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Beeping.
Cold.
Darkness.
Just hours ago, James had stood in line under the blistering summer sun, clutching a bag of freshly delivered One Piece manga 7 volumes, carefully chosen.
Arlin's favorites. It was meant to be a tribute. One last gift for a friend who never got to finish the story.
Now… this.
James blinked, but there was no light only shadows and vague outlines. His wrists throbbed, bound tightly by metal restraints. His body? Weak, Drugged, Disoriented.
He tried to move but couldn't. Tubes pierced his arms, one embedded near his neck. He wasn't in his room, This wasn't a hospital.
He remembered something, blurry images. The alley near the bookstore, A van, A sting on his neck, and then… nothing.
Now: cold steel, chemical burn in his veins, and the slow, steady beeping of machines that felt more like countdowns.
Footsteps echoed.
A woman's voice, detached and clinical: "Vitals are stable. Subject 19 is still resisting sedation."
Another voice male, calm, almost amused: "Doesn't matter. Begin the extraction."
"UHHH!!"
James tried to scream, but a gag tightened against his mouth. Panic surged, but his limbs wouldn't respond.
From the shadows, a man stepped into view tall, draped in a white lab coat, long black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark.
"You should've died during the last trial," the doctor murmured. "Your friend did. Quickly, painlessly But you… Let's see what makes you different."
"UHHHHHHH!!"
He wanted to survive; his Mother, his sister, and his family depended on him; if he died, everything would be over, and his family would be on the streets.
Pain exploded through James' veins searing, unnaturally, his heart thundered. It felt like his blood was boiling.
Like his very soul was being ripped apart.
His vision dimmed… and then—
Silence.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
"Hmmmm....."
When James opened his eyes, something was off.
First, the Lab was gone. His hands wait, were these even his hands? Thinner, tanner, calloused in a way he had never been.
Before he could process the shock, a searing pain shot through his abdomen.
"Thud!"
"What the Fu—!!"
He collapsed, mouth full of sand and grit. Groaning, he looked up into the scarred, snarling face of a pirate with a red bandana and a massive cutlass in hand.
This guy just kicked me. Hard.
And the world around him? Blue skies, crashing waves, a wooden ship anchored at the shore it didn't look like any beach James had ever seen. Definitely not home.
Had he been... transported? No, this was more than that. This wasn't his body anymore.
Then it hit him this was the world of One Piece.
The pirate who kicked him hoisted an old man into the air effortlessly. The man kicked helplessly, his feet dangling.
"You trying to trick me with this weakling?" the pirate growled.
"Cough… he's my foster son—Aero. He's all I've got," the old man rasped.
Aero?
The name echoed in James's mind. Memories foreign, vivid rushed in like a flood.
He was Aero now.
This body didn't feel foreign it was more like reclaiming a lost memory. Maybe the Crazy Doctor's experiment had something to do with it.
The old man had raised him since childhood as an orphan from the streets, barely surviving on scraps until the man took him in and raised him to be a pirate. Taught him to fight. To survive.
And now, Aero understood: the old man owed money to some pirate-run gambling ring. Instead of paying it back, he offered up his foster son to a pirate crew in exchange for mercy.
And Aero had accepted. Willingly, like he had a choice.
Back in the moment, Aero forced himself to his feet. The pain was real, The fear was real, But so was the voice in his head: you stay down, you die.
Currently, his only option was to survive.
"I just… froze up," Aero called out, facing the scarred captain. "Give me one more chance. I'll prove I've got what it takes to be a pirate!"
"One more chance, Huh..."
The pirate captain raised an eyebrow. After a pause, he tossed a sheathed dagger at Aero's feet.
"Prove it."
A younger pirate stepped forward, grinning maliciously. He drew his blade and lunged.
Though unfamiliar with this body, Aero instinctively moved. His new muscles remembered how to parry, how to counter. Metal clashed. He kicked the attacker square in the chest.
Victory.
"Hah! Not bad, kid. Keep the blade," the captain barked, pleased.
Aero nodded, breathing hard.
"Let's move out! Set sail, boys!" the captain ordered. The crew scrambled aboard, and the beach soon emptied.
Aero helped the old man up, who coughed blood but managed a smile.
"Final lesson, kid," he muttered. "A smart pirate knows when to run. Don't fight every battle you only get one head."
Aero nodded solemnly.
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As the ship drifted away from shore, Aero sat, sorting through the memories now flooding his brain.
He was seventeen. Alone. No real family. Just a battered dagger and a debt-ridden mentor.
And it was the year 1519 barely one year before the start of the One Piece story.
The world was about to change.
For now, Aero had one goal:
Stay alive.
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~Support with 200 PowerStones = 1 Bonus Chapter
~Thank you for reading!