Cassandra had two great loves in life: Japanese swords and the female body. Everything else was secondary, mere distractions from the pursuit of perfection both in steel and in herself.
Her morning routine was sacred: wake up before dawn, stretch her lean muscles, run 10 km, work out and train with her favorite katana in precise, flowing movements. Every slice, every strike was a meditation, a dance to replicate her favourite moves and find her own style. Afterward she would prepare a meticulously balanced meal with lean protein, fresh vegetables and just enough carbs to fuel her body without excess. Perfection was a lifelong pursuit, and she was getting closer every day.
Her apartment reflected her obsessions. Every wall was lined with gleaming blades, from ancient katanas to modern reproductions crafted with masterful precision. Some were mounted for display, others kept within reach, ready for use. Among them, her favorite: a hand-forged masterpiece she lovingly named Yūrei, the Ghost.
She spent her nights watching anime and action movies always focusing on sword fighting. She admired the technique, analyzed the footwork, and sometimes found herself appreciating the well-drawn female characters just as much as the battles. Tonight was no different.
Until the noise came.
A faint rustling and a creak of wood where there shouldn't be one. Cassandra's instincts flared. She moved like a shadow, reaching for Yūrei without hesitation. Her heart pounded not with fear, but with anticipation.
A man, clad in dark clothing stood among her swords. A gloved hand reached for one of her prized possessions.
Rage boiled in her veins. No one was allowed to touch her swords.
With a warrior's cry, she surged forward, blade flashing in the dim light. The burglar spun, his hand jerking up a gun in hand. A burst of fire, a crack like thunder. Pain exploded through her torso, hot and merciless. Again and again riddeling her torso with holes.
But she didn't stop.
With the last of her strength, she drove Yūrei through his throat, watching with grim satisfaction as he gurgled and collapsed. Blood dripped from her lips. Her breath coming in ragged gasps. The world blurred, but she smiled, as she saw the thief die by her hands.
Her swords were safe.
Darkness swallowed her.
Then followed light.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in her apartment. Before her stood a figure, radiant and otherworldly, watching her with an amused expression.
"So," the god of reincarnation said, "you really died for a bunch of swords huh. Interesting."
Cassandra smirked, wiping phantom blood from her lips. "Worth it."
The god chuckled. "Let's see what we can do with you. But first, let's talk about your life. It was... underwhelming, to say the least. No fame, no fortune. You lived alone, you collected swords and then you died for them. Is that really all you wanted out of existence?"
Cassandra crossed her arms. "I enjoyed every second of it. Every morning training session, every meal I perfected, every blade I added to my collection. I never needed anyone else to make me happy. I lived for what I loved and I died protecting it. No regrets."
The god raised an eyebrow. "Most souls beg for another chance, weep over wasted potential. But you? You stand by your choices without hesitation. I must admit, that's rare."
"I don't live for what others think is 'success,'" Cassandra said. "I live for what I love and I regret nothing."
The god nodded, rubbing his chin. "I like you. Fine, let's give you another shot and since you're so obsessed with swords, I'll send you to a world that truly values them. One where named blades hold great meaning."
Cassandra felt a strange pull, her soul shifting. "Where am I going?"
The god smirked. "The world of One Piece. You'll be reborn as Tashigi."
Cassandra barely had time to react before her consciousness faded.
She awoke as a child, no older than five. But unlike an ordinary child, she remembered everything. The weight of her past life, the passion, the drive it all remained. She sat up in bed, staring at her tiny hands, and then grinned.
"This is going to be amazing."
Tashigi may not have been the strongest in the original timeline, but she had the will, the passion and the perfect alignment with her soul's true purpose: to collect named swords and become the greatest swordswoman the world had ever known.
She looked into a mirror. Cassandra was now a little girl with blue hair that looked very cute. When she thought about the potential beauty she will become, she had to contain a sinister chuckle.
Her parents were Marines, strict but just and they instilled in her discipline and duty. But fate was cruel. They died in service when she was still young. The only thing she had left of them was her first true treasure: Shigure.
It was a Grade Blade. Grade Blades are the lowest class of meito (named blades). Generally speaking they were by far the weakest class, but to her it was beautiful. A katana with a green handle and a guard shaped like a four-petaled flower. Its sheath was an elegant mix of green and white, decorated with circular designs. From the moment she grasped it, she knew, it would be her foundation, her first step toward greatness.
She clenched her tiny fists around the hilt of Shigure and looked to the horizon.
"I'll become the world's greatest swordswoman. And I'll have the grandest collection of named swords to ever exist. Just watch me."