Kuina held onto the wooden stair railing and climbed up step by step.
The warehouse is an old building, and so are the stairs; the wooden steps have been worn smooth and shiny by decades of footsteps.
The soles of my shoes were covered in wet, cold mud, and each step on the stairs made a squeaking, squeaking sound.
She climbed to the second floor.
Inazuma illuminated the room outside the window, and a white light shone through the ventilation window high up in the warehouse, striking the shelf in the corner.
The whetstone was on the top layer, dark gray, about the size of a palm, wrapped in a faded old blue cloth.
Kuina stood on tiptoe, her left hand gripping the edge of the shelf, while her right hand stretched upwards with all her might.
Her fingers barely reached the corner of the whetstone, and she bit her lip, tiptoed a little higher.
My fingertips hooked onto the edge of the whetstone, and I slowly moved it outwards, then applied upward force, finally managing to hold it firmly in my palm.
Just as she had the whetstone in her hand and her weight shifted back to her feet, the slippery wooden step beneath her feet creaked sharply with a very short "crunch."
His right foot suddenly slid outward, and his entire center of gravity shifted instantly.
She didn't even have time to cry out; she only felt her right foot slip across the edge of the wooden step.
His knee slammed hard against the edge of the next step, causing him to lose his balance and fall headfirst down the stairs.
In that instant, time seemed to stretch out.
All she could see were the dappled reflections of rainwater pouring in from the doorway, and the sharp, hardwood edges of the stair landing rapidly approaching her.
She could even see the shallow grooves worn into each step by years of footsteps.
My mind went completely blank.
There was no time to think about anything—no time to think about his father, no time to think about Zoro, no time to think about the dream that hadn't yet come true.
There was only overwhelming fear.
Just as she thought she was about to crash into the hardwood pillar at the corner of the stairs.
An invisible force suddenly enveloped her body.
The downward momentum was abruptly halted.
Her body was steadily held in mid-air by that force, as if gently cupped in the palm of an invisible giant hand.
The rain felt cool on my arms, and the wind kept them damp.
But the force that enveloped her shielded her from the cruelty of gravity, and also from death itself.
Then, that force slowly laid her flat on the cold, damp ground of the warehouse floor.
Kuina lay on her back on the muddy ground, trembling all over, panting heavily, her hand still tightly gripping the whetstone.
The rain was still pounding on the warehouse roof, but she could barely hear anything; her ears were filled with the pounding of her own heart.
She is alive.
She really did fall from the second floor, almost headfirst, and the wooden pillar at the top of the stairs was just a hair's breadth away from the back of her head.
Someone saved her.
" Kuina--!!"
Koshiro's voice pierced through the rain and came from outside the warehouse.
She had known that voice since childhood; it was gentle and composed, as if the sky were falling and the sun was still shining.
But that scream just now wasn't from my father at all—it was from a father terrified out of his wits, his voice almost cracking.
The warehouse door was suddenly kicked open.
When Koshiro rushed in, he didn't even bother with the doorknob; he just shoved it open with his shoulder.
His glasses were askew on his nose, the lenses soaked with rainwater, and the hem of his kendo uniform had been torn by the wind as he ran.
He saw his daughter lying on her back on the muddy ground, soaked to the bone, with half of her arm covered in mud.
" Kuina!!"
Koshiro practically lunged at his daughter, grabbed her shoulders with both hands, pulled her up from the ground, and hugged her tightly.
His arms were trembling, his fingers gripping his daughter's back, his knuckles turning white from the force.
Kuina could hear the frantic pounding of her father's heart, a heart beating even faster than her own.
How are you?! Are you hurt?!
Does anything hurt?! What happened just now?!
How did you end up here?
What are you doing--
What are you doing at the warehouse in this heavy rain?!
Koshiro spoke incoherently, rapidly examining his daughter's arms, legs, and the back of her head as he spoke, his movements as swift as a sieve.
He touched the back of her head with exceptional gentleness and care, as if afraid of touching something he shouldn't.
Kuina was stunned by her father's barrage of questions.
It took her two or three seconds to barely recover from the fear, her voice hoarse as if squeezed out from between sandpaper.
"I... I came to get the whetstone... I slipped and fell... and then... and then--"
"And then what?" Koshiro asked anxiously.
I didn't fall to the ground.
Kuina looked down at her body, then looked up at the wooden pillar at the top of the stairs. The fear in her eyes hadn't faded, but there was even more disbelief.
Something caught me.
It's not a thing—it's a force.
An unseen force enveloped me completely, then slowly lowered me to the ground.
"Dad, is that you?"
Koshiro's expression froze for a moment.
It wasn't him.
He doesn't have that ability; no one in East Blue can lift someone who has fallen from the second floor out of thin air.
This is not right, this is impossible, unless—the moment the thought crossed Shimotsuki Koshiro's mind, he gave the only reasonable answer.
He had read about that man's Devil Fruit ability in the information about Wano Country.
Telekinesis.
Koshiro concealed the complex emotions that flashed in his eyes from Kuina, and simply pulled his daughter into a tighter embrace.
His voice was a bit steadyer than before, but it was still hoarse, as if it had rolled over a whetstone.
"It's alright... it's alright."
It's Dad's fault; Dad didn't notice you ran out.
You must never do this again, you must never do this again...
His voice choked as he finished speaking.
Kuina felt her father's hand, which was still trembling, around her back. Her nose stung, and tears finally broke free. She buried her face in her father's shoulder and burst into tears.
The cries contained fear, grievance, self-blame after arguing with her father, and a kind of relief that she herself couldn't quite explain.
The father and daughter hugged each other for a long time on the muddy floor of the warehouse.
Only when Kuina's crying gradually subsided did Koshiro help her to her feet, take the whetstone from her hand, and put it into his sleeve.
"Go take a hot shower and change into dry clothes first, so you don't catch a cold."
Koshiro escorted his daughter to her room, watched her go inside, and heard the sound of running water from the shower.
The sound of water stopped again, the room became quiet, and Kuina finally fell asleep.
Then he turned around, holding his umbrella, and walked step by step towards the guest room with the lights on at the other end of the dojo.
The moment he pushed open the door, Koshiro saw Roy sitting by the window, holding a jug of sake.
It took him several breaths to steady his voice before he solemnly bowed to the figure leaning against the window.
"Mr. Roy."