---
Re: Grinding in One Piece
Chapter 1: The Backstory of a Dumbass with a Dream
So yeah. My name is Bob.
Yeah yeah, I know. Which stupid motherfuckers would call their child Bob? I said that out loud once by accident and my mom gave me the deadliest side glare, so now I only say it mostly to myself. But whatever. I got used to the name. It grew on me like mold on bread. Hard to love, harder to ignore.
Anyway. If you want to know who I am, here is the quick version. I am thirty-one. I live in America. I teach karate at a small dojo that smells like old sweat and determination. People say that I am a nice guy. Sometimes. Other times I am a real dumbass. Depends on the day and the weather. I work like my bones are filled with caffeine. I call it grinding. I say it so much that my students started saying it too. I ruined about six innocent teenagers who now think life is a giant leveling system.
I got that mindset from my teen years. Back then I was a top gamer. I stayed up all night trying to hit higher ranks and pretending energy drinks counted as hydration. I watched a lot of anime too. My favorite was Dragon Ball. Still is. My mom teased me for it, but she also bought me DVDs on my birthdays, so she was part of the problem.
When I turned eighteen, my parents gave me the classic ultimatum. Get a job or get out. I panicked, lied, and told them I found a job at a dojo. I did not. I went to a dojo and begged the sensei to let me train. He said yes, for reasons I still do not understand. Maybe he thought I had potential, maybe he just needed someone to scrub the mats for free.
So I started training. Grinding. Whatever you want to call it. Every punch felt like grinding EXP. Every kick felt like unlocking a new skill. I kept telling myself I would be like Goku someday. Strong and focused. Not in a cosmic hero kind of way. Just better than the idiot kid who hid his report cards under his bed.
After a year or two, I earned my black belt. The sensei offered me a position as an assistant instructor. A few more years and I was a full sensei. The dojo became my whole world. It felt good. It felt earned.
And then came the year 2025. The year everything flipped.
It started like any other day. I had slept horribly, woke up with a headache the size of Texas, and spilled cereal on my shirt. Work at the dojo sucked because two kids kept tackling each other like they were training for the NFL instead of karate. By the time classes were done, I was drained.
So I did what any adult with poor emotional skills does. I opened Reddit.
There I was, scrolling like a zombie, when I saw a post that said something like:
One Piece is the best anime in existence.
I blinked. I reread it.
I felt my eyebrow twitch.
Look. I know people like different things. I respect that. But that day was already trash, and this random stranger declaring One Piece the ruler of all anime felt like someone spitting in my favorite bowl of ramen.
So I replied.
Calmly at first.
Then less calmly.
Then full dumbass mode.
We argued for a while. He kept calling One Piece a peak. I kept defending Dragon Ball like Toriyama himself had paid me. Then he wrote something like:
Ok ok. If you think Dragon Ball is better and I think One Piece is better, then let's both binge-watch the shows. I do Dragon Ball. You do One Piece. Plus the manga. Then we talk again.
I sat there staring at the screen thinking,
Hm. Hm.
You know what.
That is actually a good idea.
So we agreed. He would binge Dragon Ball. I would binge One Piece. All of it. Anime. Manga. Movies. The whole damn continent of content.
For the next weeks, my life turned into a marathon. I watched episodes during breakfast, at night, and sometimes in between dojo classes when the kids took water breaks. I read manga chapters on the toilet. I watched movies in bed until my eyes stung.
Eventually, I finished everything. Every arc, every fight, every emotional gut punch. When I reached the end, I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath.
One Piece was amazing. No denying it. A wild, creative, ridiculous, heartfelt ride. But still, for me, Dragon Ball held the throne. Nostalgia or not, it stayed on top.
I planned to return to Reddit after work to give my final verdict. I wanted to say something like,
"Respect. One Piece is great. But Dragon Ball still wins for me."
Simple. Fair.
But the universe decided I would not get the chance.
So picture this. I walk into the dojo. I finish my classes. I clean up. I put the mats away. I hum the One Piece opening under my breath because it was stuck in my head. I feel pretty good. Actually excited to get home and jump back into that Reddit thread.
I step outside the building. I take one step onto the pavement.
My foot hits something slick.
I do the most dramatic air flail known to mankind.
I fall backwards.
Head first.
Right onto the curb.
Darkness.
Silence.
Game over.
That is how Bob Montgumerie, the grind addict, the gamer, the dumbass sensei, died. Not in a heroic battle. Not saving someone. Not even choking on a chip. Just slipping on something stupid outside his own dojo.
When I opened my eyes again, I was not in a hospital. I was not in a morgue. I was standing in a massive glowing hall filled with rows of people. A thousand of them, easy. All waiting, shuffling forward slowly like a line at the DMV if the DMV handled souls instead of driver's licenses.
Above the counter at the front, in big clean letters, was a sign:
DIMENSIONAL REINCARNATION LOBBY
I rubbed my head.
I sighed.
Of course, this is where I ended up.
Just my luck.
And that was the beginning.
The real beginning.
The one that mattered.
---