The sun beat down from a mercilessly clear sky, its heat shimmering above an endless expanse of blue. A light breeze did little to cool the air, only serving to ripple the water's surface, making the world feel vast, empty, and very, very wet.
This was Jerry's new reality, and frankly, it would have been quite pleasant if he weren't mostly submerged in the ocean, clinging desperately to a splintered plank of wood barely wider than his hand. With a groan, he tried for the tenth time to haul his waterlogged body onto the makeshift raft, only to have it slip out from under him again.
He spat out a mouthful of saltwater, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. This makes no sense, he thought, his head pounding. Last night, I was fishing by the creek behind my house. So how did I wake up in the middle of the ocean?
A bitter, ironic chuckle escaped his lips. "People always joke about fishermen catching everything but fish—old boots, tires, a cold... But I really hit the jackpot, didn't I? I managed to fish myself into the sea."
With his hopes of finding a simple explanation fading, he tightened his grip on the plank and scanned the horizon, squinting against the glare. He was searching for a shoreline, a ship, anything other than the suffocating blue that surrounded him.
It was then that a sharp, splitting pain lanced through his skull. A flood of alien images and feelings—not his own—surged from the depths of his mind.
Before he could process the chaotic mental assault, a rogue wave crested beside him. It loomed over him for a terrifying second before crashing down, snatching both him and his pathetic plank and dragging them into the churning current.
A choked curse was all he managed before the world dissolved into darkness.
A rustling sound, like dry leaves skittering across the ground, slowly pulled him back to consciousness. He coughed violently, ejecting what felt like a lungful of gritty, salty water.
Then he feels it.
Sand.
He was on sand.
Jerry forced his heavy eyelids open, his vision blurry. A strange, speckled pattern hovered in front of his face, shifting and moving.
"What the hell...?" he mumbled, his voice raspy. "Am I hallucinating? Did a star grow a face and decide to pay me a visit?"
The speckled face pulled back slightly, and a distinctly human—and slightly annoyed—voice replied.
"Hey! Who are you calling a star?"
Jerry's vision finally cleared. He was looking up at a boy with a wild mane of black hair and a face dusted with a star of its own: freckles. Jerry pushed himself into a sitting position, feeling a strange sense of clarity wash over him, the kind that only comes after nearly dying.
"My mistake," he said weakly, a wry smile touching his lips. "For a second there, I thought a human-shaped collection of freckles had come to life."
The boy's annoyed expression vanished, replaced by a grin so wide it seemed to stretch from ear to ear, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. "Well, this collection of freckles pulled you out of the water. You're lucky I found you." He puffed out his chest with pride. "Let me introduce myself. The name's Portgas D. Ace!"
"Port-gas... D... Ace?" Jerry repeated slowly. The name echoed in his head, rattling against the foreign memories that were still settling in his mind like silt at the bottom of a river. Piece by piece, the puzzle began to click into place.
He hadn't just been fished into the sea. He'd been reeled into a different world entirely.
He knew this world. A world of pirates, magical fruits, and impossible adventures.
The world of One Piece.
And the boy standing before him...
"Portgas D. Ace!" the boy repeated, a little louder this time, snapping Jerry out of his reverie.
Jerry took a proper look at him. Bare-chested and wearing simple black shorts, Ace had the lean, wiry build of someone who was constantly active. An orange hat with two unique emblems was slung around his neck by a string of red beads, and a tattoo on his left bicep boldly spelled out "ASCE," with the 'S' crossed out. It was all there, just like he remembered. The freckles, the carefree smile, the raw, untamable energy. This was Fire Fist Ace, long before he would set the Grand Line ablaze.
"Portgas D. Ace..." Jerry murmured, a genuine smile forming. "That name sounds... familiar."
Ace's eyes lit up, sparkling with excitement. "Really? You've heard of me? Is my name already famous out on the seas?" he asked, leaning in eagerly. "What have you heard?"
Jerry paused for a beat, his deadpan expression flawless. "I heard it about a minute ago. From you. As for it being famous... the jury's still out."
Ace's excited face fell. He narrowed his eyes and took a half-step back. "A minute ago? And you said it sounded familiar?"
"Hey, don't knock it," Jerry retorted, sitting up straighter. "A lot can happen in a minute. You'd be surprised. Anyway," he added, extending a hand, "my name's Jerry."
Ace looked at the offered hand for a second before shaking it with a firm grip. "Well, Jerry. Welcome to... well, this place."
Jerry looked past him at their surroundings. It was a small, lonely island. A few pathetic-looking coconut trees stood like sentinels on the white sand, their fronds rustling in the breeze, though they bore no fruit. Beyond the beach, the vast ocean glittered. He noticed a strange, powerful current circling the island, pulling any floating debris inexorably toward it. It was a natural, inescapable prison.
"So, where exactly is 'this place'?" Jerry asked, turning back to Ace, who was now busy dragging pieces of driftwood further up the beach.
"No idea," Ace replied cheerfully, not even bothering to look up. "Just some random island I washed up on. Been here six days now." He was methodically sorting the wood, clearly planning to build a raft.
"Six days? You're holding up pretty well," Jerry observed, genuinely impressed.
"Of course! I grew up in the mountains," Ace said with a nostalgic grin. He briefly recalled his harsh childhood under the care of the mountain bandit Dadan.
Just as Jerry was about to ask another question, a crisp, mechanical voice echoed directly inside his mind.
[Ding! Compatible host detected. System binding initiated...]
Jerry blinked. A system? Seriously? Is this part of the whole 'waking up in another world' package? As an avid reader of webnovels in his past life, he was more intrigued than shocked.
[System, you there? Any chance of a welcome gift for the newly reincarnated?] he thought, testing the connection.
[Ding! System binding successful.]
[Host profile detected: Age over 18. Adult-mode unlocked. Limiter broken. PS: With daily effort, greatness is within your grasp.]
Okay... binding successful, and then what? Did it run out of RAM? Jerry waited, but there was only silence. And what's with the free life advice? Is this some kind of self-help system?
[Host's naivety has been noted. Dispensing a complimentary Newbie Gift Pack. Please check your inventory.]
A translucent blue screen materialized in his mind's eye. It was simple, almost primitive-looking.
Right. Looks like I got the bargain-bin DOS version, he thought wryly. So, what exactly does this system do?
As he focused, the interface expanded, revealing two main tabs: [Status] and [Inventory]. He mentally tapped on [Inventory], where a single, brightly wrapped gift box sat waiting in a small, square space.
This must be it. With a flicker of anticipation, he willed the gift box to open.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host! You have received: "The Grand Line Navigator's Almanac" and one (1) Supreme-Grade Fishing Rod.]