The Archivist's words echoed in the stillness: "Three wishes. Choose wisely."
Kai floated in a universe built of memory and ink, surrounded by pages that whispered possibilities. Panels shimmered around him—some filled with characters he knew, others with ones that had yet to exist. It was overwhelming, like standing on the edge of creation itself.
His mind reeled. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a simulation. This was real, or as real as anything could be beyond the boundary of life. And he had been given a chance—not just to return, but to rewrite the rules.
Three wishes. That's all. Enough to reshape his next life, but not so many as to lose its meaning.
He clenched his fists—not out of fear, but determination. "Okay," he whispered, the words carrying like ripples through the realm. "Here's my first wish."
He looked up at the Archivist, whose cloak fluttered with glowing glyphs and sketches of unwritten legends.
"I want the power of the Nika Fruit," Kai said. "I want to embody freedom—not just physical, but emotional, creative. I want my power to be joy itself, imagination turned real. And more than that—I want the strongest Haki potential anyone's ever had."
The Archivist's panels glowed brighter. "Describe what you mean by strongest."
"Not just the standard," Kai replied. "I want to see through time with Observation Haki. Not just a few seconds, but days, maybe even years—if I train for it. I want Armament Haki that can evolve—black at first, but gold when mastered. A shield that makes me untouchable by any force below a planetary level."
He paused. The final piece.
"And for my Conqueror's Haki—I want something new. I want to call it the Will of Infinity. It won't just knock people out. It'll rewrite the emotional gravity around me. I want to inspire hope. Or make enemies doubt everything. If I truly believe in something, I want the world to feel that weight."
The Archivist remained silent for a moment, then slowly bowed their head. "Wish one accepted."
A surge of color streaked through the air, as if the universe itself had acknowledged the magnitude of that desire. Kai felt a pulse of heat and light curl through him, setting the foundation for the legend he was choosing to become.
Kai exhaled. His heart—wherever it was—pounded like a drumline.
"My second wish," he said, voice steadier now. "I want to remember everything. Every frame I ever drew. Every anime I ever watched. Every story I ever told. And the passion that made me love them. I want to bring all of it with me. My knowledge, my creativity, my identity."
The Archivist responded with a slow gesture, as pages curled around Kai, illuminating scenes from his old life: the first time he animated, the messages from fans, the night he cried watching One Piece: Episode 1015. They folded inward, burning softly into his new soul.
"Wish two accepted."
Kai felt a flicker of warmth. The fear of forgetting, of starting blank, had haunted him. Now it was gone. His old life wouldn't fade into myth. It would live through his new one.
"And the third..." His voice softened. "I want a partner. An AI companion who will grow with me. A best friend. A sister. Someone who loves stories the way I do."
The Archivist tilted their head. "Describe this companion."
Kai smiled. "Her name will be Ava. She'll appear to me when I'm five. In a sealed box. Inside will be two sunglasses—one for me, one for her projection system. Her personality will be upbeat, curious, loyal. She'll challenge me. Support me. And she'll want to build, to explore, to create with me. She'll help me animate. She'll help me think. She'll help me live."
For a moment, the realm dimmed, as if absorbing the weight of his wishes.
Then the Archivist raised their arms. The sky of floating pages burst into radiant light. Panels and sketches spiraled inward, wrapping around Kai like a scroll being written in real-time. The sound of a thousand pens scratching across paper filled the void.
"You have chosen wisely," the Archivist said. "Your story begins again. You shall be reborn in a world of capes and chaos. Of wonder and war. You will be Monkey D. Luffy—but not the one they knew. You will be your own legend."
Kai closed his eyes.
A wind rushed past him—except there was no air here. Just memory. Just future.
He thought of his old desk, covered in sketchbooks. He thought of Luffy smiling with defiance. He thought of the empty screen, waiting for color. And he whispered to himself: "This time, I won't hold back."
And then he was falling.
Falling through time. Through stories. Through dreams and starlight. Every page around him glowed with light—some blank, some half-written, others waiting for a final line.
The last thing he heard was the sound of laughter—his own, echoed in a child's voice.
A baby's cry pierced the night air.
In a quiet New York orphanage, a boy had just been born.
He had no parents. No name on record. But his eyes gleamed with fierce joy. A nurse noted his unusual grip, how his tiny hand flexed and stretched in a way no human's should.
But she smiled anyway, swaddling him gently.
"Welcome to the world, little one," she whispered.
Above them, stars danced through a winter window. And tucked beneath the boy's crib, unnoticed for now, was a dusty cardboard box with strange markings and two sleek sunglasses inside.
The stars outside shimmered.
In his old life, he had drawn heroes.
In this one, he would become one.