Learning to Live

by 6Fortius9

"Ace. I'm sorry you had to see me die. But as promised, I'll be telling you about my past. Before I begin my story, there's just one thing you have to know: It's the fact that this isn't the first time I planned my death." - In which Ace receives a tone dial from his first mate.

1. Chapter 1

Learning to Live

I: Learning to Die

...

Narration

[Tone Dial]

(Inner Thoughts/Memories)

Words being emphasized on

…

Blank.

Nothing, at this point, could come to mind.

Portgas D. Ace stared out into the vast horizons of the limitless sea stretching out before him, thinking of nothing. In the distance, the cries of seagulls drifted to him. But nothing compared to the agonized screams of Luffy – nothing, not even Jimbe's alarmed cries as he surged forward to stop him.

Everything is meaningless at this point.

Useless.

(Just like him.)

He buried his face in both palms, breathing in deeply as though being suffocated.

(He might as well be.)

"Aren't you going after Mugiwara-ya?" The question coming from the sudden presence beside him hardly made him tense. If it was any other time, or anywhere else, he might have reproached himself for the slip in his observation haki. But not now.

It hardly mattered. Nothing seems to matter at this point.

"…Did you love her?" The doctor opted for a different question, plopping down beside him. Ace bore daggers into him at once. "We arrived just in time to witness that final scene." Ace knew exactly what scene he was talking about. "…She was the one who told us to hurry."

(No.)

Yes. The suspicion that she might have planned her own death further cemented.

Something in him shattered and broke under its hefty weight. He exhaled slowly, squeezing his fists tight enough to crush metal.

"…What do you mean to say by that?" Ace would like to think that he had admirable self-control for managing some guise of politeness. It's only the fact that they owe the doctor a lifelong debt that stops him from throwing a fire fist at him.

The doctor gives him a long appraising look and as if he making a life-changing decision, withdrew something from his jacket pocket.

It's a tone dial, Ace recognizes as his heart gave a leap. It's that silly stupid little thing that she got from their travel to Skypea. A pastel pink shell with the random scribbles of her markers and each of his old crew's individual signatures carved into the organic matter for eternity. He never understood why she loved it so much…and yet, he was grateful that she kept it, if only because that meant he'd be able to hear her voice.

"I listened to it." The doctor said, pressing the shell into his palms gingerly.

Ace's eyes shot up to him.

"It was…educational." And the urge to punch him was once more renewed.

Looking away from him, the doctor gazed into the distance. His eyes looked as if he was searching for something, or someone.

"She wanted me to make the decision in regards to giving you this." The doctor tapped his mind. "Dabble some in psychology even though it's not my area of expertise, you see? And I would strongly discourage you from listening to this thing, but-" Grey eyes examined his face. "-I think there's no one better than you to make the decision for yourself."

Ace traced the edges of the shell subconsciously, giving the doctor a curt nod.

"Thanks." He glared. "And I don't know what she said, but you better keep everything to yourself. Or else."

The doctor rolled his eyes.

"I bet you're as much trouble as that brother of yours, so I'll keep that in mind."

Ace caught the nostalgic straw hat with a finger and watched the captain give the order to set sail, ignoring the numerous whines of his crewmates. The polar bear followed without complain, hunching over in confusing apology while the others grumbled before following. The captain-doctor curled his fingers over the edges of the submarine – 'DEATH' is tattooed onto his fingers, Ace notices now – and the New World pirate shouts one last thanks (this time for Luffy) before the submarine closes.

As the submarine sinks into the waters of calm belt, he catches the captain's nod. A bubble or two floated up into the surface, and then, they were gone as if they were never there.

Ace stood silently with his new treasure (her treasure), catching himself bitterly when a stray thought of 'how she would have liked living in a submarine' flies by. He didn't dare to squeeze the shell, fearing that it would not withstand his strength. Instead, a flameless punch at a tree knocked it down and right out of the soil.

"Damn it." He muttered, spat, because anger was so much easier to channel than sadness. "Damn it all!"

Ace wanted to rage, wanted to beat himself up like Luffy is doing, but he couldn't. Shouldn't. If she was here, she would point out how meaningless anger is. Just like Sabo would.

But she wasn't. And as much as anger came easy, the shell still came first. An odd mix of apprehension and dread mixed in the pit of his belly, turning into unbearable impatience.

Ace breathes. Settles down somewhere in the midst of tree branches, where he wouldn't be disturbed. And slowly, as if pulling a trigger to his head, he pressed the end of the shell.

.

.

.

Nothing happens. No explosions, no voices or anything of that sort.

Ace was just contemplating genocide on that bastard when a soft familiar voice coughed, hesitation and mild quivers from the lack of use.

["…Ace."]

Just the whisper of his name brought tears to his eyes.

He bowed his head down as memories flickered, as that last vision of her, lying flat on the ground, refused to leave his head.

["…I'm sorry that you have to hear from this thing instead of in person. I'm sorry that I couldn't tell you the truth till the very end. I'm sorry…"] A sniffle came from the shell. She's apologizing too much, but she wouldn't be her if she doesn't apologize. ["…I'm sorry for dying, Ace."]

'No.' He wanted to say. 'Don't apologize.'

But at the same time as one part of him longed to comfort a person long gone, another wanted to blame and hurt and punch something.

He stopped the record to wipe his eyes before continuing.

["…But I'm glad. If this shell got to you, it must mean that you're still alive, and Law-san thinks you are mentally well enough to receive this."] A bubble of choked laughter. ["I know I shouldn't be happy that you're not affected by my death, but really, I am. Like I told you, I'm happy so long as you are."]

She did, didn't she? It had been so long since…

A shaky breath was taken. He followed her example, until a loud thump resounded on the other side, obviously startling her. Sounds of shuffling were heard, soft words exchanged before a door squeaked clamorously and closed.

["…I'm sorry. That was Rosinante. Oh, where was I?"] Always a klutz, Ace thinks. Always in her own world. ["Well, I don't exactly remember, but that doesn't matter, does it? Long ago, I promised you that I would tell you the truth about my past one day. I'm going to fulfil that promise right now. You ready?"]

Ace steeled himself, shifting his hold on the tree branch when nervous laughter drifted to his ears.

["To be honest, I really didn't want you to know. Afterall, who knows what you're going to do once you know…right?"] He gazed out at the sea. What did he want to do after this? What was he going to do without his first mate or his pops? He didn't know either, himself. ["Just…know that I want you to do what's best for yourself. Promise me you'll do that for me, Luffy, and Sabo, kay?"]

He nodded despite knowing that she can't see.

["Okay then."]

She takes a deep breath.

["Before I begin my story, there's just one thing you have to know.

It's the fact that this isn't the first time I planned my own death."]

…

The train in the opposite lane blew by. Hair fluttering, fingers balling up fistfuls of cloth within my pockets, anxiety hits me for the nth time as I stared out into nowhere, all too aware of the things happening behind me.

People. They're walking by. Some talk in cheerful tones as they walked. Others waited with a sullen face, exhaustion clear in their eyes. But all strangers. There were nobody I knew here, nobody who would see what I'm about to do and no possibility of being stopped. It was the perfect place, perfect timing for me to die. I made sure of that, coming at peak hour, where the crowd is thick and my anxiety suffocates.

My throat is dry as I swallow.

I'm scared. So very scared of these people.

(When was the last time I stood fearlessly amongst them?)

My heart is thumping furiously. I can hear the too quick rhythm of beats echoing in my ears. I can feel my hands getting sweaty where they are, enclosed by fabric and hidden from public's view. My eyes narrow as I withhold the urge to whimper or tremble.

I want a friend. I want my parents, or my brothers. Anyone to be beside me right now and shield me from these fellow human beings.

But no one will come.

Not when they're all gone for good.

No one will care when I disappear. There's simply nobody for me to leave behind anymore, no one to hide behind, no one to remember me as anyone other than that unsociable girl always shielding from view.

(…Did I even exist in this world to begin with?)

Something flickered in the depths of my heart.

Like a candle being extinguished, hesitation drains away and nothing remains but the sight of the platform edge and the sounds announcing the arrival of a new train.

The crowd is at its thickest. There are so many people, yet there's nobody who cares.

(Not even me.)

I stepped out.

And then, overwhelming pain stole all senses away from me.

.

.

.

But that isn't the end.

…

Somewhere, there is a flicker of light.

What's happening? Shouldn't I be dead?

With a jolt, I opened eyes that I don't recall closing, only to find myself in a room of white. White walls, white couches. Even the coffee table was white, beyond the obviously transparent glas. The colour is disparagingly familiar to what I imagine a therapist's room to be. Clean, washed out, and clinical.

(A place I obviously belong to)

It's a mirror of the place I've toed most of my life, struggling to avoid.

A blink later, I find myself staring at a reflection of myself, sitting in the opposite couch where there had been no one before.

The only natural reaction would be to flinch back.

Yet, even when I tried to move, something held me down in my seat. A firm pressure of sorts drags my body down, weighing it down like invisible handcuffs. An attempt to lift an arm only resulted in the pressure intensifying. I watched helplessly as my mirror image lifted a cup of coffee – tea, whatever, I didn't care what it was – and sipped, tapping her fingers on a folder all the while.

Thud, thud, thud.

It's a cold, unmoving sound.

What the hell is this?

I quivered in my seat. The pressure sadistically allowed me that motion.

The thing which lies beyond death…What is this? Why is this happening?

(Isn't it obvious. It's because you killed yourself-)

Clink.

The sound of the teacup against the table drew my attention at once.

My mirror image sat back, relaxed, watching me with an unfamiliar edge in her brown eyes – an edge so predatory and foreign that it physically ached to look back at her. I was ready to look at the ceiling, the ground – anywhere else – when I found that I couldn'tavert my eyes from her because it felt like someone was forcefully prying my eyeballs in her direction. It stings. It burns. It hurts.

"Skylar." The name sounded like venom falling from her lips. I winced. "Ironic, isn't it? Given that your name means 'Strength'. Even though you're just a weakling who killed herself by implicating others. How unfortunate."

I trembled, because what can I answer to that?

It was all the truth,

I'm a coward. I knew that as much. I knew that from the first moment I contemplated suicide.

(I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'msorry-)

I sniffled as my vision blurred. Fingers curled in unease.

"I'm sorry." The words were allowed to tumble out of my mouth for some reason. Hearing myself hurt all the more.

Brown eyes analyzed me pensively.

"No, you're not." The image stated factually, and I bowed my head.

Another truth. (Another lie.) It's true that I'm apologetic for causing others trouble, but…fear of living still removes any hint of regret that might have arose from my decision. Even if I go back in time, knowing this – whatever this is – I would still repeat my actions. I would still die.

'I'm sorry' means nothing when I hardly repented my actions.

Words never mean much unless they're backed up by actions.

"For a suicidal one like you, the most apt torture I can possibly think of would be guardianship."

What?

My eyes shot up in apprehension. The lips on my mirror image curled in a manner that elicited dread, and only that by itself. It's obvious by now that in the midst of this confusing situation, my fate after death is being decided. But what the heck is 'guardianship', besides the obvious meaning? All I could think of is being assigned to look after the wellbeing of someone, but-

"You will be assigned Portgas D. Ace as your charge. You are to guard him until he dies in a manner of his choosing."

-I can't possibly guard someone else, not when I can't even manage the action of standing in a crowd.

(You can't even talk to people.)

So how-? Why-? And why Ace-

The familiarity of the name befuddles me even beyond the assignment of a sudden task.

I parted my lips to ask.

"What-?"

My mirror image gave me a look, before her appearance changed with a wave of the hand.

"Next person in line." The male voice which spoke was filled with disinterest.

The next thing I knew, I was falling into an endless abyss, screaming my head off in alarm.

…

Click.

…what?

Ace inhales, brows furrowing into a perplex expression as he gazed down at the delicate shell in his grip.

He didn't understand. It just all seems so extraordinary, that it's hard to swallow. Another world? A judgement made in heaven that consists of merely a few lines? A heaven that is a small white room, with a god – death god, whatever he is – taking the image of the people he's judging? It's all so unbelievable that he felt some part of him rising up in indignation, scowling at the lie, demanding the real truth.

But…he knows she wasn't lying.

She has always been a terrible liar of Luffy's calibre.

Sides, he was a New World pirate. He knows what weird things could be out there, hidden in some remote edges of the world.

He…he could accept this.

(Even if it means accepting that she's dead-?)

His breath hitched. He closes his eyes.

He had to, to continue listening.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ace started up the tone dial again, noting in some distant recess of his mind that Luffy's voice had died down, with Jimbe's soft rumbling a comforting lull to calmness. His voice soothed the conflict in his mind, in both their minds.

Ace exhaled shakily and willed himself to just. Listen.

["Life does not end after death."] The solemnity in her voice brought back unwanted memories of other times. And suddenly, it makes sense. Why she had reproached him the day they met. Why she had been so angry the day he snapped on Whitebeard's ship. Why she always seemed to understand. ["Nothing ever ends, Ace. Not the need for social interaction. Not the heritage of our birth. Not even the reality of life."]

["In the end, death is just another part of life. And like always, responsibilities are shoved around. People do the bare minimum to survive instead of utilizing all their efforts. Things are never truly done until the ones at the very bottom of that corporate ladder picks up the slack created by their leaders."]

She was angry, truly.

Ace knew he would be, if he was shoved into a different world with inexplicable orders to go by. He wondered if she ever loathed him for being her…task, as she puts it, for requiring her protection. And yet, something in him feels unapologetic for having her come to him.

Understandably, she continued, unaware of his thoughts. Her voice softened. With a soft comforting sound of shifting, he could imagine her caressing the shell's edge, brushing her fingers against their names.

["In my case, the ones I owe everything to are Monet and Mihawk. The two people closest to being my family in this life, alongside you three."]

…

Nothing beats waking up after death. Nothing, save perhaps waking up to the one and only Monet of One Piece.

I jumped, startled, and scrambled back in my bed far away from her.

It is one thing to witness all her cruel deeds over a screen and still sympathize with her as she dies, but another to meet the one and only (future) harpy in person. Clad in her usual skimpy outfit of a green tank top and brown shorts, the unmerciful, deceitful assistant of Caeser Clown only withdrew the cloth in her hands, chuckling softly to herself in amusement.

"Fully awake?" And she's every bit the person I saw in the show.

Meaning every bit of a tease and sadist as she was shown.

I shuddered, wielding my covers like a shield.

"Now, there's no need for such reaction, is there?" She dropped the cloth into a bucket of water, leaning in far. Too. Close. "I don't know what you saw about me in your world, but as a guardian, you should understand why I did whatever I did. Afterall, it's what you're about to do yourself. We all have to do things to protect our charges."

My shudders intensified. I flinched away from her, covering my face.

"Please…don't hurt me." It's pathetic, I know. I still begged nevertheless. Dying by frostbite sounds like a terrible way to go. Burning all over while frozen cold. Just…urgh.

"Why would I hurt you?" Monet blanched as if insulted, face turning inquisitive despite herself.

I poke an eye out to peek at her.

"I'm your guide here, just as Mihawk is. Once you're assigned a guide on this island, you're pretty much family for life." Amber eyes, ringed with a dark brown shade that both softened and intensified them at once, brightened at the mention of a family. In that moment, with light green hair framing soft features and eyes innocently bright, it stings to look at her, knowing how her end would come about.

(In a crumbling room with gently falling snow. Wings hovering, trying so hard but failing to reach the button. A final sigh as she attempts to fulfil her promise to her young master.

But at least she tried. At least, she's different from me, isn't she?)

[…Maybe, in retrospect, that's why I was assigned Monet as my guide.]

"…family." I whispered, voice dead despite myself.

I have no such thing now.

They're all gone. Killed, by that bastard of a drunk driver.

They can't be replaced.

The sudden amber eyes shoved in my face elicited a yelp from me. I backed away in fright, whimpering as a pale hand approached the top of my head – only to pat me gently? It still intimidate, nevertheless.

"You can call me mom if you want." Monet whispered with a smile.

Now I'm not sure if she was mocking me or just being sincere in her affections, but my beliefs leaned more towards the former. I'm indignant, but at the same time, the knowledge that she could so easily kill me stifles any show of rebellion from me-

"Momet."

-other than that.

Immediately, I ducked my head in embarrassment.

How mature was that?

The woman stills, and laughs, calloused fingers of a killer tracking downwards to pinch my cheek gently.

"How cute." Every bit like she was depicted. "But in case the death god didn't tell you, as he often tends to be, you would be allowed to reunite with your family should you complete your mission successfully."

I sat up at the thought, gazing hopefully at her to continue. Honestly speaking, I didn't expect the death god to be merciful at all. Being able to meet my family again, even for a second, means the world to me and if that wasn't a small mercy, then I didn't know what is. And if I merely have to complete the one task of looking after a child-

…Ace.

I have to look after Portgas D. Ace, who's likely over at the opposite end of the world, if Monet's presence is any indication. I have to look after a complete stranger and his whole wrangle of angst, even though I could hardly handle my own.

I have to go out.

The halting realizations killed all light in a suddenly scary world.

Then, came the awareness that I'm now in a completely different world, a world where 'Monet', 'Mihawk', and 'Ace' exist. I…I…

"I can't." The realization is terrifying.

Breaths hitching. Head shaking. Fingers griping for support – anything, anything at all.

"I can't. I can't!"

I can't do it.

I couldn't even stand in the midst of a crowd. I couldn't even stay alive by myself. I can't even find my way through my own life, couldn't not get lost within two miles of my home – I just can't.

(Can't do it. Can't see Dad, Mom, or my brothers again. Can'tcan'tcan'tcan't-)

"-Calm down!" Monet's voice filtered through suddenly. I think she had been speaking even before that, just that her voice is muted in the suddenly dizzying world of mine. Cold hands gripped the sides of my face, and I was forced to peer into her entrancing amber, brown-ringed eyes. "Calm down. Follow me as I breathe and countdown to ten."

Deep, shaky breaths followed.

The silence was deafening.

Her hands were comforting though, with all the coolness they have. They stroke my hair gently.

I blinked back tears and looked away. She released me reluctantly.

(I bet she didn't even want to touch me though.)

"I'm sorry." I choked out, burying my face in my knees. "I'm sorry, Monet."

"Well, I'd appreciate a thank you instead." Monet smiled sympathetically, placing a hand on her hips. "I get it. It's overwhelming when it finally hits. Apparently, even the war veterans amongst us go through that stage. Especially the war veterans, I guess." Her eyes were distant.

"No." I breathed, gasping. "It's different. I-I killed myself. I leapt in front of a train, and I-"

I choked over the word.

"I died." It came out far easier than all the effort it took to muster it.

A sharp breath was taken. Monet touched my shoulders, and it was a firm supporting contact that I could, for once, not reject.

"We're all the same, Skylar." She pronounced those words clearly, slowly for emphasis. Amber eyes bore into mine. I couldn't see a single bit of deceit in them. (Either she was that good, or she was telling the truth.) "We all committed suicide. Hell, I jumped off the cliff in the midst of winter and half-drowned, half-froze myself to death." She shrugged off my incredulity. "But point is, even Mihawk committed suicide in his first life. And trust me when I say he's the benchmark of discipline even for the almighty. You should know. We were appointed your guides because you knew us from your world."

"B-But…" I hesitated. "…I have anthropophobia."

"And I have ranidaphobia. See? We're the same."

"But that's the fear of frogs!" I yelled, exasperated. "It's hardly the same!"

"I had depression once. Mihawk gets hives around crowds. Almost everyone on this island have some ailment of some kind that caused them to commit suicide, so I don't see how we're so different." The way Monet spoke was so factual, so indifferent, that I was at a loss for words.

Slumping against the wall, I gazed down at my trembling hands.

It is…mindblowing, how strange this new world is. Or more precisely, how easily my conditions are labelled as the norm around here.

Never.

Never have I ever considered myself normal. Never, have I had someone who recognized my condition for what it is, accepting it so simply for what it is. And yet Monet did those things so simply. It's terrifying, how she seemed to peer into my mind and target every single bit of my doubts. It's confusing, because suddenly, nothing seems to make sense.

A shuddering breath escapes me. I feel my eyes stinging as warm tears slid out. I'm unable to put words to the reason why, yet in that instance, something in my chest just felt so comfortingly warm and soothing.

"B-But I-!" The words drew themselves out, dying as a useless protest faltered under the weight of her words and turned into a whimpering wail.

What am I doing, crying like a kid? What must Monet think now?

Sounds of shuffling drew near me.

"Would you like a hug?" The same teasing tone is still in her voice. That's what makes her Monet. And yet, simultaneously, that tone no longer felt mocking in the manner it did before.

I plunged myself into her extended arms, soaking her shirt wet with my tears.

Because…for the first time in my life, I finally have someone who understands me.

…

The days after my entry to this strange world were spent learning. Under the guidance of Monet, who was apparently appointed as one of my guides by the death god, I spend my first year studying all I could about this new world. Yet, even with the supposedly mundane routine of waking up to encyclopaedias and books, there were still many events that found their way into my life.

Occasionally, I would bond with Monet.

…

Chuckles of amusement drifted over my head as I peered at my reflection, stoned in shock.

Where my dark locks still tumbled down either sides of my face as they tended to do before, my dark eyes were no longer the same colour they used to be, turning a shade of light grey with darker rings of grey, as Monet's yellow and brown-ringed eyes were.

But that, that was something I didn't mind.

It was just the fact that I'm shorter, smaller, and all the sudden, younger than I could recall myself ever being. It certainly explains why the world seemed a lot bigger, though I wouldn't doubt that it would still be just as scary if I was big.

"Done being shocked?" Monet leaned her face on a palm, watching me from where she sat on my bed.

I nodded mutedly.

"In order to obtain the necessary skills to protect our charges, the death god reverts us back to the age of five when we're inserted into this world – and only when our charges' respective timelines begin, then do we leave to meet them and protect them."

In my case, that would mean that I have leave at the age of ten, when Ace first meets Luffy. Of course, the 'plot' as it is called stars Luffy as the main character, but as Monet has explained a while back, while every one of us have knowledge that centres on different people in this world, the start of our mission would still be the first time we see them in our respective stories.

"To aid us, the death god sends us a note of the age of our character when we arrive. Yours is the same age as you."

That's…surprisingly convenient, for how uncaring the death god seemed at first.

Then again, that could be the paradox of choice. I could have been older than Ace, giving me plenty more time to prepare to meet him (to leave the comforts of my room). That would have been so much better.

I turned back to Monet, only to see her sticking her head into the impossibly large bag she hefted into the room. With those ditzy, swirly glasses she wore on her head, it only serves to amplify the weirdness of the situation as she fumbled with something in the bag.

I hesitated.

Should I ask?

Another ten more minutes was spent fumbling.

I fidgeted and lowered my head.

"What…are you doing?"

She plucked her head out from the bag, hands lifting to show a garment so overly frilly and pink that I bulked. Monet offered a close eyed smile, looking so innocent despite the obviously malicious intent she had with that monstrosity in her hands.

"Shall we take a bath together?" She cocked her head, showing off her neck. "Skylar-chan."

I shuddered.

Is that a question? I can refuse, right? Not to mention that taking baths together are just beyond me and my cultural standards, and-!

Monet leaned over me with a bright smile.

Five minutes later, I sink into the oddly deep tub, blowing bubbles into the water as I shifted my eyes awkwardly to anything but the woman still outside, using the shower head to wash her hair. I may be a female at heart, and anthropophobia may have prevented me from learning about my preferences, but even so, Monet is admittedly the prettiest woman I've ever seen in my life.

I sunk deeper into the waters, weaving my hand around it in an inquisitive action to grab the bubbles.

I never had a tub at home, and even when I do visit those hotels that do have it, the thought of submersing in a tub full of my own germs always had me bulking.

I flinched when Monet stuck her feet into the tub, joining me in the pool of water.

I looked away from her boobs, peering down sadly at my own. Or lack thereof. They were the one joy I had, being able to rest my chin on their softness occasionally. Call me a pervert, but I get why men are so obsessed with breasts. They're soft. Or at least, mine are. Were.

…I hope my preference does not lie in the more slender gender, even with that opinion. Not that I have anything against them.

A sudden chuckle drew another flinch from me.

I hugged my knees to my chest, peering up at Monet questioningly.

Do. Not. Look. At. Her. Boobs.

"You look like you're thinking hard about something." Monet divulged, smiling teasingly. "A beri for your thoughts?"

Urm. Anything other than 'boobs'. Anything other than-

"Bacteria." I spilled the first word that came to mind. Immediately, I regretted it. Drawing my lips from the water, I murmured, looking away from her curious gaze. "I don't get why you wanted to share bacteria in the water with me. Not that you're dirty. Or I am, for that matter."

Why, oh why did I say that? I want to cover my eyes forever.

Monet tensed, upturned lips turning down into a contemplative frown.

"…Do you…perhaps have mysophobia as well?" She asked.

"What? No! No, I don't." I blinked wide eyes at her, counting down the instances where I blanched when people – or strangers at least – touched me. "Or at least, I don't think I do."

"Fear of being touched by family?" Monet questioned, pressing her lips together tightly.

"No."

"Fixation on cleanliness?"

I shook my head.

"Avoidance of places considered dirty?"

I thought about it.

"Only it's really stinky." I frowned. "Or if there's a crowd in there."

"Good." Monet sighed in relief, slinking into the warm waters. I jumped when I felt her legs brush against me. "I'm glad that you don't have that condition as well. Otherwise, this bath would really have been a tremendous mistake."

I winced.

"I'm sorry." I'm beginning to understand why Bepo does that so often now.

"What for?" She sighed, seemingly more relaxed due to the heat of the water.

"I'm just- I'm just no good at this. Socializing, I mean." I could feel my fingers trembling even in the water. I drew my legs closer. "I know that you said that we're the same, a-and as my guide, you're meant to help. But…I can't help but think that..." I mumbled my next words, looking down, not wanting to see her reaction.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" Her tone was gentle and open.

"…I think…It would have been so much better for you if you got someone else besides me to guide." I whispered a bit louder, hoping she would still be unable to hear it.

But she did.

A moment of deafening silence was punctuated with a sigh.

"Honestly? No matter who I'm assigned to, so long as you came onto this island, I would have looked after you regardless." Monet frowned. I yelped as she grabbed my shoulders again, shoving amber eyes into my face. "We're family, Skylar. Get that through your thick head. Everyone on this island is family, so we'll look after you no matter how much trouble you're worth."

"I-I-I get it! Please…mov-"

"Not until you stop thinking of yourself as a burden and start opening yourself to me-"

Her lips were moving, but the words she spoke flew over my head. I felt my heart accelerating when she shoved her boobs onto me, thumping her shoulders for mercy. The heat of the bath was finally getting to me, and she was not helping. At all. Moments later, everything went black.

(I think I fainted.)

Still…not…lesbian…

…

Bonding, aka heart-to-heart talks and Monet's physical touches, were admittedly aplenty between my constant doubts and Monet's natural inclination to physical shows of affection. Then, there were the inevitable meetings with the other members of the 'clan', as Monet puts it.

…

I knew they weren't looking. I knew nobody is paying attention to me, and yet…It still felt stifling from the moment I walked into the cafeteria. Clinging onto Monet as much as the lack of touching allows me to, we headed to the food serving counter where several men stood, placing my tray out for whatever seemed good

Hesitantly, I peeked out from beneath my bangs at the men. Amongst them, not a single one have the ringed eyes that Monet and I do, looking as normal as most One Piece men could be. It both disappointed and terrified me at once. Why are outsiders here, when Monet said all guardians have our characteristic ringed eyes?

I jumped when one of the men noticed me.

Blinking down at me with not unkind eyes, he nodded and gave an indulging smile as if reminded of a puppy or a kid. Which, I now remember I was.

I dipped my head shyly back and looked down at my tray.

Several toasts and an apple. That felt a bit too much, given my now tiny body.

As we headed to a table of Monet's picking, I brought myself to lift my arm and tug at the edge of her shirt. She hummed, looking down at me questioningly.

"Why…" I faltered but picked myself up under her encouraging look. "Why are they here?"

It didn't take any elaboration for her to understand.

"Assistants, picked up overtime." Monet dropped a hand onto my back, squeezing my shoulder comfortingly. "Some of our charges are overprotective people. As for the others, they swore loyalty to us of their accord and are unaware of the truth. The reasons for them are…varied." She said the word as if it was loaded. "But you can trust them. You don't have to watch your back around here."

"…Did Doflamingo send someone for you too?" I asked cautiously in a whisper. If he did, I would really have to be careful around here.

"He trusts me." Monet's answering smile was blinding. "And likewise, I trust that he's capable of protecting himself while I'm gone. Only those who have established a stable relationship with their charges are called in to be guides. In these few years, I don't expect much to happen while I'm gone."

I winced.

When I'm headed to Ace, it's just about that time that Rosinante's betrayal occurs and Dressrosa is taken down. What…What can I do about that?

As I mulled, someone stepped into our path. It was a man. Clad in a simple cardigan and slacks, the side of his neck bore the mark of a very familiar group of pirates. Tousled brown locks gave him a sleepy look much like a certain blue phoenix, while pierching emerald, grey-ringed eyes peered down at us…at me.

"Hey."

I 'meep'ed and ducked behind Monet's legs.

"Jin. It's been a long time." Monet bristled as if her future feathers were plucked. A slow taunting smile came to her lips. I jumped and backed away slowly from her as frost began climbing up the edges of her tray. Looks like Monet would be having frozen waffles for breakfast. "Ever since your captain gave my young master a beat down, I believe."

I shuddered. Whitebeard vs Doflamingo? I would have to face Monet someday if I join Ace in Whitebeard's crew?!

"Stop getting your panties in a twist already, woman." Jin – the man – said, his voice laced with irritation. "Remember. All alliances and rivalry are called off on this island, and-"

"-we are family here. I get it."

The frost backed off. Monet's hair stopped wriggling in that scary manner Nami's often did and I gave a sigh of relief. I blinked wide eyes back at Monet when she turned to glance at me momentarily.

"I get it." That phrase was said much softer now.

It's hard to explain (Human emotions are always inexplicable), but somehow, I just felt that thrum of worry in Monet.

I stumbled forward, shakily placing a hand on one of her legs for support.

Her hand snaked around my shoulders again, ruffling my hair gently.

"This is the one I'm supposed to guide, Skylar." She introduced. I leaned into her hand as I peered up at Jin shyly.

"Hello." I forced the word out. No need to be rude even if he's a stranger. Even if he's a human.

For a second, Jin seemed as if he was put into a wrangle from my one simple word. Then, the lost look disappeared from his eyes and something firmed up in him. I don't know how to describe it. Just…He seemed resolute as he leaned down on one knee before me, extending a tan, calloused hand that just took me aback.

"Jin. Depression and mysophobia. Died by cutting."

My eyes doubled in size. Shakily, I looked down at his hand, noticing now that it was unclothed and calloused only from fighting. (No scars to mark the presence of the past. No soreness from constant washing.) It felt like that train all over again when it hits me that he had overcome his mysophobia, to the extent where he was able to extend his hand.

(Will I ever improve and become a little more like him?)

With a trembling breath, I dared myself to lift my head.

Jin's emerald, grey-ringed eyes were still hard, still ruthless and every bit unconcerned as I'd imagine a pirate's to be. Yet, something screamed at me that he was sincere. That he wouldn't mind me a bit if I were to tell him about my condition and of how…how a-afraid of humans I am.

I lifted my hand without thinking, grabbing the large hand which enveloped mine easily.

"Skylar. A-Anthropophobia. Train crash." I stumbled over my words, closing my eyes in effort.

A moment later, I peeked up hesitatingly to see if he cared.

He didn't.

Instead, Jin shook my hand firmly, pensively.

"You know, I have some adventure novels lying around here. And none of that stinky romance shit Monet reads." Monet tossed him a dirty look. "You want me to bring them to your room next time?" He offered. The tiny accommodation to my phobia does not go unnoticed.

I felt the edges of my lips lifting up into a tiny shy smile.

I felt proud of myself for being able to take a leap of faith and trust him enough to divulge my condition. A strum of glee buzzed at the back of my head, happiness at knowing that somebody knew and didn't mind, and that he still didn't mind being associated with me.

"Ye…Yes, please."

…

By the end of my first year, that island had become what I associated as a home. With a small social network and the necessary knowledge to surviving in this world (sailing, cooking, and even some theoretical knowledge of haki), it is by the end of the first year that all Ringeyes, as we were called, were sent out with one of their guides for more widespread connection and to learn haki first-hand away from home.

Words could not express how terrified I was.

…

There, by the only port of the Nameless Island (Namae Mo Nai Island), the man stood in the midst of the morning mist on his tiny coffin raft.

Even from the distance, his looming height was obvious and his monstrosity of a sword, even more so. As we approached, the finer details of his appearance became obvious. Sharp side burns, black-ringed eyes, a darker and supposedly sweeter shade of amber than Monet's (honey yellow instead of bumblebee yellow), yet so much more piercing and intimidating. Then, the mockingly flowery coat came to view and the dark long vest hanging from his frame swayed in the wind.

If I was any normal child, I would have cried there and then under his eyes. Heck. Even now, I felt like crying staring at him.

This man is Mihawk, the other guide I was assigned to by the death god, the man who would become a shichibukai and become the best swordsman in the future.

I've heard rumours of him through Monet and Jin about how he is an exception even amongst all of us on the island – about how he committed suicide not out of desolation as most did, but boredom. Life apparently bored the strongest assassin so much that he took his life in a game of Russian roulette. With his body turned back to the vulnerable frame of a child and the numerous power giants in this world, I can only presume that Mihawk had fun challenging this world in a battle for the title of the strongest.

Until now, when he is saddled with a child.

The edges of his lips were turned down in a scowl when his eyes met mine. I froze in the spot, until two cool arms curled around my head, Monet's chin sat gently on the crown of my head.

"Well, well…Don't look so scary, Mihawk-kun. She's our new student – our child, to put it plainly."

Honey yellow, dark-ringed eyes hardly narrowed, but I shuddered under their intensity as they shifted onto my green haired guide.

"…Your sense of humour is as tasteless as always." Mihawk's deep voice rumbled. Monet's hands were the only things holding me back from dashing to my room when the terrifying man jerked his head towards me. "Her name?"

I swallowed, feeling less brave than I did this morning. What was I thinking when I left my room with my bag in hand? I should have locked Monet out till another day!

Monet remained silent. It wasn't until I felt her fingers pushing me forward that I realized what she wanted me to do.

But there was no way. No way could I talk to Mihawk casually, as if we were equals! Even in our previous life, the difference between us is just so obvious. He's the strongest assassin his world has ever seen, and I -…I'm just a quiet nobody, afraid of even stepping out of my home. Even here, I wouldn't doubt that it's the same. There's just no way…

I turned my head around and buried my face in the crook of her neck.

I don't want to look back.

I don't want to turn and see his look of disgust.

I don't want him to see how pathetic of a human being I am.

(I don't want to leave home.)

A soft sigh left a chill on the edge of my ear. I shuddered and clung to her tightly, refusing to let go. (Because letting go means to let go of home, letting go means travelling away from safety, letting go means having to face a barrage of unfamiliar faces, judgemental human beings…)

"Her name's Skylar." Monet squeezed her arms around me despite sounding exasperated. "She has anthropophobia. Died by a train crash, apparently."

Ways of escaping this situation burst into my head.

I could run back into my room. The mansion is just right there. I could lie and say that I'm not ready. O-Or, I could even go with Monet instead!

But…None of them would work.

Monet's too strong to escape. Doflamingo and Rosinante would only be new obstacles when it comes down to leaving with Monet. And…Mihawk is right here already, having travelled several seas to fetch me on his trip.

I'm causing so much trouble to so many people.

(I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry…)

"Skylar." The call of my name had my head lifting up against my will. Mihawk's face was blank, devoid of any and all opinion as he merely settled down in the seat of his coffin raft, folding his arms patiently. "Get on the back of my ship when you're ready."

There and then, the future strongest swordsman then rested his head back and tumbled into sleep.

I watched, incredulous at this display, yet somehow finding his words moving.

He didn't tell me to get it over and done with. He didn't tell me to get braver, stronger. Mihawk just…accepted me, the way I am, and gave me however much time I needed to adapt, to 'get onto his ship'. And that felt so akin to the feeling of being accepted by a Ringeye that all of a sudden, he just seemed so much more endearing and felt so much closer.

I didn't protest when Monet lifted me off her shoulder and shoved cold fingers under my eyes, brushing the bubbling tears away.

"Pretty girls don't cry now, do they?" She smiled gently, patting my shoulders for the last time. "Now, are you ready to go with Hawkeye here?"

I sniffed and hugged my bag closer.

A large snot bubble was still hanging from his nose when I turned to glance at him, his limbs strewn carelessly as he remained largely oblivious to the world.

He's the strongest assassin, and in the future, strongest swordsman in this world, but…

…Even then, he's family.

I nodded and leaned in to give Monet one last hug before I leave.

Dashing onboard and hopping onto the back of Mihawk's seat, I yelped and stabilized myself by holding onto his seat. The boat was so much more shaky than I expected, rocking easily under the slightest weight. I imagine it would be a good way of training one's stability.

Ahead of me, the large snot bubble popped and Mihawk glanced back.

"I presume you have the necessary training in sailing." It was more a statement than a question.

I flinched, nodding nervously. Jin had been more than meticulous in teaching me that part, insisting on making sure to cover all grounds on navigation. I wonder if something in his story hinted at the need to show me the ropes, quite literally. I wonder if I even showed up at all in his other world knowledge. Ringeyes tend to have knowledge of different stories (or dramas in some cases) and never has there ever been anyone with the same world knowledge. In any case, I mentally sent him a 'thanks' when Mihawk lifted an eternal pose towards me, the intention too obvious.

I picked up the thick glass, adjusting the rudder accordingly and releasing the sail from its binds.

"Take care of yourself, Skylar." The soft whisper from Monet and her smile greeted me when I looked up.

I paused, taking in the bittersweet feeling of parting and the unspeakable longing which bubbled up. I didn't want to go, but I felt like I have to. It was somewhat like that day, when I was standing the midst of a crowd, fumbling as I waited to leap to my demise. Yet, it was different.

(How so?)

There is now a home waiting for me, a home that I could return to at anytime if I missed it. It's not the final goodbye yet.

I clenched my fingers over a rope, gazing at Monet in a new light.

She's family. True family, who is part of home.

(Even if we meet outside the Nameless Island, even if we have to fight, I know she'd still be family.)

I struggled to pull my lips up.

Maybe, I pulled off a smile. Or perhaps, it was an ugly grimace. Who knows? It hardly mattered to me at that point of time.

"I'll see you again, Monet."

There it is. The first sentence I could say without hesitation, grief, or even a habitual stutter. The first sentence I was able to say with a smile.

The surprise on Monet's face was so overwhelming, I ducked my head down in regret thereafter. Come to think of it, I never did thank her for everything, did I? Even though she did so much for me too…A cautious glance upwards found the smile on her face brightening.

I flushed and focused on the needle within the compass, looking away.

I feared I would disappoint her if I make her expect too much.

With a soft grumble, the boat drifted off and away from home.

…

All that could be said of the journey to the unknown island was that it was uneventful.

Nothing happened, save for an occasional sea king or two which Mihawk eradicated easily with a swing of a sword and were now being digested within our stomach, courtesy of the flame-proofed boat and a lighter which I brought. Ah, and storms. But even then, storms proved to be nothing against the almighty sword, capable of slicing even skies.

Almost everything occurred in absolute silence.

Crouching over and leaning against the back of his armchair, I spent my days rememorizing my haki books and every now and then, checking on the direction of the log pose. Clothes were changed behind his back with just a tiniest bit of doubt, which was quick to dissolve to nothing. The same went for him. The large chair blocked out the sun from me. And we slept without need for conversation.

It was…uncomfortable, but not excessively so.

Until it is.

"Skylar."

It takes a dazed moment to realize that my name was being repeated for the second time, before I jumped back into consciousness.

Mihawk loomed over my tiny comfy spot behind his chair, large hands adjusting the boat ever so precisely to slide the thin raft into a small spot between gigantic, pirate boats. I leaned back, uncomfortable with the closeness, but the reminder that we are family made me try, if only a little, to lean in and watch.

The boat stopped mere inches away from the port.

Mihawk strode out casually, tying his boat with confident hands.

I tensed at the sound of activity, at the load of partying I hear going on, bright colourful lights I see flickering, and shadows dancing drunkenly. I shuddered at the thought of having to walk through those streets, under the eyes of the many, and even some crude people. I would never fit in there, with my tiny frame and gender. I would stand out.

"Come."

A pale hand was offered.

I meekly peered out of my hiding spot to see the blank indifference in Mihawk's face.

What…What is he doing? Why are we doing this? Doesn't he know about my condition already? Aren't we just supposed to awaken my haki, train my abilities in it, and then head back Home? Why is he testing me even though he's family?

(He's family.)

My breath hitched and I cradled my hand.

How much trust am I willing to give to a man who I've never talked to? Even though he is part of the giant home known as the Ringeyes?

(This much.)

I reached out and grabbed his hand. He pulled me onto the port.

["What happened next haunts me to date. The thing which happened…it can only be considered a tragedy."]

We walked away from the isolated port of the town. Away from where midnight was gradually approaching, towards the part of the island where lights lit up the streets everywhere and merrymaking made it seem no different from day.

There were stalls. Many of them, in fact. Some with bright red and white stripes decorating their signboards, others with dramatically drawn pictures in the typical Oda style; some with games as their focus, others with food as theirs - In short, it reminded me of a Japanese festival being held in celebration of some special date or event.

Then, there was the crowd.

It was…excruciating.

I clung as tightly as I could to Mihawk's pants as he wandered into the midst of moving, warm human bodies.

So much noises.

(Laughter cheering flirting-)

So many scents.

(-sweet spicy tangly-)

So much heat from-

(-the food, the human bodies, the weather and the noise and even myself-)

Too, too many people.

My breaths came short and staggered.

Then came that cliché that always had me sympathizing.

Mihawk was knocked out of my grasp by one man. Two. Three, and soon, the entire crowd was hiding him from my view, pushing me aside into an abandoned alley.

I wanted to scream in frustration, wanted to cry in desolation at my sudden whereabouts, maybe even argue with the death god about how everything is so unfair – expecting me to deal with Ace and Mihawk and people.

But all that didn't come.

Instead, I hunched over against a wall, balling up fistfuls of cloth in my hands.

It's like that day.

(Balled fabric inside pockets, crowd of moving human bodies-)

I'm still chasing after someone unreachable.

(Dad, Mom…I'll come soon.)

Still weak, vulnerable, useless, uselessuselessuseless-!

I just have to find Mihawk.

The epiphany which came to mind cooled the heat from my mind, returning a faint visage of calm to me. I breathed, fingers relaxing in their tight grip around fabric as I looked around fervently for traces of flowery cloth or a too large sword sure to make him seem like an entertainer to these people.

Lights and clothes and food came to view.

But not him.

But that is only to be expected. I'm short even for my age. How could I expect to see such finer details amidst a crowd from such a low angle? Even standing on a trash bin wouldn't help much.

I bit down a surge of panic and closed my eyes, telling myself to inhale.

What can I do besides looking? Surely, there's some other method.

"-and the priestess is preparing for the ceremony-"

"-squid for two hundred beris-"

"-won a water balloon over there-"

I inhaled sharply.

I get it. I can hear him.

Yet, as soon as that thought came, it quickly faltered.

Mihawk is a quiet man. He hardly makes a noise when he moves, courtesy of his background in his previous life. Not to mention, I cannot see him taking the initiative to interact with any civilians outside gathering obviously depleting resources (one can only eat sea kings so long before seasonings come to become an essential commodity).

If that route is closed, all that remains would be to find my way back by myself. But…I couldn't see myself going back to the ship without Mihawk. I always did have a poorer sense of direction than most, and the traumatizing thoughts which consumed me on the way here only worsened what memory I had of the way we took.

I'm going to have to find Mihawk.

I have no choice.

I'm going to have to learn observation haki right now, or…well, I doubt Mihawk would actually leave me, actually.

Slumping, a sigh passed my lips.

It's ridiculous, the thoughts that would come to me in a situation like this. To be more exact, it's absurd, for me to think that I would ever be able to learn haki with my weak, tiny will. With how easily I give up, it's hard to maintain hope of ever learning it even with the miracle Mihawk as my guide.

Clang!

I jumped, startled when a can was flung into the trash bin near me. The culprit, a pubescent boy (still older than me physically) shouted an apology before disappearing into the crowd with his friends.

Shivering as I clasped the edges of my jacket, I inched my way into the alley.

Without the resolution to search for Mihawk, I'm just going to have to hide and wait for him to come.

"The priestess is going to carry out the ritual now!"

A sudden exclamation drew the attention of everyone. As one, they turned in the direction of a cliff, where a teenage girl in a miko's uniform gave a graceful smile. Standing in my tiny corner, I pinched myself to hide my growing anxiety in an excited mob. I felt not only confused, but also terribly left out by the previously celebrating civilians.

From where I stood, the comments I heard could easily be classified into three groups.

"She's grown up so beautiful!" Awe.

"The dance would be glorious, no doubt." A sigh. Anticipation.

And then, there was-

"It's a pity she'd be joining God tonight."

-Dismay.

I stiffened, eyes widening as the implications of those words hit me.

'Joining God'…The olden sacrificial rituals which had been practiced came to mind.

It felt nauseating. It's a terrible mixture of denial and shock that was growing in the pit of my belly. It stifles, it suffocates, it hurts. It's scary, and as I looked up at the girl atop the cliff, something in me just…changed.

(Thump, thump, thump.)

I still remember every heartbeat, every rhythm, every thought that flickered through my head as I stood on that platform that day.

(Thump…thump…thump…)

The girl smiles beautifully and launches into a series of beautiful dance moves, fluttering shining silk swaying behind her as she moves. She is perfect in every manner on the outside. She brings joy with every smile she throws around. And…and…

And she is pure terrified of what's about to come.

Thump, thump, thump.

The beat which I heard does not belong to me.

Breaths quickening, eyes watering, and the continuous, distant beat of a single girl hastening in the midst of an apathetic crowd, whose pulses only increased marginally in anticipation. Something in the distant recess of my mind registered that something is wrong – that I shouldn't be hearing these sounds, sounds of life. But mostly, the other parts were just striken with panic.

What should I do? What the hell can I do?

I'm scared, so very scared.

And it's not for myself. It's for her, that nameless, unknown girl.

I don't want her to be like me. I don't want her to have to go through this, just the way I have to. Someone who's an unwilling person, who doesn't deserve all this torment, shouldn't have to do this because she's not like me at all.

'Thump.'

The sudden halting sound of a familiar heartbeat drew my attention.

It's Mihawk, whose beat is a controlled, slow sound that rings authority with every 'thump' that so much as enters my eardrums. It's Mihawk, with all his invincible, miraculous powers. It's Mihawk, who is as much a human as the rest of us and still died despite-

…despite being an assassin.

My heart plummeted. I gazed in his direction, where a thick crowd of human bodies still obscured him from view.

'Thump. Thump.'

He's not going. He's not shifting at all. He's not going to help even though-

…even though she's just like us.

'Help'

I hear someone whisper, a soft, quivering voice that's so frightened and tiny.

I dashed into the crowd as the girl fell off the cliff.

(Pain overwhelmed everything.)

It's heart shattering and so, so very scary to hear her heart skipping a beat in fear, and yet to still hear the crowd's beating regularly, as if such an occurrence is an everyday event.

It's frightening to see her realize the moment that no one is really coming to save her.

I ran as fast as I could to – To do what? To cushion her? To catch her? I'm not thinking, but all I know was that I have to help before she – before she dies.

It's odd.

From the distance, I could hear her lifting her head, a gasp drawn when she sees me running forward.

The sounds of her beats faltered and grew slower, thumping in a pronounced, still hasty rhythm. I can hear her biting back a whimper as the winds brushed against her face and the ground closed in on her. She knows I can't reach her, the same way I knew it's impossible for me. Yet, it mattered because her heart strummed with gratefulness and an unexpected resolution.

'Thank you for trying.'

She dropped to the ground ahead with one final, loud 'thump' which everyone heard.

I faltered, steps growing heavy as I gazed forward at the thick crowd, still separating me from her.

My ears rang.

Everything is a deafening silence. I can hear a chorus of hearts, each beating in tandem, in appreciation, in boredom, in anticipation, but none of them was the one which mattered. I searched for her, the one tune that's a gentle yet brave one, only to no avail.

She's gone.

The realization strikes.

Moments later, the crowd moves back into action. Children pulled their parents to various booths. Elderly sat by on benches and watched, amused and indulgent. The stall owners were shouting orders and taking orders all at once.

Nobody stopped.

Nobody cared.

I inhaled shakily as the barrier between her and I thinned, less people standing before the cliff which she had danced off.

But I don't want to see it.

(Can't. Can'tcan'tcan't-)

I ran away before her body came to view, towards that one solemn, grave voice that reminded me of Mihawk's coffin ship.

…

I don't know how much time has passed, or what time it was either. Darkness is still engulfing the port, so it must still be night. Not that it mattered much.

Amidst the uncontrollable sobs that escaped, and the aged, strict voice of Mihawk's ship which scolded and rumbled, more out of unease than anger, a stray thought came to mind.

'I've finally learnt observation haki.'

This – This is haki. It's unorthodox, the way mine works, but I recognized it to be similar to Otohime's and Daisy's. I'm able to hear people's inner voices, hear their heartbeats and recognize the various emotions they're undergoing the same way Otohime did with emotions and Daisy did when the Lily Carnation absorbed Luffy's crew. B-But…

…I don't want it.

The realization made me bury my face into my bag, drawing a long resigned sigh from Mihawk's ship.

I don't want to hear people's emotions. I don't want to talk to them, much less know what they think of me. I don't want it for the costs that it comes with…for the cost which it already came at.

The epiphany which strikes me felt like a punch to the gut.

The same controlled beat approached our tiny ship steadily.

I bit my lip when he came into view, honey yellow dark-ringed eyes piercing, pale face indifferent, the same way he was even as he saw her die.

"We will set off at dawn." He stated, throwing a bag of fruits into the back of his chair, right beside me.

It felt like something cracked. I knew what it was, and refused to acknowledge it. Glaring at Mihawk as he stepped onto the boat, I clenched my fists and tried my hardest to bite down the anger, only to no avail.

"You knew this was going to happen." Our first line exchanged without stuttering is one filled with accusation. Mihawk's ship reproached me in the background, a voice which I hardly heard in the midst of the red which filled my eyes.

Mihawk glanced at me.

"The Kono Island carries out a sacrificial ritual every ten years to honour their god."

He didn't deny it.

Oh god.

I bit my lip, cursing myself when tears stung my eyes. Anger has always been just as crippling as sadness is for me. The tears never helped to make my anger seem any more rational, or lessen it in any way for that matter. In fact, it only worsens the fury building in my chest.

I don't want to say anything. Couldn't, because I'm so infuriated and disappointed that I can't find words to appropriately express myself.

Instead, I breathed, strolled to him where he sat, and did the one thing that could encompass everything I felt.

I tossed a punch at his eye.

…

"DAHAHAHAHA! What's with that look, Hawkeye?! A new fashion trend?!"

Predictably, my dignified guide only rise to his feet and stepped onto the island, all but flinging himself into a full blown fight with the still four-limbed Shanks.

Sinking deeper into my hiding spot, I absently listened to the pronounced presences of Mihawk and Shanks as they fought toe to toe, even drunk as Shanks is. The sounds of cheering from an equally intoxicated crew had me wincing in pain. I could detect traces of a hangover in the beat of their hearts and from the sluggishness of their voices. It was not pleasant in the least.

Still, I'm not going out.

I absolutely refuse to talk to that man.

For all that he is family, he is still a scumbag of a man. Abandoning that girl to her fate…not even the minor twitch to show any disconcertment. Unfeeling bastard indeed.

'Forgive my master.' Ankoku (Darkness), Mihawk's boat, whispered in a sigh. 'He only means well.'

I shuttered and hugged myself, covering my ears with my hands.

I didn't want to talk.

With a sigh, Ankoku fell silent.

Sounds of metal drifted over the wind.

I could hear the tell tale difference when armament haki surged into their respective swords and made the metals meet with a brighter, louder 'clink'. I could hear the amusement pulsing in the redhair pirate crew's beats, and a strum of confusion humming dazedly in Shanks'. And most of all, a set of footsteps approaching me, its beat discomfortingly similar to Mihawk's.

"Ah-Ha! Knew my eyes weren't lying to me!" A tan hand draped over the back of the chair.

I jumped despite knowing that he was coming.

Blonde curls and beady dark eyes were familiar. I identified him as Yasopp, father to the so-called 'God' Usopp, and a sniper in profession.

I shrunk back from him, turning my head away petulantly.

Yasopp only flung himself into the tiny space beside me, refusing to take a hint.

"Now, what's a kid like you doing onboard his ship? Did Hawkeye kidnap you? You need us to kidnap you back from him?" He was lucky I already knew about his crew's weirdness, to not be boggled by the way he phrased his words.

I shook my head to the later two questions, refusing to answer the first.

"Hawkeye's got lucky with a woman, huh. Pity the poor lady to have to deal with a prissy man like him."

Against my will, I found myself snorting into a hand. It was partially irony and dark humour, since Yasopp was the one who's saying that, of all people. Then, there was the fact that Monet had joked about them being together back home. If they got together, I wouldn't know who to pity more. Monet, for being stuck with him, or Mihawk, for having affectionate Monet stuck to him.

I dropped my hands from my ears and listened, for the first time since that incident.

Yasopp's beat was still curiously steady and controlled despite the amusement in his voice.

"Finally got you to laugh, huh."

'Thump. Thump. Thump.'

It's clear of the drowsiness that's in the others', clear of the growing confusion in Shanks', and the pauses between each beat were always constant – resembling Mihawk's far too much for comfort.

I shrunk back, giving him a befuddled look.

"Hm? What's wrong?" Yasopp tilted his head in confusion. Yet, his heart remained the same.

I hesitated, fingers tapping the deck twice, before leaning in to hear with much clarity how his heartbeats were very much like Mihawk's.

"…Why?" I asked finally, lifting my eyes up to his.

Yasopp seemed to withhold himself from blanching at seeing my eyes, yet his rhythm still never changed.

"Why what?" He asked.

"…why are your heartbeats so controlled?"

Confusion overtook his features for a second, before understanding settled in and he grinned.

"Ah! Your hearing's sharp, kid." Yasopp chuckled, lifting a pistol from his pocket that had me tensing. "Don't get all stiff. This is just a tool of trade. I'm a sniper, you see? Need to have steady hands each time I snipe or my aim would be messed up."

"But…I thought that only matters for archers?" I asked, furrowing my brows.

"Well, that's true!" Yasopp burst out in laughter. "But y'know…If I can't work with any long ranged weapon that crosses my path, how can I be considered a sniper?"

I blinked, stunned. That's…a stupid yet oddly inspiring mindset.

"Oops! Seems like the crew's gonna be opening a new barrel. Catch you later, kid!"

I curled into myself as I remembered Mihawk's steady beats. Even now, when he's fighting a worthy opponent, it's hardly changing any. Was it a side effect of his previous occupation, or is it possible for someone to really be that apathetic? If that girl hadn't died…most likely, someone else would have taken her place, and there would still have been casualties.

I curled in on myself in guilt.

He let me hit him.

Mihawk let me hit him.

Whether that decision was made out of sympathy or guilt, I don't know, but…he took that punch wordlessly, accepted my ire without comment.

I sighed.

I wish he had just stopped me from punching him.

That night, as the Red Force sailed away with its cohort of never sober pirates, we sat upon Ankoku in total silence. I hesitantly made my way to the front of the chair, pulling a bottle of alcohol and cotton wool from my bag. Crouching before an apathetic Mihawk, I wordlessly cleaned his cuts before gently massaging the edges of his black eye with some natural oil I had on hand.

Mihawk silently accepted the gesture.

…

At age eight, I had observation haki down and knew the basics of defending with armament haki. As it turns out, observation haki tends to be what most Ringeyes lean towards to, given our various conditions. Armament came surprisingly easy for me, given how I acquired its counterpart. Mihawk merely commented that I was made to protect – a somewhat flattering praise that brought to mind those times I dared to stroll out of house with my younger brothers. (I could hardly think of ever wanting to protect Ace though.)

With our frequent run-ins with the Red Force, we grew more familiar with the Redhair pirates than either of us would have liked. Shanks, who by now is obviously Mihawk's charge, is boisterous in every way possible. Benn is more tolerable and respectful of boundaries, while Lucky is easy to please, so long as I killed a sea king to gift him every now and then. Yasopp rambles about his son too much. Between training and the many too coincidental meetings with Red Force, the voyage with Mihawk passes timelessly.

Then came the inevitable:

I got a bounty.

…

"Ne, ne, why are you always locking yourself in your room?"

"Come out and play with us! It'd be fun, I promise!"

I sniffled and buried myself deeper into the comforter, tracing words with my fingers in a futile attempt to focus.

I can still remember, much too vividly, the expression that my other guide had taken on the moment he caught a glimpse of my bounty. His lips had pulled down into a scowl, honey yellow dark-ringed eyes turning so dark they practically screamed malicious intent (more than they already do), and for several seconds, the aura that he radiated felt as if Yoru was broken, bandaged, and used as a replacement for the large cross on a church.

The sea had quivered as all sea kings within a mile's radius of us backed the hell out of there.

I was pretty tempted to throw myself into the sea and swim far away from him, myself.

Then, he calmed. But it was with a glint in his hawk like eyes that I didn't like at all.

An eternal pose was bought off the shelf of a tourist spot in Paradise. I navigated Ankoku there. Nail clippings were removed from me to make a vivre card. Mihawk neatly sliced a piece off with his dining knife, dumped me onto a strangely familiar island, told me to find Monet, and sailed the fuck away.

Lost and stuck in the mentally of 'wth just happened', I searched for Monet as he said, clung onto her tightly, before finding myself in a conversation with Doflamingo. The one-sided conversation more or less went along the lines of this:

"She's my love-child with Hawkeye." Monet beamed.

I shook my head desperately at Doflamingo from where I hid behind her back. The flamingo looks amused.

"Obviously, because she has grey eyes instead of yellow." He deadpanned.

"It's just a genetic mutation." Monet waved it off flippantly, curling an arm around my shoulder like always.

I relaxed against my will, still shaking my head at Doflamingo. One would argue that no one should be so relaxed around a mass killer, but with Monet here, I feel protected, safe. And Doflamingo has never been one of those villains who hardly cared about their lackeys.

I felt Doflamingo appraising me behind pink sunglasses and I inched closer to Monet.

"Another one of your Ringeyes secret, huh." The comment was made bitterly, but surprisingly, with some acceptance. "How long is she staying?"

"A month or two at most." Monet smiled softly.

"Sure."

Just like that? I remember feeling incredulous at that point of time. It was kind of like Brook's entry into the Straw Hats. But as all things unrelated to the Straw Hats are, nothing is ever so simple. Doflamingo levelled me with a look behind sunglasses, fingers wiggling in a manner that shot shudders down my spine.

"As they say, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. I expect her to pull her own weight around here. And no betrayals around here in that time or I will. Hunt. You. Down." Doflamingo grinned.

I jolted and scrambled back behind Monet's legs.

"I'm sure she wouldn't do that…ne, Sky?" Monet ruffled my hair playfully.

I nodded mutely.

…Which brings me to my situation now.

"At least come out and eat dinner with us! We won't bite you!" Baby 5 called out.

"That's right-dasuyan! Although Law might…"

"That's enough, children. Why don't you head back to the dining room while I bring Skylar her food?" Monet's voice rang out as she rapped gently, politely on my door. I shuffled to the doorknob, thick comforter still covering my head and providing some semblance of security.

"Aw…I wanted to see her too. But okay!"

"Dinner-dasuyan!"

I waited for the sounds of footsteps to trail away before cracking my door open. Monet entered and closed the door behind her, chuckling at my cloth-covered head.

"How cute."

A plate was handed over. Katsudon is the dinner tonight, it seems. I dug in with much fervour, while Monet did the same with her own much more demurely. One can only eat sea kings for so long, flavoured or not, before the craving for other foods settle in. I wonder if Mihawk is eating properly. That man had hardly been eating anything other than sea kings till I travelled with him. 'It's a waste of sleeping time.' He said once when I asked him. What an absurd man.

I wonder where he is going. The last he had that glint in his eyes, he had dragged me onto an island and promptly beat the armament haki into me. It didn't feel like he's going to do anything good.

I frowned as I caught myself in my thoughts.

…I miss him.

"Why don't you go out more?" The unexpected question took me by surprise. Monet chewed her food absent-mindedly before she talked. "I know you're afraid of people, but the people here won't judge. I mean, they didn't do it with me."

She twirled a piece of hair around a finger. It's a nervous habit she'd developed, even way back on Nameless Island with Jin.

"They're all pretty weird people themselves, so they're no stranger to people of all sorts. In fact-" She rambled.

I blinked, confused.

Why is Monet so insistent on getting me to interact with her family? It takes hardly any effort by now to summon my observation haki, to reach out to the distant voices all around me, which I tried to ignore. Monet's heart was buzzing with worry and confusion when I listened, which only grows more puzzling because she herself isn't sure of what she wanted.

'They are family.' Her voice, a soft diligent yet fond one, whispered, as if murmuring a secret to me.

And I get it.

Monet wants me to try to know her family, because she wishes to see all the ones she loves get along and be happy. Even if we end up on opposite sides in the future, she still struggles to attain that dream.

It's a tiny and impossible wish, but it's hardly ridiculous at all.

"Okay." I said softly, interrupting Monet in her long ramble.

"-Eh?"

"Okay." I repeated.

Whatever Monet wants, I don't mind doing even if it goes against my phobia. She's family afterall. The same goes for Mihawk, and though I'm not sure whether he himself realizes that, I know it'll be a long time coming before he ever reaches out of his own accord and asks for something.

"Just-" My voice came out strangled at the prospect of socializing with such…strong and unnerving humans. I reached out and clung tightly to her fingers, looking down at my half-eaten katsudon in shame. "Please don't let me go when I meet them." My face flushed. "Please." I repeated.

The shock melts off her face and she laughs, wrapping arms around me appreciatively.

"I won't let go of you in the slightest. If you want, we can even be attached at the hip, quite literally." Her hands cooled to the temperature of ice as the teasing lilt returned to her words, freezing my mug. I yelped when my tongue got stuck to it and she laughed, releasing me from my binds.

I looked down and smiled. She hasn't changed in the least.

…

We started first with breakfast.

The next day, toddling behind Monet like a baby duck with its mother, I followed Monet into the room whilst hiding behind her legs. At first, hardly any of the room's occupants noticed, most still being stuck in their dreamland. Then, one by one, I felt the stares of several haki users falling upon me, each quickly flickering back to their food in indifference. The adults hardly cared or tried to interact with me, save for a nod of acknowledgement from Senor and a curious look from Jora. Then, the kids noticed.

"Eh~~~ So you're Skylar!" Baby5 walked up to me, garnering a flinch.

I peeked out at her from behind Monet's legs. She's just a little taller than me, but still small for someone who's supposed to be two years older. Recalling the details of her childhood, I'm not very surprised in the least.

"Nice to meet you-dasuyan!" Buffalo is sixteen, I think, but he still seems like a child beside the mature countenances of the adults around the table. Round, with the same hairstyle as when he's older but lacking the painted teeth, he looks like he's…well, stuck in his prepubescent years.

I nervously glanced up towards the table and winced under the intense stare that Law was directing at me.

I hid my face in Monet's thigh.

Baby5 and Buffalo made sounds of confusion, looking at each other oddly.

"Ne, you…Is it possible that you can't speak?" Baby5 was the one who asked.

I cringed, eyes flickering in the direction of that one dark feathered blonde, sitting beside his brother silently.

It's an innocent question though, coming from a genuine child (not like myself). It's the same as a question of whether the sky is blue.

I turned back to them and shook my head, hesitating before opening my mouth.

"I…don't like speaking." I whispered.

They looked puzzled, about to ask more, when Monet bodily lifted me off the ground and sat me in the seat beside her – which was just beside Law, much to my discomfort.

"Baby5, Buffalo, I'm sure you have questions, but for now, let's eat, shall we?" Monet beamed like the angel she is as she saved me. "The food's going to get cold."

The kids looked at each other and nodded.

"Yay! Food!" Buffalo all but charged into his seat.

"Pancakes! Pancakes!" Baby5 sang.

I slunk into my seat, irked at the noise, but at the same time, finding it relaxing how similar they are to Shanks and his crew. This would be a good observation to point out to Mihawk later.

…

Then, we followed that up with lunch.

"This is?" Jora lifted a brow delicately, watching as the still toddler Dellinger gobble down slices of meat between sips of green smoothie. Sitting on the other side of Monet, I don't know if she was referring to Dellinger's food or the pile of meat sitting atop the dining table, but Monet answered both anyways.

"It's sea king meat, tenderized and grilled with a dash of garlic, teriyaki sauce, and sesame seeds. The thing that Dellinger is drinking is blended seaweed smoothie. Skylar thought natural seafood would appeal more to Dellinger's palate." Monet said proudly.

I ducked my head in embarrassment, swallowing a mouthful of sea king. It's hard to go a single day without it now, given how it used to be my staple for all three meals.

"Huh." Jora said merely, but sounding amazed.

"'ank wou." Dellinger said around a mouthful of food.

"…you're welcome." I whispered back to him, finding the toddler adorable.

…

Subsequently, we trained.

The sound of wind being sliced approached. I hardened the outer edges of my skin and successfully defended myself against an attack from Baby5. With gritted teeth, she lifted her bladed arms once more and attempted to cut me.

Clank! Clank! Clank! …the attacks went.

This training might definitely not be as beneficial as the training Law is receiving from the various members of the Family (or famiglia, as I called them, following the Italian mafiaso tradition), but it is honing my reaction time and drawing more from Baby5 and her devil fruit powers. I hoped she would be able to learn armament haki to prevent her blades from being chipped, but it didn't seem to be working, oddly enough. At least, she's becoming able to maintain her transformation for longer.

Something grabbed me suddenly.

I saw Monet out of the corner of my eyes, still far away in the mansion and watching us from the window – but who could it be then?!

Tasteless pink hearts entered my view. (A heartbeat singing apologies.)

Rosinante.

I had barely deadpanned before I was flung out of town and island, into the deep blue sea.

Sinking. The salt water stings.

I swam back up and spewed water from my mouth, breathing calmly.

Should have known that'd happen sooner or later.

(Well, at least I totally don't have to worry about interaction with him.)

Something buzzed on the edge of my senses, a familiar feeling of aggression as a thumping heart drew near…from down below.

Just my luck.

Deadpanning, I read its intentions – to bite into me at the middle and kill in one strike – and applied armament haki to my middle section.

Moments later, when the sea king rose up for a gobble, it yelped and wriggled when the bite shattered its teeth immediately like glass. It tilted its head upwards in pain, latching onto me for the ride, and I gave a stunned yelp when I was tossed down its opened mouth by the momentum.

I withdrew Mihawk's 'dining knife' from my pocket (a gift from him) and sighed as gravity pulled me downwards.

This is going to stink.

.

.

.

It really did.

Pulling the sea king up to the island by the tail, I shuddered at the reminder of the stench. A bath at the sea had gotten rid of whatever things the sea king had ate, but the stench would be engraved in my mind forever. No being devoured by sea kings, it is. Well at least, my lunch had gotten a good rinse and salt bath in the process.

It took several moments to try and slice the monster of a fish into pieces. Even with haki, the short knife could hardly cut layers of fat effectively.

Grabbing the meatiest portion, I dashed in the direction of the backyard, thinking anxiously about how I should ask if Baby5 or Dellinger wanted to share the fish with me.

(If I had ignored my anxiety, I would have sensed Law in the distance, gaping at me.)

…

The library is calm and soothing, the place which I liked the most in this trash heap mansion, besides my room. Books piled upon books, creating an educated, dignified air that's a stark contrast against the piles of metallic trash that's outside. On occasion, I would enter the place without Monet in the corners. It's…just the feeling of security that the library provides, lending a bubble that wraps me up and protects me from all human interaction.

But today, there is someone.

Today, Senor is in there.

Seated at a table with his legs up on the table and for once, lacking a cigar in his mouth, the impeccably dressed man held a leather bound book between his hands, eyes shifting behind dark sunglasses (What's with the Don Quixote famiglia and sunglasses anyways?) and tracing words.

I stopped, contemplating.

I've considered every single one of their back stories, thought about everything that I could possibly change (that could possibly end up hurting Monet in the process) and the Senor's is the only thing I could really change. (Law's fine the way he is, even if Rosinante ends up passing on. Luffy needs someone to save him at the end, someone to ally with him in the New World. I can't take an ally from him.)

But even then…it's scary to have to instigate a conversation of my own accord.

Senor lifted his head, no doubt already sensing me from the first moment I stepped in, and spoke.

"It's about time for a tobacco." And he closed the book, rose to his feet, and begun a gradual walk to the door.

It's hard to not notice given what I've seen of him in the show.

He's accommodating me and my anthropophobia, using an excuse to help.

"E-Erm!" I turned around, clutched fistfuls of cloth as I looked down at the carpeted ground. The steady footsteps stopped. "…I-Is the Don Quixote family important to you?"

What a confusing way to start a conversation.

I peeked upwards to see him nod.

"Yes, of course." He didn't ask why I wanted to know though. Considerate fella he is.

"A…Are all your loved ones here?" I asked again.

For a second, he didn't answer. I know he's thinking, thinking of my objectives, thinking of his wife, thinking of his child…i-if he's already born, that is.

"…Why do you ask?" He finally questions my intentions. Can't let anyone get to his family, but can't deny that his whole life isn't just about his famiglia. Senor is honest in that way.

"Because." I bit my lip, reminded of Monet in that instance as I spoke the next few words carefully. "Because if your family really loves you, I think they'll put whatever bias they have away and still accept you just the way you are. Sure, they'll need time to adjust, but eventually…if they really love you, they'll at least try."

Senor was silent, but I could see the gears turning in his head. He's drawing parallels, parallels between me and my anthropophobia, and Monet – parallels between him and his wife.

Finally, finally, he gave a nod.

"You Ringeyes…always did have the habit of knowing things you shouldn't. Monet said the same things as you did." She did? I blinked wide eyes, realizing that Monet must know his backstory too, if she decided to help him. Senor extracted a cigar from his pocket and walked off, giving a backwards wave with the parting words: "I'll talk to her about it."

Days later, Senor took a leave from the piracy (which is funny, all things considered).

He returned with a red mark on his face, but walked with a hop in his usually dignified step. The Don Quixote pirates, as a whole, soon began visiting the neighbouring town, Dumble Town a lot more.

…

All things are peaceful until they're not.

…

That breakfast was a generally peaceful one lacking in chaos. Rosinante was, in one of his rare days, hardly setting his coat on fire or tripping while seated. Baby5 pranked him as usual, switching out his tea for hot Tabasco as per my suggestion. People feasted on pizza calmly, or wolfed it down in their usual respective manners. Everything was like the peaceful mornings I've grown used to, till the moment Doflamingo sat the paper down.

"Skylar." I froze under the sudden attention of all around the table. "You are Hawkeye's only crew member, aren't you?"

I shivered at the intensity of his gaze and leaned in closer to Baby5. It sucks that the only free seats left today were opposing sides of the table, but if Monet wasn't there, at least Baby5 was. My friend did not shirk away from my touch, instead leaning in closer in comfort.

"I-I…"

'Come on, tell him.' Baby5 coaxed with her gaze.

Despite the frown on his face, Doflamingo seems to be only curious, too.

I swallowed.

"I am, temporarily." Because a crew is someone sailing on the same ship as you, and I don't know what I am to Mihawk specifically.

"Hawkeye defeated the strongest swordsman in the world." Doflamingo announced to deafening silence, throwing the newly folded newspaper in my direction. I caught it, stunned. "Subsequently, he signed up as a shichibukai as the new strongest swordsman."

"What the-?" Jora gasped.

Equally surprised reactions were seen around the table.

I unfolded the news to find myself peering down at the wanted poster of him. And me, as a side note to this entire barrage of sudden events.

The news described the events in detail, basically talking about how Mihawk had caught up to the strongest swordsman on his home island and fought him in a match to death. Upon winning, the newly crowned strongest was 'caught by the marines' and 'surrendered to the terms of contract as a shichibukai'. The more likely events, I think, was that Mihawk was injured, nursed himself to health, then went to the cowering marines and demanded to be a shichibukai, using the title of the strongest as bait. News was always biased towards pirates.

In either case, our bounties were now frozen, with me tagged under a question mark. Since I was nowhere to be found, the reporters questioned the loyalty of Mihawk's new and only crewmate, but nevertheless, since Mihawk demanded it, the marines still cancelled my bounty.

I sat, frozen stiff for several minutes until the news finally sunk in.

Whether or not Mihawk actually did this in the story, the Mihawk of this world – actual live and suicidal human – still became a shichibukai in order to prevent the marines from coming after me – to help me be able to guide my charge without problems.

He sacrificed himself, in short, so that I'd be safe.

It felt like I was set on flames there and then.

"Monet, is there an eternal pose to-" I glanced at the news. "-Ishi Island?"

"What?" Monet blinked, amber and brown-ringed eyes widening in bewilderment. "You can't go there now!"

"I will swim if I have to." I answered her gravely.

"Skylar-!" Her exasperated shout was interrupted by an amused Doflamingo.

"There's a ship by the harbour you can take."

"Young master!" It's the first I've heard Monet so angered.

"…you're going now?" Baby5 asked softly, her voice tiny amidst the bewildered conversations the adults burst out at the news.

I looked down at her, seeing her younger self in that instance. Surely, to her, it must feel like I'm abandoning her the same way her mother did. I leaned in and gave her a tight hug, and while it felt nice to have human contact with someone I care about, I would later lament that my first given hug is one that's filled with panic and rush.

"We're friends forever, kay?" I smiled at her.

Baby5 hesitated and smiled back.

"Write to me." She demanded.

I nodded in reply.

"Skylar." Monet scowled as she stood up. "I get it. At least let me call home for a ship-"

"No need." I blinked.

"What-?" She asked, on the verge of tearing her beautiful hair out.

The doors flung open and Shanks entered with a large grin on his face, my vivre card in a hand.

"Hey, Sky! We're here to get you to your daddy dearest! Dahahaha!" Shanks laughed.

I smiled at the picturesque look of befuddlement on each and every one of their faces (save for Doflamingo) and bowed in their leader's direction. It's uncharacteristic for me to be so bold and I hardly cared amidst the urgent need to see Mihawk, but-

"Thank you for your hospitality." I meant that, truly and sincerely.

"Get that drunkard out of here already." Doflamingo waved a hand in Shanks' direction.

I nodded, and after giving a frozen Monet (hahaha) a hug, left in the arms of said smelly drunkard.

…

I kicked Mihawk in the thigh when we next met. After Mihawk tried to skewer me with Yoru, I gave him the mother of hugs.

Just like that, with Mihawk's new status as a shichibukai and strongest, and me myself with a newly attained pen pal, we spent the next two years travelling and training.

…

["What happened thereafter, you should know."]

In the privacy of his room and with Luffy knocked out right beside him, Ace played the shell for the second time that day, taking the words with a knowledge of what's to come.

["Afterall, it's how we met."] She laughed. ["That day, I took one of the merchant ships headed out to East Blue from the Nameless Island. After being dropped off on Dawn Island, I took a moment to scan the island with my haki, to locate you. Following your presence, I travelled through Foosha Village, climbing up Mount Corvo, following your tracks along the river side…It was only at dawn that I had actually manage to catch up to you.]

Ace closed his eyes, listening to Luffy's breathing as he imagined that day from her eyes.

…

He sees the dreamy sights of his home again. The animals which are apparently abnormally big, as he knows now; the river which she talked about, which surge and crashes like a waterfall on days when there are storms. He sees her, tiny and little again, grey ringed eyed as she hopped across the stones to arrive at the other side of the lake.

Ace could see her closing her eyes in concentration as she felt for him – a presence filled with hatred and self-loathing, as she once confessed at night. Or – Does she ever need to close her eyes again? Ace could hardly remember her doing that when they're younger.

Either ways, she follows him. Tracking up the uneven path. In winding circles, which Ace took to improve his stability when he was younger-

-only to see him climbing up a plank, a hoop made from rope hanging from the tree in hand.

…

I froze, memories of that horrid day with Mihawk flying back to mind.

(Girl dancing on the edges of a cliff, a smile forced onto her face as hands clapped for her amongst the crowd-)

(-nobody helping, everyone cheering-)

('Thank you')

No. Nononono…nononononoNO!

I knocked out the plank from underneath him, kicking it off the cliff and throwing him to the ground.

"What the hell-?!" The boy – who's he again? Right, Ace. Right. – spat, loathing and shock in his voice as I flung myself on him, all but locking his wrists in place with my fingersbecause – anything, it's best for anyone to have done anything instead of nothing, to help instead of watching…of helping us die.

"Don't do it! You don't know what death is like!" I shouted…?

It's unclear. Something's filling up my mind, detonating every shred of hope that Mihawk and Monet have somehow inserted into my heart. Something's taking over me and screaming words I would have never dared to scream.

"Death is cruel and merciless and anything but helpful! Nothing's going to resolve with death, even if you think at first that it absolves you of everything!"

Forced into a different world with a wave of the hand

Charged with taking care of a person I didn't know

Trapped without any of my family and all so very alone

"Sure you may feel alone now! But how can you be certain that one day, there won't be someone who would come to treasure you?! How can you be absolutely certain that someone won't feel sad, that someone won't cry, that someone won't miss you after you die?!"

T…That's right.

That's totally right.

But…why am I saying this when I'm the one who went and died?

(Alone in the midst of a crowd.)

(Pain…So very lonely and painful as the authorities yelled and leapt down beside me, gloved hands reaching out.

"Somebody, help her!" Someone screamed.

I felt like laughing in my last moments, because this happened precisely since no one helped.)

"If you're lonely and you don't speak up, how can we even know what the problem is? How can we even help when you don't let us?"

Why didn't I speak up?

Why didn't I?

Tears are stinging my eyes. It's confusing. It hurts. And I wanted to shake Ace by the shoulders, get it into his head that he shouldn't die like I shouldn't have died.

"Treasure yourself more and start thinking about living already!"

Because life is not just about death, and it is So. Much. More.

…

Deafening silence resounded in the room for the longest time.

Where he laid with a snoring Luffy, Ace imagined her when she was recording this, hiding in the room she must have had on the Nameless Island, and couldn't help but think bitterly – So much for taking your own advice.

["It's ironic. That here I am, planning my own death again."] She whispers.

Ace closed his eyes.

The image from yesterday was still present in his mind.

She was dead yesterday. Today. Even tomorrow.

In a way, she was dead to begin with.

["I-I…"] Her voice cracked, and it takes all Ace has to withhold from crying again for his friend as he tightened his hold around Luffy. ["I'm so sorry, Ace."] She forced out with a calmness that was never suited to her, before a sniffle brought all her effort to waste. ["M-Mn…I…I DON'T WANT TO DIIIEE!"] She wailed.

He imagined it and felt his heart aching for her.

In a tiny room all by herself, Skylar recorded this. In that tiny room, she admitted it to herself, to him. Yet…nobody came to help, just like in her previous life. Unlike him.

["I'm sorry for screaming at you that day. I'm sorry for planning to take your place. I'm so, so sorry for all the trouble I've caused…*sniff*…and still am causing."]

The words came flowing out of the tone dial quickly. She was rambling, tripping over her words now and then, but Ace listened anyways. (Just like she would have wanted him to.)

["I'm sorry that I don't want to die…I've finally learnt how to live too…I'm sorry you have to see me like that. Hear me, like this. You must think I'm so pathetic, aren't you? I'm sorry."]

["But…I'm not sorry I took your place."]

Ace flinched. Even the second time, hearing that still drew a bodily reaction from him.

["It's true that as guardians, we're supposed to let our charges choose how they die. It's true that you're the one who chose to protect Luffy in that manner, by giving your life. But I don't want you to die that way. And as your ex-first mate…I hope I have some say in how you die."]

Of course. She's as selfish as always.

["I want you to move on. Do whatever you want in your life. Maybe get married, have kids, and settle down somewhere before dying as an old man. Now, I know that's too mundane a way for you to go, so it's fine too if you go out flashily with a bang. Not a literal bang though. I don't want to see you in heaven because of an explosion, you get me?"] She's panicking over her own words. It made Ace smile despite himself.

["I don't know how heaven's going to deal with me, now that I've told you the truth, but whatever comes, I'm ready for it. So…don't worry about me and be happy, okay?"]

With Luffy in one arm and her shell in another, that felt achievable.

Ace is still lost even now, lost without a captain or a first-mate. There was no direction and no support. But where he was going, he's sure he'd still find some remnants of hope to cling onto, just like he'd already found one in the form of Luffy.

["Right."] She sniffed, regaining her composure. ["Now that I've fulfilled my promise and told you about my past, I was hoping that you'd be able to help me do something."]

Now, this was the part he was replaying the dial for.

Ace sat up, listening attentively as he tried to remember the instructions this time round.

["My adventure is ending in a day's time, but our little brother's isn't. I may not be a member of Luffy's crew or even his guide, but which big sister doesn't wish for her little brother to be a bit safer?"]

Ace snickered at the smile he most definitely heard in her voice. She's speaking as if she doesn't want to just throw a giant 'fuck you' to the death god which sent her here.

["In my hideout on the Hanana Island, I've left a bunch of letters addressed to various people which will make Luffy's trip in two years smoother. Take those along with you in your journey and pass them on to their respective recipients. Depending on the recipients, you might have to get some other people to guide you to them, but I'm sure you of all people will be able to handle it."]

Ace wanted to groan.

["Don't die, Ace."]

The pause lasted for a long time this time round, as if she had more to say, but was never quite able to put it into words. Finally, quietly, the tone dial 'click'ed to signal the end of the recording she had left him, and the sound was a sweet, melancholic one in the wake of her words.

"Ordering your commander around now? That's insubordination." He whispered, smiling down at the shell.

The ache in his heart still hasn't faltered or numbed, but he now had a direction, an adventure she planned solely for him.

He'd be damned if he doesn't go on it.

…

A/N: I don't know if this story is any good at all. Please tell me what you think about it.

Notes:

(1) 'Ringeyes' – I attribute all credit about that to Oda and 'My Heavenly Judgement' by colbub. Along with the idea of clans and an island full of these so-called Ringeyes.

(2) Idea about Tone Dial – I have been inspired by '13 Reasons to Die'. I repent.

(3) Luffy and Ace sharing bed/room – Once again, attribute this idea to the many OP fanfics with this brotherly scene, like 'Unexpected Emergencies' by Blueh and 'Somewhere to Belong' by Pizza yum. Any story with this scene tends to be good stories

(4) Letters/Tone Dial both – 'Across the Sun' by Liz Hollow. Best moving story ever in all fandom, not just Pokemon

(5) Idea of Sacrificial Ritual – 'Pluck down the stars from Heaven' by XxZuiliu

(6) Mysophobia – Sigh. I'm sorry if I offended anyone with this one, because it's the only one I can't empathize with and yet still drew into this story. If you want to rant about this in a review, please do. I don't wish to incorrectly portray those with mysophobia

(7) Anthropophobia – Personal experience. Don't pity me though. It's been getting better with help from a friend. If there are any others with this same condition (and I jerk at the use of this word, because it's not really the best way to describe a human being; no better way to say it though), please share your story if you're comfortable with it.