-Real World-
Aboard the Going Merry, the Straw Hat Pirates erupted in celebration.
Luffy had just watched his future self utterly demolish a Shichibukai in single combat. The crew threw their arms around each other, cheering and laughing with unrestrained joy.
"LUFFY WON!" Chopper bounced in his full human form, tears of happiness streaming down his face. "He actually beat Doflamingo!"
"That's our captain!" Usopp pumped his fist skyward, grinning so wide his face hurt. "I knew he could do it!"
Nami's eyes shone with pride as she watched the Sky Screen. "Five years from now, huh? Luffy's going to be incredible."
Sanji saw an opportunity in the celebratory chaos. Perfect timing, he thought, sidling up to Nami with his arms spread wide. "Nami-swan~ Let's celebrate with a—"
WHAM.
Nami's leg shot up in a picture-perfect kick, her heel connecting with Sanji's face and leaving a shoe print stamped across his cheek. The cook flew backward, crashing into the mast with stars circling his head.
"Not happening, pervert," Nami said flatly, though she was smiling.
Robin watched the scene with amusement before turning her attention back to the Sky Screen. "The Domain Expansion Luffy demonstrated is fascinating. It's so straightforward—almost brutally simple. Perfect for someone who thinks with his fists."
"There's no technique or finesse at all," Zoro agreed, arms crossed. "Just raw power amplification and that ability to absorb the enemy's strength. It's completely suited to that idiot's fighting style."
"But it worked," Nami pointed out. "That's what matters. Absorbing the enemy's core value—whatever that means—is absolutely broken as an ability. Only someone with a rubber body could withstand having that much foreign power forced into them."
Luffy himself was grinning so hard he thought his face might split in half. His future self had done it—beaten the most terrifying master of Haki he'd ever seen using Devil Fruit power. All those years training in the jungle behind Windmill Village, all those hours Buggy had spent drilling the philosophy of fruit mastery into his head...
It had all been worth it.
Thank you, Buggy, Luffy thought, his grin softening into something more genuine. For showing me the right path.
The celebration continued until a small, concerned voice cut through the noise.
"But... what about Eren?"
Everyone turned to look at Chopper, who'd transformed back into his smaller Brain Point form. The reindeer's expression was troubled, his usual cheer replaced by worry.
"Eren launched the Rumbling in the future," Chopper continued, his voice quiet but insistent. "He hurt so many innocent people. How... how will future Luffy deal with him? Isn't anyone else worried about that?"
The question hit like a bucket of ice water.
The smiles froze. The laughter died. The cheerful atmosphere evaporated in an instant as everyone remembered the brutal truth: there was still the Founding Titan to deal with. Still a friend who'd committed atrocities. Still an impossible moral dilemma waiting five years in the future.
Luffy's grin disappeared, his expression growing complicated.
What do I do about Eren?
He'd been avoiding thinking about it, pushing the question to the back of his mind because it hurt too much to consider. Eren was his friend. They'd fought together, eaten together, made promises together. But Eren had also killed thousands—maybe tens of thousands—of innocent people.
Could he really... kill a friend?
No. Luffy's hands clenched into fists. I don't want to.
In his heart, Luffy still believed Eren was fundamentally good. The tragedy of Flevance had broken something inside him, twisted his worldview until violence seemed like the only answer. But that wasn't Eren's fault—it was the world's fault for being so cruel.
Everything can be fixed, Luffy thought desperately. Maybe if we just sit down and have a huge feast together, we can wash away all the bad stuff. Maybe—
But even as he thought it, doubt gnawed at him.
One thing was certain, though: he would never hand Eren over to the Marines. That much, his future self had gotten right. There were good Marines—Smoker, Coby, maybe a few others—but the organization as a whole was rotten to the core. Too corrupt. Too willing to follow orders even when those orders meant murdering children.
Civilians couldn't afford to gamble their lives on which Marine showed up at their door.
The crew stood in uncomfortable silence, each wrestling with their own thoughts about Eren's fate. They'd only known him briefly, but he'd fought alongside them. Saved them. Been their friend.
How do you condemn a friend, even when they've done the unforgivable?
As if sensing their turmoil, the Sky Screen flickered—and provided an answer.
-Broadcast-
The scene of Doflamingo's broken body faded, replaced by a new image that made several viewers gasp.
A young boy stood with his arms spread wide, facing an endless blue sky dotted with white clouds. His expression was peaceful—almost serene—as if he'd finally found something he'd been searching for his entire life.
Freedom.
But the camera pulled back to reveal the nightmare beneath his feet.
The ground was in ruins. Buildings crumbled. Fire spread across the horizon. And walking through it all were Titans—dozens, hundreds, maybe thousands of them. They ranged in size from ten meters to sixty, each one a grotesque parody of humanity with mindless, grinning faces.
Everything they stepped on turned to paste. People. Buildings. Entire villages.
Small islands scattered across the sea were trapped in this hellish apocalypse. The camera zoomed in on individual tragedies: a mother clutching her children as a shadow fell over them. A man firing a musket uselessly at a Titan's ankle. A group of people diving into the ocean, choosing to drown rather than be eaten.
Some waited to die with dignity. Others attacked in futile rage. Many simply broke down and wept.
It was the end of the world made manifest—and the boy in the sky watched it all with that same peaceful smile.
The audience didn't need to guess the boy's identity. The resemblance was unmistakable: same sharp eyes, same angular features, same intense expression even in childhood.
This was Eren Yeager. No more than ten years old.
But why show us his childhood? viewers across the world wondered. What does this have to do with the Rumbling?
The answer came in fragments—memories pulled from Eren's consciousness and displayed for all to see. The Sky Screen had decided the world deserved to understand why the Founding Titan had been born.
The narrative was disjointed, jumping between moments like pages torn from a diary. But slowly, painfully, the truth of Flevance emerged.
[Memory Fragment One: First Meeting]
A modest church on the outskirts of Flevance, early morning light streaming through stained glass windows.
A nun in simple robes stood before two children. One was a boy with messy dark hair and fierce green eyes—Eren, looking even younger and more vulnerable than he had in recent footage. The other was a girl with black hair and a guarded expression.
"This is Ada," the nun said gently, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "She'll be your older sister from now on. Eren, you two are family now. No matter what happens in this world, you must protect each other. Do you understand?"
Young Eren stared at Ada with suspicion and curiosity warring in his expression. Ada looked back with the same wary assessment.
They were both war orphans. Both alone. Both taken in by the nun's charity barely months ago.
Perhaps it was fate that brought them together in that church.
Or perhaps it was the cruelest joke the universe could play.
[Memory Fragment Two: The Doctor's House]
Three years later. A comfortable middle-class home in Flevance's medical district.
Ada had grown into a serious, studious girl. While Eren spent his days getting into street fights with other orphans, she'd found purpose: she wanted to become a doctor. To heal people. To make something good out of the tragedy that had orphaned her.
The nun enthusiastically supported the dream, leveraging her connections to secure Ada an apprenticeship with the Trafalgar family—the most respected doctors in Flevance.
Dr. Trafalgar was a kind man with skilled hands and a gentle demeanor. He agreed to take on the young apprentice without hesitation, impressed by her dedication and sharp mind.
And where Ada went, Eren inevitably followed.
The Trafalgar household quickly grew accustomed to the scruffy orphan boy appearing at mealtimes, drawn by the promise of free food and his sister's presence. It was there that Eren met two people who would change his life forever.
Trafalgar Law—a boy his own age with a spotted hat and an even sharper tongue than Eren's fists.
And Trafalgar Lami—Law's younger sister, a sweet girl with pigtails who always greeted Eren with a bright smile.
Law and Eren clashed from day one. Law was brilliant, already reading advanced medical texts at age eight. Eren was street-smart but academically average, preferring to solve problems with his fists rather than his brain.
Their arguments were legendary. Their fistfights in the garden were frequent enough that Dr. Trafalgar kept bandages by the door specifically for them.
But somehow, between the fights and the insults, they became friends.
The memory shifted to the two boys sitting by a river, shoes dangling over the water's edge.
Law held up a thick book, pointing excitedly at colorful illustrations. "Look at this, Eren! There are volcanoes that spit fire, islands made entirely of snow, oceans so big you can't see the other side!" His eyes shone with wonder. "When I grow up, I'm going to sail away and see it all. I'm going to be a great doctor and an adventurer!"
Eren picked at the grass, his expression more guarded. "Your dad will never let you leave. You're gonna stay here in Flevance, become a doctor just like him, and take over the family practice." He glanced at Law. "Me, though? I've got no family to hold me back. No inheritance. No expectations. I'll probably be out there adventuring while you're still stuck here examining patients."
Law bristled. "Take that back!"
"Why? It's true. I'm freer than you in that way."
The word hung between them: freedom.
It was a concept that had taken root in Eren's mind early—this orphan boy who'd tasted both the sweetness of Ada's protection and the bitterness of having nothing. Freedom wasn't just a dream for him. It was survival.
But for all his talk of adventure and escape, Eren never mentioned his real plan: to grow up fast, to earn money, to help the nun who'd saved him and share Ada's burden.
He never got the chance.
Flevance's time was running out.
[Memory Fragment Three: The Sickness]
The memory darkened. The colors faded. Everything took on a sickly gray pallor.
It started with Lami.
White spots appeared on her arms—patches of discolored skin that looked like frost. She complained of pain, of exhaustion. Within days, more spots appeared. More pain.
Dr. Trafalgar worked frantically, trying every treatment in his considerable arsenal. But nothing worked. The white patches spread. Lami's condition worsened.
And then others started showing the same symptoms.
The disease had a name now: Amber Lead Syndrome. The White Town's curse.
Panic spread faster than the illness. People flooded the hospitals. Dr. Trafalgar barely slept, working himself to collapse trying to find a cure. But patients kept dying—slowly, painfully, their bodies turning white as chalk before their organs finally failed.
Law watched his sister suffer with helpless rage. Eren stood beside him, equally powerless.
Then the rumors started: The disease is contagious. Flevance is contaminated. Everyone there is infected.
It was a lie. The truth was far worse—Amber Lead Syndrome was caused by generations of mining a toxic substance called Amber Lead. The World Government had known it was poisonous. The Flevance royal family had known. But they'd kept mining it anyway because it was profitable.
The sickness wasn't contagious. It was inherited—accumulated poison passed from parent to child, generation after generation, until the burden became fatal.
But the neighboring countries didn't care about the truth.
The Flevance royal family vanished overnight, evacuated by the World Government before the situation could worsen. The people's leaders—their protectors—abandoned them to die.
Those residents who were still healthy tried to flee. They packed their belongings and walked to the border, hoping neighboring countries would show mercy.
What greeted them were gun barrels and barbed wire.
The memory showed a border checkpoint at night. A family approached, carrying a young child.
"Please!" the father begged, hands raised. "My family isn't sick! We just want to—"
BANG BANG BANG.
The soldiers wore hazmat suits and carried rifles. They didn't hesitate. Didn't check for symptoms. Didn't ask questions.
They just shot.
The father collapsed. The mother screamed. The child—
The camera mercifully cut away.
But the message was clear: no one was leaving Flevance alive.
Soldiers from three neighboring countries established a quarantine perimeter around the entire nation. Barbed wire. Armed checkpoints. Shoot-on-sight orders for anyone who tried to cross.
Old people. Women. Children. Pregnant mothers.
It didn't matter. If you were from Flevance, you were already dead. The soldiers were just speeding up the process.
The memory shifted to young Eren standing in a Flevance street, watching chaos unfold around him.
Adults ran in every direction. Some were trying to fight their way to the border. Others were looting stores, taking what they could before the end. Families huddled together in their homes, waiting for death.
The town that had once resembled a fairy tale—with its white buildings and silver streets shining in the sun—had become hell on earth overnight.
Young Eren stood frozen in the middle of it all, his small hands clenched into fists, his eyes wide with incomprehension.
Why is this happening? his expression seemed to ask. Why are they doing this to us?
The camera held on his face—this child who would one day become the Founding Titan, who would one day unleash the Rumbling on the world.
And in his eyes, viewers could see the exact moment something inside him broke.