Oh, boy. This one took a long time to finish. Had a small writer's block. But it was solved thanks to manicherryblossom33 and their amazing fic about Dragon! Keep it up! Getting an alert to my email about a new chapter of A World of Difference always reminds me and gets me to write more of my own fic. Many thanks and wellbeings! If someone following this (and is not already) is interested about other fics about Dragon, they should definitely go check that one out!

That said, more notes at the end of the chapter.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or its characters. My own OCs and the plot in this one, though, I do own. Everything else belongs to Eiichiro Oda.

Chapter Three
Monkey Family

The next day,
Mt Corvo,
Mountain bandit's house

"So," Dadan began into the silence, "is it true that the weather revolves weirdly around you?"

No matter what it was, being the polishing of shoes, mute cursing or scratching behind his ear, everything Dragon did halted. He glanced slowly at the loitering Dadan sitting in the forenoon air sipping tea oh-so-coolly and stared at the woman for an expletive two minutes before answering.

"…No?" He wasn't really sure himself. True, there admittedly had been some odd sequences involving him and the weather, but he always convinced himself that they were nothing more than coincidences.

He wasn't so sure anymore though.

The incident with Yasen the year ago had actually involved lightning - it was a thunderbolt, no matter how Dragon wriggled around and denied it, that set the ground ablaze. Oftentimes Dragon felt like the weather sympathized with his moods, especially when he was feeling down.

But realistically it was not possible.

Weather did not bend to one's will or needs. It had no person nor character so it could not think. It was wild, raw, free, unpredictable. It did not die nor live, it just was. It was a goddamn force of nature, for goodness sake. And by no means did a mere human mind comprehend it, let alone control it. It just wasn't done.

But the so called coincidences were way too comfortable and frequent. The rain helped to hide the fears. The sun felt great with a content mind. Thunder strengthened the rage and justified it. Of course this didn't happen always according to his moods, so there was that also.

Still, the only case when anything incomprehensible was comprehensible that Dragon had heard of was in the case of the devil fruits. And Dragon was fairly certain he had not eaten one by accident. Mostly because they only supposedly grew in the Grand Line (if existed at all).

Besides, a devil fruit that could control the weather? What the hell even was that? That would compromise the whole bloody laws of nature. The mere context of the devil fruits was already incoherent enough, and sounded like a bunch of gibberish to make the stories more entertaining.

"…Why?" Dragon cautiously asked. Dadan merely huffed her shoulders and faced back to the newspaper in her hands. "Was just curious." She explained as if nonchalantly. Dragon kept looking at her with a blank expression. She was not fooling anyone but there was no way that Curly Dadan believed the stories that were told about a little boy and the overly convenient weather that followed him. About the odd, lonely kid who was called a monster. Dragon wouldn't have believed them either. So there was no way that a-

How old was Dadan again? She didn't look that old, but then again the most people were old compared to Dragon. But she wasn't completely young either and she was tall. Like really tall. When they had tried to strangle each other Dragon had had to wait until Dadan took her grip and only after that take his. Her constant frown also clouded Dragon's judgement of her age, and before he could process it, he had already popped the question.

"How old are you?" The worse part of the act was that he hadn't removed his gaze from her after inquiring why Dadan wanted to know about the weather and him.

Dadan flickered her gaze back at Dragon, and quite annoyed answered.

"What's it to you?" She spat. Dragon immediately regretted the question. But since he had already asked he could as well get the answer.

"Well, here I was thinking that considering your voice it could be like thirty but including the face it could be more." He huffed his shoulders. "Kind of in a pinch here, thought maybe you would want to enlighten me."

Dadan had pretty much snapped by the word thirty.

"You little rat, I'll fillet you!" She hissed. But then she miraculously calmed down and said. "It's nineteen, you pipsqueak. Now do your work."

Nineteen, huh? That was only five years older than Dragon.

Before he could get his thought to the end, though, Dadan and Dragon heard a smothered cry from the forest. Both of them froze and glanced towards the sound not seeing anything other than trees and bushes in a while. Then, a sole bandit ran to them panting and utterly terrified to the core. His speech was rabid gibberish and unfathomable even for the most professional linguist. Dragon and Dadan both raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other.

It didn't take long for a dozen more bandits to emerge sprinting out of the forest, some beat up, some less. This was all it took for Dadan to get up, take her axe and start the first menacing steps towards the woods. Dragon glanced at one of the beat up bandits closer, and his face paled when he recognized the customary places of the bruises. He began to warn Dadan but his sentence was cut short when a loud, uncontrolled and echoing voice resounded throughout the area.

"DRAGOOOON!" Dragon could have identified the voice even through his sleep.

All regard for warning the mountain bandit boss was thrown away as Dragon took the safest measure he could come up with at the moment - he ran. But it was already futile as his escape attempt was disrupted by a large fist that smacked him face first to the ground. The Dadan family watched in horror, Dragon didn't even have time to hex.

After the dust cloud had cleared, that same voice thundered above him.

"I do not approve of this, Dragon. First you let the house get into that state and now you're spending time with outlaws."

Dragon weakly got up nursing his head. "Oh shut up, old man."

A vein popped in the man's forehead and he prepared his fist. "Is that-" the fist came down, "really the first thing you say to your pops?"

Dragon avoided but it wasn't enough as the fist greeted his head nevertheless, and Dragon was brought back down on to his buttocks. The Dadan family had a hard time processing what was going on, standing utterly at a loss in the background.

Dragon held his growing lump and looked up at the figure. In front of him stood proudly the marine captain, Garp the Fist, his father. He was dressed in a violet tropical shirt and simple black pants and he had apparently began properly growing a beard recently, Dragon noted.

"I really should have persuaded Woop Slap to look after you," Garp continued his retort. Dragon felt annoyed.

"Hmph, like that'd ever work," he muttered.

A vein hardened in Garp's forehead. "It'd work, if we made it work."

Dragon looked away unamused. Garp's temper flared but he withstood it. "What are you doing here, anyway?" He said, looking around.

"Oh, you know, nothing," Dragon looked side ways at his father. You could practically see the red dots in Garp's eyes. Thankfully Dadan interrupted them before hell broke loose.

"Um… What's exactly going on here…?" She carefully asked. Garp turned at her way.

"And who're you?" He replied.

Dadan grinned. "Curly Dadan," she said in triumph and puffed up her chest. Dragon wanted to slap himself.

There was silence.

"Who?" Garp then questioned.

"OI," everyone else retorted pissed off and ready to bite. Garp turned back at Dragon who still sat on the ground.

"Anyway, we're going home," he concluded and grabbed Dragon from his collar and headed towards Windmill village ignoring his son's protests and wriggles.

It felt like this was a perennial thing already. Every time Dragon's father came back home for a holiday he would seek Dragon out, punch him with a 'Fist of Love', complain about the state of the house and drag him back home. The phenomenon was already past the point of being funny, now it was merely a routine. Well, at least Dragon knew when Garp would stay home longer.

Monkey D. Garp was tall and muscular man. He had broad shoulders and short black hair, and a circular scar over his left eye that he had had as long as Dragon could remember. He had also been in the marines as long as Dragon could remember - it appeared that he had joined them way before Dragon had been even born. That's where he had met Dragon's mother too as she had been a cook in the marines.

Garp had always been workaholic, not in the bad way, of course, as he was pretty laid-back after all, but he still had this unfathomable determination to catch criminals. That's where he had been when his wife had died - capturing some pirate. It wasn't that he didn't care - Dragon was aware of it - but there were things one just couldn't change after the decision had been made. And those would always stay with you, no matter how much you hoped for them to go away. And ignoring a fact like that was near impossible, especially if something as serious as death was in question.

But Dragon did care for his father, of course, and who wouldn't have? It was hard to earnestly hate a man who acted a lot like a child, was addicted to senbeis, laughed like it was the last day of his life and generally seemed like a total idiot and still cared for people around him in all seriousness. Garp had been an amazing father back when Dragon had been, say, nine years younger (at least judging by what he remembered). But no father-son relationship was ever simple, even though it was supposed to be the simplest thing there is - love between individuals, that is. Or so Dragon had heard, anyway. He had no ground to compare this saying to, so he couldn't know.

Still, Dragon couldn't help but feel exasperated. Sure, he was aware that being a marine was more of a way of life, a duty, than a profession, but no duty should be so important and so incontrovertible that it denied one's rights to seeing and spending time with one's family and friends - one's loved ones. He couldn't appreciate, not to mention relate to, something that excluded something that fundamental in life.

'You're going to become a strong marine,' the old man always cuckooed. Often he did it in an unsustainable and loud voice, most of the time accompanied by a fist. Fuck him and his pretend 'Fist of Love'. The blimey attack wasn't even his own. He had stolen it from Dragon's mother who had used it on Garp every time he had tried to do or did something frivolous. Garp had adopted it from his wife after she had died and had began to use it on Dragon ever since. It hurt. It was annoying. It hurt. It was ridiculously asinine, doing that to one's child. And it hurt. Hurt like hell. Like a load of acerbic rocks dropped from a high cliff, but centralized in one spot. No, ditch that, it was incomprehensible how it was even possible for something, anything to hurt like that.

"I really can't take my eyes off you, now can I," Garp mumbled out loud while still carrying Dragon from his collar despite the fact that they had left the Dadan family's domain a good five minutes ago and had covered a great distance already. Dragon was not impressed.

"Well, now that you have your eyes on me and the determination to keep them so, could you at least put me down and let me walk on my own? It's not like I can get away from you." He said monotonously. Garp stopped walking, hoisted Dragon up in front of him so that he could have a better view on him, and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"I s'pose…" He observed Dragon with a suspicious eye for a lingering moment until he let the boy down. Once on his own two feet Dragon straightened his clothes and puffed the dirt from his pants. He then stretched his shoulders and at this Garp raised an eyebrow. But by the time he caught on to his son's intentions, the boy had already sprinted away to a horizontal direction from him like a bazooka, leaving only a cloud of dust in his place. A vein yet again popped in the older man's forehead and he leapt after his son. Why did that brat never learn?

The chase wasn't a long one, as one might guess. The sole thing that made it any sort of chase was Dragon's honed reflexes that allowed him to shiftily move amongst the trees and bushes, ever so triflingly longer than the last time. It didn't change the outcome though, and soon he was back on his face on the ground.

"Punk, how many times do you have to try?" Garp's brow twitched and his voice shook as he struggled to hold back his riled state.

"As many as I have breaths," Dragon answered dryly, his voice muffled against the soil.

"Right." Garp said, dryly likewise. Dragon moved his head to a side so that he could have at least a partway look at his father, and partly because the mould didn't taste so sweet. He grinned.

"Watch it, one of these days I'll be able to get away."

Garp looked back at him blankly sheer three seconds before smirking. "Right." He repeated. "But keep in mind to do so after you become a great marine."

Dragon let out a tch, moved his eyes to the ground and scrunched his brow, all in the kind of dawdling motion that would have earned handshakes from every house spouse ever. Garp gritted his teeth, squinted his eyes down at Dragon so that they almost resembled one fourth of a watermelon in shape and took an intake of breath through his nose in preparation to give his son a good old earful, but initially settled for a quick fist on the boy's head.

It took still half an hour for the parent and child to reach their terrain of home. Dragon didn't object for the rest of the journey, as he knew it was futile (but it never hurt - much - to try). They went straight inside, ate whatever Garp had prepared and Dragon commented on his father's poor cooking skills with his grimace. Surprisingly this did not merit him a smack to the head as the older man simply huffed.

Afterwards they sat at the dinner table, Garp finishing his plate, Dragon drinking the last of his water when the marine spoke up.

"You're going to clean up the mess in the house, you know."

Dragon raised his look at the man, half-wondering if he was joking. "No I'm not," he then said. "You can't make me do it all by myself."

"You did cause it." Garp answered his mouth nearly full. "It'll be a good chance to learn some sense of responsibility."

Dragon's eyebrow twitched. He of all people dared to say that. But he resolved not to pry on the matter as it'd only end with a fist. Instead. "First of all," he began. "Not all of it has been caused by me. Second, I have a sense of responsibility, more than you'd think in fact."

"Oh shush it, you sound like a spoiled brat." Garp muffled through his mouth full.

Dragon rolled his eyes. "That's more of an insult to you than to me, you know."

Garp raised his look at his son irritated. He just finished his food. "Doesn't change anything," he said, wiping his mouth eyes closed. "You're still going to clean the house up." Garp looked at Dragon but the boy had disappeared. He didn't have to look long, though, as he soon heard and saw him window open, half of his torso out of it, shouting, "Hooooooooi madam, call the child protection, this old man's making me slave away at the house!"

Garp's eyebrow went overdrive with twitching. "AS IF THERE EVEN WAS ANYONE THERE, IDIOT!"

Dragon grinned at him. "But it got your attention, didn't it?"

The marine captain snarled. From the way he pouted Dragon knew he had won. "Fine," Garp said getting up. "I'll help." Now that was a good enough scenario that Dragon could cope with.

The next five and half hours the Monkey family's remaining two members tented to the house. They mowed the lawn, repaired the windows, tidied up the inside, repaired the well's handle and well, a lot of other things. At the end of the time limit there was still a lot to do but distinctly less than before. With this in mind they went to the bath and washed themselves. Separately, of course, although it took promises of many different kind of flavors of senbeis to convince Garp.

After they had dryed themselves and had got dressed again, Garp dragged Dragon down to the town with him. Their house was located outside the town, close to the forest on a large slope so it took about five to seven minutes to walk from there to the village. It was clearly afternoon, with the dimmed orange sunlight roofing over Windmill village. The sight looked stunning coming downward from the slope. There were great things about this place, Dragon muted. But something was amiss, and it showed. Maybe someday he would figure out what.

As they descended and neared the village, first glimpses of people were coming to their view. Those who noticed them waved at Garp and welcomed him back home and asked this and that. Garp answered in passing, not really bothering for long sentences. Those who noticed Dragon, well, they ignored him, although some looked at him longer than the others. Dragon didn't register their expressions though, as he kept his attention on the ground.

He never liked walking on the street everyone used. It made him feel as if he was exposed. There were too many people hustling about around and too much noise. He much preferred the side paths, and trees, and rooftops. Those were what he regularly used, there he could stay hidden. Never, ever the street. Even as they walked on, and he took a step, and another, it felt so weird. As if it wasn't… right.

Garp came to a halt and turned and Dragon raised his gaze from the ground confused as there weren't any side streets there so why would he-

Oh. They had come to the bar. Garp peeked inside and shouted for the major. Dragon didn't register this completely either, as he turned his gaze at the sea that was visible from where he stood. It seemed to be calm. It also seemed nice.

Then the major's mumbling about every last one country boy with no manners caught Dragon's attention back at the bar and his father who now stood sideways at him, arms crossed and apparently waiting for the elder man.

"What in the god's pants do you want, Garp?" Woop Slap stepped out and into the afternoon air, facing the marine. He had scrawny build with short black hair, the start of a beard and an irk face. He held himself with defiance, as if he was expecting for Garp to say something absurd and was preparing to attack back (although it looked ridiculous, considering how much taller Garp was). Dragon didn't particularly dislike the man.

Garp wasn't intimidated in the least. "This is something not to discuss out in the open. Mind if we go to your house?" Woop Slap huffed but concurred still. The walk to the major's house wasn't a long one, and so they found themselves inside the small home in no time. It was here that Woop Slap seemed to notice Dragon's presence.

"What's he doing here?" He asked eyeing Dragon. "You're not gonna propose something idiotic again, are you, Garp?" He turned his attention to the marine. Who smirked.

"Why, don't make it sound so bad. It's just a little suggestion."

"No, no and no." Woop Slap began pushing Garp out the house. Garp insisted on staying. "Garp you know I won't have anything to do with him. He's more of a handful than you ever was." Dragon watched the happening amused.

"Oh, come now." Garp turned around, resulting in Woop Slap losing his balance for a moment. "I wasn't that much of a handful. I took care of myself on my own. You had no extra baggage, whatsoever." Garp crossed his arms. "Dragon's even less so. All you have to do is check on him once in a while, so that he doesn't do anything stupid. Or burn the house down." After a moment of contemplating his own words, he added. "Or worse." Oh, now Dragon was merely hurt.

Woop Slap shook his head violently. "No, no, no. Not in a million years. You Monkeys only get worse with each generation. You should look after your own."

"You know that being a marine I can't be here all the time." Garp countered, feigning hurt.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you brought Deliya here." Woop Slap said dryly. There was a whist of cool air between the two men, and Dragon lowered his gaze. The atmosphere felt heavy, painfully so, and no one moved.

Until Woop Slap broke it. "Sorry, that was out of line." Dragon quirked his eyes at the men. Garp sighed. "That's fine-"

"And if you so insist, I'll look after him just this once. But you'll owe me one." Woop Slap continued. Garp raised his eyebrow. Dragon awoke from his silent state, realizing what exactly was happening.

"No! Can't I have a say in this?" The men turned at him, expressionless. "No." Both echoed, and Dragon wanted to rip their heads off.

Not much was discussed after that, Garp and Woop Slap exchanged some words about other things of which Dragon merely caught a mention of some pirate rookie that Garp had began chasing, but it didn't interest Dragon and so he swiftly made his way out of the house. Not much later he found himself on a cliff that faced towards the sea. The afternoon started to really dim now, the sun gradually setting behind the horizon. Dragon sat there, looking at nothing specific since there wasn't much to look at when staring into the open sea in the first place.

Woop Slap keeping an eye on him wasn't that much of a nuisance, anyway. The man seemed not to have the exact same attitude towards Dragon as the rest of the village - he didn't eminently avoid Dragon or anything. His judgement on him appeared to come more from Dragon's heritage, from Garp rather than some spooky tales of a monster. It was still annoying, though, but relieving.

The door of the major's house opened farther away some minutes later, and from the sound of the footsteps Dragon knew his father was nearing him. He stopped few feet away, as if deliberating something, until he closed off the distance between them and sat down beside Dragon. Dragon glanced at the older man from the corner of his eye before settling his attention back at the horizon.

They sat there without saying a word for a placid while. A chill began to set in the air as the sun's warmth gradually gave way for the brisk wind on the sea that started catching pace tardily from the lack of the sun's rays. It still remained warm but not as warm as during the day. On that cliff, at least.

Garp rustled as he moved his leg to a better position. Dragon glanced at his movement and that was enough for Garp to speak.

"Come to think of it… it's been six years now." He said, sounding distant but when Dragon turned at him he was looking back. Dragon let his gaze stay on his father for a moment, searching for some reason for him to bring his mother up now of all times but only finding that the man's demeanor had changed because of whatever they had been talking about with Woop Slap while Dragon wasn't there. It made him want to know now, but didn't dare to ask. Not when the man looked at him with those weird, uncharacteristical eyes.

Dragon curled his stare down, away from Garp, gradually finding himself looking at the sea again. "Guess it has." Was all he uttered.

"I'm probably gonna be even more away from home from now on." Garp said, now not only sounding distant, but also grim. Dragon looked back at him. "This one brat of a pirate had to guts to show off in front of me and got away. I don't really like it when that happens and somehow I'm really feeling like I need to be the one to capture him."

Dragon squinted his eyes. "Oh? He actually got away? You wouldn't start to be rusty, old man?"

Garp squinted his own eyes back at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself, brat. He was pretty strong, all right?" Dragon chuckled. Garp clicked his knuckles. A smack echoed.

After breathing to calm himself down, Garp continued. "No really, I need to capture him. Listening to that old fart Sengoku gives me headache when he keeps boasting about always catching his targets. So I'm not gonna be around much. Sure, if I happen to be near the island, I might stop by."

Dragon nursed his head but nodded in all seriousness. "How long is your holiday this time?"

Garp sighed. "About two weeks. Maybe less if I get a call." Dragon nodded.

"I'm also gonna train you tomorrow." Garp continued. "Your stamina needs more work. And your mind. Can't have a weak willed marine in the house, now can we."

"How many times do I have to-"

"And you need more flesh around your bones." Garp carried on ignoring Dragon's starting protest. "You're still so feeble I could throw you to Loguetown and back." Dragon's brow twitched. But he said nothing as he knew the marine was right, at least partway. How in the world would he throw him back?

"Also," Garp reached in his pocket and Dragon quirked to look for what. To his surprise, Garp took out a small hunting knife, merely the size of two and a half fingers and handed it to Dragon. "Thought you might like it. Makes skinning animals and all easier." Dragon took the knife and turned it around in his hands and pulled the knife from its sheath. It appeared to be handcrafted, beautifully so. The blade was sharp, the wooden handle was painted red. Or the wood itself was that colour, which was actually more liable judging from its shade. The sheath was reddish leather, almost the same hue as the handle. Even though Dragon was nowhere near expert on the matter, he could say it was great work. Expensive work.

"How - where - did you pay for this?" Dragon managed to ask, still keenly eyeing the blade.

"A friend of mine was selling them at the HQ." Garp answered. "The blade's made of sea-prism stone. Won't break. At least not with the jobs you give it. I noticed your old one had been broken, so…" He trailed.

Dragon huffed. "Yeah, last week and not in the best of moments possible." He said dryly. Damn monkey and damn buffalo. Someday…

Dragon woke up from his musings as he realized he hadn't thanked for the knife. He moved his attention to his father and quite awkwardly muttered, looking sideways to the ground. "Uhm, so, thanks, I guess… Didn't think you'd bring me something…" Why'd he actually say that out loud? But it worked, it seemed, as a board grin sprung onto Garp's face. The man locked him in an arm around his shoulder and laughed.

"Don't sound so embarrassed, of course I'll get you something sometimes." And he laughed more. "But you have to work twice as much tomorrow to earn it." Of course. That explains it. Dragon put the knife back to the sheath before the old man managed to get them both hurt.

After Garp released him, Dragon realized some of his hair had found themselves onto his face and moved his hand to remove it from his sight. A silence fell in again, the sun now completely settled away from the view. Dragon glanced behind them to the village, and saw that there was nearly no people at all outside besides them, save for few at the entrance of the bar. Wait a minute. Sea-prism stone?

Dragon turned back at his father. "What's sea-prism stone?" He asked, utterly puzzled. Garp laughed.

"Right, fellows from around this part of the world don't know about it." He scratched his back of the head. "It's…" He then began, but stopped as he realized he didn't actually know how to describe it. "Uhm… well, a certain kind of material that's used for a lot of things in the navy. Like handcuffs, weapons and the like."

Dragon looked at his knife. "So why a blade?"

"As I said, it won't break."

Dragon turned the item in his hand once, then raised his head at the sea. "Sounds rather convenient material then. Why isn't it used more widely?" He turned at his father.

Garp pondered this. "Well… navy just happens to have a lot of it, since it really is convenient. Helps with a lot of things. But it's expensive because of it's… nature. There aren't really many people who know how to formulate it. And it's still being researched so."

Dragon nodded and glanced up at the sky. A moment passed.

"So…" Garp then spoke. "Since when have you began afflicting yourself with the mountain bandits?" Dragon tensed. Then squinted his eyes. "I'm not afflicting myself with them."

"Riiiiight, you were just at their yard by a sheer coincidence. How do you know Curly Dadan?"

"So you do know her. Figures. And no, I don't. Just - there's some circumstances here." Dragon muttered, irritated and looking at the ground as if it all was its fault.

"You do know I'm gonna have to arrest her." Garp said.

"Oh, do that. With pleasure." Dragon answered straight-forward. Garp raised an eyebrow. "Although I doubt they're that bad people." Dragon continued. It was true - they could have treated him much, much, way worse than they had. Sure they did rob people and all. Dragon had seen just this morning few of them coming back from the woods with a handful of things that sure as hell didn't belong to them. But something still told him they weren't really evil. They might've seemed like it, and Dadan sure as hell acted like it. But Dragon was just not buying it.

Garp eyed his son trying to make sense of his reasoning. The mentioned son returned his gaze at the knife. They sat lingering on the cliff and after minutes had passed, they both wondered when was the last time they had acted like this, like father and son.

Days passed, and Garp harshly trained Dragon. Most of the time this mainly involved Dragon getting beaten up and getting covered up in bruises. Garp was indeed right. Dragon needed to built his stamina, agility, speed and particularly his muscles. But slowly, very slowly, he managed to strengthen. All of the training was, of course, merely basics so Dragon didn't have anything real to counter his father with yet. He'd have to get to that in due time.

For some strange reason, Garp ended up not arresting the Dadan family. Dragon wasn't there when the conversation took place - he had met some déjà-vu circumstances that were more risible than anything (and had everything to do with his father), and had found himself getting uncomfortably cozy with a bearded vulture nest way up the mountain than he had ever been. But from what he gathered later on (after somehow managing to get away with his life and the egg that he had been sent to out get and coming down from the mountain), it seemed Garp had somehow managed to blackmail Dadan for whatever motive Dragon couldn't fathom.

At the end of those two weeks, Garp left again and Dragon was alone again. He kept training, exploring, getting picked on, not caring a shit about being picked on and growing up. Woop Slap kept his word and checked on him once in a while and Dragon kept his own word and helped the Dadan family for a few weeks. After that he intermittently butted in to the mountain bandits' mealtimes (just because) and slowly (to his antic horrification) befriended Dadan. Not that he, nor the woman would have ever admitted that out loud.

Months passed and soon it was a new year, and Dragon turned fifteen in the fall. Furthermore, the next spring came and along with it something very, very new.

Ummmm, about the language generally in these starting chapters - please note that Dragon is a teen. Not even fully developed teen. So he keeps cursing a lot. And acts childish. Why he'd let the house get into that state? He doesn't really know. But unconsciously it could have something to do with the fact that he wants to have a good reason to do something and spend time with Garp whenever he's home (and even more unconsciously he might be afraid that they don't have enough in common to do anything else together). Who's the brat of a pirate rookie? I think it's pretty easy to guess.

About the rating - it's there for the upcoming chapters. At the start this could be rated T, I know. But I find no reason to put it to T and then change it later when I know it will need to be M. I will put warnings at the start of the chapters when there is, you know, gore or sexual content. (Don't really know if gore is the right word, but aggressive and disturbing violence at least - or, at least I'll try to make it into that. Or something like that.)

And woooow, this one's got over 5500 words, how'd that happen? O_o And this got now four followers (hasn't changed) and two favourites (raised by one). Maybe it's like that because of the slow start? But now I can tell you, as the ending hints, in the next chapter the plot starts. We're still in Dragon's teen years, of course, but two very important characters make their appearance in chapter four. These last three ones have been more of a... starters, introductions.

Anyway, I know I said I can do without reviews - mainly because I don't want to force anyone into it. But you know, I'd still like to know if there's anything right about this fic (laughs). Sure, not much has been really revealed, especially since it's hard to understand the weather thing that was mentioned at the start, mainly because no one in the fic understands it either (yet) so it's hard to make any judgements. Although the two favourites might say otherwise?

Aaarrggghhh, whatever. Next chapter will be up sometime next month. I will humbly try to make the author's notes shorter in the following chapters.