Chapter 2

The salt air was the first thing to hit her.

The girl-now Kurumi-gasped, sitting up on the wet sand of a remote island in the East Blue. She scrambled to a tide pool, staring at her reflection. The porcelain skin, the long black hair tied in twin tails, and the heterochromatic eyes-one red, one a golden clock face.

She was beautiful. She was also starving.

She stood up, her legs wobbling. The knowledge of a thousand sword styles flooded her brain-Itoryu, Nitoryu, Fish-Man Karate, Black Leg Style. It was dizzying. Her mind knew exactly how to perform a perfect parry, how to shift her center of gravity to deliver a bone-breaking kick.

She tried to throw a test punch. Her arm moved sluggishly, the form sloppy. Her muscles were soft, unconditioned.

"Right," Kurumi muttered, her voice sounding like smooth silk. "Mind of a master, body of a novice. Time to grind."

Six Months Later

The bandit leader, "Iron Mace" Alvida (before the fruit), laughed as her ship cornered the small fishing vessel. "Men! Loot everything! Leave no-"

Thwack.

A musket ball grazed Alvida's cheek.

Standing on the prow of a small, nondescript sloop was a girl in a gothic red and black dress. It was a ridiculous outfit for the sea, yet she wore it with terrifying elegance. Two flintlock pistols hung at her hips, and a rapier was strapped to her back.

"My, my," Kurumi smiled, the expression not reaching her golden clock-eye. "You are quite loud for someone worth only 5 million berries."

"Who are you?!" Alvida shrieked.

Kurumi didn't answer. She leaped.

In her mind, she visualized the Soru technique. Her legs pumped, attempting to replicate the explosive speed. She wasn't there yet-she didn't vanish-but she was fast. Faster than any normal human.

She landed on the deck. A pirate swung a scimitar.

Kurumi didn't panic. Her brain accessed File: Basic Sword Defense – Variation 4. She didn't have the strength to block head-on, so she didn't. She sidestepped, the blade missing her nose by an inch, and drove her palm into the pirate's solar plexus.

It wasn't just a hit; it was a precise strike to a nerve cluster she knew from her "Melee Knowledge" wish. The pirate folded instantly.

"Kill her!"

Ten men rushed her. Kurumi drew her rapier. She wasn't strong enough to cut steel, but she didn't need to be. She aimed for the gaps in their armor, the tendons in their wrists. She moved like a dancer, her twin tails spinning as she weaved through the chaotic melee.

Breath in. Focus.

She closed her eyes for a split second, trying to reach out with her spirit. Observation Haki. She had spent months meditating, trying to feel the "intent" she knew existed from the anime.

She felt a fuzziness-a vague pressure to her left.

She ducked. A club smashed into the railing where her head had been a second ago.

There it is, she thought, a thrill running through her spine. The spark.

She drew her flintlock and fired point-blank into the attacker's knee, then spun, her rapier flashing in the sunlight.

By the time the sun set, the Alvida Pirates were tied up, groaning on the deck. Kurumi sat on a barrel, cleaning her flintlock. She was bruised, exhausted, and breathing heavy. She was still weak compared to the monsters of the New World.

But she was alive. And the Grand Line was waiting.

"Just wait for me, Zafkiel," she whispered to the horizon. "I'm coming to find you."