cannot fulfill.
They were the ones who had been lost in the relentless assault of Sakazuki, consumed to power his grotesque reforms.
Each soul was a faint echo of human form, their expressions a mixture of profound peace and an overriding regret for their short, brutally ended lives.
"My.. jo…urnal"
whispered one, a scholar whose form shimmered with lost knowledge.
"My chil…d....wanted …to..eat...apple..pie"
Murmured another, a ghostly mother.
"My…wooden.....boat...can't..sail..again."
Sighed a spectral child.
They drifted around Guts, a silent, sorrowful chorus of what had been and what could never be.
He only listened, a silent, brooding presence amidst their fading echoes, offering no words, only the raw, visceral understanding that resonated with his own burdened soul. One by one, they dissipated into the white void, moving to the afterlife.
Until only one remained.
This soul was different. Larger, more defined, still retaining the faint, craggy outline of age.
It was an old man.
His translucent form crackled with a gentle, persistent energy, distinct from the fading echoes of the others.
"Arapu," a voice, surprisingly clear and grounded, resonated within Guts's mind. It was the old man.
As Arapu spoke, the blank white void of Guts's soul space began to ripple, to change.
The blinding white softened, gaining texture and color.
Around them, walls shimmered into being, forming a cozy, lived-in house, simple and rustic, belonging in a small village on the outskirts of something grander.
Sunlight, warm and golden, streamed through an imaginary window, dappling the wooden floor.
And beyond the window, dominating the transformed landscape of Guts's consciousness, stood a magnificent, sprawling apple tree, its branches heavy with ripe, crimson fruit.
Arapu gestured towards the tree, a profound sadness etched onto his spectral face.
"This was my home, Guts. And that was my tree. How is it? Amazing eh? Hahahahaha it is my pride Guts!"
His gaze drifted, as if seeing beyond the confines of the soul space, into a memory that was both vivid and painful.
Within the translucent, shimmering leaves of the apple tree, three small figures flickered into view.
A group of children, one clearly Nico Robin, no older than seven or eight, her dark hair a stark contrast to the verdant leaves.
They giggled, their innocent laughter echoing faintly in the soul space, as they climbed, playing around the sturdy branches, their small hands reaching for the sweet, forbidden fruit.
Robin, agile and nimble even then, was higher than the rest, her focus entirely on a particularly plump, red apple.
The scene was idyllic, a fleeting image of simple childhood joy.
"They loved playing in my apple tree. The largest apple tree in the whole is land!"
Arapu's form trembled slightly.
"Sigh.....I remember…. those children on my tree always bothered me. I worked hard for those apples."
His ghostly hand lifted, mimicking a past action.
"I took my cane. I shouted. Just to scare them off, you understand? Not to hurt. Never to hurt."
The memory within the apple tree shifted. Arapu's spectral self, younger and more irritable, appeared beneath the tree, shaking a phantom cane at the playing children.
His voice, though muted in the memory, was clearly loud and angry. The children, startled, scrambled. Robin, startled by the sudden harsh sound, lost her footing. Her small, spectral form tumbled from the branch, a silent, slow-motion fall through the shimmering leaves.
Arapu let out a long, shuddering sigh, a sound of eternal regret.
"She hit the ground hard. Cried so much. Not broken bones, thankfully, but scared. So scared. All because of my temper. I regret my foolishness. I ask my wife to bake an apple pie to give it to them, and to Olivia's daughter."
He looked at Guts, his spectral eyes filled with an unspoken plea.
"Me and my wife actually love watching them play around in that apple tree. We don't have a child. But because of my foolishness, they never came back. then Buster Call came. And i saw her crying in her mother's arms in my dying moment. With apple pie on the ground. The apple pie i can never give."
Guts, a figure of stone in the transformed soul space, slowly turned his gaze from the phantom apple tree to the old man.
The Berserker's rage was absent here, replaced by a deep, ancient weariness that mirrored Arapu's own.
His voice, when it came, was a rasp, raw and unused in this internal realm, heavy with the weight of centuries of silent torment.
"Regret"
Guts rumbled, the word a bitter taste. He thought of Casca, her bright eyes, her fierce spirit, now broken.
He thought of the unholy abomination that should have been their child, a silent phantom born of horror.
The images flickered through his mind like poisoned daggers.
"You refuse to move on because you regret scaring a bunch of brat."
He closed his eyes for a moment, the spectral pain almost too much to bear.
"lost everything. My friends. My purpose. My body. My mind, almost."
He opened his eyes, and though there were no tears, the agony was palpable.
"The woman I... cared for more than anything... she was broken, defiled. Her mind shattered."
His voice dropped to a near whisper, laden with a grief that resonated through the ethereal space. Hoping when he moves on he will convey his regret, to her.
"Our child... it was born... twisted. A horror. A living nightmare."
He stared at Arapu, his gaze hollow.
"All because of one man."
The word was spat, laced with an undying venom for Griffith.
"Your regret... is a brat falling from a tree. me... i am too powerless."
A long silence settled between them, broken only by the imagined rustle of leaves from the apple tree. Arapu's spectral form seemed to soften, his ancient eyes fixed on Guts with a profound, understanding sorrow.
"No, Guts."
Arapu murmured, his voice a gentle, knowing sigh that seemed to soothe the raw edges of Guts's pain, if only for a fleeting moment.
"My regret isn't only about the fall. That was a small, foolish thing. It's about not having the time to apologize."
He gestured vaguely at the vanishing memories of the other souls.
"No regrets that it is too big or too small Guts!"
Sigh
"I have no chance to tell that child I was sorry, that it was just an old man's temper, that I didn't mean to truly frighten her. And i regret that i didn't get the chance to give her the apple pie."
He nodded slowly, his phantom hand rising as if to touch Guts's shoulder, then hesitating, understanding the invisible barrier between them.
"I am sorry for your suffering, Guts. I really do. The burden you carry is not a burden single man can bear. I am sorry for your lost guts, For everything that happens to you. But can you do me a favor Guts?"
*
Guts's eyes snapped open. The oppressive white void, the spectral house, and the regretful old man vanished like smoke.
The hell you mean yout not expecting anything for brute like me! His vein trobbed visibly on his temple at the old man word.
He was back in the suffocating darkness of the sea monster's gut, the rhythmic thrumming of its colossal heart a dull bass in his ears.
His body ached, a deep, pervasive soreness, but the chaotic, raw agony had subsided, replaced by the dull throb of recovery. His Brand, no longer oozing, neither pulsed with a familiar, searing heat.
Then, with a shuddering heave, the monstrous creature coughed.
Guts was expelled, along with a gush of seawater and algae, onto a sandy shore. Above him, the sky was a velvet tapestry of stars, and the air was cool, carrying the scent of pine and salt.
They were no longer near Ohara; this was a new, pristine shoreline.
The sea monster had carried them far, and Guts had been deep in his restorative slumber.
He wasted no time.
His priority was food.
He would need to move once the child woke.
Few hour ago, Guts did what he always did to survive. He ventured into the surrounding forest, his keen senses honed by years of grim survival, for anything edible.
He found berries, snared small game to exchange to inhabitants of Shell Island. They were wary, of course, of the hulking man with the massive sword, but Guts knew how to make himself useful.
He did odd jobs, clearing fallen trees from paths, chasing off wild animals, even mending crude fences—anything that garnered him some meager scraps of coin.
Just like his days as a solitary mercenary in his previous life, before the Hawk. Before Griffith.
His hand went to his back, pulling the colossal Dragonslayer free.
With a familiar, practiced motion, he plunged its tip into the soft earth before him, the immense blade standing upright like a crude monument.
He then slumped against its flat, cold steel, using it as a makeshift support, his gaze fixed on the quiet darkness of the forest.
As he sat by the newly kindled campfire that evening, the flames licking at the darkness, Guts stared into the dancing light. He reminisced on those lonely, brutal days, the simple clarity of fighting for coin, for a meal, for nothing more.
A grim smile, devoid of humor, touched his lips. It was a simpler kind of hell.
The sun had set hours ago.
They were in a dense forest, the ancient trees towering like silent sentinels.
This was Shell Island.
For hours, Guts remained there, a lone, grim silhouette beneath the stars.
Suddenly, a small, choked gasp cut through the stillness of the night.
Nico Robin stirred. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, snapped open.
She saw the towering, scarred figure of Guts, silhouetted against the flickering firelight, his immense sword impaled behind him like a dark, watchful guardian.
Her small body tensed, like a scared, cute little cat, ready to bolt, her gaze filled with a terror that hadn't dulled with sleep.
Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Robin hid under the thick blanket Guts bought like smaal animal, with only her face showing. And remember who's this menacing figure is.
The one who keep protecting her even when his body continuously breaking apart.
Heh Guts chuckle.
"You hungry kid?"
Guts took the cloth bundle beside him and placed it in front of Robin, who was busy hiding. Robin, smelling a delicious aroma, emerged from her hiding place beneath the blanket. When she opened it, there was an apple pie, which, though cold, emitted a delightful fragrance.
Nom nom nom nom, kof! Kof! Robin choked and patted her chest.
"Careful kid, none going to steal that for you."
Guts pass his water container to her side.
Glug glug glug puaaah! Robin take it and drink with urgency.
Guts continued to watch her, silent for a long moment, allowing her to eat.
He asked nothing about Ohara, about the horrors she had endured, sensing that now was not the time for questions, only for sustenance.
Finally, when she had finished about half the pie, he spoke, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
"You know kid, the owner of the house at the end of the island, the one with the apple tree?"
Guts began, his eyes fixed on the flickering flames, not looking at her directly.
"They said you like climbing that tree? You're quite wild, huh?"
Robin froze, a piece of pie halfway to her mouth.
Her face, still streaked with dirt and tear-tracks, immediately flushed a deep crimson.
Her eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment.
She opened her mouth, as if to protest, to deny, but the overwhelming need for food won out.
She closed her mouth, choosing instead to continue eating, albeit with a renewed, almost defiant, intensity.
She had been truly, utterly starving since waking from her long, traumatized slumber.
Guts watched her for another beat, then slowly turned his head to meet her wary gaze.
"You know kid. He asked me to give you that apple pie."
His voice was strangely soft, carrying a weight that belied its simple words.
"He said he really regretted what he did, making you fall from the tree. But after that incident, you never showed up again."
He actuali loved watching you playing on his apple tree. Said Guts in quiet murmur.
The words hit Robin like a physical blow.
The small, long-buried pain of her time in Ohara, overshadowed by the recent apocalypse, suddenly resurfaced with devastating clarity.
Her eyes, already red-rimmed, began to well up.
A silent tear tracked down her cheek, then another, until her vision blurred.
She clamped her mouth shut, trying to hold back the sound, but it was no use.
A small, broken sob escaped, then another, growing into uncontrollable, wrenching sobs.
Through her tears, she choked out a name, again and again, a desperate lament.
"Arapu! Arapu...!"
As Robin wept, her small body shaking with the force of her grief and the sudden release of old pain, Guts felt a profound, gentle shift within him.
The persistent, quiet energy of Arapu's soul, which had lingered since their talk, now began to truly fade, dissolving into the vast, silent sea of Guts's own consciousness.
It was a sense of a task completed, a regret finally laid to rest.
Without a word, Guts raised his massive hand and, with a heavy, deliberate movement, tapped his chest twice, directly over his heart, a silent farewell.
Then, his gaze still on the crying child, he slowly closed his eyes, letting the fading essence of the old man finally pass into the afterlife.