I've been dwelling on this for a while, and this is the first One Piece fanfiction I've ever written. I tried to put as much effort as I could into this, though I have no idea how I'm going to end this...
Anyway, please enjoy! Reviews are not only welcome, but treasured :)
He sat on the carpet, big brown eyes observing it with open curiosity. His small fingers pulled at the stiff strands, long damaged by dirt and rough play. It used to be rather beautiful, with chocolate colored swirls dancing across a palette of cream.
Over time the chocolate turned a dull black, and the cream had become stained as an unflattering brown.
But he didn't take notice of its tattered appearance, enraptured by the beauty only he could still see.
There was the shuffle of footsteps, and he raised his head to see a woman standing at the door. She was pretty, with ginger hair pulled back in a ponytail and eyes like the morning sky.
She wore a green, silky shirt with feathers, dark dress pants, and shiny black heels. The woman approached slowly, her eyes widening as she looked around the room, taking in the take-out boxes lying on the floor and on the couch.
She saw the empty pizza boxes and crumbs and sauce smeared on nearly every flat surface she could see. A table was overturned, and there was the shriveled up remains of what could have possible been a raw egg sticking on the armrest on a chair.
All in all, it was disgusting.
The house looked awful and uncared for, and the smell of sick hung in the air. It was silent, and the place was seemingly devoid of life, except for the little boy sitting in the center of the carpet.
He was incredibly small, with thin arms and legs, probably from malnutrition. On his head was a mass of ruffled black hair that hung in strings from not being washed for god knows how long.
His skin was smudged with dirt, much like his ripped clothes, a navy blue shirt and black shorts. The boy's eyes, however, were clear. Brown and warm and kind, they shone with a special kind of innocence, the kind that could survive through anything. Under the left one was a white scar; a sign of its age.
The woman stepped towards him carefully, like one would approach an animal ready to bolt. "Hello," she said, her voice gentle in the soft. It shattered the silence, and the boy blinked.
She crouched down a few feet away, trying to keep from touching too much. "I'm Wendy," she began, smiling encouragingly, "Can you tell me what your name is?" The boy merely blinked again, and Wendy licked her lips.
"I'm going to take you out of here, okay?" The boy watched her with interest. "We'll go to a place where it's safe." Slowly, Wendy stretched out her hand, desperately hoping the boy would understand, so she could get him out of here.
Wendy smiled at him again, putting in as much love and care as she could. The boy's lips parted, and he stared at her. Her heart clenched when she realized he probably wasn't used to being shown affection.
Then he raised a hand, and in a huge show of trust that made her eyes prickle with tears, he laid it in her palm. Wendy grasped his hand and cautiously picked him up, balancing the small child on her hip.
He couldn't be more than six years old.
Wendy tiptoed her back back through the house to the front door, where after a quick glance, she had to frown, because the boy had been left with no shoes whatsoever.
She opened the door with one hand, and warm sunlight streamed into the dim house. The boy let out a pained whimper, and turned to bury his face into Wendy's neck, drawing his arms up close to his chest.
Wendy shushed him and murmured soothing words to him as she stepped outside and turned to close the door behind her. A blue car was parked out in front, and standing next to it, was another woman with brown hair twisted up into a bun.
She was tall and slim, dressed in a silvery blue turtleneck with no sleeves, black dress pants and flats. Her green eyes flickered up from the street's dull scenery to her partner, who'd just emerged from the house.
Wendy carefully walked down the driveway towards the car, her eyebrows drawn together in worry and disgust while one arm circled the boy, and her other hand cradled his head.
"Oh my God, what happened?" the other woman asked. Wendy shook her head, not sure if words could explain just what she'd seen. "You have no idea what it's like in there, Kate." She looked at the boy in her arms.
"I'm not sure how he managed to survive in that house."
He would've had to find food, which was most likely half rotten if the smell in there meant anything. He would've had to keep himself occupied, though Wendy had seen for herself first-hand what the boy did for 'fun'.
Kate quickly turned and opened the door to the back seat for Wendy, who flashed her a brief smile to show her thanks, and climbed inside. Kate shut the door quietly and went around to the driver's side, where she hopped in and started the engine.
"Do you think we should take him to a hospital?" she asked, glancing in the rearview to Wendy, who met her gaze. The redhead pursed her lips in thought."No," she said slowly, her eyes now raking over the small boy's frame.
"He doesn't seem sick or anything potentially serious. Just in need of a bath and a warm meal." She looked back at Kate, who was turning the car around to pull onto another road. "Taking him to the group home should be fine."
Kate nodded. "I'm glad we got the call for this one. Who knows what could have happened if he'd been there longer?" Wendy shifted in the seat, pretty sure she didn't want to think about that.
The boy had disengaged from her, and was kneeling on the seat next to her and looking out the window at the sky.
His awed expression was reflected in the window, and Wendy wasn't sure if she wanted to smile or cry. Such an expression could only mean that he hadn't been outside in a long time.
When they reached the group home, the boy's attention immediately turned to the house. It was white and pristine, with forest green shutters and flower pots positioned on the railing on the front porch.
It was nice and inviting, especially with the sun shining overhead. Kate clambered out first, tucking the keys into her pocket. Wendy opened the door, and the boy slipped out and landed on his feet.
He wobbled unsteadily. Wendy took his hand to steady him as she stepped out, nudging the car door closed with her foot. She smiled once again. "This is where you'll be staying for awhile." The boy looked up at her, not saying a word.
She sighed quietly and gave him a reassuring smile as she led him inside. The front foyer was clean, with spring green benches to sit on and light brown hardwood floors that stretched down the hall to the kitchen.
To the right were carpeted stairs that went upstairs to the numerous bedrooms, and to the left was the living room. It was big, and carpeted also, with a television and a small couch on opposite sides of room. The middle of the room held a rug over the carpet, probably to keep it clean.
It was huge, covered in numerous shapes and colors. Blue circles, red squares, yellow triangles, ect. It was bright, and seemed to nearly glow.
Bins of toys were on each side of the room as well, most filled to the brim. The center of the room remained clear and brightly lit, a suitable place for children to play. For there were children.
About six in total, with four boys grouped together on the couch like some kind of kiddie gang, and one of the remaining two was on the other, curled around a book.
The other was sitting on the corner of the rug, glowering and looking like he would slug anyone who came near him. When the children caught sight of Wendy, Kate, and the new boy, they stopped playing. Every one of them stared at the dirt covered boy, who just blinked at them owlishly.
Wendy smiled at them for a moment, before leading the amazed boy away from what seemed to him like a magical room and into the bathroom. None of them noticed the scowling boy watching them curiously.
Wendy picked the boy up to set him on the counter. Kate rested her hand on the doorknob, ready to pull it shut. "I'll go get a change of clothes for him," she said, and Wendy grinned.
"Thanks, Kate. Can you also grab a bottle of shampoo? I want to see if I can wash his hair." Kate nodded and left, the door closing with a click. Wendy turned to the boy in front of her.
She eyed the small bathtub that just barely fit in there along with them. "Hey, are you able to take a bath?" The boy just stared at her, like he'd done ever since she'd pulled him from the house.
Wendy wasn't about to try and do anything as reckless forcing him into the tub, so when Kate arrived with shampoo and a pile of clothes, she had him undress and washed him down.
It wasn't the first time, so she at least had an idea as to what she was doing. She used a washcloth and did it as gently as she could so she didn't startle him. In her opinion, the boy didn't really seem to care, he preferred to look at different items hanging on the walls on sitting up on shelves.
Only when she started washing his hair did he pay attention. Wendy paused, her fingers buried in his hair. The boy gingerly reached up and collected a few bubbles on his hands, content to watch them pop one by one while Wendy finished.
She dressed him in a red shirt and blue shorts. Wendy found a pair of white socks under the bundle and she slipped those onto his feet. "There," she told him, "Now you're all clean."
Wendy opened the door and Kate looked impressed at the drastic change. The boy's skin was actually naturally tan and his hair was soft and fluffy, though still just as out of control as before.
"Nice job, Wendy," Kate praised. Wendy took the boy's hand again. "Thanks. I'm going to let him play with the other kids while I call the office to try and see what we'll do with him." Kate nodded.
Wendy led back to the living room, and the children once again turned their heads. "Kids," Wendy said to them, "This is someone new. He'll be playing with you today, so I expect you to treat him nicely."
The lone girl on the couch looked up. She had blonde hair that was put up into two pigtails by green ribbons, brown eyes, and she wore a purple sweater with brown pants and socks. "Is he gonna live with us?" she asked, revealing a lisp.
Wendy glanced at her. "I don't know yet, Bryony. We'll just have to wait and see." Bryony seemed satisfied with the answer, because she ducked her head to start reading again, her fingers grasping the book tightly as if it would simply fly away if she let go.
After Wendy left, it was quiet in the living room. The boy just stood there, blinking at them. The tallest of the four boys on the couch opposite Bryony, possibly the groups leader, stood up and scowled at him.
He had a pudgy face and thin brown hair, his ears sticking out a little awkwardly from his head. Beady little black eyes narrowed at the newcomer. He had thick limbs and thick hands.
"What's your name?"
The boy didn't say anything, and again, everyone was unaware of the other boy watching them. "He's Deagan," another boy said with a thick foreign accent, jabbing a thumb at his fearless leader. The second boy was shorter than Deagan, with rough dirty blond hair and bright blue eyes like Wendy's. Light brown freckles dotted the tip of his nose.
"I'm Simon," he told the new boy, though it ended up sounding like See-moan. A third boy climbed off the couch. He had cropped black hair and eyes, with dark bronze skin and a dimple on his right cheek. "I'm Jose!" he said, grinning broadly.
The fourth followed suit, standing with the rest and clearly shorter with chestnut hair that curled around his ears and hazel eyes. He had slanted shoulders and large feet. "Arthur," was all he said.
"What's your name?" Deagan asked again, his hands balling into fists. The boy looked up at him nervously, as if unsure of what the older boy wanted to do. Deagn reached out to grab the him. Suddenly, another boy entered the scene.
"Knock it off!" he snapped. Deagan huffed and stomped back to the couch with his minions on his heels.
The boy looked at his savior. He was older, around Deagan's age, with thick, messy black hair and freckles. He looked strong. And mad. The boy watched him for a moment, head cocked to the side.
The freckled boy suddenly grabbed his hand and marched over to the other end of room where the carpet ended, practically dragging the small boy behind him. He sat down, and his follower sat down with him.
He looked the younger boy over. "I'm...Ace."
They sat in silence for awhile, Deagan's group playing war and Bryony cooped up with her books. The boy didn't mind, he was content to sit there and observe with the new boy.
With Ace.