(08/02/24 - 08:00) (Monday February 8, 1524)
The metallic snip of iron scissors broke the silence of the clinic. Doctor Vance pulled the blood-stained linen away from Uma's abdomen. The doctor leaned closer, squinting through the dim light of the oil lamp. He dropped the scissors onto the metal tray with a loud clatter.
"This is completely absurd," Vance muttered.
Uma looked down at his own stomach. Yesterday, a jagged, weeping hole surrounded by bruised purple flesh marked the center of his torso. Today, the hole was entirely sealed. A patch of fresh, skin covered the bullet trajectory. The thick black sutures hung loosely from the healed tissue, no longer holding anything together. He pressed a hand against his stomach. The agonizing internal fire had faded into a dull, manageable ache. He moved his legs, swinging them over the side of the cot with normal fluidity.
"Your cellular regeneration is working in extreme overdrive," Vance said, pulling the loose stitches out with a pair of tweezers. "Have you ever eaten a proper, nutritious meal in your entire life?"
Uma closed his eyes. He sifted through the fragmented memories of his body. He saw flashes of muddy alleyways, fighting wild dogs for discarded fish heads, and chewing on rotten apple cores. He opened his eyes and shook his head.
"Trash," Uma replied. "I survived entirely on street scraps and leftovers since childhood."
"That explains the anomaly," Vance sighed, striking a match to light his morning cigar. "Your body spent two decades in a state of absolute starvation, cannibalizing its own muscle tissue just to keep your heart beating. Yesterday, you consumed over four thousand calories of dense protein and rich fat. Your dormant metabolism treated the food like highly volatile fuel. It prioritized closing the fatal wound first. You are going to experience massive physiological shifts over the next few days."
(10/02/24 - 07:00) (Wednesday February 10, 1524)
While Uma slept and devoured every scrap of food in the clinic, the rest of the world burned. Between the eighth and the tenth of February, the geopolitical landscape fractured entirely. High above the clouds on the Ballon Terminal, the Emperor Kaido threw himself from the sky, crashing to the earth below and engaging the Eustass Kid alliance in a devastating battle. Simultaneously, the Straw Hat Pirates arrived on the wandering elephant Zou, discovering a ruined country and working frantically to rescue the poisoned Mink tribe. By the morning of the tenth, the Straw Hats successfully escaped the Marines at Dressrosa, prompting thousands of Colosseum warriors to pledge their loyalty and form the massive Straw Hat Grand Fleet. In a separate sector of the sea, the beast pirate Jack attacked the Marine convoy escorting Doflamingo, suffering a massive defeat at the hands of Fujitora and Sengoku before escaping back to the sea.
None of this detailed chaos reached the dim clinic.
Uma sat at the wooden table, staring at the front page of the World Economy News Paper. Dozens of new bounty posters spilled out from the folded pages. He recognized the smiling face of Monkey D. Luffy, boasting a massive five-hundred-million Berry reward. He saw a drawing of Sanji with the bizarre stipulation 'Only Alive' printed beneath his name. His past-life knowledge provided vague context. He knew Luffy defeated the warlord Doflamingo, and he knew Sanji's poster involved a political marriage, but the intricate details eluded him entirely. He pushed the paper aside, focusing on his own immediate reality.
He stood up from the wooden chair. His body felt completely different. The skeletal, jutting ribs were gone, replaced by some meat. His shoulders carried more width.
Vance walked over holding a wooden measuring stick. He pressed the stick against the top of Uma's messy afro.
"One hundred and seventy-four centimeters," Vance declared, removing the stick. "You were barely one hundred and seventy centimeters three days ago. Your spine decompressed, and your bones are absorbing the calcium they lacked for twenty years."
Vance turned around and pointed an accusing finger at the empty wooden shelves across the room.
"You also ate my entire monthly supply of food in seventy-two hours," Vance growled, blowing a thick cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. "I am a doctor, not a charity cook. Koro is leaving to hunt for supplies in the groves. You are going with him. You will earn your keep."
"I agree," Uma said, picking up a simple canvas shirt from the foot of his cot and pulling it over his head. The fabric stretched comfortably across his newly filled-out chest. "I also want to start training. My wound is closed. I need to condition my body."
Vance looked him up and down. "You can train. You will not collapse from a stiff breeze anymore. However, your calorie expenditure is your own problem now. If you burn thousands of calories punching trees, you must hunt and secure the meat to fuel that recovery. I will not feed you from my pockets."
"Understood," Uma replied. He turned toward the massive figure of Koro, who stood waiting by the reinforced metal door of the clinic. The Fish-Man wore a heavy hooded cloak to obscure his distinct features from casual onlookers.
"Follow closely," Koro rumbled, pushing the heavy door open. "This area is completely lawless. Weakness invites death."
Uma stepped over the threshold. The humid, heavy air of the Sabaody Archipelago hit his lungs.
He stood on an immense, sweeping plain of thick yellow wood. They were located directly on the exposed root of a colossal Yarukiman Mangrove tree. The sheer scale of the vegetation defied logic. The trunk of the tree rose thousands of feet into the sky, disappearing into a dense canopy of dark green leaves. Natural, iridescent resin secreted from the pores of the root, forming giant floating bubbles that drifted upward in a continuous, mesmerizing stream.
The beauty of the natural environment stood in stark contrast to the decay of the human settlement.
They were deep within the lower-numbered groves, the lawless zone ranging from Grove 1 to 29. The architecture consisted of ramshackle wooden shanties, rusted metal lean-tos, and repurposed ship hulls built directly into the crevices of the massive roots. The sunlight filtering through the canopy cast deep, gloomy shadows across the winding dirt paths.
The smell of stale beer, unwashed bodies, and roasted meat drifted from the open doors of sketchy taverns. Wanted posters plastered every available surface, many covered in fresh knife marks or dried blood.
Uma walked beside Koro. He kept his eyes moving, scanning the alleys and the rooftops. Dozens of unsavory characters loomed in the shadows. Heavily armed pirates with scarred faces and missing teeth paused their conversations to watch them pass. Smugglers carrying heavy wooden crates shot them suspicious glares.
A group of four men holding rusted cutlasses stepped onto the path ahead of them, blocking the route. The men looked desperate and hungry.
Koro did not slow his pace. The Fish-Man pulled back the edge of his heavy hood, revealing his pale blue skin, the jagged stripes, and the cold, predatory eyes of a Tiger Shark.
The four thugs scrambled backward, falling over each other to clear the path. They pressed themselves flat against the wooden walls of the nearest tavern, lowering their weapons in sheer terror.
Uma committed the scene to memory. The hierarchy here relied on raw, visible intimidation. His own physical transformation was a good start, but he lacked the aura of a killer. He possessed no bounty, no reputation, and no combat experience. He was a blank slate walking through a valley of wolves.
"Where do we hunt?" Uma asked, keeping his voice low as they moved deeper into the labyrinth of giant roots.
"The coastal drop-offs near Grove 10," Koro replied, his massive strides forcing Uma to walk briskly to keep up. "The ocean currents bring large sea beasts close to the roots. We will kill one, harvest the meat, and bring it back. You will carry the load to build your leg strength."
Uma cracked his knuckles. The prospect of manual labor and physical exertion excited him. The path to Haki and survival required a foundation of iron, and he was finally ready to start forging it.
----
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