The sun is blazing down as I woke up on a soft, sandy beach. I hear the waves crashing and seagulls calling in the distance. I blinked, feeling confused. Where am I?
"Hey! What are you doing here?"
A sharp voice startled me. A boy around my age stands a few feet away, glaring like I've invaded his space. His messy dark hair is all over the place, and his arms are crossed tight.
"Are you deaf? What are you doing?" He growls, his freckled face showing frustration.
"I don't know," I say, my voice shaky. Honestly, I have no clue how you got here or even where "here" is.
The boy scoffs and shakes his head. "Great. Just what we need. Another useless fool washed up like driftwood." He starts to walk away, then pauses and glances back. "If you want to cry, do it somewhere else."
But there's a hint of uncertainty in his voice. He doesn't seem as tough as he wants to be.
"Shit... Hachiman, what the hell is going on?" I mumble, holding your head as the boy shoots you a glare. The sand feels way too real, and the salty air stings my nose. This isn't a dream—or if it is, it's the most real dream ever.
My chest feels tight as a million thoughts zoom through my head. Wasn't I just at home? Or... was it work? I can't even remember what I was doing before waking up here. All I know is that something feels really off.
I looked at the boy again, his impatient stare boring into me. He seems young, maybe twelve or thirteen, but his face looks way too tough for his age. Why does he seem familiar? Freckles... messy hair... wait, no way. Is that—
I froze, the thought hitting me hard. Ace? As in Portgas D. Ace?
My heart races. The last thing I remember about him is from stories—tragic, crazy tales about his fate. But the kid in front of me is nothing like that. He's angry, sharp-tongued, and most importantly, alive.
My hands shake as I try to figure it all out. Did I time-travel? Is this some kind of alternate reality? Am I even alive?
"Oi, are you just goanna sit there, or are your goanna say something?" Ace snaps, his voice yanking me back to reality.
"I—uh..." My words get stuck. What am I even supposed to say? I'm not ready to explain myself—hell, I can't even explain this to myself.
I look down at the ground. The sand feels rough under my fingers as I grip it, trying to ground myself in something real. Get a grip, I tell myself. If this is real, freaking out won't help. I've got to figure out what's going on. I've got to survive.
I sat there for a moment longer, staring at the boy stomping off down the shore. He didn't even look back. Fine by me—I wasn't in the mood to deal with his attitude anyway.
Standing up, I dusted the sand off my clothes and looked around. The landscape was simple but striking. A quiet village sat in the distance, nestled at the foot of rolling green hills. A windmill creaked lazily as the breeze caught its blades, its silhouette towering above the thatched rooftops.
My stomach tightened. I wasn't sure if it was hunger or nerves—or maybe both—but I knew one thing: I needed answers.
I started walking toward the village, each step feeling heavier than the last. The closer I got, the more I noticed the little details. Kids laughing and chasing each other down the dirt paths. Old women sitting on wooden porches, chatting and knitting like it was the most natural thing in the world. A smell wafted through the air—baking bread, maybe? Whatever it was, it made my mouth water.
For a second, I almost felt at ease. The place was peaceful, welcoming even. But that only made it harder to shake the sinking feeling in my chest.
Windmill Village.
I didn't know how I knew the name, but it clicked the moment I saw it. This was the birthplace of Monkey D. Luffy, the boy who would one day become the Pirate King. The thought hit me like a wave, nearly knocking the air out of my lungs. I wasn't just somewhere random—I was in their world.
I stopped near a fountain in the village square, watching as villagers went about their lives. None of them paid me any attention, which was fine. I didn't know what I'd even say to them if they asked who I was or where I came from.
My fingers grazed the edge of the stone fountain as I stared into the rippling water. My reflection wavered, distorted by the tiny currents. I barely recognized myself.
"Okay," I whispered, trying to steady my breathing. "First things first. Food. Shelter. Answers. Just… figure out one thing at a time."
The sound of laughter snapped me out of my thoughts. Two boys were running by, one of them clutching what looked like a freshly stolen apple. An older man yelled after them, shaking his fist but not really trying to catch them.
I smiled despite myself. It all felt so ordinary, so human, despite the surreal weight of where I was.
But even as I watched the villagers, part of me couldn't shake the feeling that I didn't belong here—that at any moment, someone or something would figure that out and send my whole world spiraling even further.
For now, though, I kept moving, drawn to the promise of warmth and life in Windmill Village. Maybe this place would have the answers I was looking for—or at least, a clue about what I was supposed to do next.
I shoved my hands into my pockets as I wandered further into the village. Every step felt heavy, like I was walking through molasses. My chest was tight, my thoughts scrambled.
What the hell am I even doing here?
Every detail felt wrong and right at the same time. The warmth of the sun on my skin, the salty tang in the air, the way the villagers' laughter seemed to fill every corner of the square—it all felt too real to be a dream. But how could it not be? How else could I explain waking up on a beach in a place that shouldn't even exist?
I racked my brain, trying to piece it together. Had I died? Did I fall into some weird coma? Did I get hit by a truck like one of those ridiculous isekai stories? None of it made sense.
I passed a cart selling fruit, the scent of ripe oranges hitting me so hard it made my stomach growl. My hand instinctively reached toward my pocket, but of course, I had nothing—no wallet, no phone, nothing but the clothes on my back.
"Shit," I muttered under my breath.
The vendor, a middle-aged man with a round face and a warm smile, looked at me curiously but didn't say anything. I turned away quickly, not wanting to draw any attention to myself.
My legs carried me further down the dirt path, past children playing tag and a woman sweeping her porch. It all felt so normal, like a snapshot from a small-town postcard. But for me, it was anything but.
I don't belong here.
The thought gnawed at me, sinking deeper into my mind with every step. These people were living their lives, completely unaware of the chaos brewing just beyond the horizon—the world of pirates, marines, and monsters. A world I only knew from stories, where nothing was safe, and everything came at a cost.
And me? I didn't even know if I was real here. What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to be?
I sat down on the edge of a stone wall, burying my face in my hands. My breath came in short, shallow bursts as panic clawed at my chest.
"Get a grip," I hissed at myself. "You can't fall apart. Not here. Not now."
But the questions wouldn't stop. What if I was stuck here forever? What if this wasn't some dream I could wake up from? What if… what if this was my life now?
The sound of laughter reached my ears again, and I peeked through my fingers to see two little girls chasing each other, their giggles echoing through the square. For a moment, I envied them—their simplicity, their freedom. They didn't have to worry about where they were or who they were supposed to be.
I straightened up, taking a deep breath.
"One step at a time," I muttered. "Food. Shelter. Answers." My stomach growled again, as if agreeing with me.
For now, surviving was all I could do.