The campus was emptying out as dinner time approached. Most students had already retreated to their dorms or apartments, leaving the pathways relatively quiet except for distant music drifting from open windows.
She pulled her denim jacket tighter against the evening chill and swiped to the next panel.
Her apartment was fifteen minutes through familiar streets if she took the direct route. She'd walked this path so many times she could probably do it blindfolded.
The crosswalk light turned green. She stepped off the curb without looking up.
A car horn blared somewhere behind her. She kept reading, used to the constant noise of campus traffic.
Squealing brakes cut through everything else.
She looked up just as bright headlights filled her vision. A delivery truck barreled toward her—it had run the red light.
"Wait wait wait, you gotta be kidding me—"
Her phone flew from her hands, the screen cracking as it hit the asphalt. She felt herself falling backward, the truck's momentum carrying her away from consciousness.
"Call an ambulance!"
"Is she breathing?"
"Someone get help!"
Pain shot through her side. Voices continued around her, but they sounded muffled and far away.
'I can't move. Why can't I move?'
'Am I dying?'
The world slipped away from her, leaving only darkness and silence.
'Is this it? Is this death?'
She tried to move her fingers and open her eyes, but nothing happened.
'No no no—'
Then all at once, everything came rushing back.
Her lungs burned. She gasped, sucking in air that tasted like earth and leaves.
A beetle crawled across her knuckles before disappearing into the undergrowth. She watched it go, her mind struggling to catch up.
'I'm alive?'
Her hands flew to her chest, pressing against her ribs where she expected to find broken bones or blood. Nothing. Just the steady thump of her heart against her palm.
Sunlight hit her eyelids. She squeezed them shut and pressed her palm against her temple where her head pounded.
She pushed herself up on her elbows. Dirt fell from her hair, and small rocks rolled down her shirt.
She checked her pockets—no phone, no wallet, no keys. Her student ID was gone.
She stared at her empty palms.
'Should probably figure out where I am before I start panicking. Though honestly, panicking sounds pretty reasonable right about now.'
She tried standing. Her legs shook, so she grabbed a nearby tree trunk for support.
That's when she felt it.
Something weird touched her mind. Not a thought—more like a feeling. Something was pulling at the edges of her awareness, like an itch she couldn't scratch.
She pressed her palm against her temple again, trying to understand what she was feeling.
Trees stretched in every direction, their canopy letting sunlight through in patches. Birds called from branches she couldn't see. A squirrel chattered at her from high up, flicking its tail.
The pulling feeling got stronger when she turned her head left.
"Hello?"
Her voice echoed through the trees and died out.
"If this is some kind of prank, it's not funny!"
Only silence answered back.
She debated for a moment. Following mysterious feelings in strange forests seemed like the start of a horror movie.
But standing here wouldn't solve anything.
She picked her way through the bushes and undergrowth. Low branches made her duck and weave, their leaves brushing her face. Each step made the invisible pull stronger.
Her boots slipped on wet leaves. She grabbed tree branches to keep her balance, the bark scraping her palms.
After ten minutes of walking, her shirt stuck to her back with sweat even though the air was cool.
The forest opened up suddenly into a small clearing.
She stopped at the edge, jaw dropping slightly.
The depression in the ground looked too perfect to be natural. Ferns grew around its edge, their leaves unrolling in spirals.
Something purple caught her eye between the ferns. Not the normal purple of wildflowers.
She pushed the plants aside.
In the center of the depression sat a fruit she'd never seen before. The skin was deep purple-black with spiral patterns twisted across its surface in geometric designs that seemed to shift when she wasn't looking straight at them.
She crouched at the edge of the depression, her boots sliding on the loose dirt. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stared at the fruit.
The fruit pulsed with a strange energy that made her fingertips tingle even from a distance.
About the size of her fist. Perfectly round except for its stem, which curled in a spiral. When she reached out, the air around it felt cold on her fingertips.
She picked it up and held it in both hands. It weighed much more than any normal fruit should. The surface felt smooth like polished stone, but somehow still organic.
The mental pulling stopped the moment her fingers closed around the fruit.
SNAP.
A twig broke behind her.
She spun around, heart jumping into her throat. The fruit pressed against her chest as she held it tight.
A kid stood between two trees, staring at her with huge eyes. Maybe ten years old. He held a basket full of mushrooms, his knuckles white around the handle. His other foot was back, ready to bolt.
His clothes looked like something from a Renaissance fair—rough shirt with leather ties, loose pants that ended at his calves, worn leather sandals. Dark hair tied back with string. His face was tan from being outside, with dirt on his chin.
They stared at each other across the clearing. She could hear his quick, shallow breathing matching her own.
The boy's eyes darted between her face and the strange fruit clutched against her chest.
"Are you a pirate?"
The question was so unexpected she couldn't help but laugh.
"No. Just lost. Very, very lost."
He relaxed a little, though he didn't loosen his grip on the basket.
"You sure? You're dressed really weird."
Aria looked down at her torn jeans and muddy boots, then back at his medieval-looking outfit.
"I could say the same about you, kid."
The boy puffed out his chest.
"These are normal clothes! Everyone dresses like this."
"Okay, okay."
She held up one hand in surrender, tucking the fruit into her jacket pocket with the other.
"Where exactly is 'here'?"
"The forest. Near Syrup Village."
"Syrup Village?"
He nodded enthusiastically, his dark hair bouncing.
"You really aren't from around here, are you? You look like those foreigners from the Grand Line. All weird clothes and strange accents."
"Grand Line?"
"You don't know about the Grand Line?"
His jaw dropped like she'd just admitted she didn't know what the sun was.
"Everyone knows about it! It's where all the strongest pirates go!"
He waved his free hand around excitedly, forgetting to be cautious. The mushroom basket swayed dangerously.
"They say there's islands in the sky, and sea monsters bigger than ships, and treasure beyond counting! My papa says only crazy people go there, but the stories are amazing!"
The sound of waves cut through his talking, close enough to hear clearly over the forest sounds.
Aria tilted her head, listening. Her pulse quickened at the familiar sound.
"How far is the coast?"
"Not far! Maybe ten minutes that way."
He pointed through the trees with confidence.
"But the village is closer if we go around the long way. There's a proper path."
Without thinking, Aria started walking toward the sound of waves. Her mind was racing, trying to process what the boy had said.
"Hey, where are you going? The village is this way!"
He pointed in the opposite direction.
"You're right. Lead the way."
He beamed and scrambled over a fallen log with ease.
She followed, but when she tried to copy his movement, her foot caught on the bark and she stumbled forward. Only a quick grab at a nearby branch kept her from falling face-first into the dirt.
Warmth rushed to her cheeks as she steadied herself.
"I'm Taro. My papa runs the restaurant—best food in town! What's your name?"
"Aria." The name felt strange on her tongue, like it belonged to someone else.
"Aria Stratos."
"Is that really your name? Sounds made up."
She shrugged, unable to argue with his assessment.
"Probably?"
"You're weird. But Papa says we should always help lost people. Come on, he'll give you food. You look really hungry."
Her stomach growled right on cue—loud enough to make Taro giggle.
The path curved steadily downward. She could hear the ocean getting louder with each turn, along with the distant sounds of people working—voices calling, tools clattering, rope and wood creaking.
Taro chattered as they walked, pointing out different plants and landmarks.
"See that tree with the white bark? That's where the sweetest fruit grows in summer. And over there—that's where Old Man Jiro caught a fish bigger than me last month! Took three men to haul it in!"
"You'll like Papa. He feeds everyone who comes to the restaurant, even if they can't pay. Mama says he's too soft, but I think he's just nice."
The forest opened up suddenly. They came out onto a ridge overlooking a natural harbor.
Aria stopped dead in her tracks.
Below them, a dirt path wound down toward a small village sitting against the bay. Traditional buildings with dark wooden walls and sloped roofs lined narrow streets. Fishing boats bobbed in the harbor, their masts swaying with the tide. Nets hung drying on wooden frames. Men worked the docks, calling to each other in voices that carried across the water.
Smoke rose from chimneys, carrying the smell of cooking food that made her mouth water.
"It's beautiful."
"Best village in the East Blue!"
They started down the winding path. Aria's boots skidded on loose stones, so she had to grab Taro's shoulder for balance.
"Careful. Gets slippery when the sea spray reaches this high."
As they walked, villagers stopped their work to watch them pass. A woman hanging laundry turned to stare. Two men fixing a fishing net stopped talking to follow their progress.
"They're staring."
"We don't get many strangers. Especially not dressed like you."
Taro kicked a stone down the path.
"Sometimes merchants come through for supplies. They bring silk from the South Blue, spices from the North Blue, sometimes even books with pictures of far-away places."
His voice turned wistful.
"I want to see those places someday."
He paused, his expression darkening.
"And sometimes pirates come through. Not recently though. Not since Captain Kuro."
"Kuro?"
Taro unconsciously moved closer to her.
"Yeah, he was really scary! He had these claw things on his hands that could cut through anything, and he moved so fast you couldn't see him! Like a ghost or something."
His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"But he's gone now."
His face brightened considerably.
"The Straw Hat pirates defeated him! It was amazing—they just showed up one day and fought Kuro's whole crew. Saved the whole village!"
Aria's step faltered as her heart began racing for reasons she couldn't explain.
"Straw Hat pirates?"
"When did this happen?"
"Maybe six months ago? It was really bad. People were scared to leave their houses, and Papa had to close the restaurant for three days. But then these pirates showed up—good pirates—and they stopped him."
He paused, his mood dimming.
"Usopp left with them afterward. He was my friend, told the best stories. Kaya misses him a lot, but she's studying to be a doctor now! Says she wants to help people like the Straw Hats helped us."
'No way.'
Taro tugged at her sleeve, pulling her toward a building at the edge of the village.
A wooden sign creaked above them in the sea breeze. The characters looked completely foreign, but somehow she could read them perfectly: "Meshi Restaurant."
She stopped walking entirely, staring at the sign.
"What's wrong?"
"How can I read that?"
"Read what?"
She shook her head and pushed the thought away.
"Never mind."
Taro pushed open the door, and a cheerful bell rang. The sound released rich cooking smells that made her stomach clench with desperate hunger.
"Papa!"
The inside was warm and welcoming—wooden tables worn smooth from years of use, a counter with mismatched stools, fishing nets decorating the walls next to faded photographs of successful catches. The floorboards creaked under their feet. Sunlight streamed through salt-stained windows.
"Welcome!"
An elderly man looked up from behind the counter, where he'd been chopping vegetables. His face creased into a genuine smile despite how disheveled she looked. His apron bore the honorable stains of serious cooking. Gray hair stuck out at odd angles, and flour dusted his arms up to the elbows.
"Sit anywhere you like. We're just starting dinner preparations, but there's always something ready for hungry travelers."
He came around the counter, wiping his hands on his apron.
"Taro, where have you been? Your mother's been asking after you."
"Getting mushrooms for dinner! And I found her in the forest! She was just standing there looking lost and confused."
"Ah, a traveler."
The old man's expression was warm, welcoming.
"Well, you're in Syrup Village on Gecko Islands now. You look like you could use some water and a hot meal."
"I don't have any money."
He waved his hand dismissively.
"Can't let someone go hungry in my restaurant. Food is meant to be shared. Taro, come help in the kitchen. Let's show our guest some proper hospitality."
"But Papa, I want to hear her stories—"
"Now, boy. There'll be time for stories after she's had something to eat."
He disappeared into the kitchen with his protesting son, leaving Aria alone with her thoughts.
She sank into a chair by the window, her legs finally giving out.
She could hear them in the back room—Taro's excited voice mixing with his father's patient responses, the clatter of pots and the sizzle of something hitting hot oil.
Through the glass, she could see villagers going about their daily business.
A large bird flew past the window—its wingspan easily six feet across. More birds followed in formation, their passage creating a sudden gust that rattled the window frame and sent papers flying from a nearby notice board.
She watched them scatter across the street, some landing in puddles while others sailed toward the harbor.
Wanted posters danced among the mess—criminal faces with enormous bounties briefly visible before the wind carried them away.
One poster broke free from the swirling mass and slammed against the windowsill next to her table, pressed flat against the glass by the wind.
A boy grinned back at her, his smile wide and infectious under a beat-up straw hat. The photo caught him mid-laugh, like getting a bounty on his head was the funniest thing in the world.
The text beneath read in bold, official letters:
"MONKEY D. LUFFY - WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE - 30,000,000 BERRIES"
The room spun around her as the realization hit.
Her chair scraped against the floor as she lurched backward, her hand flying to her mouth.
'No way. No freaking way.'
"LUFFY?!"