Sorry about the delay in posting this chapter. I have been terribly swamped with school work as well as having an upper respiratory infection that nearly sent me to the hospital. Also my beta readers take their sweet time. Love those guys~*~*~

Thanks to everyone who faved, added to their watchlist, and all that jazz. I really appreciate the support and it encourages me to write.

A special thanks to the sweet, wonderful, beautiful, glorious children who reviewed. This chapter is dedicated to you guys. LOVE YOU~

Dreamwritergoddess: Thank you! I'm sorry about it lacking a One Piece feel. The combination of switched genders, AU universe, and dark themes with lack of uplifting humor probably has a huge part in that. Hopefully the introduction of other OP characters will help. If not please keep telling me! Any suggestions on how to make it feel more OP would be welcomed as well.

Incredible-Cillit-Bang: THANKS! Keep speculating and keep telling me about it!

This story is a rewrite of an original story I am doing for my creative writing class, and while I get a lot of feedback from my class mates, they don't read it as a fanfiction. So please give me all the feedback you can especially in regards to the fandom. Please don't be afraid to talk to me! I love getting suggestions! And pretty soon I'll be asking you, my most beloved readers, your opinions on how you want this story to go via polls and questions in the A\N. Or on tumblr if enough ffbros join me there.

Anyway, enjoy please.


Chapter 2: Ugly

"I can't believe you actually took him up on his offer Pops."

Newgate simply grinned at his much younger crew mate, not taking offense to the boy's disbelief.

"Why wouldn't I? Declining a dinner invitation is incredibly rude."

The young brunette staring up at him with an incredulous glare seemed a little more than put off by his captain's choice.

"But he's a nobleman and he owns slaves! I would have thought you'd have a little more pride. Maybe I don't want a dad who associates with slave owners."

"Gurarara! Have some faith! I won't be leaving empty-handed. It's not every day you get a chance to rob a higher elite without the hassle of breaking and entering. So take it easy."

This seemed to please the young man since he forgave his captain quickly and shot him a sly grin.

"So what's our plan?"

Newgate shook his head, returning the young man's grin with an apologetic smile.

"Not 'our' - just me. Sorry son."

The boy visibly deflated and let out a loud, exaggerated sigh that took his entire body to perform.

"You get to have all the fun. You better bring me back something nice then."

The boy pushed his father's hand away as the large man tried to tousle his hair then sulked off to help his brothers with the ship, mumbling a string of curses he more than likely picked up from his father. Their ship required a lot of man handling as it was a piece of junk, not much better than a dingy. The thing was built by a moron, and even someone like himself, who didn't know a thing about building ships could see that. But it was all they could afford at the moment.

If everything went as planned they might finally acquire a larger ship, one he could actually fit on comfortably, being a man well above average height. More crewmates would have to be arranged, as three was a rather small and unintimidating number. Well, if he counted himself it was four but that still wasn't any better.

A glance at the sun told Newgate it was about time that he shed these gruff pirate clothes and sport something a little more formal. He doubted he could hoodwink that brat noble if he walked in looking like a ship rat. If he dressed proper and put on an extra good performance then it would be much easier to gain his trust and raid his vault. He had a vault, didn't he? That's what rich folks had, right?

What a bother. Being sneaky and lying weren't his strongest points. He was more a man of action, and in all honesty he'd rather just storm the place and make off with the loot, like a respectable pirate, but he barely had a crew and they were all children. He wouldn't risk their lives for something as ridiculous as money.

Money was easy to obtain, it was abundant and usually in the hands of idiots. Good trustworthy people were not as abundant and not easy to obtain. These kids were young, but they were worth more than money, any amount of it. They were his family.

That also happened to be one of the reasons he even agreed to this little tea party. If he had refused they wouldn't have been able to leave the Island in peace; despite his strength there was no way he could protect their tiny boat, himself, and his three kids from the army he knew this noble had. Ever since those well dressed soldiers had walked up on him and handed him that fancy parchment inviting him to dine with the so called king of this island, he had been scoping the place out. There were armed soldiers on every street.

It was just easier to play along until he could ensure their escape and safety. Of course, he couldn't let on to his sons that this was the reason; they would be insulted for sure. He trusted the kids to take care of themselves, but at the same time he knew their limitations. None of them were over fourteen yet and despite early talent, they were still just babies compared to him. He had to walk at their pace until they could keep up with him.

The saying, "That'll hurt in the morning" had never meant much to her, but after last night it became more true than the iron bars surrounding her. If she thought that she had been in pain before, then she didn't even know what the word meant.

With barely three hours of rest, she had been woken by the sweet aroma of food. The room she was in reeked of it, and that in turn caused her stomach to have a tantrum. She doubled over and clutched the angry organ, but that only aggravated the knife wounds. Every wrong move she made felt like her back was splitting open, and in some places it probably was.

It wasn't long before her head started to throb like someone had struck her. Not a moment after she felt it, she determined that it was most likely from oncoming dehydration. All the blood loss and sweating had depleted her. She hadn't had a drink of water in almost a day on top of it.

Other slaves of the house ran past her cage, in and out of the room. A table, a very large table, had already been set up in the center of the long room. She hadn't noticed it before, mostly because the room had never been used while she had been residing here, but this did seem like a dining room. The walls were lined with pillars, and it was longer than it was wide. And everything was white or gold.

For a brief moment she pondered why he would place her cage in the dining room. It didn't seem an appropriate place. But then, the master only saw her as a status symbol, so of course he would want her where he could flaunt her. Not me, she reminded herself. The master didn't care about her, it was the power she possessed that he loved so dearly.

A thick woman, dressed in a rather fancy looking uniform broke through the girl's train of thought by lighting lanterns she hadn't noticed until now. In fact, she began to realize a handful of the slaves were wearing similar uniforms that she had never seen before. Trying to impress whoever this guest was with a show of wealth it seemed.

The girl sighed and tried to get comfortable. She may as well try going back to sleep. No matter how hard she tried though, sleep never came. The pain and hunger mixed with all the noise of the busy servants made it impossible. So, she preoccupied herself with watching all the people scurrying around likes bugs, as if it mattered.

A gaudy clock, nearly as big as the wall, ticked away the seconds, dragging them out as if they were hours.

A little more than thirty minutes after her attempt at sleep, a group of young female slaves surrounded her cage, all sizing her up with varying degrees of haughtiness.

"There isn't much to work with, is there?"

The child instinctually squashed herself against the back of the cage, watching the girls with a fixed apprehensive stare. The cold bars pressed into the scores of slashes that lined her back half. Agony swept over her, but she kept silent as the girls giggled.

"No there most certainly is not. But I suppose we must."

"Yes of course."

Four of them shared another round of giggles, while the fifth just stood awkwardly off to the side, before unlocking and opening the door to her cell. A blonde one, the leader of the group it looked like, stood in the doorway and motioned for the child to get out.

She hesitated but deemed that the group of bubbly idiots wasn't a threat, and complied. Whatever the girls had planned was better than sitting in that awful cage all day again.

It was hard for her to get out, her wounds protested with every move she made and stiff bones refused to behave. Blondie seemed to be getting impatient, and she waved over a more homely girl, who gently picked the child up and held her. Homely smiled, and the girl determined that she liked Homely very much and didn't mind being carried by her.

The ladies headed off then, gossiping, giggling, and just generally being annoying. The halls they walked were bursting with activity. Tired women rushed past the group with cleaning supplies and elegant dishes. It seemed the whole house was in a frenzy. This pirate must be an important person for the master to want to impress him so bad. It was a little strange to her that the master would even want to impress a pirate. Weren't they criminals? For a man who was so concerned about who he associated with, the idea of a pirate in the house seemed absurd.

She didn't have long to ponder what was so special about him, before she was steered into a room and away from the bustling bodies of the slaves.

The ladies immediately went to preparing, though she wasn't sure what. It only took a glance for her to figure out that she was in a bathroom of sorts. There was a large tub and an equally large salon area. It must have been where the female slaves of the house bathed.

Blondie walked over and stared the child down.

"Alright. Despite the uh, challenge ahead of us, we were assigned to make you beautiful, and that's what we're going to do. Don't give me any trouble little girl! I was authorized to use force, like this."

The child pressed her face into Homely's neck, but kept her eye on what Blonde Girl was doing. She pulled out a remote of some kind and pressed a red button.

Homely girl could barely hold on to the child as her body jerked and she clutched at the silver collar around her neck. Blondie rolled her eyes and sighed.

"See? If you misbehave I'll just press this button here, and that little jolt of electricity will make your day hell. So just behave ok? All we want to do is give you a makeover. It's not going to hurt, and you'll feel nicer after it's over. Ok? You hear me? Ok?"

The child didn't move, or acknowledge the lady; her body trembled and stayed pressed against Homely. Blondie placed her hand on a swung out hip.

"What a dumb kid. Anyways, in the tub you go."

Homely glanced up at the much taller Blondie.

"You didn't have to shock her. She hadn't even done anything."

Blondie dismissed Homely with a finger pointed at the tub.

"I was just asserting my authority. Who knows what kind of wild heathen this child is? Just look at her."

Homely sat the child down and with a little effort managed to get her to let go. With considerate hands, Homely helped the tiny girl shed her filthy clothes. Next, she started unraveling her bandages, which in turn caused the child to panic. She jerked away and clutched the cloth to her chest.

Homely smiled again, easing some of the tension away, and held her hand out.

"Come now sweetheart, I won't hurt you, I promise."

After a moment of contemplating, the girl decided Homely was telling the truth, and allowed the bandages to be removed, but she kept a sharp eye on all of them.

The woman's fingers worked briskly but softly. She felt the fabric sliding to the floor. A sharp pain in her back forced a muffled gasped; the bandage had snagged a stitch.

Homely was awfully quiet, and had stopped unwrapping. Blondie walked over to see what had caused her drone to stop working. She let out a long low whistle.

"I had heard that this kid was a trouble maker, but damn. She must be some firecracker."

Homely resumed unwrapping, a little more considerate of the stitches this time.

"It's awful. How could anyone do this to a child?"

"With a knife obviously. You're too soft Olive. Don't you go getting lovey-dovey with this brat. We've all worked too hard to get on the master's good side to risk it for a kid. Especially this kid. You want to go back to sleeping on stone floors?"

Olive shook her head.

"No, of course not."

"Then shut it and let's get this over with."

The water wasn't warm, but it wasn't that cold either. It aggravated her cuts, but it was bearable. She was excited about getting a bath, she wasn't allowed one very often, and she rather enjoyed them.

She liked water, despite her inability to swim. Rain was her favorite. She didn't get to see rain very much anymore, but the sound of thunder was comforting.

The girls had turned away from her, and she was left to stare at the liquid with a parched throat. So with very little hesitation she started cupping the water in her dirty hands and drinking deeply. She didn't get much before Olive came back and gently grabbed her arm.

"No don't drink that. Here."

She turned the faucet on and filled a pitcher, with a very neutral expression, then handed it to the girl. And so she drank until she felt she would burst.

Olive rolled up her pants legs, and swung her feet into the water, then placed herself on the edge of the tub.

The sympathy that had been in Olive's eyes was gone. Now it was just a cool indifference. The child supposed she wasn't more important than a comfortable place to sleep. Not a problem; no one had ever treated her as more than an object, so she was use to being looked at like she wasn't there. In fact she felt better this way. They could all just pretend that they had never met.

Olive was still gentle, despite her current outlook. She scrubbed the grim away from the child's body. The tub water was turning a dark grey, and the girl felt a little sick thinking she had drank that water, despite it having been rather clean when she did. Olive let the water out and proceeded to wash the child with clean water. She was surprised to find out the girl's hair was blonde, a very bright blonde. It reminded her of the sun.

"Ahahaha! She doesn't have any hair, except on the top of her head. How ugly! I expect she'll be bald by the time she's 17!"

Blondie had walked over to check on the progress, when she noticed the child's unusual hair cut. At first she had simply thought the hair was so matted that it only looked like she was partially bald. The other girls stopped what they were doing and came to giggle with the blonde.

"Her head kind of looks like a pineapple, no?"

This comment caused another round of laughter, and the girls then decided they would dub the child, Pineapple.

The child touched her head. No one had ever called her ugly before, but then no one had ever called her beautiful either.

Her earlier years in the slave trade were filled with the desire for communication. She wanted people to notice her, to talk to her. Even if it was just spiteful, horrible things. She had always believed that not hearing anything was worse, but after today she realized it hurt either way.

The child wasn't vain, and didn't much care for appearances, but she couldn't help how that one word made her heart sink. Heat rose to her cheeks, and she turned away from them.

Olive shooed the others away, and continued cleaning the child.

With a rinse, she was plucked from the tub and wrapped in a soft towel. Her wounds were quickly rewrapped and then she was placed in a chair in front of a full body mirror with large light bulbs buzzing at the top

It was too bright over here, and the girl had to shut her eyes.

The others began fussing around her head. She felt objects poking, gliding, and scraping across her face. The sound of scissors snipping blended in with the sound of the hair dryer and constant gossip.

The child was afraid to open her eyes and see what they were doing. Every once in a while she was asked to lift or lower her head, or open her eyes, but even if she did she avoided looking at the mirror.

She felt them clipping at her fingers and toes, and powdering her skin. She had always heard that women relished in such pampering, but she just wanted it to stop. How could anyone enjoy such evasive and painful procedures? She was being poked, prodded, scratched, and touched. The touching was the worst. So many hands were pulling and tugging on skin and hair. She wasn't use to being handled like this, people rarely touched her.

"Hey Pineapple."

The girl opened her eyes and looked at Blondie. She was holding a large needle and some gold pieces of metal. From where she was there was no telling what the metal was. Blondie stepped forward and leaned down to be face to face with her.

"Now be still."

The needle was stabbed through the lob of her left ear. There was barely time for her to wince before the same was done to the right side. Suddenly the mystery of the gold metal was solved. She was getting her ears pierced. It didn't hurt, she didn't really feel anything. But then again, after having a knife slice down your back a needle to an ear was nothing.

Blonde girl poked the earrings into placed and clasped them shut. Then she moved out of the way and the girls, all but Olive, walked away to some unknown place to do some unknown task. The child was far too occupied with her image in the mirror to even bother keeping tabs on the others. Who was that?


A/N: Another one done! Please tell me what you think!