Chapter Twenty-One: Return to the Homeland

After catching sight of Rossia Island and sailing for another ten minutes or so, the pirate ship carrying Roland entered the village. Roland felt neither hatred nor fondness for the villagers; when the surrounding pirates asked if they should dock elsewhere, he refused without hesitation.

This was a simple village, not unlike Syrup Village from the anime, far from bustling or prosperous. But Roland hadn’t come to marvel at the village’s splendor, so he paid little mind to such things.

The arrival of a pirate ship quickly drew all the villagers to the harbor. Yet when they gathered, they only stared at the ship in fear, not daring to make a move.

When Roland appeared with Nami, it caused a stir among the villagers, but they soon quieted down again.

“Hey, Roland, isn’t this a bit much?” Nami, ever kind-hearted, looked at the wary villagers and was instantly reminded of her own home—how her people had looked at the Fishmen with the same frightened eyes.

“If you knew that ten years ago, just because I was the son of a pirate, they looted all the wealth the pirates had left me and drove me out of the village, I doubt you’d feel sympathy for them,” Roland replied, his tone flat. “And just so you know, this is the only village on the island.”

Roland ignored the fearful glances. Although, ten years ago, he had told the Golden Lion that these villagers were pitiable, that had been said from a wholly objective perspective. Having lived through those events himself, Roland’s only concession was to refrain from seeking revenge or harboring hatred. He was never a saint—his previous life as a righteous lawyer had not been devoted solely to defending the weak. Mercy, he believed, was not something everyone deserved.

Nami fell silent after hearing Roland’s calm words. In Cocoyashi Village, the people had always resented her for joining Arlong’s crew, but she understood they were only trying to protect her and hoped she would come to hate them and thus free herself. Comparing her own villagers to these, Nami’s sympathy for the people here evaporated, and she even felt a twinge of pity for Roland’s past.

Ten years ago, Roland had been what—seven or eight? For a child of eight to be driven from the only village on the island—what chance did he have? Nami didn’t know how Roland had survived to become so strong, but she understood he must have suffered greatly, as she herself had.

She followed Roland, quietly and with a touch of sorrow. Had Roland known what she was thinking, he would have laughed, for ever since he’d met the Golden Lion as a child, his life had been quite comfortable—after all, he was the heir to a legendary pirate crew.

Out of fear and ignorance of Roland’s identity, the villagers parted to make way for him as he approached. Passing through the crowd, Roland led Nami deeper into the village. Though the village was small, it took Roland a long time to find what could be called his “home.”

Seeing its location, Nami fell silent once more. Was this really considered part of the village? Looking back, she could see that the nearest house was several hundred meters away. The house itself, though now dilapidated with age, didn’t seem to have been much better ten years ago. Half of one wall had collapsed and was now covered in moss. There was no front door—perhaps it had rotted away from neglect, or perhaps it was never needed. The roof, if it could be called that, consisted only of a few broken planks resting atop the one remaining upright wall, sheltering a corner.

“Even if you were the son of a pirate, did they really have to drive you out of the village? After all, here—here…” Nami’s nose tingled with emotion as she looked at the ruins. This place was so far from the rest of the village, and Roland was just a child. Why couldn’t he have been allowed to live here? Why go so far as to expel such a young child?

But as she pondered, Nami suddenly realized something was off. On the ship, Roland had claimed to be the son of a Marine, returning to the East Blue to visit his father’s grave. But now he said he was the son of a pirate, cast out by the villagers. So he’d lied to her before?

At that thought, Nami’s anger flared. A vein appeared on her forehead as she glared at Roland. “You said the villagers drove you out because you were a pirate’s son. Does that mean you lied to me on the ship?”

“I didn’t lie,” Roland replied, turning away from the house and walking farther inland. As he went, he explained, “My father really was a Marine—an undercover agent sent among the pirates. Only his commanding officer and my mother knew the truth. Before my mother died, she told me everything, knowing I hated my father for abandoning us to become a pirate. When I learned he was an undercover Marine, I only hated him more, because he knew what his mission would mean for us, yet he chose that path anyway. It was irresponsible.”

“Ten years ago, the pirates returned his corpse and he was buried here beside my mother. Only then did I start to let go of my resentment.”

He stopped before a small mound overgrown with weeds, unmarked by any gravestone, and stood silent for a long time. As for this father, Roland harbored no hatred—that belonged to the former Roland, now gone.

In his previous life, his father had also been an undercover agent who died in the line of duty, leading to Roland being shunned as the son of a criminal. Yet that had not made him hate his father; rather, he saw him as a hero. To outsiders, his father had been a villain, but Roland knew the truth. This was why Roland had become a lawyer.

He was not one to presume upon the pain of others, so what he told Nami was that he had come to terms with it, not that he bore no hatred. Only those who had lived it had the right to choose; even though he now inhabited this body, that choice was not his alone.

Nami, seeing Roland’s silence, held her breath, unwilling to disturb him. She, too, had lost loved ones, and she understood.

After who knew how long, Roland finally moved, kneeling by the grave and carefully pulling out the weeds. Having inherited their son’s body, Roland felt it was his duty to do what any child would. Ten years ago, he hadn’t dared erect a gravestone, for fear that the villagers, venting their anger on his father, might also harm his mother. Now, he had no such concerns.

Once the weeds were cleared, he found a stone, carved it into the shape of a headstone with his short blade, inscribed his parents’ names, and set it before the grave.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

A childish voice suddenly broke the silence, drawing their attention. Roland was not surprised; while carving the stone, he had sensed the newcomer with his Observation Haki. The presence had posed no threat, so he ignored it.

But he hadn’t expected the source to be a little girl, no more than five or six. In his previous world, girls that age were cherished little princesses, living happily under their parents’ care. Yet this one wore clothes so filthy and ragged they could only be called rags. Her eyes were wide, but filled with terror. Even as she spoke, she hid half her body behind a tree, unable to face them directly.