"Jie jie jie… I am a Brain Brain Fruit user! Hand over your brain obediently!"
Those were the last ridiculous words echoing in his mind before his consciousness fixated on something far more terrifying—the cold, unyielding front of a hundred-ton truck.
Boom!
Who understands my pain?
As everything faded, he thought he heard something strange—mechanical clicks, the signature electronic chime of a Cybertronian—but the voice was a cutesy loli tone.
> "I thought it was a speed bump."
"Go tell my insurance company."
"We are all living with effort."
The absurdity of it all barely registered before the unfairness of the situation hit him.
Damn it! I'm so unwilling! My 512GB USB drive full of study materials is still—
Darkness swallowed the thought. There was no gentle drifting away, only a bone-deep tearing sensation that seemed to rip him out of existence.
---
When he opened his eyes again, it wasn't to a hospital ceiling, nor the afterlife—it was an entirely foreign world.
A salty sea breeze rushed into his nostrils, heavy with the savage, almost primal scent of a jungle untouched by man.
Towering trees, broader than any back home, rose high into the sky until their crowns merged into a living green ceiling. The cries of strange birds and the distant roars of unseen beasts echoed all around, weaving an unfamiliar and dangerous symphony.
Beneath him, rough gravel pressed sharply into his bare skin, each jagged edge a reminder that this was painfully real.
"What the hell… where did you bring me? Is this still China?"
The voice that emerged was high-pitched and tender, not his adult tone at all. It was the voice of a child.
Panic flared. Kyle scrambled to touch himself—head, arms, chest, down to… there.
All accounted for. Two arms, two legs, kidneys in place, and his little brother safe.
"Good, good… Wait—what good?!" He slapped his forehead. "Idiot! You're three years old! Three! On a deserted island! There's nothing good about this!"
His past life's memories were scattered, like shards of glass that refused to fit together. The memories of this body were no better—blurred images, indistinct sounds, only the faint recollection of a shipwreck before everything went dark.
---
Survival Comes First
Before he could untangle the mess in his head, a far more urgent alarm went off—hunger. His stomach twisted painfully, demanding attention.
Cold followed swiftly, as the sea breeze cut through his thin, tattered clothes like a knife.
Then came the sounds. Low, predatory rustles from the forest, and the occasional snap of branches. His instincts screamed danger.
Kyle's body moved before his mind caught up, scrambling across the beach until he spotted salvation—a low, shallow cave carved halfway into the cliffside by waves.
It stank of damp rot, the smell of salt, mold, and something that had long since died. But right now, it was shelter.
He pressed himself into the deepest corner, hugging his knees, letting the sounds of crashing waves drown out the occasional unsettling chewing noises from the jungle beyond.
"System?" he whispered hopefully.
"Ring Grandpa?"
Only the surf answered.
The reality hit like a brick—there was no system, no mysterious guide, no helping hand.
Good news? He had transmigrated.
Bad news? The difficulty setting was clearly stuck on "Hell Mode."
Still, he couldn't help muttering, "I am Kyle Grylls… not really… and today, I'm going to show you how to survive in one of the most extreme and dangerous places in the world."
If only the camera crew were here to save him afterward.
---
Three Years Later
Three whole years. Do you have any idea how I've lived?
In that time, Kyle's body had grown at an almost unnatural rate. Not only taller, but stronger, faster, and sharper—more so than any normal child had the right to be.
Years of running, climbing, hunting, and fighting had hardened his body into lean muscle, every movement packed with explosive power.
"Hi, hey, hey—got food again, brothers!"
He whistled cheerfully, processing a freshly caught wild rabbit with swift, practiced motions.
"Today's menu: roasted rabbit, weird small fruit for dessert—Q-piled on the side. Let's eat, brothers!"
The rabbit was gone in minutes, leaving him patting his stomach in satisfaction.
For dessert, he turned to the fruit. It was pure white, its skin decorated with perfect concentric spiral patterns.
"Hiss… why do I feel like I've seen this somewhere? Ah, whatever. Delicious or not, your brother Kyle will know with one bite!"
One bite later, he regretted all his life choices.
His face went from green to white in seconds, stomach churning like a washing machine on spin cycle.
"Ugh—blegh—pffft—"
He spat several times, desperate to rid himself of the taste.
"It's like… fermented socks worn in summer for a month… paired with a rat that's been dead for three months… boiled for forty-nine days over high heat… until it reaches quantum-level stench."
Even he shuddered at his own description. He shook his head violently, trying to drive the memory away.
---
The Routine of Survival
Every day began the same way: a naked run along the beach. Bare feet slapped against damp sand, each stride sinking deep before springing out again. The incoming tide quickly erased the trail of small footprints he left behind.
Strength training came next. Over the years, he had discovered a natural "gym" deep in the jungle—a clearing littered with boulders of various sizes, perfect for lifting, carrying, tossing, and throwing.
His peers back on Earth might have been learning to write neatly. Kyle was casually pressing rocks twice his height.
During workouts, he cursed freely—drawing from the full arsenal of his previous life's national swears—and hummed half-forgotten pop songs.
"That day's squid~ squid up!" he sang mid-lift, then with a roar, he launched a massive rock into the sand with a satisfying thud.
Agility training was even more dangerous. The jungle was his obstacle course—fallen logs to leap over, thick vines to swing from, predators to dodge.
His senses had sharpened to an edge; the slightest rustle or shift in the wind became instant data, forming judgments before conscious thought.
Combat practice was crude but effective. His spear techniques had been honed against tree trunks—thrust, sweep, chop—every strike drilled to be fast, accurate, and merciless.
"Take this! Monkey Steals the Peaches—bah, bah, bah! No, no, focus, Kyle! You're going to be the man who punches Bear Grylls and kicks Ed Stafford!"
---
The Observation Deck
When the day's training ended, Kyle would sit at the cliff's edge, looking out over endless blue waves.
The ache in his muscles was a welcome friend. It meant he had survived another day. It meant he was stronger than yesterday.
Flexing his bicep, he smirked at the hard, defined muscle—earned through blood, sweat, and roasted rabbit, not steroids or shortcuts.
"Homelander? Pfft, I don't even eat beef," he muttered. "Breaking news in the fitness world—Six-Year-Old Superman Bench Presses the Sun!"
---
The Fruit That Changed Everything
That night, however, something gnawed at his thoughts.
Lying on his crude bed of dried leaves, he found his mind wandering—not to tomorrow's hunt, but back to that cursed fruit.
Its taste had been unforgettable in the worst way. But worse still were the spiral patterns covering its skin.
Spirals… Where had he seen them before?
A faint memory tickled the back of his mind, like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle hiding just out of sight.
Then—lightning.
The fog in his mind split open. He remembered.
A world of endless oceans. Wild, larger-than-life adventures. Pirates and Marines clashing over the meaning of justice. And fruits—strange, magical fruits with swirling patterns—that granted supernatural powers at a terrible cost.
Devil Fruits.
Kyle sat bolt upright in the darkness. His heart hammered as the pieces clicked together. The spiral patterns. The revolting taste. The impossible strength and recovery he'd had even before eating it.
It all fit.
The massive creatures on the island, the unnatural environment, the sheer size of the world around him—it wasn't just another world.
It was that world.
The world of One Piece.
His voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried the weight of destiny.
"This… is the world of One Piece."
And somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, the greatest adventure in history was waiting for him.
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