My Voyage as a Treasure Hunter is Bizarre as Expected!

The metal of the fishing rod felt cold against my palm, despite the sun beating down on the small vessel's deck.

I shifted in the uncomfortable wooden chair I'd claimed at the rail, the compass in my other hand catching the light, as I checked the strangeness I discovered in it for what must have been the hundredth time today.

'Just what does that mean?'

It has been two days since I discovered it, and three days since the fishmen pirates had turned our cargo ship into driftwood and corpses.

Since then and to save the few dozen survivors from drowning in the sea, I used my Stand, the Box's power to conjure four small ships so we could ride them to the closest safe island.

'At least the weather was good, and the wind was in our favor most of the time.'

It was a lucky break, honestly.

The sound of footsteps on deck interrupted my brooding. I didn't need to look up to know it was Delgado, one of the sailors who'd somehow survived the attack.

The man had developed an unfortunate habit of treating me like some kind of savior, complete with that mixture of gratitude and awe that made me really uncomfortable.

"Excuse me, Hikigaya-san," he said, his voice carrying that respectful tone that had the supernatural ability to extract sighs from me over the past three days. "Are we in the right direction?"

I glanced at the compass's needle, which pointing steadily toward our destination.

The little magical device had become my lifeline in this endless blue hell—one of only two items that had survived the destruction of our previous ship along with me.

"Yeah, we're on track," I replied, keeping my voice level. "The island should appear soon."

"I-Is the so? Thank goodness!" Delgado said happily, then bowed slightly. "Thank you, Hikigaya-san, we don't know what we would have done without you!"

Thank you. There was that word again, like a knife twisting in whatever was left of my conscience.

I nodded awkwardly at his words, turning back to the water. I couldn't help but feel a bit of guilt, I wasn't honest with them after all.

The reason he is taking the directions from me is because the navigator died in the fishmen pirates' attack, and we lost all the navigation data.

Like this, we had no way to know where we were in the sea, and we had no direction to know where was the closest island.

Having no direction on the sea means that you are most likely dead. With how wide the ocean is and how little the land is, the chances of finding an island while sailing blindly are at best 30%.

And that depends heavily on the region and on your personal luck.

Thankfully, from the two items that survived the ship destruction with me was the Sparrow Compass that is always in my pocket and is tied with a small thread to my belt.

'A good move, really. I am so grateful for my past self for doing that.'

With it, I was able to get the direction of the closest island, which is not the island where we are headed right now.

The reason is that when I checked the direction of the closest Devil Fruit using the magic compass, I found the distance to, although a bit further and in a different direction, is roughly the same as the closest island to us back then.

'And I remembered that the island with the Devil Fruit is an island in the main archipelago of the Gecko region, which had civilian towns and villages.'

So, I decided that it is better to go to that island. As all in all, it should be a safer choice than an unknown island, I decided to guide the four small ships of the survivors to that island.

Another voice piped up from somewhere behind me. "Hikigaya-san, you really don't need to push yourself anymore. You've done so much already."

'Push myself. If only they knew how little effort any of this actually required.'

"It's okay," I said aloud. "The more resources we have, the better."

That much was true, at least.

Over the past three days, I'd established a routine that would have been impressive if it weren't built entirely on deception.

In the past three days, as we needed food and water in the middle of the sea, I had to use the power of my Stand to conjure it.

But I can't exactly tell them that I have a Stand that can get me whatever I want.

First, Stands don't exist in this world. Or that is what I think, and it is most likely true.

Second, telling people you can trust, or more like telling anyone at all that you can conjure anything you need, is a very stupid thing to do.

Hence, I opted for the next best thing, which is that I have a Devil Fruit power.

The way I sold them the lie is like this, I had pretended to fish while sending my Stand underwater to conjure cargo boxes filled with whatever we needed.

For visual effects, I channeled Hamon through the fishing rod, making it glow with that distinctive golden energy that looked suitably mystical.

Then I'd "catch" the box and reel it up, playing the part of the mysterious Devil Fruit user who could fish for treasures lost in the ocean.

Combine this with desperation, and the survivors ate it up. Literally, in the case of the water and food supplies. And when I told them the closest island is in this direction, they automatically took it as a given fact.

Their wide-eyed wonder at my supposed powers made me feel like a complete fraud, which was fitting since that's exactly what I was.

'Wow, at least I'm consistent.'

It was almost time for another performance.

I summoned the Box that had now phased out of me like it had nothing to do with its previous immobile and creepy self.

'Not like it is no longer creepy. Or is it creepy because it is my Stand? Tsk, great. Now that Yukinoshita is not here, I am doing her role and insulting myself.'

Anyway, I sent my Stand diving beneath the waves, its wooden form invisible to everyone but me as it manifested yet another cargo box in the depths.

This time, though, I had something specific in mind.

The past three days had given me plenty of time to think about my spectacular failure during the fishmen pirates' attack, and I'd come to some uncomfortable conclusions about my approach to survival in this world.

The familiar tingle of Hamon flowed through my body and into the fishing rod, causing it to emit that golden glow that had become my trademark. I had gotten better at giving the impression over the past few days.

'Translation, I became a better fraud.'

I felt the weight on the line as my Stand positioned the cargo, then began the careful process of reeling it in.

The survivors gathered around me like spectators at a magic show, their excitement palpable in the salt-tinged air. It was pathetic how much hope they placed in these 'random boxes', how much faith they had in abilities I was completely making up.

'They remind me of kids waiting for Christmas presents. Except instead of toys, they're hoping for basic survival supplies. And instead of Santa Claus, they've got a cynical teenager with psychological issues.'

This is definitely going to end well.

The wooden cargo container breached the surface with a splash, water cascading from its wooden sides as I hauled it onto the deck.

The survivors pressed closer, their eyes bright with anticipation and desperation in equal measure.

"Another one!" someone whispered.

"What do you think will be inside this time?"

'If you only knew.'

I stepped back and gestured to the sailor with the crowbar, maintaining the facade that I had no control over the contents.

"Same as always—let's see what the sea decided to give us today."

Crack!

The crowbar bit into the wood with a sharp crack, and the lid popped open. The survivors leaned forward eagerly, then stopped, their expressions shifting from excitement to confusion to amazement.

Food and water, as usual. But nestled among the supplies were weapons—cutlasses, flintlock pistols and rifles, powder horns, and ammunition.

There were also strange clothes: like a dark cloak that seemed to absorb light and a pointed hat that looked like something a discount wizard would wear.

"Weapons?" one of the passengers breathed, his voice filled with awe.

"How is this possible?" another whispered.

They turned to me with those same expectant looks, waiting for an explanation I couldn't give without revealing the truth about my abilities.

So I fell back on the same lie I'd been telling for three days, the one that was becoming easier to maintain with each repetition.

"I can't control what comes up," I said, injecting just the right amount of mysterious uncertainty into my voice. "The sea gives what it gives."

"Which is still amazing! It is such a miraculous ability, with so much potential."

Gilbert, the middle-aged merchant who'd somehow managed to regain his looks as a seasoned businessman even after nearly drowning, stepped forward with eyes that practically glowed with Berri.

"Hikigaya-san," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm and excitement, "Have you considered the business opportunities your gift presents? I can think of dozens of profitable business ideas, your abilities could very well be the engine for a Trade Empire! With my family's connections and your remarkable ability, we could establish quite the foundation for a grand dream!"

God, the eagerness. And that with only this much I am reveling, with the Box's power, imagining what will happen if people knew I could create gold!

'It would be a disaster, I can't even imagine the consequences.'

"Ah, well, thanks for the offer, but, you see, let's focus on getting to safety first," I said, reaching into the cargo box to claim the items I'd actually conjured for myself.

Gilbert's face fell slightly at my rejection, but he didn't push the issue.

'He'd probably try again later, when he thought I might be more receptive.'

Leaving that aside, I focus on the items.

The cutlass felt solid in my hand, its weight reassuring in a way that surprised me. The flintlock was heavier than I'd expected, but it would serve its purpose.

The cloak practically radiated protectiveness—I'd made sure of that when I created it.

The hat, though... that was going to be a problem for my dignity. It looked exactly like what it was: a wizard's hat, complete with some mystical decoration. But if embracing the Chuni would save my life, I…I…I Will…!

'Damn! Go Away Dignity! OMAE MOU SHINDEIRU!!!!' (You are already dead)

Sigh, the truth was, I'd conjured these specific items for very deliberate reasons.

The past three days of forced introspection had led me to some uncomfortable realizations about my approach to this world, and more importantly, about the spectacular ways in which that approach had nearly gotten me killed.

I'd been reckless. Stupidly, catastrophically reckless in a way that would have embarrassed my high schooler self back when my biggest concerns were avoiding social interaction and maintaining my carefully cultivated image as someone too cool to care about anything.

'Turns out that not caring about things is a lot easier when the said "things" doesn't include "dying horribly in a world full of murderous pirates." Who would have thought?'

I'd been so focused on getting home, so single-minded in my pursuit of collecting Devil Fruits, that I'd ignored the reality of where I was.

This wasn't some video game where death was a minor inconvenience and you could respawn at the nearest checkpoint.

This was a world where pirates could tear through a ship full of innocent people without breaking a sweat, where strength was the only currency that mattered, where the weak died screaming while the strong sailed away with their belongings, thinking about today's dinner.

I'd nearly joined the ranks of the screaming dead. If not for the Box's timely save and awakening, I would have been fish food while the fishmen pirates sailed away with my Barbossa Sword like it was just another piece of loot.

'My sword…'

The thought still made my jaw clench with frustration and something dangerously close to actual rage.

Those bastards had stolen it—not lost it in the confusion of battle, not misplaced it in the chaos of a sinking ship. But stolen.

According to the compass, they still had it, probably not even realizing what they'd taken.

'Heh, who am I kidding, they should know by now.'

The implications were troubling on multiple levels. First, it meant that any magical items I possessed could be taken from me, which put both my remaining things at risk.

Second, it meant that somewhere out there, a group of murderous pirates now had access to a weapon that could probably turn them from a sea terror to a natural disaster!

But there was a deeper issue, one that had taken me three days of reluctant soul-searching to fully acknowledge:

My entire approach to this world had been fundamentally, catastrophically flawed from the very beginning.

'I've been thinking like a protagonist,' I realized with the kind of horrifying clarity that only came with retrospective analysis. 'Like some Shonen hero who could charge headfirst into impossible situations and emerge victorious through the power of plot and friendship.'

The reality was far more mundane and infinitely more dangerous. I wasn't a protagonist.

I was a side character at best, probably more of a background extra who'd accidentally stumbled into the main plot and was now desperately trying not to get killed by forces beyond his comprehension.

This world wasn't going to bend to my will just because I wanted to go home.

It was ancient, vast, dangerous, and utterly indifferent to my desires or my circumstances. Sailing around alone with no plan beyond "find Devil Fruits and hope for the best" wasn't an admirable determination—it was suicide with extra steps.

'Slow, agonizing, and completely preventable suicide.'

The kind that would end with me dead in some nameless corner of the ocean while my family back home spent the rest of their lives wondering what had happened to me.

The thought of my family—of Komachi waiting for me to come home, of my parents dealing with my sudden disappearance—was like a physical blow to the chest.

But wallowing in guilt and homesickness wouldn't help anyone, least of all them. What I needed was a new approach, one grounded in reality rather than wishful thinking and protagonist syndrome.

I Needed To Make Compromises.

'How very adult of me. Barely eighteen years old, and I'm already learning to settle for less than I want. Yukinoshita would probably say something cutting about how this represents genuine personal growth.'

The first compromise was accepting that my journey home would take time. Not weeks or months, but years, and potentially decades, sadly.

I had to plan for the long term, which meant prioritizing survival over speed. I couldn't afford to take the kinds of risks I'd been taking, not when failure meant death and success meant potentially never seeing my family again.

The second compromise was putting safety first in a way that went against every instinct I'd developed as a cynical loner.

No more charging blindly toward Devil Fruits without considering the dangers. No more assuming that my Stand would be enough to get me out of any situation.

I needed backup plans, escape routes, and contingencies for when things went wrong—which, given my track record, they inevitably would.

'Planning ahead. What a novel concept. I'm like a strategist, except incompetent and with a much higher chance of dying horribly.'

The weapons were in the basics, they are not special, but having them is better than having nothing, and I should probably look for more improvements in that front as well.

The cloak, however, was even more valuable than the weapons. It is a protected cloak like the ones I had before. And previously, I also conjured a bulletproof vest secretly that I am now wearing.

This is the kind of defense that might have prevented me from nearly suffocating to death with my own blood. An insurance against my own inevitable mistakes, a safeguard for the moments when my planning proved inadequate.

'Which will probably be most moments, if I'm being honest.'

The pointed wizard hat is also a protected one, like this, I also have a safeguard if I were attacked on the head, which could also save my life.

I chose this one because of its rounded edge. If I use Hamon to control it would be possible to protect my whole face. I also chose this one instead of a cowboy hat because cowboy hats are close in design to Captain's hat, which will lead to confusion.

Although it is a bit embarrassing to wear a wizard hat, I am sure it would keep up the look when coupled with the cloak, yes, I am sure, definitely.

'It was either that or a motorcycle helmet. Or god forbid, a Power Ranger helmet…'

B-Beyond the immediate gear, I had one more safeguard—the other item that had survived the cargo ship's destruction, along with my compass. I slipped my hand into my pocket, fingers closing around the small metal case that contained my most precious insurance policy.

I take the small metal case, smaller than a cigarette packet, out of my pocket.

Inside it were 5 green beans arranged neatly.

They are called Senzu Beans, a healing item from the series Dragon Ball, capable of restoring planet-destroying level existences from the brink of death to peak health, restoring their stamina in the process. They were miracles in edible form, literal life-savers that represented my last resort when everything else failed.

Yes, when I was on the brink of death, the Box conjured this to save my life.

Five Senzu beans. Well, five now—there had originally been six, but I'd been forced to use one to save my life.

It is probably too much to waste a Devil Fruit for just 6 Beans, but with my life at risk here, having an overpowered healing item to save my life is never too much.

The real concern wasn't just their number, though that was certainly important, as the more, the better. The bigger issue was the temptation to rely on them.

Having a get-out-of-death-free card in my pocket made it easier to take risks, to push my luck in situations where a saner person would retreat.

I had to resist that temptation, had to treat each bean as the irreplaceable resource it was.

'Because knowing me, I'll probably need all five before this is over.'

"Hikigaya-san," Delgado's voice interrupted my brooding, dragging me back to the present. "Should we prepare to distribute the weapons before we reach the island?"

I looked up from the pistol I'd been examining, considering the question. The survivors were watching me expectantly, waiting for guidance I didn't feel qualified to give.

"We'll keep them out of sight until we know what we're dealing with," I decided after a moment's consideration. "No point in giving the locals the wrong impression, especially if we need their help."

It was a reasonable precaution. We had injured people among our group, including the cargo ship's captain, who was still unconscious from the attack.

We needed medical attention, supplies, and shelter—all things that would be harder to obtain if we showed up looking like a band of armed refugees.

'Which, technically, is exactly what we are. But appearances matter, and I'd rather be underestimated than shot on sight.'

"That makes sense," Delgado agreed, his tone suggesting he genuinely respected my judgment. "We'll need to be careful about how we approach this."

'Careful.'

The word felt strange in my mouth after a number of reckless decision-making, but I was learning to embrace it. Caution wasn't cold-bloodedness—it was logic applied to survival.

And if there was one thing I'd always prided myself on, it was my logic.

'Even if I've been doing a remarkably poor job of applying it lately.'

Time passed in relative silence as we continued toward our destination. The sun climbed higher, turning the ocean into a sheet of hammered gold that hurt to look at directly.

The other three ships in our pathetic flotilla maintained their positions, their crews going through the same mixture of hope and anxiety that gripped our vessel.

I found myself studying the horizon with an intensity that bordered on obsession, looking for any sign of our destination.

The compass in my hand continued to point steadily toward our destination, telling me it is close, and also telling me something about my target that I don't understand.

Lately, I wondered what would happen if I lost it—how I would navigate this world without my one reliable source of direction. The thought was terrifying enough that I'd taken to checking the small thread that connected it to my belt every few minutes.

'Paranoid? Maybe. But paranoia keeps you alive in a world where everything is trying to kill you.'

Finally, after what felt like hours but was probably only thirty minutes, someone shouted from the bow of our ship.

"Land! I can see land!"

The effect was immediate and dramatic.

"Finally!"

"Thank god!"

"We are saved!!"

Survivors who had been sitting listlessly around the deck suddenly came to life, abandoning whatever they'd been doing to crowd toward the front of the ship for a glimpse of salvation.

Their excitement was palpable, infectious in a way that almost made me smile.

'Almost. Let's not get carried away.'

The island resolved itself gradually from the heat haze, revealing itself to be larger than I'd expected. Green hills rose from yellow beaches, dotted with what looked like buildings.

It looked peaceful. Civilized. Exactly what we needed.

The beach grew clearer as we drew closer, close enough to make out individual buildings.

It looked like a typical small town, the kind of place where nothing much happened and everyone knew everyone else's business.

Under normal circumstances, it would have seemed boring to the point of stupefaction. Right now, boring sounded like paradise.

'Boring means predictable. Predictable means safe. We could use some safe right about now.'

We made it to the beach without incident, our four small vessels running aground on the yellow sand with gentle thuds that seemed anticlimactic after everything we'd been through.

The survivors began to disembark immediately, their relief so palpable I could practically taste it in the salt air.

I remained aboard a moment longer, making sure my weapons were properly concealed beneath my new cloak and that the ridiculous wizard hat was secured on my head.

Looked like an idiot, but I was a living idiot with multiple layers of protection.

'In this world, that counts as a victory.'

As I stepped onto the beach, I took a moment to survey our surroundings with the kind of careful attention I should have been paying all along.

The sand was clean and yellow, unmarked by footprints or debris—which could mean either that it was well-maintained or that no one came here most of the time.

'Please let it be the first option.' 

Trees swayed in the breeze, their branches rustling with a sound like gentle rain. It was almost idyllic, like a postcard from a travel brochure advertising tropical paradises.

The survivors were gathering in small groups, looking around with expressions of wonder and relief that made something twist uncomfortably in my chest.

Some were already talking about exploring the island, finding the nearest town, and locating a doctor for the wounded. Their optimism was infectious, despite my better judgment.

'They deserve this moment,' I realized with reluctant sympathy. 'They've been through hell, and if they want to believe we've found safety, who am I to take that away from them?'

I was about to suggest we organize a proper scouting party—because apparently I was the voice of reason now, which was terrifying—when a voice rang out from the treeline behind the beach.

"Stop right there!"

'Oh, come on.'

We all turned toward the sound, relief transforming into tension so quickly I could practically see it happening.

From behind the trees stepped a figure that made my heart sink into my stomach—a young man with curly hair and a slingshot in his hands.

And a very, very, very iconic long nose…

Among the trees behind him were the pirate flags that began appearing, dozens of them, creating the illusion of a vast army hidden in the foliage.

'Of all places…You have got to be kidding me…'

"I am the great Captain Usopp!" the young man declared, his voice carrying across the beach with theatrical authority that would have been impressive if I didn't know exactly what was happening.

"This island is under the protection of my eight thousand subordinates! State your business, or prepare to face the wrath of my pirate crew!!!"

…

A/N: This WON'T be the start of the Syrup Village Arc.

But well, Thank you all for reading!

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