The Stranded Man's Perspective
A/N: I got this idea for a story when rewatching One Piece – specifically the Baratie arc.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Book I: The stranded man
Chapter 1: Lapping waves
"Have you ever been stranded at sea, with no food or water – only the endless ocean as company? I have …
"Have you?"
Thump. Thump.
Lingering dust by the corner vibrated with the sound. The red glass marbles on the desk wobbled, almost falling to the wooden floor below – stopped by the first volume of a manga.
Thump. Thump.
The sound stopped outside the door, until …
"Argh! Why must it always be so –"
The closed-door flung open, letting light flow into the dark room.
"– frustrating!"
A long shadow stretched out into the room, leading to the young man who's now standing at its entrance. Clad in a black tuxedo with a white formal shirt underneath it and black dress shoes, his current behaviour is quite a contrast to his sleek look.
"Always formalities and procedures," the man mumbled whilst turning on the ceiling lamp and walking into the room. "Never a time of freedom …"
His brown, short hair wobbled with his erratic movements. His black spectacles reflecting the artificial light.
Without changing his attire, the man lays down on the bed in the room's corner. Seemingly as frustrated as when he entered.
"Why can't the world be – be …" he slowly closed his eyes, resting while he still had the chance. "Be a little freer, with no formalities I'll need to follow."
His quiet wish echoed in the silence. His breathing slowed to a more manageable state, his heart slowing down by the second.
Silence takeover the room once again. The innocent manga, which stopped the marbles, bathed in the light of the ceiling lamp, its title displayed proudly on its front cover.
A title with read: One Piece
My eyes opened and a bright light was all I saw, forcing me to close them less I'll be blinded.
"Wh-what –" I sat up, my hand over my eyes and my other pushing the soft, fine-grained ground to keep me steady.
My brown hair wobbled with the gentle breeze that I now felt. The sun's light felt hot on my skin. I heard the rustling of leaves from behind me and what sounded like lapping waves hitting a shore all around.
Peering through the bright rays, I saw what I could only describe as a dream.
Crystal clear water ebbed and flowed with the waves, sparkling in the morning sun. A clear blue sky painted with white puffs of moving clouds.
"Uh," I wobblily rose to my feet and stared out at the picturesque scene.
Stretching to the ends of the horizon, ocean was the only thing in my sight. Waves lapped the shore of the small beach in a harmonious fashion. I stood close to the water, my hair moving with the wind.
The rustling of leaves from behind me broke me out of my reverie. I took a deep breath to prepare myself for what I would find.
Whirling around, I gasped at what I saw.
As I feared, I was on an island. An island that was home to one measly, dying palm tree, with a lone red date hanging from a dried-up branch. A tree that was surrounded by sand. Sand that met the slowly lapping waves from the great sea.
And here on this little island, with my tuxedo and dress shoes on, I stood on the warm sand – all alone.
Stranded.
…
"How?" I muttered, baffled at my surroundings.
One moment I lay in my bed – having just come home from a long day of work – and the next, bam! I'm on a tiny little island in the middle of an ocean. All alone with only my clothes with me.
Nothing, not even a hint of a reason. Nothing at all.
My breaths come quicker, I started to understand the reality I'm in.
"Remember what you have read about, Lodal," I told myself, trying to think logically. "I went to bed after the conference and all interactions were with a purpose. No talking bad about people behind their backs. No hint of animosity from anyone – they were all really nice people, actually."
I inspected the tree more closely. "After sleeping, I'm now stranded on an island. An island with a dying palm tree on it, indicating a tropical climate. Its shore is pristine, without any contamination, not even a plastic bottle. No hint of previous life on its land."
My hands started to shake. My heart drumming in my ears.
The calm breeze changed to a stronger gust. The salty taste of the sea invaded my senses and I set my worried gaze on the horizon in the distance.
"No land in sight. No trace of how I came here."
I slowly slid down to my knees; worries and woes rising to the surface of my mind.
…
Blood rushed through my veins as I sat on the beach with my knees to my chest. My heart drummed in my ears; air flowed rapidly to my lungs.
I felt lost, worried and afraid. The logical part of my brain has stopped its operation some time ago; my emotions being the only thing that anchors me to the conscious world.
How could I be alone on an island? I thought whilst desperately watching the horizon for something, anything.
Sand floated up to my face with a short burst of wind. With my eyes tightly closed, tears fell slowly down my face.
"Why …"
I brushed my face with my sleeve to remove the grains.
Shaking still, my soft sobs rang with the tide.
…
I've been in this position for close to an hour now (my wristwatch indicates it's soon lunch), but no sign of life has I seen, not a bird – not even a fish.
"Would I even be able to catch a fish if I saw one?" I mumbled with my eyes locked onto the sparkling sea.
The waves glistered in the sun's rays and the drifting clouds rolled slowly through the clear blue sky.
My frame of mind was a little steadier, although shaky, nonetheless.
"Where am I?" The tide changed with the wind; I heard the soft whispers of the sea. "Who would have done this …"
Crack. Thud.
"Oh," my head snapped at the sudden sound, eyes wide from fright.
Lone leaves swished with the strong breeze; the dying tree stood as it had before, shaking with the wind and scorched by the tropical sun. On closer examination, it seemed that one branch couldn't take the strain; it laid at the visible roots of the palm tree, with the one measly red date clinging to what remained of it.
My stomach grumbled at the sight. I had forgotten that I needed food and water.
With wobbly feet, I dragged myself to the tree's base. My wary eyes stared down at the lone date. After a second of contemplation, I reached down to it.
The oval, smooth fruit felt dry to my fingers. I turned it around, looking for faults and whatnot. Not that I am an expert on it; I've never eaten a date before in my life after all. I have only seen these laid out on silverware at a foreign conference.
A new gust came from the sea, sweeping my styled, brown hair around with the force.
"Can you eat it raw?" I wondered, looking at the red fruit.
Red, no, not entirely. It had traces of yellow on one end. From the wrinkly centremost top, where the yellow was the strongest, it slowly transitioned to the bright colour of blood.
"Yellow?"
The date rolled easily between my fingers. After a thorough inspection, I deemed it healthy.
"Wait," my hand paused. "Wasn't they yellow, not red …" My mind throws me images of years ago when I stood by my parent's side at a foreign feast as a child.
A smaller black tuxedo over a white undershirt clung to my small frame. My similar tiny black dress shoes glistering in the artificial light.
I remember the diverse trays of food laid out before me; my gaping mouth, watering at the sight, "Wow …"
"Oh, Lodal," my mother giggled. "Are you hungry?"
Nodding, I stared at the variety of fruits and meats. Trays of silver filled to the brim; colours of all kinds stretched out along the table. The smell of it all lingered in the air. From chicken to beef, it had everything – even lamb was on the menu.
"If you want something — something your heart desires — your stance should be firm, your head held high, gaze fixed on your target," my father said, his strong hands resting on my shoulders. Bending down to my level, he followed my gaze to the long table. "Your posture should be straight. Even the most common of decisions should be done in an elegant way."
He chuckled at his own words but continued, "Even a simple thing as food should be taken seriously."
Snapping my mouth shut, I looked at them smiling down at me. Feeling embarrassed, I stated decisively, "I'm not hungry!"
"Sure," my father believed me. "It's not like the juicy beef, chicken dipped in spices, and abundance of the ripe, yellow dates are appetising, uh-uh." He nodded, crossing his arms while inspecting the table before us.
"Lewis," my mother had her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking. Obviously appalled by the sinful table, with its sinful servings.
Other guests also had their hands over their mouths; with shoulders shaking, they whispered to each other. Obvious aghast at the mere thought of the wicked food.
"Yes," I proudly declared. "I'm not hungry!"
Tears dropped down onto the red date. My eyes glazed over from memorize of the distant past.
Slowly closing my eyes, I placed the red date in the inner pocket of my tuxedo; hands shaking as I did so. I couldn't eat it – not in the state I'm in, at least.
I'll wait until it's yellow, I decided slowly.
Taking a deep breath, I turned around and looked back at the endless sea. I saw grey clouds in the distance; the wind seemed to be picking up speed.
…
The palm tree swayed with the wind. The clouds were darker than before; grey covered the darkened sky, churning in the twilight sun. I huddled close to the dying palm tree, knees up to my chest as I endured the fierce winds.
With water brushing against my shoes, going back and forth with the tide, I quivered as I searched for hope at the orange horizon. No, not hope, a miracle – that is what I seek.
I am not a religious man; never been to any kind of a church – never believed in a higher being of power. However, in this situation – at this very moment – I cannot help but hope for a miracle; something that would save me from my creeping fate.
My brown hair whipped about in the fierce wind. My glasses were covered by splashes of salty water from the gushing waves. Sand swept up all around, flowing with the gale.
Shaking, I brushed my hand over my glasses, removing the newly droplets of water. My suit adhered to my body, coldness creeping into my bones.
Having done my part, I let my arms hug my legs once again and gazed at the horizon.
…
I have been thinking.
Stranded on a small island, with nothing but myself as company, I remembered my past – both triumphs and sorrows. Stories I've read to pass the time, movies I've seen and people I've met.
My eyes watched where the sea and sky touched, squinting to see past the quivering waves. I thought about an innocent time, seven years ago, when I was but a teenager.
How glad I was back then …
The captain glared up at the beast. Even as his consciousness was fading his indomitable will was as fierce as ever.
"What kind of king did you say you'd be?" I whispered in the silence of my room.
I read on, continuing the fascinating story of the young captain and his crew. Alas, all good times come to an end eventually – especially when you're invested in a great story.
Tick.
The clock's hand moved; it was time to study.
"Man," I slumped back in my seat. My hands clutched the manga before me. "What I wouldn't do to be there on the blue sea; going to distant shores; full of adventures and foreign cuisine. And all with friends of a lifetime."
My eyes twinkled with imagination – dreaming of another world. Another world where people can cleave mountains in two, raise tsunamis, and even change the very climate.
A world full of possibilities.
The sea.
I shivered as the wind picked up speed, zooming passed me in a swirling dance with the storming ocean.
Do I still want to be there, sailing on the high seas?
No. Not now – not ever! I thought as a new wave splashed cold, salty water on my being. The palm tree creaked and cracked behind me, bending and swaying with the wind.
Though maybe being in the world of One Piece would be different? After all, that is fiction – but this …
I pressed my legs closer to my chest. The grey clouds up above turned with the storm.
My weary eyes followed the horizon. Looking. Seeking.
I saw a glimpse of light in the distance, backdropped by the point where the sea met the heavens up above.
Trembling – but not from the cold – I unsteadily rose to my feet. My drenched suit clung to my body; my hair flat to my head.
The blob of light got bigger.
A ship was coming.
"Help!" I screamed.
With my hand above my head, frantically waving for attention, I finally saw the miracle I'd been waiting for.
"Help meee!" I yelled out to the sea. "Please! I'm stranded!"
It came closer, seeming to be heading this way.
"Here!" the corners of my mouth stretched with the force of my smile. "I'm here!"
Its white sails taut in the strong storm. Its figurehead an odd purple shape.
"I'm here!"
I didn't think – I couldn't.
Screaming at the top of my lungs, I appeared to get the attention I needed. The ship was now closer. Its pink and yellow form now takes up my whole view.
It was big. Really big. In fact, it was an impossibility.
Why you'd ask?
Well … it's made of wood. From mast to the keel, it's all wood.
But a ship is a ship, even if it is a wooden ship of some eccentric tycoon. As long as I'm rescued, I'll be fine.
"Help!" My voice was a little more than a gust in the wind, I continued to shout my wishes.
I saw a flurry of movements on it as the giant of a ship sailed close to the island. Its white flags with a picture of a globe on them fluttered in the wind.
My knees gave way as I remained at the island's edge. Hands clutching the wet sand, I wheezed as deep breaths of cold air flowed into my lungs as I yelled one final time. A smile plastered on my face all the while.
"I see him!" a sailor's raspy voice reached my ears. A small vessel was lowered down.
"We're coming!" another strongly bellowed.
Violent winds and strong currents slowed the small vessel down. It felt like forever until they were close enough to trudge the shallow water leading up to the shore.
I let my muscle and nerves relax; finally, I would be saved.
"Hey!" one stocky sailor hauled me to my feet; my limbs like dead logs, like a puppet who lost its strings. "You're alright? We'll get you to safety."
I shivered from the cold hands which held me up; hefting me over his shoulder as he treaded the now stronger waves.
"Mike, hurry!" squeaked the third sailor. "We haven't all the time here, you know!"
As Mike helped me to my feet and guided me to the vessel, the other two sailors stayed by the small boat; desperately holding fast to it, unless the waves washed it away.
"Hurry!"
The chilly water seeped into my shoes as I was practically dragged to the small boat.
"I know, I know," muttered Mike whilst treading the shallow waters. "I'm on my way!"
I was roughly thrown into the boat whilst the three sailors frantically pushed it out to the sea, steering it to the great wooden ship which was like a star in the night.
"Hold it steady!" the third squeaked between the intense winds.
"I'm on it!" bellowed Mike.
"Wave!" the raspy one yelled and commandeered, "Now row!"
The vessel bobbed and shifted with the waves. Water splashed all over the place. The grey clouds rolled high above.
Curling my legs to my chest, I pushed myself against the wooden shell, clinging to it with my parched hands.
It felt like hell. Frantic weather and rough winds, not to mention the scarcely heard bellows and shouts of the sailors which floated in the stormy sea.
The giant wooden ship lit up the way, giving the sailors a clear destination. From it, I saw a crowd clinging to the railing by the side. Their coloured dresses and suits a striking contrast to the stormy ocean.
Ropes swayed with the wind by the side of the ship. Fastened to the railing, where the people clung like metal to a magnet.
"Al, rope!" shouted the raspy one.
Al, the squeaky sailor, hastily took hold of the coarse rope.
"He seems cold," a delicate voice came from above.
"Of course, it's a storm, do you –"
Statements.
Another thought out loud, "Never seen a shipwrecked man before."
"Duh," a different man said, "the Orbit isn't the Marines."
Wonder.
"Do you think he's dying?"
"Dying? More like dead," expressed a colourfully dressed man.
Curiosity.
"Haul them up!" someone commanded from the ship.
Thoughts and ideas. Theories and discussions. All spoken like they watched something interesting. Something unique and intriguing.
They were like a whirling storm in itself.
As I clung to a corner of the boat, the three sailors were able to fasten the ropes to it. The vessel was slowly pulled up by the people from above.
Delirious from dehydration and a lack of food, I could do nothing as the vessel was safely placed on the deck of the wooden ship. The three sailors helping others fasten it to the railing, holding it steady in the storm.
"Clear out!" a man with a white captain's hat hollered. "Passengers, please go inside! This isn't some entertainment for your enjoyment."
I felt embarrassed as I continued to hear the discussions from the ship's passengers. Even more so when I was lifted by sailors and taken through a door; away from the cold winds and raging sea.
Finally in a warmer place, surrounded by wooden walls and frantic footsteps; I let myself fully relax, resting my eyes but still shivering from my wet clothes. All the while, they guided me deeper into the wooden ship, away from the crowd.
Chapter End.