[Word Count: 720]
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Chapter 1: The Devil in the Cradle
Age: 0 (Birth)
Location: Dawnshore Island, South Blue (a peaceful farming village, untouched by pirates)
His first memory after the womb was light.
Blinding, searing, golden light, bleeding through squinted eyes.
Then a woman's voice. Gentle. Tired.
"...He's got your eyes."
The voice belonged to a peasant woman. Mid-twenties. Worn hands. Calloused fingers. A poor farmer's wife. He could smell the soil on her. Straw, milk, blood, and salt. Her scent was overwhelming.
"So this is my mother."
His first thought as an infant.
His name hadn't returned yet, but he could think. That much was clear. He wasn't a normal baby.
He had memories. From a life long gone. Earth. Manga. The One Piece universe. It all swirled around in fragments and whispers, like puzzle pieces falling from a storm cloud.
But his body—his body was helpless.
He could not move freely. Could not speak. Could barely control his cries. It was infuriating. And yet… fascinating.
He was back to zero.
A clean slate.
And he loved it.
Observation #1: Human Behavior
For weeks, he watched.
From his crib. From the floor. From his mother's arms.
He learned their routines, their habits, their expressions. He studied the way people interacted, the masks they wore even in such a simple place.
"So simple. So predictable."
Even without words, he could manipulate them.
A cry at the right time brought milk. A smile brought laughter. Fake tears earned attention. The more he experimented, the more control he gained.
He didn't feel love for these people. Not really. But he understood what they wanted love to look like. And he gave it to them.
Even as a baby.
Observation #2: Time Flow
Time moved differently now.
Every day felt slow—painfully slow. And that was perfect.
He didn't want to rush this life.
His past self—whoever he used to be—had wasted time. Going with the flow. Watching stories instead of writing his own.
This time… he would build something.
No shortcuts.
No "plot armor."
Just pure, calculated control.
He began to catalog everything he remembered about the One Piece world.
"Luffy is born the same year I was... That means we're in Year 1500 of the Sea Circle Calendar."
"Roger's execution was this year."
"The pirate era is just beginning..."
Good.
The world was still young.
First Target of Influence: Mother
Her name was Reika.
She was kind. Too kind. The kind of woman who gave more than she could afford to lose.
Kaizen watched her for weeks. Studied her triggers. What made her laugh. What made her cry.
He learned quickly that she craved being needed. She didn't want a strong son. She wanted a gentle one. One who smiled up at her and reached for her with trembling fingers.
So he gave her that.
Even though he hated the feeling of weakness.
Even though he wanted to scream every time he had to pretend to babble like a normal child.
"Play the long game."
He repeated that phrase to himself daily.
Infant Milestone: Crawling
At five months, he could crawl.
At seven, he could balance on two legs for a few seconds. His parents were astonished. Reika wept with joy.
They called him gifted. A miracle child.
They didn't know he was training every night, alone in the dark, pushing his body to its absolute limits in secret.
The muscles tore.
The bones screamed.
But he kept going.
"The mind is ready. The body must catch up."
Every stretch, every grip, every stumble was a step toward control.
Final Scene of Chapter 1: First Glimpse of Power
It happened on a quiet night.
The wind was cold. Reika had gone to sleep early, and Kaizen lay alone in his crib, staring out the window.
The stars above the South Blue twinkled in silence.
Then he felt it.
A pulse. Deep in his chest. Like a flicker of heat. Like something… foreign.
Not quite Haki. Not yet.
But something.
"My Devil Fruit hasn't awakened... not yet. But something is growing. Something is waiting."
He clutched his own hand, fingers tightening into a baby's fist.
"I will master this world. Slowly. Surely. Completely."
His first true smile curled across his infant lips.
Not one of innocence.
But of certainty.
End of Chapter 1