Weaving A Tale
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Summary: She is the shadow that follows every move, the light that illuminates the truth, but most of all, a soul reborn in a vastly different world from the one she knows. [InformationBroker!SI-OC, AU, Pre-Canon]
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Prologue
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"Who are you?"
The grin directed in her direction is somewhat familiar, and there's a niggling sensation that speaks volumes in her mind. A clear indication of how she should know the boy before her.
"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first?"
She speaks blandly, informal in a way that would appall her caretakers, and the thought should not twist her lips in a smile, as it has done.
The boy tilts his head, akin to a dog, and it should not be as... endearing as it should have been. Still, it does not stop the emotion from blossoming, and she lets it run free.
"I s'ppose you're right."
He nods his head, as if to reinforce his statement, and the butchering of one sole word makes her smile wider. Her caretakers were rather keen on proper grammar and enunciation, if they were to know her earlier statement and how the boy speaks, they would be none too pleased.
The boy sucks in a breath, and releases it as quickly, giving a grin that is as bright as the last, if not more so.
"My name's Garp! Now, what's yours!?"
"How... polite."
She replies mildly without missing a beat, tone as dry as the desert wind, mind running a mile a minute to put a face with the familiar name. What she recalls from her past life is as fuzzy as wool, but if there is one thing she remembers well enough, it is all the stories she has read.
Especially the story of a straw-hat wearing boy... with a crazy strong grandfather.
The boy - Garp, she reminds herself- scrunches his face, and she could imagine the question mark floating atop his head. Thinking, she notes, should not be as hard as he portrays.
"Your- your name's... how polite?"
She offers a sharp smile that often makes other second guess themselves, even avert their eyes, but it is with -amusement? -irritation? Ah- resignation, that she shows this smile of hers. For all intents and purposes, Garp does believe her name to be 'how polite'. He is innocent, unknowing of the offense she has caused, no matter how small, in her earlier reply. If it were anybody but him, she would undoubtly be irked, knowing in the back of her mind that it is simply a front, but he - Garp- is different.
He truly is, in all sense of the word, innocent.
It might have something to do with sparkling dark chocolate eyes, perhaps his wide grin, maybe even the way his hair sticks up in all directions, she can't determine. Only, only her whole being has deemed the boy innocent.
She hums under her breath, still not offering an answer to his question, but he waits, patiently - which is quite a surprise- for an answer.
It does not stop his incessant movement, however.
From head to toe, there is an action his form follows, tilting head, rolling shoulders, fingers tapping against arms, the shaking of his left leg, and the tapping of his right foot.
Now, she parts her mouth, offering an answer to his question.
"Call me what you will."
She's not fond of her name anyway.
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She is four years old when all the dreams - memories- made sense.
The same age she is banished from her birthplace.
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AN: This is my take of a One Piece fic where the SI/OC is born way, way back. Canon characters will be few in number, for now, so I hope the readers will bear with some OCs. I'll try to keep them small in number, and be as realistic as possible.
Thanks for reading~.
Reviews are love.