Since a couple of chapters in the manga showed brief glances of a boy named Dorry, I thought, along with many, that Dorry could be a younger Drake, but I wasn't too sure about it. Rather I waited for Oda to confirm that.
If you watch me, you probably remember that I did a parody of the notorious Frozen song "Let It Go" about Drake leaving the Marines and becoming a pirate. When the Dorry being Drake rumors popped up, I started writing another parody in case the rumors were true.
Prologue
"Dad! Dad! Look at me!" He happily cried, running out of his house's front door toward his father who had just returned from the Marine Headquarters. He stumbled in the oversized shoes he was wearing but darted as quickly as he could. Dad was a Marine officer. The little boy didn't know what his rank was, but by the look of the uniform he had a rather high rank; not quite an admiral, but maybe someday. Diez Drake, the nine-year-old boy, thought that being a Marine officer who defended and brought justice was the coolest thing ever.
"Whoa!" Drake stumbled yet another time in those big shoes and began to fall to the ground face forward. Just in time, Diez Barrels caught his son and scooped him up, chuckling in amusement. He carried him back inside the house and stood both himself and his son in front of a full-length mirror.
"Well, look at you." He observed. Drake was proudly dressed in a ragged, makeshift but definitely recognizable and hopefully honorable Marine uniform, composed of his dirty, old shirt and shorts, a pair of his father's shoes, and a blue bandana made from a strip of old material. A wooden toy sword hung at his side in one of the shorts' belt loops.
Impressed, elated and proud, Barrels set Drake back down on the ground. "And I believe I brought home something from Headquarters. Now close your eyes…" In anticipation, Drake closed his eyed tightly and fidgeted. His father had never, if not rarely brought anything from Headquarters.
In the midst of the interior of that majestic Marine coat hanging over his shoulders, Barrels pretended to search high and low. "Hmm…let's see…where did I…no, not there…"
He saw Drake try to get one eye barely open. "No peeking, soldier!" Drake immediately obeyed.
"…And not here either…um…" Out of nowhere almost magically, he pulled out his surprise and knelt down to place a somewhat oversized hat on Drake's reddish brown crown. "Open up!" Barrels announced.
Drake felt around his head and looked in the mirror. Beaming in surprise and great joy, Drake excitedly grabbed the sides of the cap and held it tightly in admiration, a wide grin gracing his face. He was going to keep it forever.
Barrels stood up straight and raised his right hand over his right eyebrow in a salute position. Drake followed his father's pose.
"That's my boy." Barrels said.
One day, everything changed. Drake learned that the hard way. When his Barrels walked in, for the first time he kicked the door open with a thrust from heavy boot. The newly-turned-teenage boy jumped and knocked a small table over in surprise, releasing three full bottles of alcohol onto the floor. Drake cringed at the sound of glass shattering and the feeling of the bittersweet liquid streaming around his feet.
"Dorry! What is this?!" Barrels shouted, glaring brutally at the mess his son had made. He had never talked to him in that tone of voice before.
This shocked Drake so much that he could only sputter out what you would barely call an answer. "D-dad, I-I'm sorry…"
"I'll say you are!" Barrels stormed towards the frightened boy. He raised his strong, mighty fist.
"Dad! No! It was an accident!" Drake's screaming protests were in vain. His father's clenched fist blasted into his face and sent him flying to the other end of the room, the lad's body colliding with the wooden wall. Splinters and slabs of the wall fell to the floor along with him.
"Clean that mess up! Now!" Barrels roared, pointing at the spilled alcohol. In severe pain, Drake crawled and hurriedly limped from of the broken mess as blood trickled down the side of his face. Through his bruised, swelling right eye, he could barely see his father crudely start a large fire in the fireplace and violently throw his tattered Marine officer's uniform inside, the flames eating away the white garb.
Life was never the same after that day. The enticing glory, adventure, and excitement of the Pirate Era lead Diez Barrels to abandon the Marines and follow piracy. Physical abuse became an everyday event that Drake grew used to, but the pain from that one day was carried on for years. Day by day, beating by beating, hardship by hardship, the bitter elements of his adolescence killed the cheery spirit he once possessed in his boyhood.
But even through those years of anguish pressed on by his father, a now serious but shaken nineteen-year-old Drake stayed with him. While Barrels sought for the fortune promised in a pirate's life, Drake sought for even a sliver of whatever past goodness remained in the depths of his father's cold heart.
Barrels held up in the air a rather rare prize that was just too good to not share.
Another bet with the Marines? Drake thought one cold snowy night. Knowing Barrels was one attached to a good gamble, he wasn't surprised. Oftentimes the bet was treasure or a newly captured, notorious pirate with some high bounty. Yet it troubled his soul that his turned pirate father would have anything to do with the Marines after abandoning them, now spitting on and cursing them.
"Dorry!" Barrels called. "More booze!"
"Right away." Drake said quietly, grabbing two or three more bottles of sake for the scraggly pirate crew.
Tonight's prize was a Devil's Fruit.
I wanted to be just like my dad: a Marine with strength and fame,
His sudden transformation had torn my dreams to shame,
How could a man treat his own flesh and blood like that?
"No-show, cowardly, good-for-nothing brat!"
Two or three years ago, Drake was force-fed a Devil's Fruit in the purpose of Barrels having a powerful member within his pirate crew. The fruit's power was a rarity, a Rare Ancient Zoan type which allowed the boy to transform into a massive, carnivorous dinosaur. With it, Drake was no longer a beloved son but rather a slave and chess piece for the cruel captain to advance in the world. Such abuse made Drake hate his ability with a passion at times.
He had tried running away at least twice, only to be caught within some amount of time and severely punished. He had contemplated suicide a few times in his past, but his undying hope that father would change and the world would be right again held him back from killing himself.
I stay with him, waiting to see
The day he'll change his wrong ways and love me.
"Be a pirate," He says, "like me."
But that's not me!
Drake delivered the sake as quickly as he possibly could. He set the bottles in the middle of the circle formed by Barrels and his crew and made his way back into the darkness. He didn't hear a thank-you but rather two people pulling of a cork from the bottle mouth by the teeth, a satisfying pop hinting the cork's release.
He sunk back behind a stack of crates and shivered. He and Barrels' crew were hiding in some abandoned village. It was winter time. The only means of warmth was from the fire where his father was sitting or one of the few lanterns used as to not attract unwanted company. He sat in fetal position against the wall and rubbed his arms. He couldn't wait to get out of this frozen wasteland.
Let it go, let it go,
Can't live like this anymore,
But could I really leave
The man I still adore?
"Where there's life, there's always hope,"
I thought that was true,
But I'm barely hanging there by a rope.
The always sunny days of his childhood when everything was perfect played in his head. Back when he was greeted with a smile saying, "Morning, soldier!" rather than a scowl that said, "What're you looking at, brat?" Back when he was scooped up by the same hands that later on inflicted pain. He remembered the day his father placed a Marine's cap on his head. Now that was gone. After Barrels became a pirate, Drake thought he hid his treasure well. But upon its discovery, Barrels destroyed it and beat up Drake for "maintaining loyalty to that band of losers".
In the adolescent's eyes, past the brutality, hatred, and pirate's greed painted in Barrels' blue eyes could be found a piece of the honorable, goodly, and noble Marine hero. He believed that man was trapped inside, but that belief had lasted for years.
I'm in a living nightmare, I don't want anymore,
But I know that out there somewhere, there's something to fight for,
He finally stood up, wincing from a pain of a wound on the side of his hip. He looked at his body. Never once did the past cheery boy imagine that at nineteen he was malnourished, beaten, and shrunken enough to look almost nothing like a nineteen-year-old. He was so hungry and so tired. It amazed him that he was able to walk, let alone stand.
What good father would let his son be like this? He reasoned. No…there's still good in him. I know it. I see it.
No. Strangely, Drake found himself to be struggling with himself internally. Yes, there's good in him. There is…no.
Out of nowhere, shattering of glass, shrieks of falling men, and fires roaring were born.
"What the blazes is going on?!" One of the pirates shouted from a distance. Nobody had a clue as they ran frantically like chickens.
Drake's heart was racing as a war enraged inside. A decision inching closer and closer to being made, he knew what he had to do.
I once killed men, delivered booze,
Tell me, what have I got to lose?
No betrayal, no slavery,
I'm free!
He quickly snuck past the pirates and snatched up his coat and a pair of gloves he had worn when the Barrels Pirates arrived to this island. Frightened but certain of his decision, he braced himself and ran and crashed through a glass window, shards flying with his body into the snow. Once his landing's tumble came to an end, he rose as quickly as his ailing body would allow him.
Breathing hard, he ran away from the building and soon away from the village. His decision was fuel to his adrenaline. Drake knew he was never a pirate at heart despite being in a pirate crew for years. He just discovered that his certainty of his past father still existing was a child's fantasies. He loved his father: the honorable Marine officer, his past father. What good could come out of a cruel pirate captain, in all present reality his father?
But to Drake's great disappointment and despair, the Marine officer had been long gone.
His beloved father was dead.
A choir of blade slices behind sung their clashes as they bored into the ground.
Let it go, let it go,
This is a battle that I've won,
Let me be, let me go,
Don't ever call me "son",
It's too late, no turning back,
Let their cries rage on.
Drake turned around in surprise. Three too familiar faces encountered him. The only thing standing between him and them was a dome-like cage consisting of razor sharp blades.
"Dorry!" One of them exclaimed in desperate relief. "Thank goodness! Help us please!"
Drake could only stare at the mass of blades. Still breathing heavily, fear filled his heart to the brim.
"Isn't there something you can do about this cage?" Another pirate inquired urgently.
Maybe the boy could; maybe the boy couldn't. He didn't care. Going against a countless row of blades that promised to immediately slice your hand off upon touching it was something that was beyond him and his power that these desperate scoundrels counted on.
"Hey! Where are you going?" One pirate saw the shaken teenager take two steps away. Drake took one last look at them and the cage before turning around and continuing his escape. "Wait! Don't run away!"
I was a fool to imagine the good he could reflect,
This man has lost my love, my devotion, and respect.
But I can't wait to see what happens to me next,
'D-I-E-Z' won't do; cross that out with an 'X'.
Blade slashes, many men's last screams, and gunshots really urged him to get away. He breathed heavily as he ran to the top of a hill overlooking the vast seas. The next thing he knew he collapsed in total exhaustion and stress. After a minute that felt like half an hour, two pairs of arms lifted him up onto his feet."You're okay, buddy. We're gonna take care of you." He faintly heard a voice say.
Drake only remembered shivering and having a blanket draped over him before slipping into darkness. Three days later, he had woken up in a bed out of a deep sleep to find his wounds properly treated and his tattered clothes replaced with fresh, clean ones. He faintly heard a Marine announcing that Captain Diez Barrels as well as his crew and many others were dead. As he ate from a four-square meal served to him, a Marine officer approached him, holding a clipboard.
"Your name, sir?" He asked.
"Drake. Diez Drake." Drake responded.
"Could you write your name down, Drake?" The officer lowered the clipboard and offered Drake a pen.
With a shaking hand but without hesitation, Drake wrote down, "X Drake".
Let it go, let it go,
When my dreams are coming true.
Let him go, let him go,
Father and I are through.
Here I stand, nothing's in my way,
Why should I look back?
The past never bothered me anyway.
"You may rise, Rear Admiral X Drake." Fleet Admiral Sengoku instructed.
Drake rose from a kneeling stance and stood straight in a sense of pride in this promotion. Throughout the past twelve years, the once weak boy had moved up from being a standard soldier to the fourth-highest position in the Marines.
This grand occasion was celebrated in some small way or another. As Drake resumed his duties, he briefly thought back on the lived nightmares from many years ago. Those nightmares were just a faint memory, and his father was now just an ordinary man of no significance.
But never mind that. His dreams came true piece by piece since that fateful escape. As a child of the past, he dreamed of being a great officer. The only difference between him and Officer Diez Barrels was that he would never leave the Marines.
Ever.