At The Peak of One Piece

The grandmother clasped their hands, her gaze shifting between them, eyes crinkling with warmth and relief. 

"Victor... when I'm gone, Rebecca is yours to protect. Entrusting her to you... eases my heart." Tears glistened in her smile. 

Victor nodded solemnly, grief tightening his throat. She'd treated him as her own grandson. Her wish was his command—with or without words. 

"Rebecca, follow Victor. Trust his guidance. Grandmother can't care for you anymore... but seeing you grow strong would make your parents proud—" Her words faded as she turned toward the ceiling. 

"I will, Grandma! You'll get better! We'll live together—please!" Rebecca sobbed, knuckles white around her grandmother's frail hand. 

"Rebecca... your parents are here. They've come for me. Live well with Victor. It's time..." A final smile graced her lips as twin tears traced her temples. 

Victor's Observation Haki confirmed it—silence where a heartbeat should be. 'A kind soul,' he mourned. 'An ordinary life of quiet sacrifice: for her husband, children, granddaughter. No grandeur, only love. And regrets this world forced upon her...' 

Rebecca felt the lifeless hand go slack. She collapsed against the bed, weeping unrestrained. Victor didn't interrupt. Grief unchained heals faster. Life marched onward. 

────── 

Andre led the funeral. Simple, yet profound. Townsfolk crowded the streets—grateful. This grandmother's "grandchildren" had shielded their home for years. Their presence was her final honor: a sea of mourners. Perhaps her proudest legacy—two warriors who chose her family. 

Afterward, stillness settled over the town. Guided by Victor, Rebecca emerged from sorrow, her eyes fixed on higher horizons. 

Training resumed. A year passed, yet Rebecca hadn't grasped Observation Haki or the "Steel-Cutting Realm." Such abstract powers eluded the young. 

Victor stayed patient. At barely fifteen, Rebecca had time. Not all possessed his talent. Monkey D. Luffy trained under Garp, clashed with Portgas D. Ace and Sabo, honed his skills until seventeen, then sailed alone. Constant battles forged him. Rayleigh's tutelage compounded that foundation—launching him toward Yonkou status. 

'True strength needs time.' Victor focused Rebecca on fundamentals. His own power simmered beneath the surface—waiting to erupt within the Marines. 

────── 

One afternoon, at the forest's edge, Rebecca practiced sword forms. Victor sat cross-legged, studying the milky-white Devil Fruit—flat, round, etched with spirals. 'To eat or not?' 

Devil Fruits were vanishingly rare in the East Blue. Yet here one lay—Superhuman-type, he suspected. A strange certainty tugged at him: 'This fruit is meant for me.' 

That day on the pirate ship... a phantom gaze. Familiar, yet unplaceable. No malice—just watchfulness. It vanished once he claimed the fruit, like a messenger completing a task. 

'Why target a nobody?' Poisoning him via Devil Fruit seemed absurd. Not worth a schemer's effort. 

Another fruit lingered in his dreams. But this one... he couldn't abandon. A deeper intuition whispered— 

The more Victor held the Devil Fruit, the stronger its pull became. 

"Ann, bless me." 

Steeling himself, he forced down the revolting taste, consuming every last bite. He didn't believe the myth that "one bite grants all power." 

- Luffy ate an entire Devil Fruit to become the Sun God (in the manga, no one stopped him mid-bite). 

- Ace only ate half before being fatally wounded. 

Victor refused to risk half-measures. If I'm suffering this taste, I'm going all in. 

Grimacing but stone-faced, he swallowed the last chunk, shuddering as goosebumps erupted across his skin. 

"Eww! You actually ate the 'worse-than-poop' Devil Fruit?!" Rebecca giggled, wrinkling her nose. She'd heard the legends—no way she'd ever try one. 

"Sooo, what's your power?" Curiosity outweighed her disgust. 

Victor focused. The fruit's essence surged through him—a Super-Type, speed-based ability. No official name, so he dubbed it: 

"Swift-Swift Fruit." 

To demonstrate, he activated Soru and Geppo. His movements—once blistering—now blurred like lightning. Sword slashes became afterimages. 

"And this is just the baseline. With training, the potential's limitless." 

Enhanced mobility meant unmatched agility in combat—strike or retreat, safety guaranteed. A grin tugged his lips. Worth the vile taste. 

At the shoreline, Victor turned to Rebecca. 

"Legend says Devil Fruit users drown in seawater. I'm jumping in. If I don't resurface, drag me out." 

Before she could protest—SPLASH! 

Rebecca gaped. "Is he suicidal?!" 

Yet as Victor submerged, no weakness seized him. He swam freely, muscles obeying. 

"My theory was right. The original soul is still here—Devil Fruits bind to souls, not bodies. That's how Blackbeard ate two. Which means…" 

"I CAN EAT ANOTHER." 

Ecstasy flooded him. This trait was rarer than Conqueror's Haki. 

(Though the seawater immunity might've had… other explanations.) 

Dripping wet, Victor climbed ashore. Rebecca stared, baffled. 

"So the legends are fake?" 

"No. My body's just… unusual." He knelt, voice dropping to a whisper. "You cannot tell anyone I ate a Devil Fruit. If the Marines find out I'm immune to seawater, they'll dissect me alive." 

Rebecca nodded fiercely. She'd never betray him—but better to drill it in now. 

Victor resolved to hide his ability. Speed could be excused as training. 

"Plenty of freaks in this world. Being 'a bit fast' isn't suspicious."