The taste somehow got worse with each passing second, coating her mouth with an oily, rancid flavor that made her stomach churn and threaten to rebel.
Her whole body shuddered with revulsion.
She stumbled to the washbasin, desperately trying to rinse the awful taste from her mouth. The water helped slightly, but the oily residue clung stubbornly to her tongue.
She sat heavily on the bed, her legs still shaking. Her fingers traced her arm absently, searching for any sign of change.
'Maybe it just takes time to settle.'
She recalled what she knew about Devil Fruit users from the manga. Luffy had figured out his rubber powers almost immediately, but he'd been just a kid then. Plus, stretching was pretty hard to miss.
But what about the others? She searched her memory for details from the stories she'd followed so obsessively. Some users took days or even weeks to master their abilities. That was just learning control though—not necessarily when the powers first activated.
Her brow furrowed as she realized a gap in her knowledge. She'd never actually read about the exact moment powers manifested. Did they appear instantly? Fade in gradually? The manga had never covered that detail.
'First time anyone from my world has eaten one of these. Not exactly like there's a user manual.'
Despite all her knowledge about this world and its power systems, this was completely uncharted territory.
Her hair fell across her face, and she brushed it back with an irritated gesture. The strands felt oddly oily, sticky with sweat from her ordeal.
She shifted uncomfortably, her clothes clinging to her skin. The fruit had left her feeling feverish and strange, like her body was fighting off some kind of infection.
Her stomach churned again, whether from the horrible taste or nerves, she couldn't tell.
'I need a shower. Badly.'
The small bathroom felt cramped as she peeled off her sweaty clothes. Every sensation seemed heightened—the fabric dragging across her hypersensitive skin made her wince.
Hot water cascaded over her, bringing blessed relief. She scrubbed with the cheap soap, its clean scent finally beginning to overpower the lingering fruit taste in her sinuses.
Water ran down her body as she closed her eyes and tried to think rationally about her situation. What should she do next? She had no money, no concrete plan, no idea how she'd even arrived in this impossible world.
She could stay in Syrup Village, maybe find work at a restaurant like Hiroshi's or help at the docks. Become part of this small, welcoming community. Small towns always needed extra hands, and the people here had already shown her such kindness.
But something about staying in one place felt wrong. Like she was meant to be moving, not settling down. Maybe it was just restlessness from everything that had happened.
There was always Marine recruitment. They accepted anyone willing to follow orders, and she'd have guaranteed food and shelter. But the thought of wearing that uniform and serving their corrupted version of justice made her stomach turn violently. After everything she knew about the World Government's true nature, she couldn't bring herself to join them.
Merchant ships might be a better option. They always needed crew members and didn't ask too many questions if you could work hard. She could learn about the seas, save some money, and figure out how to actually survive in this world. Maybe even discover if there was a way back home, though that seemed increasingly unlikely.
More importantly, merchant crews were goldmines of gossip about pirates, Marines, and everything happening across the Blues. She could gather information, learn how this world really worked beyond what she'd read in a manga.
And Loguetown would definitely be worth visiting eventually. The largest port in East Blue, the final stop before the Grand Line. If she needed supplies like a Log Pose, better clothes, or information about Devil Fruit powers, that would be the place. The city catered to Grand Line travelers with all sorts of specialized shops.
The heavy Marine presence there also meant the library would have detailed maps and records she could study.
The water began turning cold, snapping her from her thoughts. She sighed and reluctantly turned off the faucet, wrapping herself in a threadbare towel.
She wiped a clear spot on the fogged mirror, then froze. Something looked different about her reflection, though with the steam and dim lighting, she couldn't pinpoint what.
She leaned closer, wiping another streak through the condensation. Her breath caught in her throat.
At her temples, subtle streaks of deep purple were threading through her dark hair.
She blinked hard, certain it was a trick of the light. But no—the color was definitely there. Her fingers trembled as she pushed her wet hair back, revealing more traces of purple weaving through the brown strands.
'Oh.'
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
So something had changed after all. At least purple hair wasn't too obviously supernatural. She could probably pass it off as dye if anyone asked.
A sharp crack split the air like a gunshot. She jerked backward, heart racing. The sound had come from directly in front of her.
The mirror. Where her hand had been resting against its surface, spiderweb cracks spread outward across the glass.
She stared at her palm, then back at the damaged mirror. She'd barely been touching it—just a light contact while she examined her reflection.
But there was something else. When her skin had made contact with the glass, she'd felt more than just its cool surface. Somehow, she'd sensed the mirror's structure—how it was made, what materials composed it, even how the silvering adhered to the back.
'What the hell was that?'
She touched the mirror again, more deliberately this time. Nothing happened. Just cold glass under her fingertips, perfectly normal.
Had she pressed too hard before without realizing it? No—she was certain the touch had been feather-light.
The towel began slipping from around her chest, and she caught it automatically. Another sharp crack echoed through the small room.
This time, the metal towel rack had split clean through where her fingers had gripped it.
She stared at the broken metal, then at her hands. They looked completely normal except for a faint purple shimmer across her knuckles that seemed to pulse with her heartbeat.
That grab should have been nothing—just an instinctive movement she'd made thousands of times before. Her grip hadn't felt any stronger.
The steam was making it hard to think clearly. She needed to get dressed and process what was happening with a clear head.
Her clothes clung to her damp skin as she dressed hurriedly.
Not physically stronger exactly, but different. Like her touch could affect things in ways it never had before.
As she pulled on her jeans, the denim felt strange under her fingertips. She could sense each individual thread, somehow aware of how they were woven together into the fabric.
Curious despite her growing alarm, she traced along a seam. Her awareness of its construction grew sharper, more detailed. She could picture exactly how the threads were joined.
As she focused on that image, something incredible happened. The seam shifted under her touch, the threads loosening and then coming together again in a slightly different pattern.
She examined the altered seam with wide eyes. Tighter in some places, looser in others. Not torn or damaged—deliberately changed, as if the fabric had responded to her will.
Her hands shook as she reached for her boot. Her fingers found the worn leather, and immediately that same strange awareness flooded back—stronger this time. She could tell exactly where it was worn thin, where the stitches were solid, how all the pieces fit together.
Then another sensation hit her—a flicker at the edge of her consciousness. A presence? Energy signature?
The feeling sharpened with startling clarity. Someone was moving up the stairs toward her floor.
Maya. The innkeeper's energy felt warm and familiar, tinged with concern. Aria tensed as she realized the woman must have heard the breaking sounds.
Sure enough, soft footsteps approached her door, followed by a gentle knock.
"Miss? Everything alright in there? I heard some noise."
Maya's voice was muffled through the wood, but Aria could sense her worry.
"I'm fine! Just... dropped something. Sorry about the mirror—I'll pay for it!"
"The mirror?"
A pause filled with what felt like confusion from the other side of the door.
"Well, don't worry about that old thing. I've been meaning to replace it anyway. Let me know if you need anything else."
Aria found herself tracking Maya's movement as she walked away, following her energy signature without conscious effort. The ability felt as natural as hearing or sight.
Then another presence caught her attention. This one was different—where Maya's energy felt soft and nurturing, this new signature burned with intensity. It moved past the inn with purpose, making the purple traces on Aria's skin tingle in response.
She pressed her palm flat against the wall, focusing on this new sense. More presences swam into her awareness.
Dozens of energy signatures throughout the village.
Each signature felt unique yet somehow connected to all the others. Her brain was rapidly learning to interpret this flood of new sensory information.
The powerful presence that had caught her attention was moving away now, its intensity gradually fading with distance.
A yawn caught her by surprise, her body finally registering how exhausted she was.
She sank onto the bed. Her hands were still trembling from everything that had just happened.
She pulled off her boots and let them drop with heavy thuds.
"Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and this will all make sense."
She lay back without changing clothes. The patchwork quilt smelled of sea salt and old soap, rough against her cheek.
Through the thin walls came normal inn sounds—footsteps, closing doors, distant waves.
'How am I supposed to sleep with all this noise in my head?'
She squeezed her eyes shut, but purple light danced behind her eyelids, making her nauseous.
When pale dawn light finally crept through the small window, she felt anything but rested. Heavy fog rolled in from the harbor, muffling the village in gray silence as she made her way downstairs and out into the empty streets.
She could sense the occasional pulse of energy from various buildings as early risers began their day. Her shoulders were tense with the strain of processing these new sensations.
'So much for an instruction manual.'
Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since yesterday's meal at Hiroshi's restaurant.
A small food stall ahead caught her eye, its cheerful red awning a splash of color against the foggy morning. The middle-aged woman tending it looked up with a genuine smile.
"Good morning! What can I get for you today?"
"Whatever's quickest and most filling," Aria replied, her voice hoarse from sleep. "I'm absolutely starving, and honestly, I'm not in a position to be picky."
The woman's laugh was warm and welcoming. "I know exactly what you need."
The stall felt cozy despite its simple setup, with a few tables where early customers chatted quietly over steaming bowls. Aria's food arrived quickly, a generous plate of scrambled eggs, grilled fish, and sautéed vegetables that made her mouth water.
She dug in eagerly, trying to focus on the hearty meal.
She was halfway through her breakfast when raised voices shattered the peaceful morning atmosphere.
"I said I wanted fish! This is complete garbage!"
A massive man swayed unsteadily at a nearby table, clearly drunk despite the early hour. His clothes were rumpled, his beard stained with whatever he'd been drinking.
The stall owner approached him with obvious caution. "Sir, you ordered the breakfast special. If you'd prefer something different, I'd be happy to—"
"Don't tell me what I ordered, woman!"
He slammed his meaty fist down on the table with enough force to make the dishes jump. His plate tipped over the edge, sending food scattering across the dirt floor.
Aria's grip tightened involuntarily on her chopsticks, the wood creaking under the pressure.
"Please, just calm down. We have plenty of fish dishes available if you'd like to—"
"You think I can't afford better than this slop?"
He lurched to his feet, knocking his chair backward with a crash. His bloodshot eyes were wild with drunken rage.
Without warning, he grabbed his half-full bowl and hurled it against the stall's wall. Rice and vegetables exploded across the wood, dripping down in a mess of wasted food.
The image of a certain blonde cook flashed through Aria's mind—his absolute fury whenever anyone dared waste even a crumb. Her jaw clenched as anger surged through her chest.
"You worthless—"
The drunk reached out and grabbed the shop owner's wrist as she tried to back away, his thick fingers wrapping around her arm.
That was it. Aria's chair scraped harshly against the ground as she shot to her feet.
"Hey! You just wasted perfectly good food!"
The words erupted from her before she could think to stop them.
The drunk slowly turned, his bloodshot eyes struggling to focus on her. He released the shop owner's wrist.
"The hell did you just say to me, girl?"
His voice was a low growl, thick with alcohol and menace.
"You heard me." Aria's voice was steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her. "Someone needs to teach you some manners. And lucky you, I just volunteered for the job."
The other customers scrambled away from their tables, pressing back against the edges of the awning. An excited buzz of whispers started up as people realized they were about to witness a fight.
The drunk steadied himself against his overturned table, his knuckles white against the wood. A nasty smile spread across his flushed face.
"You picked the wrong man to mess with, little girl. This is your last chance to walk away before you get hurt."
"Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you. But hey—don't let common sense stop you from making a complete fool of yourself."
His face went purple with rage. "You're gonna regret opening that smart mouth!"
He lunged forward with surprising speed for his size, his fist cutting through the air where her head had been just a moment before.
Aria's body moved on pure instinct, muscle memory from years of self-defense classes taking over. But there was something new now—she could see pale blue wisps of energy flowing from his arms with each swing.
"Stand still and take your beating!"
Another wild haymaker that sent chairs scattering as she ducked under it.
She circled around his clumsy attacks, studying the flow of energy with fascination. The blue aura was strongest when he threw punches, concentrated in his shoulders and arms like visible strength.
'There's definitely a pattern here. I just need to time this right...'
"Fight back, you coward!"
His next punch left him completely off-balance, stumbling forward with his guard down. Aria stepped inside his reach and grabbed his thick wrist with both hands.
The moment her skin made contact, a cold sensation ran up her arms. She could feel his energy, and somehow, she knew she could take it.
The aura flowed from his muscles into hers. The drunk's face went pale as his legs started shaking violently.
"What... what did you do to me..."
His voice was weak, confused. Meanwhile, power surged through Aria's body like electricity. She flexed her fingers experimentally, watching purple light ripple across her knuckles.
"Well, would you look at that." A dangerous smile played at her lips. "Turns out that disgusting fruit was worth something after all."
Terror and rage warred across the drunk's face. With a desperate shout, he tried to charge at her again.
'So predictable.'
His movements seemed to crawl through honey to her enhanced perception. She caught his punch effortlessly in her palm, feeling absolutely nothing from the impact that should have broken bones.
Her strike hit him square in the chest. The drunk flew backward like he'd been shot from a cannon, crashing through two tables in an explosion of splintered wood before sliding to a stop against one of the awning's support posts.
Absolute silence fell over the stall area.
The shop owner emerged from behind her counter, carefully stepping around the scattered dishes and broken furniture.
"I... I don't know how to thank you." Her voice shook slightly. "That man's been terrorizing the whole district for weeks. Are you hurt at all?"
Aria looked down at her hands, still crackling with residual energy. She could feel the stolen strength beginning to fade, but slowly.
"I'm perfectly fine. Sorry about the mess though—and all that wasted food. I'll pay for the damages since I was the one who escalated things."
"Absolutely not!" The woman waved her hands frantically. "You saved me from that monster. Your meal is on the house."
Aria became aware of the growing crowd that had gathered, their excited whispers and curious stares. She needed to leave before this attracted even more attention.
"Thank you again for the meal."
She turned, ready to make a quick exit.
"That was incredible!"