Rishi coughed. And not the "a little tickle in the throat" kind. No, this was the terminal-cancer, end-of-the-world, dramatic special edition cough that made him sound like a one-man percussion band. Each hack rattled his bones, made his lungs wheeze, and reminded him cruelly that life had a deadline.
And yet… he couldn't stop scrolling on his phone. The dim glow illuminated his pale, near-skeletal face, making him look like some tragic anime protagonist who'd been cursed by the universe. Except, in his case, the grimness was painfully, disgustingly real.
"Chapter 1157…" he whispered hoarsely.
"Again. I've read it three times, maybe four… and still no ending. Oda, you monster! You're going to kill me with suspense before the cancer even finishes its job!"
His cat, Shanks—a smug tabby with one ear slightly chewed off in a previous skirmish with a neighbor's dog—stared at him. Its green eye glinted like a tiny feline god judging humanity.
"Seriously, human, are you going to die over fictional pirates?" Shanks seemed to ask with a yawn that could slice through steel.
Rishi waved a frail hand. "Not helping, Shanks! You weren't there when the latest chapter dropped. You don't know the agony!"
Shanks blinked slowly, clearly unimpressed, and then curled up in his bed, leaving Rishi alone with his obsession.
Rishi sighed, leaning back against his threadbare pillow. His phone's battery was dangerously low—like his own life—and he muttered, "Maybe… maybe this is it. Maybe after this chapter, my suffering will finally… end…"
And then, the world went black.
When Rishi opened his eyes again, everything had changed. Gone were the familiar clutter of his bedroom, the faint smell of instant noodles, and the ever-judging glare of Shanks the cat. Instead, golden sand stretched beneath him, warm and firm. Gentle waves lapped at his feet. A breeze carried the faint, unmistakable scent of something large, something scaly, and something that could probably eat him whole if it wanted to.
He scrambled upright. "What the—? This… this isn't my room! My phone! My bed! Shanks!"
The only reply was a seagull squawking indignantly, as if he had personally insulted the entire seabird population.
"Oh… oh no… am I dead?"
A sharp, pulsating headache exploded behind his eyes. Rishi doubled over, clutching his skull. "Ow… ow… ow… someone's playing drums on my brain with a sledgehammer. Why… why now?!"
He rubbed his temples and blinked at the glaring sun. The sea stretched endlessly in one direction, sparkling under the bright light. To the other side, a dense jungle rose, dark and foreboding, as if hiding millions of reasons to die painfully.
And from deep within that forest, he could feel it—a pressure, almost alive, tugging at his mind. Something enormous and ancient. Something that wanted to remind him he was nothing.
His stomach twisted. "Nope. Definitely nope. Absolutely, 100% nope."
But, of course, curiosity won. Always. Rishi had survived chemotherapy, survived terminal cancer, and apparently survived the cruelest cliffhangers in manga history. Surely he could survive… whatever this was.
He staggered upright, testing his new body.
"Okay… legs seem to work. Lungs… surprisingly functional. Hands… normal enough. Probably."
A faint, golden warmth shimmered under his skin as he moved. "Uh… huh… weird. Maybe I'm getting stronger? Or maybe I'm hallucinating? Chemotherapy brain does weird stuff…"
His first "adventure" was accidental. A small crab, clearly unimpressed by a frail human standing in his territory, charged at him.
"Get… get back! Don't touch me!" he shouted. The crab ignored him. Rishi tripped over a rock, face-planting into the sand, and slid into the shallow waves.
"Fantastic. First fight in One Piece, and I already lost to a crab."
He flopped onto the beach, shaking sand out of his hair. "Yep. Totally normal. Absolutely heroic."
Hours passed. He explored the shoreline, testing his strength, observing the creatures, and making mental notes about what could or would kill him first.
Rocks were heavier than expected, but not impossible.
Jumping into shallow waves was surprisingly fun and not immediately fatal.
Starfish were smug little things. He waved one around like a trophy.
"Congratulations, Rishi," he muttered, addressing no one in particular, "you are officially a main character in a world where physics politely leaves the building."
By mid-afternoon, hunger struck. He tried foraging. Most fruits in the shallow jungle looked either disgusting or suspiciously sticky. He picked one, sniffed it, and promptly recoiled.
"Yeah… not eating that. If I die from poison instead of cancer, I'm going to haunt Oda personally."
Then he noticed a cluster of crabs. "Well… protein, right?" He lunged—but they scattered. He face-planted again. "Oof. Okay… maybe not."
The sun began to lower in the sky, and the forest's edge radiated an almost tangible pressure. Rishi could feel it in his chest, his bones, even his gut.
"What… what is that?" He stepped back slowly. "Definitely not touching that. Nope. Nope. Nope."
Still, his curiosity gnawed at him. He had survived cancer, survived chemotherapy, survived cliffhangers that would have driven normal humans insane. Surely he could survive… a forest that radiates murder energy.
By nightfall, Rishi had:
Tested his body in the sand and waves.
Nearly been mauled by a crab.
Decided against eating local flora.
Noticed the forest pressure.
Concluded the One Piece world was beautiful and deadly.
He sat on a large rock, watching the sunset. The waves and faint rustle of the forest became oddly soothing.
"Yeah… at least I finally know where the story goes," he muttered. "If I survive."
Somewhere deep in the jungle, a massive, ancient lizard watched silently.