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mekachu04Origins scanned pages 2025.05.22 - 5 pages
Kidd'd be hard pressed to remember point in his life where Killer wasn't. Either at his side, or his absence a thorn in its place. But all the way back at the start he vaguely, remembers his momma tutting over the too skinny friend Kidd brought to the dinner table - or maybe his momma forced Killer to stay? - trying to make a meal barely big enough got one to stretch to three.
Four years had given Killer some height over Kidd back then- but he'd been a skinny fuck almost their whole lives and he'd been so small a stiff breeze could knock him over.
Back then, Killer'd been the angry one - and his abysmal fight record did not keep him from continuing to lash out at anyone that made him feel lesser. If they were going to make fun of him- it'd be for things he chose to do, not the things out of his ability to change.
Busted nose, black eye, split lip. For the first years of their friendship, Killed always wore at least one of them at any given time. For a brief period, Kidd even had a collection of a few of Killer's teeth before his momma found them and threw them out.
They both lost more fights than they won at that age - a trend that continued unfortunately into Kidd's teen years. Didn't stop either of them from picking fights anyway.
Killer was small, but he was fast. He might of lacked of the power to one hit KO in a fist fight, but he was a wiz at impromptu weapons and knew were to hit to do the most damage. For a long time, he biggest weakness was no one to watch his back and would crumble under the first blow someone landed on him.
Nearly scared Kidd shitless the first time he witnessed it - seeing his friend drop like a sack of flour - helpless against their bullies. He'd gotten his own ass kicked joining the fray – but it had given Killer a chance to get his wits about him and get back on his feet.
Even with their loosing record, Kidd found the brawling exhilarating. There was no shame as they ducked under the covers, and licked their wounds, giggling at each other as recounted their fights of the day.
All up until Killer broke his wrist and Kidd lost his momma and the two of them cried themselves to sleep in a dirty alley in the rain. All of a sudden it wasn't just bullies they had to worry about, but food and staying dry and staying warm, and Killer couldn't pick pockets as well with his right hand (at least not yet) and one terrifying night - starving and tired and completely out of his depth - Killer's temper turned on Kidd; and Kidd was too scared to even cry – just ran and hid.
Hid so well it took Killer three days to find him, the older boy crawling in the gutter Kidd had taken shelter in with a smelly blanket he'd stolen from somewhere and wrapped it around them both. They were both dirty and tired and thirsty. Tiny bodies battered - tummy's yelling out for anything- but the loneliness was worst of all and it would be years and years and years before they parted again.
Killer's temper was still there - always a low boil under the surface- but with Kidd there he took responsibility for Kidd to be more important than his need to lash out at his own hurt and learned to hold his tongue- and fists- with most matters. Tried his best to teach Kidd such restraint too - with mixed results. If anything, Kidd became Killer's indignation and anger when he couldn't afford to express it.
Kidd never did learn to roll with the punches; took the cruel taunts to want heart and the more Killer seemed to withdrew, started to put on that mask – both figuratively and then literally – the more Kidd found himself unable to let things go.
Kidd was grateful for and loathed that mask with his every fiber. It started with an old welder's mask - Kidd's devil fruit only worked when he was concentrating on it, so the two of them had been fitting sheets of metal to repair a hole in the wall of the condemned hotel they and another dozen souls called home. A fight had broken out - just another Tuesday really - but he hadn't been able to stop the lead pipe from bashing Killer upside the head.
Kidd would remember that sound for the rest of his life - the same sound Kaido's club had made years later - crawled over to his only friend after the fight, terrified to see the damage to Killer's head.
The mask had been dented in, Kidd had to pry the plating apart with his own powers to ever get it off of Killer's head. But miracles of miracles, his skull is still intact, if not bruised to hell & back. Killer'd been concussed as fuck- staring back at him, bright eyed and confused. But alive. Unbroken. He'd go on to pound the metal back into shape himself and worn it for the next brawl and the next and the next.
Pretty soon, he just stopped taking it off all together. Even around just Kidd- he still wore it.
Once Kidd came to terms it was staying - he started designing a better one. Sleeker. Stronger. Better padding. Racing stripes. Even compromised enough to paint them blue instead of red.
Got used to seeing the cold metal instead of soft baby blues. Even found comfort in it after Victoria beat their asses- when she wished them long painful deaths & stormed out of their lives forever.
Maybe too much comfort, because then Killer was pulling away too. First separate beds, then separate rooms. Soon separate gangs; Killer started running with some of the city boys, and it was clear Kidd wasn't invited. They had one good brawl between the two of them when Kidd was about 15 were they both walked away losers.
Try as he might, Kidd spent nearly every day of the next two years missing the other boy.
Might of kept that way for the rest of their lives if Kidd's new gang hadn't found Her.
It might of been years ,but even in death Kidd recognized her immediately. Bodies got dumped in the Scrap Heap all the time - all violent deaths of nobodies who'd never be missed. Victoria'd be one of them too if not happened upon by Moai. Moai'd joined up with Kidd about a year prior and was just superstitious enough collect the dead when they popped up. They had their own set of rituals and prayers and Kidd had been content to let them do as they pleased since it wasn't hurting nobody; And if it kept his turf from being haunted he wasn't complaining.
The Rituals also involve a witness, and Kidd didn't mind that so much either. He had a strong stomach and enough resolve that even the little bodies didn't get under his skin most the time.
Imagine his horror when he knew the battered, resting face under the sheet. Moai'd washed her body, but the brutality of her death was still forever marked into her flesh and bones.
Kidd'd never thrown a fit like that before.
He'd sail the world before he'd come to understand what he'd done that day- Something more primal than loosing control of his devil fruit was unlocked. Triggered something in the handful of crew with him that day that have them follow him even into Hell.
Killer might of known what had happened to him – he was pretty insightful when he wanted to be – but the only thing Kidd was interested in discussing with his old friend at their first truce meeting in years was vengeance for a fallen friend.
Even if she claimed to hate them – Victoria was one of them and Kidd wasn't letting this go unpunished.
Killer'd agreed, and together they tracked her death to murder at the hands of the biggest Crime Boss on the Island.
Even with two crews - it still wouldn't be enough to get close enough to make the man pay. But it turned out Kidd had a 'rival' he did business with from time to time, as did Killer and the two men were friendly enough with each other with crews of their own.
By dawn of the next morning a city block was left burning and the biggest baddest motherfucker on the island was 17 year old Eustass Kidd.
The world as he knew it was at his fingertips, Killer, Heat and Wire watching curiously to see what he'd do with such power. The men and woman of four crews waiting to see what was next.
All he could think about was childish games played back in a more carefree time.
"I want to find the One Piece. Be the next Pirate King. Show those bastards in the so called world government that Roger's words still echo strong- they can't kill enough of us fast enough here in the South Blue."
He'd barely started his spiel before he had Killer nodding. A whole impromptu speech and it didn't matter the end because Killer was on board the second Kidd called a truce.
The man never did like to be the one in charge. Even as boys, he hated being the are making up the games to play that day, hating being the one others turned to for leadership. He *could* do it and in Kidd's opinion - he was damn good at it. Killer just hated it. He'd always seemed so relieved (even if he tried to hide it under a layer of exasperation) when Kidd took charge and it seemed Killer the adult still shared this trait.
It was strange to see him in that light. An adult.
Kidd'd be hard pressed to remember point in his life where Killer wasn't. Either at his side, or his absence a thorn in its place. But all the way back at the start he vaguely, remembers his momma tutting over the too skinny friend Kidd brought to the dinner table - or maybe his momma forced Killer to stay? - trying to make a meal barely big enough got one to stretch to three.
Four years had given Killer some height over Kidd back then- but he'd been a skinny fuck almost their whole lives and he'd been so small a stiff breeze could knock him over.
Back then, Killer'd been the angry one - and his abysmal fight record did not keep him from continuing to lash out at anyone that made him feel lesser. If they were going to make fun of him- it'd be for things he chose to do, not the things out of his ability to change.
Busted nose, black eye, split lip. For the first years of their friendship, Killed always wore at least one of them at any given time. For a brief period, Kidd even had a collection of a few of Killer's teeth before his momma found them and threw them out.
They both lost more fights than they won at that age - a trend that continued unfortunately into Kidd's teen years. Didn't stop either of them from picking fights anyway.
Killer was small, but he was fast. He might of lacked of the power to one hit KO in a fist fight, but he was a wiz at impromptu weapons and knew were to hit to do the most damage. For a long time, he biggest weakness was no one to watch his back and would crumble under the first blow someone landed on him.
Nearly scared Kidd shitless the first time he witnessed it - seeing his friend drop like a sack of flour - helpless against their bullies. He'd gotten his own ass kicked joining the fray – but it had given Killer a chance to get his wits about him and get back on his feet.
Even with their loosing record, Kidd found the brawling exhilarating. There was no shame as they ducked under the covers, and licked their wounds, giggling at each other as recounted their fights of the day.
All up until Killer broke his wrist and Kidd lost his momma and the two of them cried themselves to sleep in a dirty alley in the rain. All of a sudden it wasn't just bullies they had to worry about, but food and staying dry and staying warm, and Killer couldn't pick pockets as well with his right hand (at least not yet) and one terrifying night - starving and tired and completely out of his depth - Killer's temper turned on Kidd; and Kidd was too scared to even cry – just ran and hid.
Hid so well it took Killer three days to find him, the older boy crawling in the gutter Kidd had taken shelter in with a smelly blanket he'd stolen from somewhere and wrapped it around them both. They were both dirty and tired and thirsty. Tiny bodies battered - tummy's yelling out for anything- but the loneliness was worst of all and it would be years and years and years before they parted again.
Killer's temper was still there - always a low boil under the surface- but with Kidd there he took responsibility for Kidd to be more important than his need to lash out at his own hurt and learned to hold his tongue- and fists- with most matters. Tried his best to teach Kidd such restraint too - with mixed results. If anything, Kidd became Killer's indignation and anger when he couldn't afford to express it.
Kidd never did learn to roll with the punches; took the cruel taunts to want heart and the more Killer seemed to withdrew, started to put on that mask – both figuratively and then literally – the more Kidd found himself unable to let things go.
Kidd was grateful for and loathed that mask with his every fiber. It started with an old welder's mask - Kidd's devil fruit only worked when he was concentrating on it, so the two of them had been fitting sheets of metal to repair a hole in the wall of the condemned hotel they and another dozen souls called home. A fight had broken out - just another Tuesday really - but he hadn't been able to stop the lead pipe from bashing Killer upside the head.
Kidd would remember that sound for the rest of his life - the same sound Kaido's club had made years later - crawled over to his only friend after the fight, terrified to see the damage to Killer's head.
The mask had been dented in, Kidd had to pry the plating apart with his own powers to ever get it off of Killer's head. But miracles of miracles, his skull is still intact, if not bruised to hell & back. Killer'd been concussed as fuck- staring back at him, bright eyed and confused. But alive. Unbroken. He'd go on to pound the metal back into shape himself and worn it for the next brawl and the next and the next.
Pretty soon, he just stopped taking it off all together. Even around just Kidd- he still wore it.
Once Kidd came to terms it was staying - he started designing a better one. Sleeker. Stronger. Better padding. Racing stripes. Even compromised enough to paint them blue instead of red.
Got used to seeing the cold metal instead of soft baby blues. Even found comfort in it after Victoria beat their asses- when she wished them long painful deaths & stormed out of their lives forever.
Maybe too much comfort, because then Killer was pulling away too. First separate beds, then separate rooms. Soon separate gangs; Killer started running with some of the city boys, and it was clear Kidd wasn't invited. They had one good brawl between the two of them when Kidd was about 15 were they both walked away losers.
Try as he might, Kidd spent nearly every day of the next two years missing the other boy.
Might of kept that way for the rest of their lives if Kidd's new gang hadn't found Her.
It might of been years ,but even in death Kidd recognized her immediately. Bodies got dumped in the Scrap Heap all the time - all violent deaths of nobodies who'd never be missed. Victoria'd be one of them too if not happened upon by Moai. Moai'd joined up with Kidd about a year prior and was just superstitious enough collect the dead when they popped up. They had their own set of rituals and prayers and Kidd had been content to let them do as they pleased since it wasn't hurting nobody; And if it kept his turf from being haunted he wasn't complaining.
The Rituals also involve a witness, and Kidd didn't mind that so much either. He had a strong stomach and enough resolve that even the little bodies didn't get under his skin most the time.
Imagine his horror when he knew the battered, resting face under the sheet. Moai'd washed her body, but the brutality of her death was still forever marked into her flesh and bones.
Kidd'd never thrown a fit like that before.
He'd sail the world before he'd come to understand what he'd done that day- Something more primal than loosing control of his devil fruit was unlocked. Triggered something in the handful of crew with him that day that have them follow him even into Hell.
Killer might of known what had happened to him – he was pretty insightful when he wanted to be – but the only thing Kidd was interested in discussing with his old friend at their first truce meeting in years was vengeance for a fallen friend.
Even if she claimed to hate them – Victoria was one of them and Kidd wasn't letting this go unpunished.
Killer'd agreed, and together they tracked her death to murder at the hands of the biggest Crime Boss on the Island.
Even with two crews - it still wouldn't be enough to get close enough to make the man pay. But it turned out Kidd had a 'rival' he did business with from time to time, as did Killer and the two men were friendly enough with each other with crews of their own.
By dawn of the next morning a city block was left burning and the biggest baddest motherfucker on the island was 17 year old Eustass Kidd.
The world as he knew it was at his fingertips, Killer, Heat and Wire watching curiously to see what he'd do with such power. The men and woman of four crews waiting to see what was next.
All he could think about was childish games played back in a more carefree time.
"I want to find the One Piece. Be the next Pirate King. Show those bastards in the so called world government that Roger's words still echo strong- they can't kill enough of us fast enough here in the South Blue."
He'd barely started his spiel before he had Killer nodding. A whole impromptu speech and it didn't matter the end because Killer was on board the second Kidd called a truce.
The man never did like to be the one in charge. Even as boys, he hated being the are making up the games to play that day, hating being the one others turned to for leadership. He *could* do it and in Kidd's opinion - he was damn good at it. Killer just hated it. He'd always seemed so relieved (even if he tried to hide it under a layer of exasperation) when Kidd took charge and it seemed Killer the adult still shared this trait.
It was strange to see him in that light. An adult.
Tags:
- an: series,
- chara: kidd pirate captain: eustass kidd,
- chara: kidd pirate commander: killer,
- chara: kidd pirate commander: wire,
- chara: kidd pirate: moai,
- chara: kutzk: victoria shirton doryanika,
- ip: one piece,
- platform: bsky,
- platform: remarkable,
- platform: tumblr,
- ship: punk aibou,
- tag: children,
- tag: domestic,
- verse: origins,
- warning: age gap,
- warning: character death,
- warning: mild but 18+,
- warning: underage
