She let out a quiet sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she attempted to shut out the chaos around her. The cacophony of laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of boisterous singing seemed to fill every corner of the small, bustling tavern. It had been several days since the infamous red-haired pirate captain and his equally spirited crew had arrived on Dawn Island. Specifically, they had chosen to dock in the quaint yet lively Foosha Village. From the moment their ship appeared on the horizon, they had become the talk of the town, their presence sparking equal parts curiosity and trepidation among the villagers.
For her, however, their arrival had brought an entirely different challenge. Ever since those pirates had stepped foot on the island, they had become the sole topic of conversation for her excitable yet foolish twins. Day and night, it was nothing but pirates this, and adventure that—endless chatter about their daring exploits, their outlandish outfits, and even the wild stories that followed them like a shadow. Her attempts to distract the twins or steer his attention elsewhere had proven utterly futile. The allure of the sea-faring strangers had cast an unshakable spell over them, and the captain's red hair, in particular, seemed to be the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. The lively atmosphere around her only deepened her resolve to find a moment of peace amid the commotion. She drew in a steadying breath and tried, once again, to ignore the rowdiness of her surroundings.
She truly loved her brother—honestly, she really did—but even someone as patient as Monkey D. Maxine had her limits. And her twin brother, Monkey D. Luffy, seemed to have a knack for testing every single one of them. His boundless energy, reckless enthusiasm, and seemingly endless stream of harebrained ideas often left her teetering on the edge of exasperation. Still, it was during one of his particularly nonsensical ramblings—this time about becoming a pirate king while simultaneously mastering swimming, a skill he had yet to conquer—that she found herself seriously tempted to land a punch on him.
Unfortunately for Maxine, there were a couple of glaring obstacles in her way. The first was that Luffy, even before they were born, seemed to have hogged all the nutrients for growth and strength while they were still sharing their absent mother's womb. The second was that her punches, as a result, lacked any real force. It wasn't for lack of trying, mind you—she could swing her punch with all the conviction of an irritated sibling—but the sad reality was that her fists barely registered to someone like Luffy, whose potential for physical strength was evidently as vast as the ocean.
But Maxine wasn't one to dwell on what she didn't have. Instead, she took great pride in what she did possess: an intellect sharp enough to counterbalance her brother's unbridled brawn. Where Luffy inherited their Grandpa Garp's incredible raw power—something she'd seen firsthand when Garp casually dispatched Sea Kings like they were minor annoyances—Maxine was blessed with a keen mind. She liked to think she got all the brainpower from their mysterious father and astronaut-like mother, whoever she was.
She suspected she might have inherited a few of her mother's physical features as well, given her own distinct appearance. Unlike Luffy, who bore a striking resemblance to their Grandpa with his energetic demeanor and boisterous laugh, or their revolutionary father, Monkey D. Dragon, whose intense aura loomed like a storm cloud, Maxine was a bit of an enigma. Aside from sharing the family's jet-black hair, she didn't have much in common with either Garp or Dragon in terms of looks or personality, at least from what she remembered.
Instead, she often felt like the odd one out, a strange mix of traits from ancestors she could only imagine. But if there was one thing she was certain of, it was that her role in their chaotic sibling dynamic was clear: she was the brain behind Luffy's brawl. And someone had to be, especially when her brother's dream of piracy will inevitably landed them both in trouble.
And believe her when she says this: if she or Makino left Luffy unsupervised, he would probably get drowned or eaten a few minutes later.
Monkey D. Maxine sighed, her shoulders slumping as she finally allowed herself a moment of relaxation. At least for now, she could trust that her foolish brother, Luffy, was occupied. He was with Shanks and his rowdy band of drunken pirate companions, likely pestering them with his endless questions about the life of a pirate or attempting to charm them to bring him with them with his infectious grin. Whatever he was doing, as long as he wasn't causing trouble directly in her vicinity, she could afford to let her guard down.
Her attention shifted to the plate of pasta in front of her. The tantalizing aroma made her stomach rumble, a reminder that she hadn't eaten much all day. Maxine twirled her fork in the noodles, determined to savor every bite before her food became the target of a certain someone's wandering hands. Luffy had a knack for stealing bites of her meals when she wasn't looking, and she wasn't about to let that happen again.
But fate—or, rather, Shanks' ever-rowdy crew—had other plans. Just as she was about to lift the first bite to her mouth, one of the pirates stumbled past her table. Clearly drunk and completely unaware of his surroundings, the man bumped into the edge of her table with enough force to send her plate flying.
The crash of porcelain meeting the floor was loud enough to make her flinch. She watched, horrified, as her dinner splattered across the ground in a mess of sauce and noodles. The offending pirate didn't even glance back, muttering something incoherent as he staggered toward the door.
Maxine stared morosely at the ruined plate, her appetite dissolving into a mix of frustration and resignation. Of course, this would happen. She should've known better than to expect peace and quiet while Shanks and his crew were in the tavern.
For a moment, she considered saying something—pointing out the mess or demanding an apology—but the pirate was already gone, and she doubted anyone would take her seriously anyway. With a long sigh, she slumped back in her chair, crossing her arms as she glared at the mess on the floor.
"Great," she muttered under her breath. "There goes dinner."
"Oh well," Maxine muttered under her breath, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Time to rewind."
She extended her right hand, her fingers splaying wide as she concentrated. The world around her began to shift, the lively chatter of the tavern falling abruptly silent. The vibrant colors of the room drained away, leaving everything bathed in a muted, surreal blue hue. Time itself seemed to groan under her command as it started to unravel. She watched in satisfaction as the chaos of moments ago began to reverse itself.
The drunken pirate who had knocked over her plate moved backward in an awkward, stumbling gait, his actions playing in reverse like a poorly edited film. The shattered plate on the ground rose back into one piece, the noodles and sauce neatly reconstructing themselves as if nothing had ever happened. Across the room, she noted with mild amusement as the fat pirate's half-eaten chicken leg left his hands and returned to his plate. Even Makino, their ever-diligent babysitter, marched backward with a tray of steaming food, disappearing back into the kitchen as though she'd never stepped out.
The entire tavern rewound until her plate of pasta was once again perfectly intact, sitting on the table in front of her as though no one had dared disturb it. Maxine paused there, satisfied with the results but not quite ready to let the moment go.
With a quick flick of her wrist, she froze time altogether. The world around her became completely still, the monochromatic blue deepening into a sharp, frozen grayscale. She glanced down at her hands and grinned. In this motionless world, she alone remained in full color, her movements unfettered by the temporal stasis she had created.
Standing up, she stretched leisurely before casting a mischievous glance at the pirate who had been the source of her frustration. The man stood frozen mid-stumble, his drunken expression caught in a ridiculous half-grimace. Maxine couldn't resist the opportunity. Stifling a chuckle, she crept over to him and tugged down his pants, revealing an unexpectedly adorable pair of bear-patterned underwear. Swiftly, she goes back to her table.
As a dull ache began to throb at her temples, Maxine sighed and released her hold over the delicate threads of time. The fabric she had so carefully manipulated was allowed to flow naturally once again, resetting the world to its proper rhythm. The sounds of the tavern returned in full force—the boisterous laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional off-key singing from Shanks' crew filled the air. Everything seemed to be back to normal.
This time, Maxine made sure to take precautions. She pulled her plate of pasta closer to her, positioning it securely in the center of the table and well out of harm's way. "Not this time," she muttered, casting a triumphant glance at her carefully protected meal.
However, her moment of satisfaction was short-lived. The pirate who had been stumbling past her earlier—the one whose pants she'd gleefully pulled down in her frozen world—now took an unexpected turn for the worse. As he attempted to navigate the crowded room, his lowered pants caught under his boots. With an awkward lurch, he lost his balance entirely and fell with a loud thud onto the tavern floor, arms flailing in a desperate bid to regain control.
The scene was utterly ridiculous, and Maxine had to stifle a laugh as several of Shanks' crew burst into roaring guffaws. The man, now red-faced, scrambled to pull up his pants, muttering curses under his breath as he glared around the room.
Despite the commotion, Maxine's plate of pasta remained miraculously untouched, saved from disaster by her earlier foresight. She leaned back in her chair, smirking to herself. "Well, that worked out," she thought, picking up her fork and finally taking a bite of her meal.
Before she could savor even another bite of her pasta, a piercing scream from Makino shattered the brief calm in the tavern. The shrill cry was followed by the panicked shouts of Shanks and his crew, their voices thick with urgency. Maxine's attention snapped toward the commotion, her instincts prickling with unease.
As she turned her head toward Shanks and Luffy's table, the world seemed to slow, each heartbeat stretching into an eternity. It was then she saw it—vivid and crystal-clear—a knife, glinting malevolently in the dim light as it spun through the air. Its path was unerringly direct, slicing through the chaos of the tavern with deadly precision. And it wasn't just headed toward her—it was aiming straight for her left eye.
Panic surged through her veins, cold and sharp, but Maxine had no time to dwell on fear. Reflexively, she tried to extend her hand, the motion she always used to focus her time-manipulation ability. But she instantly realized she wouldn't make it in time. The knife was moving too fast, and her ability, though potent, required a split-second longer than she had to channel properly.
Her mind raced as she assessed her options. The truth was, she didn't need to extend her hands to activate her power—it was more of a focusing mechanism, a habit that allowed her to maintain precision and control. But when she was overwhelmed by intense emotions, like now, her focus faltered, and without her usual gesture, she doubted she could rewind or freeze time with the precision required to stop the blade entirely.
Even so, her ability still granted her an advantage: the heightened perception of time. Thanks to her connection with the temporal flow, objects and people moving at incredible speeds—something surprisingly common in this chaotic world—never escaped her notice. The knife, though fast, was no exception.
With her heightened perception, she could see the blade's exact trajectory and how little time she had to react. While she couldn't avoid the knife entirely, she could at least attempt to lessen the damage.
Maxine shifted her head slightly to the side, bracing herself as she calculated the smallest adjustment needed to protect her eye. Her muscles tensed, her breath caught, and she prepared for the inevitable. If she couldn't stop the knife, she could at least make sure the injury wasn't as catastrophic as it could have been.
Maxine quickly dismissed the idea of dodging to the left or right. Both options carried risks she wasn't willing to take. Dodging left might put Makino, their caretaker, in harm's way—a possibility Maxine refused to allow. Dodging right would mean exposing her cheek to the blade, and she had no intention of walking away from this with a scar. That left only one choice: ducking.
She dropped low, her body moving on instinct with a precision that belied her age. Though she didn't possess Luffy's overwhelming physical strength and resilience, her own toughness was nothing to scoff at. At just five years old, she was already sturdier than most children her age, thanks to the unique bloodline that coursed through her veins. Her family's legacy of raw power, whether from her grandfather's Marine infamy or her father's own physical prowess, had gifted her with a durability far beyond that of a typical child.
As the knife hurtled toward her, she quickly calculated the force behind the throw. From what she could tell, it was strong enough to inflict a shallow cut, but not enough to pierce deeply or cause any lasting damage—at least, not to someone like her. She figured she'd escape with a scrape or, at worst, a small bruise.
But that thought brought a darker realization. While she might walk away relatively unscathed, the same couldn't be said for anyone else in the room. If the knife had been thrown toward any of the other children in the village—children who lacked her and Luffy's freakishly durable genetics—it could have been fatal. The force was more than sufficient to penetrate a soft skull, and the mental image of such a tragedy sent a chill down her spine.
As the knife finally reached her, she braced herself for the incoming pain.
Ow.
Maxine sighed, rubbing the fresh wound above her left eye. The sting was sharp, and though the cut wasn't deep, she already knew it would leave a scar—a permanent reminder of the chaos that followed her brother wherever he went. "What a way to end my day," she muttered, still irritated by the ordeal. She hadn't even finished her meal before the madness began.
Across the room, Luffy, Shanks, and his rowdy crew were facing Makino's wrath. Normally calm and collected, Makino now stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing with frustration. The motherly authority in her tone left no room for excuses.
"Luffy! What were you thinking?! Stabbing yourself with a knife like that?!" she scolded, her voice rising.
"I—I thought it would be cool!" Luffy stammered, scratching the back of his head. His sheepish grin suggested he hadn't fully grasped the seriousness of his actions. "But I didn't mean to hurt Maxine!"
Maxine rolled her eyes but winced as the motion irritated her wound. She wasn't sure what was worse—her brother's recklessness or how often everyone indulged it. "Yeah, well, you still did hurt me," she called back, her tone light despite the throbbing pain.
She brushed her fingers over the cut, the sting grounding her in the chaos. "Just keep your knives away from me, okay?" she added, half-teasing but entirely serious.
"Right! No more knives!" Luffy declared with an exaggerated nod, as if his promise could magically erase the situation. It wasn't convincing in the slightest, but at least he was trying—sort of.
Makino, however, wasn't done. She turned her fury toward Shanks, her voice sharp. "And you—Shanks! You're no better! Throwing a knife around like that when you know how impulsive Luffy is?"
Shanks, leaning casually in his chair moments ago, straightened under her glare. His carefree grin faltered. "I—I didn't mean any harm! I just thought—" He stopped, realizing he had no good excuse. The truth was, in his panic to stop Luffy's antics, he had grabbed the knife and tossed it away, forgetting that Maxine was in the line of fire.
Makino's eyes widened in disbelief. "So, not only did you let Luffy hurt himself, but you also caused her injury?!" she said, gesturing toward Maxine's bandaged forehead.
The room fell silent. Shanks scratched his head awkwardly, his usual grin nowhere to be seen. His crew exchanged nervous glances, collectively realizing there was no defending this mess.
Spoiler: they were all guilty as charged.
Notes:
She will get her timeline jumping power when she get older btw...