One Piece: Reborn as Satoru Gojo

When I opened my eyes, the world had shifted. Gone was the cramped, musty room. Instead, I found myself sprawled on a priste wooden floor, so immaculate it seemed to glow under the soft, ambient light. The air was crisp, carrying the faint, sweet aroma of cherry blossoms—I thought I'd forgotten that smells could be good.

The room around me was a masterpiece of modern Japanese design. Sleek, minimalist furniture adorned the space, and the walls were lined with expansive windows that framed a sprawling city skyline. This wasn't Koko Island. This wasn't even close to anything I'd seen before.

I stand up slowly, half-expecting my body to protest with the familiar ache of my recent injuries. But there was nothing. No pain, no scars, no lingering stiffness. I ran my hands over my arms and chest, confirming what I already knew—I was whole again. The fight with the sea serpent, the blood, the wounds were like it had all been a bad dream.

"Took you a while"

The voice came from behind me, smooth and confident, laced with amusement. I turned sharply, nearly losing my balance.

Leaning casually against the doorway was him.

Satoru Gojo.

He looked exactly as I remembered—tall, lithe, white-haired, with that ever-present blindfold that somehow enhanced his charisma rather than obscured it. His smirk was sharp, effortlessly exuding a mix of arrogance and charm that was uniquely his.

"Relax," he said, pushing off the doorway and strolling into the room with the grace of someone who owned it. "You're not dead. Well, not again, anyway. This is your inner world—a pocket dimension that your soul has a pass to. And lucky for you, I'm here to teach you how not to die horribly."

I blinked, trying to process his words. "My inner world? So, this is some kind of mental training ground?"

"Bingo," Gojo replied, popping the word with a grin. "You've got my body, but right now, you're about as skilled at using it as a child driving a new Porsche. So, we need to fix that."

"Wait, my body?" I muttered. I had been so focused on survival, I hadn't even considered the details of my reincarnation. If my body is like his then—why didn't I have his eyes? "And if that's the case, I fought that sea serpent without your eyes or techniques."

Gojo tilted his head, the blindfold somehow conveying pure skepticism. "You mean the snake that nearly turned you into sushi? Yeah, impressive. When you go back, you'll have my eyes, my techniques, the whole package. But first, you need to learn how to control cursed energy."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, you're my Yoda now?"

Gojo's grin widened. "Even cooler, kid. I am Satoru"

Despite myself, I laughed. The absurdity of the situation was almost comforting. Here I was, in some metaphysical training room, being mentored by one of the most overpowered and popular characters in anime history.

If this was a dream, I didn't want to wake up.

"Alright, then," I said, steadying my voice. "Teach me, the greatest teacher, how to become the strongest."

Gojo, snapping his fingers in my direction, held out his index finger like a gun and said with a smile, "You got it fast."

Then, Satoru's smirk faded slightly, a rare flicker of seriousness crossing his face. "First, you need to understand what cursed energy is. Your body passively generates it—anger, fear, hatred—all fueling it. You've already used it, even if you didn't realize it. That burst of strength you felt when you fought the snake? That was cursed energy."

I nodded, absorbing his words. "So, how do I start?"

"We start with the basics—controlling cursed energy for enhancement. My techniques are way too complex for you right now." He extended his hand, and a large, transparent sphere appeared in his palm. "Remember that creepy corpse Yuuji trained with? This is my version. You'll have to infuse it with cursed energy at a controlled rate. Each time you succeed, the sphere will increase its resistance. If you mess up…"

I hesitated. "Then what?"

Gojo's smirk returned. "It'll electrocute you."

I winced. "Right. Sounds fun."

He tossed the sphere toward me. I reached out to catch it—

And completely fumbled it.

The ball slipped through my fingers, bouncing once before I scrambled to grab it, making an absolute fool of myself. Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Yeah, we've got a lot of work to do."

Embarrassed but determined, I scooped up the sphere and held it at chest level, fingers tightening around it. I stood still, feeling Gojo's gaze on me, waiting for something to happen.

Seconds passed. Nothing.

I sighed. "Uh… how do I actually transfer energy?"

Gojo clasped his chin in exaggerated thought. "Hmm, usually it's intuitive for sorcerers—it's like moving a limb you didn't know you had. Try closing your eyes. Visualize the energy bubbling inside your stomach, spreading through your body. Then, guide it into the sphere."

I closed my eyes, focusing. At first, there was nothing. Then—a flicker. A warmth building inside me, pulsing like liquid fire through my veins. It was exhilarating, almost overwhelming. But I held on, following Gojo's instructions, willing the energy toward my hands, into the sphere.

"Good," Gojo murmured, a note of approval in his voice. "Now, open your eyes."

I did. The sphere was pulsing, A faint blue glow emerged from within. Dim but steady.

"See? That wasn't so hard. Now, we move to stage two." Gojo clapped his hands together, grinning.

I exhaled a newfound determination settling over me. With Gojo as my teacher, I had much more chances to survive.

And who knows? Maybe one day I'll even become the strongest, as Satoru. Or even more.