Aria walked home from the campus library, phone displaying the latest manga chapter. She needed to catch up before tomorrow's discussion forum exploded with spoilers.
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. Three years into her engineering degree, and she still found herself more invested in fictional pirates than her data structures homework. Her study group would definitely give her grief about missing another session to binge read manga.
'At least I finished the assignment,' she thought, tucking a strand of brown hair behind her ear.
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—"
The impact sent the world exploding into white noise. Time stretched, then snapped back to nothing. Her phone flew from her hands, the screen cracking as it hit 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. The world tilted sideways, colors bleeding together until everything went black.
'I can't move. Why can't I move?'
When she tried to open her eyes, nothing happened. Her body felt heavy and disconnected, like it belonged to someone else. She floated in darkness for what felt like hours or maybe minutes.
'Am I dying? Is this what dying feels like?'
The voices faded completely. The pain disappeared. Everything just... stopped.
Then, slowly, sensation crept back.
Cold dirt pressed against her cheek when awareness returned. A beetle crawled across her knuckles before disappearing into the undergrowth.
Sunlight hit her eyelids hard. 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. Her boots were covered in mud and dead leaves that broke apart when she touched them.
Her jeans had grass stains all over them. Her Arctic Monkeys shirt stuck to her skin with morning dew.
She sat up slowly and tested each joint for damage. Her left wrist hurt when she turned it, but everything else seemed fine.
Her denim jacket hung loose on her shoulders. She took it off and tied the sleeves around her waist. The movement felt automatic.
She checked her pockets and found nothing. No phone, no wallet, no keys. Her student ID was gone. Even the lint from her jeans pockets had disappeared.
"Great. Just great."
She tried to stand, wobbled, and sat back down hard.
"Maybe I'm in a hospital bed, and this is just some weird coma dream."
'Should probably figure out where I am before I start panicking. Though honestly, panicking sounds pretty reasonable right about now.'
She tried standing up. Her legs shook, so she grabbed a nearby tree trunk for support. The bark felt rough under her fingers and warm from the sunlight.
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.
'What the hell?'
She pressed her palm against her temple again, trying to figure out what she was feeling. It wasn't painful, just persistent. Like her brain was trying to tell her something important but couldn't quite get the message across.
'Great. Mystery forest, missing belongings, and now my head's doing weird things. This is definitely not how I planned to spend my Tuesday.'
She looked around the forest, turning her head slowly to test the sensation. Trees went in every direction—oak and pine and others she couldn't name. The canopy let sunlight through in patches across the forest floor.
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. Like a compass pointing north.
"Hello?"
Her voice echoed through the trees and died out.
"If this is some kind of elaborate prank, it's not funny!"
Only silence answered back, broken by rustling leaves overhead and the distant sound of running water.
She debated for a moment. Following mysterious feelings in strange forests seemed like the start of a horror movie.
"Might as well head towards it. Not like I know where I am," she thought. "Standing here won't solve anything."
She picked her way through the bushes and undergrowth. Low branches made her duck and weave, their leaves brushing her face and getting caught in her hair. Each step made the invisible pull stronger.
Her boots slipped on wet leaves, so she had to grab tree branches to keep her balance. The bark scraped her palms and left bits of moss on her skin.
The forest floor crunched under her feet. After ten minutes of walking, her shirt stuck to her back with sweat even though the air was cool. She was breathing harder than she should be.
The air smelled like pine needles and wet dirt. Somewhere ahead, water ran over rocks, and the sound got clearer as she walked.
A small clearing opened up in front of her. She stopped at the edge and stared at the depression that took up most of the clearing's center.The depression looked too perfect to be natural, like someone had scooped out the earth with huge hands.
Ferns grew around the depression's edge, their leaves unrolling in spirals. She crouched down and touched one, feeling how delicate it was under her finger.
Something purple caught her eye between the ferns. Not the normal purple of wildflowers—something bright that didn't belong with all the greens and browns.
She walked over and pushed the plants aside.
She sucked in a breath.
In the center of the depression sat a fruit she'd never seen before. It was shaped like an apple but wrong in every way. 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.
'What the hell kind of fruit grows like this?'
She crouched at the edge of the depression, her boots sliding on the loose dirt.
'And why does it feel like it's calling to me?'
The fruit was perfectly round except for its stem, which curled in a spiral. About the size of her fist. 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. It pulsed with warmth against her palms.
The mental pulling stopped the moment her fingers closed around the fruit. Like whatever had been guiding her here was satisfied.
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, her pulse hammering in her ears.
A kid stood between two trees, staring at her with huge eyes. Maybe ten years old. He held a wicker basket full of mushrooms, his knuckles white around the handle.
He had one foot back, ready to bolt if she made any sudden moves.
His clothes looked like something from a Renaissance fair—rough shirt with leather ties, loose pants that ended at his calves, showing bare feet in worn leather sandals. Dark hair tied back with string. His face was tan from being outside, with flushed cheeks and dirt on his chin.
They stared at each other across the clearing. She could hear his quick, shallow breathing.
'Great. First mysterious fruit, now mystery kid. At least he looks human.'
"Are you a pirate?"
She couldn't help but laugh, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.
"No. Just lost. Very, very lost."
He relaxed a little, though he didn't loosen his grip on the basket. His feet shifted to a more balanced position.
"You sure? You're dressed really weird."
Aria looked down at her torn jeans and muddy boots.
"I could say the same about you, kid."
'Pirates? What kind of place is this?'
The boy puffed out his chest.
"These are normal clothes! Everyone dresses like this."
"Where exactly is 'here'?"
She tucked the fruit into her jacket pocket, feeling its strange weight settle against her hip.
"The forest. Near Syrup Village."
"Syrup Village?"
He nodded, his dark hair bouncing. His eyes studied her face with the way kids stared at everything.
"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? That sounds familiar, but I can't place it.'
"Grand Line?"
His jaw dropped.
"You don't know about the Grand Line? Everyone knows about it! It's where all the strongest pirates go!"
'Pirates again. Either this kid has a serious obsession, or I'm somewhere that pirates are actually a thing.'
He waved his free hand around, forgetting to be cautious. The mushroom basket swayed.
"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!"
'Islands in the sky? Sea monsters? This is getting weirder by the minute.'
The sound of waves cut through his talking—close enough to hear clearly over the forest sounds.
Aria tilted her head, listening.
"How far is the coast?"
"Not far! Maybe ten minutes that way."
He pointed through the trees.
"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. Her mind was racing, trying to process what the boy had said. Pirates. Grand Line. None of it made sense, yet something felt hauntingly familiar.
"Hey, where are you going?"
The boy jogged to catch up, his mushroom basket bouncing against his leg.
"You're going the long way if you head toward the beach."
"The village is this way!"
He scrambled over a fallen log easily.
She followed his path over the log, but when she tried to copy his smooth movement, her foot caught on the bark and she stumbled forward. Only a quick grab at a nearby branch kept her from falling.
"I'm Taro. My papa runs the restaurant—best food in town! What's your name?"
"Aria..."
The name felt weird on her tongue.
"Aria Stratos."
"Is that really your name? Sounds made up."
"Probably?"
She shrugged.
"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.
'Weird is relative,' she thought, following him down a winding trail that looked well-used. Footprints were pressed into muddy spots, and tree branches had been cut back to let people pass easily.
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."
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.
"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.
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.
They started down the winding path toward the village. 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 down the hill.
"They're staring."
"We don't get many strangers. Especially not dressed like you. Where'd you get those clothes anyway? That writing on your shirt looks like squiggly lines."
She glanced at the Arctic Monkeys logo. To him, it probably did look like meaningless scribbles.
"Do you get many visitors at all?"
"Sometimes merchants come 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 got wistful.
"I want to see those places someday."
He lowered his voice.
"And sometimes pirates come through. Not recently though. Not since Captain Kuro."
"Kuro?"
"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."
"But he's gone now. 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!"
"When did he attack?"
"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."
He kicked a stone down the path.
"But then these pirates showed up—good pirates—and they stopped him."
He paused, looking sad.
"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."
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 unfamiliar, but somehow she could read them: "Meshi Restaurant."
"How can I read that?"
"Read what?"
"Never mind."
Taro pushed open the door, and a cheerful bell rang. The sound let out rich cooking smells that made her stomach clench with hunger.
"Papa!"
The inside was comfortable—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 came 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 had the stains of serious cooking. Gray hair stuck out at odd angles, and flour dusted his arms.
"Sit anywhere you like. We're just starting dinner preparations, but there's always something ready for hungry travelers."
"Taro, where have you been? Your mother's been asking after you."
"Getting mushrooms for dinner!"
Taro held up his basket and shook it so the contents rattled.
"And I found her in the forest! She was just standing there looking lost and confused."
The old man came around the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. He moved slowly but purposefully.
"Ah, a traveler. 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 could hear them talking 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.
She sank into a chair by the window. The wooden seat felt solid under her. 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.
Documents danced in the wind like autumn leaves. 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. She caught glimpses of fierce expressions and huge numbers.
One poster broke free and caught on the windowsill next to her table, pressed against the glass by the breeze.
A boy grinned back at her, his smile wide 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. Something about his expression seemed familiar, though she couldn't figure out why.
The text beneath read in bold, official letters:
"MONKEY D. LUFFY - WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE - 30,000,000 BERRIES"
Her world tilted.
"LUFFY?!"