Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda-sensei
Berlin, 20 Mai 1933
Dear Nami,
I am sorry. I am sorry that you have to find me like this, but I can't handle it anymore. The reality, the upcoming war, the stupidity, how blind people are... But the worst, the worst is to see and to know, that I was the same. That I used to be like that.
You will ask yourself what changed me. What made me think like this. You will be angry. You will cry. You will call me a moron, an idiot. And than, than you will search for answers. You would try to find out what happened back then. You would look for any clues to what has broken me so much in Belgium. And it would be dangerous, very dangerous.
But I don't want you to put yourself and Luffy in danger because of me. That's why I have decided to tell you my story. You have asked for it so many times, but I didn't feel ready. I couldn't talk about it. I still feel, like I can't, but I know it is the right time to do so.
It all began in Mai 1917 in Belgium with a certain red-haired man being brought seriously injured into the field hospital I was working at as a doctor during the war. His name was Eustass Kid as I found out later and he miraculously survived after a grenade has hit the trench he was at with his comrades. Everybody else died and he was left with lots of grenade splitters stuck into the left side of his body. His arm was especially bad off and he almost lost his eye as well.
For me, the arm was a clear case of amputation and I started giving orders to the nurses to prepare everything necessary for the intervention, as the man started yelling at me forget it. He was on the verge of death and still had the power to sit up and yell like a madman. The nurses panicked, but I didn't fear a crazy soldier. I told the man, that I wouldn't amputate his arm, if he would manage to prove me that it wasn't necessary in the next minute.
I didn't even blink and the bastard was already using my scalpel to take out the splitters out of his leg, using his left arm to prove that everything was fine with a scowl on his face and a mad glint in his eyes. I had to admit that I was impressed, through his medical skills were more than terrible.
Later on, as I have taken care of every other patient, I decided to take a look at the redhead just to check if one of the wounds was infected.
When I arrived at his bed, the man opened his eyes and stared at me. He asked me what I wanted, his voice full of rage but still quiet. After a short explanation I couldn't help but question why he acted the way he did.
It turned out, he was left-handed and couldn't bear the idea of not being able to paint anymore. He told me, that he was an artist. I recognized him as one of the young expressionists after he finally introduced himself. It was more than surprising that he was quite well known, but I knew that it was because of how scandalous his paintings were. I have to admit, that I despised him myself at that time.
But I talked to him anyway. That evening, I let the nurses take care of those who needed it and talked to Kid. About everything. He told me about what he felt, how he hated the war, the emperor and the society. How he hated meaningless killing but knew he had to participate to survive himself. He told me that he changed personalities out there. That he felt like a monster.
And I listened. I listened to every word like hypnotized. I couldn't walk away and ignore the strange man. I couldn't because deep down, I knew that he was right. I knew that the drugged, insane man in front of me was right.
I have never been one of the supporters of the war and as a doctor working at the front, I saw the horrors of it every day. My natural pessimism and the cynical view on life didn't help at all and I found myself drawn to Kid.
I spend every minute I could next to his bed. It was crazy. We talked and talked about everything. About the future, about the past. About war and about peace.
He even portrayed me some days before leaving the hospital after over two months. His skill was amazing. The picture is still my greatest treasure. With this, I give it to you, Nami. Take care of it.
Anyway, as he drew me, I realized something. I realized that I couldn't stand the idea of him leaving. I realized that I didn't want to be alone again. And I realized that I loved him. Yes, I loved a man. And I still do.
And he loved me. He told me after I removed the bandages from his eye the day before he had to return to war. I have spend the best night of my life with him in a forest with a war raging around us. But I will never forget it.
He left the next day but kept coming to see me every time he could. Every parting felt like the last, and I knew that moment would come. I wasn't delusional enough to believe that he would survive this madness.
One day, one of the commanders asked me to come and watch over the offensive together with him. I tried to refuse, but couldn't get out of it. Soon, the offensive switched to defensive and I spotted Kid's flaming red hair under the retreating soldiers even from the distance.
I stared at him, ignoring the commander next to me as I realized that something was wrong. Suddenly, a wave of explosions came over the battlefield, building a huge cloud.
I recognized it immediately. It was mustard gas. The only thing I could think about as I swung on the commander's horse was Kid.
I forced the animal down the hillside, hurrying to the trench I knew Kid was in. I was lucky, as the wind managed to blow away the gas before I arrived.
I ran the last few meters as I saw that Kid had somehow managed to drag himself out of the hole still filled with the poison.
When I arrived, he was already blind and coughing, barely able to breath. But he still recognized me. He dragged himself in my direction as he heard my voice and collapsed in my arms. We were both aware, that it would be his end as he kissed me.
His farewell words couldn't have been more cliché as he declared his love to me the last time before letting out his last breath. I couldn't do anything else than sit there and stare at the body in my arms after his heart stopped beating.
The danger of being killed myself was more real than ever. But I didn't care. I really didn't care.
Until the commander tapped on my shoulder, a disgusted look at his face as he looked around. Than I finally snapped. I was angry. My heart was full of pain, but the pain fueled on something way more powerful: rage. I swore myself to show people what really happened in the war. I swore to myself to carry on Kid's legacy. And I did.
I wrote the novel because of him. I wrote it for him. But also for you, Nami, for Luffy, for Ace, for Zoro and for Sanji. I wrote it for all the dead and all the living. Because I didn't want anybody to go through as much pain as I did.
And still, the nightmares came back. Not even writing down what I knew needed to be written didn't keep the memories of Kid away. Nothing managed to keep it away. Only the rage. That's why I continued writing. You questioned it, called me crazy, tried to get me to sleep. But I couldn't. And the people kept reading. Until now.
Now, there isn't place for me anymore. The Nazis have forbidden my books. They have forbidden everything I stand for. They have forbidden me. They have already burned my books.
Nami, I know I could leave now. I could leave and get to the United States of America in exile. But I don't see the point in it. I don't have a sense in my life anymore. I kept living to write. But it is over.
I have endured more than enough. I won't be able to witness another war.
I don't ask you to understand, Nami. I don't ask you to forgive me. But I ask you to take Luffy and leave Germany. Leave for America. Leave everything behind and save yourself. That's my final wish.
With Love,
Doctor Trafalgar Law
Thank you for reading. I hope your heart is still in one piece