Dying wasn't as dramatic as the movies made it out to be. There was a screech of tires, a flash of light, and then… silence. Absolute, heavy silence.
I expected pearly gates, or fire and brimstone, or maybe just an endless void. What I didn't expect was the smell of salt water and the sensation of wet sand gritting against my cheek.
I groaned, pushing myself up. My head pounded with a hangover headache, though I hadn't had a drink in years. I tried to push off the ground with both hands, but my equilibrium pitched violently to the left, sending me face-first back into the sand.
"What the hell?" I muttered, my voice sounding deeper, raspier than I remembered. It rumbled in a chest that felt like a barrel.
I rolled onto my back and looked down.
I screamed. Or I tried to. It came out as a confused, strangled yelp.
My left arm was gone. Just… gone. The sleeve of my white dress shirt was pinned up neatly, but the limb itself ended at the shoulder. Panic surged, cold and sharp. The car accident. It must have taken my arm. I survived, but I'm maimed.
But then I looked at my remaining hand. It was huge. Calloused. The skin was tanned and weathered, not the pale office-worker hands I'd lived with for thirty years. I looked down at my legs. I was wearing goofy, cropped brown pants with a bizarre pattern and sandals. A red sash was tied around my waist.
And there was a sword. A massive, curved saber in a green scabbard rested on my right hip.
I scrambled to my feet, stumbling because my center of gravity was completely different. I was tall. Absurdly tall. I felt like a giant.
I saw a tide pool nearby and stumbled toward it, desperate for a reflection. I peered into the stagnant water.
Three jagged scars ran vertically over my left eye. My hair was a vibrant, shocking crimson. I had a bit of scruff on my chin.
I sat back on my heels, the realization hitting me like a physical blow.
"I'm… that guy," I whispered. "The pirate guy."
I racked my brain. I wasn't an anime superfan. I'd watched a few episodes of One Piece back in college because my roommate wouldn't shut up about it, and I'd seen memes on the internet.
"Shanks," I said, testing the name. "Red-Haired Shanks. The guy who gave the straw hat to the rubber kid."
Okay. Okay, calm down. I died. I got reincarnated. Classic isekai trope. I'm Shanks. That means I'm strong, right? He was important. I think? I remembered him stopping a war or something in a clip I saw on YouTube once. But I had no idea how to be him. Did I have super powers? Did I eat a fruit? No, wait, the swimming thing. If I ate a fruit, I couldn't swim. I was just lying near the tide; I wasn't drowning. So, probably no fruit.
I stood up again, testing my balance. The body felt incredible. It rippled with a latent power that was terrifying. It was like driving a Ferrari when you're used to a bicycle. I clenched my right fist, and the air seemed to pop.
"Okay," I breathed. "Step one: Figure out where I am. Step two: Don't get killed."
I looked around. I was on a rocky shoreline. A thick, unnatural fog hung heavy in the air, obscuring almost everything more than twenty feet away. It was cold and damp.
"Grand Line?" I guessed. "Is this the Grand Line? Looks kind of depressing."
I started walking. The sword—I think it was named Gryphon?—bumped against my leg. I rested my hand on the hilt, and a strange sense of comfort washed over me. Muscle memory. Thank God for muscle memory.
I walked for what felt like an hour. The fog didn't lift. If anything, it got thicker. I eventually found a dirt road, muddy and churned up by wagon wheels.
"Help! Please, someone!"
The scream pierced the mist, high-pitched and terrified.
I froze. My modern instincts said call 911. My current reality reminded me I didn't have a phone.
"Dammit," I grumbled, adjusting the sash. "Hero time, I guess."
I ran. And holy hell, I ran. I kicked off the ground and cleared fifty yards in a split second. I nearly crashed into a tree because I wasn't expecting to move faster than a speeding car. I skidded to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Through the mist, I saw a scene straight out of a period drama. A small wooden house stood near a bridge that was under construction. Two men were harassing a young woman with dark blue hair.
The men looked… weird. They wore pinstripe suits, sunglasses, and carried katanas. They looked like low-budget Yakuza members.
"Come on, Tsunami," one of the thugs sneered. "Gato just wants to have a little chat about your father's bridge building."
"Leave us alone!" the woman cried, backing away. A small kid with a bucket hat was cowering behind her.
"Gato?" I whispered. Was that a One Piece villain? I didn't remember a Gato. Maybe a filler arc?
I stepped out of the mist. I didn't mean to look menacing, but I was a six-and-a-half-foot-tall pirate with a scar and a giant sword.
"Hey," I called out. "Ease up on the lady."
The two thugs spun around. They looked me up and down.
"Who the hell are you?" the taller one barked. "A samurai? You a mercenary hired by Tazuna?"
"I'm just passing through," I said, raising my single hand. "Look, I don't want trouble. Just walk away."
The thugs laughed. "One arm? You're a cripple! Look, he thinks he's a hero!"
The shorter thug drew his sword. "Gato owns this land. You pay the toll with your life."
He charged.
My brain panicked. He's going to stab me! Run!
But my body didn't run. As the thug lunged, the world seemed to slow down. I could see the imperfections in his blade, the poor footing of his stance, the opening in his guard. It wasn't a conscious thought; it was instinct.
My right hand moved before I told it to. I didn't even draw my sword. I just stepped inside his guard and backhanded him.
CRACK.
It sounded like a gunshot. The thug didn't just fall over; he flew. He launched backward like he'd been hit by a truck, spinning through the air before smashing through the wooden railing of the porch and collapsing into a heap of splinters. He didn't move.
I stared at my hand. "Oops."
The second thug's jaw dropped. The cigarette fell out of his mouth. "You… you… are you a ninja?"
"A what?" I frowned. "Ninja? No, I'm a… pirate? I think?"
"Monster!" The second thug didn't attack. He turned and fled into the mist, screaming.
I stood there, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck. I turned to the woman and the child. They looked more terrified of me than they had of the thugs.
"Uh, hi," I said, trying to smile. I realized too late that a scarred giant smiling probably looked psychotic. "I'm Shanks. You guys okay?"
The woman, Tsunami, trembled. "Thank… thank you. Are you… a shinobi from the Mist Village?"
"Shinobi?" I scratched my red hair. "That's the second time I've heard that. Ninja? Shinobi? Where exactly am I?"
"You're in the Land of Waves," the little boy in the bucket hat squeaked out.
"Land of Waves," I repeated. That sounded generic enough to be One Piece. An island, maybe? "Right. Okay. Do you have a map? Or maybe some food? I'm starving."
Tsunami hesitated, then lowered her guard slightly. "My father is inside. We… we don't have much, thanks to Gato, but we can offer you rice."
Ten minutes later, I was sitting at a small wooden table, inhaling a bowl of rice. I learned that the old man, Tazuna, was building a bridge to save the country from a shipping magnate named Gato.
It sounded like a standard plot. Bad rich guy, oppressed poor people, hero needs to save the day.
"So," Tazuna grunted, eyeing my sword. "You say you ain't a ninja. You don't use chakra?"
"Chakra?" I paused with a mouthful of rice. "You mean like… crystals and yoga?"
Tazuna and Tsunami exchanged confused looks.
"Energy," Tazuna said slowly. "Magic. Ninjutsu. Walking on water?"
I swallowed. "People walk on water here?"
"Ninja do," the boy, Inari, said sullenly. "But they're all scum. They just kill and take money. Like Gato's men."
"Inari!" Tsunami scolded.
I leaned back, the chair creaking under my weight. This wasn't One Piece. One Piece had Devil Fruits and Haki. Nobody called it "chakra." And walking on water was specifically impossible for fruit users.
"I think I'm lost," I admitted. "Really lost. I've never heard of Chakra or Konoha or the Mist Village."
Tazuna adjusted his glasses. "Well, you hit like a Jounin, even with one arm. Listen, stranger. I have bodyguards coming. Ninja from the Leaf Village. They should be back soon; they're out patrolling the bridge site. You might want to talk to them if you're lost."
"Ninja from the Leaf," I mused. "Sure. Maybe they can point me to the nearest ocean current."
Suddenly, the air in the room changed.
I felt it before I heard it. A prickling sensation on my skin. It wasn't just the cold mist; it was… malice. Sharp, intentful malice.
"Get down," I said, my voice dropping an octave.
"What?" Tazuna asked.
"Someone's here."
I stood up and grabbed Gryphon. I walked to the door and kicked it open. The mist outside was swirling violently, darker than before.
I stepped onto the porch.
"Well, well," a voice rasped from nowhere. It seemed to come from every direction at once. "I didn't know Tazuna hired a second group. And a Samurai at that?"
A massive sword came spinning out of the mist, aiming to decapitate me.
Again, the body took over. I didn't panic. I didn't flinch. I simply raised my sheath.
CLANG.
The spinning blade—a giant butcher knife with a hole in it—bounced off my scabbard with a shower of sparks and embedded itself in a tree trunk nearby.
A man landed on the handle of the sword. He was shirtless, wore cow-print arm warmers (weird fashion choice), and had bandages over the lower half of his face. He wore a metal plate on his forehead with a stylized scratching over a symbol.
"Zabuza Momochi," Tazuna gasped from the doorway. " The Demon of the Hidden Mist!"
I looked at the guy. "Cow print? Really?"
Zabuza's eyes narrowed. "You blocked the Executioner's Blade with a scabbard. Who are you?"
"I'm Shanks," I said. "And you're trespassing."
"Shanks?" Zabuza chuckled darkly. "Never heard of you in the Bingo Book. But you have a strong smell. The smell of blood."
Suddenly, four figures leaped out of the mist to land between me and Zabuza.
I blinked.
One was a tall man with gravity-defying silver hair, a mask covering half his face, and a headband covering one eye.
One was a brooding boy with duck-butt black hair.
One was a girl with pink hair and a massive forehead.
And one was a short blond kid in a bright orange jumpsuit who looked like a traffic cone.
"Old man Tazuna!" the blond kid yelled. "We heard a crash! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Naruto!" Tazuna yelled back. "This red-haired guy saved us!"
The silver-haired man—the leader, obviously—looked at Zabuza, then turned his single visible eye toward me. He stiffened.
I felt him analyzing me. I just stood there, one hand on my hip, the other on my sword, trying to look cool while having no idea what was happening.
"Zabuza," the silver-haired man said, his voice guarded. "And… an unknown variable."
"Kakashi of the Sharingan," Zabuza sneered. "I see you're still babysitting."
Kakashi. Naruto.
My brain finally made the connection. The gears ground together, sparks flying, until the lightbulb flickered on.
Oh.
Oh, no.
I'm not in One Piece. I'm in Naruto.
I looked at the blond kid. Whiskers on his cheeks.
I looked at the silver-haired guy. Pulling up his headband to reveal a red eye with spinning commas.
I was in the Land of Waves arc. Early Naruto. Power levels were… well, compared to One Piece top tiers, they were generally lower, but filled with weird magic tricks.
And I was Shanks.
I started to sweat. Did I have chakra? Probably not. Did I have Haki?
"Hey, you!" The blond kid pointed at me. "Who are you? Are you with the eyebrows-guy on the sword?"
"No," I said. "I'm just… a tourist."
"A tourist with a sword like that?" Kakashi asked, not taking his eye off Zabuza but clearly keeping me in his peripheral vision. "His chakra… it's strange. I can't sense any from him. It's like he's a civilian. But his presence is… heavy."
Zabuza laughed. "Civilian? He swatted my blade away like a fly. He's mine, Kakashi. I'll kill the old man, then I'll carve up this red-haired cripple for sport."
Something inside me snapped. Maybe it was the "cripple" comment. Maybe it was the threat to the old man. Or maybe it was just the residual personality of the Emperor of the Sea reacting to being looked down upon by a guy wearing cow warmers.
A wave of irritation washed over me. I glared at Zabuza.
Sit down, I thought forcefully.
I didn't shout. I just projected the feeling of STOP with everything I had.
The air suddenly felt like lead. The mist stopped swirling. The birds in the forest went silent.
A ripple of dark red lightning crackled around me. It wasn't chakra. It was pressure. Pure, unadulterated dominance.
The pink-haired girl rolled her eyes back and collapsed instantly.
The blond kid wobbled, clutching his head. "Whoa… everything's spinning…"
The brooding boy fell to one knee, gasping for air, his eyes wide with terror.
Kakashi flinched, his knee buckling as if a mountain had been placed on his shoulders. His eye widened in pure shock. "What… is… this? Genjutsu? No… it's pure killing intent. It's physical!"
Zabuza, who was standing on the sword handle, froze. His eyes dilated. He began to shake. Not from fear, but from his body failing to obey his commands.
"You…" Zabuza choked out, foaming slightly at the mouth. "What… are…"
The pressure vanished as quickly as it came. I blinked, realizing I'd done something.
Conqueror's Haki. I had it. And I apparently had zero control over it because I just knocked out a twelve-year-old girl.
"Oops," I said again, the silence deafening.
Kakashi looked at me, sweat drenching his mask. He looked at Zabuza, who had fallen off his sword and was retching on the ground, trying to regain his composure.
"Sorry," I said, raising my one hand apologetically. "I haven't had my morning coffee. I get a little grumpy."
Kakashi didn't laugh. He gripped a kunai, his knuckles white. "Who are you?"
I sighed, resting my hand on Gryphon. I channeled my inner Yonko, trying to fake confidence.
"I told you," I said, the red hair blowing in the wind. "I'm Shanks. And this bridge… is under my protection now."
I looked at Zabuza, who was struggling to his feet, looking at me like I was a tailed beast in human form.
" leave," I commanded.
Zabuza hesitated. He was an assassin. He was proud. But his instincts were screaming what mine had screamed earlier: Predator. Apex Predator.
He grabbed his sword, his hands trembling. "This isn't over, Kakashi. But I don't get paid enough to fight… whatever that is."
He vanished into the mist.
Silence returned to the clearing. The pink-haired girl groaned, waking up.
Kakashi straightened up, but he didn't sheath his weapon. He looked at me with intense calculation.
"You're not a Samurai," Kakashi said softly. "And you're not a Ninja. No one has 'killing intent' that can physically paralyze a Jounin without weaving a single sign."
I shrugged. "I'm just a pirate."
"A pirate," Naruto shouted, regaining his balance. "Like on a boat? That's so cool! Do you have a parrot? Hey, how did you do that scary thing? Everyone got all dizzy!"
I grinned at the kid. He was annoying, but endearing. "No parrot. Just a sword and a bad temper."
I looked at Kakashi. "So, Mr. Scarecrow. You guys hungry? Tazuna has rice."
Kakashi stared at me for a long, long time. Finally, he pulled his headband down, covering the red eye.
"Sakura," he said to the pink-haired girl. "Check on Tazuna."
"Y-yes, Sensei!" She scrambled away, giving me a wide berth.
"Well, Shanks," Kakashi said, his voice returning to a deceptive calm. "I suppose we have a lot to talk about. Rice sounds good."
I breathed a sigh of relief internally. I survived the first hour.
Now I just had to figure out how to survive a world where people could breathe fire and summon giant frogs, armed only with one arm, a sword, and a power system that nobody here understood.
I really hope there's sake in this village, I thought as I walked back toward the house. I'm going to need it.