I don't remember laying a piece of timber over my parents water bed and then promptly falling asleep, but from the shifting of the solid wood beneath me I must have at some point. Or perhaps I was just still drunk, an entirely plausible explanation, as my metabolism was, well, slow as shit.

How much did I drink? Hell if I could remember.

It had taken me two hours to finish my six pack of Apple ciders, and once all of that poison had hit my system I would have been willing to drink pretty much anything, sans tequila, fuck that shit! I could vaguely recall my friend, Tara, handing me some form of liquid, which given that it was Tara, was probably straight vodka.

I grimaced at the thought and promptly prayed that I was still mildly drunk, maybe I could get myself out of the unpleasant hang over that was bound to come. If not, well when I did start trying to move I'd just have to deal with it. I had had worse after all. Much worse.

A shudder ran through my body as the phantom taste of pineapple hit my tongue. Fucking piña coladas.

Since I had managed to make myself feel mildly ill already, I decided to get on with my day. I had an assignment due in on Monday after all and since I'd yet to even touch the readings for it...

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed, the realisation that it was fucking SUNDAY and I was so fucked jolting me straight into sobriety, as well as a mild migraine.

I was met with an... unexpected sight. Truth be told I would have been shocked enough at the sight of a cloudless blue sky, since it was winter and I distinctly recalled losing a gumboot (aka wellies or whatever the fuck they are called elsewhere) to my backyard the other day. But the real shock came from, well, the rest of my surroundings.

I was, for some reason, on a boat. A boat with sails. The deck was fairly bare, a few ropes (which I quickly shoved under the DO NOT TOUCH portion of my brain, lest I picked up a rope and somehow snapped the boat in two) dotted the deck but other than that I seemed to be alone. I was also not bound and gagged which ruled out kidnapping as an explanation, leaving drunken shenanigans as my main theory.

I stood up, wobbling a little and nearly tumbling back over onto the deck, before noticing a very familiar bag lying near where I had been sleeping.

Ok so drunken shenanigans was looking like a real contender now.

What? Did I decide to run away from home? What the fuck did I drink last night?

I stared at the dark red and grey bag. I'd had the thing since I was fourteen. It had been used as a school bag and a travel bag for the past seven years so the fact that it was still functional was a miracle. The only noticeable damage shown by it was... Okay...

Apparently the half torn handle was NOT a thing any more. That was... Terrifying.

I nudged the bag with my foot. It didn't try to take said foot off, which I took as a good sign.

"What the fuck?"

"My thoughts exactly." An oddly familiar voice said from behind me, the sound of a sword being drawn underlining the words.

Well that can't be good.

A moment later my mind and body had passed through the 'holy shit I'm utterly fucked' state of being and landed in the 'your so dead there is no point in panicking' state instead. I turned to face my assailant... and promptly shut my brain down because nope. Not today. I am not losing my mind today.

Thankfully I was able to latch on to a distraction before my mind was forced to comprehend my situation any further than 'well drunken shenanigans is off the table'. Fabric swished around my thighs, which was different, since usually I wore leggings or tracksuit pants. I looked down.

"What the fuck?!"

I twisted my torso slightly and watched as the navy blue tartan kilt swished around my tanned thighs. The kilt had been rolled up so that it came to my mid-thigh, as I had always worn it. The bottom of the kilt was held together with a large silver safety pin and the top (which was quite thick due to the many rolls required to make the damn thing a sensible length for my short ass self) was well hidden by a cobalt blue jumper.

I lifted a hand to my neck, noting the dark purple sleeve that I'd CUT a thumb hole into, and felt the folded over collar. I didn't need a mirror to see that said collar was white.

Why the fuck was I in my high school uniform? I hadn't worn the darn thing since I finished year twelve three years ago and I didn't even want to touch on the long-sleeved shirt with thumb holes, that particular fashion statement had dropped from my wardrobe four years ago.

"Is she ignoring me?" The stranger said.

Right. Ticked off swordsman. Should probably return my attention to that.

I glanced up at him and cringed inwardly.

What the fuck did I drink last night? Absynth?

Roronoa Zoro was standing on the deck, one of his swords drawn, which seemed a bit like overkill to be honest. I wasn't being threatening and I knew for a fact that my face was not one to scare off strangers. Unfortunately. I was basically guaranteed to have a conversation with a stranger whenever I ventured out into the rest of society, again, unfortunately.

Of course just because I didn't cut an imposing figure automatically didn't mean I couldn't manage one. There was a certain... Intensity in my gaze that was brought to the fore when I was pissed off or scared. The clearly threatening stance of the green-haired man was enough to raise my hackles, drawing that sharpness straight out of me the moment my eyes locked onto his face.

I would be lying if I said that the sight of the Pirate Hunter flinching from me ever so slightly did not bring a bubble of pride to my chest.

I let my gaze break from the swordsman, taking in the faces of the other ship occupants. Nami and usopp were the furthest from me, outwardly flinching as my eyes met theirs.

Whoops. I should tone it down a bit.

My expression didn't soften in the slightest, and I moved on. I couldn't actually control that expression, it was my body's safety mechanism. Which was incredibly unsafe to be honest.

Luffy seemed curious, completely unaffected by my expression, which was to be expected.

And then there was Sanji. Dear god, Sanji. He was on the upper part of the deck, above the others, and it seemed that he was torn. He flickered from overly affectionate greeting towards me and acidic remarks and threats towards Zoro. Which the swordsman completely
ignored.

Tension only increased as the silence (Sanji's antics didn't count) lengthened.

And then it was completely shattered by the Straw hat wearing captain.

More specifically by his shout of "awesome!" And his sudden impact with the ground I was previously occupying. Thankfully my reflexes were still alive and kicking, despite the ever present migraine, and my spine was not snapped in half by an over enthusiastic
rubber man.

After Luffy peeled himself off of the deck, and I mean that in the literal sense of the word, he looked back at me with a sparkle in his eyes. I swear I could feel the sweat drop on the back of my head.

What...?

"A mystery lion!"

A mystery...

I lifted my hand up to feel the slightly matted mess on my head.

Okay. That explains that.

"Sorry. Not an actual lion. Just resemble one when I wake up." I said, running hands through my... Long hair? Well that was different.

"Awww"

I found myself staring at the kid in amusement. He really was very childlike, though a social genius apparently. I had to wonder whether he had planned the response to his antics. My hackles were down and Zoro had sheathed his sword and started grumbling to himself.

I shot him a sympathetic look and he returned with a glare.

Nami and Usopp were both holding their heads in their hands, whether in amusement, frustration or a bit of both I couldn't tell. And Sanji was...

Kicking Luffy in the face.

Of course what else would he be doing?

I took the moment for what it was. A chance to offer an explanation and not get stabbed. Of course I didn't really have an explanation. I opened my mouth to say, well, anything really, and was promptly cut off.

"How the hell did you get on our ship?" Zoro asked.

I stared back at the green haired man. I had to admit that I found him a little intimidating. I'd seen him fight, new what he was capable of and was fairly certain if I did end up in a fight with him I'd come out as mincemeat. Of course that just meant I was more likely to goad him into a fight.

Thank you survival instincts. You really know how to do your job.

"Fucked if I know. I got completely trashed last night and I can't remember Shit."

...

Silence.

Utter silence for about three seconds.

~do you like piña coladas~

I promptly ran to the railing of the going merry and leaned over the sea.

Dear god. Who changed my message tone to that?