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Gone Fishing

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I honestly have no idea what to even think of my current situation. For all intents and purposes, I should be dead. And trust me, I should know because I was the one who slipped on a wet surface and cracked my head on the hard restroom counter. I'm pretty sure the location of said restroom is going to get sued for my death…although, my memory's kinda hazy as to where exactly I was when I went to the restroom.

Well, at least I didn't die in a run-down hotel room with a prostitute in Las Vegas. I mean, what happens in Vegas—oh, whom am I kidding? I'm too broke to afford any of that shit. The life of a college student is so not good on funds. And, to be honest, I wouldn't even have any uses for a prostitute, considering I'm not into any of the services that are being offered…like, at all.

At least there's some dignity to dying on the cold, tiled restroom floor—no, there is not. I died in a fucking restroom. At least the Vegas scenario meant I went out with a bang…

In any case, as I mentioned before, I should be dead…but I'm still here. I can move, however…not much, but movement is movement. All I can really see was darkness that I should honestly be freaked out about, but…it's honestly comforting. I felt safe and I think that was the main reason I wasn't freaking out completely.

I can't talk, but I think I can breathe…? Something is wrong, but I can't what. And that is pretty much how I've been for god knows how long as of this moment. I have no sense of time and I don't even want to start. I spent most of the time just sleeping and, sometimes, kicking at something that's just there. Usually, that got me a muffled, verbal response. By the way, I'm hearing voices.


Seriously, though, these voices are the only thing keeping me sane, even if they did get uncomfortable at times, because it is freaking boring just staying here within the darkness. Pfft, darkness…now all I can really think is Kingdom Hearts—aww, son of a bitch. I'm totally gonna miss Kingdom Hearts 3 now that I've died…fuck it, I didn't even have a PS4 or anything and I couldn't afford one, so what was the point? Still…I wanted that game!

Sigh…so many regrets, but at least college ain't one of them—it so is. Well, it could be worse again. I could have died right as I was getting my diploma on graduation day! That's assuming I would have actually graduated…okay, now I'm being a little too pessimistic. In any case, this was how my situation has been for an unknown amount of time and before I knew it, I was being squeezed out of this orifice (oh god, don't tell me what I think is happening), screaming at the top of my lungs.

As I was being cradled within what felt like a pair of gigantic arms, it took me a little more than ten seconds to fully grasp just what ordeal I had just finished going through after a period of darkness.

I was just born.

Someone just gave birth to me.

And that meant I just went through someone's va—eeeewwww! Screw maturity, there are things people should not be conscious and aware of when going through things like this! I should be dead—why am I here?! And why did I have to have the luck of finding out this way that reincarnation is a thing?!

Okay, I am totally giving up on childbirth after this! If I want to have kids, I'm adopting, as I had intended to before I met my untimely end in that restroom. Besides, like the whole prostitute thing, I doubt I would even have enough interest to do the do. I'd rather just hug—I'm that type of person.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, I felt something prod at my mouth and when my first instinct was to latch onto it, I screamed internally. If there's one thing I learned quite well during a ten-week course of college psychology, is that there is this reflex babies are born with called a rooting reflex, which helps them breastfeed. I'm being breastfed right now and—oh god, someone wake me up right now!

If it weren't for the fact that instincts I couldn't exactly control were taking over, I wouldn't have allowed this to happen. Alas, I am only a newborn, not even ten minutes old—at the complete mercy of the person who had just finished giving birth to me. So I guess this must be my mama…huh…

Well, she seems gentle so far and, from the sound of other voices, she's not alone. I couldn't really see anything right now, because my eyes refused to open, so the most I can do is assume. And even if I could open my eyes, my eyesight would be complete shit because that's how the eyesight of an infant is.

Also, Mama seems have it going on, with her seemingly massive breasts—I'm assuming they're big. Of course, seeing as I was just born, just about everything seems massive, so that could just be me…unless it isn't, which in that case, I seriously hope I don't inherit that part of Mama. Please don't screw this up for me genetics—at least give me time to prepare!

The future suuure looks promising!

Sarcasm aside, I felt safe again, if mortified (you try being breastfed). Fortunately, for me, sleep soon over took me. Sweet, sweet darkness—take me away from this reality! I have never been so glad to fall asleep than the times I usually pulled all-nighters during a school night. Ugh, worst situation ever—especially when all you have to energize yourself is a 5-hour Energy drink that you've bought from your campus store. Haa, at least that is something I left behind in the past…

I have no idea how long I was asleep after that, but when I woke up, something was different. For one thing, the arms I was now being cradled in were rather firm and not soft, like Mama's were. And based on the nonexistent chest I was being held against, this person was definitely not Mama…and most likely, male.

Having noticed that, I finally opened my eyes and after slowly adjusting to the lighting, I decided that I wanted this person to be the first thing I saw—holy crap, that hair is red and nice hat.

Are you…are you my daddy? Am I gonna have red hair? Because that would be totally bitchin' if I had that red hair—hello, what's this? A finger? In my hand? Wow, my hand is tiny—whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa…whoa.

The hell is up with my hand?! What's with this blue color?! Is that white?! What am I?! I would be enjoying the rather pretty metallic blue coloring my hand had if this wasn't on me. The white certainly complimented it well—oh my god, focus!

Nice to see I still retained my ADHD—or is that just my baby mentality talking? Whatever it is, my attention span is short, which is nothing out of the ordinary when it comes to me in general. Still, what is wrong with me?! I don't think it's normal to be blue…and white—am I sick? I don't feel sick—although, I do feel hungry…


Uuurgh, hunger does not feel good! Why does it feel so much worse as a baby? Hey, bucko—I'm not letting go of the finger until you give me some food!

Feed me, Seymour! Feed me!

C'mon, man—don't make me cry! I don't want to be that type of baby, never mind that it's in their instinct to cry out for food and various other things! Also, what is up with these voices? This language—I do not comprehend! Looks like I have a language barrier to overcome and a language to learn.

It's French all over again! Awesome…except, unlike French, I need to learn this language if I want to understand the people around me…so I guess Spanish would be a better example, considering my Spanish-speaking parents that I have left behind in my past life…

I miss them so much…and while I don't want to cry about being hungry (even though I so want to), I felt like crying over the fact that people I knew were most likely going to mourn for my death.

I do not envy the person who found my body in that restroom… God, I am so morbid. This is what I get for playing Cards Against Humanity.

I'm a horrible person.


And I am hungry and sad and—why did you take the finger away, Dad?! Everything is going wrong—huh?! I blinked as the soft tip of a bottle prodded at my mouth before I latched onto it. After suckling it for a few seconds, I realized that Dad must have noticed I was about ready to cry and decided to stop that by giving me food. Well, it's not breastfeeding, but I'm not sure how to feel about the contents of this bottle.

Why do I have to be aware of how formula tastes?! Uugh, when am I going to wake up from this surreal dream? I might have already come to terms that I am dead, but that doesn't mean I can't at least live in a state of denial! I mean…I could be in a coma right now! Yeah…or I am really dead and this is my new life after a rather surprising reincarnation.

Well, at least Dad seems to care about me, based on that smile of his—why does it look so familiar? And whoa, where did you get those scars on your eye? That must have hurt, from the looks of it.

Hey…where's Mama?

Month one of being a baby—any sense of time is completely unreliable, so all I can do is make assumptions for now. All I have done was eat, sleep, and poop…gross. I do not enjoy the diaper life—nope, I sure don't! I cannot wait for the day I start toilet training and actually get moving instead of lying about in this bassinet whenever I'm not being fed, changed, or handled.

The only thing that was interesting about this bassinet is that it was a rocking type! Though, at times, the rocking did get rather uncomfortable, in the sense that I wanted it to stop. Ugh, and don't get me started on the fact that I have to sleep on my back. It's uncomfortable, but I don't think I'm supposed to sleep on my stomach until I'm older, so…yeah.

The only good thing, so far, is that I have not suffered from sleep paralysis. It is the main reason I had given up on sleeping on my back in my past life. I can deal with nightmares—sleep paralysis, however, can go fuck itself. I don't think my brain is developed enough just yet to wake up while the body is still asleep, so I guess that could be one reason I haven't suffered from any episodes. Not that I'm complaining—I doubt I could handle consecutive episodes of being unable to move, while feeling as though someone is in the room when there isn't…ugh, just the thought of it gives me chills.

I'm also quite sad to say that it took me this long to figure out that the language being spoken around me was Japanese…but I am totally not at fault for that! Apparently, Dad and his many friends weren't exactly so vocal around me. It was as if they were worried their words could make me cry—which, to be honest, I probably would have. I dunno, I've cried over a lot of things out of boredom because nothing fucking happens.

I need entertainment, dammit!

By the by, Dad likes to shirk of his fatherly duties and get his friends to take over for him. Let me tell you how embarrassing it is to find out the person changing your diaper isn't your father, but some guy with curly black hair. It sure scared the hell out of me…

And it was that same guy who would later walk up to my father and practically shove me into his arms. He most likely annoyed that Dad was being a lazy bum. Maybe this is why Mama isn't here anymore…

In any case, it was thanks to this event that I finally had my first brush with the outside world and it was…quite interesting. For one thing, my ears picked up the sound of crashing waves and the smell—it didn't really take me long to figure out that we were on a ship, which certainly explained the rocking of my bassinet, which wasn't the rocking type, now that I think about it…

So yes, a ship…I was on one—why am I on one? Should I even care? I mean, Dad seems to like me enough not to ignore me, even if he does make his friends do most of the work caring for me…but at least I'm not being dropped off at an orphanage! Though, they could have considered it and just how long have we been traveling? Long enough, I would probably guess…

Well, I'm still alive…but also blue and white. I've gotten quite used to the fact that I'm not exactly normal in terms of appearance, but I guess it's not all bad. I'm not sick…and really, Dad and his friends don't seem to mind my appearance. But that could be the language barrier preventing me from understanding any conversations and the fact that I'm usually confined to my bassinet a majority of the time.

Being a baby sucks eggs.

Month two of being a baby—sense of time is still unreliable, but…my hearing has improved! And so has my sight and my, how things seem so much more defined! It still isn't as good as I wanted it to be, I mean my line of sight continues to be limited, but hey, sight is sight!

I still don't know why Dad's smile seems so familiar, but guess who's got a spiffy new pacifier? That's right—me! Man, I should not feel this elated to have something as mundane like a pacifier, but I am. I'm…just gonna peg that down as a baby thing. It's new, interesting, and it sure as hell is better than sucking on my fist. By the way, I can do that—yes, I am proud of that.

You'd be proud of making any sort of progress once you've spent two months living as a baby. It is seriously boring as hell and the only thing that seems to have change is the fact that Dad and his friends are making it a habit of taking me out of my bassinet to explore the outside world…well, explore as much as I can through sight and sound—which is still limited.

At least Dad and his friends are talking more around me, but I can't exactly understand what they're saying—like, these are words completely out of my vocabulary of Japanese words I should recognize. Then again, it's been a while since I've last watched any anime or dramas, so there is that.

And my listening skills aren't exactly the best—not now, at least. Even so, the most I have been able to pick up is the word "Papa" and it seems to be used to refer to Dad, who always sounds annoyed whenever that happens. I guess his friends are teasing him…

I might not understand the language, but I can pick up on tone and emotion, so that at least gives me a sense of context when it comes to the conversation. Usually, the environment I'm in is a rather lighthearted one. Something always seemed to be happening, and I usually missed out on it because it was out of my line of sight or the language barrier got in the way. It was either one or the other—sometimes both.

The only thing I have managed to figure out is why Dad always sounded so annoyed whenever the booze was brought out (I can smell) and that was because he's not allowed to drink…probably because he was stuck with me. I'm guessing he's the designated caretaker, as everyone else was having the time of their life, getting drunk off their asses. It was pretty interesting, because a lot of things always happened when everyone got drunk.

You get everyone stumbling around, just bumping into each other, guys fighting over meat (I've seen it happen once and it was awesome!), and my most favorite…drunk singing!

When you're stuck in the body of a two-month old baby with the mentality of a twenty-year-old person with ADHD, you learn to take whatever form of entertainment you can get. And as I said before, drunk singing—can't get any better than this. I still can't figure out why the song my father's drunk friends are singing sounds so familiar, though…but I like it!

Meanwhile, Dad is muttering something under his breath—probably something involving the fact that he can't drink. From what I have noticed, the guy's been keeping a chalkboard tally that might have to do with the days he has been sober…or rather, hours—I dunno, we're never around the chalkboard long enough for me to actually count. So I can't exactly confirm how many marks there are on the chalkboard, but all I can say there is a lot.

Dad's not taking the sobriety very well.

Month three of being a baby was pretty uneventful, so don't mind me skipping onto month four of being a baby. I have learned to grab stuff and put it into my mouth. I have become the reason why so many precautions are to be taken when it comes to keeping things within my reach. Yet another developmental stage overcome, but crawling is still so far away… Also, Dad and his friends have learned not to put anything within my reach, because chances are, I'm gonna either put it in my mouth or knock it onto the ground.

R.I.P Mug of Booze.

I laughed when that happened, much to everyone's surprise because guess what? I laughed for the very first time! I also rolled over for the very first time—that's a thing, but I'm more excited over the fact I can laugh again! It feels so good to laugh! Ahahaha, I'm such a little shit because of that!

Still, being a little shit is my only source of entertainment because the pacifier lost its appeal. My weird skin-color has lost its appeal, as pretty as I still do find it. Faces, however, have suddenly become much more interesting as my hearing and vision continues to improve. When I'm not being a little shit, then I'm just staring at people while they talk. I've…weirded out a couple of Dad's friends doing that. It's honestly hilarious.

Right now, I'm currently spending some quality time with Dad and by quality time, I mean he's fast asleep in a hammock, while I laid on his chest. I was messing with this nifty little headband I snatched off of Dad's curly-haired friend. There were letters on this headband that I could finally make out now that my eyesight has improved. I wanted to read them…I really wanted to read them.

And when I did, I was so happy I could make out the letters:


I was so giddy because I could read! Ahh…Yasopp…why does that sound so familiar? Hmm…fuck it, I'm just gonna go to sleep. I'm tired and Dad's tired as well—he's hiding from everyone right now since he's supposed to be up and about, but guess who decided to have a party of one and get drunk off their ass while everyone else was asleep? It certainly wasn't me.

There goes three weeks' worth of tallies on the chalkboard. It's time to start over again and I wonder who's won this round's betting pool…

About an hour or so later, I woke up, feeling rather sluggish at first. I yawned, making a face a second afterwards when I heard my stomach growl. I guess it's time to wake Dad up from his nap. Though, as I lifted my head up to look at Dad, my eyes immediately focused on his red hair, which always caught my attention. It was just so red…and I still have no idea if I got his red hair or not.

What I would give for a mirror…it would certainly clear things up to how far my weird skin-coloration reached, like—is it on my face? What color are my eyes? What color is my hair?


That definitely ended my current train of thought…I get too easily distracted. Welp, that's just how I am, I guess. Grasping the headband in my hand, I intended to whack my father over the face with it, only to just realize that father had his straw hat covering his face. So much for that wake-up call…ruin my fun, why dontcha?

Hmm…since he's asleep, maybe I can try it on…let's do it! I felt myself smile as I reached out with my free hand to grab the straw hat covering my father's face. It was seconds after I had managed to pull off the straw hat covering Dad's face that things suddenly began to connect.

The ship.


Straw hat.

Red hair.

Red…my eyes widened once the connection was made, and let me tell you—it was horrifying to find out that your father is motherfucking Red-Haired Shanks! How the fuck did it take me thislong to realize that my reincarnation brought me into a world that I once thought was fictional?!

I was in the world of One Piece…fiction was now reality. And I just so happened to be part of it!