Author's notes at the end.

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own One Piece. What a train wreck that would be...

When the world was born, those that would come to inhabit it were given a chance to decide where they wanted to live. They were to choose between the ocean, the land, and the sky, and so they did. One by one, each creature picked a home, and slowly the world filled.

Finally, it came to be the turn of five siblings to decide.

The eldest looked to the sky, the sun, the stars, the moon, and saw freedom and vastness, a view of the entire world. And so, he chose the heavens to be his home.

The second sibling saw the lands of the newborn world, and fell in love with the forests, the mountains, the deserts, the plateaus, and swore he would walk them all. And so, he chose to live on land.

The third sibling had a love for swimming, and was indeed the fastest of them all in water. She saw the fish that had already chosen their home, and joined them in the great oceans, adopting their fins as her own.

The fourth sibling, too, loved the seas. However, unlike her sister who adored the beauty of the waters and the creatures that lived in them, she admired the ocean's strength and power. Thus, when she chose the water as her home, she kept her arms and legs but took on other aspects of fish to survive.

Then, finally, came the youngest sibling's turn to decide. Her love for the ocean was perhaps the greatest of them all; she was enamored by its beauty, in awe of its power and fascinated by its depths. She was the one who best understood the murmurings of the waves, the one who could sing their songs when no one else could even hear them. She yearned to see all four oceans of this new world.

Yet her siblings worried for her, as her body was frail and could not handle travel. The youngest was a sickly child, and the others knew the ocean would be her death if she were to choose it. So, together they gently convinced her to stay on land, even as she wept bitter tears for what she could not have.

An old woman carefully closed her stall at the harbor, finished for the day. Traffic had been slow all week, with few ships coming into port, and as a result she hadn't been able to market her wares as much as she would have liked. Still, she had made enough money to get by without too much trouble.

After checking that everything was locked down properly (not that anyone ever tried to steal from her), she made her way to the market to pick up groceries for the rest of the week. It was halfway through this task that a little boy ran into her, quite literally. While the old woman didn't fall, she dropped her bags and could only watch as her purchases spilled onto the street. She turned to reprimand the boy for his carelessness, but was cut off by his hasty and sincere apology.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Look, I'll pick them up, please don't be mad!" He knelt and reached for the nearest bag, and the old lady couldn't find it in her to be upset.

"It's fine, but do try to be more careful in the future." The boy nodded as he handed back two of the bags, keeping the third. When the woman raised an eyebrow, he told her he would help her carry the groceries home.

The second sibling built the youngest a house by the shore, as close to the water as he could so that she would never be far from what she loved. He swore to take care of her, and the others promised to help. Thus, she was never completely alone. Her brothers watched over her, and her sisters kept her company.

Every one of them was sure to bring her a gift whenever they returned from their own travels, but it was the stories they told the youngest that truly kept her going. They told her about animals and plants she had never seen, about places beyond her imagination, about the adventures they had. She made sure to collect them all.

It could not last, however. As time passed, the four siblings grew busier as they watched over their own homes and people, and they were able to visit less and less. The youngest sibling grew lonely, even with all of the stories she had kept, and then grew frustrated with her uselessness. She could not protect the lands, could not patrol the skies, could not calm the seas; what, then, was there that she could do? How could she ease the burden on her family, when she was the weakest of them all? What good could she do when she even had to leave the protection of her own people to her land-bound brother?

As she worried, the new-born world struggled ever more.

As she sought an answer, the world slowly began to die around her.

The old woman studied the boy who carried her groceries as if they were a treasure. He was very young, no older than four or five if she had to guess. Yet, she couldn't see anyone around who might be his guardian. He himself did not appear in any way concerned, and moved through the market with the kind of confidence born from knowing the area well. He probably lived nearby, in that case.

"So, what were you doing at the marketplace?" the woman asked in an attempt to start some kind of conversation; the boy was being awfully quiet.

"I was going to the harbor," he answered. The old woman waited, but got nothing else.

"Oh? What for?" she prompted.

"To see the ships." The boy finally turned to look at her, and her heart warmed at his smile. "I'm gonna be a sailor some day!"

"Oh my! So you dream of the sea!" That was all it took for the little boy to start eagerly chattering away about everything he was going to do and all the places he would see. The old lady could only chuckle at his enthusiasm.

When they reached her home, the boy had yet to run out of steam. The woman could barely get in a word edgewise to tell him where to leave the groceries, and to direct him to the kitchen table where she placed a glass of juice. It was only when he took a drink that she was able to ask her question.

"That's a fine dream, dear. But it's starting to get late, won't your parents be worried?" This was clearly the wrong question to ask, as the boy's face fell.

"I don't have any," he said eventually, "I live at the orphanage. They don't really care what I do as long as I come back for lessons and food." Seeing the old lady's rather horrified expression, he quickly added, "They're not mean! There's just too many kids to take care of."

It was probably true; the last few winters had been particularly harsh and many had been killed by the violent snowstorms and cold. Even before then there had been plenty of complaints about the local orphanage being understaffed and overcrowded, but nothing had been done.

"I see." What more, exactly, could she say?

The boy smiled at her again, but it lacked the light it had had before.

"You're right though, I should go back now." He got up, took the glass to the sink and headed for the door. He paused, however, as he passed the small living room, gaze settled on an antique bookshelf. He stared almost longingly, but then shook his head and kept going.

This did not escape the old woman's notice.

"You know... I get quite lonely living on my own. Perhaps you could come back to visit me again?" She knew she'd said the right thing this time, for the boy's face lit up with hope.

"Really?" A laugh, a nod.

"Really."

There were some souls who, when the world was born, never chose a home. They could never take on bodies, for what good were those if you didn't belong? So they were fated to remain adrift, without thought or feeling, without form. They gave nothing to the world, and took nothing.

They were nothing.

But as they remained still, the world grew stagnant.

The world kept spinning, yet it no longer moved.

A new routine was quickly found. Everyday, the boy would meet her at her stall as soon as his lessons were over. They'd sit together, and the boy would watch as she sold charms to superstitious sailors and hand-crafted jewelry to their wives. He would then help close the stall at the end of the day, assist in any errands she had to run, and finally, follow her home.

Once there, the boy would immediately go up to the bookshelf, pick up any book that caught his fancy, and begin to read. He was rather good at it, considering his age, but nevertheless needed a fair amount of help and as the evening wore on the old lady would usually end up reading to him.

And, oh, how he loved the stories. From pure fantasy to journals of adventurers to cautionary tales, there was not one story that wasn't met with wide-eyed wonder and vivid imagination. Tales of the sea, especially, would hold his rapt attention for hours on end.

One day, he would make a fine sailor indeed.

It was late winter when the youngest began to realize a presence. It was not benevolent, nor did it bear ill will. In fact, it seemed to have no will at all. This puzzled her, and in the time she had alone now that her siblings had stopped visiting altogether, she vowed to find out what it was.

And so, everyday, she would go out to look for the presence. She searched and searched, ignoring her poor health, but returned empty-handed each time. Still, she refused to give up. She had no solution for her loneliness, for the growing rifts between the ocean, land and sky, for the strange dullness settled on the world. Perhaps... she could find an answer like this?

As time passed, her health only grew worse, until one morning she found she could no longer get up, no matter how hard she tried. She cried in frustration, in anger at her weakness. Could she not do even one simple thing?

No. She would not pity herself. Even if she couldn't move, couldn't help, she was not nothing. No matter how insignificant, she was something, just like the presence was something... and she would live to find it.

That was when she saw them; small gray shadows floating in her room. They barely moved, and only her breath seemed to stir them.

Was this... it? Was this the presence she had felt?

With all her will, she lifted a shaking hand. The shadows shied away from it, moving like water. Undeterred, she kept her hand outstretched, and slowly, four of the small shadows approached. They were empty, devoid of purpose... but that was not how they should be.

Quietly, she asked the shadows for one favor: to bring a message to her siblings, to ask for their company one last time. To her delight, the shadows moved quicker than before, and as they headed out to the ocean, land and sky, she could have sworn they glinted silver.

An all-too-still world shifted, ever so slightly, for the first time.

One day, the boy came across an odd book on the shelf, pushed far to the back and out of sight. It was a lot older than the rest, but nonetheless in good shape. The cover was a deep blue, and made of some kind of leather that was carefully embossed with an intricate wave pattern. It was beautiful, and he knew it had to be special.

He cracked open the cover, but was disappointed to find that he couldn't read it – the letters were unfamiliar, nothing like the ones he knew how to read. He headed for the kitchen to ask about it, even as a small part of him told him that the letters shouldn't be unfamiliar at all.

"Granny, what's this?" The old lady looked up from her cooking and nearly dropped her spoon.

"I thought I'd lost that..." She took the book in shaking hands, stroking the cover gently. She opened it carefully, as if afraid it would break, and quickly lost herself in the words.

It was written in an old language, one she had learned from her grandmother as a little girl. It was the language of antique whispers, of a childhood by the sea, of secrets passed down from a very different time. It was the language of the old lullabies and songs she had once known...

Maybe it was because of her age, but when she managed to pull herself from her nostalgia, she forgot to speak in the common tongue.

"Would you like me to read it to you?" It was a language that had faded away long ago, one that had lost its place in the world and slowly been forgotten...

Perhaps that is why she nearly wept when the boy answered in kind.

The shadows moved quickly, with purpose, flowing around obstacles as if they were following a river. They split apart suddenly, shooting outward in different directions and gaining speed as they went.

Other shadows stirred, caught in their wake. The danced around erratically, buffeted by an invisible current, until the momentum ran out and they were still again, as if they had never moved.

Except.

Except... some kept going. At first they swirled confusedly, but one by one they found a course to follow. They joined the first shadows and picked up on their mission, finally freed from the apathy that had trapped them all.

Ones.

Tens.

Hundreds.

Thousands.

The dull gray trickled away to reveal glittering silver.

Reading the blue book was a slow process. The language was old and difficult, but the boy refused to have the old lady translate it for him. He insisted on hearing it as it was, and as he began to get the hang of it, he asked her to teach him to read it.

Because it was too tiring for the both of them to try and get through it all in one sitting, they decided to only read a few pages at a time, just before the boy had to go back home for the night. This left them plenty of time for other activities; the old lady was delighted to find the boy had an interest in cooking and immediately declared him her assistant.

As they worked together, she spoke in her preferred tongue. The boy worked hard to respond, though she could tell he was a little rusty. Still, he was a quick learner (or perhaps was simply quick to recover what had been lost out of disuse), and soon he spoke as easily she did.

She was a little surprised to find he had no idea where he had learned to speak it at all. His earliest memories were from a little less than a year prior, sitting on the orphanage steps and watching the front gate.

Another activity the two soon came to share was crafting the charms the old lady sold for a living. This was something they usually did sitting outside on her front porch, a plate of home-made cookies between them. It was on one of these days that the boy seemed rather distracted. He kept glancing upwards, looking around before remembering what he was supposed to be doing.

"Granny..." She looked up from her work, but found the boy was staring at the sky again.

"Yes?"

"What are those?" He was pointing up, but when the woman followed his gaze, she couldn't see anything.

"The... clouds?" The boy shook his head.

"No! Those silver things!" The old lady glanced back up, before giving the boy an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry dear, but I really don't see what you're talking about." The boy frowned for a moment, but then apparently decided to let it go and continue with what he had been doing.

He never asked again.

The shadows arrived at their destinations unseen, despite their new color. No one looked at them, but as they passed, everyone felt them. The air was just a little lighter, colors just a little brighter.

As the shadows passed, the world in their wake began to feel alive.

The four siblings each paused in the middle of their work, noticing the subtle shift in their surroundings. One by one, they were filled with warmth and only then did they notice they had been cold.

Their thoughts turned to their youngest sister, and they realized what they had done. They'd broken their vows and left her alone, even if it hadn't been done out of cruelty.

The warmth they felt was hers. And it was fading.

The siblings left their homes, and at long last arrived in the home of their ailing sister. As soon as they entered, they knew it was too late to help her. The illness had spread too far, and all she could do was wait for death.

And yet, when she saw them, she smiled. Quietly, she welcomed them, even as they begged for forgiveness. The siblings could not understand her joy; she had been left alone, she would die... but she smiled, smiled, and cut their apologies off with a whispered but firm order.

"Don't. I do not wish for you to be sad."

The siblings gathered around her, and took her hands. It was then that they saw. Surrounding their little sister, swimming lazy circles around her in sync with her breathing, were hundreds of silver shapes. There, despite the inevitable presence of death, was something beautifully alive.

This was the answer, they realized. This was what would finally bring the world from its stand-still. This was the missing piece. A breath, a heartbeat.

The siblings sprang into action. If their sister was to die, then it would be when she had fulfilled her lifelong dreams of the sea.

The two older sisters quickly set off to gather creatures from every ocean, knowing their younger sister would not be able to travel to see them all. If they were in one place, at least they would have a chance.

So they searched every corner of the world, and brought together everything. Fish that would never be found near each other suddenly existed in harmony.

The sisters hoped the youngest would live long enough to see it.

The brothers worked on getting the youngest there. They knew she could not swim, and a small boat was too slow and dangerous to make the journey. They would need something bigger, a boat that would not be shaken by the waves, a boat that could shield from the wind and sun.

They began to build. Larger and larger the vessel became, and it was strong. It was safe.

But it was also slow, and their sister did not have much time.

The eldest sibling turned his gaze to the heavens, to the clouds that sailed across the sky, pushed onward by the wind... and he realized they could do the same. He ordered for large pieces of cloth to be brought to him, to be fastened to the ship.

They would catch the wind.

They were nearing the end of the book now, and the boy read confidently on his own, only needing help for a few words. This last story was by far the most interesting, and he had to consciously slow down so as to not skip anything that might be important. Every single word was read with care.

A place where the oceans came together, a place where you could find every fish in the world...

"All Blue..." It was an awed whisper, and when the boy turned to look at the old lady, it was with an expression of wonder beyond anything she had ever seen.

As her siblings worked, the youngest felt her health decline ever further. She barely realized she had been carried aboard the ship, that they had set sail. If she had been told where they were going, she could not remember it. But despite the fact she was fading away, she never lost track of the shadows that followed her.

They wove around the mast, pooled in the sails, streamed through the air above the deck with a fluid grace. In her feverish mind, they looked like fish.

She did not notice when they stopped, and barely registered being lifted and then lowered, from one pair of arms to another.

But when they gently placed her in the water, her senses returned. At her sisters' bidding, she held her breath, and slowly they slipped beneath the surface.

Through the crystalline blue waters, she could see fish of every shape, size and color. Some swam lazily, content with a slow pace, while others moved as if they were racing. Some ventured close, curious, and others kept a distance, sweeping elegantly past.

They took her deeper, where even more creatures greeted her. There were fish with fins like rippling silk, there were jellyfish that glowed the colors of a sunset, there were dolphins that chased each other around and around in a lively game of tag.

If she listened closely, she could hear the songs of whales.

They swam deeper.

Deeper...

The silver shapes had followed her, all the way down, and even now swam around her. They looked like they belonged here, under the blue.

But they didn't. They belonged everywhere.

The youngest could feel her illness again, finally rearing its head and preparing to take what it was due. And so, she let out her breath, and the small, delicate bubbles that rose toward the surface carried with them one final wish for the shadows.

Keep moving.

Her eyes slid shut, her body relaxed, and her sisters laid her to rest.

The silver shapes stilled for a moment, but then that final wish echoed through them.

They spiraled outward, heading in all directions. In, out, up, down, they followed a current of their own.

A breath, a heartbeat.

It was the year the boy turned nine that the old woman's age seemed to catch up to her all at once. She quickly became bedridden, and soon came her time to die.

Before that happened, she made sure to give the boy both the blue book and a charm she had worked on for a long time. She only asked he remember her come the day he found his All Blue.

Not six months after her death, the orphanage burned down. None were killed, but the boy had lost the book for good. In the hassle that followed, no one noticed as he slipped away to the harbor.

By the time the caretakers found his note, Sanji was already aboard a ship bound for East Blue.

The thing about stories is the way they can change. Time and retelling can split a story apart, and fuse the pieces to create something new. Some stories may be remembered, while others fade away completely.

But no matter how much they change, no matter how unrecognizable they become, they will always hold on to some part of themselves.

That part may just be truth.

A/N

Alright.

I'll be upfront with you... I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this. I have some vague ideas, but it's not much to go on, and really I'm unsure whether or not I should be publishing this at all. My inner editor is screaming at me, that much is for sure. (What's your main conflict? Plot? How, exactly, do you intend to string together these barely connected scenes? What genre is this? What are you even trying to achieve?)

I've spent a fair amount of time trying to figure out some of it (like, say, plot), but haven't really gotten anywhere. In the end I figured I might as well put it out there for the sake of feedback.

Title is still up for change.

So... yeah. It's the first thing I've written in a really long time, my first fic for this fandom, and already things are going south. Whoop!

Any feedback you can give would be greatly appreciated! (And any spelling/grammar errors you spot, please point them out so I can correct them!)