Hard to Swallow
/Some things are more difficult to swallow than others. Change is one of them.

Chapter the First: Her Calling
Word Count: 1,244
Pairing: Mother x Child
Rating: T
Disclaimer: One Piece does not belong to Kanthia (or for$kids).
Inspired by Kaku and Kalifa, and the decisions that can never be changed.

It is her Eden, and her Fruit; only those who know her song can hear her sing.

He picked irritably at its edges. It was rough and dark red in colour- crimson like blood, but red nonetheless- and sort of prickly. He rubbed it against the back of his hand where it itched and wondered why the itch wasn't relieved. There were some itches that could not be scratched, and perhaps the itching came from within the fruit and not from underneath his skin.
"You gonna eat it?" He looked up towards the larger man who was watching him with a focussed glare. "That thing took a lot of blood to get."
There was a silence that accentuated the uncertainty. A sigh filled the air with white smoke.
"I know what you're thinking. You might get some shit power and not be able to swim again. Look, it's worth it. Think about how much stronger you'll get." The contradiction flew like eagles too close to the surface and the older man probably didn't notice.
"But how come you won't eat it?" Why was he trying to get out of eating it? It was power, it was strength, it was freedom. With it driving his soul he was free from humanity's pewter crock over mundane, cold fire.
"Psh. I'm strong enough- if they catch me, I'll crush their seastone to powder. You, on the other hand, need it. I need you to need it. Imagine the damage we could do together."
He put the fruit down carefully and replaced it with iron. The Captain got up and left, saying to the door that he'd leave him there to think it over, because there were other people who would get it if he didn't want it.

There was pain and a burning that replaced confusion as he immersed himself in carefully placed thought. He was eighteen- old enough to understand the way things worked. It wasn't as if he had his ears sewn shut for his whole life, of course. He knew people who had been directly affected by the accident, the disease, the liberty. Fifteen more curls brought back more memories he didn't want to remember. He saw smiles and frowns again, and the Maiden of the Sea singing sweet songs into ears that few could ever remember having. He wondered what she looked like- a young woman, certainly; a young woman with grey eyes and red lips, with hair the colour of the sea at dawn in waves that fell suspended by currents of water.

He put down the weight and picked up the thing again. Were they hers? Did she cultivate them in a garden of her own far below the stirring surface? Did she bless each one with the succulent brush of her full lips? So then it was as if she was the mother of forbidden fruit; her young crop granting her children, the young Adams and the young Eves, knowledge great and terrible. And at a terrible price: to be cast out of her eternal Eden- her seas.

But the knowledge was Eden in itself.

He was a powerful swimmer but not because of any special training. He was strong in or out of the water, with or without weapon. He had to be. He was a pirate. To know the seas was to know her, know the graceful and slender curves of her arms and neck and lips in cerulean euphoria. The plunge, ah, the plunge! The dive and surrender, the pulse of waves sighing to the sky on fire; her domain was no sharpness nor was it ever the same. And to eat of her fruit, then, was to be denied this Eden and to lick your dry lips for the rest of your days.

The irony was not lost on him. He would be cast away from her realm and still skim its surface with not half a mind for what she wanted from him, teasing her foolishly like a child. She had no cares for those who chose to run their fingers in the sweet air between her corpse and theirs. She only cared for those who entered to touch her livid skin, tracing invisible artwork in silent exhilaration along the surface of her defiled body before she pulled them in closer. She was no heavenly body, then; she drew men to their deaths inexorably. A devil. Her song was perfect and deadly.

To be cast out of Eden…

But was it to be cast out?

She did not push away the men who had consumed her crop; she seized their young bodies and refused to let them go until her lips were upon theirs for eternity. Did she love her children? Did she seek them out, anxious to have them to return to her breast? Was to consume the fruit then to become a child of the Goddess of the Sea?

He looked at the fruit in his palm and lifted it to his waiting lips, feeling the roughness brushing on them like a first kiss under a pale moon- the forbidden love released in a single syllable of affection. The teeth sinking deep into cowering flesh crying deep red colours, bleeding and watery; the give and take until nothing was left except one entity.

The first bite was ecstasy in everything except taste. It had the consistency of a firm apple, albeit dryer yet more permitting than most apples he had ever eaten. Had the taste been better he might have enjoyed consuming the thing for its texture; its flavour was deplorable at best. It was God-be-damned bitter, and though it did not taste of things that would make any normal person vomit it was rather difficult to take in despite his love of food.

He pondered for a pallid moment what would happen if he ate half the thing, but the second hanging in space and time was not enough to stop himself- he could not. It was as if the decision to make the first bite was enough to stop his body from doing anything else until there was no trace of fruit left; the Maiden having no love for bastard children. He didn't mind. It tasted awful, but he thought of other things while eating like of home and things that weren't home.

When he was finished, he sat back with a hand resting on the corded muscle over his stomach, contemplating what the future held for him. There was no rewinding the event, no matter how much he regretted it in the future. It was over and done with. There was only the blinding light shining in his face; he could not see the sun for what it held in its heart and in the seas it smiled upon. There was no knowing what song the young maiden's fruit sang inside of him, but he couldn't be bothered with knowing just yet. His mouth was dry.

As his eyes closed to blessed sleep, he could hear the door open and close as the tattoo artist stumbled in to complete his admission into the second most powerful crew in the world. He had gained admittance seconds ago to a more powerful gathering spanning the world and then some, with children that screamed power and ability in the name of their captain, the silent Mother.

The voices of men were soundless as he slipped into dream. He could only hear her song as she whispered lullabies into his head and reached with her arms to greet her new child.

/owarai