Disc UCQhEeVv3P yall making me pull my final straws here
JOIN OR GAYYYYYYYYYY
Anyways
Attendance
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Sebas was dreaming.
He was running. Full sprint. Through a white void.
And behind him — gaining — was Mihawk.
Paintbrush in hand. Dripping matte black paint. Golden hawk eyes locked on. Closing the distance with every step.
"GIMME THAT BOOTY LIL BOY," Mihawk said.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," Sebas screamed.
"COME HERE."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."
"STOP RUNNING."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—"
The bristles were millimetres from his back. He could feel them. Cold. Wet. Matte black—
"AAAAAAAHHH—"
Sebas shot upright in bed. Drenched in sweat. Breathing like he'd just run a marathon from the worst man alive.
Wooden ceiling.
He patted his body. Arms. Legs. Face. Not painted. Not black. Still a person.
"I'm not Black." Sebas whispered.
He checked his skin one more time just to be sure.
Good.
Then the REAL memory hit him.
Mihawk. The painting. The Cool Sword. The cackling.
"THIS IS MIHAWK UPSCALE."
One swing.
"THAT MAN ONE-SHOTTED ME," Sebas said to the ceiling. "I CAUGHT HIS SWORD WITH MY BARE FIST AND THEN HE ONE-SHOTTED ME. I WAS WINNING AND THEN I PULLED OUT A SWORD AND LOST. THE COOL SWORD BETRAYED ME. IT HAD A STICKER ON IT BRO. IT SAID COOL SWORD. IT WASN'T COOL AT ALL."
Tears.
Full tears. The man with every power in existence crying in a stranger's bed because a swordsman sent him through a wall and went back to painting.
"I'm never touching a sword again," Sebas choked. "NEVER. If I see a sword I'm leaving the DIMENSION. Me and swords are FINISHED. We are DIVORCED."
He wiped his face. Sat up. Took a breath. Swung his legs off the bed.
There was a table next to him. On it: a glass of water, a weird-looking fruit with swirly patterns on it, and a piece of paper.
Sebas picked up the fruit.
"What kind of fruit is this? It looks like someone drew on a mango with a sharpie."
He sniffed it. It smelled like regret and sea salt.
He put it down. Picked up the paper.
A wanted poster. Some guy in a straw hat grinning like an idiot.
MONKEY D. LUFFY — 400,000,000 BERRIES
Sebas stared at it.
"THATS ALOT OF NUMBERS? For THIS guy? He looks like he'd eat crayons for fun. My TYPE OF GUY."
He looked around the room. A barrel in the corner. A porthole window showing open ocean.
"Where am I," Sebas muttered.
He stood up.
Made it two steps toward the door.
And walked directly into the door frame.
The door was wide open. Clear path through it. And Sebas walked into the wooden frame beside it like it had jumped in front of him.
BONK.
He stumbled back. Grabbed his head.
"OW. WHO PUT THAT THERE."
It had been there the entire time. And he walked into it with both eyes open.
He blinked. Refocused. Lined himself up with the ACTUAL doorway. Made sure. Double checked. The opening was right there.
He stepped through.
Made it.
Looked back at the door frame like he'd just survived a boss fight.
Three steps into the hallway. Slipped on the air.
NOTHING on the floor. Dry wood. Flat. Clean.
"BWUAGH—"
Face first into the floorboards.
The hallway shook. Dust fell.
"EVEN THE AIR," Sebas screamed into the wood. "THE AIR AND THE DOOR FRAME ARE WORKING TOGETHER. THERE'S A CONSPIRACY."
The door at the end of the hallway swung open.
A man stood there. Looked at Sebas on the floor. Looked at the completely dry, completely empty hallway. Looked back at Sebas.
"...You good?" the man said.
Sebas peeled his face off the wood. Floorboard pattern on his cheek.
"Who are you. Where am I. Why is your floor like this. Why is your door frame targeting me. Why is there a fruit that looks like a toddler drew on it. Why is there a poster of a man worth 400 million. who looks like he eats glue. WHERE. AM. I."
The man extended a hand.
"My name," he said, "is John One Piece."
Sebas stared at the hand.
Then at the man.
"...John WHAT?"
"One Piece."
"Your name is John One Piece."
"Yes."
"That's your real name."
"Yes."
"Your mum looked at you — a newborn baby, fresh out the womb, crying, covered in whatever babies are covered in — and said 'yes. This is a John One Piece.'"
"She was very creative."
"YOUR GOVERNMENT NAME. On your BIRTH CERTIFICATE. It says JOHN ONE PIECE."
"I don't have a birth certificate. I have a wanted poster."
"YOU have a wanted poster? What did JOHN ONE PIECE do?"
"Petty theft mostly."
"Do you have siblings? Is there a whole ONE PIECE FAMILY?"
"I have a brother."
"What's his name."
"John Two Piece."
Sebas stared.
"...John TWO Piece."
"Different mother."
"HIS MUM ALSO CHOSE ONE PIECE? A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT WOMAN LOOKED AT HER BABY AND WENT 'YOU KNOW WHAT GOES HARD? ONE PIECE. BUT WITH A TWO.' WHAT KIND OF NAMING CONVENTION IS THIS? IS THERE A JOHN THREE PIECE?"
"We don't talk about Three Piece."
"THERE'S A THREE PIECE?!"
"I said we don't talk about him."
Sebas lay on the floor. Face down. Not because he'd fallen again. Because his brain needed a factory reset.
"I want to go back to the other anime," Sebas mumbled into the floorboards. "At least it made sense."
John One Piece extended his hand again.
"Do you want help up or not?"
Sebas took the hand.