The New World was quiet that night.
The Moby Dick drifted beneath a starlit sky, its massive figurehead casting a soft shadow over calm, glassy waters. The ship's usual boisterous laughter and drunken revelry had faded into gentle snores, the occasional creak of wood, and the distant lapping of waves against the hull.
One man, however, remained awake — sitting alone at the ship's edge, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, his gaze lost somewhere out on the horizon.
They called him Lupin here.
But he knew better.
He was Donquixote Rosinante.
Or rather — he'd woken up in Rosinante's body months ago. Ever since that night on his own world. The night everything changed.
Even now, it felt unreal.
Lupin came from a Modern Earth, A world rebuilt on the bones of ancient wars. A glittering utopia built over ruins — the aftermath of the Ancient Weapon War. The history books in his world held only scraps of those violent, chaotic days, but one strange relic endured.
An old digital archive of an animated series called One Piece.
Not a archaeological resources. Not a historical text. Just a battered collection of old episodes from a lost age. His grandfather, a famous archeology and scientists claimed it wasn't fiction — but history disguised as entertainment. A warning left behind for future generations. Lupin always thought the old man was half-mad. But he loved the series anyway.
It was his childhood.
But the archive was incomplete. His ancestors had salvaged about 95% of the series, restoring most of it — but 5% remained lost forever.
Alone in his apartment, he slipped on his VR headset, heart pounding as he loaded the file. The moment it flickered to life, something went wrong.
A sudden, stabbing pain in his chest. A blinding flash. Then — nothing.
He wasn't twenty years old and healthy for no reason. No heart conditions. No bad habits. No reason for what happened.
Which meant one thing.
He hadn't died.
This wasn't reincarnation.
This was a goddamn game.
And someone had trapped him in it.
When he opened his eyes again, he was here — in a world identical to One Piece. The smell of salt in the air, the endless blue sky, the warmth of the sun. Everything was real. Too real.
And then the system appeared.
A floating interface only he could see. It wasn't like some cheap old RPG — no stats, no level-ups, no flashy abilities. Just one feature: quests.
Tasks. Missions. Events that dragged him into the heart of the world's pivotal moments whether he wanted to be involved or not. It forced his hand, nudged him toward inevitable outcomes.
That's when Lupin understood.
This wasn't a dream or a second chance. It was a cruel game being played at his expense.
System...
He thinks only his grandfather created the system, and that everything he obtained from the mystery chest belonged to his grandfather. However, he needs to find out how to get out of this game world.
---
Kikunojo of the Lingering Snow.
A name he knew from memory. One of the Nine Red Scabbards. A loyal samurai of Wano, sworn to Kozuki Oden's cause.
Elegant. Deadly. Gentle in spirit, yet fierce in battle.
Lupin tried to summon every detail he could remember about her from those old episodes. He could picture her clearly in his mind: long dark hair, graceful movements, her sword glinting like moonlight on fresh snow.
But there was something missing.
A fact. A detail he couldn't quite place.
A small but important thing, gnawing at the back of his thoughts like a splinter under skin. He hated that feeling.
He knew her history, her battles, her fate.
But what was it?
He sighed, flicking the cigarette over the railing, watching it vanish into the black water below.
---
Morning.
The sun climbed lazily over the horizon, painting the sky in pale gold.
Marco the Phoenix leaned casually against the ship's rail, arms crossed, sharp blue eyes watching the sea. A slight breeze ruffled his blond hair. His gaze shifted toward the deck, where Izo sat, carefully cleaning one of his rifles.
Marco pushed off the railing and made his way over, the wood creaking softly beneath his boots.
"Oi, Izo."
Izo glanced up. "Hmm? Morning."
Marco didn't bother with small talk. "I heard you struck a deal with Lupin last night."
A faint smirk touched Izo's lips. "Word travels fast around here. Yeah, told him if he gets me a proper set of twin revolvers, I'll introduce him to Kiku."
Marco chuckled, shaking his head. "You never change."
But then his face grew serious.
"Did you… tell him about Kiku?"
Izo raised an eyebrow. "About what?"
Marco gave him a look.
"About him being male."
At that, Izo hesitated. Then shrugged. "No. Why would I? If the kid knows anything about Kiku, he should already know that."
Marco frowned. "That's what worries me."
Izo tilted his head, curious now. "What do you mean?"
Marco scratched the back of his head, trying to find the right words. "I caught a weird vibe off him yesterday. When you mentioned Kiku… his face changed. Like he recognized the name, but something wasn't clicking. Like he was missing a piece of the puzzle."
Izo stared at him, then let out a short laugh. "If he's got a thing for pretty men, that's his problem."
Marco didn't smile.
"I'm serious, Izo. Lupin's been through a lot since coming aboard. Same as the rest of us. I don't want the guy getting blindsided or made a fool of when he meets Kiku. You know how weird this kind of thing can get."
Izo let out a long sigh, leaning back against a crate.
"I get it. But it doesn't change who Kiku is. He's still my brother. One of Wano's finest samurai. If Lupin can't handle that, maybe he's not as sharp as he thinks."
Marco gave a small, crooked grin. "It's not about handling it, idiot. It's about not letting a misunderstanding turn into unnecessary drama. We've got bigger things to deal with. This war's closing in."
Izo was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded.
"Alright, alright. I'll figure out a way to mention it before they meet. No need to make it weird."
Marco clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Good. Last thing we need is a love-struck idiot causing a scene."
Izo chuckled. "Or getting his teeth kicked in when Kiku finds out."
Marco grinned, then turned, heading toward the helm.
Izo watched him go, then looked down at his rifle, running a cloth along the barrel. The sea breeze stirred his long hair.
"Guess I better pick my words carefully."
He laughed softly to himself, already picturing Lupin's reaction.
And for the first time in days — the morning didn't feel quite so heavy.