You sit on the edge of the dock and swing your feet back and forth. "You're lying."

Shanks pouts. "No, he really did!"

You look over at Rayleigh. "Did Roger really scare off a sea king?" You'd never seen one, but they were supposed to be terrifying.

Rayleigh chuckles. "Yes. And it was bigger than usual."

You shake your head and turn back to Shanks. "I wish I could see stuff like you do."

"Maybe Roger could take you with us for a couple weeks," Shanks says.

On his other side, the blue-haired boy with a red nose makes a face. "Roger wouldn't bring a girl with us, Shanks." He hadn't been with them a year ago, but he said he joined them on the last island they visited. You didn't particularly like him, and the feeling was mutual, but this was only the second day you'd known him.

You frown, but Rayleigh says something before you can. "Buggy, that doesn't matter to Roger." He looks at you. "But unfortunately, we couldn't do that. Not only would your parents have to agree," and you're pretty sure they wouldn't, despite your best friend being with you and his family protecting you, "We aren't coming back after this."

You stare at him. "Aren't coming back?"

He nods, frowning. "We're pirates, Y/N, we don't usually stay in one place too long," he says gently, eyes flashing sympathetically. "Besides, we're heading back to the Grand Line after this. Even if it was for a short time, that's no place for a kid," Buggy and Shanks make identical sounds of disappointment, "Who wasn't raised like these two."

Shanks grins while Buggy looks slightly mollified. "But the captain said we'll be staying here a few weeks before we leave." He tilts his straw hat, Roger had gifted it to him recently, and looks at you. "We can still have some fun before we go!"

You try to grin, but it's weak.

Buggy grumbles something under his breath, but you ignore him. Shanks shoves him lightly, but Buggy just looks away.

Rayleigh walks over. "Shanks, Y/N, why don't you two head up to Overhang Oak?" he suggests. Buggy glowers at him, but Rayleigh shakes his head.

Shanks stands up and grabs your hand. "Come on!"

You don't resist when he drags you up and quickly fall into step as you both race up the path. Behind you, you hear Buggy complain, but then you're too far to hear Rayleigh's reprimand.

Running through town, and towards the giant oak in the field, neither of you slow down. You wave to your father, stepping outside from the bookshop, but don't pause. The sheep in the field call out in alarm as you race through the flock and a grouse flutters away when you get too close. The sun's hot here, but soon you're under the shade of the oak tree.

Shanks climbs to the top and waits for you. When you finally haul yourself up next to him, he's glaring at you. "What's wrong?"

You don't look at him. "Are you guys really not coming back here?"

He nods, serious for once. "If Rayleigh says it, then it's true." He pauses. "But that doesn't mean we'll be gone for good though. I can always come back when I have my own crew."

"But how long will that be?" you ask. It's one thing if it's a year, maybe two, but who wants an 11-year-old as a captain? What if you don't see him until he's 20? Life will be boring without your best friend! You know you're acting childish, but can't help it.

Shanks says nothing for several minutes, then stands up and brings out a knife. "Come here."

You look up, but don't stand. "What are you doing?" Shanks sticks the blade into the bark and slashes over and over. "Hey, don't hurt the tree!" You shoot up, but he lays his hand on your chest and holds you back. You try to fight him, but he's surprisingly steady. "Shanks, stop it!" He continues to hold you at arm's length while he works.

He finally stops, and you see a crude jolly roger in the bark. He stares at you, his eyes drawn. "Here. That's my promise I'll come back." He puts the knife away and lets his other hand drop.

You run a finger over the skull and crossbones, noting the slash markings that make you think of hair. "How is this a promise?" you ask softly.

Shanks makes you turn and look at him. "Because then it would be nothing. But that's my flag. One day, I'll come back here and you'll see that flying above a ship. When you do, you'll know I came back."

You shake your head. That's not how a promise works, you almost say. But the defiant look in his eyes stops you. Instead, you say, "Alright. I'll look for it."

He grins. "Good. I'm getting my own crew as soon as I can, so that means I'll be back sooner than you think! Maybe then you could come with me!" His eyes sparkle at that.

You can't help but grin back. "You idiot, I'm not a pirate! I can't even fight." Scuffling him, and some of the few kids here, is one thing, but real fighting?

His grin turns mischievous. "Then I'll teach you while I'm here." He nudges you towards the edge of the branch. "Come on, I'll show what Rayleigh's been teaching me!" He climbs down and you're quick to follow.

Grabbing two long sticks, thin branches really, you try to copy his movements. He might be leaving soon, and you know that there's a chance you'll never see him again, but you want to spend every last moment you can with him.

Even if it means you getting hit with a stick.

You shiver and tromp through the snow, prodding the ground ahead for hidden drifts. The forest looms in the distance, shadows stretching like fingers. Your stomach growls, a deep rumble that doubles you over. When was the last strip of jerky? Yesterday morning? The night before?

You shake off the gnawing ache and step into the trees, scanning for any sign of life. A berry bush, a flash of color, anything. It's been three months of winter, but there has to be something out here.

The woods are silent, save for the crunch of snow underfoot. A bird calls. Wind rattles the branches overhead. You push forward. As you search, you think back to five months ago. Shanks had left, and you missed him terribly from the second the ship left the docks.

Roger had been surprisingly sympathetic and promised they would try to come back in a few years if they were back in the North Blue. And, despite what Rayleigh had said a few weeks prior, Roger admitted he considered taking you with them for a week, but it wasn't safe at the time. He gave you a dagger, a twin to the one he gave Shanks, and asked you to keep it safe for him.

It's tucked away in your dresser at home. You plan on asking father for a holster for it for your eleventh birthday when spring comes. Your age may be a factor, but your father is aware of the exceptional care you provide for the dagger.

You search under a brittle tangle of twigs but find nothing but an old bird's nest. Fox prints and a scattering of feathers tell you that there was a bird here recently. Your stomach gurgles again and you groan, leaning against a tree. You can't remember if you've ever been this low on food, or this hungry.

Your parents tell you this is better than where they came from though. Some place called God Valley, where they had been slaves. But a terrible fight broke out about eight years ago and they, and you, were saved by a kid with the ability to teleport people. Before he saved you all, your parents told you they sometimes went longer than this with no food, or food not safe to eat.

You stagger a few steps away and look under another bush. Wishing there was at least some birch bark you could chew on, you check every nook and cranny you can find. The sun chases the clouds across the sky and it's already lowering when you spot something high in a tree.

About the size of your head, a mottled, swirling brown color, the fruit looks perfect. Licking your lips but conscious of your shaking legs, you haul yourself up from branch to branch until you can reach it. It's a slow process though and you nearly fall several times. Finally, you're close enough to snap it from the branch. It's thick, and the outside is a little firm. You study it carefully.

The swirls make you think of fur almost, while the shape makes you think of a cat's nose. The stem is a charcoal color, but not withered. You hold the stem in your teeth and make your way back down. The bark clings to your coat, but you ignore it and almost rush down in your hunger and haste.

Once your feet hit the ground, you hurry through the snow towards home. Your stomach is growling like one of the forest cats, but you know mother and father are as hungry as you are, if not more so. You want to make sure they get some, even though it's all you can do not to devour the fruit yourself.

Mother looks up in alarm as you burst through the door. "Y/N! Where have you been?" She rushes over and takes your coat, but stops when she spots the fruit. "Where ever did you find that?"

"In the woods," you say through your chattering teeth. "I climbed a tree for it." You shrug off your coat and she hangs it by the door as you take off your boots.

Father comes over and takes the fruit. "Go sit by the fire and I'll cut this up."

You happily sit in front of the little fireplace, as close as you can without getting burnt, and hold your hands out to the flames. Behind you, you hear the thunk of the knife as father cuts the fruit into even pieces. The fire gently warms your fingers and it spreads down your arms slowly, chasing away the chill from the snowy woods.

Mother brings you a blanket. "Stay inside tomorrow. We can go out and find food ourselves while you stay warm."

You nod and wrap the blanket around your shoulders.

Father approaches with a small plate, a modest pile of fruit pieces teetering atop it. "Here. You have some first."

You glance up, eyes darting between him and mother. "But what about you? Or mother?"

Mother's smile is gentle but firm. "We'll be fine, Y/N. You found it, and you're still growing."

Father nods, sitting beside you. "We can endure hunger a bit longer. You need to grow strong."

Your stomach growls in agreement, and you finally pick up a piece. The moment it touches your tongue, a wave of revulsion hits you. You make a face but swallow, a warm sensation spreading through your body. "Ewwww! It's disgusting!" The taste is rotten, incongruent with its appearance.

Father laughs. "It's a fruit found in winter, dear. It's bound to taste a little off." He tilts his head at your plate. "But eat the rest, okay? I'll make some mint tea for you."

You want to spit up the first piece and toss the rest in the fire, but you know he's right. Quickly, you eat the other pieces on your plate and work hard to keep them down.

Mother is struggling not to laugh, based on the shaking of her shoulders, but says nothing until the plate is empty. "You keep warm. Father will bring the tea when it's ready."

You nod, pursing your lips against the taste. The warmth spreads through your limbs and you let yourself relax. But after a few moments, you feel itchy. You scratch at your arms, but that makes it worse. Trying to ignore it, you pull the blanket tighter, but the itchiness increases.

You glance down, thinking maybe there's some kind of bug or your hair is tickling you, but gasp when you see the fur bushing out along your arms. "Mother!"

Mother comes rushing over. "Y/N, what's wrong?" She stops when you lift your arms.

Thick fur, the same color as the fruits stem, flows down your arms. You can feel the fur bristling under your clothes as you stand. "What's wrong with me?!" you sob. Your head whips back and forth as you watch fur appear under the hem of your pants, feeling it across your shoulders.

Mother steps back, her eyes wide, a hand over her mouth.

Father runs over. "Y/N, calm down. It's alright." He's not nearly as startled as mother.

"No it's not!" you wail. The world sharpens into an overwhelming cacophony—the kettle's whistle, the pounding of your parents' hearts, the sharp sting of mint in your nose, the oppressive heat of the fire. The scent of ash and burning wood fills the air. You scratch at your arms, the fur bristling under your nails. "Help!"

Father reaches for you and grabs your arm. "Y/N-"

You aren't sure what happens, but suddenly he's reeling away, his hand a bloody mess. A thick, strangely pleasant yet unpleasant smell flows towards you and you sniff.

Mother snaps from her terror and stands protectively in front of him. "Y/N, what have you done?" Her voice is low, the fear laced through coming out clearly. Her eyes don't move from yours.

You look down at your…claws? You have claws? The swirling charcoal and brown tipped fur is standing on end. You feel something jerk at your tailbone and twist your neck around and nearly scream at the sight of a short, stubby tail. "What is this?!"

Mother shoves your father back. "You…you're a devil!" Her voice trembles, but she still doesn't remove her gaze from you. Her entire body trembles but she stands straight.

Father hisses as he stands. "Dawn, that's our daughter!" His hand is dripping blood on the floor and he tries to step around her.

She shoves him back. "No! I'm not letting you near that…that…that thing!" She demands, her voice stronger.

Something in your chest breaks. "Mother…?" you sob quietly. Why is she saying you're a devil? Why do you have a tail and fur? Claws? Why can you hear her panting breaths loud in your ears and the frantic racing of her heart?

Father glares at mother, then successfully steps past her. "Y/N, just breathe, okay?" He wraps the hem of his shirt around his hand; blood immediately seeps through.

You fix your gaze on him and try to copy his breaths. In, out, in, out. His eyes lock on you and you can't look away. His heartbeat is slower now, steady. Gradually, your fear fades and your heart stops pounding.

"That's a good girl," he says after a moment. "Did you eat anything strange lately? Have you met anyone acting different? Get attacked by an animal?" His voice is calm and cool. The same voice he uses when you're sick or upset.

Your eyes flick to the fruit chunks sitting on two plates. "Just…just that fruit," you whisper.

He follows your gaze and looks back at you. "Anything else?"

You shake your head. "No…father, what is this?"

He pauses but sighs sadly. "I'm not sure, though I have an idea. But do you feel like anything hurts?"

Mother is gaping at him, her expression a mixture of fear, alarm, and anger. Something metallic and acrid taints the air.

You close your eyes briefly, trying to feel anything abnormal. "No. Nothing hurts." The kettle whistles and you flinch back from the high-pitched sound, clapping your hands over your ears…which have moved to top of your head! Sharp tips prick your head and you whine.

Mother barges past father and stands between you both. "Daniel, that thing is not our daughter! Look at it!" She glares at you, rage entering her face. Rage and terror.

Father's eyes flash. You growl low in your throat; he briefly gives you a startled look but erases it as he faces mother. "Dawn. That's still Y/N. I think she just found a Devil Fruit. She's not a devil, she's just a little different now."

Devil fruit? You meet mother's gaze and flinch back.

Her eyes harden after a moment. "No. When someone eats one of those, they aren't a person any longer. They're a devil." She speaks to father, but glares at you. She yells out, "You aren't my daughter. You aren't Y/N! Get out of here, demon!"

You leap back against the wall as she lunges forward. She grabs a poker and swings it at you. You run around her as she swings. "Stop! It's me! I swear, it's me!" you cry.

Father grabs you and shoves you roughly behind him. "Dawn, enough!" You stand behind him, trembling. His hand stays on your arm despite the fur there. His grip is firm and you press against his back.

Mother stops, the poker raised. "Move, Daniel! We aren't having a demon in the house!"

He steps forward and wrenches the poker from her hands. "Stop this, Dawn."

You don't just see the anger on his face now, you can smell it! It stings your nose, making you cough. "Father, what can I do? I don't want to be like this!" What if you can't change back? How will you go to school, learn to be a fisher? What if you're still like this when Shanks comes back?

He doesn't turn around as he speaks, his voice carefully calm. "Go to your room for now. Me and mother are going to have a talk. But Y/N?" You pause as he glances over his shoulder and his voice turns gentle. "You're not a demon, alright? You're still Y/N, no matter what anyone says."

The look on mother's face says otherwise, but she says nothing.

You nod numbly. Slowly, your eyes on your parents, you back away until you reach the door to your room, then shut yourself inside. Immediately, shouting can be heard. You freeze. They've never yelled at each other before! Sure, they've had little arguments but it was always with jokes and fun. Now they just sound angry!

Your fur bushes out from your fear, your stubby tail lashes once. Atop your head, you can feel your ears flatten. Whimpering, the sound coming out as a low whine; you back up until the window is against your shoulders. Your tail lashes again.

Why did you find that fruit? Why did you have to eat it? Maybe you should've stayed out there until you froze or starved. Another whine escapes and you crouch against the wall. Your legs are a little longer and bent a little differently. You study your feet; they resemble cat's paws, but far larger than the tabbies in town.

What are you? You flatten your ears, though the fact that you can frightens you, to block out the sounds of yelling and rise. Standing in front of the mirror on the wall, you take in the changes, flicking your ears up briefly to look at them.

Charcoal colored fur, your nose has changed to that of a cat and is colored dark pink, and your ears are wide with little tufts on the ends. Your eyes are a strange amber-gold-tawny color. Whiskers bristle from a spot on your cheeks. The lynx-person stares at you from the mirror, wearing a shocked and scared expression. Looking down, you take deep breaths as your heart races. You can't panic. Don't panic. Panicking never helps.

But you hold your breath as the fur recedes. Looking in the mirror again, you watch as your face becomes normal again. You touch your cheek, but the mirror isn't lying. You look like someone close to being eleven instead of half lynx. But you decide to try something.

You focus on your ears and then you have lynx ears again! You think about them turning back, and they do!

Conscious of the yelling outside your door, you try to think about the different things you know about lynxes, which isn't a whole lot, and watch as your fur bushes out, or your tail appears, or your fingers turn to claws. There's a loud banging sound and you jump against the window as mother barges into your room. The poker's clutched in her hand. Your fur bushes out and your ears flatten again. Your claws dig into the sill.

As you watch, a drop of blood falls to the floor. Behind her, you can see father groaning on the floor. A thick metallic smell wafts into the room and you can't help the growl that rises in your throat. She…hurt…father! Why?!

Mother steps forward. "Get out of here, demon! Stay away from us!"

You cry out as she swings. The window shatters, but most of the glass sprays outside. When she swings again, you just let instinct pull you through the window and leap into the snow, easily clearing the strewn pieces of glass. Not thinking, you race across the yard and into the woods. The snow doesn't crunch as heavily under your feet. Fur whistles through your fur, but it's not as cold as it was earlier. Your paws devour the ground as you run, trees and bushes almost a blur.

You finally skid to a stop, panting, and let out a low, pained hiss. Why did mother attack you? Did she really see you as a devil? You drop your head and stare at your paws. You don't know what a devil fruit is, you've never heard of one before. But somehow, it gave you the ability to turn into a lynx.

You crouch down, belly to the snow, and let out a low yowl. You didn't want this, you never wanted anything like this! Could you change back? Could you go home?

A chill settles over your fur at your next thought: would mother even let you? But…she was your mother! Mothers are supposed to protect their daughters, right?

Looking around, noting every tree and bush, your nostrils flaring at every scent, you shiver and wonder what you'll do now. Mother hurt father because he defended you. She chased you from home and even tried to hit you!

You dart through the trees but stop when you reach the edge where your home lies. Banging sounds are coming from inside, people yelling, someone crying. There's a slamming sound and father appears from the kitchen door. You slink through the woods until you're close. You stop a few feet away, looking up at him.

His eyes dart towards you, widening in surprise. He gives you a sad smile. "Come here, Y/N. Everything will be alright." He holds out his uninjured hand; the other is wrapped in a scarf now. A cut across his cheek drips down his neck.

You dash forward, surprised when you run into him as a human. You cry into his coat. "I'm scared…"

He wraps his coat around you; you're shivering badly and realize you have no clothes on. "I know. This can't be reversed though. We'll learn to live with it together, alright?"

You sniffle and nod.

He picks you up and starts carrying you away from the house. "We can't stay here though. We'll find somewhere else where no one can call you a devil?"

"But," you hiccup, "What about Shanks?" You want to protest, walk on your own, but you're shivering too hard.

He gives you a sympathetic look. "Dear, he might not come back."

"But he promised!" you retort. "I have to wait here for him! Can't we find somewhere in town?" If you move to a different town, or even a different island, who knows if you'll ever find him? At least if you're here, you have a chance.

Father sighs. "Well…there's the lift above the bookshop. I'll see if I can't get Harven to let us stay there. But Y/N?"

You look at him. "Yes, father?"

"You have to learn to control this, okay?" he says seriously. "It'll be hard, but the rest of the townsfolk might react like mother and I don't want you hurt. Can you promise me you'll learn to control it?"

You nod. "Of course."

He smiles. "And when Shanks returns, just think how happy you'll both be if you can stay human."

You sniffle again and close your eyes. You'll work as hard as you can, and then some, to make sure you can stay human for father. To keep the people from attacking you like mother did. To wait for Shanks.

You know he wouldn't treat you anything like mother did!