Chapter 38

AN: I know I missed it this year, but next chapter is going to be a late Anniversary chapter! I don't really have anything else to say guys, so just enjoy!

Chapter 38

"So let me get this straight," an orange-haired man in his late twenties says as he presses the tips of his fingers to his temples, sitting in a chair next to my bed, "You're a kid from another world that has a comic book that covers events that happen six and a half years in the future of our world, and you know things about the world that some Commanders don't even know. You also have the basic knowledge to create dangerous weapons, and because of the danger that could put on you if people found out, the Emperor of the Sea Shanks gave you a Devil Fruit, which you don't know how to use other than some basic stuff," Leon glances up, "Is that right?"

"Pretty much sums it up," I smile at him as I slowly stretch my left calf, the wound where the shrapnel had cut into it almost completely closed, pretty fast for my world. It had been two weeks since the day I'd revealed who I really was and the extent of my knowledge to those twelve from the crew, and word of it had spread to each Division Commander, me having to explain it to those that weren't at the meeting later on. My own Division was still primarily in the dark about it, which was why Leon was here at nine in the morning, when people were still recovering from a party they had last night. He'd mostly recovered from his own injuries, and could walk around pretty well, and since he'd welcomed me from the start, I decided to tell him, too. Like the others, I told him about my world, and the important bits of One Piece's story, as well as my newly-found Devil Fruit, just to name a few, "I'm not sure how much more I can tell except what I told Whitebeard, it could mess up things to worse than they were."

"Understandable…" the gunslinger sighs, slumping back into his chair, "No wonder that gun of yours is strange, there's literally nothing else like it!"

"Yep!" I glance around my room. Since I'd had some time to recover, Maria released me from her immediate care, saying that I'd taken a lot longer than she expected, but with her being one of the people I told after the initial talk for obvious medical reasons, she told me to take it easy and check back every other day so she could get a better idea of how I recovered from these things. So, I was back in my own room, my belongings leaned up against the wall or scattered over the floor, trying to pass the time however I could while trying not to hurt myself, mainly by practicing that move with my new Devil Fruit where I hurl some fuel at an enemy. There was a white sheet with dozens of black stains covering it against the far wall, next to the door, propped up by two sticks, "I'm not sure yet if I want to give the crew the technology, just because of how dangerous it could be if it fell into the hands of the Marines or other crews, but yeah."

"Hey, I understand completely," the father grins, giving a weary thumbs-up, "You just focus on getting back into proper shape."

"Definitely," I nod, rubbing my shoulder. That one was closing up a lot slower, and was always sore. The skin on my chest had already healed, but the bone and cartilage underneath was still healing, as well as my ribs, so I still couldn't do anything super physical. But, it left a scar, which was kinda cool, I guess! The one on my cheek had already healed completely when I woke up two weeks ago, so that was fine, and my concussion passed without major damage.

Tap tap.

The two of us look at the door as someone fumbles with the handle, opening it to reveal Wash, blinking with his one working eye, the other one blank and unseeing. "Hey… Kelly…" he breathes out, his face going a light shade of pink, "Those are a bit harder to use without depth perception."

"Hm," Leon snickers, standing up, "Well, I'm going to go help Violet with Jason, so I'll see you later," he goes over to the door, where Wash stands to the side, and leaves, "I'm glad you decided to tell us all, Kelly," he nods, and I grin back.

"I am, too," I reply, and watch as he exits the door, "So, Wash," I address the Lieutenant, "Let's start!"

"Sure, follow me," he waves me over, turning to leave-

Thunk.

-and crouches, and expression of pain on his face as he cradles his right elbow, which just slammed into the doorframe. "Tsssssssss…" he hisses, gritting his teeth as I grab my crutch, wedging it underneath my arm, chuckling at the predicament.

"Hey, I won't say anything," I put my free hand up in defense as he frowns at me.

"Ugh, that's going to sting…" he shakes his arm out, properly exiting the doorframe and beginning down the hall towards the training room. I start to follow him but then remember - I was still in my sleeping clothes.

"Uh, one sec, let me change into my normal stuff first," I say, and the Lieutenant nods, closing the door after groping for the handle, and I quickly move over to the closet, taking a purple T-shirt and beige vest with the Whitebeard insignia on the back and tossing them to the bed. Reaching up with my good side, I grab a pair of cargo shorts and toss them back as well, quickly going to change, "Grk," I grunt as I try to essentially swap my shirts with one arm, my right unable to go very high without aggravating my shoulder. Finally, I take it off, and manage to squirm into the rest, straightening out the Jacket before slipping into my sandals and heading out into the larger ship. I leave my weapons and gear. I wouldn't need them for this.

"Ready?" Wash says as he pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on.

"Yeah, let's go," I nod, and we head off towards the training room, my sandals clopping on the wooden floor.

"So, mind giving me a reason as to why you asked me to help you train with your Fruit yesterday?" the grey-haired man poses a question at me as we move, "I would have said yes even if you didn't have a particular reason, I did promise to do this after all, but I'd like to know."

"That?" I think back to a conversation I'd had with Thatch yesterday.

"So, Kelly," Thatch says as he cuts into a steak, the dining area around us bustling with talk and cheering as music floats through the air, "You said your Devil Fruit lets you release that flammable liquid stuff, but you can't get it to come out, right?"

"Yeah, what about it?" I ask, popping a potato chip into my mouth.

"Well, you should ask Dexter to help you out," the Commander suggests, "His Fruit lets him release bubbles, so he's the closest on the crew to what you have."

"I've been thinking about it, but I'm thinking I'll give him some time to heal," I reply, "I think he overused his ability against Cracker and the Beasts, so it wouldn't be good for him to push himself just for me. But, I suppose he could also talk me through it…"

"Control," I reply, "I don't know how to use it in any way other than squeezing my hand, but I want to learn."

"Fair enough," the Lieutenant nods, and stares at his hand, "Here's some food for thought before we start, Kelly: a Devil Fruit is like a muscle. It's a new muscle, but it is part of your body. Some people are able to realize and control this new muscle almost immediately, while others, like you, have trouble using it, similar to how some people can roll their stomachs, yet others cannot. You wouldn't be able to roll your stomach if you don't know how to flex or control those muscles. Make sense?"

"Yeah…" I toss that idea back and forth, "I can feel some kind of pressure under my skin, would that be it?"

"Actually, yes," Wash holds up his hand, and I watch as it flexes, a small mound of bubbles emerging from his palm and twisting upwards, waving around like seaweed, "But it's not just pressure from a Devil Fruit, it's your ability. Not just 'a Devil Fruit', it's yours. So work on getting into the mindset of you and the power being one in the same," we arrive before the large door that leads to the training room, which was open just a crack, "Here we are," he pushes past, opening the massive complex.

A huge collection of weight-lifting equipment, from small to large, was arrayed in about a five hundred square yard area in one of the corners, with a large rubber track looping around the center of the room. Inside the loop, there were sixteen concrete stages, each probably about 100 square yards themselves, each of them for sparring. Opposite all the weights, there was an obstacle course that looked like what you saw in those commercials for the Marines, except on steroids. Walls over one hundred feet tall, tight-wires with spike floors underneath, rock walls over holes in the floor, normal monkey bars, except the floor also was spikes, pillars that you had to jump to and keep balance, and at the very end, a popcorn machine, because we have standards. Next to it was a shooting range with dummies and melee weapons next to it, and opposite that was a series of dummies, these ones metal, some larger than others, that were just standing there, menacingly. I could almost see the kanji slowly rising up out of the shadows they cast. "Damn!" I grin, slightly taken aback, "When did this happen?"

"It was renovated while you were still in that hospital bed," Wash starts walking towards those metal punching bags, and I follow, "We decided we needed a place to better train ourselves, so things on this scale don't happen again. Thatch brought it up after he had more trouble than he thought fighting Jack."

"Damn…" I repeat myself like a broken record, and take another look around. The place was massive, I couldn't even tell you the proper dimensions from where I was, and I see a certain short brunette swordsman jump out from behind one of the metal bodies, breathing hard as he clutches his saber.

"Gust!" he yells as he pulls back, stabbing forward, and I see the air around his blade warp, sending forth almost what appears to be a spear of air from what I can see.

Rrrrrrip!

I watch as a dummy, probably the one he was aiming at, is blown off its concrete base, tearing it from the floor. As it smashed into the ground, I glanced at Haruta. He was soaked in sweat, his usual shakespearean shirt cast aside as he takes a knee. How long had he been working? I hadn't seen him much throughout these past two weeks, and hadn't had time to explain things to him yet. "Hey, Haruta!" I wave to him, and he glances at me, his expression becoming hesitant.

"Oh, h-hey Kelly," he says, not making any moves.

"You training?" I ask as me and Wash get closer, and he begins to fidget, his eyes looking everywhere but at me.

"Uh, yeah," he quickly sheathes his blade, and brushes past us, heading the way we came in from, "WellI'vebeenhereallnightsoI'llseyoulaterbye!" he shaves off, leaving a cloud of dust. He didn't even put the dummy back upright.

"Bye… I guess…" I frown, a pang of sadness going through my mind. Something was wrong with him, but he never stayed around long enough for me to ask. I didn't want to be pushy, but if he kept acting like this…

"Keep your focus," the calm baritone of the Lieutenant I arrived with snaps me out of my thoughts, "You won't be able to help yourself if you always think about others Haruta will come to you if he wants to talk, so try to keep your mind off of things you can't control, at least until we're done here."

"Alright…" I take a last glance, then turn back to the task at hand, "What do I need to do?"

"Well, first off…" the bubble-man holds one of his arms out, palm up, and bubbles spread from the base of his foot, all along the ground until they reach one of the dummies, "This may seem simple at first, but…" he flexes his hand out, and tendrils of bubbles spring up, wrapping themselves all around the metal piece, "Bleached Cage!" he yells, "And crush!" he squeezes his hand tight, and the tendrils and ropes contract, slowly crumpling the dummy until it is merely a malformed version of what it once was, all twisted iron and shattered concrete, "Create an idea for how you'll use your powers. Some use theirs for bodily enhancements, like Raver or Jozu, using their abilities to push their physical forms and powers. Others, like myself, use the ability as our primary focus, relying more on the fruit and our minds than our own bodily attributes, like what I just did. Yet others fuse those two ideas, specializing in neither, creating a happy-medium. As has been said many times before: a Devil Fruit is only as good as its user, so take into account what type of fighting style will be the most effective with what skills and limitations you have before making a decision."

"Like choosing what stats a Pokémon is good with before choosing what to EV train…" I mutter to myself.

"Not sure what a 'Pokémon' is," Wash looks at me with a bemused face, "But if that analogy works, sure. For now, thought show me what you can do."

"You got it," I look to one of the standing dummies, squeeze my right hand, but realize that I couldn't do it without hurting my shoulder too much, "Uh, sorry for asking, but could you help me out and prop up my left side? I kinda… can't use my right arm properly."

"Sure," the Lieutenant extends his hand, and bubbles wrap around my leg, creating an impromptu prosthetic, "Go ahead."

"Alright," I squeeze my left hand, feeling the fuel secrete from my skin, and I sweep my hand at the dummy, a splash of black liquid making contact with the metal exterior. The splash was all over, just like how it was during that fight with the one guy on Shanks' ship, where I tried to get his face. Just throwing water, "Damn it…" I grit my teeth. I wasn't making any progress, even by practicing.

"Hey, don't get angry. You don't have Devil Fruits where you're from, so it'd be naturally difficult," Wash puts his hand on my shoulder, "Let's just try to get it so you can get fuel out without squeezing your hand."

"Yeah, let's," I look to him and he rubs his chin.

"Remember that pressure you get when you focus?" he asks, and I nod, "It may seem difficult now, but try to manipulate it inside your body. Flex muscles, breathe, try to feel your body, experiment until you can feel that pressure under your skin."

"Okay," I'd done this probably a dozen times, closing my eyes and focusing on that pooling, flowing, dreggy sensation, "I feel it."

"Now, imagine some force gradually gathering all that stuff in your arm. Maybe it's gravity, maybe it's something else, but pool the sensation in your palm, right in the middle," Wash's voice comes through the dark, and I focus, imagining a fish hook that was carrying algae or moss along with it slowly pulling not moss, but instead as much pressure near my hand in, ending right in the middle as a series of shivers flow to my palm, and it feels almost like I'm holding a golf ball of pressure and electricity. Excited, my heart begins to pound, my breath catch- "Breathe," the bubble-man says, and I realize that I'd lost the sensation, "You got distracted. Stay calm, and try not to think too much. You can do this."

"Hoooh, yeah," I nod, focusing. The feeling, the fish hook, the golf ball, I slowly drags bits and pieces until I reached where I was before. I was focused, the only thing I knew was the fuel I knew was there. Then, almost as if it was natural, I try to push it out of my skin, and I feel the golf ball shift as my hand instinctively flexes, but I could still… feel more. Suddenly, it clicked, and I could sense, feel, know almost an extra limb, connected to the small sensation in my hand. Slowly, I open my eyes, and there, in my left palm, was half of a small, black orb, seemingly flowing on the inside. It was odd. I saw it, and it was like I was looking at a finger: I knew It was me, but it seemed so… not me. Such an otherworldly sensation.

"Good job, you figured out the last step on your own," Wash says, and the reality of his voice snaps me out, and I feel that shivering sensation flow all the way back into my hand, going even as far as my wrist, and I release the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"That was…" my voice is shivering in awe, "That was amazing…"

"What did you feel while gathering it?" the Lieutenant asks.

"It was like when your body shivers, and you feel it in your spine," I say, "Except it was under my skin," I have an idea, "Hold on," I say, and I gather that feeling in my palm, slowly pulling it out. I watch as a small tendril of the black liquid slowly emerges from the center of my hand, gathering into a small ball at the end. I curl my fingers, and the tendril twists, the feeling of it moving going through my hand and to my brain, "Hrrrgh," I focus, and it slowly retracts back, forming into a ball no larger than a thumbtack. Then, I imagine the feeling of the pressure building up, this time, right at where the pressure was releasing beneath my skin, and I hold my hand out, taking aim. It was about twenty feet away, and I focus on that sensation. The orb was still right there, and I feel it swirling. Then, I flex as I push out with all my might.

Ch!

"..." I lower my hand. There wasn't any stain on the dummy, and as I looked closer and closer to me, then find what I was looking for. A small spray of black material, probably only as much as one squirt from a tiny water gun, covered the floor. It had only reached about five feet, not very strong, but a swell of childish giddiness slowly fills my chest. Sure, this wasn't as much fuel as my first 'move' that I came up with, but it was obviously progress.

"Hey, Kelly, don't get discouraged," I feel Wash's hand on my shoulder, "I didn't figure things out very fast either, and I'm able to contr-"

"Are you kidding?" I can't help but grin and interrupt him, "I just used a Devil Fruit! This is awesome!"

"So, you ate a Devil Fruit," a calm alto that I could tell was suppressing anger says from behind us, and I turn to see a certain redhead standing there, a disapproving look on her face, "I came here to train, but instead find someone who insists on taking shortcuts."

"I-" I try to say, but Wash steps in front of me.

"Karen," he says, voice stern, "There are parts of this you don't know about. Please don't put your anger at me onto-"

"Zip it," she hisses, and Wash goes silent, "I won't teach some Devil Fruit using coward, so don't expect any help, that clear?"

A pang of fear went through me, but then… I didn't care. "Crystal," I shoot back with as much contempt as I could, and she's almost taken aback, but she quickly recovers, narrowing her eyes.

"All you Devil Fruit users are just dirty, lying cheats that take the easy way to power and steal away everything the rest of us work so hard to achieve!" the redhead growls, and storms off. There was real anger behind those words, and something else. But I wasn't about to ask her, not after that.

"Ah, crap," I sigh, realizing I just made things between her and Wash worse, the opposite of what I'd promised him.

"What?" the Lieutenant glances at me.

"I just made things worse. Sorry."

"..." the grey-eyed man gives me an amused grin, then shakes his head, "You really are an honestly good kid, huh?" he ruffles my hair, "Don't worry about it. Even if we did make that promise back on Geas for me to teach you in exchange for you healing things between us, I didn't expect you it to succeed. As I said, I would help you either way, that's just what a crew does."

"Thanks…" I smile, and my stomach growls, "Oh, man. I forgot to eat!"

"Let's go get a bite, then," Wash hands me back my crutch, and we leave behind the black stains, ready to get some grub.

-(Later)-

"Hooh!" I sigh, falling back into my bed. It had been a long, long day, primarily full of practicing controlling my fuel with Wash and eating, with a short period where we watched some guys from the Fifth Division have a swordfight in the training room. But, throughout the day I managed to get to a point where I could consistently call up some fuel, even if it wasn't much, in around five seconds. It was slow, but it was progress. I could even shoot some out if I really tried, even if it wasn't far.

I wonder… I sigh as I lay there, the looking at my hand as I summon up some fluid, the sensation tickling my nerves, Just how far will I go… and with that thought, I drift off to sleep.

-()-

BEET BEET BEET BEET.

"Ugh," I groan as I roll in my bed, my eyes opening as I toss of the blue sheets and green comforter and smack the top of the alarm clock. Sleepily blinking, I glance around my room.

I was in a square, my bed arrayed at the back right corner from the door, the nearest to the window. At the foot of my bed, there lay a large, two drawer dresser under a small window, and to the left of where I lay, there was also a window that covered most of that wall behind a bedside table, with an alarm clock and charging DSi. On the left wall, there were several shelves and posters, with various franchises represented. On the shelves, figurines and statuettes from Dragonball, Warhammer and Warhammer 40k, and D&D stood upright, with several volumes of manga standing tall beside them, and posters of Star Wars, One Piece, and even one really old one of the first Pokémon movie were hung. Directly across from me was my closet, opened up wide with several shirts hanging lifeless. In the opposite corner, wedged between a blue wall, was the door, simple oak. And in the middle of it all was a black suitcase, with several casual pairs of clothes dangling out.

I sigh, swinging myself out of bed and quickly going to grab some clothes. I ended with a pair of shorts and a simple plain red T-shirt and some underpants. I quickly open the door and am greeted with a small, black nose and white paws. "Oh, hello Max," I smile at the pooch, and the terrier simply pants back turning and trotting down the hall. Following the old doggo, I take a turn into the bathroom, quickly stripping down to my boxers before looking at myself in the mirror. Jeez, I needed to work out more.

Quickly getting into the shower after going full nudist colony, I turn on the water and let it soak me, washing down my face, letting the heat wash my worries away.

"IAN!" a female voice from downstairs yells, "HURRY UP, IT'S ALMOST SCHOOLTIME!"

"Coming!" I yell back, and quickly wash my hair, turning off the water. Throwing on my clothes after drying off, I throw on some deodorant and hurry down the hall, clambering down the stairs. I quickly take a right, moving into the kitchen, and move to the table, where a plate of chocolate chip pancakes was sitting. Grabbing three, I glance at the clock on the oven: 7:45. Shit, I didn't have that time, "Mom, I gotta go!" I call out into the house.

"Okay!" I hear from the basement, accompanied by the thud of the freezer closing, "Just remember to finish packing for the trip to Grandpa and Grandma Kelly's tonight!"

"Yep!" I reply, and I grab my backpack and keys, next to the garage, and open the door, ready for the day.