The sea was quiet.
Too quiet.
Which was a problem, because Riven, future King of the Pirates (self-declared), was currently drifting across the East Blue on what could only be described as a barely-floating bundle of sad wood tied together with vines.
He hadn't eaten in two days. He hadn't bathed in five. His clothes were basically rags. His raft creaked every time he shifted his weight, which was terrifying, because that meant it could fall apart at any moment.
But he still grinned like an idiot.
"I'm gonna get the One Piece," he said, raising one fist dramatically toward the sky. "And when I do, I'm gonna laugh in the face of everyone who told me this plan was stupid!"
The sky responded by sending a single seagull to poop on his head.
He sighed. "Deserved."
Riven had no crew, no ship, no Devil Fruit, no money, no sword, no shoes, and absolutely no idea where he was.
What he did have was a stick (which he called his "captain's spear"), a bag of soggy bread crumbs, and the most powerful tool of all — blind confidence.
"I may not have powers," he muttered, chewing a crumb and instantly regretting it, "but I've got heart. And heart always wins."
The sea waved back sarcastically.
He lay back on the raft, arms behind his head. "You know, most pirates probably start with, like, maps or plans or… food. But that's just playing on easy mode."
A strong gust of wind blew one of his vines loose. A chunk of the raft floated away.
"…Okay, maybe medium-hard mode."
Suddenly, he saw something on the horizon.
A ship. A real one. With sails and flags and everything.
He jumped up, waving his arms wildly. "HEY! HEY! FUTURE KING OF THE PIRATES HERE! PICK ME UP! I'M NOT THAT CRAZY, I SWEAR!"
He waved his stick like a madman. "FREE CREW MEMBER MATERIAL RIGHT HERE!"
The ship started turning.
Riven's eyes widened. "Wait. That flag… skull with a sword through its mouth..."
He squinted.
"Oh. Crap. Pirates."
Real pirates.
The kind that shot first and asked questions never.
He sat back down slowly and started paddling the opposite direction with his stick.
"I'm not running away," he whispered to himself. "I'm strategically relocating."
The raft didn't move.
"…Crap."
The pirate ship got closer.
Too close.
Riven's raft was doing its best impression of a drowning log, and his "strategic relocation" plan had failed because, surprise, you can't row away from a real ship with one stick and hope for the best.
He watched as the shadow of the massive vessel loomed over him. Cannons lined the side. The figurehead was a giant skull with glowing red eyes. Someone on deck shouted, "Looks like we caught a stray!"
"Okay, stay cool," Riven whispered to himself. "Maybe they're nice pirates. Maybe they hand out fruit baskets and ask about your day before murdering you."
A rope ladder dropped down.
Riven looked up. "Oh. This is happening."
With no better option (and no raft left, since it finally broke in half with a sad glorp), he grabbed the ladder and climbed aboard.
The deck was filled with rough-looking men. Scars. Missing teeth. One guy was holding a chicken for some reason. Everyone stared at him like he was a free meal.
"Name," barked a large man with a square beard and a sword bigger than Riven's entire body.
"Riven D. Ark. Pirate. Captain. Legend. In progress."
The crew laughed like he'd just told the world's dumbest joke — which he had.
"Captain, huh?" the big guy grinned. "Well, Captain Riven, welcome aboard the Blood Fang. We don't get many idiots climbing aboard on purpose."
"Yeah, well," Riven said, dusting himself off, "I go where the wind takes me. And the wind said 'get on the scary ship or die.' So here I am."
They threw him in the storage hold.
Which, to be fair, was the nicest room he'd seen all week. It had walls.
"Cool, cool," he said to no one, rubbing his arms. "Alive for now. Still no food. Still broke. Still no powers."
He flopped back against a crate.
Thunk.
He blinked.
"...Wait. This crate smells weird."
He popped it open. Inside was a purple fruit with swirls all over it. Looked like something between a pineapple and a seashell.
His stomach rumbled.
"Okay. I know what this is. It's a Devil Fruit. Legendary, powerful, worth millions…"
He stared at it.
"…But also food."
He paused. "This is definitely a stupid decision."
He took a bite.
It was, without question, the most disgusting thing he'd ever tasted. Like if soap and regret had a baby.
He gagged. "BLEHHHH. That tasted like armpit and sadness!"
But it was too late.
His bones started to itch. His fingers cracked and shifted. A chunk of bone slid out of his arm like it had a mind of its own. His skin rippled weirdly.
"…Oh. Oh no. I think I just got powers."
He poked his cheek. It turned to bone.
He poked it again. "Cool."
Then he panicked. "HOLY CRAP I'M TURNING INTO A SKELETON."