One moment, I was bleeding out on a battlefield in Azerbaijan, cursing the traitor who shot me.
The next—splat—face-first in warm sand, spitting out saltwater and confusion.
The impact knocked the wind out of me, grains sticking to my lips like tiny needles. The sand wasn't just warm—it was scorching, clinging to my skin as if trying to claim me. I groaned, rolling onto my back, my muscles screaming in protest. Each fiber in my body felt foreign, like I had borrowed someone else's flesh.
The tropical sun blazed overhead, relentless and unforgiving, pouring heat into my bones. My vision blurred for a moment, the light so harsh I had to squint to make out the palm trees towering above.
"Okay," I muttered, shielding my eyes with a shaky hand. "This is new."
I took slow, deliberate breaths, trying to ignore the buzzing in my ears and the taste of seawater still coating my tongue. I needed to think. Something had changed—everything had changed.
First of all, I wasn't dead. My chest rose and fell, my heartbeat was steady—no gaping wound, no blood loss. Just... alive. Which made no logical sense. A bullet to the gut doesn't just resolve itself with sunshine and sand. But here I was. Not a ghost. Not a corpse. Just breathing. Somehow.
Second... this wasn't my body. It was leaner, taller, and—oh god—is that an Uchiha crest tattoo? I twisted my arm, staring at the familiar fan symbol etched into my skin like a mocking stamp. The ink shimmered faintly in the sun. I could feel it—chakra pulsing faintly beneath.
And finally, I was clearly stranded on some kind of island. White sand, crystal-blue waves, palm trees swaying gently in the breeze. The whole scene looked like a postcard. Or a trap.
I pinched my arm—hard—and winced.
"Yep. Definitely not dreaming." I sat up slowly, sand cascading off my shoulders. Somewhere in the distance, a bird screeched—shrill and unfamiliar.
With nothing else to do, I started testing what this new body could do. Maybe it really was Uchiha. Maybe not.
With dramatic flair, I formed the hand signs—Ram → Snake → Monkey → Boar → Horse → Tiger—and took a deep breath. My fingers moved instinctively, as if muscle memory had been uploaded into my brain Matrix-style.
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!"
A pathetic puff of smoke coughed from my lips. Not even an ember. Just... disappointment.
I stared at my hands. Rough knuckles. Faint chakra lines barely visible under the skin.
"...Well, that's embarrassing." My voice cracked slightly, half from frustration, half from disbelief.
I sat there, surrounded by silence. Even the waves seemed to mock me.
After several more days of trying and failing, I moved on to chakra control. Tree walking seemed like a good milestone. I had balanced stones on my head, walked barefoot across sharp shells, and muttered affirmations like some stranded monk.
I channeled energy to my feet, took a running start—
—and faceplanted into the trunk.
"Ow."
A coconut chose that exact moment to detach itself from the tree and bonk me on the head.
Because of course it did.
Nature: 1, Uchiha: 0.
I groaned, lying sprawled at the base of the tree, feeling both physically and spiritually defeated. My pride had more bruises than my body at this point.
Things got weirder on the seventh day.
I had just gathered a handful of berries when a screech echoed through the trees.
Shrill. Wild. Angry.
I froze, the fruit slipping from my fingers.
Twenty furry faces peered down from the branches, eyes gleaming with mischief.
They were organized. A battalion of simian chaos.
"Uh. Hi?" I waved awkwardly, offering my best peace-face.
The first mango hit me square in the forehead.
What followed was a chaotic, humiliating chase featuring:
Me screaming like a madman
Monkeys hurling fruit artillery with terrifying accuracy
My Sharingan finally activating—two tomoe spinning wildly—as I dodged a barrage of projectiles with inhuman reflexes
I tripped over a root, face-planting into the sand, as the monkeys celebrated by pelting my butt with bananas.
I stayed down. There was no point fighting destiny.
On the tenth day, I was waist-deep in a stream, scrubbing off days of grime, when I heard it—a low, rumbling sniff.
My blood turned to ice.
A 600-pound bear was nosing through my clothes, its massive frame blocking my escape like a walking mountain. Its snout twitched, sniffing my worn shirt like it owed it money.
"Shit."
I leapt out, dripping wet, and formed shaky hand signs. "Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu!"
POOF!
My "fireballs" were more like party sparklers, fizzling pathetically in the air.
But the bear... squeaked.
It actually squeaked, turned tail, and waddled away like I'd just threatened it with a bad magic trick. Its large rear jiggled as it vanished into the jungle.
I stood there, half-naked and bewildered. "...Did I just scare a bear with bad fireworks?"
I started laughing. It was either that or cry.
That night, I sat by a struggling fire (courtesy of my still-pitiful flame jutsu), roasting fish on a stick. The stars stretched endlessly above, the ocean whispering against the shore like a lullaby sung by ghosts.
Three undeniable truths settled in my mind.
I was dead. Or at least, my old self was. The man on the battlefield was gone.
This was the One Piece world. The giant bear, the absurd wildlife—it all made sense now. I hadn't just crossed space—I'd crossed into fiction.
And my Uchiha powers worked... sort of. If "working" meant barely functional and highly embarrassing.
A rustle in the bushes made me tense—until a tiny monkey emerged, clutching a coconut. My jaw clenched.
I sighed. "Truce?"
It hurled the coconut at my face.
As I rubbed my sore nose, I couldn't help but laugh. Maybe this second chance wouldn't be so bad.
But if I ever met Ace, I'd never tell him about the monkey wars.
TO BE CONTINUED