_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ohara.
A sacred ground for archaeology in the West Blue, home to the greatest concentration of scholars in the world—and the largest library on the seas.
In terms of global significance, Ohara's influence was undeniable.
In any era, in any world, knowledge is what carries civilization forward.
From the bow of the ship, even at a distance, you could clearly see the massive tree rising from the heart of the island—the Tree of Knowledge. Its branches spread wide and lush, as if proclaiming to the world that wisdom would take root here and reach in every direction.
"Ohara has the most renowned scholars in the world and the most precious collection of books," Alvida said with a smile. "This island is one of the symbols of the West Blue. It's our pride."
"Pride, huh?" Kyle murmured.
"Yes. Pride." She nodded firmly.
She didn't notice the tall officer at the front had gone quiet, a faint shadow settling between his brows.
A place with the world's finest scholars and the greatest trove of rare texts—a sanctuary of knowledge like that could certainly be called the pride of a sea.
And yet… even that pride had once been reduced to rubble for daring to pursue truth. For daring to seek history.
So who decides what justice is? Who gets to call themselves righteous?
Who stands at the top of the tower, declaring their version of truth, and burns anyone who disagrees?
The warship edged closer to shore. The Tree of Knowledge loomed larger and larger, the surrounding forest thick and green, the air fresh and cool.
Their arrival had clearly stirred the island.
"Let's go take a look," Kyle said softly. "At the pride of our West Blue."
He stepped off the ship. Alvida followed close behind, along with two squads of soldiers.
As they set foot on the island and made their way toward its center, Kyle's expression kept shifting.
According to the Navy's records, this was his birthplace.
But he had no memory of it. Not a single fragment. Everything here felt unfamiliar.
And yet, walking through the forest, he suddenly heard it—phantom echoes in his ears. The shriek of artillery shells slicing through the sky. The roar of flames erupting. In his mind's eye, everything ahead was swallowed by fire.
Screams. Shouting. Chaos.
His face grew darker.
Then they stepped out of the woods and into town—and the hallucination vanished. In its place was peace. Quiet. Order.
The Tree of Knowledge stood tall and proud. A group of archaeologists had already gathered beneath it, waiting—alert, wary.
"The Navy's here again."
"Did they find out about our secret?"
"Studying history isn't a crime. Don't panic. If this were serious… it'd be the World Government, not just the Navy."
At the front stood an elderly man—the library's director, the world-renowned archaeologist, Professor Clover.
A moment later, Kyle stopped before him. He swept his gaze over the tense crowd, then smiled.
"There's no need to be nervous. I'm not here on official business."
Alvida stepped forward to introduce him. "This is Vice Admiral Kyle, commander of the G-18 Base in the West Blue."
"Kyle?" Clover blinked, staring at the tall man before him.
The face in front of him slowly overlapped with that of a child he'd known more than a decade ago.
"So the little brat's grown up, huh?"
Kyle felt something stir in his chest. "Professor… would you mind speaking somewhere private?"
"Of course."
The other scholars visibly relaxed. What they feared most was yet another round of investigations.
Soon, at Clover's invitation, Kyle entered the library. They found a quiet corner among towering shelves packed tight with ancient books.
Kyle tilted his head back, taking it all in. Shelf after shelf. Countless old volumes.
He couldn't help but let out a low whistle. "Every book here is a treasure."
"And something we've spent years protecting," Clover replied with a gentle smile. "They belong to all of humanity."
"Knowledge really is a treasure," Kyle agreed.
Humanity grows stronger because it builds on what came before. Because each generation stands on the shoulders of the last, reaching a little higher, seeing a little farther.
And books are the bridge that makes that possible.
"Now," Clover said, studying him, "tell me why you've really come. It's been over ten years. I never imagined you'd become the highest-ranking officer in the West Blue."
Kyle smiled faintly. "I did come with questions."
He paused.
"To be honest… I lost all my memories from before I was seventeen. An accident."
Clover's eyes widened in understanding. "That explains it. I could see the unfamiliarity in your eyes. You used to cling to me all the time, you know. Crying and begging me to tell you stories."
Kyle chuckled softly. "So this really is my hometown?"
He was almost certain. His observational field had been active the whole time—he'd sensed recognition from several scholars the moment they heard his name.
But Clover shook his head.
"No."
"You were brought here by Jonas. He found you during an expedition to search for ancient ruins."
"You stayed in Ohara for a while, then left with him and his wife."
The old man sighed.
"After that… we never heard from you again."
"The Navy reported that the Jonases died in a shipwreck, killed by pirates. And you were missing."
Kyle froze.
He wasn't from Ohara?
"Then… do you know anything about my origins?" he asked carefully.
"I don't know much," Clover admitted. "But I once heard the Jonases mention that they found you near Alabasta, on the Grand Line."
"They saved your life."
He smiled faintly. "You were a kind kid. Incredibly kind."
Then he looked up at Kyle, warmth filling his aged eyes.
"And you still are. Becoming a Marine hasn't changed that. If anything, it's given you a way to protect more people."
"You've fulfilled your childhood dream."
"You turned out well."
Kyle didn't respond for a long time.
He hadn't inherited a single memory from his past life in this body. He hadn't expected his origins to be this complicated.
After chatting a while longer, Clover gave him a tour of the library.
In one quiet corner, they came across a little girl, around six years old.
"Her name is Robin," Clover said. "She's gifted. Exceptionally so."
Kyle looked at her.
The fading sunlight slipped through the window, spilling across the desk and illuminating half her face. She was completely absorbed in her book, her expression serious and intent.
For a moment, she looked almost like an angel who'd wandered into the human world.
"..."
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________