Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Holly- Sleepy.
Chapter 12 - Domestication
The warm water feels amazing.
Not overwhelmingly hot, not too cold. Just the right temperature.
Fluid streams of bubbles trickle down my right arm as I lift it from the water, raking my fingers through the short strands of my fringe and sighing contentedly.
Sara sits in my lap, scooping up little piles of the soapy suds in chubby hands to blow across the bathtub.
With each day I realize that she's becoming more and more capable of understanding the world around her. It makes me incredibly proud, not only of her, but myself too. I created this little life, and despite all the odds here she is today.
Alive, happy and healthy.
What more could I want?
Many things in my life could be more convenient, and even more can be better. I wish that I had more money, and more time. I wish that I was older when I gave birth to her, that I could have been there in her first moments instead of trapped miles away in a youth hostel and no where to call home.
But if there is anything that living has taught me, it's that wishing for things is selfish, irresponsible. Half the time a person doesn't even know what they are wishing for. For example, wishing for money, lots of money. All fine and well until you are no longer happy, that there are no longer wild dreams to be had as you can simply buy them all without trying.
There is still a lot that I would prefer to change about my life, but I couldn't risk a single piece if it meant everything couldn't stay the same.
All I want, all I'm willing to go out of my way to achieve is for Sara to have a good life. A childhood far better than the one I had to endure. Sure, it made me stronger, more capable of independance, but a child should never need those things. A child should never learn that the evils of this world outnumber the good, and a child should never be pessimistic when they grow up.
Alas, there is very little I can do about that now.
I'm mesmerized as my child decides to shove a fist full of bubbles up my nose before giggling amusedly when I splutter and sneeze. Her eyes are shining with merriment and her little dimpled cheeks are even more so.
I retaliate by pouring a jug full of water slowly over her head. She squeals and tries to swat at me with her eyes closed.
The series of events that follow end with me naked on my hands and knees on the bathroom floor. Trying to soak up as much of the soapy water from the white tiles with a towel as I can. Sara sits in the tub's shallow water with a guilty expression.
Eventually I figure that the elderly couple downstairs haven't yet banging around with a broom handle, meaning that none of escaped bath water has leaked through their kitchen ceiling or they simply haven't noticed yet. I sincerely hope it's the prior.
I shiver and quickly pull Sara from the bath to wrap her in the last dry towel while I drain the last of the water and pull on my pyjamas.
There's nothing worse than pulling on clothes while you're still slightly damp, but I have no other option. Water fights in this house always seem to get out of hand too quickly.
Apparently Eustass hadn't ogled the man enough, and of course he took the redhead's advances as something else entirely.
"It was 1998, a house fire, pretty damn mysterious actually. I never got on with my parents, I was one of those angsty teenagers that hated everything and everyone, so the police took me down as prime suspect after it all happened. Even though I was asleep at the damn time it happened. Suicidal tendencies, whatever. All the kids at my Highschool back in West Blue took to calling me 'Killer' so I just ended up rolling with it," He pauses and frowns down at the Sudoku puzzle in the newspaper before quickly scrawling in a number 7 in blue biro.
"Did you need to have any skin grafts?" I ask, figuring that giving him my condolences would be worse than asking an impolite question.
Kidd nudges me slightly with a scoff.
"Only on my legs and chest, mainly where the roof caved in, which makes me lucky apparently. Even though it was probably the most traumatic experience of my entire life," Killer growls.
"What did you do after that?" Kidd asks this time, looking deeply intrigued.
The blonde tosses the paper to the side, apparently done with filling in the last of the Japanese number puzzle.
"I moved in with my redneck of a cousin, just barely finished High School before getting involved in a gang, got stabbed when I turned 20, my cousin died of a drug overdose, then I spent 2 years hopping around different youth hostels, dealing illegal substances. I met Dakota when I turned 24, she saved my ass a couple of times, I saved hers once, we moved in with Doran a year later and I got a legal job and became a working man of society. Been here ever since, obviously."
"Wait, how old are you?" Kidd asks.
I can't believe that all he's focused on is the man's age. I'm busy thinking of how he met Dakota, how she had saved him and now refers to the blonde as her brother. Not to mention the fact that he comes from West Blue, a city 80 miles away. It's not wonder that he has a slight accent.
"I'm 28, been in Grandline city for 3 years."
"Neat," Kidd smiles in a way that could have been soft if it weren't for who he was, "Why did you tell us though? We're practically strangers."
"Ugh," The blonde slouches in his chair with a groan, "You're Dakota's friends, and besides, people usually stare when they're curious. Thought I'd indulge you with the story on how I got the scars."
"Oh. I wasn't staring because you have scars," Kidd says.
"Then why were you staring?"
"Killer! Water's leaking through the ceiling downstairs!" Dakota shouts, poking her head through the open bathroom door with dripping hair.
"'Kay!" He grumbles, getting up from his chair and stretching. I hear him mumble something about 'the whole house falling apart' on his way to the stairs.
"You and Kidd like curry, right?"
I blink at the pair of hazel eyes staring at me over the top of the cupboard door.
"I guess so, yeah," I say, leaning back into the counter, "Your brother said something about being vegan?"
Dakota heaves a heavy pot onto the stove with a clank.
"Vegetarian," She scoffs, "But trust me when I say that you won't even notice the difference."
I'm not sure what I've led myself into this time.
It started off with a simple 'do you need any help?' when she'd announced that she had better start cooking dinner, so here I am holding a knife with a bright yellow handle and not feeling any better about myself for offering a hand.
"Just chop the onion, it doesn't matter if you're pretty about it or not," Dakota encourages me, upending a cupboard full of various dried goods in the search for rice.
"Okay, but I'm letting you know now that I've never cooked a meal in my life that hasn't been some kind of noodle."
The bag of tiny white grains is thrown onto the counter, spilling some of it's brethren.
"Yeah, I figured. Cute of you to offer though."
"Cute?!" I splutter, nearly cutting off my finger.
Dakota cackles.
"In a 'domestically inept' sort of way, yes," She admits, "It's a wonder how you can Kidd have made it this far."
I dump the incredibly ill-chopped vegetable into the pot to sautée over the heat and sigh.
"How do you know that we live together?" I ask curiously.
Dakota clanks around noisily with a wooden spoon in the process of stirring and snorts before adding some more ingredients that hiss in contact with the hot metal.
"Well, I figured at first that you might be neighbours, or really good acquaintances until you both came to school late this morning."
I nod to myself and settle into a nook in the corner of the kitchen while she prepares the rice to go into a separate pot.
"How did you meet Killer?" I ask.
During the blonde's recounting of his past he had failed to mention any specifics, it had been bothering my slightly. I wasn't sure if Dakota also came from West Blue, or if they met in Grandline like Kidd and I had.
She gives me a strange look.
"We met in South Blue, a youth hostel when I was 14," Hazel eyes stare at the floor before searching for my own, "I'm guessing he told you about his past? He has a habit of filling people in."
At least she doesn't beat around the bush…
"Yeah, he did. Sounds like he's had it hard," I mumble, looking at the closed kitchen door.
"We all have I suppose," Dakota grins and claps me on the shoulder, "Welcome to the dysfunctional family!"
Holly- Yay for Killer's back story! Sorry I made him 10 years older than Kidd, but I like a bit of an age gap sometimes, makes it angsty :) I'll probably throw in some chapters from Kidd/Killer's point of view later on. I'm open to suggestions!
