Ali's life was One Piece.
Not just a show, not just a manga — to him, One Piece was a heartbeat, a compass, a reason to smile when the world was silent. He could still remember the exact moment he watched Luffy punch a Celestial Dragon for the first time. He had stood up in front of his TV and screamed. Not out of joy — but justice. That was Luffy. That was freedom.
He'd been following the series since he was 12. By 24, he'd reread the manga multiple times, memorized power systems, even kept a personal theory log — "The Book of the Will of D." He could name every crew member of the Roger Pirates, recite every variation of Luffy's "I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!" line, and had ranked every Devil Fruit by category. He had cried, laughed, shouted, and held his breath more times than he could count.
When Ace died, Ali broke.
He remembered sitting on the floor of his apartment, staring at the screen as the transponder snail went silent. Luffy's scream felt like it came from his chest. He hadn't cried like that since he was a child. For hours, he just sat there, fists clenched, tears on his One Piece hoodie, wondering why the world was so cruel.
Then came Marineford. Whitebeard's final words."THE ONE PIECE... IS REAL!!"
Ali had jumped to his feet, bawling and laughing at the same time. He shouted it with him. It was like watching a myth come true — like history itself saluted Gol D. Roger one last time.
He watched Gear 4's debut in Dressrosa with awe, but nothing could prepare him for the moment Luffy hit Gear 5. That transformation wasn't just power — it was liberation incarnate. The Sun God Nika, joy made manifest. It felt like Oda had torn through the panels and punched the very concept of limitations in the face. Ali screamed himself hoarse watching it.
And the movies? He watched them religiously.
Film Z made him respect Luffy's conviction.
Stampede was a fever dream he watched ten times.
But One Piece: Red? That one broke him.
Uta. Her bond with Luffy. Her voice. Her heartbreak.
Ali cried silently through the final scenes, watching Shanks turn away once again, watching Luffy hold onto the memory of someone who just wanted to sing. It was in that moment that Ali realized — One Piece wasn't about pirates or treasure. It was about bonds. And to him, that bond was unbreakable.
He wasn't just a fan — he lived it. He ran a weekly One Piece fan club at his local community center. Dozens of fans gathered under the banner of the Straw Hat, trading TCG cards, debating matchups, reenacting the Buster Call, and defending their head canons with passion.
Ali also worked at Manga Galaxy, a comic and manga store that practically smelled like Shonen Jump. He always made sure the One Piece shelf was fully stocked and alphabetized, with a little hand-written note that read: "The journey is long — but so worth it."
He had just finished the latest chapter — the one where the crew finally landed in Elbaf — and had already reread it five times before grabbing his backpack and heading to the club meeting. Life was simple. But he loved it.
He never expected to die that day.
He was walking past a busy intersection, humming "New Genesis" from Film Red, when he saw it. A flash of red. A child — no older than five — chasing after a bright rubber ball that had rolled into the street.
Time stopped.
Ali saw the kid He saw the truck. And without thinking — He ran.
His feet slammed against the pavement as he burst forward. Every step was instinct. Not calculation. Not hesitation.
He reached the boy just as the truck's horn blared.
Ali dove.
He grabbed the child, twisting his own body to shield the impact, and hurled the boy forward out of harm's way.
Then everything went white.
There was no pain. Just… silence.
Then floating.
His life didn't flash before his eyes. But his favorite panels did.
Luffy punching Arlong. Ace's hat falling. Zoro saying "I'll never lose again. "The Going Merry's funeral. Robin screaming "I want to live!" Luffy laughing as he bounced on clouds, hair white, eyes free.
And last of all —Shanks placing the hat on Luffy's head.
Ali smiled through the tears.
"So this is it, huh… Not a bad ending." "I saved a kid." "Maybe… that's my own little inherited will."
Then, warmth.
A soft blanket. A fuzzy light. He couldn't move properly. Everything felt small, like his muscles weren't his own.
Ali blinked against the blinding light. His body wouldn't move right. Everything felt smaller, softer. His hands—if they could even be called that—flapped uselessly in the air.
He tried to speak. Only a high-pitched gurgle came out.
"W-What…?"
Voices drifted into the room. One was gruff, familiar in a way that made his heart skip a beat.
"Aw, would you look at that? He's already trying to fight the air!"
Another voice chuckled. "Just like you, Garp."
Garp.
Ali froze.
No way. No freaking way.
The door creaked open, and a towering man with a square jaw, white hair, and a Justice coat casually draped over his shoulders walked in. He laughed — that booming, unforgettable laugh.
"HEH-HEH-HEH! That's my grandson alright!"
Ali — no, the baby that was now Ali — turned his tiny head toward the sound.
That's… Garp. That's actually Monkey D. Garp.
His heart thundered in his chest, faster than any heartbeat should. He looked down at his tiny arms, his wriggling fingers, the blanket with little pirate ships printed on it. He turned to his left and saw his reflection on the window. Then it hit him like Sea Train freight:
He had been reincarnated. And not just anyone. He reincarnated as Monkey D. Luffy.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't cry. He just lay there, stunned, as Garp walked over and poked his cheek.
"Oi, what's with the serious look? You're a baby, not a Marine!"
No way. This is a dream. This has to be a dream.
But it wasn't.
Ali — the guy who had spent his life loving One Piece — had just entered the greatest story ever told from page one. He wasn't watching anymore.
He was living it.
He was Luffy.