The sun poured through the cracked shutters of a small coastal home, casting slanted beams of light on the wooden floor. Isaac Newton—or rather, the man who had once been Isaac Newton—sat on a wooden stool by the window. His small frame betrayed the vast sea of inquiries within him. Despite his childish appearance, the intelligence of a mind honed by decades of study still burned brightly behind his green eyes.
This world... it was unlike anything he had ever imagined.
Isaac gazed out of the window at the distant ocean, its vast expanse shimmering under the sunlight. It was beautiful, but also alien. In the years since his rebirth, he had documented observations, pieced together fragments of conversations, and experimented with small objects to grasp the rules of this strange new world. He was no stranger to being out of his depth; even in his former life, understanding the universe had always seemed just out of reach. Yet, here, the gap between what he knew and what he didn't was almost laughable.
He had quickly learned the language, though it bore no resemblance to the English of his past life, his young mind had adapted. Now, as he listened to the fishermen outside, he was astounded by the blend of simplicity and complexity in their lives.
The door creaked open, and Isaac's mother entered, carrying a basket of fresh vegetables. "Isaac, you've been sitting there all morning," she said, setting the basket down on the table.
"I'm observing," Isaac replied, his voice calm but unnaturally articulate for a child. His mother had long since stopped being surprised by her son's peculiarities.
"Observing what, my little philosopher?" she asked with a smile, ruffling his blonde curls as she passed.
"Everything," Isaac replied simply.
He turned his attention back to the fishermen outside. A group of them were clustered around a man who was demonstrating his abilities with a casual air of superiority. Isaac's eyes narrowed as he watched the man lift an enormous barrel—one that must have weighed several hundred kilograms—with a single hand. The fishermen clapped and cheered, but Isaac's analytical mind was already at work.
This wasn't normal. No human, even one of exceptional strength, should be able to accomplish such a feat.
It was only through eavesdropping on the villagers that Isaac had learned the word for such abilities: Devil Fruits. Rare and mysterious, they were said to grant extraordinary powers in exchange for the ability to swim.
Isaac frowned, his small hands clasped in his lap. "A curious trade-off," he muttered to himself. "The ability to gain immense power at the cost of survival in the very medium that defines this world…" He glanced back at the vast ocean, its waves shimmering in the afternoon light. "Who would design such a thing? And for what purpose?"
His mind swirled with possibilities. Were these fruits a product of nature, some unknown evolutionary quirk? Or were they engineered by an intelligent force? The idea fascinated him, though he lacked the means to investigate further. For now, he could only observe and theorize.
Isaac's mother interrupted his thoughts. "Isaac, why don't you go play with the other children?"
He glanced at the group of boys outside, chasing each other with sticks and shouting at the top of their lungs. Their games were wild and chaotic, with little regard for rules or strategy.
"No, thank you," he replied, his tone polite but firm. "Their activities lack... structure."
His mother sighed, though there was affection in her exasperation. "You're too serious for your age, Isaac. A child should have fun once in a while."
Isaac tilted his head thoughtfully. "Is it not fun to understand the world?"
His mother chuckled, shaking her head as she returned to her chores. Isaac smiled faintly and turned his attention back to the scene outside.
Over the past few years, Isaac had come to several conclusions about this world. It was vast, fragmented, and governed by strange, often contradictory rules. The islands were isolated, each with its own culture, language, and laws, yet they were all connected by the sea. Pirates were a constant topic of conversation among the villagers—both feared and admired in equal measure.
The idea of pirates fascinated Isaac. From what he had gathered, they were outlaws who sailed the seas in search of freedom, power, or treasure. But unlike the pirates of his own world, these men and women were not bound by the limitations of ordinary humanity. Many wielded powers that defied logic, granted by those mysterious fruits. Isaac found himself wondering: could the world be mapped, measured, and understood when so much of it seemed to bend the very laws of nature?
And then there was the sea itself, endless and unknowable. Isaac had spent hours staring at it, trying to comprehend its vastness. The villagers spoke of monsters lurking beneath the waves, creatures so massive and terrifying that they seemed like myths. Yet, in this world, myths had a way of becoming reality.
Isaac picked up a small rock from the windowsill and rolled it between his fingers. He had been experimenting with it earlier, testing the effects of weight and force on its trajectory. He tossed it lightly into the air and caught it, his mind calculating the arc it would have traveled had he thrown it harder.
"I may not have the tools or instruments I once had," he murmured, "but the principles remain the same. This world is not without rules, But they are simply... different."
His mother glanced at him from across the room. "Talking to yourself again, are you?"
Isaac smiled faintly. "It helps organize my thoughts."
"Well, don't get too lost in them," she said with a fond laugh.
Isaac nodded absently, already lost in thought once more.
Isaac often heard tales of the Grand Line, a sea so chaotic that it defied conventional navigation. Sailors called it the Pirate's Graveyard, a place where unpredictable weather and monstrous creatures swallowed ships whole.
Isaac had tried to make sense of the Grand Line. From what he could gather, the seas in this world seemed to operate under entirely different principles. He had overheard a merchant speak of something called a Log Pose, a compass that locked onto the magnetic fields of islands rather than pointing north. It raised questions about the underlying forces of this world. Did these magnetic anomalies stem from natural phenomena, or were they yet another product of this world's peculiar rules?
The most fascinating stories, however, were those of Gol D. Roger, a man whose name was spoken with awe and reverence. Roger had been the Pirate King, the greatest and most infamous of all pirates. He had sailed to places no one else had dared to go, amassing wealth, fame and power beyond imagining. But it was his death that had truly shaped the world.
Isaac had listened intently to the tales. Roger, rather than being captured, had surrendered himself to the World Government, allowing them to execute him publicly. Yet, in his final moments, he had smiled and issued a challenge that echoed across the seas:
"My treasure? It's yours if you want it. Find it! I left everything in that place."
Those words had ignited the Great Pirate Era, a global frenzy of ambition and greed. Men and women from every corner of the world had taken to the seas, seeking the One Piece, Roger's legendary treasure. Isaac found the idea endlessly fascinating. What kind of treasure could inspire such fervor? Was it material wealth, or something more abstract—knowledge, perhaps, or power? Whatever it was, Roger had reshaped the world with a single sentence, creating a legacy that transcended death.
Isaac turned his attention to the World Government, an organization he had learned about through bits and pieces of conversation. It was a global authority that ruled the seas, enforcing laws and commanding the Marines, a formidable military force. Isaac had seen Marines patrolling the harbor once, their uniforms crisp and their movements disciplined. They were a symbol of order, yet the villagers spoke of them with unease. There were whispers of corruption, of Marines who turned a blind eye to piracy in exchange for bribes.
It intrigued Isaac that even the greatest institutions of power in this world were fallible. The World Government's reach was vast, yet its control seemed tenuous in a world as unpredictable as this one.
Then there were the pirates themselves, who existed as both symbols of chaos and freedom. Isaac had observed them from afar—rough men and women with tattoos, scars, and an air of danger about them. They were not like the pirates of his own world, bound by the limits of ordinary human strength.
Isaac leaned back, brushing a strand of blonde hair from his face as he stared at the crude map he had drawn on the paper. The vastness of this world was overwhelming. It was clear that he had only scratched the surface of its mysteries.
The sea itself fascinated him. It was not merely a medium for travel but a living, unpredictable force. Sailors spoke of monstrous creatures that lurked beneath the waves, creatures so large and terrifying that they seemed like myths. Yet, in this world, myths had a way of becoming reality.
As he sat there, the afternoon light shifting into dusk, Isaac felt a strange sense of excitement. This world was chaotic, dangerous, and unpredictable, but it was also a grand experiment waiting to be unraveled. He might no longer have the instruments of his past life, but his mind was sharp, and his curiosity unquenchable.
He would learn, he would adapt, and one day, he would understand the forces that governed this strange, wondrous place. For now, he was content to observe, to theorize, and to prepare. After all, every great discovery began with a question, and this world gave him no shortage of those.
…
…
The village was quiet as Isaac stepped outside, the warm sun overhead casting dappled light through the swaying palm trees. A gentle breeze carried the scent of salt from the nearby ocean, and the distant hum of villagers at work provided a steady rhythm to the day. Isaac adjusted the brim of the straw hat his mother insisted he wear, more to shade his eyes than anything else. Today, his curiosity urged him to wander.
He followed a narrow dirt path that wound past the fields and into the grove of trees just outside the village. It was a peaceful spot, often deserted, where the world seemed to pause and give way to thought. As he approached, something unusual caught his attention.
Beneath one of the larger trees sat a boy about his own age, cross-legged and engrossed in a book. Isaac tilted his head, curious. It wasn't often he saw children his age reading, let alone so deeply focused. He edged closer, his steps light on the grass, until he was close enough to see the cover of the book.
"The Encyclopaedia of Devil Fruits," Isaac read aloud, his voice breaking the silence.
The boy startled slightly but quickly regained his composure. He looked up, brushing sandy brown hair from his face, and met Isaac's gaze with wide, curious eyes.
"You scared me," the boy said, shutting the book protectively. "Do you always sneak up on people like that?"
Isaac offered a small, disarming smile. "Not intentionally. I saw the book and couldn't resist. Devil Fruits are fascinating, aren't they?"
The boy hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "They are. My dad got me this book from a trader. It's not complete, but it has a lot of information." He tilted his head slightly, studying Isaac. "You don't look like the type who's interested in this kind of stuff."
Isaac's smile widened. "And what do I look like, then?"
"I don't know. Quiet. Boring, maybe," the boy said with a teasing grin.
Isaac chuckled softly. "Fair enough. But appearances can be deceiving. May I?" He gestured toward the book.
The boy considered for a moment, then shrugged and handed it over. "I'm Nolan, by the way," he said.
"Isaac," he replied, taking the book and flipping through its pages with deft fingers. The illustrations were crude but serviceable, accompanied by descriptions written in clear, concise language. It was more thorough than Isaac had expected.
"This is remarkable," he said, half to himself. "It categorizes the fruits into three types—Paramecia, Zoan, and Logia. And each one grants its user a different ability…"
"You know about Devil Fruits?" Nolan asked, surprised.
"I know of them," Isaac said, handing the book back. "But their nature eludes me. How they grant such extraordinary powers, and at what cost. There's still so much we don't understand."
Nolan looked at him with renewed interest. "You sound like one of those scholars from Ohara."
Isaac raised an eyebrow. "Ohara?"
"It's a place far away," Nolan explained, his tone taking on a note of reverence. "They say it's where the smartest people in the world live, studying history and things nobody else cares about. My dad told me the Marines don't like them much, though."
Isaac's mind whirred. A place of scholars? It sounded like a haven, but also a potential threat to those in power. He filed the name away for later consideration.
"So, what about you?" Isaac asked, shifting the focus. "Why are you interested in Devil Fruits?"
Nolan hesitated, glancing at the book in his lap. "I just think they're cool," he admitted. "Imagine being able to turn into fire, or control the wind, or—" He stopped himself, his cheeks flushing. "It's stupid, I know."
"Not at all," Isaac said. "The pursuit of knowledge, no matter the reason, is never foolish. And the powers you describe are more than cool—they're a window into the fundamental forces of this world."
Nolan blinked, then grinned. "You really are boring."
Isaac laughed, a rare sound that startled even himself. "Perhaps. But boring people can be full of surprises."
Nolan grinned back, but before he could respond, the distant toll of a bell echoed through the grove. Isaac's eyes flicked toward the village, his mind already speculating on the cause. Bells weren't rung idly here.
"Trouble?" Nolan asked, standing and tucking the book under his arm.
"Possibly," Isaac replied, his voice calm but his thoughts racing. "Shall we find out?"
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and began walking back toward the village, Nolan close behind.