Tiny hands rummaged through barrels of salted fish and rice in a dimly lit pantry. The smell of stale ale and sweat lingered in the air, mixing with the musty scent of stored food. The boy’s nose wrinkled in disgust, but he pushed onward, determined to find something worth eating. The boy’s stomach grumbled as he searched for any morsel to quell his hunger as muffled voices drifted in from the tavern.

"That Boy never learns, always gettin inta trouble. This time Bandits snatched 'im right up, I hear," a gruff voice said. Another voice disagreed, “Ain’t tha boy’s fault, nah wit pirates n’ bandits tha like jus walkin about, wha’s the town comin ta?”

Eliot ignored the adults pointless prattle on about bandits, pirates, and another boy in town, the one that got all of the attention. What was important was they were distracted, and the food in the pantry unguarded.

He spotted a small loaf of bread tucked into the corner of a shelf. He eagerly grabbed it and tore off a chunk, shoving it into his mouth. The bread was dry and stale, it tasted like heaven. From the first bite to the last he never got any less hungry though, hungry in that desperate way where his stomach wouldn’t tell his brain he was full until it was near bursting.

Eliot's fingers brushed against something smooth and round amidst the sacks of grain. He pulled out a small, dirty looking fruit, with swirls of something it must have picked up from the ground. He tried to wipe them off but they must have gotten in the skin of the thing real good. Without hesitation, he sank his teeth into the fruit, its bitter juices flooding his mouth. He’d inhaled the whole thing before he even realized how terrible it tasted.

In one moment the young boy simply stood there, sticking his tongue out at the bitter taste. In the next the world burst into vibrant hues and symphonies of sound. Eliot stumbled back out of the pantry in shock, and the tavern came to life around him— looking down, wooden floorboards whispered tales of countless feet that had trod upon them, while the flickering lanterns cast shadows that danced upon the walls shrouding untold secrets. Even the wooden beams above creaked and groaned like old sailors telling tales of their adventures on the seas. The tables and chairs were no longer just objects, but characters in their own right, with personalities and stories to tell. He could feel the emotions emanating from them, the joy and laughter, the pain and loss.

His gaze fell upon a sturdy oak chair with a deep gash etched into its surface, and he was pulled into its story. The scent of sweat and sawdust filled his nostrils, his mind traced intricate designs etched into wood under the cover of darkness as a carpenters daughter strove to prove her worth. Smoke and ash, swords clashed and shots fired as the chair was stolen years later during a raid. For years the chair rocked back in forth in the captains quarters on a pirate ship until one year a marine barged in a sliced into the sturdy wood with his-

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Through force of will Eliot pulled himself out of the story, eyes wild. He was out of breath before he even realized he as running as the boy raced out of the tavern and through the town, the history of everything crying out for his attention to pull him back in. The more the boy ran from, the more he ran into. Villagers were no longer just random people, but colorful characters with names, backstories, and motives. They were each so bittersweet, so tragic, so… much. Too much for the young boy.

Eliot was haunted by the echoes of laughter and clinking mugs, tales of daring pirates, hidden treasures, and battles against impossible odds swirled around him, demanding to not just be heard but experienced. Beneath it all, a powerful narrative thrummed, one that wrapped the island, overshadowing every other.

He closed his eyes and covered his ears, trying block everything out. It worked for a moment until he was enveloped by the full force of the story of the island of Foosha Village. Eliot's heart raced as he lost all sense of self, overwhelmed. Fully exposed to the very fabric of the world, interwoven threads of stories that made up the grand tapestry of existence. At the center of it all, the Straw Hat pirates, their names whispered with reverence and awe.

His few life experiences were no match and the boys ego was engulfed by the full force of the world’s story. His personality warped as it drowned in the power of the Lore Lore fruit, tugged to and fro, to distant shores and epic adventures. The salty tang of the ocean, and the crash of waves resounded in his ears. He experienced life and death, glory and tragedy. There was nothing to protect his young mind from the fiery will of those who rose up against all odds or the depths of despair of those who withered under the heel of life.

Desperately the boy collapsed in on himself, pulling his mind back from foreign seas. Any other time it would have been enough, but at the moment he pulled in, on the very island he was on, shone a moment vitally important to the story of the world, one that’s thread would bind countless otheres. It wrenched Eliot’s attention to it. A boy in a small boat was held by a villainous rogue, though unknown to both a seaking made its way toward them.

Eliot finally found his voice and screamed, a ragged and shrill sound, as he a saw death come for one he knew. A man shook him and some foreign power finally stemmed the tide of the Lore Lore no mi’s power. Eliot's eyes shot open as he gasped for air, his heart racing and his body trembling. And then he saw him, the man with red hair and a straw hat, who had somehow saved him from drowning in the sea of stories.

“You’re okay, it’s over now. Everything is okay.” The man said gently. Images flashed, a bare whisper of what they were before, and Eliot knew the depths of power this man had. Knew he could trust him.

“I was so scared.” the boy said, his voice hoarse, nose runny, “It felt so real, like Luffy was really gonna die.”The boy, fully spent, collapsed in the mans arms. Farther off in the distance a seaking could be heard as it crushed a small boat, and took the two lives of those who dared sail its waters.