Chapitre 1: 1. The Beginning After The End
"Maybe I'll watch it now," said a man sitting on a black sofa with an IV drip connected to his right hand. He was wearing black trousers and was shirtless, watching TV.
'They keep talking about this One Piece anime; now I'm curious,' he thought as he pressed the button on the TV remote, starting to watch One Piece. But just as he was about to begin the second episode, his vision started to blur. 'Damn, I didn't think it would happen this soon,' he thought, his vision darkening. His breathing stopped, and his heart ceased beating. The remote slipped from his hand and fell to the floor.
******************
Inside a prison on the ship, there was a man lying down, he looked quite tall even though his body looked quite thin with tattoos on both of his forearms, then his hair was seen on top which was long and messy, then he only wore long black pants.
Slowly he was seen opening his eyes, showing pitch black eyes with white irises, he then glanced to the right and left before looking at his hands and body, 'What is this? I was just about to continue watching the second episode, but my time's already up. But wait... wasn't I supposed to be dead? So why am I waking up in a place like this?'
He had once worked for a company, though his life was short-lived due to an overwhelming workload. He had died at what could be considered a young age, exhausted from years of accumulated stress. Even though he'd taken a full week off, it was too late. On top of the stress, he smoked and drank sake with his coworkers, toxins that had built up in his body for years.
'Haa, is reincarnation actually real?' he thought as he examined his current body, realizing it wasn't his own. He felt weak—far weaker than he ever had in his original body.
At first, he wanted to deny the possibility of reincarnation. To him, such things were just the fantasies of people in movies, anime, comics, and novels. But as he felt the frailty of this unfamiliar body, the faint scent of alcohol in the air, and his current surroundings, which resembled a prison, he had no choice but to accept the reality that he had been reincarnated into another world.
'It's certain now—this is another world,' he concluded as a system panel suddenly materialized in front of him, defying any semblance of normality. In his previous life, something like this would have been utterly impossible unless he was playing a virtual reality game like those seen in anime.
<Status>
[Name: Yamazaki Noir]
[Age: 20]
[Title: -]
[Race: Human]
[Devil Fruit: -]
[Potential: SSS]
[Strength: E-]
[Endurance: E-]
[Durability: E-]
[Speed: E-]
[intelligent: S+]
[Luck: S+]
[Skills: 1]
[Trait: 3]
[Money: 0]
'Devil Fruit, huh?' Noir thought as he leaned back against the wall, his gaze fixed on the system in front of him. Most of his stats seemed fairly normal, but the blank entry for Devil Fruit piqued his curiosity. Did this mean he was in the world of One Piece? Or was he in some other unknown realm where systems like this existed?
While pondering his location, a sudden rush of fragmented memories caused a sharp pain in his head. He clutched his temples as the headache subsided, leaving behind a faint trail of recollections.
Once the pain faded, Noir sifted through the residual memories, piecing together the circumstances of his current situation.
'So I'm a prisoner on a pirate ship. Great,' he thought sarcastically, letting out a long sigh. To think he had died, only to wake up in the world of One Piece—and on top of that, as a prisoner. The gentle sway of the floor beneath him finally made sense. At first, he thought it was just his imagination.
With the remnants of the body's memories providing clarity about his predicament, Noir shifted his focus to the Skills and Traits listed in his system. In most games, players started from scratch, but he already had a skill and three traits—even if they didn't seem like much for now.
He decided to check them one by one.
[Observe]
[Rank: S]
[Description: A skill that allows the user to gain detailed information about people, objects, or environments simply by observing them.]
[Battle Lust]
[Description: A trait that activates during intense combat. The user experiences an overwhelming desire to fight stronger opponents and gains increased focus and adrenaline in battle. The more injured the user becomes, the more exhilaration they feel, allowing them to push beyond normal physical limits.]
[Reverse Eyes]
[Description: A rare trait of the Yamazaki clan, the Reverse Eyes activate when the user is on the brink of unconsciousness or in high-stress combat situations. Entering this state eliminates unnecessary thoughts and emotions, allowing the body to fight instinctively at its absolute peak. Once mastered, the user is able to maintain Reverse Eyes for as long as necessary, and their intellect, consciousness and personality remains completely intact, being able to use Reverse Eyes to its maximum capacity and not be controlled by it, instead exploiting it's perks and advantages to suit their individual desires.]
[Black Bone]
[Description: A defining physical trait of the Yamazaki clan, Black Bone refers to their unnaturally hardened skeletal structure. These bones are significantly denser and tougher than normal, granting the user extreme durability and resistance to physical trauma. In combat, this trait allows the user to deliver devastating blows with added weight and impact, while simultaneously withstanding powerful attacks that would cripple an ordinary fighter.]
'Hmm, the skill is decent, but all three traits are clearly meant for combat,' Noir thought as he analyzed his system. The traits felt like a complete set designed solely for fighting. As for the skill, it was practical, allowing him to gauge his opponent's stats. While its usefulness might diminish as he grew stronger, it was indispensable for his current situation.
'Hmm?' Noir's musings were interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching his cell. A few moments later, a figure stopped in front of him. The man wore a sleeveless black shirt, long white pants, and a dagger strapped to his waist—a stereotypical pirate. He stood before Noir's cell, holding a plate of food that seemed surprisingly plentiful for a prisoner destined for the black market.
"This is your dinner for tonight. The captain doesn't want his goods dying on him, so take care of yourself," the pirate said nonchalantly. He unlocked the cell, placed the food inside, and then left, locking the door behind him. Noir slowly stood up and grabbed the plate, retreating to his corner to sit.
The meal was surprisingly generous for someone in captivity. It consisted of meat, rice, and vegetables—clearly leftovers. Noir deduced that criminals or slaves typically wouldn't receive such decent meals unless it was absolutely necessary to keep them alive.
'Well, this isn't half bad,' he thought, placing the plate beside him. Whether it was due to the reincarnation or something else, Noir felt relatively full despite his body's poor condition. Only the Black Bone trait seemed to have kept his stats from being entirely abysmal.
Taking advantage of the meal's nutrition, Noir resolved to use this opportunity to train his body, even if only lightly. He firmly believed in the principle of eating well after exercise to maximize physical gains, a concept that should also apply in this world.
He started with some light warm-ups, jogging in place since the small cell didn't allow for actual running. He had to stay subtle; being noticed training might lead to restraints or worse. Besides, if this really was the One Piece world, the physical strength of its inhabitants defied common sense.
Before gaining any combat experience, Noir needed to enhance his physical strength to a reasonable level. Based on the memories of his capture, he estimated it would take some time for the ship to reach the black market. Such places were notoriously secretive and far from the usual trade routes, often requiring weeks of travel.
This worked in Noir's favor. If he were immediately sold into slavery, his chances of escape would plummet. Poor nutrition and inadequate conditions there would weaken him further. Training here, combined with the pirates' relative negligence, gave him a slim but vital window of opportunity.
After running in place for as long as he could manage, Noir rested briefly before continuing with push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and shadowboxing. Each movement strained his weak body, but he pushed through.
If the pirates caught him, they might shackle him to prevent further movement. Knowing this, Noir exercised discreetly while the crew above deck busied themselves with drinking and revelry. He needed to grow stronger before the chance to break free presented itself.
By the time he finished his grueling routine, Noir devoured his meal with vigor, savoring every bite despite its leftover quality. As he neared the last few bites, the ship's anchor dropped suddenly, and he heard the telltale sound of chains lowering.
'Looks like we've docked somewhere,' he thought, speculating about the reason for the stop. It was likely to resupply or take in more captives for the black market.
As he pondered, footsteps approached his cell again. Noir's brows furrowed. 'Now what?'
The door opened, and a burly, bald man stepped inside, his sneer revealing yellowed teeth. The scars on his head weren't the most striking feature—it was the fact that he wasn't wearing pants. In his hand, he gripped the hair of a woman, dragging her along.
Without hesitation, the man threw her into the cell. "Enjoy yourself, you bastard. You're lucky the captain and the boys are done with her," he sneered before locking the door and walking away. "Now I've got another young one to enjoy before they're both sold off. Hahaha!" his laughter echoed down the corridor.
Noir turned to the woman. "What a lunatic. Even a malnourished woman gets abused on this hellhole. Makes me wonder about the condition of the other one," he muttered, observing her.
She was thin—almost emaciated—but not as frail as Noir himself. Her long silver-white hair and eyelashes, and blood red eyes hinted at what might have been beauty in better days. She was entirely naked, her body marked by countless scars, with a certain liquid dripping down her thighs.
The woman crawled toward him, her movements eerily mechanical, like a puppet on strings. She stopped in front of him and reached for his pants, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to undo them.
"Okay, stop right there. I know what you're trying to do, but that's not normal," Noir said, reflexively halting her. Her hollow gaze met his, and he saw nothing—no spark of life, no purpose. Only emptiness.
He sighed, noticing a faint burn mark on her back, barely visible in the dim light. For a few moments, silence hung in the air, broken only by the rumble of her stomach.
"Sit here," Noir said, patting the floor beside him. Despite her broken state, the woman obeyed like a child, sitting next to him without protest.
"Now, eat this," Noir offered the rest of his meal. She stared at him blankly, her hollow eyes shifting between him and the plate.
"I've already eaten enough. Just eat. Even a little is better than nothing," he added, trying to encourage her. After a brief hesitation, she nodded, taking the plate and placing it on the ground. Lowering herself, she tried to eat like an animal, crouching on all fours.
Noir immediately stopped her, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her upright. "You're human. Why are you eating like that?"
The woman didn't respond, only blinking at him with her empty gaze. Noir sighed again, picking up the plate himself. He washed his hand with a small trickle of water from a nearby bucket and began feeding her directly.
"Here, eat properly," he said, holding a piece of food to her mouth. She hesitated but eventually opened her mouth slightly, allowing him to feed her like a child.
"I don't know how long you'll be here or when we'll reach the slave market, but I'll teach you," Noir said firmly as he continued to feed her. She didn't reply, but a faint flicker of recognition seemed to pass through her eyes, though it vanished just as quickly.
[POV: Woman in the Cell]
I don't know how long I've lived like this. Time lost meaning long ago. Day and night blur into a gray haze, each moment identical to the last.
They call me a slave. That word used to feel sharp, a blade cutting into my pride. Now it means nothing. I don't have a name anymore, only this body—something they use, hurt, and discard.
I think I used to dream once. A long time ago, I imagined freedom, happiness, a family… But dreams like that don't belong to people like me. Now, there's only the void.
The first time I was taken, I was still a child. An orphan on a small island in the Grand Line, I lived alone, far from the village that hated me. My white hair and red eyes were a curse, they said—a sign of bad luck. Even the other children avoided me. I grew up on scraps, hiding from the villagers who would spit at me if they saw me.
Then the pirates came.
They burned the village to the ground, killing everyone in sight. I stayed hidden, too far from the chaos to be found until the end. When they finally did find me, they didn't see a cursed child—they saw something to sell.
I was ten years old when I was dragged off my island and sold in the black market. I was trembling and silent when the new owner arrived. He wasn't a person. He was a monster—a Tenryūbito.
A slave's brand was burned into my back that night, the pain searing into my soul more than my skin. The next day, my life as a tool began. Not as a person, not even as a worker. Just a thing, used in ways I couldn't understand at first but learned to fear.
Years passed, and I lost count of how many times they took from me. My mind grew quieter, emptier, until I forgot how to think at all. My days became the same: obey, endure, and survive.
And then, one day, chaos erupted.
A fish-man with power I could hardly comprehend stormed the Holy Land of Mary Geoise. He tore through the guards, broke the chains, and freed us.
For the first time, I felt something close to hope. But freedom was fleeting. Less than two months later, I was caught again. This time, by pirates.
The pattern repeated. Chains, violence, and despair. I lost count of how many hands I passed through, how many names and faces of my captors blurred into the dark. My body, once mine, was no longer mine at all. I forgot what it meant to walk with purpose, to speak without fear. Even my mind betrayed me, becoming nothing but a haze.
And now, here I am.
Thrown into another cell, on another ship, just another piece of cargo. My body is filthy, scarred, and weak. When the bald man dragged me here, laughing as he shoved me inside, I didn't resist. There was no point.
Then I saw him.
The man in the corner. He looked weak, thin, with messy hair and tattoos on his arms. He didn't speak at first, just watched me. When I crawled to him—because I only know how to crawl—I tried to do what I've always done. It's what they expect, after all.
But he stopped me.
"Okay, stop right there," he said, his voice sharp but not cruel. "I know what you're trying to do, but that's not normal."
Normal. What a strange word.
I didn't understand at first, but he didn't hurt me or mock me. He looked… annoyed, but not at me. I couldn't explain it. He looked at me like I was something more than what I'd become.
When he handed me food, I hesitated. I'd learned the hard way not to trust kindness—it always came with a price. But his tone was steady, firm.
"I've eaten enough. You should eat too, even if it's just a little," he said.
The hunger clawed at me, overpowering my caution. I crouched and lowered my face to the plate, ready to eat like I always had—like an animal.
"No," he said sharply, pulling me upright. "You're a human. Don't eat like that."
Human. That word struck something deep within me.
When he washed his hands and began feeding me himself, I froze. No one had done this for me since… since before the pirates came.
"Here, eat properly," he said, holding the food to my mouth. His hands were steady, his voice firm.
I opened my mouth hesitantly, chewing slowly as he fed me. It felt strange, being treated this way. I couldn't make sense of it. Why was he doing this?
As I ate, he spoke. His voice was quiet, but it carried something I couldn't place—something strong.
"I don't know how long you'll be here or how much time we have before they sell us off to some dark corner of the world," he said. "But while you're here, I'll teach you."
Teach me? What was there to teach someone like me?
I had forgotten what it meant to live. To stand, to speak, to think—those things had been stripped from me long ago. What could I possibly learn?
Yet his words sparked something I hadn't felt in years.
As I finished the food, I noticed something strange—a faint warmth in my chest. It wasn't much, just a tiny flicker, but it was there.
Maybe, just maybe, I could be human again.
**************
'At least this leftover food is enough for her,' Noir thought, watching the woman beside him gradually calm down. He noticed her eyes slowly closing, only to snap open again—a clear sign of her exhaustion.
Noir had no idea what time it was, but judging by the absence of sunlight from the small hole in the upper right corner of the cell, it was already night. Without a second thought, he gently held her head and laid it on his lap, letting his thighs serve as a makeshift pillow.
"If you're stuck here with me tomorrow, I'll start training you physically. But for now, rest," Noir said, softly stroking her hair. His gaze drifted upward to the ceiling, a distant expression on his face. It had been a long time since he had cared this much for someone else.
When it came to his friends or close companions, Noir always cared deeply. They were like siblings to him, given how few he truly trusted. But with strangers, his concern rarely went beyond superficial boundaries. Yet here he was, worrying about this broken woman.
'If this were the old me, I probably would've just gone along with whatever she wanted,' Noir mused, sighing softly. When he was younger, his reckless and flirtatious nature often got the better of him.
'At least my worst habits didn't carry over,' he thought, chuckling lightly. He continued stroking her hair, the rhythmic motion eventually drawing soft snores from her. Curious, Noir activated his Observe skill to check her status.
[Name: Ihwa]
[Age: 20]
[Title: -]
[Race: Human]
[Devil Fruit: -]
[Potential: SS]
[Strength: F]
[Endurance: E]
[Durability: F]
[Speed: F]
[intelligent: F]
[Luck: S-]
'No wonder she's so detached from reality,' Noir thought, noting her abysmally low intelligence stat. F-rank was likely the lowest possible, explaining her near-total loss of basic human behaviors.
'Her name sounds Korean,' he mused. He had heard many names like this before, some so similar they often confused him. But "Ihwa" was unique enough to remember, and from the memories he had gained, no one with that name had ever crossed his mind before.
*****************
Three days passed, and Noir was fortunate that the pirates hadn't yet reached the black market.
Navigating to such a hidden place wasn't easy under normal circumstances. Noir had initially assumed the captain was clever, but he soon realized the man was just a brute driven by muscle and lust. The captain's daily routine involved indulging in the women he captured before eventually selling them, a behavior mirrored by his crew.
During those three days, the pirate ship had only encountered two significant obstacles: a rival pirate crew and a small Marine squad. Fortunately for the pirates, the two factions had already been locked in combat for hours by the time they arrived. Both sides were exhausted, with many casualties.
The captain exploited their weakened state, easily crushing both sides and looting their spoils, including sake, food, and treasure. Noir suspected they had also taken another woman captive, bringing the total to four, including Ihwa, who remained in the cell with him.
The reason Ihwa hadn't been taken again was likely her malnourished body, which rendered her unappealing to the captain and his crew. She had been thrown into the cell as a temporary discard while the captain entertained himself with the other captives. The sounds from their abuse echoed through the night, disrupting Noir's focus and further fueling his disdain for the pirates.
Over those three days, Noir taught Ihwa the basics—how to walk, talk, and eat like a normal human. Her progress was slow, but she had managed to string together words, albeit haltingly, much like a child. This small breakthrough allowed Noir to learn more about their situation.
One key piece of information was about the pirate crew itself. The captain was infamous for his spiked gauntlets, which he used to pummel his enemies into submission. The crew had been active for five years but had never ventured into the Grand Line. Ihwa overheard, during her time as a slave, that the crew worked under the flag of a more powerful figure, trafficking slaves to sell in the Grand Line.
The primary black market hub in East Blue was in Loguetown. However, since Smoker's arrival, the captain had avoided the area and instead sought out smaller, more concealed branches of the black market. This forced the crew to constantly move between locations to avoid detection and destruction by Marines like Smoker.
From Ihwa's fragmented recollections, Noir estimated that it would take another week for the ship to reach its next destination. The island they were headed for was reportedly deserted, save for a hidden black market branch. With the deadline for the Grand Line slave shipment approaching, the captain couldn't afford to waste time searching for new captives.
Noir sighed, clenching his fists as he considered his options. Time was running out, and he needed to act soon. But for now, he looked down at Ihwa, her breathing steady as she slept peacefully on his lap. At least he had made some progress with her, and that was a small victory in this nightmare.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone