Chapter Text
The cutest fruit in the entire world was currently hanging from a branch, way above Perona’s reach. It reminded her of a bunch of bananas, with little dots that looked like ghost eyes. She picked up another rock, trying once again to knock it down to the earth. She did an underhand toss this time, watching it swing in a perfectly cute arc that finally hit the fruit, tumbling them both to the ground. Immediately, she pounced upon the fruit, stomach growling even as she shoved it in her mouth.
The first bite tasted like pumpkin and warm spices. Just like the pumpkin cake rolls the chefs would make during the first fall harvest. It was fall on this island too, the slow setting in of the cold making Perona shiver in her tattered dress, but she hadn’t seen hide or hair of any pumpkin patch.
The second bite was much worse. It tasted like dirt and rotten squash. Perona gagged as she forced the rest of it down, her stomach didn’t care about what her tongue thought. Finding anything to eat was hard enough when they first got on the island, with the hot heat of summer forcing her to stay inside the little cabin and only forage in the dark. Now everything was dying, and she didn’t want to think about what the winter would hold.
This island was supposed to be safe, that’s what Daddy had told her, rambling while he packed the small dinghy. It was hard to hear everything he had said over the people deeper in the city, calling for their heads. The first few hours after they landed were nice, Perona would admit. The cabin was much, much smaller than the castle, but it had a cute quaintness about it she couldn’t deny. Then Daddy had come in with the bright purple berries, munching on them like candy until he fell on the floor and didn’t get back up.
Perona still refused to eat the berries. She probably should’ve refused to eat the fruit, especially after the first bite, but not even the treacherous berries were on the bushes anymore. She licked the juices off her fingers, even though it tasted rancid.
Footsteps sounded behind Perona, she whipped around, looking up at a strange man.
He wore a wide brim hat and a long leather coat, his all black ensemble making him look quite pale. Even crouched on the ground, Perona could see the hilt of a sword sticking out past his shoulder, it had to be as tall as him! He had piercing yellow eyes, studying Perona intently. The gaze made her nervous, bubbling in her stomach so hard she thought she might throw up her hard-won meal.
Something suddenly twined around her ankle. Perona looked down, meeting the cute dot-eyes of a little ghost! It circled around her, a second one joining it. Her fingers twitched, and they twitched too. She looked at the man again, his head tilted in curiosity. The ghosts suddenly raced away from her, straight towards the man. He raised one hand, and they bounced off of it.
“Peculiar,” he muttered, watching the ghosts groan pitifully as they flew back to Perona. His voice was much softer than she ever would’ve guessed. He fixed that intense stare at her again. “Do you live here, ghost girl?”
Slowly, Perona nodded. It wasn’t often that someone ever made her feel skittish. Sometimes the people that came to visit Daddy back home would, with their leers and how even Daddy would seem afraid of them. But back then she had a whole cavalry of guards that would rather die than let anything touch her, now it was just her and the ghosts.
The man reached into his coat, pulling out a wrapped bar that looked like candy. Perona’s mouth watered.
“You can have this, if you take me back to where you’ve been staying,” he said. Perona nodded quickly, scrabbling up and starting to head back to the cabin.
Perona discovered that the man could walk quietly when he wanted to. She had to look back a few times to make sure that he was still following, even though her own steps loudly crunched the leaves on the ground. It felt like an eternity passed before they were finally at the cabin.
“Gimme it!” Perona turned around, already reaching out for the bar. He tossed it in the air, and she caught it, opening it and shoving it in her mouth in one motion. It wasn’t quite the candy she hoped for, instead it was a sticky collection of nuts with no chocolate in sight! She chewed, suddenly feeling her energy wane from the walk. The ground wasn’t a very comfortable seat, all hard and cold, but the sense of wariness returned as the joy of her reward ran out. She sat on the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees, watching the man.
He surveyed the cabin, but his gaze wandered to the mound of rocks next to it, the biggest stick Perona could find months ago speared into the ground above it.
“Is that where your father is?” the man asked. He said it like Perona was much younger than she was, like she was six again and no one wanted to tell her what the word dead meant while they buried Mommy.
Even though it had been summer, Perona couldn’t work the rusty shovel enough to be able to cover Daddy in more than a few inches of dirt. She scavenged across the island for rocks to put on top, and that seemed to be enough to keep the animals away. She nodded, and the man started into the cabin.
Part of Perona knew that she should follow him, stop him from taking the jewels and crowns that Daddy had packed more of than food. But she couldn’t really bring herself to care about them the way that Daddy had. The first time her stomach felt like it was eating itself, she had pulled out the crown he always wore, and tried to lick the jewels and cold metal. It didn’t help.
The minutes dragged on. Long enough that Perona would’ve wondered if the man had just been a hallucination, if not for the wrapper still in her hands. She pressed her head against her knees. What was she supposed to do when he came out? Beg him to take her away from here? Where was she even supposed to go? The fairytales never talked about what happened to princesses with kingdoms that wanted their blood.
Footsteps again. He was doing it intentionally, waiting for Perona to look up at him. He had Daddy’s crown loosely held in one hand, it was the only thing he’d taken.
“Do you have anything you want to keep?” he asked.
Perona nodded, getting up and woah, that felt a lot harder than it should have. She moved into the cabin, past the main room and into the small bedroom that was supposed to be hers, but never felt like it was. She grabbed her teddy, in desperate need of patches from clutching at him every night, she held him close to her chest, hoping the man wouldn’t think she was being a baby when she stepped out.
He didn’t say anything, just started walking. Perona followed, her ghosts trailing behind. She could see the sword better, including its gleaming hilt, studded with jewels. The blade was a dark black, suddenly curving right at the end, and it was truly monstrous in length. It was far bigger than anything any of the knights had wielded, their swords looked like toothpicks in comparison.
It wasn’t very long before that tiredness caught up to Perona again. She started lagging behind more and more, breathing getting difficult until she just stopped, putting her hands on her knees while she tried to catch her breath. Something grabbed the back of her dress, and she squealed as the man lifted her in the air like she weighed nothing, tossing her over his shoulder. He continued on.
All of Perona’s limbs felt like jelly, and her eyelids were heavy. She meant to just blink, then suddenly she was being lowered onto a boat, the sea-salt air stinging her eyes. The man lifted a small hatch, tossing the crown in, and rummaging until he pulled out a canteen. He screwed off the cap, passing it to her. Immediately she took the biggest gulp she could, only for him to suddenly pry it away.
“Don’t drink so fast, you’ll get sick,” he admonished. He waited until Perona nodded to give it back. Carefully, she took small sips instead. He went back to the hatch, pulling out a beautiful, bright red apple and putting it in her other hand.
She watched him untie the boat from the itty bitty dock, kicking them off into the ocean. It suddenly occurred to Perona that she had no idea where he could be heading, or what he could want with a wayward princess. But she looked back at the island, empty of anything except for Daddy and the rest of his jewels, and decided that anywhere was better than staying there.
“What’s your name?” Perona asked. Her voice was scratchier than she remembered it being. Totally not cute.
“Dracule Mihawk,” he replied, untying a small sail. He looked back at her. “And you would be?”
“Perona,” she responded. She left out her last name, she had a feeling he already knew what it was.
“Perona,” he repeated. “You’ll be safe here.”
For the first time in months, Perona cried.
It was dark when Perona woke up. Her body wasn’t ready to be awake, she could barely open her eyes. But when she rolled over, she could hear Mihawk speaking.
“…on an island to the west. I have the royal crown as proof,” he kept his voice low, probably trying not to wake Perona up.
“Can’t get much more damning evidence than that. Good work, Hawkeyes,” another voice crackled through the air– Mihawk must be using a den-den. “But I have to ask something– our reports haven’t been able to find anything on where his daughter could be, and a wayward princess could prove problematic if any of the loyalists found out. Did you see signs of anyone else on the island?”
A pause. Perona stayed very, very still.
“No, he took nothing but his jewels with him,” Mihawk answered. A grumble started on the other line.
“Well, we can take the win. There’s a meeting next month, turn the crown in then,” a click sounded, letting Perona relax. The need for sleep returned, and she sank back into it.
It was a day and a half before they made landfall again. Mihawk doled out food to Perona like it was rations, despite how badly she just wanted to stuff her face until her stomach was full. He said she’d get sick if she did that, and she knew he was right but it didn’t stop her longing.
This place had an actual harbor, not just a few pieces of wood that vaguely resembled a dock. Perona craned her head to look at the geometric architecture, it wasn’t like her old kingdom at all.
“Do you live here?” she asked Mihawk. He did a strange, complicated knot on the rope to tie them to the dock.
“No. We’re only stopping for a short while,” he replied. Mihawk picked her up, settling her on his hip instead of over his shoulder. It made Perona feel even more like a baby, but she didn’t know how far she could stomach walking, and chose to just strongly frown rather than pitch a fit. A ghost brushed against her back, letting out a small groan.
“No ghosts either, they draw attention,” Mihawk said. Summoning the ghosts was easier than getting rid of them, she had to close her eyes and push against them until they went away, and sometimes that didn’t even work. It must’ve worked this time, as Mihawk didn’t say another word while he stepped out of the boat.
The town was busy, Mihawk gracefully weaving through the crowds. The smell of delicious food wafted through the air, but when Perona begged for just a bite Mihawk rolled his eyes and reminded her she already had lunch. She pouted the rest of the way.
It was a big, rectangular building they stopped in front of. Training dummies littered the yard, covered in slashes and stab wounds. One of the sliding doors was slightly ajar, and the sound of metal against metal floating out. Mihawk put her down on the steps, patting her head then walking in.
The minutes dragged on. Perona circled the tip of her shoe in the dirt, creating senseless patterns. A small ghost formed underneath her heel, groaning and pointing. She looked in that direction, seeing just a tree. One of the branches shook, and a boy suddenly tumbled out with a shout. He had tan skin, bright green hair, and three swords on his hip. Last time Perona counted, you could only hold two swords at once. Three was just far too many to have on hand.
The boy scrambled up, an embarrassed flush growing on his face when he saw Perona watching. He dusted himself off, then marched over with a serious expression. It was hard to be afraid of him, considering it looked like he wasn’t even ten years old yet.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice pitched cartoonishly low. Perona couldn’t help but giggle, making him flush more. “I said who are you?!”
His hand went to one of his swords, and that did scare Perona. The ghost under her heel shot out, phasing through the boy instead of bouncing off like with Mihawk. He keeled over, tears suddenly streaming down his face.
“I should’ve been born a worm! I could’ve done something good for the world then!” he shouted. The door behind her slid open, Mihawk and another man stepping out. Perona felt more ghosts pop up as she curled in on herself.
“Get ahold of yourself,” Mihawk roughly grabbed Perona by the shoulders, and she suddenly wasn’t in her body anymore. Instead she was floating up, up, up! Mihawk looked up at her, face pinching into a frown. This was the part where she would get punished. Locked in her room with no dinner. Although, she didn’t know how Mihawk could manage that on the little boat. “Things will keep getting worse until you calm down.”
Slowly, Perona breathed. Could she call it breathing right now? Either way it seemed to work, the ghosts dissipating and she floated back down to her body. The boy was getting up, furiously wiping his tears while the man fretted over him.
“You’re a weirdo!” the boy declared.
“Zoro,” the man interjected. He wore a pair of round glasses, making his face look soft, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail. “What have I told you about calling people names? How would you feel if Perona saw your three swords, and called you a weirdo for it?”
Zoro crossed his arms, but Perona could see him fidget, “I’d feel bad.”
“So you understand. I think you both need to apologize to each other,” the man looked over at Mihawk, who nodded in agreement. Then Mihawk was looking at Perona, and she realized she was supposed to start.
“I’m sorry for sending my ghosts at you,” Perona mumbled, even though it was an accident! They just did things without her telling them to.
“I’m sorry for calling you a weirdo,” Zoro said, his words stilted. He looked over at the man. “Koushiro-sensei, can I go now?”
“Yes—“ Koushiro barely got the word out before Zoro was off, peeling around the corner and out of sight. He sighed, his attention turning to Perona.
“Zoro’s a bit prickly, but he means well,” Koushiro hummed. He looked Perona up and down, a slight look of sadness— no, pity in his eyes. “Would you like a bath? We have some girls who’d be happy to help. You’d get some new clothes too.”
She didn’t like how he looked at her. But Daddy hadn’t packed any soap, and while she got used to it she knew she was caked in grime. Which was so not cute. She nodded slowly.
“Excellent! It’ll be just a moment while we get everything ready…”
The girls scrubbed Perona so hard her skin felt raw, but she much preferred that over the feeling of months of accumulated dirt. She didn’t fit any of the girls’ old clothes, and ended up with a simple shirt and pants a few inches too short. Even then she needed a belt, tightened all the way to the last hole. While she was subjected to the beautiful torture of the bath, Koushiro called a doctor, who waited for her when the girls were all done.
“You must be Perona! I’m Makoto,” the doctor greeted. She was a nice looking woman, with soft eyes and short hair. “I’m here to make sure everything’s going okay with your body, I heard you were in a rough spot.”
In the corner of the room was Mihawk. Perona didn’t know what he told the doctor about how he found her, but she was very certain it was not the truth of the matter. He looked bored, not giving her any clues on what narrative he spun. She just nodded, hoping she wasn’t asked any hard questions.
“To start, how old are you? Eight, nine?” Makoto was tapping a pencil while she counted.
“I’m twelve,” Perona felt her face burn. She knew she was small for her age, something Daddy always told her would change with the next growth spurt around the corner. But for this woman to think she was eight? Egregious. Intolerable.
Makoto winced and even Mihawk shuffled uncomfortably. She scribbled something down, far longer than the number twelve.
The rest of it was regular, besides the frown Makoto made when Perona got on the scale. She praised Perona’s joint health, and for some reason the attention made her preen.
“Your health is better than most in your situation would be, recovery shouldn’t be too difficult,” Makoto said, writing things down on a new pad of paper. “Rest is good, but we don’t want anymore muscle atrophy, so be sure to take walks and other light exercises. A diet with lots of fats and proteins should get weight back on track…”
Perona tuned her out. That was a lot of things to have to think about at once. Mihawk nodded along, taking the papers Makoto offered, maybe they could leave soon! Hunger was starting to ebb its way in again, and she was pretty sure Makoto said she should be eating lots, so maybe she could get Mihawk to buy her something from one of those food stands. Suddenly Mihawk was taking her hand, telling her to say thanks to Makoto. Finally, they could go.
It was two steps outside when they were interrupted by a sudden yell— it was Zoro again! He blocked the path, staring daggers not at Perona, but at Mihawk.
“You!” Zoro pointed. “I challenge you! And you gotta do it for real this time! No bare hands.”
Mihawk sighed, rolling his eyes, “I thought you would have learned your lesson last time. If I can defeat you without a sword at all, what makes you think that you can win when I have a weapon?”
Something must’ve happened while Perona was taking her bath. It made sense, even from their short interaction, Zoro was totally the kind of person to see Mihawk’s huge sword and try to fight him.
“But that wasn’t a sword fight! It’s different if we both have swords,” Zoro protested. Maybe he could get away with that line of reasoning if Mihawk didn’t have a sword to begin with, but Perona couldn’t think of why he’d carry around one so big and mean if he didn’t know how to use it.
“Very well,” Mihawk responded. Perona couldn’t help a gasp. She hadn’t seen Mihawk fight, but Zoro was so itty-bitty— he’d definitely kill him! “But first, I must get the appropriate weapon. It wouldn’t do to hunt a rabbit with a cannon.”
Of course Zoro protested, starting a ramble about honor or something else. Perona ignored him, watching Mihawk step into the yard, bending down to pick up… a stick. He flipped it in the air, then brandished it at Zoro.
“There. Shall we begin?” Mihawk asked. Zoro barely even nodded before Mihawk closed the distance between them. The stick swung, catching Zoro’s ankle and knocking him off his feet. He hadn’t even drawn one of his swords yet.
A creak sounded behind Perona. She turned, looking at Koushiro, leaned in the doorway. He watched the proceedings with a frown, but didn’t intervene. Looking back, Mihawk so outmatched Zoro it wasn’t even fun to watch. Well, until Mihawk grabbed him by the foot and held him upside down in the air. Zoro’s face turned so red, Perona couldn’t help a giggle.
“Don’t laugh at me!” Zoro’s head snapped to look at her, his glare undercut by his shirt falling over his face. “Not when you’re wearing my old clothes!”
Oh that one stung, worse than if he just sliced Perona with one of his swords. She clenched her fists, she could not let this slight go unpunished.
“Do you give up?” Mihawk asked. He shook Zoro, all three of his swords clattering to the ground.
“NEVER!”
Forward swing, back swing, and Mihawk tossed Zoro face-first onto the grass. Of course, he tried to get up while Mihawk dusted off his hands. Squaring her shoulders, Perona marched over, crouching next to Zoro. He blinked at her while she grabbed a fistful of dirt and grass, then shoved it down his shirt.
“What was that for,” he shouted, trying to dig the dirt out of his shirt and just making a bigger mess.
“For saying that I want to wear your stinky old clothes!”
“But I didn’t say that!”
Hands grabbed Perona by the waist, Mihawk tossing her over his shoulder despite her protests. She wasn’t done yet! Her honor had yet to be avenged! But the only thing she could do was ball up her fists and glare at Zoro while Mihawk carted her away.
Once they were outside of the dojo, Mihawk put Perona down, clasping his hands on her shoulders.
“Listen to me,” he said. His voice was still calm and measured, but he looked at her with those piercing eyes. “While you are in my care, you are not to enact every petty grievance you feel is warranted. If you were truly slighted by that boy, you would have dealt with him properly, and not kicked him while he was down.”
Perona looked at her feet. She never knew how to respond to admonishment and simply nodded. Mihawk let go, standing up.
“If we see him again, you owe him an apology,” he said. She half-expected that he’d march her back in and make her give one right away, but he probably didn’t want to get challenged again.
They continued back into town, Perona once again trailing behind Mihawk. She couldn’t quite tell if he was mad, like the kind that Daddy would get and let ruin the whole day. It was hard to tell anything about what he was thinking at all, honestly. Nothing seemed to stick to him, except for Perona at his heels.
The smell of food wafted through the air, making Perona’s stomach growl. Her steps slowed, until she stopped in front of a stall selling fragrant noodles. Timidly, she looked up at Mihawk.
“No.”
“But I didn’t even ask anything yet!” Perona whined, Mihawk simply rolled his eyes. “That doctor lady was saying I need to gain weight anyways…”
“You weren’t listening to the part where she said that you need a diet rich in vitamins, which are not present in soba noodles.”
“But—” Perona started. Daddy never let her have food that wasn’t prepared inside the castle, calling it uncouth despite how mouth-watering it looked in comparison. A sudden chuckle sounded, she turned to look at the man running the stall, embarrassment making her cheeks flush.
“Come on man, a little never hurt anybody,” the man leaned on his hand, grinning cheekily at Mihawk. “She looks like she could use some more meat on her bones anyways.”
One trick was still in Perona’s pocket. She clasped her hands in front of her, opening her eyes as wide as possible, “Pleaseeeeeee?”
Perona walked away with a little box of delicious cold soba noodles. She clumsily maneuvered the chopsticks, only half-listening to Mihawk telling her to not eat so fast. They were so good, she’d start skipping if it didn’t make shoving the noodles in her mouth difficult.
“Hey!” a familiar voice called out. Man, that Zoro kid wouldn’t know what the word quit meant if it hit him upside the head. Next thing Perona knew, Mihawk was pulling one of the chopsticks out of her hand, ignoring her protests as he went to deal with Zoro again. Defiantly, she stuck her fingers into the noodles, shoveling them into her mouth.
The townspeople started murmuring. Not mad or fearful like Perona expected, instead chuckling, looks like Zoro picked another fight he can’t win, do you think he’ll learn his lesson this time? Hey, do you think he’ll put his sword in his mouth again?
Was that how he used the third sword? Perona tried to picture it in her mind, but couldn’t make it anything other than weird and uncomfortable. Maybe if Mihawk was a little nicer, Zoro would be able to do it and she’d get a good laugh. Suddenly she heard a loud sigh, and looked over to see Koushiro. He had that frown on again, face twitching as the villagers laughed at the spectacle. She sidled up next to him.
“Does he really put the third sword in his mouth?” Perona asked.
Koushiro blinked, looking down at her in surprise. He quickly composed himself.
“Yes, it’s a three sword style,” he answered.
“Three swords sounds like too many. How do you even use a mouth sword?”
“Very creatively,” Koushiro hummed. He looked back at Zoro, and he suddenly looked sad. “A lot of people would say that yes, that’s too many swords. But he… made a promise, and he’s going to uphold it.”
Despite how much Perona wanted to know why a promise would involve holding a sword with your mouth, she knew better than to ask while Koushiro had that look on his face. This sword business was a lot more serious than she thought it could be.
“Do you like Mihawk?” Koushiro asked, looking at her again.
That was a much harder question than he made it sound. Mihawk wasn’t someone that Perona thought anyone would describe as nice, but she would still be on that island without him. No warm bath with soap, no clothes without rips in them, and no delicious noodles. She chewed, thinking.
“He’s okay,” Perona settled. Koushiro gave her a weird look, like he was waiting for her to keep going. She raised the box of soba. “If he keeps buying me these, he’ll go up a rank.”
Koushiro blinked, then chuckled. He patted her on the head. “Sounds like an interesting ranking system. They’re finishing up, you should go get your chopstick back.”
Looking back, Mihawk held Zoro up in the air by the back of his shirt. It made him look like a stray kitten, except kittens usually went still when you grabbed them by the scruff, not fight back harder.
“Let me go!” Zoro cried out, trying to draw one of his swords.
“Okay,” Mihawk dropped him right on the ground. Zoro sprawled out, blinking up in bewilderment as Mihawk dusted off his hands. “I believe we’re done here.”
Perona wandered over, snatching her chopstick back from Mihawk before Zoro could decide to try and challenge him again. But Zoro didn’t, instead he stared up at the sky with his hands balled into fists. The small crowd was already dispersing, their bit of fun over.
“Why won’t you use your sword against me?” he asked. Mihawk paused, looking at him with a calculating gaze.
“You’re just a child. You know nothing of how the world works. How are you supposed to understand a blade when you don’t understand anything around you?” Mihawk’s answer just made Zoro frown more. He was going to get wrinkles doing that. “Though I suppose, you have much more determination than I’ve seen from people even three times your age. Maybe in a decade or so, you’d be ready to receive a real blow from me.”
He finally stepped away, but Perona kept staring at Zoro. She moved forward, crouching down next to him.
“I’m sorry for shoving dirt down your shirt,” she said. His only response was a grunt, the scowl on his face unmoving. “And for calling your clothes stinky.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled, sitting up. He hunched over, and Perona could tell he was still wearing the same shirt. Somehow, someway, Zoro looked a little sad. She held out the soba and chopsticks.
“You can have a bite,” she said. Zoro looked at her warily. “It’s not poisoned or anything.”
Zoro reached out, bypassing the chopsticks and digging his fingers directly into the noodles.
“Hey!! That’s so gross!”
“I saw you do it earlier!”
“I can do that because they’re my noodles—”
Perona whacked Zoro with the chopsticks, and his response was to grab even more noodles with his gross, dirty fingers. Was it even possible to win against him in a way that mattered? She clutched the box to her chest, turning away from him with a huff, but could hear him chewing with his mouth open. Ew.
Koushiro and Mihawk were talking. Well, Koushiro was talking and Mihawk was listening. Curiosity bloomed in Perona’s chest, and she started to get up.
“Can I have another bite?” Zoro asked. He looked up at Perona, completely unrepentant. “Please?”
Okay, he did look kinda cute being polite for once. Were his eyes that round intentionally? Perona huffed, “Only if you promise to use the chopsticks this time.”