Author's Note: Thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I hope you enjoy this new chapter just as much as the first, but fair warning, I think it gets more awkward the further in you get. Also, there is a poll up on my profile to gauge everyone's thoughts about Makino eventually getting the Nagi Nagi no Mi if you are interested in voting. :)

Also, quick thing. I am looking for a beta reader, specifically for my One Piece stories. If you are interested feel free to send me a PM. Though fair warning, I sometimes disappear of the grid for awhile due to real life things.

Remember when I said my life changed when I was five? Yeah, that change came in the form of a human sized hole that my little family's home now supported. More specifically the groaning lump of flesh strewn amongst the splintered wood on our kitchen floor and the potential psycho that put him there.

"Dragon!"

I turned away from boy still laying uselessly on the ground to peer out the new, very unwanted door that had been installed just a few seconds ago, to find the source of the thunderous shout which seemed to echo from a great distance away. A shadowy silhouette was racing towards my father and I's little adobe faster than a bullet train. Probably even faster than the Shanghai Maglev, which could apparently reach up to 267 mph (miles per hour).

I barely had time to finish my thought of, 'Oh, look. There was said psycho now.' before the ounce distant outline of human came skidding to a halt in front of the boy, still using our wooden floor as a bed, and I, allowing me to take in his appearance.

He was a huge man, dressed in black suit and a white coat with ridiculous red shoulder pads hung over his shoulders like a cape. He had hair as dark as the young male that he had punched with enough force to destroy the house of a stranger with little specks of gray sprinkled in. His muscles bulged so much the I was afraid that if he moved a single inch his clothing would start to rip at the seams as easily as soggy paper. The man I was faced with now was no doubt one of the most intimidating men I have ever run into. Both lives included.

He was also the same intimidating man that had just roughly grabbed the human wrecking ball off our floor by the back of the kid's shirt, standing the boy on his feet, only to punch the dark-haired boy on the top of the head, knocking him down to the floor again. I didn't see how such a violent act could be out of love like the nicely dressed, muscle man had so loudly claimed it was, but clearly the boy was as hardy as he looked, simply picking himself of the ground with a severe scowl on his face. His glare was fierce.

I barely suppressed a shudder. I could practically feel the irritation and anger radiating from the older child (whom I later found out was 6 years my senior) in aggressive waves. I made note to never mess with him in the future. My expertise was in mixology not brawling after all.

I took a nervous step back, yet remained completely ignored by the two intruders as the younger one abruptly hurled himself towards the older, not even a single sound leaving lips, his face set in a snarl. Still, as I watched the males scream and try to hit each other, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had seen these two somewhere before. I just couldn't place from where.

My father and I, while we lived close to the village, were rather separated from the rest of the population. Our small, modest cottage nestled just outside the wooded area leading to Mt. Colubo Still, people knew us and us them as we both my frequent trip into the center of town to either pick up groceries or for forced (on my part) socialization. Mayor Woop Slap, a prickly old man with a fondness for bucket hat and the color yellow and always had me itching with a sense of familiarity, had a tendency to visit them at least once a week too.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I heard our kitchen table splitter. The cracking of the wood as it snapped apart was near deafening to my ears. Eyes wide in shock as a stared unrepentantly at the figure in the center of the destruction. I mechanically turned away from the sight, to look back towards the buff male, and noticed he was started strolling purposely towards the prone form. I finally decided to intervene and make my presence known to the two arguing males. "You just punched a boy through my house."

It hardly registered when the oldest man stopped mid stride, a startled look on his face as if he was just noticing I was here. I wouldn't have been surprised. I heard the boy hiss, but I ignored him for now, starring my taller foe (He was probably 6 times my current height, if not more.) down I spat out. "And you broke our table."

The well-dressed man seemed to snap whatever funk a young girl sassing him put him in, turning to the boy who was stumbling out of the wreckage that was once our kitchen table. "Dragon, fixt it."

"You fix it," Dragon growled, the dark hair's one his head practically raising with indignation. Or static electricity. I felt a small sense of satisfaction when he tripped over a loose piece of wood - you should respect your elders. Though the older man didn't act very elderly.

I blantaly ignored that I had my own problems with adult authority sometimes, but seeing as I had the excuse of being an adult reincarnated into the body of a child, I liked to think I had a free pass anyway.

"I don't wanna," the supposed adult whined, his pinky disappearing up his nostril. I blinked, the action left alarm bells ringing in my head, but I couldn't exactly place why. It was aggravating. Someone picking their nose shouldn't cause me this much of a migraine. I resisted the urge to rub my temples.

"It was your fault." The response was blase, though that did not distract from the truth of it. Yes, the giant man was a primary source of the destruction, but the boy was kinda at fault to for not dodging.

A strong, hearty laugh echoed around the room, startling me enough that I nearly popped outta my skin. The boy was glaring at me and the man grinning like a loon, finger still digging for treasure. I blushed, I hadn't meant to say that outloud.

I ducked my head mumbling a quick 'sorry.' Sure, I didn't really mean it, but if it got me off the boy's potential shit list all the better. As I said, I wasn't a fighter.

The muscled man looked at the boy, then hole, then back to me, his laughter finally puttering out. He popped his finger out of his nose, a massive bugger sticking to his nail, which he then blow off with enough force you could nearly hear the splat when it hit the wall. "Okay."

I tilted my head, green locks slipping across my eyes. "Okay?"

"Dragon and I will fix your house." The man stated jovially, ignoring the boy's glare. He crossed his arms over his chest, sagely saying, "Though you really should take better care of it, if it breaks so easily."

I wisely decided to let that comment slide and simply said, "I'll get the tools."

"Who are you two anyway?" I asked, as I brought them my papa's old toolbox. It was too heavy for me to lift, so I ended up dragging it across the ground by it's rusted handle. I popped the lid upon when I finally got it close enough to them. Picking out a hammer I gestured with it towards the the younger of the duo, "I mean, I know his name's Dragon, but…"

"Monkey D. Garp," The older man said, taking the hint I was looking for a proper introduction. He punched the dark-haired by on the head. "This ungrateful whelp is my son Dragon a future Marine just like his old man."

He was very proud of that.

"I'm not going to be a Marine," Dragon almost huffed, as close to pouting as I have seen him since he come unceremoniously crashing through my wall. He didn't seem like he was much of a whiner, more like a, well, dragon. Hard to contain, ready and very willing to burn anyone and anything to a crisp. The boy snatched the hammer from my hand, "I am going to tear them down. The Tenryuubito too."

This kid didn't hold anything back, did he? What a little ball of angst.

I more than half-expected him to get another 'Fist of Love' to the noggin' probably knocking even a few more screws loose in his brain, but Garp merely grunted letting the barbed words slide of his back like droplet of water. I got the sudden feeling they've had this argument before and that my presence was the only thing keeping it from escalating.

I hurriedly changed the topic, "My name's Maki." I said, "It's nice to meet you Mr. Monkey, Dragon"

With nothing else to say, we all got to work fixing the wall. It was awkward, though Garp still tried to make the best of it. Laughing and scolding his scowling son.

I really liked him, though I couldn't really say the same for the dark-haired boy.

I squashed the little voice in my head telling me that wasn't true.

"Makino! What happened!?" Papa cried, dropping the paper bag of grocery he had been carrying, vegetables spilling out and rolling a short distance away when he saw the shoddy repair job that had been done to our home. He had been out in the village grabbing the essentials that we would need for the next few days. Normally I would be forced to go with him as he was extremely paranoid about my safety and lack of socialization, but I had finally convinced him to let me stay behind.

(I wondered if it had been worth it.)

I was too busy internally hyperventilating to reply. This was the first time my papa had called me anything outside of Maki-chan (Though I had also never heard him this angry before, especially not at me.) and, apparently, that had just been a nickname.

My real name, I guess, was Makino.

Hundreds of little things that had felt so familiar started bombard my mind at once. The dark green hair that covered my head, my new home Foosha Village and the mayor that came to visit, a hulking man named Garp and his son Dragon. I almost wanted to rip one off the planks from the quick and very amateurish fix it that the long gone duo had done to alleviate the damage they had caused to our wall.

How had I not have noticed this before!?

I was the Makino from One Piece, my favorite shonen manga and a story that had been in my life longer than Harry Potter could ever claim to be.

My mind nearly grinded to a complete halt at the revelation. I placed my hand against my forehead as a swayed unsteadily on my feet. Papa worriedly gripped my forearm, his tirade about not being able to leave me alone stopped as he began to worriedly inquire if I was okay.

It was really kind of depressing (mostly embarrassing) that it took me 5 years to figure this out.

I peeked up at my father through the gaps of my fingers, huffing a terse, "I blame you." before wrenching myself from his hold and making my way towards my tiny room located behind the kitchen ignoring his confused, "What did I do?"

I needed to lay down.