-Real World-
The aftermath of their escape from Drum Island had left the Straw Hat Pirates in a contemplative mood as they sailed through calmer waters, but the Sky Screen's revelations about their future selves had transformed that quiet reflection into a complex mixture of excitement, concern, and profound curiosity. Each crew member found themselves grappling with the implications of what they had witnessed—5 years of growth, change, and adventure compressed into a few tantalizing glimpses that raised more questions than they answered.
Tony Tony Chopper sat cross-legged on the Going Merry's deck, studying his reflection in a small hand mirror with the intense focus of someone trying to reconcile present reality with future possibility. Of all the crew members, his appearance had changed the least over the projected timeline—still small, still adorable, still carrying the essential characteristics that made him uniquely himself.
But one detail had caught his attention immediately: the hat perched atop his future self's head.
"It's different," he murmured to himself, carefully removing his current pink cap to examine it more closely. The cherished memento from Dr. Hiluluk remained exactly as he remembered—worn fabric, faded colors, and that distinctive white cross symbol that represented everything his adoptive father had stood for.
Looking back at the Sky Screen's frozen image, Chopper could see that his future self wore what appeared to be the same hat, but with an additional layer of protection. A second cap had been placed over the original, preserving the precious relic while still keeping it close to his heart.
"Maybe my future self wanted to protect this hat," he reasoned aloud, his voice thick with emotion as he stroked the fabric with trembling hooves. "So I put another one over it to keep it safe during adventures."
The simple deduction brought tears to his large eyes as memories of Hiluluk flooded back—the quack doctor's infectious laughter, his unwavering belief in the power of medicine to heal not just bodies but hearts, his final words about cherry blossoms blooming even in the depths of winter. The hat represented all of that and more, a tangible connection to the man who had taught him that everyone deserved to live.
"Whoa! So those aren't just decorations on your hat!" Luffy's voice broke through Chopper's reverie as the rubber-man finally noticed what had been hidden beneath the pink fabric all along. Two small antlers protruded from the reindeer's skull, and Luffy's eyes lit up with the kind of fascination he typically reserved for interesting beetles or particularly unusual rocks.
Before Chopper could protest, Luffy's rubber arms stretched out to grab the antlers with both hands, testing their sturdiness with the casual curiosity of someone who had never encountered personal boundaries he couldn't cheerfully ignore.
"Luffy, those are attached to my head!" Chopper yelped, though he couldn't help but smile at his captain's characteristic enthusiasm. Even in the midst of processing profound revelations about their collective future, Luffy remained fundamentally unchanged—endlessly curious, completely honest, and utterly incapable of taking anything too seriously.
The rest of the crew was absorbed in their own contemplations, each wrestling with different aspects of what the Sky Screen had revealed. Princess Vivi remained seated near Igaram's covered body, her grief over her loyal retainer's death casting a shadow over any excitement she might have felt about the future revelations.
Nami stood at the ship's railing, her navigator's mind working through the implications of what she had seen. The woman in the Sky Screen had been undeniably her—older, more confident, and possessing abilities that defied everything she thought she understood about her own potential.
"A Logia Devil Fruit," she whispered to the ocean breeze, testing how the words felt on her tongue. "The Kumo Kumo no Mi. Cloud powers."
The concept was both thrilling and terrifying. Logia abilities granted near-invincibility through elemental intangibility, but they also represented a fundamental change in how she would interact with the world. No longer would she be primarily a support member relying on weather prediction and clever tactics—she would become a force of nature capable of affecting meteorological phenomena directly.
Yet her bounty had remained surprisingly low despite such incredible abilities. Either the Marines of the future would be remarkably incompetent at threat assessment, or there were political factors she couldn't yet understand influencing their valuations.
"Sixteen million berries," she muttered with a mixture of relief and confusion. "For a logia user, that's almost insulting. But I suppose it means I can still go shopping without causing too much of a fuss."
Usopp had transformed his anxiety into his typical coping mechanism—loud, exaggerated enthusiasm that masked deeper concerns while entertaining anyone within earshot.
"Look at these muscles!" he declared while flexing his currently scrawny arms in poses that bore no resemblance to his future self's impressive physique. "5 years of dedicated training have clearly transformed me into the warrior I was always meant to become! Those bulging biceps, that heroic jawline, that unmistakable aura of competence and bravery!"
His theatrical display drew genuine laughter from Nami, who appreciated the sniper's ability to find humor even when processing potentially life-changing information. Despite his cowardly reputation, Usopp possessed an remarkable talent for lifting others' spirits during difficult moments.
"And the best part," he continued with conspiratorial glee, "is that I still don't have an official bounty! The Marines of the future will apparently remain completely fooled by my brilliant Sogeking disguise! My tactical genius knows no bounds!"
The pride in his voice was infectious, though those who knew him well could detect the underlying nervousness he was working so hard to conceal. The muscular warrior in the Sky Screen represented everything Usopp dreamed of becoming, but also everything he feared he might never achieve.
Far from the Going Merry, the Sky Screen's revelations were generating equally intense reactions among those who cared about the Straw Hat Pirates' welfare.
In Windmill Village, Curly Dadan had gathered her mountain bandits around the local tavern's Den Den Mushi to watch the broadcast, and the sight of Luffy's scarred chest had triggered a volcanic eruption of maternal fury that sent several patrons fleeing for cover.
"That horrible scar!" she raged while pounding her fist on the wooden table hard enough to rattle glasses. "Look at what they've done to that sweet boy! How could that worthless grandfather of his let him get hurt so badly?"
The injury was clearly severe—an X-shaped mark that stretched across Luffy's entire torso, suggesting trauma that would have killed most people. For someone with rubber physiology to sustain such permanent damage implied an encounter with forces beyond normal comprehension.
"He's a rubber-man, for crying out loud!" Dadan continued, her voice cracking with emotion. "What kind of monster could leave scars on someone who's supposed to be immune to most physical damage? That child should have stayed here where it's safe instead of chasing impossible dreams across the ocean!"
The other bandits nodded sympathetically, though they understood that their protests were ultimately meaningless. Luffy had inherited the D. bloodline's stubborn determination along with its tendency to find trouble wherever it might be hiding. No amount of parental concern could have kept him from pursuing his chosen path.
Meanwhile, at Marine Headquarters, Vice Admiral Garp was having a very different reaction to his grandson's injuries.
"Good," the Hero of the Marines declared with satisfied approval while studying the scar tissue through a magnifying glass. "That boy's finally learning what real combat looks like. Scars are proof that you've survived encounters that would kill weaker people. As long as he's not dead, he's getting stronger."
His subordinates exchanged nervous glances, having grown accustomed to their superior's unconventional parenting philosophy over the years. Garp's training methods had always bordered on potentially lethal, but his results spoke for themselves—both Luffy and Ace had developed into formidable fighters despite (or perhaps because of) their grandfather's harsh instruction.
In Syrup Village, Kaya had gathered with Usopp's three young admirers to watch the broadcast in the comfort of her mansion's sitting room. The sight of her beloved's transformation from scrawny storyteller to muscular warrior had left her with conflicting emotions that she struggled to articulate.
"He's become so strong," she whispered, her medical training allowing her to appreciate the dedication required for such dramatic physical development. "But I wonder what he had to endure to achieve that kind of body."
The Usopp she remembered had possessed a naturally slight build that reflected his preference for long-range combat and tactical thinking over direct confrontation. Transforming that physique into something worthy of his future bounty would have required years of grueling training that must have pushed him far beyond his comfort zone.
"Captain Usopp looks amazing!" declared Piiman, the smallest of the three boys who had once served as Usopp's loyal crew. "Those muscles are huge! He could probably lift a whole cannon!"
"I bet he could fight a Sea King with his bare hands!" added Ninjin with the boundless enthusiasm of youth.
"The Marines still don't know his real identity," observed Tamanegi with the analytical mind that made him the group's strategic thinker. "That means he's gotten even better at being sneaky and clever!"
Kaya smiled at their excitement, though part of her worried about what experiences had been necessary to forge the cowardly boy she knew into the confident warrior displayed on the Sky Screen. Growth always came with a price, and she suspected that Usopp's transformation had cost him more than simple physical comfort.
Cocoyasi Village had gathered in the orange grove where Bell-mère's grave overlooked the community she had died protecting. Nojiko stood before the modest headstone, describing the Sky Screen's revelations to the woman who could no longer hear her words directly.
"Nami's become so beautiful, Mother," she said while placing fresh flowers on the grave. "She's traveling with good people who care about her—I can see it in how they interact during meals. She's laughing and eating with friends, just like she used to do when you were alive."
The parallel wasn't lost on her. Nami's happiest memories from childhood had involved family dinners where Bell-mère would stretch their meager resources to create elaborate feasts that somehow always included enough food for everyone. The Sky Screen had shown her sharing that same joy with her chosen family of pirates.
"She has incredible powers now too," Nojiko continued, though her voice carried notes of concern along with pride. "Logia abilities that could make her one of the strongest people on the ocean. I just hope she remembers that strength isn't the most important thing you taught her."
Bell-mère had emphasized compassion, loyalty, and the courage to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. If Nami could maintain those values while wielding the power of natural disasters, she would become truly formidable in ways that transcended mere combat ability.
Back on the Going Merry, Roronoa Zoro had claimed a quiet corner of the deck to examine his future self with the analytical focus he typically reserved for studying new sword techniques. The Sky Screen's image showed clear evidence of dramatic growth—increased muscle mass, improved posture, and an overall bearing that suggested mastery achieved through countless hours of dedicated training.
But the missing eye dominated his attention.
"What kind of opponent could do that?" he murmured while unconsciously touching his left eye, trying to imagine the circumstances that would result in such a specific injury. The scar tissue appeared clean and healed, suggesting surgical precision rather than random battle damage.
More intriguing was the sword at his waist that he didn't recognize. The hilt and scabbard bore distinctive markings that seemed familiar yet frustratingly elusive, like a half-remembered dream that dissolved under direct examination.
"Ashura Swordsman," he read aloud from the Sky Screen's annotation, testing how the title felt on his tongue. "That's new. Sounds like I've developed some interesting techniques over the next 5 years."
What he couldn't have known was that his future sword collection had already attracted attention from several very dangerous parties.
In Wano Country, samurai who had recognized the distinctive design of Shusui.
Meanwhile, in Shimotsuki Village, Koushirou had paused his evening meditation to study the Sky Screen's image more carefully. The Wado Ichimonji was clearly visible at Zoro's side—exactly where it should be as the inheritance of his departed daughter Kuina. But the presence of Sandai Kitetsu and Shusui raised fascinating questions about his former student's future adventures.
"Those are not swords one acquires through simple purchase," the master swordsman mused while stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Each represents a significant challenge overcome or a worthy opponent defeated. What battles await you, Zoro?"
The crew member struggling most with the Sky Screen's revelations was undoubtedly Sanji, whose emotional state had deteriorated from shock to horror to something approaching existential crisis as he processed the implications of his future appearance.
"This has to be some kind of mistake," he declared while pacing frantically across the deck, his cigarette reduced to ash between trembling fingers. "Maybe it's someone else wearing my clothes as a disguise. Maybe it's an enemy using transformation techniques to impersonate me. Maybe—"
"Maybe you just need to accept that people change in ways they don't expect," Zoro interrupted with characteristic bluntness, though his tone carried more curiosity than malice. "Besides, that outfit actually suits you. Very... expressive."
"SHUT UP, YOU MOSS-HEADED MORON!" Sanji exploded with enough volume to send seabirds scattering from the ship's rigging. "I would rather die than—than—" He gestured helplessly at the Sky Screen's frozen image, unable to even articulate his objections clearly.
The transformation represented more than simple aesthetic changes. Whatever experiences had led to his future appearance must have challenged fundamental aspects of his identity in ways that his current self couldn't begin to comprehend.
"Look," Nami said gently, recognizing that their cook was genuinely distressed rather than simply being dramatic, "people grow and change based on their experiences. Maybe your future self found reasons to embrace different forms of expression that you can't understand yet."
"But I like beautiful women," Sanji protested weakly, his voice losing its earlier volume as confusion replaced anger. "I've never wanted to become one myself. The very idea is—it's—"
He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence as conflicting emotions battled within his mind. The future version of himself appeared confident and comfortable with the transformation, suggesting that whatever journey had led to that point had been meaningful rather than traumatic.
The Sky Screen's revelations were generating equally intense discussions in locations connected to Sanji's past.
At the Baratie, the floating restaurant's staff had gathered around their main dining room to watch the broadcast together. The sight of their former colleague's transformed appearance had triggered a mixture of laughter, concern, and characteristic sailor humor that reflected their complicated relationship with the young cook who had left to pursue his dreams.
"Well, that's unexpected," observed one of the chefs while trying not to smile too obviously. "Sanji always did have interesting ways of expressing himself, but this is definitely new territory."
"Maybe we should update our wanted poster display," suggested another with barely concealed amusement. "Add some variety to the collection. I bet customers would find it entertaining."
Only Red-Leg Zeff remained silent during his subordinates' commentary, his experienced eye noting details that others might miss. The future Sanji's posture and bearing suggested someone who had found peace with their choices rather than someone trapped by circumstances beyond their control.
"That boy's always been stronger than he realized," the old pirate finally said, his gruff voice cutting through the ambient chatter. "Whatever led him to that point, he made the decision himself. That's what matters."
In Germa Kingdom, the broadcast had attracted attention for very different reasons.
Vinsmoke Reiju stood alone in her private chambers, studying the Sky Screen's image with the analytical mind that had made her the most intellectually gifted of Judge's children. Her brother's transformation troubled her not because of its aesthetic implications, but because of what it suggested about his emotional journey.
"What happened to you, Sanji?" she whispered to the empty room, remembering the gentle boy who had once helped her tend to her injuries in secret. "What experiences could change someone so fundamentally?"
The Sanji she remembered had possessed an innate kindness that their father's cruel experiments had been unable to eliminate, despite years of systematic abuse designed to crush such "weaknesses." If that compassionate nature had led him toward forms of expression that challenged traditional gender roles, then perhaps his transformation represented growth rather than loss.
Meanwhile, in the throne room several floors below, Vinsmoke Judge was having a very different reaction to his estranged son's future appearance.
"Pathetic," the scientist declared with cold dismissal, though his eyes remained fixed on the Sky Screen's technical annotations. "That failure continues to disgrace the Vinsmoke name with his weakness and sentimentality."
But one detail had caught his attention: the reference to "telekinetic abilities" that he couldn't immediately categorize within his understanding of human enhancement techniques.
"Telekinesis," he mused aloud while accessing his laboratory's research databases. "Not a documented result of genetic modification. Could his bloodline factors have finally manifested in unexpected ways?"
The possibility intrigued him despite his stated contempt for Sanji's choices. If his discarded son had indeed developed superhuman abilities through natural mutation, then perhaps a field expedition to the Grand Line might prove scientifically valuable.
"Capture and study," Judge decided with the casual callousness that characterized his approach to family relationships. "Even failures can provide useful data if properly analyzed."
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