Those few weeks were some of the most fun I’d ever had. The Red-Haired Pirates were chill and lively people, always joking around and having a good time. But even in the laughter and noise, I could feel eyes on me.

  I remember it clearly, the first time we met, their stares sent a shiver down my spine. They were oddly similar to the glares my sister and I used to get in my old life, the same intensity, the same weight, but without the hatred behind them.

  It was that same cold, crawling feeling of being watched, only this time, without the hatred. There was no malice in their eyes. I knew what malice looked like, and these people didn’t have it.

  So I asked, “What’s with all the staring? Do I have something on my face or something?”

  ***********

  For once, the red-haired captain didn’t have a playful comeback. Shanks actually looked a bit surprised that I noticed. Then he grinned and said, “Oh, sorry about that. It’s Naruto, right? My name’s Shanks, the captain of the Red-Haired Pirates. Nice to meet you.

  He extended his hand toward me, and I reached out to shake it, only for him to pull it back at the last second.

  “Psych! You should’ve been faster!” he laughed.

  Guess even pirates could act like school kids.

  The rest of the crew burst into laughter, and I felt my face heat up with embarrassment.

  “All right, you ruffians, that’s enough!” Makino said sharply from behind the bar. “I won’t have any child being bullied in my place. Keep it up, and I’ll raise your tab again.”

  Shanks instantly panicked. “Please don’t! We don’t really have the money! We’ll behave!” he said, practically shrinking under her glare.

  And then everyone, me included, lost it.

  Even Shanks couldn’t help himself.

  “All right,” he said once the laughter died down. “So you want to know why we were staring at you, huh? You’re pretty perceptive for a six-year-old… or are you seven? Can’t really tell.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  “No, Captain, I thought he was five,” Lucky Roux said with a grin, chewing on a piece of meat.

  “Hey! I’m seven years old! But stop stalling, I want to know why you guys were looking at me like that. You know something, don’t you?” I demanded, wanting to get this over with.

  Shanks chuckled. “All right, all right. But let’s take our time. I want to get to know you first. Milk’s on me.” He gave me that big, carefree smile of his.

  Before I could press him further, the door swung open, and that’s when Luffy showed up.

  ***********

  Later, I had a conversation with Shanks about my parents. He knew them, but like Kurama, he refused to say more than that they’d been incredible pirates. But my father, he added, wasn’t a pirate at all; he was a Marine, the greatest Shanks had ever met.

  At that point, I remember freezing for a moment.

  The words hit harder than I expected.

  I froze.

  My father… wasn’t a pirate, but a Marine.

  My body started trembling uncontrollably, even without me realizing it. That feeling… it was the same one I had when I first held my mother’s sword.

  That’s right, how could I have forgotten that moment at Kurama’s home, the smile she gave me as she handed over my inheritance? I cried then, and even though it’s only been a week since that day, I can’t believe I let it slip from my mind so easily.

  That same crushing weight, that same invisible force pressing down on me. But how? How could something, or someone, have that much presence? How could something that isn’t a chakra carry such power?

  No, maybe I’d heard him wrong. But no, I didn’t. I could tell from Shanks’s face that he meant every word. He looked serious, almost proud, when he said it. He spoke about my father with such respect that it threw me completely off. Was he really such a great Marine?

  How could a Marine and a pirate even get along, let alone work together? What kind of story was that?

  What kind of story could have created someone like me?

  Despite my confusion, I felt something unexpected: happiness. For a moment, the noise of the bar faded, replaced by a quiet warmth in my chest.

  Knowing that my father was a Marine, that he might’ve been a good man who put others before himself… it brought me peace. How ironic. I used to him for that exact quality, but now, here I was, praising him for it. I never thought I’d say something like that.

  Shanks said they stared because I looked almost identical to my father, except for my mother’s softer features. My sister had inherited the rest. Back in my old world, I used to think about her all the time—wondering what kind of person she’d grow into, whether she ever found peace after everything we went through. Now, looking in the mirror of this new life, I couldn’t help but wonder… if I’m here, does that mean they’re here too? Were they reborn somewhere in this world, living their own second chance?

  Or-

  The thought hit like a knife—what if I was alone this time? What if she never made it? The moment it crossed my mind, my chest tightened like it was punishing me for even thinking it. But no… deep down, I knew. I could feel it. Somewhere out there, she was still alive.

  I couldn’t help but bite my lip and shift in my seat. The rough hay of the seat scratched against me, making my butt itch, so I quickly gave it a little scratch. I smiled. A brighter thought had just come to me, a more hopeful one.

  I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. Foosha never lets you stay in your head for long.

  I didn’t have long to dwell on it. Foosha never lets you stay in your head for long.

  Meanwhile, Luffy was ranting about how his injury didn't hurt, which I called bullshit on. You know how he is. He also kept going on about how his fists would eventually become as strong as pistols. Not quite as strong as my Rasengan from my old life, but hey, the kid could dream. Who was I to say he couldn’t? Wasn’t I trying to prove the same, that I wasn’t just a ghost from another life?

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  The entire bar fell silent the instant the door slammed open, the sound echoing like a thunderclap. Wood splintered, one of the hinges tearing loose and leaving the door hanging crooked, creaking with every faint movement. The air grew heavy, everyone tensed, even me.

  ***********

  A knot tightened in my stomach, sharp and sudden. I hadn’t expected the slam, and my mouth went completely dry. Without thinking, I grabbed my glass and took a sip. The cool milk washed over my tongue, creamy and smooth, grounding me in the moment. I took another slow swallow. The tightness in my gut eased, my heartbeat slowed, and my mind cleared.

  Then, the mountain bandits arrived.

  I’d heard the rumors: drunks, smugglers, killers. And now they were standing in front of us. But my sword was back at my house, so if things turned violent, I had no way to defend myself. Still, I had a feeling I was in good hands.

  Then why did I draw my blade? Why did I feel that urge to fight, to prove my dominance over them? Is that who I truly am? I thought I had left that life behind.

  I quickly pushed the thoughts out of my mind. There were more pressing matters to deal with, and I needed to be ready if anything happened.

  These pirates didn't look overwhelmingly powerful at first glance, but looks can be deceiving. I could tell they were experienced. More than that, I could feel something coming off them, a presence I couldn't quite describe.

  It wasn’t chakra.

  But a weight pressed down on my shoulders, forcing me toward my knees. Sweat ran down my brow; the air itself seemed to crush, suffocating, daring me to yield. It was strange… terrifying.

  It literally felt like the air was tightening, as if the very presence in the room was sucking the breath from my lungs. Sweat formed on my skin, and a strange, electric energy filled the air, making my hair stand on end.

  Ever since I came to this world, I hadn't sensed a drop of chakra anywhere. Either it didn't exist here, or it was extremely rare. But this… this was different. I didn’t know it then, but that presence belonged to men who lived by strength alone.

  Every instinct screamed at me to move, but I stayed frozen, watching what would happen next.

  And then there was their leader, Higuma. I remember hearing that he had an 8,000-berry bounty, which I thought was insane at the time. That was the moment I first learned about the bounty system in this world. Shanks explained it to me later, how a bounty measures how wanted you are. Among pirates, it's practically a badge of honor.

  At first, the bandits just wanted alcohol. If I were in Miss Makino's place, I would have ushered them out immediately. It confused me. How could someone so powerful choose to do nothing? That calm... I didn’t understand it then.

  Higuma smashed the bottle, soaking Shanks, then shoved him to the ground. Shanks didn’t flinch. No malice, no anger. Just calm.

  Luffy, as always, was a storm of rage, picking up the shards.

  And me? I just watched, sensing that this was only the beginning.

  My brow furrowed in disgust.

  Watching them laugh in the face of danger made me realize that freedom had a price. Someday, I want to have a huge bounty, maybe even the biggest bounty in the world. I want to be the most wanted man alive. If they could laugh now, could I one day do the same?

  When the bandits left, Shanks and his crew laughed. I joined reluctantly. Luffy fumed. Shanks shrugged, ‘It’s just a bottle of sake. Nothing to get worked up about.’ At the time, I didn’t respect him yet — but that moment would come later. Time has a way of teaching lessons that pride can’t

  I’ve always hated the smell of sake. It wasn’t the alcohol itself—I’d had my share—it was that bitter burn that clung to your throat, the way it lingered like smoke in your lungs. Maybe that’s why it reminds me of someone… I’m not sure who. Funny, the little details my mind decides to keep.

  ***********

  Weeks later…

  On the final day before Shanks and his crew left Fushia, I felt a pang of sadness but also a stronger resolve to set sail someday. That feeling would change soon.

  I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Before the real chaos began, there was something else, something strange.

  *************

  Before the real chaos began, something strange happened: Luffy ate a Devil Fruit, gaining the ability to stretch his body like rubber. I thought it was insanely cool. At the same time, I felt that familiar urge to get stronger by any means necessary. It seemed my old habits hadn’t died yet, and I wasn’t sure what to do with them. I still had a long way to go before I could let go of that instinct, probably not the best way to phrase it, but you’ll understand in time.

  And of course, I wanted one too. Eventually… I got one.

  That day, I was training, swinging my sword, getting in my 1,000 swings, and refining my technique. My mother's sword style was incredibly advanced, and at the time, I was still struggling to master it. Sweat dripped down my brow as I steadied my stance.

  *************

  Then, the door slammed open. Makino suddenly burst in, frantically telling the village chief that Luffy was in trouble and we needed to go fast.

  I didn’t hesitate. In an instant, I was in front of the bandits Shanks had stayed calm with earlier. Higuma’s boot pressed on Luffy, twisting him cruelly. Rage burned in me.

  I drew my sword.

  But before I could act, Shanks and his crew arrived.

  I still felt that familiar weight in my chest, the feeling I knew all too well: the desire to throw myself into the fray. I remember it took every ounce of willpower not to leap forward. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, my sandals creaking under the force. I bit the side of my tongue. And, looking back, it was a good thing I had that restraint in that moment.

  I didn’t realize it then, but this was the moment that would change how I saw him. It was also one of the defining moments that shaped my sense of justice. There were four such moments in my life, this being the first, and I know there will be many more to come.

  One bandit aimed at Shanks. My hand twitched, ready to strike, but a firm grip on my shoulder stopped me. Ben Beckman smiled. ‘Just watch, kid. We’ve got this.

  Then, Shanks spoke.

  "Are you actually going to use that gun?"

  The bandit scoffed. "Huh? What did you just say?" he snapped, clearly irritated.

  "I said," Shanks repeated, his tone unwavering, "you don't use guns to scare people."

  Before anyone could react, a gunshot rang out. It wasn’t Shanks. The bandit dropped, dead. Lucky Roux fired casually, chewing meat.

  My eyes widened in surprise, but that surprise quickly turned into admiration. I didn’t think pirates could be so joyful. Yet beneath that laughter, there was a sharp edge of ruthlessness. was the kind of pirate I had imagined before I met them. It seemed I was right, they were rough and tumble, sure, but that wasn’t all they were. They were people too… people who could be fierce when they needed to be. I couldn’t help but smile at that revelation.

  The other bandits were outraged. They screamed that Shanks' crew played unfairly, and at first, I found myself agreeing with them. But then, Shanks spoke again, his voice carrying an undeniable weight.

  "Of course we play dirty, we're pirates. But despite that, we have a code of honor. If you say you're going to do something, you better do it."

  His tone grew more serious.

  "You can spit on me. You can pour sake all over me, and I won't care. I might even laugh it off. But if you try to hurt my friends, then we have a problem."

  He took a step forward, his presence alone radiating confidence and strength.

  "If you've got the guts, then face us, the Red-Haired Pirates!"

  I could feel his willpower, and it was overwhelming. Even Higuma, the arrogant leader of the bandits, seemed terrified.

  The fight exploded around me, gunfire, steel clashing, shouts of rage filling the air. My body reacted before my mind could catch up.

  ***************

  One of the bandits lunged for Makino, blade in his hands, a sick grin on his face.

  I didn't have time to hesitate.

  My sword swung.

  I felt it before I saw it.

  My blade cut through flesh; warm blood splattered across my hands.

  It felt lukewarm and sticky, like I was playing with slime or something, and it wouldn’t be the last time I’d feel that sensation.

  The man hit the ground.

  Time seemed to slow; the shouts, the gunfire, all faded away. My chest heaved. My grip on the sword tightened. I had killed him.

  Not just fought.

  Not just injured.

  Killed.

  And the worst part?

  It felt good.

  I felt my stomach doing somersaults inside me—my whole body felt like it was shattering. I could barely keep my grip on my blade, and for a moment, I almost threw up… but I managed to hold it in.

  My heart pounded, not from fear, not from guilt, but from thrill. The rush of battle, the clarity of life and death, it was too familiar.

  Too easy.

  Was this who I still was?

  I looked down at my hands, at the blood dripping from my blade. I thought I had left that part of me behind.

  I was wrong.

  The metallic tang in my mouth reminded me I wasn’t a stranger to this.

  five more chapters done already, with even more coming. I’ve been grinding every day to make sure the story is as good as it can be for you.

  two chapters in one week as a little “thank you” for sticking around.

  Your Author Riker