DISCLAIMER: I, in no way, shape or form own nor profit from One Piece as a Manga/Anime or anything else. This is purely a fan fiction dedicated to an awesome creation by Oda. One Piece belongs to all its appropiate sponsors and such.
Somewhere in the Grand Line...
The man is sprawled on his left side over a large piece of wreckage as if he'd been struck quite suddenly across the face. His black, tattered clothing is soaked with the seawater currently crashing against the tiny beach to tickle the soles of his bare feet. He wheezes in short, quick breaths, his brow furrowing as if in pain. A breeze stirs the palm fronds of the abrupt line of jungle standing sentinel over his form. He shivers and coughs. Flecks of blood stain the wood's blue paint.
Ocean water rushes in, drenching him up to the ankle. The wood shifts under him forbiddingly. His eye snaps open, the other too caked over with dry blood from a deep gash running along his right temple. A javelin of sunlight skewers into his skull. He screws the eye shut, seeking escape. The golden rays shine through the lid, eliciting a feeling akin to glass trapped under his eyelid. He groans and rolls onto his back, then hisses sharply.
"Argh!" Blood bubbles up in the back of his throat and sits there, no air in his lungs to expel it. His body jerks in odd spasms as he tries to breathe while his Adams' apple bobs up and down sporadically. Lips smack open and shut like a fish suffocating on land, blood trickling out in little rivulets, soaking the high collar of his jacket.
I'm drowning, he thinks to himself with stupefied horror. I'm drowning in my own blood! The realization spurs him to action, his arms scrabbling to push himself upright but he was already losing consciousness. He writhes, fighting the darkness hovering at the edge of his vision and rolls off the make-shift raft. He lands chest-first on something blunt and hard. He pales, shallowly inhales, and lets loose a gurgling scream of agony before his world goes black.
Author's Note: This story is being rewritten, as it is a rather droll embarrassment and I wish to portray my growth as a writer.