Beep…beep…beep
How frightening it was that a machine could mimic death's footsteps. Regan Fitzberg had spent many years in and out of the hospital, with hopeful words that once felt like sweet honey pouring through his ears, but now they all seemed to be sinister lies that only made him feel worse.
Nothing could be as bad as his condition, though. Cancer of the bone, they called it. Regan would often liken it more to torture at the hands of the universe, or perhaps at the hands of God.
For years he had been a soulless husk of his former self; alone, abandoned, strung up to tubes and machines that heralded the grim reaper. He was nothing but a mangled soul filled with unprecedented pain that swallowed up every fiber of his being.
Often was it the case that his family wept by his side, but these days, as he was slowly dying, the number of kin that came to visit him dwindled, maybe they were too saddened by the state of him, emaciated, frail, bones jutting out of his skin as if they meant to escape. But Regan knew much better than that. They simply couldn't be bothered.
It didn't matter anyway, he had much more dejected thoughts in his mind, thoughts that often assailed him in ways that could rival his own cancer.
One piece…I wonder…I wonder how it'll end
One piece, his favourite manga, and his favourite anime. He would never see Luffy become the king of the pirates, he would never see what the one piece really is, the void century, the man marked by flames, the identity of Imu and joyboy, ah, it saddened him greatly that he would never know. He could feel the warm tears gushing out of his eyes every time the revelation came at him like a whip.
He closed his eyes, his heart thundering in his chest as the beeping faded into the black void that had now replaced his vision. He could no longer feel his body either, the pain, the rattling of his bones as he shivered under the icy breath of the capacious hospital room.
All of it was gone.
It felt strange. Death. Regan didn't think it'd be so peaceful. There was no heaven or hell that had been professed for centuries, and certainly no purgatory that the Roman Catholics so believed in. He was nothing but a floating spectre, endlessly drifting in a black sea.
He could live, or, rather, die with this—he thought. The serenity pleased him, better this than eternity in flames. He just wished he got the chance to finish one piece.
With this thought, the black void was denuded by nothing in particular, ripped away by what seemed like some giant incorporeal hand. Regan had somehow regained his vision, staring up into an azure sky with the blistering sun and the rest of its menagerie.
He could feel cold grass poking into his skin like the little verdant blades that they sometimes were. He could breathe again, feel again, the rudiments of life filled him with warmth, comfort, and confusion.
Where the hell am I?
Regan sat up and allowed himself a moment to inspect his surroundings. It was during this moment that he realised his flesh was not his. He was in an entirely different body, it was healthy, lithe, and devoid of the cancer that had torn him apart.
"N-no way!" Regan shrieked, his own voice frightening him. Nothing belonged to the boy at all.
What surrounded him was familiar however, towering trees with canopies that whistled and rustled under the exhaling wind. The verdant grass stretched on endlessly, and Regan had to flick off a bug that had opted to take up residence on his olive skin.
What the hell do I even have on!?
On the lower half of his body, he was wearing plain black shorts with a red sash inanely worn around his waist. There were no shoes on his feet, and no clothing to be found over his torso. Regan could feel the cold wind billowing his hair, pulling the black tresses against his face like some sort of banner.
This is is peaceful, Regan thought as his eyes darted back up to the sky. This time he found a flock of seagulls beating their wings against the air. But there was something strange about them. They had been dressed in naval uniforms by some meticulous hand, and there were neatly folded newspapers inbetween their beaks.
One of them dropped the roll and Regan watched as the paper crashed into the green earth. He quickened to pick it up, but before he could, multiple voices called out for a name that he was not familiar with.
"Dantes!"
"Dantes, where are you!?"
"Danteeeeeesssss!"
Regan listened with his heart in his throat as the young voices approached. From the distance, their sources forced themselves through a couple of bushes where they had been looking for this Dantes, and then presented themselves in front of Regan with shock swimming across their faces.
"There you are!" One of them said, pointing at Regan as if he had committed some grave sin. He was a small boy with long black hair covering his eyes, a plain tunic worn over his diminutive body.
The second voice belonged to a girl who could be no older than nine, whose hair was the same shade of jet-black, and whose clothes were caked by mud and damp with perspiration.
The third boy was much older, an unruly teen who was dressed in a plain brown shirt that served to match with his pants and the holster by his waist.
"Why're you always out here, Dantes?" The girl asked, running up to hug Regan's leg.
"He thinks he can escape his fathers duties, that's why," said the unruly boy, pulling a lock of blonde hair behind his ear.
"F-father? Duties?" Regan blinked, his eyes moving between the three of them. "Who are you people?"
"Who are we!?" Said the small boy, his jaw hung low to mark his increduality. "Is he stupid?"
"Knock it off, Root!" The girl scowled, smacking Root across the head.
"You knock it off, Beet, stop fighting your brother," the older boy said, gripping the girl from her shirt and pulling her away from Root. "It was a valid question. Dantes, did you hit your head somewhere?"
"Hit my head? I-I…" Regan trailed off, his palm covering his head as if a massive headache would burst right out of it. "I don't know, uhm. Is my mom around?"
That had brought a frown on all of their faces, even the girl who was once beaming every time her blue eyes found Regan's own. "Dantes…mom is sick." She said. "You know this. You went to go see her two days ago."
Two days ago?
That shouldn't have been possible. After all, Regan was a dying, bed-bound terminally ill teenager who couldn't even lift a finger.
"I went to see her? That…that shouldn't be—never mind. Please, just take me to her."
"Did you even listen to what I said you idiot!?"
"Izgrim! Don't be so mean!" Beet yelled, glowering at him.
"How about no?" He replied petulantly, folding his arms to mark his anger. "This is what happens when your mind is overtaken by stupid thoughts of being a pirate! You start venturing out into the woods and sleeping on the grass instead of working to help your poor mother! She's your mother too, Beet. And yours, Root! She's my damn auntie!"
The anger in his voice could boil a bowl of soup in front of them. Beet flinched a little every time his voice came out like thunder, and Root had no reply but silence and a simple nod to mark that he agreed with every word that came out Izgrim's mouth.
"Wake the hell up, Dantes! You will never be a pirate. All that you are, that we are, are bar workers. Wake up to reality, you will never be the next Monkey.D.Luffy!" He scolded.
Regan felt his heart sink to his guts. That name, its utterance had struck him as if it were a speeding vehicle, piercing through the fog in his mind that plagued him with confusion.
"W-what did you just say?" Regan said, his eyes bulging.
"What?" Izgrim said, taking a step back as Regan hurried towards him, his face now brushing against his. "What are you doing!? Back up!"
"That name! Say it again!" Regan demanded.
"G-guys please don't fight!" Beet cried, frantically biting her nails.
"Say the name again!" Regan roared, gripping Izgrim by his shirt.
"Monkey.D.Luffy, you asshole! Let go of me before I punch you!"
Regan let go, his face now donning an aghast look. Truthfully, he wouldn't have been so moved by the mentioning of Luffy's name if it hadn't been for the seagulls he saw earlier. Their likeness was oddly familiar, but he shook it off as a moment of insanity.
There's no way, there's no way, no way! Wait, the paper!
Remembering the newspaper, Regan rushed towards it and ripped it from the flattened grass. He quickly unrolled it, and began reading its contents, his eyelids peeling back with every word he read.
He turned a page, then another, and another, until he landed on one that had almost forced a stream of tears out of his eyes. There he was, Monkey.D.Luffy, the future pirate king himself, holding his strawhat close to his chest as he mourned his deceased brother, Portagas.D.Ace.
"One piece…" Regan began, an amalgation of emotions building up in his gut. "This is…the one piece world. The one piece world!"