"What the hell is going on here?"
Perona's already large eyes widened even more. She had heard bizarre stories back home about the Grand Line—its madness was practically legendary—but nothing had prepared her for this island.
"Hello, young miss," said a man with an unsettlingly wide grin.
Before Perona could respond, a grand piano dropped out of the sky and flattened the man like a cartoon. There was a muffled voice from underneath the wreckage.
"I'm okay!" he called out.
"...Right," Perona muttered. "Weird."
She continued into the small village, her boots crunching on gravel as she passed a scene that made her stop in her tracks. An old man with a head full of gray hair was inexplicably losing it—strand by strand—until he was completely bald in the span of seconds. Next to him, his wife of 53 years threw down her apron and announced, without emotion, that she was filing for divorce.
Perona huffed. "How uncute."
In her world, people were rarely cute. The only things that qualified were stuffed animals—preferably the misshapen, creepy kind. Everything else was just... disappointing.
Suddenly, a thunderous bleating erupted behind her.
A herd of sheep stampeded through the street, chasing after a screaming shepherd. Several of the sheep held torches in their mouths, their eyes gleaming with revolutionary zeal as if they'd just overthrown their pasture.
Perona blinked. "Okay... definitely weird."
Stomach rumbling, she headed for the nearest restaurant. After that long, bumpy journey, she was famished. And a hungry Perona was a moody Perona—which said a lot, since she was already moody when well-fed. At this point, she was a walking threat.
She slammed into a seat and waved at the waitress.
"Finally. Bring me your best meat. The juiciest cut you've got!"
The waitress approached with an apologetic smile.
"I'm so sorry, miss… we're completely out of meat."
Perona stared at her, dumbfounded.
"What?! You're a restaurant! How can you not have meat?!"
The waitress twisted the edge of her apron nervously.
"Well… it's because our only butcher was struck by lightning."
"Struck by lightning?!" Perona repeated, incredulous. "What kind of dumb luck is that?"
"He survived," the waitress added quickly. "But he's... not exactly in working condition. His son tried to take over, but the animals have turned... rebellious."
Perona paused, thinking back to the torch-wielding sheep.
"Right."
This place was chaos. Not the kind of chaos she usually caused with her ghosts—this was something... weirder. More organic. More insane.
It was almost like… a curse. Yet instead of fear, her heart fluttered. The destruction, the despair—it was all so wonderfully, horribly right.
After forcing down a meal loaded with far too many vegetables—Perona loathed healthy food—she stormed out of the restaurant, her mood black as storm clouds. As if the day couldn't get any worse, she looked up just in time to see a woman standing frozen in the middle of the street.
Then, something huge descended from the sky—a scaly, winged beast that looked suspiciously like a dragon cosplaying on short notice. With a dramatic roar and absolutely no context, it swooped down, grabbed the completely random woman off the street, and vanished into the clouds like it was late for an appointment.
Perona blinked. "No way. Dragons? Seriously? I thought those were for fairy tales."
But this was the Grand Line. Of course it had dragons. Of course.
Shaking her head in disbelief, she wandered off. A few blocks later, as if summoned by her boredom, a garish casino flashed its neon lights at her like a siren call. Grumbling and still in a sour mood, she pushed the doors open and stepped inside.
The first thing she saw was a scruffy guy with a cigarette dangling from his lips, parked in front of a gambler's machine. Bells chimed and lights blazed as the machine erupted in celebration.
"I'm rich!" the guy howled, arms raised as a flood of Berry poured out of the machine—thousands upon thousands, like an unstoppable river of cash.
Perona's eyes gleamed. "Think of all the cute accessories I could buy with that... plush bats, gothic dresses, pink parasols…" A mischievous grin spread across her face. She tiptoed closer, already plotting how to "liberate" some of that money.
But just as she was about to make her move, the cigarette slipped from the guy's mouth. It hit the wooden floor—and instantly, flames leapt to life.
FWOOM.
The fire spread fast. Within seconds, screams echoed through the casino as the building was swallowed in smoke and fire.
"MY MONEY!" Perona shrieked, eyes wide with horror.
Her ghosts were immune to fire. She wasn't.
Cursing the universe, vegetables, and that idiot with the cigarette, Perona turned and bolted, just as the ceiling began to collapse behind her.
Perona liked cursed things. Actually—she loved them. Haunted castles, cursed dolls, rooms thick with ghostly whispers? That was her happy place.
And this strange little village? It was paradise. The eerie atmosphere, the accidental misery, the low-level despair—it all vibed with her on a spiritual level. She'd never felt so at home.
The sky was perpetually grey. Windows were boarded shut. Not a soul in sight—until she saw him.
A boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen, same age as her. He had short, curly black hair, a lean frame, and ridiculously vivid blue eyes. Not the handsomest guy alive, but there was definitely something… striking about him.
"Hmph… cute," she muttered absently.
Then her expression froze.
Cute?!
Perona never called anyone cute. Especially not a guy! Something was very wrong here.
She tried to shake it off, but he just stood there in the middle of the cracked road like a lost puppy, glancing around with quiet confusion.
"...Cute."
Oh no. She said it again.
Before she could collect her scrambled thoughts, a huge brute of a man—bandit or pirate, didn't matter—stormed toward the boy, gun in hand, and aimed it straight at his chest.
"Oh, come on!" Perona growled. "Really? I just found a possibly cursed, possibly cute guy!"
Logic had no business in this moment. Perona never helped strangers. Usually, she was the one causing the chaos. And yet… she stepped forward.
But she didn't have to.
Because the sky shattered with a thunderous crack.
Something enormous descended—no, plummeted—from above, slamming into the gunman like a meteor. The ground erupted into a crater. Dust and debris flew everywhere.
When it cleared, Perona stared in disbelief.
A giant lay in the crater, broad and hulking, twin horns protruding from his head. His massive chest heaved. Then…
He began to sob.
"Oh shit," the cute boy stammered, eyes wide. "Is that—? No way. That's Kaido!"
The infamous Emperor of the Sea curled into a weepy ball, tears flowing like waterfalls. "I WANTED TO DIE!"
Perona blinked.
"What is happening?" she whispered.
The boy gently reached up and patted Kaido's massive arm like a child comforting a depressed bear. "There, there. Someday, someone will punch you into the afterlife. You'll get your wish."
"You think so?" Kaido sniffled, peering down at the boy.
Then, suddenly, his expression shifted.
Dark. Menacing. Dangerous.
"Wait a damn second. You want me to die, huh? You little bastard."
Kaido stood up, showing his full height. He looked down on the guy who just insulted him, some of his skin turned into scales, showing the massive dragon that was hiding beneath this man.
"Die, you puny insect!"
Kaido's massive fist came crashing down, aiming to obliterate the boy in a single, brutal strike. There was no way he could dodge it. This was the end—
Until the world itself screamed.
The ground rumbled violently.
BOOM.
An earthquake tore through the village, splitting the earth open like paper.
"A FUCKING EARTHQUAKE?" Perona squeaked, stumbling back as the street beneath her cracked like glass. "What the hell is going on?!"
In the span of five minutes:
1. She saw a cursed village.
2. Met a weirdly cute guy.
3. Watched Kaido fall from the sky like a suicidal meteor.
4. Witnessed said Emperor cry.
5. And now, an actual natural disaster saved Cute Guy from being turned into a human pancake.
"Damn… Cute Guy has the Devil's own luck," she muttered, watching as Kaido's fist missed by inches—thanks to the ground suddenly collapsing under both of them.
The cute boy tumbled backward, barely catching himself on a broken slab of stone.
Around them, buildings cracked, windows shattered, and thick clouds of dust billowed into the air. The village was dissolving into pure chaos.
Kaido staggered, blinking like he couldn't believe the earth had just sucker-punched him.
"This doesn't make any sense!" Perona shouted over the rumble, levitating slightly to avoid falling into one of the gaping crevices.
And in the middle of all this madness, the boy stood up, dusted himself off… and smiled like this was just a Tuesday.
"Grandpa Whitebeard!"
Perona's head whipped around.
Another giant loomed into view, casting a shadow over the already-ruined village. This one had a crescent-shaped white mustache as wide as a ship's hull and a presence that made the air feel heavy.
He cracked his neck like thunder. "Grandpa? I'm not aware I've got a grandson," he said with a deep, amused chuckle, gazing down at the cute guy with a mixture of curiosity and confusion.
Then, his expression shifted—subtle, but dangerous.
"Strange…" he murmured, narrowing his eyes. "You've got the same aura as Roger about you. I don't like that aura."
The boy just grinned, casually brushing debris off his shoulder.
"Back where I come from," he said, "we'd call it plot armor."
Whitebeard tilted his head. "Plot... what now?"
"Plot armor. It's like regular armor, but it's made of narrative convenience and cosmic favoritism."
Perona blinked. "What the hell is he even saying?"
Whitebeard scratched his chin. "Never heard of it." Then he turned, his presence darkening like a storm front. "Step aside, boy. Kaido made me mad. I'm gonna remind my old comrade why nobody messes with my children."
CRACK.
He slammed his bisento into the ground, sending a quake through the already broken village. Kaido, still pulling himself out of a crater, looked up and froze.
And Cute Guy?
He stood suddenly beside her.
"Hello," the boy said with that same disarming grin, stretching out his hand toward her as if none of the world-shaking insanity around them even mattered. "I'm Ezio."
Perona blinked. The village was literally crumbling behind them, Kaido and Whitebeard were gearing up for an Emperor-tier brawl, and this guy was just… introducing himself?
Still, against her better judgment, she took his hand.
"…Perona," she muttered, half-baffled, half-curious. His palm was warm, steady. Unreasonably calm.
He studied her for a moment, head tilted like he was figuring out a puzzle.
"Hm," Ezio said thoughtfully. "You're weirdly lucky for someone who floats around in ghosts and sarcasm."
"Says the guy who survived Kaido and an earthquake in the same breath," she shot back, but there was a strange flutter in her chest. Annoying. She didn't like flutters.
Then he said it.
"What do you say?" Ezio asked, eyes gleaming. "Want to join my crew?"
Perona stared at him, stunned. "You… have a crew?"
"I will," he replied smoothly. "It just hasn't officially formed yet. But I've got plot armor, mysterious origins, and a death wish from the universe. It's only a matter of time."
She paused, looked at the sky, looked at the battlefield, then looked back at him.
"…You're completely insane."
Ezio's grin widened. "You'll fit right in."
Perona had no idea why she said it.
In fact, she didn't mean to say it. It was like her mouth moved on its own—her brain still screaming in protest somewhere far behind, buried under layers of disbelief, confusion, and just a touch of existential dread.
It was as if something outside herself—some bizarre, otherworldly force—grabbed her by the vocal cords and yanked the words out.
"…Alright," she heard herself say, her own voice sounding distant and unreal, "I'll join your crew."
Ezio's grin didn't falter. If anything, it widened. Like he knew. Like he expected this.
"Excellent," he said, as casually as if she'd just agreed to grab lunch with him. "That's one down."
Perona narrowed her eyes, dragging her hand back like it had been burned. "What the hell did you just do to me?"
"Nothing," Ezio said innocently. "Just offered you an opportunity. You said yes."
"Not on purpose!"
He shrugged. "Still counts."
Somewhere in the distance, Kaido and Whitebeard were trading mountain-shattering blows, each punch lighting up the sky like a natural disaster. But Perona barely noticed anymore. She was too busy staring at Ezio like he was a walking paradox wrapped in plot threads and chaos.
"Are you cursed?" she asked bluntly.
"Probably," Ezio said cheerfully. "But I prefer the term fate-entangled. Has a nice ring to it."
There it was again. That weird, squirmy feeling in her stomach. Not hunger. Definitely not food poisoning. Ugh—feelings? Gross.
"I usually like cursed things," she muttered. "I collect them, I decorate with them, I vibe with them. But you?"
She gave him a long, suspicious glare.
"I don't know if I like you."
She told herself that—but even she knew it was a lie.
He just winked. "Welcome to the crew, Perona."