A/N: Uh, I may be coming back! I think... Well, in just another month, school will be out, so at the very least, I'll update again by then .

Chapter 35

Contemplating the Magician

When I first saw the ice cream stand set up by a trio of men discussing the mystery that was me, I couldn't help but want to go over and tease them a little. Certainly, as a child, I never imagined I would be a legend that millions of people would gossip and play detective over. Not to mention, it had been three years and eight months since the last person who sold ice cream left my ship, and she had mostly sold fruity sorbets in wafer cups.

Finding Roxy Blue, former Vice Admiral of the Marines, with a pair of 'unknowns' was a bit of a shock. I have pride in my information network, which combined with the eidetic memory I inherited from my father, meant I knew the faces and names of just about everyone worth having interest in. No matter how hard I stared at the man behind the crate, however, I couldn't place him. Yet surely a relatively young, retired marine of such a high rank wouldn't be helping just anyone sell ice cream?

No, of course not. Though, to be honest, even I wasn't expecting an honest to Kami-sama magician. I have always enjoyed magic shows, but the existence of a real sorcerer excited me mainly because finally I had a candidate that might be able to utilize the Premonition Pearl (I named it myself – quite witty I think). Shirley was a mermaid with a rare talent, but even she could not control which events would be revealed, nor could she tell when her visions would occur. For me, such visions were worse than useless.

My father was a skilled merchant with a rare and valuable gift. He remembered the faces, names, and habits of ever customer and supplier he ever met, endearing himself to them by remembering their family situations and gifting them with their favorite delicacies. He remembered the prices of every good in every town both wholesale and into the final buyer's hands as well as the differences in supply and demand over the changing seasons, maximizing his profit by being in the right place in the right time, rather than through bitter haggling that left the other parties with grudges. He remembered rumors of marine movement, pirate pillaging, bandit brawls, and trader tricks, information which gave him an edge in both navigating the oceans and negotiating with people.

Regardless of all this however, his greatest gift, after he got over the shock of course, was my door power. The day I swallowed a bite of the door fruit was, quite simply, a day of yelling. Yelling for me to spit it out, yelling at me for being so stupid as to swallow a bite of something so vile, yelling at my father for not putting it away properly, yelling at my mother for not watching over me, and yelling out of anger and fear just because there was little else that could be done about the situation. As merchants, a great deal of life is spent on the seas. Losing the ability to swim was very dangerous, and compounding that with the amount of money a devil fruit was worth, my father certainly wasn't very happy with me.

My mother and I were left on land after that event, while my father continued his trade. For the next half dozen years, I learned the many possibilities of my new power beyond opening doors in my bedroom wall to sneak out of the house at night. When my father was confident I could emergency escape falling into the ocean by opening a door in midair to transport me to safety, the family was able to sail together again.

I don't think I need to list the many benefits of instant transport doors for a merchant.

Soon after becoming a renowned merchant of unparalleled speed, my mother died from a marine bullet when our ship was caught in the crossfire of a sea battle. I think this is what triggered my father's indifference in our customer's way of life. He gained a reputation in the underground as someone willing to trade with anyone for the right price as long as the customer wasn't stupid enough to pick a fight with the other clients. Participating in both the information trade and the black market earned him even more profits, and when he bought this island ship that depended on my power for travel, my father finally decided it was time to train me for taking over the business.

When my father passed away, the legend of Old Man Merchant had spread into even the Grand Line, despite the fact that we had never been there. I encouraged these rumors and stories as good marketing for my business. There was no reason to 'update' them either. There are women honored in marines and feared as pirates, but we are still disrespected in many careers, merchant being one of them. By that point, most of my profit came from business conducted through my subordinates anyway.

I am ninety-six years old. Saying it is very odd, since every time I looked in the mirror these past months, the face looking back never appeared more than twenty-five years old. My favorite deal so far – a youthful body. It took some complex trade webs to satisfy the woman, but eventually she agreed to visit the ship every two years before the Migrations to rework my body a new age. I never choose anything older than fifty – too much joint pain after that. Sure, I could choose a youthful body and older appearance, but the contradiction grated on my perfectionist desires for a good disguise.

But changing my body to act and feel a younger age has a negligible extending effect on my actual life span. I never married, and though I've taken on apprentices, they were all more than satisfied to continue on with their own businesses rather than take over mine. Or more accurately, the more they learned, the more intimidated they were of the work my business involved.

Ten minutes. A mere ten minutes between a young man and a large pearl set a limit to my future. I would have less than five years left to live before something would take me to my death.

Less than five years to resolve all my remaining debts.

Less than five years to relocate the hundreds of people who make a living on my ship.

Less than five years to let go of my dozens of loyal subordinates and find them new jobs.

Less than five years to redistribute my wealth and destroy any information too dangerous to fall into unknown hands.

Less than five years until I die.

It was easy when I first heard the verdict to focus on practical matters, but outside my office… The thought was a bit more terrifying than I had expected.

"Good luck!" I call out as the trio left with their pirate captain friend.

"You too!" the magician replies, and for a moment I feel a surge of irrational bitterness towards the boy. Was he making fun of me, wishing me luck when my fateful end had been determined to occur in less than 1826 days?

I open a door back to my office. When he was in his trance, I remember seeing a bit of smoke swirl in crystal orb. Perhaps I could try and see if his powers called forth an image even I could examine? It would be nice to search for some extra detailed hints myself. After all, I doubt someone with such limited knowledge on devil fruits could give an estimate of how long a person had trained their ability based on their displayed mastery, or would remember to check for hints of what season the vision occurred.

My office is rigged with state of the art security recordings from a collection of den den mushi I had an expert hook up as a single system which fed into contraption of Skypiea dials I use to keep records of important trades. It takes but a few minutes to play back the last hour.

"Time of death," the magician whispered as his hand danced just above the Premonition Pearl. "What a morbid thing to look for."

It was, wasn't it? To think, just two hours ago, she had naively believed it would be just another piece of information she could use to calculate her plans around.

Harry's hand landed on the orb which began to swirl slightly with a strange smoke before clearing away. For the next ten minutes, the crystal ball was decidedly clear but for a few, indecipherable shadows that flickered within its confines.

"Harry? Harry! Harry, Harry, Harryharryharry – "

The magician stepped back as his name was called and replied in slurred words.

I smack my hand down with irritation as I realize that I couldn't see anything of the vision Harry had apparently witnessed. Actually, there was little evidence that he had received a vision at all! Maybe he was lying? Maybe I had more than five years after all? In fact, why did I ever believe it was possible to see something nonexistent like the future? I was nothing short of foolish to believe that anything like a silly pearl could strip humans of their free will to choose their futures, right?

I pull out a map of my ship, labeled with yesterday's food stands, performances, and tournament winners.

Yes, there was no need to panic. My world still needed me and I wasn't going to leave it anytime soon.

Just what did I know about this mysterious magician, anyway? His magic was, as far as I could tell, real. There was no definite proof either way though, so perhaps I should look further into that.

He traveled with – and was the likely reason for the early retirement of – Vice Admiral Rock 'Roxy' Blue, the only marine incapable of haki that still managed to be promoted to such a high rank. The magician was familiar with the increasingly infamous pirate, Red-Hair Shanks. His younger companion was, hmm… somewhat familiar. I looked closer at the face on the screen, trying my best to ignore the shockingly yellow hair since that was one feature easily changed with hair dye. Wasn't he the girl wanted by the CP9 as a runaway? Kami-sama above, what was she, uh, he?, doing here? What a ridiculously makeshift group of people.

He called himself Harry, no family name that I noticed, and didn't seem to carry any weapons. Of course, if he was a true magician, then weapons probably were pointless for him. His hair appeared black and his eyes were a very clear green regardless of the lighting. He wore strange clothing, like a simple black dress with long billowing sleeves, though I couldn't quite determine the fabric. The loose-fitting outfit hid his physique, but it was probably safe to assume the short man wasn't very muscular or fat or a busty woman in disguise.

What else did I know? He might be the one to have made the ice cream and toppings, in which case he made very good fruit preserves but less skilled with ice cream. Perhaps he had some limited or specialized experience with cooking? He only heard of my legend a week ago. He's a novice at the information trade, but intelligent enough to pick up the basics with little prompting. He can handle belligerent customers, likely from previous experience in the service industry but also possibly from being good at dealing with irritated children. He has no money troubles, dislikes attention but could play it well if necessary, knew about devil fruits but had yet to take them as 'facts of life,' isn't a pirate but travels with a crew of them, and was mainly interested in Old Man Merchant as a favor to that crew.

A long list of details that said very little. Sherlock Holmes would have problems profiling this person!

"Is there really no way to narrow it down further?"

"To be honest, I'm surprised I could see such a clear vision of anything over a week or two into the future. Fate isn't something set in stone, there are just certain major events that are inevitable as a result of past events. Everyone's death, for example, is inevitable. Considering how valuable devil fruits are, it's inevitable that your power will be found by another and used. My guess is that whether you die in an accident or of old age, these two events will occur in such a way to bring about the vision I saw, but not much else can be predicted. Does that make any sense?"

No, it doesn't! I don't remember him saying this, though. When he shook his head no to my question, I zoned out, unwilling to listen to his excuses, but now I wished I hadn't. Maybe I could have requested a clarification.

I rewind the recording to replay the explanation.

Fate isn't something set in stone…

I frown. How does one harmonize the beliefs of 'fate not set in stone' and 'seeing the future'?

Everyone's death, for example, is inevitable…

I scowl. Alright, even the greatest free will advocates can't argue with that.

My guess is that whether you die in an accident or of old age, these two events will occur in such a way to bring about the vision I saw…

Gah! Isn't that too far a leap of logic? Honestly!

I irritably turn off the video and reset the security system before returning to my usual business. I make a note to tell my guards to be more discreet with how they keep the riff-raff away from me. The children have already noticed no one ever attacks me even in the performer's arena. Next week I have an appointment to fulfill my side of a deal to rescue a pirate's wife from a local marine base. The Migration will be occurring sometime next month, so I should contact the usual woman to arrange another appointment for reworking my body.

Briing, Brrrrring

"Hello?" I ask, picking up the mouthpiece from my private den den mushi.

"Alice, darling! Is it about time, yet?"

"It's Cantora," I remind her, "but yes, I was just thinking about it. I plan on moving next month, so –"

"Well that's perfect!" she interrupts me. "You know, Mahni, I'm free right now at the usual place if you're willing to pick me up."

"It's Cantora," I sigh, "and sure, one moment."

I open a door and a tall woman of about sixty years steps out. She looks her age, but steps more spryly than one would expect of a civilian that age.

"No windows as usual, hmm, Stephie?" she scolds lightly. "It's no good for you to always be cooped up in here, why I ought to…"

I ignore her usual ranting to examine her. Thinking back, it's clear that she has never tried to hide her age, despite her unique ability to do so whenever she desires.

"So, what age this time, Luli?"

I tilt my head slightly to better observe her wrinkled face. "Why don't you ever de-age yourself?" I ask.

She blinks a bit in surprise at the question, but her expression easily sinks into thoughtfulness. "I suppose I never saw a point. My age is my age. My friends know what it is regardless, my husband doesn't mind my growing old with him, and I feel there's no need to delude myself into thinking I've more years left than I actually do. I keep my work mainly in my joints and muscles so I'm healthy as a young adult, but I feel like I'm tricking myself if I look in the mirror and see someone in their early twenties."

"Deluding yourself into think you've more years than you actually do, huh?" I mutter to myself.

She looks at me with a touch of concern. "Cara, you alright? What's wrong dear?"

"It's Cantora," I reply. "Do you think maybe you could show me how I'm supposed to look?"

"Not a problem dearie," she smiles and pulls out a mirror from the folds of her shirt to hold out in front of my face. Her hands rest on my upper chest and start moving up over my face before pulling through my hair which grew out from the roots several inches.

The wrinkles were expected. My cheeks sagged, my forehead shriveled slightly, my lips thinned, and my eyes were failing me slightly. My hair grew out mostly grey with dull streaks of my original color and my skin took on an unhealthy darkening with age spots under my eyes. Vaguely, I could feel my face chill slightly as my blood circulation slowed and my newly grown 'old' hair is slightly brittle to the touch.

"So, why the sudden interest in your actual age?"

I shift the mirror around, trying to see myself from different angles where my eyes blurred less as I stall my answer. "Thoughts of mortality," I finally reply.

Seeing my actual age made me feel foolish – something that was disturbingly common today. I didn't need a 'premonition pearl' to see my end was coming soon. Despite my economic power, I was still little more than a civilian, physically, with no haki to slow my aging process. It was nothing short of miraculous I lasted this long.

"Coral?"

"It's Cantora," I reply, "and I think, this time, my actual age will be fine for my appearance. If you could instill the same health benefits as yourself, though, that'd be great."

"Of course, not a problem."

My ship I could dock as a semi-permanent island in the middle of East Blue with some careful trade networking if I skipped the Migration. Everything else I could deal with at a distance by den den mushi and postal seagulls.

Maybe, for the last five years of my life, I could change professions. Instead of a legendary merchant, I'll be the crazy unknown old woman adventurer, accompanying a magician, a retired Vice Admiral, an infamous Grand Line pirate, and a runaway CP9 trainee.

A/N: So at some point, whenever she's finished cleaning up business, Cantora will be joining Harry's adventures for whatever time she has left :) Personally, I'm really nervous about this decision, because I've already determined that she has to die within five years, and I've no idea yet how . Gah! But, well, after all the build up about the Merchant, its a little sad that they only get a short vision out of the whole trip, even if it does save Luffy from those bandits.

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