Then, without warning, he disappeared.
Panic spread through the village, including me. But I told myself to stay calm, to think.
We soon spotted him in the distance, dragging Luffy along with him.
And then, we saw it.
A massive figure loomed over them, a Sea King.
I recall someone explaining to me at the time that these creatures were among the most dangerous beings in the ocean. This one, in particular, was called the King of the Coast. Nobody had ever managed to take it down.
Then, it happened.
A monstrous shadow surged from the depths, its massive jaws snapping shut.
Higuma was gone. Luffy was next.
I couldn’t move. My body locked up as my brother was about to die — the Sea King’s teeth inches away — and I just stood there.
But before it could strike, Shanks was there.
One second, Luffy was drowning. Next, Shanks held him in his grip. But something was wrong.
His sleeve hung empty, red spreading through the waves.
I wanted to scream, but my throat felt like sandpaper. He gave up his arm for Luffy.
Why?
Why would anyone do that?
Shanks stood tall, his face calm despite the blood dripping into the sea. He turned to the Sea King, his presence alone stopping the beast in its tracks. One glare. That's all it took.
And just like that, the monster fled.
The sea was calm again, but the silence felt heavier than the roar of the waves. Salt clung to my tongue, metallic with the scent of blood.
I wanted to ask him why. Why didn't he fight back? Why didn't he dodge? Why did he sacrifice so much for someone like us?
But all I could do was stare at the man who had just changed my entire view of strength.
I was stunned. I wanted to know what had happened, but I quickly put the pieces together. He had sacrificed his arm to protect Luffy.
Later, when they were leaving, Luffy and Shanks had a heartfelt conversation.
Luffy declared
That he would become the Pirate King.
At the time, I wasn't set on that goal myself. I just wanted to become a great pirate, one that Shanks would respect.
But that changed.
That moment… changed everything.
**************
Before departing, Shanks took off his straw hat and placed it on Luffy's head.
"This hat is important to me," he told him.
Since that day, Luffy has always kept that hat. I used to tease him about it, but deep down, I understood. That hat wasn't just a hat; it was a symbol of his dream.
**************
The days after that battle smelled of salt and sunburn — training under a sky that never seemed to rest.
Four years passed beneath the blazing sun — the scent of sea salt replaced by sweat, smoke, and iron.
From that moment on, Luffy wanted to train with me. He wanted to get stronger.
And so, we did.
**************
Four years passed, and I trained hard. At first, I thought Luffy would slow me down since I would have to get him up to speed, but he participated in the physical training and then did his separate training afterward. I was grateful for that. I did help him from time to time, but during that first year, I finally hit a block in my mother's sword style.
Grandpa told me my mother wielded two blades — offense and defense, twin halves of a single style.
Her style was designed for dual-wielding, meaning I couldn't master it without the second blade. At the time, this realization bummed me out, but I eventually got over it. I decided that when I set out into open waters, I would search for the missing sword.
Lucky for me, this gave me time to focus on my father's martial arts style, or taijutsu. Learning this helped me regain control of my chakra, and his style was quite different from my mother's swordsmanship. If I had to describe it, her style was more of a trickster's approach.
***************
I still remember that day in the clearing — me, standing under the sunlight, my mother’s blade gleaming a deep crimson as it cut through stone. My muscles burned with every swing, each strike heavier than the last.
It wasn’t a clean slice yet — more like chunks of rock flying everywhere — but I didn’t care. The hilt felt alive in my hands, rough and familiar, almost like the cutlasses the Red-Haired Pirates used. Now that I think about it, it even reminded me of Shanks’s sword.
Sweat and blood dripped down my arms, sliding along the blade’s edge, but all I could do was smile. Somehow… it felt like the sword was smiling back.
**************
The smell of roasted fish and gunpowder filled the air.
I still remember that day in the market with Garp and Luffy.
It was one of the few times he actually spent with us — rare enough that I could count them on one hand.
It was such a simple, ordinary day… but it meant everything to me.
People stared as we walked through the crowd — not with hate this time, but with admiration. Their smiles weren’t for me, though. They were for the Hero of the Marines: Monkey D. Garp.
Everyone adored him. Everyone wanted to shake his hand.
And for some reason… that kindness made me feel guilty.
Because in my old world, I’d stopped smiling like that. I’d led soldiers to their deaths. I’d been part of the machine that stole people’s peace.
Now, walking beside a man who their love, I couldn’t help but wonder if I even deserved to be here.
My hand brushed the sword at my side — my mother’s blade. It pulsed faintly, like it was breathing with me. Could a weapon have a soul? Could it remember?
That thought haunted me enough that I finally asked, “Hey, Gramps — is there a ranking system for swords or something?”
Garp snorted. “Hmph. Why would you care about that? Only fools waste time classifying murder weapons. If you were a Marine, you’d learn to fight, not to label.”
He said it with that usual gruff tone, but then he looked over his shoulder — and his eyes softened.
“But if it means that much to you, brat… yeah, there’s a system. Four grades.”
I straightened instantly, like a student before his teacher.
“The lowest,” he said, “is the Grade Blade. Then Skill Grade, Great Grade, and at the top — the Supreme Grade. Twelve of those in the whole world.”
He paused, scratching his chin. “I fought men who wielded ‘em. Two, actually. They weren’t pleasant.”
I remember that clearly. The way he said it — casual, but distant, like a memory soaked in blood.
Later, he even showed me the scar.
It ran from his shoulder all the way to his lower abdomen — deep, jagged, ugly.
I’d never seen a wound like that before.
Who did this to you?’ The words came out sharper than I intended.
The words came out sharp — full of anger.
He laughed, like it was the funniest thing in the world.
“Surprisingly? Your mother. Before she met your father.”
I froze. My mother? The woman I barely remembered?
“She was strong,” he went on. “One of the strongest pirates I ever met. If it weren’t for your father, she might’ve surpassed Roger himself!”
He threw his head back laughing — proud, even.
But I wasn’t laughing.
If she was that strong… who could’ve possibly killed her?
When I asked, Garp went quiet.
The light left his eyes — replaced by something heavier. Anger. Regret. A memory he didn’t want to relive.
Even now, I can still see that look.
And I can’t help but wonder…
Was he there that day?
The day I was born?
The day everything changed?
I’ll probably never know.
Maybe it’s better that way.
***************
That sword… it could’ve rivaled a Supreme Grade. My mother’s second blade, pale as moonlight, wasn’t for defense — it was for deception. She fought like a ghost, her parries leading you where she wanted. Honorable? Not even close. But deadly, absolutely.
My father fought the opposite way — speed over strength. He always said, “You don’t need to hit hard if you never stop moving.”
Speed was what he was most famous for. He was known as one of the fastest men alive, a truly terrifying opponent if you were his enemy.
This was the style I trained in. My body became more built, my stamina increased, and my flexibility, agility, and chakra control improved immensely. But that wasn't all my father left me; he also passed down techniques that not many people knew.
I still remember the day Kurama tossed me my father’s journal.
She was sitting up on a tree branch, watching me train with that smug grin of hers. When I finally noticed her, I stumbled back like an idiot. She scared the hell out of me.
Then—before I could even say a word—she tossed something straight at my face.
It bounced off my forehead and hit the dirt. A small, worn-out notebook, bound by three metal rings. The cover looked ancient—like it had survived a dozen storms.
I picked it up and brushed the dust away.
“A guide to becoming a stronger, better, more heroic Marine. By… Z.”
The rest of the name was faded beyond recognition.
“What the hell is this?” I asked.
Kurama smirked down from her branch.
“Oh, just one of your father’s old guides. Thought it might help you since you’re so obsessed with getting stronger,” she teased.
But beneath the mischief… I saw something genuine in her smile.
I flipped through the pages. Inside were notes, sketches, and diagrams.
The first entry—The Six Powers.
A list of martial arts techniques used by the Marines and the CP. Whoever wrote it knew their stuff.
The ink… felt strange. It pulsed faintly under my fingers. Chakra. Whoever wrote this used chakra to inscribe the text.
So maybe chakra wasn’t just something from my world after all.
The drawings showed figures in dynamic poses—more like heroes than soldiers.
Big “Z” symbols marked their uniforms.
I couldn’t help but grin.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Then I turned the page—
And froze.
The Eight Inner Gates.
***************
My breath caught. I hadn’t seen that name in years.
Memories of battle flashed through my mind—me and my sister barely standing, bones cracking, lungs burning.
Our opponent, blazing with green fire, was unstoppable until his own heart gave out.
We only survived because he didn’t.
Even now, just thinking about it made me shiver.
But mixed with that fear… was excitement.
If this world had the Eight Gates…
then maybe—just maybe—
I could become even stronger than I was before.
That year, when I turned seven, it became the hardest year of my life.
***************
I left Foosha Village behind, carrying only a small pack, my sword, and my father’s journal. My goal was simple—to master his fighting style within a single year. It sounded impossible, and maybe it was. But Makino said I couldn’t do it, and that was enough reason to try.
The jungle buzzed with cicadas, thick and loud as static.
The jungles were merciless. The air was thick with heat and insects. I fought beasts that looked more like nightmares than animals, yet six months passed, and I felt no closer to mastering anything. Every bruise and scar just reminded me how far I was from understanding my father’s style.
Then they came—the Lightning Baboons. Huge, intelligent creatures, with lightning-shaped scars burned across their chests. Their speed and coordination were terrifying. At first, I thought it’d be another easy battle. But as their fists cracked the air and my bones screamed from every block, I realized something—they fought just like me. No… like My father.
It was then that I understood. His style wasn’t meant to be mastered. It was meant to
So I changed my approach. I stopped repeating the forms and started to move the way I —weaving in my mother’s footwork, my instincts, my chaos. And for the first time, I felt my strikes flow like water.
I fought for days until only their leader remained—a monster of an ape with dark, tar-colored fur and eyes that looked far too human. When it spoke, my blood ran cold. But fear didn’t stop me. I threw myself into the fight, adapting with every blow, until my final strike tore through its chest.
When I finally staggered back to Foosha, half-dead and covered in blood, I collapsed right in front of Makino’s house.
She found me the next morning—angry, worried, and trembling. But beneath that fury, I could see it.
She was proud.
In one year, I hadn’t mastered my father’s style.
I’d
My first attempt at the Six Powers was… well, “interesting” doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Let me explain.
I was eight when I mastered my first technique — the
Crazy, right? A move that lets you “run through the air.” I thought it was a joke when I first read about it in my father’s journal. “No way this is real,” I muttered, flipping the pages. The whole thing sounded more like one of those Sora: Warrior of the Sea comics I used to love. A hero flying across the sky, kicking villains into the horizon? Please.
But I didn’t get time to daydream that morning — because Luffy decided to challenge me. Again.
“Big bro! Fight me! I’ve gotten stronger!” he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.
I smirked. “You sure you want to end up crying again?”
“Hey! I’m a crybaby!”
And like always… he lost. His new “Gum-Gum Pistol” almost caught me off guard, but he misfired — his arm stretched out wrong and flung him straight into the river.
“Luffy!” My heart froze. Panic kicked in. I jumped in without thinking. The current was brutal, dragging us both under. I spotted him clinging to a rock, half-conscious, his grip slipping. I grabbed his arm just as he let go. The water pressed down on us like a wall. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
My mind screamed:
Then I remembered the line from the journal —
“If you can kick the air, then kick the sea. Treat it like the sky waiting to lift you.”
It sounded insane. But I had no other choice.
I gathered every bit of strength in my legs and
The water exploded beneath us. We shot out of the river like a cannonball, sunlight flashing off the waves. The air tore past my face. I looked down — and realized we weren’t falling. My legs were each kick making a sharp like striking stone.
“I’m—flying?”
Then I lost balance. The rhythm broke. We plummeted.
I twisted midair, shielding Luffy as we crashed into the ground. Pain shot through me, my vision swimming, but I didn’t care. I pressed against his chest, forcing the water out.
“Come on, Luffy! Don’t you dare die on me!”
He coughed — and a live fish flopped out of his mouth.
“What… happened?” he wheezed.
I sighed in relief. “You happened, you dumbass. Come on, let’s get you home.”
That was the day I learned how to
Not in training.
Not in theory.
But in desperation.
After that, I trained every day — until running through the air felt as natural as breathing.
By the time I turned nine, I was ready for the next technique.
According to the journal, I just had to “let myself be hit.”
That’s it. Get beaten, build resistance, and—poof—my muscles would harden like steel.
Yeah. Sounds easy until you actually try it.
The problem was, there was no one around to hit me that hard. I was on a quiet island with nothing but trees, mountains, and the occasional oversized animal that wanted me for lunch.
I thought,
Then I realized that was a fast track to dying.
Moonwalk had been an accident born from desperation. I couldn’t just rely on another miracle like that.
Still… that miracle happen once.
So I thought maybe it could happen again.
So I went hunting for a bear.
Yeah.
I know.
Dumbest idea ever.
The thing was massive—bigger than the alpha lightning baboon I fought before. Its claws could probably slice a tree in half. Perfect, right? If this didn’t trigger Iron Body, nothing would.
Except it didn’t.
Every hit sent shockwaves through my ribs. My muscles screamed, my vision blurred, and I could my body breaking.
“Come on!” I yelled between coughs of blood. “Just harden already!”
It didn’t.
Each slash was deeper than the last. My knees gave out. I hit the dirt, the world spinning.
I remember thinking,
Then came footsteps. Not the bear’s. Heavier. Purposeful.
Something slammed into the beast. A grunt. The bear roared in frustration—then went silent.
Before I blacked out, I heard a gruff voice mutter, “Out of all the idiotic things I’ve seen kids do… this one takes the cake.”
*****************
When I woke up, I smelled pork roasting over a fire. My stomach growled before my brain even caught up.
Then pain hit me all at once. My entire body was wrapped in bandages.
“Still alive, huh?”
I looked up.
There he was—an old man with a scruffy beard, white hair, and eyebrows so thick they looked alive. His clothes were tattered, but his black cloak and old brown hat gave him this weird sort of dignity.
And in his hands… was my sword. My mother’s sword.
“Hey—what are you doing with that?!” I shouted, trying to sit up.
“Lay back down, brat. You’ll rip your stitches.”
He sighed, shaking his head. “You kids. Always so proud.”
“Proud? I literally died and came back once, old man! I can handle a few scratches!”
He paused. “…You died once?”
“Uh—figure of speech.”
He didn’t buy it, but he didn’t press. Instead, he looked at the blade again. His hands trembled. “Fox Slayer… how could I have been so blind…”
His voice cracked like he was remembering something painful.
That’s how I met Naguri, ex-pirate captain.
********************
He nursed me for four days — cooked, bandaged, even fed me when I couldn’t move. In return, I annoyed the hell out of him.
Eventually, we got talking. About pirates, the sea, and the name “Fox Slayer.” He said he’d once faced a pirate who wielded it—
The , a red-haired demon of fire and steel.
“Your mother?” he said slowly. “She destroyed my entire crew.”
I froze.
He wasn’t angry, just… haunted.
“But she spared me. Only because a Marine Admiral showed up.” He laughed bitterly. “Fire and lightning. That day was hell itself.”
I didn’t know what to say. I just apologized, though I had no reason to.
He waved it off. “Don’t. Pirates know the risks. What matters is what you do with your own freedom.”
Then he gave me a look that felt like he was staring through my soul.
“You sleep-talk, kid. You say you’ll be the greatest pirate one day.”
“…Wait, seriously?”
He smirked. “You talk in your sleep.”
I groaned.
“So that’s what Luffy’s always laughing about.”
*******************
That’s how our training started.
“Two ways to get Iron Body,” he said.
“One, destroy your muscles until they rebuild stronger. Two, get the hell beaten out of you until your body learns to defend itself.”
I blinked. “And the third way?”
He grinned. “Meditation and focus. You’re gonna do all three.”
And that’s when hell began.
Every morning, I’d wake up to his hammer hitting my head.
“Anticipate danger even in your sleep!” he’d shout.
Then I’d run around the entire island—with him sitting on my back.
For warm-up.
After that came combat.
He beat me black and blue, never holding back.
Apparently, his “weaker” attacks were only as strong as a
Yeah.
Comforting.
Then came dodging drills—explosives planted in random places, trees collapsing, traps everywhere.
He said, “If you can survive this island, you can survive the seas.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant that literally or as a threat.
Days blurred into weeks. My body grew harder, faster, stronger. My skin started bruising less. Each strike hurt, but didn’t me.
Until one day—
His hammer shattered against my chest.
The impact launched me backward off Mount Corbo. My legs were too sore for Moonwalk, so instinct took over.
The ground cracked beneath me. Dust exploded outward.
I was alive.
Barely bruised.
That was the day I finally mastered it.
*******************
When I recovered, Master Naguri was preparing a small ship.
“You’re leaving?” I asked.
He nodded. “A man shouldn’t stay trapped in one place forever. I want to see the sea again.”
I didn’t know what to say. My chest felt tight.
He rested his hand on my head. “You’ve mastered two of the Six Powers already. I’ve got no doubt you’ll reach all .”
“Seven?” I blinked.
He chuckled, stepping aboard. “You’ll find out someday. Keep training, Naruto. And remember—control your emotions, or they’ll control you. Use them to sharpen yourself, not destroy yourself.”
I stood there, watching his ship drift toward the sunset.
He turned one last time. “And when you build your crew—make sure they’re not your subordinates. Make sure they’re your ”
That word stuck with me.
Even now, I’m still trying to understand what he meant.
By the time I turned ten in this world, a lot had happened — more than I ever expected.
***************
But before we dive in, fair warning: this year’s not all training and triumphs. There’s tragedy, too. So… buckle up.
That year, I mastered Storm Kick — no desperation, no near-death. It just clicked.
I remember slicing rocks with my legs, flipping around with Moonwalk, just… playing. Testing limits. When I stopped, the “clearing” was nothing but dust and broken stone.
I’d mastered it so well that I could make tiny, precise slashes — something even found useful. She’d ask me to help with small things, like stitching clothes using micro-cuts. Boring, sure, but she always paid me back with her famous pumpkin pie. Just thinking about it now makes my mouth water. That smell kept me going through all sorts of chores.
Before long, the villagers started calling me the Handyman of Goa.
I didn’t mind. Using Moonwalk to rescue cats, haul lumber, or help farmers harvest — it felt good to help. But no matter what I tried, I couldn’t figure out how to apply to my blade. I could stir a breeze, but never a storm.
My master once told me the technique existed, but even he didn’t know how it truly worked. Maybe I just wasn’t ready yet. So, I put it on hold.
*****************
Then came day.
The day everything changed.
I was reading a comic, minding my own business, when Grandpa Garp suddenly barged in — grabbed me by the collar — and stormed straight into Luffy’s room.
The kid was still fast asleep, even as the door flew off its hinges.
“Grandpa! That door cost money!”
“It’s fine, I’ll pay for it!” he said, way too cheerfully. “You two, get ready. We’ve got something important to do!”
Luffy mumbled, “Five more minutes…”
Garp didn’t even hesitate. He punched the wall — and Luffy’s head — hard enough to shake the whole house.
“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!” Luffy yelled, clutching his forehead.
“Up and at ’em! If you were a Marine, you’d already be awake!”
“But I don’t wanna be a Marine! I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!” Luffy declared, puffing out his chest.
“Oh yeah?” Garp grinned like a devil. “Then I guess I’ll just have to beat that pirate nonsense out of you.”
He started spinning Luffy around by his face — stretching his cheeks like rubber — while I just sighed. “Seriously, what’s going on this time?”
That’s when walked in.
Kurama — tails swaying lazily behind her, her voice smooth but sharp. “We’re going on a trip. Me and your grandfather have some business to handle.”
The look they gave each other said everything. They hated working together.
“Where to?” I asked.
Her grin turned sly. “If only it were fun. We’re tracking eight dangerous individuals. The kind that could shake the world if we don’t stop them.”
She patted my head, her hair glowing like fire in the sunlight. “So stay put, alright?”
Her tail brushed against my nose again, making me sneeze for the fifth time.
“Will you ” I snapped.
She just laughed. “What? I have to entertain myself somehow.”
I tried grabbing one of her tails — big mistake. The moment my hand closed around it, pain shot through my palm. “Ow—what the hell? Are these ”
Her expression shifted, deadly serious. “Don’t touch those again. My fur’s sharp enough to cut steel.”
Her tails morphed, turning into sleek, spiked maces that shimmered in the air — beautiful and terrifying. “Neat, right? That’s part of my biology.”
Luffy’s eyes sparkled. “That’s so cool! How does it work?”
She smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
I sighed again, already dreading whatever “trip” Grandpa had planned. With those two working together, there was no way this was going to be anything close to normal.
*************
The path to the mountains stank of wet bark and mud.
Grandpa took us into the mountains, away from the Goa Kingdom and the village, and dropped us off near a house belonging to a group of mountain bandits. These weren't the same bandits that Shanks took down; they were different, and I had never heard of them before. At the time, I didn't realize it, but these bandits would become another part of my family.
Our first night was all about survival. It was simple: if you caught the dinner, you got the biggest share. I liked that rule and was grateful for it at the time. The woman who would later become my mother tried to manipulate Luffy, but it completely backfired. Dadan could be hilarious sometimes, as were the other bandits.
I planned to pull my weight in this place, but then Luffy wanted to befriend a boy named Ace.
The forest air was thick with humidity, every breath filled with the earthy scent of moss and danger. I could already sense trouble before I saw the smoke.
Out of concern for him, I followed along.
The moment I saw Ace’s grin, I knew I was right to worry.
I'd seen kids like Ace before, bratty, arrogant, thinking they knew everything. Our first meeting went as expected. Ace tried to push Luffy off a cliff.
I had to save his ass, and we ended up getting chased by wolves. For ten days straight, this pattern repeated. I don't even want to remember those times. Despite everything I had learned, the wild animals were still tough, and protecting Luffy made things even harder. The kid could be a crybaby at times, but I loved him all the same.
In the end, all those struggles made me stronger.
For months now, I had been protecting Luffy, which made me stronger and all that jazz, but after a while, I started getting fed up with it. I didn't want to keep protecting him; I could have been focusing on my training instead. So, one day, I decided to talk to Ace about his behavior.
That conversation led us to discover his secret stash of money and other valuable items. It seemed like Ace and another boy, Sabo, had been collecting these things.
I made sure Luffy stayed quiet as we watched them from a distance. I had a gut feeling that if we just walked up to them without thinking, things wouldn't end well. That was until Luffy decided to run up and talk to them. I groaned at his decision because Ace and Sabo felt threatened by the fact that we knew about their stash. I knew things could get ugly fast.
Before we could talk it out, people started emerging.
We were standing in Gray Terminal—the stink hit before I even knew the name. Smoke, rot, metal, and misery all piled together. Back then, I didn’t realize what would happen to this place… or how much blood would stain it.
My pen is trembling just writing this down.
Then they appeared—the ones who ruled this dump. Even before they spoke, I could tell they weren’t like Shanks’ crew. Their smiles were too sharp, their eyes too empty. Someone later told me their name: the Bluejam Pirates. It fit them perfectly.
I was panicking. I needed to get Luffy out of there, but then I got into an altercation with Ace and Sabo. Well, it was more of an argument between me and Ace about what to do while Sabo tried to mediate. Those two would eventually become my brothers. It's hard to put into words, but this was the moment where our bond truly formed.
If Luffy hadn't been captured, I don't think we would have become so close.
The stench of burning trash from Gray Terminal clung to my clothes as the chaos faded. The air buzzed with unease, like the world itself holding its breath.
I considered getting Dadan and the other mountain bandits involved, but Ace and Sabo quickly shot the idea down. I relented, and we came to an agreement: Sabo would check on Luffy first. If Luffy weren't talking, we would go in and rescue him.
I had no choice but to accept the plan.
And, just as I suspected, Luffy didn't say a word. That was our cue.
The three of us rushed in.
I hadn't fought another person in a while, and I was embarrassed to admit that I had gotten rusty. I got cut a few times, and I still remember those wounds clearly. But what shocked me the most was something I never expected: I saw someone from my world in this one. Or at least someone who looked exactly like a person I knew.
It was Mizuki.
When I saw him, I froze in confusion. Did he get transported here, too? Was he born in this world instead? It was a stupid mistake on my part because it distracted me from the fight, and I ended up getting my leg seriously injured.
Sabo had to carry me out.
My leg throbbed with every heartbeat. The rain started not long after, washing blood and ash into the dirt, erasing everything except the sound of our footsteps.
After that, I came up with two theories:
Mizuki was from my world but had lost all his memories.
There were people in this world who were identical to people from mine, meaning I might see others, maybe even Sasuke, Sakura, or my sister.
Anyway, when we got back, Dadan was furious about what we did. But even though she wouldn't admit it, I could tell she was worried about us. Over time, the bandits started growing on me.
That’s where Luffy and I found two brothers — Ace and Sabo.
We sealed it with sake, not blood, but bond.
When I return from my journey, I want to visit the graves of my two brothers.
starting to get a little too comfy on my break. But don’t worry, I’m not being dragged back here against my will. I’m actually hyped to dive in again. During the break, I came up with some new ideas and twists I can’t wait to show you.
Two chapters this week. I didn’t forget.
-
diary Entry 5 - (1532 ASC) drops on the 19th
Gotta give you a little time to chew on each one, right?
They’re long, packed with content, and full of real development. If you thought short chapters were going to be the norm… yeah, that’s not happening.