"Wait... is that a fucking musket?" Hiro muttered; his voice groggy as he blinked at the antique weapon propped against the wall beside him.
It took a moment for his brain to process the sight. He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes, mumbling to himself, "I really need to stop drinking so damn much."
The pounding headache felt all too familiar, but something about this hangover was off.
Blinking again, he squinted, trying to shake off the grogginess.
"I'm even seeing things now," he started to say, but the words died in his throat as he rubbed his head, running his fingers through his hair.
"Wait a minute…" His fingers froze, lingering on the unfamiliar texture, the unfamiliar length. His hair was shorter, rougher. Not like his usual, well-kept style. "What the hell happened to my hair?"
Now fully awake, adrenaline spiking, Hiro shot out of bed, the fog of sleep lifting as he took in his surroundings. First, this bed was all wrong – small, firm, with thin, scratchy sheets. Not the plush mattress or dark, cozy apartment he was used to. And where was the faint smell of expensive cologne? All he could smell here was salty air, tinged with an undercurrent of mildew.
More pressing than the bed was what he didn't see – no empty bottles, no scattered remnants of a night well-spent, and most alarmingly… no naked woman beside him.
His heart pounded as he took in everything around him, trying to grasp at the situation.
'Okay, Hiro, or Hugo, or whatever you are right now, focus, he thought. Step one – figure out what's happening.'
Glancing around, he noticed something else unsettling. His perspective felt… off, his vision from a slightly different height. 'Did I get taller?'
Panic surged.
He crossed the cramped quarters in a few brisk steps and stopped in front of a small, cracked mirror hanging on the wall.
"What the…" Hiro's voice trailed off as he stared at the reflection, confusion darkening into something like horror.
The face staring back was not his own. Younger, rougher, and sporting a military buzz cut he hadn't seen since his own days in uniform, back when everything was simple, and the lines between crime and order were still clear to him.
Then the headache hit, sudden and searing, as if his brain were trying to force itself out of his skull. Memories flashed before his eyes – foreign images, voices, scenes of a life he'd never lived but could suddenly recall with agonizing clarity.
"Who the hell is Hiro?" he gasped, clutching his head as the pain pulsed like a migraine on steroids.
Memories– memories that weren't his – poured in.
Blurred visions of training camps, commands shouted in harsh voices, Marine uniforms, the smell of the sea, and hours spent buried in paperwork. The details gradually sharpened, coalescing into clear snapshots.
Enies Lobby… Marines… and something about… pirates?
The pain ebbed, leaving him slumped against the wall, still grappling with a flood of thoughts that made no sense.
A sudden, disturbing thought surfaced. "Is this some kind of… reincarnation type shit?"
He tried to steady himself, breathing in and out, forcing his mind to calm.
Panicking wasn't going to help. He'd dealt with worse shocks—betrayals, standoffs, high-stakes deals gone sideways. This was just… new territory.
"So, I'm supposed to be Hiro now," he murmured, his voice low. He forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed, taking a moment to collect the fragments of information swirling in his mind.
'Marine officer, a whisper of memory confirmed. I'm some kind of… government cop?'
From the jumble of memories, a few coherent details emerged – h e was a "Marine" officer, stationed somewhere in the East Blue. His job was to monitor and apprehend criminals, namely… pirates?
"Pirates?" He snorted, half in disbelief, half in amusement. "What kind of backwater is this?"
A chill ran through him as he remembered a name – Enies Lobby, one of the Marine strongholds in his new "memories." Something was definitely off.
There was no Enies Lobby back in his world, no Marines who hunted pirates across the seas. If he was in some kind of "other" world, it was shaping up to be a mess.
Abruptly, an alert sounded in his mind, as if an invisible voice were whispering directly into his brain
[Installation successful]
[Say "Status" to activate the status window.]
Hiro jerked upright, spinning around, assuming a combat stance. Whoever was in here was about to get the scare of their life.
But no one was behind him.
He blinked, eyeing the empty room with suspicion.
"Today really isn't my day," he muttered, forcing himself to relax. Rattled, he stumbled to a small sink in the corner of the room.
He twisted the tap, splashing water over his face. The icy shock jolted him out of his disorientation. A couple of minutes later, he straightened, exhaling deeply.
With a skeptical glance at the mirror, he muttered, "Status."
A strange window popped up in his field of vision, faintly glowing as it hovered in front of him:
[STATUS]
Name: Hiro Nakamura
Health: 99%
Attributes:
Strength: 8
Agility: 7
Endurance: 5
Durability: 9
Perception: 4
Regeneration: 5
Character Background:
Hiro Nakamura, age 24. Orphan, raised by Marines in Enies Lobby, where he enlisted at 18.
Noticed for his lack of combat prowess, he took an administrative role, passing exams quickly. After two years of training in logistics, he was promoted to Lieutenant Junior Grade, serving four years before a recent transfer to East Blue.
Current Rank: 2nd Lieutenant. Currently stationed on Conomi Islands in East Blue.
As he read through the information, memories fell into place, and he found himself able to sort out his surroundings. But there was one part of the story that jumped out at him.
This wasn't a promotion – It was more like a quiet demotion, a strategic shove to the side.
After failing an officer's physical test, this "promotion" had sent him to a backwater post, where making money through the usual "extra-curricular" means was practically impossible.
No lucrative deals, no opportunities to shake down the rich and make a little on the side. The budget here was laughable.
He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth. "So, I'm a paper pusher again, huh?" he muttered under his breath. The bitterness cut deep.
Before all of this, he'd been Hugo – the boss, the orchestrator, the head of a sprawling crime empire.
Hugo had been feared, respected, and above all, profitable. People knew his name, and he'd built his own kingdom by stepping on rivals and outwitting cops.
And before that, he'd been a military man, a soldier who'd taken the fall for an incident that shouldn't have been his fault.
Hugo had clawed his way up once. And if he had to do it all over again, he'd do it better.
The reality of this new world slowly settled around him. He didn't know much about it yet, but the fragmented memories in his mind painted it as chaotic and ruthless.
And until he got his bearings, the safest move was to keep a low profile, adapt to the rules of this strange world, and figure out how to climb to the top once more.
But he'd need to be smarter this time. He'd start in the shadows, learning everything he could about this place and its powers, the true layout of its territories and factions. And when the time was right, he'd take his first steps back toward the kind of life he was meant to lead.
"So be it," Hiro – no, Hugo – murmured, a grim smile twisting his lips. "I'll play nice. For now."
He'd wait it out, observe, gather power in secret. But he knew this wasn't the kind of life meant for a quiet desk job.
He'd carve out his kingdom again, with or without the Marines, with or without pirates, and no matter how twisted this strange new world might be.
As he stared into the mirror, the face looking back at him seemed to shift, a glint of cunning replacing the shock and confusion.
This was no ordinary man, nor was he willing to be bound by ordinary rules.
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