When Dr. Hiriluk first introduced me to his “kid,” I was stunned. A reindeer? A talking one, at that—or so I thought. He wasn’t like anything I’d seen before. Covered in snow, with bright, curious eyes and a nervous twitch in his step, the little creature—Chopper—looked more like a frightened animal than a child.

At first, I couldn’t understand what Hiriluk was thinking. How could he bring something like that into our lives? A freak, some would say. And if I’m honest, part of me thought the same. But… living far away from judgmental eyes in that quiet cabin, things began to change.

Over time, I got used to the way Chopper lingered by the door when he thought no one was watching. How he followed Hiriluk around with silent admiration. How he looked at me with those round, hopeful eyes when I made soup or patched his little coat. And then—after the Human-Human Fruit—he spoke. A miracle, really. But one that came with new challenges. He was just a child, after all, only now with words and questions and dreams.

I surprised even myself when I began stepping into the role of a mother. It wasn’t something I’d planned. But he needed someone, and somehow… it felt right. We became a family, strange and stitched together though we were.

And somewhere in those months of odd routines, shared meals, and snowy mornings, Hiriluk and I found a rhythm too. We made it official—not in a big way, but in the way that mattered. Just us, and Chopper, in the home we’d built together.

One morning, we decided to take a stroll into the village—something rare, but peaceful. Chopper held my hand, bundled in his scarf, asking questions about the snowflakes and babbling excitedly. That’s when we saw him: Luffy.

An old friend of Hiriluk’s, Luffy lit up when he spotted us. He ran over with that trademark grin and enthusiasm that seemed impossible to resist. After some chatting—and lots of explaining on Chopper’s end—he invited us to join his crew.

Not once.

Not twice.

Three times.

And that’s where everything started to change—again.