Takayuki Yoshie had been running his family's izakaya of forty-six years, since he was twenty-years-old, and had been working there since he was fifteen but he'd never seen a customer quite like this.

"Hey, Gramps," the kid called, charging through the curtained doorway and throwing himself into one of the seats, "I'm hungry! Give me meat!"

Despite his rather rude demand, the teenage boy smiled warmly at the Yoshie as he drummed his hands on the countertop like a toddler. "Meatmeatmeatmeat! I want meat!"

The old man cocked an eyebrow, "You got money, kid?"

It was a fair question, the teen wasn't even wearing a real shirt.

"Yep," No-Shirt chirped, slapping the pocket of his denim shorts. "I got lots of money; Nami gave me some when we got to Dressrosa."

Yoshie didn't know who the hell 'Nami' was or what the hell 'Dressrosa' was, but the kid had money and that was all he cared about. "Fine, what do you want?"

Little did he know how much he'd live to regret that question.

"MMMMMhhmmmmm! That was SOOO GOOD!" The kid cheered, throwing his arms out to express his excitement -matched only by the rice-splattered, ear-to-ear smile plastered across his face- before platting his inhumanly distended belly. "More, please!

Yoshi felt his eye twitch, staring in abject horror at the scene before him. Piles of dirty bowls and plates were stacked at least a four feet high, some tilty at a dangerous angle; the kid's stomach stretched like he had swallowed a watermelon whole- 'must be some sort of stretching quirk,' he thought- and the old man was sure he'd seen a couple of plates vanish down the black hole the teenager had for a mouth.

"W-we're all out."

The kid's face into a pout, "You don't have any more meat?"

The fascinated terror turned to annoyance and Yoshi fought the urge to wack the kid over the head with a frying pan. "I don't have anymore ANYTHING! YOU ATE IT ALL!"

The kid gave him a puzzled look before tossing back his head, laughing, "Yeah, I guess I do that sometimes. It always makes Sanji really angry, Nami too. Funny, huh?"

Another eye twitch. "Yeah, hilarious. I hope you have enough money to pay for all of this, kid."

"No problem," he said, pulling a thick roll of money out of his pocket and tossing it to Yoshie as he went to leave. "Keep the change, Gramps, and thanks for the tasty food. I got to go find my friends."

"Oh, thanks... Hey, what the hell are you playing, kid?" Yoshie snapped, waving a fist full of the unidentifiable bills at the teenager.

The kid turned back and cocked his head to the side in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"What kind of money is this?" he growled.

"Belli."

He looked genuinely confused and, on a different day, Yoshie might have found that interesting but today it just made him angry. "You can't go paying me with foreign money, kid!"

"I don't have anything else."

Yoshie grabbed the kid by the collar of his cardigan and pulled him close, "Well, you better come up with something or I'm calling the cops!"

The kid opened his mouth to answer but went silent, turning to look towards the doorway and brow furrowing like he was hearing something that Yoshie couldn't.

He gave the teenager a shake, "Did you hear me, punk? You better-"

BANG!

A gunshot rang out, exactly half-a-second after the teenager was shoved backward, tumbling back on his ass and falling behind the counter.

"Alright, hand over your wallets and no one gets hurt!"

It was a punk with an attitude, a gun, and some sort of quirk that made him look like a lizard.

Yoshie was already dialing 110 when the punk turned his gun on the teenager, who just stood there like a deer in headlight. 'Poor kid, he's probably terrified. I just hope the cops get here in time.'

"Give me all your money!"

"Why is your face all weird?" the kid asked, calm as could be even while staring down the barrel of a handgun.

The would-be robber blink in a kind of shocked indignation at the question. "Wha-? You want to die, kid? Empty your pockets now or I start shooting!"

'IDIOT!'

"I don't have any money. I gave it all to him," the kid responded simply, nodding his head in the direction of Yoshie.

'ASSHOLE!'

"And that won't work on me anyway so you should probably just get out of here, you look way too weak to fight me," the kid continued, folding his arms across his chest.

'What is this kid doing?' Yoshie thought as he watched on in horror. 'He is going to get us both killed!'

"WEAK!" the punk shouted, enraged. "I'LL SHOW YOU WEAK!"

BANG!

The gun went off again, point-blank at the kid's chest. He stumbled back a few feet but didn't fall; instead, to Yoshie's amazement, the kid's chest stretched around the bullet, pushing through and pulling the skin for almost a yard before springing back, firing the bullet back into the punk's leg.

The punk immediately collapsed with a screech of pain, clutching his wound and letting his gun skid across the floor.

"What a crybaby," the kid sighed, shaking his head before turning to Yoshie. "Hey, Gramps, you can come out now. It's safe."

Yoshie peaked out from over the counter, "Wha- what are you?"

He got a bright smile in returned. The kid hooked a finger into his mouth and stretched it out a foot away from his face, "My name is Monkey D. Luffy and I'm a rubber man!"

The wailing of sirens filled the air, causing Yoshie to sigh in relief. "Thank god, the cops are here!"

The kid, Luffy, frowned, "Cops? Are they like the Marines?"

"I...guess so?"

Luffy wrinkled his nose, "Blah! I gotta go then, thanks for the meat, Gramps!"

And with that, he took off in an effortless, speedy dash, waving good-bye as he went.

Luffy surveyed the city underneath his perch on the high building he could find, trying to find something, anything, that looked familiar.

But there was nothing! Just a bunch of weird, tall buildings and speedy little boxes.

"This is so annoying!" he grumbled to himself. "All my friends went and got lost so now I have to-

"AHHHHHH!"