"Fuck fuck fuck... why are there no toilets here!" A guy was seen sprinting down the street at night, running in that awkward half‑crouched way only a man with a bursting bladder can manage, both hands glued to his lower stomach.
People stared. Some whispered. Others pointed as he zig‑zagged past them like a drunk penguin.
"You'll see, they said! Nothing better than a big city for a break! Fuck you guys, you tricked me!" he yelled, voice cracking at the end.
He'd had a weak bladder since birth — not the cute kind, the medical‑disaster kind. He had to piss every thirty minutes, minimum. His parents had dragged him to doctors for years, hoping he'd "grow out of it," but the diagnosis was worse than the problem: not only was his bladder weak, his kidneys were too efficient. He produced urine like a factory on overtime.
He tried drinking less once. Got kidney stones. Never tried again.
Normally he'd just find a dark alley or a bush and let nature do its thing, but this was Tokyo — clean, bright, crowded, and absolutely unforgiving. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go, nowhere to—
He stopped. An old, closed‑down church or shrine stood at the edge of the street, half swallowed by shadows. A warning sign hung on the door, covered in Japanese he couldn't read.
He glanced left. He glanced right. Nobody was watching.
"Good enough," he muttered.
He slipped inside, the wooden door creaking behind him. The place was empty, dusty, abandoned. Perfect.
He rushed to a corner, unzipped, pulled himself out, and finally — finally — let the demonic flow erupt.
"Haaaaaa… nothing as satisfying as that…" he sighed, eyes rolling back in pure relief.
The sound echoed through the empty church like a waterfall in a cave.
He didn't notice the ceiling above him crack. He didn't notice the old beams shift. He didn't notice the dust falling like snow.
He was too busy enjoying the best moment of his day.
Finally done, he tugged at his tool a bit to get rid of the excess, splattering drops everywhere — some landing on statues, others on what looked like old offerings left on the altar. He didn't care. He was empty, relieved, and floating in that post‑pee bliss where nothing else in the world mattered.
That's when a sharp, violent sound tore through the hall.
CRACK.
"Uh?"
He looked up.
For a split second, he saw the ceiling sag, the wooden beams bending like wet noodles. A cloud of dust burst downward, and then—
BOOM.
The entire roof collapsed on him like God Himself had decided to press the "delete" key.
He didn't even have time to scream. Just a single, confused thought flashed through his mind:
…I didn't even shake properly…
Then everything went black.
He felt himself float for a moment — weightless, painless, bladder‑less — before landing in a white, endless space. Soft music played somewhere, angels floated around like screensavers, flowers bloomed under his feet with every step.
And standing right in front of him… was an older, majestic, silver‑fox version of his idol.
"Ryan Reynolds?!"
The man blinked slowly, unimpressed.
"…No."
The angels froze. The flowers wilted. The atmosphere dropped ten degrees.
The figure sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Why does everyone say that…? I swear, one more time and I'm smiting someone."
He looked up at the guy with the expression of a tired office worker forced into overtime.
"I'm God."
He blinked.
"Damn… Ryan Reynolds is God…" He paused, eyes widening like a kid discovering Santa is real. "That makes so much sense…"
"I'm not fucking Ryan Reynolds!" the old man barked, slamming his hand on a table that hadn't existed a second earlier.
The angels gasped in unison. Some covered their mouths. One fainted. Another started sobbing into his harp.
God froze, horrified by his own slip. "Oh no no no— shh, shh, it's okay, Daddy didn't mean it—" He rushed to the angels, patting their heads like panicking kindergarten staff. The angels sniffled, then giggled, then floated away like nothing happened.
God straightened his robe, cleared his throat, and turned back to him with the exhausted expression of a man who had been dealing with idiots for several millennia.
"Like I said," he repeated, rubbing his temples, "I'm God. You died, and so here you are."
He opened his mouth to respond, but God raised a finger.
"And before you ask — no, I'm not Deadpool either."
"Okay… so am I going to heaven since I'm here?"
God paused. His face twisted into an awkward grimace as he scratched his beard.
"Well… not exactly. You kind of died by accident. You weren't supposed to die tonight. Someone else was scheduled, but you scared him away with your… frantic bladder‑dance."
The man blinked. God sighed.
"So, as compensation, I'll let you transmigrate into any world you want. Within reason. I'm not sending you into anything too dark, like—"
"I want Boku no Piko!" the man declared instantly, proudly, like he was answering a game‑show question.
Several angels perked up, curious. One even leaned forward, ready to take notes.
"OKAY WOW, NOPE. ABSOLUTELY NOT," God snapped, hands raised like he was stopping a crime scene. "You're not going there. I don't even want to know why you— oh great, damn omniscience— WHY WOULD YOU—"
He gagged. An angel fainted. Another started praying for forgiveness.
God grabbed a massive cosmic dictionary, flipped through it at light speed, and slammed a random page.
"Alright. One Piece. You're going to One Piece. End of discussion. Now get the—" he lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing nervously at the angels, "—get the heck out of here."
"No, wait, I said Boku—"
"Yeah, bye." God flicked his hand, silencing him mid‑sentence. A portal began to swallow the man.
But God suddenly snapped his fingers. "Oh, right. I almost forgot."
The man froze halfway through the portal, only his head sticking out.
"You peed on MY church," God said, counting on his fingers. "MY offerings. And MY son's statue. So you're getting a punishment."
The man gulped. "Uh… what kind of punishment?"
"You won't be able to pee until you find the One Piece."
"Wait— won't I just die?!"
"Don't know. Don't care. Bye."
God flicked his wrist, and the man vanished with a pop.
Silence.
God exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. "What a… remarkable idiot. Not evil. Just… cosmically stupid."
From the corner of his eye, he noticed a group of angels huddled together, whispering excitedly over a small book.
"What are you little guys looking at?" God asked, teleporting behind them with a gentle smile.
He glanced at the cover.
His smile evaporated.
"…Is that—"
He didn't finish. He didn't need to.
He snatched the book, tore it in half, then in quarters, then vaporized the remains with holy fire.
The angels screamed and scattered like startled pigeons.
"NO. BAD. NEVER AGAIN," God barked, shaking ash off his hands. "I swear, humans invent things I never approved…"
He sighed again, staring at the empty space where the man had disappeared.
"…One Piece better be ready."
---
On a tropical island isolated amidst whirlpools and god‑knows‑what, a teenager — maybe fifteen — suddenly popped into existence and face‑planted into the sand.
"Fuck Ryan Reynolds… Green Lantern was shitty anyway…" he muttered, pushing himself up with all the grace of a dying crab.
He brushed sand off his clothes, off his arms, off places sand should never be, and finally looked around.
"So where did that old dude send me…?"
At first glance, it looked like a normal beach. At second glance, it looked like a normal beach if everything had been built for giants. At third glance, he noticed the sea was surrounded by massive whirlpools, swirling like hungry mouths.
He froze.
"…Okay, that's not normal."
Panic bubbled up, but something shiny caught his eye — his reflection in a puddle between rocks.
Dark hair. Green eyes. A face way younger and way more handsome than he remembered. And taller — easily six feet.
He leaned closer, jaw dropping.
"Damn… I'm handsome."
He stroked his chin, admiring the jawline he never had in his past life.
"If I looked like this back in college, even as the Crazy Piss Guy, I'd have been popular…"
He grinned, proud of his new face, completely ignoring the death‑whirlpools roaring behind him.
Once the narcissism faded enough for him to think again, he started scanning his surroundings — looking for signs of life, food, or anything that wasn't trying to kill him. The beach stretched endlessly, dotted with rocks the size of houses and palm trees that looked like they'd been designed for giants.
He paused when he noticed a massive crab‑shaped boulder. Or maybe it was a crab that had given up on life and fossilized. Hard to tell.
"Good vantage point," he decided.
He grabbed the rock and began climbing. His hands moved easily, his feet found perfect holds, and his body felt light — almost springy.
"Didn't remember being this strong too…" he muttered, impressed with himself as he reached the top in seconds. "Yeah, okay, I'm amazing. That's canon now."
From up there, the view was clearer — and much worse.
The whirlpools were enormous, swirling like colossal drains sucking the ocean into oblivion. No ship in its right mind would ever approach this place. Even suicidal pirates would think twice.
"Well, seems like I'm stuck here unless I get the Swim‑Swim ability of Rayleigh," he shrugged.
He said it casually, but the truth hit him a second later.
Rayleigh. Whirlpools. Giant fauna. Tropical island.
He froze.
"…Wait."
He looked around again, slower this time.
"…No way."
He swallowed hard, a mix of excitement and dread rising in his chest.
"Did that old bastard actually send me to the Calm Belt…?"
Before he could process the implications of that, a familiar, horrible sensation twisted in his stomach. A pressure. A pulse. A warning from the deepest, darkest part of his biology.
"Oh no… not now…"
The urge hit him like a truck. The same urge he'd known all his life. The curse of the Crazy Piss Guy.
He sighed, disappointed but resigned. "Of course it followed me… great. New world, same bladder."
With the reflexes of a veteran, he turned around, unbuttoned, and prepared to claim the top of the giant crab‑rock as his new territory.
Except—
Nothing came out.
The pressure grew. The pain sharpened. His lower stomach throbbed like a bomb about to explode.
"Come on… come on… don't do this to me now…"
He pushed. He begged. He prayed to literally anyone except the guy who sent him here.
But nothing. Not a drop.
The urge only got worse, swelling inside him like a rising tide with nowhere to go.
His eyes widened as a memory flashed through his mind — God's last words, spoken with that smug, divine pettiness.
"You won't be able to pee unless you find the One Piece."
He froze.
"Shit… he wasn't kidding?"
The pain spiked again, and he doubled over, clutching his stomach.
"Oh come on! I just got here!"
The whirlpools roared behind him, the island trembled slightly, and somewhere in the distance, something massive growled.
But none of that mattered.
Because he had just realized something far, far worse:
He was in the world of One Piece… with a bladder on permanent lockdown.
Suddenly, the rock beneath his feet vibrated.
At first, he thought it was just his bladder screaming for mercy again. But then the entire surface shifted under him.
He yelped as he fell backward, landing on his spine with a painful thud.
Two massive joints rose from the "rock," unfolding like mechanical arms. At their tips, two glowing crystals rotated slowly, humming with energy.
The ground lifted. No — the creature lifted.
The "rock" stood up, shedding sand like a waking titan. Sharp spikes erupted along its sides, and two colossal claws snapped open with a metallic CLANG.
He stared up at it, jaw hanging.
"…Come on, not now."
The creature's eyes — two enormous, glowing orbs — locked onto him.
"It's actually a crab?"
The giant crab let out a deep, resonant growl that shook the entire beach.
He swallowed.
"Of course it's a crab. Of course the first thing I meet in this world is a kaiju‑sized seafood platter."
The crab raised one claw, casting a shadow big enough to cover a house.
"And of course," he added bitterly, clutching his stomach as the pressure inside him spiked again, "I can't even piss myself in fear."
The giant claw came crashing down.
He barely had time to roll aside before the impact split the boulder in two. He tumbled off the crab's back, slid down one of its massive legs like a nightmarish playground slide, and landed on his butt in the sand.
"Ow—! Okay, okay, I get it, seafood hates me!"
The crab roared — or whatever sound a kaiju‑crab makes — and lunged again. He sprinted across the beach, dodging claws the size of cars, sand exploding behind him with every strike.
He zig‑zagged between rocks. He tripped. He screamed. He kept running.
The crab chased him relentlessly, smashing trees, boulders, and anything else that dared exist in its path.
He darted into the forest, branches whipping his face, until he spotted a narrow cavern opening between two roots. Without thinking, he dove inside.
The crab tried to follow.
A massive claw forced its way into the hole, snapping blindly. The tip stopped just inches from his face. He pressed himself against the back wall, trembling, bladder screaming, life flashing before his eyes.
After a minute of futile claw‑stabbing, the crab gave up on reaching him… but didn't leave.
It parked itself at the entrance like a pissed‑off guard dog.
Hours passed.
He grew hungry. His stomach growled louder than the crab.
Exploring the cramped cavern, he found a tiny tree growing through a crack in the stone, its roots drinking from underground water. Several fruits hung from its branches — weird, colorful, spiraled fruits.
He grabbed one.
"No way… a Devil Fruit?"
His heart raced.
"Am I… destined to be a protagonist here?"
He stared at the fruit. It looked disgusting. It smelled worse.
"What if it's a shitty fruit…? No, wait, I'm literally stuck here. I need something to fight that crab."
He took a deep breath.
"Alright. YOLO."
He bit into it.
Instant regret. It tasted like rotten socks dipped in battery acid.
But then—
His body tingled. His legs softened. His arms blurred. He felt himself… dripping.
He looked down.
A puddle was forming beneath him.
"No way… a Logia?!"
He grinned— Then he smelled it.
He froze.
He looked at the puddle.
"…What the—"
A horrible realization dawned on him.
"The… piss‑piss Logia?!"
His scream echoed through the cavern, through the forest, across the island, and probably into the Calm Belt itself.