The Pain Worth Bearing
Days passed like steel striking steel.
Morning after morning, I woke before the sun rose, my body already moving before my mind fully caught up. Training had become instinct—breathing, swinging, stepping, correcting. Each movement carried intent now. Not frustration. Not doubt.
Resolve.
I practiced not just to win duels, but to become something that did not yet exist.
The world's greatest swordsman.
Whenever my body felt exhausted, whenever sweat blurred my vision, I reminded myself—
This is Kuina's dream.
No.
This is my dream too.
Sometimes, after finishing my own training, I would walk to the secluded area near the forest edge. The place where a certain green-haired idiot pushed himself beyond all reason.
And there he was.
Roronoa Zoro.
Weights strapped to his arms. A sword clenched between his teeth. Two more gripped tightly in his hands. His movements were wild, violent, unpolished—but terrifyingly sincere.
The manga panels I had seen countless times were now alive.
Each swing tore through the air. Each grunt carried rage, ambition, and hunger.
I never interrupted him.
Never corrected him.
Sometimes, I just stood there, arms crossed, watching.
Other times, when he noticed me, I would give him a faint smirk.
That was enough.
His eyes would burn brighter, his movements growing sharper, faster.
Good.
Let that fire grow.
Because one day… that fire would face me.
Back at the dojo, I began challenging my father more often.
And losing.
Every time.
Shimotsuki Koushirou was a monster.
His movements were calm, almost lazy, yet impossible to read. No wasted motion. No hesitation. His blade felt like water—soft until it crushed you.
Each defeat carved another lesson into my body.
Steel and sweat.
Days blurred together.
And then—
One night.
I was training alone under the moonlight, the Wado Ichimonji humming softly with each swing, when a sound reached my ears.
A low, heavy creak.
Wood against water.
My body froze.
I turned toward the port.
Lights.
Movement.
Children's voices erupted in the distance.
"Pirate ship!"
"Look! A pirate ship!"
My heart pounded.
No.
Not pirates.
I ran.
Through the village. Past startled villagers. Toward the shore.
And there it was.
The Wind Granma.
A massive ship, its silhouette dominating the moonlit sea. A dragon-shaped figurehead loomed at the bow, complete with a coiled tail. The sails were dark, heavy, carrying an oppressive presence that made the air itself feel heavier.
This wasn't a pirate ship.
This was something far more dangerous.
The Revolutionary Army.
My breath caught.
And then I saw him.
Monkey D. Dragon.
Tall. Silent. Imposing.
Long black hair stirred in the night wind. A deep red tattoo spread across the left side of his face in diamond-shaped patterns. His eyes were hooded, unreadable—like a storm waiting to be unleashed.
The father of the future Pirate King.
Fear and excitement crashed into me at once.
Revolutionaries disembarked. Supplies were discussed. Villagers whispered.
My father approached Dragon calmly, speaking about resupplying after rescuing people from Gray Terminal.
I didn't wait.
I slipped aboard the ship silently.
My feet moved carefully, heart racing.
Find him.
Then I saw them.
I saw A kid lying on the floor with Round eyes . Missing tooth .short curly blonde hair .lying unconscious besides him sitting and treating him
A massive man with an oddly large head and indigo afro—
Emporio Ivankov.
Heavy makeup. A crown stacked atop another crown. A reddish-purple leotard with a deep V-neck, net cape, pearls.
The Okama Queen.
He was treating Sabo when I approached.
"Oi!" Ivankov barked. "What are you doing here, kid? This ship's not safe for children!"
I met his gaze.
"I can take care of myself."
Ivankov burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! What a brave little thing! Why aren't you down there with the villagers?"
"It's my first time seeing a… pirate ship," I said.
Ivankov corrected me instantly.
"No, no, no, kid! This is no pirate ship. It's something much better!"
Then he tilted his head.
"What should I call you?"
"…Sir?" I hesitated.
"Hahaha! Okama way is about accepting who you are! Call me anything!"
"I'm Shimotsuki Kuina."
His eyes widened slightly.
"Oh? Koushirou's kid, eh? No wonder you've got guts!"
He grinned.
"So what's your dream, Kuina? Take over the dojo?"
My heart clenched.
This was it.
"No," I said firmly. "I want to be the world's greatest swordsman."
Silence.
Ivankov stared at me.
"…That's a big dream, kid."
My voice wavered—but I continued.
"My father says I'm stupid. He says a girl can never reach the top."
I lowered my head.
"There's another student. His growth is terrifying. Soon, my body won't keep up. Muscle mass. Height. Weight."
My fists clenched.
"I wish I was born a boy. So no one would laugh at my dream."
Ivankov stepped forward. In his mind he saw those eyes full of dreams and resolve..and he too believes being a girl is too much for her to becomecthe world bests coz there are far too many danger out there which even he can't overcome alone so
He placed both hands on my shoulders.
"Is that true?" he asked quietly. "Do you really wish to be reborn as a man?"
"Yes."
My answer came instantly.
"If rebirth as a man is an option," I said, eyes burning, "I would kill myself for it."
Silence fell heavy.
Ivankov studied my face.
My eyes.
Something shifted.
"…Kid," he said slowly, "there is a way."
My breath caught.
"But it's not rebirth," he continued. "And it's not painless."
I pretended to be shocked.
"There's… a way?"
"Yes," he said. "But it will hurt. Far more than you imagine."
"I can take it."
"What about your father?"
"No," I said firmly. "Don't ask him. This is my life. My dream."
Ivankov sighed.
"…Very well."
He glanced around.
"Take me to your room."
When he told me to close my eyes, I hesitated. Coz he was telling me it will gonna hurt but
In the manga, it was played for laughs. So how much it is going to hurt I'm not sure and
Then—
"Emporio… Female Hormone."
The words echoed.
Pain exploded.
This was not funny like it was in manga or anime it was painful very painful
Needles—five of them—pierced my body all at once.
Fire raced through my veins.
Bones burned.
Shifted.
Cracked.
I screamed—but Ivankov covered my mouth.
I thrashed.
This was hell.
Worse than the truck.
Worse than death.
My body was being rewritten.
Minutes felt like eternity.
Then—
Silence.
Air.
I collapsed.
Ivankov stepped back.
"…Open your eyes, kid."
I did.
"When you become the world's greatest swordsman," he said with a grin, "don't forget the Okama Queen!"
He left.
I stood slowly.
My body felt heavy.
Dense.
Powerful.
I looked into the mirror.
A boy stared back.
Lean muscle. Broad shoulders. Sharp eyes.
I was… looking strong
No.
Complete.
I grabbed the Wado Ichimonji.
Swung.
BANG—
The wall split open.
I froze.
Power surged through me, wild and uncontrolled.
I laughed.
Breathless.
Excited.
Terrified.
The path ahead was still brutal.
But now—
It was possible.