Chapter 4: The Journal's

Chapter 4: The Journal's

Jonathan sat at the small wooden desk in his room, a blank journal open before him. He scowled at the pristine pages, a sense of frustration simmering beneath his furrowed brow.

"Why bother?" he grumbled, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room. Yet a gnawing sense of uneasiness washed over him, like a persistent itch he couldn't quite scratch.

"But then again, it's been getting worse day by day," he muttered bitterly, the realisation sinking.

It was as if a fog had settled over his mind.

'As annoying as it may be, the dockter is probably right,' John thought with a grimace. 'Even now, it's already reached the point where I can't seem to recall my own last name.' It was a disconcerting feeling, like trying to grasp at smoke slipping through his fingers.

After some internal conflict, Reason seemed to have won over Laziness. "Fine, let's get it over with," he muttered to himself.

Reluctantly, Jonathan picked up the pen. With a sigh, he began to write down everything he could recall from before the plane crash.

Which, to his horror, was surprisingly little; most of the things he thought about often in his everyday life became vague and indescribable.

And old memories were carved in stone; even now he could recite some of the films he had seen as a child with his mom and dad, but he could not remember their faces.

"Is it because I don't belong in this world?" he wondered. We've been in this place for a couple of days now, and it only started happening after the crash...

He discovered a small, insignificant detail. The storm had transported the flight to the world of One Piece!

Even now, looking back, he still feels it was surreal, but he could not deny the reality of it all. It seemed strange for a few days; no one had phones, and other small details he did not pay attention to, given his preoccupation with the situation with Cynthia.

The last straw was during breakfast when the news coo delivered the papers, which included an issue of the World Economic News and bounty posters.

Causing the remainder of the pieces to fall into place, while the information gave me a severe case of wondering about what was real and what wasn't.

"Let us use this journal to prove that at least I am real." He hyped himself up.

He paused for a moment before laughing a little strangely: "Haha, look at me pretending to be fine with it. Even though I feel a bit better now, I had a major existential crisis when I found out the truth.

"Well, at least until I remember the possibilities," Jonathan mused, his thoughts wandering. But he quickly shook himself out of his reverie.

"Enough procrastination," he mentally scolded, "let's get this over with."

With a determined sigh, he focused his attention on the blank journal before him.

"Let's start by writing about the past couple of days."

---

Day 1:

Today was... the day of the crash. and the day I arrived in this world.

I woke up in a strange bed, disoriented and groggy. The room was unfamiliar, and the air was heavy with a strange scent of antiseptic. A nurse, her face kind but worn with exhaustion, hovered by my bedside. She informed me that my wife had given birth and that our daughter was premature. The news made the ground fall from under me, but I couldn't conjure up the emotions one might expect. It was as if I was watching the scene unfold from a distance, detached from the reality of it all.

Feeling the walls closing in, I had to go outside for some fresh air, and I met Tristrat, Tom, and Marie.

Looking back now, things already seem strange, but at the time, I brushed them off as mere quirks of the situation.

---

Day 2:

I spent the day working in Tom's orchard. It was...what was it like? I can't seem to remember much. Problems started on this day. I kept zoning out and seemed to do tasks on autopilot. It was like my body was moving, but my mind was elsewhere.

Afterward, I went to visit Tristran, the man who had arranged a nurse for me. He introduced me to Nozomi Rei, a local nurse who runs a daycare where she looks after several children on a daily basis.

When she asked what the baby's name was, I had another black moment. I couldn't remember the name Cynthia and I had agreed on. It was like trying to grasp at a fleeting memory that slipped through my fingers.

Trying to cheer me up, Rei spontaneously began to recount all the gossip and oddities this town had to offer over the past ten years, including some odd rumours about the royal family.

I politely nodded and slowly backed away, feeling that if I did not leave, this would go on for hours.

Then the reason I am writing this journal happened...

I seemed to have zoned out next to Cynthia, holding her hand the entire night, scaring the nurse that came in in the morning.

---

Day 3:

After last night, I went to see the doctor. He asked me about my symptoms and suggested keeping track of my daily activities in this journal. I'm starting to wonder if this is really necessary.

Cynthia remains unconscious and shows no signs of waking up anytime soon. 

Because Cynthia's future is so uncertain, I am distracting myself with work and caring for our daughter, but she is mainly in the care of the wet nurse.

---

Day 4:

Cynthia remains unconscious...

This morning I found out that the storm had brought me to the world of one piece.

As well as giving me a severe case of existential crisis, this revelation gave me hope that I might be able to find something in time to save Cynthia.

My quest began with high hopes, but I quickly realised how insignificant ordinary people are in this world, from their limited general knowledge to the fact that most people have never even heard of devil fruit, dismissing it as a drunken sailor's tale.

(Note: Write down all important plot points.)

---

Day 5:

I woke up this morning with a headache. Marie said I should write about it in my journal. So here I am, writing about my headache. Riveting stuff, really.

But today was not all bad. The doctor says that Cynthia has miraculously stabilised; although she still shows no signs of waking up, she is no longer in danger of dying unexpectedly, so I asked Rei if she would mind looking after Cynthia and Mara at the same time, for a substantial fee, of course.

The only reason I can pay for this is because of the amount of work in the orchard; almost all the fruit seemed to have ripened overnight, creating an unreasonable amount of work...

but the pay is great.

Rei was happy to help, as the extra income meant she had more time to spend with her daughter, who looked like her identical, smaller clone she seemed somehow familiar...

(Looking at the two of them, I realise once again that the gene pool of this world is a frightening one).

While trying to work out exactly where in the world I was, I was hit by another severe migraine and woke up a few hours later feeling mentally drained.

Day 6:

Today, we moved Cynthia to Rei's house. Tom and some of the workers offered to help there, and I was incredibly grateful, especially as they had to make time for it in an already hectic work schedule.

The rest of the day was more work in the orchard; nothing much happened except that my grey hair seems to be getting worse; almost none of the original colour remains.

On the bright side, I can't help but notice that, physically, I seem to be in top shape.

…

Scout(s) POV

Logbook: report

At first, when volunteering for the mission, I was expecting a walk in the park.

A quick, high-merit mission for a fast promotion

It started out like any other assignment: we went undercover wearing a stylish cloak covering our uniforms and weapons.

Since we were from a local east-blue base, our scouting party arrived right before it was high noon, more than half a day before the main group that was going to apprehend the suspects.

looking for the target. We infiltrated the market while we were disguised as a merchant group looking to buy a large shipment of fruits to be delivered to the capital tomorrow morning.

Soon we attracted the attention of a large, rotund man who guaranteed us they would be ready for delivery before the morning, saying he would call his workers to prepare it immediately.

Not to raise suspicion, our captain entertained the man, pretending to place the order and pay a deposit.

The rest of us started asking around with the descriptions we were given.

There was not much to go on to find our targets—the only thing we had was a general description and a photo of the old woman walking away and a younger man following her in a light jog.

(See next page) was scribbled next to it.

The old woman looked quite generic. sporting a slight hunch We estimated her at 1.4m (4.59 feet) and short grey hair; if not for her far below-average height, you wouldn't be able to pick her out of a crowd.

The man was the opposite; from his description and from the photo, we could determine that he was around 1.95m (6.5 feet), with a lean build, medium-long blond, half-curled hair, and very distinctive eyes, the left emerald green and the right one dark gold-brown. Not that the picture had visible faces; the briefing said that his eyes were the only way to ensure it was him since heterochromatic eyes are extremely rare in these parts of the world.

After finding nothing in the market, the captain ordered us to split up, so we divided into two main groups. 

Group one went to the capital, just in case he was attempting to harm the kingdom, and went to the royal palace.

and group two fanned out, combing the town, but after what seemed like...

…

"Hey, Bell, quit scribbling in that darn book and pitch in. Got it?" With a nudge, he interrupted her, catching her in the act of jotting something down in the logbook.

"O, shut it," Bell-mere snapped back, cursing her companion. "And your push made me smear ink all over my latest page; thanks for that, Darion," she added, the last part dripping in sarcasm.

Darion sheepishly apologised, "Sorry, but after nearly six hours of searching without finding anything, I'm on edge. You get it, right?"

"Okay, I understand; I'm feeling jittery too. It's weird that no one else has returned or even tried to contact us," Bell-Mere remarked, pausing to blow on the pages of the book in an attempt to salvage them.

They gathered in the town square, awaiting their companions. So far, they were the only ones to return by the leader's deadline; everyone else was late, including the leader himself.

"Maybe we should just throw in the towel and head back to the ship," Darion suggested.

Bell-Mere glared at Darion, her dissatisfaction evident in her eyes. "Well, we can't just give up now," she said, her tone filled with determination. "We still have some time left to find the targets. We'll make sure we find them no matter the cost!"

Darion nodded, his guilt weighing heavily on his mind. They had failed to find anything, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was to blame, having distracted Bell-Mere from their mission.

In an attempt to impress her, he also went against the captain's orders, opting to follow his squadmate instead of spreading out. This decision not only slowed down their search but also led to a skirmish with local gang members.

He would have been beaten to a pulp if it hadn't been for the leader of their group ordering them to stop messing around. 

"Can you stop brooding for a minute? Our failure isn't solely on you," she said, trying to console him.

"I could have sent you away too, so stop beating yourself up over it," she said, rising to her feet and heading towards the bay. "Let's go to the ship and try to find some help, or at least grab a bite to eat to regain our stamina."

But despite her attempt to lift his spirits, he couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment in himself.

He had let down his team and compromised the mission. As they sat and waited at the rendezvous point, he couldn't help but imagine the disapproving glances from his fellow squad members once his transgression came to light.

The weight of their captain's expectations added to the burden of his guilt, making it nearly unbearable for Darion.

"Yeah, let's head back to the ship," Darion said, trying to lighten the mood. "It's not like the world is ending just because we couldn't find the target in time."

Having cheered up a bit, he even managed to crack a bad joke. However, his effort earned him an eye roll from his companion.