Chapter Text
“Get back here you whore!” The words were hurled in anger, but you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. They sounded funny since the person screaming them was probably missing a tooth and had a swollen tongue.
It’s hard to sound intimidating with a busted face.
You weren’t normally running full throttle down main street at 9:42 in the morning on a Sunday, but today was shaping up to be unique. How unique was yet to be determined, but a brisk jog would do you some good, so you weren’t going to complain.
You had your hair tucked in a cap, and wore the somewhat plain, if not comfortable, attire of a Coo-boy. The Grandline Metropolis was simply too populated for News Coos to deliver papers like they did in the open seas, so the Metro had Coo-boys and girls. Some people delivered straight to folks’ homes, but on the weekends in the morning you’d stand on the busier street corners and holler headlines for a little extra money.
You didn’t need the berries, but keeping busy kept you, well, busy, and being still didn’t work out well for you.
Coo-boy was one of three jobs you had, but only this one and another were scheduled and regular. The other was just as you wanted to do it and had time for it. It was also the reason you were currently running down the street.
Four full grown men were running after you, one with a busted face, one who might not have to worry about having descendants, and two who were, admittedly why you bolted instead of stayed and finished your fight. The first two had recognized you from amateur night down at Ivankov’s club, and decided to be complete dickweasels in public.
You had tried to explain that doing burlesque on stage wasn’t an invitation to be propositioned – either in the club or out on the street, but they had their own opinions. Much as you were certain that you could take all four of them in a fight, or hells even in bed, they didn’t look like they were particularly skilled. All bluster and bluff, you were sure.
Most creeps were like that.
You, however, had a long shift at Sanji’s bar, and you didn’t have time to risk bruised ribs or a fat lip while you were serving people drinks. Bartending at the All Blue was half flair, half socializing, and neither were fun to do when you were recovering. You only had a few more days working for him, and then you were going to be the owner of your own business.
It was going to take you from working several odd jobs, to probably just randomly crashing Iva’s from time to time. Maybe picking up bar shifts to help Sanji, instead of working for him simply to help yourself.
Darting between a couple of deliverymen, and leaping over a porter’s bike you slowed down enough to turn off Main street. You hadn’t ducked down an alley, but the side street was a little less packed. You could go faster, and your hope was that your pursuers weren’t in any shape to keep up.
Holding onto your cap you risked a glance over your shoulder and realized you were in the clear so far, slowing enough you took another turn, risking darting across the street. You heard someone yell, but they were a ways back, if you were quick you could lose them in the alleys and head home in peace.
The Sphinx Metro was, in fact, a Metropolis, but like any large city it had pockets of small businesses, sometimes residences, and even a few parks and gardens tucked away in the interiors of some of the larger blocks. People passing through in cars weren’t ever going to find these little nooks and crannies, they were the exclusive luxuries of the locals.
You weren’t expecting a lot of foot traffic down the alley in the first place, it didn’t matter if it was well paved, and clean, and obviously an entry way into a small fruit tree orchard that was used by a nearby tea shop. It didn’t matter, because most people didn’t have tea until teatime. So you’d been mostly paying attention to your six, hoping that you could make the next turn without being seen.
Looking back in front of yourself you realize the path was not as empty as you needed it to be.
Two tall men in really nice suits stepped into view. A blonde who had a hair style that probably only worked for him specifically, and a brunette with the puffiest pompadour hairstyle you had ever seen were talking amongst themselves. If they weren’t day traders, they were probably part of a Family. The suits looked to be bespoke, and the shoes; those shoes weren’t on display in a store, and custom shoes often meant money more than a nice suit did.
“Sorry mister!” You shout, not wanting to slow down any more than you needed to. The blonde’s eyes go wide, though not by much. You’re left with the distinct impression that he could’ve moved out of the way if he wanted to.
Instead, you’re left to effectively body check him, using him to slow yourself enough to scramble down the path.
“Hey, you brat!” The brunette yells and you wave your hand.
Turning on your heel, you bow deeply, before turning back around and taking off. You didn’t want to yell out another apology and give yourself away before you darted down a different alley, and so the brief bow was all you had available to risk.
Running for another couple blocks, you slowed your pace down to a jog when you didn’t hear any angry sounds bouncing down the walls of the alleyways. When you walked out onto a more crowded road you were walking along with the pace of the people around you, blending in for a moment and catching your breath.
You were Charlotte Apple, adopted daughter of Charlotte Linlin. Technically, at least. You went by a different name now, with no desire to be known as one of Big Mom’s kids if you could help it.
Despite the large number of kids “Big Mom” has had, she ended up in need of more brats to use, and that was your lot in life for now. Using her kids in political marriages – tying up officials, marines, and other mafia families alike with the tight bonds of familial alliances, has led to a strange shortage. With over 80 biological children she had realized at some point that the numbers weren’t in her favor. The Grandline Metro was just too big, and there were entirely too many moving parts.
Some alliances also hadn’t done her the kind of good she wanted, so those marriages were effectively written off. She wouldn’t dare to demand divorce, such a thing would lessen the strength of the other alliances, so she needed to replenish her stock.
But Big Mom was a few years past being able to give birth. She’d pushed out babies into her 50s, but everybody stops eventually, and so that’s where you came in.
You and about three dozen kids from various other orphanages.
Seven of the eldest of her children had made the choices on Mama’s behalf. Be it luck or fate, Katakuri had come to your orphanage. Almost two hundred children, and only you and four others would even go near him.
In the beginning it wasn’t so bad. Most of the Charlotte children are kind, at the very least they are kind to other members of the family, and when you have 84 blood siblings, and 30-some siblings-in-law, you don’t split hairs about adopted siblings. There wasn’t any weird hierarchy stuff to deal with, and the elder siblings taught the younger ones.
You got a nice, useful, formal education, and you also got an awful useless Formal Education too. Etiquette, ballroom dancing, fencing, that sort of thing. Katakuri taught you how to fight, and some of the other siblings taught you useful things like mixing drinks, identifying edible mushrooms, how to paint, and a few dreadful months of piano lessons.
The fact was, you’d gotten more opportunity than you ever could’ve possibly had otherwise, but you also had spent a great many nights crying in Katakuri’s room because you didn’t want to marry for some stupid political reason. You weren’t like Linlin’s biological kids, you hadn’t lived your entire life having your fate drilled into your head, it wasn’t just something you weren’t looking forward to, it was, to you, terrifying.
When you turned seventeen big brother Kata and you began to have loud, tense and aggressive scuffles around the mansion. At first it was once a week, then it was every couple days. Once it was obvious that everyone else was either irritated or concerned about the constant bickering – and a few times Oven or Brûlée would step in and practically pull you two apart – Kata “kicked you out” of the Family.
There was no way to know for sure if the ruse was going to work how you wanted it to, but he tossed you toward the Straw Hats, and you got your first job by tending bar in Sanji’s All Blue Bar & Grill. It was little more than a front for the Mugiwara Mafia, but that twirly browed blonde put his whole soul into it.
They were all decent enough people, and after a short while you realized why Katakuri sent you in their direction over anywhere else. Their whole vibe was freedom. You weren’t a part of the crew, you had been clear you didn’t even want to be a part of any Mafia Family – you’d had your fill thank you very much.
But you were more than happy to work for compensation. Sanji paid well, and his patrons tipped just as good. You only slept on Robin’s spare couch for a couple months before you got your own place. The entire gang had celebrated, all ten of them cramming into your small apartment. It was roomy, for just you, but eleven bodies was most definitely enough to put it at capacity.
You’d also gotten a box of donuts a week after you moved in. Unmarked, but there was only one person in the whole world who would send you dark chocolate raspberry cream filled donuts with light, whipped, buttercream caramel frosting.
You were glad that Kata was looking out for you, but you were worried his quiet support was going to result in you being dragged back to the other side of town. That was all years ago at this point, and with each passing day you were beginning to think Big Mom really had forgotten about you.
Which assumed she paid much mind to you in the first place, but since you wanted to be on your own that suited you just fine.
Your current place was a large loft above what was going to be your very own flower shop soon. Everything was pretty much done. Thanks to some insistence from Luffy you had a greenhouse and garden plot just outside of town, a short twenty-minute drive from the shop itself, which was very prominently located. It wasn’t the middle of the city in the downtown district, but it was still on a main road that a good bit of the city used.
You were a little nervous because it wasn’t inside Luffy’s territory, just nearby.
Stepping into your loft you kicked off your shoes, took off the cap to let your hair down and started making some tea. A glass of water while you waited quenched the thirst your run through downtown had caused, and after a few minutes you were relaxing on the couch enjoying the peace of your home.
You wondered idly if the guy you ran into was alright, though you didn’t attack him, you did just plow right into him. He was a lot more solid than you had expected. The suit was a little formal, you were certain he’d look better in something more relaxed. Probably something blue or teal to go with those eyes.
Like gold body paint, or just golden chains with teal gems dangling off them. Against that perfect skin of his…
Grinning at the memory you drink more water, chiding yourself quietly for being far too thirsty. If not for that distinct haircut, you’d be staring at people’s shoes again, trying to find him. Your own tailored cinder-fella.
Well, it was a big city. After you got your flower shop stable you could take a Sunday or two off and loiter around that tea house again. See if fate was kind enough to let you meet someone that cute one more time.