I'd finally returned to Merveille after a long absence, so the first thing I did was go see Papa.
He's the type who basically never leaves Merveille, so if you show up without warning, you can usually meet him anyway.
That said, I normally give him a heads-up out of courtesy… but this time I didn't.
I was only in the area and thought, Might as well drop by.
Over the last few years, my relationship with Papa has gotten a lot more casual.
At first I spoke politely, but somewhere along the way it shifted into something close to plain, familiar speech—and Papa's never once complained about it.
"Looks like you're doing fine, at least. Heard you went to some island called 'Asuka Island' this time?"
"Yeah. It wasn't, like, ridiculously exciting or anything… but I did get a pretty interesting 'treasure.' A cursed sword that, the moment you hold it, tries to swallow you up with pure destructive impulse."
"The hell kind of terrifying weapon is that…? Wait—you got it? You're okay, right?"
"Yeah. I think if you can use even a little Haki, you at least won't get 'consumed' by it. It looked really pretty, and they offered it, so I took it."
As I said that, I pulled the Seven Star Sword out of my body-storage and showed it to Papa.
Papa stared down the blade with an impressed little, "Hoh…"
"…I see. Yeah, this does look like a fine sword. I can't tell what metal it's made from, so I can't judge the material quality… but if this were known to the world, it wouldn't be strange at all for it to have a proper 'Rank.'"
"Huh… Coming from you, that actually sounds convincing."
After all, Papa used to be a monster swordsman.
A dual wielder who swung Sakura Ten and Kogarashi, rampaging around since the Pirate King's era—of course he knows blades. His eye for them is reliable.
If Papa says it's a great sword, then yeah… it probably wasn't just some ceremonial relic.
"But," Papa added, "hate to say it, but it looks like the maintenance is terrible. Or rather… it's been 'maintained,' sure, but not in a way that matches what a sword like this deserves."
"Yeah… Apparently it was labeled a cursed blade, then shoved all the way in the back of some ruins—left inside a stone coffin. No scabbard, just sitting there exposed. I've been doing what I can with my own knowledge, little by little. It's way better than when I first found it, you know?"
"…I see. Then if you keep at it, it might start looking more presentable."
I stored the Seven Star Sword back inside my body again… and my eyes drifted down to Papa's feet.
During his escape from Impel Down, Papa had pulled off that insane stunt: cutting off both legs to break free of the Seastone shackles.
Once the shackles were gone, he could fly with his ability—so aside from the pain, he wasn't even inconvenienced in the escape.
That resolve is just… not normal.
Somewhere in some other world, I vaguely remembered someone saying, "Legs are just decorations!"—but actually doing something like that with your own body is a different story entirely.
And yeah, even in the original One Piece, there were other maniacs—Zoro and Brogy and the whole "tear off your own limbs to escape restraints" vibe. Everyone's horrifyingly hardcore.
Me? No chance. Even if it was the only way out, I'd be too scared.
Anyway—after losing his legs, Papa attached the two swords he'd been holding—Sakura Ten and Kogarashi—as replacement "legs."
Even when he fought me, he'd fire off flying slashes with kicks like it was nothing. The title "Great Pirate" really isn't just for show.
But… that was years ago.
Now it's different.
Both Sakura Ten and Kogarashi are back at his waist—properly sheathed, perfectly maintained, ready to draw at any moment.
And where the blades used to gleam at his feet…
He now had a pair of sleek, mechanical-looking golden prosthetic legs, slender but unmistakably high-tech—like something a robot would wear.
"How's the prosthetic doing? I heard you've had it tuned a few times."
"Yeah," Papa said, clanking the leg like he was showing off. "Feels damn good. I can walk normally, obviously… and combat's no problem, too."
Papa decided to wear prosthetics after I joined the Golden Lion Pirates—thinking ahead.
After fighting me and Aokiji, he'd been forced to admit how much he'd declined compared to his old days. He decided he couldn't just keep rusting away; he'd rebuild his strength by any means necessary.
Because when the day comes for Shiki the Golden Lion to "return," he couldn't afford to show the world a pathetic, weakened version of himself.
Those sword-legs had been like medals from his escape—but he gave them up anyway, choosing stability and practical strength. With help from his own engineers, plus technicians Tesoro introduced me to, the prosthetics ended up absurdly high-performance.
Papa even claimed the sensation was almost the same as having real legs.
A stable footing means stronger offense, stronger defense.
And the legs weren't just "legs"—they had multiple hidden weapons built in. In terms of armament, they were powerful enough that you could argue they were no worse than the old sword-legs.
They even had blades embedded, so Papa could still do kick-based flying slashes like before. And he said the embedded blades were "worthy of being called fine swords," even if they didn't officially have a Rank.
Durability-wise, they were made to endure real combat. Walking, running, jumping—fine. Kicking, sweeping—fine. With Haki, he could snap rock or steel with a kick.
Apparently getting used to them took effort—same with returning to using his two swords in his hands again—but it paid off. Even I could feel it.
His presence… his pressure… even his Haki felt stronger than before.
If Papa ever fights again, he'll probably be even more ridiculous than he used to be—dual swords in his hands, slashes and attacks firing from both legs, flying freely with his ability, and flinging objects around like artillery.
"…Also," I added, "if you'd stayed with the old setup… you'd be stabbing and scratching up the floor every time you walked."
"That too."
Because yeah—bare blades. Every step would gouge the floor. Wood or tatami? Even worse.
The maintenance crew must've had a quiet nightmare fixing damage all the time.
And in soft ground or sand, he couldn't even stand properly—the tips would sink.
Sure, Papa could always fly, so it wasn't a "problem," but still…
And once I noticed, I started catching him during executive meetings floating just two millimeters off the tatami, moving carefully so he wouldn't damage the floor. I almost burst out laughing like, Wait—this man can actually be considerate??
Yeah. Prosthetics were absolutely the right call.
Papa himself would sometimes mutter, "Why the hell did past me think using swords as legs was a good idea…?" Then he'd conclude, after thinking it over, "Probably just vibes and momentum."
By the way, it wasn't just prosthetics and weapons.
Papa was doing other things to get his strength back too… and some of it involved me—though not just as a sparring partner.
If you didn't look closely you might miss it, but he seemed healthier. Better color. Even slightly more muscle.
Which meant the thing I helped make was working.
A nutritional supplement—a blend using dragon bone, the Rare Beast King's horn, and all sorts of other materials.
Even if you train, you can't completely stop aging. But if you can slow it, compensate for decline, stabilize condition, and keep the body "alive," that still matters.
And apparently it worked very well.
Papa claimed he moved better than before, and even if he wasn't back at his peak, he was noticeably stronger than he was when he fought me and Aokiji. You could feel it in the Haki.
Then he started listing the "improvements," and I… honestly didn't know whether to be amazed at the supplement or terrified of aging.
He said his appetite returned, his metabolism improved, his vision cleared, he stopped waking up to pee at night, tooth sensitivity went away, hair got healthier, dry skin improved, he slept better, daytime drowsiness vanished, mouth ulcers stopped, razor burn stopped, migraines stopped, back pain stopped, cold sensitivity improved, blood pressure normalized, joint pain improved, gum disease improved…
Like… everything.
Either the supplement is absurd, or my dad was secretly running on held-together-by-spite hardware.
Probably both.
Maybe because he felt better physically, his personality also seemed a little… rounder? Or maybe that was just my imagination.
We were chatting like that when there was a knock.
"Excuse me, Boss… Oh? Miss is here as well."
"Oh, Dr. Indigo. Good work. You tired?"
"…Ah, right. It's that time already." Papa glanced over. "I scheduled your research report today, didn't I."
"Oh—sorry, I didn't mean to barge in right then. Should I head out?"
"No. Since you're here, stay and listen. I want your opinion too." Papa turned. "You don't mind, Dr. Indigo?"
"Of course not. Please, have a seat, Miss."
So I sat back down next to Papa.
Dr. Indigo sat across from us, opened the box he'd brought… and placed something on the desk.
A fruit.
It had a distinctive, unnatural look.
"This is… a Devil Fruit?"
"You could say it is," Dr. Indigo replied. "Or you could say it isn't. Miss—are you familiar with SMILE?"
"The artificial Devil Fruits that started circulating through the back channels recently, right? Zoan-only."
I knew SMILE from the original story—Joker's black-market supply.
But after coming to this world, I'd learned the details were even worse:
Success rate is one in ten.
If you fail, you get no power, but you still become unable to swim.
If you fail, you lose normal emotional expression and end up unable to do anything but laugh.
Even if you succeed, you often become a chimera-like mutant, with permanent animal parts.
It's insanely risky.
I wouldn't eat that even if it were free.
Dr. Indigo nodded as if he'd expected the reaction.
"As you know, the underworld broker 'Joker' has begun distributing these 'artificial Devil Fruits'—SMILE. Their production method is considered unknown… though we can make educated guesses. When I acquired one and analyzed it, I was able to understand most of the underlying mechanism."
"Hoh. As expected of you, Dr. Indigo."
"Thank you. And as for the one in front of you…" He tapped the fruit. "This is also an artificial Devil Fruit. But it is not SMILE. It is something entirely different—something newly developed in our laboratory."
"…Wait, seriously?"
"Seriously."
I stared again.
Normal Devil Fruits have that swirling pattern.
SMILE has those strange markings.
But this one—apple-like, yet covered in a checkered pattern—looked almost… wrong in a different way.
Dr. Indigo continued, voice measured—almost proud.
"To be honest, I did not create it from zero. This is based on the framework your mother—Sou—was constructing. Using what we learned by analyzing SMILE, the data gained from the many materials you brought us, and the foundation provided by our laboratory's masterpiece, S.I.Q… we produced something new."
He paused, as if savoring the reveal.
"Something that is not merely 'new,' but… alien."
Then he named it.
"TABOO."
To be continued...