I don't own One Piece.
Prologue: A Car Accident Like No Other
Every year, people die in car accidents involving collision, whether from the inside of the car to the outside. One main cause of this is carelessness.
Edna Flowers died from carelessness. Mind you, she was neither inside or situated in front or beside the car when she died. She was under it. She barely started her automotive repair apprenticeship when the car she was identifying the parts of decided not to hold its weight anymore and sit on her. Or it may have been because she used a rather old and rusty jack to lift the car. It didn't matter now. All the money she put into college is wasted.
What mattered now, is that she woke up in a vaguely familiar place, with unfamiliar faces, in a time where the world she lived in is far behind and the world she knew of lies in the future.
1 - The Saint
She was three when Roswald Castro started noticing the white mask she wore on her face.
He watched passively as his oldest child walked by to her room, the only sign of her acknowledgement to her father was a slight nod in his direction. Her slave, a wiry girl with freckles shuffled after her. His daughter paused, head turning slightly towards her slave. Although Roswald cannot see her expression, he could imagine the scowl on her face.
"Did no one teach you how to walk?" Her icy voice filtered through the mask. "I will not have a slave who will cramp my style. Stand properly, or I will have a metal rod tied to your back so you will never slouch again."
He felt proud as she turned back and continued towards her room. The slave wordlessly straightened up and marched after her. He chuckled to himself, and barked at his servants to prepare clothes for him.
"That hours of practice paid off, didn't it?"
Saint Grandiosa Castro, eldest daughter of Saint Roswald Castro, took of her mask and faced her slave, a girl with the name Dina.
"Dina, so? What do you think," the three-year-old asked, face shining with sweat. "I'll have to wear this for at least a few months, then everyone will forget what I look like."
The freckled slave shrugged. "I think Mistress is going to have to wear that longer than a few months."
"Geez, you overestimate my family too much," the girl answered. "They never use their brains, so it's more likely that they will forget. And what did I say about calling me mistress? Honestly, you make me feel so old."
Dina gulped nervously. "I'm s-sorry, Master Grandiosa."
"Ughh, I told you to call me Grant. And drop the 'Master'." I'm three years old, not some kink master," Grant sighed and jumped on her bed. It was rather late at night, and she had more plotting to do in the morning. She closed her eyes, and drifted to sleep.
Chuckling lightly, Dina took the mask and placed it on the noble's bedside table, and pulled the blankets over her.
Meanwhile, Grant dreamt.
"What a horrid way to die," Grant muttered to herself.
"What was it dear?" Her mother, joyful and pregnant, asked.
She was four years old. The whole family (Roswald) decided it was the perfect time to go and terrorize the commoners at Sabaody, and decided to come to the auction. Her father had thought that they were running out of slaves, and that they should get more. After all, all that money that they had should go somewhere, right?
"Nothing," she said curtly. Inwardly, she thought about the lives lost in their little paradise in Mariejois, and now they are bringing more lambs to slaughter. She thought about Dina, who was brought to her a couple of years before, half-beaten and starved. She thought about the pirate captains in her father's collection, those who had dreams, who had comrades, who had freedom. She thought about the slave who was torn apart by beasts for her uncle's amusement. She thought about the slave who ended his life in the night, before the bed of her cousin. She thought about the beautiful woman who cried and plead, who had a family she will never see again. Now, there they were, gathering more to misery.
"Next! Our Special Item for today!"
Grant sighed in relief. Finally, it's almost over.
"Hailing from Fishman Island, renowned adventurer, and ruler of Fishman District, Fisher Tiger!"
She nearly jumped of her seat. It was him. It was definitely the Fisher Tiger, the one who will bring salvation to the suffering. He looked intact enough, and there is defiance burning in those round eyes of his. She glanced at her father, and saw him smiling wide. She hid her own grin.
"400,000,000 beli!" Her father shouted. There were murmurs, and unintelligible chatter among the other bidders. The auctioneer himself looked overjoyed at the prospect.
"Father, can I have him?" She tugged on his side. Saint Roswald shook her off, muttering under his breath about her. She stared up at him, trying to appeal to him with her "but I'm four and I'm cute" approach, be he spared no glance at her.
She pouted, and looked back at the fishman, who was now staring angrily at them. "He's not even a pirate captain," she complained out loud. At least not yet.
On the way home, Grant saw her ticket out of Mariejois.
Near the docks, in one of the tight alleyways, huddled a small child, no older than her, dressed in rags, staring at her as she walked past. She noted the similar shade of black their hair shared, and the dark eyes they both posses. She stopped, and her parents paused. The cart dragging along Tiger Fisher's cage moved ahead.
"What is it dear?"
Ignoring her mother's query, she approached the small child, who backed up in fear. "Get back here, Grandiosa," her mother scolded. "It might touch you!"
"Where are your parents?" Grant ignored her mother, in that same superior tone her father always has.
"Mommy gone…" the child muttered. Grant raised an eyebrow behind her mask. "Is that so? Do you have a family?"
"Family?" The child asked. She considered it for a moment, then shook her head.
"Perfect," Grant smiled through her guilt. She turned to her irritated-looking parents.
"Can I go back to the auction house to get another collar?" She asked. She tilted her head towards the child. "I want this."
It took a bit of convincing for her parents to let her go back with just a little child who will soon be her slave, and a single guard. Both look uncertain with her, and to be honest, she feels the same way herself.
She felt sweat run down from behind her mask and wished that she brought Dina along with her. But Dina had other jobs to do, she reminded herself, and I have mine.
She straightened herself and walked into the closed auction house, where the owner was counting his money on the edge of the stage.
She stood there for a few moments, trying not to fidget. She felt herself sweat more. 'W-what the heck do I say?' she thought.
Grant decided to clear her throat as loudly as she can (it sounded more like a choke), and finally the man turned.
"Y-your–"
"Save it," she cut off. It always makes her feel embarrassed whenever someone goes and calls her some title like 'Your Highness', or 'Your Excellency'. It's just too much.
"I brought a slave that I want. Put a collar on it," Grant ordered. The child jumped, her frightened eyes seeking hers. Grant tried not to glance at her, or show any remorse. It was for both their sakes.
Hidden behind a mask, she closed her eyes as they dragged the child kicking and crying.
The child stood beside the noble, held in place by her guard. She had stopped struggling, but she still cried silently.
"You will have to be cleaned before I have any real use for you," Grant told her.
She dug into her pockets, and took out a considerably large amount of money, and handed it to the slave trader. "Give me another collar, and the blueprints for it. If I find another one I might like, I will put the collar on it myself."
The slave trader looked dubious. "B-but it is highly dangerous a-and–"
"Are you questioning me, or are you saying that your collars are defective?" Grant cut in harshly.
"Of course not–"
"Give me the collar and its blueprints." The man shut his mouth, and nodded nervously.
He came back five minutes later with a collar and a roll of parchment. Grant unfolded the parchment and examined the collar. "It all seems to be in order," she said. The man released a breath of relief. "But your hesitation earlier calls for me to make sure this works. Perhaps I shall try it now? What do you say, Mr Slaver? Would you care to be my dummy?"
The man shook his head, "No-I mean, it works well, your excellency–"
"Whatever. Let's go." She turned her back and walked out. She silently released her own sigh of relief. She may hate acting like her family to get what she wants, but is damn well good at it.
"Baby steps," she whispers to herself.
"Dina, I'm hooooommeee~" Grant sing-songed as she entered her room, dragging her new slave behind her. The child whose name she still doesn't know had stopped crying, and was instead rather dazed at the prospect of living in a mansion (albeit as a slave). She released her hold on the child and stowed the collar and blueprints in a sealed drawer.
"Dina?" Grant called out again when she realized no one had answered. "Dina, where are you?"
She checked her bathroom, and ran to her closet-room, and even to her playroom, but there was no sight of her freckled slave.
"Stay here and don't move if you don't wanna get hurt," she absentmindedly told the child, and left the room, making sure to close the door behind her.
Checking every room, nook, and cranny, of her family's portion of Mariejois yielded no result for her. The next family over is the Torono family, and she hated them because they all talked more than her father when he's drunk. Before she could take one step into their wing, however, she heard someone clear their throat behind her.
"Looking for this, dear cousin?"
Grant turned around and suppressed a gasp. Gino Recesvinto, one of her distant cousins, stood there, his face looking as pointy as the style of his hair, and his coldblooded little hands tangled into Dina's haphazardly cut hair. The slave was hardly bruised, but her clothes were torn, and her hair messed up, and one of her eyebrows are missing. There was also a slight cut near her temple, where she hadn't stopped bleeding.
"What have you done to her?" Grant asked coldly. Gino ('that bastard, Gino… I will kill him one day,' she thought) let go of Dina and shrugged. "I knew you liked pretty things, so I helped improve her face. Beautiful, isn't it?"
Grant reigned in her anger, and stood right next to Dina. "Dina. Stand up. You may look like that, but you still have work to do." She averted her eyes when the girl she considered her friend looked up at her with a hurt expression. A few beats, and Dina stood and walked back to Grant's room, head bowed.
Grant glared up at Gino. He's about ten years her senior, but he acts like he's the toddler. He had a steady smirk on, like he was really proud of his work. He reached for her mask, but she slapped his hand away. "Don't touch my possessions," she glared. "Next time you go and take what's mine, I will make you lose something important."
He cocked an eyebrow and leaned in to her level. She hated the superior look on his face. She will smash it in one day. "Wait till you're older, little girl."
He turned and walked away, smirk plastered on his face, leaving Grant fuming behind him.
"Dina, oh no, my sweet jellyfish, what did he do to you?" Grant said as soon as she entered her room and locked her door behind her. The new slave stood awkwardly at the foot of her bed, fiddling with the hem of her filthy rags. Dina was on the floor, sobbing. Grant knelt beside her and rubbed circles on her back.
"I-I was j-just fetching your c-clothes," Dina cried. "He p-pulled me and started–he had a knife, h-he said it was n-new, given to him b-by a visiting admiral…"
"Shh," Grant hugged her. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, sweetie."
"B-but now t-that I'm u-ugly, Saint R-roswald is going t-to ki–get rid of me."
Grant paused. While she does what she can to keep her slaves separate from everyone else', her father still has the final say on who gets to stay and who has to disappear. She will have to play the "I'm your spoiled daughter" card again, and throw a massive fit if he even thinks of getting rid of Dina.
"I won't let anything bad happen to you, Dina," Grant says. "Trust me."
She let her friend cry until she calmed down before introducing the addition to her slaves.
"What is your name?" Grant asks the young child. The child shrugs. "Dun have one."
"Then, I shall christen thee, Grandiosa One! One for short. Is that okay?"
The child looked confused. "Wha?"
Grant sighs. "Your name is now Grandiosa One. I will call you One, okay?"
The child tilted her head. "My name is Gran'iosa?"
"Grandiosa One. One for short," Grant said, face-palming. "This is going to be hard."
"Alright, first order of business," Grant announced to the two slaves seated on her bed. Grandiosa One was wrapped in towels, having been forced to bath thoroughly by other slaves that Grant called in. Dina was fiddling with the short strands of hair she now has. Grant cut them evenly herself, and although it doesn't look as good as Dina's previously shoulder length hair, it was far better than the uneven jagged strands that her cousin tore through with a knife. Her remaining eyebrow had also been plucked thin, and shaded in with makeup, to match the one drawn in on the other side of her face. It served to make her more doll-like, and helped with the excuse Grant made up to her father.
"Dina, you will be my super secret super teacher secret."
"What?" Dina frowned. "what does that mean?"
"It means, uhmm, that you and One here will bond in my room while I go wandering about and poking my nose into everyone's business, like the Torono Family, and I'll tell you all about what I find."
Dina looked a bit green at the thought of knowing more than she's allowed. Then she remembered the first part of Grant's sentence. "What do you mean bond?"
Grant smiled and took of her mask, and placed it over One's face. Dina blinked, then her mouth dropped open. "T-this is… why?"
"It doesn't matter why," Grant dismissed. "I don't plan on staying here, but I don't want to end up like the Donquixote family. You have to teach One how it is to be me."
Dina furrowed her eyebrows. She's never heard of the 'Donquixote' family, but something bad must have happened to them.
"I will leave, but I will come back," Grant continued. "And when I do come back, I promise that I will free you, Dina. You before anyone else."
A fresh wave of tears fell from Dina's eyes.
It was months before Grant was finally able to get a glimpse of Fisher Tiger. The fishman was bruised and weary when she saw him, and she could tell by the drying blood sticking on his back that he must have been severely punished many times. The fiery look in his eyes has yet to be extinguished, she noted. Stubbornness and failed escape attempts, perhaps?
As soon as she was in hearing distance, she cried out, "Eww Daddy, what is that ugly thing?"
"It's just one of Daddy's slaves, Grandiosa," the noble reassured his daughter. She pretended to look really grossed out, and forced a shiver. "He smells bad too," she pointed out. "It hurts my eyes and nose. I feel like my senses are being drowned."
"Grandiosa, Daddy will decide when he wants it to be washed, okay? It is not you who decides, it's Daddy. Now go back to your room and play with your dolls."
Grant grit her teeth behind a smile. She knew when not to push her father to do what she wants, and this is one of those times. "Okay, Daddy."
She slowly walked past her father, staring at Fisher Tiger. When they met eyes, she grabbed at her mask and revealed a small little doodle on her cheek, scribbled on with eyeliner. She hoped it hadn't smudged. Grant adjusted the mask back on her face, only getting a glimpse of the fishman's confused expression before she passed him completely.
"Now, if someone says 'you're a precocious little girl, aren't you,' what do you say?"
"Dunno."
Dina closed her eyes and sighed. One, who might have looked startlingly like Grant if she haven't seen her face in months (she sees them everyday in the confines of her room), is not interested in learning at all. They have also been forcing her to wear a mask like Grant, so that she could get used to it. The only relief that Dina has, is that Grant's prolonged contact with One influenced the slave girl's mannerisms.
"You tell them 'And you're quite a nosy old codger'. One, are you even trying?" Grant said from her bed, where she was fiddling with a collar. The blueprint was spread out in front of her, and various tools were scattered beside her.
"What's precocious?" One asked.
"It means you're a smartass kid," Grant replied. "Aha! I finally got it!"
Grant squealed and jumped up and down her bed, narrowly avoiding getting stabbed by various screwdrivers.
"Okay girls, gather around," she beckoned, as she grabbed a stuffed bear. (It was one of the gifts from that hateful jackass Gino. What did he expect? A 'Thank you?') She put the collar on the bear. "Now pretend this is one of you. Although it wouldn't be hard for me to imagine, because you are both soft and cuddly!"
Both Dina and One flushed.
"Anyway, what I have to do is open the thing up by unscrewing this weird long thing, stick in some rod that i could use to unlock the mechanism that keeps this metal around your neck and hopefully get it off within 2 minutes. Now I just have to practice."
Grant showed them a thin crochet needle that she stuck in the small rectangular hole and started fiddling with the inside of the collar.
"Why is it only 2 minutes?" One asked.
"Good question," Grant answered. "It takes the collar 1 minute to recognize that it is being tampered when I stick the stick in the hole, and one minute for the countdown before the bomb explodes in my face."
To Dina's horror, the collar beeped once. Then another. Then another.
"Grant!"
"What's that beeping?" One asked. "What's a bomb?"
Dina tried to grab the bear off Grant's hands, but the younger girl dodged, still fiddling with the collar. "Hold on, I almost got it."
"Grant, throw that out the window. You're going to die!"
With one last twist of the metal stick, the collar deactivated, and the latch keeping the collar around the bear's neck snapped open. "See?" Grant dangled the collar in front of Dina. "Have faith in me."
Dina stared, shocked, with her mouth wide open.
"What's a bomb?" One repeated.
Grant stalked as silently as she could down to the dungeons underneath Mariejois. She had offhandedly heard of Fisher Tiger being punished again for some transgressions. Grant assumed he tried to escape again. She waited for a few hours, before trying her luck at sneaking off to see the imprisoned slave. She ducked behind a cabinet when she heard a guard walk by, and resumed her walk.
Trying not to trip on her dress, Grant surveyed the old dungeon. It seems fairly new, with paved white tiles (and some tell-tale streaks of blood) rather than dusty bare ground.
There was also a lack of sinister cobwebs that should hang down. Grant shook her head. Her family's standards always ruin the atmosphere. She continued to walk, glancing side to side to look for the fishman. The forced cleanliness and renovation of an ancient dungeon took away it's dready character. It was just like her family that they always try to disappoint her with something like cleaning up cobwebs.
Finally, she encountered Fisher Tiger. He was down on the ground on his back, his arms and legs spread out. There was dried blood crusting on the side of his face.
"Excuse me, Mr Fisher Tiger? Are you awake?" Grant whispered nervously. The fishman was unresponsive. She crept closer and crouched down near his head.
"Mr Fisher Tiger. Psst. Mr Fisher Tiger, please wake up. Psst. Psst."
His eyes snapped wide open and met her quivering ones.
"Uhm, hi," she greeted, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's pretty cold in here, huh?"
"What do you want, human child?" He sat up, rubbing his temples, and turned to face her.
Grant took off her mask, and smiled hesitantly. "Well, I was thinking, you don't like being a slave, I don't like slavery, maybe we can do, um, you know, something? Like, I do something for you, you do something for me kind of thing–um I'm not trying to blackmail you or something but, you know, I kinda do want something from you, and I know I can help you with what you want, and stuff, like business partners, or something. Um, I understand if you don't like me, or hate me, or something, I mean it's okay if you don't want to help me either, I was still gonna help you anyway–"
"You are rambling," Fisher Tiger interrupted.
Grant chuckled nervously. "I, uhh, I guess I am. Sorry."
"But I understand the reason why you came here. What is it that you want from me?"
"Well, uhm, I was thinking… Have you heard of haki?" Fisher Tiger's eyes narrowed. She bowed her head and tried to look anywhere but at him. "What I mean is, uhm, do you have haki?"
A sudden cold feeling erupted inside Grant, a sort of suffocating fear that threatened to lose her consciousness. She suddenly can't breath, and cold sweat ran down her back. She shivered, and forced herself to look at Fisher Tiger, despite her shaking. Suddenly, the feeling stopped, but there was a lingering chill that stayed in her body.
"Does that answer your question?"
"W-wow," Grant said. "That was amazing! Teach me!" She clapped a hand over her mouth and looked around. Nobody heard her outburst. She leaned in close to Fisher Tiger's cage, and whispered. "Teeeaaachhh meeee."
Fisher Tiger leaned back, an eyebrow raised.
"Seriously, I'll do what you say. I'll help you escape, uhm, in a year? I'll tell you all the routes you can take, and I can tell you all of the secrets I know about my family. I'll do it, no matter how long it takes!" Grant hissed through the bars, eyes shining.
"A year?" Fisher Tiger asked. "You can do it now, can you not?"
"I made plans, Mr Fisher Tiger. If I leave prematurely, I will lose my connections to Mariejois, and I will not be able to help anyone at all. You know, like the Donquixote Family?"
"Leave?"
"Well, yeah," Grant shrugged. "I don't think I can learn haki in a year. I'll have to go with you, right?"
Fisher Tiger paused and looked closer at the child who had come to offer him escape. He remembered when she had passed by him a few months before, giving him a clumsy sign of her support. A small key drawn on the corner of her cheek, and a hesitant smile. Fisher Tiger cracked a smile of his own and began to laugh.
"I have never heard of a world noble apologizing before," he said. "Let me introduce myself to you now, as a business partner. I am Fisher Tiger."
"And I am Saint Grant–uhm, Grandiosa Castro." She offered her hand through the bars. He took it and gave her a firm shake. "I hope this works."