Chapter Text
The moment you realized you were alone on the shore of Loguetown, the origin of (fictional) dreams vast and legendary, you promptly decided that you had finally gotten the hang of lucid dreaming. It was only when you stepped into the town square for the fifth time and looked at the (still standing) execution tower where a Pirate King died that it hit you that maybe you weren’t dreaming at all. I’m in Loguetown , you thought dazily, wondering how on earth, out of all places, you were somewhere that shouldn't even be real.
You don’t remember much of the rest of that day. The survival part of you must have kicked in because it wasn’t until you found a place to stay that you were able to face the fact that you were alone and lost, without any clue on how to get back home. You cried until you felt sick, and then you cried some more.
The first few days living in the reality that was Loguetown was miserable, to say the least. But you were nothing if not tenacious, living day by day as a barmaid, waking up with the morning crow of a rooster, and falling asleep the moment your head hits the pillow. You were not unfamiliar with customer service so the job came easily enough for you, which was fortunate; you barely had the mental capacity to register that this was officially your life let alone try to learn a completely new skillset.
But now you had food, a roof over your head, and a somewhat steady income. Your coworkers were pleasant enough people who asked little questions about where you came from, much to your relief. (You wouldn't be able to answer them without looking like a fool anyhow.) You made easy friends with all of them eventually and found yourself a stalwart companion in a fellow barmaid named Margarette whom you hit it off with immediately.
All in all, you were dealing with your sudden displacement very well, if you had to say so yourself. Perhaps a small part of you still hoped you were still dreaming, but you would not be able to deny the ring of the clocktower that strikes twelve times at noon nor the sound of waves only a short distance away, surrounded by them as you are in Loguetown. The realist in you knows you’re stuck here; the realistic optimist in you thinks you can do more than just be stuck here. Reality was such a terrifying thing, but you hoped that maybe one day you would be able explore the world you had been thrust into without fear. (What else could you do but adapt?)
You closed your eyes that night, seeing the image of your friends and family behind your lids, and hoped for pleasant future tidings.
.
.
After days turned to weeks, it was difficult to tell how long you had been here, so you measure the passing time with your strength, the count of your savings, and the number of books you’ve attempted to read to ascertain a way to get back home. ‘Attempt,’ was the key word here– you found it hard to focus on reading every book that seemed relevant when you hadn’t a clue where to even start. Focusing on your health and strength was much easier to do.
It was undeniable that you had grown stronger physically (the arms of a waitress who carried a thousand glasses; you wonder how Margarette still kept her slender arms). When you saved enough money, you bought yourself a shield and sword, just because you've always wanted to. You stayed up late and went to the beach in the dusk of night to train yourself in swordsmanship, though you weren’t quite sure swinging it around could count as much.
You certainly weren't any close to match with Zoro, or even to fight with anyone in particular, but it was the fulfillment of a childhood dream that you could swing a sword-- to slice into hay and gain the strength to wield a weapon-- that made it so worthwhile. You have half a mind to ask someone to help you train, but you figure you’d have to spend a little more money before that endeavor.
You changed a bit too: you spoke your mind more often (professionalism doesn’t exist when pirates do too) and dreamed of sailing out on the open seas without care. And you wondered if coming here has changed you or you were just always like this, and if being whisked to
Loguetown was like releasing the cork in a bottle. Such freedoms, you realized, came at the cost of solitude, but you tended to distract yourself from these musings by smacking a tree with your sword some more.
Margarette always seemed so amused when you came to her with blisters on your hands for her to patch up. “The tree won again today,” you told her with a grin, and she would only laugh.
“I never knew the trees around here were so combative, starlight,” she said, dabbing a serum that would protect the wound. “And how your hands still stay soft after beating your fist against literal pirates, I don’t know.”
You remembered that night. There were the rare pirates who didn’t get caught by Captain Smoker right away and didn't know how to respect others or understand the meaning of 'no.’ After the third time of trying something funny (like robbing the bar), you smashed someone's head with a wine bottle and threw them from the counter with your own two hands. The other locals hooted and hollered, tipping you (drunkenly) for a good showing. And when Captain Smoker did come to the bar eventually to arrest the hooligans, they kept on telling him you would be a great fighter for the marines, look at how well she’s defending this bar already!
You had blanched in horror at the thought of joining the marines, but it quickly gave into embarrassed stammering when Smoker looked your way, actually taking their words seriously before taking out one (of many) of his cigars from his mouth to ask you for your name. Margarette had given them a harder time that night so they would stop teasing you. You didn’t find it in yourself to do it yourself; it was only a measure of their fondness for you, after all, though you hoped they were mostly joking for their sake.
You don’t think you’d join the marines of this world if you can help it.
(You think of blue, the color of the ocean, the hue of freedom. You think of grand adventures and strawhats. You think of corruption, you think of men who carry out their own justice only to die, and you think of Celestial Dragons.
Pirate or revolutionary, but never marine.)
“It was one time,” you retorted back. “And the owner took the damages from my paycheck! Can you believe that? Next time I’m just going to let them rob us blind, just you wait.” You knew from the way Margarette laughed that she didn’t believe a word you said.
“Sure, starlight,” she said, green eyes twinkling with mischief akin to a cat. She leaned closer to you and asked you like a secret when you were finally setting out on that adventure you’ve been yearning to go on.
You wonder if your wanderlust was that easy to read.
.
.
In hindsight, you really were that easy to read. You kept taking notes from sailors or fishermen that came by the bar and every conversation you had with Captain Smoker, when you had safely steered away from the gossip about you joining the marines, was about his sea ventures. When Tashigi accompanied him, you managed to wrangle a few tips and tricks of being on the sea that helped her when she was on the seas. If not a simple curiosity, what could all these questions mean except your desire to set sail yourself?
The problem with wanting to explore in a world where most of the planet was water, was that the main mode of transportation was by sea. One, you had never ridden on a boat, two, you did not have nor the money to buy one, and three, you had to research at the library about navigation and sailing- quite honestly overwhelming.
Nonetheless, you started to save and study with a purpose. Daunting as it is, you weren't one to lose hope, especially when every time you looked out toward the open sea, your heart quickened in anticipation.
After a month of penny-pinching, the local patrons of the bar asked you why you haven't set sail yet. You only blinked at them, wondering if you were really that obvious that everyone knew about your plans.
"It's the only thing Margarette talks about these days," one of the older men joked and you silently berated her for being a surprising gossip.
"What's stopping you from taking off right now?" The second commented wryly, "I'm sure the bar will still be here when you come back."
"Oh, I know it will," you laugh, taking it in stride. "I just don't have a boat yet."
The third man, who had yet to speak, set down his glass and looked at you without changing his expression. "I have a sailboat. You want it?"
There was no question as to what your answer was.
(And besides, you loved free stuff.)
With an actual boat available, your goal of setting sail was quick on the horizon. In a pleasantly familiar way, you studied into the night on the map of East Blue. For preparations sake, you also look up ways to preserve food, and ask the local sailors how they would sail for days on end.
And it was the most excited you had ever been for a long time.
“When are you planning to go?” Margarette had asked, swinging her legs back and forth as she lay on her stomach in your bed. She watched you with amusement as you flittered back and forth in your room, trying to find the shirt you swore you placed in your closet.
“No clue,” you replied absently, feeling your panic grow the longer you couldn’t find-- you glanced at the bed and pulled the shirt from under Margarette, who only continued to flutter her eyes at you innocently. You glared at her as you folded the shirt. “When I’m ready, I guess,” you said.
“When you’re ready to leave me?” Margarette whined, swanning dramatically.
You laughed, dodging the kick Margarette aimed at you. “It’s not like I’ll leave forever.”
“Won’t you?”
You closed your closet door shut and turned to the older barmaid in the room. She looked at you unfalteringly. It would have been easy to deny the idea but something in you made you stop a ready response; you didn’t make habits of lying to your friends.
“Don’t know,” you responded. “I never really thought that far ahead,” you shrugged, “or really thought about what’s out there.”
“I heard Boa Hancock is the most beautiful woman you could ever lay eyes on,” Margarette supplied with all the seriousness in the world, making you laugh and shove her shoulders playfully.
“Yeah, like that’s gonna be the first thing I want to see when I go out." You jumped onto the bed and folded your legs together. "Not like I’m gonna sail to the Grand Line right off the bat,” you replied dryly.
“But you will, won’t you?”
With a pang of your heart, you looked toward your friend again whose eyes softened like she already knew the answer.
You allowed a small smile to curve your lips upward. “Don’t know,” you said again. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
At the noncommittal response, Margarette cried out in exaggeration and rolled over until her legs were somehow sprawled over you. “My starlight’s going to leave me the moment a man whisks her off her feet on an adventure!” She bemoaned, wiping away her crocodile tears. She whipped her red hair away from her face, making you take a whole mouthful of it. “Oh woe is me, even worse, a woman that’s not me--!”
You spat out her hair and brushed away the strands that refused to come out, laughing. “Oh, come on, Margarette,” you said.
“The fact you’re not denying it breaks my maiden heart--”
“Don’t you have an early shift tomorrow?”
.
.
The first time you set off to sea, you hadn't slept the entire night from excitement. You had laid out your outfit, the equipment you were going to bring, and the map that would guide you. Now the only thing that could stop you now was the weather or the possibility that you would hurl the moment you stepped on the boat.
(You had taken a trial trip with local fishermen who had been wanting to take you fishing for ages now. You are mildly sure you have enough sea legs in you to not have… adverse effects to sailing, but you can never be sure with how badly you could sail on your own.)
Before the sun could rise above your head, you leapt onto the boat and felt the breeze blow through your hair. You shakily untied the sails and watched in awe as it snapped taut with the wind and began to move away from the dock. You take a deep breath of the salty air in. Your feet were unsteady on moving water, but you were sure you would get used to it.
"Did you make sure to say good-bye to Margarette?" One of the locals called out to you on his boat as you passed by, "You know she's stingy with the beer when she's upset."
You grinned when another boatsman looked at your small sailboat in concern, asking you if you didn't actually want a crew to accompany you.
"Or just use our boat even!" Another man cries out in concern, recognizing him as the helmsman for the local merchant boat. He gets a friendly shove from that comment.
"And have her sink it?!”
"Any better than losing the funniest thing I've seen in Loguetown?” You heard yourself sputter in half-offense. “Now that's a tragedy if I've heard of them, and I've heard plenty--"
And you laughed and laughed, listening to their friendly banter and cheerful goodbyes, not one of them truly doubting you and all of them truly sore to see you leave. "I'll come back soon!" You paused. "Probably!" You yelled back jokingly, much to their chagrin.
At this point, the town was more of a fading speck in the distance, and you settled yourself standing next to the mast. You watched the ocean that was cool to the touch and not to be underestimated, and instead of the apprehension of being alone, you looked toward the horizon and felt freer than you've ever known.
.
You did come back to Loguetown. Soon, as you promised. But you left again the weeks after, coming back, staying, and leaving again in a self-set pattern.
You wondered why the owner allowed you to come back when you infrequently worked at the bar, but when you asked Margarette she said that the bar had never been so full until you came back with stories to tell.
"As long as you make money for him, you can be gone as long as you want," Margarette drawled. "Not that I don't want you here, starlight," she said, winking at you.
You noticed a few men falling over at her flirtatious manner, and you laughed, poured another drink, and walked to a buzzed crowd who were waiting for you to continue the story about the first time you tried to dock at an island (with all possible innuendos made).
You made for a good entertainer normally but it made it a lot easier when you had a lot of material to work with-- point in case, your every misadventure. A willing audience made a good soundboard for your stories. Watching them react to certain things, knowing what details to add all for the sake of making your journal into something more.
"You want to write a book," Margarette said, though you were quite sure she intended it to be more of a question. You turned toward her, watching her play at the seams of your sheets before looking back to your desk.
"I won't publish anything," you explained, closing the bag you packed in preparation for the journey tomorrow. "It'll just be a recounting of my life… like a logbook of my adventures." You let out a huff of laughter. "I really doubt anyone would read something like that--"
"I would," she said.
You paused before closing your closet door, feeling your face redden in embarrassment. "I… You don't even know if I'm a good writer."
"But I know you have a way with words." Immediately after, she shook her head, waving her hands flippantly, though as with everything else she did, it held a sense of elegance. "Let me rephrase that," Margarette said, propping herself up against your bedpost.
"Most people hide behind their words. They use words and phrases to make themselves what they are not and convey something they don't feel." She pinned you down with her evergreen eyes. "You say what you mean, and you mean what you say, and that's something special ," she stressed.
"Your words are made of emotions. People would read your book and feel something, and I think that's amazing." Margarette shrugged, eyes finally moving to the open window where the street lamps were slowly turning on.
You almost don't know what to say. (No one had ever said anything like that to you.)
"Doesn't that just make me really bad at lying?" You began teasingly when it seemed that Margarette was beginning to be somber.
And it worked after all, if she gave you a smile, though with a twinge of wistfulness. She replied, "That's not really a bad thing, is it?”
You left a note for Margarette the next morning in lieu of a physical farewell. She had had the night shift the hours before, and you said your " see you soon's " the night before so you thought it best to let her sleep. Though, if she did end up being stingy with the beer, you supposed it would be your fault.
You silently apologized to the daily visitors as you watched Loguetown shrink in the distance.
The greatness of East Blue comes from its calm seas and pleasant winds. Very rarely did you ever encounter unpredictable weather or uncontrollable storms. Thus, it made sense that you rarely met with any dangerous sea monsters as well, though you’d never say you were very lucky to begin with.
That must be why you just so happen to be attacked by a giant sea creature in the weakest sea.
You dragged your little boat through the sand of an unknown shore, drenched from top to bottom. Your sword was by your hip, but you had sacrificed your shield to whatever sea creature had just tried to take a nasty bite out of your precious sailboat you nicknamed Pete. (Not the most dramatic name, but it wasn't exactly a dramatic boat.) You vindictively hoped the gigantic, two-set teeth eel had received a generous enough warning from you to stay away.
It was only your luck that your shield was probably not the most important thing you lost. A wet map-- a wet, unreadable, ink-bled map -- was as good as having no map at all.
Resisting the very real urge to scream, you headed toward the dock to which you would hopefully find nice people and get your hands on a map and a shield and hopefully some good food-- or else you'd swim back into the ocean and eat that eel raw. (You somehow feel like it’s the karma for making Margarette upset.)
So invested in your misfortune that it took a miserable trip in your wet socks to the local bar and see a familiar bartender for you to realize where you are.
"You're at Dawn Island," Makino said– and really, you should have recognized her or the island immediately. After all, windmills? A woman with the patience of a saint and the countenance of an older sister with green hair? ( You really ought to be more observant.)
"More specifically, Windmill Village," she explained. "You'll probably be able to get more equipment in the Goa Kingdom. I'm afraid we don't have much to offer aside from ale and warm food." The contrast between your terrible day and the smile she gave you was almost enough to make you cry.
As if in a gesture of mercy from the world, you do not.
(Makino looked like she knew what you really felt on the inside, though.)
.
.
You had never intended to ever come to Goa Kingdom.
This was a decision made out of love and a fair amount of fear. Keeping yourself far from the cast of what you know to be One Piece was the clearest cut way to avoid changing the events of the story for the worse. You’ve seen enough isekai to know much good could come from meddling in with the main events, but you’ve also read enough to know how interfering with past events can wildly change the future, which could spell bad things. You don’t think you’d be able to live with yourself knowing your actions caused the death of someone important– someone you’ve grown to love through a screen.
But everyone who sailed the five seas has a little bit of romanticism in them, especially you, who had grown up reading about a boy whose dream that should have been too big for him make steps towards fulfilling them. Who wouldn’t want to meet that very person? Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that type of adventure?
(And what if you were able to change something for good ?)
So when Makino had been kind enough to hang your clothes dry outside and lend you clothes, you sat at her bar nursing a drink and wondered if this was your chance of meeting a certain straw-hatted pirate.
“Did you sail to this island by yourself?” Makino asked, absently wiping a mug with a towel as she spoke.
“I did,” you replied. “I usually plan my trips pretty well so I know where I'm going but, uh, some sea monster came--”
“Oh! You met with our Lord of the Coast?” She gasped in surprise before her easy smile appeared again. In a voice she must have always used on Luffy to get him to talk, she said, “You must be very strong to fight back against him.”
“No, I-- I really shouldn’t have been thrown overboard by him.” You grumbled, as affected as Luffy would have been, “I wouldn’t have had so much trouble if I wasn’t so surprised.”
You realized too late when Makino laughed that it sounded as if you were making excuses, and you felt your face warm this time around, sighing and burying your face into your arms.
“Sorry, sorry!” She apologized, though she continued to giggle when you frowned (read: pouted) at her. “It’s just-- you remind me of someone I know.” Your heart fluttered at the mention; Makino grinned at you. “You might actually meet him on your way up to Goa Kingdom, if you go through Mt. Colubo. I think he’d love to meet an adventurer like you!”
You put your chin on your propped hands and couldn’t help the endeared smile that found its way onto your face. “Who?” You asked, though you were already starting to grin at what you knew to be the answer.
And Makino smiled in a way that made her dimples show and her eyes gleamed. “His name is Luffy,” she said with all the adoration in the world. “He always wears a straw hat-- and he’s quite loud, so I doubt you would be able to miss him if you cross paths.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you replied, letting your heart beat in anticipation of meeting the Future Pirate King.
.
.
With a sword in hand, you trudged up the hills of Mt. Colubo once your clothes dried. Makino had prepped you with information about the mountain and about the dubious people you could meet in Goa Kingdom. It especially helped knowing that there were wild beasts loose in the mountains to look out for, though the thought of meeting said wild beasts was enough to make you breathe quietly in hopes of avoiding them. And hopefully, you would hear them coming before they see you.
You followed the beaten path, watching your steps carefully, when you heard a loud crack above you. You instinctively ducked. You looked up frantically as if something would drop down and attack you and sighed in relief once you saw nothing in the trees.
You dusted your pants and then looked up, only to see a giant rhinoceros with horns the size of your head huffing and rearing up as if it was ready to charge. You stared at it with wide eyes, screaming inwardly on how you could have possibly missed seeing that. (Why, oh, why did you throw your shield at the Lord of the Coast?)
Your startled shout became half-aborted when you’re mauled by not the giant rhino in front of you, but something else with rubbery arms and black hair. (Any other time, you would have recognized the man as none other than Monkey D. Luffy, but unfortunately you were preoccupied by the pain that spiked through you as you rolled down the hill and into a pile of dead leaves, cursing at every bump.) Once you finally stopped at the bottom of the slope, you groaned, though your series of pained profanity was muffled by loud laughter of the person that fell with you.
You glanced down at the persons whose legs you were entangled with and stared openly at the red vest he wore, straw hat on his head, and the crescent scar below his eye. Instead of the spew of stammered admiration or a coherent and witty introduction, all you could say was, “Why on God's green earth is there a rhino that big?"
At this, Luffy only continued to snicker, not noticing-- or more likely, ignoring-- the raging animal that was not happy his prey had tried to run from him. Spitting out another curse just for good measure, you quickly got up on your feet and grabbed his wrist before running through the bushes you hoped wouldn’t make you itch. Your attempts to remain calm were thrown out the window immediately after you heard a loud roar followed by the sound of a tree falling.
You screamed as you ran.
All the while, Luffy laughed, not at all concerned by the danger you were in as you dragged him away (though you were pretty sure Luffy could have handled this fine on his own). “Why are you laughing?” You cried out, glancing back at him and thinking better of it when you saw the rhino not that far off.
“You’re pretty funny!” He said, and you know without looking that he was grinning from ear to ear.
“Thanks!” You screeched in sync with the rhino, “I’m glad you think this is funny!”
Together, the both of you leapt over a fallen tree trunk and continued to run.
“Wow, you run pretty fast,” he commented. And before you could snap back that there was a rhino loose in the jungle, he announced happily, “Join my crew!”
And your brain short-circuited.
For the one moment your brain shut down, you tripped over a jutting tree root and brought Luffy down with you.
“What?” You asked in disbelief, staring at the rubber boy as he sat up into crouching position, his grin never wavering. “Join your-- I-I don’t even know who you are!” You retorted in vain as that was neither true nor convincing.
With his signature snicker (shi shi shi), Luffy got up without a word, reminding you that this was really not the time to be flabbergasted, even if you had finally met the main protagonist of the story. (As a writer and a fan, you were having a field-day. As a relatively normal person, you were going insane.)
"I think you're cool, so you should join my crew!" He explained, though he didn't really clarify anything for you. “I’m Monkey D. Luffy!” He grinned, placing his hand on his hat with an unwavering smile on his face. “I’m the man who’s going to be Pirate King!”
You let out a sound of growing dread as you saw the rhino rear its horn and sprint toward you, finally making Luffy turn around and look at the three-hundred pound danger.
“Oh, it’s Mr. Rhino, huh? I’ve been trying to eat him for days,” Luffy commented nonchalantly. Before you had a chance to react, he wrapped an arm around you six-fold, to which you screamed out of pure panic. (You knew he was made of rubber but seeing it in person was… horrifying.) When the shock subsided, you looked at him in question, only to have your face slowly morph into an expression of horror when you watch him stretch his other arm to grab onto a faraway branch.
And your mind quickly flashed through the times Zoro, Chopper, Usopp suffered through his antics, and though you never believed in any deity, you prayed that you wouldn't die.
"Wait," you weakly protested, pulling at his arm, "Luffy--"
"Gomu gomu no…"
"No!" You shrieked, as your body lifted from the ground and accelerated to rocket speed.
"-Slingshot!"
.
.
Against all odds, no one actually died from being man-handled by Luffy, but by God, experiencing firsthand sure felt like you should have died. You spat out the leaves from your mouth and clung onto the strong branch that you threw yourself against.
“Can you use that?”
You turned your head toward Luffy who pointed at the sword at your hip. You blinked, the pain slowly subsiding. “Yeah,” you started hesitantly, “Why?”
He grinned, and you didn’t know whether your heart skipped a beat because his smile was so bright or just because you happened to recognize that grin meant he was planning something insane . “I’ll distract him, so help me out, okay?” He said, then before you could even process what he said, he leapt down and called out to the rhino that would have lost them if he hadn’t attracted his attention.
With a feeling like you were watching a train wreck, you followed after Luffy as he jumped up and down like a monkey, leading the rhino right up to him and right under you. You huffed, not seeing any choice in the matter and unsheathed your sword, gripping it with both of your hands.
Counting down in your head, the moment the rhino was in your line of sight, you shouted at Luffy to move. The moment you saw him step to the side, you leapt off the branch, using the centripetal force of your somersaults to propel yourself down to bury your sword into the neck of the rhinoceros. You quickly jumped off from its body before you fell with it, and a resounding crash from behind told you it was safe to sheath your sword.
You felt yourself flush as Luffy stared at you in awe and celebrated your resounding victory with loud claps over his head. "That was cool!" He exclaimed, laughing, "You're definitely joining my crew now!"
Two times now, you thought a little giddily. Twice he’s invited you to join his crew. This time, you grinned with the adrenaline coursing through you, making the scratches on your arms and the bruises on your legs feel as though they didn’t matter. " I never said I would!" You told him lightly, making him pout. “But, you mentioned something about eating him?” You jutted your thumb toward the incapacitated rhinoceros and watched as Luffy widened his eyes in excitement.
You watched with an exasperated smile as he danced around the rhino, drooling, fantasizing about the taste of the roasted meat. You were used to just watching him-- not up-front like this, but through the screens of your laptop. To think he would offer you the chance to be a part of his adventure instead of the side-lines cheering for him…
You didn’t know what to say. (But you definitely knew what you wanted to say.)
You knew as far as his journey went, he gathered the right crewmates, made the right friends, and sailed through the ocean without a hitch. (You thought of Ace and Sabaody Archipelago, but they were obstacles that he would overcome.) Without you as his crewmate, he would be fine-- you knew that for certain.
But still, his complete trust in you, a stranger he had barely met, made you feel like you were flying on cloud nine. And you wondered just how much trust he would put in you once you actually became one of his crewmates.
"This is going to taste so good," he replied, distracting you from your thoughts. He looked back at you with an easy grin and the words you meant to say disappeared. "You wanna eat?"
(In the grand scheme of things, you were only one person. One person who had one chance to meet with the man who made miracles happen and took care of those who were his. You had thought of the consequences of meeting him and held yourself back for so long, but in the face of him inviting you to be a part of his journey–)
You never thought of saying ‘no.’
(Pirates were selfish that way, weren’t they?)