After Kurama’s lessons and Garp’s visits, life in Foosha settled into something almost peaceful — until the day she gave me my inheritance.

  She gave me my inheritance — a sword. My mother's sword.

  I ran my fingers over the hilt, tracing the worn engravings. It was a piece of my past life, one of the only things I had left. I remember trembling completely. I’d never experienced someone giving me something without an ulterior motive before.

  Right then, huge, embarrassing droplets of tears fell onto the scabbard of my late parents' prized possession — people I never even knew, never even got the chance to know. Were they anything like my parents from my old world? The thought cracked something inside me. All the walls I’d built broke open. I would have stayed that way, lost in that storm of confusion and grief, if not for that man.

  ***************

  One day, he arrived.

  An old man with a grin far too wide for someone that dangerous — Monkey D. Garp.

  The moment he stepped into our lives, everything changed.

  ********************

  At the time, nothing would ever be the same.

  That man wanted us dead. I swear, he threw us into the wild to fight beasts, tied us to balloons, and called it "training." I thought we were going to die every single day.

  “It’ll make you stronger,” he always said.

  I honestly thought that old bastard was insane. But I hate to admit it — he was right.

  Despite the insane training, Luffy and I didn’t just strengthen our bodies. Kurama pushed us to train our minds, too. I was far more eager for that than Luffy ever was. She taught us about the world, and I’ll never forget those moments — the way her eyes shone when she spoke, the quiet patience in her voice. Not for as long as I live.

  No, I'm getting ahead of myself again.

  But before I reveal that, there’s something crucial I must remember… so bear with me.

  ********************

  Kurama told me and Luffy many stories about my parents, about my grandfather. But one story stuck with me the most: the execution of Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King.

  Maybe it was the exhaustion, the fear, that made me cling to stories like this. Her telling these stories was a sort of escape from Garp’s brutal training. I was still dedicated, but even I needed a break once in a while.

  On top of that, the story of Gol D. Roger stirred something inside me — something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I couldn’t define it then, but now I can clearly tell that it was my dream resurfacing. Back in the world of the Elemental Nations, I had one small dream: to become a Kage.

  Now look at me: I’m a child again, starting life all over, yet still carrying the same memories. How cruel fate can be. I had everything, and then I lost it all.

  I brought some of this on myself — I know that now. It was my actions that led to that outcome. But anyway, let’s get back to the topic at hand.

  Once upon a time, there was a man named Gol D. Roger. He had wealth, fame, power — everything this world could offer. He even found the elusive One Piece. And before his death? He didn’t tell a soul where it was hidden.

  I can clearly remember imagining myself as a pirate who had found the One Piece, becoming a king among pirates. Would it be anything like being Hokage? My heart raced just thinking about it. The unknown, the danger — it was intoxicating. The thrill of not knowing gave me a determination I never would’ve gained otherwise. I wouldn’t be here, writing these words, without it. That’s a fact.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  No, scratch that — he had no intention of telling anyone. He wanted the whole world to go on a massive scavenger hunt. At least, that's my theory.

  It just feels so liberating being a pirate. Now I can do almost anything I set my mind to, as long as my friends let me. They can be such a pain sometimes. Like, come on, why can’t we go to the mouth of a giant sea beast? What’s the worst that could happen?

  That was the moment I knew: I wanted to be a pirate.

  All the stories, all the lessons, all the chaos led me here.

  *******************

  The idea of sailing into dangerous waters thrilled me. Finding hidden treasure? Becoming strong? Sign me up, baby! I could almost feel the wind in my hair, smell the salty ocean, even before I set foot on a ship.

  While Luffy was dreaming about being a pirate, I started planning. I built a routine. I trained my body. Thanks to my inheritance, I had my mother's sword. She’d had two, but it seemed like she could only grab one during that day — the day they both died. And for some reason, that was the one story Kurama refused to tell me, no matter how hard I pushed.

  That silence said more than any answer could. The cold iron of the blade in my hand always seemed to echo her refusal.

  I recalled her every time I swung that blade. It wasn’t just metal; it was memory. My sister, Mito… she was an incredibly skilled kenjutsu master, always doing whatever I asked of her. Useless missions. Pointless slaughters. Innocent lives lost. And in the end, it led her to die in a burning inferno. The memory of that inferno still makes me gag.

  ********************

  She was such a kind person. She should never have been associated with someone like me.

  When I had everything, when I was revered like a god after all the terrible things I’d done, I didn’t think about it at the time — but why did she stay with me?

  Someone so kind, so pure — you’d think she’d want nothing to do with me.

  She could have tried to kill me. So why did she stay?

  It makes my hand tremble just thinking about it. Maybe I’ll ask her in the morning.

  A sigh escaped me. That isn’t who I am anymore.

  So I gave up.

  **********************

  Instead, I put all my focus into training — both physical and mental. Maybe the reason wasn’t just my desire to get stronger, though that was a big part of it. No, it went deeper than that.

  I needed to be knowledgeable enough to hold my own. By the time I was six, I started sword training. Kurama helped me. She fully supported my dream of becoming a pirate, which clashed with my grandfather's views. Garp was a great Marine. And I respected the Marines, I did. They protected the innocent, upheld justice, and all that good stuff.

  But how did I treat others in my old world?

  Funny thing is, justice looked different where I came from.

  I had a simple philosophy: if you treated me badly, I'd treat you just as badly. And, well… that got out of hand.

  I see it now.

  At the time, I thought I was the villain.

  *****************

  The monster. The outcast. And maybe I was. The world didn’t twist me — I let it. I knew what I was doing, even when I told myself I didn’t. I hurt people. I destroyed things that didn’t deserve it. And yeah, maybe the world was rotten, but that doesn’t wash the blood off my hands. I still see it every time I close my eyes.

  I don't even want to think about it. But I can't escape it either. It haunts me. Every time I close my eyes, I see them — the people I lost, the pain I caused, the hatred that burned me alive from the inside out.

  Makino says writing might help. Maybe she's right. I don't even know how to put this into words. How do you move on from something like that?

  I don't know. But I have to try.

  **************

  When I first met that woman, she was like a sister to me. The villagers, too, all felt like family. Old Man Woop Slap, that jolly old guy, never liked the idea of me becoming a pirate. But you know what? That geezer doesn't know what he's talking about. At least, that's what I told myself at the time.

  Then, one day, a group of pirates came to the bar — the Red-Haired Pirates. It was my first time seeing a pirate crew in action. They weren't what I expected. Instead of ruthless criminals, they were… jolly — just normal people wanting to have a good time. And I had fun with them, too.

  Those quiet days didn’t last long, though.

  I remember the time Luffy wanted to join their crew. I wanted to as well, but deep down, I knew I wasn't ready. My sword skills weren't even close to their level. I had seen them wield swords like they were weightless extensions of themselves. I had a long way to go.

  And then Luffy… that idiot… he stabbed himself under his eye. It was a miracle he didn't lose it. I was furious but also concerned. Without thinking, I punched him in the head and scolded him for his recklessness. Looking back, I wasn't sure why I did that. I thought I didn’t care about him — didn’t care about anyone. But I guess I was wrong.

  Maybe I wasn’t as heartless as I wanted to believe.

  I didn’t realize it then, but the day the Red-Haired Pirates stepped into Makino’s bar was the day everything shifted.

  Not just for Luffy, but for me too.

  The diary entries that follow are harder to write.

  The straw hat on my back felt heavier than it ever had.

  That was the day I learned what it really meant… to chase freedom.

  I’m really excited to finally share Chapter 3 with you. I’ve put a lot of heart into this one, so I hope you enjoy it. Thanks as always for reading and supporting my story!