One Piece : Thomas Andre

Best way to deal with Emotional Baggage?

Beat someone.

And what makes it better?

When you got cheers for you doing.

And it was amazing.

Each punch felt lighter than the last. Now, think a little bit straight, Andre saw what he capable of.

When he ran at the first two pirates, the difference was immediately visible.

To the untrained eye, the bandits might have seemed fast. But to Thomas, they were slow. Painfully slow.

Imagine, a goalkeeper standing in front of an empty net. A man who has never kicked a ball in his life steps up to take a shot. The ball rolls toward the goal, slow and clumsy, so pitiful that the goalkeeper could stop it with a single finger. That was what Thomas saw. That was his new reality. His new reaction time.

And his strength? It was on the same impossible level as his speed. At first, he'd planned a simple right jab for one pirate and a backfist for the other. But he hadn't accounted for the sheer force behind his blows. The result was instantaneous: both men crumpled to the ground like ragdolls, their bodies hitting the dirt with a finality that left no room for argument. And from there, it only got worse—for the pirates, at least.

The captain, the so-called leader of this ragtag band of misfits, was terrified. With a shaky shout, he sent the rest of his men forward, hoping—praying—that numbers would be enough to stop the blond who had appeared out of nowhere.

But Thomas was already lost in the rhythm of it all. The skills of boxing and freestyle wrestling came in handy. Though wrestling had been his forte, he had a feeling boxing would serve him well here.

And

He might have kept going, his face a mask of stone, his fists a relentless storm, if not for the audience. The villagers, had begun to cheer.

Their laughter, their shouts of encouragement, their sheer joy at seeing their tormentors brought low—it was infectious. Thomas felt it in his chest, a warmth that pushed back the cold rage that had driven him this far.

That's when the frown melted away, replaced by a smirk. The rage gave way to something else: a fighting spirit, a spark of creativity. He grabbed two bandits by their collars, slammed their heads together with a satisfying crack, and tossed them aside like discarded toys.

Then, in a move that would have been comical if it weren't so terrifying, he picked up one of the pirates and used him as a weapon. The man's body felt weightless in Thomas's hands, no heavier than a stick. It was strange, terrible, and—dare he admit it—fun.

The entire ordeal was over in minutes. Fifty-something men, reduced to groaning heaps on the ground, their weapons scattered like forgotten relics. Only the captain remained, kneeling in the dirt, his hands raised in a pathetic plea for mercy.

Thomas wasn't going to kill him. But he wasn't going to let him go, either. The man would be tied up, questioned, and put to use. The ship moored at the dock—a hulking, grotesque thing—would need a crew, after all.

And the villagers? They were already celebrating. Thomas couldn't help but smile.

Although he need their help.

" Please, help me tie them up. Take their weapons first! "

Men were running toward him. Of course most of them were old, or teenagers with children.

Thomas shouted to them already for help, and from his seat he saw the old man give out some orders. Apparently to bring ropes. And the youngest ones ran to find the ropes. And several of the old men coming to him.

Thomas moved to meet them. It felt wrong to make the elders come all the way to him. Respect for his elders had been drilled into him since he was a child, and seeing these old men hobbling toward him, their faces etched with gratitude, made something twist in his chest. He stepped over the unconscious captain, his boots crunching on the dirt, and brushed the dust off his shirt. He'd have to clean it properly later—if there was a later in this godforsaken place.

The gray-haired man at the front of the group spoke first. "Thank you, son. Thank you for helping us." His voice was rough, like gravel, but there was a warmth to it that Thomas hadn't expected. The man lowered his head, a gesture of deep respect, and the others followed suit—old men, teenagers, even the children. It was a strange, humbling sight.

This had to be the mayor. The way the children looked at him, the way the old woman deferred to him—it all pointed to a man who'd earned his place. Thomas felt a pang of discomfort as the man kept his head bowed. An older man lowering his head to him? It didn't sit right.

"Please, raise your head, sir," Thomas said, softening his voice as much as he could. "Helping those in need is just common sense."

The man straightened slowly, his eyes meeting Thomas's. He was covered in cuts, dried blood crusted on his face and hands, his clothes torn and frayed. The teenagers behind him weren't much better, their faces smudged with dirt and blood. Only the children seemed relatively unharmed, their clothes dusty but intact. Small mercies, Thomas thought.

The old man smiled, a sincere, weary smile that reached his eyes. "Good words. It's a pity those who carry the banner of 'Justice' can't understand that."

Thomas frowned. He had a pretty good idea who the man was talking about, but he couldn't be sure. The biggest problem with all of this—with being in the world of One Piece—was that he didn't know enough. He wasn't a fan of anime. Never had been. He'd seen bits and pieces on YouTube, enough to recognize the big names—Dragon Ball, Naruto, Bleach, and yeah, One Piece. But that was it. He knew the basics, like pirates is good, Marines is bad, world have superpowers from something called "Devil Fruits", and that they are fuckin broken.

And now he was here. In it. No internet. No way to charge the phone in his pocket. No way to know if he'd ever get back to where he came from.

Thomas wasn't a fan of Japanese animation, i.e. Anime, and preferred... Anything but anime. Yes, something looked cool and unique that became so famous that he would remember some information about it too. Like Dragon Ball, Naruto, Bleach and finally One Piece.

"He's talking about the Marines...I guess..." Thomas thought, his stomach sinking. "Fuck. I hate it here already. I'm gonna have to find some kind of battery to keep my phone alive."

"I am the mayor of this town,"the old man declared, his voice booming with a newfound strength. "And if you give us time, son, we'll throw a feast in your honor!" His eyes gleamed with gratitude, but there was a fire there too—a spark of defiance that hadn't been there before. Behind him, the sound of footsteps grew louder as children came sprinting, their small hands clutching coils of rope like they were carrying treasure.

Thomas nodded, his mind already three steps ahead. " Thomas Andre,"he said, his voice calm but firm. "These freaks aren't going anywhere, so tie them up. In the meantime, I'll check out their ship. Make sure there aren't any more pirates lurking around."

He turned his back on them before they could respond, his boots crunching against the dirt as he strode toward the dock. What he really wanted was time to himself—time to think, to process, to come up with some kind of story that would explain how the hell he'd ended up here. He needed to figure out how to ask his questions without sounding like a lunatic, how to present himself without revealing too much. Or maybe he wouldn't say anything at all. Maybe silence was the best option.

The pirates weren't going anywhere. He'd made sure of that. But a ship this big? There had to be more of them onboard. And if there were, he'd deal with them. But more than that, he wanted to explore the ship. Yachts and boats had been rare in his old life, and old-fashioned ships like this one? They were something out of a movie. A part of him—the part that still felt like a kid—was itching to see what was inside.

"We'll wait for you. "the mayor called after him, his voice tinged with concern.

***

To get to the dock, you had to leave the village and almost instantly find yourself at the water's edge. The stairs leading up to the ship were weathered and creaky, and the shore was alive with the sound of waves crashing against the rocks.

Thomas took a deep breath, the sea breeze filling his lungs. It was fresh, salty, and oddly calming.

Instinctively, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. To his surprise, it was unscathed—no scratches, no cracks. The sleek black device, protected by its case and tempered glass, looked as good as new. He pressed the power button, and the screen lit up.

94% battery.

That was good. He'd need to conserve it until he found a way to recharge it. Assuming that was even possible in this world.

Next, he checked the time: **14:06**. That was Earth time, though. Did time even work the same way here? He'd have to figure that out later. And, of course, there was no signal. No bars. No Wi-Fi. Nothing.

"What was I even hoping for?" he muttered, shaking his head.

***CRASH***

"Ouch!"

The sound of something—or someone—hitting the ground snapped Thomas out of his thoughts. He instantly turned off his phone, shoved it back into his pocket, and scanned the area. The voice was young, coming from somewhere nearby.

There was no one on the dock, so he turned his attention to the shore. His eyes landed on a barrel—a barrel that had clearly just rolled down from somewhere and smashed into the ground. And then, from inside the barrel, came a voice.

"Oi! Someone there? Hey!"

Thomas's eyes narrowed. A moment ago, the shore had been empty. Now, there was a barrel—and a person inside it. He looked up, following the trajectory of the barrel, and saw a figure standing on the higher ground.

It was a young guy, maybe in 15-17. He wore a loose white shirt, green pants, and sandals.

A saber hung at his hip, and on his head was a straw hat with a bright red ribbon tied around it.

Underneath the hat, a strand of fiery red hair peeked out.

Thomas's eyes flicked downward. A rat scurried away from the guy's feet, disappearing into the underbrush.( A/N He definitely not beating these allegations :] )

The guy didn't seem to notice. He was too busy waving at Thomas, a wide grin plastered across his face.

"A familiar face…" Thomas muttered under his breath.