A/N

So what is this?

This is a One Piece fanfiction in the "Self Insert" category, but it's not 'Me' that I've inserted. He doesn't have my backstory, he doesn't act like me, and he doesn't look like me. Also, he's a little insane, but we won't see that until later, he's pretty sane for the moment. He does come from our world, though, and has knowledge of the One Piece world up until whatever's been published as of… well, just look at the 'Publish Date' of this fic.

I will be taking liberties. I will be adding abilities, characters, etc. I will try to limit the OP-ness in the beginning, because that will be a thing up until they meet some of the bigger fish. That's what happens when you give your character knowledge of Haki and the Rokushiki way before it's a requirement, and access to plenty of resources.

The world of One Piece is easily one of the more fascinating creations that I've come across. It's such a diverse world with almost as many cultures as our own and just as many types of people. My only problem with it is that it was made to be viewed by children. This limits what can be shown on screen. This limits the horrors that we know would happen in a cruel world like this. Luffy is known for his childish determination and whimsical nature. He's not a pirate, he's a free spirit that sails under the label of piracy because he feels like it.

True piracy was an utter nightmare to those subjected to it. The pirate's creed? Rape, pillage, and slaughter. "Take what you can, give nothing back." A phrase that was originally used when pulling a ship into dock, tying down lines, and securing the hull. It was twisted almost immediately as those of lesser creativity drank their problems away with someone else's alcohol.

Piracy today is romanticized. We look back at them, singing their shanties, drunk day and night, living a constant party until they died of scurvy. We see freedom, while we ignore the suffering that they inflicted on others so that they might take that freedom.

I won't go further into the history of Piracy, as it was far more complex than that, with the European governments essentially allowing it to continue as long as it was against their enemies. Look up "Privateers" if you're interested.

Now for warnings:

1. Unspeakable brutality, of which I will be speaking.

2. Strong language. Don't like it? Then fuck off.

3. This is rated 'M' for many reasons. Citrus-esque content is not the primary reason, though it is one of them, and the type that isn't included in #1 will come in much later.

Cruelty is born in the hearts of people in many ways. Whether it be from cruelty being done unto them, or growing up with a lack of consequences to their actions. Assholes will always exist, and sometimes, they hold all the power.

And that, my friends, is where this story begins.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece. If I did, it would not be for children. These are pirates for fuck's sake.


Date: ?

Location: ?

He didn't know how long it had been. Days? No, it had to have been longer than that, surely. He wanted to say months, possibly even years, but it likely only amounted to weeks. Not that those - utterly human - measurements of time meant anything, considering where he was.

Actually, that was a good point. Where the hell was he?

Was he dead? Probably. That car crash (typical, right?) was pretty spectacular.

At least seven cars were on fire, a bus was completely torn in half, a classic locomotive - of unknown origin - flipped ass-over-teakettle, and there was this giant crab monster eating people.

OK, that last one was probably a weird hallucination stemming from the blood loss, but hey; it's how he chose to remember it, so goddamn it, that's how it happened.

Well since then, he found himself floating around in a godless void. His five senses dulled beyond recognition, and his mind drifting in and out of a dreamless haze. As far as he could tell, he was just floating in a never-ending black abyss with no connection to any form of reality. His emotions didn't seem to be working either, otherwise he would be freaking the fuck out, but that made a weird amount of sense if he thought about it. Emotions stem from biological impulses and reactions to stimuli, which release various hormones and chemicals into our system, which we then interpret as our emotional responses, right? If he was actually dead, and therefore didn't have a body anymore, those biological reactions wouldn't happen.

Right?

Well… Under that same logic, thinking would be out of the question as well: no body, no brain. No brain, no cognitive function. In short, he had no idea what was going on, because he was obviously thinking right then.

Probably.

Maybe.

'Hey Trebek, I'll take 'Existential Crisis' for fifteen billion, please.'

So there he floated, slipping in and out of semi-consciousness, waiting until something notable happened.

And oh boy did something happen.

His senses started to come back gradually, so gradually, in fact, that he barely even noticed. At one point he just woke to find that he could hear muffled voices, but that faded when his conscious mind drifted away again.

Slowly, little bits of light began to make themselves known. Nothing with a clear origin. No shapes or things to see, but more like his vision was filled with the dull red light you see when you shine a flashlight through your thumb. Slowly but surely, his senses were returning. Then everything happened at once. His whole body felt like it was being squeezed out of a tube, which to be fair, wasn't far from the truth.

The light, the sounds, the cold kiss of open air. It all exploded into his sensory perception. He couldn't help the cry that escaped his lips.

A towel was immediately wrapped around his form, wiping the fluids from his tiny body and checking him over, before he was handed over to far more gentle hands. He still couldn't see straight, everything was blurry and too bright, so he kept his eyes shut. That didn't mean that his other senses weren't working, though.

The giant that held him whispered as she cradled him, "Welcome to our world, Djinn D. Oswald."

'Wait... What?' He thought.


Date: May 26th, 1496

Location: Palace of Djinn, Mariejois

Every. Single. Member. Of. His. Family. Was. A. Fucking. Cunt.

He wasn't even three months old yet, and the unspeakable shitthat his familyhad done in that time had nearly outshone Hitler.

Within a week, he had figured out that he was some kind of royalty. In the week after that, he realized his family wasn't bound by any semblance of law, or for that matter; a sense of humanity.

He wasn't proud that his first thought upon that realization was, "Holy shit, that's awesome!" He could literally do anything he wanted, and he wouldn't lie; that was an incredible concept. However, that didn't stop the morals of a past life slapping him in the face.

The crying form of a young woman came to mind, begging his mother to stop kicking her, as she curled in on herself on the floor.

Her offense? His mother caught him smiling at her.

Yeah, you read that right. All he did was smile at the poor girl, and his mother completely lost it.

The young woman was his nanny of sorts. She took care of him because his mother couldn't be bothered, or didn't know how - probably both.

"You want me to stop?" his mother had asked with an angry sneer. "You want it all to stop, don't you?"

The young woman, probably still in her teen years, nodded frantically from her curled position on the floor. "Please, it won't happen again, I swear!" Her voice had a nasal quality to it due to a broken and bloody nose, and she cradled one of her arms, which was bent at a weird angle. Definitely broken.

It wouldn't happen again? How could she promise that? He's the one who smiled at her.

"Who are you to order me around?!" The woman he called 'Mother' screamed, face contorting in rage before going blank. "You're right though, it won't happen again." Her hand reached back and rustled in a fold of her dress, pulling out a golden flintlock pistol. "I'll have mercy on your pitiful existence. You'll find that I can be benevolent."

'So dramatic.' Oswald had thought. He was in shock, really. If his mother's theatrics were what was drawing his attention, it was pretty safe to say that his mind was failing him. In no way did he expect this utter barbarism from his own mother, though granted he only knew her for a couple weeks.

The woman on the ground couldn't see through the tears and blood to see the pistol in Djinn matriarch's hands. "Thank yo-" The sound of the pistol's hammer cocking back stopped her dead in her tracks. Panic replaced fear and pain.

She scrambled backwards, momentarily forgetting about her broken arm until she tried to put weight on it. Crashing back to the ground, she opened her mouth to cry out, but it never left her lips.

A gunshot rang through the air instead.

The young woman's body slumped. A thin stream of blood seeped from a new hole between her glazed eyes, mouth still open in a soundless scream.

His mother peered down with open disgust at the corpse before putting her pistol away and wiping her hands off on her dress, as if the peasant filth somehow marred her flawless skin by having the gall to die in her presence, and not immediately get up to be a corpse somewhere else.

Oswald might have only been two weeks old at the time, but with the experiences of an entire life behind his eyes, the scene had been ridiculously unacceptable. He sat there, stunned, eyes wide and staring at his former nanny.

He had liked her. She was nice.

After calling someone in to clean up the corpse, his mother had then turned and started to fuss over him, promising that the incompetent fool of a woman wouldn't be bothering him anymore.

She had left after a while, turning him over to another young woman.

And what - might you ask - were the first words the new nanny whispered once his mother was out of hearing range?

"Please don't smile at me, young master." A lone tear tracked down her face, which was quickly wiped away. They weren't allowed to cry, he found out later.

He never did smile at her. Nor did he smile at the five other nannies that various members of his family disposed of for meaningless reasons. They couldn't be bothered to care for him themselves, so they shoved the responsibility off on these obviously unwilling servants, but at the same time, nobody was good enough to care for their "perfect little baby."

He burned all of their names and faces into his memory.

Oswald was only three months old, and he watched as each of his caretakers was brutally taken from him. He forced himself to care about each one, to give them every reprieve he could, to make their hellish lives just slightly better before they died; because they always died. Tortured and slaughtered on a whim.

They didn't all die in front of him. A couple of times, he woke up the next day to find a different young woman than the day before taking care of him, only to never hear from the previous again.

Not knowing how they died was somehow worse.

Most of the other slavesaround the palace - because that's what they were, he learned: slaves - were relatively safe from mortal harm. All they had to do was never cry, never smile, always, always, always keep cleaning, and stay out of sight of his family as much as possible.

It was that last point that fucked over his nannies. They were required to have near constant interaction with Oswald, who was - by definition - a member of his own family, and with him being the 'baby', at least one of the cunts that he called kin were always just around the corner.

His family found any and every opportunity to cause suffering, and dived right in.

[Horrifying shit inbound - has little impact on the story - skip to next bolded text]

At one point, his older cousin came in to check on him, and saw one of his nannies eating her scheduled meal of the day.

Nevermind the fact that it was just a stale slice of bread, moldy apple, and water. Nevermind the fact that this meal was scheduled. Nevermind the fact that this was the only thing she was allowed to eat all day. And nevermind the fact that Oswald had been asleep, and there was nothing for her to do at that moment.

His cousin exploded on her for being lazy. Which, of course, immediately woke up Oswald. Which was, of course, also blamed on her.

His fat fist fell, knocking the woman to the floor, adding yet another bruise to her starved body. Which of course was when he started kicking.

She screamed her throat raw, trying to catch her breath at every impact.

After a while, he stopped, huffing and puffing. The fat fuck evidently getting his exercise for the day.

"Strip." He ordered, standing up straight and regaining his - admittedly decent - posture.

Her eyes widened from her curled position on the floor. "Sir?" she croaked.

His eyes narrowed. "You'd make me repeat myself?"

She shook her head frantically, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as she stood back up. "But sir, the young master is-"

"Too young to remember this." Oh, needless to say, he would be remembering this. "But It'll do him good to see your punishment. It's a valuable learning experience, though I see you are going to make me repeat myself, now strip!" He screamed and backhanded her back to the ground.

The young woman stood back up, freely crying now - which would only hurt her more in the long run - started to unbutton her blouse. One of her fingers must have been broken, as she winced violently at each button.

His cousin just stood there, watching with a sickening grin.

Once done, she just stood there in the nude, pile of clothes on the floor and covering her breasts with bruised arms, unsure as to what she was supposed to do.

"Hmm." Oswald's cousin tapped his chin, looking her over. "I know! Dance for me."

Her eyes widened before they sank in resignation, a renewed stream of tears falling down her face. She bit her lip and started to move her feet a little, doing a sort-of Cha-Cha, and bringing her arms to swing to a beat that was only in her head. Her eyes focusing on anything andeverythingthat wasn't Oswald's cousin; blocking him out of her senses as much as possible.

He made her dance, naked and weeping, for way longer than necessary - meaning 'at all' - to a lack of music as he watched with that disgusting smile.

After a while, he had apparently gotten bored, so he called in a guard and told him to saw her feet off.

'Wait, what?' you might ask, 'That was a bit abrupt.'

Yeah, well that's how it felt in the room, too. The fat cunt just called for it out of nowhere.

The guard had to leave in order to find the cruel instrument before returning a few minutes later to begin the agonizingly slow process. His caretaker didn't even know how to process it all; she just stood there in a daze until the man came back with a resigned and unwilling frown.

His apparent unwillingness didn't stop him from taking her by the shoulder and pinning her to the floor to start with his task. Throughout the process, the young woman screamed bloody murder; tears, blood, and snot cascading down her cheeks. Her arms and legs were pinned down by two other guards with carefully crafted - very carefully crafted - blank expressions.

When they finished, to Oswald's horror, his cousin told her to get back up and keep dancing.

Now naked, weeping, and lacking the required appendages for dancing, she still attempted to follow that order. Slowly, she tried to put weight on the still-bleeding stumps that she used to call ankles, only to cry out and fall back to the ground.

She tried again.

And again, as his cousin just stood there with that same deranged grin.

'Why?' he asked himself. Why did she continue? His cousin was definitely going to kill her once he was bored. Wasn't it better to stop now?

Or maybe not. Knowing his family, they would look for any excuse to cause more pain, and a defied order would only extend her suffering. She likely knew that, seeing plenty of examples before.

He could see it in her face, now that he was looking for it. From the beginning, she had no hope of leaving the room alive; the only thing up in the air was how much pain and humiliation she had to put up with before it was over. There was that tiny spark of determination, hidden in the despair and waning consciousness due to blood loss, to follow every order; every stupid word that left his cousin's mouth, just so that she could die quicker.

'How has she not bled out yet?'

Oswald gazed forward, searing the scene into his mind, as a cold, raging inferno of hate and disgust came to life within his soul.

Finally growing tired of the show in front of him, Oswald's cousin stood up and walked over to the young woman.

'Please just shoot her. Don't do anything more.' Oswald found himself begging. He couldn't do anything as he was. His voice still wasn't working properly. He was only three months old.

Alas, the bastard picked the most infuriating ending to her meaningless torture. He pulled her up from the ground and bent her over the table - the one that she had been eating at just barely a half-hour before - and… The wet slaps of skin-on-skin echoed throughout his room. The older Djinn held a fist full of the woman's hair and pulled back with every thrust, ripping strands from her scalp. She screamed in pain, gasping for air and was forced to support most of her weight with the bloodied stumps at the end of her legs.

His hands tightened around her throat, completely cutting off her air supply. She flailed uselessly. She had no purchase, no leverage to bring the air back. He only eased up on his grip to allow her a single intake of breath before clamping back down; repeating the process every ten seconds or so.

Her face was turning blue.

Thankfully, he only lasted a couple minutes before allowing the young woman - girl really - to slump back to the floor, where he left her. He never did let her pass out from lack of oxygen. Allowing her just enough to keep consciousness.

Buckling his pants back on, he turned and left the room, smiling in satisfaction, like he'd just done the world a favor.

Naked, weeping, bruised, bloody, without feet, and freshly raped, his fourth nanny bled out slowly on his bedroom floor. He watched as the life left her eyes, as the warmth left her skin.

And what,you might ask, was Oswald's only thought as he stared at her corpse?

'Her name was Hazel. Named after the color of her eyes.'

[Horrifying shit - Done. This is likely the worst of it. All further instances will lack a warning]


Date: October 3rd, 1496

Location: Palace of Djinn, Mariejois

Seven more young women died by the time he convinced his family that he didn't need a nanny any more. At first, he was a little scared to show his more mature side, but as he watched his nannies get slaughtered left and right, he decided to put a stop to it ASAP. A relatively easy decision to come to, in all honesty, and the only way he could think of to make it stop was to show that he didn't need a nanny any more.

He was nearly eight months old. Walking and talking like a pro - thank fuck English was the primary language in this world. Not even a year to his name; he was barely above two feet tall and he still had most of his baby fat, but he managed to convince his family of his intelligence and ability to take care of himself. Hell, he was 'potty trained' shortly after he could walk, which he managed at around four months old - If he remembered correctly; that shouldn't be possible, but whatever. Shitting in your pants sucks, if you didn't know.

His nannies were all astounded with his progression, but when it was brought to his parents' attention, they had simply bragged, "Well of course he's amazing! He's our son!" then proceeded to torture the poor lady for daring to compare their baby to peasant filth.

The ego is strong with this bunch.

It was in one of his regular trips to the family library that the reality of where he was hit him: this wasn't just another world, or a time period of his previous one.

Oh no. This was a world that he was quite familiar with - if the newspaper in front of him was any indication.

Gold Roger Captured!

The famed King of the Pirates has been detained! Captured by Marine Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp, the Demon of the Seas will terrorize us no further! The execution of this horrid criminal is scheduled to take place in Loguetown, in the East Blue, at noon next Friday on the newly constructed…

Gold Roger.

Gold Roger…

"Fucking hell. I'm really in One Piece..." Oswald mumbled to himself in the privacy of his massive bedroom.

The article was almost two years old. He managed to swipe it out of a frame in the palace library before swiftly returning to his room.

Truthfully, he had figured out that he was in the world of One Piece a good few months prior when he asked for a map of the world. What he received could hardly be called a map: it was more of an incredibly inaccurate globe, and a few actual maps of specific areas. The globe was what gave it away, though. The world was split into sections, the four quadrant seas; North, South, East, and West - with no noted landmasses, divided by an ungodly mountain range that spanned the circumference of the planet, and something called the Grand Line running perpendicular to it.

Dead-ringer, that one.

The 'Holy shit I'm in One Piece' thing took about a month and a half to wear off, but it never truly hit him until he saw that newspaper article.

Then he realized that he was a Celestial Dragon; a group otherwise known as the World Nobles.

AKA; a member of Team Douchecanoe.

Now, being fed with a silver spoon was fucking awesome. He wasn't going to deny that. Especially since he came into this life with thirty-six years of prior experience. Not having to worry about your financial integrity was a pretty incredible feeling. He was given every conceivable luxury and boon, and he didn't want to complain.

Too bad it was soured with the taste of mass murder and general cunt-ness.

He felt no love for his new family, and was almost positive that they felt no love for him - their egos were too large to love anything besides their own superiority. They acted like they cared, and perhaps they thought they cared, but there was no love.

The only measure of affection he held was for his caretakers, which was surprisingly reciprocated.

He expected to be hated by them, due to the fact that - willingly or not - he would be the cause of their suffering for the rest of their brief lives, but no. Each of his caretakers were exceedingly gentle with him, cooed at him and his baby antics, sang him lullabies, and were genuinely caring for him. Being the only living thing that they had any real, private interaction with; he was also subject to 'storytime', which is what he called it when they inevitably all talked about themselves. He liked 'storytime' because it let him get to know these people better. It let him get a glimpse into their lives before they became property.

He loved each and every one of them. They were more his family than his shabby blood relation, and he was forced to watch as they were brutally taken from him.

He had tried to stop his family on more than one occasion. They would find something wrong with his caretakers, and he would throw a fit to try and get the violence to stop.

However, it was all in vain.

They would either continue with the punishment when he wasn't looking, or claim he had to learn how to properly discipline the 'filth,' and would even be so kind as to show him.

'This is how you hold a whip.'

'This is where you hit to cause the most pain.'

'Remember, Oswald, these pieces of trash are only good for passing entertainment.'

'Did I tell you about the time we had one of them swallow a barrel's worth of gunpowder? It was a bit messy, but man was that fun.'

Oswald wished that they could run away, that there was even the slightest hope of them escaping. But no, Mariejois was situated on the top of a mountain on the Red Line. The only escape routes would either be off the side of a cliff, or through the Marines, who would just bring them back to captivity.

Even if - by some miracle - they managed to pass by the marines, or scale the Red Line, the only thing waiting for them would be an endless ocean.

He couldn't do anything as he was, but the beginnings of a plan started to surface; a plan that would hopefully end the World Nobles and afford the world some actual relief. His first idea was to just go on a murder-spree in Mariejois once he was strong enough, but that wouldn't ultimately solve the issue. It would just leave a power vacuum, which would lead to war. He had to take it slow, he needed allies, and he needed to be strong.

Ironically, the first step in said plan was being offered to him by his father of all people.

"You are most definitely my son, Oswald." The man in front of him said with a smug grin. The two of them stood in his father's office, though for the life of him, Oswald didn't know what the older man did in there. He didn't have any real decisions to make, or any work to do other than fulfilling his own self-importance.

'I take it back. Maintaining his ego has to be a full time job.' Oswald thought.

The office itself was the most ostentatious room he had ever stepped foot in. It was huge, for one. Gilded furniture in the center of the room, and ridiculous paintings and animal trophies that littered three of the four walls, where the fourth wall was made completely of glass, overlooking a gigantic aquarium filled with sea-kings.

OK, Oswald had to admit that last part was actually pretty cool.

The larger man wore a gaudy white suit with golden trimmings, and the Djinn family crest emblazoned on the front. The emblem was a golden, stylized oil lamp wrapped in purple chains. He also wore a golden glove on his left hand. He was easily one of the ugliest and fattest men that Oswald had ever seen in either of his lives, which was saying something: he used to shop at Walmart. The man's garb was only accentuated by the stupid, tall hair-curl that marked the current Celestial Dragon trend.

Oswald hated the fact that he was sporting the exact same garb and hair-style, but in a smaller size, and lacking the glove.

"Only eight months old, and yet so mature and intelligent! You do us all proud, you do!" The larger man gave off a boisterous laugh, and patted Oswald on the back.

"You flatter me, father." He responded, barely holding back his annoyance.

He nodded, grinning. "Yes, well as to the reason I wanted to talk to you; your mother doesn't seem to think you're ready just yet, but I think you're mature enough to start thinking about it." He placed his hand on Oswald's back and began leading him out the door and into the hallway.

"Thinking about what, father?" He asked, now slightly interested.

"Well, the Djinn Royal Family has a bit of a tradition." They didn't have to go far before they came upon a fancy set of double-doors with a massive lock and a guard on either side.

"This is the Devil's Vault." He continued. "It's been in our family since the founding of our royal line; since the original Djinn Kingdom over two-thousand, three hundred years ago." He waved his hands at the guards, who stepped aside, allowing him to place a small sigil stone in a recess on the door's lock.

"We've gathered quite the collection since then." He continued, giving the sigil a turn. The lock clicked, and he waved at the guards again, who moved to push the doors open.

Oswald gaped at the sight before him.

'Devil's Vault' was an apt name for the room, as there were easily a couple hundred Devil Fruits sitting on pedestals throughout.

"Devil fruits?" Oswald whispered. "So many?"

"Ah, I see you know what these are, then?" His father glanced down at him in mild surprise. "Truly an intelligent young man." He snapped his fingers. "Yes, yes, as I was saying earlier, our family has a bit of a tradition." He walked over to a large tome just inside the door and flipped to somewhere in the middle. "Each member of the Djinn family will choose a fruit from this vault and eat it." He flipped a few more pages in the book before pointing down at what was written there. "I myself have eaten the Gold-Gold Fruit: Type Midas."

Oswald glanced at what was written in the book to find his father's name, and next to it the name of the fruit that he ate.

"Anything I touch with my left hand," He held up said hand with golden glove, "will turn to gold, and if I touch it again with my right, it turns back. I've also heard of a couple other Gold-Gold fruits; one lets you manipulate it, and another lets the user turn into it, but I find mine to be more entertaining and profitable."

Oswald couldn't help but think back to a section of the palace that he found himself in quite a lot. It was a rather pretty garden that was littered with golden statues of people in various poses, all wearing horrified expressions.

He wouldn't be going there again anytime soon.

His father glanced back over the vault. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why this is a tradition, but it separates us from the other Celestial Dragons, which I consider to be a good thing." He grinned down at his son. "They refuse to eat them because they taste terrible, but the benefits far outweigh that brief moment of disgust." Looking down he saw the confusion on Oswald's face, and smiled. "Yeah, I don't like the others very much. They think we're equals. We like to humor them. Unending entertainment, there." He laughed condescendingly, then turned back to his son. "You don't need to choose now, but take a look through and see if anything stands out to you. I'll be here if you have any questions."

Needless to say, Oswald started bouncing around the room like a baby bunny on cocaine, who was being offered more cocaine.

Cave-Cave, Map-Map, Hole-Hole, Frame-Frame, Sound-Sound, Banana-Banana, Squirrel-Squirrel, the list went on and on. There was also an entire section of unknown fruits that had no record of ever being eaten. Most of the fruits in the room were hundreds of years old, even! That, in-and-of-itself, was mind boggling: the fruits apparently didn't rot.

Each fruit had a little plaque underneath of it that detailed the name and last known user, the date acquired, and type; whether it was a Zoan, Paramecia, or Logia. In the case of the unknown fruits, all that was recorded was the date acquired.

There was one fruit that stood out, however. It was in the 'Unknown' section, and was the only one in a case. Upon closer inspection, he found that the case was more of a 'tank', as it was filled with water for some reason, and the fruit inside seemed to be floating in the center without any sort of support. The fruit itself was a turquoise, crystalline apple with small, embossed swirls on its surface, and had a curled melon stem, no different than a lot of the other fruits in the room, discounting its golden sheen.

Name: Unknown

Type: Unknown

Acquired: Year 347

The current year was 1496, which meant that this fruit had been found and/or purchased by the Djinn family over a thousand years ago?

The Year Standard had been decided by all worldly powers seven hundred years before the founding of the World Government. The exact incident that spurred the combined decision is unknown, but most records and evidence point to a large war which left most kingdoms in shambles, with libraries and various stores of knowledge having been destroyed. The need to regulate the knowledge that they had left forced them to come to an agreement.

"An interesting one, isn't it?"

Oswald turned to see his father glancing over his shoulder at the floating turquoise apple.

"If I remember correctly, one of those fish freaks decided to explore the center pool of Reverse Mountain and found this little guy growing on a bush at the bottom. Only Devil fruit to ever be found growing under water. At first, they tried to put it on a stand like the rest of the fruits in here, but it kept leaking salt water everywhere." He tapped the glass. "They finally just put it in this little fish tank and let it submerge itself. We never figured out how it was producing the water, but the tank never overflowed; only filling enough to submerge the fruit, so we've just kept it in there since."

The man stroked his chin a few times before shrugging. "Well, I've always wanted to test it out; see what it does to one of the peasants we have around here, but we weren't sure if we could get it back once they died, and we try to refrain from removing fruits from the vault unless we're sure we can get them back." He paused for a second. "Plus I find it quite pretty to look at, don't you think?"

Oswald's eye twitched at his father's blatant disregard for human life, but nodded anyway.

"My father, your grandfather, said much the same to me when I first laid eyes on it, too…" The man trailed off as his son took a step forward towards the tank.

"I want this one." Oswald said.

His father blinked and looked down with a raised eyebrow. "Are you sure? You've barely glanced at the rest of the stoc-"

"I'm sure." Oswald cut him off, still staring at the fruit in front of him.

"You know, very few of the Djinn family have ever picked one of the 'Unknowns' out of the vault. It's always seemed more prudent to pick something with a more reliable outcome. Why don't you wait a bit before making a decision?"

Oswald's impression of his father was that of a relatively intelligent man, despite his obvious prejudice and general dickery. The man's opinion was respectable if you ignored his utter lack of humanity.

In truth, every other fruit in the room seemed almost plebeian in comparison to the one in front of him. There was even a Mythical Zoan just a couple aisles over: the Nemean Lion, but the small blue-ish apple floating in the water just seemed like… more.

In answer to his father, Oswald reached into the fruit's case, and plucked it out of the water. He stared at it for exactly half a second before taking a giant bite out of it.

"Woah! Aw man." His father sulked in mild surprise. "Your mother is going to kill me."

Oswald's eye twitched again as he took another bite.

It tasted like a grape.

A rotten, moldy grape that was soaked in the sweat of dirty gym socks for fifty years, then dipped in cat shit for extra flavor.

He took another bite. And another. He knew he didn't have to eat the whole fruit, but there was superstition and supposition that if you ate the whole fruit, you would find a better hold on whatever powers it granted you.

Oswald figured the momentary disgust might be worth it. If not, he could just repress the memory.

There was no core in the apple-shaped fruit, so he just continued all the way through until he was left with just the stem, which seemed to be made of a surprisingly tough material. It was smooth, shiny, and had a unique shape - obviously organic, yet looked distinctly like it was made of gold. He placed it in his pocket.

Oswald glanced at his father - who was gaping at him like he had just declared compost as the world's finest delicacy - before turning around and walking out of the vault. "If you'll excuse me, father, I need to go eat a bar of soap. That was disgusting."


Date: April 9th, 1497

Location: Palace of Djinn, Mariejois

A couple months after Oswald's first birthday found him standing in front of a mirror in his bedroom. It had been about six months since he'd eaten the Devil Fruit, and he was starting to get a handle on what it could do.

The small, golden, curled stem of the fruit had been made into an earring, which now hung from his left ear, and his eyes were now a bright turquoise, the color of the fruit, where they had once been brown. Those; however, were the only obvious changes to his person.

He also found that if he concentrated, he could morph whatever body part he wanted into a teal color with faint, light blue, embossed cracks. It looked kind of like lapis lazuli. You could only really see the designs if you looked closely, though. When he stopped concentrating, however; the color would recede, leaving him with his normal, pale complexion.

Once he figured that out, he immediately consulted his father, who tried to take hold of his teal-colored hand to study it, only to slump to the floor in a daze as soon as he made contact.

It turns out, Oswald's body was turning into some form of Sea-Prism stone, though it only seemed to have the look and effect. Sea stone was supposed to have the same hardness value as diamond - according to Dr. Vegapunk - but the blue tint didn't seem to make his skin any more durable than usual, and honestly, Oswald didn't know if he should feel cheated by the lack of defensive capabilities, or blown away by how cool he looked.

It took about twenty minutes of concentration, but he managed to spread the substance over his whole body. His skin was blue now. Or, blue-ish-green. He'd been thinking teal, but was it aqua? Maybe? Fuck it whatever, it looked cool.

A mischievous smile formed on his lips as he let the color recede.

He was getting ideas.

He still didn't know if he could do anything else with his fruit powers, but being made of Sea-Prism Stone was a pretty broken ability in itself. Would the ocean affect him in any way? The blue apple was the only Devil Fruit discovered to grow under water. Ever. Did this mean anything? Could this be the most overpowered Devil Fruit? Having powers, yet immune to the classic weaknesses?

Well no, he found out pretty quickly that he did have at least one weakness. Touching another Devil Fruit user while not covered in his teal skin would have the same effect as Sea-Prism Stone to a regular fruit user. In other words, the strength would leave him, and he'd be useless. However once he covers himself in blue, the reaction gets flipped onto the other person with no effect to himself.

Essentially, he had to keep his concentration going full tilt all the time if he was in contact with another fruit user. Living in a palace where his entire family had eaten Devil Fruits had since become… difficult. Granted they weren't a very touchy-feely bunch, so it was working out alright, but it still prompted him to learn faster.

He expected that within the next couple years, switching his skin back and forth would become second-nature, but as it was now, having eaten that fruit just made his life harder.

Now the idea that he might be immune to the effects of the sea was a prevalent one. He hadn't had the chance to test it out since eating the fruit, as most of his family tended to stay far from the open waters; all being fruit users themselves. However Oswald did manage to secure a short trip down from the palace in Mariejois to Sabaody Archipelago later that day to test himself against the water.


Date: April 9th, 1497

Location: Grove 64, Sabaody Archipelago

"I still don't see how you can stomach it." An overly annoying voice said from behind Oswald.

"Stomach what, exactly, dear brother." Oswald sighed.

The larger child scoffed. "Breathing the same air as the filth, of course."

The two children, accompanied by a squad of marines and a few slaves, walked the path towards the marine-controlled groves in the archipelago. Well, Oswald walked the path, the other child was sitting on one of those chairs that had four extended pegs at the bottom so that it could be carried, which was being hefted by four disgruntled looking marines.

Oswald, still barely past the 'toddler' label, was drawing a lot of attention as he walked confidently down the path; nearly as much as his brother in his fancy chair. Oswald hadn't worn the classic spacesuit that his brother - and all of the other World Nobles - wore when they came down from Mariejois. Instead, he wore a simple white jacket over a red shirt, and white pants. All the edges were gilded with gold trimmings, and his hair was - of course - flipped up into that stupid, curdled cow-lick. He didn't get to pick what he wore or how he did his hair, but he did manage to convince his mother that the spacesuit made him uncomfortable, and that he'd rather "suffer the common air than be cramped inside the suffocating apparatus." Of course, he wanted to say that the whole concept of the suit was completely asinine, but he had to pick his wording carefully if he wanted results.

"I try not to think about it, but thank you for bringing it up at every opportunity." Oswald rubbed the bridge of his nose as their procession continued towards the coast of the archipelago. "Truly, Brutus, it's greatly appreciated."

"You're welcome." Brutus either didn't catch the sarcasm, or was too busy eating his own forearm to care.

Djinn D. Brutus. The fattest fucking five-year-old that Oswald had ever encountered. The older boy did wear the spacesuit, making him look even fatter than he was, and sported the same hairstyle as his younger brother.

When it came time for the older boy to pick his fruit out of the vault, his choice was nearly as fast-tracked as Oswald's, however Brutus' choice was made with his stomach. No excess brain power went into it. He saw the name, and immediately thought, "Oh my god, my body can be made of cake?!"

Yep. He picked the fucking Cake-Cake fruit. A mind boggling Logia that transformed the user's body into a never ending supply of cake.

Fucking idiot.

Brutus had picked his fruit a full two years before Oswald - being nearly four years older - and not a day went by that the insanely obese child didn't constantly eat himself. Somehow, his powers seemed to affect his clothing too. Which wasn't all that special for Logia fruit users, but damn was it a sight to see the five year old nibble his way through the gloves on his hand, only to bite off his thumb completely.

It grew back.

Unfortunately.

Bringing his attention to his surroundings, Sabaody Archipelago was easily one of the most beautiful sights he had seen in either of his lives. The gigantic tree groves giving a sense of scale that was difficult to match, and the multi-colored bubbles that floated around induced a childish wonderment that he wasn't aware he still had.

"I still think you picked the wrong fruit, Oz." Brutus said around a mouth full of his own elbow.

Wait, how did he even do that? You know how it's impossible to lick your elbow? He's also wearing a helmet.

'Ugh, just don't think about it, Oz. Don't think about it.'

Oswald sighed. "What makes you say that?"

"There's another fruit in the vault, the Pastry-Pastry fruit. I got the Cake-Cake first, but that was easily second best. You should have looked around a bit better." He nodded to himself as if he had just imparted world-changing wisdom.

"You might be right." Oz shrugged it off, only a little annoyed at his brother's priorities. "Why did you come with me, anyway? You hate it down here in the Archipelago."

Brutus scoffed, "This place is infected with commoners! Of course I hate it down here, but you're experimenting with your Devil Fruit! I wanna see!" The fat child's vocabulary was actually pretty advanced, so Oswald never really had to hold back his adult intelligence in normal conversation, but sometimes what his brother said completely overshadowed how he said it.

Oswald just ran a hand through his hair and nodded. His mother and father were currently in a meeting with a few of the other World Nobles, so they couldn't make the trip with him. His mother had insisted on dressing him for his trip before they set off, though. Something about "looking respectable for his first trip down from Mariejois".

No. Of course he didn't plan this trip specifically around that meeting so he could get away from his family for a bit. What ever gave you that idea?

He gave his brother an annoyed glance. The blob-shaped cake monster had caught him as he was leaving and insisted on coming along. Unable to find a good reason to refuse, Oswald found himself with company.

It didn't take long for them to reach Grove 67, where there was a small, recreational beach. This was one of the few Marine controlled groves where civilians were allowed to gather for fun-time activities in relative safety.

Activities that were apparently hampered by his mere presence.

"Clear the beach for their Royal Majesties, Djinn D. Brutus, and Djinn D. Oswald!" One of the marines in their procession yelled.

Hundreds of people looked back at them, and after half a second of hesitation, they all scrambled. Tripping over each other, grabbing all of their belongings, and bolting away as fast as possible.

The beach was vacant in just over a minute.

Brutus just kept nibbling on himself like the whole ordeal was beneath his notice, while Oswald frowned at a trampled old man halfway up the beach.

He turned, waved one of the marines over, and whispered, "Get that man out of here before my brother has him killed for 'polluting his presence' - or some other bullshit."

The marine's eyes widened, glancing at the old man, then Brutus, then back to Oswald before nodding quickly and rushing to help the man escape.

Oswald turned to Brutus to distract him. "Let's get a little closer to the water, shall we?"

Brutus grunted and waved his hand slightly, signaling the marines to carry him forward.

Making his way to the waves, Oswald could feel a slight pull the closer he got. It was like his entire body wanted to be as close to the water as possible. He kicked off his shoes and rolled up his pant-legs before hesitantly stepping into the surf.

His first contact with the ocean-water was exhilarating. The water seemed to try and rush up his legs like a puppy that hadn't seen it's owner all day. He was barely standing in an inch of the stuff, and yet the water jumped past his knees.

What was even more surprising; the tide seemed to halt at his mere presence. The waves no longer lapped at the shore, just staying high on the beach and refusing to recede back as if it was scared to go, else lose contact with him.

Oswald just stared down at the water for much longer than probably necessary, only broken out of his reverie by the voice of his brother.

"So? Oz, you there? Come on, tell me what's going on!"

Oswald didn't even bother to turn around. "Gimme a minute, Brutus. This feels pretty awesome."

"So I take it you don't feel weak at the knees, then?"

"Exact opposite." Oswald shook his head. "It's invigorating."

Brutus hummed from behind him. "Well, can you make it do anything?"

"Make what do anything? The water?" Oswald asked, taken aback slightly. Was that a thing? Would he be able to control the ocean?

"Of course the water! What else is even out here?!"

Oswald shook his head, still not even looking at Brutus. "Alright, alright. Point taken." He held his hand out in front of him and concentrated.

What was he trying to do?

Fuck if he knew. Maybe move it around a little bit? Well, that did end up happening, but it wasn't the main event. After about five minutes, the ocean water started to swirl, which got him pretty excited even though it was going super slowly. Then something interesting occurred: the water started to crystalize. It just seemed to condense, congealing and hardening into a full, blue-ish solid about the size of a small pebble, which sunk down to the sand after forming.

Sea-Prism Stone.

It was fucking Sea-Stone! He made Sea-Stone!

That revelation gave him pause for about a minute, long enough for Brutus to get bored again.

"Oz. I'm getting bored."

Oswald dropped his hand and finally turned around. "Yeah me too. Doesn't seem like anything's happening."

There was no way he was telling anyone about this. It was bad enough that he had to inform his family of his ability to change his body. He would be keeping everything he found out about his Devil Fruit a secret for as long as possible.

"Let's head back." He said, stepping out of the static waves, which began to lap at the shore again once losing contact with him. He didn't want to experiment too much with watchful eyes anywhere near.

Brutus groaned. "A wasted trip then."

"You're the one who wanted to come with me."


Date: March 13th, 1498

Location: Palace of Djinn, Mariejois

March 13th. The day that Oswald became the second youngest child in the Djinn family line. The day his baby sister was born.

He loved her immediately. Djinn D. Nicole was easily the most lovable infant he'd ever laid eyes on.

Oz wasn't there for the birth; not being allowed in the room with his screaming mother, but he did get to see the aftermath; namely a dead doctor on the floor with a bullet between his eyes, and an adorable baby girl being cradled in his mother's arms.

Oz wasn't aware of what happened to the doctor who helped birth him, but he imagined their fate was similar to the corpse in front of him. His mother was in pain during the whole ordeal, and it was obviously the doctor's fault.

Note the sarcasm.

A couple days later found him sitting next to her crib - a ridiculously fancy one at that - while her new nanny fed her.

The nanny was incredibly nervous at his presence, if the way she kept stealing glances his way meant anything.

"Relax." Oz said, still staring at his sister. "I won't blow up at you like the other members of my family."

If anything, that just seemed to make her more frantic, as if she had called more attention to herself and wished to just fade into the surroundings. Oz doubted that she heard what he said, just focusing on the fact that he said it to her.

Oz sighed sadly, and turned to face her. "What's your name?"

The woman froze, standing ramrod straight, jaw locked in place, and eyes shut firmly.

The two-year-old waited for a few seconds, but was rewarded with no answer. "You're scared." He said bluntly. "No doubt you heard about what happened to my caretakers, correct?"

Her head nodded slightly, eyes still clamped shut, posture still stiff.

"Do you know why I'm here right now?"

She paused for a second, then opened her eyes slowly. "T-to see y-your sister, young master?"

Oz nodded. "That's one reason, yes. The other reason though, is to help make sure you don't die an early death."

Her eyes widened in pure disbelief.

"So," Oz continued, "What's your name?"


Year of Date: June 29th, 1501

Location: Palace of Djinn, Mariejois

Three years had passed, and Oswald was building up quite the reputation among the slaves. He knew most of them by name, never hurt them in any way, and even went out of his way to ensure that his family had no excuse to punish them. He was seen as a miracle-worker for just keeping Fiona alive.

Fiona, Oz had learned, was the name of his sister's caretaker, and Oz had managed to keep her alive for three fucking years as she took care of Nicole. He was with them nearly round the clock, only taking time away to practice with his Devil Fruit in a saltwater pool he had constructed in his bedroom under a massive skylight. Yes, his bedroom was that big. He even ate all of his meals with Nicole and Fiona, just so he could be there if one of his family members decided to stop by.

As long as he was there, he could argue that anything Fiona did 'out of line' was ordered by him, thereby giving his family no ground to stand on unless they wanted to get on Oz's bad side, and they didn't really want to do that if they had no solid footing to be angry. Oswald could get scary.

That brought up a good memory.

At one point, about a year earlier, Brutus had barged into Oz's room while Oz was in his pool practicing with his powers.


"Hey Oz! Have you seen Nicole? I can't find her anywh- Oh." Brutus stopped as he turned to see Fiona and a two-year-old Nicole playing a card game, both in bathing suits and lounging around on the pool deck. "What do you think you're doing?!" He screamed at Fiona, marching her way.

Fiona scrambled out of her chair and was about to respond, but Oswald cut in from the pool.

"Calm down, brother. I just asked her to entertain Nicole while I was in the water." Fiona and Nicole both knew that he was practicing his Devil Fruit abilities whenever he was in the pool, but the rest of his family just thought that he liked to swim.

"Oz, she was smiling!" the eight-year-old raged.

Oz blinked. "Oh for fuck's sake, really? Oh the horror. Truly, I feel sorry that you had to witness such blatant disregard for our family's most pointlessly imposed regulation."

Brutus' mouth opened and closed a couple times as he stared at his younger brother. Yes, his vocabulary was quite advanced for his age, but he was still eight. The self-cannibalizing child didn't really understand what Oswald said, but he evidently assumed that he'd lost the argument, as he moved on.

"Why can't F'ona smile? I like when F'ona smiles." Nicole interjected cutely, frowning. Oswald grinned at his sister, while Brutus ignored her completely.

"But what about what she's wearing?!" His face turned an interesting shade of pink.

Oswald glanced at Fiona. "A bikini? You do realize that we're at a pool, don't you?"

"Argh! I don't see why you protect this trash!" Brutus then turned back to Fiona, pulling a golden flintlock from a fold in his robes, but before he could aim and fire, Oswald was in front of him, holding the barrel of the gun.

Nobody had seen him move, or even heard a splash from the pool. The splash could be explained away as a facet of Oswald's Devil Fruit, but the movement? That's just a bonus from spending so much time in the water: It's a damn good workout - not to mention the fact that the human bodies of the One Piece world seem to be much more physically capable than those of Earth. Bone density, muscular growth rate, and general endurance seemed to be on a completely different league than what he was used to. He spent a lot of time in the pool just working out, using Sea-Stone weights, and dissolving them again, which he found he could also do.

Oswald's eyes met his brother's, where something flashed.

"Brutus." Oswald began. "You barge into my room; my haven, where I have invited our dear sister and her caretaker." Oswald's skin, starting from the hand that held the barrel of Brutus' gun, began to change. The bluish countenance of Sea-Stone spread across his skin slowly, until it stretched over him completely. Then it took over his eyes. Sparkling, light blue gems that they were, became outright eerie when even the whites of his eyes merged with his irises, making it seem to Brutus like he was staring down into the complete aquamarine, stony eyes of a God.

A God that was currently quite peeved with him.

Oswald continued, "This is my sanctuary, Brutus. Do not assume that you can come in here and look for fault with how I run my kingdom." OK, he was hamming it up, but he was pretty sure that Brutus pissed himself, and there was no way in hell that he was going to dial it back down. "You insult me, brother, and I do not stand for insults of this caliber. Please leave."

Oswald let go of Brutus' gun as the chubby boy nodded and scurried out the door, but before he could reach it, Oswald had one last thing to say, "And Brutus?"

The boy turned, biting his lip.

"Remember to knock next time."


Even years later, the memory of the look on Brutus' face brought a smug smile to Oswald's. Sadly; however, it seemed that Brutus had gotten the last laugh.

Three years.

For three fucking years, he managed to protect Fiona from his family.

Honestly it was surprising how long he kept her out of harm's way. His goal was to keep her alive for as long as possible, to give her a small chance at normalcy, and to give his sister some semblance of a real family; some sense of what a real mother was like, but he apparently didn't account for the pettiness that his brother was capable of.

Fiona died at twenty years old, having been fed to a Sea King in a fish tank outside of the Djinn patriarch's office. Stolen away from Nicole's room in the dead of night. There was no body to bury. There was no funeral. There was just the laughing, bragging, form of Oswald's brother, the tear-stained face of his sister, and a burning, raging inferno of lividness festering in the dark depths of Oswald's soul.

Oswald couldn't even embrace his sister fully - not without covering his skin. His Devil Fruit prevented him from touching other Fruit users, else depending on the color of his skin - blue, or tan - somebody involved would go weak at the knees.

Even at three years old, Nicole was intelligent. She knew of the horrors her family committed and, thanks to Oswald and Fiona, had begun her life with a stable moral compass. Which made it all the more brutal for her to have her mother figure ripped away from her on the whim of her eldest brother. No reason was given other than the fact that she had somehow pissed Brutus off - which was a valid reason in the eyes of their blood parents.


A/N

All time-line stuff was looked up and made as accurate as possible via the World_Timeline page of the One Piece Wiki. There are some major contradictions in the various pages of the wiki, so I'm working with what I've got. Most contradictions stem from the idea that everything that happened from when Luffy first sets sail, to when they separate at Sabaody Archipelago, all happens pretty much within a week.

No seriously. The entire trip in the first half of the Grand Line is said to take place while Luffy is 17. After the timeskip, Luffy is said to be 19. He spent two years on an island training his Haki, so that accounts for the 17 to 19 jump, but that also doesn't account for the significant amount of time that he spent with his crew in the East Blue, the first half of the Grand Line, and the whole ordeal with Hancock, Impel Down and the Whitebeard War. I would imagine that by the time they hit Sabaody Archipelago, Luffy is at least 18, but noooooo, let's all just say "Fuck you" to the timeline, shall we?

Yes, I know Sea-Stone isn't blue in canon. I'm making it blue in this fic. Just picture Lapis Lazuli if you need a reference, or possibly turquoise (the stone, not the color) - whatever looks cooler in your head. It keeps flip-flopping in mine.

Welp. A good bit of this chapter wasn't pleasant, was it? Don't worry, after Oswald leaves Mariejois (and he will leave before he turns ten) there will be a significant drop in the overall sadism, torture, and other horrible things that were exhibited in this chapter.

Until then… Sorry?

We've heard so much about the brutality of the Celestial Dragons, the pain that they put people through, but we've only seen a handful of examples on screen, and the worst of them were glossed over. Reading the manga, and watching the show, I was never properly pissed at the Celestial Dragons because of that gloss, but I really wanted to be. If the writer of a story wants the reader to feel things, they have to immerse the reader into the situation. They can't just give us the equivalent of a newspaper article. It detaches the reader from the situation too much.

I feel like I've done an OK job of that.

If you have constructive criticism, I would greatly appreciate it.

Please do not shove insults up my ass. My pooper is fragile, and you'll hurt its feelings.

Please review! Even if it's just a few words, I would like to know what you think!