One Piece

The Trail

Prologue

Son of a Pirate

"Hey boy, what's your name?"

The child was small and bony, dressed in little more than rags. The one thing which looked of any value on his person was a small oak chest, clutched in his small frail arms like his life depended on the contents. Through the dirt and grime he could see sharp, gaunt features, messy brown hair and ice blue eyes which glared right at him with all the sharpness of a hawk.

The boy didn't answer. All he did was glare right at him, as if showing his annoyance was enough to get rid of him. Jaguar sighed, and crouched down so he was almost level with the small child. The boy in return straightened, back arched against the wall he was leaning against, unable to retreat any further.

"Do you have any idea how cold it is out here?"

He wasn't kidding, it was winter now, and snow was already starting to fall from the dark clouds which blanketed the sky. He could tell this would be a particularly cold winter this year, and if he was right then this boy would not survive the night, let alone the week.

"Go away." The boy growled.

Any normal person would have heard the threat in the boys tone, and the look in his eyes would have scared most away. Jaguar wasn't most men. He stood, walked around the child and sat against the wall beside him, placing his satchel of supplies to the side. For a moment there was silence before the child's irritated voice broke it.

"I told you to get lost old man!"

Jaguar shrugged, "I always come here. You're sitting in my place."

It was a blatant lie, anyone who lived in this town would tell you, but he had a feeling the child wasn't from around here. The people of Jersey Island and of Jersey Town were good and decent folk, hardworking and honest. He knew no one on this Island who wouldn't try and help a person in need, especially a child.

The child didn't rise to the bait, but his grip did tighten on his chest. Jaguar watched this with detached interest. It was almost like the boy expected him to try and steal it. His sharp eyes watched it with pure determination.

"What are you doing out here, all by yourself?"

The boy was silent for a long moment, "Because no one will take me in, that's why."

His brow rose at the boy's declaration, "Did you ask anyone?"

The child was silent for another moment, before shaking his head. "What's the difference? No one will take in someone like me."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm a Pirates kid."

Jaguar's eyes widened slowly at that. A Pirates Kid, now that would change things on more than a few Islands. Ever since the death of Gol D. Roger, the Pirate King, and the beginning of the so-called Great Pirate Era countless men and women took to the sea under the skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger, all with the goal of entering the Grand Line and taking the legendary treasure of the legendary pirate, the One Piece.

It had been ten years since that fateful day that started everything. In some places Pirates were hailed as heroes, in others they were cutthroat butchers. In this area of the South Blue people tended to lean more to the latter way of thinking. In this area of the South Blue, far away from the nearest Marine base, Pirates were known for raiding towns, settlements and villages and leaving a good deal of corpses in their wake.

Luckily this island had not been raided, and people here were indifferent, but the child didn't know that.

"What's your name?"

"Jack." He replied.

"Where is your father, Jack?"

"Dead."

"...And your mother?"

"Dead."

"Any family?"

His only response was a shrug.

"So you're on your own... then."

"I'm better off on my own anyway."

Jaguar was silent for a moment, reaching into his pocket and taking out a small carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He popped one of them in his mouth, lit it and took a deep drag, releasing the smoke through his teeth. The boy remained silent, but his eyes were no longer looking at the chest, rather, they were looking at the insignia engraved on his silver lighter, a Jolly Roger, a skull with a lion's mane and a ships steering wheel engraved.

"My name is Jaguar, just Jaguar. I was a member of the Golden Lion Pirates back before being a Pirate was considered cool." Jaguar laughed a little at the truth behind that statement. He had been a Pirate before every second man in the world with a ship flew the Jolly Roger. "Tell me boy, who was your father. What was his name?"

For a while Jack didn't answer, and Jaguar thought he had put himself out there for nothing, but before he could even make to stand the boy turned to him, determination in his eyes. "My name is Jack Booth, and my dad was George Booth."

Pure surprise crossed Jaguar's face when he heard that name, a name he had not heard in a very long time, not since the death of Roger in Loguetown had he heard that name. "You're the son of Blackfist George Booth?"

The child curled into himself and nodded his head.

Jaguar sighed, taking another deep drag of his cigarette. "I see, so Blackfist has gone the way of the Pirate King has he? Now that is a real shame."

And he meant it.

Blackfist George Booth was of the same generation as the likes of Gol D. Roger, Edward Whitebeard Newgate and Shiki the Golden Lion. He and his crew, the Booth Pirates, were considered one of the few crews which could stand up and grin in the face of the Pirate King. Booth was famous, or infamous, for several reasons. He took the Island of San Faldo without firing a shot, one of the few men who fought Gol D. Roger to a draw, and credited with decimating a Marine Fleet at the very gates of Marineford, killing a Vice Admiral in the process.

"What's in the chest, Jack?"

He clutched it ever closer, if possible. "The only thing I have of my dad."

"I see," Jaguar said, standing up and dusting himself off, he plucked the half done cigarette from his mouth and dropped it. He then towered over the child, and with one hand reached down and grabbed the chest. He tried to pull it away from him, but the kid clung to it like it was his own life.

"Hey, let go of that!"

Jaguar ignored the child's angry cries as he tore it from his grasp, and used his other hand to push the kid away when he tried to lunge at him. He gripped the lid and opened it, once again ignoring Jack as he jumped to his feet and began hitting his leg over and over. The boy had no strength, and he barely reached up to his waist.

His eyes widened at what was inside.

It was Booth's Gauntlets; he would recognise the black iron weapons anywhere. They were beautiful weapons, forged from Blacksea Iron on this very Island they reached from the tips of the wearer's fingers all the way to the elbow, and were known to weigh a hundred pounds each. To one like him such weight was no trouble, but to think that this boy, whom he guessed was maybe ten years old, to be able to lug them around was impressive.

He closed the chest and placed it on the ground, watching as the child, by this point with tears running down his cheeks, crawled over and once again clutched it in shaking arms.

"Come with me."

He then turned and began to walk, making it four steps before realising that Jack was not following him. He turned his head, looking at the child for a long moment, noticing how he shook like a leaf and sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have been so rough, but he needed to be sure that he was the kid of George Booth and not some wannabe Pirate.

"I'm not going to take your treasure from you, kid. I just want to offer you a roof over your head, warm food and a place to sleep." He said at last, taking out and lighting another cigarette.

"Why?" The kid asked. His very voice quivering as he sniffed.

He blew out another breath of smoke before turning back to Jack with a toothy grin, "Because us Pirates have to stick together, eh?"

He continued to walk. Jack was silent for a few moments, before hauling his father's chest and running after Jaguar. The second he caught up the large man put a hand on the kid's head, ruffling his messy brown hair.

"A bath might help too."

He opened his eyes to broken rays of weak sunlight and to the caws of seagulls overhead. "You could have used a bath yourself, old man."

He sat up and looked around. The seagulls overhead meant he wasn't very far away from land, but the damn mist hadn't cleared since he had fallen asleep. He stood up, grabbed his black cloak and put it on as he walked. Soon he was at the front of his little wooden ship, and focused his attention in front of him, growling as the mist refused to clear.

Jack Booth was now twenty two years old. It had been eight years since Jaguar had found him as a bony little kid on the street and took him in. Now here he was, a young man ready to follow in his father's footsteps and become a Pirate. The old man had been good to him, the people of Jersey Island treated him like one of their own despite knowing his heritage, and he could have had a peaceful life on that island.

He could have inherited Jaguar's Dojo when the old man finally kicked the bucket, though that seemed to be impossible with the way the old bastard never seemed to get any weaker, courted and married one of the girls on the island, and there were plenty of good looking strong spirited girls who could have pushed him around, raised a few kids and lived an honest peaceful life.

Yet here he was.

He was the son of a Pirate, about to follow in his father's footsteps.

He was the son of a Pirate, determined to tower above his father and do what he could not.

In order to do that he needed several things. He needed a crew, a good crew. He needed a ship, and last but not least he needed a bounty on his head. He could not be considered a Pirate worthy of the title of Pirate King until he had gained these three basic steps, until then he was nothing more than a wannabe Pirate.

"Fifteen men on a dead man's chest-"

The mist was thick and heavy, nothing could be seen beyond the boat.

"-Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!"

A healthy breeze caught the sails, causing the rigging to shift and creak.

"Drink and the devil, had done for the rest-"

Seagulls cawed overhead, and the bodies of a few were just barely visible through the cover.

"-Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!"

Come to think of it. He reached into the folds of his coat and pulled out a bottle, uncapping the cork and bringing it up to his mouth only to get nothing in return. He turned the bottle upside down, getting nothing more than a few drops of amber liquid, before sighing and tossing the bottle overboard with a splash.

"Aaaand we're out of rum."

That would explain his headache, at least.

A gong sounded, and Jack sat up, squinting in the distance. A gong like that could have only come from a bell, which means it was in a bell tower, which means that there must be dry land nearby, and civilisation. Civilisation meant a town, food, drink, solid ground and a comfortable bed to sleep on.

The mist was already starting to dissipate when he saw a pier in the distance. It was easy to manoeuvre the small ship into line with the wooden structure and tie it in place.

The gong sounded again, much closer this time and with a grin Jack turned on his heel and meandered his way up the timber path towards what he hoped was dry land. It didn't take long for the creaking wood to give way to solid ground. He looked down at the dirty cobblestones, grin growing as it dawned on him that he had, somehow, managed to sail from his home of Jersey all the way to one of the surrounding islands.

It was a first step to his goal, and he loved the feeling.

Only one question remained. Which island had he landed on?

The mist cleared, and he got his answer. To be fair the mist was so thick at the time that he didn't notice the much larger Caravel docked beside his own small boat, worn from years of sailing and by the cannon ports on its side armed to the teeth. Men were yelling and swearing, and he could hear someone sobbing. The mist continued to clear, and he saw just how big a mess he had walked onto, there must have been a dozen men surrounding him, all armed and looking dangerous in appearance. Leading to the pier where the larger ship was docked was a small pile of valuables including gold, silver, jewels, works of art and valuable artefacts all adding to a healthy sum.

He groaned as the pirates noticed him, and made to surround him. Of all the ports on all the islands in the entirety of the South Blue he just had to stumble across one which was in the middle of a pirate raid. The rising black smoke, the gutted buildings at the far side of the pier and the crackling of out-of-control flames just added to his misfortune.

"Well lookie 'ere boys!" one of the pirates crowed, hefting a cutlass in one hand and a flintlock pistol in the other. "Looks like you run out of luck friend!"

Jack idly counted thirteen men surrounding him, very unlucky number, whether that was unlucky for him or them was still up in the air. "You guys wouldn't happen to be Pirates would you?"

The vicious grin the leader was sporting widened considerably, if possible. "Well wha' gave us away?"

Jack shrugged, "Several things really, the weapons, the ruins... the smell."

He smirked at the outcries of indignation, all the while his hands were moving under the folds of his cloak, readying for the coming fight, and there was going to be a fight. He highly doubted these guys would just wave him on his way, the bloodlust which oozed off them made that clear to him. So his only chance was to fight.

"You 'ave a death wish, don't ya boy?"

Once again Jack shrugged, "Depends on hindsight I suppose. Now a few minutes down the line when you're friends come back and see your corpses they'll wonder... hey, what the hell did this?"

"Kill 'em," the leader growled.

Two men rushed forward, aiming their cutlasses right for him. Jack waited until they closed in, and then moved. He whipped his cloak over his head, bringing it between him and his two assailants. They cut through it easily, but the hindrance was all he needed. A hand encased in black iron slammed into the right ones face with enough force to snap his head back and send him flying through the air, landing in a twitching heap several feet away with a broken nose and a shattered cheekbone. The second was less fortunate. He lashed out at Jack with his cutlass, only for him to duck the strike and bring his other iron encased hand up in an uppercut which easily broke his jaw and sent him flying high into the air, slamming to the ground in an unconscious heap.

The leader could only watch with wide eyed fascination as their target stood before them without his cloak. The man he saw was tall and lean, dressed in a white vest and baggy black pants, his muscles were lean and on his hands were a pair of black gauntlets, black chains wrapped around the forearms, reaching from his fingertips all the way to his elbows. His face was pronounced with pale skin and sharp features, his hair was short and brown, and his eyes were a striking ice blue.

The pirate noticed all of this before the man grinned, a malicious grin which promised pain and retribution to all within his line of sight. "Now then, what's the name of your crew so I can carve it on your tombstones?"

That was good, he should remember that.

The leader, once so sure and sporting such a bloodthirsty grin, now looked rattled and hesitant, finally that surprise was replaced by anger. He snarled openly, raising his own sword right at Jack. "You fool! Do you 'ave any idea who we are!? We're the Maze Pirates, we own these waters! Our Captain is a cold blooded killer with a twelve million Beri bounty on his head!"

"Maze Pirates," Jack repeated mockingly, flexing his fingers encased in black iron and hearing a satisfying metallic creak in response. It didn't escape him that his vocabulary seemed to improve when he got angry, or was it scared? "Never heard of you, which means you're nothing and I won't waste my time on nothing."

He cracked his neck, and brought his hands up in a basic boxing pose, the black iron seemed to gleam in the peels of light which were flashing from the dying fog. "So that mean's this should be done in ten seconds."

He rushed forward before anyone could retort.

Nobody panic about my other two stories, updates for The Good Left Undone & The Wanderer will continue in good time. The reason for this little piece coming around is that, since Naruto finished & I lost interest in Bleach a while ago, I started looking into the One Piece anime, all caught up now, and I enjoyed it. It has such a huge and unexplored world, the character designs are intriguing and interesting, and the overall story is pretty simple but also cool.

This story is called The Trail, a One Piece original story centred around an original Pirate Crew looking to sail the Grand Line and become the crew of the next Pirate King, like any crew worth their salt would try and do. The leader of this crew is Jack Booth, son of George Booth, both entirely original characters so you won't find them on the One Piece Wikia. I looked through a list of well known Pirates to find a cool last name that the genius author Eiichiro Oda-sensei hasn't added yet, found Booth and ran with it.

If anyone feels déjà vu on this one that's because you might remember a guy called Nero's Legacy publishing this. It was me before anyone cries foul. I wanted to try something radical to get my writing going again and setup a new penname. I published around the same time I decided to get a grip and come back.

As to updates, I have a rough draft of the first ten chapters, but they need serious work so this story will properly start once I finish one of the other two current works or at least start updating on them again. There will be the odd chapter every now and then once I'm happy with it but until then consider this a bit of a teaser.

Leave a like if you like it, a review if you love it .

Thanks

Darth Malleus