The last thing Jake Morrison remembered from his first life was the unmistakable sound of a truck horn and the thought, Oh, come on, not the truck-kun cliché.
The first thing he noticed about his second life was that he was significantly more in-shape than he'd ever been before, standing in a line of equally fit young men, all wearing matching white uniforms with "MARINE" printed on the back.
Oh no.
Oh no no no no no.
Jake's brain, which had been frantically rebooting since consciousness returned, suddenly snapped into sharp focus as he took in his surroundings. The sea. The gulls. The absurdly large seagull-shaped hats on some of the officers. The fact that one of the instructors had a chin that could probably be classified as a weapon.
I'm in One Piece.
I'm in actual goddamn One Piece.
His internal panic was interrupted by a gruff voice shouting, "Recruits! Welcome to Marine Boot Camp, East Blue Division! I am Commander Ripper, and for the next six months, I will transform you pathetic civilians into warriors of justice!"
Commander Ripper was a mountain of a man with scars crisscrossing his bald head and arms that looked like they could bend steel bars. He paced in front of them like a predator selecting prey.
"The world is entering a new age of piracy!" Ripper continued, spittle flying from his mouth with enthusiasm. "The Pirate King's final words have inspired scum across all four Blues to take to the seas! It is OUR job—YOUR job—to protect innocent civilians from these criminals!"
Jake felt his stomach drop. The Pirate King's final words. That meant Roger had just been executed. Which meant Luffy would be starting his journey in about... what, twelve years? Maybe less?
Which means I'm currently in the most dangerous ocean in the world, right before the Great Pirate Era kicks off properly.
His panic must have shown on his face because the recruit next to him, a friendly-looking guy with red hair, whispered, "First time away from home? Don't worry, we'll get through this together. Name's Marcus."
"Jake," he managed to respond, his voice coming out steadier than he expected. "And yeah, something like that."
"Alright, maggots!" Ripper bellowed. "We're going to start with a simple assessment. I need to know what kind of raw material I'm working with. We'll begin with a basic combat drill!"
Of course we will, Jake thought miserably. Because nothing says 'welcome to your new life' like immediately getting punched in the face.
The next three hours were a blur of pain, exhaustion, and the horrible realization that while this body was in better shape than his original one, it was still the body of a complete novice. Jake had never been in a real fight in his previous life. His combat experience consisted entirely of playing fighting games and that one time in middle school when Brad Johnson had pushed him and he'd fallen into a trash can.
By the time Ripper finally called for a break, Jake was bruised, sweating, and seriously reconsidering his entire existence.
"Not bad for day one," Marcus said cheerfully, apparently not bothered by the fact that he was also covered in bruises. "You've got good instincts. That dodge you did against Recruit Jenkins was pretty slick."
"That wasn't a dodge," Jake muttered. "I tripped."
"Yeah, but you tripped strategically."
Jake was about to respond when Ripper's voice cut through the murmur of exhausted recruits. "Listen up! Tonight, you'll receive your bunk assignments and orientation materials. Tomorrow, the real training begins. You will learn combat, tactics, navigation, and Marine law. Those who excel will be fast-tracked to active duty. Those who fail..." He smiled unpleasantly. "Well, we always need people to swab decks."
As they were dismissed, Jake's mind was racing. He needed a plan. He was in One Piece—arguably one of the most dangerous fictional universes ever created. A world where people could split islands in half, where sea monsters the size of buildings were common, where the very ocean itself was trying to kill anyone with devil fruit powers.
And he was a Marine recruit in East Blue.
Okay, think. What do I know?
He knew the plot. He knew major events, important characters, dangerous locations. That was valuable intel. But it was also incredibly dangerous intel. If anyone found out he had prophetic knowledge, he'd either be exploited or executed.
What else? What can I actually use?
He knew techniques. Devil fruits. The fact that Haki existed even if most people didn't know about it yet. Training methods. Weaknesses of future villains.
But none of that matters if I can't survive long enough to use it.
That night, lying in his assigned bunk in a room with eleven other recruits, Jake stared at the ceiling and formulated a plan.
Step One: Survive boot camp without standing out too much.
Step Two: Get assigned to the safest, most boring post possible.
Step Three: Avoid all major plot events.
Step Four: Quietly train and prepare for the absolute worst while hoping for the best.
Step Five: Retire at the earliest possible opportunity and open a bar on a peaceful island somewhere far away from the Grand Line.
It was a simple plan. A coward's plan. But Jake had no shame about that. He'd read enough isekai stories to know that the protagonists who charged headfirst into danger usually had plot armor or cheat abilities. He had neither. He was just a regular guy who'd somehow ended up in a death world, and he was going to survive it through the ancient and honorable tradition of strategic cowardice.
"Hey, Jake," Marcus whispered from the bunk below. "You awake?"
"Yeah."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Why'd you join the Marines?"
Jake had been expecting this question. In fact, he'd prepared several answers. But lying there in the dark, exhausted and aching, he found himself telling a version of the truth.
"I didn't really have a choice," he said quietly. "It was this or... well, something worse."
It wasn't technically a lie. The alternative to being here was being dead.
"I get that," Marcus said. "My village got raided by pirates two years ago. They killed my father, burned half the town. The Marines showed up too late to stop it, but they did catch the bastards. I joined up because I want to make sure what happened to my home doesn't happen to others."
"That's... that's a good reason," Jake said, feeling a pang of guilt. Marcus had a noble motivation. Jake just wanted to survive.
"What about you? What was worse than the Marines?"
Jake thought about his previous life. Dead-end office job. No real friends. His most meaningful relationship had been with his cat, Mr. Whiskers. He'd died on his way home from another seventy-hour work week, probably to an apartment where no one would miss him.
"Doesn't matter now," Jake finally said. "We're here. Might as well make the best of it."
"That's the spirit!" Marcus said with enthusiasm that should be illegal this late at night. "We're gonna be great Marines, Jake. I can feel it."
Please no, Jake thought. I want to be the most mediocre Marine in history.
But he didn't say that. Instead, he just mumbled an agreement and tried to sleep.
He dreamed of sea kings and supernovas, of admirals and emperors, of all the ways this world could kill him. When he woke up before dawn to the sound of a bell signaling morning drills, he was more exhausted than when he'd gone to sleep.
"Rise and shine, maggots!" Ripper's voice echoed through the barracks. "Today, we test your physical limits! Anyone who vomits runs an extra five laps!"
Jake dragged himself out of bed and wondered if reincarnation came with a warranty. Because he'd definitely like to speak to a manager about this placement.
As he stumbled out to the training yard with the other recruits, Jake Morrison made a solemn vow: he would survive this world through strategy, preparation, and a healthy respect for running away when necessary.
He just didn't realize that the universe had very different plans for him.