The old man sat in his worn-out armchair, surrounded by the gentle hum of machines and the smell of old paper. On the wall beside him hung a fading poster — a sea-weathered image of a boy in a straw hat grinning at the world.
"Still no ending, huh?" he whispered, his voice raspy but warm. His eyes, clouded with age, never left the flickering screen in front of him — a fan-forum post from a younger generation speculating what the One Piece could really be.
He chuckled softly.
"Doesn't matter... I know it's not the treasure. It's the journey. Always was."
Outside the window, the world moved on — cars passed, birds flew, and somewhere, a young boy picked up volume one of One Piece for the first time. But inside this tiny room, time had slowed to a gentle crawl.
His name had once meant something — a teacher, a neighbor, a friend. But as the years stretched thin, and his legs grew too weak to leave the house, all that remained was the story.
The one he loved more than anything.
He'd seen wars, joy, heartbreak, sacrifice, dreams. Not his own.
But Luffy's.
Zoro's.
Nami's.
His breath began to tremble.
Not from fear.
From peace.
A slow exhale slipped from his lips as he leaned back into the chair, smiling at the ceiling.
"...Just wish I could've seen the end..."
The monitor blinked once.
Then silence.
---
Somewhere beyond death — a white realm, neither warm nor cold.
A man stood. No wrinkles. No cane. Just... himself — as he remembered being.
He blinked.
"…Am I dead?"
"Yes."
The voice came from behind a smooth obsidian desk, manned by two figures in flowing white robes — featureless, but oddly polite.
"You have passed peacefully in your sleep, Mr. Nomura," said one. "Congratulations on a life well-lived."
He blinked again.
"Nomura… right. That was my name…"
The second figure gestured to a swirling golden scroll.
"We have reviewed your karmic record. Despite… excessive anime consumption and late-night ramen diets…"
A pause.
"Your actions in life were overwhelmingly kind. You lived with empathy. You harmed no one. You helped strangers without expectation. Your karma is—frankly—ridiculous."
The first one cleared their throat.
"As such, the Afterlife Committee has approved you for Selective Reincarnation. You may choose a world to be reborn in… and receive three reasonable wishes."
Silence.
Then the old man — no, the soul of Nomura — grinned.
"…Any world?"
"Yes."
His answer came without hesitation.
"One Piece."
---
The agents didn't even look surprised.
"Understood. The World of One Piece. Timeline: Flexible. Canon-aligned. Standard danger levels apply."
"Please select your three wishes before transmigration."
---
Nomura thought for a moment, then spoke slowly — reverently.
"One: I want to be reborn in the One Piece world — truly, not as a visitor, but as someone who belongs there."
"Two: I want a system — nothing flashy or overpowered. Just something to help me grow, train, and survive."
"Three…"
He hesitated.
His hands curled into trembling fists.
"I want the talent of Gol D. Roger. Not his strength, not his fame… just that spark. That potential."
The agents nodded, seemingly pleased.
"Accepted."
A warm light bloomed from beneath his feet, like the shimmer of dawn over a calm ocean.
"You will retain your memories, but they will return slowly. Your system will awaken when the time is right. Your name… will be given in time."
"Wait," he said, smiling like a child on Christmas morning.
"Will I get to meet them? Luffy? Zoro? Robin…?"
"That depends," the agent replied with a whisper.
"On the path you carve."
Then the world shattered into white.
---
Somewhere in the West Blue, a storm screamed.
A ship of humble traders was torn in two by waves the size of giants.
Among the wreckage — soaked, unconscious, and alone — floated a small boy.
No one else survived.
The sea, cruel and kind in equal measure, cradled him toward a distant shore.
An island. Uninhabited. Unknown.
A new world.
A second chance.
---
And within the boy's mind, far beneath the fear and sleep, a voice whispered softly...
> [SYSTEM INITIALIZING…]
> Welcome, user.