Morning.
Luffy stood before the mirror in the dormitory, wearing only his fitted black pants, admiring his own reflection with a gleam in his eye. His broad chest, taut skin, strong shoulders, defined musculature—this body was like a masterpiece sculpted by the gods of effort, the golden lines of strength etched into every inch.
Whose body is this?
It's mine—Monkey D. Luffy's body. Each detail, carefully honed by me.
Sunlight filtered through the window, casting a golden glow over his figure, giving him an almost divine radiance.
"Hey, Luffy! How long are you going to stand there staring in the mirror?" Zoro called impatiently, clutching his swords.
Despite himself, his gaze flicked briefly over Luffy's well-defined torso.
Jealous… a bit.
"Got it, Zoro—you're really eager for me to leave, huh?"
Luffy finally tore himself away from the mirror with a satisfied grin. At this moment, all the days of grueling training felt worth it.
He dressed in a new white T-shirt and threw on his jacket with a flaming sun emblem, feeling the fabric slide smoothly over his muscular frame. With one last lingering glance, he grabbed his marine sword and strode out of the room, heading toward the coast.
Last night's intense duel had earned him the dojo's Menkyo Kaiden certificate from Shimotsuki Koushirou, marking him as a fully recognized swordsman. At seven years old, he was now the youngest to receive this honor, breaking the record for Wano's youngest certified swordsman.
Though he couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment that Shimotsuki Kozaburo hadn't gifted him a sword. But he'd learned to keep his expectations low, and with that mindset, life was full of pleasant surprises.
Let's go!
Zoro followed, arms crossed. He scoffed at Luffy's self-infatuation. Just a strong body—that's all. He'd get one soon enough.
By the time they reached the coast, a small crowd had gathered. Pirates lounged aboard the ship, peering down with lazy interest, while villagers pressed around Uta, handing her bundles of fruit and sweets.
"Take care, little lady."
"We'll miss hearing your songs around here…"
"If only there was a way to save your voice on a Den Den Mushi, then we could hear you every day…"
The villagers were reluctant to see her go.
Who wouldn't adore a sweet, beautiful girl who could sing?
Arms full, Uta responded to the villagers' well-wishes with a radiant smile, already carrying herself with the poise of a star.
Then, Luffy noticed Shimotsuki Kozaburo making his way over, holding a beautifully crafted sword in a jeweled scabbard.
"This is the sword you wanted," he said, pulling the blade from its sheath.
The double-edged sword gleamed in the sunlight, its intricate patterning running along both sides of the blade. The hilt was crafted from silver, adorned with fine gold details, and encrusted with a small ruby at its center. The pommel featured a crown-shaped carving, giving the sword a regal air.
It wasn't exactly as Luffy had envisioned, but he could see the care and effort that went into its creation.
"Your Highness, this is a fierce blade," Kozaburo said. "I poured all I could into crafting it, though it only reached the quality of a 'Good Sharp Blade.' Until it reaches its full potential, wield it well."
"This… this is the sword you made for me?" Luffy gazed at the intricate patterns on the blade, entranced.
Though it wasn't quite as he'd imagined, that hardly mattered. The designer and the craftsman often differed in their visions, after all.
"I forged it through day and night. Please, give it a name," Kozaburo said, nodding slightly. This would likely be the last sword he ever forged.
Even though, in theory, any sword could eventually be forged into a black blade, he couldn't predict how far this one would go.
A theory is just a theory, after all.
Especially since the one wielding this sword wasn't some swordmaster who cherished his blade above all. This was a king who would use it as a stepping stone.
"A name… 'King's Sword' will do. If it reaches the end with me, it will truly be the King's Sword. If not, it won't need a name," Luffy replied, taking the sword in both hands and slowly sliding it back into the sheath.
Even in that brief moment, he could feel the sharpness of this finely crafted blade.
The scabbard itself was exquisite, with a dark red base and embedded jewels, made from high-quality wood.
"Thank you very much. This is a wonderful surprise."
Luffy was genuinely grateful.
Kozaburo had faced many obstacles—old age, limited materials, time constraints—yet he had managed to produce this gift. It was a sword created just for him.
Turning the sheathed sword in his hand, Luffy thought, So this is the blade of a young swordsman. The blade of a young king.
"I have one question," he said after a pause. "Why… why are you so cold to Kuina?"
Compared to a typical loving family, Kuina's father and grandfather were relatively supportive, but when it came to her dreams, they became indifferent, even cold.
Despite this being a personal matter, Luffy felt compelled to ask.
"Because this world can be harsh…" Kozaburo replied slowly.
"Some people spend their lives in pursuit, only to catch a glimpse of someone else's back. Instead of letting that girl chase an unattainable dream, it's kinder to deny her that hope from the start."
Luffy's face soured. It was a typical adult answer—kind in its cruelty.
He nodded, accepting the explanation, then walked over to where Kuina and Uta were talking, the two girls exchanging hugs.
"Good luck, Kuina. Show them a girl can become the world's strongest swordsman!" Uta cheered her on.
"I read something in a physics book once," Luffy said, grinning as he looked at Kuina. "It said any wild dream humanity has can someday become reality."
"Just keep going, Kuina. If we don't make it, it's not on us. It's the world that's to blame."
"Bye, future world's strongest swordsman."
Kuina looked up at Luffy, her expression firm, yet she raised a hand to wave. "Goodbye, Uta, Luffy… Next time we meet, I'll win for sure!"
Her voice caught, her nose reddening as tears welled up in her eyes. As th
e ship began to pull away, she cried out, her voice breaking.
She had promised herself she wouldn't cry.
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