The first thing Jeremy noticed was that his hangover was gone. The second thing he noticed was that he was standing in a field of clouds, wearing what looked suspiciously like the bathrobe he'd stolen from a hotel in Reno.
"Okay," he said slowly, turning in a circle. "Either I'm dead, or this is the weirdest Airbnb ever."
A cough came from behind him. Jeremy spun around—and promptly fell over. Standing there, sipping from a mug that said #1 Creator, was a bearded man in sandals and a hoodie that read LET THERE BE CHILL.
"Morning," the man said. "Well, eternal morning, technically. Welcome."
Jeremy squinted. "Wait. Are you—are you God?"
God shrugged. "Depends who you ask. You can call me whatever makes this less awkward. Want coffee? We've got every roast. Even decaf, but that's only for people who really sinned."
Jeremy furrowed his brow, which felt unusually smooth, like all his stress had been ironed out in the afterlife. "Okay, hold on. The last thing I remember is finishing Thunderbolt—y'know, the one with the asterisk because they are The New Avengers—and then watching the new One Piece episode. It was a banger. Luffy just—wait, never mind. Spoilers. Anyway… how did I die?"
God raised an eyebrow and tapped the air. A floating screen appeared, labeled "Jeremy Thompson: Final Moments." A loading wheel spun for a suspiciously long time. "Our Wi-Fi's a bit slow on Mondays," God muttered, then added, "You died… enthusiastically."
Jeremy blinked. "Enthusiastically?"
The screen lit up.
There he was, lying on his couch, surrounded by empty ramen cups and chip bags, eyes wide with awe.
"Oh no," Jeremy said slowly.
God nodded. "Yes. According to the report, it was a combination of emotional overload, extreme sodium levels, and yelling 'LET'S GO!' at a volume normally reserved for avalanches."
Jeremy sank to his knees. "So I literally died from anime."
"Technically, anime and poor life choices," God said, sipping his coffee. "But don't worry—you're not the first. We have an entire wing dedicated to passionate fans who underestimated their own cardiovascular systems."
Jeremy stood up, brushing imaginary dust off his celestial bathrobe. "Okay, so I died doing what I loved. I can live—er, accept—that. But… what now? Harps? Clouds? Eternal boredom?"
God smirked and set his mug down on a floating coaster. "Well, normally you'd get the standard Afterlife Package—peace, fulfillment, the occasional celestial bocce tournament."
Jeremy squinted. "That sounds like retirement home with extra fog."
God snapped his fingers. A shimmering menu appeared in midair labeled: "Alternative Eternity Options."
"You're in luck," God said. "We've been piloting a new system for, let's say, exceptionally enthusiastic souls. You get a choice: afterlife, or… we drop you into the Marvel multiverse."
Jeremy's eyes went wide. "Wait, hold up. You're telling me I can skip the afterlife, get Isekai'd into the Marvel multiverse, and keep my anime knowledge?"
God nodded, sipping his coffee again. "With one adjustment. You won't be getting just any powers. Since your heart clearly belongs to One Piece, you'll get a randomized ability from one of its characters."
Jeremy blinked. "Like… Devil Fruit powers? Haki? Gear Fifth Luffy levels of cartoon nonsense?"
"Exactly," God said. "But just one power set. It'll be fully integrated with the Marvel world—no seawater weaknesses, though we're keeping the can't swim clause for comedy purposes."
Jeremy's brain was spinning. "So I could end up with Zoro's sword skills, Sanji's flaming kicks, or… Chopper's transformations?"
"Or Buggy's body-parts-go-whee ability," God added with a mischievous grin.
Jeremy paled. "Dear God—literally—please don't let me be Buggy."
"No promises. Fate has a sense of humor."
Jeremy paced. "Okay, so either I go to anime-Nirvana and eat morally guilt-free pizza forever… or I roll the dice, land somewhere in Marvel, and try not to die again while wielding, say, Franky's nipple-lasers."
God chuckled. "Technically shoulder-lasers. But yes. Choice is yours."
Jeremy stopped pacing. "Alright. Let's do it. Send me in. I want the One Piece power—whatever it is—and throw me into the Marvel multiverse."
God raised a brow. "Final answer?"
Jeremy took a deep breath. "Final answer. And if I end up as Usopp, I'm suing."
God grinned and snapped his fingers. "Good luck, Captain."
Jeremy's consciousness stirred.
There was crying. Not his own—wait. No, it was his own. His entire body felt weirdly compact, like someone had crammed him into a human burrito. His limbs flailed uselessly. Everything was blurry, loud, and smelled vaguely like baby wipes and new carpet.
Oh no, he thought. I've been baby-fied.
A warm, gentle voice cut through the chaos. "Look at him, honey. He's got such a strong little grip!"
Another voice—deeper, chuckling. "He's gonna be a wild one, I can feel it already. What should we call him?"
Jeremy's barely-functioning baby brain screamed internally: Wait, no. This is too early. I didn't mean reincarnated like—
"We were thinking," the mom said softly, "Monkey. Monkey D. Luffy. After that old anime we both loved. Wouldn't that be fun?"
Jeremy stopped crying. He was stunned into silence.
You've got to be kidding me, he thought. I'm literally Luffy? I was joking about that!
The dad grinned. "Little Luffy it is."
Just then, the mobile above his crib spun wildly on its own. A golden light flickered from the plastic giraffe, and Jeremy suddenly heard God's voice in his mind—somehow sounding like Morgan Freeman with a bit of a wink.
"Surprise! You're now Monkey D. Luffy of Earth-1312. Powers from the original will unlock slowly starting on your fifth birthday. Until then: try not to eat anything weird, punch a hole in the wall, or stretch into traffic."
"P.S. You're welcome. P.P.S. You still can't swim."
Jeremy gurgled in horror.
The mobile played a suspiciously reggae version of the One Piece theme.