OR, child of the seas, who are you looking for?
You know that feeling when you're looking for something but forgot what you were looking for?
More specifically, that feeling you get when, after years of sailing with no destination in the Grand Line but with only a simple goal of finding dreams, you find that dream when you weren't even looking for it?
Because that is precisely what you're feeling right now.
You take a sip of your diluted rum.
...and to think you were just burning ships a couple of days ago.
- ❐ -
"One..."
After you've set a peculiarly shaped object down against the walls of the lowest deck, you've scrambled far enough to ensure your hearing's survivability. It doesn't wobble over thankfully, or else it would end much, much worse.
"Two..."
The people in the holding cells dived to huddle in the corner farthest away from the object, just as you've instructed them to do so, and their seastone cuffed hands covered their ears. You mentally pat yourself in the back for thinking to crush the chains that linked them together earlier.
"Three..."
Your grin gets wider, and wider, as the spark of the multiple sets of dynamites strapped together to make one giant dynamite almost nears the blasting caps.
Like what you always say, when things never quite go well for both you and your opponents, the bigger, the better-
"BOOM!"
-the explosion rocked the ship violently, and even as the hull is obliterated to bits and pieces with fire starting to spread around the sharp edges, your feet stay planted as flames started to lick your ankles.
You could practically taste the confusion on the decks above as they all ran around screaming and yelling. You began to cackle like someone who's just suddenly had access to the world's information, and if the need ever arises, can be used as blackmail.
. . .
Not like you knew anything about that.
Burning ships will never get old, truthfully. It is one of your favourite past-times, if not building the very explosive itself. And that was something, especially if you've been doing this for practically your whole life.
"Hehe..." The people inside the holding cells look at you more strangely than before, which was actually a feat in itself. You wipe a tear away from your eyes.
You slid one of your hands from your gloves to tap the cell bars several times. It's not seastone thankfully and was instead a simple plain old rusty-looking ass cell bars.
You slid your hand, scarred with a faint stitch line around your wrist, back into the glove.
Taking a step back and a breath of air, your escrima sticks with bells tied on the ends, were on your hands in a flash. You effortlessly swiped your arms against the bars, however far it can reach, and the cells crumbles down to your feet.
And instead of humane thoughts inside your head, all you were thinking in the meanwhile was; mhm, mashed potatoes.
You slid across the flaming wooden floor, the fire and shards of rusted steel not the slightest bit bothering you.
It was when there was a lack of movements that followed did you only stop to take a look back.
They're all looking at each other, almost as if they were second-guessing the reality of the situation, and don't try to hide their hesitance on running away from the chains that bound them down.
Fire tickles your ankles as your sandals thankfully never caught on fire, then you gestured for the island that's within eyesight, so very near yet still so strangely far.
"Let's go?"
Your grin softens as they got all their bearings back together, leaping up on their feet and helping one another to dive into the sea. Non-devil fruit users securing the anchors on their backs, kids helping the elders, and the more capable ones letting them go first.
These people, before they are slaves to power and corruption, are children of the seas first and foremost.
You look behind. The floorboards above deck beginning to cave in when fires consumed almost everything inside the ship. There are a few men above peering inside the hole.
"Heya," You grin maliciously when they noticed you. They pointed fingers towards your figure while yelling obscenities, "nice ship you have here. Would be a shame if someone were to set it on fire."
Then your eyes turn to slits and your teeth turned sharp as you grinned. "Oh, wait."
"Demon!" They scream some more, threats about lynching you or cutting your head off, you know, the usual. You pay them no mind as you're getting ready to dive in, after letting someone else pass you by first, when a shout catches your attention.
"-Hat! My...hat!"
You squint your eyes, spotting an elderly man carrying a trashing boy on his back, who he tried to keep afloat despite the arms practically dooming him to drown.
"...hat?"
You furrow your eyebrows, thinking with the brain cells you had left. Which wasn't a lot. What's so special about a hat?
The boy struggles some more, but he's obviously a devil fruit user so he just kind of, slumps backward to point at something only he can see and mutters for his hat and something about a promise.
Ah, of course. Why would anyone worry about a hat in the first place anyway, when they're just a couple of backstrokes away from freedom.
Taking a sharp intake of air and still keeping a grip on your weapons, you began flailing your arms frantically to get the boy's attention.
"Oi, kid! Don't worry about it!" You shout once his head turns to you. "I'll get it for ya!"
You don't waste any time waiting for his permission, only hoping the old man can get themselves to safety as soon as possible.
The ship isn't a threat anymore, you've made sure of that, and the seas will determine what will become of the people who were left on board.
- ❐ -
The water swallows you whole.
When your eyes begin to adjust in the dark of the water, a hat was already sinking down and away from the sunlight.
The boy said something about a promise.
Your gloved hands grip it before it floats even further away. The red ribbon was almost fully unraveled by the time you clutched it close to your chest.
The seas don't save you this time.
You save yourself.
You had a hat to return, after all.
- ❐ -
"Thank you!" A crate of apples were shoved into your poor unsuspecting hands, leading you to fumble with the crate, red and green apples almost spilling out and into the pavement.
"Err..."
Two pouches were placed on top of the said crate, making a jingling sound when it tumbles over to reveal beli coins inside. You make a sound that's a cross between a squirrel dying and a dolphin's mating sound.
"Wait, buddy, hold up-"
A stack of clothes was placed over it before you could even complete your sentence. It's all from a couple that was shackled rooms away from each other on the transport ship.
"It's all we have left..." The husband says, gesturing to the coins stuffed beneath the folded clothes.
The wife places her hands on top of the clothes, "these clothes belonged to my daughter." She smiled wistfully as though she's seeing something that wasn't there.
"She always wanted to see the world. So please, take these with you."
Promises, dreams, freedom...
You smiled, despite the heavy weight in your gut that was begging you to stop and let go. It's always been there, and only grew each time you helped people by taking up their dreams.
"Okay." You decide, and your soul crumbles. "I will."
The husband and wife smile and say their gratitude once more before leaving. A breeze flows by and ruffles your hair all over.
It's hours after you exploded the transport ship, with the sun now in its steady descent to nightfall, and more than half the people you've set free keeps coming back with all sorts of trinkets in the hopes of repaying you back, even in the slightest bit.
You cock your head to the side with a scoff, a soft smile creeping up on your lips. The texture of the wooden crate was obscured by your gloves but it doesn't deter you from gripping it tighter.
"What a bunch of fools," you say, but you turned around to put the crate on the growing pile that you now called yours.
It almost looked like a shrine. Almost. Put a framed picture of your face and it will be complete.
Multiple boxes and crates stacked upon each other, mostly half-full with all kinds of food found on the island; disposed but still useable clothes and fabrics; several bottles of liquids, drinkable and flammable (that was important); and mostly everything people can find on a whim to give to you.
While most of it won't be used, and can't be used seeing as one bottle had maggots in them, it's the thought that counts.
A crash breaks through your thoughts. You blink back into reality. It came from behind the pile, and as more crashes came after, you peered around.
"Oh..." A boy with a scar underneath his eye turns to look at you, cheeks stuffed to the brim and hands holding a day's worth of apples.
"Ah! It's you!" He exclaims, dropping the apples back into the crates that tumbled down, and leaped to his feet.
You walked around the pile, "...me?"
"Yeah, you! You're the one who got my hat back, right?" He pulled his hat over his eyes briefly before it pops back up. "Thank you, really. It's my treasure!"
You grinned back just as wide, "no problem. I know how much a promise means to a person, and if I can help protect it until the end-" you shrug good-naturedly "-might as well."
"So, lady," he takes an apple from your shrine but you don't mind. His arms stretch to grab an empty crate box to sit on. "Who are you?"
. . .
You blink, "did you just stretch?"
"Yeah," he grins and pulls his cheek outwards, "I'm a Gum-Gum Human!" His cheek came back with a snap. He tilts his head. "I bet you must be strong. Like really, really strong!"
You wave your hand with an apple you picked up. "Ah, no. I just happened to be passing by."
He frowns. You sidestep when he shoots himself forward. He whips past you, tumbling face-first into the pile. Crates fall over and crushed the poor boy as the contents spill all over the ground.
"Oi!" Your eyebrow twitches as you grabbed a fistful of his red vest, pulling him back to his feet. "Be careful! Those are valuable!"
"Valuable?" He echoes, cocking his head and lifting a rotten tomato to your eye level. "These rotten things?"
"Yes!" You swipe the tomato from him, tossing it back into the crateful of those, all rotting and in the same state, if not worse.
"It's what the islanders wanted to give me, so I have to take it." You huffed, turning away from him to crouch down to put the spilled vegetables back in their containers. Worms crawled out of the fallen leaves, tomatoes squashed under the weight of the boxes, releasing an unpleasant odor that's between a rotting corpse and a baby's vomit.
You could feel the boy watching you. You paid him no mind. If he wanted to watch you clean, then fine, he's free to be your guest.
But honestly! These were gifts of gratitude, for goodness' sake. You'd rather die than have it be destroyed by some hooligan. And you wanted to live until the next day, mind you.
"Yosh! I've decided!"
"Yeah? Decided on what?"
"Join my crew!"
You drop the crate "eh?" and promptly screeched like a pterodactyl when it lands on your toe.
"Ow fuck ow shit-"
- ❐ -
LOG ENTRY
This story was originally going to be titled BULLET RAIN, but was later changed to HEAVENS ABOVE, then later finalized as DREAM SEEKER.
- ❐ -
A/N* [Rewritten on: Feb. 26, 2021]
i can explain (no i cant) all i did was just change the setting and theme of your meeting with Luffy, but the main key points of your encounter still remain the same.
i hope this one won't be as intimidating as the first version!
see ya~!
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Artwork in 'The Arc Zero' Credits: @9Jedit on Twitter
@lfgvHy4T93aQvxm on Twitter