A/N: Another short chapter! Yes, yes, I know. But there is some progress, next time I'll make it a longer chapter, but for now, this'll have to do. I hope you'll like it though, because this is a surprise waiting to be sprung up on you faithful readers. Anyway, remember to read and review this!

Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters belongs to Oda-sensei, my OC belongs to me!

Humans, despite the thousands of years of developing to become a more sophisticated species, still retained its primitive nature.

Adapting their surroundings.

The same included me.

It took me awhile to realize I was alive, that the last memory of a car hitting me and propelling my body to crash through the windshield was something I saw only a few moments ago before everything blacked out.

But the moment my awareness had come back, I screamed.

It was a terrifying thing for me to remember, to think that I still feel the pain and the shattered body I was inhabiting. All I did was just cry and scream for so long, not taking account to anything around me until some sense started to tickle into me.

I was not in pain, I was breathing (hiccuping, mostly), and I was alive.

Eventually my wits returned, but I was still shaken. Was I in a hospital? Did Miranda or someone call the ambulance and taken me to the hospital? Or was the whole thing a dream?

That's when I noticed something I had not felt before; my body being carried. The person, whoever they were, must be a ginormous person if they could just as easily fit my body snugly in their arms. I ceased my whimpering and tried to speak, but once again I noticed something off. My vocal cords were not working properly.

Whatever I tried to say it only came out like a gurgle.

I then picked up several voices and they all seemed to be speaking at once. I couldn't understand their gibberish, my mind was like a fog that I couldn't comprehend the words or other people. I would let out a gurgle and a whine to notify them that there was something seriously wrong with me, but the person who carried me and the people were talking continued on with their business, not at all concerned for my welfare.

What in the world was happening? Why was I so weak and heavy? Had I been drugged with something? Was the fruit drugged?!

Various ideas flowed within my mind and I was broken out of my thoughts with the person cradling me began to release me. I let out a startled sound when I realized I was being handed off to someone else, their hand resting behind my heavy head while their arm was used to rest my tiny frame in.

A horrible sinking feeling washed over me as I felt lip brush over my suddenly bald head. A voice humming what I could only guess was a lullaby to try and ease me to sleep...

.

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It took me a long while to accept what had happened to me. Some years later, I would sometimes think I would wake up and realize the whole thing had been a strange dream I conjured up from one of my favorite hobbies, but the dream was now my reality.

I didn't realize it at first, too busy coming to grips that I had somehow reverted to an infant child that was sired by completely different parents. It was a hard time for me to have help, however reluctant I was with the whole thing, when I had to be fed, bathed, and changed (something of which I wished desperately to forget). I was helpless, I couldn't move around as much as my adult had been able to, so all I could do during the time was lie down and wiggle around.

Soon as I was at least a few weeks old, my eyesight gradually returned to its semi-normal state. Some things were blurry, but that thankfully was the only problem. I saw my "mother" clearly for the first time in so long and she was a gorgeous woman to behold. She had dark brown hair that flowed lusciously down her left shoulder, the bangs framing her beautiful heart-shaped face. Her dark eyes looked down at me endearingly, her plum-colored lips smiling as she held me in her arms, humming one of her familiar lullaby's.

I never really saw much of my "father" around. I would sometimes see him there, standing at the very edge of my vision and I could feel his eyes burning on me, but he had often left me and my mother alone to ourselves. I had pondered that maybe that man who was my father was the type that didn't take keen interest with his own child, like he didn't want to be having baggage to pull him down.

I would soon come to learn that this was not the case...

It was almost a year later, when my body was slowly gaining strength for me to sit up and on the verge of walking, that a stranger entered my new home unannounced. I had been frightened at first, my mouth opening to let out a cry of warning to my mother, but I chocked on the cry.

Looming over me like a colossal titan, a man with a familiar wide-brimmed black hat decorated with a large plume sat on top of his dark head. And his eyes, those eyes I've only seen in my books back to the Other home. There was no doubt who this man was standing before me—

Dracule 'Hawk-Eyes' Mihawk

"Oh," I barely heard my mother say from behind me, having joined me and our guest in the main room. "Look chéri, papa is home!"

One Piece was a fiction from my reality—and now I, too, was part of the fiction.