Very Important Note: The following is a short side story pertaining to my current saga-fiction, Illicit Memories. This does not entirely mean that one has to read Illicit Memories to get the story, or vice versa, though having at least some idea about the Illicit Memories is recommended for there is an OC from Illicit Memories in this fiction as a central character. The setting takes place during chapter eighteen, yet has spoilers from at least nineteen. Don't say I didn't warn you, so I don't want flames going on about being totally lost and confused. As always, I do not own One Piece.
Illicit Memories
Side Story: My Nakama, My Cousin
Yume violently thrashed about in the water, desperately trying to keep her head above the surface. She could feel the impact every single wave had on her body. Each oncoming wave was another forty bricks pounding into her chest and knocking her closer and closer to a watery grave amidst the storm.
Keep it together Annette! she ordered herself. What would Juraquille say if he found out you did such a stupid thing as drown!? The raven-haired woman gasped for air before going under, the far-off call of Gormal's voice desperately calling her name just barely audible through the waves and wind of the storm. She tried to go towards the precious air once again as flashes appeared before her, reminding her about why she should live...
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Yume stood in a field, surrounded by the knee-high grass and katydids that surrounded the dojo that was her home. It was when she was about five years old, back when her name was always Annette and her life was a quiet one. She jovially chased after a particularly spry katydid, giggling merrily as she went about her play.
"Annette-chan!" called out a voice. The young girl looked up to see her cousin not to far off. Juraquille was twelve years her senior, turning him into a surrogate father for the long lazy days when both their fathers were at work. He looked after her and would make sure to retrieve her whenever his aunt wanted her present at mealtime. It was rather dull work for a seventeen-year-old, but at least it allowed him to be away from the young miscreants that ran wild around the dojo grounds.
"Juraquille-kun!" young Annette squealed. She ran up to him and hugged him around the leg. "Wanna catch bugs with me?" She looked up at his dark hair, stony features and piercing yellow eyes that would have scared any other child away and grinned hopefully.
"Not now," the young man said, a faint smile across his lips. "It is time for lunch and your mom wants us to get your dad in the forge." Only she could ever get him to smile and they both knew it.
"Okay!" Annette laughed. She grabbed her cousin's hand and led him back towards the path to their family dojo.
Now the Mihawk clan was truly a family of legend. Situated in the South Blue for longer than any records dared to tell, the family was infamous for their impeccable swordsmanship, magnificent craftsmanship and haunting yellow eyes. At the height of their existence, the clan numbered over two hundred and fifty members. Over time their numbers dwindled until there was only a pair of brothers left, one to run the dojo and one to work in the forge that made legendary swords of greatness. It was to be the duty of Juraquille to take over the dojo in time, yet Annette would not even have the chance to inherit the forge. Her younger brother Francis, only two years old and already a sickly child, would take that honor away from her and she was to be wedded off as soon as she became of age. Secretly, Juraquille abhorred the plan and thought it to be a horrid fate for the cousin he cared deeply for, yet did not protest as it was simply unfortunate tradition. In fact, Annette's mother, his aunt, had been placed in a similar situation and it was from her that his younger cousin inherited her hauntingly blood-red eyes. Although he cared for his aunt tremendously, she had always seemed to watch the dojo students from afar, sighing longingly as if she wished she were in their place. He had always wished that he could help her, but she was already too old to begin sword training. All either could do was stand aside and watch.
The two came within sight of the dojo and the teenager could already tell that something was amiss. The hill they stood on was able to see a good portion of not only the dojo, but the village nearby. A spire of ebony smoke was hurling up from the forge chimney and a distinct odor cut sharply through the air. The village was encased with a haze, something that was not natural for the time of year. Juraquille bent down on one knee and whispered coarsely to his cousin.
"Annette-chan, get up on my back."
"Okay!" Annette smiled, not ready to disagree with Juraquille over a ride down the large hill. She went and grasped her cousin around his neck and giggled in delight as he took off towards their home.
It was the last moment that Annette could ever remember being genuinely carefree and happy.
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"GORMAL!" Yume called out, the salty sea trying to make its way down her throat. The swordswoman sputtered and screeched louder. "LUFFY! ZORO! MOAN! SANJI! NAMI! ROBIN! TONY-KUN!" She called their names over and over, the Merry-go slowly disappearing from sight.
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The sight upon their return was gruesome. The youths that Juraquille's father had been training were running about pell-mell, screaming their heads off. The forge was aflame and threatening to engulf the nearby orchard and equipment shed. Far off shouting signaled that there was a battle taking place nearby. Annette squeaked in terror as Juraquille ran towards the family living quarters and ducked into his room.
"Stay here," he said, gasping for air. He put Annette down on the ground and pointed at a cupboard. "Stay here until I come and get you."
"...but I'm scared!" the child cried. She stood trembling as Juraquille rummaged through his closet until he came across his inheritance: a sword forged of onyx and steel. It was nearly as tall as he was and was not supposed to be used in a battle of any sort until his coming-of-age ceremony in less than a year. He would break generations of tradition by defending the dojo with it, despite the fact he had little choice.
"Annette-chan, listen to me," Juraquille pleaded, going back over to the small girl with his sword in hand. "You must hide yourself! I don't want anyone to find you, hear?" Annette simply sniffled and nodded. Juraquille was just about to usher her into the cupboard when he heard the rice-paper door slam open and a gruff snort of an intruder. Both cousins snapped their heads towards the door to see a Marine soldier, bloodlust sparkling in his beady eyes.
"The last two survivors of the Mihawk Clan," he chortled, drawing his sword with relish. "How fitting that I get to kill the final two 'Hawks with one stone." Juraquille quickly picked up the black sword and stepped between his cousin and the Marine. Annette closed her eyes and a moment later, there was an abrupt thud as the Marine fell to the ground. Mihawk flung his sword over his back and scooped Annette up, intent on fleeing the scene. The teen was shaking as the blood from the blade on his back dripped off slowly, his first kill just barely clinging on to life. He ran for the woods, for he knew of a small cavern nearby that no one would expect to have to look in. There were berries near the cave as well, so it would not matter how long he would have to stay out there; he would still be safe.
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The storm charged onward, sending Yume into a ceaseless series of beatings. The waves flung her into the air and smacked her hard as she returned to the sea. No end could be seen or contemplated, for the ferocity of the storm seemed to grow and challenge Yume into a battle of will and determination. The young woman could not catch either a visual or verbal conformation of her nakama anywhere. Panting, she prepared herself for another series of waves to send her spinning back down below the surface, claiming vengeance for all the lives she had taken.
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It was days before Juraquille and Annette returned to the remains of their family dojo. The bodies of students littered the grounds. Juraquille's father was found near his mother and aunt's bodies, sliced open by blade and crushed by heavy boots. Annette was frozen stiff, unable to take her eyes off of the horrific sight of her mother covered in her own blood and half-rotting. Juraquille had to find a bucket to regurgitate in.
After calming down, Juraquille walked over to the gutted forge to find a charred body half-shoved into the kiln. The strange smell of the smoke from before was instantly explained. Without even touching his late uncle's body, Juraquille took the best sword still lying in the shop and turned around to see that Annette was pulling at her mother's hand silently just outside of the door. She pulled off the golden wedding band and held it close to her chest. Then, without another word, she walked over to Juraquille and allowed him to pick her up so that they could make way for the village.
The village, put bluntly, was most likely in worse shape than the dojo had been. Inhabitants were strewn everywhere and buildings were razed to the ground. Juraquille held Annette's head so that she did not have to look at the sight around her.
After that, the two wandered from island to island, scraping together existence from hand-outs and odd jobs. Juraquille gave Annette the sword he had taken from her father's forge and taught her swordsmanship, never wanting her to become helpless. They even found a golden chain for the ring Annette had taken and she never took it off afterwards. The two traveled together as brother and sister, meeting a large variety of individuals along the way. Life was never the same, though whenever the both were alone together, they would smile, for at least they were alive.
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It was no use. The waves had finally taken their toll on Yume's body. The young woman sighed internally as she looked into the inky depths below her. There was no more strength. She closed her eyes and wished that it was all just another nightmare. All just another lie.
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Annette and Juraquille soon split after he became a Shichibukai, leaving the sixteen-year-old girl to fend completely for herself. She did not mind. It was just another new adventure for her to explore as she drifted from island to island. She loved walking through marketplaces, taking in the sights and sounds of the people. She watched as some small children ran between the legs of the adults, making her long for the childhood she unfortunately skipped out on.
"Stop! Theives!" cried an old man. Annette turned and saw two men running away from a vendor. One carried some trinkets and another food. She watched curiously and decided to follow them.
Sure enough, Annette found the two on the town's outskirt, feasting away at the meager amount of food and examining the baubles they had shanghaied. One was a stocky redhead with pale skin while the taller's complexion was dark and his hair light. She introduced herself and made comments on their lack of form while attempting to make their getaway. They tried to ignore her, yet when they were able to find a small boat to steal, she was on it and refused to let them leave the harbor without taking her with her.
From then on she was the captain. Gormal was the muscles of the group. Maon was the faithful navigator and voice of reason. They traveled all over the Grand Line searching for jobs to make them money. Most of the ones they took were difficult and involved some unfortunate soul's untimely death. That did not matter to Annette. Death was natural. It was something that was not to be feared. If her parents and younger brother could be taken away, then why mull over the life of another? Every assignment was successful, until the day when the elegant woman came up to the three nakama in a tavern, wanting a certain green-haired swordsman dead.
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Everything was fading. Her vision was becoming darker and darker with each passing second. Yume struggled to keep her eyes open, yet succumbed to the weariness fighting the storm had caused her.
If only we left Jeannette-san's proposal on the table and left, she thought. If only I left in Rakuen. If only... what weak thinking. Now I can join my family once again. Maman, Papa, Cousin, Petit Frère... it will all be over soon.
Darkness enveloped Annette Anastasie Mihawk and she thought no more.