"Go fish."

"Damn it, I-Wait. Go fish?"

"Isn't that what you're meant to say when you want to draw a card?"

"Gegegege, wrong game, kid! This is Blackjack!"

"Oh. So how do I win?"

"Casair, did you really forget again…?"

"Gegegege!"

I've been here at this Marine base for a couple of weeks now, and this was how I usually spent my time. At least during the night time. During the day, I stayed in bed, ate the food that was cooked for me, let Marcus look me over and all of that other stuff. I read the books, and there were a lot of books, that Pete and Jeffords brought me and just waited for the time to pass.

At night, it was more of the same. But now it was different. Now it was just me, Pete and Jeffords with a barrel between us, holding cards and some seashells in a pile. Apparently it was called playing cards, but none of the books I read said anything about that, and there were a lot of ways to play cards, it looked like.

"It's not that I forgot, it's just that there's a lot to remember," I mumbled to Jeffords, who snorted softly.

"That's another way of saying you forgot, right? Look, all you need to worry about are your cards adding up to 21 or as close as you can get. If you go over-"

"Oh. I win then?" I laid out my cards to the two Marines, who looked over them with varying levels of interest. Before Jeffords' expression could even shift, I felt his disheartening plummet while Pete was smiling, the only sign I picked up on that he found it funny.

"Oh, for fu-!" Jeffords almost threw his cards down on the table, but he stopped himself at the last minute. His scrunched up expression was glaring across the barrel, right towards Pete's big grin.

"Well? Show your hand."

"Gegegege, read 'em and weep, Jeffords! Ya lost to a kid and a fatso!" Pete laid out his own hand and it added up to twenty, just one below mine. Jeffords gave a big huff as he smacked his cards down on the barrel, showing that he only had a hand of sixteen.

"Honestly, come on! Losing to you is one thing, but to some new blood who confused it with Go Fish?!"

"Go Fish is more fun. You get to say Go Fish when you want to draw a card," I said with a frown, and that drew more laughter from Pete as he divided up the seashells between me and him. It wasn't like it mattered to me, not really, but it was nice to talk with someone and not be alone.

"Gegegege, we'll play Go Fish later, kid. How about one more game for the road?"

"Sure," I nodded happily.

"I'm sure as hell not ending on a loss tonight. This time, let me deal the cards," Jeffords took our cards and started shuffling them in his hands, "Who knows how long we'll be able to do this anyway."

"Is something wrong?" I asked and Pete's smile dimmed a tiny bit, his hand scratching at one of his flabby, hairy chins.

"Nah, nothin' wrong. Just the waves gettin' a bit 'airy around here lately. Ever hear of 'Relic Hunter' Gerold?"

"No? Some kind of pirate?" I asked Pete, and he nodded with a concerned look on his face.

"Aye, a new rookie by the sounds of it. Made his mark by attackin' some merchants carryin' antiques or some such. Sold them at a black market and all that jazz," Pete waved his hand dismissively, "And what does ol' Axe-Hand do when it happene' just by him? Squat, that's what."

"Is Axe-Hand also a pirate? That sounds like a pirate name."

"Gege, it does, don't it?" Pete chuckled heartily while Jeffords rolled his eyes, "But nah, nothin' of the sort. Just a shite-head of a Marine Captain. He goes and busts some pancy pirate cats and that ponce thinks-"

"Pete. Stop," Jeffords' tone quivered a little bit as he spoke, "That's still a Captain you're talking about, you know."

"Aye and I'd call him a shite-head to his half-metal face and his walking sad sack of seed would get the back of my hand if I ever saw him," A flash of heat, raw and broiling, suddenly washed over me and my skin shivered as it erupted in goosebumps. But just as soon it happened, it stopped. Despite that, Jeffords looked more annoyed than anything else.

"Yeah, then he would split you down the middle and solve world hunger. Look, I'm not saying you're wrong, but you have to keep those thoughts to yourself. Casair, don't take any notice of what Pete just said, alright?"

"Is he a bad Marine?" I asked, ignoring Jeffords' cringe. I wanted to know more about the world outside this room and the books I read. Not only that, but I wanted to know what Pete thought.

"Aye, the worst type; the one that bleedin' well forgot that we're not above the law just 'cause we enforce it. Sad to say, his like are a dime and a fuckin' dozen."

"Why hasn't anyone done anything about him then? If he's as bad as you say he is, then why is he allowed to be a Captain at all?"

"Axe-Hand ain't just a fancy name, Casair," Jeffords mumbled as his hands slowed down, "I saw him once, up close and the axe on his hand was as twice as wide as I was. Or as wide as Pete here is."

Pete snorted, but didn't say anything. I frowned at Jeffords and his words as my hand guided itself to my sword, its weight quelling the feeling inside of me.

"But that's just an excuse, isn't it? That's not a reason," I said and the two Marines looked at me oddly, "If he isn't a good Marine, then he shouldn't be a Captain. Isn't it as simple as that?"

"See? Kid here knows wot's wot's," Pete said with a smirk, but it soon fell and a heavy sigh left his lips, "But the world ain't like that, Casair. Just not wired that way."

"Captain Morgan keeps pirates away and his town in order. Sure, he might be a bit rough, but that's just the price you have to pay for safety and order."

"What about Captain Lorick?"

"Hm? What about him?" Jeffords asked me which was weird. Couldn't he see?

"What's Captain Lorick's price for the village?" I asked him and Jeffords' open mouth hung loosely open. He closed it quickly, but he couldn't meet my eyes afterwards. By this point, his hands had stopped completely.

"Isn't it unfair to put a price on things like safety? If I had washed up on this Captain's island instead of this one, but he let me die, would he still be considered a good Marine?"

"Casair, come on… Heh, you're asking some pretty intense stuff," Jeffords spoke up and he tried to grin. It was pathetic and suddenly, I felt like a weight had formed in my stomach. I went to speak again, to say something-

"Ya know kid, 'ave ya given any thought about what ye gonna do? When yer out o' here, that is," Pete suddenly spoke up and broke me out of my thoughts. It was so out of the blue that my mind went blank momentarily.

"When I'm out of here…?" I repeated. Pete hummed in agreement, and Jeffords' cautious expression gave way to a slight curiosity. I went quiet in thought as the question rolled in my mind.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly, "I haven't really thought about it."

"Well, the world's yer oyster, kid. Ain't interested in yer memories or past just means ya can focus on the future," Pete smiled softly and warmly, "And a bright young lad like ye can go far, wot'ever ya set yer mind to."

"There are quite a few swordsmanship schools around here if you're interested in learning," Jeffords said to me as his hands started dealing out the cards again, "I think we're near where that bounty hunter, Zoro, actually learned. Just a couple of days out sailing."

"Or ya can stay here and build a life fer yerself," Pete leaned back and shrugged, "Yer what, fourteen? Fifteen? Yer a bit young, but ain't nobody gonna turn away an extra pair o' hands."

Before I could respond or even think about what I was being offered, Pete's warm smile suddenly turned into a cheeky, wide grin, "Or how about lookin' fer the One Piece?"

"Oh, come off it, Pete!" Jeffords scoffed and a spark of something heavy and wanting flared up from him, "Don't fill his head with nonsense like that. Are you trying to make him into a pirate?"

"And why not? We're in the golden age of piracy! Ain't no better time for it."

"Because we're Marines, you idiot! We shouldn't be endorsing it!"

"What's the One Piece?" I asked and it stopped the argument in its tracks. Pete chuckled deeply and there was a gleam in his eye as he spoke.

"Listen up well, kid, because yer never gonna 'ear a story like this again; Once, there be a man called Gol D. Roger-"

"Gold Roger, you idiot. If you're going to try and convince Casair to become a criminal, at least get his name right," Jeffords' eye roll was almost audible and at this point, he gave up dealing out the cards, simply placing them down on the barrel for now.

Pete only scoffed in response, "Ignore 'im, he's an idjet. Now, this man, this pirate, did wot no one else could."

"And what's that?" I asked. It wasn't the story I was interested in so much as it was the feeling of excitement and respect that I felt from Pete.

"He became king," Pete said with the widest smile I've ever seen him wear. He told me about how this pirate claimed it all; money, fame, power and the seas. So much so, that he was called the Pirate King and that he left his own personal treasure, One Piece, on a distant island. His words, and death, spurred a new age. The Golden Age of Piracy with everyone trying to claim the vacant space left behind.

"Hard to imagine, ain't it?" Pete's broad smile dominated his expression, but his eyes took on a distant look, "One man took the entire world by storm, and ye thought he was finally gonna kick it, he went and turned it all upside down, topsy-turvy like!"

"And," Jeffords spoke up sharply, "Most importantly, he was captured and executed. Sure, he got everyone in a fit that we're still dealing with, but he isn't around to see it. Not even Gold Roger could escape the Marines, so don't go and try to be a pirate, alright, Casair?"

"So people want the One Piece to become the Pirate King?" I summed up everything I heard in a single sentence and when Pete confirmed it with a nod, I shrugged.

"I don't really care about being a pirate or a king. I already have my treasure. Why would I want some dead guy's leftovers?"

Jeffords' sigh was so full of relief, I thought he would collapse. Pete, however, did actually collapse as he howled with laughter, holding his jiggling belly as waves of waves of shock and amusement washed over me.

"Gegegegegegege, did ya 'ear that, Jeffords?!" Pete wiped away the tears in his eye, but he was still chortling and chuckling as he sat back up, "The greatest treasure in the world, written off as leftovers. Gegegege!"

"Just wish others would do the same. Now come on, we haven't got all night," Jeffords started dealing out the cards again, but I wasn't paying that much attention now.

"Ye know, if piracy ain't interesting to ya, how 'bout ya join up with the Revolutionaries?"

"Pete!" Jeffords suddenly stammered and hissed, pinning his friend to the spot with a glare, "It was bad when you were trying to convince him to be a criminal, now you're telling him to become a terrorist?!"

"I ain't tellin' 'im to do squat! Just offerin' options, that's all!"

I was alive. I had my sword. But what comes after that?

"You're going away?" I looked up from my book to Pete and Jeffords, standing at the end of my bed. For the first time since I met them, they were carrying two rifles slung around their shoulders and a cutlass on their hips.

"Almost everyone will be," Jeffords said with a tight frown, "One of the kids has gone missing and we're on a search and rescue. We're hoping it's nothing serious, but with the wildlife still so spooked from the storm…"

"We'll find her, don't ye worry. And we'll be back before ya know it," Pete didn't hold any doubt or fear. There was a certainty in his voice that Jeffords didn't have. The chubby officer smiled down at me and reached out, tussling my hair. I blew out a stray strand of hair and Pete's jowls wobbled with his chuckle.

"What happened? Who was kidnapped?" I asked and received a funny look from Pete.

"N-No one got kidnapped, Casair. God, I hope not," Jeffords stammered his reply with a nervous look, "The local shopkeeper's daughter just ran away from home, that's all. Didn't come back last night so we're going to look for her. Nothing serious."

I went to say something, but I felt it again. A feeling that crept up on my neck, a whisper, a voice that came with a certain calmness and solidarity in the back of my head. I looked towards the infirmary doors and I saw the shadow of Captain Lorick opening the doors. His steady gaze landed on Pete and Jeffords and they both snapped to salute.

"Ensign Mara is looking for both of you right now and she's beginning to form her signature frown. I'd suggest you to say your goodbyes quickly," Lorick told them with a warm smile and Jeffords nodded shakily.

"Of course, Captain. See you later, Casair," Jeffords and Pete waved their goodbyes and left the infirmary. Lorick watched them go, but he turned to me, still smiling.

"So, what are you reading today, Casair? Still looking into the All Blue?"

I shook my head, "No, I finished that earlier. This book is about swords and their grades."

"Ah, the Meito. They are an interesting subject for many," I couldn't really hold back from nodding quickly and the Captain chuckled softly, "Shouldn't be surprised that you would want to learn more about them. What do you think so far?"

"My sword is the best," I answered back without hesitating, "But these ones are pretty good as well. I don't really get it though."

"Oh? What don't you understand?" Captain Lorick walked to the bed opposite me and sat down slowly, as if pacing himself.

"Why are they graded and named at all? Aren't they all the same?"

"What makes you think they're all the same?" Lorick asked me and there was a gleam in his eye and a quality to his presence that was playful. Like he was dangling something in front of me.

"Well… They're all just tools for killing. In the end, why bother putting a number and a name to them if they all do the same thing?" I asked him and the Marine Captain let out a soft hum. The surrounding air shifted and turned thoughtful, even though his expression and smile didn't change.

"So you consider your sword a tool for killing and nothing more?"

Oh. No, that's not… My sword was different. My sword was my treasure.

"It's more than a tool," The words came out of me forcefully, but Lorick simply hummed again. I brought my sword closer to me, hugging it against my side.

"Why? Because you say so?" I tried to answer back, but he chuckled softly and cut me off, "Give me the name of a Meito. Any will do."

Why? What would be the point? I frowned, but I decided to do it anyway, "Ame no Habakiri."

"Forged by Kozuki Sukiyaki and wielded by his son, Kozuki Oden, a fierce swordsmen of Wano and a member of the Pirate King's crew," Lorick spoke with certainty and it was like a brick had hit me in the gut, "However, Kozuki Oden used Enma as well, wielding both at the same time."

I narrowed my eyes at the Marine Captain and I felt… I didn't know what I felt. I didn't like it though, it was like a big heavy iron bar was floating inside my stomach.

"Yakuza Kasen," I fired off and Lorick chuckled.

"Ah, that's an obscure one. Did you know it was once used as a walking stick for a sickly emperor for over thirty years and yet no one knew they had one of the twelve supreme grades until after his death?"

"Yes, because it's in the book," I snapped back and Lorick's smile made my grip tighten, "Fine. Last one. Yoru."

"Ah, Yoru. The strongest blade for the strongest swordsman."

"... And?"

"And what?" That heavy bar in my stomach became hot. For the first time, I felt like closing my book and… And I don't know! Go back to sleep!? Eat!? No, I'm not tired or hungry, I'm… Ugh!

"And what did Yoru do?" I slammed the book shut and chucked it on the floor with the others I had already read, "What makes Yoru or any of these swords so much better than mine? Why isn't mine in the book? If my sword isn't there, then none of them should be! It isn't fair! Aren't they all the same?!"

I didn't want to raise my voice or shout. It just came out like that and suddenly, I felt bad. I couldn't look the Marine Captain in the eye anymore. At some point, my fists had balled into fists and Lorick moved to sit at the foot of my bed.

"Envy," He suddenly said, and I heard the smile in his voice, "Envy and frustration is what you're feeling right now, Casiar."

"Envy?" I mumbled out, "I don't like it. It feels bad."

"Perhaps, but no emotion is good or bad. They simply are, and I am glad you felt it."

"What? Why? I shouted at you," I looked up at the Marine Captain, frowning, "Sorry for that. I didn't mean to, I just got angry."

"It's fine, my boy. How about you walk me through your thoughts? What got you so riled up in the first place?"

I licked my dry lips as I thought it over, "I'll be all better soon. I'll have to leave."

"Mhm, that is true, yes. A couple more weeks, perhaps less."

"I don't know what's out there. I don't know what I want out there," I admitted, the questions and options Pete flung at me still going in my head, "I thought that I was alive so that was enough, but…"

"But it isn't."

I shook my head and I pulled up my knees to my chest. My sword, my treasure, was hooked by my arm and I felt its comforting weight on my shoulder, "I started reading the book out of boredom and learning more about swords. Maybe my sword would be in there. But it wasn't and I… What does envy mean?"

"Envy means you want something other people have, my boy."

"Then yeah. I felt envious. Swords are meant for killing, so what makes them so much better than mine?"

"May I ask you a question?"

"You already did, but sure," Lorick chuckled for some reason and he smiled down at me. Looking at his aged, lined face, the iron bar in my stomach slowly melted away and my muscles loosened slightly.

"You consider your sword special, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Even though you have lost your memories, you know in your heart, that your sword means a lot to you."

"Yeah…?"

"And you do not consider these other named blades special because all swords are tools for killing, correct?"

"Yeeeeeeeah…?" Where was he going with this? What was he trying to say?

As if reading my mind, Lorick chuckled again, "So which is it? Is your sword special or is it just like the others? You can't have it both ways, my boy?"

"I…" I went on to argue, but nothing came out. Because I couldn't, right? If every sword was the same, then what made my one special? I didn't even have any memories of my sword. Did it have a name? Where did it come from? Who made it?

"My sword is special," And it was the truth as I looked into Lorick's eyes, "And maybe so are others. That doesn't mean I have to treasure them."

"Shehehe, of course. And what you said about them being tool for killing…"

"Am I wrong?" I tilted my head at Lorick who let out a slow hum again.

"No, not really. An old friend of mine once held your view and he was quite the bladesmith. He told me that a blacksmith hones his craft to have his blades kill as many people as possible," Lorick's gaze turned distant for a second before he refocused on me.

"But I think that's a very pessimistic view of things. To consider a sword as just a tool, you devalue its true worth. Would you ever consider leaving your sword behind for a sharper, lighter blade?"

"No," The word flew from my mouth and I think I saw what he meant. My sword was a tool, but it was also more than that. I didn't really know what to do now or what the future held. But there was one thing I held onto. My lack of memories didn't bother me, but the conversation I had with Pete and Jeffords just wouldn't leave me alone.

A pirate? A wanderer? Or just a normal life? I didn't know. But I knew that, whatever I chose, my sword would be with me.

"Sorry," I mumbled again and the Captain's brow raised, "We got talking about some stuff as soon as you walked in. Aren't you busy or something? What about the missing girl?"

"Ah, little Rika. Yes, well, Ensign Mara is leading the charge on that. I'm afraid I'm not used to physical outings as I was in my youth," Lorick tapped his peg-leg and I had forgotten about that, honestly.

"And don't worry, my boy. Pete has been keeping me updated about you and I thought I would come and talk to you. Do you feel better now, after our conversation?"

"Yeah. I do," I said and nodded slowly. I rubbed my knees together as something akin to the heavy bar in my stomach began forming again. It wasn't as bad, but it was still uncomfortable.

"I… Thank you. For helping me. Pete said I didn't need to repay any of you back, but-"

"But you still want to?" The Captain asked me and my head nodded so quickly, my vision became blurry.

"Well, how about this, my boy. Does it scare you, leaving this room? This base?" He asked me and I realised that I never thought about that. I looked at the doors to the infirmary and then to the window that showed the outside. There, I watched as numerous Marines started to fan out and go to different parts of the base and entering the jungle that lies just beyond the walls.

Sometimes, I would watch the scary lady yell and fight against the other Marines. Other times, I watched as groups of Marines leave the base at dusk and talk about what they planned to do, the places they planned to visit or the people they planned to meet. And then they were gone, their voices only returning in the morning.

What if they didn't return? What if, one day, they were just gone? What if that happened to me? What if, one day, I were to go somewhere unknown and I never came back?

I thought about what was out there and my mind was completely and utterly blank. It felt like I was standing before the edge of a cliff, ready to plummet, and I didn't know if I would ever hit the bottom.

"... Yeah. I think it does," I finally said and it was only then I realised I was holding my sword tight against my side. Captain Lorick smiled softly and patted me on my knee as he stood up.

"Then don't let it stop you," Was all he said before he made his leave. I always felt like his large coat was too large for him, too heavy. But when I saw the back of his coat flutter with the word Justice etched, I realised how wrong I was. I also found out that there were some stacked piles of clothes near the entrance. I watched the Captain leave the infirmary and I stayed in bed. I heard a familiar voice outside and I turned to look out of the window to see Pete and Jeffords marching into the jungle, the former laughing heartily while the latter's knees trembled slightly. They disappeared from my view and I was left alone once again.

Slowly, I moved my legs out of the bed and my feet hit the clean floor. The sudden shock of cold almost made me want to jump back in, but I fought the urge. I stood up and I left my blade in the bed for now. Slowly, I walked over to the pile of clothes and took off my gown. As I did so, I looked over myself in a nearby mirror and I saw it again.

My body wasn't smooth. I had filled out from the food, but that only made the scars on my skin more pronounced. Some were clean, some were jagged and angry. Some were small star-bursts shaped that were on my front and back. When Pete and Jeffords saw it all, I almost teared up from the wave of sadness that hit me. Marcus, the doctor, muttered something about pirates and fights, but I pretended not to hear. The voices, they were getting loud that day.

But there two things that stood out on my body other than the scars; One on my back and one on my chest.

None of my scars compared to the ones on my back. Three large claw marks had torn all of it, leaving lightning-like marks. It was more white than pink with scarred flesh, but that wasn't what drew my eye. In the middle of my back was a strange symbol, one that made me pause whenever I saw it.

The claw scars had torn some of it off, but I made out a large circle with three triangles on top and one on the bottom. Or, that was the image that appeared in my mind sometimes.

I didn't like it, so I stopped looking at it. That didn't do much to dispel this heavy, hot feeling in my head whenever I saw it, but it did help me focus on other stuff for now.

I turned my gaze down to my chest and I saw a weird brownish spot, in the shape of a brick. It was about as big as my fist, but I was told it was something called a birthmark. It was pretty ugly looking, but it didn't make me feel weird at least. I took the clothes and dressed myself in a shirt and shorts.

I knew I must've worn some in the past, but it felt weird. I tugged at the collar and pulled at the waistbands, undoing and redoing the buttons. Even the zip wasn't safe, but I made sure my bits were safely tucked away.

It was just fun, but also sorta interesting. All the clothes I've seen are the uniforms of the Marines, so I thought I would be given those, but maybe not? Where did they get these clothes? Did they make them?

I guessed it didn't matter. When I was done, I walked over to my bed and placed my hand on my sword. That calmed the beating of my heart a bit, and then I grabbed the handle.

I hadn't drawn my sword yet besides that one time with the Captain. I didn't really remember it well, but looking back on it, I regretted acting like that. I wished I did something else, anything else. But there was no point caring about the past.

I drew my blade and the room grew brighter. That sound it made leaving the scabbard, that swift and clean noise of cutting, was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard before. I kept drawing the long, heavy blade and it felt like it went on forever. Eventually, I had to place both of my hands on the handle to pull it out all the way.

The scabbard clattered to the ground and I saw that the entire blade was pure white. In the sunlight, it was like pure marble. I swung it slowly and it sang in my hands as it cut the air-

I stopped. I blinked as something fluttered down. Hidden in the scabbard or maybe wedged into the connection between the hand guard and the blade? It was a piece of paper, so I leant down to pick it up and it felt odd in my hand. Like paper, but fluffier and heavier.

Yorkshire. I'm sorry that we lied to you. We all made a promise together, but it was a lie from the start. Only one of us was going to escape, and the two of us decided it was going to be you. Maybe you'll never forgive us, but at least you'll be alive to do so.

Remember. Casair and I love you and parts of us will always be with you. Be free. - Wolfe.

I blinked down at the letter and what was written inside of it. But wasn't my name Casair? I thought it was, anyway. Maybe this sword belonged to someone I knew? Was Yorkshire the original wielder of the blade? But the way this was written, it sounds like I'm two different people in one?

I didn't know. I guessed it also didn't matter, in the end. For once, I was annoyed at the lack of answers that my lost memories would've held. What if the original owner of my sword came back and asked me for it? What if they didn't ask? What if they just took it back? Would I be strong enough to say no?

My grip tightened on the pure-white blade and I stuffed the note in my pocket for now. How it even survived intact as it did was impressive, so it felt like a waste to get rid of. Moving my blade once more, I saw something that caught my eye. On the back of the long blade were a series of letters. They weren't the normal language in all of the books I read. These were more like tiny little images or art pieces, in a square format. Despite that, as soon as I saw them, I knew what they said and read them as easily as anything else.

Let Justice Be Done Though The Heavens Fall.

"... Is that what you want?" I asked aloud and obviously I didn't get an answer back. But it just felt like the right thing to do. The right thing to ask. Was that weird? Did that make me weird?

Still, I nodded at the silence and I sheathed my blade. Taking it, I went to the window, looking out of them. There were very few voices left in the base and no one outside, besides a few Marines standing guard. Undoing the latch, I slowly opened the window and I pulled myself up and over. I landed on my feet and I touched dirt for the first time. It was rough and coarse, still slightly damp from the storm. I wiped it on my shirt and made my way to the towering wall. I breathed a deep sigh and my body moved by itself.

My feet sped up as I got closer, bursting out into a full on sprint. I leapt up and my free hand shot up to grab the ledge. I huffed as my muscles burned, and I planted my feet on the wall as I forced myself up. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be and I made it to the top pretty easy. Then I jumped down, and I looked around to find the jungle's depths to be staring back at me.

"Alright," I said to my blade and I forced myself to move forward, "Let's see what we can do for Rika."

This is sorta embarrassing, but I completely forgot to add any author notes to the previous chapters, but I didn't really have a lot to say admittedly.

Hello hello, welcome to my fic. I must admit, this is sorta an experiment to see how I like posting on compared to Ao3 where my other stories are. Posting on there is sort of a pain, because I personally don't like the tag system and how it encourages spamming a bunch of stuff and copy and pasting doesn't work at all, and I have to spend 30 minutes crawling through the fucking chapter, trying to fix any issues. It's really annoying shit to deal with.

In contrast, posting here is a bit more comfy and I still have all of the tools that I enjoy, even if 's are a bit basic. I'll carry on posting for now, and see what happens. If I get around to it, I might just use both because there's no real reason not to.

With that done, I suppose should actually talk about this fic. I don't want to inflate the word count with this, so I'll just cut down what I have to say to the bare basics: This is an OC-centric fic, focusing more on Casair and his journey rather than the Straw Hats, and what they do. What this means is that if you're reading for a massive upheavel of the original canon, you're probably in the wrong place. There might be changes, there might not be, but it's not really the focus of what I want to write.

That's not to say canon characters won't show up, but ultimately, they're not the focus. As for the standard stuff, whether a Devil Fruit will be involved, if Casair becomes a pirate, bounty hunter, marine, or what have you, and no doubt some other stuff that I'm probably forgetting, I will remain tight-lipped about it for now.

That's all for this a/n, thanks for reading and see you next chapter.