It came out of nowhere, and rather sharply-her will to live.
With not so much as a bag to carry, she had been kidnapped on the only road trip she had ever known, therefore, there was not much to hope for. She was currently on a ship heading east, she was certain thanks to the cruel winds that she was on the Grand Line with a pirate crew that had taken her as bait. She was currently crouching on the floor of the ship, her back pressed against the sides; her eyes trailed across one drunk pirate after the other. Her biggest battle at the moment was a sneeze, which threatened to let her captors remember that she was still with them. They seemed to have forgotten from all of last night's cheering. Pirates needed no reason to celebrate at all.
It was a moment after did she smell the gasoline in the air. Her nose wasn't particularly strong at catching odors, but this smell she could distinguish rather keenly. She turned to her left, towards where the ship was heading, and squinted to get a clearer picture of what was ahead. She could see nothing from an upcoming storm, the skies were as grey as her irises. She breathed in, and in came some wetness from a cold she had caught not too long ago, and stood up rather quietly. The smell of gasoline just got stronger and stronger by the minute, and when she turned her head to check if the pirates were aware, she was not really disappointed. They were passed out, randomly, across deck.
She took small steps toward the helm, which was left unattended. However, the moment she stood in front of the brown wheel, her eyes widened with fear. A battleship made its appearance, a sperm headed whale was imprinted as the figurehead. It was incredibly massive, and the ship she was on was in direct contact of this other ship. She would be an idiot if she didn't know whose ship it was, but it was far too late for her to do anything at the moment. She grabbed on to the helm, despite knowing that it could land her into serious trouble, and turned it to the side as much as she could-but, to no avail. The girl let out a gasp as the ship collided with the Moby Dick, Yonko Shirohige's main flagship.
This woke everyone on her ship. When the ship collided, all eyes fell on her as if she were to be blamed. It was at this moment, did her will to live return, and turning to face the hungover captain who steadily made his way to grab her hair, she reached forward and whispered,
"Implode."
The mast behind him made a whistling noise, stopping the short captain from moving anymore and turning toward the sound. And a moment later, the mast exploded-pieces of wood scattering everywhere with great speed. However, that was the least of her concern, it was an ability she had discovered not too long ago, and an ability she didn't want to welcome. Before she could take another step forward, the entire deck was light blue in color; it was a dazzling flame, so bright it almost burned her vision. However, with the lack of nourishment and rest, the girl could not be awake any longer than this.
Before she passed out however, there was one image that stuck to her head. A pineapple, making its way toward her with a rather concerned expression on its face.
"She was clearly a slave-oi," was the voice that woke her up.
She was still groggy, and it felt as if somebody had sewn her eyes shut. She reached forward, both her arms in front of her, it was then she realized that she was lying on her back on a rather hard surface. And suddenly, her eyes weren't sewn anymore.
She opened them with a great intensity. The first thing she saw was a man with brown hair, styled in a pompadour. Her breath stuck in her throat, but she made no attempt to scream. She brought her hands back to her sides and focused on regaining all her senses.
"So, then. Were you?" The brown haired male said, smiling at her.
She cocked her eyebrow. She had no clue what he was talking about. Or even if he was addressing her at all in the first place.
"Were you a slave on that little ship?" He asked again, offering her a hand.
She didn't take it, but sat up on her own. She frowned a little bit, not knowing what to call herself. She breathed out sharply before trying to recall what had happened.
Oh, that's right. She remembered. Shirohige's ship… Her eyes widened and she felt it. Her breath was stuck in her throat as she felt that immense power radiating behind her; it was strongly intimidating, and her mind went on to compare and think of a near future where she could easily be killed without a moment's hesitation. However, she knew something about Shirohige that many didn't, and keeping that in mind, the girl could calm down.
"What's your name?" Shirohige asked, his voice was coming from a distance behind her.
She turned around to take a glimpse of him before turning back. She was still feeling very tired from all the lack of nourishment; despite resting, she needed food to finally get back up on her feet. She let the crew know this when her stomach growled rather loudly, earning a chuckle from the brown haired man. She looked at him before blinking a couple of times, wondering where he was headed to now.
"My name is Emilia. I was on that ship as a prisoner, I think. I don't know what I was, really. They got to me one night when I was intoxicated. I plan on never drinking again." Her social anxiety made her mumble things unnecessary, but that didn't bother her at the moment.
"Face me, child, when you talk to me." Whitebeard advised, and the girl did as she was told.
He was a large man, that was for certain. He had a long face, ploughed because of the advanced age with many wrinkles around his eyes, and many scars running along his chest, and was very muscular. He wore a black bandanna around his head and adorned himself with a white captain's coat, which hung loosely from his broad shoulders and bore his Jolly Roger symbol. He was bare-chested, and wore light, loose pants tucked inside his large black boots, and a dark pirate sash around his waist. What surprised her, however, was the oxygen that he was being supplied. She blinked a couple of times to take this information in. As if he noticed her looking, Shirohige chuckled loudly before pointing to the oxygen tank.
"I'm not as young as I used to be, girl." Was all he said.
Emilia nodded. What more could she say? A moment later, a plate full of food was shoved in front of her, her eyes staring at the meal for a moment before nodding and politely thanking the brown haired man who gave it to her. She once looked at Shirohige before indirectly asking him if she could begin eating.
"Quite mannered. You're not a pirate, oi?" Came a voice which was slightly familiar.
She looked at this person and a pang of reminiscence hit her. She turned slightly red when she remembered having thought of him as a talking pineapple, but that thought was her own and she didn't need to share this information. She shook her head in response to what he was asking her and began eating, slowly. Just because she hadn't eaten in two days does not mean she cannot eat like a civilized person. Her mother had taught her rather well on how to handle extreme hunger gracefully.
Whitebeard, on the other hand, just watched her. There was an eerie resemblance with this girl, about someone he knew from the past. Someone he didn't like all too well. However, Whitebeard was smart and rational enough to not link one resemblance to someone he had just met, and act on it. However, it pricked him like a needle, constantly. Her eyes were what stood out most. He didn't want to impose on the girl and scare her off, she was polite and not a pirate, after all-caught in one of the strongest fleets that were roaming the oceans. For some reason, he felt not anger but pity for the girl, who seemed to be lost all on her own.
After finishing the meal, she placed the plate beside her and sat down straight to face Shirohige. Her eyes looked calm now, as if she had processed the entire situation she was in rather well, and looked at the Captain of the ship with an emotionless expression. He was surprised to see that she seemed fearless, but most people were easy to break if he wanted them to. If she tried to impose or attempt to intimidate, she was both stupid and done for.
"Shirohige-san," This alerted him. She knew who he was. "I am not afraid of you."
This caused him to erupt into laughter, his crewmates expect the one who served her food and the pineapple, followed in. Emilia sat there, cold and composed, waiting for the laughter to cease. No expression on her face while she waited.
"Is that so?" Whitebeard asked.
"Yes. I know I have no chance of survival if I do put up a fight here. I'm outnumbered and I won't last a minute against such strong men. However, I won't go down without giving you a fight." She stated, stil calm.
Shirohige knew that most men who threaten him were crazy. There seemed to be no sign of crazy linked to this girl, and that was what stirred in some amount of curiosity within him. His first mate, Marco, noticed this and kept mum about the same. Emilia, a random pick up slave girl from a puny ship, seemed to make Shirohige, one of the Yonko roaming the seas, think about what she had to say. If there was strength in her that made this possible, Marco doubted, however, Marco knew that there was something more.
What was more was the resemblance that seemed to bother Shirohige quite a bit. He narrowed his eyes, a look that could have scared her if she was someone who can be scared, but she didn't budge.
"Could it be… that you are related to-"
"I would not like to talk of any lineage here, Shirohige-san. I'm no pirate. I'm simply looking to get to the end of the Grand Line. You see, my business is not yours. I somehow happened to be washed on to this ship and I apologize for the trouble that I might have caused. I am deeply indebted to you for helping me when I could have sunk and died. Drop me off at the nearest island and I will be on my way, and will never cross paths with you again." She made it sound like a promise.
This girl can be seventeen or eighteen years old, not more, Shirohige thought, before considering what she had said. But, before he could say anything, Marco decided to step in.
"What makes you think you can order us around, oi?" He was frowning, but Shirohige knew he simply wanted to get more words out of Emilia's mouth.
Emilia didn't budge. She blinked once before sticking her gaze onto Marco.
"I've heard that Shirohige-san is quite the reasonable man. He won't kill someone who has nothing to offer. After all, he doesn't consider loot his treasure. Isn't that so?" Emilia turned to look at the large Captain before he chuckled.
"The next island is in two hours. You can get off there. Unless you're willing to stay."
This surprised the crew a great deal, but they didn't show it. It surprised Emilia as well, and her eyes widened. She sat up before bowing down at Whitebeard, earning a gasp from the brown haired male who was standing beside her.
"I'm not a pirate. And I want to look for the answers to my questions on my own. Despite you knowing them, Shirohige-san. I don't want the easy way out." Emilia sounded earnest, at least he could give her that.
It was a moment later did everyone begin minding their own business on the ship. Emilia stood up, focusing on the blood now suddenly rushing to her legs, having had enough of conversation for the day. She walked to the side of the ship and stared out into the ocean. She had always found the ocean quite fascinating, but was never brave enough to set sail. Ever since what had happened, and having been forced, she was thankful for the sudden turn of events; however, if she could take back everything that had occurred, she would.
It was during moments of silence did the past intend to haunt her. It was somewhere close to being around time time of dusk, and in two hours when she reaches the island, it'd be dark. Her head was heavy and she felt slightly hungry again, but was too embarrassed to ask. She was grateful that no one was coming and talking to her, because her anxiety would only make her say things she didn't want to reveal, and make a fool out of herself. She wasn't always this way, she believed. She remembered a time when she was able to make conversation and smile at people she didn't know. She didn't have to turn a blind eye to anyone, because back then, she didn't believe everyone she met had the potential to kill her. Now, she was forced to doubt and deceive, the latter she doesn't like doing as much. The waves she was staring at swallowed her whole, her mind was recalling the torment that she was still trying to run from.
But, how can you run from your own mind? And how far can you go?
"A penny for your thoughts, Miss Emilia?" Came a familiar voice, it was the brown haired male who had given her food.
Her first instinct was to smile but she ended up staring at him for too long, so she looked away. He chuckled a bit before standing aside her, sharing her view. Emilia was suddenly very aware of his presence, but there was nothing she could do. She wanted to observe his movements and intend not to fool herself, but even that took courage that she didn't currently have.
"Well, won't lie to you. We're all curious about you. Not that we care, but people are curious, you know? We don't know where you came from and from the entire scene back there, you not being scared of pops shows us all that you've got potential," He said, smiling. "Not to mention, you turned down an offer at being one of us."
"I don't intend to become a pirate just yet." Emilia said, swiping some of her black locks behind her ear.
It was when she made this small movement did the brown haired man notice her features. She was not too tall, but couldn't be considered short. She wasn't frail, she had some flesh around her hands and legs, but seemed like she had lost weight from sudden exercise. Her hair reached the back of her neck and was dark black in color, with no tangles here or there. It was straight and well behaved for a girl who was kidnapped. Her eyes resembled the dark clouds, grey from a distance and from up close, traces of silver could be found lining the iris. She had a sharp nose, and visibly sharp features-if she were groomed well enough, taking away all the scratches and dirt on her face, she could pass off as a nice waitress somewhere along the shorelines. This directed his attention to her attire. She wore a black top that reached her hips, showing skin slightly at the tugging of her brown shorts. She adorned black boots which covered her ankles, and for someone who was on the seas, she was dressed rather simple.
The brown haired man, Thatch, smiled at this. She had a story, that much was certain, something Shirohige and herself shared; if there was something their pops knew, then he would slowly find out as well. There were no secrets on board. But, that didn't have to happen in front of her. Perhaps, he wondered, if she knew this as well.
"If you don't mind me," Emilia said, almost in a whisper. "I'm a little hungry again. Forgive me, I haven't had any food in two days until you gave me that plate of-"
Thatch laughed heartily before patting the girl's back, causing her eyes to widen with embarrassment. Thatch smiled warmly at her, quite unlike a pirate, before leading her to the front of the deck. No one else was bothered to have noticed this exchange. She was relatively less embarrassed now. Once she was given more food, Thatch began observing her again. He left her to her thoughts and headed to Whitebeard, who seemed to be in a conversation with Marco about the very thing that he intended to talk to them about.
"So, what's her deal?" Thatch asked, grinning.
"She's after someone. Let her be. Perhaps, we'll cross paths again someday," Shirohige said, not even looking at her.
Thatch and Marco were surprised.
"Having her here on my ship makes me a little mad at the reason behind why she's here in the first place. But, I can't blame her for anything that happened in the past. She's just as lost as anyone else. Just as human." His words were not answering either of their questions, except one. The question that wondered if he would share information with them.
The answer was no.
They reached the island a little short of two hours. The Moby Dick was quite fast indeed, and once they reached the shore, Thatch nodded at Whitebeard before heading over to Emilia, who seemed not very eager to depart. Not that she had grown to like the Whitebeard pirates, but more because she seemed lazy. Emilia blinked at Thatch before bowing in thanks for him, which he received awkwardly, earning a smirk from both Marco and Whitebeard. Thatch chuckled nervously before handing her a piece of paper.
"A Vivre card?" She asked, reaching out to take it from Thatch's grasp.
He nodded before muttering, "Maybe you'll take us up on that offer someday. When you've found what you're looking for and if you think you can share your story with us, come say hello. We don't think of you as an enemy, just yet." Thatch joked.
"Thanks." Was all Emilia said before looking at Whitebeard.
She was supposed to feel something. This man was someone remarkable, with regard to her past, but there was no direct link between them. He knew it, and so did she. She nodded once, before understanding that it wasn't enough. The crew then witnessed the first frown on Emilia's face that evening. She walked closer to where Whitebeard was, not alerting anyone else on this sudden movement, and bowed down with deep respect.
"I'm thankful that you don't think of me as an enemy. Thank you. I won't forget this. I'm indebted to you, Shirohige-san. Farewell." She said, before offering a half-smile and taking off.
She was sure, right then, that she would never see them again. But, the vivre card gave her a sense of hope. Right then, a legendary exchange had occured. Just, no one but herself and Whitebeard knew about it. She smiled to herself a little bit before getting off the Moby Dick.
He certainly is a man of principle, Emilia thought as she walked through the port. He hates my father and yet, showed such kindness to me. One of the only people who know my past who've treated me as a separate individual. Emilia walked past the port with nothing but gratitude in her mind. From the past, the one thing that had stopped her from working on anything, or revealing her own name-her desire to be a pirate, everything had been linked to this piece of history that Emilia was forced to hide about herself. What she was not ashamed of, she was forced to look down upon. At a young age, she had understood what it meant to be tainted by history, and all her life, somehow, Emilia had been living with constant fear of being discovered and discriminated for this fact; therefore, young Emilia had always been living in hiding.
However, this time, being Silvers Rayleigh's daughter was something she carried rather casually if not proudly, and walked by with no such fear. It was a funny thing, this will to live, it seemed to pierce her most when she was running away from it.
Author's Note: Hello, readers! I know, it's been a while since I've posted anything. I recently binged on One Piece and rediscovered my love for Ace and I felt the need to write this story again. The previous one had far too many mistakes and the lead was someone I could no longer relate to. I hope this story turns out better, and I have a feeling that it will. I hope you all enjoyed this. Stay tuned for more updates. Thank you! :)
