On a random island in the South Blue...
A young man shot up from his seat, his heart pounding wildly. He stumbled toward the mirror on the wall, gripping its frame tightly as he stared at his reflection in disbelief.
"What the hell happened to me?!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the small room.
He leaned closer, his fingers tracing the unfamiliar features in the mirror. His face was pale, with sharp cheekbones and a distinctive nose. His dark, curly hair framed his face perfectly.
**"Why do I look like Michael Jackson? And what's with my voice?! It's so… high-pitched! I sound like a girl!"
Suddenly, a knock on the door startled him out of his panic.
"Hey, Michael! Are you alright in there? You've got a show in less than ten minutes! The crowd's getting restless, and we've worked too hard for this moment to mess it up!" A voice called from outside.
Michael opened his mouth to protest, but before he could get a word out, a searing pain shot through his head. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his skull as memories flooded his mind.
He saw a young man with the same face, brimming with hope and ambition. He had a dream of becoming the greatest singer in the world, and one fateful day, he had found and eaten the **Uta Uta no Mi**, a devil fruit that granted him the power to manipulate reality through songs. But in a cruel twist of fate, he had choked on the fruit and died.
Now, somehow, he had taken that young man's place.
The pain subsided, leaving him gasping for air. He opened his eyes, the confusion gone, replaced by a strange sense of clarity.
"I understand it now," he murmured.
"Jonathan, I'm fine. We'll proceed as planned," he said, his voice steady, though still high-pitched.
There was a pause outside, followed by a relieved laugh.
"You had me worried for a second there, Michael! If you need anything, I'll be backstage."
Footsteps faded down the hall, leaving Michael alone with his thoughts. He slowly stood up, adjusting his posture. His gaze fell on a black fedora resting on a nearby rack. He grabbed it, spinning it lightly in his hand before placing it on his head with a smirk.
**"Don't worry, Jonathan. After all, I'm Michael Jackson now."**
He took a deep breath, steadying himself.
"Alright… I don't know how I ended up here, and I don't remember how I died. But I do know this: I have Michael Jackson's talent, and this body has already eaten the Uta Uta no Mi. If I'm going to survive in this world, I'll need to master both."
Grabbing a white sequined glove from the rack, he slid it onto his hand and flexed his fingers.
**"First things first—I've got a show to put on."**
---
Jonathan's eyes lit up when he saw Michael approaching.
"Oh, there you are! The crowd was starting to get impatient."
Michael grinned, tipping his hat slightly.
"Don't they know? The best part always comes last. Time to show them what real music is like."
Jonathan chuckled nervously but said nothing more as Michael stepped toward the stage entrance.
---
The lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the crowd. The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers.
"Ladies and gentlemen, he's finally here! The young man who's been making waves across the South Blue with his angelic voice and mesmerizing performances. Give it up for the boy miracle—MICHAEL JACKSON!
The crowd erupted into applause, their cheers shaking the entire venue.
Michael took a deep breath and stepped into the spotlight. The moment he appeared, the energy in the room shifted. He stood still, letting the anticipation build, the fedora casting a shadow over his eyes.
The first beat of the music echoed through the air, and in one smooth motion, Michael snapped his head up, his eyes gleaming with confidence.
**"Let's rock this world,"** he whispered to himself before raising the mic to his lips.
The room fell into a tense, expectant silence as Michael Jackson took his position center stage. The lights dimmed further, leaving only a single spotlight focused on him. He tilted his fedora downward, shadowing his eyes. The subtle, suspenseful quiet of the venue stretched, every eye glued to him.
Then, without warning, the first beat dropped—slow, rhythmic, powerful. The crowd perked up, feeling something different in the air. Michael's foot tapped to the beat, and in one smooth motion, he raised the mic to his lips.
"Blue shadows creep across the sky...
Whisperin' dreams that never die..."
His voice was like silk—light, high-pitched, and smooth, yet filled with emotion. The purity of each note sent chills down the spines of the audience members. He glided across the stage with a grace they'd never seen before, his movements fluid and hypnotic.
"Dancin' with the night, lost in the sound,
A rhythm that lifts you right off the ground..."
As he sang, Michael felt something stir deep within him, a strange warmth radiating from his chest. It wasn't just his voice—it was more than that. The power of the Uta Uta no Mi was responding to his emotions, amplifying the melody beyond anything normal.
The crowd leaned forward, entranced. But as Michael reached the chorus, something extraordinary happened. Without consciously intending it, his devil fruit activated. A soft glow emanated from his body, and suddenly, an illusion formed around him—a shimmering blue cityscape, illuminated by countless stars.
Gasps of amazement rippled through the audience as the stage transformed. They weren't just hearing the music anymore—they were inside it. The streets of the illusionary city seemed alive, pulsating with the beat of the song.
Michael's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't miss a beat. Realizing that his devil fruit was responsible for this spectacle, he decided to push it further. He focused on the feeling, willing the world he created to become even more vivid.
"So come with me, into the blue,
Where dreams are made, and stars shine through..."
With each word, the illusion shifted and evolved. The cityscape shimmered, the stars above glowing brighter, and a soft breeze seemed to pass through the crowd. For a moment, everyone forgot where they were. They were lost in Michael's world, a place created by his voice and the power of the Uta Uta no Mi.
The audience was mesmerized, their senses overwhelmed by the beauty of the performance. Michael continued, his confidence growing with every note. He spun on his heel, moonwalking effortlessly across the stage, the illusion rippling around him like waves on a calm sea.
"Billie blue... take me higher,
Through the night, to the heart of fire..."
The final note hung in the air, delicate and lingering, as if the entire world had paused to savor it. Michael lowered the mic, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on his forehead. The illusion around him slowly faded, the glow dimming until the stage returned to normal.
For a few heartbeats, there was nothing but silence. Then, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause, cheers, and whistles.
Jonathan rushed onto the stage, his face lit up with excitement and disbelief.
"That... was insane! Michael, what the hell was that?!"
Michael took a deep breath, tipping his fedora and flashing a confident smile.
"Something new. Something... special."
Jonathan's eyes sparkled with wonder.
"Special? That was beyond special! You turned the whole place into a dream!"
Michael chuckled, adjusting his glove.
"Yeah... I think I've got more than just talent now." He glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers. "This... fruit... it's real."
He didn't know exactly how it worked, but one thing was clear: the Uta Uta no Mi wasn't just for show. It gave him the power to create entire worlds through his voice. And if this performance was only the beginning...
"This is my stage now."