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Before diving into this story, understand what you're getting into. This story isn't meant to be rushed through or skimmed, it demands your time and attention.
This is a slow-burn progression story that doesn't shy away from the brutal realities of the One Piece world. Expect heavy gore, strong language, mature content, and a darker, more realistic take on this universe. If you're looking for a protagonist who reaches Yonko-level by chapter 50 or even 100, this isn't the story for you.
But for those who appreciate a grounded, methodical approach to storytelling, who value character development and realism over wish fulfillment...
Welcome to what might just be the best One Piece fanfiction you'll ever read.
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On an island in the North Blue stood a small yet peaceful village. The settlement was made up mostly of fishermen who earned their living from the sea. The island's position near a great oceanic current that funneled large schools of fish nearby made it an ideal spot for their trade.
The villagers were peaceful and simple folks. While many worked as fishermen, others tended to the island's farms, cultivating crops in the fertile soil. They used their catches and harvests as a means to trade with other villages nearby. While the village itself wasn't overly wealthy by any stretch, it provided a means of survival, putting roofs over their heads and meals on their tables.
Sunrise brought the fishing boats out to sea, and sunset saw them return with their catches. The farmers worked their fields during the day, and in the evenings, the community would gather to share stories and meals.
It was the kind of place where everyone lived peacefully, where children played freely in the streets, and where the biggest concerns were the weather and the size of the day's catch.
A quiet life, but a good one...
But it was an especially good life for one boy in particular.
Rocking gently on the surface of the water was a small boat, built for two or three people if they squeezed together. But today, only one person was on it, an especially young man with shaggy black hair that hung over his forehead, framing his dark green eyes and dripping all the way down to his shoulders.
He was fairly skinny but lean, looking no older than about seventeen. His skin had taken on a darker, tanned complexion from harsh sunburns and years spent at sea. The boy held a fishing rod in his calloused, scarred hands which was evidence of countless hours working the lines. He was shirtless, wearing only shorts and heavy black boots.
'Sixteen years...' he thought to himself, staring at the water. 'I've been in this world for sixteen years. Turning seventeen in a few days.' He sighed quietly as he reeled his fishing rod deeper into the water, then tugged at it slightly to gather the attention of any fish nearby.
'To think I died and came back to life...'
He gazed up at the blue sky, then instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes as the sun peered into them.
Even after all these years, he still couldn't believe that he'd been reincarnated into a different world. In his past life, he wouldn't have called himself a heavily religious person or anything, but he'd at least believed there would be an afterlife of some sort.
He didn't exactly remember how he died, or how he got here. Matter of fact, he knew nothing of his life before. He couldn't remember his name for some reason, or his family, but he could remember what it was like before and what he was like, just not the specific details.
All he really remembered was that he'd watched a ton of anime in his past life.
And that's how he knew that the world he was in now...
Was the One Piece world.
Though he wasn't especially a big fan of One Piece due to its ridiculously long chapters, he had gotten caught up with both the manga and anime. It had been a long time ago, though, and everything was mostly a blur now. He didn't remember every single detail about it, just the important ones.
It hadn't taken him long to figure out where he was, given all the news about Gold D. Roger becoming the Pirate King and the fall of the Rocks Pirates, among other events. "Wait, didn't Roger just disband his crew this year?" he mused to himself, staring down at the water as his line drifted with the current.
Since Roger was still alive, that meant the Great Pirate Era had yet to start, and he was about 25 years away from the canon storyline beginning. But honestly? He had no interest in all of that, because the life he was living now was the best life he could ask for.
Another thing he remembered from his past life was reading a lot of novels. Normally when an MC reincarnates, they get this random surge of motivation to start training and get stronger, to chase power or to 'survive'. But he had no ambitions like that and wasn't interested in any of it. He'd figured out early on that living a normal life was far better than getting caught up in all the chaos and danger that came with this world.
Plus, he wasn't some MC of a show or anything, and he didn't have plot armor. He was just a regular human, and there was no way he could get as strong as the likes of Whitebeard or Roger.
"BENIMARU! IT'S TIME TO HEAD IN!"
A voice called out from a bit further away on the water. A larger boat, a Liburna-type vessel packed with fishermen, floated nearby. Hanging off its sides were schools of fish tied up in nets, their catch for the day.
Benimaru sighed as he looked down at his fishing rod. 'I guess that's it for today...' he thought grumpily. He reeled the line back in, removed the worm bait from the hook, and placed the rod on the floor of his small boat.
"Alright!" Benimaru called back, grabbing an oar from the floor. He began rowing toward the shore, as he pulled beside the larger ship.
It didn't take long for them to reach the shore and dock at the port. Benimaru grabbed a rope from the floor of his boat and quickly tied it to a wooden pole at the dock. Once his boat was secured, he grabbed his fishing rod and a shirt which he threw over his shoulder, then picked up a small bucket that had a few fish in it which he had caught earlier.
He gave the men on the fishing boat a quick nod before making his way into the village, the bucket swinging lightly at his side.
The village was already bustling by the time Benimaru made his way through the dirt paths. The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the wooden houses and cobblestone roads. Children ran past him, laughing and chasing each other with sticks, while elderly folk sat outside their homes, watching the world go by with content expressions.
"Benimaru! Good catch today?"
An old man sitting on a rocking chair called out to him, raising a wrinkled hand in greeting. It was Old Man Hideo, the village's former head fisherman who'd retired years ago after losing his leg to a sea king attack.
"Just a few today, Hideo-san," Benimaru replied with a small smile, lifting the bucket slightly to show his catch. "The current was strong, and scared most of them off."
"Bah! In my day, we'd dive right in and catch them with our bare hands!" Hideo laughed, slapping his good knee. "You youngsters have it too easy with your fancy rods and boats!"
Benimaru chuckled and continued walking, exchanging nods and brief greetings with other villagers as he passed. A woman hanging laundry waved at him. A shopkeeper sweeping his storefront called out asking if he'd bring fresh fish tomorrow. A group of kids playing in the street scrambled out of his way, giggling.
It was peaceful.
'This is home,' he thought to himself as he walked. 'This is what I want.'
After a few more minutes, Benimaru reached a modest two-story house near the edge of the village. It wasn't anything fancy with wooden walls that had seen better days, a slightly crooked roof that leaked when it rained hard, and a small vegetable garden out front that his mother tended to religiously.
But it was home.
Before he could even reach the door, it swung open.
"BENI! YOU'RE BACK!"
A small blur of energy came barreling out of the house, a little girl, no older than eight, with messy brown hair tied into uneven pigtails and bright, sparkling eyes. She crashed into Benimaru's legs, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug.
"Oof—Yuki, careful!" Benimaru stumbled slightly, balancing the bucket so the fish wouldn't spill. "I've got fish here!"
"Did you catch a lot? Did you see any sea kings? Did you—"
"Yuki! Don't tackle your brother the second he gets home!"
A woman appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips but smiling warmly. She was in her early forties, with the same dark green eyes as Benimaru and brown hair streaked with gray, tied back in a practical bun. Flour dusted her apron, and the smell of baking bread wafted out from inside the house.
Benimaru's mother...Haruka.
"Sorry, Mom," Yuki said sheepishly, though she didn't let go of Benimaru's leg.
"It's fine, she's just excited," Benimaru said, reaching down to ruffle Yuki's hair. The little girl giggled and finally let go of him, stepping back with a huge grin.
Haruka walked over, wiping her hands on her apron as she looked inside the bucket. "Only a few today?"
"Current was rough," Benimaru explained, handing her the bucket. "Scared off most of the schools. But these should be good for dinner."
"They'll do just fine." Haruka took the bucket and smiled at him. "Go wash up. Your father should be back soon, and dinner will be ready after that."
Benimaru nodded and stepped inside, Yuki trailing behind him like a loyal puppy.
The inside of the house was small but cozy. The main room served as both a kitchen and living area, with a worn wooden table in the center surrounded by mismatched chairs. A fireplace crackled in the corner, and shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of preserves, dried herbs, and a few old books.
To the left was a narrow staircase leading to the second floor, where the bedrooms were. To the right was a small washroom.
Benimaru dropped his fishing rod by the door and draped his shirt over a chair before heading to the washroom to clean up.
As he scrubbed the salt and grime from his hands and arms, he caught his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall.
Benimaru.
That was the name they'd given him. The name of this body. This life.
He still didn't know his original name from his past life. He'd tried to remember it countless times over the years, but it was like trying to grasp smoke. The harder he reached for it, the more it slipped away.
But honestly? It didn't matter anymore.
Because this...this was his life now.
Haruka wasn't his 'birth' mother, but she'd raised him since he was a baby and treated him with love and care. Yuki wasn't his blood sister, but she looked up to him like he was her entire world. And his father—
"I'M HOME!"
The front door swung open, and a booming voice filled the house.
A large, broad-shouldered man stepped inside, his presence immediately filling the small space. He had a thick black beard streaked with gray, weathered skin darkened by years under the sun, and the kind of rough, calloused hands that came from a lifetime of hard labor.
Benimaru's father or step father, Daichi.
"Papa!" Yuki squealed, running over to hug him.
Daichi laughed and scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her around once before setting her down. "There's my little fish! Were you good today?"
"I helped Mama with the bread!" Yuki said proudly.
"Good girl." Daichi ruffled her hair, then his eyes shifted to Benimaru, who'd just stepped out of the washroom. "Beni! How was the catch?"
"Small," Benimaru admitted, leaning against the doorframe. "Current was bad."
"Bah, that's the sea for you. Some days she gives, some days she takes." Daichi grinned and clapped Benimaru on the shoulder, which was hard enough to make him stumble slightly. "But you went out and tried. That's what matters."
Benimaru couldn't help but smile slightly at that.
Daichi was a simple man. A fisherman through and through, with a big heart, a loud laugh, and a love for his family that was unshakable. He wasn't Benimaru's biological father, hell, Benimaru wasn't even technically biologically part of this family, but Daichi had never treated him any differently than Yuki.
His actual father had died before he was even born into this world, so he never got the chance to meet him. But his mother told him stories about the man when he was just a baby, but to be honest he didn't really care about any of that.
Apparently, his father had been a marine, and a damn good one at that. From what his mother said, the man only cared about protecting others, always putting duty and people before himself. But sadly, he died in the line of duty, giving his life for something he believed in.
Years later, after the grief had settled and time had started to heal old wounds, his mother found someone new to love. That's when Yuki came into the picture, starting a new chapter in his mother's life and his.
"Alright, everyone sit down! Dinner's almost ready!" Haruka called from the kitchen, stirring a pot over the fire.
The four of them sat around the table as Haruka served bowls of fish stew, fresh bread, and steamed vegetables from the garden. It wasn't a feast by any means, but it was warm, filling, and made with care.
"So, Beni," Daichi said between mouthfuls of stew, "your birthday's in a few days, right? Seventeen?"
"Yeah," Benimaru replied quietly, tearing off a piece of bread.
"Seventeen!" Yuki gasped dramatically. "You're getting old, Beni!"
"Old?" Benimaru raised an eyebrow at her. "You're eight. Everything seems old to you."
Yuki stuck her tongue out at him, and he flicked a crumb at her in retaliation, making her giggle.
"Seventeen..." Daichi mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "That means the ceremony's coming up too. The Coming of Age ritual."
Haruka nodded, setting down her spoon. "It's a big day. The whole village will be there to see it."
The Coming of Age ceremony was a tradition in their village, when someone turned seventeen, they were officially recognized as an adult member of the community. It was a simple ritual, really. The village elder would give a blessing, the person would make an offering to the sea, and then everyone would celebrate with food and drinks.
"And Uncle Ryota is coming!" Yuki added excitedly, bouncing slightly in her seat. "Mama said so!"
Benimaru blinked in surprise. "Uncle Ryota? Really?"
Haruka smiled warmly. "He sent a letter last week. Said he finally managed to get time off from his duties and wanted to be here for your ceremony. It's been... what, three years since we last saw him?"
"Four," Daichi corrected, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Four years, he's been working himself half to death...Marines just don't know how to take a damn break."
"Language," Haruka chided, gesturing toward Yuki.
"Sorry, sorry." Daichi grinned sheepishly.
Ryota Kurogane, Haruka's older brother and Benimaru's Uncle.
He was a Commodore in the Marines, Benimaru had only met the guy a handful of times over the years. Ryota was always busy, since he was always stationed somewhere far away, and always caught up in Marine business. But whenever he did visit, he brought stories of the world beyond their little island. Stories of pirates, battles, the Grand Line, and the constant struggle to maintain order in a chaotic world.
Benimaru had never been particularly interested in those stories, but he couldn't deny that Ryota had always been kind to him. Despite being a high-ranking Marine with countless responsibilities, he'd always made time to sit down with Benimaru, ask how he was doing, and treat him like family.
"He said he'd arrive the day before your birthday," Haruka continued, her eyes brightening. "He wants to spend a few days here before heading back. He mentioned he's been overworked lately, something about increased pirate activity in his jurisdiction. But he insisted he wouldn't miss this for the world."
"Is he gonna bring presents?" Yuki asked hopefully.
"Yuki!" Haruka scolded lightly, though she was smiling.
"What? He always brings presents!" Yuki protested.
Daichi laughed. "She's not wrong. Last time he came, he brought you that doll from the South Blue, remember?"
Yuki nodded enthusiastically, clutching an imaginary doll to her chest.
Benimaru stayed quiet, smiling as everyone laughed with each other.
'This is all I'll ever want in life.' he thought.
A peaceful life..
A family that cared about him..
A place where he belonged...
. . . . .
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