Chapter Text
“And remember to eat your vegetables!”
“Yes, mom. I know.”
“And call us every now and then! Or shoot us a text!”
“Yeah, dad. I will.”
The spring breeze rustled your hair as you crossed one leg over the other, shifting your bottom along the wooden planks of the bench beneath you. You sat in the shade of the platform, cell phone to your ear and eyes fixed to the digital sign that informed you that your train was 5 minutes away. The smoggy scent of the city wound around you, nearly tangible tendrils curling around your wrists and telling you not to go.
It was suffocating.
“Give old Garp our regards, won’t you? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you after all these years,” Your father chuckled on the other end of the phone.
“He probably won’t even recognize me,” You scoffed, “I was, what? 8 years old last time we visited Grandpa’s farm?”
“Well, just tell them that you’re old Silvers Rayleigh’s grandkid! That’ll jog his memory,” Your mother suggested.
The distant whistle of an old steam engine was heard as the train tracks began to rumble.
“Well, yeah, I’ll have to show him the deed and all. I don’t think he’ll have a choice to remember who I am,” You teased, unfolding your legs to rise to your feet. You tugged your two suitcases of belongings out from under the bench. “I gotta go. The train is coming.”
“We love you, kiddo!” Your dad called, slightly distorted due to your parents keeping the call on speaker phone.
“Stay safe and let us know how your first night went in the morning!” Your mom added.
“I will. Love you guys,” You sighed as you thumbed the end call button.
You moved your bags over to the edge of the platform, stepping into the sun and squinting your eyes as the old-fashioned locomotive chugged into view. Thick plumes of smoke poured from the tower atop the front of the first car, the pistons pumping the wheels with a hardy determination. You watched in awe as the ancient vehicle screeched to a stop, sparks flying from the friction against the tracks.
This train was nothing like the sleek subways and streetcars of the city.
In contrast to the high speed transportation New World City provided, the steam engine looked about 100 years too old, clawing desperately at the worn tracks of the Red Line Railroad. It ferried passengers along the rocky cliff side of Reverse Mountain, passing through dark tunnels to reach the Sakura Kingdom in the north, hitting up Dressrosa, Sabaody, Water 7, and New World City on the way to Grand Line Town on the east coast.
Or, you grimaced, passenger. Singular.
The conductor seemed just as surprised as you were, blinking droopy eyes above agape lips as she leaned out the window of the driver’s compartment.
“What d’you want?” She slurred, hiccupping mid question.
You faltered. Was this woman drunk?
“Um, I’m heading to Grand Line Town,” You explained nervously. Was this the wrong platform? Did the train no longer take people to the sleepy little village by the ocean? You fetched the ticket from your pocket, your head turning to confirm that you were indeed on platform 3.
“Oh,” The lady gestured to the stretch of empty concrete lining the tracks, “It’s been a long while since we had any visitors to Grand Line.”
“Yeah, well,” You shrugged, gesturing to the two suitcases at your feet, “I’m moving there, so I don’t know if you could consider me a visitor.”
“You don’t say. Are you sure you want to do that?” A wicked grin split plump lips, lighting up a wrinkled face that had looked to have had spent too much time in the sun. You considered that given her long eyelashes and bright blonde hair pulled back into two frizzy pig tails, the woman might have been rather attractive in her youth.
She took a swig of a bottle.
You weren’t quite sure how much work operating a steam train required, but you were fairly certain it probably wasn’t a great idea to drink on the job.
She must have noticed your judging gaze, as she laughed heartily, “Don’t fret, kid. I’ve been running this train for 50 years. I could do it in my sleep.”
“Please, don’t,” You winced, prompting the conductor to cackle even louder.
“If you’re so concerned, why don’t you come sit in this here compartment with me? A driver always puts their safety first, after all,” She winked, opening the door to the car and stepping her stocky frame out onto the platform to snatch your bags.
She tossed them next to the single bench behind the control panel, ushering you into the train after them. Once you were seated, she closed the door and pulled a lever, rambling as the locomotive roared to life, “Been so long since I’ve picked up any passengers from this here station. You caught me off guard. Still get a fair amount of travelers going between the big cities, but to Grand Line Town? No way.”
You stared out the window as the New World City train station shrank into the distance, as the skyscrapers began to fade into the smog that plagued the sky. You mentally bid farewell to SMILE, to Donquixote Doflamingo, to paperwork and boring conversations at the water cooler.
You would be better off this way.
The decision had been easy to make.
You had just finished inputting the stack of invoices and memos on your desk, the blue glow from your desktop computer worsening your throbbing headache. Your coffee had long grown cold. Your fingers had twitched uncomfortably, seizing after constant typing.
That was when you had heard two coworkers conversing on the other side of monographed glass doors that separated your desk from the others, the thin glass unable to hold their secrets within.
“Did you hear that Doffy’s pushing to buy out Grand Line Town?”
“No way, really? That old piece of shit village?”
“Yeah, man, he wants to redevelop it. Extend New World out to the east coast. Build some condos and big box stores. Think of all the people it will draw. New jobs, new homes – it’ll be great for the economy.”
“Nice. That Doflamingo’s a genius, I tell you.”
Your stomach had twisted into knots, a wave of nausea overwhelming you. You had squeezed your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose as you had wondered why you cared so much. It was just a stupid old town, separated from the city with lush forestry and a bubbling river that lead to the ocean.
But you had known exactly why this news had rubbed you the wrong way. It had to do with summers at the beach, lapping at ice cream that had been gifted by a smiling vendor. It had to do with ice fishing on the various ponds that dotted the natural landscape in the valley of Reverse Mountain. It had to do with the Summer Sprite Festival, with the Thanksgiving Potluck.
It had felt like forever since you had last set foot in the center of the Town Square, holding your grandfather’s hand as you skipped from decorative brick to decorative brick, ignoring the way he explained that the mosaic beneath your feet had been lovingly laid down by the founders of the village. Yet, you had not been able to shake the fond memories.
You used to collect sea shells that washed up on the shore. You used to climb trees with low hanging branches, picking ripe apples to feed grandpa Rayleigh’s horse. You used to skin your knees, staining them with grass stains as you rolled down hills and crawled beneath bushes to find edible berries.
If Doflamingo bought the land, no other child would ever experience the magic of the small town you had loved so much.
The moment you had arrived home to your musty basement apartment, late at night and exhausted beyond belief, you had dug up a letter you had read at least 30 times over the last 5 years. Cracking open a beer, you had let your eyes scan the handwritten note.
My dearest grandchild,
It was so lovely visiting you in the city last weekend. I was relieved to see that your parents are doing well, and that you are healthy and keeping busy at work.
However, it hurts my heart that I must say this, but I do no t believe that you are happy. Your smile no longer reaches your eyes, and your sighs linger for longer than they should.
I believe I have felt the same way once before.
As you know, my time is coming to an end, and I have been sorting through my belongings, deciding what to leave for my descendants and friends. It has not been a joyful task, though it has certainly got me thinking about the mark that I have made on this world.
It is with that in mind that I leave you my land in Grand Line Town.
I feel not the need to explain, for I believe this is all you’ve been looking for.
This was the easiest decision I’ve ever had to make.
Lots of love,
Grandpa Ray
Two weeks later, you had rented out your apartment, packed your essentials, and made your way to Red Line Railroad to hitch a ride to Grand Line Town. What was the worst that could happen?
Well, you could be a terrible farmer, regret all your life choices, and not be able to afford to move back to the city, thus getting stuck in a tiny town where you didn’t know anybody.
But you were trying to stay optimistic.
“Oi, kid, it’s rude not to answer when asked a question,” The conductor chided, flipping a switch and tugging on a lever absently, in between sips of her beverage.
You were knocked out of your thoughts, stammering, “O-oh, I’m sorry… um?”
“You can call me Kokoro,” The elderly woman grinned, turning to lean against what you assumed to be important buttons. The train screeched in protest, though continued to chug along noisily. “I was asking what brings you to Grand Line Town?”
“I inherited my late grandfather’s farm,” You muttered, avoiding the conductor’s piercing stare as she narrowed her eyes in contemplation.
“Ah, you’re Ray’s grandkid?”
You nodded, “The one and only.”
Kokoro hiccupped, “What a shame, his passing was. The town misses him dearly.”
“Yeah, I miss him too,” You frowned, lifting your head to watch the various trees and bushes blur by the window. There was a hint of saltwater in the air. It brought about a nostalgic stirring in your gut. The train had almost arrived at its final destination before turning back.
Your company extended a hand to place it on your shoulder – or, well, attempt to place it on your shoulder and miss, stumbling forward as she giggled due to her alcohol intake. She straightened up and tried once more, using one arm to tug at the same lever that had got the train moving, and the other to pat your back reassuringly. “At least he’ll always be here with you. Ol’ Ray put his heart into that farm. Lord knows if he’s looking over anything, he’ll be looking over you.”
Kokoro tugged the compartment door open, jumping onto the worn concrete platform with a thud! The station was far more disheveled than the one in New World City, with weeds poking through cracks in the pavement, and knee-high grass brushing the sides of the large wooden building that bordered the railway.
“I can already hear him critiquing my future pumpkins for not being orange enough,” You grumbled under your breath as you hauled your two large suitcases out of the locomotive.
It seemed that Kokoro overheard, for she cackled with amusement before climbing back into the train. She gestured out the window at the station while tugging her favourite lever, “Welcome to Grand Line Town, youngen’. Me ‘n Chimney live upstairs here, don’t be a stranger.”
“Wait, Kokoro! Can you tell me how to get,” The roar of the steam engine drowned out your words as the pistons pumped the wheels down the track, pushing the old conductor out of view and into the distance. “To town…?”
You huffed in irritation. The trail of smoke from the train wafted over you, itching your throat and making you cough as you tried to gather your bearings. Grabbing the handles of your luggage, you straightened your spine and shook your head, a physical attempt to dissolve the meddlesome worries picking at your brain.
You could figure this out.
Tugging your cell phone out of your pocket, you prepared to Google directions to…
No cell service.
Okay.
You had walked the path from the train to the town before, and you could do it again. Even if your experience was over a decade old.
Making your way onto the cobblestone trail, overgrown weeds filling the gaps between the speckled grey stones, you took your first step of your new life. You grinned. You were a new person, a humble farmer from Grand Line Town, and not some assistant for the CEO of mega corporation, SMILE. What an adventure this would be.
The birds chirped overhead, the soft spring breeze bringing the scent of sap and cedar and wildflowers your way, replacing the tang of coal with a far more welcome floral aroma. A mix of mighty conifers and blooming deciduous trees fanned out in front of you, as far as your eyes could see, and you would have been concerned that you didn’t know where you were going if you weren’t following the…
Oh.
The path had tapered into tiny pebbles, dissolving into the lush grass beneath your sneakers.
You blinked down at your feet, before rolling your shoulders and tightening your grip on your suitcases. You had just anticipated an adventure, and the universe answered your call by stranding you in the middle of a forest, without a single marker pointing you towards town.
Thus, what else was there to do but move forward?
Careful not to trample any daffodils or tulips that sprouted between roots of massive trees, you picked your way through the greenery, weaving between gnarled trunks and mossy boulders that must have rolled down from Reverse Mountain ages ago. A woodpecker swooped down in front of you with a friendly chirp before busying itself on a nearby branch. A swarm of gnats hovered in a ray of sunlight, and you ducked your head to avoid them flying into your face as you passed.
After what felt like fifteen minutes or so, a sturdy log cabin appeared in your line of vision, nestled between pines. It was a sizeable abode, with a large fire pit and stone well in a dirt clearing directly in front of the large porch. Various iron tools sat in a bucket next to a table, creating the image of an outdoor work station. A wooden sign hung from the overhang, reading Swordsmith.
You supposed that made sense. Fire and water were integral parts to molding malleable metals into weapons.
Taking a tentative step towards the building, you considered entering and asking for directions, but were immediately distracted by the sching! of a sword being unsheathed, followed by the heavy, earth shaking thud! of a tree tumbling to the ground.
You spun around, vision blurring with the swift movement, to see a massive trunk lying on the forest floor mere meters away. No wonder the ground had vibrated with such intensity.
Above the fallen plant stood a young man.
He planted a black leather boot on the trunk, cocking an eyebrow beneath minty green locks in challenge, as you gaped at the giant tree that had fallen to the ground with one swipe of a sword. He sheathed the pristine white-hilted weapon among two others (Who carries around three swords?! Wasn’t this town supposed to be small and peaceful?!) held within a dark red sash around his waist, accompanying a mossy cloak and dark pants in an awfully pirate-y accessory outfit. He crossed brawny arms over his muscular chest and called out, “Oi, find your own firewood.”
“W-what?” You stuttered over a reply. It was the best you could come up with.
“Firewood. You know, for fire,” His expression morphed into one of amusement as he watched you stare at the trunk in disbelief.
“Don’t you need smaller pieces of wood to build a fire?” You asked.
In a flurry of movement, the man had unsheathed all three of his swords, gripping two in his hands and one in his mouth (what?!), immediately slicing this way and that, the blades so quick that all that was perceived by your eyes was the glint of sun off silver.
When he ceased his activity, the trunk was no longer raw material, but finely cut rectangles of trimmed wood, beige beneath the bark.
“Damn, what did that tree ever do to you?” You muttered, eyes darting between the stack of firewood and the swordsman.
“Stood in my way,” The man shrugged, his steely gaze narrowing in guarded interest as he returned his blades to their scabbards. “Much like you are now. And you are?”
Unwilling to trust a man who so casually carried three swords around and clearly knew how to use them, yet understanding that it was probably a good idea not to piss him off, you stumbled over your words, nervously explaining, “I’m Silvers Rayleigh’s grandchild. I’m moving here to take over the farm.”
“Oh,” His posture relaxed ever so slightly, as if an unarmed person carrying two large suitcases just might be telling the truth about moving here. “And what do you want? Need a sword?”
“Uh, no?” You frowned, “I’m actually trying to get to Grand Line Town from the station, but I think I’m lost.”
The green-haired man chuckled, “Ol’ Kokoro left you hangin’, eh?” He clapped large, tan hands together, and stepped towards you, abandoning the pile of firewood, “Lucky for you, you’re not that far. We’re just on the outskirts, here.”
“We?” You followed his gesture to the log cabin, peering at it curiously.
“Me, my father, and,” He grimaced, “My sister.”
Turning on his heel to wander past the edge of the dirt clearing, he paused by the nearest tree to bark, “You coming?”
You jumped into action, sneakers pounding against compressed dirt as you jogged past the fire pit and the well, your suitcases nearly dragging against the ground. “Are you the swordsmith?” You inquired between pants as you struggled to keep up with his brisk pace, weighed down by your luggage.
He ducked around a particularly large oak tree. A squirrel scampered by.
“Nah, my dad is. I just like to use the swords he makes,” He smirked over his shoulder, “I’ve been training to be a better swordsman than him since I was born.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
He wasn’t fazed, his grin simply deepening, oozing with arrogance as he rumbled, “I’ll beat him one day.”
They took a right turn at a pine that seemed to be holding hands with a cedar, needles intertwined.
“You’re confident,” You mused, cracking a stray twig under your feet.
He yawned, running his fingers through his green hair, “You’re nosy.”
Point taken, you sealed your lips into a tight line, trudging after him as he wandered seemingly aimlessly through the forest. He kicked a pinecone, huffing in confusion as the trees parted and the scenery before him bore…
Train tracks.
Train tracks dipping into a dark tunnel that burrowed into the side of Reverse Mountain.
“Um, did we take a wrong turn somewhere?” You could have sworn you saw the man flinch next to you.
“The fuckin’ tracks moved,” He grumbled to himself, placing his hands on his hips and drawing his brows together in frustration. A vein throbbed in his forehead.
“Hey, Zoro! You get lost again?”
You spun around so fast that you felt dizzy, swaying where you stood momentarily as your vision focused on a young man in black cargo shorts and a skin tight muscle shirt accentuating a toned torso. A tan jacket with reflective stripes was thrown on haphazardly, a bare arm showing a strange tattoo – a string of letters – and a galaxy of freckles free from one of the sleeves, as if he had been in the middle of putting on the coat before getting distracted. An orange cowboy hat adorned with blue pins depicting a smiling face and frowning face (a la comedy and tragedy) was perched upon wavy black locks, freckles dotting tan skin beneath dark eyes. He stood leaning leisurely against a birch tree, arms crossed over his chest, watching the man next to you in amusement.
Your companion – Zoro, apparently – growled in annoyance, “I swear these tracks weren’t here yesterday.”
The newcomer snorted, marching forward and clapping his hand on Zoro’s shoulder. “Sure, buddy,” He snickered, “Whatever you say.”
It was then that those dark eyes focused on you. They narrowed in suspicion, and the freckled man leaned closer to the swordsman’s ear, muttering out of the corner of his mouth, “Who’s this stranger?”
“Ray’s grandkid,” Zoro grunted, still rather put out about the whole getting lost thing.
“Farmer Ray?” The man looked you up and down, “I don’t see the resemblance.”
You frowned, placing your luggage down. No use wasting your strength if you were just going to be standing around. “Well, he was about 45 years older than me, so…”
Freckles didn’t seem sold, musing, “And you’re about 5 years too late for his funeral.”
“Ah,” You winced, “Is it worth mentioning that I intend to build a shrine to him on his farm? Pay proper homage to the man, the myth, the legend?”
Absolutely nothing softened in the deep irises of the stranger, though his body turned away from Zoro, facing you, welcoming you into the conversation. “Well, any friend of Ray’s is a friend of mine,” A pretty grin split across his face, “I’m Ace – The forest ranger around these parts.”
You nodded, extending a hand and giving him your name in return. His grip was firm, his skin calloused, yet there was something so inherently soft about the gesture that you felt at ease instantly.
Zoro hummed with the realization that he had never asked for your name, or given his own.
There was brief moment of silence, broken only by the chitter of birds and the swish of new, spring leaves among branches. Zoro exchanged a glance with Ace, cocking an eyebrow. Ace hummed and hawed, biting his lower lip.
Eventually, Zoro smacked him on the bicep, breaking their telepathic conversation. “Are you going to show us the way to town or not?!” He grumbled.
Ace held onto his hat as he threw back his head, laughing heartily. “So you admit you’re lost.”
“Shut up.”
You held back a chuckle.
Ace laughed, wandering to the southern tree line and waving you two along, “Alright, alright, follow me. Can’t wait to see the look on Garp’s face when he see’s Ray’s kid after all this time.”