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A/N - I'm prepping to move from the US to Scotland to finish my degree, so life has been too busy for me to do anything aside from suffer hahahhhhh.
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Physics dictates that heat increases the entropy of the universe; perhaps the ever-chaotic nature of the Florence household was due to the heat of their exchanges.
Cho had moved out the prior year, Parker landed a job on a fishing boat, Amaryllis (whom everyone then called Amy) weaseled her witty little way under the tutelage of a businessman, and if Lemon wasn't having a screaming fit about one thing or other that Reika did for me and not her, then she was waltzing around the island shirtless, smelling of fish and being mistaken for a rowdy boy. (Three consecutive years of psych courses that followed each new edition of the DSM manual told me she exhibited the early stages of juvenile bipolar; I told myself I wasn't a fucking shrink.)
Amy was sixteen, riding out the end wave of puberty and still thinking she was the hottest shit to hit the scene, while Lemon was twelve, just getting in touch with her hormones and acting like she ruled the world.
How sparks would fly.
We went on 'family outings' to the market occasionally, and every time I felt like I'd die a second time from laughing. Lemon flit around stalls touching things she wasn't supposed to and flinging the occasional 'fuck you' to anyone that called her out. Amy would run after her and yank her by the hair, both biting and screaming at the top of their lungs. Reika invariably played the role of a horrified bystander. "Whose kids are they?" she'd murmur, looking on as any normal participant of society seeing underage savages wreaking havoc would.
At those points, Parker and I would veer off and find a shady little patch of grass to sit on while everything calmed down. He'd always grab a couple of fruits or other sweets and we'd look up at the sky, trying to translate clouds into sensible shapes. I almost tried to show him a bowling pin before it occurred to me that maybe bowling pins weren't a thing in One Piece. I didn't remember bowling ever being introduced to me, although there were roller coasters and billiards.
More frequently than he used to, Parker would reclaim his role of "big brother" and, by some miracle, convince Amy and Lemon to pretend they were civilized humans until Reika finished shopping. Amy was usually better behaved; Lemon brought out the worst in everyone she was around. In fact, I rather liked Amy sometimes. Our interactions were strained, though, thanks to my involvement with BB.
Amy was incredibly wily for such a well-adjusted kid; I supposed that no one left Sabaody, and the Florence residence especially, without a few vices. I turned to small time crime as a means to benefit myself. Amy, on the other hand, plainly liked troublemaking. She had a collection of followers who would harass vendors for the sake of harassment, which made it even harder for the orphans, without homes to hide in, to escape Sabaody's malice.
About a year ago, a few of her friends and some the boys from BB got into a little… scuffle. Braxton was still with us back then and, through my advisement, arranged something like a meeting. I hadn't known that Amy was involved, only that a group of other Sabaody kids who were making everyone else look bad decided it was a good idea to beat up a few of our members.
Imagine my surprise at seeing Amy stroll up with her little gang of eight other girls in tow. My initial idea was to have Braxton and a few others beat the shit out of them, but five years of knowing a kid makes you feel a little bad about doing the "sic 'em boys" routine on her.
Braxton had balked at first. "Why's there a buncha girls?"
A tiny thing with deep blue hair snarled at him, purple eyes flashing. "Why's it matter we're girls? Still kicked their asses," she says, pointing a knobby finger toward the quartet of boys who were involved in the original altercation. The rest of the girls giggled, almost pushing Braxton's rage into the realm of tangibility.
By nature, the kid was a bit of a sexist. Not quite the "go in the kitchen and make a sandwich, wench" type, nor really downright misogynistic. However, he had the idea in his head that men were just better at everything than women. Fighting? Stealing? Tying shoes? Boys did it better. There were advantages men had over women, such as their capacity to build lean muscle and their biologically larger build but, even in Normal Land, "male superiority" was complete bullshit.
There are physiological differences between the two primary sexes and that's about it. The capacity to do well, in life or anything, depends on the individual. If you suck, you suck regardless of the parts in between your legs. Men are superior? Stronger? When I was sixteen, so full of angst and ire, peddling my overpriced marijuana, I had all the time in the world it felt like there was none at all, too soon too soon I shouldn't have—
When I was sixteen, I knew a boy named RJ who dislocated his shoulder by throwing a punch that didn't land on anything. At one point, I accidentally hit him in the face and his lip completely split open. He was that pitiful. In Normal Land, society trounced on women throughout the ages. For what? Women are normally smaller and physically weaker, yes; how does that diminish their worth? It's a barbaric assumption that the ability to punch someone in the face dictates worth. Insidiously, that idea invaded every aspect of female life until they were deemed undeserving of living life like men could.
How does someone fight that, in a caste ruled by the ones who continue to tarnish their value? Normal Land was a man's world – before the rules were made, before the reparations began, Normal Land was a man's world. Men stole and rape and pillaged and killed and killed and killed, twisting everyone's perception of reality since they murdered everyone who argued the truth.
Not unlike the pirates and World Government of this era. It was irksome how that type of mentality could permeate the uncombed depths of a fucking Japanese manga.
"You should see how well all of you do against all of us then," he spat. Our number was almost double theirs; it was an unfair proposal.
Hopping off the little crate I was sitting on, I shook my head. "Bad idea," I called out. Amy instantly whipped around and I could practically see the gears turning in her brain. My escapades in leaving the house, the surplus of food I always offered, the newfound intent in my demeanor. It was like she'd been quietly pondering those mysteries for a while and at that moment, all at once, everything made sense. Her nose wrinkled as I offered her a wry grin. The other girls, seeing her reaction, didn't give me a warm greeting either.
The blue-headed spitfire piped up. "Who's she?"
"He's a boy, stupid," Braxton scorned. The kid had almost as many gold stars as Cho, though he couldn't compete with her penchant for buying me books.
Amy, ever the edifier, opened her mouth to speak, but I gave her the look. It wasn't a look I used in the Florence household – it was the look I gave vendors on my bad side, the look I gave the boys when they got on my nerves, the look I gave people who mistook me for a girl. It was a look I had perfected to allow light to play tricks with my eyes as I shadowed them, letting a bright, glowing red reflect from under my furrowed brows. It was all I could do to keep her from talking. Amy's shock at the glare outweighed her ability to speak for a long moment and then she seemed to recollect herself, saying nothing.
"My name is Kumo," I said. "Braxton, it isn't fair to fight these girls. There are more of us then there are of them."
They all took offense to my comment.
"Like that matters!"
"Yeah, only two of us got four of you, so shut up!"
Perfect.
I crossed my arms. "Alright, then, which two of you were the ones who caused this issue in the first place?"
They all quieted down when the noisy blue-haired girl and a chubby girl with blonde hair stepped forward. Braxton grumbled at the four boys who got beat up by 'blue stick and yellow blob.' The girls in question stuck their tongues out in his direction, blowing raspberries and giving him the finger as they dragged the bottom lids of their eyes down. I sighed.
"What are your names?"
The blonde spoke. "I'm Setsuko and she's Celia." The small one, Celia, roughly shoved her elbow into Setsuko's side, hissing out 'Why wouldja tell him that?'. Setsuko shrugged. I liked her attitude, I decided.
Looking back to the four, I urged them forward with a tilt of my head. Braxton stood to the side, giving me a small look of confusion but letting me have my way with the situation. (I hadn't realized yet that he was giving me an exceptional amount of liberties with BB, prepping the others for my lead and letting me get used to it. There was a piece of me that truly hated him for blindsiding me with my own arrogance.) "Introduce yourselves."
The boys were uncomfortable as they called out their names.
"Henry."
"I-I'm Nobu."
"…Lensen."
"The name's Poshon, don't forget it!"
The boys had a wary look in their eyes as they introduced themselves to their female attackers. It took a lot of effort not to laugh.
Watching the awkward staring contest got tiresome after all of them started fidgeting uncontrollably, so I cleared my throat. "So… what happened?" I knew that I had made a mistake when the six children in front of me tried shouting over each other so their story could be heard first.
"Shut up!" Amy called. They gave her nasty looks and she smirked in return.
I didn't know Setsuko or Celia that well so I set my sights on the boys, evaluating them. Poshon exaggerated everything, Nobu would lie so as not to make the other boys angry, Henry was sexist with a very black and white viewpoint, and Lensen didn't like to talk. Lensen, regardless of how he felt about using his voice, was the most trustworthy to provide an accurate account of what happened.
I turned my head to the orange haired boy. "Lensen, what's this all about?" The other three started to shout about how Lensen couldn't even talk, why was I asking him, and how I always did weird stuff. Braxton came over and gave them all a wallop on the head to shut them up.
Lensen scratched his cheek and groaned a bit, speaking up after a while. "We was all walkin' around an' stuff and those girls," he looks to Celia and Setsuko, "come outta nowhere with a buncha stuff in their hands. Course they was gettin' away from merchants but then they stop right in fronta us. Say 'Here, take some stuff.' Course, we didn't want nothin' from some weird girls, told 'em so, but they kept tryna give us the stuff. Merchant comes up 'round then and we start to run and drop the stuff they was tryna give us. They dropped their stuff too, since they come up after us and start yellin' like it was our fault they couldn't keep their keep.
"Henry told 'em they was stupid for losin' their stuff and the li'l one socks 'im right in the eye. Course Poshon grabs 'er hair and Henry gets 'er in the stomach. The big one comes up 'round then to help 'er out, then it got messy 'cause I jump in to help Henry and Poshon, and Nobu comes in after me. The li'l one kept throwin' out haymakers and the big one was sittin' on Nobu and bustin' Henry in the face. I was tryna hold the li'l one back from wailin' on Poshon but she bit me, Kumo, she bit me." His voice dropped to a whine at the end.
Celia stepped up, pointing a finger at Henry. "How's he not gonna get hit after tellin' us we're stupid for bein' nice!" she yelled. Setsuko nodded in affirmation.
"You and your fatso friend should learn how to go on your way when someone says they don't want your shit! No means no! Respect my decision!" Henry snarled back. I immediately cracked up, clutching my stomach and wheezing. Henry was around twelve at the time, as jaded as any Sabaody preteen could be with his motto of "us against them," but I tried to instill morals in him and the other boys. We had many lessons about consent and mutual respect, the word "no" and others' decisions about their own bodies. I'd never expected him to bring my teachings up in this scenario.
I do not consent to your gifts! My body, my rules!
I was crying from how hard I was laughing.
"Oi, oi, shaddup Kumo! Yer the one who said this stuff!" Poshon cut in. Braxton sighed and Amy gave me a look that clearly translated to 'You're nuts.' I calmed down and cleared my throat.
"You two – Setsuko, Celia – empty your pockets." Setsuko did as she was told, sharing a look of confusion with Celia, who crossed her arms instead. I blinked and then tilted my head, giving her the look. "Pockets. Empty them… Now." Her shoulders seized for a moment before she turned her pockets out into bunny ears. I gave her a small smile and she pulled her lips back in a grimace. How those girls had fit a small pile of trinkets, fruit, and pocket change into only four tiny pockets was beyond me. "Alright, boys, take your pick." All four dove toward the pile as the two girls stood stunned, eyes bugging out and jaws dropping.
"Pick?! That's our stuff!" Celia shrieked, ready to yank the boys away from her and Setsuko's shared pocket junk. Before either girl got hold of the boys, I stepped in between them.
"First you try to pin your theft on them, then you beat them up. It's only fair you two pay up."
"Whaddya mean 'pin our theft'? We were bein' nice! Nice!" Celia was red in the face with the volume of her screaming. I took Setsuko to be the strong, silent type with her lack of contribution to the conversation but distinctly displeased expression.
I shrugged. "So you say. If you'd rather, the two of you can keep your stuff," they perked up, "and fight the sixteen of us instead." The boys behind me cracked their knuckles as I offered up a twisted smirk. Setsuko rolled her eyes and backed off as Celia stood with her fists balled up, knowing she couldn't possibly win with those odds. She turned to Amy, eyes pleading.
Amy was a pragmatic girl, for all her rabblerousing. It's why she and her group were there in the first place; instead of being perpetually rivaled with us, a position where she'd only ever lose, she agreed to show up so we could fix this issue. I had decided the resolution and she could either accept what I'd chosen or allow a brawl. It could've been a fight wherein only Setsuko and Celia got their asses beat to make up for Henry, Nobu, Lensen, and Poshon, which was the original plan. If she didn't like that, it could've been a nine girl versus sixteen boy battle, where a good number of us were older than the respective nine, six, and eight years of Poshon, Nobu, and Lensen.
I took Setsuko for maybe thirteen to Celia's seven or so. Amy, at fifteen, was definitely the oldest. She knew that she and her girls wouldn't win. We had a larger age pool, which made for stronger fighters, and seven more pairs of hands. I'm sure she also recognized my pardon for what it was; her girls busted up our boys and we were ready to do the same. I had made this easier for her. It was a calculated retreat when Amy shook her head, and I respected that.
Celia didn't take it quite as graciously, lip wobbling and eyes getting suspiciously bloodshot.
God, I fucking hated kids.
I snagged a golden bangle from Poshon's hands, ignoring his cries of protest (was I was still ruffled from him telling me to shut up? Probably). "Hey." The girls turned around and I looked right into Celia's watery purple eyes, tossing the accessory to her. She wiped her tears with her forearm, sniffling and quickly turning away. "Quit picking fights over everything," I said to her back.
Amy confronted me when she returned home that day. "Saa, Kumo-chan got mixed up with the bad kids," she said, plopping down next to me as I read a book about fish in the North Blue. I hummed in reply. "Why do you pretend to be a boy?"
"… I don't."
She paused for a moment and frowned, not saying a word as she got up and went to her room. Since then, our interactions had been on the awkward side.
(At times, I wonder if we would've been closer had I recognized her position in my life that day, had I said, 'My name is Florence Kumo, and that's my sister.' I've never been entirely sure why I didn't, but the decision was made and Amy didn't clear things up for anyone.
There are certain decisions a person makes and truths they must live with that time won't allow them to change.)
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I suppose it all really began when I was out with Antonio and Minoruba.
Like most of the other boys in the BB clan, I'd first encountered Minoruba when Antonio brought me to the hideout; he was the designated password-checker-slash-bouncer. He had a huge gap between his two front teeth, sandy blond hair, and a very stocky figure for a nine-year-old. In the passing years, he became my second left-hand minion along with Antonio. (My right hand was my own right hand, because how much trust could I honestly place in a child?)
Back in the times where I had to resort to it, pick pocketing was reserved only for those dumb enough to flaunt their money. (It took a few years to move past my 'arbitrary stealing' phase.) A pouch of cash really wasn't anything to the guy going around and asking vendors to break five thousand beri bills. Antonio and Minoruba acted as distractions, going up to vendors without enough money to pay and grabbing a crowd's attention as I passed right through, absconding with a coin purse or two.
Perhaps it was intuition, but I always had a clear idea of how things were going to turn out once I put a plan into action. That's why I headed the thefts – my instincts never led me in the wrong direction.
That day I'd gone after a snobby noble on Grove 32 who referred to everyone as "dirty peasants." I slipped a pouch of cash out of his pocket while he derisively scrutinized the boys and once I was far enough away from the crowd, Minoruba and Antonio came to meet me. We booked it from there, listening to the fading sound of the man squawking about his money and laughing among ourselves.
I kept the money clutched tightly to my chest and skipped around the people who stood scoffing in annoyance at our running around, completely unaware we just stole twenty thousand beri. Darting through and around throngs of people was old news to us, so when we came upon a crowd too large to dodge on Grove 18, we assimilated ourselves and easily kept the speedy pace. Halfway through, I knew that the woman about eight feet in front of me was going to try and snatch my goods. I took a sharp left through the crowd, completely avoiding her. The only look I got of her was tan, unnaturally long legs.
Fuck that chick and whatever she may or may not have intended to do.
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I wouldn't call myself a very distinct kid. Aside from my eyes, there were a lot of other dark skinned, curly headed kids around the archipelago. My untamed baby afro stuck out a good three inches from my head, not unlike some other obviously mixed kids in my age range. I wore basic clothing, muted toned shorts and t-shirts, which were good for escaping people and blending in. Running through crowds as I was wont to do, no normal person could get a good enough look at me to pick me out of a lineup of all the dirty brats on Sabaody.
At eight years old, sitting on a mangrove root by myself and eating a banana, I never expected to hear:
"You're the little girl who was running around earlier."
My immediate response, as always in situations like those, was to make sure the speaker knew they had already fucked up. "I'm a boy, fuckwad," I snarled. How can anyone assume a kid's gender unless they wore ostensibly 'boy' or 'girl' clothing? The very nature of beings in a prepubescent stage is androgyny; a little boy in pigtails looks exactly like a little 'girl' and a bald little girl looks exactly like a little 'boy.' They're both flat chested, forty-two inches tall, and no hormones have kicked in to make their facial structure or any secondary sexual characteristics distinct. That's the way it's supposed to be. Sexualizing children is all levels of wrong.
"…Hm. Sorry about that." I hadn't bothered to look at the woman speaking to me, too intent on finishing my fucking banana. Who had the nerve to (rightly) accuse me of 'running around earlier'? I swore to god if she was some creepy pedophile then I was going to have Parker personally take care of her. Regardless of the permanent damage his left eighth rib and left tibia sustained back when—
his innocence was stolen he killed, he was never same, his eyes, his attitude, everything was different, he was still Parker still so bright but subdued, different, blood on his hands, his small hands, so, so bloody, so—
the incident occurred, his time on the fishing boat had made him almost triple in muscle mass, days filled with hefting up giant nets of live fish. I flicked my eyes over to the woman, making sure to give her the look, resembling a demon child as much as I could.
And my heart stopped.
I had forgotten that Shakuyaku didn't seem to age – the jet-black bob that angled up from her jaw to her cheeks looked exactly as it did when I first saw her in the manga, which would be fourteen years in the future. Her crop top seemed the same, too, along with her narrow black eyes and unwrinkled skin. She didn't look a day over twenty, though I knew she was a fair amount older than that.
I grit my teeth, hoping she didn't notice the change in my demeanor. That hope was for naught, I knew – by the subtle tilt of her head, by the small quirk of her eyebrows, by the renewed focus. Her intuition was frightening.
If I remembered correctly, Shakuyaku was well acquainted with either Gol D. Roger or Silvers Rayleigh. She had a fling with Rayleigh? Or was it Roger, who later met Rouge and fell in love? My memories were cloudy from time and I hadn't bothered to look at that godforsaken notebook in years.
I took a small breath. "What's it to ya?" I sneered, wondering if this was it. Would she tell me all the locations that BB used to store food and show me pictures of them burned to the ground? Would she show me a ledger of all the money I'd stolen in the last two years and force me into a slave payment plan? Would she ask what I was doing here, in a world where I don't belong?
What the fuck does she want?
"Say, you're not very normal, are you?" she simpered, knowing the answer before it would've left my mouth. I frowned and looked away. "You know," she continued, taking a step toward me, "I don't really like the little troublemakers around here. They're sloppy and always end up tripping over their feet and right into me. I expected you to do the same, you know?"
I looked back at her, because she was… "In that crowd on Grove 18. You were there." At that, she grinned, full lips pulling back to reveal a perfectly straight set of teeth.
"That's right, young man. So tell me… how long have you been able to use Haki?"
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A/N - Guest reviewer Ghoul King: Do not worry in the slightest.
{Send reviews please and thank you they're really awesome and make me happy and you guys make me happy aaaaaaah.}
