One Piece: Marine Pirates

The wall faded back to white, and the room stayed plain—lit like LEDs had been threaded above the ceiling. The light was clean and soft, bright enough to see clearly, but not harsh. The glow had no source James could point to, and it made the white walls seem even more endless, like he was inside some blank display case.

The man snapped his fingers. His grey sackcloth robe shifted in an instant, morphing into an athletic suit—black, smooth-fitted, with a single red stripe running down the arms of the jacket and the sides of the pants. The fabric looked sharp, with a faint shimmer like freshly ironed polyester. The collar hugged the neck neatly, and the cuffs pinched tight above narrow ankles.

"Welcome to your training system."

James rubbed his nose. He looked down—same body, same stubby fingers and short legs. He was three. That part hadn't changed. Still, a grin tugged at his lips. Finally. The system had kicked in.

His eyes wandered again, taking in the blank space. Why was it so simple in here? And why had it only activated after getting berries?

Wait…

Was he going to have to pay for things?

The man's smile twitched, like he'd caught the thought before it finished forming. He snapped again.

A wooden chair slid into place under him, square-backed and heavy-legged, the kind you'd see in an old farmhouse. It had a worn edge on the seat like someone had rested there often. It didn't make a sound when it landed, just settled in as if it had always been there. The man leaned back with a small sigh, folding one ankle over his knee and resting his hands across his stomach.

"I was just joking," he said casually. "Your life's pretty neat." He waved a hand like brushing dust from the air. "You've got a pretty neat setup. Liking your family, I see? Saw your first life. Shitty childhood. Figured them getting a miracle child and you getting decent parents was a win-win."

James blinked. Miracle child? He peered at the man, brow furrowed. "What do you mean, miracle child?"

The man exhaled through his nose, then raised a hand and rubbed his cheeks, fingers dragging down slowly like the words themselves were a chore to spit out.

"Well," he said, voice flat, "your parents were destined to be stepping stones…" He waved vaguely, like swatting away a bad smell. "I was gonna let things run their course. But fate—being me—had other plans."

He paused. His face flickered for a fraction of a second—just a twitch in the corner of his mouth, a tightening around the eyes. James wasn't sure what he saw. Disgust? Anger? Maybe something else. It passed too fast to name.

"Your mother," the man continued, "couldn't have children. Neither could your father. No matter how hard they tried."

He leaned back again, palms resting on his thighs.

"But me being me—and the options you chose…" He grinned faintly. "Boom. Here we are."

James blinked, soaking that in. The room felt quieter somehow. He thought of his parents—how kind they were, how much they loved him. He thought of his mother's warm hands, the stories his father told, the way they always made room for him at the table.

He stepped forward, then bowed, small arms at his sides, posture as serious as a soldier in training.

"Thank you," he said.

It wasn't loud. It didn't need to be. It came from somewhere deeper than habit or politeness—a quiet, steady thanks that resonated from the depths of his heart.

James wondered who they were stepping stones for… Did that mean his parents held some kind of influence? Were they important in a way he hadn't seen yet? Nobodies couldn't really be stepping stones, right?

His mind raced with half-formed questions, but the man raised a finger casually—cutting the thought off before it could take shape.

"I cannot reveal any more," the man said, inspecting his fingernails like he'd just finished polishing them. "Already flubbed the rules," he added with a lazy shrug, as though the slip didn't matter at all.

James nodded slowly, tucking the new mystery away for later. Still… one thing bugged him.

"Well, before we continue," he said, his voice steady, "I never got your name?"

The man blinked, then smiled faintly. "Well, isn't that kind," he replied, tone touched with amusement. He tilted his head, watching James with a trace of amusement. "Maybe we'll be more love-hate and less hate-love going forward, huh?"

He leaned back in his chair now, elbows resting on the arms, one hand idly tapping the side of the wood. The shift in his posture was subtle but felt deliberate—like a teacher easing into a more casual lecture.

"My people don't use real names," he said, and this time his tone cooled slightly, gaining an edge. "Names have power."

James watched as the man tapped his chin once, slowly, like it was part of some ritual. Then, with a little smirk and a sudden, affected British accent, he declared, "Call me… Jarvis. Yes, Jarvis."

The way he said it—drawn-out, just dramatic enough—made James freeze. That accent wasn't natural.

Wait… is he imitating the AI from Iron Man? James thought, eyebrows narrowing slightly. Shawn had been way into the MCU. He could still picture his youngest grinning enthusiasticall watching Tony Stark. As a genius he clicked with Shawn- he had the one thing his son never had and desperately wanted- charm.

"Well, Jarvis," James said, glancing around again, his emerald eyes slowly scanning the space. The room still looked sterile, clean—like the inside of a giant white box. "So what do we do now?"

"Well," Jarvis replied, dusting something invisible off his knee, "I take all your berries. Do I have your authorization to do so?"

James blinked, brows lifting. It was only 5,000 berries. "Sure," he said with a shrug, his small voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

"Perfect," Jarvis grinned, his tone switching back to that plain, clipped American accent. He sat up straighter in the wooden chair, lacing his fingers together like a man preparing to make a pitch.

"Now you get to choose your blessings—or perks, depending how you look at it."

He held up a single finger.

"Firstly… you get to choose a trainer for a decade. No cost. That means ten years of one-on-one instruction."

A second finger rose.

"Secondly, training system enhancement. You'll be able to upgrade any one part of your system.

Then a third finger.

"Thirdly, choose an 1 advanced peice of equipment." Jarvis said as he wiggled his fingers slightly before dropping his hand to the armrest.

"Use it wisely," Jarvis added, flashing a quick grin. "Your still a young and undeveloped, but time works differently in here. Might as well make the most of it."

"Can we go through my options before making any decisions?" James asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing in quiet curiosity.

The man paused. His pale eyes flicked upward like he was checking a silent message, then narrowed—as if he were listening to someone James couldn't see. A long, breathy sigh slipped from him, and his shoulders drooped just enough to suggest reluctance.

"Yes…" he said at last, dragging out the word like it weighed a ton. He looked around the blank room—those smooth, LED-lit walls—and gave a slow, exaggerated sigh, one hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

James blinked. That was weird.

"Ahhh," Jarvis muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a wince. "The person who wrote your system kinda has a grudge against innocent little me." He flashed a dramatic shrug, one eyebrow raised like he was used to being unjustly accused. His eyes darted sideways, like he half-expected a lightning bolt to come zipping from the ceiling. "If I break the rules, zap… it kinda hurts a lot."

James wasn't surprised. Jarvis had the energy of a guy who could turn a quiet room tense just by walking in. He looked like he annoyed people professionally—and probably enjoyed it.

Jarvis continued "Explaing your options before making any choices is within the rules be flubbing them earlier telling you about your parents for me a stern warning."

James wondered if he was being genuine but he wander sure as Jarvis continued to explain the system.

Jarvis said "First you get to choose a teacher from an approved list who will guide you over the next ten years and set your foundation their tutelage is free for ten years."

Suddnely geeen matrix style text appeared and scrolled in Jame's vision…

Genkai – An older woman known for brutal spirit training and zero patience. Students either improved or collapsed.

Saitama – A caped man with dead eyes and a blank expression. Supposedly strong, with a laughably simple routine.

Jiraiya – A wandering fighter and tactician with years of battlefield experience and a habit of picking wild students.

Kensei Ma – A traditional martial arts master. Demands strict form, breath control, and endless repetition.

Goku – Carefree, cheerful, and built for combat. Grows stronger by fighting, not explaining.

Izumi Curtis – Small in size, ruthless in method. Teaches survival and hand-to-hand through starvation and suffering.

Ichigo Kurosaki – A swordsman with no formal training. Grew powerful quickly, though the how remains unclear.

Urahara Kisuke – Mysterious and sharp-minded. Pushes students into high-stress scenarios to trigger growth.

Mob – Quiet and unassuming. Possesses overwhelming power, but no clear method behind it.

Might Guy – Loud, relentless, and physically overwhelming. Believes in effort above all else.

Yusuke Urameshi – A born brawler who fights first and thinks later. Teaches by throwing hands, not lessons.

Kakashi Hatake – Calm, observant, and technically sound. Emphasizes timing, awareness, and strategy.

Meliodas – Smiles like a kid, fights like a legend. Offers no real explanation for his strength.

Eren Yeager – Intense and emotionally driven. Strength came from transformation more than training.

Bang – A quiet master of clean strikes and refined martial technique. Recognized for real discipline.

James looked at the list, eyes narrowing. These names… weren't they anime characters? He tilted his head slightly. Weird. Very weird. But also strangely fitting, considering everything that had happened so far.

Jarvis clapped once, sharp and loud. "Secondly," he said with a grin, "you get to enhance any part of your training system."

He let the words hang in the air for a beat, his gaze steady.

"Any part including your system like for example your system administrator who happens to be myself or any other singular part of the training can be upgraded ," he repeated, his tone slower now—weighted, deliberate as he said myself. Like he wanted James to really hear it.

Then as if to make a point Did I mention," Jarvis said, throwing his arms wide with mock grandeur, "that this little sliver of consciousness you see before you—me—is part of the system?"

He grinned, then leaned in slightly as if letting James in on a secret.

"Me. A part of the system. Just wanted to make sure I actually said that. Would hate to forget something so important."

"Did I mention," Jarvis said, throwing his arms wide with mock grandeur, "that this little sliver of consciousness you see before you—me—is part of the system?"

He grinned, then leaned in slightly as if letting James in on a secret.

"Me. A part of the system. Just wanted to make sure I actually said that. Would hate to forget something so important." Jarvis as if he got a great weight off his chest then leaned back grinning at James.

"Anyway," Jarvis went on casually, "you can upgrade the system… which includes upgrading me, if you wanted to that is."

He pointed at himself with both index fingers and gave a wink as to double down.

Before James could even think about everything Jarvis was saying Jarvis snapped his fingers…

Suddenly, James stood in the middle of what looked like a massive outdoor training facility. The sky stretched wide above him, bright and open like a perfect July afternoon. The sun hovered gently overhead, warm but never overbearing, and clouds drifted lazily by in a soft breeze.

To his right, a raised wooden platform held a full weight set—bars, kettlebells, and resistance gear lined up in perfect order. A standard track looped around the space, chalk-white lines pressed into the dirt. Ropes hung from tall beams. A balance beam stood nearby. Wooden dummies waited at one end, and a field stretched wide and green beyond them. An obstacle course twisted through the space—walls to climb, pits to leap, logs to crawl under, ladders reaching up to nowhere. To his left was a large black building the size of a small two bedroom home.

Towering brick walls rose in the distance, fifteen feet high, cutting off the horizon. James glanced up but couldn't see beyond them. Whatever lay outside was hidden, sealed behind red stone and silence.

Jarvis stood beside him, arms crossed before gestering to the black building. "The facility includes a recovery room and a place to sleep," he said casually, as if describing the layout of a summer camp.

James kept turning in place, taking it all in.

"This," Jarvis said, "is your canvas and as long as you have berries it can be upgraded and added too."

Jarvis continued as he waved a hand. "Now. Here's how this place operates." Jarvis before continuing as he cleared his throat. "The second you fall asleep or lose consciousness, you get to spend twenty-four hours here—this place—while no time passes in your world. Not a second. It's one-to-one in here, but outside, it's instant.

Whatever condition you're in when you arrive—injuries, fatigue, hunger, soreness—that's exactly how you'll be when you show up. And when you leave, however you feel here, whatever shape you're in… that's what your real body returns to. Every scrape, bruise, or gain carries over.

James blinked. "Whoa."

The thought hit hard James hard—this was incredibly useful. But… would he age? His brow pinched. But this his though shifted what if he got knocked out during a fight, could he wake up here, recover fully, then jump right back into battle like nothing happened?

Jarvis casually raised a finger, as if anticipating the question. "You don't age here," he said. "And yes, as an S-ranked training system, that's part of the deal—get hurt, pass out, whatever. You'll wake up here in the same condition, heal up, train, and return refreshed."

He leaned back in the chair, ankle over his knee, fingers drumming lightly along the armrest. "Lower-ranked systems wouldn't let you do that. B-rank? C-rank? You'd have way more restrictions. Harder to access, fewer perks, more cooldowns."

Then he motioned lazily to the empty space around them. "You've also got access to premium features—some of which cost berries. Like the battle simulator. That thing can replicate just about anything. Combat, terrain, weapon drills, sailing scenarios—whatever you need, so long as the system can interpret it."

James tilted his head as he considered it. The battle simulator sounded… valuable. One question bubbled up.

"What if I die in the battle simulator?"

Jarvis smirked. "You get one death per iteration."

James blinked again. "Per…?"

"Per twenty-four-hour cycle," Jarvis clarified, tapping his temple with a knuckle. "Each training iteration—every time you enter after falling asleep or losing consciousness—grants one death inside the simulator. After that? You're kicked out of the sim. Locked out until the next cycle. No damage carries over, but your remaining time in there? Gone."

James nodded slowly, letting it settle.

"Now," Jarvis said, standing and dusting off his hands, "let's get to your upgrade. One free S-tier enhancement. Any part of your system. Think of it as a welcome gift."

Then he grinned, tapping his chest with two fingers.

"Oh—and did I mention?" he said, grin widening. "I'm part of your system."

ames sighed. "Yes, you mentioned that," he said, giving Jarvis a flat look.

Jarvis only smiled in return, unbothered.

"But what about my third option?" James asked, adjusting his stance and glancing around the room again, as if the answer might appear in the blank space beside them.

"Ah, yes. Training equipment…" Jarvis repeated, voice drawing out like he was stalling.

James narrowed his eyes slightly. If this guy said he was part of the training system one more time, he might actually lose it.

Jarvis coughed once, clearly catching the thought. "Ahem—right. Here is a list of training equipment," he said quickly, waving a hand in the air. "You get to pick one."

A soft chime echoed through the room as glowing text began to scroll midair in front of James, slowly rotating for him to read.

"One piece," Jarvis continued. "Three free uses a week. That's guaranteed for the next ten years. Additional uses'll cost berries, of course."

James leaned in, eyes scanning the list.

Gravity Forge Chamber – Adjustable gravity field with environmental resistance to build strength and muscular endurance simultaneously.

Agility Spiral Grid – A rotating floor platform with shifting patterns and sensors for enhancing coordination, agility, and footwork under pressure.

Breath Core Vault – High-altitude simulation pod combined with deep lung compression cycles designed to increase cardiovascular endurance and respiratory efficiency.

Flex-Line Suspension Frame – A reactive band and pole system that forces the body to engage full ranges of motion, improving flexibility and joint control.

Tempo Pulse Track – A motion-synced sprint and rhythm path that trains speed and timing through varying pulse beats and flashing cues.

Precision Vault Zone – Compact target range with light-reactive drones and multi-directional alerts to sharpen accuracy, reaction time, and spatial awareness.

Enduro Gauntlet Lanes – Long-form obstacle run with adaptive terrain and resistance that forces full-body endurance under duress.

Balance Array Columns – Multi-height pillars on shifting bases designed to test and enhance static and dynamic balance with elevation stressors.

Explosive Step Rack – Grounded launch pads and mid-air catch zones that build power through vertical and horizontal burst movement.

Neuro-Strike Sphere – A glowing orb with unpredictable flight paths that must be struck or dodged in sequence to train coordination, reflexes, and mind-muscle control.

Recovery Bloom Pod – A full-body immersion chamber that promotes tissue regeneration, pain relief, and sleep optimization through molecular pressure cycling.

After looking through the list, James found Jarvis still pointing at himself, two fingers up. He was mouthing "choose me" silently with a big grin spread across his face. Obviously, he wanted the system upgrade.

James took a deep breath. Looked like he needed to choose a trainer, an upgrade, and a piece of equipment.