Reborn as Mihawk's son-one piece

The first thing he felt was warmth, a stark contrast to the chilling final moments of his previous life. It was as though he was floating in a cocoon of light, weightless and unburdened. Memories of who he once was—a 26-year-old man from a mundane world—were already slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. He couldn't even remember his name.

Then, he opened his eyes.

The sky was a dazzling canvas of oranges and pinks, painted with streaks of twilight as the sun dipped below the horizon. The salty tang of the ocean breeze teased his senses, and the gentle lapping of waves against a shore filled his ears. Everything seemed so vivid, so alive.

"So, you've finally woken," came a deep, commanding voice. It was smooth and deliberate, like the edge of a finely honed blade.

He turned his head, his vision focusing on the silhouette of a man. The figure stepped closer, revealing a face as sharp and striking as a falcon's gaze. Golden eyes stared down at him with a mixture of curiosity and detachment. The man's wide-brimmed black hat, adorned with a feather, was unmistakable.

Dracule Mihawk.

A shiver ran through him. He wasn't in his old world anymore. This was the world of One Piece. And judging by the sheer size of Mihawk's hand cradling him, he was no longer an adult. He was a baby.

"You have his eyes," said a soft, melodic voice. He turned his head toward the source, finding a woman seated nearby on a rock. Her skin was a radiant shade of deep brown, her features regal and breathtaking. She had striking violet eyes and a cascade of curly black hair that shimmered in the fading sunlight. Despite her serene smile, there was a strength in her presence that rivaled Mihawk's.

"He has your charm," Mihawk responded, his lips curling into a rare, subtle smirk.

The woman laughed, a sound as warm as the sun. "Let's hope he inherited more than just that. This world is dangerous for someone who cannot protect themselves." She reached out and took the child from Mihawk's arms, cradling him close. "What shall we call him?"

Mihawk's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the boy. "Ezra. Ezra Dracule."

The name resonated within him. Ezra. It felt right, as though it had always been his name. He stared up at the pair—the two towering figures who were his parents in this new life. His mother smiled down at him, her violet eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to seep into his soul. Mihawk, on the other hand, remained stoic, his gaze sharp and assessing. Yet there was something in his posture—a subtle protectiveness—that suggested he wasn't as detached as he seemed.

As days turned into weeks, Ezra's new life began to unfold. He grew quickly, his mixed heritage becoming more apparent with every passing day. His skin was a warm, golden brown, a perfect blend of his parents' tones. His hair, a cascade of thick black waves, often fell into his piercing golden eyes. Even as a baby, there was a striking beauty to him, an aura that made people pause and take notice.

His parents—Mihawk and the woman he came to know as Selena—were an odd pair. Mihawk was reserved and distant, his words always measured and precise. Selena, on the other hand, was vibrant and expressive, a former pirate who had retired from the seas to settle on Kuraigana Island with Mihawk. Together, they formed a balance that Ezra found comforting, even if he couldn't yet articulate it.

By the time Ezra could crawl, Mihawk had already begun his "training." It was nothing formal—more a test of his instincts. Mihawk would dangle small objects in front of him, moving them side to side, up and down, watching intently as Ezra's golden eyes followed with precision. Selena often rolled her eyes at these exercises but never stopped him, content to watch her son and husband bond in their peculiar way.

One evening, as the three of them sat by a crackling fire, Selena began humming a tune. Her voice was soft and melodic, weaving through the cool night air like a lullaby. Mihawk, seated nearby with a glass of wine, glanced her way, his expression unreadable.

"Do you think he'll follow in your footsteps?" Selena asked, her gaze fixed on Ezra, who was nestled in her lap.

Mihawk's golden eyes met hers. "That will be for him to decide. But he will be prepared, no matter what path he chooses."

Selena chuckled. "Typical Mihawk. Always the pragmatist." She leaned down and kissed the top of Ezra's head. "You'll be great, my little falcon. I can already tell."

Ezra cooed in response, his small hands reaching for her face. Though he couldn't yet understand their words, he felt their meaning in his heart. He was loved. He was wanted. And for the first time in his two lives, he felt truly at home.

But even as he drifted to sleep that night, lulled by the crackling fire and his mother's humming, a part of him knew this peace wouldn't last forever. This was the world of pirates, after all. And greatness always came at a price.