*Look at that deep blue sea. It feels like it stretches on forever. I wonder what lies beyond the horizon? Is it just an endless blue void? There has to be something interesting out there. And what about beneath the surface? How deep does it go? Maybe there's an entire world hidden down there. That senile old man definitely knows, but he refuses to tell me.*
"Hey, you old geezer!"
"Didn't I tell you not to call me that, you insolent brat?"
"Ow! What's with the rock-throwing? I was just going to ask a question."
"Eheheh. Go ahead, ask."
*He loves being asked things, but he always ends up talking nonsense. If he does it again, I'm putting itching powder on his toilet paper. Hehehe. That's a brilliant idea. Actually, I should probably do it regardless.*
"What's under the sea?"
"What do you think? Water and fish."
"You old coot! Even a blind cat belonging to a deaf monk knows that. What's further down? Is it really just water and fish in all that ocean? You expect me to believe that?"
"I'm still young! I'm barely 800 years old, give or take."
There he goes again. Same nonsense. He never actually answers my questions. Fine, you asked for this. Don't blame me for what happens next.
The island, sitting in the middle of a flat, sapphire sea, was unnervingly level. No trees, no mountains, no hills—just a vast expanse of green. Right in the center stood a small shack. Stretched out on its roof was a young man, staring at the horizon. His long black hair was a tangled mess, and the tattered rags he called clothes barely concealed his heavily muscled physique.
Just in front of the shack, away from the shade and sitting cross-legged under the scorching sun, was another figure. His long white hair, braided with seashells like a string of beads, clinked softly as it fluttered in the breeze.
"Brat, what did I promise you?"
"That if I got strong enough, you'd take me to interesting places. You've been training me since I was a baby, yet you haven't even let me step foot in the ocean. You worked me day and night. Every time I failed, you beat me until I passed out."
The muscular youth's voice rose, his anger boiling over.
"And then you beat me again when I woke up! You told me to jump to the clouds just to earn a meal. You didn't feed me for a whole month. You said you'd let me go when I turned 801. It's been 987 days, and you're still claiming you're 800!"
Without realizing it, he had stood up, leapt down from the roof, and was now screaming right in the old man's face. Another one of his fits was in full swing.
The old man opened his eyes, wiped the spit off his face, and delivered a casual backhand.
"PAT!"
The force of the blow sent the youth skipping across the grass like a stone. With every impact, soil and greenery sprayed into the air. He tumbled for a full kilometer before slamming hard into the barrier that rimmed the island's edge.
He stood up, dusted himself off, and completely lost control. He threw his arms wide and bared his chest.
"AAAAAAAAA!"
His roar shook the very earth, sending ripples through the sea. His black hair defied gravity. The whites of his eyes vanished, replaced by a terrifying, abyssal black. As he continued to scream, cracks formed across his bulging muscles, and a crimson light began to leak from the fissures.
Finally, the shouting stopped. He settled into a predatory stance, took a step, and slammed his foot down so hard the ground cratered. Then, he vanished.
In just 100 milliseconds, he was back in front of the old man. His fist was already mid-swing, aimed straight for the old man's face.
But suddenly, time slowed down.
His fist grew heavy, eventually grinding to a halt. The clods of earth kicked up by his feet hung suspended in the air. The old man uncrossed his legs and stood up.
"Brat, it's time for you to go. But first, let me show you the thing you've been nagging me about all these years."
He placed his left hand on the youth's shoulder. He clenched his right hand as if grasping the air, and a staff materialized. He struck the staff against the ground twice.
The world around them warped and stretched, and in an instant, they were underwater.
The youth remained frozen, fist still cocked in mid-air. He couldn't move, but his senses were sharp. Sea water flooded his open mouth. The old man, however, looked as comfortable as if he were sitting in his backyard.
"As you can see, this is the bottom of the ocean. And there is only fish and water. Look, that's a fish. Look, that's a bigger fish. Oh, and look, that's a flat fish…"
For nearly half an hour, the old man pointed out various fish one by one with his staff. Eventually, even he grew bored. He made a motion as if striking the sea floor with his staff.
The world blurred again, and they were back on the island. The staff vanished. The old man walked slowly toward a chair under the shack's eaves and sat down. As he looked for a comfortable position, the water trapped in the frozen youth's nose and mouth began to spill out.
Once settled, the old man snapped his fingers. The youth collapsed to his knees, utterly exhausted. The red cracks on his body faded. He spat out the salty water, his throat burning. He looked up at the old man with pure resentment.
"Alright, alright, get up. Here are your options. One: You'll get a new family and go to high school. I'll give you some pocket money. Two: A peaceful vacation town where you'll live happily ever after with me—"
The youth cut him off instantly.
"Option one."
"Are you sure? I haven't even finished the list."
"Yes! Yes! Just send me already. No more talking!"
The old man stared at him blankly for a few seconds.
"Fine then."
He plucked a seashell from his hair. He pulled his index finger back, tensioning it against his thumb, and flicked the shell like a bullet. It struck the youth squarely in the forehead, and he vanished on the spot.
"Stupid brat… If you'd waited just a bit longer, option three was a remote control that let you go to any universe you wanted."