Did you know that when a person falls from a tall building—say, ten stories high—their body can bounce upon impact? Well, I do. Because it was the reason I got reincarnated into one of the most dangerous worlds in fiction. The One Piece world. But before I delve into my reincarnation, let's talk about my past.
My name was June. A completely average man from the modern era, with brown eyes, black hair, and a face that was neither ugly nor handsome. The only thing that stood out was my physique—I was tall, at 182cm, and stronger than most. I came from a "lovely" family: a gambling-addict dad and an alcoholic mother. They never cared about me, which you can probably tell from my name. I was born in June, so... yeah. I'm not necessarily sad about my family situation, though. Not because I'm an emotionless psychopath, but because humans adapt to whatever situation they're in. In a way, I was satisfied with being ignored. It was far better than being abused physically.
I only had two people I cared about in my pathetic life: my grandma and my childhood friend, Saya. My grandma was the reason I survived until high school. She was my anchor. When she passed away during my freshman year, I cried for the first time in years. My mother—her own daughter—didn't shed a tear. She just looked at me with cold eyes and said, "Stop crying, it's disgusting." Maybe it was out of fear or trauma, but from that moment on, I never cried again. Not until I died.
My parents didn't want to waste money on a funeral—or more accurately, they didn't have any—so they just had her cremated. After Grandma was gone, I dropped out of school and started working physical jobs. The little inheritance she left was taken by my mother, so I had no choice. I lied about my age and, thanks to my strong build, managed to feed myself and rent a tiny room in a share-house full of old men in debt. The room was just big enough for a bed, a small table, and a chair. It wasn't much, but it was better than being homeless or living with my cold mother, who had taken over my grandmother's house.
Saya was my only friend. She often lent me manga after she finished reading it, and I devoured every one. But there was one series that hooked me more than any other—One Piece. There was a time in middle school when I was so addicted I'd read it day and night at my grandma's house. I got so lost in it I literally forgot how to walk properly. My PE teacher once pointed out that I was marching like a soldier, and I became a laughingstock for weeks. Ah, well. Enough of that dark history.
The truth is, I loved Saya. I wanted her to be my girlfriend more than anything. But I didn't want to drag her into my miserable life. So I made a plan: once I saved up 10 million yen, I'd ask her out. That became my life's goal. I started working two jobs—construction during the day, waiting tables at night. I spent the bare minimum on food, saved every penny, and never took a bus or train. I ran everywhere. In half a year, I'd saved a million yen. I was happy, but it felt too slow.
Then, I found a job that paid double—no special skills required, just a strong physique and a lack of fear of heights. Cleaning the windows of skyscrapers. "Risk equals reward," I thought. Seemed fair. I applied and got the job. Three months in, I'd saved another million. By the time I was 18, I had 9.7 million yen in the bank. Just one more month, and I'd reach my goal.
I was buzzing with excitement when my cheap, rusty phone rang. It was Saya. "What's up?" I said, my voice lighter than usual. "Oh? You sound happy. What happened? No, don't tell me yet—let's meet up first," she replied, matching my energy. "Sure. The usual café." Even with 9.7 million yen saved, I still lived like I was broke. But for Saya, I'd spend like a normal person.
We met half an hour later, seated by the window in the cozy café. "So, what's got you so excited?" she asked. "I… can't tell you yet," I said, smiling. Just one more month. Then I'd confess everything.
"Hey, June," she said softly, rubbing my hand with hers. "We've known each other a long time." I knew what she meant. I knew she wasn't materialistic. But I'd come so far… "Wait, Saya. Just give me one more month. Then I'll make it the grandest day ever. I promise." She smiled, her eyes softening. "I'm really looking forward to it, then." She'd been waiting for years—what was one more month?
We talked for over two hours before I walked her home. "Bye, have a good night," I said, watching her disappear inside.
The next morning, I was back at work, cleaning windows on the tenth floor of a skyscraper. I'd done it a hundred times before. The harness felt familiar, the routine comforting. The world stretched out beneath my feet, Tokyo glittering under a clear blue sky. The rhythmic swish of the squeegee was almost meditative. For a moment, I leaned back, admiring the view.
Then I heard it—a sharp, metallic tink from the anchor point above. Like a pebble hitting a pipe. I paused, a flicker of unease running through me. But the sun was warm, the sky was clear, and the anchor had held through worse. "Just my imagination," I muttered, shaking it off.
That single, unheeded sound was the only warning.
A deafening CRACK tore through the air. Not from the sky, but from the very root of my safety. The world didn't fall away—I was ripped from it. The anchor, brittle and compromised, had finally given way.
"Ahh!" I screamed, but it was hopeless. My whole life flashed before my eyes—Grandma, Saya…
Umph-!
A heavy, wet sound echoed as I hit the ground. I bounced once, then lay there, broken and bleeding.
Damn it, it hurts! Why am I not dead? Why can't I just lose consciousness?!
I don't wanna die! I didn't even get to kiss Saya! It was just one month away… No, screw that stupid goal. If I'd just ignored my pride and confessed…
And my hard-earned 9.7 million yen… I never even got to use it. Will my damn parents get it as inheritance?!
Regrets and pain swirled in my mind, a maddening storm of what-ifs and why-nots.
Damn it, if there's a next life… I'll screw every woman I see, gamble like crazy, eat everything I want…!
With that final, chaotic thought, everything went black.