This is a story about an unlikely hero—about how a cowardly boy overcomes his fear and becomes one of the greatest legends to ever sail the seas. This is the story of Captain Usopp and his army of eight-thousand men.
The story begins on a quiet island in the East Blue, where an unremarkable farming village sits tucked between rolling hills and the distant glimmer of the sea. Endless fields sway lazily in the wind, broken only by tall windmills creaking rhythmically under the morning sun. Yes… this is Syrup Village.
At the top of a modest hill stands a weather-worn shack—plain, lonely, and forgettable to anyone passing by.
But inside that ordinary shack, a story is waiting. The beginning of an unlikely hero.
Except… our story doesn't actually start here.
It starts somewhere far far away and far less magical.
---
It was supposed to be an ordinary walk home. Same cracked pavement. Same potholes big enough to swallow a shoe. Same grey, tired apartment blocks that hadn't changed since before Ned was born.
"Nothing ever changes around here," Ned muttered, tightening his grip on his tattered backpack. Twenty-five, broke, and a writer whose books sold about as well as warm ice cream, he trudged forward.
"I don't get it… stories about courage, struggle, real sacrifice—nobody wants that. But overpowered MCs with a hundred-woman harem? That's what sells."
His sigh misted in the cold evening air.
He stepped onto the road.
BZZZZ.
Ned froze as his phone vibrated. A notification popped up:
Contract offer for your book — [I GET STRONGER BY DREAMING]
He blinked his eyes widened.
Then he broke into the biggest grin he'd worn in years.
"Yeeeeess! Hell yes! Finally something is going right!"
HOOOOOOONK.
Ned spun around.
Headlights.
A giant wall of metal.
"Oh, come on—"
CRAAASH.
Darkness.
---
Sunlight filtered through a shuttered window, casting warm stripes across a worn wooden floor. Dust floated lazily in the air like drifting snowflakes. In the corner of the room was a narrow bed, and on that bed slept a boy.
A warm ray of sunlight slipped between the curtains and struck him directly in the eyes.
The boy's face scrunched.
"Ugh… is it morning already? Who opened the curtains…?" Ned grumbled, pushing himself upright, rubbing his bleary eyes.
He blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the room around him.
He was lying on a single bed shoved against the corner of a cramped space. Piles of rope and scraps of wood sat in one corner, threatening to collapse. Shelves sagged under the weight of slingshots, tiny gadgets, and odd bits of metal and string.
There wasn't much furniture—just a bed and a single wardrobe with a loose door. The bed looked like it had survived a bar fight. Twice.
Crude sketches of maps and pirate flags littered the floor. The room smelled faintly of sawdust, sweat, and something burnt.
Truly humble… painfully humble.
Beside the bed sat a familiar brown leather shoulder bag.
That bag… It looks familiar. I'm sure I didn't own anything like that…
He froze.
Something felt wrong. Was it the room? The air? The clothes on his body?
No.
It was the long rod sticking out of his face.
"What the hell is that?!" Ned yelped, grabbing his… nose.
His absurdly long, unmistakable nose.
There is only one person with a nose that ridiculous.
He stared at his reflection in a dusty windowpane.
No way… am I Uso—
Suddenly the memories hit him like a hammer to the skull.
A tidal wave of foreign thoughts surged through him—faces he'd never met, moments he'd never lived, pain and joy that weren't his. The flood burned through his mind, ripping through every corner of his consciousness.
He fell to the floor, body shaking violently as the torrent continued. They weren't his memories.
They were Usopp's.
The storm eventually calmed. Usopp lay on the floor drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly.
"What… was that…" he groaned.
I never want to experience something like that again.
He forced himself upright.
Pieces of information flickered together in his mind.
"As painful as that was… I learned something. I was Ned Green, a 25-year-old aspiring writer. I died in a car accident… and I've been reincarnated into Usopp's body. Three years before the events of One Piece."
Am I Ned or Usopp…?
I… I don't know.
His stomach growled loudly.
"Great timing," he muttered, dragging himself toward the kitchen.
He checked the shelves. Nothing. Not a crumb.
In Usopp's memories… this was normal. Days without food, nights with nothing but an empty stomach to hug.
No wonder this body was so scrawny.
He walked back to the bedroom, hunger gnawing at him.
Usopp and I really are similar…
Neither of us had a family.
"Apart from that deadbeat dad." He smirked.
Even so, Usopp was much younger. And this world… this world was far more dangerous than the one he came from.
Truth be told, Ned had been a massive One Piece fan. His favorite character wasn't the strongest or the coolest.
It was Usopp.
He admired him—despite all the people who mocked his fear.
In a crew full of monsters, Usopp was a normal guy who survived through sheer willpower alone.
No Haki.
No legendary bloodline.
No ancient devil fruit.
Just guts.
Courage that shook in his boots but refused to die.
He faced things that terrified him for the sake of people far stronger than himself.
It was admirable.
Usopp truly was brave.
Nostalgia hit him like a truck. Ned grew up watching One Piece, this was his childhood. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that he and the crew grew up together.
He cheered them on through tough times and they raised his spirits when he was down.
Ned sat there, stomach still growling, reminiscing about the past.
What now?
I am in a dangerous world with no experience in how to defend myself.
How can I survive?
How would Usopp survive?
A thought suddenly hit him.
Wait, I am Usopp.
So…..
What if… I live as Usopp?
What if I help him reach his real potential?
We're one person now… so helping him is helping myself.
As he sat on the bed thinking, another realization slammed into him.
An image flooded his brain, a man wearing glasses in a black tuxedo. His hair was slicked back and he had a rather peculiar way of adjusting his glasses.
Kuro!
I had almost forgotten about him.
Is that bastard here?
Wait…..
Are Kaya's parents still alive?
He shot to his feet.
"I need to warn them of him before he comes," Usopp said through gritted teeth. "Before he can get close to them and win their affection."
Usopp bolted out the door, exhaustion forgotten.
He sprinted down the hill, surprisingly fast. Running around yelling about pirates every day apparently did wonders for a kid's stamina.
"Kuro… that evil bastard," he panted.
Usopp tore down the hillside. The wind stung his eyes as wooden houses blurred past. Children scattered out of his way, chickens erupted into frantic flapping, and dust kicked up under his pounding steps.
Gardens lined the paths—bright carrots, onions, tomatoes, leafy greens swaying gently. The smell of fresh earth and livestock filled the air.
Beyond the village, fields stretched across rolling hills, dotted with fences, grazing goats, and glimmering water troughs.
And ahead stood the mansion.
Tall, polished, elegant—nothing like the humble homes below.
Usopp ran up the slope towards the mansion, each step sending a dull ache through his legs, but he didn't slow.
Kaya's mansion rose ahead, quiet and still against the pale morning light. Its walls were smooth, almost cold-looking, the kind of place that looked expensive without trying to.
The windows reflected the sky like faint mirrors, hiding whatever waited inside. A straight path led to the front gate, where two guards stood motionless, their eyes tracking every movement with practiced calm.
Dust clung to Usopp's boots as he pushed forward, breath tight, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders with every stride.
"HALT!"