*OLD* Love Like You (Rohan Kishibe and Daughter Reader)

We're Going To Be Friends (Part 1)

A/N: Sorry this took longer, I'm working on another story, the first chapter should be up next week! Anywho it's summer, so hopefully updates will be quicker! I hope you enjoy! Art by Y0L0 on Tumblr!

"It's true though! According to the Agricultural Standards Foundation, a pickle isn't considered a pickle if it doesn't bounce!"

"Remember Shigechi, pickles are just cucumbers soaked in vinegar or salt brine," Said Yuya Fungami, resting his tattooed chin against his knuckles. He and the others sat along the edge of the water fountain in front of Budogaoka high school, waiting for the others to arrive. "So wouldn't it be considered a pickle from that fact alone?"

"Oh wait, I just remembered! My mommy packed me a pickle just in case I get hungry while we're out! It should be here somewhere..." Yangu Shigekiyo dug around his backpack, retrieved a dill pickle wrapped in plastic, unwrapped it, and held it high above his head. "Aha, here it is! OK pickle, let's see if you're the real deal!"

"Woah, Woah, Woah!" Yuya dove, rolled over his shoulder, and caught the vegetable before it could be battered in cement pebbles like tempura. "Are you crazy?" --Crunch-- "You were just about to waste a perfectly good pickle!"

"It's not a waste if it's disgusting; I hate pickles."

"And pickles hate you, Yukako!" Shigechi exclaimed.

Mikitaka Hazekura, the only resident of his kind on the entire earth, slapped a hand to his abruptly weeping stomach. His face fell peculiarly gray, like the skin of raw chicken beginning to spoil. "I...I was not aware of the fact that pickles are sentient beings capable of possessing judgemental thoughts..."

Yuya massaged Mikitaka's shoulder encouragingly. He and the others knew how loving and gentle the alien was to all creatures, hence the reason why his mouth would water at the sight of a crisp salad, but would recoil at the mere idea of tasting a juicy steak. "Don't worry, Miki! Pickles aren't alive!"

His sigh of relief waggled the chain dangling from his ear to his nose. "Oh, thank the stars!"

"Let's suppose they were, though. Would they have to bounce everywhere, or roll—"

Shigechi was rudely cut short by an annoyed grunt from Hazamada Toshikazu, the oldest of the students (human, mind you: Mikitaka was 218 years old, the equivalent of an 18-year-old on earth). He flicked the manga he was reading onto his lap and hissed, "And I thought our conversations couldn't get any dumber after the one about almond milk!"

"I just think it's misleading advertising," Shigechi said. "They claim it's organic almond milk, but there's nothing organic about almonds that lactate!"

"Almonds don't lactate," Hazamada vexed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "We already went over this."

"How is almond milk made then, huh?!"

Hazamada poked his nose back into his manga in hopes that the straw-hat pirates would whisk him away into their world. "Please tell me they'll be here within the next minute; I can't take any more of this conversation."

"Looks like your prayers have been answered, Haz." Yuya stood on the edge of the water fountain, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun. "Pompadour, twelve o'clock!"

Okuyasu and (Y/n), adhered to his leg because her stomach was aflutter, and Koichi filed behind Josuke. He was a good length ahead of them, as he wanted to ease the girl into introductions. Bowing, he bellowed in a voice that would have had him executed back in medieval times for a tongue-in-cheek impression of royalty, "My friends, I would like all of you to meet (Y/n)! And dearest (Y/n), say hello to the students of Morioh!"