Learning how to walk was honestly a pain in the ass. More often than not, I landed flat on my ass, earning Dad's laughter as a result. I'm pretty sure Dad's having the time of his life doing the laughing instead of me. It's my fault for being a little shit a majority of the time, but when you barely have anything to do, being a little shit is as good as entertainment as I can get. On the bright side, I'm finally catching on to what is being said!
Now does that mean I have a good grasp on the language? Hell no, the language barrier is still there—slowly being overcome. One day, you shall be my bitch—one day. Oh, and my name is Mako—do not expect me to be eccentric and pull off hallelujah moments. I'm not that Mako—though, I wouldn't mind a uniform paying homage to Stardust Crusaders…
I am waaay too obsessed with Jojo…
Anyways, it's strange having Shanks as a father—it's even stranger realizing you are now living in the world of One Piece. Fortunately, I managed to at least catch up with the manga before I died. Unfortunately, I left myself on a cliffhanger, without even getting to see Luffy defeat Doflamingo for good. Even worse, there is at least nine years left of One Piece before it even ends. At most, it's like fifty percent done—meaning I have to be pretty careful what the hell I'm doing in this world. As far as I can tell, Shanks still has his left arm, so he hasn't met up with Luffy just yet or set up his base in Foosha Village, which is cool—actually, now that I think about it… Fuck.
I'm gonna end up meeting Luffy, aren't I? Not that that's bad or anything, but I'd rather avoid the main character of One Piece as if my life depends on it—I just don't want to be involved, okay?! I'm most likely going to get my ass killed through affiliation and become the dead person in a flashback…
Back on the subject that Shanks still has his left arm—I have no idea how far back I am from the start of the series. It could be years—maybe even months. How the hell am I supposed to know?
…
Well, Gol D. Roger is at least dead, considering that Shanks has his own pirate crew, so…that gives me some idea of where I am on the timeline. I could ask Yasopp about Usopp, which should give me a huge hint since he's the same age as Luffy, but I can't talk for shit just yet. I'm gonna have to wait and when that happens, I have to be careful about it. However, chances are, Yasopp's gonna go on about his son whenever he gets drunk.
On the bright side, I finally figured out what song it was that the Red Hair Pirates usually sing whenever they're drunk! It's Bink's Sake! You can bet that I've been trying my best to sing along whenever that happens. Shanks is honestly a sweetie when it comes to that, because he's usually there to help me pronounce some of the words.
…
I still can't get over the fact that Shanks is my father. Though, I have come to accept the fact that I am part fishman—which, by the way, is totally a thing. That really explains the weird skin coloration and the shark teeth, which are totally bitchin'. What was not bitchin', was teething—you try having extremely sharp teeth erupting from your gums, like fucking ow. What's even worse, I left teeth marks on Dracule Mihawk's sword—let me repeat that.
I left teeth marks on Mihawk's sword. How the fuck am I still alive? Honestly, that is a very good question…I should not think too hard about this. I should be more careful about what I do—and by that, I mean I need to start behaving. I'm gonna be outstaying my welcome the longer I act like a little shit…
Thud!
"Dahahaha!" There goes Dad again…laughing at me for landing flat on my ass, as usual…curse these wobbly legs!
You know what? Fuck it—I'm done. If my legs and sense of balance don't want to cooperate, then I'm just going to stay here on the floor, sitting. I puffed up my cheeks and crossed my arms, silently fuming at my futile attempts at walking. Yes, I am throwing a silent hissy fit. No, I do not give a fuck that I'm throwing a silent hissy fit.
There are a lot of things I can't do as a one-year-old. I can't talk well. I don't even know what the crap people are talking about most of the time, thanks to the existing language barrier. I'm not even gonna mention the frustrations that come with being unable to go to the bathroom whenever you want (and need) to go, instead of having to rely on someone else to help you because the diaper life entails constant dependence on others.
Now I'll admit I wasn't the most independent person in my past life, but at least I was capable of doing things on my own. Right now, the fact that every shred of independence I have taken for granted is gone is just…uuuurgh!
I could already feel my eyes beginning to burn. The urge to cry was really strong, but I didn't want to cry. I may be physically one, but that doesn't mean I have to act like it when things don't go my way! I am not reverting back to that negative aspect of myself that I had in my past life. I just can't go back to that lifestyle—nope, nope, nope!
Shit, my nose is starting to run. I sniffed, taking the moment to rub my eyes. I'm hoping Dad won't notice, since he's like that some times.
"Mako?" Unfortunately, Dad saw!
And since I cannot talk as my vocabulary is limited (curse you language barrier!), all I can really say is something like, "Hmm!" and look away.
…
As an aunt to two nieces and four nephews (one of whom was recently born before I met my untimely end in my past life) who I have known since their births (excluding the youngest), it kinda pains me to notice that their behavior has sort of rubbed off on me. In this case, it was my youngest niece who has had the biggest impact on my current behavior, as only she was capable of acting this way towards people she felt she didn't want to talk to at that current moment (she was pretty moody).
What bugs me about it is that she did a better job at it than I did because when I finally noticed that Dad didn't exactly get the message, he was already crouched down to my level, his gaze focused on me.
"Mako?" he said again.
I sniffed again, no longer able to hide the fact that I was crying. I wasn't sobbing, but the tears of frustration were still there. I was annoyed when Dad started to talk again and I couldn't exactly understand him.
I don't like this language barrier…
There is nothing more frustrating than being unable to understand your own parent…even more so, if you couldn't communicate. I know I am only one in this body, but…it's still frustrating. I was at least familiar with three languages, of which were completely useless in this situation. I was more like a parrot in this current form, relying on my listening skills and ability to use context based on the situation. Nice to see those English classes didn't go to waste…
I snapped out of my thoughts when Dad suddenly ruffled my hair. He then hooked his hands under my arms and lifted me off the floor. What happened next boggled my mind a bit as Dad turned me around so I wasn't facing him before propping me down on the floor in a standing position. It was there that I understood what he was trying to do.
Dad was helping me stay on me feet. He was giving me the support I needed to walk. Oh my god, I'm actually doing it! I had never felt so elated! Of course, I'm not actually walking, but this is good enough. It's helping in some way and that's giving me some practice!
And, to be honest, it's also getting past the instability that comes with being on a ship since, let's be honest, the rocking never completely stops. It was part of the reason I was having so much damn trouble staying on my feet at times. Apart from that, everything else was just me.
I have no idea how long Dad was helping me walk, but it was long enough for everyone else to return to the ship, because you see, we were currently docked at a port. And, like always, Dad and I were left behind to watch the ship. Now I think that is complete bullshit and to be honest, I was getting sick of seeing the same damn scenery that was the ship. I wanted to go with everyone else, but apparently, I was either too young or everyone wanted to keep the fact that I even existed aboard the Red Hair Pirates ship a secret…maybe both. I have no idea how that would work, considering that they have to buy me stuff like diapers, food, and the like—but I digress.
Anyways, as I was saying, the others returned and stayed quiet long enough to witness the sight of Red-Haired Shanks acting like a father as he helped me walk. Neither of us noticed them until we heard snickering. Now if there was one thing Dad hated the most, it was being teased for being a father. It was never meant in a bad way, it was just something his crew liked to tease him in a playful manner.
With his own crew teasing him, Dad looked at them and bluntly said, "Bite me."
I blinked a few times and had a rather mischievous thought pop up in mind. I grinned widely and then tried my best to actually do what Dad had said…I tried to bite him. Of course, Dad seemed to have this sort of sixth sense when it came to this as he quickly noticed my attempt and lightly flicked me on the nose for it.
"No, Mako." Being the little shit I was, I heard this phrase a lot—like, really.
I blinked a few times and pouted, narrowing my eyes when I heard Dad's crew burst into a fit of laughter. Whether they were laughing at the fact that I almost bit Dad in response to what he had said or that I was scolded, I had no idea. It could have been both, and I still wouldn't have known.
Because this is what it's like to be out of the loop. At this point in my current life, I have grown used to it. It's annoying as hell, and the only good that came out of this is that I wasn't expected to stay in the loop—at least, not yet. I hoping this won't get me killed…
It's probably going to get me killed…
…
A little later after that, I found myself being presented some clothes by Yasopp. Now the thing about this situation is that, up until now, I haven't exactly been wearing anything other than a diaper. Being only a baby, I wasn't exactly bothered by the fact that I was technically half-naked. I mean, things were already worse in the case that I get my diaper changed every day and I'm not even gonna go into detail about bath time with Dad.
Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope!
Moving on (oh god, go away, mental images!), Yasopp was checking if any of the clothes fitted me. Out of all of the clothes that Yasopp had brought, only a freaking white dress fitted me. I have no idea how the frick this happened, but considering that, apart from the dress, every other article of clothing was not only meant for toddlers older than I was, but also meant for boys. I'm seriously going to peg this down as everyone, but Yasopp, being ignorant on how to shop for a one-year-old little girl.
Dad seemed rather amused with the situation while I just had this look of annoyance on my face as I looked at the dress I was now wearing. It honestly wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be. In fact, I rather liked this dress. It was cute and rather simple—I like simple things. I especially like simple things that are pretty or cute.
I have mixed feelings on dresses in general, but mostly for the fact that I don't like not wearing any pants or shorts. It makes me feel exposed…but, right now, I don't mind this. The material was soft and after going without clothes for so long, it just felt rather nice to have this loose material covering my legs. Heh, I remembered back in my past life, I had this obsession with dresses…
Then a wasp somehow got stuck under the skirt of a Tinker Bell dress I was wearing, and stung me on the leg many times. Freaking wasp killed any positive thoughts I had on dresses after that. Seriously, fuck wasps—they deserve to die.
"Thank you!" I found myself soon saying to Yasopp, earning a couple of pats to my head afterwards from the guy. I still have some slight mixed feelings about the dress, but by the next day, I was totally up for wearing the shit out of this outfit.
Although, to be honest, wearing such an outfit with delicate material on a ship consistently isn't exactly the best sort of thing a toddler like me should do—especially since I like to crawl a lot, as I still haven't gotten the hang of walking just yet (soon, though…soon). It was something that everyone soon discovered right after I had managed to tear my dress's skirt somehow (don't ask—even I don't know how the hell I did it) after about three days of wearing the same outfit.
On this ship, everyone wears the same set of clothes for more than a couple of days at a time, changing only when it's necessary—it depends on preference. Laundry day usually occurs every two to three weeks or so, depending on the weather. Yes, I am aware of how unhygienic this is, but we are living the life of a pirate on a freaking ship that is mostly out at sea. We kinda need to conserve water at times as a precaution—especially since these guys love to get drunk. If I recall anything, one of the symptoms for a hangover is dehydration.
…
I looked up a lot of crap because I was like planning on getting drunk legally once I turned twenty-one in my past life just so I knew how it felt to get drunk. I only had one more year left to go—then I died in that restroom. So I have to wait even longer before I can get drunk and yes, I am rather bitter about it. Am I as bitter about it as Dad, since he hasn't been allowed to drink since I came to be about on this ship?
Probably not—I mean, Dad knows what it's like to drink and get drunk. I, on the other hand, do not…though, I do have somewhat useless knowledge on the chemistry of beer and wine—hell, I even have an idea on how to make it. You'd be surprised what kinds of classes were available at my university…
Anyways, since all I had was like one outfit that actually fit me, I was wearing this dress for days at a time before getting it washed and put back on me. By the end of the month, everyone had picked up minor sewing skills in order to fix up the damage I put this dress through with my surprisingly destructive ways of transportation (which was crawling). The white fabric was no longer pristine as it originally was the day I received the dress.
So when the ship docked at a port, I made sure to tell Yasopp as best as I could to get me more clothes, since he was the only person who actually knew how to shop for a toddler. Unfortunately, he mistook the little display I was making as a request for more dresses, which is honestly understandable, given that I was trying to indicate that I wanted more clothes by pointing at the worn-out dress I was wearing. It wasn't exactly the best way to communicate without using any words, but it was the best that I could do on a short notice. In any case, I now had more dresses to wear, so it wasn't all that bad. And, to be frank, I was in a bit of a mood to wear dresses anyways.
I mean, there was no one to tell me what I can or cannot do while wearing a dress. There was no one to tell me to keep my legs closed, or that this dress's design was so not cute, when I felt it was, in my opinion. It was just good to be free of any opposing opinions towards how I felt about something like dresses.
The dresses were cute, simple, and I liked watching the guys try their best to fix the damage I dealt to the dresses I wore—especially if it was Dad. It was certainly entertaining to see Shanks trying to comprehend how this situation came to be. While I toned down my behavior a notch, I was still a little shit in my own, unique way.
"Just keep on smiling, you little shit," Shanks said as he managed to successfully patch up a tear in the amethyst-colored dress he was fixing.
I was sitting down in front of Dad while he was doing this, wearing only a diaper since he was currently fixing my dress. While I have only managed to pick up a few of the words he was saying, I've heard it enough times to understand the message. So I did what I usually did whenever I was acting like a little shit. I laughed and then I smiled.
…
Eventually, I started to get the hang of walking, and when Dad saw me taking my first few steps without any support, he pretty much made a huge deal out of it—especially since I managed to stay on my feet instead of landing flat on my ass. And there was much rejoicing that night. The booze was brought out, everyone but Dad and I got drunk, and Bink's Sake was sung (I'm getting better at it!).
All in all, a good night, though I'm pretty sure the reason everyone was in such a good mood (Dad especially, even though he couldn't drink) was because, now that I was starting to get the hang of walking, that meant I would be crawling less, and crawling less meant less damage to the dresses I was wearing. And with less damage to the dresses I wore, that meant less fixing that was needed. It was a pretty logical conclusion (I can only assume), except for one thing…
Walking gave me more range. More range meant more opportunities and soon, Dad woke up to be climbing out of my own crib. Whatever joy there was in me learning how to walk soon turned to horror once everyone saw how I was able to climb onto the table.
Be afraid. Be very afraid…for I can now walk! Though, to be honest, one of the very first things I tried out now that I was able to walk, was the bathroom. I was extremely careful when I entered the place to do my business (I don't want to die again in such a place). I, however, was not as careful to go undetected as Dad seemed to have followed me and when I came out of that bathroom, he just stared at me for a good minute before picking me up and swinging me around like the proud father he was.
And before you ask, yes, there was a celebration. It was embarrassing as hell (I was mortified) and I'm pretty sure this was payback from Dad, for how much of a little shit I've been. You win this round, Dad!
So ends the diaper life for me, and that was one huge developmental stage out of the way…I am extremely content. And then I managed to find a mirror while I was climbing about onto a dresser in Dad's room and spent like an hour just staring at my own reflection.
It was so weird. I mean, I was completely white from the front in places, and metallic blue everywhere else. My face was probably what I considered to be my most interesting feature, as everything about it just caught my attention. My white hair, my pink eyes, the fact that the upper half of my face was metallic blue while the lower half was just white, and then there was my teeth…
I really did like my teeth and just—they were interesting to look at. The way the rows of teeth just connected to each other like puzzle pieces. How the heck is this working? It's a mystery…
By now, I was aware of the dorsal fin on my back. It was rather sensitive, as I have found out the hard way whenever I hit my back on something. I'm wondering if this is going to be a permanent feature I have to look out for or something that will eventually become retractable…I'm hoping it's the latter, as it really makes putting on my dresses a hassle. Yasopp had to put a slit in the back in order to accommodate my dorsal fin just sticking out.
"Having fun, Mako?" I nearly shrieked when I saw Dad's reflection in the mirror. I have no idea how long he had been standing behind me, but apparently, it was long enough to see me playing with my reflection. How embarrassing… "That's you…and that's me."
I can see that, Dad…as much as I've acted like it, I'm not that stupid— "Pfft, ahahahaha!"
Freaking Dad and his funny faces—oh god, I can't breathe! Air, I need air!
Thud!
I collapsed onto my side, holding my stomach as I continued to laugh. I laughed harder once Dad started to tickle me, for whatever reasons he had. Oh god, you're gonna get it later—once I get out of this position!
"S-Stop—ahahaha!" Oh god, I'm getting flashbacks to when my oldest brother in my past life would trap me in a corner and tickle the crap out of me! Unlike my oldest brother, however, when I said stop, Dad stopped. My stomach was hurting after all of that, while Dad had this smug look on his face.
You win again, Dad! Ahh…I'm just gonna lie down for a while, ha…
"C'mon, Mako—it's lunchtime." I see…I'll be there in a bit…you know what, fuck it.
"Carry me." I might have pride, but it isn't enough to keep me from making such demands. I am still only a one-year-old little (little, more like tiny—everyone and everything is huge) half-human girl.
About five minutes later, I could be seen stuck under Dad's arm as he made his way to the dining room (as I have called it, since that's where we all ate). There were better ways to carry someone like me, but Dad decided that a little troublemaker deserved to be carried this way. I wasn't in a position to complain, so I just let it happen. We had fish for lunch, anyways, so I got back at Dad by eating everything—bones included.
I don't know about you, but fish bones seem tastier to me than they ever did in my past life. I also like the crunching noises I make whenever I just chew on them. My teeth are hella strong, and I think that's just awesome.
"Mako—don't eat the bones!" Dad had this strange look on this face when I swallowed audibly. It was enough to make me snicker like the little shit I was. "Now you're just doing that on purpose."
No shit, Dad—what gave you that idea? Pfft, ahaha, I love messing with him…
…
…
Everyone had expected to worry less about fixing my dresses now that I was able to walk. However, as the days went by, it soon came to their attention that walking was just as bad as crawling, because I liked getting into everything and since I wasn't exactly careful with how I maneuvered my way around things, my dress kept getting caught on things and tearing in places. The look of resignation on Dad's face was priceless.
Days soon turned into months, and eventually, it was my second birthday. I was two years old, now—whee! I was pretty hyped up throughout the whole day, since the guys were making me a cake like last year. As much trouble as I have caused everyone, they still appreciated the fact that I was here. To be honest, just knowing these guys were acknowledging the day I was born was enough for me to not care for the fact that I didn't get any birthday presents.
I'm not petty enough to throw a fit over the lack of presents—I've had enough life-experience from my past life to have gotten used to the fact that I won't always get presents, unlike my older siblings' spawn. Ha, so many tantrums I've witnessed from them as their aunt…I will never lower myself to their standards.
That was to say, I wouldn't throw a tantrum…nope. I was much more mature than that! As surprising as it sounds…yeah, not exactly the most mature person in the world for someone my age, but hey, I'm only physically two—I now have an excuse. Woohoo!
The day was going good so far. I was giving Dad a break, thus allowing him rest from my shenanigans. Then everything changed when the Marines attacked—yes, of all the days, it happened to be today that Marines decided to drop by and raise hell.
These motherfuckers have no idea who the hell they are messing with…well, they probably do. I mean Red-Haired Shanks and the Red Hair Pirates—they had to have some idea. Meanwhile with me, I was just sitting around, watching as everyone beat the crap out of these guys. Not exactly the smartest thing I ever did, but I was baffled that I was caught in between such conflict, like—holy shit, I could die! Why am I not concerned?!
Needless to say, when a lone Marine managed to find me and mistook me as a child hostage, picking me up by the back of my dress while trying to talk to me in a calm manner, I started to worry…then the asshole had the gall to drop me when he noticed I wasn't exactly human—fully, at least.
I had no idea what the crap this guy was saying after that, but I felt offended and I wasn't exactly in a good mood after that. So I did the only thing I knew how to do so far, and that was bite this guy in the leg…hard. My sharp teeth sunk into his skin and the guy just starting screaming, running about as he yelled out for help. He shook his leg, but I kept my hold by wrapping my arms and legs around his leg.
I'll teach this guy for deciding to ruin my birthday! I'll teach everyone—even if it means putting up with this gag-inducing blood in my mouth! Bleegh…this is so gross, but I am so mad!
"Mako!" I heard my name called out quite a number of times as the Marine I was chomping down on started to run around the deck like a chicken without its head.
I probably gave Dad a heart attack for what I did, but again, I'm mad and when I'm mad, I don't think straight. There are reasons why I took anger management classes in my past life when I was younger and since my brain isn't as developed as it was when I was an adult—I'm more susceptible to impulse.
When I felt the Marine stop running, I tightened my hold on his leg as he tried, once again, to shake me off. He then tried prying me off with his hands, but quickly learned that was a bad idea based on how hard I was holding onto his leg. I honestly underestimated my strength…because my grip was strong.
All I can say, this is definitely a result of my fishman heritage. No normal two-year-old girl should be this strong. It was upon noticing this that I decided to test something out and punched the guy in the kneecap…
Crack!
That…was not a good sound…and neither were the screams that were coming out of this guy's mouth. Feeling rather horrified with what I have done, I released my hold on this guy, spat out whatever blood was in my mouth, and ran like hell, as fast as a could on these little legs of mine. My first thought was to look for safety. Safety, in my head, was Dad and Dad was nowhere to be found within my sight. I felt like panicking—and I did when I noticed I was surrounded by some Marines.
The looks on their faces that they gave me made me feel like I was some sort of monster, which honestly…wasn't that farfetched. I had blood staining my dress and I'm pretty sure there was still some blood dribbling out of my mouth, which came from that guy I bit in the leg and punched in the kneecap. I felt sick to my stomach the more I thought about this.
The feeling only grew stronger when I finally understood what they were saying…they were calling me a monster. Ahaha, to think that this would be yet another word I would come to understand on my own like this…it's funny. Doesn't it just make you laugh?
I wanted to laugh…but I didn't have time to do that as, all of a sudden, one of these guys tried to grab me. My first instinct was to bite down on his hand—and I did. The Marine's reaction to this was instantaneous. He screamed loudly as he tried to shake me off his hand, but I refused to let go. This ended up scaring the crap out of the other Marines as they refused to touch me, even though the Marine whose hand I was biting was asking for help.
Then I felt something come down on the back of my head hard. What happened next ended up making me sick to my stomach…I bit down so hard in reaction to the blow I was given to the back of my head that I soon felt myself falling down.
Thud!
I landed hard onto the floor, but that wasn't what bothered me the most. What did bother me was the fact that I had a large chunk of the Marine's hand in my mouth. I spit it out almost immediately, backing away from the bloody piece of flesh. Oh god, I think there's bone in there!
I felt like throwing up—and I did. The Marine whose hand I had bitten a chunk out of was freaking out so badly, the others that were next to him were doing just the same. Meanwhile with me, I was just disturbed.
Then I noticed another Marine had a pistol aimed at me.
I'm going to die again.
Right on the day of my second birthday, I'm going to die.
That's all I could really think before I closed my eyes and the trigger was pulled.
Bang!
…
I was confused when I felt nothing—no pain or anything, aside from the throbbing in the back of my head from the hit I had received earlier from someone. Then I opened my eyes and saw that the Marine that tried to shoot me was now face down on the floor…dead, with a bleeding hole in his head. I didn't have much time to react as Dad soon came rushing in to pick me off the ground and punched a nearby Marine that was in his way.
Dad ran into the ship, carrying me in his arms as he tried his best to keep me calm. I was so close to freaking out…then Dad put me inside a barrel and told me to stay quiet until he came back for me. I did as I was told and stayed where I was placed. Dad left after that and didn't come back until what felt like an hour.
By then, the Marines were chased off, as the Red Hair Pirates were victorious. I was relieved when I heard that and started crying when Dad took me out of the barrel. So much happened today, that it wasn't even funny. This is the worst birthday I have ever had. Oh god, I ripped out a chunk of someone's hand, cracked someone's kneecap, and saw a dead body—I need help!
I almost died again…
It was during this that I found out that Yasopp was the one who shot the Marine that tried to kill me. As thankful as I was, I was still freaking out over the fact that I saw a dead body. I should have expected this—hell, people died during the first chapter of One Piece. Just what was I expecting? Sunshine and rainbows?
People die in this series…
It took me about a week to get over the shock of what happened during my second birthday. By then, the guys decided to try again when it came to throwing me a birthday party. This time around, we weren't interrupted. The party went well, the food was good, as was the cake, and as disturbed as I was for what had happened on that day, I felt as though I could get over it. After all, no one important died.
I'm still alive…
Of course, such positive thoughts weren't that effective in preventing the nightmares. More often than not, I woke up in the middle of the night and crawled out of my own crib to join Dad in bed. It took an entire month before the nightmares finally ceased. By then, I returned back to my troublemaking demeanor.
Although, one thing did change…and that was the dress I wore that day was burned so that nothing remained. It gave me a sense of closure just watching the tainted material burn into ash. I felt as though a heavy burden was lifted from my shoulders.
Things were going to get better…that's how it felt. And really, it did get better…
…
…
Fast-forward to a few weeks later, Mihawk decided to show up one day and give us some rather surprising news. He was completely wary of me this time around, considering the teeth marks I left on the hilt of his sword. All I did was grin at him when he looked at me…then he pulled out a rolled up piece of paper from his pocket and opened it up for everyone to see.
At first, I had no idea why the others, including Dad, reacted the way they did, their jaws dropping from shock… I didn't really have to ask, though. I ended up finding out myself about fifteen minutes later, when the entire Red Hair Pirates crew, plus Mihawk, who wasn't allowed to leave, sat down around the table as the booze was brought out for a celebration.
Dad picked me up off the floor and seated me down on the table, allowing me to see the piece of paper Mihawk had brought on him…it was a bounty. But it wasn't just any bounty—oh, no.
It was my bounty.
At only two years old, I was now known as Mako "The Jaws" and had a bounty of five-thousand Beri. That's one hell of a way to get people to acknowledge your existence in this world. I'm honestly more shocked over the fact that they managed to get a non-bloody picture of me in that dress.
Ahaha, well, fuck.
I would be laughing if I weren't so disturbed over the fact that a two-year-old girl like me could even get a bounty like this. Then I recalled Nico Robin, but she was like eight-years-old or something—apparently, there aren't any age limits in the world of One Piece when it comes to getting bounties. This is fucking disturbing as hell!
I mean—I'm wanted dead or alive! I'm barely two years old, and people are already after my ass. This is honestly the worst—but, still…ahahaha, I can't believe I have a bounty.
I'm so boned!
"Ah!" I let out an annoyed whine as Dad brought his hand down on my head to ruffle my hair.
"It's okay, Mako!" Oh god, Dad's drinking again… "Papa will keep you safe!"
I should have not felt so happy to hear Dad say something like that…but I did and I had this big, stupid grin on my face because of it. Even though things weren't exactly great by my past life's standards, things weren't as bad as they could be. And just knowing that seemed to be enough to keep me smiling.
…
…
…
A/N In case people weren't aware, I made some reference pictures of Mako that you can find the links to on my profile. Check 'em out when you can if you want an idea how Mako looks like!
That aside, before anyone asks, the legal drinking age in America is twenty-one—just putting that out there since I am aware that I have readers from different parts around the world reading my stories. By the way, thank you guys so much for taking the time to do so! I truly appreciate it! ^^
In any case, Mako had a bit of a wake-up call this chapter. Like, it's one thing seeing people die from a reader's standpoint, but actually being there to see the body—is another thing. This is exactly one of the reasons why living in the world of One Piece isn't as great as it seems. Sure, it depends on where you could be born, but for Mako, she was born on a pirate ship in the West Blue.
On a more humorous note (of the black comedy kind), Mako's got her own bounty. Yeah…only two years old and she's already made her place in the world. Being half-fishman makes her stronger than the average human and since there aren't many half-fishman around, I've been using Dellinger as an example. At two years old, he was capable of lifting cannonballs…so Mako has the shared ability to do so, but for the most part, all she's been doing is getting into everything, like the little troublemaker she is.
This is what happens when you put her in an environment where she has to find ways to entertain herself. This is where Mako and Akimichi Chōko differ, as Chōko had Chōji growing up. One little change can really make a difference. By the by, just to let you guys know, Mako is, by far, the most accurate representation to how I was as a child. Just let that sink in…heheh, sink.
Anyways, there isn't really much for Mako to do just yet. She can't change the future, because she doesn't even where she is on the timeline—though do keep in mind that Usopp is two years older than her, meaning that Luffy is that much older than her as well. While she doesn't know this, you guys do…meaning it'll be two to three more years before the Red Hair Pirates dock at Foosha Village.
So this chapter started off rather humorous before getting serious near the end. This is pretty much how my entire experience with One Piece has been, to be honest, ahaha… Just giving everyone a heads up, do keep your guard up from here on out—you never know when shit will hit the fan.
So shout out goes to anonymous reviewer, Lazy Guest, for being lucky reviewer #10, though I do believe their penname is Chiasmus. In any case, for every ten reviewers, I do shout outs…and I do give honorable mentions as well! That being said, honorable mentions go to Leafy365, BlueFightingPanda (nice name, by the way!), and DonnieLover9821. Thank you guys so much taking the time to review! I really do appreciate it, just so you guys know… ^^
Updates are going to be a little unpredictable from here on out, but I will try my best to update as soon as possible. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! So until next time, everyone! KD out! XD