Ling was an ordinary boy, living an ordinary life. Right now, he was on a plane — business class — enjoying the time of his life, finally taking a break from university.
His dream had always been to travel the world: hopping from place to place, trying new foods, and immersing himself in different cultures.
On his way to the Philippines, he had brought along his favorite manga, One Piece. No matter how many times he read it, it never failed to bring him joy.
Suddenly, the plane began to shake. Ling instinctively grabbed the armrest, trying to steady himself.
"What the fuck is going on?" he muttered.
The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, echoing through the cabin.
"We're currently experiencing some turbulence. Everyone, please remain calm."
But Ling could tell something was wrong. There was a strain in the pilot's voice that sent a chill down his spine. He turned to the window beside him—and his heart nearly stopped.
One of the plane's wings was on fire.
"Oh my God," he whispered, his chest tightening with fear. He knew exactly what was happening — and what was about to happen.
He closed his eyes. His body trembled violently, but he forced a small, bitter smile.
"I guess this is it..." he murmured.
His words were swallowed by a deafening boom.
As his consciousness slipped away, the screams and cries of the other passengers faded, the sounds dissolving into nothingness — along with his life.
"Damnnnnnnnnnnn..."
His final thought stretched into the darkness.
Bright blue clouds drifted across the sky. The cries of seagulls echoed above, mingling with the rhythmic crashing of waves against the shore.
Lying motionless on the beach, a child seemed to have washed ashore—unconscious and alone.
It was noon, the peak of the village's daily bustle. At the dock, a fisherman preparing to set sail caught sight of the figure on the sand. His eyes widened in alarm.
The sun blazed down relentlessly. The boy's lips were cracked and dry from the heat. His shirt was stained with dried blood, and bruises marked his arms and legs.
The fisherman sprinted across the sand, heart pounding. He knelt beside the boy, then scooped him up in his arms and ran toward the village.
The man's name was Gaimon—a middle-aged fish vendor known to everyone in town. He had a receding hairline, a wrinkled face weathered by the sea, and a thick beard that twitched with every breath.
"Mayor!" Gaimon shouted as he approached a modest house near the village center.
Villagers turned at the commotion. Worry flickered across their faces as they saw the unconscious child in Gaimon's arms. They quickly made way for him.
"Gaimon, bring him in—quickly!" the mayor called out, holding the door open.
Gaimon carried the boy inside and gently laid him on a bed.
"Go find Makino," the mayor said with a grave tone.
"Tell Makino to bring warm and cool water, a clean cloth, and a change of clothes for the child," the mayor instructed.
The mayor—Woop Slap, the elder of Foosha Village—turned his attention to the unconscious boy.An aged but respected man, Woop Slap had little patience for pirates, except for a certain red-haired one.
He examined the child's injuries with a heavy heart.
The boy reminded him of Luffy—a wild, stubborn child who had only left the village three months ago with Garp.
"What happened to this kid?" the mayor wondered.
"Did a shipwreck happen nearby, washing him ashore? It's possible... but where are his parents? Did they perish at sea, leaving him alone?"
He sighed deeply.
He could only imagine the boy's grief and confusion once he woke.
The child appeared around nine or ten years old, around 150cm in height, with dark hair.
He was badly battered, but alive.
Just then, the door opened, and a young woman with dark green hair entered, kneeling beside the bed.
"Makino, you're here," the mayor said, relieved.
"What a poor child," Makino murmured, gently wiping sand from the boy's face with cool water.
She carefully applied ointment to his bruises and bandaged his wounds, changing his dirty clothes for fresh ones.
All they could do now was wait for him to wake.
The next day, at around the same time he was found, the boy stirred.
Makino, entering the room with a tray of food, paused as she saw him slowly open his eyes.
Blinking at the wooden ceiling overhead, the boy sat up, looking dazed.
'Did I survive? he thought.'
'Did someone rescue me? Why do I feel... shorter?'
His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a young woman with dark green hair smiling warmly at him.
"You've finally woken up," she said gently.
"Eat first. We can talk after."
Setting the food on the table, she left to give him space.
Ling was stunned.
Even though the meeting was brief, he instantly recognized her.
'Makino.'
The woman who was like a mother to Luffy.
How could he forget her? He was a One Piece fanatic, after all.
'Did I... transmigrate into One Piece?'
His stomach growled loudly, breaking his thoughts.
"I should eat first and sort this out later," he muttered, awkwardly getting up and making his way to the table.
As he ate, Ling pieced together his situation.
He had died in the plane crash—and now he was here. In the world he loved, but a world fraught with danger.
He had already died once. Dying again didn't scare him anymore. But this time, he swore, he would live life to the fullest—traveling, learning, and tasting everything the world had to offer.
'But who is the boy I took over? he wondered.'
In most transmigration stories, the traveler inherited memories. But he had none.
'Maybe I'll just keep my name: Ling.'
As he finished the last of his food and sat back on the bed, he continued thinking.
'I don't know the exact year, but judging from Makino's youthful appearance, she must be in her early twenties...'
An hour later, the door opened.
Makino entered with a basket of fruit, assisting the mayor at her side.
"You've woken up," the mayor said with a smile, he didn't know what's the name of Ling.
Ling picked up on it immediately and responded politely.
"My name is Ling."
"What a nice name," Makino said warmly, setting the basket on the table and heading to the kitchen to cut the fruit.
The mayor sat down near Ling.
"You gave us quite a scare, Ling. We found you unconscious near the docks. Luckily, Gaimon spotted you in time," he said kindly.
"Thank you," Ling said sincerely.
"You can call me Mayor," the old man said. "And that young lady is Makino."
Makino waved from the kitchen with a soft smile.
"You look so young, Ling," the mayor said, tilting his head. "How old are you?"
Ling thought for a moment.
Judging by his height, voice, and body, he estimated he was about ten years old.
"I just turned ten," Ling replied.
"Hmm. You're older than Luffy was," Makino chuckled. "I miss Luffy already. Should I visit him?"
"What's there to miss about that troublemaker?" the mayor grumbled, but Ling could hear the affection hidden in his words.
'So, Luffy left three months ago with Garp,' Ling thought.
'Ace and Sabo should have saved him from the Grey Terminal by now. That means it's 1512—ten years before Luffy sets sail and seven years before Ace leaves for the seas.'
'Maybe I can meet them… Ace, Sabo, and Luffy... my favorite characters.'
His heart thudded with excitement—but he quickly calmed himself.
'I mustn't interfere too much. I can't mess up Luffy's future.'
Clearing the silence, Makino approached with a plate of neatly sliced apples.
She handed one to Ling.
"Luffy? Who's that?" Ling asked, trying to confirm the timeline.
Before the mayor could speak, Makino answered, smiling fondly.
"Luffy was a kid who lived here in the village. You said you're ten, right? That makes you three years older than him."
"He's a bright boy, always shouting about becoming a pirate. Garp took him somewhere a few months ago. We haven't seen him since."
Her words matched the manga exactly, reassuring Ling.
He had time—time to train, grow, and prepare.
After Makino finished her story, the mayor gently asked about Ling's past—where he came from, what had happened.
Ling, lacking any memory from the body's previous owner, improvised.
He explained that he and his parents had been traveling by ship to the Goa Kingdom when a storm hit.
Everything else was a blur.
The mayor accepted it with a sigh, seeing no reason to doubt a traumatized child.
Satisfied, they left Ling to rest.
Makino promised to return later with dinner.