It was a new day for a new Toma.
He sat at the edge of a towering cliff, where the wild sea winds whipped his black, messy hair in every direction. Below him, ships came and went from the distant harbor—some merchant vessels, some fishing boats, and others too far to tell. He watched them silently, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around them. The sky above was clear, painted in soft morning hues, but inside his heart, a storm was always waiting.
"I made a promise…" he muttered, staring out across the endless ocean. "To sail the world… to complete the dream of the real Toma…"
But something had been bothering him more and more lately. He clenched his fists slowly and whispered to the wind, "I've been here for more than three years… yet not once have I heard the name of a pirate… or anything that resembles the chaos of the One Piece world."
He cursed his past self for never properly finishing the manga he had once loved most. "You read everything but the ending…? Idiot," he muttered to himself with a dry, amused grin.
Toma stood up slowly, brushing off the dust from his pants. He didn't feel like going back to the village where he once worked and played and fought. Instead, his feet took him somewhere else—toward the biggest town nearby, he had always avoided, though he never knew why.
And then he saw the name etched into the old wooden sign swinging slightly in the breeze:
LOGUETOWN.
His heart froze in his chest. He took a step back. His breath caught.
"No way…" he whispered.
He stood in silence for a few seconds before regaining his composure, laughing bitterly. "I was so close to this town… and yet so far."
With hesitant steps, he entered the town. It was far more vivid and alive than he ever imagined from anime or manga. Cobblestone streets bustled with life, vibrant market stalls stretched for blocks, and the salty scent of the ocean lingered in every breeze. But something was off—something was too energetic.
People were rushing everywhere—reporters, town criers, men and women with cameras and notebooks stumbling over themselves, frantically recording whatever they could.
Toma furrowed his brows. "What's going on…?"
Curiosity got the better of him, and he stopped a breathless man clutching a notepad. "Hey, why is everyone so hyped here—?"
Before he could finish, the man snapped impatiently, "What, are you new to this town? Or new to this world? Only a crazy guy wouldn't know what's happening today!"
Toma raised both hands defensively. "Hey, I'm not crazy!" he replied in a light, comedic tone.
The man gave him a long glare, sighed, and said, "You're a weird one, that's for sure." After taking a deep breath, he added, "Today… is the execution of the King of the Pirates—Gol D. Roger."
It hit Toma like a thunderbolt. His legs nearly gave out beneath him.
His voice trembled. "When… is it happening?"
"Just a few minutes from now," the man replied before storming off, muttering something about "wasting time."
Toma stood there in silence. "That explains it… why pirate activity seems almost nonexistent… why everyone talks like peace is normal."
He turned toward the crowd, following the current of people surging through the streets like a living river.
Eventually, he reached the central plaza. The air was thick with tension and awe. People murmured and pushed and leaned on their toes to see.
And then… he came.
A man in chains, pale and clearly ill, was being led to the gallows. Yet, despite it all, he smiled—a smile brighter than the sun, fuller than any joy Toma had ever seen. No fear. No hesitation. No regret.
Toma's breath caught in his throat. "This is… the man who conquered the seas…"
Everyone around was silent, enchanted by the presence of the Pirate King. Roger moved with dignity, even as guards flanked him. His very existence demanded reverence.
When Roger reached the top of the execution platform, one of the soldiers, trembling, asked, "Do you have any last words?"
Roger, with a playful smirk, nodded toward his chains. "These are itchy. Think you could loosen them a bit?" he joked, causing some gasps, some laughs.
He sat at the edge of the high platform like it was a throne, watching the sea of faces below him.
And then—a voice from the crowd:
"HEY, GOL D. ROGER! WHERE'S YOUR TREASURE? THE ONE PIECE?! IS IT REAL?!"
The world stood still.
Roger chuckled. Then he threw his head back and laughed, a sound that shook hearts to the core.
"You want my treasure? You can have it! I left everything I gathered… in one place! If you want it… you'll have to find it! I left it all… at the end of the Grand Line!"
And with those words, the executioners brought down their blades.
It was over. In one moment—a legend died, and a new era began.
The crowd trembled. Some stood in awe. Some burst into joy, cheering his death.
But not all.
Two boys wept. One with red hair and a straw hat resting on his head. The other with a red nose, wearing a black bandana on his head.
Some in the crowd were struck silent by realization. Others found a spark of fire in their hearts—a calling.
Toma stood still. His heart pounded.
"So this… is the day everything begins."
The town would never be the same again. Neither would the world.
And neither… would Toma.