The deck was quiet in the way only violence could make it quiet—broken boards, groaning ropes, unconscious bodies scattered like trash someone forgot to clean up. Lanterns swung overhead, throwing long shadows that didn't quite match the shapes that cast them.
Osamu stood there, katana hanging loose in his hand, breathing slowly through his nose.
His arms felt heavy. Not weak—heavy. Like his body had decided to cash a check his mind hadn't finished writing yet.
"…You okay?"
He looked up.
Straw hat. Big grin. No sense of danger whatsoever.
Luffy.
Osamu blinked once, then nodded. "I'm alive."
"That's good!" Luffy said, as if that settled everything. He stretched his arms above his head, joints popping. "That lady was mean."
Osamu glanced in the direction Alvida had flown. There was nothing there anymore but sea and horizon.
"Yeah," he said. "She was."
He finally sheathed the katana. The sound felt loud in his ears.
Only then did his hands start shaking.
Not violently. Just enough.
Osamu clenched his fists until it stopped.
Not now.
Koby emerged from behind a crate, eyes wide, face pale. He looked at Osamu like he wasn't sure whether to bow, run, or apologize.
"You… you killed them," Koby said, voice cracking.
Osamu met his gaze. The image of the first pirate's face flashed in his mind—surprise, confusion, the moment of hesitation before the blade came down.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "They were trying to kill me."
Koby swallowed hard and nodded like that explanation was both terrifying and sufficient.
Luffy leaned closer to Osamu, peering at him like a curious kid inspecting a beetle. "You're strong. Wanna come with me?"
There it was.
No ceremony. No speeches. No dramatic pauses.
Just an invitation.
Osamu looked away, out at the sea. Endless water. Endless threats. Endless places to disappear—and just as many places to die unnoticed.
Being alone here was suicide.
Staying near chaos, though?
Chaos drew attention away.
"…Sure," Osamu said. "I don't have a better plan."
Luffy beamed. "Awesome! I'm Luffy!"
"I know," Osamu replied automatically.
Luffy tilted his head. "Huh?"
"…Never mind."
The moment the decision settled, something shifted inside Osamu's head. Not sharp like before. Softer. Like a pressure releasing after being held too long.
> [NEW SYSTEM DETECTED]
[Mangaka System — Awakening…]
Osamu froze.
…What?
The notification didn't explode across his vision. It slid in quietly, almost politely, like it didn't want to interrupt.
> [Condition met: Stable survival vector acquired.]
[Secondary System unlocked.]
For a second, Osamu just stared at nothing.
Then he laughed.
It slipped out before he could stop it—short, breathless, halfway hysterical. His shoulders shook once, then again.
Koby flinched. "I-Is something wrong?!"
Osamu waved a hand. "No. No. It's just—"
Of course there's another system.
Of course the universe wasn't done.
Images flooded his mind. Lines. Shapes. Panels. The way motion flowed across a page. Perspective snapping into place without effort. Anatomy making sense in a way it never had before.
He imagined drawing—and his fingers itched.
"…Huh," he muttered. "That's new."
Luffy grinned wider. "You're funny."
Osamu wiped at his face, forcing the laugh down before it turned ugly. For half a second, a completely irresponsible thought crossed his mind.
I could draw porn.
The idea hit him so suddenly he almost choked.
The world of One Piece. No internet. No regulation. No modern morals.
Erotic manga would spread like wildfire.
He pictured Marines trying to confiscate it. Pirates hoarding it. Kings banning it and secretly reading it.
Osamu snorted.
"…No," he said firmly. "Absolutely not."
That way lay attention. Attention got you killed.
Power was only useful if nobody noticed where it came from.
They left Alvida's ship not long after, taking a small boat. Osamu sat near the stern, arms resting on his knees, watching the wake trail behind them.
The sea was calmer now.
Koby talked. A lot. Nervous rambling about dreams and Marines and justice. Luffy listened sometimes. Other times he stared at clouds.
Osamu listened with half an ear.
His focus was inward.
> [Mangaka System — Basic Interface Active]
There were no menus. No numbers. Just… understanding.
If he had paper and ink, he could draw.
Not "learn to draw."
Not "practice fundamentals."
Draw.
Clean lines. Perfect proportions. Natural motion.
It felt unfair.
It also felt dangerous.
Later, he told himself. Practice later.
But the itch didn't go away.
When Koby finally ran out of words and the boat drifted into a comfortable silence, Osamu shifted slightly, pulling a piece of scrap paper and charcoal from his inventory.
He didn't announce it. Didn't hide it either.
The system did the rest.
The moment his fingers touched the paper, the world dulled. Sounds softened. Colors faded slightly, like his presence had been marked as unimportant.
Luffy glanced at him, then looked away a second later, already bored.
Koby noticed him, frowned—and then forgot what he was about to say.
Osamu's hand moved.
Fast.
Not rushed. Efficient.
Lines flowed onto the page like they'd been waiting. Faces formed. Motion. Expression. He drew without thinking about how.
When he stopped, his wrist ached.
He looked down.
Naruto.
Not the character alone—an entire page. Panel layout. Motion captured mid-leap.
Osamu stared at it.
"…Shit," he whispered. "That's good."
Really good.
His heart sped up—not from fear this time, but something close to excitement.
If this system could do that…
No. Not yet.
He tucked the page away and leaned back, eyes closing as exhaustion finally crept in.
They reached Shells Town by morning.
The Marine base loomed over the town like a threat made of stone. Osamu felt it the moment they got close—a pressure in the air, disciplined and heavy.
Zoro was here.
Canon was moving.
While Luffy and Koby argued about Marines and swordsmen, Osamu found a quiet corner near the docks. He sat, back against a crate, charcoal moving again.
This time, he didn't stop.
Page after page. Panel after panel.
Naruto Volume 1.
Then Volume 2.
By the time his fingers cramped and his head throbbed, he was done.
Osamu exhaled slowly.
> [Distribution Protocol available.]
"…Do it," he murmured.
He didn't need to specify how.
Somewhere above the town, birds cried out.
News birds.
They descended in ones and twos, bundles strapped to their legs, wings beating as they scattered across the world.
Manga flew with them.
No signature.
No trail.
No name.
Osamu leaned his head back against the crate, eyes half-lidded.
Nobody noticed him.
That was exactly how he wanted it.
Survive first, he thought.
Change nothing.
And somewhere far away, someone opened a manga and felt something shift.