There's always that little shop nestled between the busy streets. That little shop filled with rumors and mystery. That little place where many avoided but still lingered.
Then one day, Usopp steels his courage to seek out the dilapidated bookstore. He doesn't know what he'll find—perhaps that was how he found the store. The building is tucked into an alley, drooping under the crawling ivy, fading away into the grey city landscape. But something about the peeling paint and rotting wood nags in his mind. Something about the place being so out-of-touch, as if refusing to bow to the power of time.
The door creaks open, but no dust springs from his footsteps. A tinny bell sounds above him, sparking a memory in his mind, but it disappears like the dusty city smell. Instead, a musty aroma fills his nostrils—the smell of old mahogany and pine. The smell of old books and sweet summer breezes.
A shadow stirs in the back. Usopp catches the sheen of its glasses as it rises.
"A customer." He'd heard that voice before. Somewhere. Somewhere, deep in his consciousness. That voice makes his skin crawls, but its heaviness lulls him into a state of calm. A weird combination.
"Um… hello." His memory strains to piece together the flashing images. But despite how much he tries to remember, he can only see darkness.
The windows had partitioned the afternoon light into slits in the ground. The man's looming shadow ripples as he approaches Usopp.
"Welcome. It's been a while since someone had come." The man is dressed in black. He nudges his round-rimmed glasses with his palm, and Usopp glimpses a view of his eyes. Hard, steely eyes. Unreadable. Distant.
His heart drops to his stomach, but he doesn't know why.
The man continues regarding Usopp with the same piercing gaze. And then his fixed lips twitch into a smirk. "Am I scaring you with my face? You're going to puncture your tongue if you keep it up."
Usopp almost tastes blood. "H-have we met before?" he squeaks.
"Have we?" The man, presumably the owner, gives him a mysterious look. Usopp catches a brief scent of leather. "We might've. But I think I'd recognized you by your unique nose." He smirks, but Usopp feels no malice from it. Then he turns. "Well. Feel free to browse my books. No need to rush."
"Wait!" Usopp finds himself saying. "What's your name?" Even though his memory might know the answer.
The man's expression is hard to read. "Well. It's been a while since anyone's asked that." He leans against the counter, his long fingers interlacing to support his chin. "I'm the current owner of the bookstore. You can call me Kuro."
"Kuro." It nags in his mind like song lyrics to his favorite melody. He'd heard it… he's pretty sure he'd heard it. "I'm Usopp." But from where?
"Usopp. I should be able to remember that name." Kuro nudges his glasses with his palm again. Usopp's mind is screaming, but he doesn't know why. "In fact, I believe there was a similar man in my store. His name was Yasopp."
"That's—" Then it's gone. That name drew a connection in his mind. An intimate connection that he feels immensely proud about. "That's… that's…"
Kuro looks amused, but Usopp can't tell with that man's eyes. "You know him."
"I… I don't remember. I think so."
"You think you remember."
"I'm… I'm not sure…" A cold feeling grows in his stomach.
"Usopp." Kuro's voice turns his heart into stone. "Why are you here?"
"I…" That cold feeling spreads into his fingers. Then his throat. His mind is heavy, as if a blanket of cotton is smothering his brain.
Just what was he doing before he opened the door?
The next thing he knew, Kuro is right above him. Holding him. "Careful. Let's hope you won't throw up on my floor. Are you well?"
"I… I don't know." Something isn't right. Why can't he remember?
"Here." Kuro helps him to a chair, where Usopp crumbles into the tattered cushion. The chair smells of honey and the ocean breeze. Smells that stir his memory. And of course, nothing surfaces. "I'll be right back."
He disappears into the back; Usopp's mind reels. He isn't hungry, nor does he need sleep. This dizziness reminds him of a ship. Of turbulent waves and flashing lightning. Of looming shadows and black clouds.
Of an island in the sky?
Usopp blinks the recognition from his eyes. The image came and went, but he feels an odd sense of intimacy with that island. As if he'd seen it before.
His eyes travel to the bookstore. Bookstore is an inaccurate word, since the place looks like a small library. With its low, arched roof and wooden exterior, with wide windows revealing only the harsh afternoon glow, he feels a sense of tranquility. As if nothing bad will happen, as long as he stays here. Quaint decorations line the walls, along with portraits that complement the colors of the books.
Usopp bends to reach the shelf when something catches his eye. There, on the ground, is an opened page of an island. "Skypeia," he says automatically. His flesh tingles with excitement as he flips through the pages. Beautiful illustrations, albeit faded and cracked, feel almost real to the touch.
A heaviness settles into his heart.
"I see you've recovered enough to hold a book." Kuro sets a glass of water beside him. He notices the open book in his hands. "That one caught your eye, Usopp?"
"Y-yeah." Kuro doesn't ask why, which is good.
The librarian sits down opposite of Usopp. He crosses his legs with that unreadable expression again. "You're crying," he says.
Huh?
"Sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today."
Kuro laces his fingers again. "Why are you apologizing for something you didn't do? You're a strange one, Usopp." Then he offers a small smirk, which Usopp interprets as a consoling smile. "You just appeared out of the blue, claiming to have lost your memory. That's not something you see every day." He pauses. "Perhaps that book is some significance to you, if you'd reacted so strongly."
"I… I think I know this place." Usopp doesn't know why he's telling a stranger all his troubles. It happened so suddenly too. And yet, whenever he thinks of leaving, a mysterious fear seizes his body so that it won't move to the exit.
"Oh?" Something about Kuro's eyes throws him off. But he can't place it.
"Yeah. This is Skypiea. The Island in the Sky."
"Do you know what's in Skypiea?"
The Golden Bell.
Kuro sits back. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. Yes! I think I've been there! I've been to Skypiea!" The images surge to his mind. Stronger. More vivid. A giant water current erupting from the ground. Lightning. A volley of lightning. Wings. A giant snake falling from a beanstalk. A golden bell, pure as the sky, swaying in the breeze with a melody that warms his heart.
"Kuro! I remember! I've been to Skypiea before… probably before I came here!"
But Kuro's eyes are solemn. "Usopp. Skypiea doesn't exist. It's just a legend passed down from sailors' mouths. There's been no evidence of an island ever resting in the sky." He's talking slowly, as if spoon-feeding information to a toddler.
"I swear it's true! I've been to Skypiea!" Usopp recounts his memories. As he talks, the fragments become complete episodes that are too real to dismiss as coincidence. For whatever reason, he is able to recount the smell of burnt flesh. "The War ended after we defeated the Kami."
"'We?'"
…We? Who were 'we?'
"Do you remember when this happened?" Kuro says after a long silence.
"I can still remember it so clearly. I think… three years ago?" Three years ago sound right. Every muscle in his body agrees with that.
Kuro rises without a word. Usopp stares as he walks to a shelf and plucks a pamphlet from its rack. He hands it to Usopp, who begins skimming the article as Kuro talks.
"I lied about Skypiea being a legend. After the island's survivors fled to the earth, they recounted their tale. Their stories are published in that book you're holding." Kuro nudges his glasses into place. "You've given me an accurate synopsis. Astoundingly, ridiculously accurate." And he's right. Every story corresponds with his memories. Even the truth behind Noland the Liar's death.
"So I'm regaining my memories," Usopp sighs.
"Not exactly. A little detail still bothers me."
"Huh?"
Kuro drums his fingers across the window. "This wasn't a recent discovery, Usopp. If what you've told me was true, then it's impossible for it to happen three years ago." Even with the warm breeze, Usopp feels a coldness seize his heart.
"What?"
"It's been over two centuries since the survivors were rescued. Two centuries since this book was published. If common sense serves me well, then you should've died a long time ago."