ã€ŠOP: Conquering Grand Line as Satoru Gojoã€‹


 1| Spin the Wheel of Fate

    You know you''re having a bad day when you wake up floating on an endless ocean.

    "Well at least there is a beautiful sky," I muttered. Not a cloud, not a star¡ªjust these faint, shimmering streaks, like the universe had decided to try finger painting, but there was something majestic in this.

    My name is Allen. Or it was Allen. Hard to say what counts when you might be dead.

    Last thing I remembered? Falling asleep in the passenger seat of my buddy''s car on the way to a concert. Next thing I know¡ªbam¡ªfloating on the world''s flattest waterbed.

    Am I dead? Probably. Abducted by aliens? Not impossible. Or after death my consciousness was digitalized and now I am locked here forever.

    In such a situation, out of desperation, all sorts of crazy ideas appear in my head, and I have to hope that everything is not so bad.

    But wherever I was, it sure wasn''t Ohio.

    Floating there, I had plenty of time to think, which is the worst thing when you''re dealing with an existential crisis.

    My mom was probably a wreck¡ªugly crying, snot and all. She always had a flair for dramatics. My dad? No clue. He walked out when I was nine, so I doubt he suddenly developed a conscience. As for my friends¡­ well, I''d like to think they miss me.

    And me? I thought about the little stuff. The books I''d never read. The places I''d never seen.

    The movies I''d never watched because I was too busy saying "I''ll get to it later." Well, later had come and gone, and here I was¡ªfloating on the cosmic equivalent of "too late".

    And then I heard a voice.

    "Hey! You! Get up!" a boy''s voice rang out.

    I blinked and turned my head. There, standing¡ªyes, standing¡ªon the water, was a kid. Or at least he looked like a kid. Flaming red hair, eyes like molten amber, and a grin so smug it made me want to punch him on principle. His outfit was... peculiar. Ribbons, a crop top and Baggy shorts? strange outfit, but in such a situation probably not many things can be strange.

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    "Get up," he repeated, placing his hands on his hips.

    "How am I supposed to stand on water?" I shot back. "Physics doesn''t exactly¡ª"

    "Just do it," he interrupted with irritation on his face.

    Annoying, that stupid kid...

    But I followed his advice.

    After one awkward push-up, I was waddling on my feet like a baby giraffe. And it turns out that standing on water is surprisingly easy. Hmm, but I guess that only works here.

    "Good," the kid said. "We don''t have all day. Name''s Peon. I''m a demon. You''re dead. Questions?"

    I stared. "Wait, what? So I''m..."

    Peon groaned like I was the dumbest person he''d ever met. "Yes, you died. Souls like yours¡ªwandering souls¡ªdon''t just disappear. You''re eternal, which means you get a second chance. Lucky you."

    "Lucky?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the demon part.

    "Don''t interrupt," he snapped. "You''re getting reincarnated. New world, new body, new chance to mess it all up. Your job is to survive. Most of you don''t. But hey, that''s not my problem."

    Before I could argue, the water around us began to ripple. A shadow rose from the depths¡ªa massive, towering figure. For one brief, horrifying moment, I thought it was a Kraken.

    It wasn''t.

    It was a slot machine.

    Yes, a slot machine. Thirty meters tall, chrome and blindingly shiny, with flashing lights that screamed "Vegas on steroids." Peon hopped onto the lever with the enthusiasm of a kid at a theme park.

    "Behold! The ''Heart of Fortune,'' arbiter of your destiny!" he announced, yanking the lever with dramatic flair.

    The machine roared to life, reels spinning and clinking like the universe had just discovered gambling. I held my breath as the slots slowed, one by one.

    First: a pirate hat. Then: a compass. Finally, the words: One Piece.

    "One Piece?" I blurted. "You''re sending me to a world full of sea monsters, warlords, and pirates?"

    Peon shrugged. "Could be worse. Last guy got dropped into a dystopian wasteland where it rained acid, food was a myth, and the only law was enforced by a gang of cannibal cyborgs."

    Before I could protest, Peon yanked the lever again. The machine spun faster this time, clinking and chiming until it revealed a single face.

    My jaw dropped. "Wait. That''s... Gojo Satoru. Like, the Gojo Satoru? Infinity powers?"

    "Yep," Peon said, smirking. "Looks like you hit the jackpot. Don''t screw it up."

    I didn''t have time to bask in my insane luck, because that''s when the shadow appeared.

    A wolf. No, not a wolf¡ªa hulking, inky beast, its fur rippling like liquid darkness. Its eyes glowed with a cold, predatory light. And it was big. Big enough to make me feel like a snack.

    Before I could even scream, it lunged. Its jaws clamped around my torso, and¡ªwell, let''s just say it was quick. One second, I was whole. The next? I was wolf chow.

    The last thing I heard before everything went black was Peon''s voice, casual as ever.

    "Just don''t die too fast"

 2| new world

    One Piece? It''s not exactly the dream world I''d have chosen for reincarnation. it''s a brutal free-for-all with psychopaths and sea monsters. Not my vibe.

    But then again¡ªSatoru Gojo''s powers? Now that''s a game-changer. Infinite techniques, near invincibility¡ªwhat could possibly go wrong?

    I started plotting. Maybe I''d lay low, and become a merchant. No, I knew nothing about trading. How about a farmer? I''d grow exotic crops, keep weird animals, and retire to a quiet life. But that idea screamed "boring" I''ll leave this idea until I''m at least 40.

    Fine. Plan C: make a splash, become a Warlord, and secure my island. But wait¡ªdidn''t the government disband them? Then hunt them down like rabid dogs?

    Damn it, okay Plan D: ¡­ Uh, yeah, I don''t have one.

    Before I could spiral further into existential dread, my thoughts were rudely interrupted.

    After that monster wolf had feasted on me, my consciousness felt like it was deprived of my body. And then I finally felt it, but when I opened my eyes, what I saw was not what I expected to see.

    There wasn''t a forest, beach, some house, or ship. Just an endless horizon of ocean, the sun blazing in a clear blue sky, and nothing under my feet.

    At that moment, panic took over me completely. My heart was pounding like crazy, and my thoughts were racing, but there was no point in them¨CI was falling.

    There were about 20-25 meters between me and the water. The wind was whistling in my ears, and the ocean was rapidly approaching. But I didn''t even have time to figure out how to save myself, as I crashed into the water with a loud splash.

    The impact was so strong that for a moment all the air was knocked out of me.

    Darkness enveloped me, cold and suffocating. My ears rang, my chest burned, and my muscles decided they''d had enough of my nonsense. Panic clawed at me as I kicked upward, each stroke slower than the last.

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    When I finally broke the surface, the sunlight felt like a punch to the face. I gasped, coughing and choking, trying to get my bearings. The ocean rocked me like a sadistic babysitter, and the only thing in sight was water. Just endless, soul-crushing water.

    "Not again!" A sad cry from the soul came out of the chest.

    "So, uh, what now?" I croaked.

    I looked around me again, but everything was the same, just the endless ocean.

    "Calm down, think, don''t panic, just think," I told myself, trying to maintain hope.

    I quickly flipped through my memories, but now I had something else that I regret not having done. I should have punched that nasty femboy in the face with all my might.

    But after that, I calmed down and continued to think about my situation.

    And very quickly I came up with only one idea that could help me survive, only help because there was nothing that would guarantee my survival in such situation.

    I had to conserve energy and stay afloat. The first thing I had to accept was that panicking or rushing around would only tire me out faster.

    I remembered reading once that the human body can float naturally if it is relaxed enough. Relaxing in the middle of the ocean? Easier said than done, but did I have a choice?

    "Okay," I said out loud, "you can do it."

    I rolled over onto my back, spreading my arms and legs wide. Salt water splashed around my ears and face, and for a moment I thought I was drowning.

    But then I tilted my head back slightly and let my body go limp. Gradually, I began to float. It wasn''t perfect¡ªI felt the wave pull me off balance every now and then¡ªbut it was enough to keep my head above water.

    But the ocean wasn''t still. Each passing wave lifted me, then dropped me with a sickening lurch.

    The worst part was that my mind wouldn''t settle. It conjured up endless scenarios¡ªsharks or something worse circling beneath me, storms on the horizon, or my body giving up and pulling me into the abyss.

    "No, don''t think like that."

    To keep the panic at bay, I focused on the little things. The sound of the waves. The warmth of the sun. The rhythm of my breathing. I imagined myself back on solid ground, lying in a field under a blue sky. Anything to make the vast emptiness around me seem less daunting.

    Well, it wasn''t the first time, but I was able to calm my mind and just exist. I just lay on the water and looked at the sky. All I could do was hope, just believe, no, beg God, anyone, that my eyes would finally spot a ship on the horizon.

    Time crawled. I watched the sun inch across the sky, trying to gauge how long I had until nightfall. Because if I was still out here by then? Let''s just say I wasn''t optimistic about my chances.

    Then, it happened.

    A sharp pain stabbed through my leg, so sudden and intense that I yelped and flailed. My heart leaped into overdrive as I glanced down at my leg.

    Blood.

 3| GG

    "What the¡­" I breathed out, my voice shaking, barely audible over the pounding of my pulse in my ears.

    A thin ribbon of red swirled around my leg, unfurling in the water like smoke in the air. My mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. Sharks? Or some freaky One Piece ocean monster?

    And then I saw it.

    A shadow moved beneath me, long and serpentine, writhing in the water.

    My chest tightened. The chill of the ocean was nothing compared to the cold fear clutching at my heart. This wasn''t just a predator. This was something out of nightmares - a monster that should exist only on paper, on screens, but never in life.

    The shadow slid closer, and instinct screamed for action: swim, dive, run - whatever. But my mind whispered louder: stay where I was. I couldn''t swim away, and if I didn''t provoke it then maybe, maybe everything would be okay.

    He leaned away for a moment. For the briefest of moments, I held onto hope. Maybe it''d lost interest.

    But no.

    The water exploded in front of me, an explosion of foam and fury. A huge sea serpent broke the surface, its emerald scales catching the sunlight, glittering like shards of glass.

    Water poured off its body in streams as it rose high above me, casting a huge shadow that swallowed me whole.

    Its head was monstrous, the size of a house, with eyes that burned bright and cruel. Those eyes met mine, and I felt like pitiful prey. In its eyes, my value was no more than a piece of floating meat.

    A guttural hiss ripped through the air, so loud and deep that the sound itself seemed to bite into my bones.

    ''Move!'' my mind screamed, and as its jaws lashed out at me, I lurched to the side, desperation giving me speed, incredible speed.

    Its teeth missed by inches, but the force of its blow sent a wave crashing down on me. The water rushed in, dragging me under before spitting me back to the surface. I gasped for air, coughing and choking as panic threatened to overwhelm me.

    The snake writhed in the water, its movements frighteningly fluid for a creature its size. It seemed to be playing with me, enjoying itself. Then it leaped again, faster this time.

    I had no choice. I dove beneath the surface, the cold grip of the ocean swallowing me whole. Through the dark depths, I watched as its massive body sliced ??through the water above me, creating a vortex that pulled me along with it.

    When I emerged again, gasping and spluttering, the creature was ready to attack again. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would burst, but the adrenaline kept me going.

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    I need something. Anything.

    My hands searched the water in blind desperation, but there was nothing there¡ªno stick, no rocks, no weapon. Just the endless, uncaring ocean.

    The snake lunged at me again, its massive head cutting through the water with a terrifying hiss. I swam away again, desperately, barely escaping its snapping jaws, but one of its scales grazed my arm.

    "Ah!" I screamed as a searing pain shot through me. Blood ran down my arm where the razor-sharp scales had left a shallow, stinging cut.

    "Fuck!" I cursed through clenched teeth, my voice breaking as fear and rage wove through my chest.

    It wasn''t just pain that drove me now. It was something primal. Survival, rage¡ªan inexorable refusal to die here.

    The snake struck again, and this time I didn''t just duck. With a roar of despair, I lunged at it, clutching at its slick, scaly face. My fingers burned as they met its razor-sharp surface, each scale tearing into my flesh, tearing it to the bone.

    "Son of...!" My voice burst out, breaking into a hoarse scream, muffled and full of despair. Anger and fear tangled into something wild, primal, pushing me to do the impossible.

    The snake responded with a roar so deafening that it penetrated my head and rang in my ears like a clap of thunder locked inside my skull.

    it''s massive body shuddered in a mad dance. I felt like a grain of sand caught in a hurricane. Each blow of her scales against my body left behind thin, burning cuts.

    I grabbed her head, feeling my fingers slide and cut on her razor scales. Blood flowed from my palms in stormy streams, mixing with salt water, and the pain grew, filling me entirely.

    It was a living, almost sentient pain, screaming, "Let go! Let go!"

    But I couldn''t. Somewhere inside, deep in my tortured soul, another voice was louder: Fight or die.

    I pulled myself up higher, my fingers shaking but not letting go. And then her eye was in front of me. Enormous, shiny, like a dirty gem, sparkling with a fierce malice from within.

    "Take that!" I croaked, and drove my fist into her eye with a force I didn''t know I had left.

    My body felt the fist pierce the shell of my eye with a wet, sickening squelch. Her roar¡ªthat damned roar¡ªsuddenly rose to a new, unbearable level. It was such a sound that it could have caused stones to crack.

    Her head jerked up, and then with incredible zeal, she pierced the water. She began to sink, fast and inexorable.

    Her powerful body disappeared into the abyss, dragging me along with it.

    I pulled my hand out of her eye and swam away with a quick jerk. It was hard to say how I managed to do it, but my fingers finally unclenched.

    Her figure disappeared into the depths, flashing once more before dissolving into the darkness.

    But I was still underwater. Too deep. My lungs burned as if a fire had fallen upon them. Every second in this salty hell lasted an eternity.

    Swim! Swim, damn it!

    I pushed myself forward, my legs flailing at the water, my hands straining toward the weak but still visible light above. The world around me began to narrow, becoming black and dense, like night.

    And then - I broke through the surface. The air rushed into my lungs with such force that it seemed to burn my throat. I choked, coughed, gasped for air like a drowning man clutching at a straw.

    Somewhere in the distance, the last weak roar of a snake was heard, slipping away like a nightmare that was almost forgotten. Its shadow dissolved into the depths of the ocean, disappearing from my life like an evil spirit sated with my pain.

    I lay on my back, letting the waves rock me like a helpless rag doll.

    Blood dripped from cuts, salt water ate away at fresh wounds. Every cell in my body screamed from fatigue and pain. But one thought, the only one, sounded louder in my head than the roar of the monster.

    I survived.

    ???

    If you find any mistakes or incorrect word usage in the text, please let me know.

    English isn''t my native language, and my practice mostly consists of watching streams/videos and talking with friends on Discord, so I might not be familiar with all the nuances that native speakers know.

 4| demons liquid

    Died, got eaten by some freak-wolf, spawned in an ocean, and fought with a giant snake...

    Now, here I am, just lying on the ocean''s surface, my body a mess of wounds (yeah, most of my front is torn up, but I didn''t even notice until the adrenaline wore off). All thanks to that damn snake. I should''ve gone for its other eye. And this saltwater¡ªhell, it stings like nothing else.

    Have you ever been dunked into a pool with fresh cuts? No? Well, imagine getting stabbed all over, then marinated in liquid fire. That''s what this feels like. Probably a little dramatic, but every tiny movement sends waves of pain rippling through my body.

    But I''m alive. At least for now.

    Forty minutes have passed since my grand duel with Mr. Oversized Eel, and my limbs are starting to feel like they belong to someone else. Heavy, sluggish. I''m pretty sure I''m just floating here like some half-eaten fish, waiting for nature to finish the job.

    Maybe drowning isn''t so bad. Peaceful, even. Just a little more time and¡ª

    No. No way. I didn''t fight a sea serpent just to give up now.

    But what can I do?

    As I remember, Satoru can hover in the sky, and teleport¡ªthat would be really useful right now¡ªbut I don''t even know how to use cursed energy.

    That dumbass kid did say there were a lot of people like me, so I guess I''m just not the main one. Great. Not the protagonist. Just another background extra in someone else''s isekai dream...

    At least I won''t die from torture, or burning alive, or¡ªno, drowning is still a pretty bad way to go.

    I get distracted by the sound of birds flying above me. I look at them and think that if I were reborn as one of them, I could fly freely. Yeah, maybe I''d have to eat bugs, but at least I''d be alive. My gaze follows them until they disappear over the horizon.

    And that''s when I see it. A blur. A ship. Small, but real. I blink a few times, making sure I''m not hallucinating. Nope. Still there.

    I still barely believe it. I see it, I see the ship¡ªfinally!

    I don''t care whose ship it is¡ªtraders, pirates, marines¡ªI don''t care.

    I gather whatever strength I have left and force my arms to move. My strokes are sluggish, barely pushing me forward, but I keep going. My body protests, every muscle screaming at me to stop. I tell them to shut up.

    The ship gets closer. Or maybe I get closer to it. Hard to tell. My vision blurs. My breath is ragged. Just a little more.

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    And then¡ªhands. Rough, calloused hands grabbing me, hauling me up like a particularly pathetic catch of the day. I collapse onto the wooden deck, coughing out seawater, feeling the solid, blessed, non-liquid surface beneath me.

    I never in my life thought I''d be so happy to be on something solid. Honestly, it wouldn''t surprise me if I started crying right now. Damn, I''m so happy to feel the cracked wooden deck that I''d kiss it¡ªif I wasn''t too tired to move.

    "Kid, you alive?"

    I crack open an eye. A bunch of guys in simple clothes, smelling like fish and some other not-so-great scents, are staring down at me. Fishermen. Not pirates. Just regular, confused fishermen.

    "Hope so," I croak out, my voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

    "Where''d you come from?" one of them asks.

    "Yeah, what happened to you?" another man chimes in.

    "I..."

    Crap. I can''t tell them the truth. They definitely wouldn''t believe me, and I don''t want to be marked as crazy or some dangerous weirdo.

    "I was on a ship, a-a-and..." I stall, buying time to come up with something believable. "It was transporting goods and people, a-a-and... I had a fight with some guys, and they ended up throwing me overboard."

    The fishermen exchange glances. One of them, an older guy with a scruffy beard and eyes that have probably seen too much, sighs. "Damn merchants, always trouble."

    I nod weakly. "Yeah. Merchants." Sure, let''s go with that.

    One of them kneels beside me and starts checking my wounds. "You''re lucky you didn''t bleed out, kid. These cuts¡ªhow the hell did you stay afloat this long?"

    I shrug¡ªor at least I try to. "Dunno."

    Another fisherman disappears below deck and returns with a rag and a bottle of something that smells strong enough to strip paint. "Hold still."

    I don''t get a chance to argue before he presses the rag against one of my wounds.

    Now, I consider myself a tough guy. I just fought a giant sea serpent, after all. But when that rag touches my skin? I let out a sound that can only be described as a strangled yelp.

    The fishermen chuckle. "Hurts, huh?"

    "No," I grit out. "Feels great. Like being salted for winter storage."

    They laugh again, but at least they keep patching me up. After what feels like forever, they wrap the worst of my wounds in bandages or just some rags, I didn''t look closely, but from the look on them, I was sure I wasn''t the first for them.

    Like I have a choice. If it will help me to survive, I''m not picky.

    "You have a chance to live," the old man says. "We''re heading to a village. You can rest there."

    A village. Civilization. Actual land.

    I exhale a shaky breath. "Thanks."

    My throat feels like I''ve swallowed a bucket of sand. Now that I''m not actively drowning, another pressing issue takes center stage¡ªwater. Or, well, any kind of liquid that won''t kill me.

    I lick my cracked lips and manage to croak out, "Got any water?"

    One of the fishermen, a burly guy with a thick beard, grins and rummages through a crate.

    "Aye, got something better." He pulls out a wooden flask and tosses it to me. I barely catch it with my shaky hands.

    I don''t question it. I just twist the cap off and take a deep gulp.

    Bad idea.

    The liquid burns down my throat like liquid fire, searing my insides and making my already exhausted body go into full rebellion. I sputter, coughing violently, eyes watering. "What the hell¡ª"

    The old man chuckles. "Good, eh? Warms the bones."

    Oh, it warms something. Like setting my entire digestive tract on fire.

    My vision wobbles. My head suddenly feels twice as heavy. The exhaustion I''d been holding at bay comes crashing down like a collapsing ship mast.

    "Wait," I mumble. "That was... strong..."

    And just like that, my body decides it''s done.

    The last thing I hear before everything fades to black is the sound of the fishermen laughing as I slump over, completely out cold.

    ???

    Some of you might not know, but from Gege''s interview about Satoru, He never drinks alcohol. Because of his unique brain, when he drinks it, he instantly loses consciousness.

 5| first bed

    I was unconscious, but that didn''t stop them from talking about me.

    "Hmph. Do you really think we should have fished him out?" one of the young men muttered. His voice was low and skeptical. "Maybe a pirate, one of that crew."

    "He''s too beat up to be a real threat."

    "A kid like that? If he is, he''s the worst pirate I''ve ever seen."

    "But if his crew threw him overboard," a third one added. "Maybe they had a good reason."

    A few of them grumbled in agreement. Tough crowd.

    "Enough." That was the old man''s voice¡ªthe one who had patched me up. He had the kind of tone that made people shut up and listen. "We ain''t tossin'' a wounded man back into the sea. First, we put him to bed. Then we figure out what to do with him."

    Nobody argued after that. At least loudly.

    **

    I finally snapped back to reality. Wow, what a horrible dream.

    Reluctantly, I cracked open my eyes, expecting to see the familiar, comfy interior of the car. Heated leather seats, maybe even a snack waiting for me. Instead, I got¡­ a dimly lit wooden room that smelled like a public toilet that hadn''t been cleaned for months, and they dumped a ton of fish on it.

    Instead of a plush seat, I was sprawled on a hammock¡ªbasically a glorified pile of moldy rags. Lovely.

    As the cold, hard truth hit me¡ªthis wasn''t a dream¡ªI seriously considered crying. Okay, maybe not full-on sobbing, but at the very least, I was ready to throw a pity party.

    Damn it. Why did I even agree to that stupid concert?

    Also, why does my entire body feel like it got steamrolled? I looked down and¡ªyep¡ªwrapped head to toe in random scraps of cloth. No proper bandages. Either they ran out or decided I wasn''t worth the expense.

    Suddenly something nudged my shoulder. I groaned, peeling my eyes open. A kid¡ªcouldn''t be older than ten¡ªwas staring down at me with a grin like I was some kind of rare catch.

    "Oi," he said. "You alive?"

    He was just an average kid with blond hair, a bit on the skinny side, and wearing clothes that had clearly seen better days.

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    "The elders said you might not wake up."

    "Yeah, well¡­" My voice came out hoarse like I''d swallowed a bucket of sand. "I''ve got a bad habit of not dying."

    The kid laughed. "That''s a good habit to have."

    I pushed myself up on my elbows and immediately regretted it. My ribs screamed in protest, and my head felt like it had been used as an anchor. The kid noticed and quickly grabbed a wooden cup from beside him.

    "Here, drink this."

    I eyed the cup warily. "It''s not¡­ that stuff from earlier, is it?"

    He snickered. "No, just water. I think you had enough of the Dad''s drink."

    I took the cup and sipped cautiously. Cool, fresh, and definitely not alcohol. My throat thanked me immediately.

    I remembered something, and I''m pretty sure it wasn''t the strength of that drink that knocked me out, although it''s now high on my list of drinks to avoid.

    I''m pretty sure I didn''t get Satoru''s strength. He saw the world differently, though maybe I just don''t know how to turn on his powers¡ªand can his power be turned off? Okay, I''ll figure it out later, maybe I didn''t get his eyes and techniques, but I''m pretty sure I inherited his debuffs.

    "So are we still on the ship?" I rasped.

    "Yeah. We''ll be docking soon," he said. "They told me to wake you up so you could get ready."

    I frowned. "Get ready for what?"

    The kid shrugged. "Dunno. But the old man said we''ll figure out what to do with you once we''re on land."

    I glanced around. The room¡ªor rather, the cramped storage space they''d dumped me in¡ªwas small, lined with fishing nets and crates that smelled like old bait. Through a gap in the wooden planks, I could see the fading light of the evening sky. Night was creeping in, and with it, a cold breeze that seeped through the cracks in the ship''s hull.

    "Is it true the merchants beat you up like that?"

    "Uh, yeah," I said.

    Right. My new story.

    "And how was that?"

    "Tough. And painful."

    "Why would they do that to you?"

    I froze. Yeah. The details. The tiny little facts I absolutely had not thought through because I had no clue where I was.

    "That," I said, stalling, "is a long story."

    "I have time."

    Of course, he did. I eyed him again¡ªsame innocent expression. Too innocent. But he will definitely tell the fishermen about our dialogue, or those men themselves asked him to get me to talk. Either way, anything I told him would probably get repeated.

    "I''m tired," I tried.

    "But you can still talk."

    Okay, officially the most irritating child in existence. But fine. Stalling had bought me a little time, and I had something now. It wasn''t perfect, but considering I had zero idea which ocean I was floating in¡ªplease, not the Grand Line, please¡ªit would have to do.

    "I needed to get somewhere," I started. "Met some peddlers with an empty seat. Paid them to take me since their route was nearby. On the trip, we played some games¡ªhigh stakes, you know, valuables on the line. Turns out, I was too good. Won a little too much. The guys in charge didn''t like that. Told me to hand over my winnings. We, uh, disagreed on that point. Next thing I knew, they were beating me up, tossing me overboard, and sailing off with my fortune."

    The kid blinked. "Wow, you''re dumb."

    "What? I was smart. I just... forgot to bring guns. If I had them, I would leave that ship with a hill of stuff."

    "In conclusion: you''re stupid and broke."

    Deep breaths. He''s just a kid.

    "I want to sleep," I muttered and flopped back on the makeshift bunk, wincing as pain shot through every inch of my body.

    These wounds sucked. This ship sucked. This whole day sucked. But someday¡ªsomeday¡ªI''d have a big, soft bed, 50 maids helping with everything, and I''d sleep for weeks.

    For now? I''d settle for not dying.

 6| second bed

    I closed my eyes. But the universe, being a troll, decided I didn''t deserve sleep.

    A rough shake yanked me out of my blissful near-coma.

    "Oi! We''re docking," the boy''s voice said.

    I opened an eye and blinked at him, my vision still hazy. The lantern lit his face. It showed his eager intensity in the dark of this ungodly hour.

    "¡­Are you serious?" My voice came out scratchy. "Didn''t you tell me that, like, five minutes ago?"

    "That was 30 minutes ago."

    "Same thing."

    I exhaled with a deep breath and tried to sit up. Bad idea. The second I moved, my body reminded me of what I was like after facing Sukuna''s domain. My arms, stomach, and legs were throbbing as if they were taking revenge on me personally. Just lifting my torso made me feel like I was being stabbed over and over again.

    How did I even make it onto this ship with these wounds? Oh, yeah¡ªpure desperation and a refusal to die like a soggy piece of driftwood.

    "Kid, go get someone," I muttered, wincing as I tried to shift my weight. "I might be able to stand, but there''s no way I''m getting up on deck by myself."

    "Okay!" He nodded and bolted up the stairs.

    A couple of minutes later, two men clomped down into the cabin. They looked exhausted.

    One of them crouched next to me, scanning my injuries with a look that screamed, Yep, this guy''s a mess.

    "So, where does it hurt the most?" he asked.

    "Arms, stomach, legs," I listed, then sighed. "But mostly my arms."

    "Alright. You''ll live."

    Not exactly a comforting diagnosis, but I would take it.

    One of them grabbed my legs, the other my torso, and together they hauled me upright. I gritted my teeth so hard I was surprised they didn''t crack. My body screamed in protest, every muscle making it very clear that this was a horrible plan.

    The whole time, I kept my face twisted in pain, trying very hard not to yell something unflattering.

    They hooked my arms over their shoulders. Then, they began the slow, torturous process of getting me to the stairs. If I''d been much shorter, they probably could''ve just carried me. But nope, I had to walk.

    Each step was its own personal nightmare. My body protested every movement. By the time we reached the ladder, I was pretty sure my entire nervous system had filed a formal complaint.

    One of the fishermen climbed up ahead of me and grabbed me under the armpits. The other stayed below. They held my legs like I was an overgrown sack of very uncooperative potatoes. Inch by inch, they hauled me onto the deck.

    Evening had settled in. The sky had that deep orange hue that made everything look strangely peaceful.

    No time to admire the view, though. My two assistants lifted me again. They half-dragged and half-hauled me to a wooden plank that led down to solid ground.

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    I don''t think I need to describe the agony of each step. You get the idea. But let''s just say if my body were a person, it would have slapped me across the face for putting it through this.

    And then¡ªfinally. Land. Solid, unmoving, blessed land.

    A couple of hours ago, I''d have been like Denji from Chainsaw Man. I''d have been ready to be someone''s footstool if it meant getting pulled onto a dry surface. But now? Now I just want to survive the next five minutes without collapsing.

    While the rest of the crew unloaded the ship, two men dragged my sorry self through the village. This wasn''t a land of luxury¡ªmore like a peaceful village where people lived their modest but happy days.

    And then we finally turned toward a house.

    It was a simple wooden home, painted white with red patterns along the edges. Not fancy, but cozy in a way that suggested the people inside actually cared about it.

    The guy on my left let go of me (which, ow, thanks for that) and banged on the door.

    "Carol! Open up!"

    Silence.

    He knocked four more times, each bang more impatient than the last.

    Finally, the door creaked open. Instead of the middle-aged woman I''d expected, a girl stood there¡ªprobably no older than eighteen.

    She has striking pink hair that cascades past her shoulders, styled with straight bangs that frame her delicate face. Long lashes accentuate her piercing blue eyes. Her expression is calm yet slightly aloof, exuding an effortless coolness.

    She had the kind of expression people get when they open the door to find a stray dog on their porch. Except in this case, the dog was I.

    "Hi, En," she said. Her voice was just normal. "Mom''s not home. She went out to get groceries."

    "Your brother and father will be here soon," the man said. "Just get a bed ready while we get him inside."

    "What!? Who''s that?"

    "Fished the kid out of the sea," he said. "Didn''t think he''d last another hour in the water. Your dad decided to keep an eye on him for now."

    She hesitated, eyes narrowing at me like she was debating whether I was some kind of con artist.

    "Uh¡­ okay," she said.

    While the girl went to prepare a bed, the guy returned to me and helped me with another one to get into the house.

    The walls were white with sky-blue striped wallpaper. On them were paintings, furniture, and various other things. It was clear they had lived here a long time.

    They guided me through the doorway, and I barely managed to duck before my forehead made an unfortunate acquaintance with the doorframe.

    As I waddled inside (graceful as a wounded penguin, mind you), the girl zipped from room to room like she was on a speed run. Every time she reappeared, she was carrying something different¡ªboxes, blankets, what looked suspiciously like a dead rat. Meanwhile, from somewhere down the hall, I heard the sound of furniture scraping against the wooden floor, way too heavy for her scrawny frame to be moving alone. Either she was stronger than she looked, or ghosts were helping.

    About two minutes later, I found myself in what I''d been thought was "my room." Ha. Nice joke. It was technically a pantry¡ªemphasis on technically¡ªbut one that had long since declared war on cleanliness and organization. She had cleared a space against the right wall, just big enough to shove me out of the way in case anyone needed emergency access to, I don''t know, a moldy can of cucumbers. My "bed" was a shaggy rug. My "blanket" was a suspiciously tapestry-like piece of fabric. The only thing that could be considered an actual bed item was the pillow, and even that looked like it had survived some sort of disaster, and clearly provided free housing services to my future pest neighbors.

    They sat me down on my makeshift nest, and the moment I dared to rest my head, the pillow let out a puff of dust. A whole cloud of it. My lungs immediately filed a complaint, and my throat took matters into its own hands by trying to evict the invader with a hacking cough that made my ribs regret their life choices. Great. Even my sleeping arrangements wanted me dead.

    "Well, we''re off," the guy to my left said, dusting off his hands like he''d just finished some grand construction project. "We''ve got more work to do, but you rest for now."

    "Yes, Hana. Father will be here soon," the other added. "If anything happens, call for help. And be careful."

    The girl¡ªHana, apparently¡ªnodded but kept watching me like I was a feral raccoon that might start foaming at the mouth any second.

    "Okay," she said, carefully neutral.

    The two men left, shutting the door behind them.

    I exhaled and let my aching body sag into the world''s worst bedding. Maybe this wasn''t ideal, but hey, I''d finally gotten a moment of peace. Naturally deserved, if you asked me.

    Yeah. No. That was a mistake.

    "So," Hana said, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes full of suspicion. "Who are you?"

 7| I am...

    Who am I?

    Fantastic question. Unfortunately, one I didn''t have a solid answer for.

    I needed a background story¡ªsomething believable, something that made sense for a guy who just washed up half-dead. I couldn''t exactly say, "Oh, I got isekai''d by a sadistic demon and dropped into the ocean for a fun little death game." That was a one-way ticket to getting thrown back into the water.

    Okay, think. Most people don''t just leave their home with all their belongings unless they have a damn good reason. Am I a runaway? A trader? A really, really bad sailor?

    "Did the fish bite your tongue off? Answer me," Hana snapped.

    I blinked at her. She was still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes filled with suspicion. Yeah, okay, fair. If some random dude suddenly ended up in my house, I''d also have questions. Island folk weren''t the most trusting of outsiders¡ªespecially ones who looked like they''d been through a blender.

    I sighed, straightened up as much as my bruised body would allow, and put on my best inspiring young dreamer face.

    "I have not yet become someone," I said, channeling every ounce of theatrical energy I had left. "And that is why I left my home. I gathered the few possessions dear to me and set off on a long journey¡ªto see the world!"

    Hana raised an eyebrow.

    "Since childhood," I continued, voice dripping with dramatic enthusiasm, "I have dreamed of becoming a great writer! But how can one write about the world without first seeing it? How can one capture adventure without living it? That is why I ventured into the great unknown! To witness the wonders I have only read about in Brag Men!"

    Honestly? I thought it was a pretty solid performance. Passionate. Poetic.

    Hana did not look impressed.

    "So you decided to swim across the ocean by hand?" she deadpanned. "For... better inspiration?"

    I gave her a long, slow look. The kind that clearly said?

    She had the audacity to smirk.

    "I bought passage on a merchant ship," I grumbled.

    "And?"

    "They chopped me up and tossed me overboard."

    Hana blinked. "That''s rough."

    "Yeah, tell me about it."

    "Where were you headed?"

    "The Grand Line."

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    That made her pause.

    She stared at me like I''d just announced I planned to tame a Sea King with my bare hands.

    "The Grand Line?"

    Uh-oh.

    Had I messed up? I''d assumed¡ªbased on what little I''d seen¡ªthat this wasn''t the Grand Line. But what if I was wrong? What if I just said the equivalent of "I was on my way to America" while standing in the middle of New York?

    "I mean¡­" I hesitated. "I¡ª"

    "No way!" She cut me off, shaking her head. "Some traders beat you up, threw you into the sea, and you wanted to go to the Grand Line?"

    I exhaled, relieved she wasn''t calling me an idiot for not knowing where I was. At least my hunch had been right.

    "I''m not a fighter," I admitted.

    "No, you''re just out of your mind," she muttered.

    Then, without another word, she shut the door and left.

    I didn''t get her reaction, but at least it looks like she accepted me to live with her for some time.

    And NOW I finally can rest. No way that something will appear that will prevent my well-deserved blood and sweat vacation.

    Yeah, lying on the carpet and the old smelly pillow is not the best, but right now I am safe and can just sleep. For me, that is enough.

    I closed my eyes and ignoring the annoyances, fell fast asleep.

    ---

    The Coast of Koko Island

    A small, battered fishing ship rocked gently at the pier, its single sail drooping like it, too, was tired of life. The ship looked like it had been through more than its fair share of storms, misadventures, and questionable repairs. Its patched-up hull gave off the impression that it had been cobbled together by sheer determination and duct tape, even if no one knew what duct tape was on Koko Island.

    Three men busied themselves hauling baskets of fish onto the dock. Nearby, an older man stood ankle-deep in nets, his fingers moving with the precision of someone who had been doing this job during decades. Beside him, a young boy stood, wide-eyed and attentive, soaking up every twist and turn of the old man''s hands like a sponge.

    Two figures approached from the village.

    "Hey, Joe! You about done?" called one of them. His voice carried an air of impatience, like he had somewhere better to be, though everyone knew he didn''t. His name was En, and he always spoke as if he was late to an appointment he didn''t have.

    Joe didn''t look up, but one of the men on the boat hollered back. "Long time comin'', En! We''ve already unloaded half the haul without you!"

    En''s companion didn''t bother with introductions. He climbed aboard the creaky ship and disappeared below deck, leaving En to approach Joe, who was still fiddling with the net.

    "Net trouble?" En asked, eyeing the tangle of rope with an expression somewhere between sympathy and boredom.

    Joe let out a snort that might''ve been a laugh. "Torn. Figured I''d fix it before it gets worse."

    Joe was the kind of man who looked like he had been carved from driftwood¡ªtough, weathered, and unyielding. His skin was a patchwork of sunburns, scars, and fine lines. His red hair, now streaked with gray, clung stubbornly to his temples, the last holdouts in a losing battle.

    En ruffled the young boy''s hair, earning a sharp laugh. "Learning, are we?"

    "Yes, sir!" the boy answered, practically bouncing with enthusiasm.

    "Good lad. This knowledge will be useful to you," En said, winking at the boy before his tone turned quieter.

    He hesitated, then lowered his voice. "Joe, about the boy¡­"

    Joe''s fingers paused for just a moment, then resumed their work. "What about him?"

    En glanced at the boy¡ªDrake, they''d been calling him¡ªand then back at Joe. "I mean, are you sure about this? Bringing a stranger here, and in his condition, with the way things are now¡­ You know those freaks won''t like it."

    Joe didn''t flinch. "You think I''m gonna let the kid die out there?"

    "No, no. It''s just¡­" En scratched the back of his head, searching for the right words. "Aren''t you worried? They won''t turn a blind eye to this."

    Joe sighed and finally looked up, his green eyes sharp enough to cut through the ocean mist.

    "Later," he said firmly. "If it comes to that, then we''ll just get together with the elder and sort everything out. Until then, I''m not leaving the kid to fend for himself."

    En didn''t argue. He gave Joe a resigned pat on the shoulder before heading off to help the others with the baskets, leaving Joe and Drake by the nets.

 8| Satoru

    When I opened my eyes, the world had shifted. Gone was the cramped, musty room. Instead, I found myself sprawled on a priste wooden floor, so immaculate it seemed to glow under the soft, ambient light. The air was crisp, carrying the faint, sweet aroma of cherry blossoms¡ªI thought I''d forgotten that smells could be good.

    The room around me was a masterpiece of modern Japanese design. Sleek, minimalist furniture adorned the space, and the walls were lined with expansive windows that framed a sprawling city skyline. This wasn''t Koko Island. This wasn''t even close to anything I''d seen before.

    I stand up slowly, half-expecting my body to protest with the familiar ache of my recent injuries. But there was nothing. No pain, no scars, no lingering stiffness. I ran my hands over my arms and chest, confirming what I already knew¡ªI was whole again. The fight with the sea serpent, the blood, the wounds were like it had all been a bad dream.

    "Took you a while"

    The voice came from behind me, smooth and confident, laced with amusement. I turned sharply, nearly losing my balance.

    Leaning casually against the doorway was him.

    Satoru Gojo.

    He looked exactly as I remembered¡ªtall, lithe, white-haired, with that ever-present blindfold that somehow enhanced his charisma rather than obscured it. His smirk was sharp, effortlessly exuding a mix of arrogance and charm that was uniquely his.

    "Relax," he said, pushing off the doorway and strolling into the room with the grace of someone who owned it. "You''re not dead. Well, not again, anyway. This is your inner world¡ªa pocket dimension that your soul has a pass to. And lucky for you, I''m here to teach you how not to die horribly."

    I blinked, trying to process his words. "My inner world? So, this is some kind of mental training ground?"

    "Bingo," Gojo replied, popping the word with a grin. "You''ve got my body, but right now, you''re about as skilled at using it as a child driving a new Porsche. So, we need to fix that."

    "Wait, my body?" I muttered. I had been so focused on survival, I hadn''t even considered the details of my reincarnation. If my body is like his then¡ªwhy didn''t I have his eyes? "And if that''s the case, I fought that sea serpent without your eyes or techniques."

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    Gojo tilted his head, the blindfold somehow conveying pure skepticism. "You mean the snake that nearly turned you into sushi? Yeah, impressive. When you go back, you''ll have my eyes, my techniques, the whole package. But first, you need to learn how to control cursed energy."

    I raised an eyebrow. "So, you''re my Yoda now?"

    Gojo''s grin widened. "Even cooler, kid. I am Satoru"

    Despite myself, I laughed. The absurdity of the situation was almost comforting. Here I was, in some metaphysical training room, being mentored by one of the most overpowered and popular characters in anime history.

    If this was a dream, I didn''t want to wake up.

    "Alright, then," I said, steadying my voice. "Teach me, the greatest teacher, how to become the strongest."

    Gojo, snapping his fingers in my direction, held out his index finger like a gun and said with a smile, "You got it fast."

    Then, Satoru''s smirk faded slightly, a rare flicker of seriousness crossing his face. "First, you need to understand what cursed energy is. Your body passively generates it¡ªanger, fear, hatred¡ªall fueling it. You''ve already used it, even if you didn''t realize it. That burst of strength you felt when you fought the snake? That was cursed energy."

    I nodded, absorbing his words. "So, how do I start?"

    "We start with the basics¡ªcontrolling cursed energy for enhancement. My techniques are way too complex for you right now." He extended his hand, and a large, transparent sphere appeared in his palm. "Remember that creepy corpse Yuuji trained with? This is my version. You''ll have to infuse it with cursed energy at a controlled rate. Each time you succeed, the sphere will increase its resistance. If you mess up¡­"

    I hesitated. "Then what?"

    Gojo''s smirk returned. "It''ll electrocute you."

    I winced. "Right. Sounds fun."

    He tossed the sphere toward me. I reached out to catch it¡ª

    And completely fumbled it.

    The ball slipped through my fingers, bouncing once before I scrambled to grab it, making an absolute fool of myself. Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, we''ve got a lot of work to do."

    Embarrassed but determined, I scooped up the sphere and held it at chest level, fingers tightening around it. I stood still, feeling Gojo''s gaze on me, waiting for something to happen.

    Seconds passed. Nothing.

    I sighed. "Uh¡­ how do I actually transfer energy?"

    Gojo clasped his chin in exaggerated thought. "Hmm, usually it''s intuitive for sorcerers¡ªit''s like moving a limb you didn''t know you had. Try closing your eyes. Visualize the energy bubbling inside your stomach, spreading through your body. Then, guide it into the sphere."

    I closed my eyes, focusing. At first, there was nothing. Then¡ªa flicker. A warmth building inside me, pulsing like liquid fire through my veins. It was exhilarating, almost overwhelming. But I held on, following Gojo''s instructions, willing the energy toward my hands, into the sphere.

    "Good," Gojo murmured, a note of approval in his voice. "Now, open your eyes."

    I did. The sphere was pulsing, A faint blue glow emerged from within. Dim but steady.

    "See? That wasn''t so hard. Now, we move to stage two." Gojo clapped his hands together, grinning.

    I exhaled a newfound determination settling over me. With Gojo as my teacher, I had much more chances to survive.

    And who knows? Maybe one day I''ll even become the strongest, as Satoru. Or even more.

 9| new vision

    A pocket dimension where I could train with Satoru Gojo¡ªyeah, the Satoru Gojo

    It was insane. Like, next-level, mind-blowing, "is-this-even-real?" kind of insane.

    Which made coming back to reality a total buzzkill.

    One second, I was standing there, holding a ball filled with my cursed energy. The next¡­ Face-planted on a carpet that hadn''t seen a vacuum since the Stone Age. And let me tell you, my body is still messed up.

    For a hot second, I thought maybe I''d imagined the whole thing. Maybe my consciousness was so shocked by the events that were happening that he decided to give me a wonderful vacation. But then I opened my eyes, and¡ªwhoa.

    The world looked¡­ different. Like, way different.

    It was as if someone had increased the resolution of reality from 144p to 8k. New colors, everything was brighter, movement was clearer, and I could see details I didn''t even know existed. Small bumps and cracks in the wall? There are. Dust specks floating in the air? Double check. And my own cursed energy? Oh, I could see that, too. Every thread, every pulse, every flicker - it was as if my body had become a glowing neon sign, and I was the one holding the remote control.

    At first, it was too much. My brain felt like it was about to short-circuit from information overload. I mean, Satoru made this look easy, but he''s basically a walking cheat code. For me? It was like trying to drink from a firehose.

    I spent the next hour just lying there, staring at the ceiling, trying not to freak out. Slowly, though, I started to get the hang of it. My brain and eyes adjusted and stopped feeling like they were about to explode, and I finally managed to sit up¡ªof course, accompanied by pain.

    Squeeeak!

    The door groaned like it hadn''t been oiled since the invention of doors. In walked this older guy¡ªbig, burly, late fifties, with a wooden box full of supplies that looked like they''d seen better days.

    "Already awake," he said, his voice low and gravelly, like he''d been chewing on rocks for breakfast.

    "Yeah," I muttered. "Thanks for the help."

    He plopped the box down next to me like it weighed nothing.

    "We need to re-treat your wounds."

    "Yeah, sure," I said, because what else was I going to say? No thanks, I''ll just bleed out here?

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    He pulled out a jar of medicine and some clean bandages¡ªactual medical supplies, not the crusty rags from the ship that looked like they''d been used to clean up.

    The whole process took forever, and let me tell you, the first-class treatment I''d gotten earlier? Total garbage. This guy, though, he knew what he was doing.

    As he worked, my mind started wandering. Reverse cursed energy. That was the goal. If I could master that, I''d never have to worry about wounds again. And could I use it for other people, I''d be the best doctor in the world. Throw in some flashy skills, and I''d be rolling in cash.

    "It should be fine now," the guy said, snapping me out of my daydream. "Might leave some scars, but you''ll live."

    "Thanks," I muttered. Scars were whatever, but the idea of my body looking like a girl''s hands after a depressive teenage period? Hard pass.

    "So," he said, casual as anything, "where are you from?"

    "Huh?"

    Crap. I wasn''t ready for this. Couldn''t I just wake up without immediately having to lie my face off?

    Honestly, if I was going to get Gojo''s powers, they should''ve thrown in Usopp''s lying skills too.

    Okay, focus. I needed a real island name. Something that existed in this ocean¡ªwhichever one I was in.

    I racked my brain. One Piece islands could be crazy, but most of the weird ones were on the Grand Line. So where was Nami from again? Coco Island? No, Coto? Cono¡­ something?

    Damn, I didn''t remember any of the stupid islands outside the grand line at all.

    Ok, that is One Piece, and probably there will be some strange names. So my island will be-e-e¡­ Noco? No. Something more Japanese.

    Hmm...

    Miku... Mikuno.

    Yeah. That sounded legit. Even if not just act natural. Confidence is key.

    "I''m from Mikuno," I said, smooth as butter.

    "Mikuno?" He frowned. "Never heard of it."

    Fuck.

    But no giving up. People usually go along with it if you keep talking nonsense with enough confidence.

    "Yeah, it''s far away," I said, keeping my tone steady. "In the north."

    "And you sailed from there straight to the Grand Line?"

    "Yeah. Long trip."

    He stared at me for a second, then nodded. "Ah. Now I get it."

    I tilted my head. "Get what?"

    "The bandits. They must''ve taken advantage of you being so young."

    I blinked. Oh. That was the conclusion he came to?

    "Merchants," I corrected him.

    "Same thing," he said with a grunt.

    Hard to argue with that. Especially in this world.

    "And your name?"

    "Allen," I replied. "Allen Walker."

    "I''m Joe. Until you''re back on your feet, you''ll be staying here."

    "Thanks."

    Joe stood up, but instead of leaving, he walked over to a pile of junk near a half-broken closet, rummaged through it, and pulled out an old metal bucket. He carried it back over and set it beside me.

    I frowned. "Uh¡­ what''s this for?"

    "If you need to relieve yourself," he said flatly.

    I stared at the bucket. Stared at him.

    "...What?"

    "I can''t carry you, so that''s your option for now."

    I opened my mouth. Closed it. Stared at the bucket again.

    "...Right. Okay," I said awkwardly.

    With that, Joe left, shutting the door behind him.

    I looked at the bucket. The bucket looked at me.

    Yeah. Hell no.

    There was zero chance I was using that thing. No way was I going to just sit here with my own waste next to me like some medieval prisoner.

    I wasn''t an aristocrat, but I had standards.

    Fine. If that was the choice, I''d just limit my water and food intake. I''d last five days, tops. By then, I''d be able to walk to a proper toilet.

    This was a battle of willpower.

    And I was not going to lose.

 10| training

    Yeah, this place is a blast.

    I''ve memorized every single hole in this damn ceiling.

    No phone, no TV, no music¡ªnothing to entertain me. I can''t even read a book thanks to my wounds.

    Maybe someone would tell me to use this time to practice controlling cursed energy, but my training stopped at just infusing it into an orb. Beyond that? No clue. No training program, no next step. So all I can do is wait until I somehow slip back into that inner world again.

    If only I knew how.

    I tried sleeping, but of course, that didn''t work. Not when my stomach''s been empty for a full day. And right next to me? A plate of freshly cooked meat, the smell taunting me.

    But I refuse to give up.

    Still, everything has a limit. I spent hours just lying there, watching the energy flow through my body. At first, it seemed pointless, but with my new vision and the insane amount of detail my brain processes now, it was overwhelming. And exhausting.

    At some point, without realizing it, I finally passed out.

    And instead of dreams, I was back there.

    The same luxurious house. The same warm lighting and faint, pleasant scents in the air. And best of all¡ªmy body was completely fine. No wounds, no pain.

    God, I love this place.

    But where''s Sensei?

    I wandered through a few rooms¡ªthe apartment was massive¡ªuntil I found him in what looked like a personal movie theater. There, lounging in a plush leather chair, Satoru Gojo sipped on soda, eyes fixed on the screen.

    "Sensei?"

    "Yo," he answered without looking away.

    "What are you watching?"

    "Django..." He casually gives his review¡ªand spoiled it in the process.

    "I haven''t seen it," I muttered, annoyed. Why the spoilers?

    "And you won''t. It didn''t exist in One Piece."

    "Uh-huh," I deadpanned.

    Wait¡­ could I watch movies here? I had no idea how this place worked.

    Before I could ask, Gojo stood up, stretching as he walked over¡ªhis soda still in hand.

    "You know, disappearing mid-training isn''t exactly polite."

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    "I didn''t choose to," I said. "I don''t even know how to enter or leave this place."

    "Yeah, yeah. Either way, we''re continuing."

    "So¡­ what? I just watch movies like Itadori?"

    "Nah~" He smirked. "But that is a solid workout plan." He grabbed my shoulder¡ª

    And suddenly, we were under the open sky, standing on a massive training field.

    "You''re gonna move this time," Gojo said. "Run, play soccer, basketball¡ªwhatever. Just keep the energy flowing."

    "That sounds boring alone."

    "It''s training, not a vacation," he shot back.

    Then he tossed something at me.

    The same glass orb.

    This time, I caught it without fumbling. Small victories.

    "So what am I supposed to do? Run around holding this thing?"

    "Not exactly." Gojo snapped his fingers, and the orb shifted¡ªmorphing into transparent gloves, lightweight sneakers, and a pair of lenses.

    "Put them on."

    I did. The gloves were so thin I barely felt them, the sneakers were the most comfortable I''d ever worn, and the lenses? No irritation at all. It was like they weren''t even there.

    "You still have to keep your cursed energy flowing through them," Gojo reminded me.

    I flexed my fingers, wiggled my toes. "Damn. These are really nice."

    "Of course. I made them."

    I rolled my eyes. "So¡­ what exactly am I doing?"

    Gojo grinned.

    "Running."

    "Running?" I repeated.

    "Yeah, running," he said, stretching like this was just another casual morning for him. "And no, before you ask, you''re not getting a treadmill. You''ll be running here¡ª" he gestured to the vast, open field. "And you''ll be keeping cursed energy flowing through your feet the entire time. You screw up, stop, fall, become lazy, I will add obstacles."

    "Obstacles?" I narrowed my eyes.

    "Pfft, relax. Just some holes, quicksand, wild dogs, landmines¡ª"

    "WHAT?"

    "Kidding."

    I didn''t believe him for a second.

    Gojo clapped his hands together. "Alright, let''s get started. First, try running normally. No cursed energy."

    That seemed reasonable. I took a few steps forward, then broke into a light jog. The ground felt solid, the wind rushed past me, and the sneakers were ridiculously comfortable. Maybe this wouldn''t be so bad.

    Then my legs turned into bricks.

    "What the¡ª?!" I stumbled, barely keeping myself upright. It was like every step got heavier, like something was sucking the energy out of me.

    "Oh, forgot to mention," Gojo called from behind, "these cool things feed off your cursed energy. You already know how to release the cursed energy and concentrate it. But this time you have my eyes that give you the ability to use the cursed energy in endless quantities. You need to master it"

    I looked down. My feet were sinking into the ground like it was quicksand.

    It was quicksand.

    "YOU SAID YOU WERE KIDDING ABOUT QUICKSAND!"

    "No, I said I was kidding about the landmines."

    "You¡ª"

    "Better start focusing, Allen." His voice was all amusement, but it had a dangerous edge. "You wanna move? Infuse your energy properly. Get lazy, and you''re part of the floor."

    "I am gonna die."

    "Don''t worry, even if you die, you just go back to your fancy room."

    I gritted my teeth. Fine. Not the first time.

    I closed my eyes for a second, focusing on my cursed energy. I could see it in my mind, flowing sluggishly through my body, concentrated mostly in my core. Slowly, I tried directing it downward¡ªtoward my legs.

    The instant it flowed into my feet, the sinking sensation stopped.

    I exhaled in relief and took a step forward¡ªonly to zoom ten meters ahead like I''d been launched out of a cannon.

    "OH SHI¡ª"

    I skidded, my body failing to keep up with the sudden burst of speed. I barely managed to roll before faceplanting into the dirt.

    "Use the right amount of cursed energy, and don''t forget about eyes."

    I groaned, pushing myself up. "I hate you."

    I glared at him, brushing the dirt off my face. My energy control was a mess. Too little, and I''d sink. Too much, and I''d rocket forward like an idiot. I needed to find the balance¡ªfast.

    Because I had a feeling Gojo wasn''t done messing with me yet.

    And I was right.

    Because the next thing he did?

    He didn''t just summon a pack of wild dogs. He summoned 3 huge Megumi''s shadow dogs.

    I am sooo dead¡­

 11| my kind sensei

    I was wheezing like a dying walrus, sprinting across the stupidly massive training field. Pretty sure I broke the land speed record¡ªif, you know, my life depended on it. Which it absolutely did.

    "You need to learn to control how much cursed energy you release," Gojo called out like he wasn''t watching me get chased by demon wolves. "And never forget your eyes. It should be second nature!"

    "Oh sure, let me just flip the ''don''t-get-eaten'' switch in my brain!" I shot back.

    The field was like something out of a nightmare parkour course¡ªwalls, crumbling towers, random gaps in the ground¡ªbecause apparently just running wasn''t hard enough. Shadow wolves¡ªthree of them, each the size of a small car¡ªwere hot on my heels, their glowing eyes locked onto me like I was the world''s tastiest chew toy.

    "Shit!"

    A fourth wolf slithered out of the doorway I was about to charge through. I skidded to a stop, pouring every ounce of cursed energy into my legs to launch myself in another direction¡ª

    CRACK!

    Too much force. The wooden floor beneath me gave up on life, and I plummeted straight down.

    The impact sent a fresh jolt of pain through my body. I barely had time to groan before a shadow loomed over me. Another wolf, mid-leap, jaws wide open.

    I threw up my arms because, well, that''s all I could do. My brain had just enough time to register, Welp, this is how I die, before¡ª

    Clap!

    Everything froze. Literally.

    Then the wolf disappeared. The whole training arena shimmered like a video game glitching out.

    Gojo stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Not bad," he said, like I hadn''t just almost become a chew toy.

    The arena began dissolving. My breath came in ragged gasps as I flopped onto my back.

    I doubled over, panting so hard I thought my lungs might just quit on me. "This... is the end... of the lesson?"

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    Gojo tilted his head, his blindfolded eyes practically sparkling with amusement. "Yep."

    I groaned. "And... how long was I running?"

    "Hmm. About two hours."

    I stared at him, hoping my expression could convey the absolute betrayal I felt. "You''re joking."

    "Nope. Could''ve gone longer if you kept reinforcing your whole body. But hey, baby steps."

    Baby steps? Baby steps?! I had been sprinting like my life depended on it, and he had the nerve to call it baby steps? I groaned again, this time with enough dramatics to win an Oscar. "Fine. What''s next?"

    Gojo''s grin widened. Never a good sign. "Not now. You''ve got company."

    "Huh?" I blinked, only now realizing there were people nearby. Right. My so-called saviors. Here to check on me or something.

    "Thank you," I muttered, unsure what else to say.

    "Sure," Gojo replied with a casual shrug.

    "Yeah, and, lastly, tell me how I can get in here."

    He tilted his head. "I didn''t tell you? It''s pretty easy. You just need to¡ª"

    Poof.

    The next thing I knew, I was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged me.

    "Noooo," I groaned, turning over dramatically. "Why now?"

    "Huh?" came an irritated voice. "You. Why did Father even save such an ingrate?"

    I blinked blearily. Hana. Of course.

    "I¡ª what? I was sleeping. This isn''t about you."

    "Yeah? Then why aren''t you eating anything?"

    I gestured weakly toward the bucket sitting way too close to my bed. "Because of the bucket."

    She looked at it like it personally offended her. "And what does that even mean? Or is it your ''buddy'' who told you not to eat?"

    "What? No! I just¡ª I''m not going to use this bucket as a toilet."

    She wrinkled her nose like I had just said the most ridiculous thing ever. "And that''s why you''re not eating? Yeah, you must have been raised with a golden spoon, although I can see it in your face."

    "What''s wrong with my face?"

    "Dump. And rich."

    "What?!" I sat up, fully offended.

    Why is she talking to me like that? Why she didn''t like my face? I look just like Satoru! And I wasn''t ugly before, either!

    I am sure something just is wrong with her brain.

    She folded her arms, unimpressed. "How long are you planning to not eat?"

    "Until I can''t walk."

    She huffed. "Okay."

    And then, with a note of irritation, she grabbed the food and stormed out of the room. Just like that.

    I blinked after her. "What the hell was that?"

    Okay, so maybe starvation wasn''t the best plan, but I had other things to worry about.

    Like my eyes.

    Gojo said they were an even better version than his. I could see everything¡ªwithout cursed energy. It was incredible. But also exhausting. Not the kind of exhaustion where you pass out immediately, but the kind like walking all day with a huge bag.

    The strain was real.

    But what was I supposed to do? Walk around blindfolded like Satoru? That was fine for him. But me? If I stayed in this village, how was I supposed to explain to everyone why I could navigate freely while blindfolded? They didn''t even know about Haki.

    I sighed. I didn''t want to play blind.

    So, instead of eating, or, you know, being productive, I spent all my free time thinking about things. Thinking about what to do next. Thinking about how to handle these eyes. Thinking about how weird Hana was.

    Not that I had a ton of options.

    But, hey. It was fine.

    Probably.

 12| huge timeskip

    Three Days Later

    I was minding my own business, and thinking about different things. When I noticed my thoughts were becoming boring nonsense, I blinked and found myself in the inner world.

    Yeah, now I can be here whenever I want. Cool, right? Well, sort of. What''s the catch? My body in the world of One Piece is supposed to be completely still, which basically means I have to switch off. No autopilot, no instincts¡ªjust me, lying there, defenseless. Very convenient.

    Yeah.

    Training with Gojo has been... an experience. The first day, he thought it''d be hilarious to sic a pack of crazy wolves on me. Yeah, I know that their name is ''divine Wolfe'' but they look more like crazy hell dogs¡ªespecially when they are trying to rip my face off¡ªand ''creepy wolves'' is the kindest name I can call them by.

    The important thing is that after one near-death experience too many, Gojo decided it was "too early" for them. (Fingers crossed it stays "too early" forever.)

    Now, training is slightly less life-threatening. Instead of wolves, I''m stuck dodging a bunch of dummies in what looks like a randomly generated arena. At first, I thought, Hey, since Gojo can bend reality here, he can create a restaurant that would make the most delicious pizza during my break!

    Yeah, no.

    I asked, and Gojo just said, "No." No explanation. No discussion. Just no.

    I am sure that he doesn''t want to do it. I constantly see him drinking soda or eating ice cream or some cakes.

    But, hey, at least my new ''training partners'' aren''t actively trying to tear me apart anymore. Their new mission? Tag me. Sounds harmless, right? Wrong. Every time one of them touches me, my whole body is struck by lightning.

    Not the "Ouch, static shock" kind. It''s more like the "Welcome to Zeus''s victims list" kind.

    That being said, I''ll take electrocution over getting my head gnawed on any day. So, not so bad.

    "Let''s begin," The moment Gojo snapped his fingers, the world around me shifted.

    One second, I was standing on a perfectly flat training field, my new cursed energy-infused gear fitting like a dream. The next, I was smack in the middle of a bustling town square, only¡ªthere was no bustle. No people. Just empty market stalls, cobblestone streets, and an eerie stillness hanging in the air like the world had hit pause. The sun blazed overhead, casting sharp shadows between the buildings, and a warm breeze carried the scent of stone, dust, and something metallic.

    Then I heard it.

    The soft click-click-click of multiple feet stepping in unison. I turned, and my stomach twisted. A dozen manikins, humanoid but with creep smiles, stood at the edge of the square. Their joints creaked as they moved, heads snapping toward me in unnatural jerks. Their featureless faces sent a chill down my spine.

    "Alright, kid, time to run." Gojo''s voice echoed around me, but I couldn''t see him. Of course, he was watching from somewhere, probably munching on popcorn. "Don''t forget - you get tagged, you get zapped. So, y''know, don''t get tagged."

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    The manikins took a step forward, then another¡ª

    I bolted.

    My sneakers barely touched the ground as I shot down the narrow streets, cursed energy filled my limbs. The town was a maze of alleys, archways, and staircases, and I had no idea where I was going. I took sharp turns, leaping over crates, ducking under clotheslines, anything to increase distance between me and the nightmare parade on my heels.

    Behind me, the clatter of their limbs grew louder. They were fast. I risked a glance over my shoulder¡ªbad idea. One of them was already vaulting over a cart, its hand reaching out.

    A memory of lightning flashed through my mind. I threw myself forward, barely dodging the swipe. My heart pounded. Alright, no more looking back. I had to find a way to shake them.

    Then the world flickered.

    In an instant, the warm sun vanished, replaced by the cold, gray light of an overcast sky. My feet skidded against cracked asphalt. The cobblestone streets were gone¡ªnow I was in the middle of a modern city, abandoned and lifeless. Skyscrapers loomed overhead, their glass windows shattered. Cars sat rusting along the streets. Everything felt eerily empty, like the set of a post-apocalyptic movie.

    The manikins didn''t care.

    They adjusted instantly, moving faster now. And of course, Gojo had given them an upgrade¡ªsome of them had started jumping from rooftops.

    "Really? Parkour mannequins?" I yelled, vaulting over a car hood.

    Last day the maximum for them was to be similar to dump fast zombies.

    "Keep moving, Allen!" Gojo''s voice called out, annoyingly cherful.

    I sprinted down an alley. My sneakers absorbed every impact, my gloves pulsing with energy as I used them to push off walls, rebounding from fire escapes and ledges.

    And of course I had to keep the cursed energy flowing through them, or I''d be running like a regular human¡ªand also use my eyes to minimize consumption.

    The manikins were relentless, climbing buildings with inhuman grace, dropping down from above. One landed right in front of me, its arm swinging out¡ª

    I ducked, feeling the static charge of a near miss, and rolled beneath its legs before breaking into another sprint. My only advantage was agility, but these things were learning. They were adapting.

    Then the world shifted again.

    This time, towering trees replaced concrete and steel. A thick forest swallowed the ruins whole, its gnarled roots pushing through broken roads, vines hanging from skeletal buildings. The ground beneath me was soft earth, damp leaves squelching underfoot. The air smelled of rain and pine, and the dim sunlight barely pierced through the canopy.

    I didn''t slow down.

    Branches whipped against my arms as I tore through the undergrowth. The manikins were still there, but now their movement was heavier, clumsier. The uneven terrain threw them off¡ªat least, for now.

    I leapt over a fallen log, landing hard and pushing off immediately. A vine snagged my foot, but I kicked free, stumbling forward. The sound of pursuit hadn''t stopped, but it was more chaotic now. Some of the manikins were getting caught on roots, others crashing into low-hanging branches.

    My gloves thrummed as I grabbed onto a tree branch, swinging myself up and over a broken bridge. I didn''t stop moving, zigzagging between trees, using the environment to my advantage.

    Then, just when I thought I was finally gaining ground¡ª

    A single manikin dropped down in front of me from the trees above, landing in a crouch. Tsk.

    It lunged.

    I twisted, barely dodging its grasp, but this time I wasn''t fast enough. My foot caught on a root, and I went down hard. Before I could scramble up¡ª

    CRACK!

    A bolt of lightning surged through me. Every muscle in my body seized up for a second before the pain faded, leaving me gasping.

    "Well," Gojo''s voice rang out. "The end."

    The manikins froze, standing eerily still. The forest around me dissolved like mist, and I found myself sprawled on the original training field.

    Gojo grinned down at me, effortlessly holding out a water bottle like he hadn''t just been watching me get fried like a bug in a zapper. "You lasted longer than last time."

    "Hope so." I snatched the water and sat up, gulping down half of it in one go.

    "Sooo," I asked, still catching my breath. "Let me guess. Next part is more running?"

    Gojo gasped dramatically. "You say that like you don''t love my training. But no, today''s a short day."

    I blinked. "Wait¡­ why?"

    "You''ve got a visitor."

    "Oh..." I waved my hand and said goodbye to the sensei.

    No matter how hard it was here, there was no desire to return to my ''room''.

 13| new bandages

    So there I was, back in my "cozy" bed, contemplating the ceiling cracks like they were an ancient prophecy.

    Footsteps echoed down the hall¡ªheavy ones. Definitely not Hana. Maybe her mother? Though, given Joe''s age, my hopes for an attractive visitor were dwindling fast.

    As for my wounds? Still sucked, but they sucked a little less. I could probably walk today if I really tried¡­ not far, though because my feet felt like I''d gone dancing barefoot on a bed of glass shards.

    The door creaked open, and Joe walked in, carrying a wooden box in one hand, wearing his usual expression, but with the added bonus of slightly softer eyes. Oh, probably because he smelled like he''d had a drink.

    "Awake," he grumbled, coming up to me, and then sat down and placed the box next to me. "Good. Time to change the bandages."

    I groaned, but didn''t argue. Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself up, grimacing as the movement yanked at my half-healed cuts.

    Joe knelt beside me, rummaging through the box like a grumpy medic. He pulled out a fresh roll of bandages and a jar of something that smelled like every bad life choice mixed into a potion.

    "Healing faster than I thought," he muttered, peeling off the old bandages with all the gentleness of a barbarian. "Guess you''re not as fragile as you look."

    "Thanks," I gritted out. That''s exactly the kind of encouragement I needed to start my day.

    While he worked, I took in the room. Still the same cracked walls, same dust-covered everything. But the air felt lighter today. Or maybe that was just the scent of food wafting in from the hallway, which my stomach immediately voted as Most Interesting Thing in the house.

    Right on cue, it let out a deep, desperate growl.

    "Hana cooked," Joe said, not looking up. "She was upset last time. So you''re eating, no excuses."

    "Ah¡­ okay." I mumbled. Not because I disagreed¡ªI wasn''t about to reject food¡ªbut because the fact that she cared was¡­ kind of nice? Not what I expected from her.

    Weird. Not used to that.

    "By the way," I said, "Hana mentioned her mom. Never heard her, though."

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    Joe secured the last of the bandages with a sharp tug¡ªpossibly as punishment for asking personal questions.

    "Works on a farm in the next village. Gone most of the time."

    "Doesn''t bother you that she''s never around?"

    Joe shrugged. "She makes good money. And we''re not married anymore." He paused, then added, "It''s easier to survive together."

    Oh. Okay. That conversation went from casual to let''s not dig too deep real fast. Time for another topic change.

    "So¡­ Hana''s hair."

    Joe raised an eyebrow.

    "The pink. Normal around here, or this is how she expresses herself?"

    "Ask her yourself. And your hair is also not typical." He stood up and motioned toward the door. "Now get moving. Someone is waiting for you."

    "Who?"

    "The elder."

    Nothing about that sounded like it''d end in free dessert, but whatever. With Joe''s help, I staggered to my feet. It was exactly as bad as expected¡ªwalking felt like stepping on knives, but I gritted my teeth and hobbled along, gripping the wall like it was my emotional support pillar.

    We made it to the dining room, where a dim lantern barely lit the place. At the table sat a gray-haired man with a beard so perfectly trimmed he could''ve been a wise old mentor in a fantasy university. The dude had serious sage vibes. His eyes studied me like I was a new artifact.

    Joe gave a quick nod. "Allen, this is Elder Thomas. Head of the village."

    Thomas smiled¡ªwarm, but tired. "Good to meet you. Joe''s been telling me about your¡­ adventures."

    "Oh, yeah?" I plopped down in my chair, my legs tired from life, and turned to the elder. "Thank you for letting me stay in the village. Didn''t mean to get into trouble."

    Thomas chuckled dryly. "Trouble doesn''t need an invitation. It finds its way here just fine."

    I frowned. "That bad?"

    "Oh, I don''t even know where to start. But mostly? The war."

    "The war?" I asked in surprise.

    Like what, a war? That is definitely one of the most unexpected things I could hear in this situation.

    Why is that not just some peaceful village?

    He tilted his head. "You don''t know?"

    How would I know?

    Oh sure, let me just check my nonexistent newspaper. I still didn''t even know which ocean I was in.

    But, I gotta keep playing my character

    "Things were quiet back home. Didn''t really follow the news."

    "Hah. Lucky you. Two idiots started a war, but they''re too evenly matched. So now they''re just fighting until one collapses from exhaustion. Meanwhile, we get taxed to feed their armies. Oh, and because they''re too focused on their pissing contest, they forgot to protect their borders. So now we have pirates."

    I exhaled. "Yikes. Yeah, that''s rough."

    "Sure is. And since you won''t be staying long¡ªwhere are you heading?"

    Honestly, 10 minutes ago I was planning to stay here, but the war...

    "Grand Line."

    "But, what is the reason?"

    "I read a book about it, and I want to see all those crazy places."

    Thomas''s eyebrows shot up. "Well, young blood really knows no fear."

    Before I could respond, voices drifted in from outside. Joe sighed.

    "They''re fast."

    He pushed himself up and headed to the door. The second he cracked it open, a deep voice asked:

    "So, where''s the brat?"

    Oh great. That''s always a fun way to be greeted.

    "In the kitchen," Joe muttered.

    The door swung wider, and three guys stepped in¡ªtwo younger men, and one very not-young man with a rifle slung across his back.

    I resisted the urge to groan. Because of course today wasn''t going to stay peaceful.

 14| interrogation

    I was sitting at the table, trying to enjoy the "pleasant" company of Elder Thomas, but to my right three very unpleasant men loomed over me, radiating hostility.

    And, you know, I had a lot of questions. Like, why did Grandpa bring a rifle? And why was he holding it like he was waiting for an excuse to use it?

    The look on the elder''s face wasn''t exactly comforting either - he looked like he was preparing for a storm.

    I forced a smile. "Hey, good to see you."

    The old man didn''t blink. His gaze was cold, unflinching, the kind of look that made you feel like a bug pinned to a board.

    One of the younger men¡ªbald, wiry, with a face that seemed permanently twisted into a scowl¡ªsnorted. "So this is what you are," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. He looked at me like I was a poor orphan caught stealing

    The taller one, his black hair a tangled mess, stepped forward. "Allen," he said, his tone sharp, "how were you planning on leaving the island?"

    So they already knew my name. No wonder. Small village, quick gossip.

    I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady. "Haven''t figured it out yet."

    A pause. The three men exchanged glances.

    Then Grandpa¡ªthe one with the rifle¡ªfinally spoke. His voice was rough and aged.

    "So you plan to settle here?"

    It wasn''t a question. It was an accusation. I hesitated, my mind racing. Getting to the coast would be a victory in itself, but I had no way to prove that to them. "Well," I said carefully, "I didn''t expect to visit this island. My route passed by."

    The old man gripped his rifle tighter. "And where to?"

    "The Grand Line."

    "On what?"

    "A ship."

    "What kind?"

    "A merchant ship."

    "And which way did you plan to get to the Grand Line?"

    "I don''t know, I was promised a delivery, but I don''t know exactly."

    "Do I look like an idiot to you?"

    "No," I said quickly, my voice cracking. "I''m telling it like it is."

    "What island are you from?"

    "from Mikuno."

    "Mikuno?" Colt''s voice was a low growl. "And what island is that?"

    I swallowed. This was getting dangerous. "A quiet island in the north."

    Now I''m only being questioned by grandfather, which means these snot-nosed kids are only here for company and are hardly good at geography. And the Elder doesn''t seem to have any intention of tripping me up, but this old man. If I can make a deal with him, it''ll be easy from here on out.

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    "Up north"? It''s not like you went to the Grand Line." Said the old man in an extremely harsh tone.

    So I was in West Blue or South Blue. Good to know, but not exactly helpful right now.

    "Yeah, those guys said they had a long way to go, and they''d visit a couple islands first. And i''m not very good at geography."

    "What the hell are you talking about, you little brat?" the old man said menacingly.

    Before I could say anything, the barrel of the rifle was under my chin, tilting my head back. My pulse pounded in my ribs. The room shrank. My hands clenched into fists, but I didn''t dare move.

    "Calm down, Colt," Thomas said, his voice trembling as he rose from his chair. "Put the gun away."

    "That brat sees me as a jerk. I''ve been a marine since I was 17. There''s no Mikuno in South Blue."

    "I-I''m not a pirate," I managed to say.

    "Yeah? I''ve spent my whole life hunting down bastards like you and killing them."

    Joe stood in the corner, his gaze averted, his jaw tight. Thomas sat back down, his hands shaking as he watched Colt with a mixture of fear and resignation.

    "Tie him up," Colt barked at the two younger men.

    "There''s no need for that," Thomas said, his voice weak.

    "Shut up," Colt snapped. "If it weren''t for me, the pirates would''ve overrun this village long ago. They''d have raped the women, killed the men, and burned everything to the ground. Those bastards don''t know the word ''humanity.''"

    Fuck. My mind raced. With cursed energy, I could take them down. But it was a last resort. If I did, I''d have to flee the island, and I had no map, no knowledge of how to navigate a ship. I kinda was trapped.

    The two boys took a rope from the warehouse-the room I was sleeping in-and coiled it around me, securing it to a chair.

    "You''re not going to torture him, are you?" appealed Thomas nervously.

    "Do you feel sorry for the kid? Are you willing to put all the residents to death because of him?"

    "N-no, that''s, tha''s not¡ª"

    "Calm down old man," the bald one said, "Whether he lives or dies, the village comes first."

    Okay, this old man and these brats are probably in charge of the island''s security. And since there''s a war and a lot of pirates, they got a lot of privileges. And there''s probably more than three in this group.

    "I don''t know what''s in your head, but I promise I''m not here to loot this village or burn down your houses. I''m not sure I can make it to the shore, my condition doesn''t exactly mix with your concerns," I said.

    The old man was still staring at me. Then, in a slow, deliberate movement, he lowered the rifle a little¡ªonly to stick it in my ribs.

    "Let me tell you something, brat," he said in a voice like crushed gravel. "I''ve spent decades hunting the likes of you. I''ve seen what pirates do to innocent villages. I''ve buried the people they left behind. And you?" His lips curled. "You reek of trouble."

    I breathed diligently. "You don''t even know me."

    "I know enough. I''ve seen it before¡ªsome lost soul washes up on shore, swearing he''s no threat. Next thing he''s scouted the land, counted the fighters, mapped out the defenses, and when night falls, the ships come. The screaming starts. And by the time the sun rises, the bastards are gone, leaving nothing but ash and corpses."

    "Yes, a very harsh story, and I''m sure you''ve seen a lot of it. But I can bet my life that these pirates weren''t half dead," I pressed on, "And yes I''m from Mikuno Island, it''s a small island that was liberated by the revolutionary army and got its former name."

    I sounded confident. In this situation, I decided to go all in. Easy moves wouldn''t have solved the situation.

    It wasn''t the most likely case, but I decided to play on the fact that he was old and retired.

    Colt''s expression didn''t change, but something flashed in his eyes - doubt, anger, calculation. He didn''t believe it, but he didn''t reject it either.

    The muzzle of his rifle pressed harder into my ribs. "A liberated island, huh? Then why the hell haven''t I heard of it?"

    "Maybe because you''re retired?" I met his gaze, unflinching. "I doubt the World Government''s eager to spread news about places they''ve lost."

    Silence ensued.

    Then, BAM.

    Pain exploded in my gut. The butt of the rifle slammed into me like a hammer, knocking all the wind out of my lungs. I rolled over onto my back, gasping, but the ropes held me upright.

    Colt muttered. "You think you''re a smart one?"

    I coughed, forcing air back into my lungs. "No, but if you keep beating me up, I''m going to start thinking you just like beating up half-dead boys for fun."

    The bald one chuckled. The taller one shot him a warning look. Colt didn''t flinch. He only looked angrier.

    "You''re lucky I don''t put a bullet in your skull right now," he said, voice quiet. "Pulled from the ocean, no ship, no papers, an island that doesn''t exist, and a story that''s got more holes than a pirate''s sails." He leaned in, breath heavy. "Give me one reason. Just one. Why I shouldn''t end this right now."

 15| my dinner

    What a situation.

    An angry old guy is pointing a gun at me.

    I mean, sure, I could tank the shot if I strengthened my body with cursed energy, but that would be like announcing, Hey, I''m superhuman! Feel free to panic and shoot me five more times!

    And honestly. With my wounds, I''d prefer another week in bed.

    Also, I don''t want to kill anyone. Call me soft, but I draw the line at murdering grandpas just trying to protect their village. Given how this world works, I get it. If some weird outsider kid showed up in my town with a strange past, I''d probably be on guard too.

    So, how do I convince him I''m not a threat?

    "Look," I started to talk, "I understand why you''re cautious. But a random civilian acting weird out of fear isn''t exactly a crime. You were a marine, right?"

    Colt''s face twitches. Okay, he''s listening. Good sign.

    "You can board up the windows, slap on some cuffs¡ªheck, put bells on me if it helps you sleep at night. I''m just a guy trying to survive."

    The room goes dead silent. Colt and his goons stare me down, long enough that I start considering whether I should just make a break for it. Then, finally¡ªfinally¡ªColt lowers his gun.

    "Joe," he grumbles, "I''ll bring handcuffs. Make sure they make noise. And¡­ If anyone sees him outside unshackled, unattended, or acting strange, you know what''s going to happen."

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    Joe, who has the enthusiasm of a brick, just shrugs. "Yeah."

    Then Colt looked back at me. "If you get caught doing anything suspicious, we''ll tie you to a tree and practice shooting right on you."

    How sweet.

    Like that''s gonna happen. I bite my tongue before I say something stupid like Yeah, good luck with that. Instead, I nod. "Got it."

    Well, that''s settled. I''m not getting shot. What is my new priority? Healing up and getting off this island before I end up as the village''s personal bag for trainings.

    "And Joe," Colt adds, "tell Hana to fix my sniper rifle."

    Joe sighs like this is the worst task in the world. "I will."

    One of the other guys¡ªwho, for the record, has the most punchable face¡ªsaunters over, grabs a piece of chicken off my plate, and takes a bite. "Delicious," he says, grinning.

    ¡­I hope he chokes on it.

    "See ya," the bald one says, and with that, the three of them leave.

    The second the door closes, I exhale. "Pfft."

    Thomas wipes his forehead with a handkerchief. "Yeah, no peace of mind in my old age."

    Joe is still standing awkwardly in the corner, staring at the door like it personally offended him.

    "Hey," I say. "Mind untying me? I''d really like to eat before someone else steals my food."

    "Ah, yeah. Sure." Joe moves behind me, fiddling with the knots.

    To ease the stifling tension that filled the room after the interrogation, I asked. "So¡ªHana''s good at fixing weapons?"

    Joe nods. "Yeah. Obsessed with ''em. Anything mechanical, really."

    "Huh. Unusual hobby for a country girl."

    "Colt got her into it," Joe explains.

    Thomas chuckles. "She had a real eye for guns when she was a kid. Colt used to go hunting, and she''d watch. When she turned seven, he gave her his old gun. Been shooting ever since."

    Joe corrects him. "She was five."

    "Five? Hah! Right, five."

    Finally, the rope falls away, and I roll my shoulders. Much better. Now, all I have to do is play nice, heal up, and not give them a reason to shoot me.

    The next hour was pure bliss. We swapped stories. There was real, fat, delicious chicken on the plate - though only one leg instead of two, because of that bastard.

    And yes, I went to the toilet afterward. A regular toilet. I almost cried.

    From now on, this should be easy.

    At least I hope so.

 16| Yep, next timeskip

    17 days later.

    So, yeah. Seventeen days.

    That''s how long I''ve been stuck in the world of One Piece.

    You''d think, after all the hype about pirates, sea kings, and devil fruits, I''d have seen something epic by now. Nope.

    My grand adventures so far? One sea monster (which, okay, was terrifying) and a village so ordinary it made the parking lot look like a theme park.

    Oh, and let''s not forget the fashion statement I''ve been rocking: a pair of metal bracelets connected by a chain.

    Not your standard handcuffs, mind you. These were more like oversized, clunky bracelets that jingled every time I moved. And trust me, that jingling. It''s the soundtrack of my misery.

    The chain gave me about 15-20 centimeters of freedom between my hands, which is just enough to make you feel like you''re not completely trapped but also not enough to do anything useful. Like, say, escape.

    Also, my living situation hasn''t exactly been five stars. My so-called room was basically a storage closet, the kind of place where you''d expect to find dusty old fishing nets and forgotten junk¡ªnot an actual human being. The only window had been boarded up so thoroughly you''d think they were bracing for the zombie apocalypse. If I wanted to leave, I had to call for an escort, like I was some kind of VIP prisoner.

    And then there was Hana''s mom. Oh, boy. I finally met her, and let''s just say¡­ I wish I hadn''t.

    See, I''d found this old photograph in a grimy drawer¡ªone of those faded, curled-at-the-edges types. In it, a stunning blonde stood next to a man who looked eerily like Joe, except he had a pink beard. I was convinced this was young Joe, and naturally, I had expectations.

    Big mistake.

    Imagine the crankiest, most overbearing aunt you''ve ever met¡ªthe kind who smells like boiled cabbage and glares like she''s personally offended by your existence. Now take that image and crank it up to ten.

    Joe, bless his sea-worn soul, must have the patience of a saint to put up with her. If I were him, I''d have jumped ship¡ªliterally¡ªyears ago.

    The only bright spots in this whole mess? Hana and Joe. Hana''s still her prickly self, but she''s softened up a bit. And Joe? He''s the kind of guy who''d give you a heart-to-heart talk over a drink, but only after he''s made sure you can handle his no-nonsense attitude. He''s tough, gruff, and doesn''t sugarcoat anything, but there''s a weird kind of comfort in that.

    The only times I got to interact with them were during meals or when they needed me to do chores. Cleaning, moving stuff, fixing things¡ªbasically, I''ve become the village handyman. Not exactly the glamorous life I imagined when I thought about being isekai''d, but hey, it beats being eaten by a sea serpent.

    Oh, I almost forgot. The boy, I''ve only seen him twice. He lives with his mother.

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    But the real highlight of my days is training with Satoru in my inner world. Yeah, sure, sometimes I wished I could just die and get it over with¡ªlike when he sicced a pack of shadow wolves on me or made me run through an obstacle course that felt like a sadist designed it or made me fight that horrible sea creature again. But looking back, those moments were¡­ kind of awesome¨Clike not something you could do in normal life.

    I mean, how many people can say the Satoru Gojo has personally trained them?

    Sure, he''s smug, sarcastic, and has the patience of a caffeinated squirrel, but he''s also the closest thing I''ve got to a mentor in this crazy world.

    As for my wounds, they''re mostly healed. I can walk, carry heavy stuff, and even do a decent impression of a functional human being. I''ve got a few scars on my fingers and toes, but they''re barely noticeable. Honestly, they''re kind of cool¡ªlike battle scars.

    Now, about my future plans. I''ve been thinking. A lot. And I''ve decided: bounty hunter.

    Yeah, I know, it sounds not exciting, but hear me out. Pirates? No thanks. 90% of them are just glorified thugs, and the other 9% are probably worse.

    Marines? Too much structure, too many rules. I''m not exactly the "yes, sir, no, sir" type.

    But bounty hunter? That''s got potential. Traveling the islands, taking down bad guys, living on my own terms¡ªit''s the closest thing to freedom I can think of.

    Of course, there''s the small matter of getting off this island first. I don''t have much money¡ªzero. And my skills are¡­ well, let''s just say I''m a work in progress. But with Satoru''s training and a little luck, I might make it work.

    So, what am I doing now? Well, let''s break it down. I''ve inherited Satoru Gojo''s powers, and the man personally trains me.

    I also know the plot of One Piece - well, not all of it, because I died a couple years before the finale. Yeah, thanks for that, universe. Still, I know about Haki, the Grand Line, the World Goverment, and all the crazy stuff that''s coming. Give me a year or two, and I could be the most feared force in all of South Blue.

    But what''s a guy like me actually doing right now? Cleaning the toilet.

    Yep. You heard that right.

    Since I don''t bring in any income, Hana and Joe have graciously decided to help solve the problem. By "problem-solving" I mean that they''ve dumped all the dirty, mucky work on me that they don''t want to touch. So here I am, scrubbing away, with the jingling of my chain bracelets serving as the world''s most depressing soundtrack.

    Just as I finished up, the front door slammed open.

    "I''m home!" Hana''s voice echoed through the house.

    Joe, who was sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee and reading the newspaper, glanced up. "How was the hunt?"

    "Not great," Hana grumbled, kicking off her boots. "The gun kept jamming. Again. and this stupid fog."

    She walked down the hallway, pausing as she passed the bathroom. "Hey, Allen," she said, giving me a quick nod before continuing on.

    "Listen, Dad," she called out, "when do you plan on stopping by Luminis?"

    Joe set his coffee down. "Why? Do you need something?"

    "Yeah, tools and supplies to fix this gun. It''s useless in this state."

    Joe sighed, folding the newspaper. "Not anytime soon. The news is saying the kingdom''s fleet was defeated by pirates not far from here. It''s too dangerous to travel right now."

    Hana let out a heavy sigh, clearly frustrated.

    I stood up, stretching my back. The toilet was clean, my chore for the day done. But Joe''s news brought me back to reality.

    On one hand, I was glad to have a roof over my head and people who¡ªdespite everything¡ªseemed to care about me. On the other hand, I couldn''t help but feel trapped. There was no question of getting off this island now. Too boring¡ªmy daily life is hardly pleasant or even acceptable.

    But that didn''t mean I was giving up.

    I''d already started thinking about my options. Maybe I could pull a Luffy and stow away in a barrel. Or, better yet, build a small boat and slip away under the cover of night. Sure, it sounded crazy, but so did fighting a sea serpent with bare hands.

    The only problem? These stupid chains.

    Every time I moved, they jingled, a constant reminder of how far I still had to go. But I wasn''t giving up. Not yet.

 17| uninvited guests

    As I went to wash my hands, my thoughts kept circling the same grim reality.

    I want a full, vibrant life. And this place? Yeah, not exactly the land of opportunity.

    And now I have no escape. No map, no boat.

    I wiped my hands dry and headed for my room. Halfway there, I stopped dead in my tracks.

    Three weeks. Three weeks of this.

    Enough.

    I spun around and marched straight to the kitchen.

    "Joe," I said, putting on my best I''ve-got-a-plan voice. "Think I could have a little talk with Trigger-Happy Old Man?"

    Joe barely glanced up from his newspaper. "Who?"

    "Who tried to kill me."

    Joe finally raised an eyebrow. "And why, exactly, do you need to talk to him?"

    I clinked my wrists together in an exaggerated motion. "Take a wild guess."

    He snorted. "Doubt he''ll care."

    "Didn''t shoot me last time," I pointed out.

    Joe''s gaze drifted back to the paper he was reading, but his focus had gone elsewhere. He was considering it.

    "He won''t change his mind," Hana called from her room, her tone dripping with you''re-an-idiot energy.

    "Don''t worry. I''ll sweet-talk him," I shot back.

    Joe hesitated, then sighed. "I''ll ask him."

    "I''d appreciate it," I said with a grin. "And hey, it''ll make life easier for you too."

    Hana scoffed. "How does that change anything for us?"

    I glanced toward her door. "You have another mouth to feed? If I work, I can make money."

    "No way he''d approve of that," Joe cut in.

    "Why? Because if I start working, I''ll get a lay of the land and maybe send back some info?" I asked, dripping sarcasm.

    "Yeah, that''s exactly why," Joe replied, deadpan.

    "Come on. It''s not like I''d... I don''t know. Ok, then how about building a boat in a couple of days, blindfolding me, and sailing so far I can barely see the island."

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    "Wow, that hurts. Are we that unbearable?" Hana quipped.

    "It''s not you," I admitted. "I just have a fundamental issue with being locked inside like some house cat or dog."

    "So what, then?" she asked.

    "So what, what?"

    "Where would you go? Back to the Grand Line?"

    I shrugged. "Could go there."

    Joe sighed again, rubbing his coffee like he regretted every life choice that led to this moment. "I''ll ask him. But not today. The weather''s bad. It''ll be dark soon."

    "Fine. It can even be next week, then. I just need to talk to him."

    I turned, ready to retreat into the usual monotony. But the universe¡ªor whatever deity was up there pulling the strings¡ªhad other plans.

    BOOM.

    Three explosions shattered the night. One was so close the windows rattled.

    "What the hell?" I gasped.

    Hana and Joe were already on their feet. Joe darted to the nightstand and yanked out a gun.

    Hana stepped into the hallway, her own weapon steady in her hands, her face set in a way that made it painfully clear¡ªthis was about to get messy.

    I turned to them and said, "So, Do you''ve got some kind of plan? You and that old man were cooking something up."

    "Uh-huh," Hana replied, but her expression was like she was staring at Judas after his betrayal.

    "What is it?" I asked looking at her.

    She remained silent as she quickly checked her ammo, then answered, "It''s just weird that you asked about it today."

    "What?" I asked surprised as it was unexpected. "I''m just having bad days right now."

    "Yeah, I hope so." She shouldered past me, boots thudding toward the door. "I''m heading out."

    "Stay out of the way, if they''ve already landed, go back to your position in the village," Joe said.

    "Yeah, yeah, I know."

    "I''m serious, it''s dangerous. You have to be as careful as possible."

    "Yeah Dad, I know, bye." and she left the house.

    Just as I was about to ask Joe, several shells came raining down again¡ªtwo landing uncomfortably close.

    I''m no gun expert, but those explosions felt more like rockets than cannonballs.

    "Damn, what the hell are they shooting at?"

    While I scanned the view outside, trying to gather information, Joe pulled a long box from the closet and took out a saber. He fastened the belt around his waist and slid the blade into its designated slot.

    Then he looked at me with a challenging look.

    I realized at once that I was a burden to him. He couldn''t trust me.

    Clearly, he had a task to accomplish in defense, most likely to take up some sort of defense position.

    "So, tie me to something? Or whatever you''re thinking of." I spread my hands as best I could, feigning indifference.

    He threw a glance at me and then answered afterward. "I have to."

    "Just get in the room. I''ll lock it¡ªjust stay put. No matter what I think, your possible connection to the pirates means that if some villagers see you on the street, they might shoot you. So sit tight," he said.

    "Yeah, fine."

    I followed his words and went back to my room. He closed the door and sort of put something under it¨Cyeah, huge trust.

    Now, again I am alone in this room.

    Ha, what a situation. What am I even supposed to do?

    I can probably help them with what I''ve got. And most likely my contribution will be huge.

    Though I doubt the villagers will see me as an ally. Besides, after this, they''ll realize my story was a lie.

    Maybe I should just grab a boat and disappear. But no map, no compass¡ªhow far would I get? I don''t know the first thing about navigating open water. But staying? If Hana and Joe die¡­ would I regret it? What about the others? Yeah. Yeah, I probably would.

    Damn, it''s so complicated.

    I sat with my back against the door and put my head down and thought.

    Slumping against the door, I dropped my head into my hands. Every choice felt like a trap.

    I''ve got my head in my hands and I just don''t know what to do. If I don''t help, I''ll probably feel sorry for the deaths. If I run away, there''s no guarantee I can swim to any island. If I help, the inhabitants will probably want me to leave the island. And again. Without help in navigation, I don''t know where I''ll end up.

    Or maybe I''m just looking for excuses. I don''t know. I''ve never been in a situation like this before.

    I¡­ I just... I don''t know the right answer.