Author's Note: Part three! If anyone is wondering, I believe the word "oujousama" can also be spelled "ojousama", or we could just call her Miss Kaya, but I tend to go with "oujousama" myself, so bear with me. Also, you'll probably want to know by the end of this chapter that "ame" means "rain" in Japanese.
Merry has turned out to be so much fun to write about!

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"Merry," gasped Kaya. "I had no idea... about any of that." She put her arms around his neck and hugged him quickly, before looking back to the photos of the little girl. "So this is your daughter?"

He was frantically rubbing his eyes when she turned back to him, and she put a hand on his shoulder. "You really don't have to tell me anything else, you know. I'm so sorry I made you--"

"No, no, Oujousama. You're the only one I've told the whole story to. But I warn you... it's not going to get any more pleasant, not for awhile anyway."

"Oh, Merry... don't go on if you can't."

"I want to, really." He took one of the pictures lightly in his hands and smiled distantly before he continued his story.

Sometime after Sera's passing, I realized I had a baby daughter to take care of, and I started to come out of the deep depression I'd found myself wallowing in. The girl was precious, somewhat weak but growing stronger every day. I called her Ame. She was very smart, and after I got used to the idea of her being there, I found myself talking to her as though she knew exactly what I was saying. I carried her in a satchel on my back everywhere I went, and her eyes lit up when we went on our weekly market trips to the town. But more than anything, she loved to play with the models I used to study shipbuilding anytime I had a free moment. I was intent on designing my own ship and building it personally, so I was able to keep myself busy enough with that and raising a baby.

Ame was three years old when your parents were married, Oujousama. Your mother didn't much like her, I'm afraid--I think she blamed Ame for being born out of wedlock, but she managed to hide her disdain from the child anyway. And she did buy a beautiful little dress for Ame to wear at their wedding, which seemed to please her as much as fancy clothing can please a three-year-old.

When the house gained its first lady in years, things began to slowly change. More maids were hired, and she swore she would leave if we did not get rid of the slave bands we all wore. So we did, and I was able to scratch my wrists for the first time in twenty-eight years. Then she insisted we all dress in black and white--dresses for the women, suits for the men--and clean the house twice a week. Thankfully, she allowed your father to keep paying us, because Ame was turning out to be more of a financial burden than I first expected.

She followed me everywhere, too--to the market, cleaning the house, buying what little supplies I could afford to build my ship. She never begged for toys, but one day she saw a plain little turquoise dress in a window that she wanted, so I decided to forego my weekly tool-buying excursion to get her that instead. She wore it almost every day, either barefooted or with clunky hand-me-down boots from one of the town women. She's wearing it in all of those pictures, you see?

She "helped" me build the first, rough skeleton of the ship, and I should never have let her get near that place. She was my entire world by that point--five years old, and always happy, always singing or skipping and completely ignoring the neighborhood children who laughed at her for being so poor. I knew she was fascinated with the ship, but children can be surprising, and I had no idea what she was planning in her little head.

I should have known... little comments and questions should have led me to realize that she wanted to climb up to the top of that skeleton. I think she wanted to fly--she always talked about how she wished she had wings, or wished she was a bird. I joked with her and told her maybe she would find a Devil Fruit someday, and then she could turn into a bird.

I don't know how she managed to sneak out... I guess I was just too asleep to hear her. But something woke me up a little bit later, and I knew something was wrong before I even noticed that she was gone. When I saw her empty bed, I jumped out of mine and threw on pants and an undershirt--no shoes, even, before I ran to your parents' room and beat on the door.

"Wake up! Wake up!" I kept shouting, but there was no answer, and I checked the door--it was unlocked, and no one was there. But out the window I could see a cluster of lights in the distance, so I ran for that instead.

The closer I got, the more dread ate away at my heart. I was sick when I realized the lights were lanterns, coming from the beach where the in-progress ship was under construction. But the crowd was so thick that I couldn't tell exactly what was going on, and I breathed out hopes and prayers every step of the way. Then I began to shove my way to the center, not even opening my mouth to apologize for pushing people.

But one of those people was your father, who flung his arms around my torso and shrieked, "No, Merry! Stay back!" Your mother hovered at his side, staring at me, so horrified, as though I were some sort of a monster.

I struggled to get out of your father's grip, shouting incoherently all the while, but to no avail. He shouted back, every time slightly louder, "Merry, listen to me! Listen! Listen to me!"

"Where is my daughter?" I finally cried, meeting his eyes for the first time that night. "Where is Ame?"

"She must have snuck out of the house," he answered softly. "She was here, climbing on the ship."

Your mother turned her eyes to him and said, "Tell him the truth, or I will."

I was gasping and frantic, but I stopped fighting and asked in a wild voice, "Tell me what? Tell me! What is it?"

But neither of them could find the words, and I found a sudden raging strength to break away from your father and force my way through the rest of the crowd, emerging on the other side to find a doctor bending over a small body lying next to the ship. Some kind of animalistic scream escaped my throat, and I stumbled to them, with your parents close behind me. The doctor's eyes were steely when he saw me standing next to him, but I hardly cared; I was breathing rapidly and trying to control myself as much as possible, but I couldn't pull my gaze away.

"This is your daughter," the doctor said, as if I didn't know that. I nodded and swallowed the vomit building up in my throat.

"She fell from the top of this ship," he went on.

"Can't you help her?" I asked, kneeling by her and reaching out to pick her up.

He stopped me with only his eyes. "No, I'm afraid I can't."

"...Why not?" My voice was nearly gone, but he heard me anyway.

"Because," he huffed, "I could have done something if it was only an arm or leg she broke. But not her spine. People don't just recover from that."

I heard your mother mutter something behind me, and your father knelt next to me, moving his gaze from the crumpled child to my absolutely appalled face. He nodded to the doctor, who stepped away, and the motion brought me back to reality. I remember picking up her body and holding it close for a long while, as the crowd behind me dispersed and everyone except your parents left the scene. And I remember pulling in a shaking breath, pausing, then screaming at the top of my lungs... over and over and over into the night, until I must have passed out.

Oh, Oujousama... I told you it was not a good story... if you cry, it will only make me cry again too.

Oujousama, can we put these pictures away? ...thank you.

The next three years were a complete and utter nightmare. I wanted to destroy the original skeleton of the ship, but your father talked me out of it. But I put away the blueprints and pulled the thing inland so I wouldn't have to think about it anymore, and it was years until I repaired it and got back to work.

At the end of that three-year mourning, your mother suddenly announced one evening that she was going to have a baby. Something about the excitement of preparing for the new heir or heiress to the family fortune infected everyone in the house, including me, and we all began to build and paint and decorate for an oncoming child. I smiled when I thought I couldn't ever smile again, and people in the town even stopped me to ask what had happened to make me suddenly so happy.

I remember walking one day and bumping into a group of pirates who were trying unsuccessfully to buy some food from a merchant in the town. They were arguing about how they should be able to buy food, because at least they weren't trying to steal it... no, I'm not bringing this up for any reason, except that when the rest of those pirates left, one of them stayed for awhile longer--that was Usopp's father.

Yes, Oujousama, he is younger than you. I'm certain he knows that, but you can tell him when he comes back.

In any case, it seemed like it was no time until doctors and midwives were rushing in to your mother's room, and all of the men were sitting in the parlor smoking and joking around. I sat there too, but I didn't talk, and tried to stay as far away from the group as I could. But your father wouldn't have that, so he joined me eventually, offering me a cigarette.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm not worried."

"I'm not worried about the birth, I'm just worried about being a father," he laughed quietly. "Especially if it's a girl."

"It's not so bad," I answered, in a way that said I didn't want to talk anymore.

He stretched and then relaxed, sighing as he deflated. "You're right. Girls are less trouble, or so I've heard." When I didn't say anything, he went on. "Actually, Merry, we were talking the other night and we'd like to... hm. We'd like to ask you to be this child's godfather."

I blinked at him. "Why?"

"Well," he said, taken aback, "because! We want someone to take care of... him or her... in case something happens to us."

"...I am hardly capable of taking care of a child," I retorted finally. "Pick someone else, please."

"Oh shut up, Merry--I have complete faith in you. And I won't take no for an answer."

So what could I say? After a long while of sitting and seething, glaring daggers at him, I had to agree. Looking back, I'm so glad I did.