The room was black when Kenji moved.
A soft groan of wood, the sag of the wet blanket, and the painful pulsing in his legs told him this wasn't a dream. His whole body ached like he'd been run over by an ox train. Muscles he hadn't even realized he had ached.
But he felt… grounded. Solid. Not like the paper-doll version of himself that had stumbled through the last two days.
He rolled over onto his back with a groan, staring up at the cracked ceiling.
"I'm still here."
He sat up slowly. Every joint protested. His calves felt like stone. But he didn't collapse. His hands were steady as he swung his feet to the floor.
He rubbed his hands together, just to sense the strength in them. Still thin, still weak—but more stable. There was something new under the skin. Something earned.
Kenji stuck his hand in his pocket and produced the pouch of coins that system had given him upon arrival. The supple warm leather retained the heat of bodies. He untied the tiestring and peered inside.
Stacks of bright unfamiliar bills stared back at him.
Still here. Still real.
He breathed out. Did some quick mental math.
[System Currency Log]
Initial Funds: 100,000 berries
200 berries: One-night's stay at The Drifting Gull inn
Balance remaining: 99,800 berries
"Guess this thing actually is backing me."
He blinked twice, and with a mental instruction, called up the familiar transparent screen.
[Status Panel - Kenji] Constitution: 1.2
Strength: 0.5
Agility: 0.7
Devil Fruit: Unavailable
Devil Fruit Points: N/A
Haki: [??]
System Tip: Rested. Energy restored. Minor muscle development detected.
He stared at the numbers for a long time.
Slow growth. Barely anything compared to where real monsters in this world probably stood. But it was his.
Every decimal earned through pain, sweat, and sheer determination.
Kenji stretched once, winced in pain, and pulled on his shirt. It was still damp from the day before, but less than yesterday.
His stomach growled.
"Fine, fine," he growled. "Time for breakfast."
He jammed the pouch into his belt, locked the room, and descended the groaning stairs. Each step sent a burst of rebellion through his legs, but they held firm.
The inn's common room smelled like warmth and spices. Someone had started a fire in the hearth.
A few men in worn jackets and faded bandanas sat around rough wooden tables, talking in low voices.
Kenji approached the bar. The same woman from the night before was wiping mugs with a rag.
She looked him up and down with raised brows. "You're still breathing. Good sign."
He offered a weak smile. "Breakfast?"
She nodded her chin in the direction of the back. "Stew's hot. Bread's dry. twenty berries."
Kenji nodded and slid a small blue note onto the counter.
[System Note: -20 berries | Remaining Balance: 99,780 berries]
The woman handed him a steaming bowl and a plate containing a thick slice of crusty bread.
Kenji spotted an empty table in the corner and sat down, gingerly.
The initial mouthful of stew nearly made him weep.
It was bland—some root vegetable, seaweed, and two unidentifiable chunks of meat—but it was hot. Taste. Real.
He took a bite of bread dipped in it and another bite.
As his body started to thaw from the inside out, he leaned back in his chair a little, spoon gripped tightly, and for the first time since entering this strange world.
He let himself breathe.
The dining room at the restaurant was more packed now. There was a hushed murmur of voices and clinking forks. Tables were filled with mainly locals—dockworkers with cracked hands and tired eyes, fishermen who still had that slight salt smell, a few older men with faded tattoos and baggy jackets with frayed buttons.
Kenji crouched in the corner, bent over his bowl of stew and bread, trying to blend in.
His body was still aching. His shoulders, especially. But the meal was easing that. So too was the glow of the fire. He was not feeling so well, but he did not feel like an undead anymore.
"Do you object to sitting down, lad?"
Kenji lifted his gaze.
An old man stood by his table, holding a wooden mug. Weathered face, white stubble, thick boots. Old and salt-creased jacket, mended at three places, and there was a twisted pipe lodged behind an ear.
Kenji hesitated, then nodded. "Sure."
The man sat down with a groan and a yawn. "Ahh. Damn knees don't care for the cold. Good stew, though."
Kenji gave a polite nod, forcing another bite into his mouth.
The man regarded him for a moment. Not unkindly. Just curious.
"You a runner?"
Kenji blinked. "A what?"
"Y'know. Apprentice skipping out on a trade? Navy brat gone soft?" He tilted his head. "Don't see many skinny types with clean hands around here unless they're running from somethin'."
Kenji smiled nervously. "Something like that."
The old man laughed. "Figured. This island eats soft boys for breakfast."
Kenji decided to change the subject. "What's this island called, anyway?"
"You kidding?"
He didn't respond.
The man leaned back, mug still in hand. "You're in lague town. Little chunk of rock between the North Blue trade lanes and the Grand Line. We don't get much visitors. Not since the last pirate raid, at least."
Kenji frowned. "Pirates raid here?"
"Not very," the man said. "But when they do, it's bad. Last one pillaged half our fishing fleet. Marines pushed 'em back, sure—but they're thin on the ground these days."
Kenji fought not to react, but his heart was thudding in his chest.
This was real. Everything.
"Let me take a guess," Kenji said. "More pirates showing up around here lately?"
"Oh, aye," said the man in a complaining tone. "Since Pirate King kicked the bucket two days ago, they've been crawling out the woodwork. Morons believing they'll find his loot. The Grand Line's gonna be a bloodbath for the next few years."
Kenji stiffened. "So it really just happened. Roger's execution."
"Musta lived under a damn rock not knowing," growled the old man. "They broadcast it over half of the Blues. Was in the square myself—goddamn fool grinned as if off to vacation."
Kenji fiddled with the noodles in his stew.
Two days ago. He witnessed it too, at that time. As one of the crowd. When it began to go horribly awry.
The old man slowly pulled on his mug.
"They're talkin' new pirates are appearin' outta thin air. Fifty percent of 'em'll be dead in a year. But some…" He scowled. "Some are already stirs gettin' waves created."
Kenji looked up. "Like who?"
"Don't know exactly. Just rumors around the taverns. But there are people like Red-Haired Shanks and Kaido going around in whispers. Some monster from Out West styling herself Charlotte Linlin is already causing merchant fleets troublesome."
Kenji's heart skipped a beat. He remembered those names.
Emperors. Future emperors. Yonko. They weren't emperors yet—but they would be. The biggest names in the world.
"I'm guessing you've heard of at least one of 'em," the old man said, watching his expression.
Kenji kept his voice even. "Maybe. Hard not to."
"Well, here's advice for you, kid. Avoid it. This generation's gonna get crazy. Blood and gold. Honor and tombs. That kind of thing."
Kenji remained silent.
But he could not suppress the tiny flame that ignited in his chest.
The old man eventually stood up with a groan, banging his knuckles on the table. "Thanks for letting an old sea dog run your ear ragged."
Kenji smiled. "Thanks for the ride."
"Take care out there," the man said, hugging his coat around him as he limped to the door. "These days, surviving's work."
And he was off—into the foggy down, boots thudding out of the wooden porch.
Kenji sat for hours.
His stew had cooled down.
He looked down at his hands—still sore, knuckles red and raw from the crates the day before. But they didn't shake. Not like they used to.
He wasn't just surviving.
He was changing.
Kenji leaned back from the table and stood, unfolding his cramped legs. A dull ache pulled at every muscle, but it was the good kind. Earned pain. Honest.
He stepped out into the cutting air, and let the wind hit him in the face. In the distance, the gulls were crying over the harbor.
His mind was spinning with what he'd learned.
loguetown. The Grand Line. The names of Yonko, coming out of the fog.
Roger's death hadn't set the pirate era ablaze—had sparked it.
And Kenji. he was there at the very start.
That little flame in his chest flickered back to life. No longer little. No longer uncertain.
He yearned to grow. To number. Not for glory—not yet. But to live.
And maybe, one day… for something more.
DING!
The reassuring chime rang like a coin against a metal plate. A radiant blue window materialized before his eyes.
[Optional Task Unlocked: "Path of the Madman"]
Objective: For 30 consecutive days, accomplish:
300 Push-Ups 300 Sit-Ups 5km Run
Condition: No days missed. Progress resets upon failure.
Reward:
+6 Strength
+4 Constitution
+2 Agility
Unlock Passive: [Iron Will – Minor fatigue resistance]
"This world doesn't reward average. Be relentless."
Kenji glared at it, jaw clenched.
Thirty days.
No leeway to slip. No do-overs.
It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't some enchanted sword or OP cheat.
But it was genuine. Like the throb in his legs. The heaviness in his arms. The harsh sting of salt in the wind.
He had no men. Had no boat. Hadn't even had a vision.
But he did have this body. And this chance.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "Let's see what happens."
The window disappeared.
Kenji came down from the porch and started walking.
Tomorrow, he'd begin.