Hey, all. Nice to be writing again. This is another short one, which seems to really be all I can dish out when it comes to fic writing. I should make an attempt at a longish fic someday, but I have a feeling it would be all about my dear favorite coupling in the One Piece world...and I daresay not everyone shares the deep love for them as I do.
I won't say who it is so as not to spoil this fanfic, but I think you'll figure it out pretty early on anyway. I admit it. I'm hooked on them.
Read and review, my lovelies, read and review.
Reflection
-a One Piece fanficlette by MangoPirate-
"Tell me about when you were a pirate, daddy!"
The little girl's dark, wide eyes gazed up at her father, whose face appeared to be in shock. "How did you find out about that?" he asked her shrewdly.
"I didn't!" she laughed. "But now I know!"
Her father frowned. "You'd think after all this time, that trick wouldn't work on me anymore," he muttered under his breath. "I really didn't want you to know that until you were older..."
The little girl smiled hugely and her eyes sparkled with merriment. "I'm six!" she pointed out needlessly. "I'm old enough!"
At that, her father laughed aloud. "Well, I'll admit, six -is- very old." He lifted her to sit next to him on the large and elegant couch. He tried to get comfortable, but to no avail. "I have an idea," he said. "Let's go sit outside for this story."
"Why?"
"I don't much like it inside."
"Why?"
"Because it's so prim and proper all the time. That's good enough for your mother, but sometimes I get bored with it."
"Why?"
"Because I'm a pirate and I don't like walls."
"Why?"
This continued on out into the large, gated yard. The little girl followed her father to an old tree at the side of the house, which he promptly climbed with more skill than she had ever seen him use in any kind of physical activity. Except that time he'd been idly shooting clay discs that one of his friends had thrown into the air for him. The little girl recalled with wonder that day, when she had watched from afar as her father shot disc after disc, each one exploding from dead-on accuracy that was achieved, it appeared, from being completely uncaring about aim. Shaking her thoughts back to the present, she clambered ungracefully up the tree after him.
"Why are we here?" she asked.
"Old time's sake," he replied, and launched immediately into his tale.
"I was a whole lot younger," he said, making a point to tone down his story so the child could understand, "when a pirate showed up here on this island. You've seen his picture before. He was the one with the hat."
"I remember!" the girl said eagerly, getting an approving nod from her father.
"I thought you would." He smiled distantly. "I wish I could see him again..." A moment's reflection led to a continuation of the story. "Anyway, he came when I was a lot younger. He helped me a lot, and inspired me to be a pirate too. I wanted to be a pirate anyway, but he made me really believe I could."
By this point the little girl's eyes had bulged to the point that her father was afraid her face might explode, so he went on, describing all the adventures he had experienced as a pirate--keeping everything very lacking in detail, for fear of giving his daughter nightmares. He still had nightmares himself, and he was a grown man. Some of the things he had seen, he told himself, would never be told to that child. But still he talked, going on and on into the story, taking the little girl's imagination from her tiny island to the Grand Line, darting from frozen tundra to desert kingdom, meeting giants, dragons, and all sorts of people, both good and bad.
By the time the fantastic tale was told--with a few tweaks to make himself appear brave in his daughter's eyes--the ex-pirate had talked himself hoarse and the sun had well set. The stars began to twinkle into view, and the little girl spoke up.
"Are the stars the same when you're on the water?"
"Sometimes," her father replied knowingly. "But sometimes they're completely different. In all my travels I've never been to South Blue, but someone once told me that the stars are completely strange there. He should have known too; he was born in South Blue." His voice trailed off, wondering just why he remembered something told to him when he was barely a toddler.
"Will you take me on the water with you sometime?"
With a soft laugh, the pirate father affectionately ruffled his daughter's curly blonde hair that clashed so strangely with her dark skin and eyes. "Maybe, if I can convince your mother to go along," he smiled. "She's not fond of ships, even though she's responsible for the one that made me a pirate."
"She gets sick," the girl said, defiantly sticking up for her mother.
"I know," said her father with a twinkle in his eye as he leapt from the tree branch and held out his arms to catch the little girl. "But she's going to get mad if we don't get inside soon."
An upstairs window creaked open suddenly and the slight figure of the little girl's mother appeared, leaning out of the opening and calling down to the two. "What, is storytime over?"
"You've been listening?" her husband blushed. "To all of that?"
"You left out the part about the goldfish," his wife teased playfully. "But come on inside, Meri says dinner is ready."
"I smell it," fussed the little girl, pinching her long nose so as to block the smell of cooked fish.
"Don't complain," chided her mother from the window, giving a pointed glare at her husband, who was pinching his nose as well. He laughed nervously--even the smallest of women scared him when angry--and ushered the little girl inside. Just before he went in, however, he darted around to the window, where he saw his wife looking fondly at the tree.
"Oi, Kaya," he called up to her. "Did I ever tell you about the time when I was five and was out traveling with my crew? Well, I got lost from everyone else, and wound up running into the biggest goldfish I'd ever seen..."
Flames are for making s'mores and warming my feet on winter mornings.
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