The first thing Shiro felt was sand—cold, wet grains pressed into his cheek—followed by the steady breathing of the sea.
He opened his eyes to a pale sky and the slow roll of waves sliding up a quiet beach. A curved bay. Green cliffs. A wind that smelled like salt and wood smoke.
He pushed himself up on one elbow, blinking away the blur. His body answered immediately—no stiffness, no injury—like he'd been dropped here gently rather than thrown.
Then the second thing he felt arrived.
Not in his ears. Not in his skin.
In his head.
A presence—his own—spread outward like a net cast into water. Invisible lines stretching, touching, returning information.
He froze.
It wasn't imagination. It wasn't hope. It was a sense like instinct, but controlled.
Shiro shut his eyes and focused. The "net" sharpened, and the world filled in without sight: the slope of the shore, the shape of the rocks, the position of trees behind him, the movement of small creatures under leaves. Even the rhythm of the sea itself—pressure, pull, weight.
A map formed in his mind.
He exhaled slowly, not panicked—just… impressed.
"Okay," he murmured, voice steady. "So I'm not helpless."
He stood. His clothes were simple: a light jacket, dark pants, boots that didn't belong on a castaway. No bag. No weapon. No food.
But he wasn't unarmed.
Shiro lifted his hand and stared at his palm like it was someone else's.
He reached.
A pebble near his boot trembled. It rose—an inch, two—then hovered, wavering like a nervous bird. He tightened his focus. The pebble steadied.
Telekinesis. Clean. Responsive.
He flicked his fingers.
The pebble shot forward, punched into the sand, and vanished with a dry snap.
Shiro smiled faintly.
"That'll do."
He expanded the net again, broader this time. It swept over the beach, over the cliffs, into the trees.
He sensed a small village inland—people moving, voices faint, tools clinking, a warm center of gathered life. A harbor smell. Barrels. Rope. A tavern-like building with laughter inside.
Foosha Village.
The name appeared in his head like it had been waiting there.
Shiro's smile faded into something more serious.
He knew that name.
He knew this coastline.
He knew what kind of world had villages like this—bright, simple, harmless… until it wasn't.
He looked down at his hands again.
Psychic power. A body that felt ready. A mind full of… context he shouldn't have.
And a timeline.
Two years before Monkey D. Luffy set sail.
Shiro took a step toward the village—then stopped.
His net caught motion near the treeline to the east. Fast, light, reckless.
A figure moving like he owned the world.
And behind him, heavier shapes—angry, stomping, carrying metal.
Bandits.
Shiro tilted his head in the direction of the movement. "Already?"
He walked toward the sound at an unhurried pace, like he had nowhere else to be.
With stolen meal the boy burst out of the trees like a cannonball, in his classic flip-flop sandals, grinning, carrying a cloth sack over one shoulder.
Meat smell hit the air immediately.
"Nyahahahaha!" the boy laughed with infectious joy. "I'm eating good today!"
Behind him, four men crashed through the brush, red-faced and furious, swinging clubs and rusted blades.
"BRAT!" one roared. "THAT'S OUR FOOD!"
The boy turned his head mid-run and laughed. "Then you should've held it tighter!"
He turned forward again—and nearly slammed into Shiro.
The boy skidded to a stop so hard sand kicked up around his feet. He looked Shiro up and down in one second, bright-eyed and completely unafraid.
"You're not from here," the boy declared.
Shiro blinked once. "You could say that."
The boy's grin widened like he'd found a toy. "Name?"
Shiro didn't answer immediately.
He watched the bandits closing in. Measured their speed. Their intent. Their angles.
Then he looked at the boy again.
"Shiro."
The boy nodded as if that explained everything. "I'm Monkey D. Luffy."
Shiro's mind went very still. Not shocked. Not disbelieving. Just… confirmed.
Luffy adjusted the sack on his shoulder like it weighed nothing. "You hungry, Shiro?"
Shiro glanced at the sack again. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the smell hit him.
"Yes."
Luffy brightened. "Good! I stole extra!"
One bandit stepped forward, breathing hard. "Hand it over, brat!"
Luffy stuck out his tongue and pulled his eyes mockingly. "No."
Shiro sighed as if inconvenienced. "You stole from bandits?"
Luffy grinned. "They were gonna steal it from someone else later, probably."
A bandit swung his club.
Shiro didn't move his feet.
The club came down—and stopped in midair, a few inches from Shiro's face, shuddering like it hit an invisible wall.
The bandit's eyes bulged. "Huh—?!"
Shiro's fingers curled slightly.
The club bent sideways, yanked out of the man's grip, and whipped around behind him like it had a mind of its own. It smacked the bandit in the back of the head with a wooden thunk.
He dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Luffy's jaw dropped. "WHOA!"
Shiro glanced at him. "Problem solved."
Two bandits charged together—one wide swing, one low stab. Their timing wasn't good, but it was desperate.
Shiro's net expanded and tightened at once. He didn't "see" their attacks; he felt their intent as lines in motion.
He lifted his hand.
Sand surged upward in a shallow wave—only a foot high, nothing dramatic—just enough to throw off their footing. Their legs slipped. Their attacks missed.
Shiro stepped forward calmly and tapped each of them with the side of his palm, not even a real strike.
But the tap carried force—telekinetic pressure concentrated into contact.
Both men flew backward like they'd been kicked by a mule, crashing into the treeline.
The last bandit froze.
Shiro looked at him, expression neutral, voice casual. "Leave."
The bandit swallowed. "Wh-what are you?!"
Shiro shrugged. "Honestly… I'm still figuring that out myself — but I guess today I'm the guy who stopped you."
He flicked two fingers.
A pebble snapped off the ground and shot past the bandit's ear, embedding in a tree trunk with a sharp crack—a warning that said next one won't miss.
The bandit ran.
Luffy stared at the unconscious bodies, then at Shiro, then back at the bodies like he was trying to decide what was more fun.
"That was AWESOME!" Luffy shouted with his eyes sparkling. "Do it again!"
Shiro exhaled, rolling his shoulders once. He felt it now—how the power moved. Not unlimited, not free. It cost focus. It cost stamina.
But it was clean.
He glanced at Luffy's sack again. "Food."
Luffy snapped out of his awe instantly. "Right! Food first!"
He held out a chunk of meat wrapped in cloth.
Shiro took it and ate with gutso. "Thanks."
Luffy beamed seeing Shiro eating wildly. "Come with me! Makino's bar is right there!"
Shiro paused mid-bite. "Makino?"
Luffy nodded hard. "She's nice! She'll feed you if you're not rude!"
Shiro chewed slowly.
Makino. Foosha. Luffy. Timeline.
A world he recognized, but shouldn't.
He looked at Luffy again—at the reckless, cheerful certainty—then back at the path inland.
"Alright," Shiro said. "Lead the way."
Luffy threw a fist into the air. "YES!"
And ran off like the world was already his.
Shiro followed at a normal walking pace.
He caught up anyway.
As they walked, Shiro tested his ability without making it obvious.
He pushed his awareness out again, careful not to let it spike. It was like adjusting volume.
Low volume: he sensed general positions, movement, and pressure.
Higher: he started getting detail—heartbeat rhythms, footsteps, tiny changes in muscle tension.
Too high: his head throbbed slightly, like his instinct warning him he was doing more than his body was built to sustain.
Shiro nodded to himself finding more about his powers.
A limiter and A power with growth curve enough to survive this world. He will be able to grow pushing himself without harming his body given enough time.
Luffy talked the entire way.
"Those guys were so slow! Did you see their faces? You didn't even punch them! Are you a pirate? Are you a Marine? Can you fly? Wait—can you make meat float?!"
Shiro took another bite. "I can make things float."
"Make me float!"
"No."
Luffy pouted for a second, then brightened immediately. "Okay! Later!"
Shiro glanced sideways at him.
The boy's energy was chaotic, but not stupid. Like a storm with a direction. Unpredictable—yet somehow… reliable.
Shiro understood why people followed him even before he became anyone.
They reached the village.
Warm afternoon light spilled over wooden buildings, laundry lines, fishermen chatting. It looked peaceful in the way that could fool someone into thinking peace lasted.
Luffy marched straight to a small bar with an open door and laughter inside.
"MAKINO!" he yelled.
Shiro stepped in behind him.
The bar was simple and clean, with a woman behind the counter who turned at the shout and smiled like she'd been expecting trouble.
Makino. Shiro's mind offered another silent confirmation: One Piece.
Not a fantasy. Not a story.
A world that would swallow people whole. A broken world.
Makino's eyes moved from Luffy to Shiro, assessing him with the practiced caution of someone who served pirates and villagers alike.
"Oh?" Makino said pleasantly. "And who's your friend?"
Luffy slammed the sack of remaining food on the counter. "His name is Shiro! He beat up bandits like it was nothing!"
Makino's smile tightened just a little. "Beat up bandits?"
Shiro raised a hand in a small wave, polite and easy. "They were angry. I de-escalated it a bit."
Makino blinked. "That's… one way to put it."
Luffy leaned on the counter, swinging his legs. "Shiro's really strong! He did this thing—whoosh—and the guy flew!"
Makino looked at Shiro again, more carefully now. "You're not hurt, are you?"
Shiro shook his head. "I'm fine."
Makino's gaze softened. "You look hungry."
Shiro nodded once. "Yes."
Makino sighed like she'd already lost an argument she hadn't started. "Sit down. I'll make something."
Luffy pumped his fist. "Makino's the best!"
Shiro sat at a table near the window where he could see the village and the sea beyond it.
Makino brought food—simple, hot, real.
Shiro ate like someone who'd been starving since birth finishing plate after plate.
Luffy watched him with the intensity of someone studying a new animal.
"So," Luffy said around a mouthful, "where are you from?"
Shiro's chopsticks paused thinking about the answer.
He can lie, He can tell the truth or keep it vague. Knowing Luffy, lying wont work with him if he plans to go on a journey with him. He chose to keep it vague.
"From a Faraway place" Shiro said. "I got… lost."
Luffy accepted that instantly. "Cool! You can live here then."
Makino lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "Luffy."
"What?" Luffy said innocently. "He's strong and hungry. That means he's fine."
Shiro almost laughed. Almost.
Makino set down a drink for Shiro. "If you're staying in this village, you'll need somewhere to sleep."
Shiro nodded. "I can help around. For food."
Makino's expression softened. "You don't have to—"
"I want to," Shiro said smoothly.
He made it sound casual, but it was a decision with weight.
If this was Foosha Village, then this was a place of beginnings.
If Luffy was here, then destiny was already turning.
And if Shiro wanted to move with the wheels of destiny—he needed to be here now, quietly, naturally, like he belonged.
Makino studied him for a moment, then smiled. "Alright. We'll figure something out."
Luffy leaned closer, eyes shining. "Shiro. Can you teach me that thing you did?"
Shiro swallowed calmly. "The pushing?"
"Yeah!"
Shiro tilted his head, then nodded. "I don't know about the pushing part, but I can teach you how to see without your eyes. But you'll hate the first part."
Luffy's grin widened. "I never hate anything!"
Shiro's eyes flicked to Makino for half a second. "Then you'll be the first."
Makino laughed softly. "What's the first part?"
Shiro looked at Luffy. "Control."
Luffy blinked. "Control?"
Shiro smiled—small, confident, almost annoying. "Yeah. It's boring. But it makes you strong."
Luffy stared at him like Shiro had just said a curse word.
Then Luffy grinned again anyway. "Okay!"
Shiro leaned back in his chair.
Two years.
Two years until the sea called this boy away.
Shiro could already picture the first boat. The first fight. The first friend.
And the first pain.
He didn't let it show.
The first training
The next day, Shiro took Luffy to the same shoreline where he'd woken up.
Luffy bounced on his heels like a dog that wanted to chase a stick.
Shiro stood barefoot in the sand, hands in his pockets, calm as a blade.
"Alright," Shiro said. "Close your eyes."
Luffy frowned. "Why?"
"You asked to learn," Shiro said. "This is how you learn."
Luffy puffed his cheeks. Then he closed his eyes dramatically, like he was doing something heroic.
Shiro picked up a small pebble and flicked it lightly toward Luffy's forehead.
Luffy didn't move.
The pebble hit him. "Ow!". He was not in pain, but it was annoying.
Shiro nodded. "You didn't notice it until it hit."
Luffy opened his eyes, offended. "Because I couldn't see it!"
"Exactly," Shiro said, like it was obvious. "So don't rely on seeing."
Luffy squinted. "But how do I know it's coming?"
Shiro lifted a finger. The sand around Luffy trembled slightly.
Luffy froze, eyes widening. "What was that?"
Shiro smiled. "You felt it."
Luffy's grin snapped back even bigger. "DO IT AGAIN!"
Shiro flicked the pebble again.
This time, Luffy flinched just before it hit—barely.
Shiro nodded. "Better."
Luffy clenched his fists. "I'm gonna get it."
Shiro's voice stayed casual, confident. "Of course you will."
He paused, then added with a light smirk, "It's alright. I'm the strongest. So you can fail safely."
Luffy stared at him.
Then laughed like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. "You're so weird!"
Shiro didn't deny it.
Over the next weeks, the routine formed naturally:
Shiro helped Makino around the bar, earning food and a place to sleep. At times he would visit Dadan on Mt. Colubo playing with their Bandit family along with Luffy.
Shiro sparred with Luffy in small ways—pebbles, footwork, timing—always eyes closed, always focused on sensing.
Luffy grew less lonely.
Some nights, Luffy would ramble about Ace and Sabo without saying the parts that hurt. Shiro didn't push. He just stayed present, asked questions sometimes, and turned loneliness into routine.
It was subtle—exactly as it needed to be.
Shiro didn't replace Ace or Sabo.
He simply became another pillar.
Two years like a breath
Time in Foosha Village passed in warm slices:
Shiro getting along with villagers, pranking the village chief with Luffy.
Luffy stealing food from bandits and coming back to Makino like a hero.
Makino scolding both of them while feeding both of them anyway.
Luffy growing taller, stronger, more stubborn.
Shiro growing sharper, more controlled.
Shiro's psychic net expanded little by little. His barriers became easier to form. His focus lasted longer.
He learned something important too:
His power wasn't just force.
It was precision.
A small push at the right angle mattered more than a big blast at the wrong time.
That suited him.
And it suited the rule he'd quietly set for himself the day he woke up on the shore:
Big events would happen.
He wouldn't break fate.
He'd shave off the unnecessary cruelty.
He'd keep the growth.
Remove the pointless deaths.
Preserve the will.
One evening, Luffy sat on the dock with his feet dangling over the water, staring out toward the horizon like longing for the endless adventures out there.
Shiro sat beside him, chewing a sweet candy.
Luffy spoke without looking over. "I'm leaving soon."
Shiro lying on the dock spoke without any surprise in his tone. "I know."
Luffy glanced at him. "How?"
Shiro shrugged lightly. "Because you're you."
Luffy smiled, then went serious again, touching his Straw hat. "I'm gonna get a crew. Strong people. People I like."
Shiro nodded while smiling. "Good."
Luffy stated as a matter of fact. "You're coming with me."
Shiro looked at him with an exasperated look. "Sure. You are not going to leave me alone anyway."
Luffy's grin returned, bright and absolute. "Good!"
Shiro looked at the sea.
Two years were over.
The story was about to start.
And he—Shiro—was now part of it in a way that felt natural, earned, inevitable.
He leaned back, relaxed, voice light—almost playful.
"Don't worry," Shiro said. "Anything we run into early on…I can handle them without much trouble. So run wild all you want."
Luffy laughed rising both hand declaring to the world.
"Yeah! And I'm gonna be Pirate King!"
Shiro smirked, eyes on the horizon. "Obviously."
The wind carried the smell of salt and tomorrow they are setting sail.