Chapter Text
I used to be someone, a goth chick with far too many tattoos and a propensity for causing trouble, but that person is gone, probably nothing more than a red smear on the asphalt, given how fast that truck was driving. I briefly mourn the loss of my motorcycle, my baby, sparkly purple with green flames on the sides. Very briefly. I have much more pressing matters, such as why the hell I'm still alive, and where the actual hell I am.
Currently, I'm standing barefoot in the center of an empty, white room, devoid of doors and windows, lit by a directionless bright light. I don't appear to cast a shadow. “Oi! What the hell's going on?!” I shout, my voice sounding muffled in my ears. “I died, didn't I? Is this ‘heaven’, or whatever?” I wait a beat before adding, “It's kinda lackluster.”
After several minutes of silence, a black-haired man with glasses and a notepad walks through the wall, and I jump, cuz, what the heck! “I must apologize,” the man mutters in a nasally voice, using his ring finger to adjust his glasses. “Our department has made a clerical error. We can't seem to find you on our list.”
“What department?” I demand. “What list? Who the hell are you?”
“Since you can't stay here without records, we'll have to send you somewhere else,” he continues with a sigh. He either didn't hear me, or he's intentionally ignoring me. I assume the latter.
I curl my hands into fists, feeling my face heat with anger. “Oi! I'm talking, you clod! I don't even know where I am! And now you're getting rid of me? What the hell?!”
He glances up at me briefly before returning his gaze to the sheet of paper before him. “Yes, I believe that will work. Don't come back. Please.”
“Wha-” My consciousness is shunted backwards into a tunnel of darkness, the white room growing smaller and smaller until it blinks out of existence. I scream in frustration, but the sound that comes out of my mouth sounds strange. Light shines through my eyelids. When did I close my eyes?
As I blink, I'm greeted by a kaleidoscope of blurred colors and shapes, some of which are moving. One of the moving shapes gets bigger. “Bttk! Ynp txprpa npz pdpy!” a gentle voice says. I assume it belongs to the blurry shape.
Where am I? I try to ask, but a screech comes out instead. Ah, hell! Am I a baby?! I feel large, warm hands lift me up, and the blurred person becomes a bit clearer. A vague sense of familiarity washes over me, but I can't for the life of me figure out who they are. “Fpbotcp qt qnp ftzba, Lili." It's a different voice than the first, deeper. I think they're smiling. The world twists and bends, time distorting slightly. I might've fallen asleep momentarily. They pass me off to a different set of hands, and a second blurred face fills my vision, one that seems slightly more familiar, but I still can't place it at the moment. “Qgkp etta ogzp tv qnpc,” the first one says quietly. He sounds sad.
I hear a loud cry nearby, and the person holding me begins to bounce, my tiny body pressing up against another similarly sized body. I instinctively flail my hand around, catching hold of a different small hand, and the crying stops. If I had the ability to roll my eyes, I would. I have a twin. What a pain.
I don't have a good grasp of time as an infant. I sleep when I'm tired, which seems near constantly, and when I'm not sleeping, I'm either eating or pooping. It's not very glamorous, but it's my life now. The person who first picked me up isn't here anymore, and neither is the second person. They gave me and my twin to a third person, a woman, judging by the voice. The woman, Chisana, takes care of us, with the help of some of the other women in town.
Chisana often speaks or sings to us in garbled words that I feel like I should know, but I just don't. There are a few words I hear her use a lot, however, and I think they're our names, Lili and Luffy. I don't know about you, but there's one person who immediately comes to mind when I hear the name ‘Luffy’, but that would be impossible, right? Almost as impossible as dying and coming back as a baby… The glasses man said he was sending me somewhere. Did he send me to an entirely different universe?!
No, no. Calm down. I can't let myself freak out just yet. There's no guarantee that I'm Monkey D. Luffy's twin sister. It could be some other random baby named Luffy, right? Right?! I turn my attention to the black-haired baby currently sucking on my thumb, and I think back to the moments just after I arrived, the blurred face I thought looked familiar. That very well could have been Garp.
“Lili, Luffy, qscp vtz dtiz bath.” I perk up. I recognize that word! As Chisana picks me up, I realize that my vision is a bit clearer today. I study her face, but it doesn't look familiar at all. That eases my mind slightly. I don't want to be stuck in an anime world.
<><><><><>
I want to scream. I swear that Luffy's entire purpose in life is to one-up me. I spend time and effort figuring out how to crawl, and when I finally pull it off, Luffy crawls past me like he's been doing it for weeks. By the time I start walking, he runs the very next day. I hate how easily everything comes to him. Everything I do, he copies and does it better. If he's going to be like that, I absolutely refuse to talk. He's going to have to figure that shit out on his own. I'm a stubborn bitch. I can outlast him.
For the next several months, Luffy watches me expectantly, but I hold strong. He seems concerned by my silence. Likewise, Chisana tries to bribe me to get me to talk, but to no avail. I'm not letting Luffy copy me this time. I have to admit, it is a bit fun seeing his frustration grow day by day.
I'm making my way to dinner one day, however, when Luffy tackles me and pins me to the ground. “Lili!” he shouts directly at me. “Talk!”
Pinching my face into a scowl, I rotate my hips and flip us over so I'm the one pinning him. “Maybe I just don't want to talk, Luffy! Did you ever think of that?” I hiss.
Luffy's eyes widen, then his face splits into a wide grin. “You talked!” He wriggles out from beneath me and runs away, shouting, “Chi-san! Chi-san! Lili talked!”
I release a resigned sigh and sit back on my heels. He's such a pain in the neck, but at least I won. Luffy spoke first. A small victory is still a victory in my eyes. Pushing myself to my feet, I brush off the pink dress Chisana forced me to wear today and walk into the kitchen.
“That's wonderful to hear, Luffy.” Chisana smiles at me, her eyes disappearing into the many folds of her face. “I'm so proud of you, Lili.”
“I don't see why it's such a big deal,” I mutter, pulling myself up into my chair and snatching a roll from the serving plate. “Talking is overrated.”
Chisana's smile falters, taking on a brittle appearance. “You're quite an opinionated child, aren't you?”
“Hey, you wanted this,” I point out, ripping off a chunk of bread and shoving it into my mouth. “You've been practically begging me to talk for almost four months now, Chisana.”
“You're supposed to call her Chi-san!” Luffy intejects. “That's what Makino told me!”
I roll my eyes. Makino's a teenager who sometimes stops by to help Chisana with laundry or cleaning. “I really don't care,” I retort. “As soon as I'm big enough, I'm leaving this place.” Attachments are just an inconvenience.
“But, where will we go?” Luffy asks, tilting his head curiously.
“Me,” I snap. “Not us. I'm going to find whoever left us here and punch them for abandoning us.”
“Bwahahahaha! My own granddaughter wants to punch me?”
The blood drains from my face. No, no, no. Please no. I know that voice, but I don't want it to be him! I slowly turn my head toward the doorway, taking in the tall, gray-haired man standing there, wearing bermuda shorts and a tacky Hawaiian shirt. Given the circumstances, I'm happy to report that I remain completely calm.
“Oh, Hell no!” I screech, flinging my plate at Garp's face. I sprint toward the back door, throwing it open and racing out into the cool evening air. I don't even know where I'm going, but I just want to escape. Escape Garp, escape Luffy, escape this entire freaking world!
A hand grabs the back of my dress and lifts me off the ground, and I snarl and claw at my captor. “You're a spirited brat,” Garp laughs. “You'll make a strong Marine someday.”
“I'll never join the fucking marines!” I scream. I should probably point out that I'm only three years old at the moment.
Spots dance across my vision as I fly through the air, a sizable lump forming on my head. Twisting midair, I hit the ground running, heading for the docks, a plan taking shape in my mind. I'll swim out to sea and let that sea iguana eat me. That'll show him!
I sense Garp right behind me, and I dodge his hand as it reaches toward me again. “Feck off, ya old geezer!” I snap. Both of his arms swing toward me this time, but I roll to the side and get back on my feet, still heading for the water. I manage to get one foot into the sea before a large hand wraps around my forearm, lifting me into the air once more. A weird old man chased me down and grabbed me, so what do I do? I kick and scream like I'm being murdered. I'm sure the entire village is awake at this point, and it's entirely his fault. I mean, how did he expect me to react?
As I continue hissing and spitting like a feral zebra, Garp holds me at arm's length, laughing his ass off. I can't even describe how much I hate him right now, and the worst part of it is, I'm running out of steam. It was already pushing close to bedtime anyway, and I've just expended a lot of energy, much to my chagrin. I get one last swipe in before letting my limbs hang limp. Still laughing, he carries me all the way back to the house and tucks me into my bed. “I hate you,” I mutter.
<><><><><>
<><><><><>
The next morning, I rise before dawn, steal some of Luffy's clothes, and creep down to the kitchen to fill a small bag with food. I'm not staying here, no way, no how. I don't really want to be in this world, but since it's unavoidable, I need to get as far away from this place as quickly as possible. “Lili?” I freeze in place, slowly turning to see my twin standing in the hallway, rubbing his left eye with a balled fist.“What're you doin'?” he asks sleepily.
I hide my bag behind my back. “Just getting a snack,” I lie. I toss him an apple. “Here. Go back to bed. I'll be right up in a minute.”
Crunching into the apple, he beams at me. “Okay!” he says, walking away, and a moment later, I hear his bare feet on the stairs. I release a small sigh and place my hand on the doorknob. Sorry, Luffy. I don't want to be your sister. Stepping out of the house, I hear birds chirping, and I see the barest hint of orange kissing the horizon. I need to hurry, before any of the villagers wake up. Throwing the bag of food over my shoulder, I take off for the jungle, finding that Luffy's sneakers are so much more comfortable to run in than those stupid mary janes Chisana gave me to wear.
I dive headlong into the trees, hearing the sounds of various creatures stirring in the morning light. I pay them no mind. I already have a destination in mind, and I'm getting there, no matter what. It takes most of the day, but I finally reach the Gray Terminal. Breathing through my mouth as much as I can, I dash around the piles of junk, making my way toward the city proper, but before I reach the gates, a pair of hands yank me down behind a smashed piano.
“Careful! The Bluejam Pirates are active today.”
I glare up at the blond-haired boy that still has a hold of my arm. “Let go of me,” I demand. He immediately releases me, taken aback by my harshness, but I don't care. He interrupted my plan, and I'm upset. “Who the hell are you, anyway? You don't look like a vagrant.”
“Neither do you,” he retorts. Then, he bows slightly. “My name's Sabo.”
“Lili,” I tell him. “I'm three years old, and I'm trying to get the hell off this island.”
He smiles. “My friend and I are also trying to get off this island. We're both six. We're gathering money so we can buy a ship and set out to sea as pirates!”
I scoff. "If you're gonna be pirates, why bother buying a ship? Just steal one and be done with it.”
Sabo looks personally affronted by my suggestion. “But that would be wrong!” he exclaims.
“Mm-hm, and how are you going about gathering money, hm?” I pry, placing my hands on my hips. “I doubt two six-year-olds are working nine-to-fives.”
“What's a nine-to-five?” he asks curiously.
I shake my head in annoyance. “Nevermind. Anyway, it was nice meeting you, Sabo. Gotta go!” Before he can stop me, I leap down from the piano and dart off and away, slipping past the guards and into the streets of Edge Town.
I wander through shaded alleys, seeking out the seediest-looking bar in town. As I step toward the door, however, a large hand lands on my shoulder, and I look up at a heavily tattooed man wearing leather pants. “Brats ain't welcome here,” he growls.
“Piss off,” I snap, shoving his hand away with a sneer. “It don't matter if I'm welcome or not. I ain't lookin’ to make friends.”
The man blinks at me. “Uh, o-okay then,” he says hesitantly.
I turn to walk into the bar, but I run face-first into a jean-clad leg, which is attached to a tall redheaded man covered in scars. “Oi!” he snarls. “Out of the way, Pipsqueak!”
I glare at him and punch him in the balls. As he doubles over in pain, I grip the collar of his shirt and yank his face close to mine, making sure he's staring at me through his tears. “Don't speak to me that way,” I say coldly. He doesn't respond, so I give him a little shake. “Got it?” He nods, and I release him. Then, I walk past him into the bar.
I catch a lot of sidelong glances as I make my way over to the counter, pulling myself up onto one of the bar stools. Ignoring them all, I call over the bartender. “One Old Fashioned, please.”
The woman behind the bar levels an unimpressed look at me. “Scram," she says flatly. "I've got a business to run, and you're taking up space.”
“I've got money,” I tell her, holding up a handful of beri I swiped from Sabo.
“Doesn't matter,” she states, crossing her arms. “I'm not serving alcohol to a child.”
My hands ball into fists. Damn it. Curse her for having morals. Huffing angrily, I slide off the stool and stalk out of the bar, shoulder checking some stranger's knee on the way out. Next thing I know, I'm dangling in the air, the back of my shirt clenched in a hand as large as my head. “You think you can just mess with my men without facing the consequences?” the man demands. He must be talking about Tats and Scars outside.
He's wearing an open flannel shirt that shows off his muscles and pants that look like they fell off a Hot Topic wall. My old self probably would've thrown herself at him, but, sadly, I can't do that as a child. I roll my eyes at him instead. “Are your men so wimpy that they have to call in their boss to deal with a mere child?” I counter.
The entire bar behind us goes silent, and I get the feeling that it might not have been smart of me to antagonize this guy. Oh, well. I've already dug my grave. Might as well make it roomy down here. I twist my head around and bite his forearm. Hard. He drops me with a pained shout, and I dart out the door, taking an immediate left and scurrying up a drainpipe to the roof. I race along the rooftops, nearly slipping on a loose shingle, but I manage to make it back to the gates without hurting myself.
I'm not in the clear yet, however. I can hear shouts not that far behind me. I race into the Grey Terminal, hoping to lose my pursuers amidst the smelly mounds, but they apparently know the place better than I do. Within minutes, I'm surrounded and at a dead end. Tats and Scars have knives in their hands, and Mr. Sexy has a pistol, though he holds it awkwardly in his left hand, as his right arm is bleeding.
I try to swallow, but my mouth feels drier than a Christmas fruitcake. I could probably beg them to spare me, but that's not how I roll. “You don't taste very good,” I state, quickly skipping to the side as a bullet hits a rubber tire off to the side. I can't help myself. My eyebrows raise, and the corner of my mouth lifts into a sarcastic smirk. “Wooow,” I say slowly, drawing out the vowel. “Your aim is shit.”
“Shut up!” Mr. Sexy shouts, firing again. This time, I'm forced to duck, and a cracked bathtub shatters behind me. Porcelain shards strike my back in multiple locations, and I bite my tongue to avoid crying out. I can't show weakness to my enemy.
I see his next shot coming, but the shrapnel in my back limits my mobility, so the bullet grazes the side of my ribcage, and his fourth buries itself in my shoulder. My vision spots, and my knees threaten to buckle from the pain. I can barely stand, let alone fight back. I think I might be dead. Again. Just as I'm about to pass out, two shadows suddenly descend upon the three men from the sides, and I hear a fifth and final shot ring out before the darkness finally claims me.