Make Love, Not War Chapter 1: I LIVE AGAIN!, an one piece fanfic

CHAPTER 1: I LIVE AGAIN

Rating: T

Disclaimer: One Piece belongs to Oda Eiichiro.

Warnings: Slight crack, Swearing, Semi Self-insert, Gender Bender, Slight abuse of the fourth wall, Identity Issues.

A/N: Yes, it's one of those. A dreaded self-insert.

Enjoy.

Or try to enjoy it.

On a side note, for those of you who read my other fanfics that I left to rot in a corner, fear not, for I will be continuing those stories. Or at least I will try to. This fanfic will be my main focus.

Eram quod es, eris quod sum - I was what you were, you will be what I am.

Okay, so to cut a long story short, I died.

Moving on- Wait, you actually wanted to hear all the useless, irrelevant details of my horribly mundane life? Now you don't?

...I'll put it right down here just to spite you.

My death wasn't anything significant. Neither was it tragic. It was one of those typical vehicle collisions that frequently appeared on the news but you never really gave a shit about. Merely acknowledging their existence before moving on with my life was what I had done a thousand times before, and what I would have continued doing had I survived it.

My life wasn't anything special either. I considered myself to be just a book smart nineteen year old chick with an amazing sense of humor and wit, studying to secure myself a future I had no clue why I was studying for. I did not have any dreams or lofty goals. My grades were consistently in the top five percentile of my school and my social life was not exactly booming, neither was it withering pathetically. I supposed my popularity (or lack there of) was partially due to my reputation of acting a little unhinged at times which scared most people off. It couldn't be helped. Some people were just unable to handle my magnificence and sheer presence.

I used to live with my father in a big, gloomy house that looked like something out of a B-rated horror flick. We had a mutual agreement not to speak to each other unless absolutely necessary, and we still do, only now it's much easier considering that I have moved far, far away from that hell hole, and into my grandparent's still considerably big but reasonably sized house. He was a shit father anyway. Most of my childhood was spent wandering the dark echoing corridors, inspecting the dust that coagulated at every corner and hanging out around the cliffs near the mansion.

Anyway, the dull monotony of life changed for the better when I discovered manga. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, I became an avid reader of One Piece. I didn't fall in love with it like most other fans did, but there was something strangely addictive about reading it. There was something about the manga that just made me want to lose myself within it and never surface again, but reality was - and will always be - a bitch. Time went by, and as I progressed through the story, I finally recognized the feelings that was burning within me.

It was envy. I was envious, no, jealous of the characters. One Piece was a remarkably unrealistic story with nigh impossible dreams, and I was fucking jealous of characters that were not even real.

Wonderful.

There was a tiny part of me that I tried to ruthlessly suppress but failed, a corner of my heart that longed for what they had that I did not.

Every single one of Luffy's crewmates - including him- had freedom to dream, and a dream to chase after fruitlessly. Foolish ones. And they shared their dreams together. They had a reason to live. A reason to continue on this crazy adventure. And I wanted one too.

There just never seemed to be anything for me to live for. I had no dreams, no aspirations, nothing. The closest I ever got to having one was when I read Naruto and Nabari No ou, decided that ninjas were cool, and told my friends and grandparents that I wanted to be a ninja just to fuck with their minds. Their reactions were pretty bland, but when I kept on pressing on about it, buying ninja merchandise and even signing up for martial art classes, they started getting worried. Two of my friends, on the other hand, thoroughly supported my 'dream', but that wasn't saying much as one of them was a samurai otaku freak and the other wanted to make a serum capable of transforming him into the next Captain America or the hulk.

...You could say that my dream was to rid myself of society's constraints, be free to do whatever the hell I want and find a dream worth living for.

By then, I had already cemented my reputation as an eccentric but still kinda cool chick(I think?). I had a group of quirky friends, and was never really alone. Yet, I felt empty and disconnected from reality. It did occur to me that if I didn't have anything to live for, why not just end this farce early and permanently? I never followed through with that line of thought, too obsessed with One Piece to let go.

Well, my obsession did keep me alive for a good two years.

And then I died.

It was a quick and unfortunately excruciating death. The sun was setting, and the streets were getting darker. I was dressed in all black like a true ninja, compelling me to lurk within the shadows, hopefully unseen and unnoticed. I did almost give a passing grandma an aneurysm, so kudos to me.

The road happened to devoid of any moving vehicles, and I was fucking done with life. So I strode across the road with a death wish, morbidly chuckling over the irony of having a truck hit me and ending everything at once.

The truck hit me.

...Yeah. That basically happened. Talk about irony.

The thing about getting hit by a fucking truck, is that it hurts like a bitch. The dying part comes later, and it hurts much worse than getting hit by a truck. The experience is nigh impossible to describe, far beyond mortal comprehension. My thought process was even less comprehensive. A general description of what exactly ran through my mind at that point of time would be something like this: PAiNpaIN Truck? MY ONE PIECE COLLECTION FuCK-$#!? #$?* Bleeding? I'm bleedi- Menstruating? Wait, wha-

The second to last thought on my mind was that I hadn't found a dream to live for yet. That made me slightly depressed for about a millisecond, until I realized that I was unlikely to survive this experience so it didn't matter anymore, which was both great and somehow even more depressing.

My last thought was just me regretting my decision to forgo that last One Piece chapter of the arc I bookmarked around an hour ago and dying before my dad kicked the bucket, so I couldn't arrange for I'm Going to Live Forever by Fama or Another One Bites the Dust to play at his funeral. Priorities, right?

Then I blacked out.

The next thing I knew, I was floating around in some cesspit of emptiness and darkness. One moment I was sprawled out on the ground in a no doubt undignified position, feeling crippling pain and bleeding to death, and the next moment I was here.

I was no idiot. Despite my suicidal tendencies and reckless behavior that suggested otherwise, I was actually reputed amongst my peers for being pretty smart and a generally reliable tutor, at least when I wasn't fucking around. I had a brain, I just choose to use it selectively. That collision with that vapid truck? It came towards me at full speed. I knew I didn't survive it. There was no need for denial or any of that bullshit. I was dead.

...Where was my white light?

I drifted around aimlessly for what felt like an eternity to me, bored out of my fucking mind. If you thought living was monotonous, then death would probably be murder on your dead spirit. Death made calculus seem thrilling in comparison. Hell, calculus was probably much more thrilling then this. There was nothing to do but hang around waiting for something mentally stimulating to occur. Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be happening anytime soon.

What calculus class taught me though, was how to be very, very patient.

And so I waited.

My patience paid off eventually. A tiny crack appeared in the darkness, and a small sliver of light shone through. I drifted closer, scrutinizing the fracture with mild interest. The crack widened invitingly, forming a hole large enough for me to peek through. I didn't peek though it. I jabbed my middle and index finger at the tiny breach until it gave into my unspoken demands and broke apart into a slightly larger hole, which I then proceeded to punch at repeatedly. I knew that the risk of me losing a finger or my entire hand was probably really high, but I was dead. Why should I care?

Eventually, my entire fist slammed through the crack. I retracted it with slight difficulty, admiring my work with misplaced pride.

A second later, the crack spontaneously extended a good 10 metres. I barely had any time to think 'Oh shit' before the world spilt into two, replacing the comforting darkness with piercing light.

...This wasn't the kind of white light I asked for.

Ai was tired.

He was tired of travelling, tired of searching, tired of wanting revenge, but he couldn't stop, not when the burning need for vengeance was all he had left fueling his will to move foward, to live. He wanted to end it all, but he was so close to achieving his goal; it would be a waste if he were to stop now.

A trickle of blood dripped down the side of his face. He barely gave it any attention, absentmindedly wiping it away, far too focused on identifying the bodies that strewed the grass around him. Some were merely unconscious, some were dead. One of them was the man he had dedicated his whole existence to hunting down and killing: Joplin, Captain of the Sunfly Pirates. He just didn't know which one of them was the captain himself.

Now, all he had to do was to find that piece of shit and erase him from the face of this world permanently. Accomplishing this was harder than the thought it would be - Joplin preferred to dress like the rest of his crew without standing out, which made locating him significantly trying.

This issue was quickly solved with Joplin surging up when his back was turned, sword ready to stab down. Unluckily for him, Ai's reflexes were much, much faster, and the shadow his hulking figure casted gave him away. As the sword came swinging down, Ai smoothly dodged to the right, drawing his daggers and slicing though the tendons in Joplin's right arm with one swift movement, following up with a sandal to his face. Joplin went down hard.

Every shout, every yell of pain he illicited brought Ai grim satisfaction. But nothing in that he could ever do was enough for Joplin to truly pay for what he did. Ai stepped onto his body, balancing on his torso, making sure to grind down hard, and crouched down to gaze into the face of the man he hated most with cold, amber eyes.

Joplin snarled back.

If he had been the same person he was a few years ago, he would have erupted with cold rage and tortured the man where he lay, letting him die a slow, painful death. Now, the call for retribution within him was still there, but dulled and weakened. After more than ten years of hatred and uncontrollable fury, his emotions were all burned out, leaving behind a hollow shell running on fumes and on the verge of collapsing.

At the sight of Joplin desperately reaching for his weapon a good few feet away, Ai did not hesitate to throw down a couple of knifes, nailing his arm into the earth. His screaming barely fazed him.

"You killed my mother," Ai told him dispassionately. "And then you burned my village to the ground."

Joplin kept on screaming. Ai sighed and lined his dagger up with his throat. The screaming cut off with a whimper.

"This is your penance."

The dagger moved abruptly and blood sprayed the air. Joplin died silently and quickly. His body continued twitching for nearly a minute or so, before finally going slack.

Ai stepped off Joplin's body with a slight stumble. He felt lighter, as though a huge burden had been lifted off his back. Maybe it was just the blood loss talking.

Regardless, he'd finally achieved his life long goal, finally avenged the death of his village.

The sense of accomplishment he felt left as quickly as it came. He stared down at his bloodstained fingers, feeling lost. What was he going to do now that had done what he swore to do? There was nothing left for him. His mother was dead, his father absent and most likely to remain that way, and his home destroyed by the man he just killed. His reason to continue living was gone.

...Revenge was bittersweet.

He staggered towards the closest tree and leaned on it for support. Slowly, he slid downwards until he found himself sitting down with his back against the truck. Tears began their descend, but he refused to acknowledge them.

He was just so tired.

Slowly, his eyes began to slide close. His wounds hurt, and he was certain that he had a minor concussion, but exhaustion weighed his bones down and numbed his mind. He wanted to sleep and never wake up.

He never did.

Instead, a girl who thought herself dead and had no business being alive opened her eyes.

When I woke up, it was pouring. Literally.

I didn't mind the rain. In my humble opinion, it was a major improvement from the needlessly bright rays of the sun. But right now? I was soaked to the bone, shivering from the cold, and pissed off at the world. The pounding headache I was sporting only made things worse.

A sharp pain shot through my brain. Visions of a woman I somehow knew and recognized as my mother assaulted my head. They flashed past one another at a speed too fast for me to truly process, rapidly accelerating before coming to an abrupt halt, fading away slowly. I knew that there was no way in hell she could be my mother - the woman in question bit the dust two days after giving life to me- but I didn't give two shit about who she was; she could be my aunt from the Bahamas or a long lost sibling who lived in the middle east for most of her life for all I cared, and it still wouldn't matter much to me. The burning question here was this: How the hell am I still alive and kicking?

I stood up shakily, ignoring how that simple movement made my head spin. My wounds stung and hurt like a bitch, but I forced myself to stand. Breathing was hard, so I pulled down my face mask and took a deep breath.

Hang on.

Since when did I go around wearing a mask? And why the hell was I surrounded by trees? I took a cursory glance around. There wasn't much to see besides fog, trees, rain, and more trees. Where was the darkness? Oh well. At least this place had more than just endless murk.

The fog parted to display a dead body. Followed by a second. And a third. Corpses slowly revealed themselves, littering the clearing I was in. And right in the middle of their broken carcasses, lay the man that I... recalled loathing and apparently killing. Joplin.

-sliced through his throat, watching as his body twitched and shuddered and convulsed-

I was calm. I knew this bodies.

-nothing left but charred skeletons and wood and cinders in a ghost town that was crumbling at the seams, they burned it all down, THEY BURNED-

I knew-

-Your mother hung feebly in their grasp, bruised and battered, but her smile still managed to be brighter than the sun. "Don't worry about me, Ai," she told you. "I'll be fine-

I knew nothing.

-kill them all for what they did, you swear that you would kill-

That's right. I didn't know these people. Yet I did. No, that wasn't right. I never saw these people in my life before. I killed them for- no, I didn't kill them.

My hands shook.

I staggered forward, swaying back and forth on unsteady legs in a valiant effort to avoid both the puddles of blood and rain water. I failed miserably. My depth perception was off. I had wounds I didn't know existed until now. My body felt both weaker yet stronger than what I was accustomed to, and my movements were awkward, like I had just woken up from a really long nap or in the wrong body. I was having visions, or rather, remembering things I never seen or heard or done before.

I was supposed to be dead. The dead don't breathe, don't feel pain, nor do they come back to life.

Well, at least that was what common sense told me. Supernatural spoke a different story.

A rustling bush caught my attention, and I instinctively threw a trio of shurikens -left leg, second pouch- towards the intruder, swiftly drawing my daggers -sheathed behind your back- and standing in a solid stance. A squirrel let out an unholy squeal and dropped dead.

What the crap?

...How the hell did I do that? Not that that wasn't cool, but how?

-you dashed through the masses, a whirlwind of death and steel, your daggers coated with a fresh layer of blood every moment you moved, aiming not to incapacitate but kill-

I snapped back to reality, breathing hard. I was pretty sure I had never killed anyone before in my entire life. Sure, I occasionally suffer from bouts of homicidal urges to maim something or someone, but I didn't actually had enough motivation to do it and bear the troublesome consequences.

I probably should be breaking down or something at having murdered people. Then again, some shit from my middle school class had accused me of sociopathy before. I do not know if that accusation holds any weight, nor do I care to find out. But I probably wasn't one.

Probably.

Meh.

In any case, something was terribly wrong.

First, lets establish a few facts.

Fact number one, I was alive. Well, I felt pretty damned alive to me. Let me just pinch myself to confirm that I am indeed alive and not some walking husk or intangible ghost- ow.

Second, I was stranded in a random forest with a bunch of corpses that I recalled murdering violently out of revenge. They allegedly burned down a village I was from or some shit. Great.

As that thought crossed my mind, a violent rage besieged my body and my hand clenched involuntarily around the hilt of the daggers to painful proportions.

Third, I had vague, fragmented memories of being a seriously depressed, vengeance-seeking teen named Ai that I was pretty sure did not belong to me, as well badass ninja skills programmed into my brain and body, which was a plus. His problems made mine seem like sunshine and butterflies in comparison.

Fourth, the area between my legs had been feeling a little strange ever since I woke, and my chest also seemed to have shrunk. The last time I measured my height, I wasn't this tall either. Now, I wasn't particularly attached to my feminity, nor would I object to having my gender spontaneously switched. Sure, it was bizarre, illogical and highly unlikely to happen, but I just died and landed in some form of twisted paradise or hell with mysterious bullshit memories that I had to pay with terrible migraines to process and confused the living hell out of me; I was willing to believe anything now.

I gave my body a cursory glance over. It wore a long-sleeved black muscle shirt, a pair of unconstricting black jeans held up by multiple belts and a sash, straw sandals and a white scarf that just did not seem sensible to wear when you pranced around in the dark doing ninja like things for a living. My upper torso seemed to be wrapped in bandages, all the way down to my right hand. I also did not recall changing into or having this particular set of clothing, but crazier things have happened to me before; read: rise from the dead. I gazed at my boobs- or rather, where my boobs used to be- and cautiously felt around for something.

Yep, completely flat. And quite solid.

I paused to allow my brain some time to process this revelation. Then I reached down and unzipped my pants out in broad daylight. Or out in the rain. Whatever. It wasn't like there was anyone alive or around to see me do such a thing anyway, and I had to confirm my suspicions.

Ah. There it was.

I maintained my composure and zipped up my pants with amazingly still fingers.

Cue five minutes of panicking and nervous laughter.

MOVING ON

Close-to-being-one-but-not-really-a-fact-yet point number five, I may have risen from the dead into the wrong body. Time to see if I really did.

The heavy torrent had stopped by now, and the mist had mostly cleared. Most of the blood had either been washed away by the rain or had sunk into the earth. Corpses still desecrated the sanity of what used to be a peaceful glade, and Joplin, the man that I supposedly despised utterly, was splayed out right in the centre of the corpse party, like that one turkey always placed in the middle of the table during Thanksgiving. My wounds still hurt like a son of a bitch, but at least it wasn't leaking vital lifeblood anymore. I casually approached a random puddle of water on the ground, gazing at my reflection.

A really hot asian looking stranger with black hair and amber irises stared back, pale skin marred by bruises around his eyes that spoke of many sleepless nights. I prodded at the stranger's cheek, watching as my reflection copied the movement.

The face in the puddle wasn't even remotely close to looking like mine. I ruthlessly squashed the urge to break down and laugh hysterically at the impossibility of this situation. Looking at my reflection- not mine, I told myself, his reflection- made me highly uncomfortable.

Well, at least the body my soul hijacked was pretty sexy looking and really high-spec, and not one of those ugly douchebags lying on the floor. He even had a mask to cover his face; I originally assumed it to be for hiding his identity and for adding a mysterious effect, but he probably wore it to ward all the chicks away.

I pulled up the mask and cleared his -my- throat. "Yo." I told the reflection, startling a little at the unexpected sound of his voice. It's pitch was much lower than mine, and far more smoother- my voice always had that rasp to it that allowed my to sing heavy metal songs very convincingly, but made me pants at emotional ballads. I cleared his body's throat a second time, acutely aware of the wrongness twice-fold as I spoke. I wasn't supposed to sound like that. "Your name is Ai, right? Thanks for your body... Well, I assume it's mine now. I'll do my best to take good care of it." I finished a little lamely.

I did feel a little guilty about hijacking Ai's body, but that guilt was quickly suppressed in the face of the last and final fact I was desperately trying not to acknowledge. Because no matter how I looked at it, the very idea of it was insane. Ai had to be a One Piece fan. Why else would he have such extensive knowledge on pirates, sea kings and what not? There was just no way.

One Piece was merely a fictional world with fictional characters. Luffy was simply a product of Oda's genius creativity.

I couldn't have somehow jumped ship and traveled through space and time, miraculously exiting into another dimension that by all means shouldn't exist...

Right?

...Damn it, I was in One Piece, wasn't I?

I wobbled towards a random tree, collapsing at the base gracelessly. I was still struggling to come to terms with my apparent resurrection into the wrong body and the wrong universe. Furthermore, my brain was being particularly uncooperative today and wasn't computing. Trying to explain it all with logic wasn't working, and just made things harder to accept, thus I gave up and blamed it all on mysterious forces of bullshit. Attempting to comprehend what the hell happened was doing nothing but intensifying my already gargantuan headache.

Whatever. Forget rationalizing. I was in One Piece. The Strawhats existed. The sun was shining, the seagulls were squawking, and there was a bunch of dead bodies surrounding me. I had a new life that I had no right to have, a new universe that was practically a paradise of danger and insanity, and a lovely bunch of fragmented memories to pick apart. Marvellous.

I flexed my fingers, observing numbly as the dried blood that caked my skin cracked. I felt... lost. Not much had changed from before. I still didn't know know where I was supposed to move from here. There was a path before me covered in shadows and smoke, and I walked upon it, unable to see where I was going-

-stared down at your bloodstained fingers, feeling empty, feeling lost. With your life purpose completed, you had nothing left to live for. What were you going to do now?-

I winced. Now wasn't the time for flashbacks.

-pain was unbearable. It wasn't the physical kind of pain, but the sort that hurt you deep inside. It made your eyes stung and your limbs tremble. You curled up into yourself, blocking out-

Ai's emotions hit me like a sledgehammer, intermingling with my own. I was him, he was me, and we knew each other intimately, shared the same thought, and felt the same emotions. I experienced it all, his pain, sorrow and exhaustion. He threw everything away in search of retribution, and he got what he wanted, but at what cost? Now, without a goal to guide him, he literally lost all will to live. In the end, after everything was over, all that was left behind from the ashes and cinders was just a man who had given up on life.

His mind and soul bled into mine. Melancholy and longing surged though before disappearing just as rapidly as it came, leaving behind a horrible sense of loneliness. There was something within that spluttered weakly and died out. A wave of loss and hopelessness swept over you, and I wondered just what it was that I was missing. It took me a while to recognize it for what it was; your will to live- What?

My eyes flew open and I sat up, panting softly. I could have sworn that I was Ai for a moment there- no, I wasn't him. I am who i am, but who was I? Focus! I fumbled around for a sharp object, my hand closing around what felt like a metal object- a kunai? Bracing myself, I dug it into my thigh.

A sharp burn shot up my left leg. The wound hurt like hell, but the pain helped me to clear the fog in my mind, allowing me to retain some form of clarity and grasp over the tattered remains of my sanity. Inner peace. Zen. I was in control.

I took in a deep breath. Then I let it out.

This body evidently came with shattered pieces of Ai's personality, which results in some rather spectacular cognitive dissonance issues. I can barely begin to predict just how much trouble it would cause me in the near future.

Or perhaps, Ai was still alive, lurking in the back of our minds, waiting for the right moment to pop out and retake his body. A chill ran down my spine.

...Well, I'll deal with it if it ever happens. I am reasonably sure that we can come to an agreement that either involves us taking turns at his body or sharing it. And that just sounded really wrong.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Just thinking about it pains me.

Speaking of pain, my left thigh was really starting to bother me. I looked down at the injury, watching copious amount of blood ooze out. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have stabbed the kunai in that deep, or choosen to stab myself at all.

I sorted through Ai's memories for where he kept his emergency bandages, but came up with a blank. Apparently he had the forethought to carry with him an excessive amount of weaponry just in case he stumbles upon any inconveniences, but no presence of mind to equip himself with any form of emergency first aid. Go figure.

With no bandages and a bleeding leg, I turned to alternative options, and liberated a tasteful orange sash from an unfortunate corpse to wrap around the wound.

Alright. Now that I wasn't in danger of bleeding to death and putting a quick, pathetic end to my newly attained life, it was time to decide what I wanted to do next.

My answer was simple. Get the hell off this shitty island. I can decide where to go from there.

I paused and glanced around at the dead or dying bodies around me. Joplin's assortment of shiny rings sparkled temptingly.

...After I loot their cold, dead corpses.

An hour or so later, I was on Ai's boat, watching as the island slowly disappeared into the horizon, eclipsing the setting sun.

Goodbye forever, Joplin. I hope your ugly mug rots in hell. If hell even exists in this universe. Or whatever constitutes as the equivalent of hell here.

Now what? I idly dipped a blood covered finger into the water, watching the water stain red. Then I recalled just what kind of terrifying abominations inhabited the waters of One Piece, and hastily withdrew my finger in fear of my blood luring such creatures to the surface.

I had no idea where I was going. Ai's memories helpfully informed me that I was currently in East Blue, the weakest of all the Blue Seas, and not somewhere in the New World, which was a relief to know, as it significantly increases my chances of survival. I didn't want to die that early, not until I had enough fun messing around in this world.

So, where to next? I sifted through Ai's mental map of East Blue, looking for an island with some form of civilization. His geography was remarkably dismal for someone who had spent half his life chasing his sworn nemesis all the way from West Blue to the East. Surely his navigation skills had to be exceptional, right?

I was wrong. It would appear that the reason why he managed to even trail Joplin and his merry band of halfwits around the oceans was due to a combination of following rumours, his unhealthy obsession, and luck. He hadn't bothered to learn much more than the bare minimum of navigation, just enough for him to keep at his mad hunt for vengeance.

Unbelievable.

I gave up and flopped down on the boat, sulking at the darkening skies. My stomach growled.

Well, I couldn't possibly ignore such an earnest call for my attention. I grudgingly sat up, taking stock of everything Ai had on his boat. There was a compass which he barely used, a well-read book on anatomy, a cluster of pointy things, the sack of riches I pilfered from Joplin and his pals, and a bunch of miscellaneous stuff. I even found a few bottles of sunscreen, which was understandable considering how pale Ai's skin was. And... Bingo! A sack of fruits. I wiped my hands on a spare cloth lying around, picked out a plum and bit into it, before resuming my investigation of Ai's inventory with my free hand.

A book on dismemberment, a photo of his mother, another bottle of sunscreen... oh hey! A secret compartment! Maybe he kept his super secret emo diary in there. I fumbled for the latch, pulling it open with enthusiasm. And promptly deflated. There were just a few sets of clothing similar to the one I wore and another half-face mask. I was about to move on with my investigations, but I paused, realising that I probably required a change of clothing, and replacement of the orange sash around my thigh that was starting to look more red than orange.

I quickly finished my plum and stripped, admiring his body as I did. Oh wait, it was technically my body now, huh? Does that make me narcissistic? A quick wipe down of the blood and gunk that stuck to his body like a second skin and a fresh change of clothes later, I felt much more comfortable than before. I strapped on the pouches that contained lethal amounts of weaponry. The stab wound I left alone; it didn't seem to be bleeding anymore.

Time for more food. I reached for another fruit and got a banana this time. And I hated bananas. I sighed.

On the bright side, it wasn't sunny anymore.

I didn't know when, but at one point through the night, I succumbed to exhaustion and fell asleep. I woke up still feeling like crap. My entire body ached in places I didn't know could hurt, my stomach was missing much needed sustanance and my wounds itched.

I opened my eyes, and immediately regretted doing so.

The sun shone down with incessantly bright rays of light, piercing through my very being. I hissed and covered my burning eyes with my arm.

Where the fuck was I- Oh, right. One Piece. Fuck.

I let out a sigh. Just what has my life become?

After much needless dawdling and bemoaning, I sat up, trying to see anything beyond the glaring light that pervaded my vision. Maybe if I commanded the sun to disappear, it would. I'd just been dumped into One Piece, you never knew what else could happen, like me gaining mythical abilities to bring back the night.

"Begone, foul fireball of light! I command you to remove yourself before my sight! Let there be darkness!" I shouted, pointing a finger at the sky.

A seagull screeched in the distance. Waves pulsed back and forth, breaking against the side of my pathetic boat. I maintained my pose for a few mortifying seconds, then retrieved my hand, glad for my lack of witness.

Oh well. Didn't think that would work anyway.

Oh wait, there was a bird! I briefly recalled something about how birds meant land was nearby or some rubbish like that. To follow it or not follow? I gazed vacantly at the seagull that was gradually drawing further and further away.

Meh. I shrugged, grabbed my oars and began rowing in it's general direction. What was the worst that could happen?

Drifting about on sea tends to screw up your perception of time when you've lived on land for ninety-nine point nine percent of your life. Not even Ai's memories could do anything to help with with that issue. To make matters worse, the only way for me to have any sort of grasp over the time was to look at the position of the sun in the sky. And looking at the sun hurt.

I wasn't kidding, it hurt both physically and mentally. Firstly, my eyes were in terrible pain, and teared up every second I glanced up. My skin would no doubt be sun burnt as well if I didn't have the foresight to apply sunscreen the night before. Secondly, a headache had been steadily making itself known ever since I woke up, fueled by the heat of the sun. Being dressed in a black, long sleeved shirt intensified the warmth several fold.

Anyway, back to the main point. By looking at the sun's position in the sky, I could roughly gauge how long I had been rowing for, which was around two to three hours. My arms felt weak and wobbly, and my clothes were soaked with sweat. I was this close to taking a dip into the ocean to cool my poor overheated body down regardless of what creatures may be lurking in the depths of the dark sea. But I wasn't going to do it, because I had actually had a sense of self-preservation, unlike Ai.

Self-preservation. Right.

Heh. Heh heh.

I giggled to myself, delirious and light-headed from the heat. What self-preservation? I leaned against the side of the boat for support as my chuckles devolved into laughter.

Five seconds later, I tilted right over into the ocean.

When I resurfaced, I was much more lucid then before. Getting dunked into cold water was a very effective, if not rude, wake up call. I paddled over to the boat, hauling myself back in, wincing at the stinging sensation on my injured thigh.

Back to propelling this boat forward.

Thankfully, I didn't have to row for long. Minutes later, an island slowly faded into view far off in the distance. There even appeared to be small structures on it that I presumed to be buildings, which meant civilization. I pinched myself to confirm that I wasn't hallucinating. The island didn't shimmer out of existence.

Excellent.

It took me a few moments to gauge the distance between land and where I was. Then I began rowing furiously.

Of course, of all places I could have ended up at, it had to be a town with a large ass marine base. I blatantly stared at the giant monolithic structure that practically protruded above all the other buildings, right from where I was about to dock my boat. The guy who designed that thing needed to be fired. Effective immediately. It was abominable, an insult to mankind's creativity.

I moored my boat, still not sure what the heck I was going to do here. Continue dissing the marine base? Explore? Sure, lets go with that. It was a good place as any to start from. Grabbing a few handful of coins and stuffing them into my pockets, I got up and entered the town.

The town was pretty busy at this hour. People milled about, each busy with whatever it was they usually got up to. I casually strolled through the streets like nobody's business, staring at everything with fascination. My appearance drew attention from those passing by, judging from how they gawked at me. It wasn't everyday you saw a masked wannabe dressed in black walking around in broad daylight after all.

Ever since I entered, there had been a nagging feeling at the back of my head that vexed me greatly. I didn't know what it was, but there was something about this town that was intensely familiar, which was ridiculous; I had never been here before until today.

"Pardon," I stopped a random lady in her tracks. "Mind telling me the name of this place?"

She stared at me like I was an extraterrestrial creature, which I probably was. There was no way I was gonna tell anyone that though. "It's Shell Town."

Shell Town? The name set off alarm bells in my head. It grated on my nerves, so I ruthlessly squashed the sound.

"Thanks." I told the lady, who threw me a strange look and hurried off. Huh. Weird lady.

Oh, look. A restaurant. Great timing. I was getting tired of fruits. I ambled in.

The instance I stepped past the threshold, I was greeted by a young girl running face first into my legs, reminding me of the existence of my thigh injury which I had placed great effort into forgetting. I barely restrained a gasp. The girl stumbled but my reflexes kicked in and I managed to catch the girl just before she fell. After all, I was a nice person who loved children. Really.

"Kid," I muttered with a mildly strangled voice. Seriously, why was the world so intent on causing me pain? First my gruesome death, Ai's pre-injured body, my self-inflicted thigh stab, the abhorrent sun, and now this. Oh, right. Because life was a bitch. "Watch where you are going next time,"

The girl gazed at me, wide eyed, before hastily bowing down. "I'm sorry, mister!" I stared. Back home in America, finding children that were as polite as her was nigh impossible. I recalled that there was this one little brat that bumped into my grandpa once without apologizing, even having the nerve to blow a raspberry. My grandpa was incensed, and spent the rest of the day yammering about demonic children and irresponsible parents.

I scratched the side of my cheek, fumbling over how to respond. Dealing with children was not my strong suit. In the end, I settled for rubbing her head awkwardly in lieu of forgiveness. "...It's fine."

She beamed at me and bounced out the doorway. I surveyed her retreating figure. Something about her was familiar. Actually, this whole damn town was familiar, but the girl exceptionally so. Should I stalk- ahem, hunt- I mean, follow her in a totally non creepy way to sate my curiosity, or should I eat?

Nah, food can wait.

And so, relying on Ai's awesome ninja skills and reflexes, I took to the rooftops. You would think that a dude wearing black clothing and a white scarf hopping around the rooftops in the middle of the afternoon would be be attention grabbing, but no one ever looks up. Sure, there was the occasional person who, for whatever reason, found the need to gaze up into the starry blue sky where the vapid sun hung, catching sight of me in the process, but they would blink once or twice in disbelief, giving me the opportunity to get the hell away, hopefully mystifying them to believe that I was merely a figment of their imagination. Anime mechanics and all that.

Moving around in Ai's body was strange. Being slightly larger and much taller than I previously was, it was mildly disconcerting to suddenly view things from a different perspective. I had a feeling that the reason why I wasn't over reaching and tripping over my feet all the time was thanks to the scattered but many memories I had of being Ai, which allowed me to acclimate to his body. Thank Oda for small mercies.

I scanned the whole town for any sign of the girl, but found none. She was probably too short for me to spot her amongst the crowd. What I did see, however, made me halt in my tracks completely.

A man sporting a head of unbelievably green hair ambled down the street, radiating an aura of badassery and utter manliness. Tucked safety away in his sash were three swords. He walked through the crowd much like how Moses parted the red sea; everyone literally scrambled to get the fuck out of his way.

My heart skipped a beat.

It couldn't possibly be... What the hell was he doing here in this backwater town? Shouldn't he be with Luffy kicking major ass all around the Grandline and making a general nuisance of himself?

Wait... Shell Town... That girl... The hideous marine base...

I slapped a hand to my face.

Of course. All the clues were there. How did it even escape me?

What were the chances of me ending up here of all places right before canon started? Microscopically low. Yet, here I was. And the living, breathing proof of that was right before me. Well, a couple metres right below me.

It was him. Roronoa Zoro.

CUE DRAMATIC MUSIC

OMAKE

My heart skipped a beat. I swooned.

Is... Is this what they call... LOVE?

A/N: Posting schedule won't be regular. Why?

BECUZ IT WAS NEVER REGULAR IN THE FIRST PLACE! DAHAHAHAHA

Also, in case any of you were wondering what relevance the title has to the story, Ai's name actually means love in Japanese. (It's actually a girl's name but meh) Other than that, there is absolutely no other connection. I just thought it sounded cool.