I was just a kid when a strange man came into our small town. I remember him like it was yesterday. He wore mismatched shoes and stockings under rough worn brown pants. He shirt was likewise worn and he bright red ascot stuck out under his vest like an angry robin's chest. His hands where long and slender, with each movement they danced around passing a coin between his knuckles and sometime from one palm to the other through what seemed like magic. Everything about him screamed thief and trickster even to a child like me, or it would have had I cared but I didn't care he was entertaining; which is exactly why when the strange man presented me with a magic fruit apparently from nowhere and promised me my wildest dreams I agreed hands down, who wouldn't. Of course the price was atrocious but I scrounged and stole from my mother to get the money and by the fruit when I came back with the money. He simply took it telling me that some else had given him a better deal but since he liked me so much he would keep my offer on hand and give me a couple days to scrounge up extra money. Now the spell was broken I realized he was never going to give me the fruit, and would probably skip town that night. So I beat him to the punch, following him back to his temporary residence I snuck in and stole the fruit. Then began devouring it behind the small tent, I stood there waiting for a good thirty minutes for a magical transformation and got nothing. Feeling ripped off and now extremely guilty towards my mother I went back home, to find that my mother had discovered my secret and was furious. To ashamed to say what had actually happened, I made up a story about using the money to procure myself some alcohol, which may seem more reasonable then magic fruit but did not make my mother any more forgiving. In fact I didn't feel anything until the next night when I was taking a bath in my usual almost overflowing tub and began to find it impossible to move. I was drowning in my own tub and I had no idea what was happening luckily my mother still paranoid about the last nights escapades came checking on me and hoisted me clean out of the bath. She asked me what happened, and I told her I had no idea, but that I was determined to know.
So ironically I began hanging out more downtown near the bar asking any pirate or seafarer about magical cursed fruit. Mostly I got stares, either that or wide drunken smiles. But after a while having put up taunts and abuse one usually finds when questioning drunken pirates I got a lead. It was The Legend of the Devil's Fruit, supposedly granting one immense power by taking away their ability to swim. Frustrated I swore unable to comprehend the injustice, that not only did I unknowingly ingest an apparent cursed item but I also felt none if its supposed benefits. Of course after a while I gave it rest, one too many drunk breathes in my face, one too many pushes in the mud. I was growing up and I just forgot about it all, and put this nonsense behind me. I began to read more now that the most enjoyable physical activity was out of question. I grew interested in medicine, a quite irony that I still can't fathom. So for some time I learned and learned about my profession, becoming close friends with our town's doctor. I liked to think my Mom grew proud, but unfortunately obsession had always been my vice and thinking back on it I didn't really see her much back then, not more then when I was a little trickster. She always was out at the market preparing and cooking the fish fisherman caught.
That was until I was about fifteen when I came back to my house one night having been out reading some medical books given to me by the doctor. I came home much like I always did a quick glass of water some chatting with my mother, or if she was asleep a little kiss. Only this time I couldn't here or her or find her sleeping. So confused I stumbled around until I reached the kitchen and saw my mother lying in a pool blood a large metal pot lying haphazardly next to her head it dripping with blood. Evidently she had tried to get something out of the cupboard and the pot had fell on her head knocking her out and letting her bleed out. Her skin was pale probably from lose of blood. I knew she was dead, I had seen cadaver pictures and she looked just like them. I just fell to my knees furious at it all, to think I wanted to study medicine yet here before me was my mother who died simply because I wasn't here. My studies to save people had ended up condemning her to death. If you ask why my father isn't in the picture he left when I was very young so I don't think about him. I distinctly I remember just staring at her from about three feet away, tears streaming down my face for god knows how long. Not even wanting to move closer as if in doing that I would somehow ruin the sanctity of this scene. Perhaps I felt that since I wasn't there when she needed it most, it was selfish to attempt to console her now when it didn't matter. However finally I grew up the courage to extend a hand out to her face to wipe away her hair from in front of her face. Actually it occurs to me the only reason I felt I could do that was because when she was alive it's all she ever did. I used to ask her why didn't she cut her hair she'd always reply 'well then she wouldn't be beautiful anymore' maybe Dad really liked it I don't know. I guess that was the story of my life up until then, I just didn't know.
Yet something happened when I brushed my hand across her cheek sweeping the hair from in front of her face. Her skin color returned was cold and clammy became warm and radiant again. Then she sat up like nothing had happened. I remember shooting hands over feet into her in the process splashing blood, her blood, all over my pants and shirt. I didn't think anything of it well at least not for a while, certainly didn't connect it to that strange fruit I had eaten over six years ago. I thought it was strange but a happy miracle, and was it ever happy. Still stranger was after that incident my leg began acting up, as a child I toughed it out, the little sting was nothing serious, and who cares I wasn't quite over my mother yet. After that for the next years I was the good son she needed and wanted for the first time in my life. Time was good I continued learning medicine and skills for being a doctor. We even got a dog, one Mom had always wanted. Oh yeah she also finally cut her hair, and it didn't look bad in fact I remember she kept remarking at how much better she looked. Until of course I was nineteen and playing catch with the dog, I had accidentally thrown the ball into a tree, and when I went to retrieve it realized I wasn't as young, small or light as I had been, and as I was reaching the top most branches they began to break and screech below me. Being young I didn't care, but I soon would. I finally got the ball from the top of the tree and then the branches gave out and I went plummeting down taking out branches as I feel, until I hit the ground with a loud crack. A loud crack that I didn't here because at that time, I felt something for a split second a split second that will stretch out from one end of my life to the other. At first it was extreme pain like the kind I should be feeling, then an even stronger feeling of contentment and bliss an acceptance that something great is over and that you made the most out of it, the feeling was accompanied by a picture too, the picture of me. After that I felt a little woozy like being drunk, and I knew I had to check on my mom.
She was dead, I couldn't tell from what, neither could the doctor I scoured all the books I could find looking for another answer another possibility, but it was hopeless I knew who killed her. I did, and I saved her. I was the best and worst doctor ever. I can save anyone but when the chips come down I can sacrifice them just as easily. After that I left that town with a handful of medical books and boat and traveled from town to town performing medicine where it is needed, having made a vow to never use my ability again, it just wasn't my choice to make I wanted to save them but the thought that I could kill them just as easily was even more frightening. I save a father from a bullet wound only for him to die without warning while he's kissing his daughter. Then one day I couldn't do it anymore. I just landed at a port that had been ravaged by a particularly vicious pirate attack. The remaining civilians stood over the bodies attempting to do all they could to no avail. The body where piled high and the blood flowed slowly down the street. I remember it clearly; mosquitoes hovering around children, whose feet were wet with blood as they stared longingly at the impromptu medical tents set up in the square. Then I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't just let it happen I couldn't just sit back and let people die because damn it I was a doctor, it was my duty to do all in my power to save people and that is exactly what I planned to do. If my power is greater then I must do more. So I traveled to the Grand Line traveling from city to city healing people all the time my leg pain growing more and more acute. I took precautions of course traveling with good people I knew could protect me. I wrapped myself in a cocoon of protection. If I heard the trip might even be slightly rough I didn't go. I took no chances.
On my longest stint with a marine crew on a ship commanded by a ghoulish Captain T-bone, I believe, who was never-the-less among the best men I have met, we had a very rare encounter. Our ship came across a world noble's vessel, and as such we were basically forced to offer any support we could. And they were lucky we were there. It turns out the World noble, a fat bastard if ever there was one, was violently ill. Something he ate had been poisonous and this man had just stuck it down his gob without a second thought. Needless our captain offered up his cloak as a mop but I told him that wasn't necessary and so I went in and did what I had been doing for the past couple years, I tried to help him with medicine but without knowing exactly what it was he had ingested it was impossible to give him the proper antidote, so in the end I resolved to use my power to bring him back to life and be on our way, which I tried to do, but of course the noble, his name was Saint Weatherhold, wouldn't have it.
You won't believe the first thing he did, organized a party, just so the fat bastard could continue to stuff food down his gob. It was at this party I met Ashcroft he was this man's body guard and his problem solver. You've already seen him and he looked pretty much the same and gave off pretty much the same vibes, but after a couple beers I began to forget all about him and was already enjoying the festivities, and were their ever festivities. It was like a circus with jugglers, strong men, fire eaters, sword swallowers, and much more, but most memorable was the food. There were meats of every kind and every size, fruits I had never heard off, vegetables sometimes ten times the size they should be, millions of breads and billions of sweets. So the next day we set off with the world noble to the nearest port, evidentially to restock food supplies, only things changed when we finally landed at port. The nobleman first offered me a chance to serve on his ship and be showered with gifts, I refused, then he at least asked if I wanted to tour the city with him to which Captain T-bone spoke up instead telling them I too needed to restock my supplies as well. They fussed but he wouldn't hear it and he took me into town and told me to run, so I did and have been from Ashcroft and Saint Weatherhold.
"Why? Why would the noble you saved try to kill you" Fredrick asked
"Well I can only imagine, they figure out my devil fruit power and are determined to prevent his life from being in my hands."
"But if they kill you won't they just kill him first."
"Not if" Kilford says catching his breath "they use Sea-stone first to remove my power, and then they can kill me without impunity well maybe."
"Again with the maybes."
"It might just cause all the people I saved to die as well as Weatherhold, I'm not really sure how they are back here, or its possible Ashcroft is just suppose to find me cut off my legs and arms and bring me back to Weatherhold as a piece for his mantle."
Samuel leans over from the wheel "Your right that is a long story."
Kilford turned to Samuel his eyes bleak staring directly at Samuel blank face. "uh, yeah"
"Still," Fredrick interjected, to no one in particular "Imagine, imagine the fear you live with, your life constantly in the hands of someone else, never knowing if this day, this hour, this minute, or even this second will inexplicably be your last. I don't think I could take that, it's quite a pressure"
"Next time you see a man gun downed face in the mud and in good conscience just walk away, then you can judge." Kilford replied a deep growl rising from inside his chest.
"Sorry Kilford, just thinking out loud" Fredrick responds defensively.