Prologue

There was dirt mixed into the ivory sand beneath my feet- soft, warmth, that anyone would find, comforting. Deeper, and deeper, still. But how long would it take, before I reached the cool, pasty, mix of salt water and crushed shells? Becoming stuck within, its awkward grip?

My hair, smelled of the ocean, like it did everyday- particles of crushed shell, and rock, invaded my, coffee-black locks. Damp, and sticky. My hair started to form ,curls, down my burnt shoulders and back. One might call this, 'strange'- I mean, that is of course, if they knew anything about my personal life. Strange as it was, I couldn't help, but enjoy it. Like every afternoon, before the sun set beyond the mysterious, and somewhat beckoning, horizon-I decided to take up refuge within the cove, hidden beyond the, ever-thickening jungle.

Mona, my mother, or at least that is what she had me call her- also took refuge during this time of day. That sad, sorry, refuge being at the bottomof a fifth of, strong liquor; and she was no doubt, drunk again. Shortly after her dear beloved, husband and daughter were both killed, her cheerful, mood did a complete one-eighty. I tried my damnedest, everyday, to make sure she was okay, and the household chores were getting done. Even when confronting her, she would just smile, and give me a tight hug- then go back to humming a sad tune, as she gulped down her bottle of booze.

Don't get me wrong, hell, I mourned them too. I missed them, even though I had only met them a few times; 'Family' dinners, or in passing at the outdoor market. But one cannot mourn, forever; it's entirely unhealthy. Not good for the mind, and not good for the soul. She knew that this might happen- they knew full well that it could eventually happen. Because you see, when you join the military- hell, even if you join a group of bandits, pirates, or the Revolution. The possibility of loosing your life, or something important to you. I know damn well, that a person must make sacrifices to protect what they love, and care about the most. I have also experienced my fair share of turmoil; I have ugly scars to coincide with that.

Mostly I think that's why, Mona, took me in; because I had nothing. Nothing at all- burnt, and singed into the cobblestone ground. Ash and rubble, dusted my shoes that day. Someone wanted me dead; but that was only a rumor I had heard at a local bar, in passing.

If you looked now, the only things I have left from that time are, my old Marine uniform, and coat. A war medal, a few ribbons...a pistol, and a journal full, of bittersweet memories. In truth, I never joined the Marines because I wanted, self-recognition, or to justify my place and existence in the world, as a human being. No. I did it because, I wanted to help those, who couldn't help themselves.

I am, in no way, a fricking saint; but i loathe, 'bad people'. Let me explain. A bad person, is someone who takes that which does not belong to them, or otherwise, has no right to, in the first place. Someone who kills, innocent people, just to make themselves feel more powerful. People who promise, 'justice', to those in need, but only butter up their pretty words, hiding their true intentions. Job description, has nothing to do with it. In some cases, yes, it's true- but not always. I know all too well, how seemingly 'good' people, can operate; and it was for this reason, alone, I abandoned my post at headquarters.

I, to this day, do not think what I did was wrong. I will never think that. My own previous, job description, was to serve, Truth and Justice. What a load of fucking, horse shit, that turned out to be. Apparently, hiding the truth from people, is more cost effective, and important to the Vice Admiral, aboard the previous warship I was working on.

'You are well on your way to becoming, Vice Admiral, Aiko. You are to serve, and protect, what is true and just, as declared by the World Government. You are not some, renegade, vigilante...nor godforsaken pirate, who thinks that they can do whatever, they damn well please.' Those words I remember, very clearly. Fuck him. That man was nothing but a bad person. Rotten to the fucking core.

I stared my trek to home, through the jungle, and the sand, before the sun had set completely beyond the mysterious horizon. It's not like I didn't like the dark, it's just that I wasn't ever too keen on stepping on, unpleasant things.

I could hear the soft snores of my mother, as I opened the two large, wooden doors; she was either on the couch, or passed out on the dining room table. With a surly creak from the joints that held the doors in their place, I made my way in, shutting them quietly behind me. Quiet tip-toes, through the house, I finally managed to get to the kitchen, after fondling the walls, hard, for a light. Total score...I didn't even have to try that hard. I slowly walk over to my mother, who had fallen asleep on the dining room table. Grabbing the empty bottle from her fist, I planted a soft kiss on her forehead, before placing the fallen blanket, back upon her shoulders.

I placed the empty bottle into a box under the sink, before I noticed, an envelope, that had been addressed to me. I smiled to myself, thinking that it was ine of the children I had spent the day with again, drawing me another picture, or leaving a cute letter of gratitude. Hesitantly, I picked it up- only for it to reveal that it was NOT, one of the neighbors children.

The note was of heavy parchment, thick and most likely, expensive. On the front, my name was scrawled, in lovely cobalt ink. A fountain pen, most likely. I turned the paper over, and found a gold, wax seal, and someones initials stamped into it. D...M...? I don't know anyone, who has those harder I tried to rack my brain fora probable answer, the more confused I was becoming.

I certainly never made much of an effort, to make friends in this town,minus the local children. How...unexpected. I ripped the gold seal from its place, and opened up the letter that was folded in, thirds.

'They Are Coming For You.'

I leaned my elbow on the tiled counter, and sighed. What does this, D.M., person mean? Who are, 'they'? Possibly the people who had tried to take my life, that time, five years ago. But why now? I stared at the gold seal, once more- whoever sent this, is of high status, and privy to information. But why would they try to help me? what could they possibly want, or gain by that? With quick, soft, steps, I decided to head back to my room.

I was never really, one to worry, but one must always take necessary precautions, in order to stay alive. Worrying too much can cause ones, subconscious judgement to become, impaired. Mostly for my mothers sake- no matter how much of a, free spirit, she knew I was...I did not want to cause her anymore grief. Continuously drowning her organs in hard liquor. Although I do not want to, I might have to leave, at least for her own safety.

My closet had my crap from when I was still a, Marine. I scoffed at the pearly white coat, and uniform before me; before pushing my way through to my more, normal, attire. It was nearing the end of, 'summer', and this being an autumn island, things were about to get much colder. A few shirts, a parka, socks, pants, and most importantly, underwear. My log pose, and two eternal poses...as well as a considerably nice sum of money I had collected since I was in the Marines, and thereafter.

I folded everything, tight and neat, into the bag I commonly used for shopping at the market. After putting everything neatly into place, I shut the bronze clasps, shut.

Years ago, before I had met, Mona, I had decided to keep a journal of everything on my journeys around the, Grand Line. It had well been over than a few month...shit maybe even a year, since I had made an entry in it. I slowly opened the leather journal, only to have pieces of stray paper, and photos fall onto my lap. I smiled fondly at the scattered articles around my legs. Photos of children I taught how to sing, a few years back. Pictures of Monas', deceased family. A family picture of all of us together. Another few photos, I couldn't exactly place.

On the ground, at the bottom of the pile, were photos of me when I was still a Marine. Happy, yet, bittersweet memories; I couldn't help but giggle, at the picture of the first time I got drunk with my ex-captain. Myself, and Admiral Akainu, taking a nap, on some random summer island, we traversed along the Grand Line. Funny stuff.

Then there was the first time, I had been promoted. Another of the cursed fruit I had eaten, on search and destroy mission. I could feel my face frown slightly, as I held the photo in my hands, and crossed my vision.

"Aiko, you do know that you have eaten something, very dangerous...correct?" Akainu spoke, with hushed tones, and all seriousness. Fingers, intertwined, leaning forward in my direction.

"Yes. Dangerous, or not, it seems to prove useful enough to almost have me sent to, Impel Down, to interrogate people. Why would I do that, when their fate has already been sealed? Why would I put someone though, fake hopes, of having themselves released? I do not want to see that. I do not want that on my 's not right, Akainu!" I spat back, slamming my hands down onto the heavy wooden desk, that separated us.

His expression was even more grave, than before.