The Puppet Master [One Piece]

Funesto pt. 1

~Echo’s POV~

                Shanks had sent a rookie by the name of Rockstar to meet with Whitebeard so that I could see my homeland. We were currently anchored off the coast of Funesto. My homeland that once was a comfort that I had so many fond memories of was now nothing more than an eerie ghost land. The island was deathly silent and looked frozen in time, there weren’t even any signs of wildlife on or around the island. Schools of fish avoided the shallow water near the island. The small village on the coastland was nothing more than rubble with only one or two structures still partially standing, the only indicator that there had once been life on the island.

Shanks was getting ready to prepare a small group to go ashore when I finally mentally prepared myself enough to make my way to the main deck. They lowered a fishing boat into the water and I darted forward as Shanks was about to climb in.

“No!”

                Everyone turned to stare at me in awe.

                “I’m going alone.”

                “Echo, you can’t go alone, what if the boat tips, you can’t swim.” Shanks pointed.

                “Linda will take care of me.” I retorted, “I have to go alone. All I need is three days. Then we can leave.”

                “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Yassop added.

                I ignored the sniper and turned a pleading look to the captain. “Please, just give me three days.”

                “What if you run into-.” One of the rookies began but I held up a hand to stop him.

                “There’s no life left on that island.”

                Everyone looked like they wanted to ask the same question. ‘What were they doing here?’.

                I bit my lip in an attempt to keep myself composed, “I just need to say goodbye.”

                Shanks reluctantly bowed his head, giving his consent, “Three days.” He agreed.

                “Promise me no one else will set foot on this island.” I continued. This was my burden; I wouldn’t let anyone else shoulder it.

                Shanks hesitated.

                “Just get going, brat, no one is going to bother you.” Yassop piped in.

                I pursed my lips and held Shanks’ gaze a moment longer. He wasn’t going to make the promise. Before I could protest, Yassop nudged me toward the small fishing boat. Reluctantly I climbed in and whistled for Linda. The giant black sea serpent appeared in the water beneath me and nudged the little boat along with her nose toward the island.

                When I chanced a look back over my shoulder, they were all still gathered on the deck watching me with pity filled expressions on their faces. I forced myself to face forward as my homeland steadily grew larger as I drew nearer. It had been five years since the massacre. Five years I’d been lost, trying to find my way back home to say my farewells.

                The small boat lurched as I hit the shallow water and the bottom scraped across the sand. Shakily I clambered out and dragged the boat to shore so it wouldn’t wash away in the rising tide. Refusing to look back at the crew, I made my way into the small coastal village. Most of the people ran inland when the fleet arrived. There were only a few bodies littering the street here. They would have to wait; I couldn’t let the crew see me dragging bodies. I’d come back at nightfall for these few lost souls.

                Tears threatened to fall as I stepped through the rubble strewn village walking where houses once stood and trying to keep myself composed, this wasn’t even the worst of it. A large dirt path wound around a small hillside into the main inland town, where most of the massacre took place. It still looked to be intact and I knew once I stepped on the path, I’d be out of the crew’s line of sight. My body trembled as I shuffled my way forward. I could already envision the piles of bodies and the path of destruction I’d find.

                Silently, I trudged forward too afraid to make a sound and disturb the restless eternal slumber of my kin. It seemed the island had frozen in time, there wasn’t even a breeze off the sea, and the waves crashing along the shore didn’t even seem to make a sound. Pressing onward, I forced myself to round the corner and step on the path. My gaze flitted to the forest’s edge where a boy had called out to me in an attempt to save me. His body was still there, with a bullet wound to his chest half dangling in some low hanging branches where he had fallen.

                The others, who had hid with him, must have scurried off elsewhere. I stepped into the forest and set to work freeing the boy’s body from the tree and dragged him onto the path. He smelled of death, and decay and I struggled to keep myself from gagging at the stench. The main village would probably be worse. I left the boy on the path and headed back into the forest to search for more bodies. A family of four, a mother, father and two small boys were all huddled together in a clearing not too far away from the boy who’d tried to save me. Their heads were bent in prayer and they looked as if they’d been clinging to each other desperately, saying their goodbyes when they were found by a firing squad. I took the children first and carried them to the path before returning to drag the parents.

                After scouring the rest of the forest and repeating the process, dragging whatever bodies I found to the path, I hesitated at the edge of the main village. Even from where I stood, I could see the heaps of bodies strewn about the streets as people had frantically ran in an attempt to escape the massacre. The stench was overwhelming and nearly sent me reeling. I ripped off a strip of fabric from the bottom of my long black button up shirt and secured it around my nose and mouth in a measly attempt to block out the smell.

                Tears burned in my eyes, whether from the sting of the stench or the despair gripping my heart I couldn’t tell. Mentally I kept a count on all the bodies I saw as I made my way through the corpse littered town. Most of the buildings had collapsed from the explosions or been burnt to cinders from the fires, but there was a single house in the center of the village that remained intact. The house I’d grown up in, the house I had so many cherished memories in, my house. My father’s decaying corpse lay just outside with a gun in hand, he’d been trying to fight off the marines. Half of his skull had been crushed in due to a heavy blow from a mace. Rotting flesh and brain matter still littered the dirt path around him.

                Unable to keep myself composed any longer, I fell to my knees at my father’s side and let out a choked sob. “Papa.” I cried at last, “Papa, I’m so sorry.” I cried for what felt like hours. Sobbing next to the corpse of my father lying in a heap on the blood stained path.

                Once I managed to get myself under control, I headed to the shed at the side of the house. The lock had rusted shut but after a few forceful kicks it fell and the doors creaked open. I found a few shovels along the wall and finished my body count before heading to a peaceful hillside where my father once told me he wanted to be laid to rest. Most of the bodies had gone up in flames, but 79 remained to be put to rest.

                I laid down two of the shovels and began digging with the third, knowing it would probably break after about 20 graves.