ONE PIECE: FLOW OF FATE

The number 1498 echoed in Renjiro's mind, a silent, monumental thunderclap. It wasn't just a date; it was a revelation, shattering the comfortable illusion of his mundane new life.

This is it. This is really it. Not just some generic fantasy world, not some vague "reincarnation" into a new body. This is the world. The Grand Line. The Pirates. The Marines. And I'm here, two years before Roger's execution. The realization hit him with the force of a tidal wave. He's still alive. Whitebeard is still in his prime, clashing with Roger. Oden's journey... it's happening now. Laugh Tale, the final island, still a year from being found. My God, the Straw Hats aren't even a flicker in their parents' eyes yet!

His mind, no longer clouded by the confusion of survival, raced with the implications. The legends he'd devoured in books and screens were yet to be fully written. The future was unwritten, a blank scroll waiting for new strokes. This wasn't just a second chance at life; it was an unprecedented opportunity. He wasn't merely surviving; he was living in a pivotal moment, with the potential to shape destiny. A potent wave of determination washed over him, eclipsing the lingering ache in his abdomen. He needed to be strong. Not just to protect his family, but to seize this incredible, impossible reality.

Yet, a cold, sobering thought quickly settled amidst his burgeoning ambition.

I'm not a main character from a prophecy, nor am I from a special race. Heck, I'm not even a 'D' clan member. I'm just an orphan boy stuck up north. The brutal truth was undeniable. Even with all my knowledge of this world, what use would it be if I die tomorrow due to my weakness? Survival in this world, he knew, would be infinitely harder than his last. Any day, he could be killed, or worse, lose his new family to the dangers that lurked just beyond their peaceful village. His strength, or lack thereof, would dictate their fate. This stark realization solidified his ultimate goal.

From today, the best course of action is clear: I need to join the Marines. They're the only force with the power and reach to truly navigate this chaotic world, and they uphold some semblance of order. In the meantime, I'll train myself relentlessly. Time is on my side, in a way. The main cannon events don't even properly start for a little over twenty years from now.

It was night. The family had retired to their rooms—the kids in one, Bram and Kaia in the other—leaving Renjiro alone with his surging thoughts.

First thing tomorrow, we're going to start this meticulous journey, he resolved, staring up at the dark ceiling. It'll be weird if others find out what I'm doing. I'll have to wake up before dawn.

As he lay there, staring at the wooden ceiling, the moonlight filtering through the small window cast a soft glow across their shared room. The familiar sounds of Renzo's soft snores and Yurie's restless turning filled the air. Then, Renzo shifted, turning to face Renjiro, his eyes wide and innocent in the dim light.

"Brother," Renzo whispered, his voice a sleepy mumble, "will you marry Maria?" He paused, clearly thinking hard. "She's okay, but Yurie will be mad. She likes you." He finished, genuinely looking out for everyone's feelings, oblivious to the potential chaos.

Before Renjiro could even form a response, a soft thwack echoed in the quiet room. Yurie, who had apparently been very much awake, sat bolt upright and smacked Renzo lightly with a pillow.

"You idiot!" Yurie hissed, her voice tight with indignation. "Why are you spreading lies like that? And why aren't you asleep? You don't want me to tell Grandma about this."

Renzo instantly clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with alarm. "Okay, okay," he mumbled, shrinking back under his blanket.

Yurie turned her attention to Renjiro, her earlier anger softening into a surprisingly earnest expression. "Don't entertain this kid too, Renjiro," she grumbled, though her tone was more weary than angry now. Then, almost shyly, she added, "Also, Renjiro, I'm sorry for ignoring you a little earlier today. I was just in a bad mood." With that, she turned around and seemed to drift off to sleep almost immediately, leaving the awkward silence to hang in the air.

Renjiro's mind raced. Shit, how should I respond to that? She really does seem to get angry at the mere mention of another girl, and I can't keep having her mood ruined like this. I'll have to deal with that later, tactfully. He internally sighed. He knew he had to soothe her, even if it felt ridiculous.

"It's alright, Yurie," he said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring, carefully crafting his words. "You know that Renzo and you are much more precious to me than any other kid here in the village." He poured all the sincerity he could into his tone, an effort to truly please her.

Although not facing him, a small, satisfied smile bloomed on Yurie's face, visible even in the dim light. A quiet giggle escaped her, light and airy, before her breathing evened out, and she, too, fell into a peaceful sleep.

Entertaining kids, or rather, navigating their complex emotions, isn't exactly in my job description as a future Marine officer, Renjiro thought, a dry amusement stirring within him. But man, being mentally sixteen and trying to act like a four-year-old is truly like living a double life. Every day is a performance.

The night deepened, a quiet stage for Renjiro's internal war of ambition versus biology. As morning approached, Renjiro, unknowingly, began a change of fate with no turning back, hopefully.

He woke up a little before dawn, the deepest blue of the night sky just starting to show bits of fragile, pale crack along the eastern horizon. The air was cool, carrying the scent of damp earth and sleeping wood. He slipped out of his shared bed, his small feet barely making a sound on the worn floorboards, careful not to disturb Renzo and Yurie still lost in their slumber.

Once outside, the vast, silent plains greeted him. He took a deep, bracing breath. Okay, Renjiro. This is it. No turning back now. Forget the big picture for a moment, focus on the immediate.

He looked out at the seemingly endless stretch of grass. Right. Since I'm still young, and this body is… well, tiny… we'll start simple. A kilometer every day, there and back, making it two in essence. He knew a kilometer was roughly 1,000 meters, a daunting distance for a four-year-old. Then, we'll start with twenty push-ups, a two-minute plank, and twenty sit-ups. He nodded to himself, the plan firm in his mind. I'll think of more once I get used to these. I'll adjust the numbers as needed – if I find them too easy, I'll add more. If I'm collapsing, I'll lower it temporarily.

He began to walk, eyes fixed on a lone, gnarled tree at the edge of the plains, a distant landmark. He carefully counted his steps, his brow furrowed in concentration, meticulously measuring out what he estimated to be a kilometer. Each step was a small, deliberate act of will.

By the time he reached what he judged to be the halfway point, the sun had begun to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and pink. He was already breathing heavily, a slight ache in his small legs. He stopped, hands on his knees, panting lightly. Okay, I'll finish the full kilometer tomorrow. Shit, that half-kilometer took longer than I thought. My stamina is absolute garbage.

He shook his head, trying to clear the haze of exhaustion. Right, time for a quick push-up session. He dropped to the dewy grass, positioning his small hands. He pushed up, trembling, and then down. One. Two. Three. Each one was a monumental effort. At seven, his muscles screamed, his tiny arms gave out, and he collapsed, face-first, onto the cool ground.

He lay there for a moment, chest heaving, a bitter taste of failure mixed with fierce determination. Seven. Just seven? God, I might die halfway through this training. God help me. But even as the thought flickered, a stubborn defiance hardened his gaze. No. I won't. I can't. Not if I want to survive this world. Not if I want to protect them.

He pushed himself up, still panting, and sat there on the cold, damp ground, leaning against his knees. His small muscles ached with a burning fire, a foreign sensation to his adult mind that remembered a far more capable body. He looked down at his tiny, trembling arms. The reality check was brutal.

Okay, twenty push-ups was clearly too ambitious for day one in this body, he conceded, his breath slowly evening out. His initial plan, designed for a full-grown man, had crashed hard against the undeniable limitations of a four-year-old. No point in breaking myself before I even truly start. Gotta be smart about this.

He quickly recalculated. Right. We'll adjust. For now, the goal is ten push-ups. And that two-minute plank? Forget it. We'll start with thirty-second planks. He mentally grimaced, recalling his initial, wildly optimistic sit-up goal. And the sit-ups... ten. Just ten sit-ups for now. I'll stick to these numbers until I'm adjusted, then I'll slowly ramp up the intensity. This is a marathon, not a sprint, especially with this body.

It was a humbling realization, but one he accepted without hesitation. The goal remained the same; only the immediate steps had changed. He wasn't giving up; he was adapting. And adaptation, he knew, was key to survival in any world, especially this one.

A week had passed since Renjiro began his rigorous self-training. While he hadn't started hunting with Bram yet, today marked his final solo session before that new chapter began. He was on his way back to the cabin, a light sheen of sweat on his brow, his small legs tired but his spirit soaring.

Man, the training is really coming along, Renjiro thought, a genuine sense of accomplishment filling him. I'm able to hold a one-minute and thirty-second plank now, easily. That's a huge jump in just a week! And my push-ups are holding steady at fifteen solid reps. For a four-year-old, I'm already a little monster. He walked with a newfound spring in his step, feeling the subtle, building strength in his small frame.

As he neared the edge of the village, he spotted Drake and Maria in their usual clearing, Maria's wooden sword whistling through the air as Drake coached her. It was a familiar, almost comforting sight.

"Oh, if it isn't our future son-in-law!" Drake's booming voice cut through the morning air, carrying across the clearing with far too much enthusiasm.

Maria, who was halfway through a fierce sword slash, visibly stiffened. Her swing faltered, and she screeched, "Father! Stop that!" She spun around, her face a furious red, and actually kicked Drake hard in the shin.

Drake merely laughed louder, rubbing his leg good-naturedly. "Haha! No need to be ashamed now, Maria! Everyone knows how much you two get along!"

Shameless people, I swear, Renjiro thought, a mental vein throbbing in his forehead. Who knows if Bram and Drake are actually planning to formally engage us in the future? And if they are, they've decided to start the teasing now? Their shamelessness knows no bounds. Renjiro wasn't truly surprised by Drake's antics; he'd come to expect them. He maintained his polite, innocent facade, hiding his internal sigh behind a carefully crafted smile.

"Good day, Mr. Drake, Maria," he called out cheerfully, quickening his pace to pass them. "Grandpa will be teaching me hunting this week, as you know, so I'll be focused on that for a while." He gave them a friendly wave. "I'll see you in a year, though, for those sword lessons you promised!" The hint of his adult mind's cunning gleamed subtly in his eyes as he delivered the line, reinforcing the 'future' aspect of their supposed bond.

He continued on his way, leaving Maria fuming, her face bright red, and Drake roaring with laughter, completely unfazed by his daughter's indignation.

As he headed towards his home, the quiet rhythm of his footsteps allowed his thoughts to drift to the bigger picture of power in this world.

Right, physical training is step one, but what about the real game-changers? he pondered, staring at his small, still-uncomprehending hands. As I recall, Rayleigh taught Luffy Haki, but without any actual guidance, how would I even begin to learn that shit? It's not something you just pick up from a book.

His mind then strayed to another formidable power. And what about Devil Fruits? A Logia, like Kizaru's Pika Pika no Mi, would be amazing, or even a strong Paramecia like Whitebeard's Gura Gura no Mi. That would fast-track everything. A flicker of temptation crossed his mind. But I can't rely on the astronomical chance of just 'finding' a good Devil Fruit, or even one that's genuinely useful. And losing the ability to swim seems a little too drastic a gamble in an all-blue world like this. No, that's too much of a wildcard.

He shook his head, solidifying his resolve. Haki is the way. It's an internal power, cultivated through will and discipline. But still... how do I develop something I don't even truly understand, let alone know how to train? This is going to be the real challenge. The question hung in his mind, a monumental puzzle to solve on his path to strength.

A/N to my cherished readers: I'm genuinely excited about building Renjiro's journey as a Marine, and there's so much potential! I'd absolutely love to hear your ideas for future islands he could visit or specific missions he might undertake. Your insights would be incredibly valuable as I plan ahead.

Also, I'll be striving to write longer chapters going forward!