Author's Note: Remember Merry? The one who gave the Mugiwara Kaizoku-dan their ship? Most people don't think about him, but he's one of my favorite characters. And we don't have enough information about him. So I took it upon myself to write a sort of... backstory for him. My take on Merry's life before Kaya and Kuro and all the things we see in the series.
This is the longest fic I think I've ever written. Please read and review it!

Warnings: None, really, unless you haven't seen the Usopp story arc yet. And there is death in this fic, if that bothers you.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece and I never will. Flames will be used for sacrificing marshmallow Peeps.

To Remember


The boxes in the basement were old and dusty, but Kaya liked them, even though they made her sneeze a few times. They reminded her of the past, and with each new uncovered container, another piece of family history and memory was located. She sighed as she pulled another box toward her, handing the last one off to Merry, who was in turn packing things away more neatly. The two of them had been in the basement for hours, lovingly looking over each item, one by one.

"Oh, pictures!" exclaimed Kaya happily. "I was hoping to find some. I wonder how old these are?"

Merry sat down next to her and took out the first of many photos from the box. He chuckled softly at it, showing it to her.

"It's my parents," she said quietly.

"Yes," he answered, "and your father was just about to throw your mother in the pond there."

Kaya laughed as she pulled out another picture, slightly older than the first. In it, her parents smiled, her mother holding up her hand to show off a very recent wedding ring. Kaya sighed and said, "I didn't realize they'd gotten married so young."

"Yes, you father was only twenty-one years old at the wedding. Your mother was even younger," Merry smiled, then added seriously, "but don't go getting any ideas."

"Don't be silly, Merry," Kaya giggled. "I'm not even interested in anyone right now."

"You're a worse liar than he is," muttered Merry, snatching the next picture and showing it to her.

With a frown, Kaya asked, "Who are these people?"

Peering over her shoulder, Merry breathed, "My goodness... that man there in the center was your father's father--your grandfather. His wife died young, so he hired all these people to help him keep up the house and raise your father." He pointed to a group of people all standing around the grandfather, gesturing to a woman holding a baby and standing on his left. "That's your father, at about one year old," he smiled.

Kaya peered at the photo. On the right-hand side of her grandfather, there stood a little boy of about seven years old. He wore a stained t-shirt and two tight-looking bands on both of his wrists, and stared with wide eyes out from behind shaggy pale hair. The longer she peered, the more familiar the child looked, until she turned to Merry and declared, "That's you, isn't it?"

He blushed nervously and said, "I guess it is, isn't it? Your grandfather bought me when I was around five years old. He was so good to all of us... we were all slaves, really. It was your father who finally got rid of that and actually started paying us."

Kaya's expression was one of sheer disbelief. "You were a slave?"

"Ah... yes, yes I was. So were my parents, but they weren't sold at the same time I was. I was so happy to be going with your grandfather... he had a reputation for being very kind to his servants."

"You don't wear bands on your arms anymore," Kaya said. "And you certainly don't behave like a slave... not that I ever want you to."

Merry smiled warmly and began to idly sort through a few more pictures. "You're as good as your ancestors were, to all of us--" he stopped short, and his breath caught in his throat. Giving a strangled cry, he threw the pictures back into the box and leapt to his feet.

"What in the world...?" Kaya lifted the offending stack back out again, despite Merry muttering for her not to, and scrutinized the photo on top. It was of a little girl with a huge, happy smile, dressed plainly, her curly brown hair pulled back from her face in a headband. She was standing in front of the sea, holding an armful of blueprints precariously and apparently laughing joyously. Kaya tore her eyes from the strange picture and gazed up at Merry, who looked horrified. She sorted through the next five pictures, all of the same girl at around the same age--roughly five or six--holding planks of wood, buckets of nails, a hammer... and always on the beach, always smiling. In the last photo, the little girl rode on the shoulders of a much younger Merry, with the beginnings of a ship's skeleton behind them. They were both laughing.

"Who is the girl, Merry?" asked Kaya. He was slowly returning to normal, sitting down again next to her and heaving a deep breath.

"It's a long story," he said finally.

Sensing this already, she replied, "We have plenty of time. I'd like to know... you never have told me anything about yourself, before I was born." She smiled at him and patted his hand. "Tell me a story?"

He swallowed. He could not refuse those strong eyes, behind which lurked a constant hint of sadness. So he settled back against the boxes and started his tale.