The jungle breathed.
Warm, heavy air pressed against Rei's skin, carrying the scent of damp earth, crushed leaves, and old blood. Insects hummed somewhere above, hidden among broad leaves and twisted branches. The sound formed a constant backdrop, alive and indifferent.
Rei opened his eyes with a sharp gasp, as if pulled upward from deep water. His chest tightened, lungs burning as they struggled to adjust. His heartbeat felt uneven, too fast for a body that small, too strained for its condition.
For a brief instant, awareness drifted without shape.
Then clarity settled in.
He lay on his side amid tangled ferns, his clothes torn and soaked with sweat and dirt. Mud clung to arms and legs, already drying in patches. Pain pulsed through body in distinct points rather than a dull haze. Scratches along his forearms. Bruised ribs. Muscles pushed far beyond their limits.
When he attempted to shift his weight, a sharp ache cut through his side. He froze at once, assessing the sensation with calm precision.
Twelve years old.
The realization came through instinct rather than thought. Bone density. Muscle response. Lung capacity. Growth patterns. This body still stood in the early stages of development. Hunger and exhaustion weakened it further.
"…I escaped," he said quietly.
The voice sounded thin, fragile, unfamiliar.
Slave traders.
The memory surfaced with clarity that belonged to this body. Heavy boots pounding behind him. Shouts carried by the jungle. A whip cracking through the air. Iron biting into skin when he fell. Fear driving his legs forward until instinct alone carried him through the undergrowth.
That fear remained part of the memory.
It no longer controlled him.
Rei inhaled slowly and lifted his gaze. Above him, the jungle canopy stretched wide and dense, layers of green blocking most of the sunlight. Shafts of light pierced through in narrow columns, illuminating drifting pollen and insects. The trees rose tall and ancient, their roots twisting across the forest floor like coiled serpents.
He recognized none of it.
The island held no name in his mind. The stars above it remained unknown. The sea surrounding it waited beyond sight.
That ignorance caused no concern.
He understood the world.
One Piece.
A reality defined by oceans without end, by piracy and law, by monsters wearing human faces and humans who surpassed monsters. A world where power shaped fate and weakness invited chains.
This marked his third life.
The First Life
Beginning held simplicity.
dojo.
wooden floor.
shinai placed in small hands.
Kendo shaped his childhood. The smell of sweat and wood. Rhythm of steps. The discipline of repetition. Pain that taught structure rather than suffering.
Rei trained with purpose rather than talent.
He despised stagnation.
Each movement offered refinement. Each strike contained room for improvement. Precision mattered more than strength. Consistency outweighed momentary brilliance. When others left to rest, Rei remained. Fatigue demanded surrender, he answered with another repetition.
Competition held no value.
Recognition carried no meaning.
Only growth mattered.
Years passed. Muscles hardened. Technique sharpened. The body aged.
At forty, illness arrived.
Cancer.
Doctors spoke in calm tones about statistics and outcomes. They suggested rest and acceptance.
Rei chose discipline.
He trained while standing remained possible. When standing failed, he trained while sitting. When even that faded, breathing itself became practice. Control remained essential until the end.
Death inspired calm.
Incomplete mastery inspired regret.
He died carrying one certainty:
Time limits mastery before mastery reaches its end.
The Second Life
Awareness returned within a harsher world.
Steel clashed with flesh. Blood soaked the earth. Demons prowled beyond firelight.
In the world of Demon Slayers, a sword defined survival. Breathing techniques shaped strength. Discipline shaped life expectancy. Power drew a clear line between hunters and prey.
Rei adapted quickly.
Too quickly.
That world imposed a final barrier.
To surpass human limits, one had to abandon humanity. Eternal life demanded the consumption of others. Power demanded the sacrifice of identity.
Rei rejected that path.
He reached the peak available to humans. Beyond that peak lay corruption or stagnation.
He accepted age.
At ninety, he passed away with a blade resting beside him, muscles worn yet steady, mind clear.
This life granted him understanding:
Limit never belonged to me.
Structure of the world enforced it.
The Third Life Begins
Rei pressed his fingers into the soil, feeling its warmth and texture. The ground here supported life. It accepted blood without judgment.
"Third life," he whispered.
His consciousness remained whole. Over one hundred thirty years of experience rested within him. Knowledge of movement. Effort and failure. Understanding of how bodies changed under stress and how will sharpened through repetition.
The body felt different.
Small.
Fragile.
Recoverable.
This world revolved around power. Pirates carved their names into history. Marines enforced order with iron discipline. The World Government ruled through fear and secrecy. Slavery existed openly. Strength decided value.
Time aligned clearly.
Five years before the execution of Gol D. Roger.
1512 ASC
Rei allowed himself a faint smile.
"Perfect."
He pushed himself upright, pausing when pain surged through his ribs. His breathing slowed immediately, controlled and deliberate. Each breath followed rhythm rather than panic. He respected the body's limits while preparing to expand them.
Limits shift through effort.
Progress answers patience.
Rising to his knees, Rei examined his hands. Thin fingers. Old scars. Fresh cuts. Despite their weakness, they trembled with restrained control rather than fear.
Blade rested within reach.
Power responded to intention.
Name carried weight.
Time remained.
Will endured.
"This world speaks of Haki," he said softly. "Then it speaks of potential."
Three colors.
Dominance.
Spirit given form.
People believed in ceilings. In natural talent. In maximum potential.
Rei recognized illusion.
Talent served as a beginning. Boundaries formed when effort stopped. Growth continued while time and resolve aligned.
Flesh adapted.
Devil Fruits evolved.
Even will sharpened beyond expectation.
Rei stood fully, leaning against the trunk of a massive tree. He stared into the jungle's depths. Movement stirred in the shadows. Animals watched. Humans might follow. Slave hunters would search.
If they have the courage, after all, this is the island of great beasts, he felt their powerful breath deep in the jungle
Cruelty awaited.
Rei welcomed challenge.
"I will advance," he said quietly. "Every day."
Marked his third life.
This time, the world would adjust to him.