The last thing Kenji remembered was the smell of lukewarm ramen and the glare of his landlord.
"Rent was due yesterday, Kenji! Get a real job!"
Kenji had sighed, scratching his stubble. He was twenty-eight, broke, and wearing sweatpants that had seen better days. He clutched a plastic bag from the convenience store—his dinner. He wasn't a bad guy, just… stuck. His only escape was the manga on his phone.
One Piece. He knew the lore better than he knew his own tax information. He knew where the Ancient Weapons were, the truth about Nika, and the tragedy of Ohara.
"If I lived there," he muttered, stepping off the curb, "I wouldn't be a loser. I'd be free."
He didn't see the truck. He didn't even hear the screech of tires.
There was just a blinding white light, a shattering pain in his ribs, and then… nothing.
"WAAAAH!"
The sound of a crying baby pierced the silence.
Kenji tried to open his eyes, but everything was blurry. A massive headache throbbed behind his temples. Wait. I'm alive? The hospital?
He tried to speak, to ask for a doctor, but all that came out was a gurgling shriek. Panic set in. He tried to move his arms, but they were tiny, chubby, and uncoordinated.
"He's strong," a deep, rough voice rumbled from above. "Look at him kick."
"He's beautiful," a woman's voice whispered. It was soft, melodic, but laced with a deep, underlying fear.
Kenji's vision slowly cleared. He wasn't in a hospital room. He was in a wooden hut, illuminated by the flickering light of a lantern. The smell of sea salt and pine needles hung in the air.
He looked up at the woman holding him. She was stunning.
She had long, flowing white hair and skin the color of deep bronze. But what made Kenji's tiny heart stop was what poked out from behind her back.
Black, feathered wings.
No way, Kenji thought, his infant brain racing. Cosplay? No, they just moved. Those are real.
He looked at his own hands. Dark, bronze skin. He wiggled his shoulders and felt a strange, phantom weight on his back. He craned his neck as much as a newborn could.
Tiny, downy black wings.
And then, he felt the heat. It wasn't uncomfortable; it was a comforting warmth radiating from the back of his neck. A small, perpetual flame.
White hair. Brown skin. Black wings. Fire on the back.
Kenji stopped crying. The realization hit him harder than the truck had.
He wasn't just in One Piece. He wasn't just a human. He was a Lunarian.
He knew exactly what that meant. In this world, his existence was illegal. The World Government would pay 100 million berries just for a tip on his location. If they caught him, he would become a lab rat for Dr. Vegapunk. He would be cloned into a Seraphim.
"Look, honey," the father said, stepping into the light. He was a human, rugged, with a sword strapped to his hip. "The fire on his back... it's already burning."
"A true warrior of the gods," the mother said, stroking Kenji's white tuft of hair. "We will name him Kael."
Kael. That was his name now.
He looked at his reflection in a basin of water near the bed. Even as a baby, his features were sharp. In his past life, Kenji had been average—overweight, balding early, unnoticed. But this body? This body was designed by evolution for perfection. He was going to be handsome. Powerful.
But he was also hunted.
Kael looked at the window. Through the cracks in the wood, he could see the moon. It was the same moon he had seen in the manga panels for years.
I'm in the Great Pirate Era, he realized. If I was just born... that means Luffy was just born too. Shanks hasn't lost his arm yet. Roger is dead.
A surge of adrenaline mixed with fear. He had a second chance. He wasn't a bum anymore. He was a god-tier species with the mind of a modern adult and the knowledge of the future.
But first, he had to survive childhood without the Marines finding this island.
Kael closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, but his mind was already plotting. He needed to master his flames. He needed to learn Haki. And he needed to make sure that when he finally turned seventeen, the world would be ready for him.
Truck-kun took me out, Kael thought, a small smirk forming on his infant face. But this world won't find it so easy.
The fire on his back flared brighter, casting a long, dancing shadow against the wall.