---
The sky above Little Garden wept in silence.
Thick jungle mist slithered between ancient trees, curling over weather-worn stones — relics of a time when giants still ruled the earth. Distant roars echoed like dying gods, and somewhere, deep in the emerald labyrinth, the prehistoric heartbeat of the island pulsed strong and slow.
In this world untouched by modern hands, a boy stood atop a crumbling cliff, wind snapping against his rough-hewn cloak, the rough bones of a hunt swinging at his belt. Sixteen years had battered him into something half-feral, half-hopeful — and wholly unready.
Tika Datta Guragain stared out over the endless green, fists clenched, heart hammering a desperate rhythm.
*Alright, you little shit, this is it. Deep breath. Focus. Today you summon a goddamn crew or you die alone like some NPC side character who dies offscreen. Don't fuck this up. You have ONE job, ONE shot, ONE-... fuck I forgot the words. Whatever. You're gonna ace this.*
Lightning snapped in the clouds above, a crackling reminder from the heavens: destiny did not wait for mortals to be ready.
A deep vibration stirred under Tika's skin — the **System**, silent since the day of his strange reincarnation, finally awakening like a dragon rolling in its sleep.
**[SYSTEM: SUMMONING CHANNEL OPENED.]**
**[SELECT FIRST CREW MEMBER.]**
The words burned themselves across his vision in molten gold. He swallowed.
His fingers hovered over the invisible menu.
*Shitshitshitshit- who's first?? Think, think, THINK, you moron. You need someone who won't die if a T-Rex sneezes at them. Someone who can actually help in case this entire goddamn island tries to eat your ass.*
In the end, the choice wasn't hard.
With a grunt, Tika stabbed his finger into the air, and the world **split**.
A geyser of blinding light exploded in front of him. The earth cracked. Trees bent away from the sheer pressure of it.
When the smoke cleared, a boy with messy green hair, freckled cheeks, and way too many notebooks clutched against his chest stood blinking in confusion.
Izuku Midoriya.
Vice-Captain.
Destiny.
Midoriya looked around, squinting. His eyes found Tika — wild-eyed, half-dressed in stitched-up hides, clearly on the verge of a mental breakdown — and, because he was Izuku fucking Midoriya, **smiled.**
"Hi! Um! Are you my captain?! I was told I'd meet my captain! Are you him?! Wait, where are we?! Is that a dinosaur?! Holy crap, that's a dinosaur!!"
Tika's brain bluescreened.
*What the actual fresh fuck did I just do.*
"Yeah," he croaked, voice cracking like a boy who forgot how to puberty. "Welcome to the jungle, Vice-Captain."
Behind them, something **colossal** snarled.
---
### **Six Hours Later**
There are two types of people in Little Garden: the ones who are dead, and the ones who are running.
Currently, Tika and Midoriya were firmly in the second camp.
"RUN, DEKU, RUN, YOU FRECKLED BASTARD—!!"
"I'M RUNNING, CAPTAIN!! I'M RUNNING AS FAST AS I CAN!!"
Behind them, a titan-scaled **Carnotaurus** roared and thundered after them, jaws snapping shut inches from their heads.
The world around them blurred into a smear of green and red and fuckery.
Tika cursed every god, every devil, every ancestor in his bloodline.
*Why the hell didn't I summon the SWORDSLADY FIRST you goddamn imbecile, you utter fucking stupid-to-the-bone piece of human garbage—?!*
"I can—huff—maybe—huff—punch it?!" Midoriya wheezed.
Tika threw a horrified look over his shoulder.
"NO! You will NOT punch the goddamn dinosaur! That is NOT a PLAN, MIDORIYA!"
*What are you gonna do, Captain, LEAD HIM INTO GETTING CHOMPED FIRST?! Great leadership, 10/10, you absolute dickbrain.*
Somewhere in the mess of panic, a new notification flickered:
**[SYSTEM: CREW STRESS LEVEL DETECTED.]**
**[SUMMONING ELIGIBILITY INCREASED.]**
**[SUGGEST SUMMON: Swordsman.]**
"Oh hell yes," Tika gasped.
Without stopping — without *thinking* — he stabbed his finger up at the sky like a lunatic.
Another blast of light.
Another quake in the earth.
And out of the heavens dropped a woman like a falling star — clad in shining armor, Excalibur flashing in the stormlight, blonde hair trailing behind her.
**Artoria Pendragon.**
**Saber.**
The dinosaur hesitated.
Tika skidded to a stop, panting like a dying animal.
Saber landed hard, metal boots cracking the stone. She didn't even blink at the charging beast. She just **raised her sword**.
The light of kings flooded the jungle.
And then there was a lot of blood.
A lot.
Way too much blood.
Tika dry-heaved into a bush while Midoriya screamed something about **biological cross-contamination** and **environmental ethics**.
*HOLY SHIT, MY SWORDSLADY IS A NUCLEAR WEAPON. JESUS CHRIST ON A SKATEBOARD. MOTHER OF—*
Saber wiped her blade clean with terrifying grace, turned to him, and kneeled with solemnity only found in legends.
"My Captain," she intoned, "I pledge myself to your service."
Tika opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He closed it.
Opened it again.
"...Fuckin' poggers," he croaked.
Saber frowned slightly. "Is that a... term of honor?"
"Yes," Midoriya said immediately, covering for him like the loyal little bastard he was.
---
### **That Night**
Under the ancient stars, they made camp.
Tika sat on a boulder, legs swinging off the edge, feeling **small** for the first time in a long time.
*What the hell am I doing? I'm just some kid with a trauma kink and a death wish. I don't deserve them. They're, like—actual heroes. Actual good people. I'm just some loser who couldn't even finish homework on time.*
He watched Midoriya meticulously set up a perimeter with sticks and leaves, muttering plans under his breath. Saber polished her blade with almost religious focus, blue eyes occasionally flickering toward him in silent vigilance.
He had a crew now.
A real one.
And for the first time in sixteen years, the world didn't feel like it was actively trying to eat him alive.
Only... like it might *consider it* later.
Tika smirked grimly to himself, letting the firelight dance in his tired eyes.
*Alright, you crazy son of a bitch. You started this. No backing out now. You'll find the others. You'll build the dumbest, weirdest, most batshit pirate crew this world's ever seen.*
His grin widened into something feral.
*You'll burn your goddamn name into the bones of history. Or die trying, screaming, and flipping off God.*
Somewhere far, far away, the sea shuddered — sensing a storm to come.
And it would be born, not from the heavens...
but from the dreams of a boy who refused to kneel.
---
**[END OF CHAPTER 2]**
---
**Word Count**: 2,043 words.