Director Kutu, the head librarian of the Tree's library, was no ordinary scholar. Thanks to his quiet backing, a legion of archaeology scholars had been diving into ancient texts, deciphering history, and chasing the truth behind the century-long void in the world's past.
"You know where other historical texts are hidden?"
Kutu's eyes lit up as he stared at Brook, his excitement barely contained. The Tree's two historical texts had been studied to death, and for years, they'd sent teams scouring the seas for more. Most returned empty-handed. Too many brilliant archaeologists had perished on this grueling quest for the truth.
"Not only do I know where some texts are," Brook said coolly, "I know there are two kinds—regular ones and red ones, each telling different stories. I've even got one on my Golden Island, packed with critical info. But don't get your hopes up—it's too important to hand over for study anytime soon."
Brook's tone was calm but sharp, a seasoned pirate playing mind games with bookworms. These scholars thought they could outsmart him? They'd end up working for him, counting their blessings—and their Belly—for the privilege!
"You know more about historical texts than we do?" Kutu gasped, momentarily forgetting Brook was the pirate who'd just hijacked their entire island. His mind raced, consumed by the promise of new knowledge. "Can you read ancient script?"
"Nope, can't read a word of it," Brook admitted with a skeletal grin. "But I know what some of those texts say. Play nice, do what I say, and I'll let you study others in time. I'm not here to force you into anything shady. All I need is for you to lend me some top-notch scientists to assist my genius researcher."
"Oh, and by the way, my scientist? He's the smartest man alive. Working with him, you'll uncover the world's deepest, most mind-blowing secrets. So, round up some experts in biology, mechanics, cybernetics, and weapons research. With my funding, they'll have all the resources they need to chase their dreams!"
Brook laid out his terms, his voice a mix of charm and steel. He was giving Kutu a chance to play ball, but if the old man didn't get the hint, Brook wouldn't hesitate to get rough. He'd shown enough respect already.
He admired scientists—science was the ultimate game-changer, after all. But disobedient ones? He had no qualms about making them disappear.
...
Kutu's mind spun as he processed Brook's words. The claim about the "smartest man alive" sounded like pirate bluster, but Ohara was already in the Hell Pirates' grip. Resistance was futile. Yet, these pirates weren't demanding bloodshed—they wanted research help, with endless funding and access to the holy grail of historical texts!
"Fine," Kutu said, his voice steady despite the weight of his choice. "I'll convince the other scholars to work for you, but you've got to tell me everything you know about those historical texts."
If he couldn't fight back, he'd make the most of it. For the sake of his lifelong obsession, Kutu was willing to play the turncoat, even if it meant leading his colleagues into the pirate's fold. It was a better fate than death under pirate rule. Joining Brook meant survival—and a chance to keep researching.
"No way I'm spilling everything," Brook countered, his eye sockets glinting. "Some of that info's tied to the fate of the world—too dangerous for you to know. But I'll give you the basics. Find all four red historical texts out there, and they're yours to study."
Those texts were off-limits, period. The others, including the red one pointing to the final island's road marker? Fair game.
"Deal," Kutu said, brushing off the protests of Nico Barobi and Charles Pero. "Just promise you won't harm a single resident or scholar on this island."
With that, Kutu pledged himself to Brook's cause, taking charge of Ohara and the Tree of Knowledge's people. He'd recruit specialists to assist this so-called genius, Vegapunk, while testing Brook's promises step by step.
"Smart choice," Brook said, nodding approvingly. "You're all under my protection now. Just do your job, help Vegapunk with his experiments, and you'll be fine."
Brook liked Kutu's pragmatism. A stubborn or hotheaded librarian would've forced his hand—maybe a few executions to keep the rest in line. But Kutu knew when to fold.
...
Brook's gaze shifted to Nico Barobi and Charles Pero, Nico Robin's grandfather and great-grandfather. If he separated young Nico Herodotus from Charles Olivia now—or worse, took one out—would Nico Robin ever be born? With history already altered by his actions, was her birth even guaranteed?
Not that it mattered to Brook.
He had a small army of archaeologists who could read ancient script and a trove of ancient texts at his disposal. Nico Robin's existence was irrelevant.
If fate didn't exist, Brook had over fifty years to build an empire strong enough to topple the World Government. With a crew boasting multiple Emperor-level prospects and Vegapunk, his scientific trump card, he could leapfrog technology—peacekeeping robots, cyborgs, artificial Devil Fruits, all decades ahead of schedule!
But if the world was bound by fate, Brook might have no choice but to wait fifty years for the Straw Hat kid with the Sun God Nika Fruit, the D's Will incarnate, to break the chains of this cursed world.
Even Pirate King Gol D. Roger had only punched a ticket to the final island, named it Laugh Tale—a cosmic joke—and walked away empty-handed. Roger and his crew waited over twenty years for a prophesied savior, laughing at their own powerlessness.
And Kozuki Oden? Back in Wano, he danced naked under threats, died a so-called heroic death, and called it destiny. What a fool, buying into fate's script without a fight.