One Piece doesn't belong to me, but maybe one day . . .

This story has such horrible themes. If you're okay with heartbreak and sad stuff, then this story's for you. But don't worry it'll get so much better! FRIENDSHIP YEAH!

Prologue

The rusted door moaned as it was forced open, echoing throughout the entire jail. Some muttering was in the distance, muffled by doors and whispers while other voices were projectiles rather close by.

A small naked bundle lay on the frigid floor, long white tresses tangled and greasy with mud, grime, and explicit things. Despite the cruel temperature, the body did not shiver- it didn't even look like it was breathing. It lay, unshackled, in the farthest, darkest corner of the small cell, body limp and unresponsive. Perhaps the thing had died already. That'd be such a shame for the guards, it was hard to release their pent up frustration when there were no tangible women on the island. Maybe they'd keep the corpse until it started to decay.

One guard slipped into the cell, hand cautiously wavering over a small machete strapped to his side- as if that would do any good. He delicately crossed the keroseiki stoned floor, heavy footfalls ricocheted off the walls and echoed violently in the never ending space above his head. As the cell amplified mere steps, he hardly dared to breathe lest he wake the beast. It wasn't actually dead right? Did predators tend to play dead? Or was this just a whole new level of monster?

However, when the mass did not do much as twitch, the guard relaxed. He was standing over it now, eyeing the seemingly frail body.

He hesitated to nudge it, wondering how bad it'd be to live the rest of his life with one foot. He could just walk out of here and pretend it was alive when he took patrol, leaving the confrontation to the head guard. Sure he'd be guilty but the cadet had seen what this demon could do- at least, the aftereffects of it. Twenty-seven casualties (not counting those who died later of infection or disease) and thirty-three soldiers with one or more missing limbs. It made him wonder what the hell was so special about this thing that they had to wasted so much precious life on it. Why couldn't they just slaughter it? Isn't that what the Navy was for? Putting down bad guys and making the world safe? The guard steeled his resolve. He was apart of the Marines. He chose this path of honour and justice. He would treat scum the way it was and not hold back. He had to protect the World Government after all.

Then, with as much force he could muster while standing still, he kicked the animal hard in its stomach and ordered, "Get up."

Hazy red hues struggled to flutter open as a delayed reaction to pain registered. Very slowly, the worn pools twitched to glance at the guard whom had kicked them. Dark bags hung under red, a sickening ashen purple- grey starting to spread down it's small features. The dainty, pale hand that loosely cupped its cheek twitched but did not move any more.

That happened as apart of the drug they administered hourly. It was a sedative that fuzzed over the brain and caused similar symptoms to an overdose. Though the scientist employed here assured that it wasn't enough to kill it, just incapacitate it.

After a moment, the eyes began to sway and twirl. The guard wasn't moving but, as the slit pupil sporadically widened and decreased, he began to suspect that the thing thought he was. It tried to hold his gaze, it's head even lolling to the side a bit, but it proved too much as heavy lids dropped over the dulled red eyes.

The guard, agitated by the lack of response, clicked his tongue and stomped out of the cell, making sure to accidentally crush the small foot under his boot. He was tired of not being respected for his position. He joined the navy to make his father happy, to make sure his baby girl would have a safe world to play in. He didn't join to watch friends with hopes and dreams die at the hands of pirate scum and wolves in sheep's clothing. He didn't join to be stationed permanently on this pirate infested aisle. One dreadfully humid and lethal were even the locals were trying to kill you. He didn't join to babysit the world's most dangerous kid. The guard immediately reached for the hose, having to clean her of the disgusting grime on her, slamming the iron curtain shut as he pointed the end directly at her and took fire.

When he felt that the creature was soaked to the bone, he turned off the hose, placed it back, and stormed off, muttering about how he didn't see the reason to hold some half-dead girl in a cell for all eternity.

Everything was too loud.

The wind, footsteps outside her cell, even her own breathing. It all pounded in her skull and made her utterly nauseous- or maybe that was from that human's attack earlier.

How long ago was it? Was she still wet from the water he had sprayed on her? While she didn't feel wet, she didn't feel dry either. She didn't feel much of anything nowadays- except for nausea and pain.

Why was she here again? Who was she? What was she doing? She couldn't concentrate on anything, there was too much pain.

With difficulty, the frail girl rolled her forehead to meet the cold ground. It felt nice, refreshing almost. As if the strange structure had caught the essence of the sea itself. Another bout of pain shot through her as her stomach tightened and she began to retch. But, not having eaten in so long, her throat closed up and refused to vomit anything that might be ailing her.

After countless fruitless attempts to throw up anything the trembling twig started to breathe heavily. The world seemed to spin even more from the lack of air, black dots invading her vision at alarming rates. She tried to fight off the strange enemy consuming her, but all she could manage was violently twitching her fingers, flexing dirt filled claws.

Then, she faded out of conscious, petrified at the reoccurring invaders.