The sound of waves came first.
A soft rhythm—shu-wash, shu-wash—as the sea lazily licked the sand, sparkling beneath the sun. Seagulls cried overhead, and the salt wind carried a faint scent of kelp and warmth.
For a long while, the boy didn't move.
He just lay there, face half-buried in sand, clothes drenched, the tide gently brushing against his bare feet.
When he finally opened his eyes, the light hit him like a punch.
"Ngh… what… the hell?"
He pushed himself upright, coughing up seawater. Everything ached. His hair stuck to his forehead; his body felt light—too light. The world spun.
The boy blinked at the scenery before him: a crescent shore framed by cliffs of lush green, palm trees waving lazily, and a hundred unfamiliar birds flitting through the air.
"Where… am I?" he muttered, scanning the coast.
No sign of people. No houses. No ships.
Just wilderness.
And yet, something about this place felt… odd.
He raised his hands slowly, and his breath caught.
Small hands. Child's hands.
The boy froze, staring. Then he touched his face. Smooth. Round. The skin soft like a ten-year-old's. He ran to the water's edge, staring at the reflection rippling in the shallow surf.
Wide eyes. Messy dark hair. No older than ten.
"...Huh?"
He slapped his cheeks. "Ow!"
He stared again.
No change.
"This… can't be right. I was—" He stopped.
His voice faltered. His head throbbed faintly. Something was missing—like a page torn out of a book.
He remembered dying.
He was sure of it.
There was pain. Screams. A flash of light—then nothing.
Now he was here.
Alive. Small. On a strange island with no clue where he even was.
The wind shifted, rustling the jungle beyond the beach. The boy tried to stand, wobbling slightly.
His clothes were torn, dirty, the kind a traveler might wear—not a uniform or pajamas or anything he remembered owning.
Think.
He closed his eyes, trying to piece the fragments together.
He remembered the modern world—cars, screens, deadlines.
A dull, gray cityscape.
And then… something happened.
A voice?
A bright light?
He winced. A faint ringing echoed in his ears, followed by a pulse of pain.
"Argh—damn it—my head—!"
He clutched his temples and dropped to his knees. The headache felt like molten iron pouring into his skull.
Flashes of light danced behind his eyelids—broken images, half-formed words.
Someone… talking to him.
"—Sorry! Sorry! I really didn't mean to kill you, okay? These things happen sometimes—cosmic paperwork and all that—ha ha…"
The boy's eyes flew open.
The voice was in his mind.
"Who's there!?"
No answer.
"Hello?"
Still nothing.
He rubbed his forehead, breathing hard. Am I losing it?
And yet… the voice had sounded so real.
Not malicious, just—flustered.
He groaned. "What's happening to me…?"
He stumbled toward the tree line, hoping to find water or food. The air grew heavy with humidity, thick with the scent of life. Enormous trees loomed overhead, and vines hung like curtains from the branches.
Every sound—chirps, howls, screeches—made him flinch.
Something rustled in the brush.
He froze.
Two yellow eyes blinked at him from the shadows.
A massive feline—half-tiger, half-reptile—stepped into the light, its scales glimmering across its shoulders.
"...What the hell is that!?"
It growled, low and guttural. The boy took a step back—then tripped over a rock and fell on his butt.
The beast tensed.
The boy panicked. "H-Hey now! Easy kitty—nice kitty—!"
The creature lunged.
He screamed, rolled aside at the last second, and the beast's jaws snapped shut inches from his leg. Sand and dirt flew everywhere.
He scrambled toward a fallen log, heart hammering, adrenaline screaming in his veins.
His hands brushed against something sharp—driftwood, smooth and splintered at one end.
He grabbed it instinctively.
When the beast lunged again, he swung with everything he had.
Crack!
The wood struck its snout. The creature snarled and recoiled.
He didn't wait. He turned and ran.
Branches whipped his face, his lungs burned, but he didn't dare look back.
He burst out into a clearing—then stopped dead.
The jungle opened into a meadow of strange, rainbow-colored grass, dotted with massive fruit trees and a pool of crystal-clear water.
And in the center of the pool… stood a stone statue.
A tall, hooded figure holding a staff.
Its eyes were carved with faint amusement, like it was smirking.
As he stumbled closer, the headache returned—sharper this time.
"Ugh—again!?"
His vision blurred. The statue's smirk seemed to twist. And then—
"—Ah! There you are! Finally connected, huh?"
The boy froze. The voice again.
"...Who are you?"
"Let's see, let's see… you wouldn't remember, huh? You died, remember? My bad! Bit of divine miscalculation—wrong soul in the wrong queue!"
"...What?"
"You were supposed to reincarnate somewhere peaceful! Not—uh—here! Ha ha!"
"Where is 'here'!?" the boy shouted.
"Eh… well… think of it as a world full of pirates, marines, and dreamers who stretch their arms a lot."
"What!?"
The voice chuckled. "Don't worry! You'll figure it out. I may have dropped you on a famous island. Big animals, weird birds—great for beginners!"
"Beginner what!?"
"Life! Again! …Oops, losing signal, kid. Ah—before I forget—consider this a gift. A compensation package. You'll understand soon enough! Byeeee!"
And the voice vanished.
The boy collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily.
"Pirates? Marines? What kind of messed-up world is this…?"
He stared at his reflection in the pool. His face trembled—not with fear, but disbelief.
"Is this… another world?"
A seagull cawed above him. The breeze carried a salty, almost familiar scent.
He didn't know it yet…
But this was the Island of Rare Animals, somewhere deep in the Grand Line—a place even pirates avoided.
And so began the story of a boy who wanted nothing to do with the sea…
…in a world ruled by it.
The jungle was louder than a city.
Chirps, growls, thuds, and screeches layered over each other like a mad orchestra. Sunlight spilled through the canopy in dappled gold. Somewhere nearby, a bird that sounded like a trumpet squawked in protest.
The boy trudged forward, barefoot, clutching a stick he'd whittled down to a sharp point. His little body ached from the chase earlier, but curiosity gnawed at him stronger than fear.
"Pirates and Marines, huh?" he muttered, replaying that ridiculous voice in his head. "And animals that look like they were drawn by a lunatic."
He stepped over a root thicker than his leg and froze.
In a clearing ahead, a lion with a giraffe's neck was dozing in the sun. Its snores made the ground vibrate. Beside it, a rabbit with antlers munched peacefully on oversized berries.
"...I take it back," the boy whispered. "Not a lunatic. A maniac."
He tiptoed around them, heart pounding. When he reached a small hill, he climbed to the top to get a better look of the island.
What he saw made him suck in a sharp breath.
An endless jungle stretched in every direction, spotted with glimmering lakes. Strange, massive animals roamed freely—birds with lion tails, monkeys with turtle shells. The sea shimmered far in the distance, encircling everything like a mirror.
It was beautiful… and terrifying.
"Guess I really am stuck here," he sighed.
His stomach growled. Loudly.
"Ugh, of course…" He looked around for anything edible. "If this is a dream, it's the most realistic one I've ever had."
He found some fruit nearby—bright red and round—and cautiously bit into one. Sweet. Safe enough.
Then a voice shouted behind him:
"Oi! What do you think you're doing on my island!?"
The boy choked on his bite. He spun around, eyes wide.
At the edge of the clearing stood a man—or rather, half a man.
The upper half of a scruffy, green-haired fellow with a patchy beard and wild eyes poked out of a treasure chest. His arms were crossed.
The boy blinked.
Then blinked again.
"...You're in a box."
"I'm not in a box! It's a treasure chest!" the man barked.
"Right. A treasure chest."
"Don't you give me that look, brat! I'll have you know I was once a mighty pirate captain!"
The boy tilted his head. "Then what happened?"
The man's face fell. "...I fell off a cliff."
They stared at each other for a long, awkward moment.
Then the boy burst out laughing. He couldn't help it—the absurdity of it all, the stress, the headache, the ridiculous jungle—it all came pouring out.
"Hey! Don't laugh! I've been stuck here for years!"
"Sorry, sorry! I just—hahaha—oh man…"
The green-haired man puffed his cheeks, but there was no real anger in his eyes.
"Name's Gaimon, kid. And you are?"
The boy hesitated. For some reason, saying his old name felt strange here. It belonged to another life—another world.
After a pause, he smiled faintly.
"...Rin. Just Rin."
Gaimon nodded approvingly. "Rin, huh? You're a scrawny one, Rin. What're you doing on this island? No ship in sight."
Rin scratched his head. "I wish I knew. I woke up on the beach this morning. Don't remember how I got here."
Gaimon frowned. "You're not one of those lost pirates, are you?"
"Do I look like a pirate?" Rin said, gesturing at his small frame.
"Fair point. You'd need a better hat."
They shared a small laugh. It felt strange to Rin—after everything that had happened—to be laughing at all.
Gaimon, as it turned out, was quite the storyteller. Once Rin helped drag his treasure chest near a shady tree, the old man began spinning tales—half boast, half comedy.
He told Rin about the days when he sailed with dreams of finding treasure beyond imagination, about how he'd climbed a sheer cliff chasing after gold… and fell.
When he woke up, his body had fused with the chest. His crew was gone. So, he stayed.
"At first, I thought it was a curse," Gaimon said, gazing up at the sky. "But then I met them—my friends."
He gestured toward the jungle. A moment later, one of the strange creatures—a monkey with a tiger's mane—wandered into the clearing and sat beside him like a pet dog.
Rin stared. "You made friends with them?"
"Why not? They're nicer than pirates," Gaimon said with a grin.
Rin smiled faintly. "You're weird, old man."
"Takes one to know one, kid."
They both laughed.
But as the day wore on, Rin's thoughts grew heavier. The ocean glittered beyond the trees, endless and inviting.
"Gaimon," he asked quietly, "you said this island's in the Grand Line, right?"
"Aye. The Island of Rare Animals. Not exactly a tourist spot. Most pirates give it a wide berth—too many beasts, too little treasure."
Rin's eyes widened slightly. "Grand Line…?"
Something clicked in his head.
He'd watched enough anime, read enough manga in his old life to recognize those words.
Pirates. Marines. Grand Line.
His breath caught. "No way…"
"What's with that look?" Gaimon asked.
Rin forced a shaky laugh. "Nothing. Just… trying to process all this."
He turned toward the sea again. The horizon stretched far beyond sight—an expanse of blue that promised both wonder and danger.
If this was truly the world he thought it was… then he was standing in one of the most chaotic, unpredictable places imaginable.
The world of One Piece.
That night, Rin sat beside Gaimon's small campfire, roasting strange fruit that smelled like roasted peanuts and caramel. Fireflies drifted lazily around them.
"You know," Gaimon said, "you remind me of myself when I first got here. Lost, confused, pretending not to be scared."
Rin smiled faintly. "I'm not pretending."
Gaimon laughed. "Even braver, then."
For a while, they just sat in silence, watching the stars.
Rin thought of the god's voice again—the flustered apology, the talk of pirates and Marines. He didn't understand any of it, not yet. But deep down, he felt something stir.
A pull. A whisper from the sea.
He didn't want adventure. He didn't want danger.
But… the sea didn't care what he wanted.
It called to everyone, eventually.
"Old man," Rin said softly, "if you could leave this island… would you?"
Gaimon smiled, wistful. "Once, I would've said yes. Now? This place is my home. But you, Rin—you've got that look in your eyes. You'll go. One day."
Rin looked down at his small hands, clenched them.
"Maybe. But not yet. I just want to survive first."
Gaimon chuckled. "That's how all great journeys start."
As the fire crackled low, Rin lay back against the sand, eyes drifting shut. The waves whispered against the shore, gentle and endless.
He didn't know what the god's "gift" was. He didn't know why he was here, or what his future held.
But as the stars reflected in his eyes, the boy smiled faintly.
"Guess I'm really in the world of One Piece…"
And somewhere far out at sea, a seagull soared into the night sky—carrying the first whispers of a story yet to begin.