A story began.
It started quietly, in a small church tucked away on a peaceful island where the world beyond its shores felt distant and unreal.
Inside that humble building, a child was born.
Kuma.
His mother was human, exhausted but radiant with joy as she held him for the first time. His father, a towering man with the blood of the Buccaneer people flowing through his veins, wept openly when he saw his son. The church bells rang softly outside as if celebrating the moment with them.
Even the doctor who delivered the child felt the warmth of that small family.
When he realized the truth—that the boy carried Buccaneer blood—his expression darkened for only a moment. But when he looked at the parents holding their newborn with such love, he made a quiet promise.
The secret would remain buried.
Kuma's father ran the church, tending to the community with patience and kindness. The years that followed were simple and peaceful. Kuma grew up surrounded by warmth and faith. He was a large child even from a young age, broad-shouldered and strong, but his nature was gentle.
He helped his parents however he could.
He carried water.
Cleaned the pews.
Tended to the small garden outside the church.
He was polite to everyone who visited, bowing his head respectfully and listening carefully to every word spoken to him.
A well-mannered boy.
A happy boy.
But four years after his birth, that peace shattered.
The church doors burst open one afternoon.
The doctor stumbled inside first, his clothes disheveled, tears streaming down his face as panic twisted his voice. He could barely breathe as he tried to warn Kuma's father.
World Government agents had arrived on the island.
He begged them to run.
He cried out apologies over and over again, guilt tearing through him for revealing the truth.
Before he could say more, a boot slammed into his side, knocking him to the floor.
A World Government agent stepped forward calmly, a pistol already drawn and aimed.
Kuma's father fought.
He fought like a man possessed.
The church that had once been filled with hymns and laughter erupted into chaos as he tried to defend his family. He swung his massive arms with desperate strength, knocking soldiers aside, trying to create even the smallest chance for his wife and son to escape.
But the agents were relentless.
Chains were brought out.
Heavy iron shackles wrapped around his wrists.
His wife was seized.
Kuma was dragged away screaming.
Still, even in that moment, the father tried to protect them. He told the agents that he alone carried Buccaneer blood. That his wife and child were innocent.
It didn't matter.
Cruelty was simpler.
They were all taken.
