Beneath The Crimson Tides

Disclaimer:

"One Piece" and all related characters, settings, and concepts are the intellectual property of Eiichiro Oda, Shueisha, Toei Animation, and any other entities associated with the creation and distribution of the original manga and anime series. No copyright infringement is intended. 

And before you start reading my fanfiction here are a few things about it i thought i would warn in case some might not like it:

- If it isnt obvious There will be graphic violence and or gore. it will be detailed so heres the warning if that isnt your cup of tea wont be straight from chapter 1 though for sure.

-Haki will be visible, i dont give a shit if its invisible in canon.

- No Harems. Just no.

- Not a d clan member and Wont secretly be revealed to be a d clan member or something

- No system wishes from god or anything of that ilk

- Will not eat a devil fruit. 

- Wont be human

 - Ill admit he will be op, not one shotting kaido at 5 years old op but definitely very strong

- Objects eating devil fruit wont be possible here. basically im retconning it and wont be using it

- i will use some non canon things such as people or devil fruits not everything though cause some of it is too broken or wouldnt fit.

Anyway this is a heads up now to stop here if you dont agree with and or like any of these. 

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I stepped out of the office building into the relentless rain and night air. My shoes sank slightly into the puddles forming on the sidewalk as raindrops pelted against my head like annoying mosquitoes. 

"Fantastic. First, some dickhead steals my sandwich from the fridge, and now I'm getting pissed on by the heavens. This day couldn't get any better," I muttered, chiding my own stupidity in forgetting to check the weather for today.

Ignoring the strange looks from passersby who eyed me like I was insane, I trudged down the wet streets. As the rain poured down, each droplet chilled me to the bone and soaked my clothes. Despite my current predicament, I couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia amidst my discomfort. Memories of my granny's cooking flooded my mind, a beacon of comfort in the storm.

"Damien, you idiot," I berated myself. "You should've just stayed late at the office like Sandra suggested."

The neon signs of nearby shops flickered, their reflections dancing in the puddles at my feet. The smell of wet asphalt mixed with the aroma of a nearby food cart, creating an oddly comforting scent that reminded me of late nights in college.

As if some cosmic prankster had overheard my complaints, the heavens responded with a low rumbling. Startled out of my thoughts, I looked up just as a bright flash blinded my vision, illuminating the street in an instant. The rain intensified, as if the clouds had decided to release their pent-up frustration in liquid form.

"Oh, come on!" I shouted at the sky. "Is this some kind of cosmic joke?"

Another resounding boom echoed, this time from the right of me, not far into the street. My heart skipped a beat as the ground shook beneath me, a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Hastily, I dropped to the ground, hands instinctively shielding my head. The crackling of electricity still echoed in the air, sending shivers down my spine. Peering cautiously from my protective stance, I discovered a sizzling hole in the street nearby, steam rising from the scorched asphalt.

Looking up to the sky, I could scarcely believe the sequence of events unfolding around me. "Fucking Christ! I was just joking when I said it couldn't get any better, alright!?" I yelled, my usual composure slipping in the face of a mix of fear and anger. The rain continued its relentless assault as my heart nearly leapt out of my throat from getting hit, thank my lucky stars it wasn't me that got hi—

Before I could complete my grateful sentiments, another intense burst of light seized my vision. This time it wasn't just near me; something mercilessly slammed into me as a jolting, excruciating pain surged through my body, rendering me stiff and immobile. Powerless to move, I felt myself collapsing backward, the impact with the ground resonating in a loud thump.

At first, I thought I was dead, and honestly, I kind of almost wished I was. I painfully opened my eyes, the raining night sky filling my vision. It couldn't even be called pain anymore, what I was feeling, but instead pure suffering. Despite that, I bit back any bellows of pain that tried to escape me and fought against the wave of panic threatening to overwhelm me.

"Is this... is this how it ends?" I gasped, my voice barely audible over the rain.

I tried to raise myself from the wet ground, but my aching body immediately shut down that train of thought. I unceremoniously slammed back into the soaked pavement, unable to find the strength to combat both the physical pain and raise myself at the same time. Immense waves of agony wracked my body once more, mostly originating from my lungs, almost feeling like they were about to collapse in on themselves any moment. My throat burned as I coughed up blood unwittingly.

As I lay there, even through the haze of pain and disorientation, I noticed a break in the storm clouds above. Through that small opening, I caught sight of the full moon, radiant and shining against the dark night sky. I couldn't help the self-deprecating laugh that escaped me, making me feel even worse. The sight felt like a mockery, as if the universe itself was taunting me - a cruel goodbye to my life that would be cut short as a charred corpse.

The thought of being face to face with my own mortality hit me like a freight train. I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. As the rain continued to pelt down, each ragged inhale became a battle, the searing pain in my lungs intensifying with every shallow gasp. A profound sadness washed over me as I realized I would have to face death with my dreams left unfulfilled.

"I'm sorry, Gramps," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I couldn't make you proud after all."

My mind drifted to my grandfather, a tough-as-nails World War II veteran who, even in old age, was fitter than most people I'd known. I remembered the boxing lessons he'd given me in my youth - the rhythmic thud of gloves against the punching bag, the discipline, the rush of adrenaline. 

But then came that fateful day - the accident that shattered more than just my left wrist. It shattered my dreams, my confidence, my passion. The doctors said I'd recover and i could continue boxing which i did, but the fear... the fear never left. Every time I thought about stepping back into the ring, I'd feel phantom pains in my wrist, hear the sickening crack that ended my boxing career before it truly began.

So I chose the safer path, a desk job that would never challenge me, it was my way to run away and to never face what could be. I abandoned not just a sport, but a connection to my grandfather.The memory of hanging up my gloves for the last time, seeing the disappointment in Gramps' eyes, hit me harder than any punch ever could.

How many times had I promised him that one day, I would make him proud by achieving something greater than myself? Something that when I faced death, I could go with a smile, content with the life I had lived? Yet here I lay, a failure in every sense of the word.

Tears welled in my eyes, mixing with the raindrops dragging down my face, carrying with them bitter regret and an overwhelming sense of failure and shame. I lay there, feeling like a cooked turkey, both literally and emotionally, my heart hurting more than I ever thought it could.

My mind then drifted to the simpler dreams I had carried beside my great aspirations - finding a loving partner, starting a family of my own where I could provide the same warmth and laughter that my grandmother's kitchen once held. Now, those hopes seemed like cruel jokes, taunting me with the life I would never live.

I'm going to die here, I realized. On this rain-soaked street, a nameless face lost to obscurity. No legacy, nothing to be remembered by, and most likely not mourned by anyone. Just... nothing. 

The realization settled upon me like a thick, suffocating blanket. As the world around me began to fade, my eyelids grew heavier with each labored breath and blink. The moon, that celestial witness to my final moments, slowly disappeared behind a veil of darkness. I could feel myself drifting, the pain gradually subsiding as death's sweet embrace called me for the first and final time.

With my last remnants of strength fading away, I whispered a silent apology to those I had failed, especially to Gramps. Yet, in that moment of surrender, amidst the emotional and physical pain that wracked my body, I found myself accepting my fate. A strange calm washed over me, and I smiled, finding solace in the thought of meeting my grandparents once again in whatever lay beyond.

....

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Consciousness returned slowly, like wading through a thick fog. My first coherent thought was simple: I'm alive?

But something felt... off. My body was constrained, oddly proportioned. I tried to move, but my limbs responded with uncoordinated, jerky motions. Panic set in as I realized I couldn't control my body.

I forced my eyes open, blinking rapidly. My vision was blurry, shapes and colors melding together. Gradually, things came into focus, and I found myself staring up at... a giant?

No, not a giant. A woman. She had vibrant blue skin, flowing black hair, and eyes that were almost completely white. My mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what I was seeing. She smiled down at me, her teeth sharp and pointed, yet her expression was gentle, loving even.

"Welcome to the world, little one," she cooed, her voice melodious.

Little one? What was she talking about? And why did everything look so... big?

I tried to speak, to ask where I was, what was happening, but all that came out was a gurgling sound. My eyes widened in shock. What was wrong with my voice?

The woman chuckled softly. "Such a lively little thing, aren't you? Your father will be so proud."

Father? My mind was a whirlwind of confusion. This couldn't be real. I must be dreaming, or maybe I was in a coma from the lightning strike. Yet everything felt too vivid, too tangible to be a dream.

I managed to lift my hand into my field of vision, and what I saw nearly made me scream – if I could have. My hand was tiny, chubby, with a faint blue tinge to the skin. A baby's hand. My hand.

Reality crashed down on me like a tidal wave. Somehow, impossibly, I had been reborn. The memories of my past life – the rain, the lightning, the pain – were still fresh in my mind, yet here I was, a newborn infant.

As this revelation sank in, my eyes darted around the room, taking in details I had missed in my initial shock. The walls seemed to be made of a strange, smooth material that resembled polished coral. Through a window, I could see massive water wheels turning slowly in the distance, their constant motion powering things within what appeared to be a town.

Buildings of various shapes and sizes clustered around them, a unique blend of aquatic-inspired and surface architecture. The structures seemed to defy conventional design, with smooth, curved lines and vibrant colors that reminded me of tropical fish.

I tried to curse at my situation, but it only came out as unintelligible baby babbles. The woman – my mother – held me closer, misinterpreting my gibberish as a cry for comfort.

"Shh, it's alright, my little one," she soothed, gently rocking me. Her skin felt cool and smooth against mine. "Mama's here."

As I calmed down, I noticed my reflection in a nearby mirror. What I saw was shocking, to say the least. I was indeed a baby, but not just any baby. My skin was a lighter shade of blue than my mother's. Two tiny, budding horns poked out from my forehead, and small stubbles of snow-white hair streaked with black adorned my head along with my little blue ears being kind of pointed. Most strikingly, I had what looked like black v-shaped markings running down parallel from both of my eyes. Between my budding horns, right in the center of my forehead, was a small, black sun symbol, matching the color of the v-shaped markings.

"Oh, look at his eyes!" my mother exclaimed, her voice filled with wonder. "They're like little stars! And that unique sun mark on his forehead... he truly is special."

I blinked in surprise, focusing on my reflection again. Indeed, within my silver-colored eyes, the pupils were shaped like perfect four-pointed stars. The black sun symbol on my forehead stood out starkly against my blue skin, adding to my already unusual appearance.

As I continued to examine my reflection, I noticed even more unusual features. A furry tail, matching my hair's white and black streaked coloring, protruded from my lower back. It twitched slightly as I became aware of it, responding to my surprise.

But what truly caught my attention were the wings. Delicate, bat-like appendages extended from my back, their skeletal framework clearly visible through the almost translucent membrane. Even as a newborn, I could see the iridescent quality of the wing membranes, shimmering slightly in the room's soft light. In the dimmer areas of the room, I noticed a faint bioluminescent glow emanating from them.

My gaze shifted to my mother, and I saw that she too possessed a magnificent pair of wings. Hers were fully developed, gracefully folded against her back. As she moved, they seemed to ripple, catching the light in mesmerizing patterns. I realized these must be a trait of her flying fish-type fishman heritage.

"Oh, look at his little wings!" my mother exclaimed, gently touching one of my miniature appendages. "They're perfect, just like yours, my love."

As if on cue, the door to the room burst open, and in bounded an excited, anthropomorphic goat. He was tall and muscular, with greyish-white fur and curved long horns on his head. His dark eyes were filled with joy as he approached us, his hooves making a soft clicking sound on the floor.

"Is it true? Has he arrived?" he bleated, his voice deep and resonant, with a slight tremor of excitement.

My mother smiled warmly, her sharp teeth gleaming. "See for yourself, dear. Meet your son."

The goat man – my father, I assumed – peered down at me, his eyes widening in wonder. "By Neptune's trident, he's perfect!" he exclaimed, his voice a mix of awe and pride. "Look at those horns, got 'em straight from his old man, eh? But those star-shaped eyes... he's truly special, isn't he?"

My father beamed with pride. "A tail from me, wings from you - he's got the best of both worlds, doesn't he?"

As my parents cooed over me, a team of nurses and doctors entered the room. They were a mix of strange beings, some with scales, others with fins or other aquatic features, their bodies moving with a grace that seemed almost fluid.

"Everything looks perfect," a doctor with what appeared to be octopus-like tentacles for hair announced. "Both mother and child are in excellent health."

A nurse with vibrant pink scales leaned in close, her eyes twinkling as she looked at me. "Oh, he's absolutely adorable!" she exclaimed. "I dare say he might be the cutest little baby on all of Fishman Island!"

My infant brain screeched to a halt. Fishman Island? The name hit me like a thunderbolt, instantly shattering any lingering doubts about my situation. This wasn't just some fantasy world - this was One Piece. A fictional universe I had once been deeply familiar with, now somehow, impossibly, real.

The shock was so intense that for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. My eyes widened, darting frantically around the room, taking in details I had initially dismissed - the unique architecture, the mix of aquatic and terrestrial features on the medical staff, the subtle hints of a society living in harmony with the sea. It wasn't just a dream or a hallucination. I was really here, reborn into a world I once thought existed only in manga and anime.

As the reality of my situation sank in, a whirlwind of emotions swept through me – fear, excitement, disbelief, but also... hope. I couldn't lie; at first, I felt terrified at the thought of being in the world of One Piece. Three-hundred-foot sea monsters probably roamed right above Fishman Island, and somewhere out there, Celestial Dragons made the Geneva Convention look like a checklist of atrocities to commit.

A knot began to twist in my gut, but I crushed it ruthlessly. Yes, this new world was terrifying, but beyond its dangers lay something else: opportunity. A chance to do it all over again. If I let fear stop me this time, what was the point of being alive again? It would be disrespectful not only to myself but also to my grandparents, who I knew would kick my ass if I wasted something like this.

My past life, with all its regrets and unfulfilled dreams, flashed before my eyes. Then, looking up at the loving faces of my new parents, I felt a sudden, fierce determination ignite within me.

This was my second chance. A chance to live without regrets, to become someone extraordinary in an extraordinary world full of wonders and dangers. As my mother cradled me close, her heartbeat a soothing rhythm against my ear, I made a silent vow to myself.

This time, I wouldn't let fear hold me back. This time, I would embrace every adventure, every challenge this new world had to offer. This time, I would live a life worth remembering.

With that thought, I reached up to touch my mother's face with my tiny hand. She smiled down at me, her eyes brimming with love, and in that moment, I knew that whatever lay ahead, I wasn't facing it alone.

...

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Time passes differently when you're a baby, I've discovered. These past five months have been a whirlwind of new experiences, sensations, and revelations. Growing up on Fishman Island is unlike anything I could have imagined in my past life.

Our home, nestled in one of the island's above-water districts Waterwheel Town, is a marvel of aquatic architecture. Coral-like structures form the walls, their surfaces smooth and cool to the touch. Bioluminescent algae provide a soft, ever-present glow that's soothing to my infant eyes. The constant sound of flowing water from nearby canals has become my lullaby.

My parents, Deacon and Mary Astra, are a study in contrasts. Dad, with his muscular goat-like build and curved horns, cuts an imposing figure. But his eyes are kind, and his laughter booms through our home like rolling thunder. Mom, on the other hand, moves with a fluid grace that belies her strength. Her blue skin shimmers in the light, and her long, flowing hair reminds me of dark seaweed dancing in the currents.

It didn't take long for me to realize that my parents are not just ordinary citizens of Fishman Island. They're both accomplished martial artists, and watching them spar has become one of my favorite pastimes as it made me more eager to grow up take up the passion that is boxing again.

Mom practices Fishman Karate, a style that harnesses the water in the air and in her own body. Her movements are fluid yet powerful, each strike sending visible shockwaves through the air. Even to my inexperienced eyes the precision with which she manipulates water and her body with deadly precision is a sight to behold. Her fishman karate is deadliness is only improved by her mobility and grace via the wings on her back;

Dad's style is different but no less impressive. As a Mink, he has access to our iconic power of Electro. When he fights, his body crackles with electrical energy. Unlike my mother who mostly fights with heer hands he goes with kicks instead most likely cause his legs are his greatest asset being a goat mink. His kicks, already powerful due to his inherehently strong legs, become devastating when coated in lightning. The air fills with the scent of ozone when he really gets going.

Their sparring sessions are like watching a dance between storm and sea. Mom's techniques clash against Dad's, creating spectacular displays of light and sound. Sometimes, the collision of their powers results in small rainbows forming in the mist, a sight that never fails to elicit a gurgle of delight from me.

But it's not just my parents' abilities that have captured my attention. Over these past months, I've been discovering my own unique gifts.

It started about two months ago. I was lying in my crib, frustrated by my limited mobility, when I felt a strange tingling sensation in my fingertips. To my amazement, tiny sparks began to dance across my skin. Electro, of course. I spent hours trying to recreate that feeling, slowly gaining more control over the tiny electrical discharges.

Then, about a month later, during bath time, something equally extraordinary happened. As Mom was lifting me out of the water, I felt a peculiar connection to the droplets sliding off my skin. With a thought, I managed to make a few of them hover in the air for a split second before they fell. Mom's gasp of surprise told me this wasn't normal baby behavior, even for Fishman Island.

I secretly try to harness my abilities whenever i can since i dont have much to do alongside getting used to the new appendages adorning my back. The Electro comes easier to me as weirdly it feels as instictual as moving a body part or breathing though its probably due to my Mink heritage from Dad. I can now generate a steady spark at will, though it's not much more than static electricity at this point. The water manipulation is trickier. I can feel the water around me, sense its presence, but controlling it is like trying to hold onto a slippery fish. Still, I'm making progress, even if it's just making ripples in my bath water.

But perhaps the most surprising discovery came just last week. I was reaching for one of my toys when suddenly, sharp little claws extended from my fingertips. They retracted as quickly as they appeared, leaving me blinking in confusion. It took some concentration, but I managed to extend them again. They're small but sharp, a curious blend of my Mink and Fishman heritage. 

My parents have noticed some of these developments, of course. They exchange excited whispers when they think I'm not paying attention, words like "prodigy" and "unique" floating in the air. I pretend not to understand, maintaining my façade of infant innocence. But internally, I'm thrilled. These abilities, this unique lineage – they're tools I can use to forge the extraordinary life I've vowed to live.

Obviously these inherent traits are nothing compared to born monsters like kaid or big mom who was beating the beards off of giants by age 5 if i remember correctly but nonetheless they are a great boon thats value will only prove more valuable as i grow up and get more control over them especially as i have some ideas for them that i cant wait to experiment and try out.

Besides my Life on Fishman Island has been great so far even if surreal to get used to even after all this time. The community here is diverse, a blend of different fish-folk, merfolk, and the occasional surface dweller. From my stroller, I observe a daily parade of incredible beings. There's old Mr. Takoyaki, an octopus fishman who juggles multiple tasks with his many arms. Miss Coral, a beautiful mermaid with a voice like silk, often stops by to chat with Mom. And then there's young Finn, a shark fishman boy who makes funny faces at me whenever he passes by.

The island itself is a wonder. Even though we live in an above-water district, evidence of the ocean is everywhere. Water wheels and canals crisscross the area, powering homes and businesses. The architecture is a unique blend of underwater and surface styles, with buildings that look like they could withstand both tidal waves and hurricanes.

Though beneath this beauty lies the pervasive darkness that touches every corner of the world, a darkness made only darker by Fishman Island's unique position. Serving as the gateway between Paradise and the New World, amidst the ongoing clashes of the warring Yonko and the harsh reality of fishmen being prized as slaves, it's an understatement to say that conflict is prevalent. The royal Fishman Army endeavors to manage these tensions as best as they can, yet the volatility persists and is poised to worsen with the dawn of the Great Pirate Era. Perhaps some respite will come when Whitebeard inevitably lays claim to the island, whenever that day may arrive. It serves as a stark reminder that the world into which I have been reborn, while filled with wonders, is also fraught with peril.

As these thoughts swirled in my mind, I found myself being whisked away in my stroller, my parents chatting excitedly about a trip to the Mermaid Cafe. The streets of Fishman Island were bustling with activity, a kaleidoscope of colorful sea folk going about their day.

"Luci, you're going to love the Mermaid Cafe," Mom cooed, using the nickname they'd given me. "They have the most beautiful fish swimming right through the dining area!"

I gurgled in response, my eyes wide as I took in the sights around me. The coral buildings seemed to glow in the diffused sunlight that somehow made its way down to our underwater paradise.

As we approached the Mermaid Cafe, a commotion near the entrance caught everyone's attention. My heart nearly stopped as I recognized the figures emerging from the cafe.

There, larger than life and even more imposing than I could have imagined, stood Gol D. Roger himself. Flanking him were Rayleigh and Gaban, their presence almost as commanding as their captain's. They seemed to be in good spirits, laughing about something as they exited the cafe.

I couldn't believe my eyes seeing the legendary pirate in the flesh right before me. My infant body trembled with excitement, and I had to remind myself not to react too much lest I give away my adult consciousness.

"Is that....the Roger Pirates?" Dad whispered, his voice a mix of awe and concern.

Before anyone could respond, another group appeared, their approach aggressive and purposeful. It was clear from their attire and demeanor that they were pirates, and their leader, a man with a fierce scar across his face and a massive sword on his back, stepped forward.

"Gol D. Roger!" the man shouted, his voice carrying across the now-silent street. "I'm Captain Blaze of the Crimson Blade Pirates! I've come to take your head and prove I'm the strongest in these waters!"

The crowd around us gasped, and I felt my parents tense up. But Roger... Roger just laughed. It was a hearty, booming laugh that seemed to shake the very air around us.

"You've got guts, kid," Roger said, his grin wide and fearless as he stared straight back. "But you need to reach a whole other level before you can even think about stepping up to me. Still, I admire your spirit! How about we settle this over a drink instead?"

Rayleigh sighed, shaking his head. "Captain, must you always try to befriend those who want to kill you?"

Gaban chuckled, his hand resting casually on his axe. "Let him be, Rayleigh. It's part of his charm."

Captain Blaze, however, wasn't deterred. He drew his massive sword, pointing it at Roger. "Don't mock me, Roger! I didn't sail through hell to be offered a drink!"

Roger's expression shifted, becoming serious for just a moment. Then, without warning, a wave of... something... burst forth from him. It was invisible, but I could feel it washing over me, an overwhelming presence that made my tiny body tremble.

All around us, people began to collapse. Blaze's crew fell like dominoes, their eyes rolling back as they hit the ground unconscious. Only Blaze himself remained standing, though his legs shook visibly and sweat poured down his face.

Conqueror's Haki. I had read about it in my past life, but seeing and experiencing it firsthand was something else entirely. Even as an infant, even though it wasn't directed at me, I could feel its power.

Roger's grin returned as he saw Blaze still on his feet. "Not bad, kid. You've got some strength in you after all."

Blaze, to his credit, held his ground. "I... I won't back down," he declared, his voice hoarse but determined. "Even if it means death!"

Roger nodded, a look of respect in his eyes but also something else underneath that I couldn't identify. "Admirable, but this ends now. Don't rush towards lady death's embrace so quickly next time, she's a cruel mistress ya know?"

In one fluid motion, Roger drew his cutlass. The blade seemed to glimmer with an otherworldly light and a stainless black sheen as he coated it with his haki. Then, with a swing that was almost too fast to follow, Roger unleashed his attack.

"Divine Departure!"

A slash of pure power cut through the air. Blaze's eyes widened in shock as he raised his sword to block. His blade immediately shattered, and he was thrown backwards, crashing into a nearby building. He slumped to the ground, defeated but alive.

Roger sheathed his cutlass, turning to his companions with a laugh. "Well, that was a nice bit of exercise! Shall we continue our tour, lads?"

As they walked away, the crowd around us erupted into excited chatter. My parents who had reflexively started preparing seeing the possible incoming conflicted relaxed, relief evident in their faces even if they said nothing. But I... I couldn't take my eyes off Roger's retreating form. With his coat flowing behind him, his back looked almost indomitable as he didn't hold an ounce of doubt that the crew he decimated and left behind would be able to get back up and challenge him again.

In that moment, I understood why this man was considered one of, if not the strongest person on the seas. The power Roger wielded wasn't just physical strength – he himself was the kind of force that could and will reshape the world itself one day. This was the level I needed to reach if I wanted to live the extraordinary life I yearned for, a life so different from my unremarkable previous existence.

As the adrenaline of the moment faded, I felt a new fire ignite within me. Roger's display wasn't just awesome it showed me the heights I could aspire to, the kind of impact I could have on this world of monsters and legends. I may be just an infant now and it has been sometime since my unfortunate death in my past life but the memories and feelings i felt when it happened still burn just as brightly. 

As my parents finally collected themselves and we continued our trip to the Mermaid Cafe, I couldn't help but smile. Yet beneath this smile, questions began to swirl inside my mind.

 Seeing the gargantuan strength of Roger and what he represents inspired me for sure, and I knew the path I wanted to follow now. But I feel like I'm at a crossroads. I know I want to be someone who can stand tall like Roger one day, someone so extraordinary that I'll be remembered long after death just like Roger will be. But who would I be?

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Author's Note:

Thanks for reading the chapter :) If you have any thoughts or criticisms you'd like to share, or ideas for the story—whether it's powers, techniques, characters, plot points, or anything else—let me know in the comments, I'll try to get to them. Also for any if interested this is Crossposted on webnovel, wattpad, scribblehub, AO3 and fanfiction.net. ill try to post images for characters or gifs for techniques on the sites that will let me. Anyway Bye!

Recommended Fanfiction of the Chapter (FOTC): One piece: Path to Power
Link for the images/gifs https://imgur.com/a/entry-1-pictures-visual-hvRiAgo