Hypnotist in a One Piece World

Hello Truck-chan, goodbye world.

Poof!

I was reborn into One Piece

I checked whether I was all there, yep I was in one piece.

Mentally I might not be in one piece, but I was a hypnotist, so I gave myself my first hypnotic suggestion, relax...

My memories of my past life were all hazy.

I remembered liking one piece. Especially Luffy, and the comedy in it. I liked one piece, and I needed to keep myself in one piece, if I was to survive this crazy world. The plot has the power to screw everything up, even if it's all ok in the end. Its definitely not ok in the middle, and now I was perpetually in the middle of one piece, so I had to become plot savvy.

I constructed a memory palace in my mind, for the major plot, and all the details I could remember. 

I vaguely remembered being a hypnotist in my past life, and jango, despite being the comic relief, powered up Luffy quite a bit. I would  use my hypnotic powers for the good of One Piece, but mostly for my own good. Because its always better to be on top, unless you're the underdog, and then its always better to win in the end. What kind of character was I going to be. I prayed to the God Eichiro Oda, to grant me plot armor.

My father was a pastry chef, and my mother helped him in the kitchen. He was a true artist with a spoon. But, my father had one glaring flaw. He always tried out new recipes on unsuspecting guests. This earned him the moniker, mad scientist of the kitchen, for the way he didn't care if guests were turned off by something he hadn't quite perfected. My mother and him were always fighting about it, because he tended to piss off potentially powerful people, like the mayor, and the police chief, and my English teacher. We called this his pastry bomb. 

My father thought it was funny, and didn't care one wit about pissing off the powers that be. He secretly joked with me about perfecting his pastry bomb, to a new level. A combination of normally unlikable pastry characteristics, that when put together would create a powerful positive effect. Like when something was too doughy, or had gross or unpleasant flavoring, but lingered on in your mouth. Revealing new flavors until they combined into an entirely new and different taste sensation. He called it a joke pastry, one that had a happy ending. But, it wasn't finished yet, and now it had a very sad ending, combined with a stomachache. 

My mother always said one day he would poke a dragon, and where would that leave us. He said that people with power should have a sense of humor, that they were human beings like the rest of us. After he delivered a pastry bomb, he always apologized to the person,  and gave them a dozen of our best pastries. He also gave them a permanent discount at our store. Not everyone forgave him though, he made enemies as well as friends.

In the aftermath of a pastry bomb my parents  would always argue. They had the most epic arguments about it, him with his passion, her with her logic, and even though they always made up, it was always a sore spot for me. Secretly I was on my father's side. I paid lip service to my mother, but underneath I rooted for my father. Little did I know that one day he really would provoke a dragon.

My love for my father was boundless, but I toed the line around my mother. I helped them in the kitchen, learning to bake our most popular pastries. 

The pastry bomb, first exploded for me, in my English classroom. My father jokingly had my English teacher try it before a parent teacher meeting. It was a disaster, the meeting was canceled, because my teacher was in the bathroom for 2 hours afterwards. After that, everyone in class called me poop girl.

My English teacher never forgave my father. He was a petty man, who tried to get me expelled for the pastry bomb. When that didn't work, he never gave me top marks. He'd always find something wrong with my assignments. He talked down to me in class, and assigned me a history paper about the void century. Not only was it treason against the world government doing research into the void century, but nobody knows what happened, that's why it was called the void century. It was just another excuse to fail me, for no reason. My father told me revealing the truth of a person was exactly why he gave out pastry bombs, despite my mother's fear of the repercussions.

My English teacher was my first target for hypnosis. I wanted to test whether hypnosis worked differently in this world with haki and devil fruits. 

The perfect opportunity came when he told me to stay after class, and complete an extra assignment, because of my poor work. After everyone was gone I walked up to him, and asked him what I had to do. He handed me a piece of paper, but instead of taking it, I grabbed his wrist, jerking it sharply and whispering "sleep" into his ear. He collapsed back into his chair, as if asleep.

This is called an instant or rapid induction. It makes use of interrupting a normal pattern of behavior, like handing someone a piece of paper, to bypass the critical mind through shock.

In reality most people are aware and awake during hypnosis, and will become angry if you randomly try to hypnotize them. Suggestible people might play along, especially because it feels good to relax. But, I had to test the limits in this new world.

Jango to hypnotist could hypnotize anyone using old style eye fixation instantly, so I'm gambling that haki/will somehow relates to this.

I'd continued my meditation practice every night from my previous life, to put myself into a deep trance, to practice my hypnotic intent, and hopefully develop some form of haki in the future.

I continued my patter, deepening the trance, until he was totally relaxed.

"Whenever I say cantaloupe you will go into a deep trance," I told him.

I told him to "wake up and open your eyes," as he did I said "cantaloupe," and he collapsed again. I repeated this 10 times, testing and making sure the suggestions would hold.

In deep trance, I asked him the reason for his harsh actions towards me. It turns out he thought I was arrogant, just like my father, and he wanted to teach me a lesson. I told him, I was a victim of my father, just like he was, and I needed his protection against my father, and that when he stood up from his chair, it would hit him, that I was a victim just like him, and this would change his behavior towards me. He would remember someone from his past, who helped him, and try to do that for me from now on.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I woke him up, and we stood up together, and suddenly his face changed. His eyes moved like he was remembering something, and he grimaced before telling me to go home, and that he would have a new lesson plan for me, the next day.

The next day, he told me to stay after class. We moved the desks aside, and he asked me if I had ever been hit before. I told him no, but it looked like he didn't believe me. That he thought I had an abusive father, but that, it was ok, he would teach me how to defend myself. This was not what I was expecting, at all. But, maybe the God Eichiro Oda was telling me something. From then on, after class every day, I trained in martial arts with my English teacher. I called him Genkaku sensei, for how strict he was. 

I continued to practice shock hypnosis on the people at school. It was surprisingly easy. People remembered me walking up to them and whispering in their ear. Nobody remembered being under hypnosis, unless I told them to. I hypnotized the teachers, my classmates, and anyone who I could get alone for 5 minutes. But, I didn't give them any suggestions. People started to just think that I was friendly. Everyone in our school was normal though, I still hadn't tested someone with mysterious powers. So I waited and bided my time.

My father was still making his pastry bombs.

When he received one, the mayor's expression was the funniest. He was always a jovial man, with a friendly smile on his face. A social butterfly that kept in touch with the goings on, from high to low. When my father fed him a pastry bomb in our shop, he desperately tried to keep a smile on his face. His face kept changing from strained smile, to almost throwing up, it was hilarious. One of the funniest things I ever saw. He managed to swallow it down pretending it was good asking after the bathroom. Then he ran to the can post haste.

In character, my father apologized profusely, giving the mayor a permanent discount, and a friendly dozen of our best pastries. Thankfully, our mayor had a sense of humor, and after he recovered, he nicknamed my dad the mad scientist of the bakery. Even delivering dozens of victims unto my father's doorstep to be hazed appropriately. 

The people the mayor sent, always had a good sense of humor. He was a good judge of character, our mayor. He was also a socialite. The news of the pastry bomb spread throughout the Sorbet kingdom, beyond everyone's control. My father thought the whole thing hilarious, continuing to prank, noble after noble, until the queen dowager herself heard about it.

All her friends had already been pranked, so the queen decided to try this pastry bomb as a joke. Deciding to organize a party around it, she invited nobles from other countries to come and participate.

The queen dowager even called the papers together for an exclusive interview.

"Dad you're in the paper again," I said reading the article.

"Art is an explosion," said the queen. "So along with the pastry bomb, we'll have fireworks, and fire eaters and jugglers, and why not make it an explosive arrangement of sights sounds and smells, a circus of sensual entertainment, let's call it the BOOM BASH! And everyone's invited." 

It sounded exciting.

I was twelve years old by this time, and I'd begun to see my mother's perspective. Many nobles outright hated us, and secretly swore revenge. But, the queen supported us, and enjoyed it all as a practical joke, so we were protected for now. News spread of an enormous party to be held in the capital of the Sorbet kingdom and my father was specifically in charge of desert. My father prepared many different types of deserts, from croissants to donuts, to various pies and cakes. His pastry bomb was going to be featured, and anyone who tried it would be the center of attention. Nobles do strange things to kiss ass. There were rumors that the nobles who hated my father had some plan to get their revenge, but we assumed the queen dowager would stop anything that went too far.

The celestial dragon arrived on the day of the party. Everyone was cowed, forced to toadie to this most impressive of rulers. Even the queen was forced to bow her head, and give up her divine seat, to this miserable excuse for a man. 

Even with the hickup, everything went off without a hitch. The jugglers, the dancers, the music, the incredible variety of fine foods and drinks. Everything was to the queens satisfaction. 

But, the celestial dragon complained. He complained they didn't have his favorite food or drink. Or that the dancers weren't pretty enough, of musicians charming enough. He forced the fire eater to throw himself into a bonfire, and laughed while the man was screaming. He belittled the local nobles, and threw his food on the floor when he was done with it. Thankfully he was too fat to dance, or even get out of the luxurious wheelchair his enormous bulk was supported by. He was not only obese in bulk, but also in childish cruelty. Laughing as the local nobility brought him endless food and drink which he literally threw in their faces.

There were a certain group of nobles who cow towed more than most. The ones who lost face to my father, and hoped to get their revenge by using this spoiled child to their advantage.

I was sitting in the kitchens, watching my father work. He had a great many helpers, which were all experienced servers and cooks in their own right. It was a maze of activity, and I watched it while worrying for my father. I knew how bad the celestial dragons could be. How right I was.

I saw them drag away my father, an hour later. My mother and I were frog marched after him. 

Nobody told the celestial dragon about the joke pastry. They all assumed he knew why something inedible was the center piece of this party. The queen tried to explain, but after he had one bite, he immediately shot the noble who gave it to him, and demanded to see the Baker.

My mother and I watched a scene out of our worst nightmares. My father, beaten and bloody on the ground. The celestial dragon screaming at him, with jiggling fat. 

"Why did you make that awful desert," barked St. Alphonse. "Are you trying poison me?"

They allowed my father to stand. He was grinning. 

Shit, I thought, he still thinks its funny. 

"People in power should have a sense of humor," he said grinning, knowing he was about to die. 

St. Alphonse gestured, and his enormous bulk was rolled forward, in front of my father. He looked up through his piggy little eyes, and smiled. 

"Oh, I have a sense of humor," said St. Alphonse, raising his gun.

He shot my father through the heart, and laughed as he fell to the floor. "Clean up this trash," he gestured vaguely at the body. Eating another donut, that my father had put his heart into. 

"At least you'll get your revenge by heart attack dad," I said softly, watching the pudgy fat man continue to gorge himself. My mother snorted, through her tears. It didn't feel real to me yet, more like a sick joke. As if the whole world was against me. Twisting my father's humor into a dull pain that slowly spread, hurting more and more, but distant, like it was happening to someone else. 

I recognized the first stage of grief, and quickly submerged myself in good memories connected with my father. I remembered when he taught me to bake. I remembered secretly helping him to make pastry bombs, despite my mother's worry. I remember him getting my mother to laugh, when she was trying to be angry with him. I remember him feeding the homeless vagrants, with our leftovers from the shop. I remember him tucking me in when I was little, and telling me tall tales on the high seas. I remembered him telling me about how there was something wrong with someone who couldn't take a joke. Before he fed his pastry bombs to others, he would always try it himself. He tricked my mother and I into eating them on more than one occasion. At the time it was always awful, but afterwards we laughed, and proceeded to get back him some other way. I once pored a bucket of water on his head, to wake him up in the morning. Of course I had to clean the sheets afterwards, but we both had a good laugh about it. Our house was filled with comic traps and pitfalls, covered in syrupy goodness. I remembered the sweetness on my tongue, of my father's love and pastries, and I forgave him for dying in such a way. He could only be who he was after all, and I was proud to be his daughter.

Tears combined with laughter on my face, and I chuckled now aware of my grief as a deep sadness welled within me. I brought my father close in my heart, as we were frog marched down endless corridors finally exiting to the dung heap. The body of the fire eater was there lying on top of the slop. 

I tried to get the guards attention, they worked for the celestial dragon, not the queen, and were virtually above the law. I twisted and struggled to no avail. My guard drew his sword, pushing my down onto the garbage pile. Trained guards were more critical of people and so harder to hypnotize. But, I wasn't going to win a fight against a trained soldier twice my size. 

He swung and I rolled away barely dodging. I looked into his eyes and placed myself in a trance. It was like there was a wall in front of his mind. His eyes ice cold, ready to kill me without remorse. I went deeper and deeper into a trance, quickening my reactions while staring into this thugs soul, trying to make a connection. But, it wasn't possible at the moment.

I looked over to where my mother was. She had a cut on her arm. The other soldier was swinging again, my mother fell, blood spraying from a gash down her side. She screamed, I screamed, the world went white. 

When I woke up, everyone was down. I felt a throbbing in my ears, like the ocean pounding against the beach. My heart was beating overtime. I crawled over to where my mother lay, crying, she didn't have to die. I felt for a pulse, and there was one, weak. Blood exited her body with every beat. The gash was too long to easily stop the bleeding. She was pale, and going into shock. Shock…….

"Your blood will remain inside your body, it will clot easily and effortlessly, your wound is already healing," I continued my patter unconsciously, binding her wounds with my shirt as best I could. She was heavy, but I put her on my back and slowly dragged her toward where I hoped the servants were. The queen hadn't saved us, she didn't have the power, but maybe she could hide us, until the celestial dragon sailed back to wherever the hell he'd come from.