You sniff around the base of the tree but find nothing of interest. The scent of the territorial grouse, the one that often heckles you, lingers in the air. There's also a faint trace of rabbit, but it's stale—probably a day or two old. Not fresh enough to track. Your ears twitch and you twitch your whiskers.
Footsteps, a twig snaps, and you whirl around as father appears behind from around the tree. "Y/N, what are you doing out?"
You frown and stand straight, morphing back to human. "It's the middle of summer. I thought I'd check our mark." Above you, the oak's branches wave lazily, sending dappled sunshine to the ground below.
Father sighs but pulls you to him. "You and him were the only ones foolish enough to climb this oak, Y/N," he says, almost sadly. "No one's going to bug it. And didn't he say he'd return with his own crew?" You nod. "That means it'll be a few years yet. He was younger than you and no sensible person is going to follow a child captain."
You can't hold back your snort. "I would!"
Shanks is ten by now and you wonder, again, where he's at. Does he remember his promise? Teaching you the basics of sword fighting over the course of a few weeks? Would he be okay taking you with him when he comes?
Father raises an eyebrow. "You're a little biased, dear." He gives you a tight hug, then releases you.
You give him a sheepish smile after a moment, knowing he's right.
He frowns. "But you know you shouldn't be out here in the daylight."
You look down at your feet, resisting the urge to argue. Mother had told the villagers you died, claiming a demon killed you during a harsh winter. It was the same lie she used to explain why she and Father were no longer together, and why Father's hand was injured—supposedly from the demon's attack.
Father takes your hand, not even flinching when you bush out your fur at the touch. "Let's go home. You can come back later, alright? And you can check the docks if you want."
You give him a sullen nod and let your fur recede. You promised to control your transformation, and you did. Yet, sometimes, you wish you could just let go and roam freely as a lynx, without the fear of being hunted or trapped.
As you walk back through town, keeping to the alleyways, you hear the chatter. You slow down and prick your ears carefully.
"The Black Lynx was spotted last night, near the Overhang Oak."
"I saw it running down the street before dawn!"
"Did you set out the trap?"
"It keeps breaking the ropes. It's too crafty and knows how to hide from hunters. It's a menace!"
"Maybe it's the spirit of Y/N, come back to haunt the oak."
You almost giggle at that one. According to father, a few people truly believe that the Black Lynx is a spirit. Your ghost, in fact, since they usually spot you around Overhang Oak. Everyone knows how much time you and Shanks spent there. You used to get teased for it.
Your smile falters as a pang shoots through you. You'd give anything for everything to be like that again.
"Head inside, I'll be up soon." Father nudges you through the hidden gate.
Y You climb the stairs quickly and slip inside your loft. As soon as you step inside, you growl and leap forward at a shadow moving at the far end of the room. Your claws sink into a rat, and you bite down instinctively. Seas, how you hate these things! Where did it even come from?
Morphing fully, you sniff around and follow the rats trail, but it fades under the dresser and you let out a huff of annoyance. You stand back up and are readjusting your clothes when the door opens.
"Did you find another rat?" Father asks, stepping inside.
You grimace. "Yes. There must be an opening under the dresser."
He hums and sets down a stack of books on the small table, as well as a sack of…
"Meat!" You lunge forward, but Father blocks you.
"Wash up first, then you can eat," he says.
You nod, giving an embarrassed shudder, and head to the little bathroom. Ever since you ate the fruit last winter, you've developed more and more of a lynx's taste—literally and figuratively. From the books Father borrows from work, you've been learning all you can about lynxes and devil fruits. Apparently, you ate a Zoan fruit—a devil fruit that allows the user to turn into an animal, and they can have a will of their own. Sometimes, the user develops attributes of the animal in question.
As a carnivore fruit user, you certainly have.
You prefer your meat rare or raw, to your father's disgust; he never says anything against it, just tries to cook it at least a little. You find you sleep better during the day and like going out during the night. Your sight, hearing, and sense of smell are far sharper than his now. As you learn to master your fruit, you find some things can be used even without shifting noticeably.
Not that anyone would notice you. You aren't allowed to be around other people. Everyone thinks you're dead, so it sort of makes sense. But you're lonely. While you had other friends besides Shanks, they didn't like you spending so much time with a pirate and slowly drifted away from you. It made his absences harder, but after you ate the devil fruit, you find it doesn't bother you as much. Lynxes are solitary creatures, but sometimes you wish you could talk to someone openly aside from Father.
All this runs through your head as you wash your hands and come back out. A few slices of meat sit on a plate, lightly steaming. Your mouth waters, and you look at Father, standing at the sink. He nods, and you devour the meat quickly.
He chuckles as he starts the water. "I wonder if other carnivore Zoans are like you?"
You pause, licking blood from a claw. "What do you mean?"
He pauses then turns to you. "You act more like an animal than a human sometimes. I wonder if that's a zoan thing, or if-"
A loud boom rattles the windows and Father whips around to look out the narrow window above the sink. "Y/N, stay here!" He makes for the door, dropping a cup into the soapy water.
Your hackles rise at the fear in his tone but you race to the window as the door slams. The window is narrow enough that it blocks most of the view, but the black flag whipping around in the wind at the docks is unmistakable. Your heart stutters almost excitedly, until you notice the movement closer to town.
They're attacking to townsfolk! Roger had warned you once of pirates that weren't like his crew. Rough, dishonorable, cruel brutes who would steal and kill without a moment's hesitation. The group fighting down the street seems to fit that description to a T. Swords flash and, after you prick your ears, guns shoot. You can hear laughter that sends your skin prickling in disgust.
You growl, your claws clenching in your fist, and go to your bed. It's a rough mattress on the floor; Father insisted you take the bed on a frame, but you preferred to curl up in your animal form most days. Now, you huddle in the corner against the wall and stare at the door.
Father should come back. He should stay out of the fight. Keep you safe.
The sounds of fighting draw nearer with each passing minute. Your heart pounds wildly, every instinct urging you to flee. But you stay put. You have to. Father will come back.
When the fighting sounds outside the bookshop, you leap from the bed at the smell of smoke. Had they set a building on fire? Whining deep in your chest, you take a step towards the door. You stop yourself. You're barely eleven. What could you do? Against the pirates especially?
A wicked laugh sounds outside and your skin crawls as footsteps sound up the stairs. A muffled voice leaks through the door. "Looks like there's a room up here. I'll check it out."
You tense and morph fully out of some buried instinct. As a human, you'd be no match. As a young lynx? Maybe not, but the chances of you getting away would be better. Something in the back of your head whispers, but you hardly notice it.
The door bursts open and the man freezes when he spots you. "Well, some kind of exotic animal?," he says with a greedy glint in his eye. "I bet you'll fetch a pretty penny somewhere." He steps into the room. The thick smell of smoke follows him.
You hiss and something in your mind twitches. You've felt it before, but ignore it. It's nothing to wonder about now.
The man brings out a long sword; katana, your brain tells you after a moment. You recall one of Roger's crew using one. The man takes a step forward. "Come here little kitty, let's not make things difficult."
You hiss again and crouch down. Your stubby tail lashes the best it can and you flatten your ears. Your fur bristles in waves. The scent of blood flows into the room as Father comes rushing up. He swings something at the pirate. The crackling of fire follows him, though you can't see it.
The pirate yells out as the object collides with his head and whirls around. "Bastard! Don't you know how dangerous that is?" He chuckles darkly and swings his sword out.
A low yowl escapes your throat as you leap forward. Again, something twitches in your mind, more intensely this time. But you push the sensation away, focusing on the immediate threat. You dig your claws into the pirates back.
He screams and reaches for you, but you release one paw and shred his hand easily.
Father swings out again; it's a piece of the banister from the bookshop!
The pirate grunts, blocking it with an arm. "Enough of this!" He whirls the katana and you yowl in pain. Falling to the floor, you can feel your ear is torn. Blood drips down the edge and soaks into your fur.
Father tries to dodge around the pirate, but the other man swings his sword. Father crumples to the floor, blood pooling beneath him.
Something growls low in your head and you just react. Snarling, you leap for the pirate. He isn't prepared for your claws in his chest, fangs in his throat. Your mind is flooded with something that you can't name as he falls, his breath rattling through his torn throat.
Stepping back, you growl and watch his body grow still. The smell of smoke drifts through the opening ahead of you. Your head shoots up as a tongue of flame can be seen outside and you almost leap forward when a moan catches your attention.
"Y/N?" the voice calls weakly.
You look over at the other human. Smaller than the one you attacked, but…familiar. He reaches for you, but you take a step back. A low whine escapes as his hand falls. Why did he look familiar? Why did this place feel comfortable, despite the cloying smoke pouring through a hole under something wooden against the wall.
Looking around, you barely pause. Two lifeless bodies, the cramped space pressing in on you—it feels suffocating. The acrid scent of smoke burns your lungs, stings your eyes, and propels you to move. Rushing down the uneven slope outside the opening, you scramble awkwardly until you burst through a covering at the bottom that swings outward.
A group of humans stand there. They stare at you and someone cries out, "The Black Lynx!"
You instinctively whine and try to back up, but the heat of the fire and the smell of smoke behind you block any retreat. The humans recoil, creating a gap between them. Seizing the opportunity, you dart forward.
Cries of alarm pierce the air, fear palpable among the humans. You flatten your ears and dart between their legs, dodging their frantic movements. The chaos is disorienting, and you whimper as they inadvertently collide with each other.
Suddenly, more people rush in, their scent harsh and metallic, distinctly different from the others. They shove and yell, creating a new kind of panic. One of them spots you and raises a long, gleaming stick.
A burst of noise, a sharp smell of fire, and you feel a searing pain in your shoulder. Without looking back, you sprint away.
Your paws stretch out as you burst from the buildings and race towards the sanctuary of the forest. Shade, quiet, safety—the trees embrace you, and you disappear into the welcoming darkness.