Pain dragged me back to consciousness. A dull, throbbing ache seeped into every muscle in my body. I opened my eyes and realized that, for the first time in six months, I hadn't woken up in my blindingly white room. This place was different. Gray stone walls, dim light from a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, a bed, and a toilet in the corner. Clean, but worn. I lay on a thin mattress, and every movement sparked a flare of pain in my ribs and face. I was hungry and thirsty.
I sat up, wincing, and looked around more carefully. My body was covered in bruises, but there were no open wounds. The first thing I noticed was the absence of Kairoseki handcuffs. My hands were free, and for a fleeting moment, my heart skipped with a strange flicker of hope. But I quickly crushed it.
I cautiously stood and approached the heavy bars that served as a door. I reached out and barely touched the cold metal. Instantly, a familiar wave of overwhelming weakness coursed through my body. I yanked my hand back, breathing heavily. The bars were made of Sea Stone.
Beyond them stretched an empty room with a single door. No guards, no visible surveillance. But I already knew better than to trust appearances. I scanned the corners of the cell, the ceiling. Even if I couldn't see a Den Den Mushi spying on me, I was certain it was there, watching, waiting for me to use my fruit's power.
And then it clicked.
This was a new kind of cage. A subtler, psychological trap. They'd removed the handcuffs and visible guards to give me the illusion of freedom and safety. To make me let my guard down and cautiously explore my power. Most people—especially a child suddenly gifted with an incredible ability—wouldn't resist the temptation to experiment when "no one" was watching.
But that wouldn't work on me.
The door to the outer room opened, and Dr. Aris appeared. He slid a tray of food under the bars. The same mashed potatoes and cutlet as always, with a glass of water. "Awake, F-4?" His voice was as steady as ever, but there was a hint of curiosity in it. "How are you feeling?"
I silently took the tray and sat on the bed.
"We've concluded that constant exposure to Kairoseki may negatively affect your physical condition, slowing your recovery," he continued, watching me closely. "So, we've provided you with… a freer environment."
Liar. This was just another attempt to feed me the illusion of freedom.
"Rest, regain your strength," Aris finished, then turned and left.
I ate slowly. The food was, as always, decently tasty. Every word he said only confirmed my suspicions. "Freer environment" meant "observation cage." "Regain your strength" meant "show us what you can do."
Well, I'd show them. But not what they expected.
After finishing the meal, I sat on the bed, leaning against the wall, feigning exhaustion. But my mind was clearer than ever. I focused on the floor. Near the wall, a few small bits of plaster had chipped off. Five nearly identical gray pebbles.
I "reached" toward them with my consciousness, feeling the familiar resonance. Stone A. Stone B. They were almost identical. Even I, staring at them, could barely tell them apart. Perfect objects for practice.
Click.
I didn't see it, but I knew—Stone A and Stone B had swapped places. No sound, no movement. A completely undetectable manipulation.
Click. Stone C and Stone D. Click. Stone A and Stone D.
The problem of mastering my power was solved. I could train for hours, and no one would notice. But there was another, far more serious problem.
My mind flashed back to the fight with the agent. His speed, my clumsy dodge. The barrage of blows I couldn't escape. Even if I perfectly mastered my power, my reaction speed was too slow. I might dodge two, maybe three strikes with this ability, but he'd just speed up and break me.
I needed to change my entire way of thinking. Stop reacting and start acting preemptively.
I needed to plan not one step ahead, but ten. Every movement had to be more than just a dodge—it had to set up the next step. No hesitation, no doubts. After the first "teleport," the second, third, and tenth had to follow immediately. A single delay meant death.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, knowing full well that somewhere up there, the cold eye of a Den Den Mushi was watching me.
"Keep watching," I thought, feeling a fire of rage ignite within me. "Watch closely. Because when you finally figure out what I'm doing, it'll be too late."
A week had passed since Francis was moved to the new cell, and nothing had happened.
In the control center, buried deep within the complex, they monitored his existence. Dozens of screens lined the walls, displaying feeds from every residential section. At the consoles sat uniformed security personnel—observers. Their job was to record data. Every step, every meal, every sleep cycle, every muscle twitch during exercise—all reduced to dry lines in a report.
The control center door slid open silently, and Dr. Aris entered. He ignored the greeting nods. His eyes were fixed on the central monitor, where Francis was monotonously doing push-ups in his cell.
"Report on Subject F-4. Any changes in behavior?" he asked, addressing the senior observer.
The observer checked his notes. "No results, Doctor. Standard cycle: physical activity, meals, eight hours of sleep. No anomalous energy spikes. No signs of ability activation. The subject is behaving… predictably."
Aris tapped his tablet thoughtfully. "Understood. Continue monitoring," he said curtly and left without waiting for a response.
He walked down the corridor, eyes on his tablet screen, which displayed the experiment results for the "F" group. He updated the statuses one by one.
Subject F-1 (Zoan, Ara): Status—Transferred. Moved to Madame Elsa's jurisdiction at her personal request. Purpose: exotic display for social events. Further scientific study deemed unnecessary.
Subject F-2 (Paramecia, Command): Status—Transferred. Moved to the Security Division. Ability of interest for interrogation techniques. Subject to undergo intensive psychological conditioning and training.
Subject F-3 (Logia, Ash): Status—Terminated. Subject displayed uncontrollable aggression and was neutralized. Assigned to Project Rebirth.
And finally, Subject F-4. Aris paused, staring at the static image of the boy on his tablet. Everything suggested that an eight-year-old child, especially one with a history of defiance, wouldn't have the psychological discipline to suppress a new, incredible power for seven days. The temptation would be too great. Which led to one conclusion: the ability required a specific, yet-to-be-discovered trigger to activate.
Aris opened Francis's file and signed off on the "Emergency Measures" protocol. If the subject didn't show results in these tests, he'd follow number three to Project Rebirth.
Project Rebirth was the research center's most ambitious—and most disastrous—program. Its premise was simple yet horrifyingly crude: extracting a Devil Fruit from a living host. According to one scientist's hypothesis, when a fruit user dies, their "devil" immediately seeks a new host in the nearest suitable fruit of the same or similar type.
Based on this, a special chamber had been built deep within the complex. Its walls were lined with display cases holding hundreds of fruits from around the world, preserved in perfect conditions. "Failed" fruit users were brought there and killed—quickly, efficiently—in hopes that their power would transfer to one of the fruits in the cases.
So far, the success rate was one percent. Ninety-nine out of a hundred experiments ended in nothing. Ninety-nine lost unique abilities and ninety-nine corpses. But that single success kept the project alive with endless funding. If Dr. Aris could raise that success rate to even ten percent, his name would stand among the greatest minds of the World Government. For that, sacrificing a hundred or two slaves was a small price to pay.
Over seven days, the bruises faded from angry purple to yellowish streaks, then vanished entirely. The pain in my ribs dulled to a tolerable ache. I could move freely again, and with each day, my body—used to constant strain—recovered faster. But far more important was what I'd accomplished in those seven days of solitude in the gray cell. I'd explored my power. I'd tested its limits and learned its rules.
Rule One: Living beings. Every day at noon, I heard footsteps, and a guard appeared with my tray. He wasn't just a jailer to me—he was my primary training tool. I focused on him, "probing" him with my new sense. My power perceived him as a single, cohesive object. Not just a person, but a person-in-uniform-holding-a-tray. Everything directly touching his body—his clothes, boots, even the tray in his hands—was part of his "resonance." If I swapped places with him, he'd teleport with all his gear.
Rule Two: Myself. Things were different with me. My clothes and anything touching my body or hands were perceived as separate objects by my power.
Rule Three: Inanimate objects. If I placed a pebble on the bed, it didn't merge with it. They remained two distinct objects. My power didn't combine them.
With a power like this, I could do more than just survive—I could win.
I'd already devised an escape plan. Waiting for a convenient opportunity was foolish. In this place, there were no convenient opportunities—only tests and ways to die. I could feel that Aris wouldn't leave me alone.
Today, with my wounds nearly healed and my body ready, the moment was coming. Around noon, as always, the guard would bring my lunch. That brief, routine moment would be my window to freedom. The plan was risky, hinging on countless tiny details, but it was all I had.
I sat on the bed, listening. My heart beat steadily but loudly, like a drum pounding a war march. I heard the approaching footsteps. The time had come.