The jungle felt different today. Zoku could sense it in the rustle of the leaves and the faint chirps of distant birds. The discovery of human footprints on the beach had shifted everything. The solitude he'd grown used to now felt fragile. Somewhere on this island, people were moving, living, surviving—just as he was.
At only a few months old in his new body, Zoku's control over his Lunarian abilities was still raw. The fire on his back burned faintly, a constant reminder of the power coursing through him. His crawl had turned into a wobbly attempt at walking, though he stumbled more often than he succeeded. But the discovery of the footprints pushed him to move faster, driven by curiosity and the hope that these humans might provide answers—or at least a way off this island.
Following the Trail
The footprints were old but distinct, pressed deep into the soft sand before veering into the jungle. Zoku hesitated at the tree line, his golden eyes scanning the dense foliage. The jungle was alive with sounds—buzzing insects, rustling leaves, and the occasional distant roar of an unseen predator. Despite his unease, he pressed on, crawling and stumbling over roots and rocks.
The footprints led him deeper into the jungle than he'd ever ventured. The terrain became more uneven, with moss-covered rocks and twisted roots threatening to trip him at every step. The canopy overhead thickened, casting the jungle floor in dim light.
Zoku paused, catching his breath. He glanced down at his small hands, clenched tightly into fists. I need to be ready, he thought.
Taking a deep breath, he focused on the flames on his back. Over the past few weeks, he'd discovered that his emotions played a significant role in controlling them. Calm focus made the flames smaller, more manageable, while frustration or fear caused them to flare wildly. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, imagining the fire shrinking into a steady, controlled flicker. When he opened them again, the flames were just as he'd envisioned—small, but steady.
The Village
After what felt like hours of navigating the jungle, Zoku finally saw it. Through a break in the trees, a clearing opened up, revealing a small village. Simple wooden huts with thatched roofs dotted the area, their smoke rising faintly into the sky. Villagers moved about, carrying baskets of fruit or tending to small gardens.
Zoku's heart raced. This was his first real glimpse of humanity in this world. They looked ordinary enough—men, women, and children going about their lives. But would they accept him? The flames on his back marked him as something different, something otherworldly.
He crouched behind a bush, observing the villagers. They spoke in hushed tones, their laughter carrying on the wind. One man sat near a fire pit, sharpening a spear, while a group of children chased each other around the huts. The scene was peaceful, almost idyllic.
But Zoku couldn't shake his nerves. He remembered the stories he'd read in One Piece about how people feared Lunarians, labeling them as monsters or demons. What if these villagers reacted the same way?
A Risky Move
Zoku's stomach growled, breaking his train of thought. The small fruits he'd been surviving on weren't enough to sustain his growing body. The scent of roasted fish wafted through the air, making his mouth water.
He needed food. And to get it, he needed to take a risk.
Crawling closer to the village, Zoku kept to the shadows, his small frame hidden by the underbrush. His eyes locked onto a basket of fruit sitting near one of the huts. If he could just grab a piece and retreat before anyone noticed...
His plan was simple, but his execution was far from perfect. As he crawled toward the basket, his hand caught on a loose twig, snapping it loudly. The sound echoed through the clearing, and Zoku froze.
The man sharpening the spear stood abruptly, his eyes scanning the area. "Who's there?" he called out, his voice gruff and commanding.
Zoku's heart pounded. The flames on his back flickered nervously, betraying his presence. The man's gaze landed on the bush where Zoku was hiding. Spear in hand, he approached cautiously.
Knowing he couldn't stay hidden, Zoku did the only thing he could think of—he stepped out of the bush, his small form trembling. The man stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the flames.
"It's a child," the man muttered, lowering his spear slightly. "But those flames... Could it be?"
The villagers began to gather, murmuring among themselves. Zoku took a hesitant step forward, his golden eyes meeting theirs. He raised his hands defensively, trying to convey that he meant no harm.
One of the women stepped forward, her expression a mixture of awe and fear. "A Lunarian," she whispered. "I thought they were extinct."
Judgment and Acceptance
The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Zoku's mind raced. They knew what he was. Would they fear him? Attack him?
To his surprise, the villagers didn't react with hostility. Instead, they seemed... reverent. The woman knelt before him, her head bowed. "You are a descendant of the gods," she said, her voice trembling. "We have heard the stories, but we never thought we'd see one of your kind."
Zoku blinked, taken aback. He had expected fear or rejection, but this was something else entirely. The villagers saw him as something divine, a being to be revered.
The man with the spear approached, kneeling beside the woman. "If you are truly a Lunarian, then you must be strong," he said. "Our ancestors spoke of your people as warriors of unmatched power."
Zoku didn't know how to respond. He was just a baby, barely able to control his flames, let alone live up to the legends these people seemed to believe.
The Feast
The villagers welcomed Zoku into their midst, offering him food and shelter. That evening, they held a small feast in his honor, roasting fish and sharing fruits and vegetables. Zoku ate ravenously, his hunger finally sated.
As the villagers celebrated, Zoku listened to their stories. They spoke of the Lunarians as protectors of the past, a race that had once lived in the sky. According to their legends, the Lunarians had been driven from their homeland, hunted to near extinction.
Zoku felt a pang of sadness. He knew these stories were true. The Lunarians' history was one of tragedy and loss. But he also felt a spark of determination. He wasn't just any Lunarian—he was Zoku, someone who had been reborn with the knowledge of the One Piece world.
That night, as he lay under the stars, Zoku made a promise to himself. He would grow stronger, not just to survive, but to live up to the legacy of the Lunarians. He didn't know what challenges lay ahead, but he was ready to face them.
A New Beginning
The next morning, Zoku bid farewell to the villagers. Though they had offered to let him stay, he knew his journey couldn't end here. There was a world waiting for him, filled with powerful foes, grand adventures, and the promise of becoming the strongest.
As he stood on the beach, staring out at the endless ocean, Zoku clenched his tiny fists. The flames on his back burned brighter than ever, a reflection of his resolve.
"This is just the beginning," he said softly, his voice carrying on the wind. "I'll make this world remember me."
With that, Zoku turned and began his journey, the first steps toward carving out his legend in the world of One Piece.