Ohara — 22 Years Ago
Clou D. Reed stirred awake with a start, his body jolting as if struck by lightning.
"Where… where the hell am I?!" he gasped, clutching his head.
Convulsions racked his frame as visions flooded his mind—two sets of memories clashing violently. One belonged to the scholar Reed of Ohara, nephew of Professor Clover. The other was something alien… a life where this very world was nothing more than a story, and he himself never existed. The storm in his head lasted minutes before it finally ebbed, leaving him drenched in sweat.
He sat up, breathing heavily. So… my name is Clou D. Reed. Clover's nephew… thirty years old. And just yesterday, I ate the Mane Mane no Mi. He smirked bitterly. The same fruit Bon Clay would one day wield. Funny. The old Reed wanted to keep it a surprise for Robin. But now…
Reed's expression hardened as he pieced the timeline together. Olvia returned only days ago. That means… the Buster Call is coming.
The thought made his stomach twist. "I know the Poneglyphs, I can even read them… but so what? Knowledge won't save us when battleships surround this island. Even if all of Ohara stood together, could we really escape?"
His fists clenched. "No. I have to think about my survival first."
Reed left his quarters and made his way toward the great Tree of Knowledge. But halfway there, he froze. Down the path, Cipher Pol agents were already rounding up scholars, forcing them toward the evacuation ships.
"It's too late," he whispered. His pulse spiked. The government is already here.
He slipped into the treeline, heart pounding. Sakazuki will burn those ships. I can't be anywhere near them. I need time… time to think.
Hidden in the bushes, his thoughts churned. "How can I help the researchers? What can I—" He stopped, then slapped himself across the face.
"No. They aren't my researchers. I'm not really Reed. I'm just a man who took his body. I may have his memories, but I'm my own person now. If I want to live… I have to escape."
Minutes later, a lone marine wandered nearby, scanning the foliage for stragglers.
Reed's eyes narrowed. Perfect.
He grabbed a rock and crouched low. The moment the soldier drew close, Reed lunged from the bush. The stone smashed into the marine's face, muffling his cry as Reed clamped a hand over his mouth. A swift blow to the back of the head sent him limp.
Breath ragged, Reed dragged the body into the undergrowth, stripped the uniform, and activated his fruit. His skin rippled, shifting until the man's face stared back at him from his own reflection in a knife.
Then, gripping the blade, he hesitated. His hand trembled. "I… I have to kill him. If he wakes up, I'm finished."
He pressed the knife down.
When it was over, Reed fell to his knees, bile rising in his throat. "God… I killed someone. A soldier. Maybe even a father, a son…" His voice cracked. For a moment, he almost broke.
Then he slapped himself again, forcing his breath steady. "No. He would've killed me without hesitation. This is survival."
Pulling the marine's jacket tight around his shoulders he checked the name stitched on the uniform, committing it to memory. Then he rose, eyes hard.
Reed whispered, "From now on, until I escape this island… I'm not Reed. I'm Fred."
The scholars are doomed. But me? I still have a chance.