Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its parts.

Warning: AU!, OC, Fem!Luffy, Male!BoaHancock, probably (not sure yet) Male!NicoRobin

This story centers round my OC and yes, she is related to one of the canon characters, which one you will read and find out, probably in this chapter. If you don't like it don't read it.

A/N: I'm writing this for my own pleasure, if you don't like it do not read it! It's fairly simple; I will not tolerate stupid comments or flames. I don't care if you like it, I'm writing it and I like it so. If you have constructive criticism, it's welcome. I'm always looking on ways on how to improve as a writer. Updates may not be too regular, but I will try. With that sad on to the story.

Prologue

Present time

The pirate captain of East Blue, the weakest of all seas stood tall before the dark-clocked figure. He raised his pistol ready to fire. The figure slowly pulled the hood down to reveal short cropped slicked back hair, which stood spiky in the back. Slowly the figure eyes were revealed. The petty pirate captain nearly choked on his spit.

"Y-your eyes! It- it can't be!"

Past

Before I disclose any of the following information about my life I would like to point out some things. I did not under any circumstances ask for any of this. Whatever I should blame a higher deity or simply fate I did not know, but it wasn't in my nature then as it is not now, to search for blame in others.

As it usually goes, I suppose, I had died at some point, when or how I do not recollect. The only thing I was sure of was that I wasn't experiencing the afterlife that I had imagined. At first I thought I had entered a dimension of hell. The fact that my sight was impaired as well as my other senses dulled I had deemed it a god enough possibility - so I believe it at first. But, after the stages of denial finally passed I started to analyze my current predicament and came to one conclusion. I had to have been reborn. But, even if this was reincarnation, why did I remember having another life?

I soon realized I did not actually have any memories that were clear. It was like losing your memory, but remembering every motor skill, every custom, what you like and dislike, but not actually what happened to you.

That's the general introduction, now on to my life.

"Y-you are trying to kill me aren't y-you?" I managed to get out through gritted teeth as I glared at the old ex-pirate who claimed to be my grandmother. Back in the days she used to be a force to reckon, or at least so she says - now she is just an old crazy woman living on a small deserted island in the Grand Line or as she referred to it Paradise.

Her green eyes glared at my six-year old form, heaped on the ground and in visible pain from the torture- I mean training sessions she put me through every morning since I turned five.

"It's for your own good, how else are you gonna claim the title of the Greatest Swordsman in the World?" she sneered at me.

I stood up momentarily forgetting my pain, my eyes blazing with rage.

"I don't want to be the Greatest, it's just a stupid title anyway!"

"Are you going to deny your poor old grandmother that one pleasure? Your mother was a big enough disappointment, joining those revolutionaries. To each their own I guess," yeah to everybody, but me, I thought with disdain as I scanned her fake look of sadness. "But, you will make me proud. I want to see a woman claim that title before I die!"

"Then claim it yourself, you old hag!"

Her look turned murderous, but honestly, she didn't scare me. What she put me through every day, toughened me up quite a bit.

She took her cane and tapped it against her wooden leg. "I would if I could!"

"Don't impose your stupid dreams on me!"

"Why you little brat!?"

This was pretty much our routine every morning all the way until I turned 18. That is when I finally managed to bet the old hag. It had been after all, the only way to leave the island. She refused to let me go until I beat her in a fight.

"You better become the Greatest-!"

"Not a chance in hell you old hag!"

Over the years I had grown to be rather apathetic. Nothing in this world moved me enough to care about it. Mostly because a few years ago I finally realized why all the information Bovary, my self-proclaimed grandmother, gave me seemed familiar. This was supposed to have been only a story.

Stupidly enough I could remember nothing more but the image of a straw-hat. Well, that and the origin of my eyes which to this day on I deny and will probably continue to do so till I die.

There was no way Dracule Mihawk was my father, right?

Present

"Y-you, H-h-h-h-hawk-e-eyes!"

I rolled my eyes, this is why I dislike the Blues, so many stupid people.

"You wish," I whispered with a slightly smile before I pulled out my blade.