Anne ruffles Ace's hair and crouches down low to meet his gaze.
"If I come back, and my mission is a success, I'll tell you all about your Aunt and Uncle, okay?"
Ace hums, bouncing on his top-toes, wide-eyed and filled with childish delight.
"Come back soon, Maçã!"
"I will! Stay out of trouble!"
Ace's laughter was carried up by the wind and scattered across the Four Blues.
There is a little girl named Kuina.
Her father is not her father and her mother is dead.
There is little beyond this she knows for fact.
Her so-called father, never, ever, mentions her birth mother. It seems that secret is long dead, buried.
She doesn't even know her mother's name.
Yet, one day, a woman appears in front of the dojo.
She is petite, standing perhaps only a foot and a half taller than Kuina, with wild black hair with visible streaks of grey.
Her father opens the sliding door, and greats with woman amicably.
Dark eyes linger, and Kuina is struck by them. The woman's eyes drink in everything around her, and they are mysterious, a void in which anything that enters is lost unless she wills it otherwise.
Kuina feels power and grace in her swift moments, in her stiff seiza, and her curt head bow to her father.
"I am looking for Teguci Charlemagne. I believe she was here some five years ago. If you do recall her (which I presume, she was a master swordsman, and would have visited this esteemed school), do tell me where she was planning to go after this place."
Kuina was smart for a six year old, far too smart in fact.
She knew her wit would get her in trouble one day, but she wasn't expecting the woman to turn to her hiding place so abruptly: "You, girl, come here and quit your eavesdropping."
Her father is pale, pale, pale as she steps out, ears aflame and ashamed. She creeps to her father's side and adopts a seiza next to him, eyes down, unable to meet her gaze.
Kuina dips her head low. "Excuse me ma'am. My name is Kuina, and I do beseech your pardon for my transgression. It was improper of me to eavesdrop."
"It was." The woman affirms, and suddenly laughs. "Oh dear, you really are such a stiff one! Straighten your back, dear, and stand tall! A slouched woman is a cowardly one."
Kuina instantly straightens, and her gaze meets that amber hue which engulfed her.
There is something comforting about it.
Her father's hands tremble.
Kuina can understand why; this woman was frightening indeed.
The woman bows her head low, almost to the tatami: "Excuse me: I haven't introduced myself yet. I am Monkey D. Anne, mother of Teguci Charlemagne. I've been searching for her for some time, you see."
Her father goes even paler.
His teeth chatted.
A cold sweat builds on his brow.
"I-I-I s-see." He gulps, and wipes his hands on his pants. He breathes deeply and straightens himself. Kuina can see him steeling his nerves. "Teguci Charla is dead. She died of Amber Lead Poisoning five years ago."
The woman—Monkey-san—blinked. She blinked once, twice, three times before a long sigh escaped her lips, and Kuina swore she could see a tiny part of her soul exhaled out along with her breath.
"And her husband? Teguci Salvador Galpa? What has become of him?"
Her father bowed his head lower. "When she came to this island, Charla told me of his demise. To allow her escape, he fended of twenty Marines, and was slaughtered." His lips twitched.
Monkey-san drew in one last, deep breath, and the last question she asked
was the most interesting: "And their daughter? Teguci Juana Luz? Is she dead as well?"
Her father bowed his head low, and forced hers down as well.
"This child—Kuina, we call her—is the child of Teguci Charlemagne. She was left in my care (your daughter died very suddenly; we knew not her daughter's name, nor yours), and I have raised her as my own."
Anne laughed.
"Kuina, you say?" She chuckled, brushing her tears off her cheeks. "That's a far cry from Juana Luz." She shook her head. "I think Kuina suits you better though."
Monkey-san's smile is kind.
It was strange, Kuina thought, that such simple news could overcome the sadness that had engulfed her just moments before.
"I think so too." Kuina said boldly. "Juana Luz sounds like the name of a princess, I think."
Monkey-san raised an eyebrow.
"And you don't want to be a princess?"
Kuina frowns and shakes her head, and there is a sharp fire in her eyes.
"Princesses don't fight. I want to be a swordswoman, Monkey-san."
Her father clicks her tongue, and she knows he is about to reprimand her when Monkey-san laughs loudly (this woman laughed so much, Kuina thought).
"A true woman of the Monkey family!" She winked at her. "Your mother was quite the swordsman; she would be proud to hear that, Kuinha." She adopted a thoughtful look upon her gentle face and hummed. "You may call me Vovò. I'm your grandmother after all."
"Ah." Kuina bowed. "Thank you, Oba-sama."
Obaa-sama shrieked.
"No, no, no; Vovò! None of this stuffy Honorable Grandmother nonsense! Listen to me, young lady, you are family, and family addresses each other as such. I am Vovò."
Kuina furrowed her eyebrows.
"Vovò."
"Exactly!" Vovò cried.
Her father's hand clutched onto hers, and it is cold, cold as death. She peers up at him through long eyelashes and she can see that he hasn't regained any color to his cheeks and he looks like he's about to faint.
Vovò hums again.
"It seems your silly father is under the impression that I'm going to take you away forever, doesn't it, Kuinha?"
"Otou-san does seem very pale..." She notes, with a hint of innocent worry in her voice. "Otou-san, do you need some tea?"
He presses his palm to his mouth and shakes his head.
"No, thank you, Kuina, I am just fine."
Vovò frowns at him an straightens.
The room is suddenly cold; either that or Kuina has finally become aware of it.
"Tell me, sir. Will you train my granddaughter to face the evils of this world? It is clear you love her; she is your daughter, your very own. I am woman enough to admit that. However, don't think I haven't noticed it. That scare on your hand—it was from Charla. A blood oath." She sneered, for only a moment, a second, but it was enough. She shifted in her seiza, to a crossed leg position, entirely unfeminine, yet not, powerful, yet elegant. "You have been terrified since the moment I entered this dojo. Because I am strong. Because I am a woman."
She pause, assessing the man in front of her.
Kuina didn't quite understand the exchange that the two of them underwent, but she knew that Vovò won.
"Charla only demanded blood oaths in the event of a match she won and the opponent was hesitant to enter into the duel to begin with. You were defeated, but not before you gave her the blood oath to protect her only child." Vovò's eyes are cold. "I hope you will not look down on Kuina like that in the future. She is of Monkey blood. Monkeys change the world, or die young. Don't be a hindrance to her. Be her rock, her foundation, her mentor and guide. Eventually, should she choose, she will settle that warrior spirit into that of a woman willing to die for her family."
Kuina doesn't understand why her father doesn't talk back or make any effort to fight Vovò's words. They are harsh, cold, and they make Kuina indignant on her father's behalf.
He teaches her the Way of the Sword, and wants her to know how to defend herself.
Vovò doesn't know what she's talking about.
Yet, her father bows, and bows deeply.
"Yes, Monkey-san."
Vovò nods, almost seeming proud.
"You are a good man. A fine one. I give my blessing to raise my granddaughter. You have done well so far. Don't let your prejudices prove me wrong."
Vovò turns to her.
"Kuina, I'll be back soon! With a gift—" She winks and Kuina is stunned. "—but, for now, I must go. You have cousins that I need to be looking after."
Vovò stands and sits on the porch, putting her shoes back on. She hops onto the dusty earth and turns back to the open sliding door, where Kuina and her father continued to sit in seiza, watch her as she departed.
"Do you mind if I come back?" Vovò asked, not at all embarrassed by her imposition. "I would like to be here, and watch Kuina grow into a fine woman."
Her father nods.
"Yes. It'd be an honor."
Vovò dips her head. "Thank you for your hospitality. Kuina? Be good."
"Yes, Vovò." Kuina replies, bowing her head. "Thank you for the visit."
Vovò laughs. "I knock that formality out of you in a few weeks..." She turned on her heels and walked down the road, turning back to wave only once.
Kuina glances at her father.
He looks exhausted, but regained some color in his cheeks.
Kuina looks back at Vovò's retreating figure, and wonders if the world was somehow playing an immense cosmic trick on her.
Vovò visits sporadically, but never goes more than two months without staying a week.
She visits for years to come, with trinkets and photos and memories to share with Kuina. After a while, the girl can't imagine life without Vovò's visits, or her hugs and kisses.
Early on, Kuina isn't Kuina anymore. She's Lâminha. A name just for Vovò to say. Kuina cherishes it.
The village comes to expect loud voices and visits from Kuina's rowdy grandmother. They laugh when she buys food for dinner, when she crows and guffaws with the housewife's of the islands, and when she scolds the men for their poor habits.
Kuina grows, year after year, and eventually, instead of peering over the counter on her tip-toes to see Vovò chopping vegetables, she's the one chopping them.
Her father teaches her more kata—a green haired boy becomes her rival.
She recounts everything that happens in the in-betweens to Vovò, on the porch, by the glow of fireflies.
Zoro is a butt cheek on a stick.
Kuina hates him.
He is too persistent for his own good, to ready to duel, too ready to die to prove himself to her.
She really doesn't understand why; Zoro is a good boy, from a good family, and he really doesn't have any reason to want to become a swordsman.
He is young and stupid, Kuina decides.
When Kuina arrives back home, her Vovò is sitting on their elevated porch, legs swinging, with a cup of tea beside her.
"Tadaima." Kuina pronounces shyly, tucking a loose strong of black hair behind her ear.
"Okaeri!" Vovò shouts, leaping of the porch (barefoot, no less) to tackle Kuina in a hug.
The two of them fall to the ground and kick up copious amounts of dust.
Kuina is laughing.
(She's not sure how Vovò could be so easy to be around, to love, to cherish. Vovò looked at everyone she loved like they were the only person in the world. Like it was just them for that moment, that minute, that hour they had together.)
Vovò gets up, completely covered in dust.
"Tell me about your day, Lâminha."
Kuina tells her.
It is mundane, and she simply recounts how she trained, ate, spared with Zoro, squabbled with Zoro, and went for a walk. It is nothing earth-shattering, but Vovò is interested anyway.
Vovò leans in, enraptured, like Kuina is the only little girl in the entire world, even as she tells her about a silly little caterpillar she saw that was fuzzy and very great.
Kuina likes that she listens.
Vovò stands, sliding on her shoes. Kuina blinks at her.
"Let's go find him. It's not good for friends to stay mad."
Kuina doesn't know where that came from but she hasn't taken off her shoes yet, so she accepts Vovò hand and they start walking.
It's springtime.
The dirt paths are lined with daffodils and dandelions, and Vovò eyes them carefully.
"Let's pick some as a gift. We can help Roronoa-san with dinner tonight." Her grandmother says, and Kuina nods dutifully. They quickly picked dandelions, with Vovò headscarf as a poor basket, and when it overflows, they continue on their way.
They don't speak much on the way to Zoro's little home, where his mother raised him alone. Kuina had never met his father, and she knew that all the villagers whispered about it, but Roronoa-san was a woman that was cheerful and kind, and was a seamstress like no other.
She had made many villagers' clothes throughout the year, and the island wouldn't be quite complete without her.
Vovò stops at the door, and calls, "Elena! I've brought some dandelions to fry for dinner!"
The door slides open slowly, the woman Kuina had seen all too many times blinking at the sudden announcement.
"Anne-san!" Kuina never really understood how such a soft-spoken woman could have a son like Zoro. "I wasn't expecting you?"
"Yes, I'm sorry, it seems like Kuina and Zoro got into a spat, and I though maybe dinner would help smooth things over. If you'd like company, that is."
Roronoa-san looks at the headscarf full of dandelions and smiles.
"Come in."
The pair slip off their shoes, and mutter, "Ojamashimashite," before Vovò and Roronoa-settle down by the fire to start cooking.
The humble home was barely 10 tatami, but the hearth was warm, and Kuina felt at ease.
"Zoro! Love! Come in, we have guests!" Roronoa-san calls.
Kuina's not sure what she was expecting, but Zoro comes sulking in with firewood, and stops to stare at her.
He recovered quickly, stoking the hearth as his mother went to go get ingredients for the dandelion heads. Kuina watches as Vovò went about separating the flowers from their stems.
Zoro settles a tatami mat away from her.
"Zoro, why do you want to be a swordsman?" Vovò asks, the fire flickering and casting shadows on her clothes.
Kuina's eyes drift over to him, and he frowns, his thumb rubbing the back of his palm.
Nervous.
Kuina knew that tick of his.
"To be the strongest."
She hears a low hum, and the sound of stems ripping.
"Why?"
He tilts his head. "I don't want to be weak."
Vovò nods slightly, but doesn't look satisfied with the answer.
"You and Kuina are children, so I suppose you wouldn't know this, but strong people usually have a reason for being that way."
Kuina's face flushes.
"I'm not a child!" She hears Zoro bark, and she can't help but agree.
Vovò smiles.
"You are." Kuina wrinkles her nose, and Vovò pulls a loose curl behind her ear. "There's nothing wrong with being a child, Zoro. I know you help your mother. You want to be strong for her. I understand."
Zoro's fists are clenched, and for the first time, Kuina understands something about him.
Zoro had something to protect.
Kuina wonders if she had something to protect.
"You don't." He huffs, and Vovò's laugh lifts the air as Roronoa-san comes back in with more food to be prepared.
Zoro's mother eyes him warningly, and he seems to know that he should mind his manners.
They don't discuss that topic again.
Vovò and Roronoa-san chatter about village life, and fry dandelions in rapeseed oil and flour as sweet potatoes sit close to the fire to roast, and while miso soup simmers in the hearth pot.
They eat dinner, warm and comforting, and she and Zoro bicker.
They return home just before sunset, and Kuina wonders along the way home how little dandelions could bring people together so completely.
It's weeks later, and Kuina hasn't been quite herself. Vovò's in for a visit, the August heat hot on everyone's skin, mochi in the cupboard, and Kuina can't help herself.
"Lâminha!"
Kuina, on the porch, cranes her neck around to look at her Vovò stomping towards her with the fire of one thousand suns in her eyes. The girl shrieked as Anne towered above her, a glimmer in her eye that promised misfortune.
"Where did all the mochi go?" Vovò's foot tapped quickly, and the mere sound was almost too stressful to think about. "I told you I was bringing some to the villagers...and you ate it anyway?"
Kuina swallowed loudly.
"What if I said Zoro ate it?"
Anne considered Kuina and grinned wickedly.
"Then Zoro would have to atone. Specifically by staying with us and working. Stealing is serious business, and he also would have had to break into the kitchen, sneaking past everyone in this house. Which would be impressive, and I'd have to congratulate him while also scolding him."
Kuina averts her gaze. Bites her lip.
"I ate it."
Vovò looks appraisingly. "You could have told me that from the beginning."
"I'm sorry."
"I know." Vovò sits next to her. "Lâminha, tell me what's the matter?"
The girl draws her knees close to her chest, leaning her head against her grandmother.
"Do you think I could go?" She whispers.
Vovò's hands thread through her hair, like how her father used to.
Kuina thinks about how he had gotten more strict lately. How he looks more scared lately. How he teaches her less and less.
Kuina knows if she doesn't do something, Zoro will catch up to her. He already was.
She couldn't stand being weak.
"Go where, darling?"
"Anywhere. Not here." The salt in the air makes her lungs ache.
"Perhaps." Kuina's head sinks into her lap. "I could talk to your father. You could meet your cousins."
Kuina's heart flutters.
"Really?"
"Really." Vovò caresses her cheek, and Kuina can't help but smile.
Vovò stands, and trots into the house. She hears her father yell.
She's assuming he doesn't like what he hears.
Vovò saunters back outside, wearing a wide grin.
"He said no, but give him a few weeks, Lâminha! He'll come around!"
Kuina doubts it, but if anyone could convince her father, it would be Vovò.
Except, Kuina never got to meet her cousins.
The next time Vovò comes, Kuina is a ghost. She watches her father and her grandmother, picking up cremated bones, passing them with chopsticks into her urn, and she can't help but notice the stoic look on their faces.
She knows they've been crying though.
She'd seen them.
"A freak accident." Vovò finally says.
"Indeed." Her father mutters.
"I shouldn't be interning her bones." Vovò croaks. "I should be setting sail with her. I should be bringing her to Dawn Island. I've already lost one already. And then another." The rest of her ashes go into the urn. Her father holds it tightly.
"I'm sorry." Her father says. "I'm sorry."
Vovò shakes her head. "She fell. What could you do? What could any of us have done?"
Kuina wishes that she wasn't a ghost.
Wishes that she didn't have to see Zoro or Vovò or her father cry tears for her.
Wishes she could have gone away.
Wishes she could've become strong.
A part of her resents that she was nothing more than a specter now, but she would manage.
And she did.
Kuina haunted that island for decades, and smiled when Vovò came around once a year to put flowers on her grave.
She waited year after year.
Eventually, Zoro left, her father died, and Vovó didn't come anymore.
She doesn't know what she's waiting around for after that.
She wanders.
But, one day, there's a man, not young but not old, standing at her grave.
He has a scar on his eye, and three swords at his hip. His hair is green and his skin his dark.
He leaves a lily in front of her marker, and Kuina finally feels like she can breathe.
That's the year Kuina has nothing more to do on earth.
She disappears, but not without the green haired man looking back as the wind whipped around him.
Kuina likes to think Zoro saw her one last time.