(05/02/24 - 06:00) (Friday February 5, 1524)
The galleon pitched forward, cresting a massive wave before slamming back down into the trough. The impact sent a violent shudder through the heavy wooden hull. Down in the cargo hold, the chained men jolted with the motion.
Uma gasped. The sudden movement pulled the iron cuffs tight against his wrists and stretched the raw, open lacerations across his back. He gritted his teeth, forcing his breathing to slow down. The thick, rusted slave collar chafed against his throat.
A sharp, stabbing pain spiked directly behind his eyes. It felt like a rusty nail driving into his skull.
He squeezed his eyes shut. Images flooded his mind, foreign yet intimately familiar. He tried remembering the body's original memories.
He saw a dark, damp alleyway. He saw a terrified woman with dark skin and messy hair packing a small cloth bag. She glanced down at a one-year-old child sleeping on a makeshift bed of rags, tears streaming down her face. She walked out the door. She never returned.
The perspective shifted. He saw years of scrambling through muddy streets, stealing scraps of bread from market stalls, and running from angry merchants. His name was Uma. He grew up as a nameless street rat, surviving entirely on instinct and paranoia.
The memories fast-forwarded to a few weeks ago. He was twenty-one years old, digging through discarded crates near a pirate port. A massive shadow fell over him. A towering man with a thick beard and a cutlass at his hip stared down at him. The man possessed the exact same dark eyes and facial structure as Uma.
The pirate laughed, a booming, cruel sound. He recognized the bastard child he had conceived after assaulting a woman over two decades ago. The pirate felt no paternal instinct. He saw only a quick profit. A heavy boot kicked Uma in the stomach. Rough hands bound his wrists with rope. The pirate dragged him directly to the human auction house on Sabaody Archipelago and traded him for a small stack of worn Berry notes.
The headache intensified, shifting to the most recent memory.
Uma saw himself being dragged up the wooden ramp onto the pristine white galleon. A government guard slammed the heavy iron explosive collar around his neck. As the lock clicked, a massive explosion shook the distant mangrove trees of Grove 46. Sirens wailed across the island. A panicked Marine ran past the docks, screaming into a Transponder Snail about the Straw Hat Pirates returning. A discarded newspaper fluttering across the dock displayed the date in bold ink: 1524.
The memory sequence ended. Uma opened his eyes to the dim, flickering light of the oil lantern. Sweat beaded on his forehead and stung his eyes.
He let out a long, ragged exhale. The pieces clicked into place. The year was 1524. The Straw Hats had just reunited at Sabaody.
'Knowing the timeline gives me a slight edge,' Uma thought, staring at the thick iron chain securing his wrists to the wooden mast. 'I cannot rely on canon events saving me. This is reality. If I sit here waiting for a miracle, I will die in this hold.'
He shifted his weight, trying to relieve the pressure on his bruised ribs. The sheer thirst clawed at his throat like dry sand. He had not had a drop of water since the pirate had dragged him to the auction house.
He turned his head to the left. The skeletal slave lay curled in a fetal position on the hard planks. The man's breathing was incredibly shallow, a wet rattling sound echoing in the silent hold.
"Hey," Uma whispered. His voice cracked, dry and raspy.
The skeletal man flinched but kept his eyes squeezed shut.
"Hey," Uma repeated, keeping his tone even. "What is your name?"
The man slowly opened one eye. It was bloodshot and clouded with despair. He stared at Uma for a long moment, seemingly confused by the sound of a human voice that was not barking an order or delivering a threat.
"Kael," the skeletal man breathed out, the word barely carrying over the creaking of the ship.
"I am Uma," he replied. He looked past Kael to the third slave on the right. That man still sat completely upright, his eyes wide open, staring at the exact same knot in the wooden wall. He had not blinked in hours. His mind was entirely gone.
Uma felt a tightening in his chest. He pitied Kael. He pitied the broken man on the right. He wanted to break their chains and drag them up into the sunlight. His rational mind crushed the impulse immediately. He was chained to a mast, bleeding out, with an explosive ring rigged to blow his head off. He could barely save himself. He would help Kael if an opportunity arose, but he would not throw his own life away on a suicide mission.
Heavy, methodical footsteps echoed from the wooden stairs above them.
Uma snapped his head toward the iron-banded door. The tumblers in the heavy lock clicked loudly. The door swung open, revealing the blinding, pale light of the morning sun from the upper deck.
A government guard stood in the doorway. He wore the standard white and blue uniform, a rifle slung casually over his shoulder. The guard held a rusted metal bucket in one hand and a small burlap sack in the other. He stared down at the three slaves with absolute disgust.
"Feeding time for the livestock," the guard sneered.
He kicked the metal bucket down the stairs. It clattered loudly against the wooden steps, spilling half of its contents before coming to a stop near the base of the central mast. The water inside was murky and gray. The guard tossed the burlap sack down next to it. Three hard, moldy sea biscuits spilled out onto the dirty floor.
The guard pulled the door shut, locking it from the outside.
The hold plunged back into the dim, yellow light of the lantern.
Uma lunged forward. The chain pulled taut, the iron cuffs biting into his raw wrists. He strained his arms, reaching out with his fingertips. He managed to hook his index finger under the rim of the rusted bucket. He dragged it slowly across the rough floorboards, careful not to spill the remaining gray water.
He pulled the bucket close to his chest. The smell of stale water and rust hit his nose. It smelled like salvation.
He grabbed the edge of the bucket with both hands. He paused. He looked over at Kael. The skeletal man was staring at the water with wide, desperate eyes, his hands shaking violently as he tried to pull himself upward. Kael was too weak to reach the center of the mast.
Uma dragged the bucket a few inches to the left, placing it within Kael's reach.
"Drink," Uma commanded softly.
Kael collapsed forward, burying his face in the bucket. He gulped the dirty water loudly, choking and sputtering as the liquid hit his dry throat.
Uma watched the water level drop rapidly. 'I need strength,' he thought. He reached out, grabbed the handle, and pulled the bucket back toward himself. Kael offered no resistance, falling back onto the floor, panting heavily.
Uma lifted the bucket to his lips. He drank the remaining water. It tasted like copper, dirt, and mold. He swallowed every single drop.
He reached out and grabbed two of the hard sea biscuits from the floor. He tossed one onto Kael's chest. He took the second one and bit down. The biscuit was hard as a rock and tasted like sawdust. He chewed methodically, forcing the dry mass down his throat.
He looked over at the third slave. The man had not reacted to the water or the food. The third biscuit remained untouched on the floor. Uma knew the man would be dead by tomorrow.
Uma leaned back against the central mast. The water and the terrible food settled in his empty stomach, providing a minuscule fraction of energy. He closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythmic swaying of the ship.
He spent the next several hours mapping the sound of the guard rotations above deck. He counted the footsteps. He listened to the faint shouts of the sailors adjusting the rigging. He noted the precise times the heavy boots of the CP0 agent paced back and forth near the entrance to the hold. The agent moved with terrifying silence, but the slight creak of the floorboards gave away his position.
The day dragged on in an agonizing crawl. The heat in the lower deck rose, turning the stagnant air into a suffocating blanket. The pain in his back settled into a constant, dull throb.
Uma kept his eyes fixed on the iron-banded door. He gathered his meager strength. He waited for the next day.
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