3.

-Burdened-

I should have been the middle child back in my old life. Should.

How cruel, then, that my first phrase was:

"Want bro."

"Only child? Lucky. Having your parents and room all to yourself... siblings suck."

Every time I heard that, I wanted to punch someone.

Did they know I spent hours talking to my mother's belly and learning all kinds of lullabies? How I started wearing my male cousin's hand-me-downs so we'd have money to spend on baby toys? That I'd asked auntie how to change diapers and how to hold a newborn and safety and, and–

The terror when father (hero, the toughest man on Earth) came back home in tears. Mother's longing gaze whenever she thought I wasn't looking and their choked sobs late at night.

How dare they?

I wished it was their siblings who died.

"A child, looking after children. So adorable!"

I wonder if the reason I'd always loved being near children had anything to do with being an only child. Caring just felt right. I thought that was all there was to it.

That is, until I met Anna and discovered the wonders of being the younger sister for a change.

She was two years older and more mature than people twice her age. She was blond, tall and blunt. She took me under her wing and I would be just like her when I was ten, she'd see!

Ironically, I'm a blond older sister named Ann now.

Just like I wanted.

Anna, wherever you are, I thank you for putting up with me. I regret never telling you how important you were, never showing my gratitude for your being there for me. I wonder… do you have any fond memories of the time we spent together?

If I'm a good sister to Ace, can I be forgiven?

A female, (mostly) blond Ace.

I always blamed what I saw on ripples, or distortions on the river, or the murky bathtub. In front of the mirror, however...

I poked the cold surface. Frowned. Jumped. The reflection did the same. 'Yup, that's really me.'

Damn.

Are these… caterpillars on my brows?

On closer inspection, my right eye was a few shades darker. And my hair… was oddly reminiscent of a bad dye job, what with those stubborn tufts of black scattered haphazardly. It didn't seem as bad from first person view, when strands got stuck in my eyes or as I brushed it"

'The brows are easily corrected with a pair of tweezers, I guess. We'll never be able to swap if I don't dye my hair or find a wig, though.'

'…I look like a bankrupt punk.' I glared at Ace's back. 'You're one lucky bastard.' Only to whistle innocently when he shivered and looked in my direction.

"Bwahaha! You've grown so much! Adults, almost! In a few years, you'll be great Marines and make me proud!"

On our fifth birthday, Gramps started our tortu–training. As much as I wished he'd drop dead back then, his methods were probably the only reason I lived for so long… although it's a miracle we even survived to see our sixth birthday in the first place.

"Ten laps around Mount Colubo!" Okay, easy enough… probably.

"One hundred push-ups!" No problem! Only, could you please get off my back, grandfather dearest?

"Too slow! Spread your feet wider or you'll lose balance!" Couldn't you have said that before throwing me off that cliff…?

"You footwork is lousier than before! Focus!" It's difficult to focus when you've got a concussion. Wait, is that blood dripping from my ear? GAH! Dow't feel by dose, I thiek it's broge–

"Don't complain! These are my fists of loooove!" If this is how you treat those you love, I'd hate to be your enemy. Wait. Aha! Sly old man, you're conditioning us to fear you so much we won't become pirates! …the sad part is, it's working.

"What kind of Marine can't swim?" I'm pretty sure 'sink or swim' is an expression… who in their right mind throws two five years old in the ocean during winter? Never mind. Dumb question.

Thankfully, Gramps only stayed for a week… more than twice the time it took for me to become an expert in first-aid.

"What do you mean by no meat?" Ah, brother… I'm sure people could hear you all the way to Windmill village.

"That's right, brat. You've got to earn your keep. We're generous enough to give each of you a bowl of rice and a roof over your snotty heads!"

"FINE!" Ace grabbed my hand. "C'mon, Ann. We'll get a huge bear just for us! We won't share even if you beg!" He stuck his tongue out and pulled me out of the shack, slamming the door on his way out.

"I'm hungry."

"Here." I shoved my half-eaten bowl on Ace's hands. "I'm a girl, so I don't need to eat as much" Blatant lie. "Wasting food is bad, so you eat it."

He frowned at me, but ate nonetheless.

"Hey, lil bro. If you keep making that face, it'll stick." He pouted. "Aw, don't worry. See, I'm doing this for myself too." I grinned mischievously and poked his nose, "You're stronger than me, so you've gotta have the energy to hunt something big enough for the both of us!"

"That's true. You couldn't even carry that wolf last week. Heh." Ace put the empty bowl aside and leaned back on the grass. I plopped myself on his right side and rested my hand on his.

Raising his left hand and looking at the stars through his stretched fingers, brother asked, "Hey, Ann… did you ever think that maybe we shouldn't exist?" He exhaled softly. "We are the devil's children, and our first crime was murdering our mother."

"What?" My grip on his hand tightened. "What do you mean by that?"

"I–they said we shouldn't have been born, that the world would be better off if we died." He closed his eyes. "Hanged in front of everyone, so they know what horrible creatures we–"

"Ace…" I inclined my head and looked at him. "What happened? Who said that?"

"You were sick last week, so I had to buy some medicine in Edge Town. Then, there were those men… they were talking about ripping out our teeth one by one… cutting fingers off, joint by joint. Carving filthy words on our backs with a hot knife. I… ran away before they finished speaking."

What am I supposed to say? He's just a child. And…

I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. 'Count to ten and breathe…' Tears. Frustration, anger, revulsion, hatred and sadness blended. I moved closer and put his head on my chest.

He yelped, "What are you doing?" I held him tight, pressing his ear against my ribs.

"You know, I still remember her smile." Seeing his expression, I clarified, "Mother's, that is." I shuddered."I also remember pain like no other, the certainty I'd die.

I only noticed how much I was trembling when a hand found mine. Just like before.

"Then, you called out to me and held my hand." I traced pulsing veins with my finger. I could map them better than the back of my own hand." Sometimes, I wonder if the black hair on my head isn't yours."

"That's weird." He scrunched his nose. "How do you remember that, anyway?"

"I… I just do, I guess? But that's not really important." I caressed his scalp, and he leaned on my touch, hands tightening around mine. "Do you think I should die?"

"Of course not! Why would you even ask that?" Ace turned to glare at me.

"The sound of my heartbeat–can you hear it? I owe that to you. Mother valued our lives more than hers. Our existence matters to someone. Your existence matters to me."

"But–"

"Isn't that enough? We never hurt anyone. They are the real monsters. Not us." My hand stopped moving and settled on his forehead, fingers drawing gentle circles over furrowed eyebrows. "Never us."

"…"

I knew that wasn't enough to convince him, but that was all I could do. Humming softly at first, I soon remembered a melody and, with it, words. The translated lyrics didn't fit: it sounded more than a little awkward. Even if some syllables stumbled out of my mouth in a jumbled mess, I'd like to think I could convey at least part of my feelings.

I'm here, always calling out to you.
When all the tiresome reasons pile up,
We'll discover the meaning of our birth.

The feel of a wooly blanket woke me up and I caught a small silhouette against the moonlight. A gruff, "Good night, kids," and a pat on my head. Sleepily, I mumbled, "Night, Dogra…"

We slept under the stars.

…Only to wake up in coughing fits, wheezing our lungs out and miserably trying to wipe the snot away from irritated noses.

It was winter, what did you expect?

Burdened_End

At some point, Ace asked some random people about Gol D. Roger's "hypothetical" offspring.

*goes look*

Volume 59, Chapter 584, page 14/15.

Thanks for reading~