#swtlo writing

You are Rudo’s adopted older sibling from the sphere. It was a calmer afternoon. You had convinced Rudo to stay inside with you today, mainly so he wouldn't go out there and get bullied by those kids again. And also, so you don't go out there and beat said kids for bullying him and getting another grounding from Regto, the last time was boring enough. 

You were reading some book Regto had found a while ago, and Rudo was tinkering with something beside you. In the book, the main character had been kidnapped and was currently being waterboarded for the information. The story didn't provide much imagery of what it was like to be waterbored, other than describing how uncomfortable and terrible it was. It wasnt immersive, which makes sense, the author was likely working with no experience in the field. 

Suddenly, a fantastic idea came to mind: you have a brother, who, lowkey, is still at the age where you can convince them to do your bidding if you push the ego enough. With a devilish smirk, you glance at the door. Regto shouldn't be back until later, giving you plenty og time to convince Rudo to help in your experiment and actually go through with it. Satisfied with the plan, you mark the page in the book and close it softly, twisting your body casually to look at your younger brother.

“Oi, Rudo”

He glanced up with his permanent scowl; you knew by now it was more a resting bitch face than an actual scowl.

“What? What do you want?”

You sniffle and wipe your nose, comically leaning back, tilting your head to the side to seem casual about what you were already going to propose.

“You ever wonder what it's like to be waterboarded?”

Rudo blinked and tilted his head as if thinking about it, because of course, it probably came to mind; he was a strange fella.

“I mean, not really… what's that again?”

Never mind, he was just being stupid, you sigh and roll your eyes as you get up to put the book away on the shelf.

“It's like, drowning but on land.”

“What?” “Listen, the logistics don't matter, the point is it's like some torture method people use sometimes, ever wonder if you could like, be stronger than one?”

Rudo squinted and looked down, before slowly nodding, there it was, the slight sibling born ego. It's some sort of carnal urge: when someone you're so closely related to asks a question about your strength, you always want to prove you're more than they expect. Even if the initial inquiry is an obvious trick question. Like, duh, I could fight a gorilla, don't question me again, loser.

“Really? You think you could?” 

You baited him, knowing your doubt would irritate your younger brother's ego.

“Of course! It's just water, I'll just drink it really fast!” 

Sometimes you're glad you don't actually share blood with him because this just has to be some genetic fault in his brain that rewired his neurons to fire in the wrong direction. Or maybe he just fried his synapses that time he was messing with a light fixture, and it hella shocked him, not long after Regto took him under his wing.

“Do you wanna test it?” 

You had your back to him at this point, pretending to be busy making sure the book was in the right spot so he couldn't see your wicked smile.

“Tch, bet! I'll show you. Torture methods, my ass, I'll handle it like a pro.”

With a nod, you schooled your face and turned back to him. With a clap, you smiled calmly.

“I'll get the water and towel, you prepare yourself.”

—

It wasn't long before Rudo was sitting in front of the basin they used to wash the clothes. You held a towel, and beside you was a bucket of water you got from the pipe out back. You placed the towel on the basin and grabbed a notebook, more so to record any initial thoughts before the experiment.

“Any last words, a will you could say, just in case.”

Rudo tapped his chin, thinking really hard; he even growled and pressed his fingers into the side of his head. You looked at him like he was stupid because, honestly, he was selling it right now. With an agitated snarl, you scoff.

“Dude, think any harder, and you'll die before we even get to the good part. I see the smoke coming out of your ears, it's not that serious.”

Rudo scowled and huffed. He crossed his arms and shrugged.

“Whatever, if I die, that would be sad, but all my items go to Chiwa, and any money I have goes to Regto.”

You waited a moment after writing this down before yelling.

“Hey! Why don't I get anything in your will!”

Rudo shrugged, picking at his nose. He was so annoying.

“Well then, you'd actually kill me so you could have what I had.”

Unfortunately, that was pretty sound logic, but it still pissed you off.

“Just for that, I'll make sure you drown anyway.”

“HEY-”

“Just lean back already!”

Rudo clenched his fists at his sides before sighing and leaning back so his head was over the basin. You walked over, giving one last look in case the next time you saw him was to bury him 6 ft under. Slowly, you laid the towel over his face and went to grab the bucket. Slowly, the nerves crept in on Rudo.

“Wait, this is actually making me nervous. I don't like that I can't see when you pour the water.”

You decided to make it worse by not answering him and quietly walking over with the bucket. Rudo, at that point, was reaching out, trying to feel you approaching, so you couldn't surprise him. Unfortunately, that method only worked if you were standing in front of him; all you needed to do was stand at the side.

“Hey? Are you still there? Are you going to tell me when you're going to dro-”

You pour the water in the middle of his sentence, which had to be authentic. That's the whole point; it was an experiment to see how well you took the real thing.

Well, Rudo did not take it like he said he would; he immediately choked and scrambled to yank the towel off his face. The cold water had locked up his lower body, so he couldn't think to sit up until the towel was off. Only then did he fling himself forward, heaving, face drenched, pounding into his chest with a fist, he coughed a few times before wheezing.

“Oh my gosh, Oh my gosh, I saw the light.” 

You had started laughing after he struggled to get the towel off; the sound of him choking on the water was funny enough.

“What happened to drinking it, man?”

“SHUT UP”

He whipped his face with his glove, heart still racing from the near-death experience.

Just as you were about to check if he was okay, the door opened to Regto standing there.

“What…What are you two doing?”

Rudo looked up from his spot on the floor after he had weakly crawled away from the basin. You kept your eyes on Regto before the siblings answered simultaneously.

“They waterboarded me.”

“I was waterboarding Rudo.” 

Regto stared at them, seeing that Rudo looked exasperated, his oldest child holding a bucket, neither seemed bothered by how insane they sounded.

“What is wrong with you both? You're not even blood-related. Why do you still subconsciously have the Cain and Abel instinct?”

Being a jack of all trades comes at a price. Not only are you a master of none, but you’re also the one everyone turns to whenever something needs doing.

One moment you’re down in the workshop with Franky, helping him tweak some half-finished invention. The next, you’re covered in sawdust, holding boards steady while Usopp hammers together a new contraption. He’s been awfully creative recently, so you’ve been extra busy helping him.

When you finally wipe your hands clean, Robin is already waiting with a neat stack of freshly acquired books, asking if you’d mind helping her sort and catalog them. And even if you were dead tired, you would always find time to help her sort and catalog her books.

By the time you’re done, Nami is calling you over to double-check the ledger, her sharp eyes scanning every number while you run through the calculations again. Nami did most of the math herself; you just helped make sure she didn’t accidentally write a 6 where she needed a 9 and vice versa.

All of that comes on top of your own projects and hobbies—the little things you promised yourself you’d do when you had free time. It’s not like you didn’t have time, you had plenty, but between helping the others and wanting to do your own thing, sometimes things wiggle past.

Days blur together in a steady stream of tasks and favors, and somewhere in the middle of it all, details start to slip through the cracks. You forget where you left that half-finished blueprint for Franky, or which idea you meant to write down before bed.

You can’t remember whether you promised Chopper you’d help him later, or if that was something you only thought about doing. Being useful to everyone feels good, but it leaves your mind cluttered, pulled in a dozen directions at once, always one step away from forgetting something important.

Like eating.

Now it’s not like you have this unhealthy relationship with food, you quite like it actually, it’s just not the most important part of your day. You occasionally tried to sit down and have a snack, but then you would remember something you just couldn't wait to do. By the time you finish doing that, the thought of the treat and the moment of silence has escaped you, and you're back to finding something to do with only the constant lingering feeling that you're forgetting something.

You were always running around having fun or doing some self-imposed chores, you needed to fix this, log that, draw this, list that. You just made your to-do list so endless with miscellaneous activities that the growl of your stomach did little to remind you of the hunger you were supposed to be appeasing. It only got more entertaining when Sanji realized.

You’re currently whittling a peg to repair some railing bars Luffy accidentally broke while playing with Chopper. You’ve been carefully crafting the perfect fix for about two days now. It’s all you can think about; even lying awake at night, you can only picture how to smooth and carve the wood to make it stronger and more unique than before.

Your stomach aches and growls, but you shrug it off to stay on track with your workflow. What you don’t realize is that this growl travels through the air at high speed, straight to Sanji’s ear. His head snaps up mid–dishwashing as a shiver runs down his spine. There’s a hunger on the ship—and it isn’t Luffy.

Sanji stares at the door, expecting someone to walk in at any moment. He waits, washes the dishes, glances back. When he finishes the last plate, and still no one has appeared, he huffs, quickly dries his hands, and steps out of the kitchen. Glancing side to side, he follows his instincts to the left, walking over to peer down the side of the ship.

He found you curled up like a shrimp, hunched over the wooden peg, your fingers carefully digging into the grain. You were checking for imperfections, completely absorbed in your work.

Before Sanji could even greet you, an ungodly, monstrous growl escaped your stomach. The sound echoed in the quiet space, but all you did in response was sniffle once and turn the wooden piece in your hand, examining it from a new angle.

Sanji’s jaw was on the damn floor. He stared at you, blinking a few times as he tried to process your complete lack of self-awareness. Finally, with a huff, he rushed over and placed a hand gently on your head, trying to catch your attention.

You blinked out of your daze and looked up at whoever had disturbed you. When you saw it was Sanji, you smiled brightly and greeted him, the corners of your eyes crinkling with genuine warmth. But he didn’t smile back. His expression was strangely solemn, and seeing that, your smile slowly faded.

Wordlessly, Sanji offered you his hand. He still hadn’t said anything, and that silence made your concern grow heavier in your chest. What was happening? What was wrong?

You quickly took his hand, your fingers wrapping tightly around his as he pulled you up from your seat. You didn’t let go. The uneasy feeling only grew, and you held on as if his hand was the only steady thing in the moment.

Without a word, Sanji led you toward the kitchen, his grip sure but gentle. The walk felt longer than it was, each step giving you more time to worry about what he might say.

When you reached the kitchen, he carefully guided you into a chair, his hands light on your shoulders as he urged you to sit down. By this point, you were freaking out, your mind racing with possibilities, none of them good.

Clutching your shirt, you reach to grab Sanji's wrist, squeezing in comfort. When he looked back up at you, he looked practically heartbroken. What in the name of Gol D. Roger was he so depressed about?

Sanji lifted his other hand to place over yours, his lip trembling. You braced for the worst. Slowly, he opened his mouth as tears bubbled in his visible eye.

“Do you not like my cooking?”

What. Be so dead ass.

You recoiled a little, confused. You blinked hard, face turning into a scowl. You asked him what he meant by that. Slowly letting go of his wrist, but he grabbed your hand to prevent you from pulling away completely.

“Just give it to me straight!”

You rolled your eyes and sighed deeply. He almost gave you a heat attack over this! You lean forward with a reluctant smile, patting the hands that clasped your own. He seemed to take that as a sign of agreement and wailed. You jolted before rubbing your head. You called his name softly, and he peeked up at you, his baby blue eye watery and puppy-like. You snicker and tilt your head, asking what possibly made him think you hated his cooking.

He looked away, using one hand to rub his face before sitting up a little.

“I noticed you've been missing some of the meal., Usopp always says you're busy and promises to take you some. Now that I'm thinking about it, he probably uses that excuse to eat the portions Luffy snatches from his plate.”

His tone went from sorrowful to quizzical. The moment of silence was broken when your stomach growled like a bear, and you even jumped with Sanji this time. Your head shot down, and you made a loud oh sound. You began to laugh awkwardly from embarrassment. It seems like now you realize how hungry you've been. When was the last time you ate, anyway?

Sanji tilted his head as you chuckled. With a sigh you explained the notion had just slipped your mind you didn't mean for him to think you'd been avoiding his cooking. You loved his cooking, more than you sometimes gave him credit for. With another deep sigh you took both his hands fiddling with his fingers, despite his sad eyes the ends of his ear turned pink and his lip threatened an upturn. When he seemed to be feeling better you smiled and asked if he could make you something good to eat, you were hungry after all.

Sanji perked up and beamed hearts practically floating around his head. He stood and made a beeline for the kitchen before slamming on the brakes and turning around. You raise a brow as he slowly leans down and places a kiss on the top of your head. You flushed and swatted him away playfully. He grabbed your swatting hand and placed a kiss on your palm before letting go. You laugh as he scampers away, very pleased with himself.

From the kitchen, you can hear him say he was going to help you remember to eat more often now that he knew something so important could so easily slip your mind. He promised to make a schedule and everything so you and he could eat alone, mainly so Luffy wouldn't try to take your food and so you could still do your own thing. He goes on and on while cooking a dish with precision. He watched him from the table, eyes falling to your hand where he had pressed his lips. You closed your fist around it with a contented sigh and looked back up to watch him.

Being grounded sucks. The slums were boring enough as is, but being in trouble and stuck inside was even worse. Regto kept scolding you about playing such dangerous games with your lives as if you both had more than one. He had a point, but at the same time, he had left you both alone for the afternoon. You don't know what he expected you guys to do for that long. Nevertheless, this was torture, Rudo said he'd rather be waterboarded again than be grounded longer than a few hours. You can't help but agree, one moment of near death was better than hours of mind-numbing nothing.

The upside to this was that you at least shared the space you called a bedroom with Rudo. It had its ups and downs. When you both got into fights, all you could do was either win the fight and kick him out or storm out and go outside. Both options were awkward since Regto often tried to force you both to make up when he would see Rudo on the couch sulking, and you hated walking outside and seeing all the freaks who bothered your brother. Yeah, so what if you were mad at him in the moment? The anger of seeing them outweighed the anger of whatever petty thing you were initially fighting about.

Currently, you are lying on the shared mattress, a ratty blanket Regto had sewn together when he found you in a box way back when you were just a baby, laid over your body. He had sewn another one to it when he took in Rudo. It was symbolic in a way, adding to what he already had to make one big blanket for you and your brother to share. Although at the time you didn't like the idea of some brat taking your space and your precious blanket, and maybe also taking your father's attention. But you had learned to love him, not that you would ever tell him that, fricken cringe.

You tugged the blanket over your face and groaned in agony. The boredom was melting your brain; you could feel your muscles' wrinkles smoothing as the seconds ticked by with no outside stimulation. Regto used to say he often couldn't sleep at night because you refused to let him stop playing blocks with you. Even at this older age, you needed some form of entertainment before you became agitated. You breathed in the scent of the blanket that you had half haphazardly tossed over your head; it didn't necessarily smell like flowers. It was shared with your little brother, who was slowly seeping into that godforsaken puberty age, and before that, you had used it while also undergoing the same awkward stage, but it smelled familiar, like home. 

Finally deciding that was enough daydreaming, you pulled it off and turned to Rudo, who was napping with his mouth in a slack shape and one eyelid slightly open. Damn ugly fuck, you think, grimacing at him. Not that you could really judge, Regto told you once you slept the same, sometimes even worse. You decided he was sleeping too peacefully for far too long and slowly stuck a finger into his mouth until he choked. You snatched your hand back as his jaw clamped shut on instinct as he coughed and gagged, sitting up. You laughed at his face when he whipped to you with a death glare. He cleared his throat, roughly rubbing it subconsciously.

“What the hell, you bitch!” 

“Wake up already, you've slept the day away.”

“It's not like we have much else to do, you got us on lockdown.”

“ME?!?”

“Yeah, you!”

You scoff in offence. So what if it was your idea? It's not like you forced him; he fell for your trick on his own whim. You toss the blanket over his face and get up. Rudo struggles to get the cloth off to see what you're doing. You were kicking around some dirty laundry when you noticed a basket. It was supposed to be for all your dirty clothes, but you and Rudo seemed to prefer having random piles of clothes you look through and smell to find clean ones. Regto often told you both to stop acting like wildebeest and clean up, that just ended in multiple piles becoming one amalgamation of stinky socks and shirts neither of you has worn since Rudo first became part of the family. Slowly, you shove the clothes aside as Rudo gets up to see what you were digging for. When he saw the mostly intact basket, you both looked at each other. A spark lit between the neurons you both handed to each other as you both began to snicker. You get up and go to the door, well, door was a stretch, it was an opening into the main room with a long stitched curtain hung up, with a pushpin as a “lock.” Rudo made quick work of digging the rest of the basket out of the pile.

You take the pushpin out and peek into the main room, once again, Regto was gone, likely off doing what he needed to do, whatever that was; you never really asked. Seeing the coast was clear of any authority figure, you go back into the room and push the pin back into place. Turning to your brother, you give a nod as he rubs his gloved hands together. With a pep in your steps, you rush around to get more decent clothes on and put your jackets in place. Rudo grabbed the basket, and you grabbed a ratty helmet Rudo had found a while ago. 

The air outside was crisp; the sun was getting closer to evening, but just high enough to illuminate the trouble you both were planning.

“You have to go down; I was the test dummy last time.” 

Rudo proclaimed as you opened the door to the stairs that led down into the streets from your shared house. And while this was true, you, as the oldest and wiser sibling, would not allow such a thing to happen.

“Well, yeah, but it wouldn't be as fun. I'm older, therefore stronger, so it wouldn't be as fun if you pushed me. But if I push you, you could go super fast.” 

A breeze seemed to kiss you both; you might have taken it as a sign that this was going to go terribly, but neither of you cared to listen.

“I guess that's a good point, but what if I get hurt? Or Regto comes back and sees us breaking the grounding rules.”

“He won't be home for a while, trust, if he's not back yet, he's probably really busy. And you won't get hurt, it's hardly a drop if you fall, at worst you'll get a scratch, probably.”

You scratch your head, looking over the metal staircase. It wasn't that tall; Rudo should be fine.

“Besides, don't be a baby, come on.”

Rudo juts out his bottom lip, not totally convinced with how you said that, but at the same time, you were older; no matter how many times you might have led him astray, he always felt inclined to follow, no matter how far you might go. He would always find a way to chase the trail you leave behind.

“Do you think I could die?”

You tap your chin, and with a huff, you shrug. 

“I mean, we all die eventually, why not make the most of it?”

“That's not reassuring at all, I don't want to die yet, I have so much to do!”

“Don't worry, I'll tell Chiwa you like her for you if you do, that way you can move on peacefully.”

“HEY-”

You pushed the helmet on his face and grabbed the handle of the woven basket, angling it to slide down the stairs when Rudo finally went inside.

“Just get in, hurry up! If we do this fast enough, we can go back inside, and Regto will never know we broke the rules.”

Rudo grumbled but fixed the helmet to fit him better. He did a knock test before, seemingly content with the protection. He looked around one more time to make sure there wasn't anyone important watching them. After a final moment of debate and some more egging from his sibling, he climbed into the basket. It was a tight fit, hardly comfortable at all. He could feel a few stray splinters somehow finding the sliver of exposed skin and poking into it. He glanced over, seeing you struggling to hold him steady until he was ready, and for a moment, a cloud of clarity fell upon Rudo. This was stupid, like really stupid, more stupid than their usual idiocy. He glanced down the stairs and saw how little control you had over what was about to happen next. Dread made his heart drop into his ass as he gripped the sides of the basket, before he could protest, deciding he didn't want to do this anymore, a yell called out to them.

“HEY! DONT!”

You both looked up as Regto ran over, making an X with his arms. He was still a good few feet away. Rudo looked back at you with urgency, wanting you to pull him back up. You saw your father make a mad dash towards you two, but once again, you were not lucky. Just as you were about to pull Rudo back, the handle of the basket snapped from holding his weight at a slope for so long. Rudo screamed, you screamed, Regto tripped.

It was like slow motion, Regto reaching out as he fell face-first, Rudo clipping the edge of a stair and flipping forward, you slowly raising your hands to your head in regret and shock of what had just taken place.

–

You sat on the couch, your shoulders up, your head drooping. Rudo lay beside you, arm in a sling, lip busted, black eye forming, his other swollen a little. Regto stood before you, pinching the bridge of his nose. He hadn't said anything since getting up from tripping and helping patch up Rudo, who had taken a nasty fall. The silence felt worse than if he yelled at you, and the disappointment felt like daggers stabbing into you. Deep down, you knew he was more upset with you than he was with Rudo. It was the drawback to being older; you had a minion to do your bidding, but you also had to take most of the blunt force of bad ideas if they ever went as south as they did today. You massaged your head to try to shake off some of the tension building up under your skin. You glanced at Rudo, who was focused on Regto and what he would do next. You followed his lead and turned to your shared father figure.

“What did I tell you both before I left?”

You shot your eyes to his, but he wasn't looking at either of you; he was looking down, his hair hiding his expression. You glanced at Rudo as you both answered in sync.

“Stay in your room, don't do anything reckless.”

He hummed, as if acknowledging that we knew exactly what we were doing, deliberately ignoring his rules while he was gone.

“And what did I find you both doing?”

“Being reckless”

Finally, he looked up, and to your surprise, he was not holding back anger; the gleam in his eyes told you he was saddened, and he looked almost desperate.

“You both could have gotten really hurt. Rudo is lucky to have gotten out of this with a few bruises and a sore arm. Do you know how fast my heart dropped to the ground when I saw you both do something so irresponsible? I was worried out of my mind in those few seconds.”

He kneeled slowly to be eye level with you two. His eyes gleamed with unshed tears; it weighed heavily on your heart and Rudos; it squeezed more than if he had been livid. Most of the time, you wished he would just yell at you like other parents. The guilt slapped you around for a while as you dropped your head further down.

“I'm sorry, I should have been smarter. I'm older; I should be more responsible for my younger brother. You trust us to be home alone, and I always find a way to put him in meaningless danger. Im sorry”

Regto sighed and slowly engulfed you in a hug, his hand cradling your head, the other bringing you closer. He kissed the crown of your skull to soothe you. And while it was a claiming gesture, it just made you feel a mix of comfort and shame, you knew better, he trusted you to know better, and you failed him. You heard shuffling and felt Regto lean back, another body joining you both. You look over and see Rudo leaning on your father's other shoulder, Regtos hands on both your heads.

“No more, Ok? You're both supposed to protect each other in your own ways. I know you are siblings and share more than other siblings might, but I want you to be there for one another, ok? I need you to be there for the other. Can you do that for me?”

You and Rudo look at each other and smile. Well, you smiled, he just leaned further into Regto and closed his eyes in agreement. You all take this moment ot enjoy the time you have together before Regto sighs and whispers.

“By the way, you're both grounded for another month, and say goodbye to the next gift-giving holiday.”

You and Rudo groan in unison as you pull away from your father, who nods in contentment at his punishment. He was kind and loving, but no pushover. You both broke the rules while already on lockdown; it was time for more drastic measures. And even after he kissed you both good night and sent you off to bed, you and Rudo agreed you wouldn't trade such a life for anything. 

CHAPTER 1 || An egg fell out of the nest

Small, fast footsteps ran on the dirt of Kurigana Island. The sound clashed with the waves falling over the rocky beach, where the sand felt more like jagged stone than grains. There were very few things on his gloomy, partially desolate island that moved as viciously as this small creature dashing through the land. Her socks were scuffed and messy from running over the thorns in the bushes and jumping over puddles. Typically, she found joy in running outside, feeling the sun on her skin, wind in her face, but there was no sun here, nor was there any joy to be had; it was cold and dark. The shadows threatened to steal away your bravery if you stared too long, and they whispered treachery if you listened too intently. The small girl panted, running as fast as she could with all her 5-year-old might. She stumbled and fell, but only whimpered and forced herself back up. There was no time to stay on the floor; she wasn't sure what monster could leap out and drag her away. She clung to her piggy plushie, the one her grandma gave to her as a gift, which had been passed down to her by her grandmother. The girl clutched it close as she sprinted, her lungs burning, but she refused to give up. 

She had seen a castle in her endless wandering after waking up in the mud. It felt like she had fallen out of her bed when she was slapped with the wet splat of watery ground instead of the pillowed floors of her home; she was startled. She often dropped out of bed; her parents simply put pillows on the floor next to her, as it was inevitable, almost predictable. But her shoulder was sore from the fall that the attentive care of her guardians should have cushioned. Her eyes shot open when she hit the floor. She gasped slightly, taking in the unfamiliar scenery, and for a moment, she thought she was dreaming. It was reasonable to assume as she sat up, but then she cut her finger on a sharp rock she used to try to stand. Everyone knows you cannot feel real physical pain in a dream. Suddenly, it felt too dark, the trees felt like they had faces, and the wind was blowing harshly and unwelcome to the new intruder. All her mind could tell her was to run, so she did; she was dirty, cold, and a bit moist from the humidity around her, but she had the will to keep rushing. She had seen the huge castle between gaps in the dead trees; she could ask for help there.

Her lungs still burned as her throat closed up. She wheezed and rubbed her eyes as tears built up. She needed to relax; no one was here to give her the medicine she needed for her asthma, but she couldn't bear the thought of getting eaten by a monster. Even as the edges of her vision blurred, she forced herself to keep going. Her determination had brought her to the doors of the vast castle, and with a wheeze, she pushed the door open just enough to slip in before sliding to the floor. The castle was just as gloomy as the outside. It seemed much bigger inside, and perhaps even colder than she had hoped. The sound of the door closing with a loud click echoed down the vast halls. There were a few candles lit around her, but none provided enough light to see more than a few feet in any direction. 

 Her heart pounded in her ears, and her throat was tight as she struggled to intake air. She held back a sob; she wanted to go home. Everything hurt as she forced herself to try to swallow the saliva that was about to choke her from the buildup. She clutched her pig close and curled up on herself. She forced her eyes closed as she daydreamed of her bed again. She imagined all her toys and the stories she made, and slowly her mind slipped back into that happy place she enjoyed being. Her breath evened out to a rasp as she inhaled the scent of her plushie; it still carried the familiar aroma of home, just enough to make the daydream feel real.

But just when she could almost feel her bed again, footsteps slowly intruded on her escapism, unfamiliar to her; the pattern wasn't someone she could recognize. Her mind had tried to compare and contrast the walking tendency of this new sound, she did know who I could be, still in her daydream, she hoped it was someone she knew before the truth yanked her back to reality when a throat cleared harshly. 

The little girl jolted and looked up slowly, clutching her pig closer. She trembled as she met the golden, sharp eyes of the man before her; his eyes felt like they glowed and judged as he loomed over her. Her bottom lip trembled as she met his gaze with watery eyes. He was tall, taller than anyone she knew. Was he bad? She didn't know, but he dressed funny, except she didn't feel like laughing at his outfit while he was staring at her. Slowly, the girl sniffled and coughed from the remaining tickle in her throat, and that broke the silence for Mihawk to tilt his head.

“And what, pray tell,” He tilted his head the other way, squinting a bit, “are you?”

“I'm not a what, I'm a Y/n,” She picked at the thread on her plush to try and soothe herself. “I'm lost.”

Mihawk raised a brow, glancing down at the plushie still dirt-covered and a little worn. She seemed to notice his gaze and held up her plushie, hoping showing it to him would make him less scary to talk to.

“This is Piggy, someone special gave it to me.”

“I'm sure,” Mihawk rolled his eyes slightly.

The last thing he needed was to have a child under his care, let alone in his own home. He wasn't a father for a reason; kids were messy and loud, and he didn't have the time to take care of one, nor the desire. He crossed his arms as he leaned over more.

“I am no caretaker,” He spoke sharply, “You will find no comfort or home here, child.”

“But-”

“You are not my responsibility nor my problem.”

The girl seemed to curl in on herself for that; she rubbed her face with her dirty hand, sniffling again. Y/n hated it when adults got mad at her; she always struggled to understand why, sometimes, it made no sense. Especially now, she didn't break anything or say anything, and he was already scowling at her and telling her she needed to figure it out. 

“I just want home, can you help me?” Y/n hated it when people told her no; it always made her feel bad for asking.

Mihawk rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. A slow grumble left his lips as he finally took a knee to be at her level. He could see the minor cuts and dirt on her face from falling, but he couldn't put his finger on how a child could have gotten on this island, let alone get lost on it. Seeing her look up at him made him close his eyes for a moment to think. Mihawk knew she was essentially helpless; it was a miracle she got to his castle in one piece; he had to give her props for that. He still didn't understand how she could have gotten here unless her guardians were somewhere on the island snooping where they shouldn't and had lost track of her. He opened his eyes again, looking her over. From what he could tell, she was wearing some form of child sleepwear, her feet hardly covered by torn and dirty kiddie socks, likely from her wandering. If she were here with someone, they were horrible caretakers, letting a little child run around this sharp island in nothing but pajamas and socks. Reluctantly, Mihawk stood again and opened a hand to show her to the main room, where she could sit by a fire.

“Fine, come, sit, and quickly,” Mihawk muttered as he nodded for her to go to where he was gesturing. Y/n nodded and jogged with his guidance to find the equivalent of a living room with a fireplace.

“Thank you!” Y/n cheered as she saw the couch. She quickly climbed into it and smiled brightly as she could finally decompress.

Mihawk watched her get comfortable before speaking up. He needed to set group rules. He might not have liked kids much, but he knew it was their first time alive, just like it was his.

“Don't touch anything, don't wander my home, and most of all, stay where I can see you. This castle has many twists and turns, and for someone as small as you, it's best you do not get lost,” He listed the important ones for now, hoping she would at least listen to these if nothing else.

Y/n seemed to nod; she still clutched her plushie close, a slight sign that she was still a bit uncomfortable. That was reasonable; he would not fault her for that.

In the silence that followed, Mihawk hoped someone would come banging on his door asking for the whereabouts of a child they had lost, but given her attire, her demeanor, and even the way she spoke, there might not be someone coming for her anytime soon, but he would wait and hope. He might have been considered a Warlord and the greatest swordsman of the sea, but that gave him no right to leave a child to the dangers of this world. He was poised, not heartless. Still, he hoped she would find her people soon; he had a reputation for unmoving, stoic emotions to maintain, and someone seeing him chaperoning a child would bring his credibility as immovable to the vulnerable down. 

Y/n was using the silence to think over everything that had happened. The fear of not understanding what was happening was creeping up on her again; a feeling in her stomach told her this was worse than it seemed, as she already thought it was pretty bad. Her feet hurt, and her stomach was growling, but she didn't know this man. She didn't want to ask for food; he seemed busy thinking about his own things anyway. Y/n picked at her plush. She felt sick, she was lost, and everything here felt so much scarier than she'd ever had to face. She was always told to either stay where she was or find someone in charge to help her when she got lost. But it didn't seem like this man knew what to do with her either; he reminded her of the vampire in Sesame Street. She wonders if he likes numbers too. 

Mihawk glanced at his seat and decided to return to what he was initially doing before the interruption. Y/n seemed to look over at him when he moved. She saw the glass and tilted her head. She knew about drinks; she knew there were drinks she couldn't have because they weren't good for her. Mihawk noticed her stare and decided it had been quiet enough between them; he could ask her about where she came from, which might help determine how to move forward.

“From what island do you originate, child?” He took a sip of the wine he had put down earlier

“Um, my home?” Mihawk blinked, then remembered this was a young child he was talking to; he might need to speak a little more simply.

“What's it called, the place you live, where is your home?” Y/n blinked again before biting her bottom lip in thought. She said a name he didn't recognize. Never in any year of his living has he ever heard of an island named that, not even a kingdom. Perhaps a small town, which still didn't explain how she got here.

“Did you arrive on a boat with someone?”

“I've never been on a boat anywhere, wait, does fishing count?” Mihawk furrowed his brows more than usual as he stared her down. He felt the prickle of discomfort as she said she's never been on a boat. That made no logical sense. She had to be on a boat to get here, maybe a ship, hell, even a submarine. How does a child just appear on an island?

“Do you have a devil fruit, little girl?”

“The devil is evil…I'm not allowed to have anything from him.” Mihawk leaned forward a little. She just made less and less sense the more she spoke.

“Not the devil, a devil fruit”

“Is this a bible question? Is it the forbidden apple? Did I get it right?” What in the name of all things good is this girl talking about? Was she sheltered from the world? Why was she clueless about some of the basic principles of the land? Her mind connected to stories of a book few owned anymore, yet she was not familiar with a concept many knew; it was backwards, and it made him squint harder.

“A power girl, do you have a power from a fruit, a fruit you ate?” She giggled at him, smiling up until she saw his face, which was so dire, and he seemed almost to bristle, and she began to shrink back.

“No? Superpowers aren't real, only in stories. Like Spiderman and Superman,” She seemed to look around nervously as if her answer wouldn't satisfy his intense gaze, and she was looking for a way to avoid it. He ignored the examples she gave; he was unfamiliar with them as well. 

“How exactly did you get here?”

“I was sleeping in my bed, then I fell, and I woke up here. It's really scary, so I started running, then here I am.” Mihawk stared at her. This was bad; the situation had escalated, there were so many factors as to what was going on, but one of them concerned him the most, and then he stood up and excused himself. He needed to make a call. 

“Wait here, and don't move, understand?”

Pt 1 || Part 3 || Part 4 || MASTERLIST CHAPTER 2 || It's cold in the new nest

Mihawk walked into his office, which was more of a study for small moments when he wanted to research topics that caught his fancy. The stone walls seemed more enclosed than usual as he walked in. Something was really not right; he assumed the worst in the situation at hand. The dots were connecting to a few possible situations, but the answer he leaned towards seemed so far-fetched that he didn't want to jump to that conclusion just yet, because if he were right, there would be more issues than he wanted to deal with. He walked to the cabinet that had the den den mushi he hardly used, and for good reason, opening the door and gently pulling out the snail. The creature seemed to wake up lazily, his eyes blinking individually as he glanced up to him, the small three strikes as a scar over his left eye showing Mihawk who exactly he was communicating with. He lifted the receiver and let the snail ring a few times, knowing that Red Hair wouldn't take long to pick up, and he wasn't wrong.

“Hawk-eyes! You called! Miss me? Ah, who am I kidding? Of course you did, sneaky hawk.” Mihawk rolled his eyes at the words of the other man; he always seemed to find a way under his skin with just the simplest words.

“Red Hair, it's urgent.” The man could almost hear the shuffle of Shanks sitting up from whatever lazy position he was in. It was rushed as it should be; this could be serious.

“Urgent? What's going on?” The teasing tone disappeared as Shanks was suddenly listening very carefully. Mihawk knew the man rarely took anything seriously, but when Mihawk himself called from the blue and said it's urgent, you better believe it's an emergency.

“I found a young lady, a child, no older than 6 years old, maybe 5, I didn't ask her. She's come to me asking for help finding her guardians.”

“WHAT!” Shanks shouted, shuffling around again, “Mihawk, you dog! When did you find out you had a secret daughter?!”

“It's not mine, you idiot, did you not hear me say I found her. Honestly, you never fail to irk me with your selective hearing. In none of what I said even hinted at that idea, you dolt.” Mihawk bit back. He added a sneer to convey his displeasure effectively. Shanks nodded and laughed nervously; the sound of his hands rubbing his neck told Mihawk he was either guilty or just embarrassed, but not sorry about what he had teased, before humming in thought.

“Well, still, what's so urgent about finding her that you called me? Are her parents around? Just look, they might be stuck in some ditch your dead island has.”

“She's alone, claims she's never been on a boat,” Shanks scoffed and rolled his eyes, not that Mihawk could see that, but he could sense it in the tone of his voice and the pitch of his scoff.

“Oh come on, Mihawk, you can't just believe a kid, they lie for the hell of the game, I'm sure she has parents on your island or someone taking care of her, maybe she's a bandit's kid who came to raid your treasures and is using her as a distraction, maybe she had a devil fruit-”

“She had no idea what a devil fruit is. She recited stories from that one religious book, I believe it's called the Bible. Kuma typically carries around a copy of it.” That made Shanks pause. That was strange; very few have access to that book, let alone want to read it. A child being familiar with the stories in that book was almost as unheard of as a child having never heard of the story of the pirate king. Mihawk let Shanks stay silent as he processed what the other said.

“Are you sure? No soul on that island can claim her, you checked?” Mihawk almost rolled his eyes. Not much had happened after the girl had told him she had never been on a boat; he used Observation Haki to check her claims of solitude. Aside from the creatures that already resided here, he didn't recognize anyone new. 

“Don't take me for a fool, Red hair, I know how to check for lies, this girl is alone, and her claims seem useless if they are lies.” Mihawk sat down at his desk, opening his drawer, pulling out a book. 

He had journaled many things in his adventures, and there was a lot of time between traveling and bounties for him to pick up random hobbies. He's made a list of many island kingdoms with surrounding villages, none of which was even remotely close to what the girl had called home. The names seemed almost like a foreign tongue, despite both of them speaking the same language.

“Where did she say she was from? Did you ask?”

“Of course, I asked, she told me a name I can't trace to anywhere.”

“What? How's that possible? Tell me,” Mihawk repeated the name the girl had given her. Shanks grunted in reply; he'd probably been out at sea longer than Mihawk, and even he couldn't say he'd heard anywhere with that name.

“Well damn, never heard of it, Mihawk, what the hell does this mean? Are we looking too deeply into this? What if she just got the name wrong?”

“She knows stories of a book few read, and she looks no older than 6. She claims her home is somewhere neither you nor I have ever heard of, she speaks with a different tone, and she lacks understanding of the most obvious rules of the land.” The silence that followed his listing of everything wrong spoke louder than when they were conversing.

“You don't think…”

“I don't know what I think, but if it's anything close to what you're thinking, we can't let people know that she's who she is.”

“Mihawk protecting a little kid? Have you gone soft?” Of course, Shanks couldn't go a few minutes without becoming a pain again.

“Focus Red hair”

“Right, Sorry. How about this? She's already in your house; you take care of her.” Mihawk grunted in protest.

“I am a warlord, not a babysitter.”

“Well, I can't take her; my reputation is bad enough, I don't need people thinking I have a weakness and going after her.” He hated it when Shanks actually used his brain for once; he made a completely valid and understandable point. 

“Where is this smarts in every other conversation I have with you?”

“I save it for moments like this,” Mihawk sneered at the smirk he could hear in Shanks' voice.

“Fine, I will watch her, for now, until we think of something else or someone else to watch her.”

“I bet you won't want to let her go once you get to know he-”

Mihawk hung up the transponder with a deep sigh. He glanced outside; it was muggy, but he could tell it was getting late, regardless of how the island always looked, being in constant grey. He stood up from the chair and walked to another drawer, finding some snacks for the snail. He gently gave the creature its treat and lifted it back into the cabinet where it was kept, as it dozed off. 

Mihawk made his way back to the room where he had left the girl. He was just glad she hadn't moved from her spot on the couch, lost in thoughts he couldn't guess. He cleared his throat, making her jolt and glance up. Mihawk wasn't sure how to explain to the child that she might be in a different reality entirely, or perhaps a different timeline; regardless, this would be a challenge. 

“Does the term Grandline mean anything to you?” Mihawk strolled back to his seat

“No? It's something like, big line?” Mihawk stared at her and nodded slowly.

“Yes, a big line, what about East Blue?”

“East? Blue is a color! Is east a way? I remember I saw it on TV. I don't know what they are together.”

Mihawk nodded. This was definitely what he thought it was. He glanced at his wine and swirled it thoughtfully.

“Girl, I fear you are far from where you call home. I'm not sure I or anyone I know could get you back to that place,” She blinked slowly before looking down at her animal emotional support. She clutched it, as if she were thinking as deeply as someone her age could.

“I'm really lost, really lost.” Mihawk saw the tremble in her bottom lip and glanced away in slight sympathy.

“I'm afraid so, child,” She sniffled and hiccuped as small tears slowly built in her eyes. 

Mihawk knew she wasn't stupid; she was clearly smart enough to listen to him and realize she probably wouldn't be seeing her place of residence anytime soon. He watched uncomfortably as she began to sob and hiccup, snot dripping down as she curled into herself. He took a last sip of his wine as he let her express her feelings. The child screamed, tossed, and turned. She slammed her feet into the couch, gripping her stuffed toy by the neck with a death grip as she flailed. It went on for another few minutes before Mihawk noticed she was tiering herself out. The stress of everything so far must have stripped her of her childlike peace faster than she was ready for. He watched with a small huff of air as she eventually stopped and just looked exhausted. He didn't want to make her go to bed dirty and roughed up, but she was clearly on the brink of collapse, and nothing he could do could stop it. Mihawk stood waiting for her to notice. Y/n glanced at him, still sniffling the boogers in her nose as she blinked slowly, exhaustion settling in her bones.

“Come, rest.” That's all he needed to say for her to slowly get off the couch and follow him to a room. He opened the door for her and reiterated how much she needed to rest, and they would figure it out in the morning.

Y/n glanced at him and nodded, dragging her feet to the bed. Mihawk watched as she crawled in, still sulking, and melted under the covers. He sighed and slowly closed the door. He stood on the outside for a moment. This was all a mess. What was he supposed to do with a little girl? He's never had kids, nor planned to have any. What does she eat? Will he need to buy her clothes, teach her things he forgot he needed to learn how to do? All these new tasks in a matter of hours were almost too much to bear, but if anyone was up for a challenge, it was the greatest swordsmen of the sea. It can't be as hard as becoming feared and respected like he is, right? Right…?

Chapter 5 || Danger in the neighboring seas

Y/n followed the man she still somewhat hated; it was harder not to like him now. He had been good to her, and she was aware of that. But she was still convinced he had something to do with her inability to go home. In her mind, there was no way he wasn't involved; all the childish dots connected in ways she couldn't explain. And that's what kept that hatred burning, hot and uncomfortable deep in her chest, searing the inner walls of her lungs. Or was that her asthma? She might need to tell Mihawk about her inhaler; she's not sure how Daddy gets them, but she knows it's essential. Whatever that word means, all she knew was that Daddy said it while wagging his finger in her face. 

Not that it mattered right now, Y/n could smell herself; she smelled like dust and stale air. It wasn't the most pleasant thing to waft into her nose, but she's smelled worse on other days. It reminded her of the attic she would sometimes sit in as a time-out. She wondered if Mia had ever eaten the pink house candy that grows in attics. Y/n did once, and it scratched up her throat and tasted horrible. When she rubbed her eyes and tried to shake off the itch, it made her even redder and itchier. She never told anyone; she didn't want to get in more trouble. She didn't even realize she started daydreaming about her life before this mess until a hand waved in her face, snapping her back into focus to look at who waved.

"I've been asking your attention for a while, girl." Mihawk stared down at her. He wasn't exaggerating; he'd been calling out to her for almost 2 minutes, refusing to put his hands on her without a proper reason. He already felt strange for tucking her in the night before, after her temper tantrum.

"Sorry, I spaced out."

"I noticed you do that often, stare into the distance."

"I have a good imagination, that's what daddy always told me."

"I'm sure…" Mihawk knew that spaced-out look; he'd seen it on retired marines and traumatized adults. He hardly noticed it in children, let alone one so… young. 

"Well, we made it to the washroom. You will go in and wash yourself, and I will clean your clothes, and hopefully they will be dry sooner rather than later, for I have nothing in your size," Mihawk explained it as simply as he could, but she still stared at him all strangely.

Y/n wasn't sure how to tell him she's never taken a bath by herself; her mommy usually did it every once in a while. Sometimes her daddy would hold the shower head and would tell her to "just keep scrubbing, kiddo," while he looked at his phone, busy being in his own world. She only took them every week or so. Sometimes Mommy sprays her with an air freshener and calls it good enough. 

"Mia, I've never done it by myself; my mommy and daddy usually help me." Mihawk grimaced since that's precisely what he feared she would say; she was young after all, and he expected her to still struggle with certain self-sufficient traits.

"Girl, I cannot help you; I am essentially a stranger. I will not go in and help you bathe."

Y/n sighed and nodded, but she still wasn't sure about doing it by herself.

"Can you wait outside?" Mihawk sighed deeply; waiting outside would do nothing but postpone the task for today.

"I cannot sit outside the bathhouse to wait for you. I need to wash your clothes and hope they dry by the time we need to leave. If I wait, you will have to sit in a towel and become cold." Y/n seemed to get nervous; she didn't want to do it alone.

"But what if I drown?"

"The tub is not that deep."

"But what if I get soap in my eye?"

"Then you rinse your face with water."

"But-"

"Listen, girl, nothing you say will convince me to help you; you must learn to grow up just as anyone else. I am not your mother, nor your father. I cannot do it all for you. You wash everything, lather yourself in soap, and wash it all off." Mihawk told her sternly that he wasn't going to fall for anything she told him. 

He was a grown man, one who had no business being in the bathhouse with a little girl he had no blood connection to. She just had to be a bit more mature today. Y/n stared at him as he loomed over her while saying this. She knew deep down he was right; she couldn't ask him to help her with this. It wasn't right and a little embarrassing, but she didn't want to be alone; she really didn't. Even if she claimed not to like him, deep down, he was the only adult she could trust right now. Necessity always beats her other feelings. Mihawk seemed to see her anxious face because he paused and huffed. He felt his migraine coming back, but he pushed it down in favor of taking a deep breath.

"Hey, I won't be far, understand? If you call me, and only if it's truly an emergency, I will be right here in this castle, ready to help. Still, I cannot stress this enough, only if it's truly an emergency." He had used a slightly more gentle tone, enough to hopefully get her to relax; the last thing he needed from her was another tantrum. 

Y/n seemed to nod slowly, taking a deep breath. She gently handed her Piggy to him; she knew she couldn't take him into the bath with her. Mihawk understood to an extent how precious this plush was to her; she'd carried it this entire time, not once parting from it willingly.

"I will guard him well, now, go and leave your clothes outside the door, I will collect them soon and leave a dry cloth in place." Mihawk pointed her to go in as he held the pig plush in his other hand protectively.

Y/n nodded and scampered inside the bathroom, Mihawk, helping close the door behind her. Now he had to go and prep the laundry basket for the wash. He walked not far down into a separate room with a tub and a washboard. He picked up the laundry basket he used to move the clothes, then took a bucket and went back out. On his way outside to his well pump, he picked up the dirty clothes the girl had left outside the door and placed them in the basket before continuing to the pump. He felt strange; something about this just tickled him funny. As if he knew deep down this wouldn't be the last time he did this, he shook that thought off; he didn't have time for thoughts of domesticity. In fact, he should be smoothing said feeling into dust and blowing it away. He was a warrior, not a caretaker.

Despite that thought, he could not deny that the current situation he was in did not do him justice; his eyes wandered to the pig plush in the empty bucket in his other hand.

"Do not look at me like that." He jolted the bucket, making the plush jump with it and turning away from him. He let a huff of air leave his nose as he focused back ahead of him.

He was pumping water from his well into the basin to wash the little girl's clothes after she stumbled into his house, only to mess with his set schedule. Mihawk grumbled as he gave it one last pump. He scoops a bit of the clean water into the bucket and drops the girl's clothes inside the basin to soak as he goes to find the soup. 

----

Y/n had turned as she saw the door close behind her. There was enough light in the bathroom from candles and lamps for her to see. Still, she didn't feel comfortable being all by herself in the big room. But it wouldn't be the first time she was alone in bag spaces that made her uncomfortable. It hardly made it easier to stomach. She sighed and remembered to put her dirty clothes outside the door as Mia had asked. She leaned over the tub using the step stool to peek inside. Mihawk wasn't lying when he said it couldn't be deep enough for her to drown in. But it seemed too daunting to do. Y/n took a deep breath, mustering all the courage a little girl like her could have, and slowly slid in. 

The water was warm, and the temperature change made Y/n shiver. She didn't know baths could be warm. She sat down before smiling. The water was warm enough to have a little bit of steam. It felt like a hug she never wanted to let go of. Her hands waved around under the water. She giggled, and for a moment, she pretended she was home. She cupped her hands and raised them over her head, imagining her mother's smile, pouring it on her, telling her she was doing so well, that she was proud. Y/n struggled to imagine her mother's voice saying those things, shes never actually heard them from her before, but nothing a little extra focus couldn't fix. She thought of her mother's voice; it almost felt real. Then she turned her head and saw her father, who splashed her a little. He laughed as she squealed from the water hitting her face. Y/n smiled back, home, she was home, so what if maybe this never happened, and she was imagining a little, she was with her mom and dad, that was home enough. She blinked and looked up at her father. She noticed something was wrong; his eyes were yellow. Her father's eyes were never yellow before. She turned to her mother and froze. Her face was wrong; she didn't look like that, right? She was going to call out the inconsistency when her father spoke, but she whipped her head to him.

"Are you done yet, girl?" Y/n opened her mouth again, but when she blinked, he was gone—they were both gone.

Y/n rubbed her eyes quickly, trying to get them back, but all she could see was the castle walls. The water was cold now, not cold enough to hurt or make her shiver, but not as pleasant to sit in. There were suds in the water; she must have washed while imagining home. With a sigh, she stood up, chilly. She tensed when she heard a knock.

"Are you alright? Girl?" Oh, it was just Mia. Y/n climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in the towel he clearly placed just beside the inside of the bathroom door. She quickly wrapped herself up and called out.

"Yeah! I'm all done." The door slowly opened. Mihawk wasn't looking; she was simply holding it open for her to walk out. His eyes stayed elsewhere as he held out the plush she had entrusted him with. Y/n seemed to forget all the mixed feelings that had been making her tummy hurt as she grabbed Piggy. She smiled and helped him close. 

"Your clothes are drying, they should be done soon, then we will go," Mihawk informed her as he slowly walked back out to the clothes line.

"Ok, Mia," Y/n answered automatically, still focused on holding Piggy close.

----

Mihawk walked down the path he had hardly taken to reach the doc, leading the small girl along. Y/n watched her step, mainly following his, as the path was slightly mushy from the constant humidity in the air. She looked to the dead trees and the other Indents of animal prints in the dirt. She hadn't seen any creatures while running, but that was probably for the best. His small coffin-shaped boat bobbed on the sea as he untied the knot from the dock. Y/n stood to the side, awkwardly glancing around. She knew the scenery; it was long ago that she had been running mindlessly, looking for a haven. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, letting the wood creak. Mihawk walked onto the raft and waited for her to join. She looked at him from the doc, clutching Piggy close, but she did not move to join him.

"What do you wait for?" Mihawk squinted a little at her lack of movement.

"It's too far," She answered, looking at the space between the boat and the dock, the water dark and seemingly endless.

"It's an easy jump, hurry, we burn daylight." Mihawk turned to prepare the sail, expecting to feel the boat bob with the force of her jump. But nothing came.

"I said jump," He glanced over his shoulder to command her.

"I can't! It's too far! I'll fall in the water and drown!" She yelled out, lip trembling as she took a step back from the edge. 

Mihawk pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn't have time for her insolence or her lack of bravery.

"Get on this instant or go back to the castle," Mihawk grumbled, hoping the threat would scare her enough into jumping into the boat. Unfortunately, that just made her cry harder as she tossed herself onto the wooden boards and rolled around.

"No! No! It's not fair! Take me with you! I wanna go, Mia, I want to go!"

Mihawk watched in mild horror as she rolled around, finally cracking and using one leg to balance on the boat and the other to balance on the dock.

"Quiet! Enough of this nonsense!" He grabbed her by her free arm and pulled her up and into the boat.

"There, stop screaming," Y/n sniffled and sat down as if she hadn't just been screaming bloody murder moments before.

"Thank you, Mia." 

Mihawk clenched his jaw, having nothing to say as he pushed them off the dock and sat down, letting the wind take them to the next island. He'd prepped the boat a while back, so it should still be good enough for the small voyage. 

----

He stopped on a random backwater island. He made sure it was inhabited; of course, there would be no use going to an empty island, but one that might be isolated enough to let him stay on the down low was a must-have. It was bad enough he had to make this trip; worse, a walking weak point was trailing him. Mihawk steered the ship with a simple paddle to a hidden spot on the village dock and quickly tied a proper knot to keep the boat in place. He rapidly glanced around to make sure the ship was well disguised before he looked back down at the girl, who seemed to be falling asleep from all the bobbing. This time, he learned his lesson and pulled Y/n out of the ship first, placing her on the wood before allowing himself to get up and join her. 

Y/n looked around curiously after being woken up when she was lifted and placed on her feet. This was different from the island she'd learned to become accustomed to. It was bright here, unlike the gloomy skies she'd look up at from the windows. It kinda burned her eyes, and her hand came up to cover the unforgiving sun beaming down on her. In the boat, she had been covered under a blanket of sorts, which had kept the sun off her most of the trip, but now it was raw and unrelenting. She whined and stumbled around, confused and disoriented from the change, before a shadow came over her. She blinked and rubbed her eyes before seeking Mihawk with a wondering hand. He glared down at her as his hat served as a shade.

"Enough playing, stop this drunken stumble immediately. We have errands." Y/n didn't know some of the words he used, but recognized the tone as stern, the same tone Mommy used before walking anywhere with her. She stayed close to use his hat as shade as she followed him towards the town. She knew some places had stores outside, but they always sold fruits, veggies, and toys. She wondered if he was going to take her to a supermarket or a corner store. But when she saw no familiar building, she grew confused. Y/n tugged on his coat for his attention.

"Mia?"

"I told you to only use that name in private. Does this place feel private to you?" His glare felt sharper from the shade of his hat, his eyes almost glowing.

"Are we going to Target?" Y/n ignored his reprimand in favor of wanting an answer to her question.

"What? No, we do not have a mission; we are running errands."

"Yeah, the store, are we going to Target?"

The silence that followed was awkward. Y/n was waiting for an answer. Mihawk didn't know how to give it.

"No. We are going to the market."

"What? So which one?"

"The one here, on this island"

"Ok… what's it called?"

"The market"

The duo stared at each other for a while after having paused to talk before Y/n simply tilted her head and stared at him from the corner of her eye. Mihawk wasn't sure what she meant by the gesture, but he felt it was insulting. He huffed and kept walking, forcing the girl to catch up, a petty move on his behalf. Mihawk had no clue what she might be referring to, but chalked it up to her typical, strange behavior. 

They walked past countless stalls, and Y/n noticed he kept his hat low. She assumed that meant they were starting the game. Mama always hid her face a little when it was time to play. Y/n follows him closely, waiting for him to stop at a place and point to an object to hide under her clothes. In the meantime, she took the time to absorb her surroundings, who knows when the next time she's going to be out like this will be. She sniffled as she stared down some of the adults passing them. The people around here dress funny; no one seems to have regular clothes. Or at least anything she could recognize. 

She noticed a few kids older than her running in groups, apparently playing games. She wished she could play. Mama and Papa never let her play with other kids; they said they didn't have time to watch her outside, that the backyard was safe and good enough because it was closed off, but there were no friends there aside from Piggy. 

"Girl," Y/n snapped her head up to see Mihawk once again staring down at her with something in his hand.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you prefer dresses or pants." Y/n thought about it. She usually just had an oversized shirt her daddy didn't wear anymore; she only got to dress up when she went to church. She liked it when she got to wear her dress.

"Dresses," He seemed to nod and place the fabric down. Y/n glanced at the stall; nothing on the table would be easy to hide, so she decided not to take anything from there. 

They walked around for a long time, stopping at random stalls; it felt endless. Y/n was starting to grow restless. She had already pocketed a few trinkets Mihawk had picked up and put down; all the weight was beginning to pull her down. But Mihawk never stopped to sit; he hardly slowed his pace if she fell behind. Y/n's legs had started to hurt, and her feet ached. She didn't like this; she didn't like him anymore. When they paused at another stall, Y/n decided she had enough. It's only fair he stops. She's done what he wanted; she played the game; she had a lot in her pockets.

"Mia, I'm tired," She frowned and yanked at his coat.

"We are hardly done; we still have to get your measurements and tailor the fabrics."

That seemed to set her off. She wanted a break, and she liked it now. Y/n fell to the floor and wailed, slamming her fist on the pavement. She quickly learned that Mihawk always seemed to give her what she wanted if she did this. He put her on the boat earlier, so logically, he would stop and let her take a break if she did it again.

"No! I don't want to do it anymore! I'm tired," Mihawk bristled, watching her throw another tantrum. His head whipped around looking for anyone of importance to have noticed. The island was backwater enough not have marines, but it's not like Mihawk had no other enemies.

"Stop! Stop, you will cause a scene!"

He tried to pick her up and force her to stand, but she kept going limp and fell back to the floor. Agitation and embarrassment flooded Mihawk. He glanced and noticed people were starting to stop and stare; if they caught more than her tantrum, they might recognize him, and it would all go downhill. 

"Enough, enough! Stop this mindless screaming immediately!" He was panicking a little; Mihawk never panicked. He was always in control. And if it wasn't in his power, it was something he could outrun or outfight. But this situation was different; he's never handled children, and he never planned to, but here he was trying to stop this girl from blowing the cover. 

Thankfully, a mother seemed to notice his struggle; she was likely an angel in disguise because without her advice, Mihawk would be exposed and helpless for the first time in a long time.

"She just seems cranky, probably tired from all the walking. You should carry her, it's what I do when my boys get tired, happens to the best of us." It was passing advice; the woman probably thought nothing of it as she walked away. But Mihawk would remember her face, for she had bestowed knowledge beyond his comprehension to solve a problem he had no idea how to face. 

Quickly, he yanked the girl up, who still wailed in his ear, her fists hitting him but not really doing much damage. He kept whispering angrily at her to stop, shushing her aggressively as he kept looking around for danger. Finally, Y/n found relief as her weight was off her legs; she sniffled, realizing she got the break she wanted, and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. 

Mihawk wanted to hiss at her for causing such pain in his head. But he reminded himself she really is just a child, and it showed deeply in times like these. He'd have to teach her how to handle things later. He wasn't raising a brat. He wasn't going to deal with a brat for the little time he was going to have her. He had a feeling he was already teaching her bad habits; she was smarter than she gave off, more often than not.

"Are you done?" Mihawk seethed as he stared at the girl who was now rubbing her face.

"Yeah," Mihawk frowned, so she was self-aware of what she was doing.

Before he could say anything, he felt something poking his ribs. He leaned his head back as he looked down at the protruding item stabbing into him. He saw it was coming from her pockets; she shouldn't have anything in her pockets, let alone something sharp enough to hurt poke him. 

"Girl…"

"Yeah?"

"What do you have?" His eyes slowly trailed back up to her; it was more accusing than a general question. Y/n blinked and reached in, pulling out a weatstone, one he had looked at earlier but put back since he needed to focus on buying her clothes. His eyes bulged out of his face as he grabbed her wrist.

"What! Why do you have this!?" He whispered to her, turning them away from any wondering eyes. Y/n's eyes went wide at his reaction.

"Because we are playing the hide-and-seek game?" Mihawk was speechless as he tried to find the words to coax her into explaining.

"What game? This is stealing! You stole?! Do you know how much attention this can bring to us?" Mihawk let go of her wrist to slap his forehead. Of all the things she could add to this disaster of a day, sticky fingers were probably the worst of it, that and throwing that tantrum. 

Mihawk honestly wanted to drop her off in an alley, rush back to his boat, and go home. Why do people have children when they do stuff like this and stare at you like you're the problem? He was drinking so much wine when he got back, he was also going to chew Shanks' ear off, find a way to give him another arm, then cut it off himself. With a deep sigh, and I mean a truly ancestral sigh, he swallowed the spit building in his mouth and looked back to the girl who was blankly staring at his slight show.

"What else do you have?" He shouldn't have asked. He watched Y/n empty her pockets of literally everything he touched as they walked. How she fit all of it was a miracle, but the fact that she did it was sin itself. 

Mihawk felt absolutely flabbergasted; a small part of him felt slight awe that she managed to snag so much without getting caught by the sellers or him. Still, he needed to figure out what to do with all this and also deal with whatever game this girl thought they were playing.

----

Chapter 3 || The egg is cracked

The fire of the brick furnace burned hot against Mihawk's shins, his hands clasped together as he leaned forward, pressing his lips against his interlocked fingers. He looked down at the notes he's made of everything she's said, Y/n, a name not common in a world like this. She knew of the old and was clueless about the present. Nothing about her, or her lack of common knowledge, made sense. He knew she was young, but even at that age, some children can recognize the obvious characteristics of this life. He took a deep sigh, pulling his hands apart and resting them against the armrests at his sides. He leaned back to take a moment, catch his breath, and try to think this through properly.

He felt a twitch in his brow; he was stressing too much. He needed to focus on something more in his control. If he was going to keep her here, he needed to start planning for the cost of her living. He'd heard raising a child could cost you an arm and a leg, not that he intended to raise her, but the concept was there. He needed to start managing the finances. With another deep sigh, he sat back up, pushing aside the notes of the present situation and grabbing a new piece of paper to start making a list of the items he would require from his next market run. Likely, he will also have to bring her on that trip since there's no one here to watch her; he needs to figure that out later. Right now, he needed to numb his mind a little from this tedious task.

For a moment, Y/n was back home. She opened her eyes to the cracks in the ceiling, which always looked like spider webs. She remembers how she used to count the droplets on the ones outside. Mommy always took a while to let her back in the house after telling her to go play, so she passed the time by counting everything in the garden. Y/n smiled as she turned in her familiar sheets to see the peeling wallpaper. It felt so familiar to trace the wall on her finger; it always helped her fall asleep on days the room was freezing, which was most days. In the distance, she could hear her father's laugh, it drawled a lot, even more when he drank his special juice.

The juice he told her wasn't good for little kids but perfectly fine for grown-ups because grown-ups always knew better. The bottles he drank from looked like the ones the man in the castle kept on the counter, skinny and sometimes tinted green. She liked it when the sun hit the bottle and made it a pretty olive color. Daddy usually drank it directly from the bottle or in a big cup that he held with a fancy look on his face when he wasn't swaying side to side; it smelled strong and sometimes made her nose twitch from the burn. She often wondered how grown-ups didn't get that burn, well, at least her daddy didn't. He almost always became happier when he smelled the drink; maybe when you grow up, things change for the better.

The juice would make him act all dizzy, she wondered if the yellow-eyed man did the same. Wondered if he drank so much he smelled like it, or if he always chugged them down after getting impatient with his own pace. Daddy would say the funniest things when he drank his juice. Y/n thought for a while that it's meant to make you funny, why else would daddy like it so much? It's probably because of how good it makes him feel, like when Y/n gets to eat her favorite food. Y/n often sat and watched him talk all these grown-up things, none of which made sense, but it sounded silly and made her giggle. Isn't it amusing how words can twist and turn, how lips can wobble and wriggle? Y/n always swayed to the sounds of her daddy’s voice. And he always swayed with her; she liked to copy him, how he danced with no rhythm, sang with no tune.

Unlike mommy's voice, it was always loud; sometimes she got so loud she looked like a cartoon with her face all red. It reminded her of when the bad guys can't catch the heroes, they get all angry, and things go wrong. Mommy always confused her; she would always tell Y/n to be quiet, saying she was too noisy, but it was her own screaming that bothered her. She would get agitated by the echo of her own voice against the quiet halls. Sometimes it made Y/n's eyes water, which only made mommy scream louder. Maybe she was just tired. Y/n got fussy when she was exhausted, too. That's why it was okay, Mommy always took care of her because Mommy loves her kids. That's what Ms. Vivian always told her on Sundays, and she believed it, because adults are supposed to know better. Mommy made her food, that was love, right? A few pieces of bread, sometimes a can of soup, and if she was really good, Mommy made her favorite, Lunchables! All Y/n had to do for those was stay in her room all day or stay outside and not complain; it was super easy.

Daddy always came around and hugged her when she was this good; that was nice, even when he smelled funny from the juice. Sometimes he hugged her too tightly, it hurt her back and arms, he couldn't hear her cries out since she was always pressed into his chest. He smelled a little gross, but it must just be her imagination; maybe it was because he was a boy and boys had cooties, maybe Daddy smelled like cooties when he wasn't smelling like juice. But he let go eventually with a loud laugh that made her ears hurt. She always smiled and laughed along, even if he left ouchies in her arms from squeezing. 

Y/n smiled as she glanced around. Home, she was home. She reached out to the ceiling, her other arm clutching piggie close; everything was back to normal. The air was cold again, and the blankets smelled funny just like always; everything was perfect. Y/n giggled; she turned in the bed and paused. Something was off; she turned on her side, glancing over the edge. The bed was so high that Daddy always put pillows on the floor, and she liked to roll in her sleep. Daddy said it was to help break the fall so she wouldn't get hurt. She noticed there were no pillows on the floor this time. Daddy must have taken his juice nap and forgotten. She tilted her head curiously before rolling back over and grabbing one of the extra ones on her side, tossing it over the edge onto the floor. She smiled again, now satisfied with her own attention to detail. Daddy would be proud she did it all on her own. She curled back up and sighed. All is well; she had pillows to break her fall in case she wiggled while asleep. Y/n closed her eyes slowly. She felt a strange ache in her neck, so she rubbed it and then settled back into comfort. She's such a big girl for being attentive and breaking her fall, breaking her fall, fall.

She was falling. Y/n's eyes snapped open. She screamed, flailing around. She couldn't make out the things around her, she felt the wind whipping around her, and she cried out for help. She tried to turn her body, but it kept twisting to point downward, causing her to fall headfirst. And just as quickly as she was falling, she felt her body hit the floor, something in her neck snapped, and pain shot up her back; it was blinding and hot, almost paralyzing. She lay there, her chest wouldn't move, up and down, she was choking, but her body wouldn't get up Everything burned, and she felt tears in her eyes. She couldn't speak, but she felt a thump on the floor; someone was coming, something to save her. 

Just before she could see who, she jolted awake with a scream so guttural you could hear the birds outside fly away, frightened. The door slammed open, and she expected her daddy, the one who could save her, maybe her mommy, telling her to be quiet, but it was the yellow-eyed man. That can't be right. She was home, she was just home. Why was she back? She was supposed to be with her mommy and daddy. Why was she back in the room with the dusty shelves and itchy blankets? She heaved, hands shaking, eyes wide in fear, wet with tears unshed, as they met the bright ones of the older man. The world spun for a moment; everything was so bright, yet the only light in the room came from the window, shedding moonlight down on the young girl.

Mihawk waited for her to do something, say something, make a sound aside from the quick, shallow breaths. She blinked forcefully, the tears falling from her face. She hiccuped before choking out an angry sob.

“NO! NO! It's not fair! I was home, I was home!” Her voice cracked and jumped in pitch from her shrill screech, “I don't wanna be here anymore! I don't want to be here!” She screamed and slammed her fist on the bed.

She yanked the cover of her little body, crawling out, she ran to him and tried to push him out,  she growled and wailed as she kept pushing.

“Go away! You took me back! It's your fault it has to be!” She kept trying to push him, but it was obviously futile, “You’re not my daddy! I want my daddy! You're a mean old man!”

Mihawk watched as she tried to shove him. It looked like she was rolling around his shins, falling at his feet, and tugging at his pants.

“Stop, you were dreaming.” Mihawk tried to shake her off before sighing. He was mildly offended. She called him an old man, sure, he was older, but he was still in his prime…he hoped. 

Regardless, she didn't seem happy with his conclusion of what had happened, as she stomped her foot down over and over, fist curled in anger.

“NO! I was just there! I was home, I could see it, feel it! I was in my room! Then you slammed the–” Y/n hiccuped, coughing on her tears “--You brought me back! You made me come back, I know you did!”

Mihawk watched her fight both sleep and tears; she was clearly still tired, tossing a fit like any child her age would when they were fussy. She seemed to hate him so much, wanted nothing to do with him, wanted to go home, wherever it was. But he knew she was all he had right now. He took a deep sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. He wasn't dumb; he knew what he had to do, but he really didn't want to do it. He opened his eyes again and waited for her to mellow out, watching as she slowly sat down on the ground, rubbing her eyes as she hiccuped. Her face was red and messy with tears and snot. After she stopped, a shuddering sigh escaped her, and he finally slowly leaned down, gently taking his hands under her arms and lifting her. Y/n whined in annoyance, wiggling a little in protest before her body gave out, still agitated from the moment before, but she was too tired to fight him as she rested against his shoulder. Her head fell to the crook of his neck as he supported her and patted her back.

“Enough, you are an exhausted child, you may yell at me in the morning when you have gotten proper sleep.”

Y/n sniffled but didn't argue. As Miahwk walked back to the bed, the pats on her back, unfortunately, made her feel good and soothed, despite her earlier outburst at him. Mihawk walked over and bent down to lay her in the bed again. She fell limp; she had already fallen asleep somewhere between the back pats and walking to the bed. Mihawk blinked at the snoring child, the boogers on her face dried, and she was already drooling. He sighed and tucked her in, making sure her plushie was in her arms. He didn't want her waking up again because her prized possession was not in her immediate vicinity. He scowled as he stood up straight again. Why was she such a pain? He sighed out of his nose and turned away, glancing around the room to make sure nothing else was in disarray. Realizing how uncomfortably empty it was, he made a mental note to add decorations to his shopping list. He closed his eyes again, pinching the bridge of his nose; he was getting too confident in her stay; he needed to be prepared for her departure soon. There would be no point in remodeling a whole new room for her if she's supposed to go to someone else in the future.

Chapter 4 || Early bird gets the worm

The morning came far faster than he expected, and even quicker than he wanted. The grey of the early morning felt heavy and humid, the tension from the night before making the air around the castle thick with words unspoken. Mihawk walked the empty halls down to the dining room. He glanced at the decorations he had added to his home through the years, each one holding some story. He noticed many of the objects were within a child's reach; he might need to move them to his room to keep them safe until the girl leaves. Usually, he would be up earlier and pour some morning wine while reading the World Economy News Paper, the ones the News Coos drop off. Today, he felt no such desire to do his morning routine, knowing a small girl was sleeping in the guest room left him uncomfortable and slightly more agitated than he should be in the morning. Regardless of this discomfort, he still sat down at the long table he had custom-ordered from a carpenter's son, he placed his elbows on it, and rested his head in his hands, rubbing his fingers into his scalp; the sensation hardly eased the pressure as he had hoped. He thought over everything that had happened the night before. How she sobbed and wailed and fought him, convincing herself he was the sole person to blame for her entrapment in a world that had no document of her ever existing, and less likely even the genetic material for her to have ever lived. Mihawk rubbed his head harder with a growl, feeling a slight twinge of a migraine starting; maybe he shouldn't hold off on his morning wine —it seems to be doing more harm than good. Pushing himself to stick to his routine despite his agitation and stress will help him gain some control over what has been going on in his life thus far. 

He sighed deeply before slowly getting up when he heard the familiar footsteps of someone small jogging down the hall. The sound was uneven, as if one was slightly muffled and the other a slap of skin on stone. Why was she up so early? He thought kids were supposed to sleep in because they were growing, or whatever the science was behind it. He hadn't had his wine, and he felt the migraine start to pound against his skull. He didn't want to be agitated with her; he knew she was already on edge with her own anger, but if she started screaming and crying again, he might do something a little irrational that could make matters worse. He waited for the patter of footsteps to get louder and closer before they came to a stop at the doorway. Mihawk stared at the little girl before him. Y/n was clutching her stuffed pig like he was the only thing grounding her to earth, and in all honesty, it could be the only thing grounding her to reality itself. She sniffled, eyes puffy, cheeks red from what seemed like continuous rubbing; she had clearly been crying to herself since waking up. Her pajamas were still dirty, and she was missing a sock; her head was down, glaring at the floor.

“You’re awake,” Mihawk spoke smoothly with a hint of curiosity in his tone to hide the ache behind his eyes.

She kicked her feet against the floor, brushing her socked foot against the red carpet he used to decorate most of the dining room floor. 

“I want to go home.” She mumbled; he could see her clench her teeth after, his own jaw going tight.

“I told you already, I'm not sure how-”

“You're lying! I saw it! I saw home!” She raised her voice, stomping her foot.

“And I said you were dreaming, if I could take you back, you would not be here to argue if I'm being dishonest or not.” Mihawk shot back almost in a hiss, forcing his eyes closed to try to keep his calm. She was just a child —scared and lost—deep breath.

Y/n wanted to start screaming at him, but a part of her knew that would do nothing but get her in trouble. If he was anything like Mama, it was best just to hug Piggy and close her eyes. Even then, she still wanted to give him a piece of her mind. He had to be lying; he just had to. She was home, she felt her bed, saw the familiar cracks in the ceiling, smelled her daddy's nasty juice. His slamming of the doors open when he intruded into the room brought her back here. Before she could even say anything else, her tummy growled really loudly. She paused, swallowing the spit that built up in her throat when she finally realised how hungry she was. Mihawk opened his eyes when his ears perked at the sound; he glanced up at her as she rubbed her stomach. 

“When did you eat last, child?” his head tilted naturally at his questioning tone. 

“I don't want what you give me.” Y/n turned away, clutching her stuffed animal to her chest, her scowl turned more into a painful grimace as her stomach growled louder in physical protest to her ego. 

“It's your life on the line, not mine. What you do or do not do affects me not.” He walked around the table past her, not sparing her his stare this time. She watched him from the corner of her eye, the iris trailing him as he left her there. 

She turned fully as he walked out of her sight, her mouth opening, wanting to take back what she'd said, but when she saw he wasn't stopping, she assumed it was too late. Y/n bit her tongue, lower lip trembling from her ugly pride. She was really hungry. Mama hadn't fed her dinner, something about Y/n being too loud that day. Combined with all the running and crying and screaming she’d done the day prior, she was starved, more than she was used to. Y/n glanced around and decided to sit at the now-empty table, curling in on herself in the oddly plush seat. She sniffled, rubbing her eyes. She was starting to get a headache from the hunger and constant crying she had been doing, and on top of that, she was getting sleepy again. Usually, she didn't get up this early, but the unfamiliarity of the place she was in forced her to get up and out of the uncomfortable sheets. Y/n placed the plushie on the table and put her head on top. She used the arm of the pig to dry the corners of her eyes as she tried to imagine eating to hopefully trick herself into not being so hungry anymore.

“It's just you and me, Piggy,” Y/n daydreamed some more, slowly slipping into a sort of space between dreamland and reality—images of different foods passing before her imagination dancing behind her eyelids.

Who knows how much time passed with her head on the plush, sitting at the table, but she began smelling food. At first, she thought she had developed excellent imagination skills, but then she realised the smell was genuinely warm in her nose. She sniffed, and she could almost taste the food in the back of her throat. Y/n groaned and slowly opened her eyes; her little back was a bit sore from sitting arched for so long, but she only stretched, glancing around. The smell started getting stronger. It had to be real, that or she was really getting good at pretending. Y/n rubbed her face with her little fists before looking up at where the smell was mostly coming from. She could practically see some smoke seeping from down the hall. Hesitantly, she grabbed Piggy and slipped out of the chair. The carpet felt strange on just one uncovered foot. Walking down the stone hall, Y/n glanced around at all the paintings and red accents. She hadn't really been paying much attention until now. They turned a corner and paused. It smelled so good. She felt her mouth water as the scents of cooked meats and eggs filled her nose, pancakes and juice? Some of these scents were entirely new for her. She could only use educated guesses for what she was smelling.

“I see you,” Y/n jumped, flicking her head to the sharp voice. Mihawk stood there holding two plates and staring at her stoically. She looked away, embarrassed at being caught snooping. She assumed he would send her back the way she came.

 Y/n heard shuffling and porcelain plates being set down. She dug her foot into the floor, waiting for the fated words of denial to be in the area anymore. He'll send her back to the bedroom and make her stay there for the rest of the day. There was more shuffling, but nothing yet. Y/n wasn't sure why he was taking so long to send her back to her room. She finally looked up and realized he had sat down with the plates and was just staring at her. Y/n blinked curiously before Mihawk slowly pushed out a chair by him and gestured for her to take the seat. Y/n looked to the open spot before taking a few cautious steps. When he didn't say anything, she went the rest of the way and sat down. He moved a plate in front of her, and Y/n gasped, seeing the food presented to her.

“Is this for me?” She whispers as if she spoke too loudly, he would take it away from her.

“Eat, or starve, I care not for either,” Mihawk claimed as he picked up his own utensil and ate his own portion. 

Y/n watched curiously as he used a fork and knife to cut his food into proper bites for him to eat. Then take a small sip of his juice in a fancy cup. She wanted fancy juice in a cup. Sure, she was still a little mad at him, but she could put that aside; he gave her food, and more than her mommy and daddy gave her for one sitting. Maybe he wasn't so bad, but she wanted to eat and could think about all these crazy thoughts later. She picked up her fork and watched him some more before picking up the butter knife he had left at the other side of the plate. Y/n tried really hard to mimic him and how he ate, cutting her foot clumsily and trying to put it in her mouth just as elegantly as he did. She tried not to make a mess, but sometimes some of the food slipped from her fork and fell back on the plate. She would glance at him, hoping he wasn't mad, but he didn't seem to be paying any attention to her at the moment, opting to read this big paper with a lot of words. Y/n built up the courage to eventually call out and ask.

“Excuse me,” Mihawk looked to her from the corner of his eyes, the sharp yellow felt like a knife to her neck.

“What”

“Can I have juice in a fancy cup like you?

“This is not juice, child, it's wine, and you cannot have wine.”

“Can I get water in a fancy cup then?” Mihawk blinked before sighing from his nose and getting up while folding the paper. 

He walked over to the kitchen-like area, grabbed something from the shelf, and poured something brownish into it before bringing it to her. He placed the cup by her plate, but before she could hold it, he put a hand in her way and pointed a finger at her.

“I will lend you this cup, but break it, and we will have a problem; treat it like your life is worth the same price.”

“What?”

“Just treat it like it's important, girl, alright?”

“Oh, ok!”

Mihawk nodded, moved his hand away, and went back to sitting and reading the paper. He took a sip of his wine, and Y/n copied him down to even lifting her pinkie. Mihawk didn't want to say it moved something cold and dead in his heart, but it did. He had to shoot his eyes away back to the paper so as not to feel that warmth in his chest again. This child needed to be gone by yesterday; she shouldn't have stayed here. It didn't matter what Shanks said; it wasn't safe with him. He may be the strongest swordsman alive, but she was not invincible herself. If any word of the great and mighty Mihawk housing a small child got out, who knows what evil would come knocking at his door? He looked back at her, watching her try to cut her food again. She was clearly unfamiliar with both utensils, but she was a quick learner; simply watching him use them, she improved significantly. Maybe he could teach her something, wait, no, she had to go, there was no time to teach her anything. 

“You said your name was Y/n, correct?” Mihawk spoke

“Yeah, that's me.” “Well, I'm not sure I ever properly introduced myself. I am Dracule Mihawk, the greatest swordsman alive.”

“Dracula Miahawk”

“Dracule Mihawk”

“Can I just call you Mia?” Mihawk gave her a blank face

“No, you may not refer to me with a female name like Mia.” “But I like Mia, it's a pretty name.”

“For a dog or a little girl, maybe”

“Please?” Mihawk pinched his brow before he sighed, not feeling like fighting her right now

“Fine, only when we are alone and in the castle,” She seemed happy he relented and nodded. 

Eventually, she finished her food, pushing the plate forward, the silence hanging in the air before Y/n looked back to Mihawk.

“Mia?”

“Already using the name? Very well, what do you inquire?”

“Can I have a new room?”

“Why on earth do you need a new room?”

“The one you gave me has itchy sheets.”

“Then I will just get you different sheets.”

“Oh? Ok then!”

Mihawk sighed. This was going to be a long who-knows-what. Dealing with people was bad enough, but dealing with someone new to being a person, probably his own personal hell on earth, they were so impressionable, like small, sloping sponges. With one last sigh, he stood up and took her dishes along with his own.

“Come. We need to dress and wash you properly, then we will go find sheets that do not bring you discomfort.”

“What?”

“We will clean you and then go to the market.”

“Oh! Ok! I like shopping, Mommy only takes me when she wants to sneak things in my sweater so the people in vests don't find it when they play the hide and seek game.”

“What?”

“I'll show you at the store!”