Again, the kind that would do things no better than the Celestial Dragons. I feel ashamed even writing this down. The memory burns clear even now. “Why? Why should I let this guy live?” I shouted. He killed him!" I yelled. What she told me brought me back to who I am today.

  "You're trying to be judge, jury, and executioner, but that's not for you to decide, not in the state you're in now. Please reconsider this. I know Luffy meant everything to all of us, but I don't want to see you go down a path like his."Makino's hands gripped my arms, desperation in her eyes. That look snapped me back to reality.

  She was right.

  In my old life, I had been all three: the judge, the jury, and the executioner. Maybe I still was.

  But I didn't want to be anymore.

  So, I lowered my blade. I thought lowering my blade meant I’d changed. But mercy means nothing if all it does is buy time for your next sin.

  For a breath, the world held its shape. And it wasn’t just the world that burned that day — it was me. Control slipped away; every lesson Master Naguri drilled into me about restraint, about calm, shattered in an instant. Emotion flooded through — rage, grief, hatred — and for the first time in years, the cage door of my old self swung open.

  The tyrant.

  The monster who once believed power was everything and compassion was weakness. I won’t lie to you. I don’t regret what I did that day. Maybe I should… but I don’t. Some things — some people — deserve to be erased. You’ll understand soon enough.

  A few hours later, I was called back.

  ***************

  Garp and Kurama had returned, standing outside the Dadan House. I said goodbye to them and asked what they planned to do with Mizuki. I made one request: don't make it easy for him.

  That was all I could do.

  ***************

  I was still angry, but I forced myself to focus on getting home. When I arrived, a heavy, overwhelming sadness hung in the air. I expected it, but I wasn't prepared for how crushing it would be.

  As I walked in, Grandpa and I passed each other. His eyes were filled with rage but also grief. He had heard what happened. For a moment, I was worried about what he would do. He was one of the strongest men alive.

  No, should I even keep calling him Grandpa? He wasn't mine. He was always Luffy's.

  I still feel guilty about that.

  When I entered the house, I saw Luffy's body covered with a sheet. They were preparing to bury him. But there was a commotion. Then I heard it: what had happened to Sabo.

  He had tried to set sail but was annihilated by a Celestial Dragon.

  Rage consumed me — the kind that blinds reason and drowns out everything else. This was the moment everything snapped. I told myself, Just this once. I’ll never do this again.

  For a second, my hands shook like I’d never held a sword.

  Revenge always sounds cleaner before you swing the blade.

  But even then, I knew it was a lie.

  It was one of my greatest mistakes, and it cost Kurama her life.

  Kurama was confused, of course, she was. Both she and Garp had been away on a mission. They returned only to find Luffy dead. Sadness lined her face. She looked different. The last time I saw her, she had orange hair, but now it was white. Or was it silver? I can't quite remember.

  But I do remember one thing, she no longer had nine tails. She had ten.

  For a heartbeat, I couldn’t even move. The world went silent—then something inside me snapped loud enough to fill it.

  No time for questions; the name Sabo alone turned thought into action, a plan forming before reason could object. I would make that Celestial Dragon pay.

  Before I could leave, something stopped me.

  My arm was caught — wrapped in something soft—Kurama’s tail.

  It coiled around me, gentle yet firm. Not sharp like the first time — no blood, no pain — just warmth, restraint. Pulse hammered against her fur; anger rose until it drowned out everything else.

  Then another tail brushed against my face, tickling my nose until I sneezed. She was teasing me. Now.

  In front of my brother’s corpse. “Get off me, wench!” I shouted before I could stop myself. Everyone froze. Even Dadan’s jaw dropped. But Kurama… she didn’t even flinch. Her expression didn’t waver.

  Dadan stomped forward, face red with fury. “You disrespectful brat—!”

  Kurama raised a hand, calm as the tide.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Let him go.”

  “What?!” Dadan barked. “After what he just said? He should be—”

  “What good would that do?” Kurama said quietly. Her tone silenced everyone.

  “It would only make him hate us more. Right now, he doesn’t need punishment. He needs space to feel what he’s feeling. If he doesn’t let it out now, he’ll never process it.”

  Her smile was faint, but I could feel it — that same, maddening warmth I didn’t know how to deal with.

  I didn’t say anything. I just turned and left. I didn’t hear the rest of what they said… but now, years later, it’s all I can think about. I remember her voice echoing as I ran. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. Come back when you’ve cleared your mind.”

  She sounded like… a mother.

  That memory pulled me back — to another night, long before this one.

  A nightmare.

  The villagers are beating me. The fear. The shaking wouldn’t stop. Kurama had found me then, too — trembling, wide-eyed, too ashamed to speak. “What’s wrong, Naruto?” she asked softly. I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to look weak. But when she opened her arms… I broke.

  She held me. Her fur was warm, her scent faintly like smoke and wildflowers. Her tail wrapped around me like a blanket, and for the first time in forever, I felt safe.

  No monsters.

  No loneliness.

  Just warmth.

  That memory hit me hard as I ran. Maybe that’s why I snapped, why my vision blurred red with rage. Because Sabo would never get the chance to meet her. Because the world had stolen that warmth from him before he ever knew it.

  And that thought — that single, unbearable truth — is what finally made me lose control.

  My plan was simple: I'd use Moonwalk to infiltrate their ship before they left. Then, I'd kill everyone on board. No one would be left alive.

  The sea was too calm — like a measured breath before a strike. Rage steered me even as Moonwalk carried me in silent, efficient steps. Master Naguri’s “control your emotions” echoed, useless against the heat in my chest. Only one logic remained: this was the only way. The voice of my old self spoke and, for once, it won.

  Everything went according to plan: Moonwalk sent me through a rear window, glass exploding into darkness. Shouts cut the corridor — too close — and my breath slowed as training took over and I slid into shadow.

  The air was thick with dust and salt. Even in the dark, I could taste the iron of blood somewhere nearby.

  The blade pulsed faintly in my hand — like a heartbeat I couldn't place.

  Two guards stepped in, armor scraping against the doorway. Their hesitation was all I needed — two strikes, and silence swallowed the room again.

  The lantern’s iron scent pooled in the dark like blood already spilled.

  Then, in the faint glimmer of a lantern, I saw it — a chest resting on a raised altar, humming faintly with energy.

  My throat closed; the air tasted metallic.

  A blinding red light filled the room. Inside a coiled fruit pulsed with that glow; for a moment, I couldn’t breathe as a hot, immediate knowledge flooded my veins.

  The first bite tasted wrong — metal and salt scouring my throat — but pride forced the swallow. The power would be worth it.

  When the light faded, I knew I was no longer human. That was the moment I became an enemy of the sea — a secret the sea never forgets. The ship groaned around me; something in the water answered.

  The light died down; the ship smelled different now — like salt and something sharper.

  The moment I finished, my body felt strange, and knowledge flooded my mind. It was as if the fruit itself was explaining its power to me. That's how I learned its name:

  The Power-Power Fruit Model: Isekai.

  I learned about the three types of Devil Fruits: Logia, Zoan, and Paramecia. My fruit was unique. It let me gain powers from all three. I could take abilities from others and even acquire powers from different worlds.

  Then, something I couldn't explain happened.

  A white orb phased through the lantern glow and into me — no pain, only warmth, and a memory that felt like Luffy laughing in my chest. For a second, the fruit’s power and that laugh braided together.

  Then everything started to feel off. My body felt lighter, springier, like every step had a bounce to it. For a second, I thought I was imagining things—until I grabbed my face and it just… kept stretching.

  I froze.

  “Oh my god… is this what it feels like to be Luffy?” I thought, tugging at my cheek. “It actually feels kinda fun—”

  Snap!

  It slipped from my hand and smacked me right across the face, sending me tumbling to the ground. I bit back a groan, staying quiet.

  That’s when it hit me—literally and figuratively. I had eaten Luffy’s Gum-Gum Fruit. His power was now mine.

  But something about it felt… different. Stronger. Deeper. Like there was a secret hidden inside this fruit, something even Luffy hadn’t uncovered.

  And honestly? Even now, I still can’t explain it. Maybe he never could either. Maybe he just didn’t care.

  So, yeah… I told myself not to think too much about it.

  Even now, years later, I still can't believe it.

  At the time, I shook off my confusion and continued through the ship. Any guard in my way fell to my blade. I created chaos.

  Then, I reached a room filled with prisoners, enslaved people who had lost all hope.

  I freed them.

  At first, they thought it was a trick, but when they saw my face, my rage, my intent, they ran. Different races, different backgrounds, none of that mattered. They just wanted freedom.

  Finally, I reached the deck.

  And there he was.

  The Celestial Dragon.

  As I walked toward the Celestial Dragon, a faint heat bled from my blade. The air around it shimmered, and for an instant, I saw a flicker of orange light crawling across the steel—like fire trapped beneath glass. But when I tried to focus on it, the glow vanished, slipping away as if the sword itself didn’t want to be seen.

  It wasn’t Haki. It wasn’t my rage. It was something deeper—something watching me.

  Fox Slayer.

  Sometimes I swear it breathes with me. Its warmth rises when my pulse quickens, its edge hums when I lose control. I might sound insane writing this, but I think the sword… understands me. Maybe too well.

  This isn’t the first time it’s reacted like that, either.

  I would come to learn the truth about this blade one day — but back then, I turned a blind eye. There were other things I thought mattered more.

  I didn’t think about it then. I should have. I should have known better — nothing ignites without reason. The guards lunged at me, their spears aiming for my heart. I dodged every strike, slicing them apart as I closed the distance.

  The slaves, now free, turned on their captors. A mutiny erupted, chaos spreading like wildfire. I reached the Celestial Dragon. He screamed, "Get away from me, you buffoon!" I didn't hesitate.

  The blade punched through his throat; the deck drank the spill before I even breathed again. A primal roar tore from me as the head fell, and I stood over the corpse.

  ______

  And in that instant, I saw it — the slight twitch of his hand inside his coat, a quiet spark before the storm. He pressed something—I didn’t know what it meant then, but now I do. I stood there, chest heaving, ignoring the twitch of his hand until a faint, high-pitched ping split the air.

  Too late.

  The comms had already gone out.

  The call went to a Sword Admiral.

  And in that breath, everything truly fell apart.

  I shook myself out of the daze after killing the Celestial Dragon. For a moment, I’d tasted the cold satisfaction of vengeance, but then a voice pulled me back — a slave, eyes hollow with fear, telling me there were others chained deeper in the ship.

  Hearing that, something in me snapped into focus. I hadn’t killed to feel power; I’d killed so that others might not suffer. If freeing them meant going further, then that’s what I’d do. I stepped forward, blade ready, not for glory this time but for mercy