I was having a wonderful bowl of grits as I was writing this, and- Oh who am I kidding, that was the worst bowl of anything I had! Actually it wasn't too bad, I just had to keep pouring spoonfuls of sugar in as I ate. Unfortunately for me I had used too many cups of grits because I accidentally misread the measurements needed to make two servings of grits. I had read 1/2 cup of water and 1 1/2 cup of grits instead of the other way around. I was stuck with four servings after and was quite literally choking it down in order to finish it all. I used to think that only happened in anime, but... ah well. I'm still not done with the bowl even with posting this up.

Thank you to... Derp, Laboons-BellyButton, and Shima Namida. I would have taken twice as long to post this up if it weren't for your lovely reviews. :D This chapter is for you folks.

Laboons-BellyButton: You are right, I will clue you guys in because I don't like plot holes but if I happen to miss anything that seems as if I wasn't planning on coming back to it, remind me. ;] Bonney's one of my favorites too btw. And I have been keeping up with the chapters, thankies for the reference.

Shima Namida: I had read your review in the morning and finally decided to get off my lazy ass to post up a new one. Thank you very much for your encouragement and I do plan on getting back to Finding You Again later, just not now. Congratulations on being the review that made me get back to work! :D (See? Reviews do make me post faster.)

Disclaimer: One Piece isn't mine, geez. Jeez? I could never tell. ]:


The sound of delighted laughter floated along the sea breeze on the hilltop hidden by a forest of trees behind Smithy's Florist. Three children danced along the red poppy filled hilltop, tossing and turning, and occasionally tackling each other to the ground, still laughing. They were merciless in their play, pulling up flowers in clumps and throwing them at each other like snowballs. They played all sorts of games.

One moment they were playing tag, or house, and the next they were calling "Off with yer head!" making chopping noises and imitating agonizing death cries. Now, they were playing something else that was somewhat related.

"Shiver me timbers! There's treasure afoot!" The youngest child called, swiping her hand in the air as if she had an iron hook on it.

The only boy among the siblings yelled, "Quickly now Paddywack. Shovel!"

The oldest cocked her head to the side. "But I haven't got a shovel George."

"I know not who this George is! I am CAPTAIN Hero!" He burst from the top of his lungs, then in a whisper, "Le- Paddywack, it's just play. Use your fingers!"

Paddywack saluted. "Aye, aye Captain!" And she dug into the ground with her fingers and with the help of her little sister who then proclaimed with a shriek:

"Treasure~! We've done it men, we've found One Piece! Arrgghh, proud day it is, proud day." She wiped a fake tear from her cheek with her imaginary hook, proceeding to smear dirt on her ruddy cheeks. "Look at this Paddywack, gold! We're rich!" Her eyes glittering at the slimy worms she shoved in her older sister's face.

Paddywack held a shaky smile. "A-Aye Pinkie, such lovely... gold. Why don't you show the Captain?"

Captain Hero had taken off his cap and held it to his heart. He rose his head to the clouds and gazed at the fading blue sky. "Men. Look at the horizon sky with me." The other two children stood with him and gazed with him into faraway places. They stood together at the top of the hill, peering over the treetops and at the line that separated the gray sky and dark ocean. They stood silent. A gust of sea breeze wafted through the trees making leaves rustle and the bright red poppies on the hilltop swell to the peak of their stems standing straight and tall.

George murmured with bright shining eyes, "All our work. All our tears, sweat, and blood. We've done it. We've reached our dreams. Our One Piece." He turned to the others and roared. "Shout it at the world. What is your One Piece?"

Pinkie (or Peony) voiced, "Riches! As rich as the name I was given! I want to be as rich as can be!" She smiled happily at the the tiny stars that were beginning to appear.

George nodded at his little sister. "And I want to be a hero, to save the world! He grinned at his two sisters and posed with an arm in the air and another at his hip. "Because I'm CAPTAIN Hero!" The siblings broke into peals of giggles.

"And you Letha? What do you want?" Peony asked. They looked at their older sister.

She didn't hesitate.

"To be a florist." She answered automatically, staring down at the red poppy in her small hands. "To take care of Smithy's Florist forever."

Her siblings glanced at each other with a knowing look. Far off in the distance, a voice was calling their names.

"No Letha," George had said. "What do you really want to be?"

Letha looked startled. She raised her wide gray-blue eyes to her siblings earnest blue stares. Then she turned to the darkening horizon.

"...I want to be-"

A footfall on crushed leaves alerted the children and they turned towards the source of the noise.

"Letha! Children! It's dark, get inside the house this instant!" Their mother scolded at the bottom of the hill.

The children looked at each other, and then George shrieked. "RUN! It's Admiral Dream Killer!" The children dashed in separate directions instantly, all laughing. George dashed towards town. Peony ran, tripping along into the forest heading towards the port. Letha giggled, running after them, but Mrs. Smith was already upon her.

"Letha, get inside the house now."

She froze, her giggles dying at her lips. Her traitorous feet turning her around to head back into the house, away from her sibling's fading footsteps, and try as she might she couldn't break free. She turned her head to look back at the dark ocean, but she couldn't see it because of the trees that blocked her sight. In the dark she could see her mother's outline watching her walk back to the flower shop.

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Letha blinked open her eyes. For a moment she simply stared at the beige ceiling of her room feeling the remnants of her dream. A memory of her distant childhood. It had been a while since she dreamed a memory. Really, it was the only kind of dream she had.

And then she remembered. She snapped out of her reminiscent daze and blinked back the tears that welled in her eyes. She slowly sat up, mindful of her age. She shuffled out of bed and stood before a tall mirror set in the corner of her room. She pulled the dusty cloth off the mirror and stared at the stranger reflecting back at her.

The stranger's shaky, leathery hand reached up to touch her face, ghosting over lines and creases, crinkles and folds.

That wasn't her face.

The stranger's eyes stared right back at her. Her soft, gray-blue eyes seemed dimmer than usual.

Those weren't her eyes.

And her once dark brown hair was now a stringy silver that ended mid back.

Definitely not hers.

She wrapped it up into a bun, wincing at the image she saw in the mirror. She looked even more... aged. However she tried to not let it bother her. There was a lot to do today. She had woken up before dawn and there was no point in going back to bed. There was a lot to be sorted out. She'd have to plant the daffodils. Pay a visit to Auntie Wisteria. Tend to the gardens. And... what else? She was sure there was something else. Ah, yes. Peter Willis. She was supposed to have a date with him today.

Suddenly she looked back at her reflection and gaped.

A date, in this? As this? She couldn't just strip off the old and revert back to the young. He wouldn't even be able to recognize her. Not that he usually did. She sort of had to announce herself for him so that he would even glance at her. Oh dear. This was trouble indeed.

Letha paced back and forth in front of the mirror. What was she going to do now? That damn pirate. A witch, that was what she was. A nasty witch. If this date didn't go well she worried about the wedding a year from now.

She stopped. The wedding!

Again, she gaped at her reflection in the mirror. Letha took a deep breath, and imagined with horror the image of an smiling, blushing, old lady walking down the aisle in a white wedding gown. At the end of the walk of terror would be the young, unsuspecting groom standing next to the eyebrow raised pastor. The groom would most likely be wishing he hadn't agreed to the arranged marriage.

Letha cringed. It would be painful for both sides. But there was nothing she could do about the wedding. She was going to get married one way or the other. And if she had to choose... she didn't want to be humiliated by being the pruney, blushing bride.

But... what was there she could do? What can she do?

She'd think about it later, Letha decided. For now, she'd eat breakfast and then plant the daffodils. Letha headed downstairs and began making breakfast.

Sitting down at the kitchen table, she slowly ate her way through a bowlful of grits. Yes, grits. Somehow it felt fitting. She felt like grits today. Grits were perfect for such a wonderful morning. Grits. The agonizingly plain taste felt as if it suited her mood. She felt like... gritting. She chuckled to herself, and then realized she still had her teeth. She suddenly felt very good about herself.

Letha wondered what she would tell her aunt when she went to go visit. She wondered what she would do. Impersonate an old relative perhaps? Hopefully her aunt was too hungover to remember her old face.

There was a sudden knock at the door. Letha turned to face the front parlor, which was where the front register was since that was the business end of the house. She got up and headed out the kitchen towards the front. The knocking seemed to grow impatient, and Letha could hear a slight murmur from outside.

It was barely six. She hoped it wasn't Peter Willis. What would she possibly say?

"I'm sorry Peter, but I was transformed into a wrinkly old prune by a nasty witch. If you won't mind still marrying me anyways..."

She shuddered at the thought. Without bothering to look out the side window, she opened the door hesitantly...

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AND BOOM! A FREAKING CHUPACABRA JUMPED ON HER AND- I'm just kidding, you'll have to wait until the next chapter to find out. LOL gosh I'm evil. Don't worry I don't discriminate. I'm evil to everybody I love. :D ...does that count as discriminating? Oh well.

Peony: Symbolizes compassion, bashfulness, nobility, indignation, peace, beauty, blah blah blah. There's quite a lot.

George: As a name, it simply means farmer.

Paddywack: A random something that means spanking.

Grits: Plain white porridge made of corn. Apparently you can make cheese grits. I'm not willing to try but if you do please tell me how that goes.