Salt.
That was the first thing he tasted. Not blood, not smoke—just salt. Sharp and stinging on his tongue.
Then came the pain. A pounding headache like a hammer against his skull. His body was heavy, like he'd been underwater for days. Every breath he took felt too real, too loud.
His fingers twitched.
"Is he… alive?" a voice said, distant and echoing.
A second voice, gruffer, replied. "No corpse twitches like that. Give him space."
Sun groaned as his eyes blinked open.
The sky above him was cloudless—deep blue, endless, perfect. The sun beamed down with an intensity he didn't remember. It felt… cleaner than the city sky of Manila.
He sat up fast—too fast. The world spun. His head ached. His shirt clung to him with sweat and sand.
"W-Where the hell am I…?" he croaked.
"You're on Raftrock Island, kid," said the first voice.
Sun looked around. He was sitting on a beach, surrounded by a few men—sailors? Pirates? They wore patched shirts, loose trousers, some with sashes and blades. One had a parrot. Another chewed on a matchstick.
He blinked again, trying to focus. "Wait… you said Raftrock?"
"Yeah. You deaf?" said the man with the matchstick. "We found you half-dead on the reef. Almost fish food."
Raftrock…
He searched his brain. That wasn't a real place. That wasn't in the Philippines. That wasn't in any map he knew.
Then it hit him.
The bookstore. The child. The truck.
His heart raced. "I died…"
The memory stabbed into him—his parents, his uncle, the gun, the cold floor.
"No… No, no, no…"
"You all right there, kid?" asked the one with the parrot, kneeling beside him. "You're sweating like you saw a ghost."
Sun scrambled backward on the sand, panic crawling up his throat.
"This isn't real. This can't be real."
But the wind felt real. The pain in his ribs felt real. The stench of the salty air and fish guts felt real.
He looked down at his hands.
They were… different. His fingers were longer. Calloused, like he'd done manual labor. His arms were leaner, tighter. His clothes weren't the ones he wore in Manila—they were rougher, more like rags. A wide red sash was tied around his waist, and on his left shoulder was a strange mark—a circular scar shaped like a burning sun.
"What the hell… is this my body?" he muttered.
"Oi," said the tallest man. "You got a name, or are you just gonna keep mumbling?"
Sun stared at them for a moment, then nodded slowly.
"…Sun."
"That's a weird name," said the matchstick guy.
"I'm not from here," Sun muttered, not entirely sure who he was talking to—them, or himself.
Onboard the Ship
Later that day, the crew took him aboard their ship, a small brig called The Coral Queen. It wasn't much—patched sails, a few cannons, creaky boards—but it was afloat.
They gave him bread, fruit, and water. Sun ate like a starving beast, his body still adjusting.
The captain introduced himself as Morrik, a middle-aged pirate with sunburned skin and a wooden leg.
"We ain't big timers like the ones you hear about," Morrik said, swigging from a jug. "But we make our way."
"Big timers?" Sun asked, wiping his mouth.
"Like Roger, of course."
Sun froze.
"Roger… Gol D. Roger?"
Morrik's eyes narrowed. "You know him?"
"I've heard… stories," Sun lied. "Is he… alive?"
Morrik chuckled. "Alive? That bastard's ruling the Grand Line right now! Sailed past Loguetown last week. Heard he even punched a Sea King in the face just for fun."
Sun's hands trembled.
He was in the past. In the One Piece world. During Gol D. Roger's time.
This couldn't be some weird fan dream. This was real.
"What year is it?" Sun asked quickly.
The crew looked at each other.
"What are you, a historian?" Morrik laughed. "By Navy calendar? Think it's 1484."
Sun gasped. 1484. That was about 20 years before Luffy was even born.
He leaned back, staring at the wooden ceiling of the cabin. This was no accident.
"Why am I here?" he whispered.
The First Night
That night, as the ship gently rocked on the waves, Sun lay on a hammock staring up at the stars.
He couldn't sleep.
He remembered the bullet entering his skull. The voice in the void. The feeling of being reborn.
He clutched his chest. That strange mark was still there. A circular sun pattern—almost glowing faintly.
Was this fate? Punishment? A second chance?
Then he whispered the only word that brought comfort.
"One Piece…"
If this was really that world, then what did he do now?
The Next Day – Chaos
Morning came fast. The crew shouted above deck.
"Marine ship off the port side!"
Sun leaped from his hammock and rushed out. Sure enough, a sleek Navy vessel with white sails and a blue flag was speeding toward them.
"Damn it, we're sitting ducks!" Morrik roared.
Cannons fired.
BOOM!
The Coral Queen shook violently. Wood splinters flew everywhere.
Sun ducked behind a barrel, heart racing.
"This is happening. This is real."
He watched the pirates prepare for battle—swords drawn, rifles cocked, fear and fury dancing in their eyes.
Then he saw one of the youngest crew members—Tobi, maybe 15—get hit by a cannon blast. His leg torn off. Blood sprayed across the deck.
"NO!"
Sun ran to him, instincts overriding fear.
"Stay with me!" he shouted.
"I-I don't wanna die!" Tobi screamed.
Then—instinct again.
Sun felt something inside him click—like muscle memory.
A blue dome of light formed around him and Tobi. His fingers moved on their own, tracing signs in the air.
"Room."
A strange field pulsed from his palm, forming a sphere.
He didn't understand how—but he reached out and touched Tobi's chest.
His heart.
He could feel it.
Somehow… he could operate without tools.
He screamed, sweat pouring down his face as he tried to reconnect arteries, stop bleeding, seal flesh—like a surgeon working by instinct.
For a moment, it looked like it worked.
Then—BANG!
A Marine rifle fired.
A bullet slammed into Tobi's head.
Sun's sphere vanished.
Tobi's eyes stared wide and lifeless.
"…No."
Sun stood up, trembling. Blood on his hands.
He looked up at the Marine that fired. The man smiled. "One less pirate brat."
Sun's vision blurred.
He raised his hand again.
The Room expanded.
Then—
"Shambles."
In a flash of light, Sun appeared right in front of the Marine.
The man's eyes widened.
Sun didn't speak.
He reached into the man's chest—
And ripped his heart out.
Later…
The Coral Queen managed to escape.
They sailed into fog, barely avoiding destruction.
Sun sat in the corner of the deck, staring at the heart in his hand.
It no longer beat.
"What… am I?" he whispered.
Morrik sat beside him, quiet.
"You saved the ship," the captain said.
"I killed him," Sun replied.
Morrik nodded. "That's what pirates do."
"I'm not a pirate."
"Then what are you?"
Sun didn't answer.