Chapter Text
Buggy wasn't entirely sure how he ended up in that mess. Surely his associates would have objected, they would have listed every single one of his faults, how it was entirely his fault if they ended up in a rowboat in the middle of nowhere. But Crocodile and Mihawk at the moment looked at him confused, with clothes too large for their small bodies and in appearance at least thirty years younger than normal.
They would have been cute too, if Buggy hadn't known that one of them was the fucking Crocodile and the other the deadly Mihawk. The latter, to be fair, maintained the same uncanny look, made worse by the fact that his eyes now seemed too big for his round and plump baby face. Crocodile at least without his scar, both arms, and a scowl that made his cheeks puff out could still be considered endearing. Hopefully. If he didn't decide to kill him, once he was back at his giant self.
"Uh," Buggy murmured feeling the urgent need to cry. "I guess I'll have to row again." He sighed, not knowing what else to say to fill the heavy silence. "My usual luck."
"Who are you?" Mini-Crocodile suddenly asked, staring at him in confusion. An expression that didn't fit well with the man's usually stoic features. His voice was high-pitched, he couldn't have been more than ten years old to be generous, even though Buggy had never been particularly good at understanding people's ages, least of all children. The little fuckers keep growing and changing too fast to keep track of their age.
"Buggy, um, do you remember me? Your...Your bo- emp-...uuh, associate." He stuttered, not really knowing what to say. His mind already making anxious laps around the fact that they didn't remember anything, but at the same time they could regain their memories and if they could regain their memories and their bodies- At the same time, the effects of the artifact they touched were not permanent, right? It had to be temporary, it wasn't cited anywhere of this improper youth fountain hidden in a defense mechanism for a treasure map. It must have been just some sort of defense mechanism to killing any intruders once they were their young selves again. Quite diabolical, but not permanent, right? Right? He needed them and how dare them to forget him?
"Come on, you can't forget my beautiful face."
"I certainly wouldn't have forgotten your face, stranger." Mini-Crocodile nodded sarcastically crossing his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow and that was a familiar face to Buggy. Evidently, the ego was something that unfortunately man had not lost as he grew up, he had only become sourer. "Where are we and why are we here with this child...holding a sword bigger than his body?"
Mini-Crocodile didn't exactly seem scared of Buggy and he still didn't know whether to be happy or deeply offended. He was a pirate, dammit, with a dagger and a gun in his belt, a 10-year-old should have been intimidated by him, at least a little bit.
The second part of the question, however, made the man abruptly stop and for the first time - because it still scared him to look at Mihawk in the eyes for too long - he peeked down at the mini-Mihawk, who seemed to be even younger than Crocodile. Buggy had never been so happy not getting to a treasure in time as he was now.
The Mihawk-turned-child had his nose a few centimeters from Yoru's hilt and he seemed to contemplate it without blinking, one hand flat on the black blade. He had the expression of someone who had just met his God and had confirmation of its existence.
"Oh, shit, I mean, fuck, I mean...oh, fuck me, brat, don't cut yourself with that blade!" Buggy exclaimed, trying to get closer, but Mihawk turned completely to stare at him and pressed himself even tighter against the hilt of his weapon.
"Mine. She's talking to me. She says she's mine." He murmured quietly, clenching a fist that was barely larger than the encrusted gems. "I will not be hurt by her, because she is mine and I'm his." He explained quietly and even Mini-Crocodile turned to look at him looking a little concerned.
"But is he okay?" Mini-Crocodile whispered tilting his head in the other's direction.
"Honestly? Not stranger than usual." Buggy murmured, resigned to having to deal with a disturbing child, married to his own sword, with whom he had telepathic conversations - knowing his luck, she, the sword, was speaking ill of him. The mini-Crocodile, despite his small size, seemed to be still the most level head of all of them.
"But why are we here, Buggy?"
"Okay, how can I explain- Wait did you call me Buggy? Like my real name? Oh, when we get on board you'll say it again in front of everyone, so I'll have witnesses." He exclaimed in delight, distracting himself from the situation.
He was still hoping that the curse was temporary and if wasn't, he wasn't going to get stuck with two little brats, in the unfortunate (and knowing his luck pretty plausible) event things went wrong, Shanks would find another treasure chest with the mini-Mihawk inside (in honor of old times) and throw a dart at the map to decide where to send the mini-Crocodile.
"We're going to board what, exactly? Your boat? Did you kidnap me? Are you a pirate?" Mini-Crocodile asked, sounding more interested by the minute. "Because I heard that pirates make good money and are free to do whatever they want."
"I don't want to become a pirate." He suddenly intervened mini-Mihawk by straightening up and ending whatever telepathic conversation he was having with Yoru, the sword. He stared at them seriously, at least, as serious as the face of a seven-year-old child could look. "I am training to become the best swordsman in the world. Now, I also have the best sword, you must bring me back so that I can become worthy of wielding her."
"Well, I want to hear the offer before I decide whether to refuse or not." Crocodile injected.
Buggy took a deep breath. Everything was fine, he wasn't stuck with two miniature versions of his best allies and he certainly wasn't regretting all the choices that had brought him to this moment. He didn't believe he could ever miss Crocodile's threats and Mihawk's disturbing silence, but hearing the two argue about whether it was better to be pirates or swordsmen, he discovered himself feeling nostalgic. He looked intently at the golden hook rolled at his feet.
"Well, Buggy? Who are you? What do you want? Why did you kidnap us?" The mini-Crocodile asked quickly, still bossing people around while half his size and age. He was also curiously leaning too far out from the balustrade for the clown's liking, he didn't know if Crocodile still had his devil's fruit powers or not, but in any case he couldn't swim and Mihawk was six. Buggy quickly grabbed Crocodile's left arm out of habit and forced him to sit back down. The child protested and grimaced, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.
Buggy remembered to take deep breaths.
"Okay, it's a long story." He admitted, taking up the oars again and resigning himself to rowing back to the ship.
"What is your name?" Mini-Mihawk interrupted, suddenly, sitting against the tip of the boat, the sword taking up almost the space between them.
"Buggy. Didn't I already tell you?" He replied confused and worried that the curse was even more serious or was progressing, causing them to regress further. "Buggy the Clown."
"I wasn't listening to you." He admitted tilting his head. "I was talking to my sword."
Typical. At least something didn't change from the adult.
Mini-Crocodile turned to Mihawk and grinned toothily. Buggy couldn't see him entirely, but he looked strange without the scar framing his face. "And what's your name, hawk boy? My name is..."
Buggy choked on saliva, coughing desperately for oxygen, attracting the attention of both of the children who turned to stare at him in confusion. The name the child had given was not "Crocodile" and not even remotely masculine. Buggy felt as if he had just been condemned to death because if/when the adult Crocodile would discover he knew such a thing (albeit involuntary), adult Crocodile would feed him to his alligators, or worse, he would disembowel him, then dehydrate his corpse and when he dried up he would make him a chewy toy to sharpen the teeth of his pets bananawanis.
"No!" He exclaimed with the force of desperation. "No! No way, we don't call you that, I refuse to die this young. If you want to be a pirate, you need another name!"
"A new name?" The mini-Crocodile asked baffled, but not against it. "Okay, I didn't like it anyway." He commented with a shrug.
"What do you say about Crocodile?"
"Mh, okay, I like reptiles." He admitted nodding in appreciation, an exciting light in his eyes. "Crocodile is a good name, it will make my enemies tremble in fear."
"Good lad." He whispered Buggy wiping the sweat from his forehead. He looked at Mihawk who stared at them, Buggy wasn't sure if he understood or was just standing there because he couldn't go anywhere else. The clown couldn't draw the ire of both of his associates on the same day by unraveling some other secret by mistake. "You," he ordered, pointing his finger at the swordsman. "Your name is Dracule Mihawk from now on."
The child tilted his head.
"That is my name."
"Even better." Buggy applauded as he rowed again.
***
“So I will be the greatest swordsman in the world?”
"I'll be a man? Can be done?!"
Buggy had never been so happy to have a long trip, because it gave him time to answer countless questions and teach the two children what to say and absolutely not to say. Crocodile let out a delighted laugh, clasping his hands in his lap.
"Will I have a beard?"
"I suppose? If you wanted to?" Buggy was sure he had seen a five o'clock shadow on a particularly tired Crocodile one morning who had been up all night and intent on returning to his room to catch some rest. To be honest, it was a bit patchy, but he had never commented on it, he wasn't stupid, he didn't want to die. But also who was he to comment? He had never managed to grow anything beyond a few hairs that looked more like pubic hair than anything else. Besides, he discovered that as long as his hair was blue, no one cared, but when they realized that his beard was also blue, people connected the points that he didn't actually dye his hair like that, it was his natural color and started asking more impertinent and nastier questions, as to what other part of his body was colored so extravagant and if they could see it.
"I want it," Crocodile replied adamantly. "I also want to be tall and strong, and I want everyone to call me Crocodile, then I could crush my enemies and those who look down on me. I want everyone to fear my name." He rambled excited...well, like a child.
"Okay, except for the beard, anything you want, you'll get." Buggy declared, finding the intensity of the child's gaze a little disturbing, but on the other hand, it seemed that Christmas had come early for small Crocodile. "You golden-eyed little demon, do you have any more questions?"
"No."
"No? Don't you want to know if you will end up with a beard? Or money, or if you will be feared?" Crocodile urged him clearly more talkative than his adult counterpart, his eyes shining with a childish joy that didn't fit well with the memories the clown had of him.
"No." He responded again dryly, pressing himself as tight as possible against Yoru's hilt. "If I'm going to be the best swordsman in the world, I don't care about anything else. Except..." he stopped, looking at Buggy uncertainly. "Except, if I get my own place."
“Uh, you live in a castle, I think.”
"Alone?"
"Yes."
The child seemed even more relieved at that news. "Okay, then that's all I care about."