One Piece: Three Devil Fruits, Beginning with Darkness

**Chapter 12: Jiger's Past**

Kuma quickly came to his senses and stepped forward, gently lifting Ivan off Jiger's back. He carefully settled him into a nearby chair before taking his own seat.

The four of them gathered around the worn wooden dining table, their only meal for the night being the freshly cooked fish. Though it was a simple dish, the size of the fish made up for the lack of variety.

Jiger ate without hesitation, savoring each bite. The warmth of the meal spread through his body, bringing with it a comfort he hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity. It was his first real meal since arriving in this era—since being thrust into a life he barely understood.

Back in the Valley of the Gods, they had neither the time nor the energy to hunt or cook. Survival had been their only concern, and for the most part, they had sustained themselves on wild fruits scavenged from the outskirts of the battlefield. The sensation of warm, freshly prepared food was almost overwhelming.

Yet, as he ate, he couldn't help but notice something odd. The others hadn't touched their portions. Kuma, Ginny, and Ivan sat motionless, watching him with varying expressions of unease and curiosity.

Lowering his empty bowl, Jiger wiped his mouth and frowned.

"Why aren't you eating? It's really good!"*

Kuma hesitated before speaking, his tone careful and measured.

"Jiger… do you remember what happened earlier today?"

The question made Jiger pause. He looked at Kuma, waiting for him to continue.

"Your body… it generated electricity," Kuma said slowly. "Was that… a Devil Fruit ability?"

At the mention of his transformation, Ginny nodded eagerly, gesturing wildly with her hands.

"Yeah, yeah! And your eyes turned red—it was terrifying!"

Ivan remained silent, but his gaze was sharp, focused. His large, expressive eyes reflected his curiosity, and it was clear he was just as eager to hear Jiger's explanation.

Jiger didn't intend to hide anything from them. He took a deep breath and, in a quiet voice, began to speak.

"It's because I remembered something."

The weight of those words settled over the table, drawing everyone's full attention.

"Back in the Valley of the Gods… before we escaped, you all heard what that man said to me, right?"

Kuma gave a small nod, recalling the moment with precision.

"He called you by a name... Figarland."*

Jiger met Kuma's gaze directly.

"That name… it brought back a lot of memories."

A silence settled between them before Jiger's expression grew unreadable. His voice, when he spoke again, was steady but carried an unmistakable intensity.

"Kuma, if I were a Celestial Dragon, would you hate me?"

"What!?"

"What!?"

Ginny and Ivan practically jumped from their seats, eyes wide in shock.

Kuma, however, remained quiet. He bowed his head slightly, his expression unreadable.

The room became eerily silent. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across the old church walls, emphasizing the tension in the air.

Ginny was the first to break the stillness, forcing a shaky laugh.

"Y-You must be joking, Jiger. How could you be a Celestial Dragon? We just escaped from the Valley of the Gods together!"

She wanted to believe that. She *needed* to believe that. But as she looked into Jiger's face—his solemn, unwavering expression—her heart sank.

Jiger sighed softly, turning his gaze toward her.

"Do you think I would joke about something like this?"

Ginny's breath hitched.

"I *am* a Celestial Dragon."

His words hung heavy in the air, each syllable like a weight pressing down on them.

"Otherwise," Jiger continued, "why do you think Garling, the leader of the God Knights, would rescue a slave from Charlotte Linlin?"

Ginny's lips parted slightly as if to protest, but her voice failed her.

Then, a chilling realization struck her.

"Garling… is he…?"

*"My uncle,"* Jiger confirmed.

The moment he spoke, Ginny's composure broke. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she stumbled forward, grabbing Jiger's hands in desperation.

"No… no, it's just a coincidence," she murmured, shaking her head as if trying to will the truth away. "If that were true, if you were really one of them… how could they have let you end up in the Valley of the Gods?"

Jiger didn't answer immediately. Instead, he raised his hand and absentmindedly brushed a strand of Ginny's pink hair between his fingers. His expression was unreadable—calm, almost detached—as he began to recount his past. His voice was steady, but beneath it lay something heavier, something fractured.

With the memories of his original self now fully merged into him, he had relived everything—the suffering, the betrayal, the agony that had shaped his existence. It was as if he had died once more, only to wake up burdened with the knowledge of who he truly was.

"I was born in the Holy Land of Mary Geoise," he began, his words cutting through the silence.

His father, Saint Figarland Grando, was the eldest son of the Figarland family—one of the most powerful and ancient bloodlines among the Celestial Dragons. The Figarlands had long held an unshakable status, not just for their lineage, but for something far rarer among their kind: talent.

Among them was Garling, Grando's younger brother, a warrior whose name was spoken with reverence and fear. He had risen to become the leader of the **Knights of God**, the elite force sworn to protect the Celestial Dragons. It was a title passed down within their family for generations. Not out of nepotism, but because the Figarlands produced warriors unlike any other. They were not like the pampered nobles who relied on the strength of others—they were weapons, trained and honed to match the greatest fighters in the world.

Garling had proven that in the Valley of the Gods. He had battled titans—Charlotte Linlin, Edward Newgate, and finally, Rocks himself. And yet, he had not faltered.

But Jiger's father, Grando, had been different.

"My father was strong," Jiger admitted, his gaze distant. "But not strong enough."

Grando had been talented—far more so than most Celestial Dragons. But when compared to his younger brother, he had always come up short. In every challenge, every duel, he had been outmatched. The position of the **Knights of God's** leader had been within his grasp, but Garling had taken it from him.

That loss had festered within him.

It became a wound that never healed, a poison that twisted his mind.

Jiger let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening slightly around the strand of Ginny's hair before he released it.

"But my father's true talent wasn't in combat—it was in his mind," he continued. "He was a scientist at heart, and when he realized he couldn't surpass Garling through strength alone, he sought another way."

In a world filled with extraordinary races, where bloodlines determined power, Grando had turned his gaze toward those with innate abilities. He studied them, dissected them, searching for an answer.

His obsession led him to two races in particular:

The **Minks**, who possessed the ability to generate electricity and transform into monstrous warriors under the full moon.

And the **Lunarians**, a nearly extinct people said to have once ruled the skies, their bodies capable of withstanding any attack while bathed in flames.

Grando wanted what they had.

He wanted to take their strength for himself.

But there was a problem—he was already grown. His body was developed, resistant to change. Even with genetic modification, there were limits to what he could achieve.

And Grando was not willing to settle for limitations.

"That was when I was born."

A quiet shudder ran through Ginny, but she said nothing. She simply listened, gripping the edge of her seat.

The Figarland family had long used advanced technology to assess the physical potential of their descendants. Strength, endurance, reflexes—every trait was measured, studied, analyzed. The results determined a child's worth before they even learned to walk.

Jiger's results had been *unprecedented.*

His body had exceeded every expectation, surpassing even Garling in his youth. He was perfect—an ideal vessel.

And for Grando, that meant one thing: **Jiger's body was his to take.**

"My father saw me as nothing more than a resource," Jiger said plainly.

There were ways to swap bodies in this world. The **Ope-Ope no Mi**, the infamous Operation Fruit, was capable of performing the procedure. As a Celestial Dragon, Grando had access to knowledge and connections that others could only dream of.

But even that was not enough for him. He wanted more.

He wanted a body *beyond* human limits.

"So he experimented on me," Jiger said. *"Alongside Vegapunk."*

Ginny sucked in a sharp breath. Kuma closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers pressing together.

The experiments had been brutal.

Mink and Lunarian DNA had been grafted into Jiger's body. They had pushed him beyond what any child could endure, shattering and rebuilding him piece by piece. Day after day, his body had been forced to adapt, to survive.

But no matter how strong Jiger was… he was still just a child.

In the end, even his body had limits. The strain became too much. His organs failed. His body collapsed.

And finally, he died.

Or at least, that was what they believed.

Grando had not mourned. He had not grieved.

He had looked down at Jiger's lifeless form and felt nothing but disappointment.

"Waste. Useless waste!"

The words had echoed through the sterile walls of the laboratory.

His *father*, the man whose blood ran through his veins, had not seen his death as a loss.

He had seen it as **a betrayal**—as if Jiger had personally *failed* him.

And so, in his madness, Grando had ordered the corpse to be discarded.

"Throw him onto a slave ship," he had commanded. "Let the filth of the world deal with him."

And so they had.

Jiger had been cast away, his broken body dumped among those deemed worthless by the world.

And that was how he had ended up in the **Valley of the Gods**—as nothing more than discarded trash.

Jiger fell silent, the flickering candlelight danced across his face.