Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or it's story, but I do own my OC.
Any type of feedback is appreciated.
"Mama?!" A young child's voice rang out through the small house. Storm grey eyes peered out the window looking at a Bass fishman friend waving her down.
"Torto wants me to come out and play. Can I?" The girl's voice continued, moving away from the window to a familiar half water-filled kitchen where she was sure to find her mother. She was there, chopping up something to be a part of their dinner later. They were having stew.
The woman in the water was a mermaid, like her daughter. Her tail was that of a Blue Ring Angel Fish; a dirty yellow background with neon blue rounded stripes winding down to meet with magnificent white, at the base where tail meets fin, to a very light blue flayed at the bottom with only the tiniest line of yellow around the edge to match that of her tail above. Along with being mermaids, they also shared the brightest red hair the sea had ever seen. The child thought that looked pretty on her mother, not her.
"Only if you wear your sweatshirt," she said as the only condition for her to play. As young as the child was, she had to keep a secret that worried her mother to no end. In addition to her own phosphorescent tail, she had useless wings growing on her back. At her age they were small and developing, easily hidden by a coat or sweatshirt. It was the future her mother was concerned about. Her daughter was something that shouldn't be living, with physically existing traits from two species. Having anyone discovering this and taking her daughter from her wasn't something she wanted to imagine.
The innocent child agreed with her mother and grabbed a sweatshirt. She pulled it over her head before going out with a signature water tube around her waist; mermaids needing such to 'walk' over dry land.
…
With a wave of goodbye to an exhausted Torto, the girl entered her home before the first sign of mimicked nighttime approached. A surprise awaited her in the common room, a face she hadn't seen in a while.
"Papa," she squealed and raced into the man's outstretched arms. Her father was a human- a Birkan Skypiean he called himself along with the word pirate. They said pirates were bad, but she denied those claims in her head as her father wasn't bad at all. The rare times he visited were always full of laughter. He would tell her about his adventures as well as discuss anything new she has written in her writing journals- for observations and stories- as they ate together, like a normal happy family, and stayed up with her until she fell asleep.
The child woke up when she heard a thud and a curse, followed by hushing and the creaking of floorboards being quietly propped from their settings. Being the curious child she was, she went to spy on what was happening.
Three men, including her father, were opening the wooden floor next to the pool that was their kitchen. The child couldn't make out what they were whispering to each other. Something about a safe place, fruit, and secret. She couldn't understand why a fruit needed to be a secret. What the child did understand was that whatever fruit was in the small box set off to the side, on a chair. Something in her wanted to see what was in the box, if it was a fruit or gold. Maybe it was the pirate's blood.
Red hair flickered into the room and towards the ceiling when all the men had been preoccupied. Keeping silent was easy. She shifted her way slowly towards the other side of the room and dropped down behind the chair the box sat upon. As much as she would dislike admitting to herself later in life, but her father and his crewmates weren't the most sensitive pirates. They couldn't detect a small thief opening the unlocked box and taking out its treasure.
She retreated back to her room the same way she had come. In the hall she could hear the faint thud of the box entering the hole and the relieved grunts of putting the floor boards back where they were. None of their crew had wanted to be cursed, no matter what the great prize they would receive, and now they thought the future threat was safe.
On her cushioned, shell bed grey eyes could finally observe what she had taken- the spoils of her first act of theft. It was a fruit, she had heard correctly, but it was strange. It was like a frozen ball of fire, flame tendrils lifting up its side, unmoving. The skin of the fruit had a swirl pattern and was light blue in color. She set the fruit aside as she pulled out a notebook where she would write her adventure from that night while it was still fresh in her mind and add a sketch of the fruit. After, she pushed the fruit under her pillow and went to sleep.