The light from the summoning circle intensified, swirling in hues of blue and violet. It pulsed like a heartbeat, washing over Ryan's face as he crouched in the shadow of the cage. The runes along the circle's edge spun faster until they blurred, and then— a figure began to take form.
Long black hair flowed like ink, cascading down a figure wrapped in white and black robes. The air around her felt colder, calmer. Her steps were light as she emerged fully into the world, her gaze lowering to meet Ryan's.
Sharp blue eyes framed by delicate features. A serene expression, yet something ancient and unshakable beneath it.
She was tall, poised, and her presence carried a strange mix of grace and authority. A katana was sheathed at her side, but it was her calm aura that struck harder than any weapon. She looked like a woman who had witnessed centuries of violence—and learned how to master it.
"Where… am I?" she asked quietly, her voice smooth as water over glass.
Ryan hesitated. "You're... in my world. I summoned you."
The woman tilted her head slightly, as if listening to some far-off whisper. Then, as if remembering something sacred, she knelt gracefully before him—head bowed, one hand on her chest in solemn acknowledgement.
"I see. Then I am yours to serve. My name is Unohana Retsu, of the Gotei 13."
Ryan's heart pounded. He knew her. From the anime Bleach. The most skilled healer in Soul Society—and its most terrifying hidden blade. In front of him now. Real. Flesh and blood. And bound to him.
The system's screen blinked again.
Summoned: Unohana Retsu (Bleach).
Passive Loyalty Bond Established.
Choose one skill/ability from summoned character.
Ryan thought quickly. She can heal anything. But what good is healing if I'm dead before I can use it? Unohana was more than just a healer. She was once the most feared swordsman in Soul Society—Kenpachi, the first.
If he was going to survive in this world of monsters and pirates, he needed power.
The sword.
That was the choice.
Skill Chosen: Kendo Mastery – Unohana's Swordsmanship
As soon as he made the selection, a sensation like lightning raced through his arms and shoulders. Movements, stances, angles—he saw them all, like echoes in muscle memory. He didn't fully grasp it yet, but the foundation was there, etched deep.
He peeked past the cage's edge. Two pirates remained on deck, distracted by their own conversation. The rest of the crew were still on the island, wrangling the beasts. This was the moment.
He turned back to Unohana.
"Can you deal with the two pirates on the ship?" he asked.
Unohana nodded with her serene, ghostly smile. "I can heal. And I can kill. Whatever's your will."
She moved before he could reply—no flash, no flourish. One moment she stood beside him. The next, she was across the deck. Ryan's eyes could barely follow her.
The first pirate turned just in time to see her serene face. That was all. A soft breath passed between them—his eyes widening in confusion. Then, with a flicker of her sleeve and a step as light as a whisper, Unohana closed the distance.
Her hand moved faster than his thoughts, and this time, she did not hold back. Her fingers sliced across his throat with surgical precision—clean, swift. The pirate gurgled, staggered, and fell to the deck in a widening pool of red.
The second pirate barely managed to draw his pistol. Unohana didn't even glance his way. A flash of her hand, and her sheathed sword struck his temple with bone-crushing force. As he collapsed, she moved to ensure finality—a decisive, brutal strike to the chest, ending his breath before it could fully leave his lungs.
No hesitation. No mercy.
When she returned to Ryan's side, her robes unruffled, her hands clean, she spoke with the same calm finality: "It is done."
She returned the same way she left—silent as moonlight.
Ryan watched her with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "You're even scarier in person than on screen," he muttered, half to himself.
Unohana just tilted her head, puzzled.
He looked toward the distant island. The rest of the pirates were still there. It was time to move. They wouldn't be gone much longer—time was tight. Two guards were down, and once they noticed something was off, chaos would erupt.
He glanced toward the stern. There was still one rowboat left, tied loosely and half-covered by a tarp. The others were out with the crew on the other side of the island, leaving the rear shore wide open.
"We're taking that rowboat," he said, the plan forming rapidly in his mind. "We'll load it with as many supplies as we can carry—food, gear, anything useful. Then we circle around the island, land somewhere far from where the others are docked."
His eyes darkened with a deeper thought. "And once I'm ready... I'll go after the pirates on the far side of this island. They're no ordinary threat. They took my mother from me. Burned our village. That's not something I'll forget. Or forgive."
He clenched his fists. "They'll pay."
He looked at Unohana. "From there, we vanish. Start fresh. And if I have enough Berries and find a Devil Fruits... I summon again."
He glanced down at his hands, flexing them slowly. The weight of the kendo knowledge he had inherited was still fresh, still raw. He had the basics—the stances, the grip, the flow of movement—but he needed more than just theory. He needed practice. Precision.
"I need to train," he added, almost to himself. "If I'm going to survive this world, I can't rely on luck or just the people I summon. I have to become strong myself. That swordsmanship... it's mine now. I'll master it."
His voice was calm, but there was a resolve there, burning hotter than before. A plan was forming—not just for escape, but for growth.
He hesitated for a breath, eyes flicking between the cage, the stairs, and the fallen pirates.
This was it. A window of silence in a storm.
He decided. It was now or never.
Ryan slipped past the bodies, signaling for Unohana to follow him as they crept toward the captain's cabin. Inside, he rummaged through drawers and trunks, grabbing what supplies he could find—maps and, a bundle of clean clothes to replace his worn rags.
He also found a pair of decent boots, a rolled-up standard compass with minor scratches on the casing, a waterproof oilskin pouch, and an old, half-burned logbook filled with the captain's scribbled notes—some detailing past trades and locations of potential Devil Fruit sightings.
He continued searching and made his way toward the adjacent galley. The kitchen was compact but well-stocked. Ryan filled a sack with preserved goods—jerked fish, salted rice cakes, canned vegetables—and even managed to find a sealed jug of fresh water. Every bit counted if they were going to survive off the radar for even a few days.
As he turned to leave, a folded newspaper caught his eye. Ryan bent to pick it up, his eyes scanning the bold title: World Economy News Paper.
One headline jumped out at him: "Desert Tyrant Crocodile Defeated by Straw Hat Luffy! Marines Confirm Warlord's Fall in Alabasta!"
His breath caught.
Ryan stared, stunned. Luffy. So it had already happened.
This wasn't just any pirate—it was the future Pirate King, alive and making waves already.
He folded the paper carefully and tucked it into his pack. The world was moving. Big players were already in motion. And now... so was he.
He had taken his first step. Gained his first ally.
And now the game truly began.