Pirates: Seeing My Proficiency, I Became a Legend

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows of two figures walking side by side.

"Dongze, do you think girls can never reach the top? Just like my father said… will I never be the strongest?" Kuina's voice carried a trace of hesitation, doubt still lingering despite Dongze's earlier encouragement.

As the Yixin Dojo came into view, blurred by the dimming light, Dongze hesitated. He knew that Kuina's tragic fate in the original timeline stemmed not from a lack of talent, but from a heart weighed down by doubt. He sighed, making a firm decision.

"Kuina, I've heard a few names before—women who stand among the strongest in the world. If you ever doubt yourself, ask your father about them."

Kuina hesitated, her gaze searching his. "Are they all women?"

Dongze simply nodded before listing the names with a knowing smirk.

"Charlotte Linlin."

"Tsuru."

"Gion."

"Amazon Lily."

Each name hung in the air like a revelation.

Kuina's brows furrowed. "Did you really hear this in the village?"

Dongze chuckled. "Kuina, women can become the strongest. But the road is harder. You have to believe in yourself. The future is yours to carve."

The next day, at Yixin Dojo, Kuina's demeanor had shifted. There was a fire in her eyes that hadn't been there before—a quiet determination that set her apart.

Koshiro knelt in the center of the dojo, overseeing the students practicing the fundamentals: stance, lift, parry, strike, thrust, feint, cut, and counter. As he watched his daughter, he recalled their conversation from the night before.

The Shimotsuki family, descendants of Wano's legendary samurai, had always produced formidable swordsmen. Koshiro himself was no exception. While he was far from Mihawk's level, he had long since earned his place among the world's top swordsmen. And he knew the weight of the names Kuina had spoken.

"Charlotte Linlin—Big Mom. A former Rocks Pirate, now an Emperor of the Sea. Her power rivals even the strongest men alive."

"Vice Admiral Tsuru. A strategic genius, one of the oldest and most respected figures in the Navy. The user of the Wash-Wash Fruit, a woman even Doflamingo fears."

"Rear Admiral Gion, also known as 'Momousagi.' A prodigy in swordsmanship, her talent is monstrous, recognized even among the highest ranks of the Marines."

"And Amazon Lily… a nation of warrior women, home to Boa Hancock, a Warlord of the Sea, feared and respected across the Grand Line."

As Koshiro pieced this together, his scalp tingled. These were not names one casually heard in the East Blue, the world's most peaceful sea. Even mentioning them in a remote village was unheard of.

His voice was calm but firm. "Where did you hear those names?"

Kuina hesitated, then spoke a single name.

"Dongze."

Koshiro's eyes narrowed slightly. Dongze? That ordinary disciple who had always been diligent but unremarkable? The same boy who had lost to Zoro just days ago?

At first, Koshiro dismissed it as mere curiosity. But something about it gnawed at him. How could a child from this dojo—this village—know of such figures? Was it coincidence? Or was there more to Dongze than met the eye?

He turned his attention to the boy, observing him closely.

Dongze was practicing swordsmanship alongside the other students, but his movements were different. Unlike the rest, who cycled through the standard thirteen forms, Dongze focused solely on the thrust. Over and over again, perfecting a single strike.

At first glance, his technique seemed rigid, lacking the natural flow Kuina had developed or the raw intensity of Zoro's swings. But then, in a single moment, something changed.

Koshiro's eyes widened.

That thrust—it was alive.

It was as if an ordinary motion had been given a soul, infused with an understanding beyond its surface mechanics. For a swordsman, this was a moment of true transformation—the difference between a novice and a warrior. It was something even seasoned swordsmen took years to achieve.

Koshiro's breath caught in his throat. "Impossible."

A single strike, honed to perfection.

Dongze exhaled slowly, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. He could see it—the proficiency bar on his invisible interface had finally maxed out.

[Basic Swordsmanship – Thrust: 1000/1000]

But there was no next stage. No new prompt.

Dongze frowned. Do I have to perfect all thirteen forms before I can advance?

It was frustrating but logical. True mastery wasn't about shortcuts. A building without a solid foundation would crumble under its own weight.

Koshiro, still watching, felt a wave of unease. What just happened?

For years, he had taught students who either had talent or worked tirelessly to develop it. But this… this was something else. The boy had skipped steps—bypassed the natural process of refining swordsmanship and leaped forward in an instant.

If Kuina and Zoro were born prodigies, this was something even rarer.

Koshiro's expression remained unreadable. He would keep watching. He needed to understand just what kind of swordsman Dongze would become.

As Dongze sheathed his wooden sword, he glanced toward Kuina and Zoro. The two were deep in training, both driven by an unspoken rivalry.

Zoro, as always, was relentless.

"1005, 1006, 1007…" The numbers carved into his training stones stood as a testament to his resolve.

Kuina, for the first time, was different. She no longer carried hesitation. She had found something to believe in.

Dongze smirked. Not bad.

His own path was clear now. Master the thirteen forms. Then—step beyond.

Because in this world, talent wasn't the only thing that defined greatness.

Persistence did.