supplies

The next morning, I wake up with my throat feeling like sandpaper. I can barely swallow, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Four days without proper water, and the dehydration is hitting me hard. Every part of my body screams for water. I know I have to act fast or I won't survive.

With a pounding headache and dizziness clouding my vision, I drag myself out of the makeshift shelter. The sun is already high in the sky, its rays merciless. The heat only adds to my thirst, making the situation feel more desperate.

I remember reading about survival techniques, including using plant roots to filter water. It's a risky idea, but I'm out of options. First, though, I decide to comb the beach one more time for any shipwreck supplies. There's a chance, however slim, that there might be some stored water among the debris.

Dragging my feet through the sand, I start my search. The beach is littered with remnants of the ship—a haunting reminder of the disaster. I find soggy pieces of maps, parts of the ship's equipment, and a log pose, its compass spinning aimlessly. But no sign of water or food. My heart sinks with each fruitless step, and the sun beats down relentlessly.

I push myself to keep looking, fighting against the weakness and dizziness. Then, as I'm about to give up, I spot something half-buried under a pile of debris. It's a barrel. Rushing over with the last bit of my energy, I frantically clear the debris. My hands tremble as I pry open the lid, praying for it to be full of water.

To my immense relief, I see it is indeed water. I don't hesitate, bringing the barrel to my lips and gulping down the life-saving liquid. It tastes slightly stale and has a faint metallic tang, but to me, it's the best thing I've ever tasted. The water cools my parched throat and brings a wave of relief over my body. For a moment, I just sit there, savoring each sip, letting the water bring me back to life.

With my immediate thirst quenched, I take a deep breath and look around. The beach is quiet, the sound of the waves a constant backdrop. I need to think about my next steps. How to find food, how to signal for help, how to survive in this world. But for now, the discovery of the water barrel is a small, yet significant victory in my battle for survival. 

Now that I've secured a water source, finding food is my next big challenge. I know I can't survive on water alone. So, I begin searching through the wreckage once more, this time for anything that might aid in hunting or gathering food.

As I sift through the debris, I come across an assortment of items: several swords, a pistol gun, and a few knives. The gun is of no use without ammunition; it's merely a decorative piece for now. The knives, however, are a different story. I select the sharpest one and fasten it to the end of a long stick with strips of sail cloth, creating a makeshift spear. It's crude, but it's a start.

With my newly fashioned spear in hand, I venture into the forest. I'm not a natural hunter, but my situation leaves me with no choice. I need to find food. As I navigate through the trees, I notice something peculiar—I seem to be moving faster than usual, and my endurance is surprisingly high. It dawns on me that in the One Piece world, the average person is inherently stronger, faster, and more resilient than an average Earthling. It appears I now possess the physical capabilities of a One Piece world inhabitant.

This revelation instills a glimmer of hope in me. Perhaps I can actually succeed in catching something with my spear. I delve deeper into the forest, alert for any signs of wildlife.

Eventually, I spot a small, rabbit-like creature. It's similar to a rabbit but distinctly different. I stealthily approach, holding my breath. With a swift movement, I use my spear to catch the creature. A brief wave of disgust washes over me for killing it, but the feeling quickly fades. Survival in this world demands ruthlessness. I resolve to do whatever it takes to stay alive, whether that means hunting rabbits, birds, fish, or any other creature.

Building a fire using dry wood and basic survival skills I recall, I set about cooking the animal. The task is challenging without proper tools, but I manage to cook it. As I eat, reflections on how drastically my life has changed occupy my thoughts. Just days ago, I was in my own world, leading an ordinary life. Now, I'm here in the One Piece world, relying on hunting to survive.

Night falls, and I return to my makeshift shelter on the beach, feeling a complex mix of emotions. I've managed to survive another day, but the solitude and unfamiliarity of this world weigh heavily on me. Lying in my shelter, I listen to the rhythmic crashing of the waves, pondering what the next day might bring. Drifting off to sleep, I cling to the hope of adapting and surviving in this new and challenging life.