Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece
Note: So I typed this out cause I read a lot of stories where Straw Hat's are changed into kids and certain crew members have to take care of them, which I adore cause they can be so cute. I was craving to write one, just so I don't get writer's block for The Resolution and showed this to a friend cause why the hell not? She loved it and I decided to post it up cause...why the hell not?
Words: 1,983
The tavern sat not to far from the shore, close enough to the docks but far enough to have plenty of distance from the fishing harbor and its stench it carried with it. The tavern was run by a spit-fired woman named Shal (thick bodied with wide hips and dark skin, a graying afro styled hair that was never without a colorful bandanna), well into her 60's and nicknamed "Godmother" from her more usual customers that would stumble their way to the bar. The building was made by her father a few years before his death, his dream completed and Shal wanting his dream to continue. Giving up her job as a doctor as soon as she heard of his passing, Shal began to run the tavern as the local bartender.
Over the years, the woman came to enjoy the vast number of tales sailors would spill after a few pints of alcohol, humorous or thrilling or even romantic. She appreciated a good story, whether they had claimed it true or not. She welcomed them to sit at her bar and entertain her with myths and rumors not many would bother to hear. Of course, Shal had her own stories she could tell, most customers having been there to begin with. Fights and raids and robberies, all she took in stride because it made the tavern a more interesting place to be. Some came for the meals, some came from the drinks, some came for the service (friendly service, as always, she wasn't hiring whores to work at her tavern).
But it was the atmosphere that made them stay.
Shal welcomed anyone and everyone to the tavern, marine or pirate or traveler or hunter alike to enjoy a time of peace. She knew and accepted different peoples' views and came to understand that not everyone from opposition sides reached for each others necks, they could get along for just a moment in secluded comfort so long as the other side didn't try any funny business.
Which, of course, Shal made sure nothing did happen or they could take their shit outside and not bother her again.
Shal suspected nothing else could surprise her or come her way, not after 30 years of running a tavern on the Grand Line.
Except she was wrong, very wrong, and sometimes found herself still believe it was nothing but her imagination.
It was the night of a huge storm, the winds howling from across the sea as thunder and lightning crashed in the skies. Everyone inside the tavern was snugged and warm, Shal even making sure there were blankets to spare for those who felt the harsh chill of the storm when entering. A kindness extended to anyone and no one trying to get more than what the deserved, either knowing that they'd be easily kicked out by Shal's workers (who were well seasoned fighters wanting to settle down, hired for extra protection by the Godmother) or were simply too tired to start trouble.
She was behind the bar, polishing off some glasses as the buzzing of stories filled the silence in the room. As bad as it was outside, the tavern was filled with a sense of relaxation and comfort, making the old woman smile fondly.
A sudden crack of lightning as thunder boomed in the sky came with the sound of the door being slammed abruptly open, causing all customers to seize their chattering and look over to a man gasping as though he had been on the run from a wild animal.
Shal frowned, recognizing him as one of the local fishermen, "Careful with my door, hun."
"S-Sorry, Godmother but its an emergency!" He stepped inside to close the door and allow warmth to stay in, the rainy cold staying out.
"Emergency? What are you talking about?"
"Someone washed upon the shores, I think it was a family or something but there's a man with three kids passed out on shore!"
Had it not been for years of steel willpower, Shal would have dropped the glass she had been holding in her hands at the news. Instead, her fingers clasped onto its handle tightly as her hands shook, a few of the patriots stood up shocked at the news, "Then why did you leave them?" Loud, angry, and accusing coupled with worry, "They aren't..."
But thankfully the man shook his head, "No, no, ma'am! As far as I can tell, the man is very much alive. I would know if the children were if it weren't for the fact I couldn't step near them. The man, he has a weapon, he almost took my right hand off! I tried reasoning with him but I don't think he's very aware at the moment."
A story she didn't like for once.
"I need a few men to come with me, I'll try to figure something out. No, Lewo, Pravo. You guys keep an eye on the tavern. The rest of you can stay put, its dangerous weather right now. Drinks on the house." A few muttered their thanks as about four large men accompanied her and the fishermen to the spot where the castaways laid.
It bothered her to hear that there were children in danger, as it would for most people who had a heart. What also bothered her was the man. Whether they were his or he had stolen them (for whatever reason, she didn't want to think of it), it was obvious that he was a danger to them currently. Without knowing exactly the full story, Shal couldn't treat him with bias, he may very well know them for all they knew.
"This way, watch your step." The fisherman called through the howling winds as he went down a slope towards the shore. When they got to the spot, Shal could see why the man was so pale when he entered the tavern.
Years of having strong fighters entering her tavern and Shal knew the feeling of a dangerous person when she saw one. Her fear surfacing as her minty greens locked on with dark silvers that watched her closely, like a cautious cat ready to strike if they felt threatened but oddly seemed a bit hazy. The man was crouched, right hand shakily grasping the hilt of a sword as his left arm was curled towards his chest, holding a bundle close to him. It was hard to make out his details in the darkness of the storm but Shal was certain she could see cropped green hair. He wore a simple white shirt that clung tightly to his body from the sea water, clearly showing a chest that heaved with rasping pants and muscles stiffly locked into place, ready to attack. Shal couldn't tell if he was injured or not but suspected he might have bumped his head when he landed on the shores (knowing that there were rocks hidden below the depths of the water).
Laying behind him and slightly off to the left was a young black haired child wearing nothing but a large red vest. Not far from him was another black haired child, a girl, who wore a large white blouse. Both seemed young, thin children who were quite possibly related to each other in some way but she couldn't see their faces to know. Shal spotted a head of reddish orange hair peeking out from the bundle wrapped in a cloth, making her realize it was a baby.
Her throat felt tight with panic.
"Sir, please! We're not here to hurt you!" The fisherman tired to reason, only receiving an animistic growl that cut clearly through the noise, despite how low it actually was.
"Don't make any sudden movements, we don't know what might upset him." Shal cautioned in a low hiss to the other four men who nodded sternly before turning her attention back to the man. Shal studied his face for a moment, twisted into an angry and threatening snarl but there was something in his eyes that spoke what he was truly feeling at that moment. Fear, panic, confusion. The way his eyes darted between everyone, cautious and distrusting, but he never made a move towards them. He wanted to scare them away without getting into a fight, maybe because he was barely hanging onto his conscious at the moment.
He doesn't want us to take them away...
"Godmother, careful!" The fisherman said as he made slow and careful steps towards the man, watching him stiffen up and his eyes snapping straight to her. Goosebumps ran up her arms, it felt like she was walking towards her death.
"Sir..." Her honey-like voice spoke softly, eyes never leaving his as she kept her hands to her sides, "Sir, my name is Shal. I run a tavern not far from here, there's warmth and food there." She was trying to get him to relax at least a little, trying to show him she meant no harm, "We aren't going to take them away from you." At that, he seemed to flinch but Shal would worry about that later, "We just want to help. Can you tell us, are they ok?"
By then, Shal was standing just half a foot in front of him, crouching on her feet with her hands resting on her knees to clearly show him where they were. She could make out his face much clearer now, noticing the rough features that only seemed enhance his surly expression to make it seem even deadlier. Her eyes never left his though and thankfully, his tense posture seemed to easy. Good, they were making progress. While she didn't know what the others were doing behind her, she knew they were smart enough to stay put and stay still less they spook the man again. The most important thing right then and there was to get the man to trust them enough to help him and the children.
Just then, the bundle in his arms shifted as it whimpered, probably not enjoying the fact it as getting cold and wet. Both the man and Shal looked towards the bundle, a pudgy face turning towards them with eyes scrunched tight and arms wiggling free from their bindings. Suddenly, the man relaxed completely and his face softened to an expression of relief. Shal watched silently, surprised by his sudden change and wasn't even aware of his fingers letting slip the sword which thumped softly into wet sands. Lids fluttered open as large cinnamon eyes glanced up towards the man whose lips drew upwards faintly into a smile, "You're ok..." He muttered and Shal was when alarmed when she noticed him finally giving out, "Thank goodness..."
Quickly, before the baby could hit the ground with the man, Shal swiped the child up as they gave a shrieking cry. She stumbled backwards and landed on her bottom, cradling the child close to sooth their distress, "Get them all to the tavern, now!" Came the sharp order and the four men called out their agreement before quickly going over to pick up the other two children and the man, "Take him to the back room and see if the doctor up the hill is awake. If he's not then make him awake."
The fisherman quickly left for that task, not before helping Shal up along with the child. She sighed, not having expected any fool to be out at sea during a storm. Her eyes glanced to the sword laying in the wet sands, its white hilt almost glowing against the dark contrast. It was a beautiful blade, she had to admit, and knew she couldn't leave it there alone. Shifting the now sleeping child in one arm, Shal bent to pick up the sword, holding it so that the sharp side of the blade faced towards her before making her way up the slope and back towards her tavern.
