Work Text
Okay, so, I don't want to be a party pooper, but I've received some requests that have made me uncomfortable. I thought, perhaps naively, that they would remain as they have – innocent, non-suggestive, etc. They have not. I doubt they will be if I don't say anything about it. As such, I have compiled a short list of things that I will not write about.If you are disappointed by this, I'm sorry and I hope you can find an author willing to write your request! There are excellent writers both here and on other websites!
RULES
WON'T WRITE:
- NSFW – I can write suggestive content, and have done so, but you won't find me treading deeper into that territory any time soon. Maybe one day. Emphasis on the “maybe." - Dub-con/Non-con – writing it makes me uncomfortable. Depending on the context, I may write something with dub-con in it. But I definitely won't write something where one or more parties are wholly unwilling. It's not for me.- Incest.- REALLY sensitive topics – these include things such as homophobia, transphobia, abortion, etc. If your request has something to do with a sensitive topic and you're not sure if it crosses a line, please ask. - Suicide/self-harm – I can (and have/will) allude to it, but I'm not sure I am okay with writing it in detail.It is difficult to come up with a list of restrictions when it comes to requests. Much more than I thought it would be. Regardless, I feel as though I have a right to deny your request if it makes me uncomfortable.If unsure, please ask. If I say no to your request, it's not an attack on you as a person, your character, your preferences, or your beliefs. Also, feel free to point out my mistakes! I don't mind it at all. In fact, I'd appreciate it a lot haha. Thank you and take care!ONE OTHER IMPORTANT DETAIL TO KEEP IN MIND BEFORE COMMENTING A REQUEST: The length of the requests I write will vary. I may write a lot for some, and less for others, and I hope that's okay with everyone. There's only so much my lil brain can do sometimes.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You sort through your cards, thumbing each one carefully as you study your opponent. The blond sitting cross-legged in front of you is idly picking his way through his hand, eyes half-lidded. He looks tired, with circles under his eyes and hair a bit too dishevelled, but far more relaxed than when you’d first arrived.The room is silent and so is the ocean beyond the walls of the ship. It rocks the enormous vessel, gently, coaxing everyone to sleep. Well, everyone except you and him. Rampant thoughts and overwhelming feelings kept you up. You can see his mind is still on the paperwork he was poring over, but you wouldn’t let him go back. It was about time he breathed a little.All you can hear is the quiet fwip of cards being tossed between you two. A mountain of said items separates you and him, growing larger as time goes on.He drops a card on the top of the pile. You smile wryly.“Bad move, birdie,”Marco inhales deeply, narrowing his eyes at you for the nickname then shaking his head as you slap a card on top of the pile triumphantly. His hands go limp as he releases a small chuckle, cards slipping out of his grasp.In the end, he sends you a defeated grin, eyes crinkling in the corners.“You win again,” He states, the flickering light of the candle on a small bedside table making the shadows dance eerily around you. Marco’s eyes shine through the exhaustion, mirthful.You nod, collecting the cards and motioning for him to hand in his own pile. He does as requested, tilting his head as he watches you shuffle them deftly. At last, you place the stack on the floor and cross your arms over your chest. He stares down at them, mind wandering back to the things he had to do.You sit in cordial silence that stretches on for a little too long, and when he notes your expression – pinched brows, teeth worrying your bottom lip, (eye colour) eyes unblinking as you glare at the ground – he speaks up.“Tired of playing ~yoi?”“...”A reply that you don’t voice echoes within your head. I’m tired. His placid expression melts away when you don’t respond.“(name)?”You snap out of your daze, training your eyes on the man in front of you. The ship sways as the ocean starts to rouse, but you don’t pay it any mind. Marco and you stare at one another, expressions troubled for different reasons.“You alright ~yoi?” He tries again, leaning closer to you as he braces his elbows on his knees. You inch back slightly, eyes scanning the room for something to focus on. Anything that will take your mind off of… everything.Marco takes no offence to your actions, nor does he ask again. He waits as you gather your thoughts, breathing deeply.You know you can’t tell him you’re tired like you do with everyone else. It wouldn’t be a lie, but it wouldn’t be the truth either. He’s far too observant, too smart. He’s known you for too long. You can’t lie to him.“Marco,” His name rolls off your tongue in a murmur. You count the floorboards to keep yourself in check. “Can I ask you something?”Marco nods his head, and a small, appreciative smile graces your features. It’s not the happy, cheeky smile Marco is used to – not the one he wants to see on your face.“If you died,” He twitches, you notice, “would you want everyone you loved and loved you to remember you? Or would you want them to forget, just so they don’t have to go through the pain of loss?”Your inquiry isn’t something anyone would expect, you know. But Marco has been your friend for many years. You don’t mind if he doesn’t answer your strange question; you just need to let the damn thing out.He doesn’t respond.You wait, count your 10th floorboard, listen. Marco says nothing.His calm and collected appearance at your question unnerves you, but years of friendship have also taught you that Marco is damn near unflappable. He probably knew something was up the second you crossed the threshold.He still doesn’t answer. You take a single card from the deck, stare at the back, and then drop it again, frustrated. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, maybe both, you know exactly which card that was and what it meant.Finally, he says, “(name), come here ~yoi…”You hold your breath, torn between scooting further back and crawling to him.Marco shifts, shoulders drawing back as he raises an arm – a gesture that you've seen him use as a way of comforting you and many others when they too feel down. You’d seen him do it with Ace when he’d been declared the second division commander. You’d seen Thatch sling an arm around Marco’s shoulders and the blond fondly roll his eyes and yet do the same thing. Mother Hen of the Whitebeard Pirates, the cook would claim loudly. He’d done it when you almost-Hesitantly, you go with the latter.Now beside him, you focus on the mark on his chest, still proudly in display even in the comfort of his own bedroom. The deep, navy blue and the familiar crescent-shaped design brings Whitebeard to your mind. Your eyes slip shut in shame. What would the man think if he saw you like this? What would he think of your question?Marco wraps his arms around you, and you do the same, clinging to him. Seconds tick by, and even then he doesn’t provide an answer. You don’t really need one, either way. It’s not a question someone would ask one of their oldest friends. This thought makes the humiliation branch out to every fibre of your being.As if sensing your darkening mood, the blond tightens his grip on your shoulder. A reminder that you’re not alone.“Let’s go to bed ~yoi. You look exhausted.” You press the side of your face against his shoulder, sighing pitifully. Marco huffs in amusement, rising from his spot on the floor and taking you with him.You let him escort you to his bed, body glued to his and your nails digging into his purple shirt. The two of you flop down on the mattress, a chorus of sighs ghosting past your lips at the freshness of the sheets. Marco reaches over, grabs the candle, then blows it out.Shadows take over the room, and you close your eyes, weariness gnawing at your consciousness. You still haven’t released each other. No, instead, you wound your legs together and listen to the few sounds up on the main deck.Footsteps, a few voices that fade into the distance, and quiet laughter rings out. The blond at your side breathes deeply, sighs, tightens his grip a second time before loosening it. And eventually, you fall asleep.(x)The next morning, you find yourself alone in bed. Sunlight filters through the porthole built into the wall, and you hiss at the brightness of the room as you crack your eyes open. Blinking the haze of sleep from your eyes, you search the room for Marco.The blond is sitting at his desk, quill in his hand and ink bottle nearby for when he needs it. You know he knows you’re awake, but you don’t bother saying anything. Peeling the covers off, you rub your shoulders for warmth and pad over to him.“Morning, ~yoi,” Marco looks up when you reach his side, sending you a warm smile.You return the gesture, placing a hand on the backrest as your eyes skim over the documents in front of him.“That looks fun,” You comment casually, grinning when Marco rolls his eyes. He begins writing again, his movements smooth. His writing is cursive yet simple, just so it’s still readable to those that have less experience with reading.You fall silent again – a common thing among you two. You’re not ones to fill the silence with words. You let it fill itself.You examine the room, noting the deck of cards on the bedside table. The card you’d fiddled with last night is upturned on the smooth surface. Curious, you walk over to it, snatch it off the table, and stare at it.The King of Hearts.The scratching of the quill on the paper halts.“(name),” Marco calls, voice low as to not scare you. Or maybe it’s because he was just too focused. You hum to let him know you’ve heard him, and he continues. “what did you mean?”Well aware of what he’s talking about, you inhale deeply and think before answering.“I don’t know.” You admit, twirling the card in your hands. It’s a bit worn in one of the corners.The sound returns.(x)“Marco, come on.”He doesn’t listen. Thatch frowns.“Marco, please.”“Thatch, go away ~yoi.”The man with the pompadour shifts, a plate of food in his hands. Marco refuses to acknowledge him, quill scratching furiously on parchment.“Marco, you need to eat something.”Marco drops his quill on the desk, more aggressively than he intended, but far beyond the point of caring at this moment. Thatch is still there, at his doorway, concern radiating off him in waves.He knows that it’s not their fault. He knows that it’s not his fault. He knows that.And yet he wants to blame them. He wants to blame himself. He wants to blame you.Marco is well acquainted with these sorts of emotions and knows how to handle them so they don’t end up impacting another negatively, but lately, they’ve been a bit much to deal with.He cranes his neck to peer at his brother, eyes burning with the exhaustion of the past week. Thatch takes it as an invitation to silently venture closer, and when he sees that Marco isn’t going to kick him out again, he places the food in front of him. The first division commander shoves some papers aside, staring solemnly at Thatch’s peace offering.“I’ll come back in half an hour to take the plate,” Thatch says, clapping a hand on his shoulder and exiting his room. It was his way of telling him to eat it, or else. Marco feels the corners of his lips tug upward at the hidden threat, but no more.Turning back to his work, he reads through the papers, blinking slowly. There were several reports of the damage to the ship. Broken railing, snapped rigging. On top of it all, a paper with a single name haphazardly written on it.
(name).
Cause of death: Unknown.
Almost everybody believed it to be the battle against the marines they’d encountered on their voyage to a nearby island. Commanders that knew him were a bit more in tune with the situation, but nobody truly knew what happened. Marco had an inkling of an idea, but nothing concrete.
If you died, would you want everyone you loved and loved you to remember you? Or would you want them to forget, just so they don’t have to go through the pain of loss?
The question haunts him. He’d been anticipating some sort of statement, like usual. An odd remark about his paperwork, a concern for one of the crewmembers, a random thought, but not that. Never that.And even now, he didn’t know the answer.He didn’t know, because he couldn’t die. It's the one thing he's afraid of confessing to anybody. It's the one thing he was afraid of telling you.Marco glanced to his left, where the deck of cards sat. That day, he’d taken out the card you’d been fiddling with, for no reason at all. Now, he could see why you did. He could see why you did. If only he could go back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Up above, the merciless sun beats down on everyone’s backs as they talk, laugh, and work. Seagulls fly overhead, around the masts of the grand ship, the Moby Dick. In the very middle of the main deck, two young people hold each other’s hands, their expressions full of… love… and… oh, wait.
“Oh, (name).” Ace said, looking into her eyes.
“Oh, Ace.” They sigh deamily, eyelashes fluttering as the two stare into each other’s eyes.
“Please, don’t go.” The brat begs, “I love you.”
They gasp, sounding exactly like a strangled fish. Then, they pull away from the kid in front of her.
“I…” They say, full of shock, “Ace, I…”
Someone roughly elbows him in the side, and Thatch sputters, keeling over and protecting his middle. The barrel he’s sitting on teeters forwards, and he flails, leaning back to regain some balance with a curse.“Damn it, who the hell–!”“Thatch, seriously, stop it.” Haruta punches him in the shoulder, and Thatch cackles through the pain, far too amused to scold him for the attack.“Why?” He demands, “Just look at ‘em! Getting all lovey-dovey with each other!” He wipes a fake tear from his eye, clapping his hands together and holding them under his chin, “They grow up so fast.”Haruta deadpans, blinking once as he spares the two of you a glance. Ace is grinning, looking on as you chuckle at something he said. When he turns back to Thatch, the man is waggling his eyebrows, attempting to stifle a laugh and failing miserably.Haruta sighs, irritated and far too exhausted from yesterday’s watch. Onlookers share expressions of mirth as they listen to the fourth division commander babble and come up with dramatic scenes on the spot. The shorter male opts to walk away, rolling his eyes when Thatch inhales noisily and begins from where he left off.
The brat reaches out, grasping their hands again. “(name), don’t leave me.”
Both you and Ace are nodding, lips pulled into grins as you shake hands and proceed to part ways.
Ah crap, they’re leaving- where the heck is he going? And what are they doing with that smug look on their face?
By this point, a few men are chortling, and Thatch smiles, gesturing to the two of you. “Can you believe these two? Leaving when it was just gettin’ good?” The people around him shrug and carry on with their tasks, and Thatch decides that it’s time that he does the same.Hopping off the barrel, he saunters off to the kitchen, whistling happily.(x)“Is this good?” You ask, feeling your lips stretch into a fond smile when Ace looks up with a hum, eyebrows raised and hat accidentally tipped to the side. He grins evilly, nodding as he straightens up from his spot.“Yeah, that’s good.” He walks over to you, offering you a hand so you could pull yourself up. You accept it, chuckling when he wraps his arm around your shoulder and buries his face in your hair.“Alright, let’s go.” You say, guiding him to the exit while wiping wood chips from your shirt. Ace lets go of you when you step through the doorway, marching ahead of you with an innocent look on his face.“Nobody around,” He whispers then takes your hand, “Let’s go before he comes back, yeah?”You motion for him to lead, and then you’re off, giggling like children.(x)Eight hours later and lots of cooking, Thatch is dragging himself through the halls and to his room, Marco at his side.“Did you see him?” He shakes his head, frustrated and, though he won’t admit it, somewhat impressed.“I did ~yoi.” The blond says, tucking a few papers into his pocket after folding them neatly.“He ate so much! I swear, that Ace needs to slow down…” He grumbles the rest of his sentence to himself, lowering his head to the floor. He hears Marco huff, laughter ghosting past the man’s lips.“Don’t laugh, you!” Thatch whines.“Alright ~yoi,” Marco holds his hands up in defence, doing everything but what Thatch told him not to do. Thatch groans, stopping when he realized he had reached his bedroom. “Goodnight, Thatch.” The blond waves over his shoulder and Thatch grumbles something akin to ‘g’night, you bird…’ back, because even when he’s frustrated, he’s still in the mood to tease people.Throwing the door open, Thatch trudges to his desk and removes his jacket and foulard, laying them on top of his chair carefully. When he’s done that, he bee-lines to his bed and kicks off his shoes when he sits down on the mattress.With a sigh, he flops down in the centre of the bed…...and promptly yells when the whole damn thing caves underneath him.“Holy shit!”A pause, some panicked ruffling, and then…“Ace! (name)! I’m gonna toss you brats off this damn ship!”
In the galley, both you and Ace knock two rum-filled mugs together with a clunk, raise them over your heads, and laugh merrily.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They wouldn’t leave.It’s not like you mind having customers – that’s the last thing a business owner would be bothered by – it was just… the noise, the people, their antics. One tall, burly, blue haired man keeps yelling “SUPER!” incessantly, like it’s the last thing that’ll save him. A blond with a… peculiar set of brows kept fawning over every woman he saw. Then, there was a green-haired man who could lift a table with a single finger, switching between observing and closing his eyes.No matter what state he chose to be in, an intimidating aura steadily radiated off him like some weird stench. Lastly, there was the skeleton yo-ho-hoing the evening away. The minute he’d walked in, you’d already been put off. Not to mention the question he’d asked when he’d first spotted you.The ladies with them, and the others, were far more tolerable.But then there was the captain.An odd one, that youngster, your boss said. It couldn’t have been more of an underestimation.Right now, the odd one was devouring every bit of food you had in stock and chugging drinks like they were nothing.Rolling your eyes, you turn away from the bunch to wipe counter, serving an older man when he requested a refill. When that was done, you focus on the bottles lining the shelves, listing the different types you still had left.There weren’t many people in the bar anymore. It was late, and most had work to do in the morning, so now it was just those pirates and a few other stragglers.Seconds, minutes, an hour goes by, and they are still here. The red-head in the group rises from her chair, stretches, and announces her exhaustion. Everyone except the captain and the green-haired man stand up as well, intent on heading to their ship so they could rest. You listen as they part ways, still organizing things, lips pulled into a taut line.A hush sweeps over the room, but it doesn’t last very long. The captain noisily munches and chows down his food, occasionally mentioning something to his friend.You stop organizing things and decide to clean up the place a little bit, instead. There are spilled drinks on one side of the counter and you can’t face away from those people for eternity.Setting to work, you grip a rag and wipe up the mess, heedless to the figure making his way up to you, crumbs on his face.“Hey!!”You jump, feeling your shoulders bunch up as you shut your eyes, inhaling deeply to settle your nerves. Focusing on the odd one, you raise an eyebrow inquisitively.“I want more meat.” The guy declares, the grin that stretches across his whole face nearly blinding you. You shift, your grip on the rag loosening and tightening anxiously.“Don’t have any.” You mumble, going back to work on the counter. The guy hums, bemused, before a whine breaks loose. Cringing, you glance at him, eyebrows pinched in annoyance.“But I’m hungryyy-” The last word trails off noisily, another whine reaching and striking your eardrums painfully.“I don’t... care.” You force the last word out, grimacing at the effort it takes. The guy stops whining, staring at you weirdly. Ignoring him, you give him the cold shoulder, praying that he leaves.He doesn’t. No, he demands the same thing again.“Eh? What do you mean? I thought this was supposed to be a meat restaurant…”“It- It isssss…” You clamp your mouth shut, jaw jutting out. The guy stops again, but you don’t hope for anything this time. Go away. Go away. Go away.“Why are you doing that?”
Okay. Great. Here we go.
You cringe, glaring at him. He doesn’t back down. There’s an odd gleam in his eyes that wasn’t there before, and it does magical wonders to your anxiety. Breaking the awkward eye-contact (although it was probably awkward because you were making it out to be that way), you scrub the counter a tad more aggressively than necessary.“Wha-” Pause, breathe in, “What?” You grit out. It’s always the same questions. What’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that? Are you stupid?“That! Why are you stopping when you talk?” He asks, pointing at you. You glower at him, then at his friend whose watching you both, but they don’t back down.You wait a moment, hoping that your silence will prevent the usual barrage of questions that comes after you answer that inquiry.But the guy doesn’t leave. They don’t move.Sighing and tossing the rag aside, you whirl on the captain, brace your hands on the counter, and look him dead in the eye. “Stutter.” You state simply, eyes narrowing dangerously as you lean in close, daring him to mock you.The boy doesn’t lean back. He doesn’t appear put off at all, actually. Either he’s not impressed by your act, or he just doesn’t give a fuck. He does stare back, with that same gleam that unsettles you in his eyes still.Sighing a second time, you slink back to your rightful place, collecting mugs and other things.“Is that why they were laughing at you?”You drop your face to the floor, irritation simmering in your gut. “Ye-yes,” You manage, softer than before. Why can’t he just go?It wasn’t surprising. Some punks heard you stutter, thought you were an idiot for not being able to ‘speak like an actual person’, and have been mocking you since. Life goes on. You still have a job to do, and so do they. You’ve spent enough time dwelling why you were like this and you weren’t wasting anymore.Shockingly enough, the captain does leave you alone once and for all. You must’ve scared him off with your stuttering.(x)“C’mooon… don’t ignore me!” A man cackles as he grabs your sleeve, tugging you closer to him. Your hip bumps against the counter, and you scowl, jerking away.“F-f-fuck off,” You hiss, wiping your hand on your pants and serving another customer.“W-w-w-what did you say?” He demands, mimicking you with a crooked grin on his face. You remain ignorant to his teasing.They’re back today. Those pirates seemed to have enjoyed the place, it seems.Seated near the back, they are much quieter today than they were yesterday. A bit more… grim, you’d say. You know because you’re familiar with that expression; it’s the one on your face every day.“C-c-c-come o-o-on, (name)! I’m a p-paying customer, you know!”“Don’t c-care…” You mutter to yourself, pouring drinks and rounding the bar so you could grab a mop and a bucket to clean up a stain. Coincidently, it’s near those pirates, whose faces are a bit too serious for your liking.The guy follows you, his friends hanging back to witness whatever else he has planned. You don’t give a shit.Loud footfalls trail after your fleeing form, and you wait until they’re right behind you. Then, you spin around, fists balled up as you get ready to throw punches.Seeing what you’re about to do, the man hurriedly jumps backward, hands raised in defence as he laughs. “Woah!”You try a second time, aiming for his gut instead. He dodges again, and seeing that you’re not going to give, he grabs your wrist and twists it to the side. Grunting, you throw your leg out, but he dodges that too.“You’re aggressive today, ain’t ya?!” He hollers, flashing you a care-free grin. It makes you want to knock his teeth out.“Let go, b-ba-bass…” You don’t finish, too preoccupied by the force crushing your wrist. The man chortles, shaking his head in disbelief.Suddenly, just as he’s about to speak again, a fist flies into the side of his face, knocking him back and into the counter on the other side of the room. Your eyes follow the seemingly endless limb right beside your head, landing on none other than the guy from yesterday. He’s stood up from his place, a furious fire burning in his eyes, which are shrouded slightly by his straw hat.“Don’t you hurt my friends!!” He yells, then unleashes hell on those standing up for your attacker. You linger behind him, perplexed, when the same green-haired guy casually sidles up to you. Glancing up at him, you watch him for a long minute. Then, he meets you eye, a tad smug, and you know you’ve royally fucked up.You should’ve kicked them out.(x)“You… You didn’t have to do th-that.” You cross your arms over your chest, stepping around a recumbent form and towards the counter. The man on the floor groans and you provide him with a swift kick to the side for good measure.“Yeah I did.” Luffy – you’d learned his name soon after ordering he stop wrecking your workplace – says. He smiles widely, laughing as he scratches the back of his head. His crew are with him, perfectly content with the wreckage save for the redhead, who had scolded him for a good 15 minutes after the carnage was over.Rolling your eyes, you shake your head, mug in hand. You place it back where it belongs after scrubbing it clean.“You know, Chopper can help you out with your stutter.” The redhead says, a smile on her face, “He’s a great doctor.”The little reindeer makes a sound of surprise and then dances weirdly while insulting the woman for complimenting him. You’re not impressed. Neither is the green-haired guy.“I don’t ne… need help.” You bite back.Nobody responds to your comment, and your shoulders sag slightly, exhausted.“You-you’re going to have to p…pay for the damage.” You say after a while, and you can practically hear the redhead’s placid expression fall away. In its stead comes a horrified realization, and then she turns back to scolding her captain, hands wrapped around his neck. You’d be concerned, but he’s already proven that things like that don’t really harm him.Choked noises and nervous laughter from a long-nosed guy and the reindeer fill the room. The tension lurking in the corner fades away slightly, and you can’t help but feel a bit more relaxed.Out of nowhere, after Luffy’s been released from the woman’s deadly hold, he whirls on you, plants his hands on the counter, leans in close, and yells in your face:“Join my crew!!!”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You’d been adrift at sea when they, the most fearsome crew in all four Blues, crossed paths with you and your banged up rowboat. At first, you expected them to adjust course and move right past you. Your boat was steadily filling with water and you were two seconds away from dying, but then a bird descended from the ship and saved you.Back then, the physical and mental injuries you’d sustained from the accident had been far too recent, too raw, for you to understand what was happening. The fact that two claws were gently picking you up and carrying you somewhere safe had felt unreal. But then you’d woken up in a bed, your injuries tended to, and a nurse at your side.The captain, Whitebeard, had joined you one day while bedridden. There hadn’t been much conversation; he did most of the talking, you answered meekly when prompted. The second he narrowed his eyes at you in thought, you knew he knew something that you didn’t. It stressed you out, but you concealed it fairly well. Eventually, he stood and offered you a place in his crew, a gleam in his yellow eyes. With nothing to go back to, you accepted, fidgety and restless.And so, your new life began.Now, six days after you agreed to join, you’re free to roam the ship. Your physical injuries have healed thanks to the nurses’ care and you’re well rested.But it doesn’t mean much if you can’t actually walk outside, now does it?Pressing a hand to your chest, you listen to the sounds of crewmen slogging away noisily yet cheerfully. There’s laughter, orders relayed with enthusiasm, and conversation; something that you’re not used to, at all.You pick at the gauze taped to your arm – contusions and few cuts, the nurse told you, nothing to worry about – eyes set on the door ahead. The need to open it is there, but you’re not sure.There was no one in the sick bay with you. The nurses started off each day by flocking the captain, or so you’d heard. In the time you’d spent here, you’d heard more than once the head nurse grumble as she redressed your injuries. Pops and stubborn old man were popular sayings amongst the nurses when Whitebeard was being mulish.You shake your head, realizing you’d been staring at the door for more than fifteen minutes while lost in thought. Drawing yourself to your full height, you hesitantly pull the door open just a bit, peeking through the small crack.As expected, there are easily more than a hundred people milling about.You make a sound of discomfort in the back of your throat, teeth worrying your lower lip. Was it really okay for you to go out there? The only socializing you’ve done was with the few nurses and cooks that brought you food every so often. And they were nowhere in sight.Not like you would’ve gone to them, either way. They were busy people and you weren’t very skilled in medicine or cooking. You knew about ships and fishing, and that’s as far as your experience on the sea goes.Opting to give the world a second chance, you open the door the rest of the way and step outside, shutting it behind you. Nobody bats an eyelash in your direction, not yet, and you take as positively as you can.“Oi, you there!” Someone calls, and you feel your spine straighten nervously. Looking around, you spot a man waving you over, and recognize him as the man that had brought you your first meal. You’d been too out of it to remember him– that is, until now. You watch him motion you to come on over for a second or two, conflicted. Walking over there meant having people glancing in your direction, and ignoring that man meant looking like a jerk. Briefly, you break the eye contact, scanning the deck.No eyes are on you.“Hey!”Apparently, you spaced out again, because now, the same individual from before was now right in front of you. You jump visibly, and the man leans back slightly in slight surprise, but the smile doesn’t fall.“Thought you were never coming out,” He says with an easy laugh after a while, and you eye the man in confusion. Had he seen you open the door and sneak a peek outside? At your lack of a reply, the man tilts his head to the side, eyebrow arched.“You remember me, right?” The man asks curiously, and you nod your head despite having little to no idea to who he was. “Oh, good! I’ve been waiting for you to rest up so I could give you a tour.”“A tour?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you fight back a cringe. Surprisingly, the man doesn’t seem to mind your question.“Yep,” He grins, “You ready?”“Uh...” You begin weakly, surveying the deck one more time and freezing when you spot a couple of men gazing at you. Clenching your jaw, you train your eyes on the man in front of you again and mutter, “Sure.”(x)Along the way, you managed to learn his name. And drain most of your energy trying to memorize every place he showed you. Thatch didn’t seem to mind your silence, or the fact that you refused to look up from the floor unless absolutely necessary.“And this is the galley. I saved it for last since it’s almost time for lunch.” He smiles down at you. You pretend to busy yourself studying the galley so you don’t have to return it, eying him from the corner of your eye when he turns away.There are sounds of pots and voices emerging from somewhere to the side, and you assume it’s the kitchen. The smell of food is starting to permeate the air. Your stomach growled – thankfully, it was quiet enough that Thatch didn’t hear it, but you still wrapped your arms around your middle protectively.“You can go ahead and grab your food if you want,” He says, “Other than that…” Thatch claps a hand on your shoulder, “Welcome to the crew!”“Thank you,” You mumble, watching him walk away before focusing on the buffet on the side. Heading towards it, you pointedly ignore peoples curious glances as you hastily pick up a tray, pile some food on it, and plop down at a vacant table. It’s in the farthest corner of the room, and you’re seated with the wall to your right.A couple minutes later, while using your fork to push the things on your plate into neat little groups, you hear some yell the word ‘lunch!’. Not even a second later, people are stampeding into the galley, and you glue your body to the wall, hoping no one talks to you.Tall, hulking men and nurses march into the galley, smiles radiant at the prospect of a meal. Groups of friends chatter loudly, shoving each other teasingly. The amount of food declined as people filled their plates.Curling in on yourself slightly, you carry on with your own meal, eating slowly. It wasn’t a shock, but you’d almost finished your plate. Maybe you’d grabbed too little…“Hey, new girl, what’re you doing sitting here all alone?” You recognize the voice, and see Thatch standing at the end of your table, a ladle in his hand. Then it dawned on you that you’d never given him your name.“Nothing,” You manage, cursing inwardly when you realized how silly you sounded.“Oh, so you’re the one the first division saved?” A new person pipes in, and you spot a man – a shirtless man, mind you, with a tray so full of food it looked ready to topple, in the background. Your jaw clenches, and you look away for a brief moment. A blush attacks your cheeks at the sudden attention, and you mumble.“Yes, I am.”The man smiles crookedly, inviting himself into your comfort zone and sitting in front of you. “I’m Ace! The commander of the second division,” He declares, adjusting the hat on his head.“(name),” You nod your head politely, not at all put off by the sudden company. Not at all.“Well, while you two get acquainted, I’m gonna go grab my food.” Thatch states, and Ace sees him off with a wave, still grinning.“So, (name),” Ace faces you again, black locks of hair colliding with his cheeks, and you shrink a little. “I heard about your injuries; how are you holding up?"“I’m fine,” You blurt automatically, and feel another cringe threatening to shine through when Ace blinks in mild surprise. You seem to have that effect on these people.“That’s good.” He grins anyway, shovelling some food into his mouth. Over his head, you see more people – you assume they're commanders, judging by the way others greet them - nearing you. You take your fork and eat whatever remains on your plate, then stand, heedless of Ace’s questioning look, a leg of ham hanging out his mouth.Placing your tray on the nearest table, you skilfully avoid the commanders and escape out the door, a certain pair of mercurial eyes on your back the whole time.(x)A week after that ordeal, and you’ve grown somewhat used to things around here. Somewhat. Not really.Thatch and Ace continuously attempted to speak to you, for reasons that were beyond you. Especially Ace.Now, there was nothing wrong with that, obviously. The fact that you didn’t need to walk up to anyone and introduce yourself had been a huge relief, but still. It didn’t make it any less… odd.Most of the time, when you weren’t being assigned different tasks, you spent your time outside and alone, observing the brilliant blue ocean. It was around this time one of the two set off to find you. The one with most successes thus far was Ace.“(name)!”And… speak of the devil.You don’t bother turning towards him, knowing that he doesn’t need a greeting to approach you. Ace runs up to you, cheeks flushed red from the heat despite being a man of fire. He smiles openly when your eyes meet, and you wave at him, smiling a little.“It’s lunchtime,” He grips the railing with one hand, happiness and an ease that you envy radiating off him in waves. You cast your gaze downwards, where the water is crashing against the hull of the Moby Dick.“I know,” You mutter, but make no move towards the galley. Ace raises his left eyebrow, something he does when he’s suspicious, confused, or curious.“Not hungry again?” He inquires, lips stretching into a knowing smile. You nod, shrugging hopelessly. “All right… but make sure you eat dinner, yeah?” Again, you nod your head, listening as Ace dashes to the galley. When you make sure no one is around, you pat your stomach with your hand and go find a place where no one will bother you.(x)You weren’t there at dinner time.Ace frowned, craning his neck, eyes trained on the doorway, hoping that you do show up. Marco, sat beside him, notices his strange behaviour and glances at the door, trying to find whatever Ace is searching for. He doesn’t.“What is it ~yoi?” He asks instead. Ace brings a piece of meat to his mouth, biting down on it as he thinks.“How often do you see (name) with anyone?” Ace wonders out loud, and Marco hums.“Not too often,” The blond replies honestly after some thinking, and Ace makes a gesture as if to say, there you go. Bingo.“I always find her alone, staring at the ocean, quiet. Thatch too,” The younger male explains, “And when I ask around, nobody seems to know anything.”“I told them to come by for dinner, but…” Ace trails off, teeth tearing into the piece of meat again, worried.“But they're not here ~yoi.”“No.”“…”“…I’m gonna go find them.” Ace claims loudly, downing the contents of his plate in record time before rushing towards the exit before Marco can even reply. The blond looks on as Ace runs back into the galley with a soft curse, grabs a tray, fills it up, then speeds back out.(x)And find you he did. It’d been difficult, but he’d found you. You weren’t at your usual spot, near the whale head, but at a crow’s nest. It’d been a massive challenge carrying the tray of food up there, but he’d managed.You were seated on the floor, gazing at the sky, when he’d popped out of nowhere and nearly given you a heart attack.“Ace!” You exclaimed when you realized who it was, then covered your mouth with a hand and put as much distance as you could between you two. It saddened him more than he could admit.“You said you’d be at the galley,” Ace said, extending the food towards you. You crossed your arms slowly, glancing at him once before turning away. The man feels a spark of frustration light up inside him at your behaviour.“I didn’t… I must’ve missed the call.” You lied, nails digging into your sides. He doesn’t buy it.“That’s fine,” He says, stepping closer, “I brought you something to eat.”This time, your eyes do meet his and stay. They’re wide, nervous, but he doesn’t know why. Sighing, you accept his offering and sit back down, back against the railing. He lingers for a moment or two before joining you.It’s silent for a little bit as he lets you eat, glad that you’re not rejecting the meal.“You’re not too fond of crowds, huh?” He says, smiling when you freeze, mouth open with the intention of eating a small potato.“…no.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Ace thinks that he’s made some progress in his quest to get to know you, but then you carry on. “That’s not it.”“What is it, then?” He probes, shifting into a more comfortable position. You sniffle, scratching your nose as you set the plate and fork to the side. You repeat your actions from before, eyes boring into his, but an unsettling calm has bled into them.“I’m…” You start, clearing your throat, “The day… you found me on that boat… I wasn’t alone.” Ace leans closer unconsciously, keen interest in his eyes. You resist the urge to put some distance between you two.“I used to work with a fishing crew, had been for many years, on a brigantine, with its own captain and whatnot.” Right, Ace thought, not wanting to interrupt you now that you were finally opening up just a tad.“This… captain… of this brigantine…” Your words came out forced, and Ace inhaled deeply before placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. He made sure you saw him do it as to not freak you out. And, for the first time during your stay, you smiled fully at him. Sure, your teeth went back to mindlessly gnawing at your lip not even a fraction of a second later, but you’d smiled.“He wasn’t… kind. He had a bad temper and was very easily angered. And when that happened, especially when the catch wasn’t particularly good that day, he’d, ah…” You made a dismissive gesture with your hand, eyebrows furrowed. “Punish us.”“Usually it meant that rations were cut in half or, if there was someone to blame, they’d be ridiculed in front of everyone. That meant… uh…” You cleared your throat again, feeling a knot forming in your stomach at the mere thought of your previous captain. Afraid of mentioning it out loud, you presented the commander the sight of the scars marring your wrist.
You were attempting to twist out of the ropes, the material digging into the skin, cutting, interrupting the blood flow. Not like it mattered much. Blood dripped from your fingers onto your clothes and floor as you rested your forehead on the deck, heart hammering. Your feet weren’t much better. The captain stands in the middle of the deck, arms splayed out arrogantly as men and women alike cringed, grimaced, and hid their faces behind their hands. The rookie had stumbled again; they hadn’t done a well enough job.
Understanding washes over him, and Ace feels anger swell in his chest as he studies the damage on your skin.“Anyway,” You sigh, because yes, it’s time you moved on… but to what? “I’m just… not used to being treated like… like this.”Ace wanted to say he understood, and to a certain extent he did – he understood why you chose to isolate yourself; he understood why you weren’t a big fan of eating. It brought back memories, and you probably weren't accustomed to acting freely, unlike everyone else on this entire ship. Sadly, though, he could never understand the pain you must’ve endured.You don’t expect much from him after that story. You’d left huge parts of it out, clearly, and his reaction was the reason why.Outrage, anger, disgust. That’s all you could see in his eyes; a flickering flame waiting to become an inferno. But it never did.“It’s okay.” He mumbles instead, and you noticed his hand was still on your shoulder. You cock your head to the side, a tiny, anxious smile on your face. “You’re okay now.”Oddly enough, you believe him.(x)Three months later after the day you’d joined the crew, the Whitebeard family is celebrating their father’s birthday. Drinks are gulped down, music plays, and people are dancing. On this particular night, none of the nurses are nagging the old man, too busy partying. The commanders linger close to the captain, conversing happily, Ace included.“Ace!”The man in question perks up at the sound of his name, hat protecting his eyes from the evening sun as he searches the deck. He gulps down his drink, tankard in hand when he sees you running up to him. There’s a broad grin on your face and your (eye colour) eyes are bright. The men around him secretly share knowing glances.You halt right in front of him, breathing laboured from the sprint and cheeks red. Ace feels the same shade of red crawl up his neck, but he hides it behind his confidence.“(name), what’s up?” Your grin is infectious. The corners of his lips twitch upward, and he can practically hear Thatch’s teasing inside his head.“Nothing, I just… I wanted to give you something.” You explain, your spine straight and fists balled. Your expression, despite the obvious signs of mild inner turmoil, doesn’t change.Ace peers down at your empty hands, eyebrows pinching in bemusement. “Oh? Really?”You nod vigorously.“Well… what is it, then?”You slide a foot forward, take a step, put yourself in his personal bubble. He doesn’t mind. Years of roughhousing Luffy and the close contact on the ship do that to a person.“This,” You whisper, a somewhat mischievous gleam in your eyes as you brace your hands on his shoulders and quickly press your lips to his before he can respond.At first, he doesn’t react, shocked to his very core as he stares at your forehead with wide eyes. Your eyes are scrunched shut, and your nose bumps against his. A second later, he’s responding to your kiss without thinking, applying the tiniest amount of pressure as bliss, delight, and utter confusion flood his being.You pull back to gauge his reaction, laughing when you see that his grey eyes are still impossibly wide, blinking rapidly as if to reset his brain. The commanders and everyone that witnessed your actions laugh and cheer, whooping and whistling wolfishly. You hear Izo yell ‘about time!’ over the ruckus, and can’t help another chuckle when Thatch high-fives a group of men closest to him. Coincidently, it's the same group that' been on deck gazing at you when you exited the sick bay.Ace, eventually, snaps out of his daze, his free hand coming up to gently, ever so slowly, grip one of your wrists. He can feel your rapid pulse beneath his thumb. A vibrant shade of red dusts his cheeks, making his freckles pop, and you grin. He slings an arm around your shoulders and hugs you close, the unspoken statement clear as day to you.
You’re okay now.
"You knew all along, didn't you ~yoi?""Gurararara!" Whitebeard smirks. "Perhaps I did, my son. Perhaps I did.""Seriously, Pops? Do you know how long it took me to get them to talk to me?" Thatch demands incredulously, "I can't believe Ace managed to get them to open up, knowing how he is.""Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" You laugh softly, burying your face in Ace's neck, cheeks reddening in embarrassment yet feeling too at peace to care.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Those words might just haunt you for the rest of your existence.
“…This project will be due in two weeks.”
A figure drawing project… Great.
Third week into the year, and you’re already diving into the difficult shit.You release a sigh through your nose and rise from your seat. Waving to your teacher, you exit the large classroom and into the vast hall, pondering over your new assignment.The first stages, which were few, did not require too much thinking. On the handout provided, the first step was to find a live model. That is, a person who will be willing to pose for you for several hours, almost every day.Now, you knew people. You had friends. But you doubted many would be willing to put themselves through that torture. You thought that maybe you could hire someone, but then you realized that you’re poor and you need to eat.Thankfully though, you had a plan B.Fishing out your phone from your pocket, you insert your code, tap on the phone app, and call your closest friend. Three rings later, the man answers cheerily.“Hey, (name)! Haven’t heard from you in a while!”“Hey, Ace.” You greet, cracking up slightly at the very mild southern accent coming through the other end. “How have you been?”“Been doin’ good! How about you? You don’t call me unless you really need something.” Ace – and you don’t need to see it to know – grins, chuckling at your affronted scoffing.“I’m good too…” You trail off, rounding a corner and letting your shoulders slump when you spot the main entrance. “And… yeah, I do need something.”“Shocker,” Ace laughs harder, but not unkindly. He’s well aware of how much teasing you can take. “Whaddya need?”“Okay, so, you’re a second year.” You start, hearing his confirmatory hum. “Remember the figure drawing project?”“Oh! Yeah…” Ace hisses, as if burned by the very memory, which was technically accurate. The day Luffy snuck into his studio and fiddled with the hot glue guns was not very fun for him. “How long did they give you?”“Two weeks. Two weeks to do this damn thing.”“And I’m assuming you need someone to model for you?”“…yeah.”Ace is silent for a moment or two. You push the doors open and step outside, appreciating the smell of grass and the slight chill.Finally, he snaps his finger and says, “I think I can find someone."“Really?” You exclaim, then remember to keep your voice lowered when someone turns to look in your direction. Clearing your throat, you mumble, “Who?”“My brother; he’s free and looking for something to do, anyway,” He answers casually, and you freeze, face twisting into a grimace. Oh no.“You mean… and I mean no offense… Luffy?”At this, Ace chortles quietly, as if reminiscing about the accident from last year. “Nah, my other brother. His name is—”Suddenly, he’s interrupted by a boisterous voice in the background, “AAACE!”“Uh oh,” Ace mumbles, “That’s my cue to go. I’ll send him over tomorrow. Is that okay?”You startle, falling back into a steady pace as you stammer, “Wait, no, Ace, you haven’t even–” Then promptly get cut off when Ace ends the call abruptly. That jerk.You frown down at your phone screen and your reflection, then shake your head. Might as well prepare for tomorrow.You just hope that whoever Ace plans on partnering with you isn’t as bad as his hyperactive brother. Nothing against the kid, of course, you just didn’t have the energy to deal with any more than necessary.(x)Sabo narrows his eyes at the hastily scribbled address, courtesy of his brother Ace, and looks up at the door in front of him. The lady at the front desk hadn’t been very helpful when giving him directions.The blond shakes his head, wondering what in the world he’d gotten himself into. It hadn’t even been him; he’d walked into the apartment to Ace roughhousing Luffy on the couch – probably over food – when he’d received the news.
"Hey, Sabo!” Ace shoved Luffy’s face away, panting and grinning before he blinked, expression falling for a second. “You have to go meet someone tomorrow.”
"First of all, what are you two doing now? Second of all, why do I need to meet someone tomorrow?” He’d asked incredulously, walking over to a grunting Luffy and peeling him off of Ace. Ace grinned, sitting up far too smugly.
“They need help with a project, and since you’ve been free lately, I thought I’d send you over.”
"
Seriously?”
"
Seriously.”
And that’s why and how he ended up here, in a part of the city he didn’t know, backpack slung over his shoulder. He adjusted his grip on the strap of his bag, craning his neck to check if anyone was in the hall. If someone were to see him, what would they think?Deciding to take the risk, the blond raps his knuckles on the wood and waits patiently. When he hears nothing on the other side of the door for a good minute, he twists the doorknob, surprised to find the room unlocked.He’s even more surprised at what he discovers.The first thing he notices is the capaciousness, despite what the size and outer appearance of the building suggested. The walls are made up oak planks deep in colour, save for one, which was made up of large, rectangular windows. They are framed by thin white curtains. Lustrous rays of sunlight bounce off the floor, pooling in the very centre, and Sabo realizes the ceiling is also partially made of windows. Throughout the area, he spots canvases, some bare, some with paint splattered on them. The way that they’ve been placed forms a strange sort of pathway, almost like a labyrinth. Sabo dares a step forward, still gripping the doorknob as he scans the room, awed.A bit closer, he realizes that most of the canvases scattered around the room are finished paintings. They all vary in size, colour, composition, and styles. Some he can see are of people, others are landscapes, and others are things that he’s used to seeing in a museum – simple, yet nice to look at.So far, whoever this person is, they’ve made a good impression on him.Sabo carefully ventures further into the room, hoping that whoever he’s meeting is in here. His dress shoes echo eerily in the quietude. He doesn’t find anyone.He rolls his shoulders, a tad anxious at having entered such a delicate and obviously private place without permission. He’s about to head back outside when he hears a soft voice behind him.“Uh… who are you?”Startled, he whirls around, facing a woman standing in the doorway. Her eyes are narrowed suspiciously, almost angrily, and her stance is wide. Panicked, Sabo raises his hands in a placating manner.“I’m Sabo, Ace’s brother.” He says, praying that the person he’s looking at is the right one after everything, “Are you (name)?”(x)There was someone in your studio. A handsome, broad-shouldered, slim man, but someone nonetheless.You tighten your grip on the bag of art supplies you’d brought with you, straightening your spine and staring deep into his wide, blue eyes. He looks… nice enough to trust, you supposed.“Yeah,” You breathe after you’re finished searching the room for any damage and find none. “I’m (name).”The man visibly relaxes at your statement, and you feel the corners of your lips twitch upward. Yeah, he’s not bad… so far.“I didn’t know you were coming in so early.” You admitted, tilting your head to the side as you cross the threshold. Sabo blinks, a hesitant smile playing at his lips.“I can drop by at a later date, if you’d like. Ace gave me few details yesterday, so I didn’t want to come in too late.” He explains, shrugging his shoulders, his voice lowered.“Oh, no, no!” You throw your arms out pleadingly. There was no way you were going to let him go. Nu-uh, no way, Jose. “You don’t have to go. I’m sorry, I was just surprised – I didn’t mean to sound rude.”Sabo’s smile reaches his eyes this time, and you instantly return the gesture with one of your own, albeit smaller. Sighing in relief, you place the bag beside a workbench crowded with papers and unfinished sculptures.“I have to get things set up, so you can hang out if you want. Is that okay?”Sabo nods once, “Of course! Not a problem.” He says kindly, watching you scramble to the far side of the room, where there are numerous blank canvases. He takes a seat on the stool underneath the skylight, his bag leaning against the legs.He pulls out his phone while you’re busy moving paintings, easels, and other things towards the walls. When you’re done, the centre of the room is bare save for the blond. Grabbing one last canvas, you spare a glance in his direction, feet halting the second you take in what’s in front of you.Noticing the absence of footsteps, Sabo looks up at you from his phone, awkwardly looking away for a brief moment when he sees your staring. He meets your eye, which is brave of him, considering you haven’t stopped gaping.“Is everything okay?” He asks, tone of voice still far too kind. You shake your head, grinning shyly.“Yeah, yeah, I just… had a sudden idea, is all.” You confessed, a blush colouring your cheeks. Sabo’s dazzling smile roots you in your place, and you have to force your body into motion.“Anyway, I’m done getting set up.” You declare, hoping to disperse the awkwardness lingering in the air. The blond straightens up at your words, eyebrows raised expectantly.“What do you need me to do?”Oh God, here comes the even more awkward part.“I, uhm…” Sabo continues to wait, tucking his phone in his pocket, and you feel shame slithering up your spine at a sudden realization. This man, whom you’ve just met, who has calmly sat down on a stool, does not have the foggiest idea. He… he doesn’t know. “I need you to…” You gesture weakly, face burning. Giving up, you cover your face with your hands.Sabo’s expression morphs into one of concern as he stands, walking towards you, “(name)?” You peek through your separated fingers, then uncover your face and wipe your shirt free from wrinkles.It’s not like you haven’t drawn live models before – you have, many times, in fact. It just didn’t feel right asking a complete stranger, who was Ace’s brother. This good-looking guy who’s done nothing but be pleasant company so far. You’re going to scare him off! And then your project will go down the drain!Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, you blurt in an emotionless voice: “I need you to remove your clothing.”Sabo freezes, you freeze, the whole world fucking stops to witness your doom.You study his face, hiding your lips behind your fingertips. There are gears turning in his head, you know, because he’s glancing all around the room. Each time his eyes bounce to another spot, his cheeks turn a little redder, so at least you know you’re not the only one that’s embarrassed.“Oh.” He heaves at last, and you smack your hands over your face again.“I’m sorry! I thought– I thought Ace told you!” Stupid Ace! How could you do this to me?!“It’s… It’s fine.” Sabo chuckles breezily, scratching the back of his head. Just what had his brother gotten him into, “It’s for a project, right?”“Yes…”Sabo – you want to bless his soul – shrugs. “Then, it’s okay. I’ll do it.”The sound you let out is between a sob and a laugh, and Sabo has to choke back his own sounds of nervous amusement. “Really? I haven’t spooked you, have I?”“No… no, of course not,” He assures you gently, and you feel like crying.Immediately, you rush to gather your supplies, thanking him profusely. He slumps down on the stool, observing the scene you’re putting up before glancing down at his clothes.
What had his brother gotten him into?
(x)Having a man anxiously undress while you’re in the room was horrifying, to say the least. You peer at Sabo from behind the canvas. He’s still seated on the stool, a silk blanket you’d cut up for this situation concealing what doesn’t need to be in the painting. Ahem.He’s been struggling to keep his expression neutral like you’d asked him to do after he was sufficiently covered. There’s a twitch in his brow, and his eyes aren’t as calm as before. You know why, and you can’t help but feel guilty.Once he’d removed… everything, and covered up, he’d informed you he was ready. You had been facing away from him to be courteous, counting the planks on the wall. When you turned back around, you froze… again, ideas bursting inside your mind like fireworks, each one better than the last.He was… perfect?At least, that was what the artist inside you kept hollering.Sabo had tucked some of his hair behind his ear, and that’s when you finally spotted the scar on his face. The pinkish colour made his blue eyes pop, more than they already did when you first saw him. It covers part of his brow bone and temple. There are scars similar to that one marring the skin of his clavicle and left shoulder, but they’re not as prominent.Still. He was perfect. His skin was tanned, which complimented the background you had in mind. He was well-built, which made proportions a far simpler task. And he was just plain gorgeous as a human being, so that was a bonus too.Overall, the best subject you could’ve ever hoped for. Your need to murder Ace has taken a seat for now.You had just about finished the sketch, which had taken fifteen minutes longer than usual, but for good reason. You wanted your piece to be as close to the real thing as possible. The oil painting would start soon.“Sabo,” You call softly as to not scare him. Sabo doesn’t move – something you’d strictly, yet kindly, ordered him to do. Good thing he listens.“Yes…?” He returns just as softly, eyes scanning the scenery outside as he lists things off in his head. Tree branches swaying in the breeze, greens, browns, sun shining.“Could you tilt your head a bit to the left?”“My left?”You hum.“Sure,” He follows your instruction, but it’s not…“A little less?” Sabo feels an amused smile coming on despite his anxiety. He tries adjusting his head like you want him to, but it’s still not good enough. “Hold on…” You murmur, rounding your canvas as you pull back the sleeves of your shirt. Sabo stiffens when you extend both hands, bringing them close to his face. “May I?”Sabo’s eyes lock with yours. There’s a smudge of paint on your cheek from when you were preparing your oil paints. He sees no ill intent and wills his mind to focus on that, insecurity bleeding into his features without his consent.“...sure,” He repeats, eyes slipping shut. Your fingers brush against his jaw in a feathery touch, and he holds his breath as you guide his head into position. He senses your movements as you lean down closer to him.“There… you can open your eyes again. Thank you so much.” He feels your breath ghosting over his nose and lips, and, just like that, you disappear behind your canvas again.Sabo opens his eyes, blinking against the sun as he stares outside. The only sound in the room is the scratching of a pencil against the soft material of the canvas.You spare your subject one last glance, noting that his expression is finally under control and that he doesn’t appear as conflicted as before. Smiling secretly, you place your pencil down, and begin the second stage. Painting.(x) The painting, if you were to say so yourself, and you are, was coming along beautifully. Not only that, but your teacher said so too when you presented him with a progress picture.Everyday, at 6PM, Sabo drops by your studio. Each time he did, you felt the butterflies fluttering in your stomach worsen. Not because he had to strip or whatever, but because he was so… kind. Patient. Helpful. The best company you’ve ever allowed into your second home.And both of you weren’t as nervous, either. After the third class, the blond had become increasingly relaxed, and witnessing that, so had you. After each arduous session, where you would spend hours slogging away with the oil paints and he would sit still, things just kept… getting better. Sometimes, you’d invite him behind the canvas when he was fully dressed again, pointing out your progress. The first time, he had been so amazed his jaw had dropped to the floor, earning a laugh from you.
“There’s no way you drew that.”
“You’ve literally watched me paint, Sabo, what do you mean I didn’t paint it?”
“It’s… it’s too good! I- I can't believe that's me. But… wait… why is my skin grey?”
“Greyscale. Helps put down the flesh colours later.” Sabo nodded, mouth forming a small ‘O’.
And so that’s how the first week and a half went. Three days before the due date, and you were almost done painting.But there was still something missing. And you didn’t know what.“I think it looks good.” Sabo said earnestly when you mentioned your troubles to him. You shook your head, flattered but frustrated at the same time.“Thank you, but… I don’t know. I feel like I could add just one more thing.”You scrutinize your painting, arms crossed over your chest. The composition was quite simple. You sketched Sabo out on the right hand side of the canvas, leaving room for beams of light to filter in through a window. You’d used a palette knife and vertical strokes to create a feathery, washed out texture in the background surrounding him. It did well creating the illusion of a worn-down, alabaster wall. Honestly, you couldn’t have used a better medium.It looked like he was in a room, seated on a marble stone with just the silk blanket as a garment. At one point, while painting, you decided to have him lean against a wall. You made this vision easier to achieve by placing a stark white backdrop behind him. The colours, overall, were pretty light and faded, with his hair being the most prominent feature, seeing as it was golden. It made him look like he was glowing. Which he was, most of the time, since he was right beneath the skylight…. Now that’s a sight you’ll never forget.Then, it hits you.“Sabo, what’s your favourite flower?”“…My favourite flower?” He sounds shocked.“Yep.”“I… I don’t know… maybe geraniums–”“That’s it! I have an idea.” You gush, smiling as a million pictures of all the different things you could do with that flower flash through your mind. “Oh, Sabo, you just saved – wait, you actually have a favourite flower?” You wonder out loud, eyes snapping to his. He clears his throat, looking away with red cheeks.“Maybe… but don’t tell Ace?”“That’s cute.” You grin, cupping your cheek with a hand. Who would’ve thought?Flustered, Sabo saunters over to his backpack. “So… you’ll paint those flowers and hand it in?”“Well, kind of? We’re presenting it to the class.” You elaborate and see how Sabo falters slightly when bending down to grab his bag. “Why do you ask?” Sabo stands up, throwing his bag over his shoulder with a smile. There’s sadness in his eyes, though.“It’s nothing,” The blond dismisses your concern with a wave, but you don’t buy it. Even so, you don’t question him any further.Sabo’s footsteps echo in the room as he calmly heads to the door. You do nothing but watch, your inner turmoil expanding with each step he takes.
Talk to him! Ask him! Ask him!
“Hey, Sabo,” You start, grinning as he stops and looks at you, eyebrow raised.“Yeah?”Marching over to a nearby desk, you take the nearest pen and paper and quickly scribble your phone down on it. When you’re done, you bee-line to the awaiting blond and hand him the paper. He stares at it for a long moment, unsure of how to react.
((Sabo thinks he might’ve stopped functioning properly when he saw the numbers on it and your encouraging smile.))
“Call me… if you want…” Your grin turns sheepish and your cheeks are hot. Sabo blinks the surprise off his face and smiles so wide it’s impossible to look away.“Yeah,” He agrees, folding the piece of paper up and tucking it into his pocket. “You know, I had a lot of fun. I thought it was going to be a lot worse.” Sabo laughs and you join him.“Same here,” You rub your arms, “When Ace told me someone was coming over to my studio, I didn’t know what to expect. Thank you for being so patient and putting up with me.”“It was my pleasure!” He blurts immediately, face flushing at the fact that he’d raised his voice. “I mean… yeah… sorry, I–”“It’s fine,” You chortle at the way he can go from polite to an adorable mess, and Sabo grins at you, reaching for the doorknob. “I’ll see you around?”“Yes, of course! I’m glad I could be of help.” Sabo opens the door the rest of the way, stepping out and swinging it shut. When you hear the familiar click and steady tapping down the hall, you relax, puffing out your cheeks.“I can’t believe I just did that."(x)You aced the damn thing.If your teacher had loved it before, he was completely head over heels for it after it was finished. You spent half an hour speaking to him about how your ideas came to mind, bringing Sabo into the conversation because God knows you wouldn’t have been able to do it without him. Your teacher seemed interested in the fellow, which was always good.Now outside, you excitedly grab your phone, dialling Sabo. You’d been texting each other the past three days and you couldn’t have been happier.“Hello?” You hear on the other end.“Sabo! Oh my God, he loved it! I think– I think I did really well?!” You stammer, raking your hand through your hair as you begin the trek to your apartment building.“Really? That’s awesome, (name)!” He shares your enthusiasm, his free hand forming a fist in his excitement.“Yeah! He said I couldn’t have picked a better model. God, Sabo, you’re a lifesaver!”Sabo’s face turns a hundred different shades of red; he’s glad you’re not there to see him.“Nahhh…”“You have to let me make it up to you.” You state, tone of voice suddenly serious. Sabo coughs, having accidentally choked on air at your words. “Sabo?”“I’m- I’m good.” He coughs one more time, “B-but, you don’t have to. Really.”“Hell yeah I do. How does dinner at the Baratie sound?”“You know that restaurant?” Sabo demands, happiness flooding his being when you answer his question with ‘heck yeah, that place is great!’. He drags a hand down the side of his face in disbelief. “Yeah, that sounds… great, actually."“All right, cool, I’ll send you the details later! See you on Sunday?”“See you on Sunday.” Sabo grins, biting his lip. He keeps the phone to his ear for a little while after you hang up, still not knowing what to believe.On the couch, Ace, who’d been listening to the whole thing with a raised eyebrow and a shit-eating grin, drawls, “You’re welcome~” Which earns him a smack on the shoulder after Sabo is done spluttering like a fish.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You roll your shoulders, hefting your bag up higher as you insert the key into the lock of your apartment. The door clicks as it unlocks, and you push it open, already feeling a smile appearing.“I’m home,” You call, hearing the clinking of weights in the living room. There’s a reply that you can’t really make out, but you don’t mind. Shutting the door, you drop your bag and remove your shoes, sauntering into the living room. Zoro, shirtless as usual, doesn’t look up from the floor, sweat beading his brow.Knowing better than to bother him, you move past him into the kitchen, intent on starting on dinner so you could rest later on. You open the fridge, pulling out a couple ingredients to begin with. Walking over to the counter, you place the lettuce, tomato, and pack of meat you’d purchased a few days prior down.The faint sound of footsteps reaches your ears, almost silent, and you smile when an arm snakes around your waist. Had he done it months ago, you would’ve jumped right out of your skin, but you’re used to his tendency to enter rooms unannounced.“Hey,” You say softly, craning your neck to press a kiss to his cheek. Zoro grunts in reply, observing you quietly as you open the pack of meat.After that’s done, you wriggle out of his grip, taking the lettuce with you to wash it. With your back to him, you turn the faucet on and start washing the vegetable, humming lowly.You sense him approaching again, this time a bit slower, and you glance at him over your shoulder. “How was work?”Zoro grunts again but does provide a reply. “The usual.”You grin, twisting the faucet so that the stream of water halts. “That’s good.”Zoro doesn’t reply. Instead, he raises his hand and lets his fingertips brush your hair. “You got a haircut."Blinking, you dry your hands off and card a hand through your hair. “Yeah, I did.” You laughed softly, facing him and leaning against the counter. “I wasn’t even planning on mentioning it. Didn’t think you’d notice.”Zoro smiles, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. You close your eyes. “Yeah, well, I did.”“Does it look good?” You ask, feeling a bit self-conscious now that the matter has been brought up. The man in front of you hums, bringing his face closer to yours. You know because you can feel his breath on your lips.“Yeah, it looks good.” Chuckling, you allow your eyes to flutter open, meeting his dark ones. “That took you a while to answer, love.”Zoro makes a sound between amusement and embarrassment at the nickname. He gives you some space, and also the perfect view of his bare torso. Resting your hands on his shoulders with a teasing grin, you add, “Thank you.”He mumbles something incoherent, and you release another chuckle as you hug him.“How about you?” His voice resounds deep in his chest, and you tighten your grip, listening to his ever-so-steady heartbeat.“Work was fine,” You sigh, feeling the tension from the day leaving your body. Days were always fine when you got home to this. “The usual.”You feel him nod, then cup a hand over his mouth to quieten a yawn. Straightening up, you raise an eyebrow at him and free him from your hold. “Tired?” Zoro nods again, and you smile fondly. Glancing back at the lettuce in the sink, you shrug, take his hand, and drag him into the living room.He grumbles protests until your shove him and he flops down on the couch. Immediately, he relaxes with a profound but relieved sigh, and you cross your arms over your chest, watching him.Eventually, once he’s finished stretching, he looks up at you and realizes you’ve been staring at him. Zoro arches an eyebrow in your direction, but you’re too busy peeling your light jacket off you to notice. When that’s done, you sit on the edge of the cushion, kick off your shoes, and curl up next to him.Zoro makes room for you to settle down, and when you do, you feel close to falling asleep. You would try to fight it, but with him already snoring lightly, it’s hard to.And so you sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Today, surprisingly, it was silent on the Thousand Sunny. Knowing her captain and crew overall, this type of occasion seemed rarer than the priciest treasure out there. You appreciated these kinds of days, where one was finally allowed to slow down and breathe. Waves gently lapped at the hull of the ship.You’d decided to spend the morning out in the grassy deck, intent on observing the great blue ocean when an all too familiar voice called out to you. “Ah, good morning, (name)-san!” You smile, turning to find Brook waving at you from his seat against the main mast. Walking over to him, you wave back and plop down beside him with a sigh.“Hey, Brook.” You greet after you’ve made yourself comfy, stretching your arms over your head. “It’s quiet today, huh?”Brook hums, a decorated cup of tea held between his thumb and index finger, the plate that goes with the cup in his other hand. “Yes, it is, (name)-san. It seems that even the strawhat pirates can have a day of quietude.” You grin at his comment, nodding your agreement. Rare were the days where Luffy wasn’t causing a ruckus, snickering and yelling. You wondered what he was up to.Considering it was still early in the morning, probably ordering Sanji to give him food and give it to him now, I’m hungryyy.“What were you doing out here?” You muse, “Other than… drinking tea.” Your words lag a little, for no particular reason other than how the heck does this 8-foot skeleton eat and drink? It was a mystery you never truly decyphered.Brook seems to lighten up at your question. Setting the cup of tea at his side, out of your line of vision, he presents you with a sheet of paper. There are words written down on it and you come to realize that it’s the lyrics to a song unfamiliar to you.“Is this an original?” You ask in amazement as you read the words, kind of gaping but not really because that would be too embarrassing for you. Brook sits up proudly, clearing his throat to answer your question.“Yes, it is! Do you like it?” He asks, head swivelling to look at you, and you nod your head vigorously.“It’s different from the usual shanty,” You say truthfully, “but it’s still very nice. Didn’t expect you to go with a romantic tone.”“Thank you very much for words, (name)-san. It’s wonderful to hear you like it, even if I don’t have any ears! Yohoho~!” Brook laughs, a boisterous sound that always brings a smile to your face. You hand him the paper, biting your lip pensively when he takes it back and turns away from you.“How does it go?” You inquire, because the other question dancing merrily in the back of your mind is also too embarrassing for you, it seemed.Brook pauses, staring at you for a moment before quietly clearing his throat. His eyes (or… where his eyes should be, really) find the unfurled sail with the strawhat’s jolly roger printed on it.And he sings.“Haunt me in my dreams, if you please…” The words come softly at first then gain strength as continues to sing. You close your eyes as you listen, cupping your cheek with a hand.Every other sound you’d been hearing before – from the sounds of the ocean to the sounds emanating from the kitchen – fade away, deadened by Brook’s voice. Even though it’s meant to have an accompanying instrument – the piano, most likely, it’s still very beautiful.Far too quickly, it ends.You open your eyes when the last few words stop echoing inside your mind, blinking in… disbelief? Admiration? You don’t know, really.“Wow,” You heave, earning a smile from the skeleton. “You have to teach me. Can you?” You’re not sure your voice is as melodious as his, but… well, it was either ask, or remain silent, regretting it for the rest of your life.“Of course I can teach you, (name)-san!” He exclaims happily, ecstatic.And so he does. He runs through the song with you, showing you how you can sing it better or how to not strain in certain parts. At first, you’re shy. Your voice is barely above a murmur and you’re fidgety, but you grow more comfortable over time with Brook’s encouragement and compliments.“Shall we go from the beginning, then, (name)-san?” Brook extends the paper towards you and you take it from him, shrugging nervously. “I mean, if you want?” You reply, shrinking slightly. What if someone hears?Taking this as your answer, he yohoho’s and raises his hand like a director would normally do. You force your shoulders to relax and sit up higher, willing your heart to remain at a reasonable speed.With a few short motions, you begin.
1, 2, 3…
“Haunt me in my dreams, if you please…”
Knowing that this is the real deal and not just some lesson, you’re awkward and shy. Some notes are shakier than others, but the skeleton beside you doesn’t seem to mind. His hand keeps moving, carrying out a steady tempo for both of you to follow. He looks at you, and despite his lack of eyes, the statement is still clear.
Sing.
“Your breath is with me now, and always… It's like a breeze…”
Brook joins in, confident and sure but still somewhat withdrawn, as if waiting for you. You feel anxious about this bit of knowledge, not wanting him to feel like he needs to hide his talent because of you.With this thought in mind, you raise your voice a fraction, remembering to inhale deeply so as to not sound out of breath.
“So, should you ever doubt me, if it's help that you need… Never dare to doubt me.”
The last line is sung more confidently, and you smile up at Brook, who returns the gesture.Brook’s hand movements suddenly stop, and you both stop singing for a second before the skeleton begins humming what you think is the accompanying part. Since he doesn’t have his violin, he makes due with his voice. You watch, content with listening but also attentive in case his hand starts moving again.On the other side of the deck, the door to the kitchen is opened quietly so as to not disturb you two. Numerous heads poke out from within, and Luffy nearly yells something out when Nami smacks a hand over his mouth, silencing the boy. Sanji, Robin, Franky, Chopper, and Usopp are smiling, some more openly than others, while Zoro has an eyebrow arched curiously.The group slowly exits the room, sticking close to the wall so you don’t notice the movement.Brook’s hand moves again, and you suck in a deep breath before you two begin the last stanza.“And if you want to sleep, I'll be quiet…” Nami hisses like an angry cat when she realizes that Luffy licked her hand to get out of her hold. Hadn’t you been singing, she probably would’ve tried throwing him overboard. Luffy snickers mischievously and continues watching silently when Robin lifts a finger up to her lips. Chopper and Usopp are hugging each other close, mouths and eyes wide open in wonder.“ Like an angel…"When you sing this stanza, you wait a second before shocking yourself and everyone else by harmonizing with him. Your hands close around your knees in excitement and satisfaction and you want to squeal, but you carry on singing.
“As quiet as your soul could be… if you only knew, you had a friend like me...”
The stanza ends with you grinning so wide that your cheeks hurt, but you don’t care much. Brook hums the rest of the accompanying part while you sway slowly, memorizing the tune.At this point, the rest of the strawhat pirates have taken several brave steps forward, huddled together as a group. Franky is about to yell ‘SUPER!’ when a pair of hands sprout from his shoulders and clap over his mouth. Robin hides her smile behind one of her actual hands.This time, you do hear the muffled sounds of a struggle, and when you spot the rest of the crew, watching and listening and there, you almost climb up the mast to escape. Brook stops humming when he notices them as well, brightening up at the prospect of an audience.“Ah, hello, everyone! What a fine day we are having, no?” Brook chortles, waving at them as you curl up, hugging your knees.“Hi…” You mumble, wishing you could internally combust. Your cheeks are a vivid shade of red and everyone is still staring. They hadn’t replied to Brook’s greeting, much to his confusion and to your chagrin.“I didn’t know you could sing!!” Luffy yells, marching right up to you with his usual grin. You scoot closer to the skeleton at your side, smiling anxiously.“Ha, that’s because I kind of can’t…” You murmur.“Nonsense,” Robin starts with a calming smile, “Your voice is beautiful, (name).” She adds, smile widening when Chopper nods enthusiastically.“Yeah, (name)! It was SUUUPER good!” Franky tacks on, posing, and you feel a bit more relaxed.“We heard you from the kitchen,” Usopp tacks on with a grin, “You’re really good!”At that moment, Sanji storms over to you and grips your hands. When you see the enamoured gleam in his blue eyes, you blanch quite obviously.“Dear (name), you have the most enchanting voice I have heard! Like a siren, luring sailors forth with her beauty!” His rambling continues all until Nami has to pry him off you, which amuses the silent swordsman in the background.“It was really good, (name).” The redhead says to you when the blond has been released. “And what about you? What did you think, Zoro?”The swordsman perks up at the sound of his name. He meets Nami’s eyes, then yours, and nods. “It was good.”Despite the simple phrase, as per usual from the swordsman, it still meant a lot to you. Your blush darkens visibly, and you hide your cheeks with your hands as you mumble your thanks.“It was more than good, marimo!” Sanji claims, offended that Zoro would use such language. Zoro rolls his eyes, which angers the blond further, and soon the two are fighting again. Luffy laughs in the background, Nami starts yelling at the two, and the rest look on with amusement in their eyes.Brook, still seated beside you, bends down to your level with a murmur of your name.“May I request something from you?”You give your full attention, grateful for all he's done for you, and nod your head once. “Of course!”Brook stops for a second or two, and then…“May I see your pan-”You fake a laugh, feeling your cheeks flare up again and threatening to melt right off your face. “Nice try, skeleton!”Brook is disheartened by your quick deflection of his request, and to cure him of his sadness, you hug him with a soft chuckle, watching the rest of the crew mill about fondly.That action flips his mood back to chirpy, and he releases his famous laugh, attracting the attention of a certain blond. Sanji points a finger at the skeleton accusingly, demanding that he gets off you, but you wave your hand and shake your head. You’re happy the way you are, and so is the skeleton in your arms.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The music in the club roared through you, drowning out the voice of the man – wait, pardon you, the creep trying to coax a response out of you. Swirling your drink, you watch the contents inside the glass spin around, eyes half-lidded and bored. Your eyes itched annoyingly, the makeup you put on them slightly smudged from attempting to wipe the exhaustion away.“Come on, it’ll be fun–” The man tried a fourth time, reaching out to lightly brush your arm with his fingertips. Jerking away from him, you downed your drink and jumped off the stool, slamming some money on the counter. “Sorry, not interested!” You yelled, hoping that the idiot had heard. If he didn’t, well… your fuck budget had reached zero, so it didn’t matter much.You walk away, weaving your way through the seething mass of dancing bodies, towards the exit. It was about time you went home and forgot about this shit day.Shoving past a woman flailing her arms wildly, you rub soothing circles into your temple, trying to ease an oncoming headache. People bump into you, threatening to knock you off your feet, but you manage to make it out without having to fall face-first to the floor.You heave your purse further up your shoulder, gripping the straps angrily as you open the door and trudge past the line of people still waiting to be let inside. Checking behind you for the creep from before, you are relieved to find that he hadn’t followed you out. Good.The clicking of your heels grows as you distance yourself from the club, almost to the point that the sound is nothing but eerie. You rummage through your purse and find your phone, gripping it tightly. This street isn’t foreign to you, but being alert was a must around this area. Groups of people huddled together prowled the streets more often than not, seeking the kind of excitement that led to trouble.And, whether it was by coincidence or not, it was where Kid typically hung out – usually in an abandoned building that he’d turned into his workshop, tinkering with cars or whatever else he found. Or, if he was in the mood, stole from some unfortunate soul. It didn’t matter who it was or where they came from. Once he was interested, there was no swaying him.You’d debated calling him several times while drowning your sorrows in that club. But, then you’d realized just how many times he’d told you that the guy you were going after wasn’t worth it. And to be honest, you weren’t in the mood for his smug attitude today.Still, it would be nice to be able to talk to someone about it. Even if it did have to be an ass like him.You make a sharp turn, thumbing your phone case thoughtfully. Whenever you were subjected to his smartass replies, it gnawed away your patience and distracted you from everything. Sure, it wasn’t the best way to handle things, but it was better than turning to other weird shit like drugs.With this in mind, you unlock your phone and find the man’s contact information. You check for any cars before crossing the street, letting your mind take you wherever it wishes to go.Three rings after lightly tapping on the ‘call’ button, a gruff voice kindly greets you.“What the hell do you want.”You shake your head, looking down at your feet. “Nice to see you’ve missed me.”Kid growls, which used to intimidate you, but after dropping by his workshop almost every week, the horror effect just isn’t there anymore. You opt to get right to the point to avoid angering him further.“I’m gonna stop by your place for a couple of minutes. That cool?”A scoff, “No.”“’Kay,” You respond serenely, “I’ll be there soon.”“What the fuck did I just sa—” You ended the call, speeding up a little as you made another turn.At some other point in time, you would’ve gone elsewhere after being rejected like that, but you’d had enough of that tonight. Besides, it’s not like you were a nuisance all the time. On more than one occasion, Kid would demand for assistance, and you’d provide it. Whether it was handing him tools or shining a light on what he was working on, you were there to assist. Sure, it involved a lot of complaints and exasperated orders from the Scottish man, but that was the norm with a person like Kid.Finally, the building came into view.First, the worn sign labelled ‘GARAG’, with the missing ‘E’, in a bleached green. It was nailed in a way that made it seem it would fall any minute. Medium-sized, square windows lined the top half of each wall, some broken, and others cracked or intact. The entrance had large, rusted doors. Unsurprisingly, they were shut tight.You banged your fist on the metal surface then cracked one of the doors open a second later. Poking your head through the gap, you scanned the vast area. Littered throughout the workshop were several cars, some with their hoods popped open still. They all varied from size, colours, and brands.In the farthest corner of the room, you easily spotted Kid, looming over his newest addition to the collection.His eyes snap to you when you enter the place, a certain irritation in them. You don’t know if it’s meant towards your arrival or at the vehicle in front of him. Kid is wearing a black tank top that has a tear in the side and a pair of old jeans. There are stains on his hands and one on his face, right across his nose. He raked his hands through his crimson hair, pushing some stray strands back only to have them fall back into place.Kid focused on the car again when you approached slowly, something that was unexpected after the way he’d spoken to you. Not like you minded. You would take silence over his complaining.You dropped your purse on an old stool. Grabbing a rag, you wiped down a counter before hauling yourself on top of it and sitting down. Kid spared you a glance, but remained silent.Eventually, after a good five minutes, he pipes up.“What brings you here, (name).” Kid’s tone of voice is one that leaves no room for bullshit, despite the normal question.“Rejection,” You state, hoping that it’s enough to sate his curiosity. It isn’t.“Oh, really...” He hums, shaking his head as he picks up a tool you don’t have a name for. “Don’t tell me it was…” The man pauses briefly, raising his eyes to yours. You don’t notice though, too busy avoiding his gaze.The embarrassment and shame worsened when he scoffed. “I fuckin’ told you he wasn’t worth your time.” You rolled your eyes angrily, glaring at him.“Yeah, you did.”At your voice, Kid’s eyes flit over to you, but you’re back to gazing out the window. He scoffs again.You note Kid’s shake of the head and the hammering that follows suit.“That fuckin’ surgeon’s always been a good for nothin’ piece of…” You pick up on some of the words he says, but the rest are lost. After being so bluntly rejected by that fuckin’ surgeon, you’re happy to agree with whatever he’s saying.“You said it.” You mumble, pulling out your phone to distract your brain from the stupid memory. Surfing through each app helps somewhat, but you run out of things to do at one point. With nothing else to do, you jump down from your seat, round the car, and peer down at what Kid’s hammering away at.The actions stop for a fraction of a second as he realizes that you’ve changed locations and are now by his side. Then they carry on. You watch, interested, waiting for him to start ordering you around.Two minutes. That’s all it takes.“Pass me that.” There it is.You do as you’re told, placing a wrench in Kid’s awaiting hand. He grunts, which is enough thanks.This carries on for… you don’t even know how long. The noise, Kid’s grumbling, the breeze coming through the window… they all become white noise as you think about your afternoon. You’re so lost in thought you barely register when Kid requests a new tool, eyes faraway. You don’t even hear him calling your name.Well, that is until he’s snapping his fingers in your face, scowling.You lean away from his hand, frown returning as you distance yourself from him. “Yes?”Kid is quick to respond. “If you’re just gonna ignore me, why the hell are you here?”You rub circles into your temples, feeling the headache from earlier begin to throb. “I wasn’t ignoring– look, what do you need?” Kid’s mood seems to darken even more.Then, out of the blue, he walks away abruptly, snatching the same rag you’d used to wipe his hands and prosthetic arm. The boots he’d donned boom against the concrete floor as he stomps around, grumbling. You nearly gawk at him, baffled.You’re forced out of your daze when he tosses your purse at you, which you manage to catch with a yelp.“Dude, what are you–” A loud BEEP interrupts you. The red 2006 Ford Mustang – the custom 2006 Ford Mustang, as he liked to say, has its front lights on. It’s the one car that Kid wouldn’t let you go near. Now here it was, sitting right beside the exit, ready for a stroll.“Get in the car.” Kid orders, expecting you to do just that.“Excuse me?” You hiss in disbelief. With his back turned to you, you can’t read his facial expression, but he’s just as an annoyed as you are. He throws his head back and aggressively cusses in Gaelic. Lucky for him, it’s enough convincing for you.You climb in the car, entertaining the idea of slamming the door but deciding against it. Kid had yet to snap at you – which is shocking, because he looks ready to kick you out – so you huff and cross your arms.Kid hops in a minute later, fixing the collar of his leather jacket as he inserts the key into the ignition switch. You observe from your seat, hugging your middle as you lean your head against the window.The car rumbles to life. You notice Kid’s smirk at the way the vehicle responds so quickly.And then you’re off.You honestly wish you could say that being in the same car as Kid was safe. Sometimes, when he grew tired of the workshop, he picked up a key and zoomed through whatever street piqued his interest. You’d tag along if you had nothing else to do because you had to admit, there was a certain thrill to those late night escapades. Especially very late at night, when not a soul roamed the streets except you two.You’re not sure about now, though. But it’s not like you had much of a choice, anyway. The car was already pulling into a deserted street at a speed that was, in your opinion, unnecessary. Right away, you could tell that whatever Kid had added to this car, it wasn’t necessarily the safest.Each bump had you jumping in your seat; each turn pressed you against the window or threw you in a random direction. You glared hard at the driver, who remained unfazed.Eventually, you make it to the main street, with buildings, streetlights, and neon signs lining each side of the road. You didn’t have to ask to know what the hell he was planning.“Kid, today really isn’t–” This time, you weren’t cut off by a beep, but your own squeal when the car picked up speed. You heard him laugh at your tremulous cussing. “For the love of shit, Eustass!” This went on for a while. He’d disregard stoplights and crossings, cackling when you attempted to scold him. Somehow, you persuaded him to slow down, but the difference was minuscule. The buildings and signs meshed together into a dizzying mess, forcing you to close your eyes so you wouldn’t be sick. You shrieked when the man swerved into an intersection and halted so suddenly you would’ve flown out the front if it weren’t for your seatbelt.Hesitantly, you cracked your eyes open, breathing laboured from the rush of adrenaline flowing through you.Up ahead, a car with an obnoxious paint job trundled down the street to your right. The driver had the windows rolled down so that his buddies could point and laugh at Kid’s car. You could sense the oncoming race that would determine who had the biggest death wish from a mile away. “Kid…” You warned. He ignored you for the third time tonight, which meant he wasn’t going to listen to you in the near future.Before you could exit the vehicle and book it out of there, the Mustang roared and surged on. You recoiled away from the door, shooting Kid what felt like your 100th nasty look.“Put your seatbelt on.” Kid murmured, dark eyes trained on his new challenge.“Oh, so now you’re concerned– wait, what about you?” You motioned to his seatbelt incredulously. He laughed, dismissing your concern. Blue and orange hues from the lights outside danced in his eyes, where you could see glee.“We’re gonna fucking die.” You mumbled, startling when Kid’s brand new challenge pulled up beside you. They made odd faces at you and waved mockingly. One of them kept hollering that you join them. You face Kid, who’s at ease and waiting for the stoplight above you to flit to green.Before that happens, you check that your seatbelt is secured, glowering at the other dudes. The engines rumble like distant thunder – a warning for those within earshot to beware. When the light changes to green, the vehicles are like lightning. The noise they make blocks out everything trying to reach your ears.You screw your eyes shut when Kid floors it, biting back a shriek for the sake of preserving both your eardrums.Judging by the lack of swerving and crazy turns, the goal is the end of the street. Still, even with this discovery, you don’t open your eyes. Your heart is thundering in your chest, thumping against your ribcage almost painfully.“Hey, (name),” Kid calls your name, bored. You open one eye enough to peek at him. “Wave those sorry fuckin’ losers goodbye. We’re leaving.” Bemused, you check the rear-view mirror with wide eyes, finding that you left the other car in the dust.“What did you even do to this car?” You ask, pressing the button to roll the window down and removing your seatbelt. A gust of wind hits you in the face as you lean your top half out, watching the other car in awe. Then you laugh.It starts off quiet as you raise one of your hands and give a meek wave. Then you straighten your arm over your head, laughter doubling in volume, and flail it wildly. You probably look crazy, but you don’t give a shit.You lower yourself back onto your seat chortling, hair mussed by the wind. Kid is grinning evilly, the pride apparent even in the way he grips the steering wheel.“That… was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever done.” You smack a hand on your forehead, absently pulling your seatbelt back on.“Can’t say the same, love.” Kid replies as he pulls over. You’re about to question him when you realize that besides you is the apartment complex you reside in.“Right, okay.” You nod, grabbing your purse and throwing the door open. Your legs feel like jelly from the wild ride, but your blood is singing and you feel like yourself again. That’s really all you could ask for after…It’s not even worth thinking about.Jogging up the steps to the entrance, you reach for the door handle, then stop, pensive.Kid hasn’t driven off. Not only that, you can feel his eyes on the back of your head.You smile to yourself, heading back down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Kid thinks you’ve probably forgotten something and pulls out his phone. Shaking your head, you saunter over to his side of the vehicle and rap on the window pane. The look he sends you this time is puzzled, but he does lower the window.“What-” He begins, only to freeze when you lean inside, grab his chin, and bring your face close to his. You almost laugh when he holds his breath, a daring glint in his eye, eyebrows knitted. Kid's prosthetic hand closes around your wrist tightly but not to the point where he'll crush it. “Thanks, love.” You whisper sweetly and then lean back, smiling mirthfully as you take your hand back.Faster than he could’ve thought, you disappear, the swishing of the main entrance the only hint that you had been there. Kid grunts, revs the engine, and speeds away with a cocky smirk.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You’d always been vigilant. From the day you met until now, you’d always kept your eyes peeled through whatever the world tossed your way. On more than one occasion, back when you were younger, you’d been the one to drag them away from excessive danger, no matter what complaints or threats they voiced.So why did you end up like this? Why are you in a bed, unconscious, hanging onto life by a mere thread? And how ?Law didn’t know. And he hated not knowing the answer to a problem regarding one of his crew member's health. More than that, he hated seeing you like this, which had made treating your wounds that much harder.He removed the latex gloves and bunched them up, tossing them in a nearby bin. The sound they made as they reached the trash signalled that he’d finished. There was nothing else he could do.Law knew you were strong. In the time you’ve spent together, you’ve grown sturdier and tolerant to injuries. Year-old scars from numerous battles decorated your body and marred your skin, each one with their own story.But there’s always been a limit to that strength, and you’d hit yours. He didn’t know if it’d been before you left, after, or somewhere in the middle of the fight.Law grabbed a chair and wheeled it to your bed, sitting down with a resounding sigh. Their last skirmish with a rival crew had been the day they’d lost sight of you. He could still remember the few survivors of that crew fleeing the scene, when you sidled up to him. Weapons ready, the two of you shared a glance, and with a nod and a smirk, you began the pursuit. Law had watched you go, confident that you’d end everything swiftly and return to them.You didn’t.They searched for several hours, though their efforts were fruitless. There were no signs of you or the remaining members of the crew they’d defeated, which meant you weren’t on the island anymore. And although he didn’t show it, he’d feared the worst.There’d been outrage when everyone finally agreed that you’d been kidnapped. And although the only thing he wanted to do was find you, he ordered a retreat and set about treating injuries from the fight. This was met with a lot of complaints, all of which he was forced to ignore because he too wanted to get you back no matter what.It took four days.You’d ended up at another island that housed a noble and villagers that were not as welcoming to pirates. Again, when they docked, all he wanted to do was scamper off into the village and save you. It pained Law to stay back and assess their situation, all while formulating a plan in his head.When everyone was ready, though, they stormed the place. The marines, lazy and oozing pride at having a famous pirate locked in one of their cells, were taken off guard. They scrambled to and fro, yelling into den-den mushis as body parts went flying and blood dripped from the walls.And so, after unleashing hell on the damn place, they got you back. The pirates that’d handed you to the marines were in cells of their own, and Law disposed of them fairly quickly. They pleaded with him, promising him things that he didn’t bother registering.“ Law… ”He blinked, sitting up as he fixed his gaze on the doorway, expecting Shachi or Penguin to be there. When he didn’t spot either of them, he glanced back at you, mildly surprised to see you squinting up at him.The man rose from his chair, nearing your bedside, immediately checking you over. “How are you feeling?”You tried shifting, face scrunching up.“Don’t push it, (name). You just woke up.” He scolds gently, ever so fretful. “How do you feel?”You sighed, the sound trembling as your eyes slip shut again. “Tired. And in pain.” There was a pause as you pondered your current state. “...How bad?”“Bad.” Law replied, plopping back down on the chair. Now that he wasn’t working to treat your injuries, the exhaustion from the past few days was starting to settle in. He watched you smile sardonically, fingers curling into the sheets.Usually, you’d apologize, but that was only when you knew you’d done something wrong. A sudden ambush wasn’t your fault, being unable to escape wasn’t your fault - or maybe it was. You didn’t know.“How is everyone?” You ask meekly, voice barely above a whisper. Whatever he’d injected into your system was taking its time wearing off.“They’re worried, but all right.” A nod is the response he receives. You shift again, this time out of discomfort. Lying down for so long is one of the many reasons why you hated suffering from major injuries. Though, these didn’t feel like major injuries. They felt like something you’d receive from training, but perhaps that was because of the painkillers working their magic.Law reached out, noticing your stiffness. His hand was mere inches from the pillows hugging the back of your head when, out of nowhere, you flinched violently. You edged away from him, eyebrows pinched in distress. He stopped.Quickly, you realized what you’d done and opened your mouth, only for the words to die at the tip of your tongue.“Sorry,” You forced yourself to speak, swallowing past the ball lodged in your throat. “I… sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”Law stared at you. The lighting in the room made the dark circles under his eyes more prominent, and his hair was wilder than usual. You broke the eye contact after a few moments, tense.“What happened…?” His voice was gentle, concerned. Rightfully so. The fact that you’d actually avoided potential contact was disconcerting, considering you don’t mind being touched. If somebody was in need of a hug, you were there to provide them comfort, no matter how insignificant the issue may seem. Or, at least, that's what he thought.“I…” The words won’t make it past your lips. You shake your head, firmly; you don’t want to talk about it. Not yet.“I need to sit up.” You say instead, strongly. Your words bounce off the walls of the silent room, echoing. Law is ready to argue with you, a frown curling his lips downwards, but you meet his eyes pleadingly. With a hefty sigh, he complies, helping you sit up carefully. He releases your arm and removes his hand from your back when he’s sure you won’t flop back down, boneless. “Thank you.”The both of you fall back into compatible silence as you stretch as much as your injuries will allow. There are bandages secured around your torso, biting into the skin of your stomach due to your position. You’re grateful for the change, though. Pieces of gauze are taped to the cuts and nicks you’d sustained. Most were from trying to fight your way back to your captain after being ambushed.Unfortunately, your enemies had been too many for you in your fatigued state, and had made sure you wouldn’t run by bludgeoning you until you stopped struggling.Honestly, you don’t even want to peek at your leg.Secretly, you peer at your captain’s tattooed hands, lips pursed in thought. You’re sure he’s taken note of your uneasy behaviour, but he doesn’t point it out. He lets you think, waiting patiently for when you’re ready to speak.“...”Wordlessly and rather hesitantly, you extend a hand towards him.He regards you, gaze unwavering, and envelops your hand with his larger one, mindful. A tremor slithers up your spine, eyes screwing shut in concentration. Law was starting to get an idea of what they’d really done to you, and felt hot anger flare up inside his chest. He wished he could bring the marines back to life, if only to dice their bodies to pieces a second time.Nonetheless, he doesn't comment on it. Just let you do what you needed to feel better.You remained still for a minute or two, getting used to the feeling of being held, not pummeled.“When can I leave the bed?” You whisper so as to not disturb the silence too much. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and you hear alarms go off in your head, though you don’t make a move.“Give it a few weeks and you’ll be free to go. I want to make sure nothing is severely damaged.” He replies just as softly, eyes roving your visage in search of panic. Your expression evened out as you inhaled deeply, eyes opening.“Okay.” You paused again. “...Law?”“(name).” He returned.“Have you taken a break, at all?”“...” The silence was enough.You sighed, meeting his yellow eyes with a frown on your face. This was common between the two of you - when one didn’t care for themselves, they’d be subjected to a scolding look. He was usually the one sending you said look, despite being two years younger than you.This time, though, it was your turn.You raise your free hand, which he clasps, expression unreadable. You knew he was acting this way because he was worried. He just didn’t know how to express it well. Not without bringing medication and terminology you barely understood at times into the conversation.Tugging on his arms, you urge him to join you on the bed, muscles straining in effort. They’d really gotten you this time. His jaw clenches and unclenches, a detail that could easily be missed by those who don’t spend as much time with him.When he’s seated on the mattress, you recline on the bed, hands still gripping his.One last impatient tug, and he’s lying down beside you. He takes up most of the bed due to his long limbs, and he looks kind of awkward when you let go of him. You tuck your hands under your pillow, unable to handle much any more contact. You don’t think he can, either, not with the stress on his shoulders. He adjusts the way his legs are situated so they don’t brush against your battered ones.And, all this time, you’ve been staring into his eyes, and vice-versa.When you’re finally comfortable enough and the bandages don’t dig into your skin, you pipe up again. “Now sleep. I’m not going to let you leave until you do.” You threaten, but it’s lighthearted.“You don’t get to order me around.” Law mumbles, eyes gleaming with slight amusement. You smile, and even though it’s shaky, it’s genuine.“Most of the time, no, since you never really listen, anyway. But right now? Yes. You’re tired. I’m tired. So let’s sleep, yeah?” You retort, putting one hand between you two. Law’s gaze flickers between the limb and your eyes, and, slowly, he covers your hand with his again.“I promise I’ll tell you everything later.” You add as an afterthought, anxious. “I just… I need a little time.”Law nods. You send him a small smile as thanks, then close your eyes, feeling drowsy now that you’ve settled in bed.(x)Two weeks was all it took for you to be able to walk out of the infirmary.While you did have numerous injuries, the damage was not as extensive as Law had first surmised. They ranged from small cuts to a few bruised ribs, which still needed to heal. He’d been hesitant to let you roam the ship because of this, but your complaining did eventually convince him.The day after awakening, everyone in the crew came rushing to visit you, burbling and asking questions. You’d answered easily enough, with only a few grimaces and uncomfortable shrugs. Surprisingly, everyone kept their distance, only touching you if you gave them a smile. A few times you tensed, but the more time you spent with the crew, the less frequent it became.Your shoulders were off-limits though.Now, you’re wandering the ship. You hadn’t been given much to do, for obvious reasons, but it still didn’t excuse the fact that you were painfully bored. Blowing a stray hair out of your face, you enter the control room, intent on finding something to busy yourself with.Inside, you find the crew’s mink poring over some maps. He looks up when you cross the threshold, greeting you happily, which you return with a wave. Walking up to Bepo, you examine the maps out on display on top of the table, curious.The mink called your name, “How are you feeling today?”You glance up, lips pursing slightly. “I’m doing well. Still need to heal, but I think I can get back to doing some work soon.” Bepo nodded, eyes finding the maps on the table again- You decide not to disturb him and meander about the room.Just then, somebody walks into the room. “Ah, (name), the captain’s looking for you.” You meet the eye of a newer recruit, his boiler suit pristine and the jolly roger smiling at you.“Thanks,” You call as you hurry out of the room. Chances are this was another check-up, which, knowing Law, were impossible to try and hide from.Thinking of your captain left an ache in your chest. He was worried about you and wanted to know what happened, but you didn't know how to word it properly. You hadn't even mentioned the impromptu nap you took with him at your side. He hadn't either. In record time, you arrive at the infirmary, where the aforementioned person resides. He looks up as you open the door, even though he probably didn’t need to. For him, it wasn’t hard to figure out who was walking down the halls with his haki and all.“Hey,” You greet amicably as you shut the door. “Check-up?”The man nods, gesturing to a bed, and you follow without question. Sitting down, you undo the button on the collar of your suit, then unzip it down to your stomach, fixing the tank top underneath.You’re still not comfortable showing them, but unfortunately, the most worrisome bruises had been around your neck. At first, they’d been a mix between blue, purple, and black. Your hands fidget with the light scarf you’d wrapped around the column of your neck. With a tremulous sigh, you reveal the bruises.What’s worse, they were finger shaped, and when Law noticed them the glower he’d regarded them with had been terrifying. That’s all you remember from the jail; a look of pure rage and hand grazing the injuries, shaky. Thankfully, they’re in their last stages.Still though, you felt somewhat insecure showing them.Law scrutinized the contusions, the same obscure look in his eye from when he first spotted them. You shift, slipping your arms out of the suit’s sleeves, and place your hands in your lap, face stony. Then, he stands, swiftly rummaging the cupboards for the ointment he’s been applying on your neck.“They look better,” You mumble as Law finds what he’s looking for, eyes trained on the floor.His feet enter your line of vision, and you raise your chin to let him work without difficulty. You inhale deeply, unwilling to succumb into the panic of having someone touch such a sensitive area. Each touch sends tingles of fright skittering along your limbs, leaving goosebumps in their wake.“Breathe, (name),” You hear Law murmur, moving from one side of your neck to the other. You deflate, sighing audibly. When had you stopped breathing?“Sorry,” You reply, sheepish and kind of ashamed. He probably thought that you were being ridiculous. Law meets your eyes for a brief second, and then pulls back, capping the ointment quietly.“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Law prompts calmly, putting the ointment away. He glances at you when you don’t reply, eyes unblinking as you stare at him.He feels somewhat guilty at the bluntness of his statement, but he had to ask. Even though you were making a smooth recovery, there was something in your eyes that betrayed you whenever you spoke to someone. A haunted, miserable look that had everyone worried even though you assured them that you were fine, a smile to go along with it.“You already know what happened, though.” You return dejectedly, jaw clenching.“Not the whole story,” He sat down on the stool that he was previously occupying, before your arrived. “And you haven’t told anyone about what’s troubling you.”Your mood sours further at his last remark. The only reason you hadn’t told anybody was because you wanted to handle it on your own - you knew you could. You just needed time.Although, it was starting to hinder you. You were going to start taking up chores and whatnot again soon and if your mind was elsewhere, you’d be back in the infirmary in no time.“I got jumped,” You begin, fidgeting with your boiler suit. The fabric felt odd to your fingertips. “At the beach. There were marines posted there for who knows what reason, and they ran up to them.When I got there, they noticed that there were pirates from two different crews in front of them, and they went with whoever seemed weakest. I was that person.”You take a moment to recall exactly what happened. There was the fight that you took part in, intent on wiping out every last one of them so they wouldn’t bother your crew. But then, the exhaustion from the previous fight crashed over you, weighing you down, and you became the easier target. You relay all of this to your captain, who seems eerily calm.“They took me somewhere, I don’t know where-”“A noble’s mansion.” Law butt in, providing the detail that you’ve been missing for so long. He paused, thinking, before adding. “You were going to be sold.” The mere statement is horrifying, but hearing the boiling rage hidden so well behind the façade of serenity is worse.“...that.” You continue, because you’d rather not dwell on his revelation. “And then… well, what I assume is the asshat noble there… he… he…” Trailing off, you motion to your body.The beating had been the worst. He’d started with your right leg, so you would be too worried nursing it to think about fleeing. Next had been your hip and your abdomen. He might’ve gone for your head if you hadn’t kicked his feet from underneath him with your left leg. After that, he summoned his guards and they pinned you down while he tried strangling you. You spat blood at him, which was disgusting enough that he got off you and let you breathe.Telling this to Law, you grimace at the memories flashing before your eyes. He doesn’t make a comment.When you finish with the re-telling of events, you stare at the floor, waiting for a reaction.Instead, you feel a pair of hands cradle your face, urging you to raise your eyes again.Law is standing in front of you, eyebrows pinched. His hands are cold against your skin, which is heated from the utter shame of having to open up about… this. Your body is wound up and the face of the noble is still enough to make you want to recoil. But this is Law, not some sorry excuse of a human being.Law says nothing. The words are clearly stuck, but that’s fine. You don’t need him to speak.Your hands close around his wrists, gently, and your eyes slip shut. You hadn’t let anybody’s touch linger for more than a fraction of a second in a very long time. It doesn’t feel great, but it’s a reminder that you’re safe here. You’re not in that cell anymore.The hands slip down to your shoulders, giving them a brief squeeze before travelling back up to your face. You appreciate the coolness that radiates from his palms. Then, he distances himself from you. You release his wrists, eyes fluttering open.A silence hangs above both your heads. It’s heavy, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s the type of silence that follows when somebody does something they’re not used to.Finally, you look up, a genuine smile shining through. “Thank you.”“You’re welcome.” Law’s voice is soft, as if he’s still reeling over what he’s done. You study his expression, chuckling quietly. His eyes snap to you immediately, widened just a tad.“You haven’t changed one bit.” You tease, shaking your head as you rise from the bed, zipping up your boiler suit. Clapping a hand on his shoulder, you repeat, “Thank you.” Then, clumsily, you place a kiss on his cheek and rush out the room a second later, leaving the man stunned.Minutes afterwards, he realizes that he is still standing in the same spot. His fingers brush the place you’d pecked. Law shakes his head, a strange, yet pacifying feeling settling inside his chest.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was exactly a year after you supposedly perished without leaving a trace for them to follow. Marco had all but returned to his usual self, with bouts of sadness coming and going like ocean waves.Sometimes, it was a storm of emotion, raging inside his chest and altering his way of thinking to the point it was almost destructive.Other times, a dull ache throbbed once or twice throughout the day, always reminding him of its presence but never hindering him. He could smile and laugh and have fun without problematic thoughts there to ruin him. Nobody in the crew sent him furtive glances or asked if he needed a break, which was just how he liked it, because he was fine. He really was.Marco was familiar with loss. Centuries of living and growing had taught him that it was unavoidable for everybody else on this world. And, admittedly, the pain of losing people over and over again gradually became less intense. It was only normal for him to think that way - or at least he hoped it was.But meeting you and spending each day with you at his side had been therapeutic, in a way. The two of you had trouble sleeping for different reasons, which meant that you had hours to spare. At first, he’d spend the nights alone, up on a crow’s nest with the stars and the moon as his company. But then he noticed you wandering the ship, a lost phantom, and after a few conversations, he thought he’d found someone like him.Not in the immortality aspect, of course. It was the outlook on life the two of you shared. Your wisdom and knowledge was something that he had taken over five decades to collect, when you were just twenty-eight. It was the way you faced each challenge; coolly, level-headed, ready to lead if the commanders just weren’t available. You’d been his right-hand without the two of you realizing it.But, alas, that knowledge came with a price.You never disclosed too much information, and he never asked any probing questions, but he knew that you struggled daily. Sometimes you’d lay in bed, staring at the ceiling for an hour, caged in your own mind. It was always up to him to coax you out of bed with an easy-going smile and a hand on your shoulder.On one of these particular days, he walked in to find you sitting up already, blankets a bundle on the floor. They were nearing an island known for its freezing temperatures and some people in the galley were already wearing hats and gloves. Thatch claimed that when Pops spotted you, he ordered you right back to where you came from so you could change. Apparently, you tried arguing, but one stern reprimand drowned out any more protests.That had worried Marco. He knew you would listen to Whitebeard and do what you’re told. And yet, when he opened the door to see you, it was quite the opposite.Your outfit, despite the goosebumps on your skin and the shivers clinging to your frame, was minimal. Shorts, a loose long-sleeved blouse, no socks. Your lips were pursed, eyes fixed on another crew member’s bunk, hands hanging loosely between your thighs.Before this, he’d expected to find numerous scars littering your skin, but instead, he found one marring the lucent skin of your left thigh. A simple attempt at releasing pent-up emotions, and judging by the way it suddenly stopped, you hadn't been too fond of the idea, after all. Marco's heart ached at the thought of you doing something maim yourself.The translucent light filtering in through one of the portholes outlined your slouching frame and highlighted the exhaustion on your face. When he kneeled in front of you, you looked down at him with such innocence it almost felt he was finger-wagging a child. You didn’t know what you did wrong.Then, as if waking up from a hazy dream, you blinked and grasped his hand when he held it out to you. You dressed in more appropriate clothing while he waited outside, and when you exited the room, you were quiet.Thankfully, it wasn’t alarmingly so. You two ambled down the hall toward the galley, enjoying the other’s presence without the need to speak. A secret glance at your face confirmed that you were actually feeling better. Later, after eating, you walked up to Whitebeard and apologized sincerely. The old man laughed, shaking his head, but the expression morphed into one of worry once you turned your back to him. Marco swore he would help you feel better. He urged you to speak to him whenever your thoughts were too overwhelming and made sure you didn’t neglect yourself. But he also didn’t coddle you. When you repeated a certain action that he knew would harm you in the long run, he had you swear you wouldn’t do it anymore. It pained him when you crossed your arms, looking away as if that could act as a barrier and put an end to his fussing.After close to three months, your progress was gratifying and beyond relieving. You felt more comfortable opening up and you never replicated a stunt like the one at the winter island.So when you suddenly vanished, it felt like someone had taken all he’d done, tossed it on the floor, set it on fire, and then screamed that it wasn’t enough. Everything he’d tried wasn’t enough and now you, one of his dearest friends, were gone.In his room, ten days after you disappeared, he realized he was hoping for something else. Something more. He was forced to walk around for a good three hours before someone herded him to Whitebeard. Marco almost broke when sharing this.But now, he and everyone on the ship healed. They missed you, but life didn’t wait for anybody, and soon things were back to routine.Today, he was focusing on paperwork, noting each division’s spendings and budget, among other things. He’d holed himself in here after eating lunch, trusting that his division won’t fall into disarray with him absent.The pen scratched against the paper noisily, following each movement his hand made. Marco inhaled deeply as he put aside a paper, working on the next one quickly. It was quiet in the room, which he appreciated.Another paper done, he set his pen down and rolled his shoulders, sighing as his joints popped. Marco’s eyes slipped shut as he relished the quietude, only for them to snap open when the den-den mushi on his desk began making noise. He reached for the little snail, curious and mildly suspicious. His hand hovered over the creature as he thought; whoever it was, were they really worth the hassle? With the government listening in on conversations, he didn’t want to risk anything.Marco shook his head, ignoring the snail and breathing a sigh when it finally stopped.He picked up his pen and continued writing, eyebrows knitted in concentration.Outside in the hall, he recognized the sound of footsteps, but didn’t pay it any mind. He’d made it clear that if there was an issue, any other commander was to assist while he caught up with paperwork.
“Marco!!”
The man’s shoulders slumped. It was Ace rushing down the hall… but for what? He’d ensured nothing was out of place. For him to come running meant-
BANG.
Marco flinched and whirled around at the intrusion, ears ringing from the deafening boom of the door colliding with the wall. Ace stood there, hands rested on his knees as he panted. His hat was skewed from the run and his face was flushed.“Yes ~yoi?” The blond rose from his chair, a bit put off by the younger man’s behaviour. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He approached Ace, who merely shook his head.Ace fixed him with a wide-eyed look, then heaved. “It’s- it’s (name)! They’re alive!”Marco’s expression darkened considerably, lips pulling into a taut line as he regarded Ace seriously. “That can’t be. We searched everywhere with nothing to show for it.” Despite his grim words, he inched forwards, fingers twitching in anticipation.Ace shook his head a second time, vehement. “Marco, I’m serious. I really am. They called Pops and are talking to him right now.”The blond bit his lip, canines digging into the flesh painfully. Without another word, he sprinted past the other commander and in the direction of the captain’s quarters, Ace in tow.When they arrived, he threw the door open, briefly cutting Whitebeard off. The old man nodded to him, words ghosting past his lips carefully.“Where are you now, (name)?” The old man’s voice rumbled. He swung a bottle of sake back and forth, the contents inside swishing quietly. “I’m safe,” Your voice - your voice - cut through the silence, peppered with static. Or maybe that was his hearing. “And in Enies Lobby right now.” Marco sidled up to Whitebeard, shoulders drawn back. “Pops… ” Whitebeard grunted, glancing at Ace, who nodded as he exited the room. They were to set course for that island straight away, it seemed. “Is Marco there with you?” Yes. He thought desperately, I’m here. I’ve always been here. “He is. I’ll let you two speak.” The old man handed the speaker to Marco, who gripped the thing for dear life.“(name) ~yoi?” He began shakily, voice low and disbelieving.He thought he heard a sniffle on the other side of the line. “I’m here.” The man let loose a long, suffering sigh as he sank to his knees, not trusting them to function for a while. “ God , (name), it is you. It’s… it’s you .” He raked his fingers through his hair, eyes scrunching shut. “How is it you, (name)?” Beside him, Whitebeard shifted on his bed, grabbing his enormous coat. Marco was too focused on the call to notice the old man slip outside.The laugh that reached his ears was watery and depressing. “I don’t know, Marco. I don’t know.” There was a pause as you both gathered your thoughts, then, “I missed you.” “I missed you, too.” Marco rubbed his eyes, heart throbbing. “How’d you even get to Enies Lobby?”
“Well, first, I made it out of the wreckage-”
“Wreckage ~yoi?” He cut you off, voice quiet but firm. “The marines we fought that day, their ship sank.” Oh, now he remembered. It appeared his own mind had betrayed him and tried burying the memory. “I was below deck fighting when a cannon ball blew part of the wall. I was caught under the debris and so were some other marines.” “Why were you there alone?” Marco hissed, angry at you, himself, whoever shot the cannon, and the whole damn world, but also miserable. “Why didn’t you tell me you were there?” “I thought I could go down there and be done with the enemies quickly. And the group I was with all went their separate ways.” You retorted weakly. “How was I supposed to know that was going to happen?” That much was true. Marco restrained the anger; there was no point in such emotions now. It had been a year, damn it.“But we didn’t find you afterwards. I couldn’t find you.” He murmured, adjusting his body so he could sit against the wall. He picked up the snail and placed it in front of him, watching it mimic your expressions. It had tears in its eyes. “The part of the wreckage I was in ended up in a surface current, sweeping me away from the ship.” The snail’s tears dripped onto the floor. “I managed to make it out before I ended up in the deeper currents and used a piece of wood as a raft.” Marco scratched his chin, staring at the floor with a faraway look in his eye. Part of him wanted to blame himself for what happened to you. Part of him wanted to curl up and talk to you until you crossed paths again. Every fiber that made him who he was wanted to cradle you in his arms and never let go.Marco sighed.“Any major injuries?” He inquired, gently lifting the snail off the floor and setting it in his lap. It stared up at him with moist eyes. “Somehow, the worst of it was a badly dislocated knee. It never healed properly, so now I have to use a walking stick. Uh… and a piece of wood pierced my shoulder, which also left a mark.” You shuffled a little, probably checking for anything you might’ve forgotten. “Other than that, I’m still alive.” “Yeah, thank God for that.” He mumbled. The little snail grinned up at him. “We’ll see each other soon.” Your tone of voice was resolute, a determination he’d never heard from you. In fact, your whole demeanor had changed, strikingly so.“We will.” Marco agreed, “And, (name)... how are you feeling?”The snail smiled widely at the question. It was a habit of his to ask, since he did that nearly every day when you were on the ship. “Still fighting, but doing a hell of a lot better. I remembered everything you did for me and used that as a reason to keep going. I still need to thank you properly.” This time, Marco was the one to chortle. “I’ll hold you to that.”The conversation lagged awkwardly. Thoughts still circled inside both your heads, persistent and loud.Softly, you piped up once more. “I don’t want to hang up.” “Me either,” He admitted, lips pursing. “I… this still feels like a dream.”
“Then, if it is, let’s not wake up just yet.”
Marco smiled. “Right ~yoi.”(x)You coordinated with the rest of the crew, travelling to an island near Enies Lobby, carrying with you what little belongings you had. While healing physically and mentally, there’d been little room to form attachments to many things. Most of the time, you were so drained you barely left the house. A few months into your stay though, you decided that maybe heading out once in a while was for the best. It helped tremendoulsy, especially during the most gruelling part of your stay, which was learning to walk a second time in your life.Now, you awaited their arrival, lingering by the beach every day until the sun hid behind the horizon. You carried the transponder snail everywhere you went, communicating with Marco and telling him about anything that dawned on you. Memories and stories were the dominant part of your conversations. Often, you asked him how he was doing, which surprised him the first few times. You’d listen to him ramble on about his day, nodding, humming, and speaking when prompted.It was the first step to thanking the man that kept you grounded for so long.
“Ace wants to talk to you, ~yoi.”
You grinned down at the snail, looking on as its face changed from droopy blue eyes to bright silver and animated. “(name)! We haven’t talked in so long!!” “It’s been a few hours since we last spoke, Ace.” You chuckled softly, padding down the beach. You’d removed your shoes and left them - and your walking stick - in a little hut you’d built. The sand sunk with each tremulous step you took and waves lapped at your ankles. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in a multitude of shades, all of them orange, purple, and dark blue. It set the ocean alight. “A few hours too many!” The man replied, and you hear another voice in the background. Your snail struggles slightly, face changing to accommodate each new person. Haruta, Izo, Thatch, and other commanders along with many crew members voice their thoughts in the background.“Everyone, please, calm down or my snail will end up having a stroke.” You laughed through your heartbreak, gripping your shirt. Even though you tried to wipe them away, the tears kept flowing steadily. “I’ve missed you all.”A cacophony of voices echoed your last statement. Rakuyou seemed to be the most thunderous, with an “goddamn it, don’t cry or I’ll start sobbin’, you! Pops! Tell them not to cry!”. It urged another round of laughter from you. The image of all of them crowded around Whitebeard and the tiny transponder snail was an interesting one.When your snail’s complexion matched that of the captain’s, you acted more respectful.“Good day, Pops.” You smiled softly, eyes scanning the sea and spotting a familiar whale-head. Its massive grin was the most relieving sight you’d laid your eyes upon. Your throat tightened, the dam preventing the water-works cracking as you rasped, “Good day.” “Get ready to leave, (name).” The captain replied, amusement and subdued elation apparent in his words. “You’re almost home.” After that, the snail fell silent, eyes slipping shut in exhaustion. You made a note to regale it with food when it was time to eat.Even from your position, you could hear the cries of your name emanating from the gigantic ship. Men and women leaned over the railing, waving and flailing excitedly as the ship finally docked. Even though Whitebeard had ordered you to gather your belongings, you hadn’t moved from your spot, entranced with the view.A blur of brilliant blue and yellow swooped down from a crow’s nest, and your knees buckled.“Marco,” You whispered, feet - oh, the stupid things - glued to your spot. The phoenix descended even lower, its glow reflecting off the waters as it sped towards you. One last graceful arch upwards allowed it to land a few feet from you, flames receding. The person you’d longed to see mirrored your expression. You couldn’t hear him, but you knew he’d mouthed your name, just like you’d done with his.And then you were running.It was more of a crazed hobble, but you didn’t care. He was right in front of you; why should you care?Marco’s gaze flitted between your leg and your face, but he didn’t scold you or tell you to slow down. He jogged, legs eating up the distance separating you two easily. When you were within arm’s reach, you leaped, tackling him to the ground. A shocked grunt was the response to your sobbing, then a hand on the back of your head and another on your back.Quickly, you calmed down, wanting to do more than cry in his presence. You propped yourself up on your elbows, gazing down at the blond, who grinned up at you.“This is real.” He breathed, reaching up to caress your cheek. You laughed, ecstatic, and hugged him. People were piling out of the ship by now, stampeding.Marco helped you up, large palm on the small of your back so you wouldn’t topple to the floor. He glanced at your leg, but a swift yet feather-light kick to his shin reassured him you were fine. You clasped his hand, shocking him again, and rushed to meet the crew halfway. The man trailed along, heart warming when you laughed at Ace’s scrambling.Releasing his hand, you hugged the younger man, who lifted you off the sand. You kicked your legs happily then tapped his shoulders when you couldn’t breathe. Ace placed you back on the ground and you moved to greet everyone else.There were tears, smiles, and a thousand voices welcoming you back. Everywhere you turned there was a jolly roger - the one you donned even after all this time - in sight. Whitebeard stepped off the ship with his bisento, a few nurses trailing after him. His guffaws shook the whole island, sending birds fleeing into the sky.Eventually, the crew calmed down and gave you room to breathe. The questions kept coming, but it was mostly happy babbling.“Where in the hell have you been, you?!” Rakuyo sobbed as he swept you into his arms. It took Bleinheim and Speed Jiru to pry him off, and even then he hadn’t stopped crying. They both nodded and waved, which you gladly returned.“This calls for a party!” Haruta declared, pointing at the sky and stance wide. People cheered and whooped.“Oh, no, that’s not-” You started, only to be interrupted.“Nonsense!” Someone yelled, “It is absolutely necessary!”“Okay, okay,” You relented, raising your hands in defeat. Marco snaked an arm around your waist, and you did the same, resting your head on his shoulder and looking up at him. He seemed to think about something momentarily. You found out when he pressed a kiss to your forehead.(x)The party lasted for a good seven hours. Or at least for you and Marco. Both of you grew tired of the noise and dancing and retired to his room.Inside said place, you ventured back and forth, examining and finding it hadn’t changed at all. Just like him. Marco had sat down on the chair by his desk and had taken to observing you.“It’s this room I thought about.” You mused, fingers dancing across the bookshelves. Your cane was propped up against the wall by the nightstand. Even though it was a necessity, you didn’t like relying on it too much. “The place I missed the most.”Marco didn’t respond, but you didn’t mind.“I remembered this book in particular.” You tapped on the book’s binding twice, biting your lip as you rested your hand on another one. “And this one. They were always my favourite.”Slowly, you turned back to him, eyebrow raised inquisitively. “Will you let me read them sometime?”Marco stood, crossing the room with three steps and enveloped your hand with his. His eyes were half-lidded as he placed your hand against his cheek. “You know you don’t have to ask ~yoi…” He murmured, closing his eyes.“Yeah, but…” You tried defending yourself, smiling fondly at his actions. “It’s polite? I don’t want to take things and not let you know.” Marco chuckled and inhaled deeply. The exhaustion was really starting to settle.“How long has it been since you’ve had a good night’s sleep?” You prompted, resting your other hand on his shoulder. You guided him to his bed and urged him to lay down.“Since you left.” He answered truthfully, albeit hesitantly, and met your eye. You froze, scanning his face for anything hinting at a joke, then sighed.“I’m sorry.” You mumbled, eyes downcast guiltily. Marco sat up, scooting closer to you until your hips touched. He lifted your chin with a finger and simply stared at you, waiting for you to raise your eyes.When you did, he spoke, “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad ~yoi.”“I know.”“It was not your fault, (name).”“I know that, too.”“I said it because communication is very important in a relationship.”“Yeah- wait, what?” You blurted. The corners of your lips twitched in mirth when you saw him grin mischievously. “Oh, so this is how it’s going to be?”Marco put some distance between your faces, smile still on his face but tone serious. “If you want it to be ~yoi.”You forced him to lay back, shifting until you were sprawled on top of him, elbows bearing your weight by each side of his head. “Yeah, I really do.” Your words came out rather shy, and you flushed when Marco’s eyes softened. His hands settled on your waist and you let out a breath, nonplussed.“Now that I’m not a mess, we can actually- mmf?! ”A pair of lips swiftly cut you off, drowning out whatever it was you were planning to say. They moved against yours, insistent on keeping you from carrying on with your sentence. The kiss, while chaste and regrettably quite short, left you dizzy nonetheless. You blinked down at the man, eyebrows furrowing and mouth opening and closing.“What?” You managed. Marco barked a laugh at your face - you looked like an angry cat with your nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed.When he sobered up, he replied, “I’m going to do that every time you talk down to yourself ~yoi.” Then, cheekily, he stuck out his tongue. Your cheeks heated up again.“You were saying?”You squinted at him, mulling over your words - not like you minded his actions, quite the contrary, but you didn’t want him to do that every time you spoke.“Now that I’m not acting like an id-” Again, the man put an end to your sentence, fervent and even more persistent. Your hands curled into the sheets as you reciprocated, body relaxing and eyes slipping shut. Realizing what you did, Marco pulled away with a huff and chuckled.“That’s not what you’re supposed to do ~yoi.” His striking blue eyes shone with amusement. You stuck your tongue out, copying him.“Now that I’m… feeling better,” Your giggles bounced off the walls when he nodded, satisfied with your wording, “we can actually get down to business.” That took him a moment to process, a moment you used to swipe the pillow from under his head. Without a second to lose, you buried his face in the pillow.“(name), really?” Marco struggled against you. When you grew tired, you rolled off him and stood at the foot of the bed. He pried the pillow away from his face with a scoff, about to chide you when he noticed you unbuttoning your shirt. The words died at the tip of his tongue when you threw your top off."Really."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Soulmate AU in which every time you’re touched by your soulmate, a blotch of colour appears on that place. How long a mark stays depends on the emotions behind each touch. Sometimes the colours stay for a couple of minutes, sometimes for hours. Touches brought on by really strong feelings have the chance of lasting years, but that’s rare. And, depending on the other person's mood, the colour that shows up on their skin varies. So if soulmate A is happy, colours like yellow or orange show up on soulmate B's skin when they are touched.Luffy:
Colour on him constantly. Usually, his face, arms, and legs are covered in blotches of reds, oranges, and yellow. This is due to how infectious his happiness is and how keen he is on clinging to you. It's hard to feel sad for a long period of time when he's there.
Draws ridiculous patterns on your skin for a laugh and sort of, kind of tries to draw something nice for you. He's not an artist though, so the attempt falls flat.
But it’s okay because you might not be good at drawing either! The two of you make a game of guessing what the heck the other has drawn.
“Is it a dog?”
“No!”
“...then, what is it?”
“...a man wearing a dog costume?”
This often happens if Luffy ends up bored, which is common, so you two emerge from rooms looking like you poured buckets of coloured powder over your heads.
If you're an artist, though, he runs around showing off whatever you came up with. Sometimes the drawing comes out sloppy because Lu just doesn't stop moving no matter how sternly you scold him.
Zoro:
Rare for him to have colour on his skin since the guy is not too big on affection, but he won't push you away if you do feel like you need a hug.
Colour most often appears on his shoulders and chest, and in turn, the other person’s hands.
Sometimes in the hair, if he ends up asleep with his head on your lap. It looks quite strange afterwards because of his natural hair colour, which earns a few laughs from the rest of the crew. He's not too fond of those moments.
Both of you would have a different coloured hand like all the time because of his poor sense of direction (soulmate would have to lead the way forcefully).
You'd think that judging by the way his hands look half the time, he'd learn how to not get lost or at least listen. But no. The guy's hands literally look like a mini rainbow exploded on them.
“Oh my God, no, it’s this way.”
“No, it’s not!”
“The sign is literally right there!” You grab his hand, reviving the faded colours on his palm and fingers. Zoro is about to retort something when he notices the brand new colours and huffs fondly to himself.
The colours that show up on his skin tend to be tranquil ones, all due to the fact that you just can't feel unsafe around him.
Law:
Rarely has colour on him.
But sometimes, while he's treating injuries, a band of colour around his wrist or arm will show itself. It brings a small smile to his face and makes him feel a little lighter. These discoveries help when he's particularly stressed and ground him without fail. Especially when a crewmember's injuries aren't so minor and he's already thinking of losing them despite being amazingly skilled.
At times, he draws an imaginary line over the streak with his finger, wishing it wasn’t so faded but also glad it's not too noticeable. He's afraid of what could happen if his enemies or the marines were to find out about your relationship, but also knows you can handle yourself.
When you two are alone, he doesn't mind as much. Some areas are off-limits because of his past, but he's pretty okay with whatever. If the other person gets creative from time to time, he might end up dozing.
The colours that show up on your skin tend to be dark blues and purples, but sometimes lighter colours will make an appearance. This often happens when he's with around the crew and, more importantly, you.
Whenever happier marks appear on your skin, you send him the goofiest smile you can muster, grasping his hand.
One time, during breakfast, someone noticed an orange mark on his temple. When they pointed it out, he stared at them blankly, not understanding why it should be questioned. It was in that moment that you walked in, lips tinted the same shade. You were both teased relentlessly until the colours finally faded away.
Ace:
Doesn’t bother hiding the colours. Sometimes the blotches will make him feel insecure because he believes he is undeserving, but he appreciates them a lot.
Back when he was attempting murder and attacking WB left and right, you despised each other. It was on one of those days that you lost your cool and punched him off the ship. When the rest of the crew fished him out of the ocean, they found what they thought was a bruise at first, but nope.
It was hard starting over and moving past that, but after Ace settled down, you apologized and things went on from there. This was roughly a month after you punched him. The mark was still there.
When he tattooed the jolly roger on his back and he showed you, you outlined it with a finger. The yellow that appeared as you did made it appear like it was glowing. Then, without warning, you kissed his shoulder. He startled so badly, a flame started on the spot, which earned him a light smack as you rubbed your nose.
Thankfully, you'd pulled away before you lost your nose.
A year into your relationship, he sat you down in his room and told you about his father. He was terrified and the disgust in his eyes made you so sad, every touch afterwards was a rich blue and purple. You told him what WB had always told all of you and made sure to hold him for at least half an hour, listing the things that you loved about him and drawing tally marks for each one.
By the time you were done, he had lots of stripes. They went from blue to lighter colours, almost like a gradient.
"And... you're really caring," You mumbled, drawing a stripe where his heart beat steadily. It was red. "Remember that story you told me about your younger brother?" Ace stared at you, searching your face, then nodded once. "You saved him, no?" You drew a horizontal line over the older one, smiling. "You have a good heart. I know, your brother knows, the crew knows. You should, too."
You were inseparable for a week after that night. He was that grateful.
Marco:
Colour on his hands constantly when he's alone with you. You're also covered in stains, mostly because he likes how the hues contrast with your skin.
This old dude definitely likes to dance with you when you're in his quarters, humming random tunes as you move to a beat only you can hear. VERY intense colours end up on both of you because of how much fun you have together.
Sometimes, if the day is rather exhausting, you both pass out on his bed. Your appearances are quite striking when you wake up.
Not only that, but he makes it worse by not letting you leave if you both wake up early enough.
“Let go, you big oaf.” You grumble, struggling to pry his hands off. You huff when they wound up tighter around your stomach, to the point of squeezing. “Okay, fine, just a few more minutes.”
Has a palm-shaped mark on his right shoulder from the time when Whitebeard was really sick and things were very bleak. It’s been there for at least a year. You were there, comforting and reassuring him. Every time he sees it he feels more thankful for your presence in his life.
Thatch likes to poke fun at you both, making comments that can be... well, too much.
A good ol' glare from the two of you puts an end to that, but your face still flushes and Marco still lets out a long, suffering sigh.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You’re going to catch a cold.”Two warm hands envelop your freezing shoulders, coaxing a tremulous sigh from your lungs that makes you pause, breathe, and purse your lips. A shudder shakes your whole body, threatening to throw you off balance, but you stand, steadfast.This isn’t new to you. It’s a memory you’ve relived a multitude of times with no one but him as a witness.You’ve both kept the other above the water, but he was the one doing most of the saving. On all the occasions you could have lost the battle, he was there hauling you back to reality, jerking you awake, urging you to push on. The weight of his jacket is comforting, but also a reminder of where you are. The wind nipping at your cheeks and the clouds rolling overhead have been your companions for long hours, now. Far below, ghosts of headlights and people wander, their journeys winding endlessly before them.Smoke curls upwards as he sidles beside you, wrapping an arm around your smaller frame - a brave attempt at keeping the sickness weighing your body down at bay. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes trained forward. What your eyes had found would forever be confined inside your mind, never voiced, never mentioned. Keeping him up tore your heart to miserable pieces each time this happened. You couldn’t drag him further into your mess.He lays a hand on the railing, bringing you closer until it feels like you’ll become one. The smell of cinnamon permeates the air surrounding you two, a testament to his constant fussing in the kitchen earlier.You reach up, stealing the cigarette from him and placing it between your lips. With one deep exhale, you watch the smoke disappear, blinking away the haze of sleep. You’re tired – too tired, but there is nothing in your mind ordering you to hide your head under the covers.
It’s always the same.
No matter what hour, he’s always been by your side. You never understood why or how he chose to remain by your side. After all, his tendency to fawn over women has not left him, not one bit, and yet... he remains. You inhale again, the butt of the cigarette burning up. Your lungs complain and you cough, shutting your eyes against the breeze. He reclaims the cigarette with a soft chuckle, a sound that brings the barest hints of a smile to your face.“Come on, let’s get back inside.” Sanji murmurs, guiding you to the entrance. You pad across the tiled floor of the balcony, entering your abode once more. Inside, on the coffee table, there’s a tray with a mug of tea and one of the pastries he’d baked.“You don’t have to stay.” You whisper. “Go back to bed, Sanji. You’re tired.”He shakes his head, blond locks bobbing along with his actions. His blue eyes soften considerably when they meet yours, but his voice is adamant. “I’m not going anywhere.”This time, you do smile.Fondly, you huff and gently take the pastry and the mug of tea into your hands. The cold in your palm is chased away by the heat radiating off the porcelain. It spreads to the rest of your limbs, and with it, a sense of lethargy and heaviness.“Come sit with me, then.” You say, settling down on the couch. His bag and keys are still by the door, the latter on a small stand nearby – a sign that he had not stopped until he’d reached your side. “You look exhausted.”He flicks the lights off, maneuvering through the living room with a skill and ease that baffled you. Gently, he sits down beside you, arms encircling your waist after throwing a blanket over you both. You’d already finished the small pastry. Now all that was left was the tea, which you drink swiftly.When the mug is emptied, he takes it from your hands and sets it on the table, then returns to holding you. A comfortable silence hangs over your heads, and, finally, you close your eyes.Sleep doesn’t take you instantaneously – the blond clinging to you snores lightly by the time you’ve counted to a hundred – but it does come.It’s a gradual process, but eventually, your eyelids droop, your shoulders lose the tension and pitch black darkness clouds your vision.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Life was odd.In your twenty years of existence, never would you have expected someone would have the guts to stand you up. This sort of thing only happened in movies – the very movies you watched whenever you needed to kill time. Sure, you probably weren't the most interesting individual, but you thought that you'd made a connection. This wasn't your first date with this person. You'd had fun and enjoyed your time together, and yet...Here you were.You lift your drink and make it swirl, watching the small tornado that formed inside, contained and controlled within the frail glass. You could say emotions can be handled in the same manner.Odd.Life was odd.Tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, you check the time. Doubt had set in approximately an hour ago. Then, half an hour later, denial. Five minutes after that, acceptance.But it had been twenty minutes since that, and the waitress was growing impatient. The most you'd ordered were a few drinks while you waited and waited. But this person never crossed the threshold. So what were you doing?It would have been easier to leave. The utter shame and embarrassment of the situation had passed already. Occasionally, it'd flare up again when someone glanced in your direction. Other than that, you felt numb. There was nothing but a dead weight in your stomach keeping you seated.“Screw it,” You whisper to yourself, raising a hand when you spot your waitress. Forcing your face to cooperate, you smile wryly. “I'd like to order now, if that's all right?”The woman nods, pen and notepad ready for your order. Her impassiveness almost throws you off, but you truck through the discomfort. After jotting down your order, she disappears swiftly, leaving you alone again. A sigh shakes your entire body as you slouch, rubbing your thighs anxiously.These things happen. You tell yourself, observing and listening to the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. It was pricey - the reservation itself had made you cringe inwardly - but it was charming. More than once, you'd heard commotion from the kitchen, and then a blond would step out with a tray. You don't know why a chef would make the effort to serve when there were plenty of staff handling that job. Still, it was an entertaining sight. He was clearly passionate and the way he acted was interesting.His presence filled the room easily enough, too, no thanks to his appearance. He was handsome. You shake your head, admonishing your brain for going that way.
Buy yourself a nice meal and then go home.
Your food arrives minutes after ordering. You're too busy telling your date to go hug a bloody cactus to care about who is serving you. But when the smell reaches your nose and you look up, you can't help but pause.The same blond is there. He's staring down at you with a sympathy you'd just about had enough of. Patrons had been sending you that look for the entirety of your stay. Why would you need him to- “Your food, miss.” He says, chin lowered respectfully. You snap out of your daze, swallowing hard and smiling. “Thank you.” You return gratefully, tucking your phone into your purse. The message yet to be sent taunts you. The fact that he hadn't kneeled and shoved the plate of food under your nose was troubling. It meant even the people in the damn kitchen knew about your failed date. Nice.“You're very welcome!” He exclaims suddenly, voice rising in volume. Were those heart eyes? You never found out.You nod, acknowledging him.…“Is- is there an issue?” You ask when he doesn't leave. The hair covering his left eye shifts as he tilts his head. “Ah, no.” He replies, lips curled up just so. “Just trying to figure out why someone would not attend a dinner with such a lovely lady.” That makes you pause.“Oh,” You breathe, then laugh heartily. What a turn of events, huh? “Well, you know, don't think too hard. You'll be wasting time.” The man frowns, troubled by your answer for a reason unknown to you. Averting your gaze to your food, you clear your throat.“May I sit?” He asks politely, eying the chair across yours. You pick up your fork, humming. If he wants to sit, you won't stop him, but...“Aren't you working, though?” You ask after a minute, voice small. “The old man won't mind.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Besides, we need to deal with the mystery at hand.” You stare at him, eyebrows furrowed as you analyze him. If what you can glean is to be trusted, he doesn't look like a bad guy. Still, you're too hurt from tonight's failures to put up a flirtatious front. You don't think you're capable of that anymore. “Okay,” You inhale deeply. “But if we're going to be detectives, we might as well introduce ourselves, no?”The blond grins, blue eye lighting up. “Call me Sanji.” He extends a hand, palm open. You grip his hand gingerly, giving him your name. Before you can release his hand, he places a kiss on your knuckles. Heat invades your cheeks, and you laugh to hide your embarrassment. You're sure your blush is easy to see, though.“Well then,” You state, thumb rubbing over the spot his lips touched. Odd. “Any ideas?” Sanji hums, faking a pensive expression. You almost laugh again when all he has to say is: “He's a dumbass.” “You seem very sure,” You reply, carefully biting into your food. The flavour makes your tastebuds sing. Your elation and shock must've shown, because he straightens up proudly. “My own recipe,” He points to the dish, delighted. “And yeah, I'm very sure. Why else would he miss out on this?” Sanji gestures to you, then him, then the room. “I don't know,” You chuckle, rubbing at your cheek with your free hand. Damn your traitorous body for being so transparent. It was likely your blush had reached the tips of your ears by now. “Because he's a dumbass.” He reiterates and you can't help it. Peals of laughter tumble out of your mouth, and you brace a hand on the table. The other hand you use to hide your smile, mindful of your lipstick. “Because he's a dumbass.” You parrot, raising your glass and downing your drink in one go. That might not have been too polite, but you don't really care. Sanji looks thrilled you're having fun, anyway.“I'm afraid if I stay any longer the old man will kill me.” He murmurs, leaning closer to you. You do the same, a small frown on your face.“That's fine.” You reply, dismissing his apologetic gaze. Then, hastily, you add while he stands, “This is really good, by the way.” “Thank you very much!” And then he's gone.Unsurprisingly, your mood sours with his departure. You finish your meal fast after your stomach growls loudly, mulling over your conversation. That had been more fun than all the other dates you'd been on. You'll admit you wouldn't mind seeing him again. Lips pursed, you glance down at your napkin. You couldn't write your number on that. It was far too fancy.Rummaging through your bag, you find a pack of tissues and tug one free. Then, with no pen in hand, you grab the lipstick you're currently sporting and scribble your phone number down. It's messy but readable. And if he truly meant all those compliments, you'd be hearing from him again. You catch your waitress' attention, concealing the paper from her. She brings you the receipt and you pay without thinking twice. Then, you stand, collect your belongings, and leave the tissue on the table.You're out the door without a second glance, sniffling and ensuring your makeup remains in its place.Later, hours after flopping down on your bed and changing into more comfortable clothing, you get a message with your name. After confirming it's you, the conversation carries on from there.
>Do you plan on coming back?
You answer quickly, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. The more pessimistic side of your brain deflects any daydreaming, though. This message can mean many, many things.
>My wallet might not be able to handle it, but... hm... yeah. I'm thinking of going back.
((Sanji waves off a nosy co-worker, ordering him to clean up the place. He tells him that the kitchen is already clean. Grumbling, the blond marches out of the room, thumbs typing a reply.))
>Regulars do receive cheaper meals!
>You're making that up. Lol
>But would it get you to come back for sure?
>...yeah.
You giggle at the barrage of emojis that fills the screen.
>I'll wear the same shade of lipstick so you can recognize me.
>I'm more than capable of recognizing you without it.
>Really? How?
>I'm not a dumbass! ヽ ( ｀⌒ ´ メ ) ノYou drum your fingers on your thigh, teeth worrying your bottom lip.
Contact saved.
New contact: Sanji (Not a Dumbass!)
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A gentle, feathery touch on your shoulder rouses you from your deep slumber. You refused to budge at first, content with smushing your face in your arm. A hint of a vexed grunt escaped your lips, followed by a soft chuckle that was not your own.Shifting slightly so that your cheek presses against your forearm, you crack your dry eyes open. Your vision is blurry from the fatigue that pins you to the table, but some squinting out a porthole clears it eventually. The clinking of crockery to your right disturbs the comfortable silence in the room, and you smile secretly.You'd ask her why she's parted from her bed and entered the kitchen, but your brain is foggy and your lips won't form the words. It's not a rare occurrence for her, anyway, so you're not alarmed.The calming aroma of her favourite tea permeates the kitchen. It washes away all coherent thought and almost lulls you back to sleep. Swallowing down the bitter taste in your mouth, you sit up and stretch, biting back a groan.“I did not mean to wake you,” She says, voice hardly above a whisper. Robin cranes her neck and studies your face closely. You prop your elbow on the table and rest your forehead in your palm, eyes shut.“It's fine, Robin. I shouldn't have fallen asleep here, anyway. My back is killing me.” You reply, smiling to soothe whatever worries might be circling her mind. She hummed under her breath in acknowledgement. Robin summoned an extra hand to assist with her task of carrying the tray of tea. Then, like a phantom, she moved over to you and placed a steaming cup of liquid under your nose.“Thank you,” You say earnestly, removing your hand from your face and meeting her eye. Her lips stretch into an easy smile as she sits down with her own drink. Sipping your drinks, you use this moment of silence to scrutinize her. She's in her pyjamas and her hair is tousled from sleep. Reaching over, you gingerly adjust a stray lock of silky hair. Robin doesn't react, focused on her drink, though she does give you an amused glance. Your cheeks grow warm at your sudden actions, which only provides her with more entertainment.You chuckle lightly to disperse your embarrassment and avert your gaze. “Sorry...” You mumble without much thought. Robin pats you on the hand reassuringly, finishing her tea. After five minutes, she rises from her seat.“Are you up and about for any particular reason?” You ask suddenly. Though you did find each other at night often, you sensed there was more to this than she let on. Robin spared you the briefest of looks.“No,” She replied calmly, voice flat. Long ago, you would have believed her and carried on as usual. But that was before. Now, after having her presence on the ship for so long, you'd learned to read her. Though, she could still be extremely elusive and tricky. Life had moulded her to be that way as a means of survival, that much you knew. Still, you hope you'd made your well-meaning intentions clear to her. With you, there was no judgement or hatred towards her or anybody she affiliated with in the past. Not because you held no opinion, but because she had yet to open up.And, well, Robin liked it that way. She didn't enjoy keeping you in the dark, per se, she just.... she just found it easier to be who she was now than to revisit the person from two years ago. And telling you meant going through the tidal wave of emotions that surfaced every time she remembered.Robin will admit she was surprised that you hadn't asked the rest of the crew. It was something that puzzled her for a while, but she understood swiftly. You wanted to hear it from her. She sighed lightly when you appeared by her side with your empty cup and tray. You set your items on the counter of the kitchen, then gripped her hand. Curious to see what you were up to, she allowed herself to be led outside into the frigid night. You didn't really know what you were doing, grabbing her hand and taking her outside. It was cold and there wasn't much to see when it was pitch black, but... Something was bothering Robin. And while you were determined to hear her story, you didn't want to be overbearing. “You don't have to tell me, Robin.” You mumbled, leading her down in the direction of the aquarium. The older woman didn't mind that. She was planning on heading down there with a book, anyway. “But just know that I'm here for you, alright?”“Of course, [name].” Robin squeezed your hand, fondness settling in her heart when you straightened happily, grinning. “Thank you.”“No problem,” You opened the door to the room, the rippling of the water lighting up your features. The blue hue of the room and the muted thrumming inside felt unreal. It was this room that always gave you a sense that the ship truly was alive. When you looked back at her, you locked eyes with her brilliant blue ones. Your heart rate stuttered momentarily and your previous embarrassment only worsened. Robin knew this, too. She was always aware of everything, it seemed.You both settled on the couch, choosing to observe the fish in captivity as they floated to and fro. There was one large fish that appeared to glare at you both as it swam past you. “Huh... Someone's angry...” You mused aloud, blinking when Robin chuckled.“Zoro had a difficult time with that one.” She said, eyes fixed on the topic of your conversation. It was currently attempting to terrorize a school of smaller fish. Robin regarded you again when you huffed, mirthful.“Don't let him catch you saying that...” You joked, smiling crookedly at the thought of Zoro's indignant excuses at such a statement. “You'll wound his pride.”Robin giggled, fingertips touching her lips as her eyes slipped shut. Funny, she usually did that with her left hand. Then it dawns on you.“I haven't let go of your hand.” You state dumbly, about to do just that when she stops you. “It's alright, [name]. I'm quite enjoying the feeling.” She squeezed your hand again, this time with more zeal to keep you from moving. This time, the blush reached the tip of your ears as you blinked rapidly. Mortification and delight mixed together in your stomach, causing butterflies to flutter. You laughed, resting your head on her shoulder to hide from her sharp eyes. The crystalline water of the aquarium and the creatures within it became your new interest. Robin smiled down at you, using her free hand to caress your cheek once. The heat radiating from your face warmed her chilly fingers. The memories threatening to overthrow her serene facade slunk into the recesses of her mind. Her demons, subdued by your innocent presence, could wait another night. Then she'd face them once more.For now...“I'm gonna fall asleep again...” You murmured into her shoulder, realizing just how tired you were. Robin rested her head on top of yours, blue eyes slipping shut. She feared if she chortled you'd scurry off somewhere. It usually occurred when your embarrassment reached its peak, and she didn't want that. She wanted you to stay.“Then rest.” She replied, feeling sleep tug at her consciousness as well. You barely shook your head, releasing her hand and wrapping your arm around her waist.
“We're going to have some serious back pain in the mornin'...” You feel the press of... of something on the top of your head, insistent yet so, so tender.Robin hummed, the sound echoing in the room. It trails off into non-existence as exhaustion begins to claim her consciousness.She wills her eyes to open if only to catch that sleepy expression on your face. Robin carves it into her memory and, before she drifts off, thinks, one day I'll tell you everything.For now, she finally sleeps.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Carefully, the man inserts the shiny new screw into his most recent creation, tongue poking out between his lips in concentration. He'd hardly had time to tinker away in his factory with all the – ahem – adventuring they had partaken in lately. Now, with the ship swaying rhythmically along the ocean, he could finish this.He grabs a screwdriver from the set up laid out on the table, using it to tighten the bolt into place. When that's done, he leans back in his seat with a satisfied sigh, stretching languidly. His back pops loudly at the sudden action, and he grunts, laying there boneless and listening to the ambient sounds of the ship.Distantly, he hears the soothing hum of a violin and a steady thump-thump rising above each note. The off-beat pounding and the violin clash horribly. He wonders why Brook would even think of adding such a thing to a song, then understands, though a second too late.“ USOPP!!! ”Said man shrieks at the booming voice and the slamming of the door against the wall, startling so violently he tumbles off his chair. He falls on his back with a dull thud, his leg kicking the table, and groans in irritation at his captain's intrusion. “Luffy,” He calls, already resigning to whatever fate te exciteable man has in store for him and whoever else has fallen victim to his antics. Still, it doesn't mean he's getting away with the scare. Sitting up, Usopp points an accusing finger at his captain. “What did I say about barging in like that?!”“Oh, right, sorry!” Luffy exclaims in a manner that doesn't sound too apologetic, tittering afterward. But, having been with him for so long, Usopp was used to it. The sniper waves a hand dismissively, flopping back in his chair tiredly.“Ooo-” Luffy hurries into the room, planting his hands on the backrest of his seat and leaning over Usopp to gawk at his project. “What's that, eh?!”“Ah, this?” Usopp immediately straightened, puffing out his chest proudly before explaining whatever the object on his desk was. Luffy only half-listened, as expected, and reached out to touch it while Usopp spoke. The action was met with a defensive smack on his hand. Luffy whined at the attack, pouting at the sniper, who wiped his hands on an old rag.“Anyway, what do you need?” “Oh, yeah! I forgot about that!” Luffy brought a fist down on his other palm, remembering his previous quest. “Where's (name)? They missed lunch!”“(name)?” Usopp says your name, arching an eyebrow. He hums, thinking back to the early morning then to Sanji's lunch. “I dunno, actually. I haven't seen them either.”“ Phooey .” Luffy's pout returns, and he taps his foot on the floor, trying to figure out where you could be.“Why don't you go look in the crow's nest? They're usually up there, no?” Usopp muses, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Luffy brightens at the idea, nodding excitedly. “Alright!” He runs out of the room, remembering to thank Usopp. Said man relaxes into his seat once more, laughing to himself when he hears a crash and Chopper's surprised yell.(x)You tugged at your hair, biting back a frustrated noise as you glared down at your sketchbook. The offending object, sitting innocently in your lap, brings you no comfort in the small space of the crow's nest. In the time you'd been in here, you'd done absolutely nothing that was even worth acknowledging as art.Heaving a sigh, you toss your pencil and book to the other side of the crow's nest and bury your face in your hands. When was the last time you actually drew something decent, anyway?Suddenly, you hear your name from below. Hoping that if you ignore whoever is trying to get your attention they'll leave you alone, you don't reply. You're not in the mood for talking, either way. With how angry you've been lately, you don't want to lash out at any of your friends. Especially Luffy. Silence greets you after a few seconds, which you're grateful for, curling up even more. The sails dance noisily in the breeze pushing the ship forward. You listen to the quiet music emanating from the deck, thankful for Brook's impromptu music sessions throughout the day.“(NAME)!”You jump, gasping and punching the wall behind you in shock as you glance up, seeing Luffy's upside down face grinning at you. “There you are! I've been looking all over for you!” He yells, using his arms to flip himself upright and landing in a crouch in front of you. Then, oddly serious, he states, “You missed lunch.”You take a second to compose yourself, inhaling deeply as you struggle for a reply. “Did I? Sorry. I must've...” Abruptly, you stop, deciding to keep things simple. “I'm sorry, Luffy.” You say genuinely, smiling a little at your concerned captain. He whipped his head back, urging his bangs to move to the side. Despite his efforts, the strands fell back in place. Your smile grew at the innocent display.“That's okay! You can just come down and get some. You're gonna have to ask Sanji to make more though; I ate it all.” He grins, chuckling in that manner that was strictly unique to him. You think you feel better just by having him around. After all, if there's one person you know wouldn't judge you, it's him. Not that you think the others would judge you – far from that, really – it's just rare to find somebody as accepting as him.A hand enters your line of vision, and you shake your head, blinking rapidly to clear your mind. Luffy had been waving a hand to get you to come back to reality again. You shrink a little at that, forcing a laugh.“Sorry, I haven't been sleeping too well. What did you say?”“What were you doing up here all by yourself?” Luffy repeated, adjusting the straw hat on his head. Your eyes darted around then zeroed on the scar on his cheek anxiously. When Luffy rubbed at his cheek with a confused sound, you covered your face again. “(name)?”“I... was trying to draw.” You admit quietly, embarrassment colouring your cheeks a deep shade of red. Shyly, you separated your fingers and stared at your captain through the gaps. Luffy blinked.“ Really?! ” He asks, bouncing in his spot. “Can I see? Can I?” Before you can even reply, he snatches your sketchbook from the ground. Your body reacts automatically. Gripping his wrist, you protest, “Wait, no, Luffy! They're so bad!” Unfortunately, that only seems to spurr him on, outrage written on his features at the mere prospect of you being bad at something. You wrestle with him, though you're severly outmatched, and eventually he manages to push you far enough to take a look. Your heart lurches in your chest when he flips it open, and you stop, averting your gaze as you slump backwards with a thump. The silence that follows is defeaning, only interrupted by the flipping of paper as he sifts through your art, lips pursed.Just when you think you can't handle the quietude anymore and open your mouth, he gasps in delight.“That's me!! And Usopp! Oh, and there's Nami, too!” He points at each and every person on the page, smile stretching more and more with each discovery. Your cheeks feel so warm you can feel the heat radiating off them. You hide your face for the third time today, desperately hoping that something else will distract him. Still, you can't help but feel flattered at the fact that even he could recognize the people you'd sketched. “There's me again!” He turns the page, eager to find more, but pauses at the big 'X” drawn in the middle of the paper. Another flip, and he finds a messy sketch of Zoro, with a sad face drawn in the corner. He backtracks to the X. “What's this?”Knowing what he's referring to, you reply, voice muffled. “I tried drawing today... but I couldn't. Those drawings you saw are from months ago.”“Ohhh...” He nodded, “But why'd you cross it out? It was good!”You laughed despite your bitter mood. “You can't even see it, Luffy.”Your captain frowns at your words. “I don't need to.” You squawk horribly loud at his statement, waving your hands before reclaiming your sketchbook. He doesn't fight you this time, only watching as you hug it to your chest. You count the lines etched into the wood of the crow's nest, teeth worrying your bottom lip 'til it turns red.“The truth is,” You begin wearily, scratching at the bridge of your nose in order to busy one of your hands. “I haven't felt inspired for a long time. I don't even know if I like drawing anymore, Lu. I mean, the things I draw are usually so pretty but I make them so ugly and bad I just don't know if I- ugh, I don't know.” You're about to continue rambling when Luffy butts in, jutting his chin out. “I like them.”“I know,” You say, “But-”“No buts!” Luffy cuts you off again, then, much to your utter dismay, steals your sketchbook and leaps. You gasp, not for his safety but because you knew exactly what that rascal was up to now. No , you think anxiously, not rascal. He's just doing what he thinks is right. You begin climbing down, hissing when your foot slips off the rigging, feet dangling loosely for a heart-wrenching moment. Catching yourself, you carry on down, knowing that the effort was futile but wanting to try nonetheless. If I can just catch him before he- “Sanji! Nami! Look!” “No!” You yell from your elevated spot on the rigging, “Luffy, stop! Don't you dare!” Even if he was trying to help you, you knew he was, it was still embarrassing! God, you haven't even doodled in months! Whatever else they find in that thing is subpar to everything before you hit this ugly bump in your art journey.You forgo the ropes and jump down the rest of the way, landing with a roll. When you rise to your feet, you stop, groaning at the sight. The entire crew was marvelling at your drawings – even Zoro, who you thought had been asleep, was nodding along with whatever Luffy was saying. Nami held your sketchbook for Chopper to see, who hopped happily when he saw your doodle of him. You remembered drawing him on his favorite chair, so that must be the one. Sanji is beyond impressed when he sees your drawing of him cooking, snapping his fingers as he remembers that day. Yeah, that day where you sat and practically stared at him for hours trying to figure out how to get his eyebrows right and ugh why, lord, why?!Robin glances up from the art show to send you a smile, amusement in her eyes. You shake your head, spinning around to hide somewhere in the ship.“And look, they drew the Thousand Sunny and Franky on this page and- ne, (name), where are you going?!” You don't even flinch when an arm snakes around your waist and pulls you back. What you do is drag your feet the entire way, grumbling to yourself.“(name)! (name)!” Chopper tugs at your sleeve, “You really drew these?” The reindeer is as amazed as everyone else. You falter at the question, half-shrugging, half-hiding. “....yeah.”“They're suuuper well done, dude!” “...thank you.” You say earnestly, smiling up at the cyborg, even if it pains you. “But most of them are really old.”“Oh, there's newer ones?” Nami is the one to ask. She delves further into your little secret world, eyes brimming with interest. You can see the similarities between her and Luffy, to be perfectly honest. When they are both intrigued by something, it's impossible to keep it from them. Like peas in a pod.“Yeah, but,” You reclaim your sketchbook before anyone can utter a complaint. “They're bad.”“No, they're not!” Luffy yells in your face, eyebrows furrowed. You blush at his proximity, shoving his face. With your hand on his cheek, he carries on. “I shaw them! They're really good, thoo!”“No, they're not!” You parrot right back, shame slithering up your spine. “I told you, I haven't drawn anything good in months.”Luffy whirls around, regarding you with a fire in his eyes that wasn't there a second ago. He looks mad, but you know it's not at you. It's your stubbornness that's ticking him off and how you won't listen to him. What's funny is that his face is all smooshed up from your hand, so his lips poke like a fish's would.Your shoulders sag.“They're not bad, I guess. ” You admit defeat, knowing that your captain can go on for hours if he doesn't get his way. He still doesn't look happy though, so... “Okay, fine, they're decent! The effort is there and... gosh, please, don't be so mad!”Hearing this, Luffy grins, nodding approvingly at your defeat. “See? I told you.” He opens the damn thing again to show them your most recent Zoro sketch. “And here you are again!”“Just like the real thing,” Sanji claims sarcastically, which sets off skirmish number twenty-seven between Zoro and the cook. You take the chance to flee, forgetting the object that rained down so much embarrassment upon you. Luffy moves to chase you, but a warm hand on his shoulder keeps him from doing so. Robin calmly shakes her head. “They need some time by themselves, Luffy.”He frowns, but otherwise understands.(x)You still hadn't left your room.So flustered by the ordeal, you hurried to your bed and buried yourself under the covers. You guess it's been a good few two hours since judgement hour, but you'd barely recovered. Having something so private shown so openly was mortifying, especially since you weren't proud in the slightest.A knock and the sound of the door opening rouses you from another train of thought. You grunt, covering your head again, already knowing who it is.“Luffy... what has Usopp told you about knocking?”“But I just did it!”“You're supposed to do that beforehand, not while you're opening the door, Luffy.”“Oh...” …You sigh, kicking the covers off you and shifting to gaze up at him. Luffy appears sheepish, at least. Sitting up, you motion for him to sit on the bed, rubbing the back of your head. He joins you on the mattress happily, flopping down on it with a giggle. You grin at his actions, unable to remain moody with him around. “What can I do for you, Lu?” You ask, wriggling your feet. It was colder than you thought it'd be. He stares up at you, his head right by your left knee, feet dangling off the edge. “You forgot your drawings.” He says, lifting your sketchbook and giving it to you. You set it down on your nightstand without a word, patting him on the forehead as thanks. Before you can withdraw, he grips your wrist gently but firmly. “Why do you say bad things about yourself?”You freeze, mouth going dry. That was unexpected. “...what?”“You're always saying bad things about yourself.” He explains, poking your palm. “Even if you are good at something. Why?”“I... I don't know, Lu.” You admit. “I guess I'm just not as confident as you.”“Huh.” He pokes your wrist this time, frowning and humming as he sorts out the thoughts running through his mind. You settle down into a more comfortable position, leaning against the wall, the light from the hall as your only source of illumination. “I like your drawings.” Luffy speaks up after a short pause in his endless humming. He meets your eye, smiling. “You and Usopp are both good.” You feel warmth bloom in your chest at the sight. “I like yours more than Usopp's though.” Then, in a hushed voice. “Don't tell him I said that!” Well, as hushed as your noisy captain can be. It coaxes a laugh out of you.“Okay, I won't.” You move closer to him, feeling better. It feels like he has more to say about the topic, but... well, you've never talked about you for so long. It's odd.Feeling cheeky, you lean down and press a kiss to the tip of his nose, cheeks burning. He makes a noise of confusion, then laughs. You chortle along with him, carding your fingers through his hair. He still hasn't released your wrist, but you don't mind.“Luffy?” You call softly. He looks up at the sound of his name.“Thank you.”Luffy stares up at you for another second, then beams, closing his eyes. “Yeah!”You shake your head fondly.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He stands, alone, his companions the water stretching as far as he can see and the sand shifting to accommodate his weight. Waves lap at his weather-worn boots, soaking the soles, before retreating moments after. Much like most aspects of a person's life – his life. The conquest, the power, the glory. His sons and daughters and what have you, as well as the aches in his bones and the throbbing of his heart.It all disappears when he's alone.Or so he thinks.The ground sinks beneath him as he lowers himself to the pale white sand. He feels the bones in his knees creak as he kneels, leaning heavily on his bisento. His heart, traitorous in his day to day life, beats its rhythm steadily against his ribcage. Finally, he sits, his coat pooling around him as if afraid to cling to his old body.Out of the corner of his eye, he notes when you carefully enter his line of vision, soundless. He keeps his gaze trained on the horizon, where the sun is now becoming one entity with the amber water.Newgate feels a finger ghost his shoulder, gliding down until you grip one of his hands in yours. He sits there, arm braced on his knee with his palm open as you study the limb, humming to yourself.Your song plays in his brain, the words you mumble carved into his bones and breathing life into him again. The exhaustion deepening the wrinkles carved into his skin sloughs off him, evening out his complexion. Newgate allows his eyes to slip shut as he relaxes, resting his weapon on the ground. He loses himself, relishing the moment.You croon softly, drumming a beat into his loose palm, gentle like droplets dripping from stalactites in a cavern. Each word fills his empty mind, echoing and resounding until he too mumbles the lyrics. If your voice is like rain, light and pleasant, his is the storm brewing in the distance. A deep rumble, foreboding, nowhere near as melodic as yours.It doesn't matter. Newgate sings anyway, letting you carry the tune, the beat of your fingers tethering him to you so that he doesn't fall behind. With the final cadences of the song approaching, he sits up, straightening his spine, puffing his chest slightly.He lets you sing the last note, opting to listen instead, lips curling into a small grin. The last raindrops fall and fade with the grumble of thunder.You're both quiet.Newgate knows what comes after this. He's relived it enough times to make his own predictions as to who would disturb.Vaguely, he senses his presence, but remains in his place, needing to stay for as long as he's able to. He doesn't want to leave, but he does not ignore his son, who calls to him tentatively.Whitebeard opens his eyes. The horizon tucks away the remaining rays of sunlight, leaving him and his son in inky darkness. Stars glitter in the sky, twinkling in greeting. He glances down at his hand, clenching it once before letting it fall to his side.(He ignores the sudden chill scaling his arms, though cannot avoid the goosebumps that dot his skin.)When he faces Ace, his son is wearing an expression of both concern and subdued elation – the latter being more common now that he was part of the family. Whitebeard stands, salt-water and sand clinging to his clothing, and wordlessly begins the trek back to his ship. His son trails after him, re-telling the day's events and reporting to him what some of the others had already done.He smiles, listening and nodding when the time deemed it appropriate, the ocean waves brushing his feet one more time.While his son is busy, Whitebeard cranes his neck to glance behind him, gaze far away.Everything disappears when he's alone. The pain, the past, the present, the future.But you're always there, your once buried voice escaping the confines of his memories and lulling him again and again.He doesn't need to look back at Ace to know that his son is curious as to what has captured his attention. Many wonder, many would swallow their trepidation and ask, and once, he would have answered readily. Once, he would have motioned to you – you, his destined – and declared the answer to the world.
(“What are you thinking about?”
Light or no light, your smile is radiant, bright – so bright he still sees it in his dreams. You blink your eyes owlishly, expression changing to one of confusion when he shakes his head, lips sealed. Huffing, you do the same, sorting through the papers in your hands to stamp your curiosity. Newgate can see your eyebrows pinch in concentration, cheeks rosy from the cold. You look up when a crewmember shouts your name and respond accordingly, quick and to the point.
When they leave, you lift your chin and stare at him expectantly. He chuckles.
“I thought you already knew,” Newgate replies, eyes crinkling in the corners as his smile grows. Your lips quirk as you roll your eyes, hitting his arm with the stack of papers.)Now, the most he can do is say your name, answer that one burning question, hide the grief behind a grin, and chortle when the curious brat begins apologizing frantically.
(“Are they your destined?”
“Yes, they were.”)You were.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Like any other day, you go fishing.You set out to sea, angling supplies and other resources tucked into your boat. The heat of the sun is heavy on your back, like a boulder, but it's a weight you've learned to bear. Sweat trickles down your temple and beads at the nape of your neck as you push, your tiny ship scraping along the sand. The steady beating of your sandals on the ground is soothing, as is the water wetting your throbbing feet.With one last mighty heave, your boat enters the vast ocean. You hop on before it strays too far, gripping the edges as it wobbles from your actions. Then, with a resolute sigh, you settle down and begin to row. You moved with the oars, breaking the surface of the water and propelling your boat. Back turned to the horizon, you watched the island, measuring in your mind how far you'd traveled.When you were out far enough, you released the wooden paddles and flexed your hands. Your fingers, no matter how strong or calloused, never ceased to ache after twenty minutes of rowing.Huffing slightly, you shook off your exhaustion and threw yourself into your usual routine of preparing your fishing tools. Your hands moved on their own as you lost yourself in thought, wondering, analyzing the waters. When the fishing rod was ready, you propped your elbows on your knees, inhaled, and waited, closing your eyes.The ocean rocked your ship gently, which bobbed along merrily. It was calm, and with no storm looming overhead, you didn't have to worry about wandering too far from home. And so, without meaning to, you relaxed, barely hanging onto consciousness as you sank deeper into bliss. With the blue skies and fairy tale-like clouds practically crawling by, it was hard not to.Fortunately, after years of fishing and scrambling for the rod at the slightest tug, it was just as easy to tear yourself out of your stupor.You seized the fishing rod, tensing immediately when you felt an insistent pull. Then, without a second thought, you begin the usual fight with whatever fish you've caught. Usually, you can remain seated, but it seems whatever you've caught is as stubborn as you. Carefully, you stand, widening your stance for better balance as you continue to tug. This was always your least favorite part. While most people found excitement, you felt both irritated and embarrassed. Mostly because of how utterly ridiculous one can look when your catch is the size of your pinky finger after struggling for what feels like years.What you were not ready for, though, is for the fish to suddenly begin ascending at incredible speeds. And you didn't make things better by realizing a second too late, when the creature finally tore through the water angrily.Yelping, you forgo the fishing rod in order to protect your face from the salt water with your arms, face scrunching up. You don't spend too much time like that, because moments later, you hear a woman's voice.You can't hear what she says over the sounds of disrupted water and fishing equipment being tossed around. If you had, you'd probably find it very shocking, but what surprises you the most is the tail peeking out from the water.Gasping, you dare a step backwards and regret it instantly when the boat topples beneath you and you fall. Ice-cold water surrounds you, the taste of salt on your tongue. Even so, the woman hasn't stopped talking.“Oh dear Neptune, I'm sorry, human-person! I didn't meant to scare you!” The rest of her words are cut off as you swim up, breathing labored from the sudden adrenaline coursing your veins.You flop onto your upside down boat, watching your supplies bounce and sway around you. Sighing, you rest your cheek on the wood before remembering the-“Are you all right, human person?!”On the other side of your boat, arm's reach away, is...“A mermaid.” You breathe, blinking stupidly at the green-haired woman resting her hands on your pathetic vessel. And she was... really pretty. And she was wearing a shirt, which was a bit odd. But, hey, you're not judging.She mirrors you, eyes shining, and at last you process her words and reply. “I'm – me? I'm fine. Yeah, I'm okay. You?” Cursing your stammering, you struggle for purchase on the slippery wood.“Uhhhh... kind of?” The mermaid lifts her pink tail, offering you a good look at the hook clinging to one of her scales.Shrinking a little, you mutter a soft 'oh' then beckon her to you with a hand. Her tail is long enough to reach you without her needing to move an inch. Gingerly, you remove the hook and then stare it down. Seeing as the rod is already in the water, you toss the hook aside. Not like it'll go far, anyway. “I'm sorry.” You say, returning your hand to its previous perch. “If- If I had known you were a mermaid I wouldn't have done something like that – not like I could have known, but – well, there's never been a mermaid out here before.”“Really?!” The woman gapes at you, jaw slack as she regards you in such a bewildered way it almost earns a laugh from you. You find yourself smiling a little at her surprise, no matter how out of place it may seem.“No, never.” You confirm, shaking water out of your eyes. “What are you doing all the way out here?”“Oh, you know, I was just-” Again, her jaw drops comically, and she gasps dramatically. “Oh, no! Where did it go? I almost saved it, too!” You look on as she twists one way, then another, searching for what you can assume is another creature.Just as you're about to speak, she points, splashing water in your face. “There!” Then, she disappears, tail arching over your head. You remain where you are, wondering if you should even attempt to gather your lost items, when she returns, sending water in your direction again. You sputter for a good five seconds, salt on your tongue, then gaze down at her.In her hands is a small manta ray the size of your head. It's a deep navy blue with white dots covering its body. You dodge the tail that swings about violently as it flops about in the mermaid's arms.“I was trying to get this thing off of it!” She explains, gesturing to the hook embedded in its body. You note the fishing line tangled and knotted in odd places and wince.“Ah,” Lips pursed, you glance at the disaster around you again and make up your mind. “I can get it off with the right materials, but I need to sit down. Can you – can you help me flip this?” You request shyly. After all, you did try to catch her mere minutes ago.“Okay, sure!” Her enthusiasm throws you off, especially after what you did, but you don't question it. Sliding off the boat, you and the mermaid flip it over. You heave your dripping wet body onto it, sighing in relief now that you're in a place safer for a human.“I'm also going to need my things...” You state, shrugging helplessly. Again, she surprises you by laughing and getting your items for you. More specifically, your knife. “Thank you so much.”“No problem, human-person! Now please help it!”You nod, accepting the manta ray from her and leaning over the edge so that it is still close to water. The last thing you need is for it to die. Then, when you're sure it won't fly out of your hands, you set to work.Fingers hooked on the rim of your boat, the mermaid rests her chin on her hands, observing you. There's a crease in her brow, a clear sign of her concern for her fellow ocean-dweller. It makes your hands shake a little. You feel heat invade your cheeks.The mermaid is quiet as you work, mumbling to yourself and trying to figure out the knots. You dip the manta ray in the water several times, cleaning away the blood staining the hook. At a particularly harsh cut, it begins thrashing endlessly, and you struggle to keep it from escaping. A pair of hands reach for the animal, appeasing it again. You look up at the mermaid, who sends you a smile, then resume your work even more tenderly than before.It takes a while, but eventually the fishing line is cut from the hook and you can finally extract the metal. When you do and the manta ray is free, you and the mermaid cheer as it swims away.“Thank you so much, human-person!” She exclaims, grabbing your hands and shaking them vigorously. The corners of your lips curl up as you chuckle.“Of course, any time. I'm sorry about earlier.”“Oh, wha- that!” She lets go of you in favor of waving dismissively. “No problem. I'm just glad we could help the poor thing! What's your name? I'm Camie!”You give her your name. She repeats it excitedly, then grasps your hands again, bringing her face so close to yours you can count the light freckles dusting her cheeks. Feeling much more comfortable now that you're both past your differences in species, you chortle at her antics.“By the way, what were you doing out here?” She inquires, examining your boat and soaked tools. You hide a cringe behind a forced smile, inhaling deeply in preparation. You can't really lie to her, considering how obvious it is, so you might as well be ready for her to drown you or something.“Fishing.” You admit quietly. “Though... I haven't had much luck these past few weeks.” As if that would make it any better. She just freaked out over a manta ray with a hook stuck in its body.“Oh, why?” Shockingly, she doesn't appear bothered by your words, so you slowly will your body to relax. She's let go of you, but she's still really close, and you don't know if moving away would be rude.You shrug sheepishly. “Who knows. Could be luck, could be my skills. I don't know.”Before she can feel bad for you or question you further, you add, “It doesn't matter though. I've got food back home. I mostly go fishing as a hobby. But today I got to meet you, so I guess it does kind of matter.”When you process your own words, you smack a hand over your mouth, eyes searching her features for disgust. Instead of that, though, you're presented with the sight of her lowering herself into the water so that it reaches her chin. She tries to hide a grin but fails miserably, cheeks red. However, she recovers quickly.“Well, I'm glad I got to meet you too, (name)-chin! You're really nice for helping out that manta ray!”“You think so?” You smile. “I'm glad. Though... I should be heading back home. Humans get sick easily and this,” Peeling your shirt from your body, you squeeze water from the cloth, “is not helping that.”“Oh!” Camie heaves herself back up. “Okay...” You think you hear disappointment in her voice, which leads to that awful feeling of guilt in your stomach. To appease her, you place a hand on her shoulder, hoping you sound reassuring.“I was thinking of coming back out here tomorrow, if you'd like to swim by and visit.” You offer, eyebrow arching."Really?” Her tail sways back and forth excitedly, glittering in the sunlight. You hum, happy that you hadn't scared her off with your hobby. “Okay, yeah! I'll see you tomorrow, then, (name)-chin!”Camie aids you in your journey to the shore, pushing your boat as you row. You insist she doesn't need to assist you, but she shakes her head, persisting and brushing off your concerns. To make sure she doesn't exert herself, you do your best to row strongly.When you reach the shore, you sit in your boat, staring at your cabin sitting at the edge of the jungle. You don't want to leave, to be perfectly honest. But you do have to eat and get other things done.Facing your new friend, you speak, “Well, I guess this is it, then. Thank you for helping me get back home.”Camie grins wide, “No problem. I will see you tomorrow, (name)-chin!”You nod, waving her goodbye as she dips her head underwater and swims away. You observe the waters, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but she's truly gone. Raising a hand to your lips, you laugh to yourself, hurrying to your home.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You've had it with this man.Lips set into a firm scowl and eyes burning literal holes into your red-headed captain's back, you clench your fists. Like usual, he laughs loud and clear, rubbing the back of his head where some fool had clobbered him. Said jerk, who had previously worn a triumphant expression, stared at Shanks, confounded.Off to the side, both crews observed the scene, some more at ease than others. You think you're the only one in your crew offended by the man's actions. Benn and the rest are still sipping at their drinks, chortling into their mugs. The other crew appeared just as puzzled as their captain, who drew his sword with less confidence than before.“Why you laughing, fool?!” He pointed the sword at your captain, and you damn near tackled him to the ground. You would've done more than just entertain the idea were it not for Lucky Roo and his paw on your shoulder. It's as if they sensed when you were reaching your boiling point, which was not far from the truth. What you can't understand is how they can sit idly and watch their captain be disrespected. Didn't they know who he was? Apparently not.You shake off the hand, crossing your arms and digging your nails into your palms. Lucky Roo tries to coax you back into your vacant seat, placing the chair back on its legs. You'd knocked it aside after slamming your hands on the table and rising, shoulders squared and ready to throw punches.Scoffing, you plop down in your seat and down the rest of your beverage, gaze fixed on the opposing crew. Their moods ranged from amusement to uncomfortable glances to their friends.You didn't bother listening to whatever Shanks was saying, too focused on making sure nobody else stuck their head up their asses and attacked him. Any more and you might burst.“You're not usually this angry,” Benn comments calmly, sliding another mug in your direction. Where he'd acquired another drink was beyond you. You ignored it in favour of responding.“No, I'm not.” You grumble, swinging a leg over the other and bouncing your foot up and down. “Guess today is just a bad day for me, huh.”Benn wasn't bothered by your sass. You doubt much can bother him after spending so many years with the captain of your ship. That man was, simply put, chaotic. And yet it didn't stop you from catching feelings. Fucking great.“Oh, come on, [name].” Lucky Roo brings a chunk of bread to his mouth and takes a large bite. “You know they're nothing compared to him.”“I do.” You huff. The dumbass has retreated considerably now that he sees that Shanks is not going to fight back, put off by the redhead's amiability. His sword clicked as he slid it back into its sheath. Then, without another word, made a beeline to the exit, his comrades trailing behind him.Seizing the moment, you cup a hand around your mouth and holler, “Yes, please fuck off, already.” No-one in your crew reacts to your words, but that doesn't mean the enemy captain doesn't. He stops by the entrance, hand inching towards his weapon as he faces you. If it took you, the only woman in the crew, to rile him up and actually force his hand... well, his worldview doesn't surprise you in the slightest. You don't belong with the Red-Hair Pirates, yadda yadda. You'd heard it all before. The only person that could get you to leave was the red-head himself. Everyone else went unheard.Standing up again, you move to the centre of the room, ignoring Shanks' call of your name.Your brand new opponent shuts the door to the pub again, eyes narrowed into slits. You're unfazed as you draw your own sword, thumbing the hilt. Before anyone else can even blink, your swords are clashing.Both of you grunt, expressions dark. The idiot's sword slides closer to your hilt, even though it's pointless due to the guard that protects your hand. You grip his collar and yank him closer to your face, hissing, “He might not have a problem with you hitting him, but I do.” The man opens his mouth to retort, but you shove him back before he can utter a word. At this point in time, both crews are on edge. Some of the other losers brandished their weapons, pointing them at you threateningly. Your mind is fixed on one man, though.You prepare to swing, widening your stance and raising your arm, ready to propel yourself forward. Just as you're about to attack though, a tanned palm latches itself to your wrist, preventing further action. Already knowing who it is, you growl, trying to free yourself to no avail.Head swivelling to glower at Shanks, you snap, “Damn it, Shanks! What the fuck!” You keep tugging, this time with your other hand. “Let me go, already!”Shanks ignores you, raising his chin and staring down his nose at the enemy. One silent conversation later, the idiots leave the pub without another look over their shoulders. The man's hold on your arm loosens, and you tear yourself free, glaring at the exit.“You shouldn't have done that, lass. They were already leaving.”“I don't care.” You snarl. “And I don't care that you don't care about them hitting you, because I care.”Shanks grins down at you and you hear your crew chuckle amongst themselves at your peculiar wording. You know you sounded like some petulant child, but you've had it with him disregarding those that poke fun at him or worse. Did he not realize what he could get himself into?Now, you don't doubt him. Far from it, really. You'd never had more confidence in someone in your life. But you could only be hit with so many bottles before an injury caused an infection. You could only let so many things slide before others caught wind of it and stepped up and-“Hey,” Shanks bent down so that he was eye-level with you, but you avoided his kind gaze and stomped off. You knew you couldn't change his ways. The guy, despite his career choice, was a real pacifist. Fighting without reason was not something he did. And yet the rage kept flaring and festering. You decided to head back to the ship. It dwarfed a lot of the surrounding ships moored to the pier. Those casting the large ship curious and cautious glances seemed to inconspicuously return to their work. Like usual, you ignore the world and hurry onboard, rushing off to the one place you could find peace.Though you'd been concerned before, the crew had given you your own room. Kind, but unnecessary, you thought. Yet you caved when Shanks assured you it was all right for you to take it.Of course, you did. You think bitterly. There was little resistance you could put up when it came to your captain. Though, half the time, it felt like you were all watching over a child with an alcohol problem. Shutting the door, you cross your room in two steps, kick off your shoes, and flop down on the bed. You're not going to be able to fall asleep, you know that much, and if you do, it won't be for long enough. Either way, you appreciate the silence and the gentle bobbing of the ship. You could feel the negativity sloughing off you now that you weren't in and a danger.(x)You managed to sleep for an hour.As it was early evening, the room was now completely dark. Despite the hour, the ship was still bustling with activity. Footsteps and voices echoed down the corridors. A distant laugh you recognized all too well reached your ears.More than once, after a brave attempt at shutting down and allowing the adrenaline to leave your system, you forget why you were mad. With how easily you fell into your chores and spoke with your friends, it was no surprise.But not this time.The sound of his laugh only grated on your nerves. It irked you to no end.Why do you have to be the angry one? Why did everyone else carry on with their lives as if nothing was wrong?You groan, burying your face in your pillow. What's worse is that you're beginning to see how you were in the wrong. How your actions were not of an adult, but a little child. Like Benn said, you never felt that angry. You've never let it guide your hand until now.Might as well act like an adult now. You muse, sitting up slowly. Better late than never, right?Right.Pushing aside the anxiety and fear, you put on your boots and fix your appearance. Not much needs to be corrected, considering how little you slept, but you do so anyway. After a few more checks in the mirror, you're out the door.Shanks is probably in the captain's cabin since it's late. It's not uncommon for him and Benn to share drinks and play a game of cards. You were hoping they'd finished by now, though.It's quite a walk from your room to the captain's quarters. You spend it evening your breathing, counting your steps, flexing your hands. It didn't help that a haunting realization happened to wash over you while walking.Never had you walked away from him before. You'd always dutifully listened to him explain over and over again why he was fine, why there was nothing wrong, why you should just relax, etcetera. You were quick to calm down once the threat was gone or taken care of, but this time... this time you left.You rub your temples, breathing in deeply once your eyes are on the door. There are no voices or outraged cries emanating from within, which means Benn must have retired for the night.Gathering your courage, you rap your knuckles on the door, waiting five seconds before opening it. You'd normally wait for him to call you inside, but today you're not in the mood for letting your worries get ahold of you.In the centre of the room, a large table with maps haphazardly tossed on it greets you. There's a lit lamp sitting on it as well, which means that your captain has not fallen asleep yet.Looking around though, you realize that he's not in here. The bed nestled in the corner, while a complete mess, was vacant. You approach it, running your fingers along the mattress and reaching a conclusion. It was cold, meaning he'd stepped out for more than a few minutes.Should you wait, then? He doesn't really mind when people enter his room, only when they snoop, something he notices without pause. You'd only scoured it a single time, and that was for a map Benn had requested. Even though you barely touched anything and moved what you had to, he brought it up anyway. The crease in his brow and the slight frown showed he wasn't mad, just curious. Still, it shook you. He was extremely observant.Moving to the table, you lift a couple of maps and watch them glide back into place. And then, when you think he's not going to show and sigh, a voice cuts the silence.“Finally decided to leave your room?” You turn around, locking eyes with your captain. He has a bottle in one hand and a stack of cards in the other. Without pause, he crosses the threshold and places the items on his bed.Nodding, you step away from the table, hands balling into fists at your sides. You know he doesn't mean anything bad by his statement. Half of your conversations drift towards flirting from his end and multiple eye-rolls from yours. This is just more of his teasing.You've seen him angry and this was not it.With that thought in mind, you speak, “I... came to apologize, Captain. I know it was immature of me to attack that man when he was leaving.” The mere memory of today's regular douchebag leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Soon enough, you're rambling again. “But- but, he literally punched you in the back of the head and dumped your drink on you. You were hurt and- and I know you can hold your ground if you have to. I know I don't have to defend you – hell, you were completely fine without me around, and-”His steady footsteps escaped you. You were so preoccupied with your explaining that you didn't notice him close the distance between you two. Your hands moved and gestured wildly in front of you, unable to remain by your side. It was impossible. The more you elaborated, the angrier you got.One particular swipe almost hit Shanks' nose, but he cranes his neck and dodges it. You yelp at his proximity.“Fuck, sorry, I'm sorry.” Your attempt at scurrying away to the other end of the room is thwarted by his hands capturing yours. There's amusement in his eyes as he holds you still.You think that will be the end of that, but then he snorts, hands travelling up to your upper arms and tightening their hold. The hair framing his tan face hangs in front of his eyes as he laughs, shoulders shaking. You're far too mortified to budge for a solid ten seconds. Then, when your brain finally begins functioning, you start struggling.“Shanks! Shanks, this is the second time you've grabbed me today! Get off!” You can't see his face anymore; he's hunched over now. His cackling is so loud you fear the entire crew will be able to hear him. Even so, you're fighting a grin, so much that your cheeks ache. “What's so funny? Shanks, why are you laughing?!”“Dahahahaha!” He shakes his head, clearly unable to restrain his guffaws.“Shanks,” You begin, shoving him lightly, “Shanks, put a lid on it, already.”It takes him several minutes, but eventually, he settles down. There a few fits of giggles here and there, but he's facing you fully now. You're composed enough now that you don't grin at him. “Are you calm, now?” You prompt, crossing your arms and arching an eyebrow at him. “Heh, yeah, I am... I, uh -- hah, whew!” He wipes a stray tear with a finger, then goes right back to holding you.“Good, good.” You say without any real excitement, shrugging. Shanks notices your mood hasn't changed and sighs audibly.“Listen, lass,” He starts seriously, squeezing your shoulders. When did he move his hands, anyway? “What happens to me isn't that big of a deal.” You open your mouth to object, ready to list off a million reasons why it does matter. A million minus the most embarrassing, which ties in with your ridiculous feelings. “I know, you don't believe that, but you gotta. I mean, look at me.” You do. You look at him and you see a bruise forming on his cheek, right below the three scars marring the skin. He never really explained how he received them, only mentioned a man. Probably got it from falling off whatever he was sitting on one too many times. “I'm here and I sure as hell ain't going anywhere.”“I just don't understand why you let people hurt you, let alone think they can best you.” You argue, at a loss as you escape his hold carefully.“What can I say?” He grins at you. “I'm a pacifist.”That... okay, sure. You'll take it.“I'm still going to throw a fit if it goes too far, though.”“Which it didn't, not this time.” He points out, watching you grimace as you remember. “You're usually a lot more laid-back, lass.”“Bad day,” You mumble, looking away. Shanks hums, blinking owlishly as he thinks of a reply. What he says is the last thing you would expect from him.“Lady problems?”“What?” You blurt, heat invading your cheeks. “What? No! Shanks!” It's inevitable, you start laughing, bracing your hands on your knees. “No, no no no. Sheesh. I- wow, now it's my turn to laugh.” Giggling, you thumb the maps on the table, closing your eyes to control your amused sounds.“No,” Shanks still doesn't appear convinced, probably because he's extremely sharp despite what his actions might suggest. You roll your eyes. “Not that. It's something else.”Before the conversation can go down that road though, you derail it and turn so that your back faces him. “It's not worth talking about, though. It's stupid.”“It's not stupid if it's botherin' you this much...” He muses, stacking up the maps you were so busy admiring and laying his hands on the table, fingers splayed.“Just – it's better to leave it, Captain.” You smile at him, realizing you'd pulled out the title, you backtrack. “...Shanks.” ...Not like it makes things better, though.Shanks, like usual when someone isn't ready to open up, doesn't press. Instead, he claps you on the shoulder with a patient gleam in his eye. “All right, lass.” He glances out the window, “It's getting late. Should probably head to bed.”“Unless you're up for a game?” You nod your head towards the items he'd discarded on his bed earlier, smiling cheerfully and burying your sadness. It's for the best. If, by some miracle, he happened to feel the same way and it didn't work out... well, life would be quite unbearable. You'd leave the crew to save everyone from the pain of dealing with the embarrassment.But, then again, Shanks would make it so that you two remain friends somehow. He wouldn't even have to try.“Now we're talkin'!” He grabs the bottle and cards and puts them on the table, procuring chairs out of nowhere and gesturing for you to sit.You do so gladly, laughing when he pulls out two shot glasses and pours you a drink. As time passes, you bury your feelings under the happiness of spending time with him. It's not difficult once you knock back a few drinks. Your words slur, your tongue loosens, and eventually your eyelids droop. You have to admit it's fun if you ignore the downsides. How can Benn and Shanks do this almost every night? Wait, nevermind, Benn doesn't drink much. In that case, how does Shanks do this almost every night?Unfortunately, you underestimated the strength of the liquor. Shanks is drinking the stuff like it's water and doesn't seem the least bit affected. When you laugh at a particular joke, you rest your forehead on your forearm and exhale deeply, feeling sleepy.Time passes, and you believe you blackout for an embarrassing amount of time, because the next thing you know, you're in bed.The light in the hallway outlines a figure walking away from you. A soft mumble to somebody else tells you that it's the red-head himself.You want to speak, but your tongue feels like lead in your mouth and your vision is blurry. Not to mention your head. It's fuzzy as all hell. You have a feeling you're going to regret drinking at all in the morning.Oh well.That's a problem for future you.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The light filtering in through the porthole shines upon your face, bright, unforgiving, and most of all, annoying. Behind your closed lids, all your eyes can see is a too-bright shade of red that burns your retinas.Rolling over in bed, you tug at your bed sheets and cover your head with a loud groan, one you immediately regret when pain flares in your forehead. It pounds against your cranium as if some beast inside your head is demanding for its freedom. At this rate, you think it might win. You hope it will. Then you won't have to deal with it's incessant clamoring.Regardless, it's morning and you have to rise from the dead again. The reason why you had put your bed in this position is so that the sun would hit your face and wake you. That way, you're never late to anything.Unlike a certain someone you know. Your brain kindly throws your way, and you would have grinned and huffed to yourself if laughing didn't worsen your headache. Thinking of your captain brings a strange flutter to your chest, one that is greatly unappreciated since all it does is awaken your nausea.
Ugh. I drank too much.
The bitter taste in your mouth combined with this sensation is sickening. Still, you inhale deeply, attempting to soothe the sickness roiling in your stomach. It's all you can do, really. Anything else and you fear you might empty your stomach in your bed. Gross.And so, that's how you spend the first twenty minutes of your morning, eyebrows pinched and features twisted into a grimace. The pain was steadily spreading to the rest of your head, and your tongue felt like a dried leaf.Deciding that your condition is not going to improve if you lie there, immobile and in agony, you carefully peel your covers off you. A chill clings to your body despite the sunshine warming the room. Shivering, you force your body into a sitting position, biting back a gag. You wrap your arms around your middle, eyes slipping shut as you will your stomach to be strong for just a little while longer.Throwing your legs over the side of the mattress, you bury your hands into your sheets, releasing a small gasp. Come on, already.Lips pursed, you count to ten, and push yourself off the bed and into a standing position. It's all your stomach needs to cop out and give in to the queasiness. You clap a hand over your mouth and rush out of your room in record time, barely making it to the upper deck.Gripping the railing, you puke, lungs burning as you cough violently. The vague taste of cheap liquor burns the roof of your mouth.And then you feel it.At first, you think it might be food, but then you realize you hadn't eaten dinner yesterday in favor of sleeping, banishing your anger. Then, after practically crawling up your esophagus, you taste it and all you can think is shit. Your heart lurches in your ribcage as you cough, expelling what you can now see are flowers in all colours.Bewildered, you watch as the glide down and down, some sinking underwater, others floating and swaying with the waves. Hot tears cascade down your tears, those unshed blurring your vision as you pluck a petal from your lips. A rose petal.
No.
You throw it into the sea, reaching into your mouth and pulling out more flowers. A lilly sits between your clenched teeth, its pollen like grime. Spitting it out, you make sure there are no more flowers in your mouth. When there's nothing, you inhale deeply, eyes narrowed as tears continue rolling down your cheeks.There are flowers in your lungs. You- you can feel them.
No, no, no, no, no this isn't happening it can't happen why is it happening why is it-
“Lass?”Flinching, you whirl around, hands struggling for purchase on the railing. Shanks stands in front of you, bottle in one hand, and you feel a pang of jealousy. Of course, he doesn't feel hungover. But, then again, now you have something to blame for your predicament.“You all right, [name]?” Shanks starts, and you realize you hadn't even responded. Inching towards you, he raises a hand to do something, but you don't allow it to happen. Side-stepping, you force a loud laugh out of your system, even if it's physically taxing and excruciating.Ignoring your agony, you wave your hands. “Sorry, Shanks.” Your headache throbs and you bring your fingers to your temple, lowering your voice. “Just... hangover, I'm afraid. Real nasty, this time.”
Why is this happening? Why?
He doesn't love me. He doesn't love me.
Understanding crosses Shanks's features, and he extends his hand again. You step closer to him, dragging your feet, heart hammering an unsteady rhythm, and allow his arm to slip around your shoulders. He tucks you close to him, jokingly raising his drink to your face. You push his wrist away, grimacing.His fingertips rest on the place where your heart resides and you purse your lips, hoping that if he does feel it, he thinks it's because of the nausea. Please, don't ask me anything.“Come on, let's get you some crackers and water. Try and take it easy today, lass.”
But how?
Hiding your agony and the flowers was incredibly difficult, so much that you considered giving up on several occassions and just confessing. You don't think it would get rid of the flowers, but then you wouldn't have to come up with some bullshit excuse as to why you needed surgery on your chest.Every day is a struggle. Your sleep is interrupted by random fits of coughing which you have to muffle lest someone asks you about them in the morning. You hide the flowers and petals under your bed, no matter how disgusting it is, because if you sweep them up someone might find them. In the morning, when you eat, you drink numerous glasses of water to get rid of the dry feeling in your throat. If you can't keep it down, you spit it out, pollen polluting the water.You have to excuse yourself multiple times throughout the day, offering excuses if you can't weasel or sneak out of a conversation. The entire crew had approached you at least once to ask why you were so skittish or coughing into a handkerchief, which you dismissed. Feeling a cold coming on, Benn. Don't get too close – unless you want me to get you sick? Then you won't have to babysit our captain.Cue affronted sputtering from the alcoholic child sitting at the head of the table.You laugh, smile, brush off people's concerns...All while feeling your body being consumed by the damn flowers. It's gotten so bad you can't help but scratch your skin, waiting to see a leaf or a petal burst through. The colder weather in this part of the ocean gives you the perfect cover-up. Literally. You wrap a scarf around your neck and don't take it off unless you're alone.Today is another one of those days. You're in your restroom, washing your face, scarf hanging from the towel holder. Scratches littered the skin of your chest, some deeper than others, some already healed or on their way to become scars. You fill your mouth with water and spit it out, cleansing it of the pollen stuck between your teeth.Braving the stranger in the mirror, you bare your teeth and stare at the person glaring back at you.Not a pretty sight.Sighing, you allow your facial muscles to relax, using a nail to dislodge a petal. You rest it on the marble counter, sniffling. Burying your face in your hands, you bite your lip in an attempt to quell the tears brimming in your eyes. You want to cry – need to, actually, if only to release the negative emotions you've kept bottled up for weeks.But you can't do that. If you cry now, you doubt you'll be able to bounce back and recover. You'll spill, and with your emotions, the flowers will break free.And so, you shove the cork down the neck of the bottle, tightening it, subduing those ridiculous emotions, and stretch your lips into a smile.Much better.You carry on, spinning a web of lies around you, so strong you can't possibly break free. Life is... it's hard, but you learn to overcome and hide when you need to. Social outings with your crew are cut short most of the time, since the flowers seem to grow stems when around your captain. And you really don't feel like puking up green spaghetti with your flowers.It's unlike before. Everything is. You don't lash out at people. You fight only when you need to and do your tasks aboard the ship without complaint. You and Shanks become a little distant. Since your condition worsens around him, you spend as little time with him as possible. There are days where he catches you off guard and you two talk, usually late at night, when everyone else but you two are asleep.There are nights when he is so intoxicated, he doesn't remember anything that happened the night prior. It both liberates and tears your heart, the fragile organ you thought you'd muffled successfully, apart. You lie in bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling, listening to it weep, watering the plants already growing inside you.Your mind is hazy, memories are a blur, and your body slouches every time you slide out of bed. Every day, you count how many steps it takes you to get to the bathroom and watch, powerless, as the number rises with each day. Breathing normally is a luxury at most. Inhaling deeply only made your throat itch and your lungs hurt.You're not you, anymore. Whoever you were before this disease had wilted with each petal you picked off your tongue.A voice in the farthest corner of your mind whispers warnings to you, never unheard but never actually listened to. Like your heart, you stamp it down, bury it under the flowers, ignore it until it goes away.
Ignore it until it goes away.
Another day, another night. You can't hide the petals in your room anymore.
Ignore it until it goes away.
Your body aches with each step you climb, petals slipping through your throbbing fingers.
Ignore it.
The breeze ruffling the sails and blowing through your hair feels refreshing, but you don't stop to appreciate it. You stumble, reaching for the railing, knees buckling as they struggle to carry your weight.
It will go away.
The odd splinter bites the skin of your fingers as you crumple, shuddering and convulsing. The roar of blood rushing to your ears is deafening, the moonlight is too bright for your eyes, your throat raw and tender from heaving. Swallowing, you wipe the sweat off your forehead and rest your cheek on the floor, reaching for the flower tickling your nose.A substance drips from one of the delicate petals, tainting its every fibre, the same shade as your captain's famous red hair.
It has to go away.
You rise to your knees, blood dribbling from your chin, and collect the flowers pooled on the floor. Hands trembling, you crawl the rest of the way, nails engraving crescent-shaped marks into your palms. It hurts, so much, so much you wish you could just die already. Let it all end before something else on this miserable excuse of a planet does it for you.Raising your arms, you blindly toss the petals into the water, then collapse against the wood, breathing laboured.Finally, you sob.It's weak. The fear of being caught still lingers in your mind like a demon, but it's mostly due to the fact you physically can't wail. There are petals lodged in your throat, still, surrounding your vocal chords, choking whatever sounds made it past your lungs.You wheeze, dropping your chin to your chest, unable to keep your head up. Whatever vestiges of energy you had clutched to your body had escaped at last.And, even now, you can feel the flowers blooming again. They sprout, extending from your lungs, up into your mouth again. Your eyes slip shut as you feel them fall into your lap, lids and mind heavy with the need to sleep.
Please, go away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You drift in and out of consciousness throughout the night, head lolling to the side and body limp against the railing. There are instances where you'll tense, swallow past the flowers in your throat, sink back into your previous position, and pass out again. If you're awake for more than a few minutes, you try to lift your weary body, only to topple to the floor.After trying for what feels the 20th time, your resolve falters, and you think over your options. The tears had stopped, but the tightness in your throat and the burning of your cheeks had yet to fade. You were so exhausted you could feel the bags under your eyes, lids heavy from how puffy they were after trying to smother your sobs.Coughing weakly, you dig your nails into the wood, blowing air through your mouth as pain blooms inside your chest. You begin counting down from a hundred, hoping to coax your mind away from the pulsating throbbing. When that doesn't work, you fight the weight holding you down and push yourself to your hands and knees. Blood drips from your mouth and you bring your sleeve to your chin, wiping it. Most of it is dried, which pulls on the skin painfully.You can barely move, you realize, smiling ruefully. Each one of your limbs tingles, either from lack of use or the awkward position, and when you wriggle your fingers they ache.
You've dealt with worse.
The voice in your brain hisses and spits venomously, ordering you to get off the ground already and clean your mess before someone finds you. And, yes, you have dealt with worse. Fights, storms and winds so bad the masts creaked with the effort it took to not fall, your captain's wrath.
For God's sake.
Even while you're dying, you think about Shanks.Spitting out a rose petal, you wipe your mouth, scowling at the offending floral leaf.Yeah, you're dying. That conclusion had been easy to reach when you could hardly feel your heartbeat when you laid a hand on your chest. Despite how many flowers you removed from your system, there were at least double that number still inside you. What once invoked unbridled terror was now a simple reminder that lived and breathed with you. You couldn't alter fate, so you accepted it. All you had to do now was pass in the privacy of your bedroom.It would be a shock to the crew, but at least they wouldn't be able to ask questions. They wouldn't have to bother asking if they could help or eye you worriedly, wondering what was plaguing you.Rising to your feet takes you longer than you would ever like to admit, and even then you wobble unsteadily. Spreading your arms, you fix your gaze on one of the masts and manage to remain vertical.You feel a spark of triumph at that, thankful that you could still at least move on your own, if only a little. Now all you had to do was make it to your room without hacking yourself to death and you would be fine.Sluggishly, you turn in the direction of the stairs that lead below the upper deck, shuffling towards it. Your shoes scrape the floor annoyingly, and you pause, biting your bloodied lip. There was no way around that problem, unfortunately. You were far too drained to sneak through the ship. Either hurry back while making some noise or risk getting caught.With a soundless sigh, you hug your middle and grimace, bracing yourself for the trek down the stairs. That was going to take a while.You carry on, counting your steps to minimize the pain of walking, dragging your feet. It's difficult, especially since your vision is blurred from lack of proper sleep, but you make it to the top of the stairs.It's dark, far darker than it was while you were climbing them. If anything, it feels like you're walking into the mouth of a beast as it waits for you. You suppose death is like that.Ignoring the burgeoning anxiety, you will your legs to function and place a foot on the first step. It doesn't make any noise. You silently thank whatever deity is watching over you and pray that the rest are just as merciful.You make it five steps.Then you have to stop.Not because the wood of the ship betrays you, or because your knees buckle and you have to rest, or because you lose your courage. No, not because of that.Shanks is awake.It's not hard to tell when the man isn't in bed. The lights in his quarters go on and he drinks himself stupid – well, most of the time. On a rare occasion, when his brain is far too active for his liking, he walks outside and drinks on deck. And you had just heard his door's typical squeal – one he was too lazy to address, claiming it didn't bother him. Rockstar and you had taken advantage of that noise whenever he roped you into pranking him.No. You mouth the word, heel bumping the steps as you inch back, blindly searching for the previous stair. No, Shanks, no. Go back. Go back. You repeat the thought endlessly in your mind as you whirl around, hobbling back the way you came. The tell-tale itching in the back of your throat returns full force, and you slap a hand over the lower half of your face, blocking your breathing. Your chest cavity tightens, and you gag, but otherwise succeed in staying quiet.The upper deck and you spot the mess you had forgotten to clean. Your stomach flips and your heart thunders. The breeze bites your skin now, further disheveling your hair, and you follow its whispers. It takes you up to the palm trees swaying on the quarterdeck, where you hide, stifling your coughs.Each sandalled footfall is like a drum in your ears, striking you in your very core as you spit out petals, try to even out your breathing, curl up, disappear.
Please, please, please.
You're well aware that running from him is pointless. If he doesn't see the mess you made, as soon as he senses a disturbance, he'll come and find you.Lowering your head and concealing your face, you hold your breath, throat itching with the need to cough. Petals tickle your lips, urging you to set them free, and you bite down on as many as you can. Your jaw locks into place, face scrunching up at the paper-like texture on your tongue. Features twisting into an irritated grimace, you wait, listening past the sound of your heart.There's hardly any sound aside from the rasp of his sandals on the wood. One traitorous cough ghosts past your efforts, and you tuck your knees closer to your chest.
Now, look what you've done.
You dig your fingernails into your scalp, biting back a pitiful whine.A few additional leisurely movements, and then, finally, an abrupt pause.He's found the flowers.And, despite the cover of obscurity, despite the tree you're pressed against, despite everything, you feel the moment his alarmed gaze penetrates the darkness as he locates you.The second you hear the hurried footsteps heading in your direction, you stand, concealed by the tree. You wait for him to make it to the top of the stairs, then tear off in the opposite direction, covering your mouth.“Lass!”You skip several steps in an attempt to put some distance between you, stumbling as you reach the main deck. The slip up forces you to spit out whatever was in your mouth, and you vaguely note the stems as they float away. You toss an orchid with an absurdly long stem behind you, heedless to the droplets that trail after it.“[name]! Stop!”He's going to wake up the entire ship. You think bitterly, a sad smile creeping onto your face.You prop an elbow on the mainmast, heave for a fraction of a second, and keep running.It's a lost cause, you know, and yet it doesn't stop you from considering the idea of hopping onto the dragon figure-head and jumping into the bottomless depths of the ocean.“We won't always agree on everything, lass.”You push off the foremast, hand soaked with blood, pumping your legs harder.“Don't I know it.”The arch of the figure-head enters your line of vision. Shanks, having forgone orders and commands, is catching up to you now that he's dead-set on stopping whatever you have in mind. White petals shimmer in the moonlight, blocking your vision, gluing to your cheeks.“If that's ever the case, we'll have to go our separate ways. You know that, right, lass?”Your fingers flick the tears blearing your sight into the night. Shanks screams at you when you haul your body onto the railing. You're too tired for the climb up to the dragon's head, so this – this would have to do.“Oh, Shanks...”Your captain latches onto you, easily thwarting your efforts to wrestle him off you, grunting when you elbow him in the side. Thoughts mesh into an incoherent mess as he drags you away from the ledge, kicking and choking on orchids that pile onto the floor messily.Writhing, you use your weight to unbalance him, struggling to pry his arms off you. Shanks widens his stance, forcing you to face him and grabbing your wrists while repeatedly mumbling stop, hey, [name], stop.The fight drains you of your strength, and, without any more options available, you give a long, piercing cry expressing your frustration and anguish. You grip his shirt, clawing at the fabric, and weep as he holds you.“You're not getting rid of me that easily.” He rests his chin on the top of your head, rocking you back and forth and shushing you. His fingers card through your knotted hair as he waits for you to stop crying.“I-I...” You gently push and shake your head when he refuses to release you. “Shanks, I can't- can't breathe.”Instantly, you're free, though he doesn't let go of your shoulders. You avoid his overly concerned gaze, hands scrubbing the mess on your face despite how useless it may be.“[name],” You tug your sleeve over your hands and keep trying. “[name], who is it.”Flinching, you attempt to backtrack into the nearest corner. You can feel your shoulders begin to bruise as his hands clamp down, unforgiving.“[name], tell me who it is.”Your breath stutters and catches in your throat. You struggle, shaking your head adamantly.“[name]-”“Why do YOU want to KNOW?!” You punch his shoulders, voice breaking near the end of your outburst, tone watery. Shanks eyebrows pinch together, frown deepening as he fixes you with a look you've never seen before.“Because you're dying! Have been for who knows how long!” His voice crescendos as he remembers the days you would flee from him, a handkerchief pressed to your face. How could he have missed that?“It doesn't matter!” You sob.“Yes, it does, [name]!” He shakes you slightly, bringing your attention back to him, even if you refuse to meet his eye. “You're part of my crew and one of my best friends, I-”“And that's all I'll ever be, won't I?!” You scream, ignoring the lights flicking on in the background. “A friend, when all I wanted was- all I ever wanted was...!” Your words lose their anger as you realize what you just said, gaze finally locking with his.Both of you are speechless for an ungodly amount of time; the seconds that tick by feel like hours, years, millennia. You search his face for a reaction, but his face is frozen in a state of shock, jaw slack. His brown eyes, unfocused, remain steady, unwavering.Taking advantage of his lowered guard, you shove him off you, furiously wiping your face.“You want to know who it is?” You demand, spitting the words as if they were the very flowers poisoning you. “It's you, Shanks.” Giving up, you drop your hands to your side, oddly numb now that the truth has reached the entire ship. The crew linger in the back, unsure, but you don't care. “Always has.”Wrapping your arms around your middle, you chuckle weakly. “But, don't worry, I know personal conflicts are not your thing. I'll be gone when we reach land. You won't have to deal with me anymore.”With that, you stomp past him, eyes trained forward as the crew parts in the middle and create a path for you. You hurry down the steps, ignoring the thoughts begging you to go back and say it was all a joke, a lie. Just some elaborate prank you've pulled on all of them for the hell of it.You don't.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You'll get your mark when you turn eighteen, Coby.
That's what his mother had told him, her long rope of hair tied into a messy bun as she brushed her knuckles over the skin of his cheek, gentle eyes crinkling in the corners. She would smile fondly at his excitement, chuckling when he tried guessing what his soulmate would say to him first. Most were odd, childish thoughts he'd be too ashamed to admit at his current age, but none compared to the writing he'd found this morning.…The one thing he knew about his soulmate is that they spoke English.After celebrating his 18th birthday with Helmeppo, Luffy, and his many friends, the young man had headed home to his apartment, resolve wavering as he fiddled with his shirt.He knew his soulmate's words were on his chest. Coby had been too afraid to read them, but a few quick peeks let him know that the writing was weird. It looped and rose in strange ways, so very unlike what he was used to seeing on other people.Now, staring down at the words scrawled on the skin beneath his collar bone, Coby frowns, finger tracing the strange handwriting. He... didn't know much English, to begin with, aside from the basic greeting and farewell, and that was one of the words on his chest, but...What does it even mean?He could attempt reading it aloud, but the embarrassment of struggling and stumbling through the words – words that would be laced in a heavy Japanese accent, no less – was too much. Shyly, he tried a few of the words, finger following the arch of each letter. He made it to the middle of the sentence then quit, raking his free hand through his lilac tresses, still damp from his shower. The scar on his forehead moved as his eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing pensively.He supposed he could spare a few days brushing up on his English. Maybe even ask Garp for assistance, if he couldn't figure it out by himself. The man knew English well enough after travelling for years.Yeah, he thought, resting his hand over his heart and feeling it beat steadily. Coby grinned confidently, drawing his shoulders back and straightening his spine. He would learn English and his soulmate's way of living and do his best to impress them.Many days later and a few visits to both Garp and the local library, Coby deciphered his soulmate's odd message. And...Oh, boy.He had thought it was weird before, but now, saying it out loud in the privacy of his apartment... well, it certainly was not something he'd feel comfortable showing his friends. Helmeppo would keel over laughing, Garp would clap him on the shoulder, a drink in his large hand, and laugh, and everyone in the world would laugh.Not that he thinks ill of you! Coby hadn't even met you, for goodness' sake. For all he knew, you could be the most lovely person. He just... He just... well...“Geez...” He mumbled to himself, glancing down at his chest for what felt like the millionth time that evening. Your words, partially covered by his tank top, stared back at him, inky black and too bold for his liking. Rubbing a hand over them, he sighed, sinking further into the cushions of his couch, laptop balanced on his lap.It could be years before you two met. Was he really going to live his life ashamed of what his soulmate would say to him first? Half the people he knew couldn't read English, and the other half didn't see him without a shirt on, so there really was no problem.Yeah, there's no problem. He reasons with himself, scolding his mind for doubting his mysterious soulmate, and keeps filling out the document he'd opened on his computer. If anything, he should be glad that he finally has an idea of who his destined one is. The stories on social media, the gossip... it all made it appear unreal, almost. It was dizzying to hear people's stories regarding the subject. And now it was actually happening to him.Coby grinned, hiding his eyes behind his hand. He had – has a soulmate. Him.Yeah, he keeps typing, heart fluttering happily in his chest. No problem at all. You're so fucking lost.And, normally, that would be no problem at all. Fish out your phone, go on the internet, input the address, and voilà ! You survived another day as an... almost-adult. Except this time, your safety net that was the lovely Google Maps had been removed from underneath you, so that was a no go. Your phone had been flipping you off since it hit the fifteen percent mark and you decided to stop trying to get it to work. If not, you might just chuck it across the globe.You curse your luck, trying to find a spot for you to relax for a minute so you can plug in your phone to your portable charger.“Goddamn it,” Teeth clenching, you rub your shoulder after someone bumps into you. It's the middle of the day and the seething mass of people in the streets is damn overwhelming. Every face blurs as you march past, dragging your heavy suitcase behind you, exhausted.The one time you go on vacation alone and you can't even find your way around. Great. Neat.“I'm never trusting a single advertisement, ever again. Jesus...” Face practically glued to the screen of your phone as its percent drops to twelve, you keep walking. Nope. It really doesn't like you right now, does it? You might as well just enter a random shop at this point if it's going to be more stubborn than your high-school ex.Sighing, you decide that it would be worth it, craning your neck so that you may see over the crowd. You spot what looks like a gift store and head in that direction, feet aching from all the aimless wandering.You notice people giving you odd looks, their gazes flickering to the neck pillow proudly on display around your shoulders. Remaining heedless to people's questioning eyes, you enter the store with a quiet exhale, listening to the soft jingle of bells above the door. It's far quieter in the store, thankfully, and you feel your shoulders sag reflexively.Inside, there are few other tourists, gushing and prodding the items lining the shelves. An old man with an air of god-like patience stands behind the counter, hunched over with his hands splayed on the sturdy surface. You feel better already.Bowing to the point you form a right angle, you smile at the old man. He returns the gesture with a nod, a kind smile on his face. When that's done, you drop your suitcase and your backpack to the floor, out of the way of the exit, and plug your phone in. Heaving a sigh, you remove your neck pillow when the screen and LED light turns on. The portable charger is low on battery itself, which is fine. As long as your phone gains some power back, you'll be okay.A mother and her child stroll into the store. You keep your eyes fixed on your phone screen, holding the device with both hands and praying that it works soon. You haven't longed for a bed so much before this very day.After a while, your phone reluctantly begins functioning again, and you almost let out a loud 'whoop!' in excitement. Glancing around, you note that nobody is glaring at you, and grin at your phone.And then a pair of tiny feet enter your line of vision.You look at the light up shoes, blinking once, then trail your gaze up to the owner's face. It's the child from before, a large lollipop in his mouth. He smiles around the candy, free hand stuffed into the pocket of his overalls. You mirror his expression and he scurries off to find his mother.He comes back a few times, curiosity shining in his eyes, and each time you grin or smile, he edges closer to you. At one point, he tries to see what you're doing on your phone, and when you show him, he giggles and runs off.Shaking your head fondly, you direct your attention back to the map you're engraving into your memory, then realize something's missing.“Larry?” You mumble, searching the surrounding area for the blasted neck pillow. Where did you...?When you look behind you, you see the child running out of the store. With your neck pillow.“No way... are you fu- ugh!” You stuff your charger and phone in your bag, throw it over your shoulder, grab your suitcase, and run outside. “HEY!” Hurrying after the child, you keep yelling, “Hey! Small child, that belongs to me! That's my neck pillow!”If people were merely eying you before, they're full-on staring now, puzzled.You huff, grimacing when you feel a nasty ache in your lower back. Of course, your back had to betray you as well. “Stop! Hey!”He weaves through the crowd expertly, dodging people while giggling to himself, Larry bouncing along with his movements. In the meantime, you're apologizing and lugging a suitcase behind you, panting like a dog with asthma.When you almost lose him, you wonder if this dear item of yours was really worth all this trouble. Then you remembered how you've had it for almost nine years, and conclude that, yes, Larry was worth saving.Up ahead, you see a man not really paying attention to where he's going, too lost in his own brain. If you could get him to help you, you might be able to stop the child. Sucking in a mouthful of oxygen, you force your vocal cords to work and holler, “Hey! Hey, Pinkie-Pie! Stop the ankle-biter with the lobster!”At your yelling, he looks up from his ruminating. Pointing at the child, you sincerely hope he understands what you mean, and almost trip when the kid runs past him.“No! Thief!” Your voice gives away your desperation. The word thief seems to trigger something in the man's brain because he spins around and catches the youth by the shoulder.You laugh out of pure relief, willing your body to carry you just a bit farther, hair sticking to your forehead from the sweat.You make it just in time for the man to start scolding the child in Japanese. Behind you, you hear a female voice and realize the mother had been hot on your heels the entire chase. Watching her grab her child, you attempt to smile through your panting and wave your hands in front of you when she immediately tells him to apologize, doing the same herself.“No, no, it's fine.” You say in heavily-accented Japanese, fighting back a cringe. If only you had studied the language better. “We have him to thank, really.”At that, the young man straightens and starts politely dismissing the mother's thanks, wagging her finger at her son. The sight makes you laugh a little harder, and the man's wide eyes flit to you, bright with an emotion you can't place. His cheeks are alight with a deep red blush, which worsens when he meets your eye, and you tilt your head.The woman eventually leaves with her disgruntled child, who blows a raspberry at you when her back is turned. You wave anyway, breathing even now that things have settled.Now, it's just you and the young man.Smiling at him, you bow and hold out your hand when your spine is straight again. “Thank you for that. You didn't have to.” Ugh, your Japanese sounds so bad compared to his pleasant lilt“N-no! Please, it was nothing! I didn't do that much...” He says, rubbing his nape as you release each other's hands. Strands of hair brush his forehead, where a scar mars the tanned skin. You idly make note of his simple outfit: a white t-shirt under a worn jean jacket hoodie, black leather pants, and a pair of brown boots. “Although, I didn't expect my soulmate to show so soon after my eighteenth birthday. It hasn't even been a week!”Freezing as you listen to him speak, you subconsciously mouth pieces of his sentence with him, running a hand along your hip. He's too preoccupied to notice how transfixed you are, inching towards him a bit.You'd recited his first words enough times to memorize parts of it, wondering who it could be in Japan. And here he is. Here he is.“We're... soulmates.” You clarify, staring up at him in disbelief.“Y-yeah... I...”But wait.“Please don't tell me that those are the words you have!” You gasp, hiding your lips behind your fingertips. The young man lets out a nervous, half-hearted laugh, and you flinch. “I am so sorry.”“Oh, no no, please, it's fine!” He says, grasping your hands with a slightly shaky smile. “I like them. They're weird but cute. And besides, they're not that obvious.”Your jaw drops.And then you start cackling.Realizing your position, he instantly backtracks, spewing more apologies than you can count. You shake your head, trying to reassure him but find you can't through the laughter. Of all things, he had to deal with that! Oh, you feel so bad, good lord.“Hey, hey,” You put an end to his rambling, resting a warm palm on his shoulder. He's much taller than you, and, now that you're getting a good look at him, really strong. Sheesh. “It's fine. I'm glad you're okay with them. So... uh, how about we start over?”“Right!” He blurts, nodding firmly, arms stiff by his sides. It's quiet as you both try to muster the correct words to say, a time you spend studying his features. You slowly grab one of his hands and shake it up and down, introducing yourself softly. His blush bleeds into the tips of his ears, and he shyly provides you with his name.“Coby,” You test his name, trying to make the syllables work. His lips quirk when you repeat it a few times, features evening out, no longer panicked. “That's a nice name. Suits you.”“Hah,” He shrugs. “Thank you...”Chortling, you inhale deeply, biting back a yawn that would surely scare him off. Rubbing your eyes, you breathe, “Well, I... I think I need to get going.” Coby cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and, dare you say, disappointment, and you vaguely motion to your luggage.“O-oh, right.” He says, “How about I walk you to your hotel?”Oh, he's too sweet. “Wow, very smooth. Where'd you learn that one?”He responds with more sputtering, your teasing remark reviving the blush that had been dormant for a few minutes. “I-I didn't mean it like that!” Shaking his head causes his pink hair to swing about wildly. He rakes his fingers through his hair, mussing it further and disrupting his middle part. Luckily for him, it all falls back into place easily enough, rendering his efforts to clear his face quite fruitless.Anyway... You might be paying too much attention to his peculiar hair colour. Might.…Was it natural?Banishing those thoughts, you laugh openly again, patting him on the shoulder. “I know, I know. I'm only kidding.” Relief washes over him like one huge waterfall and, to save from blushing himself to death, you refrain from commenting on that. Yeah, he's really sweet. “If anything, I have to thank you again. I've been out here for too long.”“Are you staying here for long?” He offers a large hand, and you gently relinquish your suitcase. Now that he's all recovered and able to help, he's more confident.You shrug, feeling a bit awkward. “I'm staying for a week or two.”Oddly enough, you were hoping you could meet your soulmate, but also hated the idea of it. You only had two weeks here and who knew when you were returning. Both of you were too young to uproot yourselves from your homes, so living with one another was no go. And two weeks was not enough time for you to settle down with each other, for obvious reasons. This would surely be the most bittersweet two weeks in your life.“Well, then, let's make the most of it, okay?” He says, grinning.Worries temporarily swept away, you nod.“Okay.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Once a sanctuary, a place to go to when you needed to unwind and relax, your room is cold. Under different circumstances, you would've appreciated the little knick-knacks and belongings scattered and littering the room. Maybe debated whether you really wanted to pick up that sock hanging off the side of the bed for a minute and then, with a shrug, think no.Now, with everything that transpired and the excruciating pain in your chest, all this familiar sight does is spark anger and bitter self-loathing.Eyes brimming with tears, you sniffle, pursing your lips so that no pathetic whimpers ghost past them. You wring your hands, unsure of what to do now that the truth had reached everyone and you were going to leave.You thought you had resigned to your fate as you marched to your room, heart pounding and composure on the verge of crumbling to bits. But now that you were here, now that you understood the severity of your situation, you could do naught but feel shame.Angrily, you wipe your tears, sleeves biting into the skin of your cheeks painfully. You don't stop even after the droplets have gone, punishing yourself for being so careless and stupid and childish. Had you not cracked, had you stayed strong, none of this would have happened. Nobody would know about your feelings and you would have passed peacefully in your room. If you had just confined yourself to this very place, everything would have been fine and- and--why did you have to do something like that?Your knees buckle as you press your hands to your trembling lips, screwing your eyes shut as you kneel with a dull thump.Now, what were you going to do? You'd been friends with Shanks for who knew how long and now you had to disappear from his life because of this. Go like some stray petal carried away by the wind.You don't know how much time you spend on the floor, breathing erratic as you think of everything but the person that has inadvertently caused you so much pain. Or, well, try. Keeping your thoughts from straying to him was a task you did not have the energy for, and so, with another sob, you let your mind wander freely.For some reason, your mind goes back to the chase and how the cheeky bastard had tossed your words from so many years ago right back at you.“You're not getting rid of me that easily.”You suppose for the majority of your stay with the crew, that was true. You and Shanks had argued many a time – mostly about his lacking sense of self-preservation – and yet your friendship remained strong. You could scold him and urge him to at least defend himself when the situation seemed dire, and he would never listen, and both of you would carry on. Whatever frustration and anger you harbored would be swept aside and you would just... carry on.But there was no recovering from this.This. This is how they would all be rid of you.Either that or death. You sure as hell don't know which will come first now that Shanks had rejected you. And you don't know if it's just your body accepting its fate or whatever, but you're not in any pain as of now. You chalk it up to numbness and lift your body off the floor, knees aching.Perhaps this was just fate providing you with one last moment of respite from the suffering before stealing your life.If that's the case, you eye your bed wearily, dragging your feet as you shuffle in its direction, I'm going to sleep.Letting your body fall on the mattress, you inhale deeply when the refreshing cold of the sheets embraces you, relaxing. Your throat is itchy with the need to cough, but it's not as irritating as it once was.Eyelids drooping from drowsiness, you shift so that you can rest on your side, back to the door. If you were going to go like this, you were going to do so without enduring the embarrassment of it.Thankfully, sleep claims your mind moments easily. Shanks is at a loss.Staring at the place where you last stood, his brain sorts through each and every one of your conversations, searching for whatever he might have missed. A tiny detail that might have alluded to the feelings you'd concealed from them all, the ones that had led to your current condition.He doesn't know what to do.Usually, finding a solution to an instance such as this one – one where you leave to clear your mind – would be laughably simple. He would give you time, you would cleanse your mind of the anger, and then you'd both meet in middle ground. Sometimes it would take longer, or he would have to extend a hand and make a half-assed promise neither of you believed, or he would tell you again. Tell you that none of it matters to him as long as his friends aren't the ones hurt.Shanks's eyebrows furrow thoughtfully as Benn calmly sidles up beside him, unlit cigar clenched between his teeth.“I've been hurting her...” The red-head muses to himself, raking his fingers through his hair. Benn grunts beside him, eyes finding the moon shining brightly, illuminating their ship. He reaches into his pocket for a lighter and lights his cigar, puffing on it idly.Nobody really knew what to say. To have a case of hanahaki on a pirate ship was practically unheard of. After all, if things didn't work out between the two people, what then? Not everyone thought like Shanks. Some didn't want to leave what they'd worked for behind.But then, what should he do?You clearly didn't want to leave. The resoluteness in your voice had not fooled anyone, especially him.Lucky Roo rested his weight on one foot. The man, everything that life had thrown at him, always had a smile on his face to show the world. He wasn't smiling. And if Lucky Roo wasn't smiling, it meant shit had gone bad.“Once, we might have been able to give her time to cool off.” Benn starts, exhaling the smoke in his lungs and watching it writhe before it dissipated. “But we both know we can't afford that luxury right now.”Shanks's eyes narrow at the floor. Benn carries on, unfazed by his captain's expression. “The girl is dying, Shanks.”“I know,” He breathes, feeling his heart thump against his ribcage. “I know.”“There's always that surgery.” Yasopp comments, though his voice lacks any of its usual confidence. Shanks is unable to conceal the grimace that twists his features, feeling sick at the mere thought of it. “But then... she might...”Benn raises a hand, shaking his head. “We know.”Would you be able to forgive them if they sent you to get that surgery? Would you forgive him, should you remember who he is?Silence hangs in the air, heavy and almost sickening. If there's one thing Shanks is not used to on his ship, it's silence. If only he could drag you up here so that you could all party and forget this even happened.“But what if it's true?” Lucky Roo's voice is also too quiet. “What if she can't love anyone because of it?”“If she doesn't go through with it, she will die,” Benn repeats grimly. “Unless...”Everyone's eyes find Shanks, who refuses to tear his gaze from the floor. He scratches his chin pensively, lips pursed.“I don't know.” He says finally.Benn's shoulders sag as he regards Shanks carefully, a wrinkle in his brow.“But we can't leave her to die,” Shanks adds, meeting the eyes of his crew. “I'm going to talk to her. Then we'll see what happens.”His men nod their heads, murmuring their replies as Shanks begins the trek to your room, thoughts jumbling together into an incoherent mess. They revolve around the few options he has to fix this mess, consequences pushing him in several directions.One, you get the surgery, live another day, and are free of your feelings for him as well as every memory of him. Two, you don't get the surgery and live the rest of your life bed-ridden because of him. And three...Shanks's heart lurches uncomfortably in his chest.The door to your room is in front of him much too soon. He feels odd, raising his hand to knock on the door, knowing what might await him on the other side.Deciding to forgo manners, he turns the doorknob and slowly opens the door. The room is shrouded in obscurity, freezing, as if the very gloom had decided to cast out whatever warmth lingered in its depths. Shanks feels a shiver work its way down his spine.Pushing past the discomfort, he forces his eyes to find your recumbent form. You hadn't reacted to the noise like you normally would. A memory of you raising your head from a book, eyes bright and full of life, latches itself to his mind's eye.Approaching your bed, he raises a hand, ready to feel for a pulse. His heart is so loud in his ears it's impossible for him to wait and listen for the sound of breathing.Resting his pointer and middle finger on your neck gingerly, he bites his lip, gaze fixed on your profile. Your jaw is slack and, even without light, he can see that the colour has drained from your face.
Thump-thump.
You're alive.He releases the breath trapped in his lungs, large hand closing around your shoulder to gently shake you awake. His actions are slow as if you might break if he's not careful. “[name].”Your eyebrows pinch as if you're in pain, and he immediately stops, noticing the petals by your pillow. Shanks feels his trepidation worsen.“[name], wake up. We need to talk.” He says evenly. Your eyelids flutter before parting to reveal your filmy eyes. They don't move from the wall.“No,” You whisper simply, stamping the need to see his face to a mote of dust.“[name], you're dying.” He sits down on your bed, grabbing you by the shoulders so that you face him properly. You don't resist, instead, you let him adjust you with a blank expression. It pains him. “We are going to talk. Captain's orders.”Shanks expected you to mumble that he wasn't your captain anymore, that he couldn't boss you around because you had withdrawn from his crew. You didn't. You just... watched him.“If you're here to tell me you love me,” You draw strength from somewhere in your body to growl at him. “If you're here to lie to me, don't.” Batting his hands away, you plead, “Just... just don't. It won't fix anything.”“I...” Shanks struggles for the right words, the sight of you rendering him speechless. “I'm not here for any of that, [name].”“Then what?” You demand, pushing yourself up with several gasping breaths. He leans back in surprise, blinking at you as you lean closer to him, eyes narrowed into two angry slits. “You're going to send me away to get that surgery?”“I-”“Do you know what that would do to me, Shanks?” You interrupt him, syllables slurring and voice watery. “Do you?” Your throat burns with each word you grit out, constricting.“I'm not doing that.” You state. Shanks is ready to protest, but you don't let him. “I'm not doing it.”“So, what? I'm supposed to let someone I care about die? Just like that? I'm supposed to walk out of here while you die?”You don't reply.“Well,” he scoffs, standing up from his seat. “I'm not doing that.”You meet his eye, lips set into a firm line as you glare. He returns the sentiment by crossing his arms, teeth clenching.Finally, after five minutes, your head swivels and you hide your face, glad that it was so dark. Shanks thinks this is your way of agreeing to the surgery and intends to leave, but then...“I haven't coughed up any petals.”“What?” He asks.You poke at the petals by your pillow, reiterating, “I haven't coughed up any petals.”Shanks's stomach drops.Slowly, your head turns again. “I haven't slept like that in a long time, Shanks. I can't, not with this.” You gesture to your chest. Your shirt is stained with droplets of blood. He scrutinizes the skin your shirt fails to hide, wondering why this had to happen to you, and snaps out of his daze when you smooth a hand over it, despondent.“What does that mean, Shanks?” You inquire, barely above a whisper. A moment of inattention and he would have missed your words.Are they too late? Can he not save you?Unease roils inside him as you rub your chest.Are you dying? Is he going to watch you die?Shanks's breath seeps out of him as he remembers his smile as he died. He had stood there, clothing and straw hat soaked, his tears blending in with the rain pelting down on him as they-Before he can come up with an answer, your body gives in and your head collides with the wall.“No, no, [name]-” He calls, rushing to your side. “[name], come on, no,”He cradles you to his chest, fingers brushing your cheek as he pushes your hair back. Your eyes are open but unfocused; there's still some life in you left.What could the lack of flowers mean? A lot of things, all of which he considers voicing to at least give you an answer, but he knows none of those are true.“I'm not dead.” You mumble, even though it sounds like you have to practically drag the air into your lungs. “I'm not going to die.”A smile stretches your lips as you close your eyes, even as he shakes you, his voice lulling you to sleep again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Soulmate AU in which every time you’re touched by your soulmate, a blotch of colour appears on that place. How long a mark stays depends on the emotions behind each touch. Sometimes the colours stay for a couple of minutes, sometimes for hours. Touches brought on by really strong feelings have the chance of lasting years, but that’s rare. And, depending on the other person's mood, the colour that shows up on their skin varies. So if soulmate A is happy, colours like yellow or orange show up on soulmate B's skin when they are touched.Sanji:
Meeting was a normal thing. While browsing the market for ingredients and foods native to your home, he stumbled upon your little shop. You mostly sold fruits and vegetables, and one particular item piqued his interest.
After brief greetings and conversation, he extended a hand toward you. You shook it eagerly, fascinated by his knowledge when it came to cooking, and... that's funny, your hand is now orange.
Both of you silently stare at each other's hands, then share a laugh. You flush visibly and his cigarette nearly topples out of his mouth. Seeing as he's spending a few days there, you get to know each other and eventually, you agree to join the crew as a second cook.
You're honestly surprised by the workload he takes on without complaint every single day and do your best to assist.
Sometimes, when you're struggling with something, he'll sidle up behind you and envelop your hands with his own, teaching you how he does it. Half the time you're a little too flustered to retain the information he murmurs.
While cooking, you'll brush past him, 'accidentally' colliding with him for the hell of it and smiling when he sends you an amused look. That, or you'll rest your head on his shoulder while doing simple tasks. Your temples are quite the sight after that.
Whenever an argument with Zoro escalates dangerously, you drag him away by the hand, frowning at the intense crimson that stains your skin.
Obviously, you do your best to soothe him, listening to him ramble about what happened. Even so, you shush him when his insults are too scathing, even for him.
“That good for nothing moss-head doesn't know a damn thing about me!” Cue a relaxing massage session by you. It calms him easily, though he does feel guilt if he sees that you're blue... quite literally. Those handprints on his biceps are... haunting. He doesn't like seeing you sad.
When you're both alone, he likes taking your hands in his and kissing each scar he finds. If he runs out of scars to kiss, he turns to your knuckles.
Franky:
Despite your lack of knowledge, you try and help out in his workshop whenever possible, wanting to spend time with the boisterous man. He's always excited to show you the things he comes up with, showing off the designs on his blueprints while you stare, wide-eyed.
Before the two years of solo training, colours would show up on his skin, but then he made those changes to his body. You were sad to see that colours didn't show up on the metallic parts, and those scars terrified you. What could have happened to him?
He did. He happened to himself. Okay, deep breath. You're still delighted to see him and shower his dumb mug in kisses. He looks ridiculous with the yellow prints on his cheeks, but he shows them off proudly.
Contrary to popular belief, you're not embarrassed by his antics. If anything, you're entertained and join along if his coaxing is convincing enough.
Reds are common colours when he's in the workshop. Not from anger, though. He's passionate about his projects and that transfers over to his touches when he's teaching you. It's a sight you've grown familiar with, so much so that seeing any sad or angry colours is striking.
When something is not working the way he wants it to, that's when shit hits the fan and a dark crimson taints your skin. You reassure, calm, and try and get him to bounce ideas off of you to see if he overcome whatever obstacle he's facing. It works most of the time. You're rewarded with a kiss that's the most obnoxious shade of orange, but like him, you feel pride.
He also has a habit of resting a hand on your hip if you're standing close enough. Serious situation or not, if you're there, he's doing it…nevermind the wandering hands.
Robin:
When she met you, she plastered this carefully crafted blank look on her face, eyes empty as she stared at the light orange stripe on her wrist. This was way before any of the pirate shenanigans happened to her. Just as you were about to speak, she tells you she simply cannot be with you and leaves.
You're heartbroken by this, but don't chase after her. After all, not everyone wants a soulmate. But that grey swatch on your skin is a painful reminder for many weeks.
The years go by and, while you do think about her and those piercing eyes of hers, you move on with your life. Even so, you're unable to quell the small sparks of hope in your heart.
Then... she comes back. Her hair is longer and she's lost that tan, but she's still her and you're honestly blown away. Right away, you notice the difference in her gaze. There's a warmth in them that wasn't there before. Had you changed for the better?
Both of you introduce yourselves properly and you tag along with her. Sometimes, you can hardly believe she's back after more than four years of wondering if she would ever return.
On the ship, you both lie in her bed and read side by side. She holds your hand with one of hers, summoning a few others to ease the tension of the day out of your shoulders, prop your book up, and flip the page for you. It's... kind of overwhelming, in a good way. Every hand she summons ends up with its own assortment of bright, happy colours.
If you're feeling cheeky, you'll kiss every single one or sneak up on her while she's poring over a book and place a kiss on her cheek. She smiles to herself when you run away, giggling like a madman.
If she catches you, she'll gently grasp your chin, sharp eyes shining with mirth. A thumb brushes over your bottom lip and... then she lets you go, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and pretending nothing happened.
You can claim nothing happened all you want when around the others, but that mark on your lips says otherwise.
Nami:
This woman just waltzed into the store you were working at, a fancy boutique and clothing store, and put on a fashion show that put everyone to shame. At one point, to your horror, you walk in on her changing, listing off the things she had demanded before realizing. It was mortifying and, while you wanted to run away, you didn't.
You stand outside the change room, mind reeling at the fact that a Straw-Hat Pirate was in the store. Leisurely, she walks out and announces: “Actually, I want something more casual.”
Then, seeing something that you hope she does buy, she drops a dress in your arms, fingers brushing your forearm. You watch as green stripes appear on your skin, too shocked to say anything. She doesn't even notice.
Dutifully, you follow this intimidating customer, hiding the mark. What do you do? If the owner finds out that she's your soulmate, you are going to lose your job. Marines and pirates alike use a person's soulmate for leverage and-
“What the heck?!” Nami finds the mark and, eyes snapping to yours, demands you show her your arm. You do, and things go from there. Conflicting emotions swirl in her eyes, and then...
“Well, I was going to charge you for seeing me like that, but I guess now I can't.”
A friend of hers enters the store as she says this and sputters, calling her an unfair woman for that. Your face is burning with embarrassment.
Anyway, you tag along with this band of absolute chaos and get to know her.
If this woman takes no crap from anyone, she isn't going to let you take any, as well. She's fierce when it comes to defending you, wrapping an arm around you protectively and mouthing off whoever is trying to insult you. You don't pay too much attention, too focused on the colours decorating your skin.
When you find the scar on her shoulder and she tells you snippets of that ordeal, you damn near cry. You hug her and don't let go for a long time, shocked by her display of strength and, surprisingly, forgiveness. Her entire arm is blue from you throwing yourself at her, so much that it's kind of difficult to find the tattoo.
You two spend a lot of time together around her mikan trees, enjoying the aroma of the fruit and drawing patterns on your arms.
Boa Hancock:
How you even happened to find the Island of Women is beyond you, the women on said island, and every goddamn snake they worship.
Believing you to be an intruder, you were chased and hunted for quite a while. Eventually, after days of avoiding the fierce warriors, you give up and let them drag you away to their empress.
And... oh, boy. You weren't ready.
You spoke, she said something, then you replied, and apparently she didn't like that because a weird heart beam is coming at you. Obviously, you dodge, but the guards think you're escaping and try to catch you, and.... whoops, you crashed into the empress. There's red on your skin, a light shade of blue on hers, and everyone has stopped.
Boa demands privacy and the two of you talk things out. Her words are fast, to the point, while you stumble a little due to the stress of the past few days.
You both agree to take things slow, so that's what you do. You're given a room, food, and spend time with her whenever her empress duties allow.
The marks on your skin are gone, but hers are still there, and she stares at them thoughtfully before acknowledging you when you enter a room.
Eventually, when you're both comfortable enough, you become more open to touch. She seems transfixed with seeing colours appear on her skin and yours.
She takes you around town, where women gawk and praise her for her beauty. Boa holds your hand as she shows you her home, reciting stories.
A long time after that, she shows you the mark on her back. She sits you down, turns around and shows you, then begins the dreadful tale. However, she jumps with a squeak when you kiss her back, face red. When she faces you, you're there, smiling despite the blue tinting your lips. She couldn't look you in the eye after that, so you hugged her, laughing.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“You're staring again.”The blond startles, body jerking and eyes blinking owlishly as he meets your gaze, alarmed. You tilt your head to the side, smiling coyly at the boy on the floor. Sabo laughs shyly, rubbing the back of his neck while gripping one of his ankles with his free hand. Rolling your eyes, you shove him lightly.“That isn't going to get you anywhere, you know.”“Yeah, I do.” He sighs, watching the red-head walk away with a forlorn expression. Your heart thumps loudly against your ribcage and you clear your throat, focusing on Koala. She's talking to someone from your class, gesturing wildly with a grin on her face. Even from your spot in the back of the room, you can hear what she's saying.“Why not talk to her about it? I'm pretty sure she likes you.” You lean forward, propping your elbows on the table and resting your chin in your palms. Sabo throws his head back and groans, facepalming.“It's not that easy, (name)!” He throws back at you rather miserable, and you stifle a laugh.“Oh, I'm sure it is.” I'm doing it right now.You sigh loudly, shaking your head. “Just don't forget me when you guys date. I'm still one of your best friends, don't forget that.”“Well, duh,” Sabo looks at you like you've lost your mind. Then, the rest of your statement finally settles, and he actually squawks, punching you on the shoulder. You cackle through the pain, poking his reddened cheeks while he tries escaping.When he's free from your unwanted onslaught, he stands, huffing as he walks away. You watch him go with a small smile, cheeks aching from how much you've laughed with him. Glancing down at your hands, you close your eyes and breathe deeply, then call out to him, “Oi, Sabo!”He turns around, arching an eyebrow at you and feigning annoyance. You try to block your thoughts on the scene, but ultimately can't. Still, you manage to recover, ignoring the way that one glance has made you feel.“Don't go around picking any fights with Hack, eh?”Sabo rolls his eyes and waves his hand in front of his face as if batting your statement aside. You laugh again and let him go, fond despite the pain seeing him go to someone else rendering you immobile.'In another universe, he might've thought of me like that.' You think, cocking your head to the side.
At least he mustered the courage to go talk to her.
(x)“Okay... how about this again?” You motion to the crystal blue water lapping at the rocky shore, awaiting Sabo's reply. Today had been harsh on you, what with training and school, but you'd found the energy to drag him out here. He protested meekly, his dedication to the Revolutionary Army's cause growing exponentially now that you were young adults, but... well, you had your ways.Which means you had simply dragged him out by his cravat and called it a day.He stared openly at the ocean, which slowly transitioned to become a narrowed gaze. He was frustrated.“Nothing.” He declares, at last, prompting a disappointed huff from you. You shake your head, raking your fingers through your hair before tugging at the strands. “Sorry.”“Ugh,” You groan, pushing him. It was your go-to gesture whenever he was being too apologetic or understanding. “It's not your fault, stupid. Just means we have to find something else.”A pause. You both observe the way the waves approach and recede silently, sorting through your emotions separately.“If only there were more than just rocks in this place.” You grumble, crossing your arms over your chest and plopping down on the ground. “Maybe then we'd find something to jog that dumb brain of yours.”“I'm not dumb!” He laughs, joining you on the ground, and you send him an unimpressed look. Deflating visibly, Sabo's shoulders sag and he lowers his head, golden strands of hair hiding his face. Your lips purse as you rack your brain for anything that might trigger some sort of memory in his brain.You'd tried maps, things he enjoys or has now that he never has an explanation for, like that pipe he found one day, books... you'd even asked around, hoping that someone's story would spark another idea, but...“I... don't know how you do it.” You admit carefully, hardly above a whisper. If he hadn't been right beside you, your words would have been lost among the soft sounds of the ocean.“Do what, exactly?” He faces you, eyebrows knitted and baby blue eyes searching your face. You inhale deeply, shrugging helplessly as you come up with your answer.“You live every day, knowing that you're missing parts of your life, of you, and yet...” You meet his eye, feeling a bit choked up. “You smile and you laugh and you do all these things. You keep going.” A weak chuckle escapes you, “I don't know if I'd be able to.”Sabo's expression cleared the more you explained, until, finally, he mutters, “...huh.”“Yeah.” You breathe, smiling sadly.Another pause, though this time it's heavier than the last. Sabo fiddles with the material of his trousers, his other hand going to the scar around his eye. He traces the marred skin, pensive and mute. A breeze sweeps past both of you, ruffling your hair and making your lose clothing flutter.You feel... terrible, pity? There's something in your heart that never left the day he mentioned he can't remember anything before meeting Dragon. That it felt like one big void. And, even though he never outright said it, you could see how he wanted to figure it out. He wanted to see what his life was like before whatever the hell happened to him.You did, too. Though if it's because you're just selfish or because you genuinely want to know everything about him or-“I think,” Sabo begins tentatively, essentially putting an end to whatever spiral you were beginning to fall into. “Someone from... from back then would have told me that it's no way to live. That I should just do whatever I want.”“Do... can you maybe... do you know who? At all?” You stammer, and you curse your mouth's betrayal, heart breaking for the boy you've grown up and trained with for so long. The slow shake of his head does nothing to soothe you, but at least you now know he had someone in his life. Someone who seemed honest with him, which meant they cared.“No.” He mumbles at last. It's enough to leave you speechless for a long time.At last, you announce, “It's progress.”Sabo cranes his neck to look up at you when you stand, a determined gleam in your eye. “It's progress and we're going to keep making more. I don't care how long it takes. We're getting your memories back, Sabo.”Offering him your hand, you grin confidently. He gaped at you for a moment that felt like an eternity, one you sat through patiently until he mirrored your expression and grasped the limb you proffered.(x)You were kids.You ran together in a field, laughing at whatever managed to draw the noises from you, clothes dirty from whatever. Whatever it was, you didn't care. You were here with him, your best friend, and that was all that mattered.There was someone else, but they had no voice, no face, no shape, and no form. And yet, you knew they were there. You felt their presence, their influence. Sabo could talk to them, though you could never hear his words and you could never hear their reply.You wondered who they were. What they meant to him. What Sabo meant to them. Were they family? A friend? An animal?He was happy. You were happy. Whoever was with you was happy, too. There were trees and enormous fields and forests thriving with life. Places rich with history waiting to be discovered by a few kids wreaking havoc and going on adventures.An ideal paracosm.Except...“Helloooooo! Anyone in there?” Koala rapped her knuckles on your skull, her big, round eyes staring into yours, unblinking. You recoiled from her touch with a yelp, almost falling off your stool. The redhead laughed at your attempts to find purchase, stabilizing you when you gripped her shirt.“Sorry, sorry!” You heave, “I... I got lost in thought.”“I could tell.” She said teasingly, poking you in the side. “You've been staring at your drink for more than five minutes. I'm a little concerned about it, to be honest.”“Ugh.” You chortle, covering your face with your scarf. “I've just... I've been thinking again.”“Him?” She asks simply, and you flinch.“I swear I mean nothing by it. I'm just trying to-”“Help.” She finishes for you, patting you on the shoulder. “(name), you're Sabo's best friend! You're allowed to be worried, sheesh.”You sigh, a little defeated. The last thing you wanted was for her to think you're trying to steal him away from her or who knows what. Good to see she's not even on that page. It would suck.“I just... I was just thinking about other things that might help him remember, but, ugh, it's hard. I've read about this again recently, and there's things like someone dying and other awful stuff that would get him to remember.” Your face scrunches up at the thought. “But I don't want him to go through that! I'd rather he starts a bar fight and punches an old friend in the face or something. A death... it's scary, Ko-Ko.”“I know,” She says.“I mean, what if that person is all he has and he suddenly sees their face pop up and everything comes back? That would be terrible.”“Okay, yeah, but... (name), I think you're overthinking this.” She continues, “It's not that I don't care, God knows I do, but-”“I know, I know.” You straighten up, puffing out your chest and deepening your voice. “I shouldn't worry so much about it.”“Was that supposed to be me?” Sabo sidles up to you from your right, laughing loudly at your subpar impression of him. You mimic his laugh for the hell of it.“Yeah, it was.” You down the rest of your drink, slamming the glass on the counter afterwards.“Well, it's better than last time.” He jokes, tipping his large top hat back. You swat at him, but he dodges easily, the bastard.“Soon enough my impression will be so close I'll steal your girlfriend.” You mumble, hopping off your stool as Koala cackles and Sabo gasps dramatically, affronted. “I'll leave you two to chat. I gotta go do something.”“Alright,” Koala beams at you, waving. “Take care, (name)!”“You too, Ko-Ko.”As you make your way to the exit, you hear Sabo ask, “How come only they get to call you that?” and Koala laughing in the background. You smile to yourself, already procuring the book that provided you with such dreadful knowledge from inside your jacket.(x)You were right.Well, no, not really. You hadn't made a bet with the devil, after all. That would've been insensitive as fuck.But... you were right to worry.It happened instantly. One moment you were conversing with Hack and Koala about your most recent assignment and the next a pained noise disrupted the peace. You watched him collapse, whimpering as he slammed the paper back on the desk he'd found it on. As if it had burned him. And yet, he refused to release the very thing causing him pain, staring at the news with eyes impossibly wide.You were at his side too late.He released an agonized scream so loud it tore through your very being from your head down to your feet. You reached for him, howling his name and cradling him in your arms when he fell, unresponsive.Then you saw the headline.And then you made the connection.That someone. The same person you'd tried to assign a name to for ages.His brother died.A man you'd helped the Revolutionary Army keep track of, among other powerful pirates, and he'd been one of the most important people in Sabo's life. And now, he's dead. With his face printed on the front page of just about every newspaper in all four Blues, you feel... lost. The familiar bubbling of rage and utter self-loathing as you realize you could've done something years ago when Portgas D. Ace first showed up on your radar.('But how could I have known?', you wanted to think. 'How could I have helped?')And now he was gone. And so had been Sabo the instant he recognized him.You lightly smacked his face, repeating his name over and over with Koala in front of you doing the same. Others called for a doctor or Sabo, or you, but you didn't listen.His pupils were the size of pinpricks as he had fallen, but now his eyes were closed, which was more concerning than anything else. You gripped his hand tightly after brushing his hair back, tucking it close to you. Your fingers came away wet from the tears on his cheeks.“Sabo, wake up!” You yelled, shaking him. “Wake up, please, Sabo!"
Wake up.
His eyes remained closed.
Wake up.
His eyelids flutter.
Wake up.
He hisses softly as light enters his eyes, raising a hand to shield them. When he was sure he wasn't going to experience pain, he dropped the limb and allowed his eyes to canvas the room. It was simple. He was the infirmary, a place he was more than well acquainted with, with Koala and Hack to his left while you...You slept, your head supported by your forearms, on the bed, on his right.“Sabo?” Hack said a bit too loudly, Koala shushing him a second later before she too made the mistake of speaking too loudly. He grimaced, pointing to his head, and both of them settled down. You kept sleeping soundly, only shifting slightly.Koala held his hand in hers, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I was so worried!” She whisper-yelled, and he smiled up at her.“How long was I out?”“You were under for three whole days. You had a terrible fever.” Hack answered quietly.“Oh. That's... not too bad.”“Buuuut... long enough for them to stay up almost all three nights, waiting.”“Ugh,” He groaned, eyes rolling back. He fixed you with a fond glare. “Of course.”Just then, you begin to stir, eyes blinking open. He watches you try and figure out where you are, and then, slowly, move your head to check on him. When your eyes meet, it's like a switch has been flipped, and you sit upright immediately.“Sabo!” You brace your hands on the mattress and groan when your back pops audibly. “Shit.”And like that, Sabo laughs. You join him after taking a moment to rub your sore back, Koala and Hack doing the same. Koala pats Hack on the shoulder and stands from her chair, urging Hack to do the same.“I'll let you two talk,” She announces, sending you a knowing smile. You and Sabo try and protest at the same time, which earns you another round of amused sounds from her. “Don't. I don't mind. Really.”And just like that, you are forced to relent.After Hack and Koala leave the room, you turn to Sabo again, eyebrows furrowed. You wait for him to speak, unsure if exploring such territory is safe, especially with the wound so, so fresh.You don't wait long.“He... was my brother.”
Out comes the broken boy.
Unblinking eyes scour the ceiling as memories float around his brain, scattered, yet to be organized. You take his hand tenderly, feeling tears well up in your eyes. “I know.”“He... I...” His mouth clicks shut as he inhales shakily, chest rising and falling. Sabo's grip is tight as he screws his eyes shut, bottom lip trembling. “He was my brother.”You don't know what to say.“Do you- do you remember anything else?” You ask, hoping that wasn't crossing any lines. This was extremely dangerous territory. Years and years of his life you hadn't been privy to until now. You didn't know how to proceed.“M... my other brother.” He rasps as if he had to drag those words out of his mouth. “His name is Luffy, and... and..” You nod, squeezing his hand to let him know he doesn't have to continue. He reciprocates, thankful. “He doesn't know I'm alive, (name). He-he's had to live thinking I've been dead for years.”You rise when he sits up. He slips his hand out of yours and sets it on his lap. Sabo sniffles quietly, his entire body shaking as he tries to hold back his sobs. Caving, you wrap your arms around him, making sure he knows what you're doing, and hold him. He buries his face in your chest, tears dampening your clothes. “I-I don't even know where he is, now.”“He's alive, I can tell you that much.” You mumble, resting your cheek on the top of his head. Rubbing his back, you carry on, “He sustained a lot of injuries, but it's been confirmed that he and many Whitebeard pirates escaped. He's alive, Sabo.”…...“I should have been there.”A tear rolls down your cheek as you swallow harshly. “You couldn't have known, Sabo, you couldn't have.”...“...I know.”He sounds so broken, then. Unlike you've ever heard or seen. Even when your training was at its hardest, or when the void in his mind crowded his thoughts, he could keep fighting. And he did.Now, he sits, limp and pliant in your arms. Weak. Meek. Lost.You lean back, cupping his face even when he refuses to meet your gaze. You use your thumbs to wipe away his tears, sniffling a little. Hearing this, Sabo's blue eyes snap to yours, and you stare into each other's eyes. You find the hurt, the pain, the helplessness and lack of direction reflected in the cerulean pools. They're cold, a sensation you hate yourself for associating with him. Sabo is warm. Even when he's not looking at you, you feel at ease and carefree, knowing that he's around. Him being around is enough.You caress his cheek, grazing his scar, feeling the words on the tip of your tongue. And yet, none of them felt appropriate. None of them would completely convey your feelings.You open your mouth nonetheless because this... there's not enough distance between you two. You have to justify this in some way, somehow, and yet you can't. Your heart pounds in your ribcage, your mind is racing, and yet your hands aren't moving, none of you are moving.And when you do, it's in the wrong direction.Your tears fall like raindrops, cooling down his heated skin, and his arms snake around your waist. They settle low on your back, hands digging into the fabric of your shirt as you kiss him gingerly. Sabo feels your entire body tremble in place. He sneaks a glance at your face, noting your pained expression, and rubs your back. He pulls you closer, parting for just a second, and you make a weak sound of protest. And yet you follow him, adding pressure and moving in tandem with him.Your hands travel down to the back of his neck, warm and gentle. He tries to sit up more, wanting there to be no space between you, but you move away. Tears cascade down your cheeks as you rest your forehead on his.“I'm sorry.” You mumble sadly. “I'm so sorry, Sabo. I'm sorry.”You stay with him for the rest of the day, laying down with him on the bed. You wipe your tears away, keeping him close, wordlessly insisting that he leans on you for support. And he does. He can only be strong for so long before the pain of losing his brother resurfaces.Sabo cries, and you hold him, and you're there.It's not the world you had imagined for you both. You had wanted to meet Ace, perhaps thank him for what he did for Sabo. But you know there're better things waiting for him. He still has Luffy. You're sure he'll set out to find him when he can.And, through it all, he'll still have you.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He watched, his expression a mixture of glee and trepidation, as you ensured the frosting on the three layer cake was perfect. There were numerous candles on the first of the layers already, the number decreasing the further up you went. You hummed a little tune as you worked, smiling to yourself at the idea of celebrating his birthday.
His birthday.
Ace felt an urge to dip his finger in the cake, knowing that you and Thatch had gone the extra mile and filled it with chocolate. His stomach grumbled noisily, prompting a quiet chuckle from you as you sent him a knowing look. He grinned, ignoring the voice in his brain screaming at him.
You shouldn't be alive.
It was... it was hard. Smiling, laughing, joking around. It always was, all things considered, but the demons clawed that much harder on this particular day. You swayed a little to the song you sang, crooning the words softly. He watched, willing his thoughts to settle.It was hard. So hard he wasn't really paying attention to anything but his thoughts anymore.Thatch walked into the kitchen with a cheery greeting, flour smudged on his cheek. You reached up, rubbing at it with your thumb as you giggled melodiously. Usually, it would enough to tear him away from it all – you were enough, but...You left Thatch to his own devices as he prepared a heftier meal for the people that would be present. Thankfully, it wouldn't be the entire crew. Simply those that were closest to the birthday boy, yourself included. Nothing against them, of course, it was just a lot of work to make cake to fill everyone's stomachs. And besides, he'd received plenty of birthday wishes all day long.And speaking of...“Hey, Ace?” You call, gently touching his shoulder, “You're really quiet. Everything okay?”“Huh?” He blinked, straightening in his perch on one of the many kitchen counters. Ace's eyes scanned the room briefly before finally settling on you. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Why?”“You're quiet,” You repeat, hopping onto the counter with him. Furtively, you glance at Thatch. Izo had just waltzed in and both were busy with their conversation. When you're sure they won't turn to you two, you whisper, “Is it... is it that?”Ace's lips quirk at your peculiar wording, before they fall back to a thoughtful frown. His eyes are fixed on the floor, flickering from one tile to another and back.He always seemed so lost in his own mind.You reach for his hand, propping your chin on his shoulder. He glances at you from the corner of his eye and sighs, shrugging, “Yeah.”“It's okay if you don't want to talk about it.” You say, rubbing his knuckles with your thumb. “Just know I will kick your brain's butt if it gets really bad. Lovingly. With compliments and praise and...” You press several kisses to his cheek, moving closer to his nose and lips with each one. Ace snorts, looking away, cheeks reddening.“Alright, alright. I get it.” He laughed. You rest your head on his shoulder and sigh. He does the same on your own head, mimicking your sigh, and you huff.“Do you like it?” You ask, motioning to the cake. You'd decorated it with colours that resemble his flames. There were still things to be added, such as the Whitebeard Pirates insignias made of chocolate, but you would get to that.“A lot.” He says, squeezing your hand. “It's... I don't know if I deserve it.”“You're right.” You say grimly, “You deserve at least two more. Maybe three.”The tension leaves his body as you finish your sentence. Ace shakes his head, and the way your head bounces with his shoulders as he laughs is enough for you to join in.“If you need some time alone, I can always come up with an excuse for you, you know.” You state more seriously once the sounds trail off. He shakes his head again.“Nah, it's fine. I feel better now.”You remove your head from his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed as you stare at him.Ace swipes his thumb over your cheek now, chocolate coating his finger. “Really, I am.”You sigh, letting go of his hand so that he can enjoy the chocolate instead of wiping his finger off on the dish towel beside him. “Okay, if you say so. Just don't push yourself.”“I won't.” Before you can get too far, he grabs your wrist and kisses you gently. You push him away when he starts going too far, knowing that Thatch and Izo are literally right there. He laughs as you pretend to wipe your lips in disgust, heading back to your station to finish the cake.(x)It gets easier.The more he talks and eats, Deuce on his right and you on his left, the quieter his thoughts are. And at some point, they stop coming altogether.Pops sits at the head of the table. Whenever Ace does glance at him, he notices the proud gleam in his eyes, feeling warmth bloom in his chest. Thatch swats at Haruta as they try to steal bits and pieces of his cake, Izo laughing now that he'd had a few drinks. Speed Jiru and Fossa were having another drinking contest. Marco, Jozu, and several others were playing a card game, and...Everything was fine. He had a few narcolepsy attacks, and each time he awoke there was less cake on his plate, but he was fine.Things would be fine.And with you at his side, he's better than fine. So... he's fine.
Wait, that didn't make sense...
When the celebration died down and people began heading to bed, he decided it was time for him to sleep. You made a few gestures with your hands. Want me to come with you? He nodded, holding his hand out for you as you bid everyone goodnight. You hugged as many people as you could on your way out, cracking jokes. When you were done, you grinned up at him, and you both headed out.“That was fun,” You sigh. Ace lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around you, nodding. He felt the familiar drowsiness enveloping his brain like a dark cloud and nudged you.Then he passed out. Then he awoke in his bed.There was light in his room, which meant...Slowly, he turned his head, seeing you reading a book by his side. He scooted closer to you, shifting so that he can throw an arm over your stomach. You reach over and ruffle his hair adoringly.“Still don't know how you manage to carry me while I'm unconscious.” He mumbles sleepily after a while. You stop running your fingers through his hair and glare playfully.“I'm stronger than I look, you know.” The book snaps shut and you place it on his bedside table, resuming your actions. “And besides, we weren't that far.”“Wish it didn't happen...” He admits, inhaling deeply.“Ah, well...” You shrug. There was nothing else you could say, really. “Life is how it is. I'll always be there for you, so you don't have to worry too much.”He responds by tugging at you, pulling you down so that he can drape his entire body over yours. You chuckle tiredly at his antics, kissing his temple. Birthdays weren't his favorite thing, but with you, they were tolerable.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
People's minds have always fascinated you. The mind was, is, and forever will be humanity's strongest weapon and its deadliest weakness, you think. It was both impenetrable and the easiest thing to access... if you knew how.And you knew. You knew very well how the mind worked.With enough training and the required skills available to you, it was easy to pick apart how people reacted, what they knew, what they didn't know, what they wanted... that list could go on for eternity. People – their brains – they were all very complicated in their own way.Nico Robin was a very complicated woman.And yet, strangely enough, very easy to read after a while.Prior to your first meeting, you 'worked' with a pirate crew 'ruling' over the island's residents. This absurd dictatorship demanded an even more absurd tax from its citizens – it was an all too familiar situation for some, while others were unable to keep up. The money they 'owed' was never enough, and the number periodically rose. You watched as houses burned and people were executed to satisfy the lust for blood of these pirates.You knew what you had to do to free your town. You understood them all. Yet, like many others, you watched from the sidelines as people you had known your entire life died.And then the Strawhats arrived.Some townspeople, considering this their salvation, ran to them, pleading for their help. You were forced to report their 'crimes' and their families were taken as prisoners. And your last order? Distract the pirates.Time seemed to move in slow motion and continuously elude you. The seconds it took for their swordsman to be upon you, weapons drawn, ticked in front of your very eyes. And yet the battles that followed, up until your 'betrayal', were nothing but a dizzying blur.However, you doubt you'll forget your fight with Nico Robin.She knew what you were capable of. Despite your unawareness, you'd easily dodged Zoro's attacks. Then you'd dodged Usopp's, and Sanji's, and Luffy's, and Nami's. And then you were gone.And so, with this knowledge, she hid in the shadows and attacked from their darkness. Hands sprouted from your back and arms, gripping your chin, neck, and wrists. She had rendered you immobile. Your back bowed, head tremulously leaning back with gritted teeth as nails dug into your skin. You both knew she could've killed you then. While you were capable, you were still weak.And yet, the most she'd done was ask a series of questions.Where are the hostages?How many are there?Who are you?So you live here. Why do this to your own people?They seemed simple, but she had chosen her words carefully. Her voice had been kind, her expression even more pleasant, but she meant to shake you. She meant to strip her enemy of your 'loyalty'.She set you free.And so you joined them, rallying the townspeople, who – with many reasons to hate you and kill you – fought with you.When peace had been restored, Luffy had demanded you join his crew. The reason? Who knew. They had been walking away when he turned to you. He stretched a hand – quite literally, might you add – and dragged you to their ship.And that was all the convincing you needed, apparently.And here you were, two years later.You and Robin sat out in the sun, a rather interesting game of chess between you two. To your right, Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper, and Franky skittered about excitedly after their most recent catch. Zoro sat nearby on the railing, his own fishing pole on his hands, while Nami sunbathed behind Robin. Sanji had yet to waltz in with today's lunch.Gingerly, you lift a chess piece and knock down one of Robin's. She counterattacks effortlessly, chuckling when you frown and tilt your head to the side.“Thought I had you there for a second,” You mumble, making your next move and sipping your tea. Robin lifts a knight and bumps another pawn down. That drags a gentle laugh out of you, “And now you are toying with me.”“Perhaps,” She replies, always so cryptic. You playfully roll your eyes and use a finger to move a pawn.“Look at this fish!” Luffy shouts, standing on the railing with said creature in his hands. “It has a weird horn on its head! Hey, hey, guys, look! It looks like a unicorn!” Curious, you and Robin examine the fish from your seat. It does look like a unicorn.Furtively, you glance at the woman in front of you. Her lips purse and her eyebrows twitch, brilliant blue eyes twinkling. Chortling to yourself, you reach down and grab a small notebook, flipping it open. The sound of paper attracts her attention, but she doesn't comment on your actions until you show her what you've done.“Is this what you were thinking of?” You tap the tip of your pencil on the page. The amateur doodle that stares back at her is cute, much like whatever her imagination had conjured this time. Robin slowly takes your notebook from you, admiring the drawing with a small smile.“Hmm... yes, in a way.” She nods, handing it back to you. “But its mane was longer.” Robin giggles as you fix the drawing so that it resembles her vision. She nods once more in approval when you show her again.“Well, as long as we can get the thoughts out of your head.” You put the notebook back on the grass covering the deck. “It's strange that you can't really express them.”Robin shrugs, looking to Sanji as he walks into the scene with several trays of food. Cheers fill the air as Luffy rushes down from his perch. Sanji hands the greedy and hungry captain four plates and, after giving everyone else their food, ensures Luffy's latest catch is put inside the aquarium.You both eat in companionable silence – well, you do, until the children join you two and you are forced to defend your meal. The onslaught of grabby hands carries on throughout lunch, and eventually you do give up part of your food to Luffy. Your face flushes at the melodious laughter that leaves Robin at that.The notebook stays under your chair, your feet keeping it glued to its spot. While you like guessing at Robin's thoughts, you doubt she wants the entire crew to know. Her face remained stoic whenever her imagination procured the cutesy images. And, were she to explain, she would surely scar someone.She certainly did when you asked what she was thinking about after seeing a baby sea king.But that's probably what made it so entertaining.You'd purchased the notebook to keep track of the crew, and while you had successfully completed that task, you found this much more fun. Figuring out the crew had been easy, but Robin had been a challenge. And that was only when she willingly let you see through her. There was much you didn't know about her.When lunch was done and you helped Sanji with the dishes, you returned to your game of chess. You lost more rounds than you won, but it was fun. Especially when the liveliness died down and Luffy briefly stopped by to watch you two. His round eyes followed your actions, and then he heaved a huge sigh.When he announced he was bored and ran off, you looked at Robin, “Three minutes.”She smiled. “Five minutes.” Robin knocked down another chess piece. “I suppose I underestimated just how bored he was.”“Luffy hardly stops to watch what's happening around him.” You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. “He's always moving on to the next thing.”“And yet, he is keenly aware of so much,” Robin added. Said boy had just grabbed Zoro by the back of his shirt, demanding he sparred with him. Through the choking sounds and grumbles, Zoro agreed.“No argument there.” You agree, before sighing and moving your queen.Robin grins, “Checkmate.”“Again.” You shake your head, laughing at your loss. She doesn't reply, which you are used to.However, this extended silence is unusual.“Something on your mind?” You ask with your eyebrows pinched. Robin stares at you and, without breaking eye contact, summons a hand to give you your notebook. Understanding, you meet her eye, trying to figure out what she's thinking of.Her eyes were always your biggest clue, but they hadn't moved from your face at all. Cracking open your notebook, you hesitantly ask: “What are you thinking about?”Robin blinks, voice soft, “You.”And so you draw yourself.You don't know whether to stick to realism as you sketch your face from memory or to go with something more stylized, regardless of your ability, but you manage. You produce something that isn't fantastic, but that doesn't matter. Once your pencil halts, the same hand that had given you the notebook takes it from you.Robin studies it for a moment, and, wordlessly, steals your pencil as well. She twirls it in her hand for a moment or two before making six distinct marks on your drawing. You know because of how precarious she is with your work.When she reveals it to you, you can't help but burst out laughing.It wasn't uncommon for you to add three dashes on the cheeks to show a blush. She knew that.And you had to admit, you did look quite adorable with those same lines on your face. Robin joins you, albeit quietly, and with her own cheeks slightly reddened. Without turning the notebook towards her, she doodles a small heart by your head.It was likely that that was the most she could achieve before she 'made it dark', as she explained.Still laughing, you accept the notebook as she holds it out to you, mirthful and more than a little embarrassed. You run your fingers along your messy lines, eyes finding the little heart as Robin giggled.Cute. You both think.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
En route to the next of the countless islands dotting the world, your lungs began to grow and expel flowers. You'd lived with it for weeks, the dry taste of petals and copper of blood coating your tongue heavily. So much so, eating was uncomfortable, and drinking water pushed the taste to your stomach. And that... that caused a lot more discomfort.There was little you could do, really. You'd heard of miraculous cases where an individual's unrequited feelings are in fact returned at one point. There were cases of the afflicted undergoing surgery and retaining their memories of the one they loved. Sure, the feelings are removed, but time heals and those willing can overcome the pain.Could you?Should you remember who he is, could you forgive him? Could you still remain friends? Shanks has lived by his policy for years, now.Disagree with someone that will not change their mind? Better to part ways. Simple. It hurt and will continue to hurt, but what is done is done. People are different.People are different. And people change.Shanks waits, eyes fixed on the tiled floor of the hospital. Getting you an appointment had been rather simple, what with your state and his reputation. Even now, doctors, nurses, and townsfolk edge around him and his crew, anxious.How long had it been?Shanks rubs the back of his neck, swallowing harshly. There are many, many thoughts running circles in his mind. Many were recurrent. Many were grim.Did he love you?He glanced at the door, lips pursed, hands clasped in his lap.“If you're here to lie to me, don't.”He... didn't.And while he knew people work in different ways, he wonders if he should've done things differently. He flirted with you – as he did with many women. Had you taken it to heart? You rolled your eyes and punched him whenever he took it too far but had there been more to it? The half-hearted insults and the slow shake of your head as your eyes glazed over, distant... had that meant more? Should he have sent you away during one of your many arguments about his safety? What good would that have done?Should he have left you, bed-ridden and weak, allowing the disease to drain you?The sight of you breathing shallowly, pale, blood dribbling down your chin as a fire raged in your eyes entered his mind. Sweat clung to your temple and petals lay scattered throughout your room – so, so many petals – and yet, you coughed up more with each passing moment.Until you didn't.Holding you in his arms had sparked a familiar fear in his chest. The fear of losing someone he cared about....and yet didn't love.Shanks screwed his eyes shut, pressing his pointer finger and thumb into his eyelids. As if the pressure could relieve him of... of everything. The crew was silent; Benn puffed at another cigarette, Lucky Roo rubbed circles into his belly thoughtfully, and the rest wore expressions of concern.He'd considered marching into the surgery room several times, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He could rush the surgeon, but that would bring nothing good. His crew needed him, and he needed them, right now.Finally, after another two excruciating hours, the surgeon walked into the hall. He held his hands behind his back, failing to hide the blood coating his rubber gloves.“The surgery was a success. She is unconscious but stable.” He paused, glancing behind him. The mask concealing the lower half of his face twitched, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “However, she is very weak. She will need at least a week to recover her strength.”Nodding, Shanks rose from his seat. His crew remained behind. Without pausing to look at anyone, he tossed a coin purse towards the surgeon and marched into the room.They had yet to move you to the room you would be staying, but that didn't matter. Shanks pointedly ignored instruments, towels, and bed soaked with blood in favour of you.It was jarring.There was no peace to be found in your expression. Your eyebrows were pulled low over your eyes. Your jaw appeared to be locked in place, lips downturned into a deep frown. A long, paper-thin blanket covered your figure and, from what he could see, you'd latched onto the surgical table. Your knuckles were white from gripping the edges.He used a finger to peel some of the blanket away, peeking at the surgeon's work on your body. Usually, cases of Hanahaki hardly left a mark on the person's body if treated early. The surgery was simple, straightforward, and required little time.Yours, however, had been extreme. There was probably damage to more than just your lungs, considering how often you had to vomit to even breathe.And he was right.He'd moved the blanket an inch and he could already see stitches.Unnerved, he breathed in, returning the long piece of worn cloth to its original place. The stitches were an angry red and ugly, snaking down the center of your chest and hiding beneath it as though they too felt ashamed.They were ugly. He thought, grimacing.And they didn't belong anywhere near you.He sensed the surgeon as he entered the room, clearing his throat. Shanks remained still.“If she doesn't wake within a day, it's because we were forced to use another dose of anesthesia.” Shanks's gaze met his in an instant, heart lurching in his chest. The surgeon carried on, voice only slightly tremulous. “She awoke during the procedure and wouldn't stop thrashing.”Shanks's head swivelled, eyes zeroing in on your blank expression. There was more silence in the room, until, finally, he resolutely said, “Thank you, doctor.”The man left seconds later, faltering but unwilling to face Shanks's wrath.Guilt, anger, and sadness roiled in his stomach painfully as he took one of your hands in his own. He scanned your wrists, turning it carefully, seeing the beginning of bruises dotting the skin. You'd obviously struggled for a while before they decided to sedate you again.Slowly, he let your hand slip from his grip, throat tight and breathing laboured. Shanks inched backwards, taking in the sight of you – bare, cold, unmoving under a too-bright light that outlined the exhaustion on your face – and returned to his crew.They were quiet as he returned. Benn stood, motioning for everyone to follow, and they left the hospital. No use staying when they would simply make everyone nervous and you weren't awake. Heading down to the tavern nearby, Shanks walked alongside Benn, the only sound the crunching of gravel.“How's she faring?” The man asked, tossing his cigarette underfoot and crushing it with his heel. Shanks heaved a sigh.“She gave the surgeons a hard time.” He said, hands in his pockets.“That's our girl,” Benn huffed quietly. Shanks offered the man a small smile.“She won't wake for a day or two, I think.” The red-head added grimly, “And it'll take her a while to recover.”“Do you think she'll remember you?” Shanks fought back a wince.Benn... always to the point.“I don't know.” Shanks inhaled deeply, exhaling his next words, “Probably not. The scars looked too severe.”“...”“I doubt she even remembered what was going on when she woke up in the middle of it all.”The image of you rousing in the midst of that procedure clawed at his heart. He pictured your confusion as you came to, mind hazy and blinded due to the light above you. He imagined himself in such a position, where all he could really see was red before he knew what was going on. The scalpels, the surgeons, the sudden surge of adrenaline as you realized you didn't know these people, where you were, what was happening-Soundlessly, Benn clapped Shanks on the shoulder, the weight of it comforting the captain somewhat. It went unsaid, but he knew what he had to do.(x)
What... what happened to me?
You traced the mottled blue and purple bruises on your wrists, poking them to see how badly they hurt. Most were mild, but a few closest to the carpal bones were more severe. You... you don't remember where they came from.You don't remember anything.“Here you go, sweetie,” A glass of water enters your line of vision, jolting you out of your trance. Your eyes trailed up, taking in the sight of an arm, then a pink uniform, until you saw the woman's face. She grinned, tilting her head, and you accepted the offering. There were tremors running up and down your arms.“Are you cold?” She asked. You weren't.You nodded your head anyway, dazed. “Ah, all right, then. I'll fetch you a blanket.”She moved swiftly – so fast that your hand only brushed her shirt when you reached for her. Unfortunately, she didn't notice your panicked expression.And so, ignoring the pain in your throat, you rasped, “Wait.”The nurse stopped in her tracks, craning her neck to glance at you. “Yes?”“Where...” You cleared your throat, massaging the tender area. “Where am I? What happened? Why am I here?” The nurse kept a placid appearance, posture relaxed, though you saw the change in her visage. She hesitates, lips pursing as she bounces a little in her spot.“I'll go get you that blanket, and then I'll tell you all I can, okay?” She offers, smiling at you. Helplessly, you nod. It's enough for the woman to set off again, heels clicking on the tiled floor.You looked around the room, noticing that you were the only patient here. All the curtains separating the beds were tucked close to the wall. In addition, after scrutinizing one of the beds for a bit, you noted how... untouched they appeared to be.
What is this place?
You looked at your wrists again, heart pounding in your ears.
Where were you?
Without pausing to think one more thought, you kick the sheets away from you. Your breath hitches when you see your tightly wrapped torso, bandages biting into your skin. You search for the clip, loosening the sullied strip of material.You only need to unwrap it once to see the beginnings of a too-fresh scar.Unnerved, you will your body to move and get up. You twist to and fro as you unravel the bandages, back facing the door, which clicks open without your noticing.“Hey, now, wait a second!” Footsteps grow louder as a person approaches you. You're too dizzy and too tired to see who it is in time, but it's certainly not the nurse. One arm wraps around your front and the other holds the bandages in place. Struggling, you bat at the offending limbs with all your might.“Let me go! Don't touch me!” You scream, leaning forward so that they can't undo your actions as easily. “Get away from me!”“Lass, lass, please, listen to me-!”You manage to push the man off you, whirling in your spot in order to face him properly. In front of you, there's a red-head you don't recognize. However, judging by his pained expression, he knows you.“Who-” The moment you start talking, he looks away, pointing at your chest. You glance down, the blush furiously as you conceal what doesn't need to be seen with your arms. Blindly, you tug at the sheets and wrap them around your body. “Who are you?”“I-” The gap fracturing his sentences magnifies the sound of the door opening to reveal even more men. Your eyes bounce from one person to the next, never halting.The sight does nothing to soothe you.“Where- where in the hell am I?!” You scream, scrambling away from them. “What have you done to me?!”A tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair, dark eyes, and guns strapped to his body calls your name. You inhale sharply, fixing your gaze on the speaker, and study him. Pain flares up in your brain as if someone had taken a knife and started carving patterns into it. Raising a hand, you cradle your head but refuse to break the tense eye contact.You lean heavily on the wall to your right, breathing laboured as panic settles in your stomach. Among that, a vague sense of recognition.Tears prick your eyes.A name sits on your tongue.Your posture caves in on itself and you slouch, pushing your body further into the wall as your eyes narrow and your brows furrow.“...Benn?”The man's shoulders sink in relief and his lips quirk. “It's us, lass.”
Us.
You tilt your head, studying each face. They're all here.Slowly, you assign each person to their name, watching them nod and grin. Your heart drops.“What...” You begin, inching back as you glance at the yet to be named red-head. “Shanks.”The man's eyes widen. He steps forward.You retreat further, hands tightening on the sheets. You feel so bare, so helpless, so weak. Cold seeps into your body readily through the soles of your feet, tickling your bare legs. The hairs on your neck stand on end.What did they-“What do the Red-Hair Pirates want with me?”The man – Benn, who had previously appeared so elated, blinked in surprise.“What do you mean, [name]?” Your eyes snap to a large man wearing glasses with tiny lenses and a lot of green. Lucky Roo. “You- you don't remember us?”“I know who you are,” You whisper. There was another exit behind you, tucked away in the corner. If you could just make it-“No.” You flinch. Red-Hair Shanks stares at you like you'd taken the flag on his ship and tore it to pieces. “You don't know us. You don't know me.” He inhales deeply, swallowing audibly. “Not anymore.”“What is going on?” You whisper. “What are you talking about? What have I done to you? Whatever it is, I-I- I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I don't- I don't-!” You shake your head. The door is right there. Someone's tampered with you while you were unconscious, and it hurt to even breathe, but you could make it. You could.You bite your lip, eying the door furtively. You catch movement out of the corner of your eye, seeing Red-Hair Shanks cough into his hand. He clears his throat numerous times, then gags, coughing again.He goes through the same process one more time before it ends.When he removes his hand from his face, you see two white things in his palm.They look like...“Shanks?” Benn Beckman starts, sidling up to him in a hurry. Their captain gapes at the petals, lips parted. “Shanks.”His crew nears him, all wearing concerned expressions.His ears ring.Shanks lets the petals slip between his fingers, facing Benn.“I-”“Shanks, she's gone.”Shanks finds the spot you were standing on instantly.Benn was right.You're gone.“I-I... I didn't- how?” He stammers, stepping away from the petals as if they were venomous snakes ready to attack him. “How?”His crew, at a loss, form a half-circle around him. They hesitate, unsure whether to touch him or not. He rakes his fingers through his hair, the question falling from his lips again and again.“Benn?” He calls, looking for the man. He- he needed to talk to him about this. “Benn!”“Here,”When he turns, the last thing he sees is Benn's gun as it collides with his temple.………
A warm summer night. Lights and intricate patterns decorate buildings. The crew sings and dances as they march with the townsfolk down the street.
You and him.
Always, you and him.
“Sooo...” He begins cheerfully, wrapping his left arm around your shoulders. “Who's gonna be the lucky guy, huh? Who's gonna steal you away from me?”“What?” You laugh, sending him a puzzled look. He watches your lips as they curve upwards. Scoffing, you respond, “Lucky guy. How much have you had to drink, Shanks?”“Not enough!” He sings, tossing his head back and releasing a loud cackle. “I think you've had plenty, actually.” You take the bottle from him and he whines, but otherwise continues to cling to you. Together, you walk with the people. You dance a little to the music playing, smiling and waving at a child. These people sure were trusting.
He rests his head on top of yours. You feel a comforting warmth bloom from the very centre of your chest.
Trust.
Your nose scrunches up when you get a whiff of the alcohol, but your arm settles around his waist and you tug him closer.
And closer.
You chuckle softly, melodiously. A sound so very unlike the music. Light, airy, breathless.
“There is no lucky guy.” You murmur, your breath fanning across his neck. Shanks laughs as if you'd just said the best joke he'd ever heard. You join him, gripping his shirt.“There's only you.”
Your words drown under the music, withering, wilting, dying.
There it was again.Shanks opens his eyes begrudgingly. The music from that festival lingers in his mind, fading with each moment he spends in the waking world. Soon, the only sound he hears are the waves lapping at his ship. He looks around his room, noting the scattered maps and his shoes by the door. Curling his fingers, he glances down at his hands.No matter how much he tries, they always reach for the vacant spot beside him, wondering just who haunts his dreams.Slowly, he gets out of bed, smiling a little despite the longing coursing his veins.He couldn't see you in his dream.You were so small compared to him, and you hid so well.He places a hand on his chest, feeling the scar and, beneath that, his heartbeat.
There's only you.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After the unwelcome conversation with Shanks, you drift in and out of consciousness, similar to how the ocean laps at a beach's sand... Darkness frames your eyesight constantly, stars and other strange shapes clouding your vision. You blink constantly when awake, trying to see where you are, and through the haze, you notice you are in your dark room.You notice a mop of red hair. The rising sun. The smell of food as someone tries to coax you to eat something.But you're too far gone. Your chest aches, but the rest of your limbs feel numb and heavy, as though you'd draped one too many blankets over it. You can't move, can't speak, can hardly blink.It's endless.You wake up, staring off into the distance, sometimes smiling, other times fighting back tears. Shanks witnesses it all, wide-eyed and terrified for you. He doesn't know what to feel or what to do when you gaze into his eyes.Sometimes he finds the person he's always known. In other instances, he sees the rage simmer in your eyes, flickering like an angry flame. You heave and whisper, lips moving but never forming actual words. He urges you to speak up, leaning so far down his ear is right above your lips, and yet... he understands nothing.He watches you blink sleepily, hands weakly clutching at your bedsheets. Your interest now resides in the ceiling, pursuing invisible patterns and memories he wished he could be privy to. You mumble his name, a soft laugh ghosting past your lips as you shake your head.“You've had plenty...” You whisper, inhaling deeply. Your fingers dig further into the sheets and you chuckle. His heartbeat stutters momentarily as he studies your expression, tentatively reaching out to...To... what?His fingers graze the skin of your cheek. Shanks cups the side of your face tenderly, thumb brushing just below your eyelashes. Your smile widens and your eyes flutter shut, your entire body somehow sinking further into the mattress.Shanks swallows hard, the lump forming in his throat making it a herculean task.His hand lingers, pushing stray hairs aside so that they frame your face. When there are no more possible disturbances, he traces your features, his touch feather-light. His fingers grasp your chin and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. The way you don't respond when often you'd groan and throw things at him when his mere presence woke you... it had his stomach in knots.Sitting up, he admires your face, his mind unhelpfully pointing out the differences between you back then and you now. Your face is drained of colour, your lips are dry, and the dark circles you'd so vehemently claimed were hereditary were much darker.“I get more than enough sleep, actually.” You'd said one morning when a crewmember jokingly pointed out the opposite. Benn looked up from the newspaper, shooting you an amused look.“Is that why it takes you so long to get started on chores, lass?”“Bitch.” You'd mumbled around the rim of your mug, sipping your coffee. The crew laughed merrily, poking your reddening cheeks and teasing you mercilessly.The memory tugged at the corners of his lips. He remembers the way you'd looked up at him, amused despite his harmless jabs. Your eyes sparkled with a promise – of revenge, payback, a fondness for the crew, for him.Shanks sits back, heaving a sigh that resonates in the otherwise silent room. He glances around briefly, trying to ignore the emotions stirring in his chest and the memories assaulting his every sense.The smell of coffee on your breath, your tender hands on his face as you grumpily tended to a wound, the scrunching of your nose when you laugh particularly hard at his jokes...Taped to your mirror, he spots a few sketches you'd made before acquiring a vision dial, which resides on the dresser in front of it. He rises from his chair by your bed soundlessly, plucking the dial from its place.He holds dial up to his face, pressing a button and observing as images begin appearing. There are several pictures of sights he recognizes with a huff. Then, suddenly, a video begins to play.“Happy birthday!” It's Lucky Roo that yells from behind the dial, startling you. The image is upside down. You look up, eyebrows pinched and lips set in a frown, ready to scold him. However, the thought dies when you spot him with your dial.Immediately, you laugh, holding your hand out for the dial. He shakes the camera to mimic a head-shake, denying your request. “Luck, you're holding it upside down!”“Oh, am I?” Lucky Roo points the camera towards him, providing Shanks with a rather flattering angle of his face. Behind his glasses, his eyes blink, and then he cackles at his mistake. The crew joins him. Finally, he hands it to you, and you set to recording everyone in the room.You're in the mess hall, plates of cake and drinks scattered on the table.“Hello, whoever the hell is watching this,” You exclaim, putting yourself in the frame. “Today we're celebrating me getting closer to my death- ow! Benn, don't kick me!”“You're not that old.” “Yet. I'm sure once I spend a few more years with Shanks as our captain, my hair will start greying. You'll see.” You point the camera at each speaker, smiling cheekily when Shanks gasps dramatically in the left corner at your accusation. The Shanks sitting in the darkness of your room – another evening, then, he notes – chortles softly at the sight.Benn shakes his head.Suddenly, the dial is snatched from your hands. There is noise, which he hopes doesn't wake you, and then he's staring at his own face. Shanks raises an eyebrow.“For your information, I am a great captain!” He declares, before pausing. His head swivels towards his right-hand man, who snorts into his drink but agrees nonetheless. “See? Benn agrees.” You boo loudly, reclaiming your dial.“Oh, pshhh... you're not that great.” You stare into the dial, tongue poking out from between your lips as you fiddle with it. Suddenly, you look up when someone mutters that you'd made him pout and, sure enough, he was pouting. The picture shakes with your surprised laughter, shoulders bouncing and nose scrunching up adorably. You shout for everyone to say goodbye, and after a sweep of the room, you grin at the dial, make a funny face, and end the recording.With a click, the dial turns off and silence comfortably settles once more.He stills, listening to your shallow breathing behind him, wishing he could see the last part of the video again. Shanks sets it on the dresser shakily, afraid of turning around. He's tempted to imagine that you're only sleeping after drinking too much, but simply can't. Not with everything that happened so fresh in his mind.He musters the courage to face you again and jumps visibly when you blink back at him. He waits, both hoping that you're still delirious and that you really are conscious. You scan the room, but not for long.Your gaze is trained on him.You'd been watching him and he hadn't even sensed it.Softly, he calls your name, afraid of disturbing the quiet. You blink again and, with a sharp inhale, you meekly motion towards the dial. He picks it up and heads over to you, sitting in his chair.Wordlessly, he turns it on again.You both go through the same images and watch the birthday video, thoughts confined inside your minds. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices you tilt your head when you make the funny face. Air rushes out of your mouth, and he forgets the video in order to ask what's wrong, but then realizes what had happened.You'd huffed a little at your behaviour.When the dial clicks off again, he sets it down on the bedside table without tearing his gaze away from your face.“Can... can you talk?” He hates the dent his words make in the quietude, fighting a wince. You shrug.“A little,” You rasp. “What are you doing here?”“You've been out for two days, lass.”“Oh,” You inhale, making a small noise in the back of your throat as you shift, grimacing. Shanks wants to stop you, about to tell you to relax, but you only roll over to your side.“I...” You begin, sniffling, “I thought I was going to-”“Die?” He finishes for you, frowning at you. You nod. “No. Not allowed.”“You can't tell me what to do.” You mumble defiantly.“Yes, I can.” He replies, just as petulant.The conversation lags after that, though he convinces himself that it only happens because he's letting you recover.“I should have, though.”“Died.”“Yes,” You pull the sheets up to your chin with no real urgency. “I felt it. And yet, here I am.”“...”“...where is the ship headed?” You ask, defeat seeping into your voice. It breaks his heart. “Surgery?”“...no.” He shakes his head, much to your shock. “No. I... I know why you stopped coughing flowers.”You listen, awareness bleeding into your visage as you wake up, life returning to your eyes. You attempt to sit up, but he forces you to lie back down with a tut. You're so small compared to him. And you're so cold, the chill clinging to your body biting the skin of his hands.“Just... sit tight, lass.” He brushes your hair back again, and, gingerly, grasps your hand in both of his. You obey, puzzled and too weak to argue.“You'll feel better soon.”……(x)You're in the mess hall today, having recovered most of your strength these past few days.It's... awkward, at least for you, but the rest of the crew seem ecstatic to have you back, claiming the room felt empty without you. You'd managed to school your expression into an easy smile, but that almost broke you. The smile Lucky Roo sent you when he saw you from the kitchen only added to your guilt, but you returned the gesture with a wave.There's a need to apologize sitting in your gut like a stone. Its weight is unbearable. However, the longer you sit, eating and listening to the conversations around you, the less anxious you are.They weren't angry.And they didn't want you to leave.You poke your breakfast with your spoon, moving the oatmeal around your plate. Lucky Roo had decided for you that you would need lighter foods until you were fully recovered. He reassured you that you wouldn't have to consume it for long, but you still pouted comically. He sent you on your way with a light smack to the shoulder, chortling.And... well, you'd tried.You ate the food, talked when prompted, made a joke here and there.And yet you found it hard to truly relax.Because there was only one reason for your recovery.Shyly, you lift your gaze, spotting Shanks at the head of the table. He looks serious, which is rare, as he discusses a few plans with Benn, who provides input often. He drags his pointer finger across several documents. The talk was of warlords and rookies emerging, with mentions of Whitebeard thrown in there.You'd entered the room in the midst of their conversation. While you thought they were too busy to acknowledge you, Shanks sent you a soft smile while Benn wasn't paying attention. You'd motioned to the papers, wagging a finger at him jokingly.The rest of breakfast is spent with the crew, juggling two conversations and Mon Key, who clambers from one person to another – mostly you, though – noisily. Keys jingle noisily in his hands. Some of them you recognize as Benn's, though you do spot the only other key to your bedroom in the monkey's grasp.Glancing at Yasopp, you raise an eyebrow in question.“It's just in case something happened,” He finishes with your name. It's a sigh as he sends you a pained grin. You understand.“Yeah, that's fine.” You reassure him, reaching across the table and patting him on the shoulder. “At least there's no more reason to use it.” Smiling at the monkey clinging to your arm, you offer your hand and he hands you the key. There's a label taped to it with your name on it.You're startled out of your reverie when Yasopp releases a sharp laugh. “Ah, but that's where you're wrong!”There are far too many thinly-veiled threats in that one statement for you to be angry at one, so you glower. “Oh, really? Let's hope for your sake that I'm not wrong. Remember what happened the last time I caught you creeping?”That earns you a good laugh from everyone, including Shanks at the end of the table, as Yasopp cringes at the memory. It's easy to pick out his loud cackle from the rest of the crew's and, like a moth to a flame, your eyes travel to him. He raises a bottle of whatever he deemed safe to drink this early in the day, nodding to you.The way your heart thumps against your ribcage can't be healthy.Grinning to yourself, you finish your food and, when the bowl is emptied to Lucky Roo's liking, you return to your room.There weren't chores for you to do yet which, no matter how you felt about them before, was somewhat irritating. They gave you an excuse to move around and do something instead of sitting in bed all day. You weren't fully recovered – that much you could tell from the way your throat hurt when breathing – but you weren't completely useless.However, as you flopped back in bed, you understood why Shanks ordered you to stay put. Should you enter a battle, your little breathing issue would hinder you enough for you to become a weakness. Though the crew was strong enough to fill in the gaps in each other's defences, and they were well off before your appearance. But, still. Life as a pirate is unpredictable and Shanks even more so at times. If you were alone it would be much more difficult to fight to victory.Sighing, you grab your pillow and shove your face into it. You spend a few minutes contemplating what could happen if that were the case, thinking of ways to overcome different obstacles.When it gets too hot under the pillow, you remove it with a hefty huff.Even though you didn't want to think about it, your thoughts strayed back to the possibility of... The Surgery. You wondered just how you would look like with the scars, rubbing the skin below your collar bone.What it would be like to forget Shanks.He was the reason why you even met the crew or became a pirate in the first place, so... huge parts of your life would be missing. You'd go back to being six years younger mentally, since that's how long you've been with them, with him, which...You grimace, then scoff, tossing the pillow into the air and catching it. You repeat the process as you think....It would have sucked.…You kind of owe him your life.
Knock knock knock.
Your attention snaps towards the door, which ends in darkness as you drop the pillow on your face. Heedless of your mistake, you call, “Come in!” The door creaks as it opens, and then Shanks pokes his head through the gap. Arching an eyebrow, you sit up with the pillow in your lap, about to speak. He cuts you off when you see a full bottle of whisky in his hand. Then you snort.“You know I can't drink, right?” You question, loudly enough for him to 'shhhHHH' you violently. It prompts a chuckle from you and a mischievous grin from him. “No, but seriously. It'll be bad if I do.” “You can have a little.” He proposes as if he was doing you a favor by sharing. He hands you a single glass and pours you some.“And what about your glass?” You ask, bringing the drink to your lips. The smell is familiar yet foreign at the same time, like a childhood home. In fact, all of this, from your breakfast to your conversation now, feels that way. Changed, yet a welcome sight.Shanks lifts the bottle to his lips pointedly.You roll your eyes. When he said a little, he meant it. “Fair enough, I guess.”Both of you drink in silence for a short stretch of time. You sit with your backs against the wall, knees and shoulders barely touching. Your mood drops and brightens, sweeping from one end to the spectrum to the other like the tide. You need to ask what the future holds for you both, but you're too afraid. It still feels unreal – the flowers, the petals, the healing – like a fever dream, and yet... the proof of that still haunts you.Clearing your throat, you place the glass on your bedside table and settle beside Shanks again. Your teeth worry your bottom lip, and you can't help but stare at your legs.
Screw it.
You rest your head on his shoulder and held your left hand out for him to take. Shanks hesitates for a second, then envelopes it with his own. His hand effortlessly dwarfs your own, callouses brushing against your palm and knuckles.“Took you a while to work up the nerve, huh?” He asks, smug. You use your joined hands to smack him in the gut, closing your eyes and breathing in time with him.“You don't owe me anything, you know?” He asks, tossing his head back to drink from the bottle. Your face scrunches up in confusion, something he must either notice or feel. “You said you owed me your life before I came in here.”Oh. You hadn't meant to say that out loud.“I'm sure you didn't.” He replies, much to his amusement and your embarrassment.“Guess I'm still a little out of it.” You muse, pressing your body against his. Shanks hums, and from your position, you can feel the rumble of his chuckle in his chest.“Shanks,” You breathe his name, opening your eyes. Your joined hands rest on his lap, linked like two puzzle pieces. Whether they fit together or not was up to you both to figure out, and you intended to. Now. “What... what are we?”You expected him to make a snarky reply, telling you that you're both humans, but...“Whatever you want us to be, lass.”It's your turn to hum. Shanks leans his head on yours.“I want us to be together.” You state, bringing your hands closer to your face to examine them. “It... it feels right. To me.” There's a part of your brain screaming at you to gauge his reaction, but you're frozen. The last thing you want or need is for him to pull away. “You?”“Feels right to me.”“Then...” You trail off, hoping he somehow catches on to what you're implying.Apparently, he doesn't.“Then...?”
...ugh.
Regrettably, you have to lift your head in order to get your message across, feeling your cheeks burn a bright red. When you study his face though, you roll your eyes and groan, wanting to wipe the stupid smile off his face.“You ass.” You mutter, tilting your head so that he can't see you.It's the perfect set up. He can gently grasp your chin and turn your head. You could stare into his stupid eyes and memorize each of his features and his scars with your fingertips. The whole world could end and you'd be none the wiser because you're here with him.But no.A burst of courage erupts in your chest, and you face him. His hand was poised and stuck in the air. He really had thought of doing that what you imagined, then. Entertained by this image, you grip the collar of his shirt and, with a quick countdown you don't finish, you press your lips to his, eyes screwing shut.There's enough force behind your actions to throw him off balance. He recovers swiftly, wrapping an arm around you to reduce whatever distance is left and to keep you from fleeing. You want to, you really do, because those two years of pining were catching up to you too quickly. The fear of rejection resurfaces in your mind. All those instances you escorted a woman off the ship, tossing money in her direction. The dejection and the pain of watching him flirt with someone else and rolling your eyes to conceal your true feelings.You bury your palms in his shirt, tilting your head and moving closer.Those demons could run, but you were faster.You'd finally gotten what you wanted and you were not letting go.You were not letting him go.Somehow, you find yourself with your back against your mattress. You hadn't released him. You weren't, not even to give him the chance to dot your skin with kisses you'd craved for too long. He grumbles, quietly, and sends you an amused glare.You kiss him again, ignoring the throb in your chest from the lack of air, fighting for the upper-hand and losing. Like usual. You could never defeat this man.When you part from him a second time, breathing laboured and foreheads glued together, there's a gleam in your eyes as you say with determination: “I'm not letting you go.” You tighten your hold, knuckles white, to prove your point. Your body is hot and thinking straight is a tedious task, but you manage to voice your thoughts. “Ever. You hear me, Red-Hair?”Shanks smiles, radiant and bright, his other arm snaking around your waist. He winks.“You better not.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Are you ready?”He glances up from his gear, fingers twitching as he reaches for his pipe. You tilt your head, offering him a placating smile. Sabo returns it, but his is more strained, like the action is completely foreign to him.A laugh escapes you before you can stifle it completely. Sabo's lips quirk and his cheeks redden as he focuses on his gear once more.“Yeah. Just need to get some things sorted and we're good to go.”You nod, even though his back is facing you, and approach him. Bracing your hands on your knees and lowering your upper body, you examine his belongings. He's carrying the simple things – a log pose, maps, navigation tools, a few snacks to quell his hunger. If you happen to need anything else, you would have to find it at Dressrosa.“Their activity has been... hectic,” You begin carefully, kneeling down and helping him sort his items. Both of you refuse to voice it, but you know that he's doing this to calm down. “But it's likely they'll be there.”“Yeah...”Your eyebrows furrow and you stare at him, unblinking. “What's up with you?” You ask, poking him on the shoulder. It's a solid ten seconds of him avoiding your gaze and you becoming more insistent when he finally caves.“I...” He clears his throat as he stands, tossing his bag over his shoulder and gripping the straps with one hand. You follow him, urging him to continue with a curious look. “Luffy... he...”“'He will be so damn happy to see me again' is what you should say, you know.” You finish for him, deepening your voice to mimic his. Hidden beneath the humor is a thinly-veiled threat, one you make crystal clear with a pointed look. Sabo chortles, shrugging a little. “Good! Good. I'm glad we're on the same page.”You begin to walk away, motioning for him to follow. Hack and Koala were ready and, well, making them wait for no reason was just rude. Sabo trails after you quietly as you speak, drilling the details of the mission into his head, ones he'll ignore or forget. You know he'll do either one, or both if he's feeling daring, yet you try, anyway.A hand gingerly grips the back of your jacket.“And if he's not?”You frown at his tone. He hadn't sounded so helpless since Ace's death was announced and printed on the newspapers.The memory sends a chill through you. It dots your skin with goosebumps and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.You release a tremulous sigh, jaw clenching and unclenching as you think.“He will be.”You know he will be. If what Sabo told you about his younger brother still rings true, then he will be happy.“You better believe he will.”(x)His footsteps echo in the dimly-lit stone hall. The pirate known as Bartolomeo the Cannibal invades his personal space, shoving his face in his line of vision. Sabo throws him aside, the clatter of crates and other furniture being misplaced incomparable to the thundering of his heartbeat.Sabo removes his top-hat, his mind pleading that he at least recognizes something about him. The scar on his face is large, sure, but surely- surely...“It's me.”He's suspicious, and he still claims he'll take the fruit. It's a keepsake from Ace, after all.
Ace.
Sabo wants to rip the stupid beard of his brother's face, feeling his heartbeat stutter in his chest.“You think I can't tell my brother's face just because he is in disguise?”Luffy frantically retreats and crashes into a column so hard he's surprised he doesn't knock himself out. Sabo wishes he could cry and laugh.And so, he thanks him.
Thank you for being alive.
Thank you.
Thank you.…You look up at the sky, hands on your hips as you smile. A breeze sweeps through the streets, ruffling what hair pokes out from under your hat. Your eyes slip shut as you allow the sun to warm your skin.It's about time if you do say so yourself. Years of trying to help him remember and now, despite the circumstances that led to his memory's return, it's all paying off. He's filling in the gaps, connecting the dots, and he'll tie it all together as you keep living. He'll be whole again.Koala yells your name, but not even her voice can pull you away from your peace.
You're welcome.
(x)“Now we won't be able to bathe together.” You proclaim, finger pressed to your chin in thought as you walk by the blond. Sabo sputters noisily, tripping over his own feet as he coughs, hiding his face.Both Koala and Hack laugh and question his sudden clumsiness. Koala sends you a quick glance, her eyes crinkling in the corners. You bite your lip and shrug, gesturing to Sabo like he's lost his mind. She shakes her head fondly, her eyes lingering on the blond for a moment.You look away before the guilt can eat you whole again. Koala told you she was well aware his feelings had changed sometime during their relationship. And that she was fine with it. She'd been hurt, obviously, but she understood.You dodge Sabo's playful swat with a quiet laugh, poking your tongue out at him. He grumbles something under his breath, even though he's all smiles.“What? It's true.” You take his hand in yours, using the other to fiddle with his fingers. “Still, I'm glad you did it. I almost thought you'd chicken out of it.”Sabo fakes a pained expression, gasping dramatically. “No.” He stares at you with wide eyes. You nod grimly, fighting the amusement threatening to pull your lips into a grin. He shakes his head, inhaling deeply. The flare fades with the movement, a soft smile and pride replacing it. “I'm... happy I did it, too.”“Was Luffy happy to see you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. Sabo has the decency to look sheepish when he answers you.“Yeah...” You scoff, about to retort with an 'I told your stupid ass so', but he continues before you can. “He cried, actually. Wouldn't get off of the floor for a while.”“And here you were,” You shake him, smiling when he makes a noise of complaint. “Worrying your pretty little head over nothing. I told-”“My stupid butt so.” He finishes for you, changing the best part of the sentence. You share a laugh anyway, because, yeah, you had told him. Many times.Joyful, you press a quick peck to his cheek, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing him with a squeal. He rolls his eyes, snaking an arm around you and keeping you close. Sabo flexes his other hand, watching as it bursts into flames. Your happiness is momentarily cast aside as you study his face, lips pursing thoughtfully.“Still worried about something?” Sabo extinguishes the flame by making a fist when you ask.“No.” He states firmly. “Not anymore.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
There's something in the forest.It's nothing out of the ordinary, considering the creatures that dwell in this lively place with you. If anything, you are the anomaly, and everything else here is following its routine. You are the disturbance.This is not a journey you make often, due to the rumours and whispers surrounding this particular stretch of land. But it's a journey you find necessary. If you can do anything to aid your ailing father, then you would do so. Nevermind the fact that he absolutely refuses to listen to the doctors you find... and the fact that he still drinks more than you could ever hope to intake on a daily basis... and the fact that he'd readily accepted his fate.It didn't matter if it came today, tomorrow, in a month, or a year, Whitebeard did not care.But you did.And so you were going to take care of him. Subtly, of course, as you had all these years. No one in your large family had given up on the idea of him recovering. None of you ever would. However, Whitebeard was stubborn. Very, very stubborn. And his hard-headedness made it difficult for people to stand up to him.Thankfully, they all had you. You were no expert by any means, but the doctors that did come by had all taught you many things. Combining whatever skills you acquired from their visits had been easy. Sneaking in the medicine and necessary tonics into Whitebeard's food with the help of Thatch had, too.But you'd run out of one very important ingredient, one that grew in this strange forest and only in this forest. The first few times you'd made the trek, your family had fretted and worried. Understandable, yet you made it clear that you could handle yourself.And you could.So when you hear the howling of wolves, you suck in a deep breath and keep trudging through the snow. This year had not been kind, what with its god-awful weather and bitter chill.You wouldn't stop, though. Your father – your family, really, they all needed you to do this for them. Only a select few could traverse the knee-high snow like you could, and they weren't here. Not yet.You smile to yourself, remembering Ace's angry sputtering once you reminded him how prone the kitsune was to light things on fire. Especially when frightened. He'd been following you, trying to convince you to take him along. The young fox had given up soon after that, no thanks to the family's teasing.You hadn't been gone long, but... you missed them.Snow crunches under your foot as you take one last step and, with a heavy exhale, reach the last of the wooden trinkets you'd put up ages ago. The wooden deer had fallen, the rope holding it up having snapped, but at least it hadn't been lost.You sigh, grabbing the small trinket and using whatever's left of the rope to tie it to the branch again. The deer swings in its place for a bit, but it holds, so you move on.It was still following you.Thus, you shall name it... the thing.Whatever it was, the thing was deathly quiet. Compared to your laboured breathing and overall noisiness, this creature didn't even make a leaf rustle. You chance a glance behind you, surveying the area slowly. You're expecting a visible puff of breath or a shadow or even a pair of red eyes to show, but alas... it's smart.Thankfully, so were you. Or, well, you liked to think you were.The exhausting trudging through the snow continues, your legs aching from the constant lifting as you free them from their confines. You feel your muscles tremble slightly, gritting your teeth. You're hoping there's enough tree bark for you to take because this is a trip you've never enjoyed.A few more minutes, and you finally reach the frozen lake.Now, you're not an idiot. The willow trees are across the body of water. Crossing the lake would make the trip shorter and it would put some distance between you and the thing. With this cold, it shouldn't be an issue. However, there's the risk of the damn ice cracking underfoot, so...“Up and at 'em...” You murmur to yourself, pushing off a weather-beaten log with a tremulous breath. Rubbing some warmth into your body with your hands, you move along the edge of the lake. At least there hasn't been anymore howling from the wolves. Hopefully, you wouldn't run into them today.Almost fifteen minutes later, you reach the willow trees. The closer you get, the more uneasy you feel, though.You unsheath your hunting knife, gripping the strap of the knapsack slung over your shoulder. Removing your gloves, you store them in your bag, the chill nipping at your fingers immediately. Examining one of the trees provides a reason for your trepidation.You trace the tree's wound, biting your lip. It was recent. Too recent.Looking to the other trees, you find that they too are missing bits and pieces of bark. That's... that's not good. If you take more, you risk killing the trees, and you've been coming to this very place for... god, for years.You put on your gloves again, hands clenching and unclenching as your mind struggles to come up with a solution. The wind whistles as it gains strength, stealing your body's heat and biting through your thick clothing. A shudder racks your frame.Maybe you could look around. There... there had to be a few more trees. Unless they too had been stripped of bark.“Damn it all.”Your heart pounds against your ribcage as your senses heighten. Unwanted dread roils in your stomach as you brave your fears and venture further into the forest. It seemed to still as you entered, the wind dying down and silence falling over you like a heavy blanket. Your footsteps are loud, too loud, and your breath just as disruptive. You cling to the trees – none of them willows, of course - gaze snapping from one side to the other. No, no willow trees this way. And you've seen the lake enough times to know that there are no more willow trees nearby. Whatever day time you had left would be gone by the time you found more.A howl pierces the silence, seeming to reverberate in your very soul. You freeze.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
Time to go.It was time to go.You stare at your feet, digging your gloved fingers into the tree supporting your body.There's growling to your left.Conveniently enough, it's within a mass of bushes.
Okay.
Sure.
You wait with bated breath.The bushes part to reveal the enormous wolf, its lip tugged back as it growls again, teeth primed to gnash at your limbs. You keep your gaze on its paws, watching as it prowls towards you. Slowly, you drag your hand along the body of the tree, gripping a large branch. You give it a firm tug, exhaling as it creaks, and meet the wolf's eye.It pounces.You wrench the branch lose with a snap that cracks against your eardrums like a whip. Ducking, you dodge the wolf's gaping maw, sinking into the snow. It flies over your head with an enraged bark.If you were to get out of here, you had to finish this. And quickly.You spin around just as it lunges again, and swing the branch at its face with all your might. Your weapon meets its mark with a sickening crunch, and the wolf tumbles to the ground, recovering swiftly.You edge backwards in the direction you came from, eyes fixed on the animal. It stalks from one side to the other, waiting for an opening, blood matting its fur. There's a rustle in the bushes as three more wolves emerge, hackles raised. Your stomach twists into knots, but you hold onto your composure. It's cracking, and you're certainly close to panicking, but you couldn't lose it now.They want to circle around you – to ensnare you, really, and there wasn't much you could do to avoid that. As self-reliant as you were, you couldn't defeat four of these enormous wolves. You were human.Still, you need to move. You need to keep moving.And so you do, brandishing the branch and striking the ground whenever one of the beasts gets too close. You glance at the snow – the fucking snow making your life hell – and decide to use it to your advantage.When the wolves group together, you swing the branch and send snow flying towards them, blocking their line of sight. You're far closer to the lake than you were before, and, while you hate the idea, you decide to cross it.You tear off towards your current goal, finding purchase on the trees and stumbling several times. The wolves leap into action, barking and growling. Soon enough, your boots meet ice, and you barely manage to stay upright.You hear the scratching of claws as the wolves follow, struggling just as much. The ground groans beneath you, but you don't stop, arms out in case you do fall. Cracks form faster than lightning strikes, snaking through the ice as if they too were on the hunt.You run.Eventually, the wolves stop following you, and by then, you're too far from land. The animals scramble back to their forest, casting you looks that are just as murderous as Ace's first days in your home.The thought of your family brings about a semblance of calm inside you.Breathe.
Breathe.
Sure, okay, you don't have the bark for Whitebeard's chronic pain. The journey here was a complete waste of time. You're pissed off and terrified, but you couldn't afford to die here. Who would- who would keep Haruta from pranking your other siblings?You... you have to stay calm.
Breathe.
The very air stills. There are no sounds so far from land, only your ragged breathing and your thoughts.Move.You slide a foot forward. The ice groans like a dragon awakening from its slumber.One more step.One more step.
One more step!
All it takes is one more step. It you could keep doing that, then-
CRACK.
The ice gives under your weight.You're falling. An endless abyss opens up and you descend, the water sucking you in mercilessly. The shock rips a scream out of you and you screw your eyes shut, your frenzied thought process stuttering to a halt. Cold invades your body down to the very marrow of your bone and overwhelms your senses.You scream when something brushes against your legs.The world threatens to disappear, but your arms, glued to the ice, keep you afloat.
No.
No, no, no.
You can't get out.You're kicking your legs as much as you can, but you can't seem to escape the water's hold. Your body is tiring and you're not thinking straight and you can't get out. You're sinking.
Why are you sinking?
“NO!” You claw at the ground desperately. “No, no no no!”You're not getting out.Your brain repeats that thought, stuck in a hazy loop as your vision darkens at the edges, all feeling in your legs long gone. Are they even kicking anymore? The numbness spreads to your hips, then your lower back, until finally, your vision blurs and then- then-Nothing.(x)…...It's warm.Too warm.Your body won't respond to your brain's commands, unmoving and so stiff you might as well be a pole.What is going on?You don't open your eyes. They peel open excruciatingly, like whatever is holding them down doesn't want you to see another day. Your head throbs the moment they find the grey blob that you assume is a ceiling... but to what?Biting back a groan, you shift under the weight of a fur blanket, curling in on yourself. It's too hot, but you can't find it in yourself to move an inch.“Are you awake?” A voice makes you pause. You ignore your body's plea to stay on the floor and sit up with a gasp, crawling away from it. Your back meets the wall – the bitterly cold wall of a cave – and you flinch away from it.
You're in a cave.
“I'll take that as a yes, then.” Your eyesight focuses enough for you to see the man crouching by a blazing fire. He blinks his half-lidded eyes in your direction, eyebrow arched high.“Guh.”You, ever the well-spoken individual.The eyebrow continues its quest to the guy's hairline. Speaking of his hair, why did it stand up like that?“I made some stew if you'd like to have some.” The man smiles at you, and you finally snap out of your daze.“I-I...” You look around and your heart plummets to your stomach as you spot your clothing spread out by the fire. “...I'm naked...”It was a good idea to tuck the blanket close to you as you fled, you supposed.At least he looks sheepish.“Ah, well,” The man clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your clothes were soaked. I... I had no choice, I'm afraid. I'm sorry.”You do your best to wrap the blanket around you, releasing a hefty sigh. The man tilts his head at you as you scoot closer to the fire. Now that you weren't buried in the fabric, the heat wasn't so atrocious.“You don't seem too bothered by it.” He comments, holding a bowl of stew out for you. You shake your head, accepting the offering with a nervous smile. Gingerly, you grab the spoon and stir it, noting how good it smells. Nothing seems off. And he's already taken a bite of his own.“It's something I got used to.” You say, then decide to elaborate when he sends you a puzzled look. “I... live just outside of the forest with my family. We're a big group.”Realization dawns on him, but you tack on a little joke anyway. “Kind of hard to maintain your privacy with so many idiots running around.”He huffs a small laugh, grinning. You take a moment to try the food, surprised by the rich flavour. He hears you make a pleased sound and his grin widens. Other than that, you sit in silence for a while.“What were you doing all the way out here? If you live outside the forest?” He asks. You chew carefully, studying him. He didn't seem like a bad person. “Willow bark.” You state simply, poking at the bits and pieces of meat floating around in your bowl. “My father... he's ill."“Does your family know you're out here?”You nod. “Everyone but him.” Another spoonful of stew for you. “...he doesn't want anyone to worry, but we do. And the willow bark helps with his chronic pain, so...”The man nods to himself, lips pursing thoughtfully. “And you don't know what's causing him the pain?”“He's been sick for a long time.” You reply, shrugging, a bit helpless. His eyebrows furrow at you. “Nobody really knows what he's suffering from and whatever doctor we find is sent away before they can do anything about it.”“Hm.”“But,” You place the bowl down in front of you, using your free hand to preserve your modesty. This blanket was really soft, and you were quite comfortable despite the strange man, but... you kind of want your clothes back. Reaching over, you poke at your shirt. It wasn't dry yet. “We've taken care of him, regardless of his dumb complaints, and he's still alive and kicking, so... I'd say we're not doing too bad.”“That's good,” He says, setting his own bowl down. “Are you feeling well?”“Yeah, I...” Now it's your turn to furrow your brows. “You saved me?”He nods.“Thank you, I- wow, I'm so rude.” You facepalm lightly, laughing at your own silliness. He's the one that saved you and the first thing you do is eat his food without thanking him. Good grief. “Thank you so much. I thought I was done for. What's your name?”“It's alright.” He assures you. "...my name is Marco.”“Marco,” You repeat, sounding out the syllables. It suits him. Shyly, you offer him your own name, which he repeats as he holds out his hand. You shake it with a grin, leaning over to him. You notice a blush creep onto his cheeks and hike the blanket further up, both of you chortling at the absurdity of the situation.“But... how? How did you save me?” You breathe, trying to come up with the answer yourself. “I was in the middle of that lake, with the wolves, and then the ice cracked and I...” Trailing off because you really don'r want to relive that quite yet, you meet his gaze once more.Marco responds smoothly, gesturing to the outside. “I saw the wolves coming from the lake, which I thought was odd. Decided to see what the problem was when I saw you fall.”Wow.“Wow,” You relay your only thought to him, flabbergasted. “Luck must've been on my side today, then. I'm sorry you had to do that.”“No, it's alright.” He reiterates, gentle but firm. No room for arguing, then. That's fair.With nothing else to say about that, you glance at the mouth of the cave, where it's completely dark. The tree line is visible, though. Where the hell were you, anyway?“What are you doing all the way out here, Marco?” You ask, tearing your gaze away. Marco seems like he was ready for your question because he doesn't bat an eye at the change in subject.“I live around these parts.”He was ready for the change in subject.He just didn't have an answer. At least, not one you wouldn't be able to see through.You pretend to buy it.“Fair enough!”Mind you, it is fair. However, his living conditions don't really add up. Sure, he has the bowls and the spoons, but they look... too recent. Like they've been carved today. There's no chips or nicks. Marco's in a cave, too. Either you're too far from his actual home and he was just doing what he could, or...“Well,” You breathe, tucking the blanket into itself so that it stays wrapped around your body. Stretching languidly, you smile at Marco. “I know I probably slept a lot, but if I want to get back home, I need to be in top shape. Is it okay if I sleep here... again?”“Of course.” He returns the gesture kindly. “Your clothes should be dry by tomorrow.”You thank him genuinely and lie down, back facing him. He makes little to no noise as he too settles for the night. It reminds you of the thing.“Hey, wait,” You twist and turn, moving like a worm. “If you're living here, I should let you know that there's... something other than the wolves in the woods.”“Oh?”You feel silly, since you haven't even seen what it was, but... “I don't know what it is, but... well, I'm just trying to warn you, you know? It's the least I can do.”Marco chuckles, his expression softening as he thanks you earnestly. You leave it at that and grin to yourself, feeling more at ease.Marco is odd, but thanks to him, you are safe.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Morning creeps up on you easily due the exhaustion from yesterday. Streaks of sunlight push through the thick clouds, shining down on the forest and coaxing its inhabitants out of slumber. You rouse to the sight of Marco reviving the fire, prodding at the dancing flames with a thin stick.When you sit up, it's without the blanket, yawning loudly and stretching languidly. Marco wordlessly turns around when you reach for your clothing, oblivious to everything.“Good morning,” He says, smiling to himself when you try and say it back around another yawn. While doing so, you fumble with your shirt's buttons. It was missing the top two, which leads to a mess as you struggle to figure out the problem. Eventually, you manage to do it properly, annoyed at your plight. You'd fix it when you made it back.Waking up as you go, you throw on your remaining clothing with less trouble.It's when you're hopping around the cave, trying to put on your boots, that you speak.“How'd you sleep?” You ask, watching him furtively glance over his shoulder. When he sees that your body is sufficiently covered, he faces you fully, offering you a portion of dried meat. At the sight of the food, your stomach makes itself known, and you smile gratefully. Done with your shoes, you sit by the fire and accept the kindness. “Well enough,” Marco replies, biting into his own share of meat. “Yourself?”Your answer is a flourish, emphasizing the disaster that has the audacity to call itself hair on your head. A soft, hardly audible laugh escapes him, one he cuts off by clearing his throat. You chalk that up to how soft-spoken and introverted he seems. He's probably not used to another person's presence.You both finish eating in silence. To you, it feels very strange, since there's always someone speaking to you. The majority of your days, you spend taking care of your siblings and your father - much to their chagrin - which doesn't allow for much silence. You missed it, to say the least. No matter how used to noise someone is, the odd day of peace is welcome. However... guilt and anxiety are punching you straight in the gut. It was giving your worries a voice, and you couldn't have that.With a sigh, you decide to collect the rest of your belongings, going through your knapsack. seeing this, Marco does the same. The two of you dance around the other, trying not to get in each other's paths. Like the day prior, he moves soundlessly, even though he's wearing heavy boots. More than once, you jolt in surprise, expecting him to be in one part of the cave and spotting him in the other.Gods preserve me. You grin at Marco, who's now waiting by the entrance of the cave after putting out the fire.Doing one more check, you ensure you have everything you need. You'd congratulate yourself if you weren't missing the bark.There're more willow trees out there. You think to yourself, the strap of your bag digging into your chest as you tug on it decisively.
Just... be calm. You're fine. Nobody will be angry.
“Ready to go?” Marco asks when you join him, rubbing your arms and shivering.When you nod, Marco steps outside and begins leading you back to the lake.You're on high alert, waiting for the weight of the thing's gaze to settle on your back. There's no room in your mind to even consider wolves. Those guys don't wander too far from their territory as it is. If you did have another run-in with them, you'll just climb a tree and chuck pinecones at them until they fucked off.Even with a plan, you don't want to think about dangerous creatures this early in the morning, so you decide to tell Marco about your family.He listens, reacting here and there. You can tell he's listening, though interested is another matter entirely. His expression hardly changes from the neutral stare, but sometimes you catch a glimpse of something in his eyes. If you're wrong, well... you don't really have the energy to care, so you blabber and chat endlessly.The story about Ace setting your room on fire seems to amuse him the most. You'd found him on your journey home from a town two days away from home. It was clear that his injuries were due to hunters, and, half-crazy with a fever, he'd mumbled about his brothers' whereabouts, wondering where they were. Somehow, you pieced together the kitsune's ramblings and, unwilling to let him die, brought him along.When you got home, you informed the rest of the family, and then set to work treating him while they saved his siblings. Then he woke, fists alight with flames, and set the room on fire.You don't know who yelled more, to be honest. Ace was so shocked by your outburst and lack of fear, he helped you put out the flames.“You could come live with us, if you want.” You suggest at one point, hopping down from a fallen log. Your body is still suffering from the chase and the impromptu ice-cold bath in the lake, so you basically crumble. Used to this, you don't even stutter, ready to bury your hands in the snow and laugh it off.Just then, Marco catches you with a steady hold on your elbow. Craning your neck to look at him, you give him your thanks, then dust snow off your knees. He appeared a bit uncomfortable, and before you can even pry, you spot the willow trees. Your good mood withers up and dies, crumbling to dust.You're... very unhappy that you weren't bringing anything back. “Ah, speaking of...” Suddenly, Marco searches through his own knapsack. He hands you an object wrapped in cloth and tied with a thinning, frayed rope. Eyebrows pinching, your gaze bounces from him to the item, confused.You take it anyway, and when you unwrap it with a healthy amount of hesitation, you freeze.It's the bark.“You...” You start, holding it in front of you as if its a baby about to fuss.He was the one that harvested from the trees, then.“Sorry for taking so much. I didn't think anyone else was out here.” He states, closing his bag and confirming your assumption. You are at a loss.“Why... why do you need it?” You ask. Willow bark is used for medicinal purposes. That's really the only way you've ever used it. Marco notices the way you keep it away from you, afraid of taking it from him, and gently pushes your hands towards you. Heat envelopes your gloved fingers, chasing the chill biting into your skin away.Chortling, he answers your question, “You never know what might happen around here. I wanted to make sure I had a chance at surviving.” You grimace, obviously knowing all too well how harsh the forest is. However, before you can return it to him, he adds, “But, I don't need this much. I was just stocking up. Take it."…Oh, you're... You're a bit emotional.You hide your face, wiping at your eyes. What was up with you?When you're sure you won't start sobbing, you say, “Thank you. This... this means a lot." It does. It really does, and he probably doesn't even know it. You can already hear the long, relaxed sigh Whitebeard will let out when you bring him his next bowl of stew or soup and he eats it.You accept his gift, making a mental note to return to these parts. One, you must somehow repay him. Two, Whitebeard. He'll want him to be part of the family when you mention Marco. As usual.And three, being all alone here couldn't be good. He hadn't showcased any quirky behavior you could attribute to anything other than human, and in a world mythical creatures roam, that can be an disadvantage.How long could he really survive out here? “Is there really nothing I can do for you?” You stare up at him with big eyes, pleading in your mind that he asks a favor. It's wrong to just take this from someone. “I could- you could come stay with us for a while, or you could come back and grab whatever you need. Anything, I swear. I don't...” I don't want to take this from you.His lips quirk. Marco rests a warm hand on your shoulder.“I'm fine.”(x)And, with that, you'd both eventually parted ways.When you spot the enormous cottage, you almost collapse from the relief. It's such a beautiful sight.The house is tall and wide to accommodate everyone sufficiently, and made of rich, dark brown wood. The roof sits at an acute angle so that snow won't make it cave in, but even then, it's coated in a fluffy white layer of it. Lanterns dangle from different spots, unlit, and the odd trinket you'd made when you were far younger decorate it, as well. Whitebeard refused to take them down, and you'd long stopped being embarrassed when someone pointed them out. The deck, where one or two inhabitants usually were, is empty. That's no shock, but it would've been nice to have some help. Still, you suppose taking control of your entrance is better than someone jumping you, as many are opt to do on a regular basis.However, to your surprise and as if reading your thoughts, Haruta leaps from his hiding spot to your left and tackles you to the ground. You release a string of colorful words, rolling onto your back.What a wonderful thing to come back to. Next time, you'll think about crashing into a tree. Maybe he'll learn his lesson, then.“Are you joking?!” You yell, laughing despite the snow melting on your cheeks and nose. Grabbing a handful of the dumb stuff, you chuck it at the imp, who cackles at your misfortune. “You dumbass! I almost died once already! I don't feel like going through that again!”At that, Haruta stops.“You almost died?” He parrots incredulously. His tail, which had been swishing to and fro triumphantly, sticks out awkwardly. It looks like a spear from how stiff he's become.“Who almost died?” Izo calls from the woods. Well, woods is a bit too much. Some of your brothers preferred living outside in this winter wonder-hell, and Izo was one of them. It wasn't much, but a few years back, you and a few others had planted trees for those who didn't want to leave yet were more comfortable in more secluded environments. With some magic and a lot of work, you'd created just that for them. Still, it really didn't compare to the place you just came from.The centaur with a coat as black as midnight approaches you, arms crossed over his chest. His long hair cascaded down his back and chest. You are pleased to see that he's wearing a coat.Apparently, you take too long to reply, because he stomp impatiently. You roll your eyes.What a horse.“I did.”“You almost died!?”“Hello, Ace, I hope you're also wearing a damn shirt today. And, yes, I almost died.” You wave a hand at Haruta, who grips it and helps you lift your butt off the floor. You rub soothing circles into your back, rooting him to his spot with a playful glare. When he sees you're not really angry, he sticks his tongue out and snickers. “Now, can we please stop yelling it? I don't want Pops to find out and you lot are not helping.”Izo huffs, Ace frowns at you with his ears flat against his head, and Haruta salutes.Perfect.“Great!” You clap, smiling, and head inside the cottage. Haruta and Izo linger outside, the smaller creature hopping onto the centaur's back. Ace loiters in the main entrance as you remove your coat, boots, and gloves.“Ace, what is it?” You hang your coat, shivering. Are you sick? You don't think so. “You fell into the lake, didn't you?” Ace presses a hand to your forehead, and you relax when warmth spreads through your body. Of course, he's not wearing a shirt. Dumb fox. “You haven't caught a cold?”You chuckle. “That's your only concern?”Ace stares at you. You don't need to see it to know. His gaze is like a weight on the tip of your nose, which is red from the chill.“Well, knowing how you grew up...” You step back, motioning to your body with an expression you hope is placating. “Aside from being really, really sore, and kind of cold, I'm okay. See?”“Yeah.” Ace hums, before shrugging and proudly pointing to himself. “I'll go run you a bath, anyway. Don't want another human getting sick.”“Oh, ha-ha. You're just... sooo funny. And Pops is a half-giant, idiot.” You smack him on the shoulder. He somehow projects his sassy thoughts with a shit-eating grin, and you glower, smacking him again despite his complaints.Yeah, pointing out that Whitebeard is not entirely human doesn't help your case of oh, so fragile humanity. You know. He knows. Everyone knows.You're not bitter about it, really. You were born human, and you weren't going to do some freaky ritual to change that. Besides, it let you get away with a lot of things around here when the time called for it.“Actually, before you go, take this to Thatch.” Happily, you give him Marco's bark and he smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners.Lips pursed, he mumbles, “Pops is going to be pissed when he finds out.”“If he ever does,” You grumble, dragging your feet as you make your way to your room. At least, you didn't have to go up any stairs. The perks of being Whitebeard's main caretaker, you supposed. And everybody's babysitter, really. You get one of the best rooms.“You better tell me all about what happened later!” The kitsune calls after you.“Only if you put on a stupid shirt! Looking at you makes me shiver!”“Weakling!”“Dumb fox!”And that was that.You change into more comfortable clothing after taking a bath. Getting in is lovely since it's practically a hot spring thanks to Ace. While in the water, your entire body tingles and relaxes, no doubt because of Thatch and his healing magic. He must've been informed about your accident. There's always a downside to everything, though. Taking a bath here is awful because getting out is horrible. It's a race against the chill in this place.Still, you wouldn't trade it for anything in this world.“So, tell us,” Thatch begins during dinner, pointing his spoon at you and smirking, “what the hell happened out there, huh?” You groan around the bite of food in your mouth, glaring at him. It was more stew for you today, but you didn't mind it one bit.“I already told you, you elf.” You mutter, leaning back in your chair. Several of your brothers laugh when Thatch says something in a language you don't understand.Oh, the classic tale of woe: every creature here that isn't human can speak a language, one that your kind don't know, due to history and yadda yadda. “In Common Tongue, please.”“Yeah, you did, but what about this Marco fellow?” Thatch braces his hands on the table as if you hadn't told him fifty times already. You doubt that's what he said in the first place, but don't call him out on it. “You said he lives out there all alone? Why didn't you bring him with you?”“I asked if he wanted to.”…“AND?” He stresses the word, raising his voice.“And that's it!” You retort, slapping the clawed hand reaching for your bread. Ace pouts, which works too well, so you roll your eyes and give him the food anyway. “He gave me the willow bark and I left.”“Sounds like he wasn't too comfortable with the idea...” Namur comments idly. You shrug, remembering something.“You're okay, right?” You ask him, wondering if he was just putting a front like they all tended to do at times. Thatch says your name, affronted that you would dare change the topic and ignore such a pressing issue. “It's really cold today again.”The fishman's expression changes from a thoughtful frown to a smile. “I'm fine, for now. Your sweater really helps.”Thatch says your name again.“Just make sure you drink lots of water.”“Human!!” Thatch hits you on the head with his spoon, which is thankfully clean. He's been so invested in your story he hasn't really eaten anything. He's just... using the spoon to express himself, and it's as silly as it sounds. When you wave your hands at his meal, he finally takes a bite. “We need to go find him. Something doesn't add up.”“Like?” You drawl, taking a few bowls and stacking them up.“You said you didn't believe it when he said he lived around there.”“Yeah, that's what I said.”“Did you even ask where he lived?”“No, Thatch, for the last time, I did not ask him.”“That's sad,” Haruta pipes up, perching himself on top of the tall elf. Both of them stare at you expectantly, forcing you to scowl, already knowing where this conversation was headed. “If he really did seem human, you missed out.”“Uuuuuuugh,” You throw your head back, releasing an agonized groan. Ace chortles at your side. “What have I done to deserve such nonsense? Why is my love life such an interesting topic? Why?”Ace, Haruta, Thatch, Namur, and several others are dying to answer that, but you stop them with a raised hand. “Don't. I don't care. And besides, what if I end up with someone that isn't human? Sheesh.”“You're not saying he was unattractive...” Namur murmurs into his cup of water.
For the love of--
You get up and leave, ignoring everyone's complaints and their snickering. There was no winning against them when they all banded together.(x)Why did he live all alone out there?It had been a few weeks since then, and the cold had finally faded. In its wake, spring and warmer days rolled around, melting the snow and ice. You'd tried finding Marco again with the help of Thatch, Ace, and Izo. Did you ever? No. It was as if he'd never existed.Usually, humans would have questioned your sanity, but you lived with elves, centaurs, a kitsune, imps, and who knows what else. Thus, they were all concerned. Both for you and the mysterious Marco.“You're lucky nothing else happened,” Izo says, choosing to merely observe as you comb his ridiculously long hair. You'd finally stopped searching for Marco today, which was well into the late afternoon, and not because you wanted to.You frown, drawing an invisible line from one chunk of hair to the other. The left side was still a bit too long.Sighing loudly, you comb through it again, resisting the urge to grin victoriously when the ever so proper centaur's shoulders slump. You're glad he feels comfortable enough to lower his guard around you.“I guess,” You mumble, grabbing your scissors and snipping at the hair skillfully.“You said something else was in the woods?” He asks, tail flicking behind him aimlessly as you finish up. You hum your confirmation, happy with his haircut. You pat him on the shoulder to let him know you've finished that. Now it was time for his coat. Grabbing a brush, you go through the parts he couldn't reach himself.“Yeah, but... well, I never saw anything. I'm starting to wonder if it was even real.”“Trust those instincts.” Izo declares, carding his fingers through his hair and nodding his approval. You smile. “They'll continue to save your life.”“I know.” You finish it all off with a broad sweep of the brush, admiring him and his shiny coat. “And.... done. You look fantastic, if I do say so myself.” Huffing, he offers you his hand, and you hop onto his back excitedly. “Isn't this odd for centaurs?”“Absolutely,” He begins the trip to the cottage with a light laugh. “But I don't mind it.” Running your fingers through his hair, you ensure that it truly is evenly cut.“Well, as long as you don't mind, I appreciate it. Thanks, Izo.”Quietly, you admire the sight of the trees, vibrant and swaying with the light breeze. Bushes grow at their bases, lush and full of berries that were safe for consumption. You'd already picked some, thankfully, and shared them with Izo as you returned home. Birds, rabbits, and squirrels skittered about the area, fleeing from you two.“I can see why you like to spend most of your time out here,” You murmur, even though you do feel guilty. Izo is one of the few that can't join everyone at the cottage. It was big enough to house him, though he didn't like how confined he felt.You'd made room for him by converting an old stable into a little house for him. It wasn't huge, but it protected him during the winter and the outdoors were right there for him.Izo chuckles, patting you on the leg in understanding.It's peaceful.And then there's a shout.Both you and Izo react immediately, years of living with Whitebeard in the forest teaching you to hide.Hide, observe, and only if required, attack.You slip off his back and land with a thud, crouching low, back pressed into a tree. Izo doesn't have that advantage, but somehow, he always manages to blend in with his surroundings. Being located isn't a concern of yours.What you find is a concern.A large, winged creature, abandoned amongst the trees. You can see a branch embedded in its wings, though it seems to shake it off without wincing.“Is... is it on fire?” You whisper to the centaur, who, for once in your lifetime, looks in awe.“It's a phoenix.”“A phoenix.”Izo nods.How is it...? How is nothing on fire, then?“Come on, take him out!” You duck lower into your hiding place at the foreign voice, scowling at the man's tone. The brilliant blue and yellow phoenix writhed on the ground, shuffling away from the group of men, making a pained sound. Ropes bite into its body, probably enchanted to keep it from breaking them. Flames burst from its shoulder and receded again, which could only mean one thing.“They're not letting it...”“I know.”Your heart aches when the phoenix smacks another hunter away, this time with less strength. "We have to do something.” You murmur to him, even though Izo knows. He's always been ahead of you.“Haruta was out here this morning, wasn't he?” You wonder, hoping against hope. “What if he's nearby? He could help us.”“Call him.” Izo commands, reaching for a huge branch that is longer than your entire body. You're reminded of the wolves and grimace, shuddering. You turn your panic into urgency, raising your hands to your mouth and imitating a bird's call. It's one you'd all practiced so that, if anything like this happens, those outside can help and warn the others.It's not Haruta that shows up.“Hey,” Someone whispers in your ear, which turns into panicked shushing when you whirl around, ready to clobber the intruder. Claws nick the skin of your cheeks as Ace claps a hand over your gaping mouth, muffling your startled gasp. Falling on your butt, you drag him into your hiding spot by the ear, glaring daggers at him. He looks too entertained by your reaction for his own good.“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” You hiss at the kitsune. Izo kicks you both lightly, jerking his head in the direction of the phoenix.The phoenix smacks one of its attackers with the one wing that's free. You cheer for the poor thing inside your mind.“We should just get them while they're distracted.” Ace comments, hands sparking flames. You want to put them out, tell him it's a dumb idea, but for once, you have to agree.Glancing at Izo, who nods firmly, you inhale deeply.You hold up a hand, three of your fingers providing a countdown.3, 2, 1-You barrel into the scene, some faster than others. Izo raises the branch and charges through the area, swinging at the hunters' heads. He lands three good blows before they scramble after him, screaming when Ace tosses fireballs at them. You fight your way to the phoenix with your knife and a stone, knocking out one of your foes with the latter.Gripping the ropes is a mistake you make, hissing a curse when they tighten considerably. Just how in the world did those people get such a powerful weapon? There's no way you're going to be able to pull them off. You can't even place your hand between them and its body because if they tighten again, you're going to lose a hand.Gods help you. While you think of a proper idea, you focus on the phoenix's face, hoping to convey your good-intentions with a glance.The phoenix stares back, half-lidded eyes glowing. It's an oddly familiar stare.Gingerly, you rest a hand on its neck, barely registering the hunters running away from Ace and Izo. What you do see is Ace hopping on Izo's back like some monkey, flames revolving his body. Izo pursues the hunters, branch scraping the ground behind him.The fighting is something you can leave to them.“I'm going to help you.” You state, meeting the phoenix's gaze once more. “I promise.”Flames burst from its body again. The ropes creak as they burrow deeper into its body like oversized worms.Unsheathing your knife, you pray that it'll be enough. You've seen these kinds of ropes before, and they're ones you've been able to cut before... With some difficulty. You and Haruta had interrupted many of those ordeals in the past, freeing whatever creature the crazy fools intended on selling, and you'd learned their intricacies as you did.Since you were human, they reacted to your touch, though they never hurt or burn you, which is what happens to anything that isn't human.Seeing as this was a phoenix, one of the strongest creatures to ever exist, and it's unable to escape them, it must be extremely painful.There's nothing else you can do, though. You don't have anyone with the magical capacities to undo the spell nearby, and the ropes are going to hurt him even if you sit back. What's worse, he's trying to be reborn.Gods, he might die.With this realization in mind, you immediately set to work, teeth worrying your bottom lip as you pull on one of the ropes. Unfortunately, you have to brace a foot on its body, which you do apologize for, to even peel them off an inch. When you can slide your blade under the rope, you begin cutting, sweat beading down your temple.“We're back!” Ace yells from somewhere behind you, but you remain focused on the task at hand. Izo trots to your side, Ace on his back. Sliding off the centaur, the kitsune kneels, watching you work for a moment.It's futile, however. No matter how much strength you pour into your cutting, the rope won't snap. It's not even frayed.“Here,” Ace makes to grab the rope. You smack his hand faster than you can blink, terrified for the kitsune. “It's meant to hurt us,” Izo explains when you smack Ace's hand a second time and he complains, anger making his nostrils flare. Ace's ears lay flat against his head, and you can see a storm brewing in his mind.“I...” You try with all your might for a few more seconds, giving up with a frustrated yell. The phoenix's body rises and falls with each of its breaths. It shifts again, the feathers of its wing brushing against your leg. Shakily, you inhale, clenching your jaw. A little calmer, you speak, “I can't cut it. We need one of those idiots to get rid of the spell.”In an instant, Ace is standing and grabbing the man you'd knocked out, smacking him in the face. The man sputters and coughs himself into consciousness, and when he finally stops blinking, he gulps at the sight of you three.Ace drags him towards you, where you wait with your knife ready, still on the ground.“Hi, glad you could join us.” Your smile is all teeth and no friendliness. It probably looks like you're snarling, really. You place a hand on the phoenix's body protectively. “Release the spell.”“That- that thing is dangerous!” He yells at you, ignoring Ace's warning growl as he twists his hold on the man's collar. “What do you think you're even doing, associating yourself with these creatures! You're going to die!”When you stare blankly, he blanches. Izo and Ace glower murderously at him. Realising that the only one close to dying by these creatures' hands is him, he quiets down. The man spares you one last glance, searching for mercy he won't get from you, nor anyone in your family.Slowly, he chants the enchantment, and the ropes loosen.Ace promptly knocks him out after that, tossing his body over his shoulder and announcing, “I'm taking out the trash.”“Thanks,” Izo responds for both of you. You fretted about the phoenix's injuries, tugging at the now limp ropes. You're most careful around the wings, mumbling what you're doing to the phoenix and saying sorry when you're too rough. It doesn't make any more sounds, though its breathing has settled into a less frantic rhythm.When all the ropes are off, you step back, eyebrows furrowed.It's... huge. If it were to stand to its full height, you think it'd be a few inches taller than Whitebeard.It also doesn't budge from the ground.“Is it... unconscious?” You wonder, craning your neck to confirm, then yelping in surprise when its entire body is suddenly engulfed in flame. Izo grabs you by the shoulder and retreats, dragging you along grass and rock while staring in wonder.Right, you think, wide-eyed.You both watch as the blaze grows in size, feeling the searing heat on your faces. It's disconcerting, you think, despite its necessity for phoenixes. Fire doesn't mix well with a lot of things, and certainly not flesh.Its body is not visible anymore, but the fires are dying and losing their intense, blinding light. Izo helps you off the ground easily, and you step on some blades of grass, extinguishing a couple of stray blue flames. As mesmerizing as it all is, you sincerely hope the process went well for the phoenix. You can't even begin to imagine what being reborn is like for them, and even less when you think about it being disrupted.Ace joins your side again, though you can't pinpoint when.“Is it... is it getting smaller?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at the pile of ashes. You squint, inching closer to the phoenix, then realize you can't even tell if its a bird anymore. Your heartbeat stutters.You reduce whatever distance separated you from the creature, kneeling by the pile of ashes. A strangely-shaped being is buried underneath, breathing shallowly. Reaching for the ashes, you blow and brush some aside, coming face to face with the one you'd been searching for since you first met.“Marco...?”(x)The trinkets are... odd.Marco studies them for longer than he'd like to admit, fear momentarily forgotten. It's a deer, with swirls and symbols carved into its body. He'd been following these for a while, now, curious of their origin. One of them had been a boar, another a dog. Now, he'd found a deer.All of them had friendly expressions. And, judging by the worn rope holding them up, they'd been out here a long time, as well.With an exhale, he lowers his body to the ground, aching. The last few days before a cycle ends are harsh. He can hardly control himself, arms changing from wings and back. He'd discarded his shoes long ago, his feet morphing into talons unexpectedly and breaking them.His hunters hadn't been – can't be far behind, either.…But, he's tired.He's... really tired.Can't stop. He thinks, the sounds of the forest unnerving him. Marco feels... exposed, here. There are plenty of places to hide, and he would hide if it didn't require so much of his strength. The most he could do was stumble through this freezing forest.He didn't even know why he'd followed the trinkets.Yes, yes, you do.Numbly, he pushes off the floor, gripping the branch with the deer trinket on it. He accidentally pulls on it, a fact he realizes too late when he hears the rope snap. The trinket falls to the floor, grinning up at him stupidly.He needs help.Doesn't mean he'll get it.Grunting, he lets his left arm change into an enormous wing, refusing to fight his nature. It flops down lifelessly, unlit, and he wishes he could do the same, closing his eyes as he pushes onwards. The limp, grey limb trails behind him, leaving yet another clue of his whereabouts.He need to be smart about this. Escaping had been his first priority – still was – but first, he had to get things under control.Open box.He was an open box right now.Tucking his wing close to his chest, he sinks to his knees, leaning on a fallen log. His breath comes out unevenly as he strains, flames beginning to lick at his skin yet doing no harm.
Close the box.
He shivers when his hand, frozen and cold, collides with his collarbone. Blinking dazedly, he keeps moving. The coat practically hangs off his body, but at least he still had something protecting from the cold. Not that it bothered him too much. If he wasn't like this, it wouldn't bother him at all.Still, he'd been putting off the start of the cycle for too long, now. They'd captured him, so he couldn't do it then, and now he was running for his life, so he couldn't do it now.
Always running.
When? When could he stop?Marco hears their footsteps and lifts his eyes to the sky, blocked by the canopies of the trees.
Time to climb, I suppose.
(x)“That's Marco? The Marco?” Ace points at the blond, who you can't wake up no matter how much you shake him or snap your fingers by his ears.“Yes,” You breathe, both incredulous and in awe, as you wipe the ash off his face. He doesn't even flinch when you touch his eyelashes, which usually wakes everyone and their mother up.“No wonder he didn't say anything about joining the family,” Izo comments idly. You feel there's too much to unpack in that statement, so you tap Ace on the shoulder repeatedly.“I-I- sheesh," He leans back, glaring at you. “What?”“Take off your pants.”The kitsune's face flushes a bright red as he chokes on his own spit, his ears and the fur on his tail standing on end. “WHAT?!”“Ooo,” A new voice pipes up, “I mean, I wasn't really expecting it to be Ace, of all creatures, but... You're finally making a move?!”“Marco doesn't have clothes!” You argue, wiping dust off his body and revealing his chest to prove your point. “Look! We can't just carry him around naked!” Haruta somehow manages to walk up to you all, laughing his ass off. Izo stifles his own with a cough, turning away with an eye-roll to greet Thatch. Thatch, too, is cackling.“So you want him to take mine?!”"You're always coming up with an excuse to not have a shirt on! Excuse me for thinking you'd have no problem showing anything else off?" Your voice loses its volume when he makes a noise, unmoving. "Okay, yeah, sorry. It was... really shitty of me to assume that.""You think?!" Ace jabs you in the ribs, drawing a cough out of you.“Children, children!” Thatch starts, gathering everyone's attention. “I have clothes. The man,” The elf pauses for dramatic effect, revealing a pair of dark brown pants and a loose white shirt. He bows in your direction, presenting you with the items. “...is saved.”You smile up at Thatch, taking the clothing from him with a quick hug. He pats you on the back, glancing up at Izo, whose lips twitch upward every once in a while.“Why do you even have those?” Ace asks, the blush on his cheeks making his freckles pop. His silver eyes are narrowed into slits. To think you would demand something like that!“You don't realize, but you burn your clothes to smithereens when you fight, lil' fox.”The blush bleeds down into his neck, the furious shade of red deepening. Ace grumbles to himself. “Not this time.”“What a miracle!” Haruta adds unhelpfully, running when Ace gives chase.You, however, focus on the unconscious man, lips set into a thin line.“Alright, alright, folks! Let's give them some privacy.” Thatch exclaims, patting you on the head. Izo grabs Ace by the back of his collar and lifts him, carrying him away. Haruta hops onto the centaur's back, sticking his tongue out at the kitsune that tosses a small fireball at him. “You just holler when you're done. I'll be around to help.”“Thanks, Thatch.” You grin at the elf, who pats you on the back this time as he disappears into the woods. “Where are you going?”“Gonna make sure those hunters get lost for good!” He grins at you, eyes bright with mirth. You shake your head.“Just don't die, yeah?”He raises an eyebrow as if to ask 'you're really doubting me right now?', but replies anyway. “Of course, lil' human.”With that, he stalks into the woods, soundless and deadly. You catch the ominous glint of a dagger and swallow hard, rolling your shoulders uncomfortably.You never want to double-cross Thatch, if you're honest. As jovial as he is, he did not like it when people messed with his family. It didn't help that he was born and raised in the woodlands.“Alright, Marco...” You whisper, your own cheeks coloring when you think about what you have to do. Shaking your head, you unbutton the shirt, and begin dressing him.You're as gentle as you can be, holding your breath and exhaling excruciatingly slowly. His body is covered in long burn marks from the enchanted ropes. Mostly his arms, though, when you examine them, you can see they are healing on their own.Your fingers dance along a mark on his neck, following the healing process as it happens. His skin is warm and almost too soft when you touch him. When you pull your hand back, the mark is but a thin white scar.You finish dressing him, eyes to the sky when you have to do his lower body and chortling anxiously when you're done.If this is what he had to go through while you were knocked out, you feel really guilty.“...Thatch?”“Ah!” His voice echoes through the forest. When he speaks again, it's to your right. “Done admiring your true love, already?”The elf emerges from the bushes, smirking at you. You throw a pebble at him.“Oh, shut up and help me get him home.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The tree's bark digs into his back as he settles, eying the hunters examining the area below. He slows his breathing, sweat beading his face, gripping his left arm to keep himself grounded. There's an itch beneath his skin, persistent and close to unbearable, and he grits his teeth.Marco had done his best to erase any evidence of his presence, but, judging by how relentless they were, they knew he was nearby.He rested his weight against the trunk of the pine, pressing a hand to his lips to muffle his sigh of exhaustion. One thing was knowing he was around, the other was looking up to find him. The snow piled on top of the sagging branches provided cover, even though he couldn't do so much as sneeze. Not unless he wanted it to fall and give away his location.The phoenix scowled, inhaling deeply when his legs began to ache. He shouldn't have thought of moving.Voices cut through the silence, close enough to discern the hunters' moods but not their words. Still, judging by the exasperation and frustration, they were growing tired of searching.Perhaps they thought he'd tricked them. Perhaps he was just hiding. Perhaps he'd somehow managed to take to the skies.They'd never know.The voices faded into the distance, allowing the sounds of the forest to return. The wind whistled this high up, the chill it brought along with it biting into the skin of his nose and cheeks.He'd have to turn, soon, he realized. If only to survive long enough to find food and shelter. It didn't do any real damage in this state thanks to his healing, but the hunger was slowing him down considerably. That, and the numbness that was beginning to spread through his limbs, clawing closer and closer to his heart.For now, he'd rest, eyelids slipping shut. He stepped into the void and sank, allowing sleep to claim him.(x)“I can't believe he's here...” You mumble to what you thought was to yourself, tightening your hold on Marco's new shirt. Thankfully, Izo slows down a tad, allowing you to adjust Marco's body so that he doesn't fall. The centaur sighs, and you convey your gratitude to him through a smile. Izo probably won't allow anyone on his back any time soon, after this, you think.“What were you expecting?” Thatch asks by your side, leaves and twigs snapping under his bare feet. He throws an arm around your shoulders, eyebrow raised as he waits for an answer. You struggle to provide one.“I... I don't know,” You reply honestly, rubbing your arms. “I just... I feel like I should've, I don't know, searched more. If I had known he was being hunted, I would've done more.”“But you didn't,” Haruta pipes up, then tugs at your pant leg. Thatch removes his arm to allow the imp passage. Happily, Haruta climbs your body, wrapping himself around your torso. You pat his hands as they clutch the front of your shirt, shrugging.“...still.”You feel guilty.Marco had likely been fleeing from those hunters when he found you. Or... well...Glancing at the highly likely and very new addition of your growing family, you study him. His features are relaxed, devoid of any tension and pain, much like back then in the cave. You'd known something was wrong with the way he presented himself, something had been off about it all, and yet... you failed to figure it out.Considering everything you go through when a creature is suffering, you feel you should've. You should've known he was in danger.“Stop thinking so loudly,” Ace comments from the front of your little troop, ears perking up at every sound yours cannot detect. He eyes you, frowning at your saddened expression.“And so negatively.” Izo adds without turning around.“You'd just had a brush with death, anyway! Nobody blames you for not noticing.” Thatch continues, reminding you of the wolves. You cringe, knowing that there was no winning. As much as they all loved to gang up and annoy you, save Izo, they also knew how to pummel your guilt into non-existence.“Plus, he didn't tell you.” Haruta points out. “He didn't tell you and he didn't say anything about joining the family.”You tear your gaze away from Marco's face, staring into the bright green eyes peering into yours. Haruta squints, raising a clawed finger to poke you in the nose with enough force to make you wince. Smacking his hand, you roll your eyes and jostle him, earning an affronted squawk.“Thank you,” You start, ignoring his tug on your hair. “For your kind words.”“No problem!” Haruta pats you on the head.“And if you really feel like you have to make it up to him somehow...” Thatch bends down slightly, sending you a grin that's a bit too sharp to be comforting. Instinctively, you glare.“I don't think I want to hear the rest of that sentence, Thatch.” You warn, voice low, already feeling your cheeks heat up.“Well, you are going to take care of him, no?” He carries on, heedless to your warning. “The guy was being held by those ropes! And I've heard being reborn isn't all that fun, so.”You exhale sharply, pinching the bridge of your nose and willing your mind to stay on track. You were not going to think about any of that-“What did you think I was going to say, lil' human?”“Nothing, Mr. Elf. I thought nothing.”Rather kindly, you ignore Thatch's and Haruta's delighted giggling and carry on, ensuring the imp doesn't fall or slip. Stupid, silly critters.Thankfully, you make it home without any more comments from either of them. You remove Marco from Izo's back, bowing your head as words of gratitude topple out of your mouth. Izo chuckles at your antics, withholding any comments of his own on your flustered face. Thatch and Ace take him to your room, where you tended to anyone that was injured, but not without teasing you.You have half a mind to throw your boots at their heads. Were it not for the imp trying to placate you while stifling his own snickers, you would've.Crouching slightly, you force Haruta off your back and usher him inside.“You'll be okay, right?” You ask Izo, eyebrows furrowed. “Your back doesn't hurt or anything?”Izo nods, sending you a small smile. “I'll be fine. For now, worry about yourself... and the phoenix.”“Not you too!” You groan, laughing in spite of the embarrassing reddening in your cheeks. “I thought you were better than that!”“Oh-ho!” Thatch's voice comes from inside the house. “You were so wrong!”“What does that even mean?” You yell back, then focus on the centaur strolling away casually. “Hey, no, what does he mean? Izo!”Izo shrugs, offering no reply.(x)Marco doesn't wake up.His eyes peel open slowly, vision blurry and mind hazy as he tries to sit up, limbs sore. Slowly, he comes to the conclusion that he can't – at least, not as effortlessly as he remembers it being, and then notices the snow.Then, after three blinks, he realizes he'd shifted in his sleep and that he was covered head to toe in it.He clears his throat, his tongue feeling like lead in his mouth. With a grand sweep of his arm, which had transformed into a wing again, the snow tumbles off him. Judging by the silence, it's safe for him to leave the tree and find the hunters.It wasn't ideal, but he had to survive. If he could steal from them while they camped, he'd have a foothold, at least. It might be small, but it would be something, and Marco needed it.The phoenix counts down from ten in his mind, clinging to the peace that transferred over from his sleep to his consciousness. He hardly had problems keeping his wits about him, but at this point, he had to-His right arm changes into a wing without warning, nearly throwing him off the branch. With a grunt, he rights himself, finding his balance swiftly....he had to find somewhere safe before time ran out.(x)There's not much you can do for him, you realize.Any grave injuries you expected from the ropes had healed on their own, and there wasn't much off with his physique, anyway. Perhaps undernourished, you note as you press your wooden stethoscope to his chest, listening. Your eyes slip shut as a heartbeat reaches your ears, strong and steady.The most you can do is keep him warm and comfortable.Soundlessly, you pull back and remove the stethoscope, placing it on the bedside table. You stretch as you stand up from the chair, biting back a groan. After rolling your shoulders and bending at the waist to reach for your toes, you focus on your patient once more.With a few tugs, you tuck the bedsheet under Marco's chin, smoothing it out. Then, you move to your closet, hoping to find a blanket or two. He was fine, but that didn't excuse the chill of his skin. He was freezing to the touch.Thankfully, there is a blanket in your closet, one you drape over him carefully. The rhythmic rising and falling of his chest halts momentarily, and you fear you might've roused him. However, the most he does is heave a sigh and sink further into the mattress.Gently, you brush a few strands of hair back, smiling.With nothing else to do for him, you leave Marco in your room, leaving the door open just a tad. Enough to provide privacy, though not enough to muffle any sounds that he might make. You weren't far from the living area or the kitchen, but you didn't want to risk it. Not that you expected him to lash out or anything, considering his kindness to you. He didn't seem like an Ace.Before heading towards the kitchen, you stop by your father's room, peeking inside. The enormous bed is vacant, prompting a concerned sound from you.However, worrying is pointless, his laugh emanating from the living area. A part of you is irritated, considering your newest patient's state and your father's state, but...You grin, striding into the spacious room to find Pops in his armchair talking with several residents. It's good to see him out of bed and, well, Marco had slept through your yelling, his transportation here, and the entire check-up. Sure, Whitebeard's laugh rattled the cutlery in its drawer and the plates sometimes...Not to worry, though.At least, you hope there'll be no reason to worry.“Back at it again, Pops?” You ask in lieu of a greeting, smile widening teasingly when he turns to you. There's a flask in his hand, already half-empty, and mirth shining in his golden eyes. The half-moon wrinkles framing his eyes deepen as his own grin grows bigger.“You know me,” He rumbles, the alcohol and joy influencing his words and causing a slight slur. Back to the strong stuff, it is, then. Whitebeard pats Ace on the head, ruffling his already messy hair. “Always bouncing back. Ain't that right, fire-cracker?”Ace punches the half-giant on the knees, lips stretched into a smile despite the pinched brows. You too tousle the kitsune's pitch black hair, dodging his playful swipe at your own head.“Well, that's all fun and good,” You carry on speaking as if you're not thwarting Ace's attempts at putting you in a headlock. “Just watch the – Ace, what the hell – watch the alcohol, won't you?”“Brat,” He quips, bringing the bottle to his lips as if to challenge you. You know from experience there was no winning, though you still sent him a glare.“Old man,” You retort. Having spent the longest time with the half-giant, you could call him that and go free. On the other hand, you didn't even bat an eye at his own less than affectionate term. When you were younger it bothered you. Now? Not so much.Now that you think about it, your relationship with the half-giant certainly lead to an interesting dynamic, not to mention pair.“Still got at least a hundred years in my lifespan, you know.” He comments, and without even acknowledging the yelling increasing in volume, lowers a hand to the ground. Haruta leaps into his the offered limb and climbs his arm, much to Thatch's chagrin. A quick glance at the imp climbing your father and you figure out why: he'd stolen another pastry from the kitchen.You drown out Thatch's angry cursing in the language not known by humans. Pops chortles at the particular choice of words, so you know it's not the prettiest. If you thought about it long enough, you think he was threatening to toss him out the window. You'd have to check with someone.Haruta runs along Whitebeard's shoulders and jumps, disappearing down the hall with Thatch in tow. Some of your other siblings watch, both entertained and puzzled.“I know,” You breathe, as if nothing had happened, feeling a pang of anxiety and sadness. I don't.Whitebeard, sensing the souring of your mood, leans down with his arms spread. You chuckle quietly, accepting the hug and throwing your arms around his neck. Your fingers just barely touch. Warmth blooms from the very center of your chest as you sigh, the tension of the day sloughing off you.He pats you on the back gingerly, voice excited as he releases you, “So, about my most recent son!” Whitebeard looks as excited as the day you agreed to be part of his family. “How is... Marco, you said?”Nodding, you relay your discoveries from his checkup to him, “Well, he's still out cold. Probably will be for a few days, though I can't be sure. His healing abilities are unreal!”“Well, it's to be expected, right?” Ace pipes up from where he was listening beside you. You almost jump, having expected him to go after your brief interaction. “What with him being a phoenix and everything.”He does have a point.“Yeah, I suppose...” You murmur, pointer finger pressed to your bottom lip. “I can't believe there's a phoenix this far from the north, though. From what I read, they're not fond of the cold. But then again, he was being hunted down.”“And these hunters... you've dealt with them?” The words are icy in your ears, the underlying threat clear as day. Frowning, you immediately point at Whitebeard's face, your other hand on your hip.“Yes, so don't you dare go out and find them. They're gone and have been for days. Plus, we sent Thatch, and you know how he is.”“He would still find them, somehow, though...” Ace mumbles. A few of your siblings, the ones overhearing the conversation, nod along and there's a murmur of agreement. Whitebeard's resulting cackling is booming. He slaps his knee as if it's the funniest joke he'd heard all week.You share a knowing look with Ace, who appears both exasperated and fond.“Could never get rid of you guys after you brought me here...” He adds, shaking his head. Pops only laughs harder, nodding as he too recalls Ace's rebellious days. You pat Ace on the back, shrugging innocently when he weakly glares at you.“Anyway!” You exclaim. “My patient has gone without my supervision for too long!”“Think he'll join the family now?” Ace asks before you can take a single step.Freezing, you think back to Marco's decision to not respond when you offered.“I don't know.” You reply honestly. “But I hope he does.”“Yeah, you would!”You roll your eyes, ignoring whoever it was that said that. Ace waves at you with a cheeky grin, and you return the gesture, nodding at Pops. He raises his drink as you leave, head bowed.(x)They didn't know what hit them.The realization sparked a smug satisfaction in Marco as he donned the heavy coat he stole. With this, his condition would improve a little, and he'd be able to move easier. He wasn't used to such clothing, seeing as he was a phoenix and didn't really need protection from such weather. However, with his cycle reaching its end and his body temperature dropping, he needed it.He also managed to snag a few servings of dried meat. It wasn't much, but he didn't want to alert them of his presence too soon.Because, while they were chasing him...He too, could hunt.(x)Over the next four days, you cared for Marco, fretting over his health. His body temperature rose slightly with each day, though you still started a fire in the small fireplace you had. The last thing you wanted was for his condition to suddenly nosedive, leaving you scrambling mindlessly.Despite the lack of food and water, his physique remained. You expected to count his ribs at one point, only to be proven wrong. And now, if you looked close enough, the scars from the enchanted ropes were even less apparent.Phoenixes, you come to understand, are quite interesting creatures.Still, you are intimidated by his power. This was his unconscious mind doing the healing...What would he be capable of when he awoke?What had he been capable of back in the cave?You want to sit down and theorize, but your other siblings keep you busy. Whitey Bay recently stopped by and, like the chaotic aunt she tended to be, brought all sorts of mischief with her. The migrating ice spirit had bemoaned the spring and cursed the weather, wishing for cold.You chuckled as you listened.Whitey Bay stayed for two days, teasing Ace and anyone that she thought needed it. Apparently, she caught wind of the phoenix and, hearing of your encounters, opted to tease you relentlessly.Needless to say, you thought your eyes would pop out of your head with how much you rolled them. When she left, you reminded her to follow the trinkets you'd set up. She waved it off with a laid-back smile.“When do you think he'll wake up?” Ace wondered out loud as you two sat on the porch. You give a firm tug, the stitch closing with no difficulty. While there wasn't much to do for the shirt, you'd be damned if you were letting this hole get bigger. Stupid moths.“Soon, I think.” You hold up the shirt, scanning it for additional damage. Finding none, you fold it up, putting it in your lap. “His body temperature has been stable for two days now, which is good.”“It would be interesting to have a phoenix in the family.”“It would,” You agree, breathing in the fresh air.Silence reigns for a much needed ten minutes. However, there's a lot to do, so...Heaving a sigh, you clap your hands once and remove yourself from the floor. “Speaking of Marco, I'm going to check on him.”“Have fun,” Ace replies, though it lacks the usual teasing lilt. Peering at his face, you spot the closed eyes, the swaying tail, and the relaxed expression, then pat him on the head. His ears twitch and he smiles.“You too, Ace.” You were happy to see him at ease. It was rare, since he was always up and about, assisting in the things he knew how. It's no surprise, but a family this large? A lot of work. You were grateful for his presence. And everyone's, really.Entering the cottage, you make a bee-line to your room. You rest a hand on the wood, peeking through the crack, and feel your breathing hitch.Marco's sitting up on the bed, hands on his lap and head lowered. You can't see his face, though his posture isn't tense. A breeze enters the room through the open window, making the curtains dance. The loose shirt hanging off his torso moves, revealing the unblemished skin of his chest. Sunlight chases away the shadows lurking in your room, casting a warm glow on his body.He's... completely healed, it seems.“Marco...?” You call softly, wincing when the door creaks as you push it. He doesn't react.“Marco?” You try again, approaching the bed and leaning down so that he can see you. His baby blue eyes are blank, devoid of any light as he blinks once, twice, three times. Then, lightning fast, his eyes lock with yours.
...Gods preserve me.
You hide your shock behind a small, easy smile that grows when he says your name, nodding happily. At least he remembers you!“...I'm in your home, aren't I?” He asks, tone flat.“Yes, you are.” You confirm, occupying the chair that hadn't moved form the bedside in days. Your movements are unhurried so as to not set him off in any way. If you knew him better, you'd probably be able to read his mood. Right now though, he was a stranger – you both were. Just two beings, one far more powerful than the other, that fate brought together twice.“Do you remember what happened?” You ask, hands on your knees.Marco sits up, spine straightening. Then, closing his eyes, he arches his back. “I do. Thank you for saving me.” He says as he finishes stretching, relaxing with a quiet sigh.“Only returning the favor.” You point out, resisting the urge to hide when he focuses on you again. The way his eyes move from one place to another reminds of you a cat tense and aiming for its next target.Question is... was he going to pounce?Inhaling deeply, you stamp your discomfort. “How are you feeling, though? You've been out for...what, five or six days?”Your question, it seems, catches him off guard. His eyebrows furrow, if only slightly, and he frowns at you.“Five or six days?” Marco reiterates, unable to keep the surprise he experiences concealed. He almost bites his tongue, irritated that he'd made such an absurd mistake. Whether you notice or not, he doesn't figure out, because you nod vigorously.“Yeah,” You reply, tilting your head.His shoulders sag. Marco grabs a portion of the blanket around his knees and stops, thinking....“Is... is that a bad thing?” Concern inevitably creeps into your voice.“...no.”“Oh, good.” You grin, relieved.He doesn't want to admit it. You think, the awkward silence heavy like the blanket you'd given him. He's like every single one of them.What did humans put him and your siblings through?“I still have some willow bark, you know.” You wave in the direction of the kitchen. “I could make you some tea?”“That would be nice,” He offers you the tiniest quirking of his lips, which is enough to ignite a sense of victory in your heart. He may be alert and on guard, but you would show him. You showed Ace and almost everyone in your family, after all.You would show him what it was like to live without fear.“Alright, then!” You declare, extending a hand towards him. He glances at it, arching an eyebrow. “Let's go and get you some tea. You can stand, right?”Carefully, he peels back the blankets and the bedsheets, accepting the limb. You help him get to his feet, your other hand held out in case he collapsed. Unsurprisingly, now that he'd stood up to his full height, the top of your barely head reached his collar bone. Because... that's just how these things go, apparently.Letting go of his hand, you lead him out. He fixes his shirt with a few tugs, buttoning it up all the way. When he follows you, it is soundless. You actually turn your head to check if he is indeed coming along. When you make eye contact with him, you grin as he blinks, facing forward an instant later. Talk about stealthy.While walking, you feel a familiar weight in the back of your head as you enter the hall, and almost pause in your shock.“Marco...” You wait for him to catch up, walking adjacent to each other. He hums. You... should you even ask? Were you just going crazy? It made sense, though. You never did ascertain how he knew there was someone in the lake. It was enormous. And you don't even remember screaming that much. “Were you the... the thing in the woods the day you found me?”“The thing in the woods,” He parrots with no small amount of amusement, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he fights a smile. His eyes find yours and you shrug, a blush coloring your cheeks. “Is that what you dubbed me?”“So... you were watching me that day.” You notice the way he skirts around topics, answering indirectly. Reminded you of Izo, if you're honest. Then again, admitting to stalking wasn't exactly an assured way to make a good impression.“I... was.” He murmurs, fingers pinching a thread on his shirt.“Well,” You sigh, “Dunno what's so interesting about a human in the woods, but... I'm glad you were.”You reach the kitchen just as you finish speaking. A part of you wants to move aside in order for Marco to walk in first, but you carry on leading. You didn't want him to feel trapped.“You said you had a large family,” Marco states as you open a cupboard, extracting a mug. The ceramic clicks and clinks as you extract it, eyes locking with Marco's. Glancing around, you grin, chuckling a little.“Pops is out and about today. Giants and their mountains, you know.” He didn't... but nodded anyway. “And my brothers? Well, they're giving us space, right now. That, or they're pranking me again. Who knows.”Grabbing a pot and filling it with water, you move to the hearth, bending at the knee. You rest the iron container on a metal rack, lighting the hearth moments after. While that boils, you search for the willow bark, humming under your breath.Marco watches the entire time.“They're good, though.” You break the silence, tone fond as you think about your family. “Chaotic as all hell,” Marco notices how you raise your voice, smiling secretly, “but good.”“Must be nice.”“Oh, it is,” You wave the willow bark when you show it to him, beaming. Marco slowly sits down at the table, staring out the large window as you drop the bark in the boiling water for it to steep.Birds sing outside, chirping by the window. Long, thin branches caress the glass, swaying in the breeze. The sun shines through the gaps between the trees, warming the ground and the room. He wants to close his eyes, pretend that everything was fine, but his senses were screaming at him.There were many people upstairs. Some below. Others outside. Marco could sense their movements now that he wasn't dizzy and fatigued. It was likely that some could also sense him, considering they were all hiding.The scent of tea drifts towards his nose, and, quickly, he focuses on you again. You've just placed a mug of the tea in front of him, occupying the seat across from him with a gentle smile. Sunlight pools in the depths of your eyes, warm and brimming with life.His heart lurches painfully.Maybe he really needed the tea.“Thank you,” He says, bringing the cup to his lips.“Careful, it's hot-”He drinks without flinching, which was what anyone would expect when the tea is that piping hot.When he gingerly puts the cup down again, he tilts his head at you, almost smugly. You huff, the sound echoing in the empty room, and shake your head.“You know, you're the first phoenix I've ever met.” You confess, rubbing your hands. Marco hums non-commitally, sipping idly. “I didn't expect you to have a... human... form?”Marco presses two fingers to his lips, swallowing his previous gulp with a huff. “It's something I learned a long time ago.” He answers, providing no specific details. Apparently, you're too curious to let this slide.“How long ago?” You ask, leaning forward. The way you look at him gives away your thoughts.“100 years ago?” You arch an eyebrow. “354 years ago.”“You creatures and your absurd lifespans.” You announce, leaning back until you collide with the backrest of your chair, breathing a long sigh. “That's... that's crazy. You've seen the world change before your very eyes, then.”“Hm,” He drags a finger along the rim of the cup, posture relaxing as the tea warms him. Marco wasn't in pain at all, but it was relaxing to just sit and drink. He doesn't remember the last time he had a conversation like this. “I suppose... in some ways, I have.”“Well,” Marco finishes his drink, listening to you speak. “You'll have to tell me all about it.”With confusion written all over his face, Marco gazes at you, studying your expression in a second. No malice, no ill-intent, just... a smile.He's... concerned.He doesn't answer as you stand up, taking the cup from him and dawdling to the sink.(x)You introduce him to Whitebeard, first.Marco isn't as reserved or as shy as you'd presumed, keeping up with Whitebeard easily. Eventually, they talk as if they were long-lost friends meeting once more. There's no tears and no theatrics, but Marco takes Whitebeard's jabs in stride and, dare you say, counters with better ones. You'd never seen anything like it.That, however, does not mean he doesn't hide.Marco hides behind practiced smiles and responses. Whitebeard prods at certain topics: where he'd come from, why he was being hunted... and Marco just... answers in the most roundabout way ever.Marco doesn't ramble, though. He chooses his words carefully, with a precision that comes from distrust.Whitebeard, stubborn as ever, is not deterred in the slightest.So, while loudly claiming that you need to check on him one final time, you drag him away.Not one to shy from topics like these, you send him a look. Marco pretends not to notice, though when you don't give up, he releases a small laugh.“Yes?”“You're not going to be like Ace, right?”“Ace?”“The kitsune. I'm sure you've seen him lurking around.”“Not very good at hiding, no.” Marco agrees, fighting a grin.“I'm right here!” A voice from the second-floor calls. You make sure to giggle extra loud, ignoring Ace's insults. Marco scans the area, focusing on the kitsune's presence. It radiates strength and a power he'd only seen in a few kitsunes.He was so concentrated on it all that he doesn't realize he's outside until sunlight blinds him.“So,” It takes a moment for Marco to recover, though he appreciates the heat and the light. Blinking, he faces you.Your stare is intense.“So,” He parrots, having nothing else to say.“What do you think?” You spread your arms, gesturing to your home and leaning against the railing behind you. Tilting your head, you await his reply eagerly. When silence stretches on, you add, “...think you could join our little family?”“I wouldn't exactly call it little.” Marco jokes, mirroring you and resting his weight on one foot. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, the phoenix studies you just as thoroughly, chin lowered.“Marco,” The jokes he'd expected from you are pushed aside as your voice loses all amusement. “If you don't want to stay, you're free to go. Pops is stubborn, sure, but he wouldn't keep you here against your will.”
You're free to go.
Marco schools his expression into one of pensiveness.Despite your words, there's a hint of disappointment that betrays you.His heartbeat stutters momentarily. He tears his gaze away to place a hand over his heart.When he looks at you again, it's in a new light.“If you want,” You shift, lips pursing in thought. “You could stay for a few days. See what it's like around here.”“...”“And if you really hate it that much, then I'll be the first person to tell you to go. You're free, now, you know.”Marco's jaw clenches painfully. A flash of hurt clouds his expression, but like a leaf in the wind, it's there and gone the next second.“Deal?”He nods once.“Deal.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Three days after your last conversation, and life is relatively normal.You share your room with Marco as he settles. At his insistence, he sleeps on a spare futon you kept stored in your closet, while you slept on the bed.The addition of another creature to your already large number causes disruptions, ones you expected. Marco lingers by your side the majority of the time, leaving you to introduce him to your siblings. He's cordial and carries conversations easily, allowing you to observe.From what you can see, he's not... uncomfortable. While precise and calculated, his body language is not tense, nor is he disingenuous.Slowly, Marco's life becomes entwined with yours and everyone in your family. It's a gradual process, with the introductions being the worst part of it all, but he seems to take things well. You're hardly able to shake the teasing from your siblings, as merciless as they are, and Marco is clearly amused.They don't say his name, but the way they allude to him?Not very subtle, that's for sure.Regardless, the peaceful transition from being a complete stranger to a pleasant acquaintance is a relief. Marco doesn't open up much – in fact, he guides conversations away from it or turns it around on whoever he's talking to. It's something you've witnessed many times, but with the deal you'd made in the back of your mind, you refrain from commenting.And besides, as much as you want him to feel safe, you don't want to push him. His stay will follow his terms and his only.Today, you're outside chopping firewood for Thatch's birthday. Unfortunately, since the elf refused to relinquish his duties in the kitchen, you took it upon yourself to prepare other aspects. This included the bonfire that was to take place.After all, if you're going to party, you were going to do it the only way you knew how: in the wildest way possible, and well into the ungodly hours of the night.At least, that's what Ace, Haruta, and many others claimed. You weren't so sure about forgoing the privilege that is sleep.Wiping the sweat from your forehead, you fan your face with your hand, exhaling loudly. You suppose that after the harshest winter in years, it was only fair for spring to be unbearably hot.You hear the crunching of leaves and twigs as someone makes their way over to you. Glancing over your shoulder, you spot Marco nearing you with a glass of water. He smiles, nodding his head as a greeting, and you wave.“Well, hello there,” You beam at him, resting the axe against the stump you'd been chopping wood on. “How are you holding up today?”“Well,” He replies, offering you the glass. Your shoulders sag and you sigh, accepting it gratefully. Marco waits for you to gulp down half the water in one go, then speaks, “I've heard it's someone's birthday?”“That'd be Thatch's, yeah.” You roll your shoulders, smiling fondly. Downing the remaining water quickly, you ask, “Did you have a lot of trouble getting water?”“He was adamant about watching my every move,” Marco takes the glass from you, fingers brushing yours. Heat rushes to your face in one big wave, and you fan your face again, hoping it's not obvious. And, in the case it is, you hope he believes it's from the heat.“Yeah, he's like that.” You chortle, grabbing the axe. Propping it up on the ground, you lean on it as you would with a cane, hip jutting out the side. “He won't let many people in the kitchen, especially on his birthday.”Turning back to the firewood, you place a log on the stump. “But! I and a few others are taking care of the cake.”“Sounds interesting,” He comments, moments before you strike the wood with the axe. It splits evenly down the middle, the pieces toppling down each side and to the grass.“Everything around here usually is,” You sigh, sending him a helpless look. Marco, having been present to witness your workload, chuckles and looks down.The conversation lags after that, and to avoid any awkwardness, you keep chopping wood. There's not much left, though you fear it might not be enough for the bonfire. Tossing the axe aside with a huff, you flop down on the grass, defeated... for now.Marco chuckles, taking the spot beside you but keeping a respectable distance between you two. Shielding your eyes from the sun with an arm, you squint up at him. He watches as a few birds take to the sky, soaring above you.“Will you be there?” You ask softly so as not to disturb the silence too badly. Marco tears his gaze from the sky to gaze down at you, blinking. “You don't have to if you don't want to.”“Someone might end up dragging me to the party, anyway,” You cringe, eyebrows furrowing in concern, even as Marco grins and assures you he's joking.“Yeah, but,” You sit up with a grunt, plucking grass from your hair, “You can just... hide in my room if that's the case. Nobody's allowed to go there without my permission.”“I'll be fine,” He says, shaking his head. “I wouldn't be holding up the end of our deal if I didn't show up.”Rolling your eyes, you quip, “That's one way of saying you actually want to be there...”At that, Marco laughs openly.Your head snaps to the side and you stare, wide-eyed with wonder.Hands brace on his knees, he tilts his head back with his eyes closed, lips stretched into the biggest smile you'd seen on his face. It's melodious, his laughter, and you feel the warmth of joy course your veins at the mere sound of it. With the way the sunlight reflects off him, no thanks to his golden hair, white shirt, and pale complexion, you'd think you were looking at an otherworldly being. You suppose, in some way, you are.This.This is Marco.The resulting crow's feet frame his crystal blue eyes as he meets your eye steadily, murmuring, “Got me there, little human.”You lean back, breath catching in your throat as you blink stupidly.
...Oh.
“I... I guess I did.” You utter, completely at a loss as you sort through a multitude of emotions. They range from shock, surprise, revelation, to... to...Clearing your throat, you pretend to search for any dirt or grass stuck to your clothes, faking an air of confidence. “Yes, I did. Of course, I did.”Then it hits you.“Waaait...” You mutter, eyes narrowing at him. “Did you just call me 'little human'?”He shrugs.Scoffing, you cross your arms over your chest. “You too, huh?”Marco at least has the decency to appear sheepish when you call him out. Still, his lips twitch and quirk, betraying him. He'd most likely picked the nickname up from... well, you couldn't pinpoint who, since everyone called you that at least once. “It bothers you,”You release a hefty sigh, falling back on the grass once more. “No, it doesn't. Just wasn't expecting that from you, that's all.”Again, you squint up at him. Due to your position, the sun is directly behind him now. The half that is shrouded in shadow appears entertained, if not pensive, as he studies you just as thoroughly. A breeze sweeps through the area and he closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.You want to ask what's on his mind, but he speaks before you get a chance to.“There's not enough firewood for the bonfire, is there?”You throw your head back, groaning.(x)You don't start the fire until the sun has disappeared.While that happens, you and your family celebrate with drinks and good food outside, sharing stories. Thatch takes over most of the storytelling, gesturing wildly and painting images with his hands. At your request, he tells you of his late clan, describing his life before he joined your group.“It wasn't this crowded back then,” You murmur to Marco, who had been listening to Thatch rather aptly. He looks down at you with an arched brow, curious. “It was... hm, maybe Pops, myself, Jozu, and a few others?”“Jozu?”“Another half-giant in our family.” You explain. “He's off on his yearly pilgrimage right now, but he should be back soon. Good guy, if a bit... serious.”“Noted,” Marco smiles.“Oi!” A certain imp slams his hands on the table, grinning wickedly in your direction. “What are you two whispering about over there, huh?”You sit back, removing yourself from Marco's personal space to glare at Haruta. “Really?”“Yes, really!” Haruta insists, then points at Marco. “Look at how he's staring at you!”Rolling your eyes, you wave a hand and weakly dismiss the imp. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I was just telling Marco about Jozu.”“I hear he's another half-giant,” Marco adds helpfully, distracting everyone long enough for you to compose yourself. Gods bless him.“That he is!” Whitebeard comments from his seat. “He sent a letter promising he'd be back in two days.”“Oh, really?” Your spine straightens as you rest your palms on the table, shocked. “Why didn't you tell me?”“You never asked.”“Old man.”“Brat.”Chortling, you look at Marco again for his reaction. From what you can glean in his expression, he's at ease. Good.“He's a good guy,” You repeat excitedly, your smile bordering on affectionate, like a mother.“What do you think he'll bring this time?” Ace wonders, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, tail swishing behind him. You grin.“Food for you, probably.” Izo jokes. Ace's mouth drops open as he drools comically, imagining it already. You wipe his mouth with a napkin, feigning disgust.“I did ask him to bring me another one of those animal trinkets.” You comment, “I want to expand our area a little bit.”“Is that what they're for?” Marco asks you, cocking his head to the side. You nod happily.“It's just so our family can find their way.” You explain, taking another bite of food. “You remember the woods, right?”“Right,”“Hey, hey, whatever it is he brings you, it won't be as amazing as my gift, that's for sure.” Thatch jokes, bringing everyone's attention back to him. Several people send him puzzled looks until he clarifies, “It's my birthday, so.”“And who made the rules?”“Well, duh.” Thatch smirks, “I did.”(x)It's Marco's tenth day with your family and he hadn't come to bed.You're not worried about him – he was capable, that much he made clear – but you wanted to know his whereabouts.Foolishly, a part of your mind flaunted the idea that deal or no deal, he'd finally decided to leave. That he'd waited until the cover of night to run away, never to return.Your heartbeat stuttered at that. However, you refused to entertain the idea for long, stamping it to a mote of dust.Unlike the rest of his stay, you hadn't seen each other or spoken much today. Not that you minded. In fact, you hope that it's because he's taken a liking to the others and has joined in on their fun. Whether it was through mischief or not, you wanted him to have people to turn to.With the sun tucked away in the horizon and the stars glimmering, you quietly ensure everything is in order. You hold a candle as you creep down the hall, banishing the shadows from your path. Stopping briefly by Whitebeard's room, you listen for his telltale snoring and huff when it cuts through the silence like a knife.You were thankful for the thick walls.Moving on, you tip-toe by the entrance, sparing it a glance. You don't see it at first, but after a single step, you spot a person in your peripheral and pause. You don't have to think too much about who it might be. The flickering blue flames are a giveaway.Padding down the few stairs, you pull the door open with a knock on the doorframe. Marco doesn't even flinch.“It's alright,” He says softly without facing you, forearms on the wooden railing. The fire nestled in his large palm recedes slightly. Even then, your candle's radiance is nothing compared to it. You're tempted to blow it out, but you know you'll need it later. “I knew you were there.”Cicadas and crickets chirp, almost drowning his voice. Thankfully, you manage to hear him.“Good to know,” With that, you step into the night, shutting the door behind you, and join his side. The woods surrounding your home are lit by fireflies and, above you, the crescent moon sheds its muted light.Again, the phoenix's flames flare, spiraling up towards his shoulder. You observe, transfixed, as the same process occurs on his other arm. They settle down like two pauldrons, writhing and illuminating his face.It's devoid of expression, reminding you of when he first woke.“Are you okay?” You ask, resting two fingers on his wrist. When you'd helped him as a phoenix, you hadn't been burned, but you didn't know what his flames were capable of. Plus, you didn't want to touch him too much in case he didn't want to be.Surprisingly, the fire on his wrist seems to give your hand space. You still don't move it, unsure of what that could mean.“Trouble sleeping?” You try again, gently. The flames on his right arm disappear, leaving the ones on his left, and he sends you a small smile. It lasts but a second, his face returning to a blank slate.“I suppose you could call it that.”“...”You shift, removing your hand from his wrist and bracing it on the railing. “Do you feel unsafe here?”Marco breathes your name, shaking his head. “That's not what troubles me,”“Do you?” You repeat, tone firmer than before. Marco stares at you, sighing heavily.“You and your family have been kind. Very kind,” He speaks softly, picking and choosing his words. Which was the norm during conversations like these. You understood his hesitation.Still, he hasn't answered the question.This time, it's your turn to sigh as you focus on the woods again, frustrated yet too worried to reprimand him. Fireflies drift from one place to another leisurely, landing gracefully on different plants and leaves.“I...” Marco begins, pausing when you stare at him out of the corner of your eye, then finishing his thought. “I was imprisoned for a long time.”You want to keep the pain the mere thought causes you hidden. You want to, and yet you fail, expression twisting into a bitter grimace.“We creatures live for much longer than humans, but... Fifty years is still a long time,” He grins despite the agony in his eyes. Marco's fire dies, shrouding the two of you in darkness your little candle struggles to fight. “I'm sure you agree, do you not?”“That's a human's entire life,” You murmur, scowling. Regardless of how old or young a human might be when they are taken, fifty years is their entire life. You either miss out on your youth or die due to old age. Either way, the path you thought you'd carved out is erased and you are left in tatters, wondering what to do. Wondering what it is you can do.“It is.”“Why... why were you captured?” You know you've strayed into dangerous territory. Now it was your turn to choose your words carefully.“At first?” Het lets the silence sit for a while, preparing himself for the grueling task of sorting through the memories. Marco remembers every detail – just as he remembers his life before that – so he doesn't need to ruminate. “A disease had spread through the lands up north, ravaging the villages. Phoenixes... we can do harm with our flames, but we can also heal.”He lights one of his fingers on fire, presenting it to you. Gently, he holds your wrist with his other hand, dragging the flames along a cut you'd gained. Perplexed, you let him press fire against your skin, at his mercy.When he removes his hand, the cut has vanished.“What happened?” You ask, rubbing what he'd touched in awe.“The people wanted a cure,” Marco examines your arms, looking for nicks and bruises and healing them as he talks. You want to tell him that it's not necessary, but it seems to ground him, so you relent. “And there aren't many phoenixes.”Gradually, his fingers glide further along your arm. He tugs at your sleeves, his touch feather-light as he works. He skips your neck, seeing as there are no wounds there. He hesitates and then, rather calmly, touches your cheek. Forced to shut your eyes due to the sudden brightness, you freeze, swallowing hard.You don't remember receiving any injury there.“So you were captured.” You whisper.Marco hums gravely. “I healed the people in exchange for my freedom.”
Typical.
You imagine what it would be like to be used like that and immediately regret it when anger threatens to cloud your every thought.Jaw clenched, you count to ten before responding.“Freedom you were never given.”“Freedom I was never given, no.” He huffs lightly, and though you can't see it, you can feel the weight of his stare. Cracking your eyes open, you swallow through your nerves.It's a story you'd heard one too many times. One that still gutted you no matter the variation or differences.“I'm sorry,” You whisper, tearful.“Don't be,” Marco chuckles humorlessly, distancing himself from you. You immediately latch onto his arm, eyebrows furrowing and lips in a taut line. “You weren't even alive, then.”“It's not that – well, it's also that, but...” You trail off, biting your lip. Your composure is crumbling. “I didn't – if I made you feel obligated to tell me, I'm sorry.”Marco opens his mouth, but you beat him to it.“I... I want you to stay.” You admit shakily. “But I don't want you to stay if you're unhappy. I want you to feel safe. Forget our 'deal'. If it means you have to leave, then please, please, go. You're free to do as you wish.”You loosen your hold. Marco's wrist stays.Heart thundering in your chest, you will your breathing to settle into a normal rhythm, sniffling quietly.Silence reigns for an uncomfortable amount of time as you compose yourself and Marco gathers his thoughts. His eyes, which are usually half-lidded, are wide. You use this time to carve the image of his face into your mind, knowing this might be the last time you ever see him.He could take off and all you'd be able to do is watch. Watch as the brilliant blue and yellow phoenix flies away.“I...” Marco releases a light laugh, taking your hand in both of his as if they're made of glass. You've received this sort of treatment from many of your siblings – some with good reason, others to mess with you – but you can't see any of that in him.Is he afraid he might hurt himself, then?“I want to stay.”“You do?” Half of you is elated, the other half is too suspicious to let it go. “Or are you just saying that?”“I'm saying it,” Marco replies, “And I'm meaning it.”“Good.” You use your free hand to smack him on the shoulder lightly, forcing a smile that, while pained, is genuine.Finally, your brain registers the proximity of your bodies and, annoyingly, you flush red. Before he can comment on it like most people do here, you step back, arms falling to your sides.“Then... come on, let's go sleep, yeah?” You change the subject, hoping to distract yourselves from this depressing talk and your embarrassment. Marco grins, handing you your candle. The wax pooling at the bottom is threatening to spill, hinting at how much time had truly passed.“Lead the way,” He says.And so, that's what you do.(x)“Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like,” You call out, trailing after the phoenix, beaming up at him. Marco floats above you, his enormous wings replacing his arms. When he mentioned he could transform part way, you'd been too curious to pass up the opportunity to witness it.“To fly,”“Yes,” You confirm, arms swinging up and down to mimic his movements. The more he watches, eyebrow raised, the more energetic you become. When you almost trip, Marco blesses you with one of his rare laughs.“I could show you,” He offers, circling you idly. Soundlessly, he lands beside you, wings morphing into his arms.“Maybe another day.” You shake the straps of your knapsack. “Right now, we have to get more willow bark. I don't want to be gone for too long.”“It would be faster if we flew.” He counters.... which, yeah, it would.“Got me there, phoenix.” Before he can act too smug though, you hold up a finger. “But I also have to put up the trinkets Jozu brought me, and it's better to do it from the ground.”He sends you a look.You ignore it, walking along the somewhat unfamiliar trail with a bounce in your step. You're thankful for his company, even if he is rather cheeky at times.When you find a good spot to hang a trinket, you sling your bag off your shoulders. You want to put up at least two this time around.Extracting a wooden bear clutching its cub to its chest from your knapsack, you ensure the rope will survive the weather, humming. When you look around, Marco isn't there, but that's not a concern. He liked exploring.And, as much as he tried to play it off coolly, you liked seeing the gleam in his eye as he finds something of interest. Especially shiny items.As you hang the trinket on a relatively high branch, you grin to yourself.Once you experienced it, there wasn't mistaking it.“Oh no,” You pretend to be scared, shivering and rubbing your arms. “I think... I think the thing in the woods is stalking me...”“Stalking you?” Marco's resounding chuckle sparks comfort and fondness in your chest. Craning your neck, you find him sitting on a branch overhead, like the smug jerk he is.“Absolutely,” You joke, “I mean, you do this so often. One might think you're trying to stalk them.”“I'm doing a terrible job, then, if you found me so quickly.” Marco swings his legs, resting his head on the bark of the tree while his eyes slip shut. For a second, you fear he might fall, then remember he's a bird. And then, you think of a tiny version of Marco as a phoenix and melt a little.Anyway.With a flourish that he misses, you finish tying the knot and promptly decide to climb your way to him. He notices seconds after the idea enters your mind and you begin your ascent.Branches sway as you haul your body onto them, teeth worrying your bottom lip.Unfortunately, there aren't many footholds, and you do run out.“Damn it, stop staring at me,” You grumble with no real bite, fighting a giggle. Marco does not stop.“Can't get up here, huh?”Scoffing, you cross your arms, swiveling so that you face the opposite direction. There aren't any over here, either. There isn't much of anything, if you're honest, except a good 6-meter drop. If you weren't so accustomed to nature and living within it, you might have reconsidered your choices.“No, no I can't.”Another melodious laugh. You attribute the beauty of it to him being a literal bird. Maybe it's his birdsong. Who knows?Gracefully, he lowers himself to your level, plucking a leaf from your head before he even sits down. You swat at his hand when he waves it in front of your face, chortling.“You turkey,” You throw at him, snatching the leaf and blowing it in his face.“Turkey,” He spits the word like it wronged him on a physical, emotional, and spiritual level. “Why you've all chosen that as my nickname is beyond me.”“That's because,” You lean forward playfully, whispering the rest of your sentence. “You're a turkey.”“Hm...” Due to the sunlight's inability to breach the branches, his face is cast in shadow, eyes dark. Marco mirrors you, placing a hand on the trunk of the tree as he reduces whatever space there is between you. Unmoving and bold, you grin at him.It's a grin that drops faster than any other you've ever worn.Marco cups the right side of your head, threading his fingers through your hair. Eventually, his hand halts on your nape. Goosebumps dot your skin as your jaw drops.“What-”“Turkey, you say,” Marco murmurs.It draws a hesitant laugh from you. It's more a pathetic wheeze as your noses bump.“You're wrong.”Your voice is stuck. Thoughts blur into an incoherent mess. You don't want to blink, but your eyes burn. When you close them, it feels like your eyelids might fuse, eyebrows pinched.You're not brave enough to do it, you realize.But when you move, he follows you, his arm snaking around your waist.And then... you fall.And whatever scream you were ready to let loose is muffled.Your nails dig into his back, which expands under your hands.Blue and yellow greets your vision, enveloping you. It's warm, almost too warm, and when you finally curl up in preparation – of pain, of broken limbs, internal combustion – you fly.Marco, now a phoenix, swoops down towards the forest floor. Your entire body lurches with the motion, your arms tightening around his long neck. You think you scream, but the noise is lost with the wind.The minutes you spend in the air feel like an eternity, body trembling, adrenaline surging through you.You feel the jolt of movement as he lands with a thunderous boom, the beating of his wings disturbing the long blades of grass. You're petrified, thoughts bouncing around your mind as you tighten your grip on the phoenix. Your heartbeat, thunderous and erratic, stutters when he bends down for whatever reason.“You,” You manage to yell, burying your face in his plumage. “Are such a jerk.”And, like earlier, he transforms, body going through the changes without jostling you or throwing you off. The heat radiating from his body dissipates and you sink into the grass. Arms encircle your upper body and you hear a low rumble.Bitterly, you realize he's chuckling.“...where even are we?” You ask, hugging him back.“Not far from home, I promise,” He says, voice seeming to echo in your mind with how close you are.“Did you seriously kiss me.”“Perhaps.”You sit up, hands on his shoulders as you finally meet his eyes. You ignore your current state and position, lips set into a frown. Vaguely, you note that the land is bespeckled with colorful flowers.Your mind soaks this in merely because of the petals in his hair and on his clothes. You're sure you are quite the strange sight yourself, though you're tackling more pressing matters right now.“Did... did you mean it?” Your fingers curl into the soft material of his shirt. There's a tremble to your limbs, one you blame on the adrenaline.“I did,” Tenderly, he reaches up, taming the wild strands of hair on your head. His fingers travel from your forehead to behind your ear, staying even as the strands partially block your sight again.Even though you want to skip through this field screaming your happiness, you can't help but study him rigorously. Your cradle his head, searching any and all signs of deceit or a joke. Knowing this, Marco lets his arms drop to his side.“You're not lying...?” You whisper, waiting with bated breath. The phoenix doesn't miss the hopefulness you try to conceal.Marco, lax and admittedly vulnerable, continues to stare at you. Your gaze scours his expression, searching for something he knows you won't find. Before your mind can conjure up a false image born from self-doubt, he twists, taking you with him. You yelp as you hit the grass, disoriented.“What makes you think I am?”“I don't know,” You inhale, cheeks warm.And then he does it again.And whatever air you'd dragged into your lungs leaves you as you return the gesture with as much fervor. With little experience under your belt, it's not the most monumental or life-changing moment, and you do make mistakes. Your noses collide more than once and you have to pull back for air several times.Marco chuckles each time, stroking your cheek lovingly. He's gentle and patient with you, keeping your kisses chaste while you familiarize yourself with the act. It's... too funny for you to be truly upset, and you have to take a moment to laugh at how silly you are.The sounds trail off as you boldly press your lips to his, basking in the adoration and fondness that blooms inside you.When you separate, you linger, knuckles brushing his jawbone. You blink, dazed, as you register what had just transpired. When you muster the courage to meet his gaze, your cheeks redden and you giggle like a madman, covering your mouth. Marco's lips quirk upward at your bashfulness.“Well,” You blow a strand of hair to the side. “I can say with certainty that this is not how I expected today to go.”Marco simply shrugs, his smile growing bigger.“I feel as though I should have waited,” He says, reaching for you. You hold his hand. Unlike yours, his is not calloused or scarred. His skin is smooth, untouched, all thanks to his power. “But I couldn't help myself.”“You don't sound all that ashamed,” You point out with a good-natured huff.“Well,” He feigns a pensive expression. “You did say I am free to do as I wish.”Chortling, you shove him away from you with a scoff, only for him to drag you down with him. With your ear against his chest, you listen to his heartbeat, curling into his side.(x)When you do return home, you do so hand in hand. You chat and tell him stories while he listens, a smile present as he nods along.From the stairs to the main entrance, Thatch groans as Izo holds out his hand. Reluctantly, Thatch drops a coin purse in it, grumbling about how those lovebirds just couldn't wait three more days.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1. gravitate
There's a chill in the air.It nips at your bare skin, stripping you of the warmth you so desperately cling to at night. It's unpleasant, but not sharp enough to urge you into motion, head tilted up so your breath wouldn't worsen your current predicament.You dig your nails in the mattress, your fingers curling as you battle another tremor.When you blink your eyes open, it's pitch black, as if you'd been submerged in an endless void. Slowly, you resurface, the muted light of the moon and the obscure shapes of furniture becoming somewhat clearer.Your head turns to the left to the sight of his broad back, littered with jagged scars that remind you of lightning on a tempestuous evening. You reach for him, fingertips tracing the disfigured skin above his shoulder blade, which shifts with a ripple of muscle. He grunts, but otherwise remains asleep, his long red hair spilling down the side of the pillow. It's the only time you ever see it down.You follow the scar until your arm is fully stretched. Then, rolling to your side, you wrap your arm around his middle. Burying your face in his back, you sigh through your nose. Heat radiates off him in waves, warming you to your core, chasing away the cold like it too was an enemy.And, when on the cusp of drifting off, you feel him move. There's a steady beating under your ear, echoing in your mind, soothing you further. His large hand settles on your hip, securing you in place.
2. game
“Shit-”It seemed like a game to Kid.You writhe helplessly, ignoring the pang of pain in your wrists as you groan, throwing your head back. Your legs bracket his thighs, back arching off the bed.A dark chuckle cuts through the silence. The hand that isn't crushing your wrists finds its home in your hair, pulling harshly. He bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The pain that erupts from his antics is enough to ground you again, hissing and doubling your efforts to escape. A string of curse words sits on the tip of your tongue, most of them insults.“If you don't fucking stop doing that -” You release a guttural sound when he moves, then stops, all for what feels like the hundredth time.
Too little, too fast.
The man won't give you what you want.
3. what will people think?
“You're an idiot.” You grouse, testing the mobility of your shoulder. It aches, but considering this is Kid you're talking about... well, an aching shoulder is a kindness.“Too much for you, princess?” He shoots back, smirking at you from the bed. You glare at his reflection in the mirror, poking at the red marks decorating your collarbone. They're already bruising, the mottled purple framing them prominent and obvious.And... how in the hell were you going to hide this ridiculous, not to mention massive, handprint on your goddamn neck?“Don't flatter yourself, princess.” You snark with an exaggerated eye roll, twisting to examine your back... only to find a set of claw marks.People were going to think you got mauled by a bear or something.Not far from the truth, if you think about it.Kid sits up, tossing blankets and pillows to the floor in his quest to stand behind you. You continue to glare at his reflection, which he ignores, admiring his handiwork on your smaller body. He traces the long, red lines down your spine.You shiver.When you turn around to face him, you brace your hands on the dresser, leaning back. It made looking up at him easier, and...His pupils consume his amber irises as they expand, gaze narrowed.…it certainly had its desired effect.
4. criminal AU - like fire, like ice
“Do you think I wanted this?” A strangled gasp is wrenched out of you when he tightens his grip on your injured arm, tugging mercilessly. Rain pelts down on you both, soaking your clothes, which hang from your frames pitifully. The sky is dark, the clouds darker, providing a strange backdrop as you stare up at him.Wiping water and stray hairs from your eyes, you yank at his wrist. It's futile and exhausting. Your body is begging for the rest it so obviously needs. Each step you're made to take aggravates the throbbing in your legs. Staying upright is strenuous as it is, but you won't stand for this treatment.You knew him. You know him and you know what it means to be in a relationship with a man as volatile as Eustass Fucking Kid.“Can you stop acting like a literal child?!” You yell, “You're only making things worse!”He stops so abruptly you crash into him with a hiss, gripping his coat. When you right yourself, your hand comes away red.You're both injured and yet here he is, treating you like this when he's the one with a bullet wound.Thunder rumbles in the distance.You're used to his anger. It's a blaze you fight every day, struggling to extinguish the flames long enough for him to listen to you. You've burnt yourself more than once attempting to handle him, but you wouldn't have it any other way. While explosive, he wasn't erratic; there was logic to his words. Logic you heard and followed and adhered to.Because that's just who he is.His anger is what makes him... him.So when he faces you, blood dripping from his nose and lip, with nothing but the iciest glare...You don't know what to do.
5. gentle
Eustass Kid is not a gentle man.He and violence had walked hand in hand since he learned how to throw a punch properly. As much as he enjoyed toying with every aspect of life, pushing and pushing, there was no shying from the fact that violence ruled his mind.The first sign of disobedience from a fool with a death wish? He killed them. If someone tried blocking his path, declaring war on him and his crew? Dead before they can even finish their evil speech.And when you, with his head on your stomach and lounging in bed much like a cat would, decide to stop carding your fingers through his hair?“Who the fuck told you to stop?” He grumbles, voice muffled. The red-head cracks one eye open, scowling at you. You bite your bottom lip, resuming your task when he grabs your thighs as a warning. When he settles down again, you grin to yourself, huffing.He does that.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It's not often you oh, so kindly cater to thieves this late in the night. Their visits followed a strict pattern: they break in, they grab a few goods, and just as they are about to leave, they find you.You, with your sword drawn and pointed at their necks, ready to end them if they so much as sneeze.The truth of it all was, you weren't going to part with anything in this house of yours. You worked hard for every piece of food, cloth, and furniture you owned. If someone wanted it for themselves, they were to fight you to the death for it.Usually, you frightened the scoundrels half to death. Most ran, but not before you emptied their pockets, and others tried fighting you.All of them lost.It was both surprising and reassuring. In terms of sword skill, you weren't the most incredible. However, you were strong and, to top it all off, you were stubborn. You hardly ever budged in a fight, verbal or otherwise. Beliefs, views, a physical quarrel, whatever it may be, if you couldn't see the logic in it, you did you not accept it.So when this kitsune, who had made an attempt on your life once the old routine began, offered to help you with the dishes...You were more than a little suspicious.In addition to that, you were peeved. Not only because you'd woken up to another idiot in your house, but because...You'd taken one look at him, noted the rags he wore, the ruffled appearance... and decided to feed him. That is, you gave him a plate stacked with bread, cheese, and a few apples, and...And then you found your pantry empty.…Curse you for caring.You would've thrown a fit about your mysterious lack of food – you had every right to – and yet you couldn't. Not when he was storing it in a bag riddled with tiny holes and worn patchwork. If he was storing it, it meant he either had nothing else, or he had someone to tend to.Rolling your eyes at the sheepish grin on his face, you hold your hand out for his plate. He gives it to you, mindful of his claws, and watches as you clean it. You'd hardly spoken a word to him, opting for a silent approach when he threw a fireball at you and ruined your carpet. You'd clocked him hard enough to make him recoil, rushing to extinguish the fire before it could spread.“...you don't seem all that surprised.” The kitsune commented casually as he reclaimed his seat. His ears, tipped with white, fall back against his head when you send him a glare.“Please, explain.” You put the plate aside, turning around to face him properly.As a response, he points to his ears and swings his long, furry tail, adding, “I'm not a human.”“And I've got a functioning pair of eyes,” You retort, crossing your arms over your chest and resting your weight on one foot. Hip jutting out the side, you tap your foot impatiently, eyes narrowed into two thin slits. What even...?Apparently, that was not the reply he was anticipating. The kitsune blinks his silver eyes at you, eyebrows arched high.“If you think I'm treating you differently because you have a tail, you're wrong.” You cross the room to your sword, which is on the table, sheathing it and tucking it in under the bed. Given the lack of space, you don't have any other place to store it.Be that as it may, though you've never adored living here, you couldn't complain. Lots of people didn't have a so much as a tent. Its size also means you can defend it better.The kitsune watches you for a long moment.You decide to continue. “Human or otherwise, when someone tries to steal from me, I'm going to kick their asses.” Straightening with a huff, you tack on, “And before you mention me feeding you, I did it out of the kindness of my heart, so don't make me regret it.”Standing, you fix your bed, knowing that you weren't falling asleep again tonight. Smoothing the wrinkles in the sheets and fluffing the pillow, you look at your guest when he makes a bunch of noise, expecting-He's bowing....everything but that.“Thank you.”Your expression twists into one of confusion, eyebrows pinched. Shaking your head, you move back to the table in the center of the room. Slowly, you occupy the other chair you have, heaving a sigh. The kitsune sits down, his claws clicking eerily against the wooden surface.“I didn't think your folk lived around these parts.” You fiddle with a hole in your shirt.“My folk?”You gesture to the ears.“Oh,” His shoulders sag. Then, he shrugs, casting his gaze to the side. “The only folk I know are my brothers. And I'm the only kitsune.”“Uh-huh.” You shift, studying him. The candles providing an amber glow made his eyes shine. Was that just the light or a kitsune thing, you wonder? He runs a hand through his black hair, scratching the back of his head. The torn blue blouse and dark pants he donned were dirty and weathered, a testament of his mischief. “Do you and your brothers steal from anyone, or is it just me, now?”The kitsune frowns at you. “We're just trying to get by.”“So am I.” Without meaning to, you sink into your seat, exhausted and dejected. “So am I.”…“What's your name?” He asks out of the blue, quietly. When you give it to him, he tests the way it rolls off the tongue, repeating it with a growing grin. If you weren't so tired and so irritated, you'd probably call him handsome.Alas, you're tired and irritated.Right now, all you can think of him is stupid.“Well, it's nice to meet you.” He offers you his hand, waiting for you to shake it. You do so reluctantly. “I'm Ace.”“Well, then... Ace,” You release his hand and rise from your chair. Sauntering to the entrance, you make a show of opening the door and waving your arm in a wide arch. “You can get out of my house, now.”(x)It's only after he leaves and you slam the door that it dawns on you.Admittedly, it is a terrible idea to consider. You're poor and trying to lay low, but you're not that desperate and you're most definitely not a murderer.You tug at your hood, obscuring your face, the rolled-up pelts tucked under your arm weighing you down considerably. These pelts should earn you a decent sum, enough for you to restock your pantry and other necessities. Marching towards the center of the town, you spot the trapper, yelling his prices.“How much for these?” You drop the pelts on his stand, cutting him off.“Hm...” He prods and pokes at the pelts. There's two deer pelts, one fox pelt, and a bear pelt. That last one should fetch a decent price, you think. “4 gold for the deer pelts each and for the fox pelt. The bear...”“A beast,” You mumble, hoping to sway him into paying your more.Apparently, it works.“12 pieces of gold.”“I'll take it.” You accept the gold coins, grabbing a pouch full of them and dropping your earnings inside. “Thank you.” Just as you're about to go, hoping to buy some decent food, the trapper stops you.“Have you heard?” He asks, eyes sweeping the market area as if he was spouting heresy. “There is talk of another beast – one of those fox-creatures. You know what I'm talking about?”“A kitsune,” You respond, hand on the hilt of your sword as you eye him. “No, I haven't heard.”“Apparently, they're worth a lot. Especially the older ones – you know, the ones with more than one tail.”“And you're expecting me to hunt down a being able to shapeshift, use magic, and become invisible? Among other things?” You ask incredulously, staring down the bridge of your nose at the short man. He appeared excited by the mere thought of killing one of those creatures, a wicked grin disfiguring his face. Shaking your head, you wave a dismissive hand and keep on walking. “Sorry, not interested.”Nevermind the fact that this kitsune they're talking about is none other than your impromptu guest.It didn't take much for you to realize, what with his visit last night.And, again, you are not a murderer.(x)It's late when you arrive at your home, your hips and feet aching something fierce. Biting back a pained sound, you light the candles around your home and store your food, dragging your feet.Clumsily, you toss your cloak on your bed, hopping around as you struggle to remove your boots. They land with a heavy thump that echoes in the silent room, the noise bouncing off the stone walls. You're undoing your belt when, unfortunately for you, there's a knock on your door.Puzzled, you wield your sword, moving along the wall and avoiding the windows. “What do you want?!” You call, ear pressed against the stone and straining to hear for the newcomers.A familiar voice says your name, sounding urgent. “It's me, Ace!”Quickly, you throw the door open to the sight of the kitsune.You see him open his mouth to speak, the corners of his lips quirking into a smile. Without missing a beat, you snatch the collar of his shirt and haul him inside, shutting the door.“Woah!” He exclaims as he stumbles, recovering swiftly. “What was that for?!”Heedless to his accusing tone, you scan the area through one of the windows, gripping your sword tightly. When no one emerges from the shadows in pursuit of Ace, you will your body to relax. Most of the tension that had seeped into your limbs leaves, and you lean on the wall.“You,” You start carefully, sighing. “are being hunted, Ace.”“You mean... I'm living my normal, day to day life?” He returns with a small smile. You glue him to his spot with a scowl.“A bit late to be visiting me, don't you think?” You scoff. “Ah, but that didn't really stop you last time.”Ace grins, rubbing his neck as blood rushes to his cheeks, reddening them. His freckles seem to darken as a result, making them pop against his tan skin.“I... I need a place to stay.” He utters, each word strained.“You need a place to stay.” You parrot blankly and devoid of expression.“Yes...?”“Ace...”“I don't mean to impose, you know... but... well, you live in the outskirts of the town!” He tries, ears and tail twitching anxiously. “And, I may have angered a few hunters by messing with them. So...”“So, you led them to my house?” Ignoring your body's complaints, you reduce whatever distance there is between you two. When you're inches from his face, you stop, glaring at him.Ace shakes his head, raising his hands in a placating manner. He makes an effort not to touch you, leaning back with a grimace. “No, no, I lost them before coming here. I promise.”Hands on your hips, you maintain the tense eye contact until his tail stops swaying. His ears stand on end, frozen.“Fine.” You relent, shaking your head and swearing under your breath. Giving him room to breathe, you settle down on your bed, rubbing your back.“Thank you,” Ace sighs, clearly relieved to hear you're not going to kick him out. You frown as you massage your legs, dark thoughts circling your head.“Ace,” He perks up at the sound of his name, humming. “Can you not... hide your ears and tail?”“No,” He replies, standing in the middle of the room awkwardly. You roll your eyes, scooting over and patting the bed. Padding over to you, he sits down, watching you with sharp, unblinking eyes.Sitting up, you release a hefty exhale. “And your brothers? Where are they, now?”“Hiding, like me.” Then, pressing his fingers to his lips, mumbles, “Thank the gods for Sabo... Luffy was never good at keeping his mouth shut.”“Sounds like a handful.” You peel your tunic away from your skin. You'd been so tense from his arrival that now, you're sweating. Whether it was his enhanced senses or just plain obvious, he notices, resting a hand on your shoulder. You fight the urge to flinch, the weight on your body foreign.“I really do mean it when I say thank you. You're kinder than a lot of the humans out there.” He tells you seriously, voice leaving no room for argument.Your lips quirk, a sight that seems to startle him more than the bitter edge in your voice.“That's because I'm not human.” Sorting out the pillows, you think about how you were even going to share the same space with another person. Your bed is the opposite of sizable. If you were to sleep next to each other, you'd most likely be touching in some way or another the whole night.Ace chuckles, shrugging. “Never did say you were, now did I?”No, he did not. And you fell for that trap - one you know hunters and the like use - to get you to admit to it. Hiding your scowl from him as he chortles once more, you stand and put out the candles, keeping the one by your bed lit. How you even... how he managed to lure you into falling for that is beyond you. But then, why did he...? Oh, whatever.“What are you, anyway?” He asks the question as if he could offend you, which, funnily enough, it probably would've... a long, long time ago. But not because of the wording or its connotation, which is innocent and not malicious in the slightest.No, you would've expected him to know. Like the egotistical idiot you were many years ago.“That doesn't matter.” You state, closing your eyes as you recover from the onslaught of memories. They're painful and not ones you like to dwell on. “What we should worry about is not getting you caught.”Laying down, you tap the bed again, biting back an amused huff when his blush returns with a vengeance. “Come on, now.” You move until your back is against the wall. “There's only one bed and I'm not letting you sleep on the floor.”“I'm used to it.” He retorts, even as he accepts your offer, unwinding easily. “It's not so bad, especially when you have the stars above you.”“Too bad I prefer to have a roof over my head.” You joke, getting him to laugh a little, his breath fanning your face.He rolls over, blowing out the last of the candles, shrouding the room in a darkness that has your heartbeat stuttering. You curl up a little, keenly aware of the fur of his tail brushing against your calf. It jerks away a second after the accidental touch and he whispers an apology.You're silent....Falling asleep with him at your side is far more effortless than you'd like to admit.(x)“Do your brothers know about me?” You ask him one fateful evening, because yes, you truly are housing Ace. Ace, the kitsune who had now grown his second tail, essentially doubling the price on his head. While you weren't all-knowing when it came to kitsunes, you knew their nine tails took ages to grow in.The fact that one day he'd left with one then returned with two... it was the most baffling thing that had happened to you in ages, that's for sure.The tails curl around each other languidly from his perch on your bed. A part of you wants to ask just how old he truly is, but you refrain from doing so. It's not your business.What is your business, however, is how to quell his hunger.You'd been providing for him and his brothers as much as you could. You'd yet to meet any of them, but knowing how chaotic Ace was, it could happen any day, now.Feet tucked under his thighs and hands on his ankles, Ace leans forward with a grin. You'd learned of his love for his brothers these last few days. Of the bond they shared despite their differences. It was heartwarming, the fondness in his words as he told you about them, and the topic you tend to rely on when you don't know what to say.Or when he asks what you are.He's dead set on figuring that out.“Yeah.” He replies, his dopey smile contagious. Focusing on the food you're preparing, you bite your lip. “Luffy really wants to meet you.”“Please, don't bring him here.” You request. “I can't keep two of you safe.”“I know, I know.” He nods, his unwavering grin bringing about a sense of peace. Peace, of all things. Yeah, you... you think your sanity has bid you goodbye. It's the only way to explain all of this. “...though, you could come with me and meet him.”You stare at him.“If you want.” He adds, sensing your hesitation.Huffing, you roll your eyes.“I'm trying to keep a low profile, here, Ace.” You mumble, stacking two large pieces of meat on his plate and adding a few vegetables. Placing it on the table, you motion to his chair and watch as he bounds over to it. He attacks his food even before he's seated, much to your distaste. Poking his ears, you grumble, “Slow down or you'll choke, stupid.”“Why?” He says around a bite of food, ignoring your chiding.“Because.” You shoot back, getting your own plate. You pile the remaining vegetables on it.“Doesn't it make you sad, though?”“What, this?” Falling back into your own seat, you start tearing up your roll of bread.“Yes.” He stresses. You fake offense at the looks he sends your rather humble abode, jabbing him in the arm.“You say that, and yet you keep coming back.”“Well, yeah,” He's almost done with his first piece of meat. It hadn't even been ten minutes. “You're a friend.”A friend.The words leave a sour taste in your mouth. Suddenly, the bread is stale, the crumbs on your tongue like sand. You chew the rest of your bread thoughtfully, looking on as the food disappears from his plate.“There's.. a man.” You prod your vegetables with your fork, pushing them around your plate. Around and around like your thoughts. “In the market. He's... trying to hire a hunting party so that they can come after you, Ace.”The kitsune is quiet.“If you want to protect your brothers, you should go.” You gather your confidence as you speak, the logic behind your words solidifying your beliefs. They need to go. “Leave. Go somewhere where they can't find you.”“What about you?”Stamping the spark of anger in your chest, you count to ten, calming yourself.“There's nothing for me out there.”“There's nothing for you here, either,” He argues, eyebrows low and lips downturned. You wish you could pretend to be indifferent about all of this, but you weren't fooling a creature like him. Fox or not, Ace had a good eye for that sort of behavior.You want to tell him otherwise.But you can't.“It's not that simple.”And it is also a losing battle.Because... you want to leave. You want to see the world again. You want to look up at the sky, not in alarm or regret at another day spent working, but with joy.You want your freedom again.Ace waits for you, allowing you time to think even when there's not much to think about.Mechanically, and far more disconnected than ever, you study your home.It's old, and there are drafts that the thick, stone walls cannot keep out. There had been nothing when you'd moved in, and you had brought nothing with you. Making the decision to stay, to live a quiet life in a nameless town, it was all done in hopes of fitting the pieces of your life back together.And yet, you couldn't feel more lost or empty.“I don't belong here.” You whisper, voice tremulous.When your eyes meet Ace's, you can hardly make out his face. You dab at your eyes with your sleeve, wincing when tears escape anyway.“That settles it, then.” Ace offers you a kind smile – a sight you've come to associate with him. If there was anything that Ace did, it was smile, something you marvelled at with how hectic his life appeared to be.“...Give me five minutes.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1. secret agent AU
“This thing is a nightmare.” You hiss, voice dripping with venom as you send a guest a friendly smile. The material of your outfit digs into your skin in several places, uncomfortable and itchy.Sabo pats you on the hand, using your linked arms to guide you to the centre of the room. People in horribly expensive attires flit and amble by you, giggling, gossiping. The intricate masks you were all forced to wear, once pretty in your eyes, were a dizzying flurry of colours and ugly shapes. You wanted to tear the one you were sporting and stomp on it.Fighting a gag, you cover the lower half of your face with a gloved hand. The stench of a hundred different perfumes burns you as you breathe.“All we need to do is locate the target,” He slips his arm free, twirling you around with a smile brighter than all the lights in the room. Sabo walks backwards, holding your hand, even as you narrow your eyes at him.When you finally spot the dancing couples, you damn near wrench your hand lose. Were it not for the sake of appearances and the mission, you would have. But Sabo, in his pretty navy blue, white, and gold mask, tightens his grip, keenly aware of where your thoughts were headed.You didn't think you'd miss the sight of his scar, but alas, here you are.Stepping closer to him with an irritated huff, you rest your right hand on his shoulder. He holds your left carefully, his other hand on the small of your back. It's enough to make you forget the aching in your heels, the ridiculous outfit, the party...“Focus, now,” He murmurs, his ever-present smile widening. Thanks to your proximity, you can see the blush tinting his cheeks red. “The sooner we find him, the sooner we can leave.”“Right,” You breathe as you join the mass of dancers, moving to the music playing in the background. Like a shifting tide, you sway to and fro, searching the room as you spin and spin and spin and-“Could you please stop twirling me around so much?” You growl as he chuckles lowly so only you can hear. “I'm going to be sick.”“I'm sorry,” He says, sounding anything but. “It's just... you look lovely, you know?”And so, he spins you around again. You're now facing a grand staircase leading to the upstairs section of the castle, though it's hard to focus. Pressed against his chest, even for the shortest of moments, leaves you a bit breathless.“Up there,” He whispers directly in your ear. “You see him?”You don't, but he'll just have to keep guiding you like the gentleman he is so you can leave this place.“Fucking finally.”
2. it's okay
“I promise, I'm fine.”“Are you... are you sure? There's no harm in stopping to treat your injuries. I could even-”“Sabo,” You cradle his face, thumbs caressing his skin. For once, he doesn't shy away from you, spouting some half-assed excuse that all boil down to one thing: his scar.Tenderly, you brush his blond hair back and kiss his cheek. Grinning at the dazed look he gives you in return, you pat him twice gently before letting go.“It's okay,” You reassure him for the hundredth time, reaching for his top hat. “Though, this sun is really not sitting well with me.”Sabo laughs and, trading hats with you, shakes his head when you pose. His amusement morphs into concern when you wince, wrapping an around your middle, which leads to more placating words from you.
3. dangerous
“Don't look at him,” Your mother grasps your hand, giving it a firm tug to urge you into motion. “He is dangerous, you hear?”“Yes, mother.” You reply automatically, watching as the blond noble smacks her son in the face and rushes to the other woman's side. She apologizes profusely, stuttering as excuse after excuse topples out of her mouth. Her son, on the floor and nursing his stinging cheek, stares up at her with wide, blue eyes.
Dangerous.
He was dangerous.And yet, as you're dragged away by the arm, your mother's nails digging into your skin, you can't help but feel pity.
4. wanderlust
Sabo dreams big, you realize, hidden out of sight in your garden, within tall walls covered in leaves, roses, and different flowers.You remove a petal from the rim of his top hat, something he doesn't notice, listening intently as he speaks. There's... guilt and pity for this boy in your heart.On one hand, you want to help him and his brothers live their best life, but as a noble yourself... involving yourself would bring shame and who knows what else upon your family.Your family, who don't even know that you're meeting Sabo in your backyard. Sure, they question why your clothing is wrinkled and why sometimes you have dirt on your hands, but... well, they don't know, and you intend to keep it that way.“When do you leave?” You almost falter when he stops, your gentle hand on his knee putting an end to his rambling. You're sad – incredibly so – so you want to spend as much time with him as you can.“I'm thinking of leaving in a few days,” He responds softly. It was obvious he was excited.“Do you need anything? Money? Food?” You gesture to your home. “I can help you, you know.”“No, no, no!” He exclaims, tensing when you shush him with a panicked glance at your enormous home. No lights turn on, which means you're safe. “I... No, I'll be fine. I promise.”When you turn back to him, his breath catches in his throat. You're worried, eyebrows pinched and lips downturned. Your updo is in disarray from today's events, though no less beautiful.Sadly, you smile at him, gloved fingertips brushing a bruise on his wrist he'd acquired from hunting with his brothers.“I hope,” You pause, your teacher's lessons on speaking properly ringing in your ears. Your voice had been close to cracking and wavering from the emotion. “I hope that, wherever you go, that you'll be happy, Sabo. Truly.”He sits back, blinking at you.Lights light up behind you.You stand up at lightning speed, knowing that your time together is up.“I-I...” You grab his hands, ignoring the way your clothes carelessly hit the ground, “Please, be safe. Don't die. And please, come visit me before you go. I need to tell you something important.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The path ahead of you is dark. Unwelcoming. It's a void that extends towards you sinuously, reaching for you as you stumble and struggle to recover your balance.An endless, wordless whisper follows you, skirting along the edges of the track. The sound clashes with your erratic heartbeat.You crush twigs and leaves with every step, chest heaving with every breath you drag into your lungs.The path twists left, right, right, left, down...Deeper and deeper you go, sinking into its embrace.You can't fight it.It touches your fingers first, as if to gently coax you into giving in. Like a mother guiding you through the tender years of your life, it grasps your hand, tugging patiently. You wrench your arm loose, panic bubbling to the surface, heightening every one of your senses.You look up – through the haze, the gnarled, twisting branches, the pain – to him.
Help me.
Are you even there?
Tales, legends, myths – all of them coalesce at one point.God. The Gods. Her. They. Him.Your father.Pieces, tiny little fragments of sentences – a thought, a single question, a torrent of unbridled emotions - ghost past your bleeding lips. The language you'd held so dear to your heart is now choppy, unrecognizable. What was once a melody grates on your ears, the syllables divided and discordant.Something curls around your neck, squeezing it tight, thwarting any more attempts at calling for help. For him.“Are you there?”That voice is not your own.“Hellooooo...?”A sharp bark of your name wrenches you into reality.Blinking several times, you find a sea of green that stretches far beyond the horizon. It sways, dancing to the breeze sweeping through the valley, and you inhale deeply. The scent of petrichor enters your lungs and sits on your tongue, pleasant and crisp.When you turn to the source of the voice, you find a pair of mercurial eyes gazing at you. Brighter than the sun settling in their depths, they banish the remnants of the foul memory from your exhausted mind.
Ace.
You've...You retrace your steps with your wide gaze, itching to ask just what was happening.“You coming or not?”Oh. That's... that's right.You left.Facing him once more, you nod. Ahead of you, two stray wanderers carry on with their journey, one excitedly, the other carefully. Luffy skips ahead, leading a fretful Sabo, while Ace lingers momentarily. Willing your body into motion, you join him as he starts walking again, matching your pace to his. He eyes you as you sidle up to him, his bushy tails brushing the soil and ears flicking.“Sorry,” You mumble, thumbs rubbing the strap of your heavy satchel. The texture and its weight ground you, keeping you from floating away again. “I got lost in thought.”“That's alright,” The kitsune says, grinning at you. “Good thing I noticed, though. Otherwise, we would've left you in the dust!”Your chuckle is weak and a bit forced. Unease clings to your bones, making your limbs jittery with anxiety. “Yes, thank you.”Not wanting your mood to sour too much, you soak in the beautiful sight, absorbing every minute detail. In front of you, clouds frame the mountains tipped with snow. The grassland surrounding you is dotted with colorful flowers and other flora, lush and healthy. The sun beating down on your backs is a constant presence, though not unpleasant. If anything, you relished the warmth.“Yo, Ace! Look at that!” Luffy points at a flock of enormous birds above your heads, his smile growing. “We should eat one of those!”“We just ate, Luffy.” Sabo - a warlock, you'd learned after he'd woven a spell into his words to put Luffy to sleep – admonishes his younger brother. Whether Luffy hears him or not is a mystery, mouth watering as he watches the avian creatures.You press your fingers to your lips as Ace agrees loudly in order to be heard. He speeds up a little to lessen the distance between you all, and you follow, gripping your satchel.Now behind your merry troop, you study the brothers – more specifically, their brand new clothing. You'd worried about them when Ace tore his blue shirt on accident, wondering if they even had replacements. When your fears sounded true and he said no, you decided to spend the rest of your gold on them.You didn't regret it one bit.There wasn't much you could do for Sabo. He tended to his robes as much as he could with their lifestyle. To your surprise, they were practically brand new.Luffy and Ace, though...If you thought Ace's clothing had been bad...“How are you liking the shirt, Luffy?” You ask, smiling at the oni ogre with hair as black as midnight. “It's not itchy or anything?”He grinned at you, his sharp teeth glinting. “Nope!! I like it!”The garment in question is a sleeveless shirt that he can button or leave undone. You'd gotten it in a few shades darker than his red skin, which suited him.“Good,” You pat him on the shoulder, feeling much better now that you were on the move again.“These are also nice.” Ace adds, spreading his arm to showcase his own clothing. You'd gotten him a loose pair of pants and two long sleeved shirts, one in white and the other, purple. Figuring out how he could wear the pants with the tails was a bit of a hassle. Not because you couldn't sew, but because he insisted on watching what you were doing.And after years of isolation, that had been odd. Nevermind the fact it was the day you met the hyperactive and bubbly character that is Luffy.“I'm glad.” You laugh, skipping over a puddle. Just a little longer and you'd reach the mountains. “They were quite expensive, you know.”“Which is why we thank you for them,” Sabo says earnestly, smiling at you. Compared to Luffy, his appearance is the one you found most striking. The scar that covers his left eye had worried you. Then you saw the amber iris and understood what he was. Or, more so, what he'd done.You bow your head, waving him off.“You know, I'm glad Ace broke into your house.” Luffy dodges a swipe from the kitsune without batting an eye. You can't help the huff that escapes you, unprepared for such a statement.Suddenly, everything is cool and you can't see the sun anymore. You're at the foot of the mountains. That had been fast.Shrugging as you walk along the path, you reply, “Can't say I regret it, either.”Luffy nods wisely, humming. “Exactly. Now you're with us!”“You're only saying that because of the food they gave you,” Ace retorts.The oni perks up at the word food, one you'd been careful of uttering around these three bottomless pits. None of them exercised the same caution as you, though.“When do we eat, anyway?” He asks, excited at the mere prospect of eating. You wish you could see the sun, if only to guess the time of day, but alas.“We ate an hour ago, Luffy.” Sabo comments, poking his cheek.“...Yeah, and?”“We can't eat again! Not so soon!”“Yeah, we can!”The three of them bicker. At one point, Luffy tires of it all and reaches for Sabo, who'd been tasked with carrying the food. Sabo flees from the ogre while Ace chases them... leaving you in the dust.So much for that, you think, laughing as you run after them.(x)“We'll camp here for tonight,” You announce as you lower your satchel to the ground. There's a chorus of groans and sighs of pure relief as the three settle down, limbs sprawled. Rolling your eyes, you march over to the kitsune and prod him in the side with your foot, watching as he squirms away from you. When you have his full attention – ears perked, tails still, irises like two full moons – you speak. “We're going to need firewood, mister.”“Why me, though?” He whines, ignoring Luffy's snickering in the background.“Help me and none of you will have to worry about cooking.” You try, knowing that food was and will forever be their ultimate weakness.“Go on, Ace!” Luffy yells, lifting his head. “Help! I'm hungry!”“Then why don't you go?” He quips as he sits up, rolling his shoulders with a frown. You sit back, watching the exchange, well aware that he was going to follow you, anyway.Luffy sticks his tongue out at him, dropping his head on the ground with a dull thunk.“We'll get dinner set up,” Sabo calls as you begin to walk away. You send him a smile, leading Ace into a heavily forested area. He looks tired, though whatever complaints he was voicing earlier seem to have disappeared.“You'll be the first to get your food,” You promise him, watching his mood lift a little at the thought.Walking through the forest, you gather sticks for the fire. It had rained recently, making the task more tedious than it normally was, but you didn't mind it all that much. While you were sorting through sticks, trying to ascertain which ones would work, Ace simply dried the ones he found with his magic. You rolled your eyes at the trick, stifling an amused laugh.Ace notices, anyway. “Why give yourself more work when you've got magic?” He asks.You straighten, a bundle of sticks in your arms, and stare at him. “True.”With that, you jerk your head, grinning as he bounds over to you with his own firewood tucked under his arm.The walk back is not as comfortable.You can practically feel his gaze, curiosity radiating off him in waves, but when you glance at him, his focus is on the path ahead. This game goes on for a while.You focus on the ground.He stares at your face.You turn to him and are left wondering if you're imagining it or not.Finally, you fix him with a look in an attempt to convey your confusion, opening your mouth to speak. However, when you meet his eyes, you falter just long enough for him to beat you to it.“Why won't you tell me what you are?”You stop.Ace takes a total number of two steps before doing so as well. Crickets chirp and an owl hoots in the distance. A breeze drifts by, caressing your cheeks carefully. Raising a hand with a sigh, you rub your temple, balancing the firewood in your other arm.“Is it really that important?”“No.” He replies, the corners of his lips twitching. Slowly, he smiles at you, eyes crinkling in the corners.“And yet, here we are.” You shift, hefting the wood higher up on your arms. It catches on your shirt awkwardly, something you remain heedless to. “Making it important.”“I'm just curious,” He says your name in the same way one would address a child, though you think that might just be the anger rearing its ugly head. You want to be mad, tell him it's none of his business, but... you can't. You don't want to create tension where there needs to be none.You could deal with this like adults.“Ace,” You lessen the distance between you two, sighing. If you could just get him to drop the subject completely... hah, that would be the day. Ace, giving up on something?“Does it really matter?”That's really not how he works.“It does to you if you like to keep it a secret.” He points out, tails beginning to move idly.“Perhaps,” You state firmly, tossing the wood in your hands aside. It clatters noisily as it hits the forest ground. Ace watches each stick, an explanation with an apology tied into it for his prodding on his tongue.“Or maybe not.”His thoughts come to a screeching halt when you suddenly leap, almost displacing the very air around you. In the moment it takes for his eyes to widen, your hands are on his chest, pushing him against a tree. His back slams against the trunk with a resounding boom, pain exploding in the area. A stray piece of wood scrapes the skin of his cheek.Instinct overthrows all logical thought. Claws sharpening and hands poised to defend himself, he yells. His nails dig into your side, yet you are relentless, unflinching.The sheen of unshed tears sends a jolt of alarm through his body.“I don't know why you're so curious,” You start, chest heaving, your grip like a vice. Ace's breathing is as erratic as yours. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple as he watches, pupils two small pinpricks of black. The kitsune shifts, biting back a grunt of pain.“I-”“There were stories of a being who believed themselves to be invincible.”“Wha-” He grabs your wrists, wheezing when you loosen your hold. Your keep your hands on him, though, your piercing gaze keeping him pinned.“I liked helping humans. I did. But I enjoyed the praise and gifts even more.”You release him, lingering for a moment. Ace's feet meet the ground without a sound.“And then I lead an entire family to their deaths.”Sniffling, you step back, fists at your side. You dig your nails into your palms, trying to reign in your anger.“I held their youngest as she left this world. She asked about her parents and all I could tell her was that I couldn't find them. Their bodies were four feet away from us.”Ace whispers your name helplessly, stunned.“The reputation of the people I considered family was ruined. I was shunned, rightfully so, and left to fend for myself.”Trembling in your spot, you reach for his face, fingers tracing the scratch on his cheek and healing it. His heartbeat stutters as he holds his breath.“So, tell me.” You ask, “Do you still want to know what I am?”And then, you leave, gathering your firewood.Ace hesitates, frame glued to the true and his cheek tingling. Every fiber of his being, down to his very core, was screaming at him, instincts wild and obnoxious in his mind. When he manages to calm down, the forest is deathly quiet.(x)“Ace!” Luffy whines, the sound high-pitched and shrill. “What took you so long? And you, too! I'm starving!”You and Ace drop the firewood, surrounding the pile with stones, oddly quiet. Sensing your sour mood, Ace half-heartedly scolds the oni ogre. Sabo is on top of the bag with all the food, gaze bouncing from you to Ace. The kitsune shakes his head. Understanding, Sabo distracts Luffy with the sweet promise of a good meal, handing you the food.You rummage through the bag with practiced ease, extracting meat and other goods for whatever you've planned for today. Sabo had been too busy fending Luffy off by himself to really prepare anything, but you didn't mind. The ogre was a force to be reckoned with, hungry or not. Ace is content with the idea of lurking in the shadows for a minute or two, the throbbing in his spine a constant weight on his mind. He takes note of the tension situated on your shoulders and instantly regrets prying. Again.
Do you still want to know what I am?
“It's not a big deal,” You ensure the strap of the repaired bag containing the food is taut against his body. Nodding to yourself, you present him with bread, cheese, and other goods for his brothers and himself. Your eyes are downcast and your voice is low. Too low. “I'm not going to hurt you or anything.”“I'd like to know, though.”
You sigh. The eye-contact is tense for a fraction of a second.
Then, you huff, pulling on the bag one last time before letting him go.
Sometimes, he cursed his overly curious nature; he couldn't help it, but he did know when to shut up. Most of the time.“I'm sorry,” He murmurs. The only sign you provide to let him know you've heard him is a nod.You cook dinner, trying your best to ration yet keep the three of them satisfied. Luffy still demands more, even when you tilt the pot and show him there's no food left. He complains, though is appeased when you toss him a chunk of dried meat. That quiets him for the rest of the evening.Sabo and Luffy go to sleep eventually. Ace and you stay up, sitting by the crackling fire. Sparks pop and jump, the sound soothing him somewhat.“Does your back still hurt?” You ask softly, full of remorse.“Nah,” He lies, grinning at you.With a noise of irritation, you disappear again. He tries not to jump too visibly when you smooth your hands over his back, feeling for the damage you caused. Releasing the air trapped in his lungs, he allows his posture to cave, rubbing his face.“You sure are fast,” He throws out there, not expecting a reply. You huff.“So are you.”Warmth spreads along his limbs and Ace closes his eyes, basking in the sensation. It's reminiscent of days spent in hot springs with his brothers when the heat of the water melted the pain and anger away. If he tries hard enough, he can hear a younger Luffy squealing with joy as he dives into the water, Sabo trailing after him.“I didn't mean to hurt you.”Thinking you're moving to return to your spot across the fire, he looks around, only to find you occupying the space beside him. Ace clears his throat, cheeks burning as he scratches his cheek.“It's fine,” He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees as he observes the flames dance, much like his own magic. “I know sometimes I can be a bit... much.”“It's just your nature, though.” You argue, a knot in your stomach as you thumb the fabric of your pants.“Not much of an excuse.” He says with a shrug.The conversation lags.A part of you is happy that you haven't destroyed whatever friendship you shared with him. The other part is still reeling from today's events. You had not meant for any of this to happen. In fact, you were having a pretty great day... and then, he just had to ask and...You couldn't do it anymore.“I hope... I hope you believe me when I say that I would never hurt you or your brothers.” You murmur.Ace cocks his head to the side, thoughtful. “I know.”……“Anyway,” You breathe, standing up with a little hop. Dusting yourself off, you bow your head. “I think I'm gonna go to sleep, now.”“Alright,” He says, giving you a mock salute and a crooked smile. “I'll keep watch.”“Wake me in four hours. I'll take over, then.”“Sure,”Your heart hammers an unsteady beat against your sternum, so aggressive you fear it might crack.“Goodnight, Ace.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A keen wind howls ominously, the gale slipping through the cracks and large holes covering the walls. The wooden rafters supporting the ceiling of the baronial room are rotten and creak with every gust that beats against them.You stare, your yellow eyes blinking slowly. Mosaics stretch from floor to ceiling in front of you, the colorful stones dull and somber. Some have been plucked right off the wall, either by age or the treacherous weather. Others remain, struggling to form what once was a beautiful picture.A goddess cradles her infant to her chest, a golden tear on its way down her cheek. Her eyes are missing and the paint from other stones has mixed with her skin. Behind her, winged beings drape a long iridescent cloak over her shoulders, their expressions ones of happiness.The child doesn't have a face.Rain pelts down on the sagging ceiling mercilessly. The noise is thunderous, loud enough to drown whatever sounds you make.“Fuck, what the fuck is this shit-” A pause, and then, “I'm going to fucking kill this piece of- shit!”But not the sounds he makes.Wryly, you smile, your perch on the stone altar cold and uncomfortable. There's a boom as the hunter struggles to lift the beam of wood keeping the doors shut.Running your hand along the edge of the altar, you think, nails digging into the cracks. Your eyes remain on the faceless image of the child.You'd always wanted to see one of these sacred churches. While far from its prime, it was a good and holy place. You didn't particularly fancy the cold earth. Or a river. Or fire.Benches sat scattered around the room, some upturned, others in their rightful place. Banners and flags hung from the ceiling and walls, the rounded, golden hoof a stark contrast from its faded red background. Reaching up slowly, you rub your back, fighting the urge to jump when the doors suddenly slam against the wall.Calmly, you turn around in your seat, tearing your gaze from the mosaic and focusing on the hunter. Thunder rumbles behind him and a crack of lightning illuminates the room in pale light.In those few seconds, you study him.Rain drips from the wild red hair not glued to his forehead and onto the floor. Panting, he'd peeled back his goggles, allowing you to see his amber eyes. His entire face had been set in a glower so dark you were honestly a little impressed. Long, dark robes hung from his body, weapons hiding under the cloth or in plain sight for people to gawk at. Strapped across his chest sat a flintlock. You'd caught a flash of red wrapped around his middle.“You took your time,” You hop off the altar soundlessly, gliding along its side gracefully. You grin, watching him shake off his clothing and his torch before attempting to light it. Moving to the far right of the room, you say, “I didn't think you were so committed to the World Nobles, hunter.”You spit the word like it personally wronged you, nails dragging on the wood of one of the pews.“Shut the fuck up.” He lights his torch and brandishes it. Its light chases away some of your cover, and you pause, ducking behind a bench. The red-head swings it to and fro, eyes narrowed as he searches for you.Scoffing, he shakes his head and focuses on the doors. His boots squeak as he shoulders them shut with a grunt, smirking to himself. You raise an eyebrow, keeping your body lowered.When he walks toward the opposite wall, you roll your eyes, realizing what he was doing.“Those doors won't keep me from leaving, you know.” You keep your voice level as you run back to the altar. The echo in here helps keep him from pinpointing your location.The hunter scoffs again.“Go on, then. Fucking leave.” He raises his voice near the end, stopping to scour the darkness with his wicked smirk. When you don't respond, he turns back to the torches on the walls. He raises his own, waiting for the flames to spread. You scowl as light fills the room. “I doubt you can even open the doors. Shapeshifters aren't capable of much when you really think about it.”He moves onto the next one. You keep to the shadows. Both of you circle each other like two predators as he strips you of your strongest weapon.“And what of you?” You slide under a pew, disturbing the debris and sending a cloud of dust into your face. “What are you without your weapons?”There's no point in hiding when he's going to find you.You jump, the lustrous moonlight streaming through the broken windows and holes sending your shadow dancing. He sees you, you know he does, and yet he carries on with his quest. Flames flicker and pop as he lights each and every torch, torturing you.You keep hiding.“I'm what you can never be.” His cruel words cut through the tense atmosphere. The hunter's voice is brimming with malice and sickening amusement.“Oh?” Your chuckle bounces off the walls. When he ventures closer to the shadows on the other side of the room, you sneak right past him. His eyes widen as you brush his front, golden eyes clear as day, and laugh again when he inhales sharply. “And that is?”“Myself.” He tries to find you again as you sit upon the altar.Silence reigns as he finishes his task, looming over you. You feel your heartbeat pick up its pace and your breathing quicken. You stare at the infant. The crying mother.“Doesn't sound very fun,” You utter, the last vestiges of darkness fading away, back facing the hunter. He steps towards the center of the room, tossing his torch on the tiled floor. It clatters noisily.A part of you worries he might set the place ablaze. The other doesn't care anymore.Finally, you face him.In this lighting, it's easier to see him.He's tall, far taller than you, broad-shouldered, and his body appears to be pure muscle under those robes. Someone a long, long time ago would have told you he was built like a king's guard. Even with the distance between you two, you can feel unbridled power radiate off him.Jerking his head to the side, he forces his red hair out of his eyes, glaring at you. Your gaze drops to the jagged sword in his hand as he tosses his goggles to the floor. His other weapons remain in their holsters.When you meet his eye again, your hair and eye color have shifted. You expect surprise or disdain to pull on his features, but all he does is arch an eyebrow, stance wide and poised to attack.You change your hair's length and give yourself fangs, grinning at him as you grip the edge of the altar.“Not impressed?” You ask.“Not in the least.” He responds. You shift when he stalks forward, pace steady, the wet sole of his boots making shrill noises against the floor. Sighing, you hop off the altar.“I wonder...” You approach the few stairs and step down one, stopping. “...is there anyone that's piqued your interest in town?” Your steps become heavier as your physique changes. His eyes rove your figure.“Could it be...” Blond curls frame your round face with a flourish. Freckles dot your skin as you blink, once, twice, and your eyes change to green. “...the pretty barmaid?” Your body grows in size and your voice deepens, black hair tumbling down your back. “The blacksmith?”He doesn't react. His pace picks up.You climb down the second step.“Is there anyone you miss?” You ask, voice rising in pitch. Whether it's your own or someone else's, you don't know. “Anyone you wish to see one last time? Anyone you wish you could apologize to?”Your amber eyes return, burning like the flames shedding their light on you both.The hunter stops, that smirk still on his face.“If I missed or wanted to say sorry to anyone,” He speaks in a low voice, the words leaving his mouth harsh compared to your light tone. “Do you think I'd be a beast hunter?”“You must have someone in your life,” The third step and you're on the same level as him. You twirl, the corners of your lips quirking as you glide your fingers against the pew. “Someone you care for.”He snorts.You slide your hands along your front, ignoring the erratic beating under your fingertips.“Tell me one thing,” He pauses, leaning heavily against one of the benches, studying his sword. “Do all of you sick pieces of trash walk around naked, or is it just you?”“I'm never bare.” You sigh, padding over to the torches, eyes trained on him. “I wear people's faces... their bodies... their smiles... I feel their happiness, their sadness, their anger... I shed their tears and the same blood.”“What the fuck do you look like, then?” He barks, nodding and gesturing to you.You point at the mosaic, waiting for his eyes to leave you in order to understand what you mean. When they do, you take off, climbing pews and jumping over debris.A gunshot rings out. You stumble, the force of the bullet throwing you on the ground. Blood splatters on the floor, coating your fingers as you bring your hand to the wound on your back.Footsteps head your way, the sounds rattling you. You struggle to stay composed, wheezing as you dig into your back and remove the silver bullet. With a huff, you cast it aside and watch it roll away, gasping through the pain.The hunter grabs a fistful of your hair and lifts your head, kneeling before you.“Show me.”Your vision blurs.Blinking rapidly, you scowl at the man, holding onto his wrist when he tightens his already vice-like grip. Biting back a groan, you flash him your amber eyes.“Kill me and be done with it.” You growl.“Heh,” He shoves your face into the floor, chortling when you try to lift yourself and fail. “Knew you couldn't get away from the very beginning, didn't you?”You inhale deeply, coughing from the dust that enters your lungs, tongue dry.When nothing else happens, you sink into the floor, releasing a growl that shakes your entire frame.Gradually, your form takes on its original appearance. The process starts in your feet and ends in your hair, which he lets go of when it undergoes a change. Without much thought or even a reason why, you bring yourself to your knees, glaring at him.“That's what you lot look like, huh.” He muses, resting his gun on his shoulder smugly.“No.”At that, he frowns.You gather whatever courage you have left.“There never was, and never will be, a real me.”With a speed that he was not prepared for, you grab his gun and pull the trigger for him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
They're an odd pair, those two.When the tall, imposing figure marched into the hospital, a child reluctantly trailing after him, you'd felt nothing but a sense of foreboding. It started at the tips of your fingers and travelled all the way down to your feet, readily affecting the areas it invaded. You felt the need to wring your hands, your heart beating just a tad faster, and you couldn't help but shift in your spot.The doctor appraises both figures from his metallic stool, arms crossed over his chest. Well-respected and adored by the people, he treated his patients with kindness and amiability. You admired the man for his dedication and his stubbornness when it came to helping others, even if they didn't want to get help.You, as his most recent assistant, could only hope to do as much good as him.Glancing up at the man, you put on your best smile. Whether he returns the expression is hard to tell due to the makeup around his lips and the shades. Not to mention the shaggy blond hair falling over his eyes and the crimson hood. He pulls that down as he steps towards you, removing the shades and tucking them inside his enormous black feathered coat. The outfit underneath is... interesting, to say the least. A simple, light pink dress shirt dotted with hearts and white pants.“Good day,” The doctor greets the two. He directs his gaze to child, who looks like he'd much rather jump out the window than be here. You feel a pang of pity for him. As much as you like your job, a hospital is the last place you want to be stuck in. And judging by how resigned he appeared, this wasn't their first time inside a building like this.On the other seat available, the child glares at the floor. You blink at the darkness you find in his gaze, feeling your heart's rhythm stutter momentarily. The feeling of unease only worsens when you bend down slightly to smile at him and his scowl deepens. He doesn't even meet your eye.While the doctor asks the man questions, you examine him. It's difficult with the spotted hat, but you take note of the patches of skin that appeared... bleached, almost. They disappeared under his shirt, so it was safe to assume that they cover his entire body.The boy's anger peaks when he notices.“You...” You whispered, taking a tiny step towards him. He curls in on himself, his stare never leaving you as you lift a hand. Slowly, you reach for him, eyebrows furrowing.This... this kid...Your fingers are millimeters away from his hat when the doctor screams. His stool clatters as it hit the floor.“WHAT?!”Flinching violently, you recoil from the noise, forgetting the child in order to assess what happened. Staring up at the visitor, you watch as his expression clouds over, anger pulling at his features.“Wh-why would you bring- you!” Without finishing his first sentence, he points at you as you straighten, panicked, “Call- call the authorities!”“What?” You breathe, glancing at the boy. He hops off the stool without another word, face hidden under his hat. There's a lull in the conversation as you sense the rage simmering under his skin. “Why? What is it?”“Why?! It's- Amber Lead Syndrome! He has it!” You open your mouth to reply, ready to de-escalate the situation, but are cut off by his frustrated yell. The man shoves you to the side, cursing and yelling about calling the authorities himself. You stumble, dodging both the man and child with a surprised yelp.“I- What the- if the disease was contagious, he would have it as well!” You yell after the fleeing doctor. Gaping, you search the room, taking in the frightened staff as they wheel and lead patients away. Voices fill the room, drowning your own. When you grip someone's arm, they shake themselves free, eyes wide. Nobody listens as you repeat yourself, throat hurting from the effort it took to be heard above the racket.“What the hell?!” Seeing as the chaos refused to subside, you were going to speak to the pair, but...The hospital was on fire.“Oh no,” You heaved, spotting them making their way through staff and authorities. The man with the large coat howled obscenities, insults, and threats, the boy tucked under his arm like a bag. He parted each crowd that surrounded him with an ease that you could only hope for.Amber Lead Syndrome.You tear off in the direction of the pair, pushing your way through the people you considered colleagues. They slammed into you in their panic, knocking you off balance several times.
What... what were you even doing?
You were losing them. Despite his rather impressive height, you couldn't really see the man anymore.
What am I doing?
Flames licked the walls and floor, tarnishing their pristine appearance. You followed the trail before it spread and engulfed everything, knowing that it was your only lead.With every step, you heard the same words.
Amber Lead Syndrome. Amber Lead Syndrome.
Kill the child. Contain the disease. Don't let it spread.
You skidded to a halt when you saw marines break through a door at the end of the hall.
A child. A simple child... and they get the marines?
Who does that?Lungs burning from the exertion, you shook your head, banishing the shock from your mind.You would get to them first.Determination surging through your veins, you took off once more, running down the stairs two at a time. People's faces blurred as you ran by, ignoring your overwhelming sadness and anger.
How... how could they just...?
You spot the doctor by the entrance, words flying out of his mouth rapidly. He points to the ajar doors.You don't hesitate, pushing him when he tries to get you to stop. The authorities, colleagues, and visitors gawked as you did so. Soon enough, the yelling doubled in volume.
I'm going to regret this.
If you were to turn around and tell them you were attempting to catch them, you could probably get away with little trouble. You'd be reprimanded for disrespecting the doctor, maybe given more hours... who knows. A voice in your mind whispered to turn back and forget this ever happened, but...How could you? How could you live with yourself, knowing that you might have been able to do something for them both?The townspeople, entranced by whatever had passed them, ignored you as you slipped by. You followed the murmurs and worried glances, sweating bullets and legs aching like mad.“...put me down, already!”There.You jog towards the voices, finding yourself near an alleyway. The distant yelling of the marines could be heard, and you feel fear rush through you. Panting as you enter the dark area, you stiffen considerably when spotting the two.“Excuse me,” You try, keeping your voice level despite your apprehension. Any wrong move and he might set you on fire. “Sir?”The boy struggled violently in the man's hold, lips moving, and yet... despite the obvious frustration, you can't hear his voice.“Sir?”The man turns around.From over his shades, he glues you to your spot with his glare, lips downturned. You freeze, feeling like prey under his gaze, the hand you'd placed on the wall digging into the bricks. Heart thundering in your ribcage, you watch as he faces you.…Seconds crawl by slowly. You're keenly aware of the drop of sweat rolling down your temple, leaving an unbearable itch in its wake.You could step back and run to the streets. You could flee.Slowly, he drags one foot forward. Your breathing picks up, his face only solidifying the idea in your mind. You expect to hear the clicking of his heel on the cobblestones, yet... there is nothing.It makes waiting for him to reach you all the more horrible. There's absolutely nothing for you to focus on except his eyes.Three more steps and he could drag you by the hair into the darkness. Two more steps and he could simply pull a gun on you and take you hostage. One more step and he could-Fall....He... fell.…And the lack of sound does wonders in terms of delaying your reaction. It's amazing how little events affect a person when there is no noise to deafen you....Still.You should...probably help them. Yes, them.The child is stuck under his arm.“H... okay, hang on, don't-” You ignore the tight knot in your stomach and the need to get away, speaking quietly. Approaching the two, you keep your hands visible for the child, who growls at you from the ground.“Get up, you idiot!” He yells from under the dead weight, squirming on the floor. The tall man finally lifts the limb, sitting up while rubbing the back of his head.Oh. You can hear them, now! Had your hearing suffered from all the yelling or...Listening, you realize the streets are now deathly quiet. Sweat beads your forehead as you resist the urge to check behind you, knowing you don't have much time. And now that you can't hear the streets, it's going to make measuring the seconds until the marines arrive feel that much worse.“Sir?” You try again, the child rising. When you see him tense and his shoulders hunch, you flinch and utter, “I'm- I'm here to help!”“What?” Both of them stare at you like you've grown a second head. The man, still on the ground, blinks owlishly at you.“You...” He starts, getting to his feet, “You're that doctor's assistant.”“...was, more like.” You correct with a heavy, defeated sigh. “It's too late for excuses.”“And you want to help?” He asks, arching an eyebrow. He procures a cigarette box from his enormous coat and lights one with a match. Shaking it, he tosses the match aside, inhaling deeply. Smoke curls upward, partially obscuring his eyes when he empties his lungs.Fighting back a cringe, you nod. “Yes. That's why I became a doctor.”You hear a snort, but not from the blond.Cocking your head to the side, you stare at the youngster. He has a smirk that is devoid of all humor on his face and his arms are crossed.“I will admit,” You begin, focusing on the man, “that I don't know much about Amber Lead Syndrome... for obvious reasons.”“Aren't you scared you'll catch it?” The child demands, a challenge in his voice. You accept it by raising your chin and pointing at them.“As I said, if it was contagious, he would have it as well. And even if it was contagious, I'm not leaving a child to die, not when I could have at least tried to help.”Silence greets you after that.“Okay.” The blond replies.“What.” The boy's gaze snaps to his companion. “Are you serious?!”“I said I was going to get you cured.”“You can't be serious.”“If I go back, I'll probably be detained.” You say, cutting them both off. “It's likely they assumed I was going to help you the moment I ran out of the hospital, so... why not just do it, anyway?”“That's your problem! Not ours!”“What's your name?”You give the man your name, stepping closer to the pair. “Yours?”“This is Law,” The man silences Law's protests by placing a large hand on his head, displacing the child's hat and ruffling his hair. Law keeps trying to remove the appendage but fails miserably every time, tiny fingers scratching the man's wrist. “You can call me Corazon.”“Very well, Corazon.” You smile, feeling a bit giddy when his own painted lips quirk slightly.This...This is going to be interesting.And so, you joined them on their journey.You spent your first few days with them gently questioning Law. He refused to cooperate at first, conveying his disdain through his scowls and biting remarks. Whatever information you couldn't glean at first glance or receive from Law was provided by Corazon. Though, even then, his knowledge was pretty limited.However, that seemed to pay off sometimes, because when Corazon made a mistake, Law would inevitably pipe up. He looked mortified the first few times, which did amuse you a lot.“How are you feeling today, Law?” You ask one bright morning on the boat. Corazon, focused on steering and keeping you all on track, listened in. “Is the pain any worse?”“No.” He replies. His gaze flits somewhere above your head and he immediately sighs, adding, “It's still the same.”“Did the painkillers help at all?” You ask, rummaging through a bag you've managed to steal. It's filled with supplies from the numerous hospitals your group has visited since the one you worked at. It was difficult, considering Corazon's tendency to attack when the doctors refused to treat Law. But, on the other hand... it was quite justified. If you were half as strong, you might have done the same. Maybe.“...yeah. A little.”You grin, finding the bottle and reading the label. “That's good to hear! These aren't too strong, and if they helped, you can take these whenever the pain is too much.”“...right.”“It's a good thing they're with us, huh, Law?” Corazon says behind you. You can practically hear the grin in his voice.“Ah, well,” You wave your hand, feeling a bit flustered. “I've done the bare minimum. If things... If things don't work out in the next hospital, maybe I can find something on Amber Lead Syndrome.”You stuff the bottle back in the bag, happy with your haul... even if most of the items you have are for Corazon. Not just because he fights with staff and officials alike, but... because he falls.A lot.Needless to say, you feared for him whenever you were at sea, what with his devil fruit and whatnot.Turning back to Law, you smile and pat him on the shoulder. He averts his amber gaze, the black locks of hair poking out from under his hat dancing in the wind.“So,” Corazon speaks again, and you face him, missing the way Law's body relaxes. “Where are you from, Doc?”“I was born in the North Blue.” You answer honestly. "I moved around with my family a lot, though.”“We're also from the North.” He replies with pleasant surprise, meeting your eye as he sits down. The wind would do its job now, it seems. You feel the boat rock a little more when he settles down, elbows on his knees.“Really?” You get a nod from Corazon. “Well, that's interesting. You know, I first started to get into medicine as a whole when we visited Torino Kingdom. Their medical knowledge is very advanced, and I benefitted from that experience a lot.”“Huh,” He purses his lips in thought. “Maybe we could visit it one day, right, Law?”“Sure.”You pause, laughing at the way Corazon sighs and shrugs helplessly, then press a finger to your chin. “Sorry if I'm not helping out too much, though.”“You're doing more than any other doctor we've seen,” He points out as his eyes move to Law. The boy, sitting at the bow of the ship and lost in his own world, watches as the waves lap at the hull. “He's a strong kid.”“Stronger than me, for sure.” You chuckle, nodding.…The gap in the conversation is filled by the sounds of the ocean. You listen to the water and the fluttering of the sails. The more you listen, the more you feel at ease.Nonetheless... You feel it's necessary to ask....“How... how long does he have?”You feel guilty for asking, so you whisper the words, not wanting to upset Law. Corazon's smile falls as he answers just as quietly, clasping his hands.“Six months, about.”“...”When you don't reply, Corazon tears his gaze from the boy and focuses on you again. His eyes widen when he finds you staring at him, irises burning a raging inferno of pure determination.“We're going to cure him.” You state firmly, nails digging into your knees to stay composed. You feel like you're going to burst.Corazon blinks several times at your revelation. Then, chortling and scratching his cheek, he nods.“Of course.”……“So,” You point to the list in your hand, “If things go south, I'll pick up more painkillers. I'm hoping to nab a slightly stronger dosage for you, Law.”“Why?” The boy asks, craning his neck to look up at you as he walks at your side. With Corazon at the back of your little group, you felt no fear, taking note of how people hurried along. It pays to be over seven feet. “The ones I'm taking work fine.”“They are, yeah.” You stuff the list in your pocket. “However, I know you're taking more at night in order to sleep.”Law attempts to hide his grimace by scrutinizing the people walking by you three. You catch him and pat him on the head, grinning. “I'm not mad, silly. I just want the ones we have to last and for you to sleep comfortably.”“Hm.”“Also,” You tap the rim of his hat. “I want you to tell me when you're not feeling well or something isn't working for you. A smart kid like you shouldn't be hiding things from a doctor. It's silly.”“Hmph!”“Anything else you need, Doc?” Corazon asks, leaning down an absurd amount so that you can see him in your peripheral. He was that much taller than you. At least three feet, you think. Pitch black feathers brush your back and you straighten slightly.“Nope!” You smile up at him. Then, thoughtfully, you tack on, “Well, actually... I might need more bandages and ointments.”Law snickers to himself after you finish, pressing a hand to his mouth to muffle the noise. Corazon delivers a hard flick to the back of his head, earning a growl from Law. “You. Shush.”“It's not my fault you're a total klutz!”“No, definitely not.” You agree, shoulders bouncing as you laugh at Corazon's betrayed look. “Oh, don't look at me like that. You know I'll always treat your injuries, regardless of how you get them. If you don't want me to laugh, just tell me some tall tale and we'll go from there.”At that, Corazon releases a deep laugh. “Maybe I will do that.” When he meets your eye again, you almost trip, feeling your cheeks heat up. You ignore the way your stomach flips and return his kind smile, shrugging.His clumsiness must be the only contagious thing, around here.“So, Doc!” Corazon starts as you patch up his shoulder after another unfortunate accident. That is, after he set it on fire... again. “Answer me a question.”“Sure,” You pluck the cigarette from his fingers and toss it in the ocean, heedless to his protests. He notices your unimpressed face and drops it, heaving a sigh.“Do you like bread?”“Pft-” You bite your lip, dabbing some ointment on the burn on his neck. How he even managed to ruin your work for the third time today was beyond you. Then again, he did seem a lot more distracted lately....Did he have something on his mind?“What kind of question – oh...” A seagull shrieks in the distance. “...you're serious?”Corazon nods curtly. It reminds you of the day you met. Lips set in a frown, eyebrows somewhat knitted... the unwavering gaze.He... he really isn't joking around.Clearing your throat, you direct your attention back to his neck, resuming your task.“I... I guess?” You say, unsure, immediately regretting it when he groans loudly. Corazon throws his head back, eyes screwed shut. Baffled, you turn to Law, hoping to get some answers. You see his lip has curled as if he too was disgusted by the mere idea of bread.“No way,” Laughter bubbles up your throat, weak and shaky at first. Then, as the realization sinks in, you start to laugh harder. “You- you guys don't like bread?!”“No.” Law answers. His nose scrunches up adorably. You would have commented on it, but there are apparently more pressing issues at hand.“Wha- how?” You demand.“We could've had so much, Doc.” Corazon laments. “All of us, from the North Blue... our bonds made stronger over our dislike for bread.”“So, what, just another thing in common?” You retort, feeling your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile is. “That's... you guys are hilarious. Why don't you like bread?”“It's just gross.”…They said it at the same time.You forget Corazon's injury in favor of keeling over and cackling like a madman, hands on your belly. Corazon tries to get you to listen as he explains exactly why, but you're a goner by then.……It's been six months.The blotches on his skin are much more apparent. Law has periods of fatigue that leave him rather weak. He tries to hide it, but you can see the pain the disease is causing him. The milder painkillers you saved for the journeys. When it was time to sleep, you had him take a stronger dosage so that he could at least try and rest. More than once, you'd also give him a sleeping pill.The pain would flare up occasionally, especially in his legs and chest. You did what you could, massaging the muscles and carrying him around when he couldn't carry himself.You remember the first time you picked him up. Corazon had laughed at Law's indignant squawk and your cheeky grin. And, even though you had spent far less time with him......well, he also dropped the “Doc” title. Both of them did.And, while your reaction was a lot less dramatic than Corazon's, the adoration and joy you felt were immeasurable. You hugged Law for a long minute, a gesture he timidly and awkwardly returned, patting you on the back.When you pulled back, his cheeks were red.Now, with his symptoms worsening and no luck, you... you were at a loss, much like Corazon.
No doctors would help.
With his head on your lap and his hat in your hands, you thought about Law and his predicament. There was a small hole on the rim of the hat, one you were mending with slow, deliberate movements. Law had almost blown a fuse at the sight of the damage, but you'd assured him that you could fix it.And so, that's what you were doing. You wanted to think about his reaction in the morning when he saw that everything was fine, but...You pull the needle through the material one last time, tugging until the hole was no more....you were worried about Corazon.Said man was sitting on the edge of the cliff overlooking the void that was the ocean at this time of night. He hadn't moved or spoken since Law had gone to sleep.You were too afraid to disturb him. Instead, you delicately place Law's hat back on his head and lie down beside him.Your sleep is fretful. You dream of curing Law's illness and going wherever he and Corazon take you. You dream of teaching him about medicine, even if his knowledge seemed to rival yours at times. The kid was a genius.At one point, you hear Corazon's voice.What you believe to be his voice in your dreams is the real thing.“...That time you stabbed me... it didn't even hurt...!” His voice, broken, tore right through you, gutting you. “You were the one that was hurting...!”He didn't even seem to realize that you were watching him, eyes like plates.Gently, the man touches Law's cheek and struggles to his feet, stumbling to his previous spot.Without thinking twice, you follow, careful not to disturb Law. He was oddly quiet. You hoped you didn't wake him.Corazon sits down, shoes bumping the earth as he swings his legs. You approach slowly, the grass rustling under your feet as you rest a hand on his trembling shoulder.Your touch put an end to his quiet sobs, though not his shaking. He hides his face, his hood and hair providing the perfect cover.You take the spot beside him and promptly wrap your arm around his shoulders.Admittedly, it's a bit of a challenge, considering his abnormal height. Your arm slips awkwardly the first time, something that earns you a weak, watery chuckle. You didn't even have to make a joke to cheer him up.Wiping his tears away, he chortles some more when he sees you shrug.“You're too big.” You say in order to fill the silence. Corazon presses his lips together, laughing.“Here,” He grabs his coat and lifts it, gesturing for you to scoot closer. You do, marveling at the warmth that wraps itself around you when he lets it fall. Snuggling into the strange garment, you close your eyes and lean on him. His arm encircles you, hand settling on the grass on your right.You confiscate his booze. He doesn't argue.“Don't want you falling off the cliff, now do we?” You joke, shaking the bottle. Its contents swish back and forth.“No, of course not.”“Because, as you know by now, I'd have to fish you out of the water.” You put the bottle between your legs. “And, as you know by now, I'm not the best swimmer.”Corazon chortles again and nods, raising his hands in defeat. “Of course.”“Good.” You breathe, lips stretching into a cheeky grin. “Glad we agree on that.”You say nothing else, giving him time to compose himself after crying for who knows how long. He sniffles, his chest expanding under your ear. It rocks you back and forth sharply, something that amuses your drunk companion. Corazon shields you both from the cold with his coat.You press yourself closer to his side. His hand settles on your hip.After another fifteen minutes, you make a soft declaration.“We're going to save him.” Corazon's breathing hitches momentarily. You hear his strong heartbeat pick up its pace. “We're going to save Law.”Corazon mumbles your name, almost incoherent as emotion threatens to overwhelm him again.“Our luck will change.” You carry on, grasping his free hand, and squeezing it tightly. “There is still time, Corazon. Who knows, tomorrow could be our lucky day.”Cracking your eyes open, you look into his. Tears, ready to roll down his cheeks, sit in the corners of his eyes.“But what we can't do is give up on him, Corazon. I'm not giving up on Law.”He buries his face in your hair, slipping his hand from yours and hugging you. You do the same, throat dry and itchy. Your hands shake.“Say you won't give up on him, Corazon.”“It's... Rocinante.”“...Say you won't give up on him, Rocinante.” Please.“I won't give up on him.” He repeats, the words deadened. “I never will.”“Thank you.”You hold each other for another hour, engulfed in black feathers and warmth. Then, regretfully, you pull back and tell him to sleep. You're about to return to Law when Rocinante grabs your wrist and forces you to stay with him. You do so gladly.Imagine your surprise when your luck does indeed turn around the next day.Rocinante hadn't told you much about what felt like the most complicated life story you've ever heard. His brother, Donquixote Doflamingo, is the captain of his own crew. A crew that he and Law were a part of. Not only that, but Rocinante was also a marine, though he didn't seem to follow their strange dogma.In fact, Rocinante seemed perfectly fine with getting information from both groups.You, with a hand over your mouth, listened to Doflamingo inform him of the Ope Ope no Mi over a transponder snail. The longer the man spoke, the more your heart rate accelerated and your eyes widened. Tossing a handful of grass aside, you clutched a nearby Law to your chest, ignoring his voiceless protests.You and Corazon stared at each other.He was practically vibrating with excitement, a sentiment you shared whole-heartedly.The call cut off with a clack.The dam broke.Both you and Rocinante screamed the boy's name. The man picked up Law and spun around with him above his head, while you hopped in place. You couldn't believe it!Rocinante went over a plan of action, contacting the head of the marines, and......you were off.You were going to save him.You listened to the call with Law beside you, hands on his shoulders, when, out of the blue, he began to pant. You felt the way he shuddered as he gripped your pant leg and tugged urgently.“Law?” You ask, urging him to look at you. “Are you okay? Is the pain worse today?”“I..” He shakes his head, eyebrows pinched as he screws his eyes shut. He purses his lips, bending over slightly, blinking a few times..Then, without warning, he falls into your arms. Rocinante finishes seconds after, his smile dropping when he sees you shaking the boy with a hand on his forehead.“He-he's burning up!” You exclaim, horrified. “Quick, get me the blanket!”You and Rocinante bundle Law up to the best of your ability, rushing to set sail as if the devil was at your heels. You're shocked to see that Rocinante doesn't fall once.“Stay alive, kiddo.” You murmur, keeping Law's hat on his head as you cradle him to your chest, boarding the ship. He makes a pained sound in the back of his throat. Panic rising in your chest, you press your forehead to his. “This isn't over! Not yet!”(x)The trip to Swallow Island is atrocious.Hands braced on the railing, you keep an eye out, braving the rain and waves. You rise and fall with the ocean, lightning splitting the skies with a vengeance. Thunder rumbles above you, so strong it reverberates in your chest. It feels like you might split open any minute.But, in the end, you make it.You both scramble off the ship. You'd ordered Rocinante to keep Law close so that he would be protected from the weather and the cold. He did so, which most likely saved Law from falling into a worse state. In addition, the warmth did keep the fever from worsening.A small victory.“Stay with him,” Corazon orders. You and Law sit down on the snow, hidden from view. You, huddled with the small boy, nod and send the man what you hope is a reassuring smile.“We'll wait for you here.” Before he pulls back, you grab his hand. “Be safe. Don't fall.”Law and Rocinante manage a smile. Another victory.Rocinante goes with a small salute, leaving you with Law. You rub his back absentmindedly, watching him go with a heavy heart.“We're so close.” You mutter to no one in particular. When you speak again, you address Law directly. “We're going to get you cured, kiddo.” He doesn't respond, but he does rest his head on your front. You ensure his feet are covered with the blanket and hide your face in his hat. With him secure in your arms, you pray. For him. For Rocinante.……The rest is a blur.Rocinante returns, his gait wobbly but steadfast. He shows you and Law the fruit with a grin the has to hurt his cheeks from how big it is. At least, that's what you think. Yours certainly is painful.However, you, trained for this sort of nonsense, notice his injuries the moment you see him. You let him feed Law the fruit, then, when he collapses, you cushion his fall.You peel him off you with a grunt, opening his coat to reveal too many gunshot wounds.“What happened to you?!” Your voice is shrill. Rocinante smiles.“Damn it, what the hell were you doing, Cora-san?!”Despite your panic, when Law extends his arms towards him and yells 'heal!', you let out a watery laugh. Rocinante pats him on the head and gives him a message. You miss the rest of the conversation, too busy digging through your supplies.When you look up again, Law is gone.“WHERE IN THE-”“He's going to deliver a message to the marines.” Rocinante interrupts you before you can finish. You deflate immediately, shoulders sagging.“You're going to be the death of me.” You curse under your breath, pressing pieces of gauze to the most severe wounds. Grasping his hand, you make him help you by dropping the limb on another piece of gauze. “Like hell, I'm letting you die like this.”Rocinante chuckles, wheezing as his nose scrunches up. You roll your eyes.“You should've sent me, instead.” You grumble, swallowing harshly when you note that the bleeding isn't stopping. Shit. “Law is too weak, still.”“He's strong.” He argues, hissing when you press harder. Stop bleeding, damn it. “He'll make it.”“I know. And with his illness cured, he'll get even stronger.” You grin. “Better watch out.”“Hmm..”You work in silence for a total of five minutes. Then, realizing that his stupid eyes are slipping shut. “Stay awake, you big oaf! No sleeping until we're out of here!”Snow crunches loudly behind you. Startling, you focus on the source of the noise and so does Rocinante. The first thing you see is Law, on the back of a marine, and you feel your lips quirk.But then you see the man's face.Shock.Oh no.You stand between the marine and Rocinante.
Don't speak, Rocinante. Don't speak. Please.
“Vergo!”You almost facepalm. Then you hear a dull smack and... yeah, you deserved that one, Roci.Still, this is bad. That message... if he was so desperate to get it to the marines, then...Vergo removes the ribbon and reads the message. You brace yourself, even though you're absolutely terrified.“You could totally kick my butt.”You'd joked with Law about your strength – or lack thereof, something that Law rolled his eyes at. Now, you saw his eyes bounce from Vergo, to Rocinante, to you.What... what do you do?“I understand now.”The blow is instantaneous. So fast you only have time to blink.Vergo hits you hard enough to send you tumbling into a snowbank. Law screams your name, the Rocinante's when Vergo kicks him in the face and through a wall. You recover as best you can, tears in your eyes as you watch him beat Rocinante and throw Law.
What do I do?!
Vergo sees you sitting up and you bury your hands in the snow, feeling the ice bite into your skin mercilessly. You're scared. You're terrified. You can't move. He's getting closer.He's getting closer.He's-You see black.A shoe to the head is what wakes you up, groaning and rendering you immobile.“Tell me where Law is.”You gape, cringing when the person – a man, you think, twists his foot and pushes your face into the snow.Click.You gasp audibly, squirming on the ground, heart in your throat. There was a gun to your head. Where was Rocinante? Law? Where are you now?“He made it out of the cage already.”That's Rocinante! Groaning from the effort, you manage to look in his direction and almost cry out from the fear that surges through you. Blood coats almost every inch of his painted face, with more dripping from his chin. He spares you a one-second glance – a wordless apology – and addresses the person above you again.“He's probably under protection by now... on a spyship belonging to the marines!” He coughs up more of the crimson liquid, shuddering as he murmurs, “There's nothing you can do.”A girl's voice greets you next, confirming his words. Eyebrows creasing, you whisper, “No...” in utter disbelief, rage bubbling under your skin. No, he couldn't have done that. Law, alone? Alone on a spyship? With the marines? Why didn't he wake you up? What was going on? Who were these people?!A pink feather falls by your head.
Wait.
The rest of the pirates depart under a new command, leaving you with who you assume is Rocinante's brother.There's nothing you can do.“And this?” Doflamingo demands, gesturing to you. “Who have you picked up along the way?”“Let them go.” Rocinante barks. “No doctors would treat Law, so I kidnapped them and forced them to do so. Leave them out of this, Doffy!”“If they really are just some doctor,” Metal collides with your temple. From your peripheral, you see red eyes. You hyperventilate, thoughts forming incoherent sentences all centered around the gun pointed at you. “Surely, you wouldn't mind if I killed them.”“Doffy! Just let them go!” Rocinante roars, raising his own gun. Snow and blood fall from his body as he rises to his feet, aiming.“That boy isn't what he used to be!” He howls, enraged. His face is unlike anything you've ever seen before. “He won't pick up anything from a heaven-sent child that has strayed from the path like you!”“Just let him go! He's free!”
Please.
You beg the red-eyed creature glaring daggers at his brother, sobbing, teeth worrying your bottom lip.
Please.
Gunshots ring out, blending with your agonized scream.There's no pain.“No!!” You punch the earth, doubling your efforts to escape his vice-like hold. The weight on your head disappears, and you crawl on your knees – where, you don't know. You just want to go to-“NO! Rocinante, NO!”The demon wrenches you to your feet by the hair, ignoring your protests and pleas. You wail harder when you see Rocinante on the ground in a pool of his own blood, motionless.Off to the side, members of his crew haul chests and loot alike away, heedless to you.“You killed him! You killed him!”Hands grapple your wrists. You jerk to and fro, trying to throw him off, but to no avail.“He made a choice, doctor.”Using whatever air you can drag into your lungs, you announce to the whole world, “You killed your brother!”It takes every ounce of energy to stay upright as you drop your head, legs reluctantly bearing your weight. When he lets you go, you fall, concealing your grief and anguish by burying your face in the ground. The demon stalks from the area with his fists clenched, veins popping in his forehead. Someone throws you over their shoulder but you don't even fight it anymore. You dedicate your voice and words to cursing them all, hoping your words reach the heavens and some form of justice is served.Maybe it will be today. Maybe it will be tomorrow. Maybe it will be years before the universe decides to cooperate with you.But you will not give up.If Law truly is with the marines or if he's escaped, then there is reason to fight.Not doing so would dishonor Rocinante's efforts.When you are tossed into a dark storage closet to mourn, you glare at the men in the doorway with all your might. The door slams without another peep from them.Alone, in the dark, and barely conscious, you think back on the months you've spent at sea. You think of Rocinante, of the moments you shared, of the night at the cliff when he seemed to lose hope...You think. You weep.And, finally, exhausted, you sleep.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It's easier as the days go by.You and your little band of hooligans keep to the forest and the mountain range, thriving now that their pursuers gave up on finding them. You'd worried for Ace at first, constantly eying the surrounding area. All three of them, noticing your unease, made sure to assure you and remind you that there was nothing to worry about. And, well, eventually, you caved.You'd like to think it was because of Sabo's sound logic and explanations, but... really, it was Luffy's threat to kick your ass to prove that they would be fine that convinced you. No part of you wanted to brawl with the ogre, not after seeing him take down an enormous bear with a single kick.That had been an interesting day.Now, with the usual worries (food, clean source of water, food, traveling, food) bouncing around your head, you could focus on living. At least, that what Ace liked to say.“So... you don't want to settle here.” You say, staring at the trio as they all nod collectively, food in their laps. It was yet another day of traveling and fooling around in rivers and ponds for you all. Now, with the moon high in the sky and the stars twinkling, you sit around a campfire, eating dinner. Somehow, what each of the brothers had planned for themselves had become a hot topic.“Then...?” Making a helpless motion with your arms, you wait for them to elaborate.“I don't wanna be stuck here forever!” Luffy, bless him, exclaims with a determination that was endearing. You purse your lips thoughtfully.“So, you want to explore the world?”“I guess?” He pauses to think for a moment, humming loudly. When his rampant thoughts reach a conclusion, he reiterates his previous statement more firmly, Yeah, I guess so!”“Uh-huh.” You nod slowly. “Okay, that makes sense. Anything planned?”“Nope!”Fair enough.“I want to return to Dragon. He wasn't too happy with my departure, but I had to ensure that these two didn't get themselves killed.” Sabo announces with a smile, multi-colored eyes wrinkling in the corners.“The being that saved you, right?” Ace asks around a bite of bread. You were running low on that particular item, which was a bit concerning. Then, you remember Luffy's threat and force yourself to relax. Sabo confirms this fact.Sabo's was an unusual story. He was born human and into a noble family in a faraway kingdom. However, due to his insatiable desire for knowledge, he'd fled, only to be attacked by a World Noble. His injuries were so dire that he wouldn't have survived were it not for the being he merely referred to as Dragon. He wouldn't say much about him, but, well, if he saved a young boy, he couldn't be a fiend.“Forever on your quest for knowledge, Sabo?” You ask jokingly. Despite your tone, you understand what it means to make a pact with an otherworldly being, your gaze serious. Sabo, ever the sharp one, notices this and chuckles.“I believe so, yes.” He clasps his hands, elbows braced on his knees.“Very well,” You sigh with a soft laugh. “Just make sure you go back to Dragon soon.”“Will do,” Sabo sends you a mock salute just as Ace grumbles to himself.“You didn't even have to leave,” Ace claims, ignoring the way Sabo rolls his eyes. He snaps his fingers and, to your surprise, a symbol appears on Ace and Luffy. You assume that all three of them bear this symbol on their chests, though Sabo was fully covered.Ace rubs his chest with a frown and Luffy admires the glowing print of the dragon on his chest.“Last I checked, you were the one that contacted me through our bond, asking me for help.”“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Ace shoves the blond with a pout, eyebrows furrowed. Sabo grabs his wrist and tugs, displacing both himself and the kitsune, who yelps.They fight for a short while. You take this opportunity to admire the iridescent marking on Luffy's chest.“It's beautiful.” You say earnestly, grinning at the younger brother.“I know, right! Sabo did this when he came back so that we're always together, even if we're far apart.” The marking's glow intensifies momentarily. Then, the magic settles down again and it disappears.Straightening in your seat, you sigh, remembering the other two. They'd stopped bickering and were now sharing a hushed conversation amongst themselves.“And what of you?” You ask Ace, putting an abrupt end to their whispering. The kitsune turns to you, unblinking. His eyes shine like fine blades in the amber light provided by the flames.“Me?” Ace shrugs, the corners of his lips pulling upwards.“Up to no good, I'm sure.” Sabo murmurs, glancing away innocently when Ace deadpanned. He tossed a few insults his way, heedless to Sabo's snickering.“Like Luffy, I want to explore. Maybe form my own band of troublemakers,” The last word is directed towards the amused Warlock, who bites his lip. “If I really feel like it.”“Right.” You pause to mull over all this information, searching the stars for your own answer. “Well, that settles it, then.”“What?” Ace finishes the last of his bread and dusts his hands on his pants.“I'm going with you.” You declare, grinning when Ace does a double-take with his ears perked, mouth falling open.“Huh?” He stares at you for a total of three seconds then shakes his head, waving his hands furiously. “Hold on, where'd this come from?”“If you're forming your own band of troublemakers,” You gesture to yourself cheekily, carrying on even as it dawns on him. “I might as well go with you. You know, to keep you alive and whatnot.”Ace releases a loud laugh, a challenging gleam in his silver eyes. He smirked at you. “Really, now?”“You act as if you're not happy to hear that, Ace.” Sabo pipes up slyly.His comment prompts another from Luffy, who points out, “Yeah, Ace, your tails are moving a lot. Like a dog's!”This wipes Ace's smirk and cocky attitude from existence. His tails freeze and stick out awkwardly, straight as arrows, and his ears flatten against his head. The sight is enough to pull a hearty laugh from you as you throw your head back.“I am not a dog, Luffy!” He yells at the cackling ogre, a blush coloring his cheeks. It wasn't even that funny!When both of you don't stop, he sends you an exasperated look that wanes when he takes note of your smile. That, and the carefree air around you. You lean on Luffy without hesitation, giggling.Sabo scoots closer to him, waggling his eyebrows, and Ace launches himself at him with a growl.You keep on laughing.(x)“This is where we part ways, then?” You ask, scanning the area.You'd made it through the mountains with little to no trouble. Now, you were back in flatter terrain, a seemingly endless field ahead.After stocking up on food, you'd divided the large share into three portions. And, even though you were a group of two, Luffy was the one with the most food. Ace had protested, but, with a hand on his shoulder, you assured him you would both be fine.“It appears so,” Sabo responds breathily, gaze fixed on the horizon. A gust of wind sweeps by, emphasizing the silence hanging over your heads. All three of them seem to be thinking, facing different directions. Almost as if they were staring directly into their futures.“Well, then...” You muse, not really knowing what else to say.Noticing this, they find their way back to reality, laughing and grinning. You sit back and watch them interact without words, feeling slightly out of place.Sabo calls your name and you focus on him, raising an eyebrow curiously. The blond holds out a hand without another word, palm towards your chest. Lips quirking, you stand still so that he can chant an incantation. A strange tingling blooms beneath your ribcage. With a jerk of his hand, he tugs, the sensation intensifying and bubbling to the surface. He draws a circle in the air with his finger, etching the mark that they all share into your skin.Finger splayed, your hand hovers above it.“You...” You inhale deeply, refusing to let your voice tremble. “You're sure about this?”“Of course.”They all grin at you and Sabo reveals the markings on all their bodies. You drop your hand.“If you say so.” You mumble shyly.“Anyway!” Luffy yells, putting an end to... to that. “I'm gonna go, now!”“I should be heading out, as well.” Sabo agrees.“Don't get in any more trouble, Lu.” Ace warns, scowling when Luffy snickers and waves his hand. “I mean it, Luffy!”“I'll be fine.” Luffy retorts seriously, smile disappearing. Then, it returns, as if he'd never stopped grinning to begin with. “Besides, I have you guys!”Ace huffs, trying to keep up the concerned brother facade yet failing miserably. You could tell he was touched by his brother's statement.“He'll be fine.” You pat Ace on the shoulder, standing by him. Gaze lingering on Sabo and Luffy, you say, “Let's meet up again soon, alright?”Luffy, hands behind his head, closes his eyes and laughs. Sabo nods with a determined look on his face. Then, with a wave from the two, they take off, certainty and confidence radiating from them. Luffy tears off soon after, running with his arms spread. A portal opens up in front of Sabo and, with a final nod to you, he steps through it.“Any plans, mister?” You break the silence eventually. Ace shrugs and, like his younger brother, grins.“Nah,” His flippant tone almost prompts an eye-roll from you, but you refrain. With confidence you envy, Ace begins walking, tails swaying idly behind him. “Whatever happens, happens. Though, with you around, I'm sure we'll be okay.”Oh.Now you see why Ace could hardly remain angry when Luffy said that.Warmth envelops your heart as you gape at the kitsune. You recover with a shake of your head, scoffing as you trail after him.“Hey, your face is all red. You good?”“Of course!”“Really? You sure it's not a fever?”“Yes, Ace, I'm sure.”“Woah, wait, it's even redder now.” There's a dull thwack as you smack the hand straying to close to your forehead away. “Ow!”“I said I'm fine!” Jogging ahead, you curse your traitorous heart. It only beats faster when you hear him speed up as well, following you with a melodious laugh.
Curse you for caring.
(x)“So, this spell...” You begin one day, resting against an oak tree. Ace's ears twitch. Lounging under the sun with his arms spread, his eyes open to look up at you. “It keeps us all connected?”“Yeah.” He pats the spot beside him. You accept the invitation, abandoning the blissful shade and joining him in the scorching sun. It's not like you dislike it. It was just absurdly hot today. “If I were to ask where you think Luffy is, where would you point?”You blink, surprised by the sudden question. Hesitantly, you raise a hand, twisting slightly to point south.“Correct.” He sits up, removing blades of grass from his back and his nape with a proud smile. “Though, Sabo's good at what he does, so that's no surprise.”You look to the west, the spell whispering of Sabo's whereabouts.“That he is.” You mumble, awed by the spell. “It's... strange what warlocks can do.”“You've seen others?” He asks.“Some.” Though you don't mean to, the word that tumbles out of your mouth sounds curt. You fight the urge to grimace and gauge his reaction from your peripheral. Ace appears thoughtful, rubbing his chin.“I only know Sabo, which is why I want to go out and explore. He says warlocks can differ from each other... like, a lot.”You huff, amused. “That's true. Though all of them want one thing: knowledge. Your brother's no different.”“Yeah...” Ace hums, his gaze zeroing on you. “What about you? Any pacts or deals with otherworldly beings?”You laugh and, even though you loathe the idea bouncing around your head, you stand. “I know where this is going, Ace.” Behind you, you hear him release a hefty sigh, defeated.“I...” It's not that important. You said so yourself. “Do you want me to show you?”“...”When he doesn't say anything, you frown, craning your neck to glance at him....“A bug's going to get in your mouth, you know.” You lower your gaze to the ground.Ace beams at you, practically vibrating with excitement. The sight only makes you more nervous. When he notices your discomfort, he clears his throat, wiping the smile away.“Only if you're okay with it.”“It's only fair... after everything.”His enthusiasm is palpable at this point.“Okay... Okay.” He says, spine straightening and legs crossing. Gripping his ankles, his sits, waiting patiently.Taking a second to scan the area, you ensure that you are alone, breathing shakily.Maybe hiding it for so long was a bad idea, you muse, reaching for the buttons of your shirt. You undo the first button, heartbeat thundering in your ribcage. Each unsteady movement unearths the memories you'd so desperately tried to bury.You remember the little girl, with her gap-toothed grin as she grabbed your hand, thanking you. You remember brushing her off, ushering her back to her family boredly. Her parents, warier of you, gazed at you with caution. You ignored them. All you had to do was protect them and the rest of the caravan to their destination.Ace says your name.You remember the skin-changers. The words they spat to throw you off, to strip you of your boldness. The fear that they sparked as they changed into the villagers, tricking you. You'd almost killed an elder woman in your panic, your composure crumbling with each moment.She died in front of you, a hand to her neck as blood trickled down the wide wound.Then you heard the little girl scream.Their speed had rivaled yours, but only because you were so afraid of making another mistake.Your hesitation led to that family's demise.Ace calls you again, standing. He approaches you, the grass brushing his ankles.Their cruel jabs echoed in your mind as you held the child. She'd been bleeding profusely from a wound in her stomach. You dedicated the remnants of your energy into her survival, hoping against hope even as the light faded from her eyes.And then, you were shunned.Your fingers undo the last button and your shirt slips down your shoulders, revealing your white wings. Despite the burgeoning anxiety threatening to crush your windpipe, the relief you experience from freeing them is immeasurable. You become aware of the slight breeze when it caresses the feathers gently.When you turn around, your eyes are eerily similar in shade.Ace is frozen, hand poised, ready to tell you that you really didn't have to show him. Forget his curiosity. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable.Then, you just... did it.“You're... a nephilim.” He starts, knowing his words wouldn't be able to properly express his utter shock. “I was not expecting that.”Apparently, his reaction isn't the worst, because your shoulders sag. You manage to chuckle, blinking as you shake your head in disbelief. Your irises remind him of two twinkling stars.“It's not that exciting anymore, is it?” You joke, wings brushing the ground as you show them off. Carefully, you do a full circle, letting him see you. “I also didn't expect today to go like this.”“What do you mean?” Ace asks, lowering his hand. He sounds... faraway. Like he's not really paying much attention to your words. Then again, he hadn't stopped staring intensely at you since he saw your wings.“Don't tell me you didn't imagine me finally revealing what I truly am in the midst of the most dramatic battle.” You say, feeling your cheeks heat up.He blinks, once, twice, then grins at you, chortling. “Okay, yeah, fair enough.” Ace reduces the distance between you two, clearly admiring you, still. “But this is also fine.”His scrutiny is both nerve-wracking and soothing, in a way.“Final verdict?” You inquire, folding your wings.Suddenly, his fingers brush a few of the feathers. You tilt your head at him, puzzled, but he just... drags his hand down the length of it. “Ace?”Your voice wakes him from his stupor.He pulls back with a deep inhale, meeting your eye.“Incredible.”…“I mean it.” He places his hands on your shoulders when you only stare, flabbergasted. “Listen, you... might have made mistakes in the past, but that... that doesn't mean you aren't allowed to live.”Your brow furrows and you frown.“You can't let it chain you down.” He really wasn't the best at this, considering his own upbringing, but for you, he'd try. “And, besides... you know you made a mistake. If you believed that you didn't, well, that would make liking you a whole lot harder.” At that, your body loses some of its tension. You fidget, teeth worrying your bottom lip.“Right.” You exhale the word tremulously, bowing your head. “Right. Okay.”“I know it's hard to believe.” He squeezes your shoulders before letting you go. “But... trust me when I say you're not a bad person.”Clearing your throat, you try to keep the tears in your eyes at bay, rasping, “Okay.”You had wanted to tell yourself that. But then you'd remember, and whatever progress you'd made would fall apart again.Ace allows you a moment to recover, wiping your eyes and sniffling.“Thank you.” You say.Ace smiles.In the end, you use whatever daylight you have left to honor the caravan, just like you did every year. Ace joined you, telling you about his brothers. From embarrassing stories to what led to your meeting. You listened, not quite sure how to form sentences after today's events, but he didn't mind.At night, you kneel in front of a small shrine made of sticks and stones. You light up a small twig and light a fire in front of it.“I... don't know why I started doing this.” You comment idly, voice barely above a whisper. “I just... whenever I think of the little girl, I... I think of fire. Bright, vibrant, warm. But also a force to be reckoned with.”Pausing to feed more wood to the flickering flame, you whisper, “She would've been something like that, I think.”Ace sits by you, observing the fire, listening whenever you feel the need to get something off your chest. Being able to vent, to talk about your past, and to just... be, for once in who knew how long...It was liberating.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“When will you let me look at it?”Usopp looks at the back of your head, smiling to himself when he sees your meagre attempt at containing your excitement. You roll your shoulders, laughing quietly when he pokes your side to keep you still. It backfires on him in the end. He waits for you to return to your original position, rubbing the ticklish spot he prodded.“Soon!” He says, panicking a little when the paint looks like it'll shift. Smoothing a hand on your shoulder blade tenderly, he mumbles with a smile, “Soon.” Then, brush in hand, he keeps painting, hearing your breathing stutter then settle into its normal rhythm.“I don't know why I suggested this,” You sigh, drumming an improvised song on your knees. “You really are taking your time.”“That's the point, you know,” He quips back with little bite, dragging the brush down your spine. It makes you wish he wasn't so slow. Fiddling with the shirt in your lap, you bite your lip, trying to muffle your laughter.“Okay, then,” You manage. The wet paint on your back is somewhat uncomfortable and, in some places, it itches. Still. This was your idea and you were going to go through with it.“Will you let me paint something on you later?” You ask, gaze lingering on the porthole and, more specifically, the sun outside. It would soon be night time and you still had to do something for him.“Yeah,” He says quietly, clearly too focused to provide a more verbose answer. You don't mind. Though you were fond of them, the crew was a lively bunch. These quiet moments between you two felt rare in the grand scheme of things. It's probably what makes them so special.You ease into the silence that follows your conversation, closing your eyes, trying to ignore the tingling on your back.It's a long while before he proudly announces that he's finished. The room is tinted in a mixture of pink and amber and stars are beginning to show.Blinking, you banish the sleepiness clinging to your mind, shifting in your spot until you're facing Usopp. He turns around, showing you his back, leaving you a bit speechless.It's you.It's both of you.You're holding each other, smiling so wide your eyes and nose are scrunched up. You spend a few moments taking in your expressions, marvelling at how effortless it seems. Usopp had always been incredibly good at painting people's faces, but this was...Your hand forms a shaky fist and you bring your arm down. You'd almost touched it.Shaking your head, you look at the rest of the drawing. Between you two and in your hands there is rose, petals a deep crimson. You huff, remembering one of his comments about focal points.“Two characters make it hard for the viewer to find the focal point,” Your tone is teasing and light. When he realizes what you're talking about, he chuckles, shoulders bouncing. “Almost like a competition.” This time, you mimic his voice, leaning over him so that he can see your funny face. He rolls his eyes fondly.“That's right,” He states firmly. “Good to know you've been listening!”“Hmm,” You place a kiss on the back of his neck, admiring the painting again. He stutters and stammers, the tips of his ears reddening, but you're too busy to listen.When he's fully recovered from your small show of affection, he asks tentatively, “Do you like it?”You don't hesitate. Were it not for the effort he put into it, you would've kissed the Usopp on his back. “I love it. It's beautiful.” Usopp lowers his gaze to the floor, smiling goofily as his face goes warm. “If it was a competition though, I'd win.”Usopp squawks, scrambling in his quest to turn to you. “Nuh-uh!”"I totally would.”“I-no?” There is love in his eyes even as he denies the obvious, elbow propped on his knee and chin nestled in his palm. You scoff, though there is little doubt in your mind that you're mirroring his expression.You wait for the paint to dry, sitting across each other as you examine his hands. There are stains on his fingers, palms, wrists, and arms. Some confuse you, others you find amusing since he says he didn't even touch that colour. Grasping his left hand, you kiss a smudge of blue on his wrist, listening to him ramble about colour combinations.“Yellow is nice on you,” You mumble, cutting him off. Puzzled by the interruption, he tilts his head. Wordlessly, you point to a stain on his knuckle, giving it the same treatment.“You'll get paint in your mouth,” He admonishes with a creased brow, thumb rubbing paint off your bottom lip. You pucker up, earning a chuckle as he obliges, threading his fingers through your hair.When he draws back, you grin, leaning into his touch on your cheek. “Let me draw something for you, now.”He kisses you again.…...Your soulmate communicates through his art.You mean that in every sense and, while you know the universe needs to conduct its work, you wish you could meet right away.It all began with little doodles – stickmen with block-like shirts drawn on top, smiley faces, the odd gear here and there. As a youngster, you were entertained by the strange apparations, the exitence of soulmates a foreign concept. All you saw were the beginnings of an artist on your skin. In a way, you were a canvas with no limits. To a child, that was fascinating, because you never knew what exactly was going to appear on your body.There were no backward ideas about who or what they were. They were a person, likely on the other side of the world.And it was heartwarming to see your soulmate's development on your body. A constant reassurance. Every day, you sported his creations with pride, discussing them with your friends. They would snicker at your enthusiasm, though not out of cruelty. They'd also comment on their soulmates' drawings or messages, showing them off proudly.It was your daily routine. Wake up, grab the pen on your nightstand, press it against your skin, then falter. Because, despite the joy that sparked in your chest, you could never bring yourself to reply, not until you were nine.He'd drawn a heart on the back of his left hand. On your left hand.It was shaky, as if he'd had second thoughts halfway through. However, it was there, completed by a little arrow piercing its centre.While you were subjected to relentless teasing, you felt nothing but happiness. You'd snatched up a pen and shyly drawn a smiley face on your forearm, adding a little message.
Tell me about yourself?
Your request was not met with refusal, but... it wasn't acknowledged, either.The drawings kept coming, thankfully, but you could never get him to reply.
I like your drawings. Can you draw me a dog?
Bark!
You'd laughed at the speech bubble pointing to the wonky dog, its legs ramrod straight. It looked silly, with its mouth taking up most of its face, but you didn't mind. It was cute.
Thank you!
Often, you'd spend afternoons drawing with your soulmate, creating tiny masterpieces on your arms and legs. Flowers and vines that curled and climbed your arms, settling on your collar bone. When you were feeling goofy, you'd draw a mustache on your face, awaiting his reaction.One of those times, you received what you knew was a self-portrait, all with the addition of your joke. It was him, except he was pulling at a mustache, his expression one you'd see on a snobby noble.
That's really good!
Thanks..After that, whenever he deemed the moment right, he'd draw himself. He'd put himself in outrageous situations, something you found odd. Sometimes, he'd draw himself vanquishing a crew of pirates, or defending a young girl. Heroically, simply put. In his drawings, he was the strongest. He was the winner.Combined with his lack of a proper answer to your first request, it was suspicious. Then again, you were young, and while it didn't occur often at such an age, you did struggle with your perception of yourself.Self-loathing was never fun for anyone. What was truly the most concerning was the fact he viewed himself negatively. With how little he actually said, it was hard to comfort him. You tried anyway, though, complimenting his drawings and admiring the stories he'd tell.
I'm going to be a pirate!!
The day he scribbled that on your palm was exciting for him. Exciting, and terrifying, judging by the wobbly words.I'll come and find you. He wrote after, bringing a smile to your lips.
What if I find you, first?
I'll beat you to it!!
You giggled to yourself. There was clamouring outside, but you paid it no mind.
Okay. I'll be waiting for you.
Then, the door to your house burst open and tragedy struck. Years later, you learned to live your life in the shadows, waiting for the day you could finally break free from their hold.You hardly drew on your skin anymore, despite the skill and effort that your soulmate poured into them. When you were allowed a moment to breathe, you looked on as detailed flowers and sketches came to life on your body. More than once, you'd shed tears, palms pressed to your forehead as they bloomed on your wrists. There never was a day you could look away from his art, agonized yet enraptured.It was difficult, living in the streets of your town. Your home had been warped by the new ruler, though not superficially. On the surface, it was still the same beautiful place you'd grown up in. In the dark though, it was as if he was everywhere, his obscure cackling chasing you through alleyways.He thought he'd erased all those that would remember.He was wrong.You could never approach the light out of pure terror. The city was sick and you couldn't get caught up in it. And, as far as you knew, you had no one in your life. There was no one to trust. No one. Not after what happened.
Are you okay?
You were thirteen now.He'd asked that question in numerous ways. Each time, he would grow more and more concerned, urging you to reply. It was funny, how the tables had turned on you two, the universe playing with you as well.Finally, you could answer, the pen in your hand trembling.
When you become a pirate, will you really find me?
A large, black blot appeared beside your words. Then, hurriedly, he scribbled a few words under yours. You could feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, yet ignored them, sniffling quietly.
Of course, I will!
You twirled the pen, checking for danger in the surrounding area. Deeming the alleyway safe still, you answered, slowing your erratic breathing.
Do you promise?
YES!
Then, please find me soon.
You were pretty.Usopp had an idea of what you looked like. After asking, you'd described yourself to him as he scrawled on a piece of paper, asking terribly specific questions about your face.You indulged him, obviously amused, as you described your features. From your hair to the shape of your nose and lips to any blemishes. Usopp took note of everything and missed absolutely nothing.Of course, you were still young back then, and people were constantly changing. And though he'd recreated the drawing, hoping to make his image of you clearer, he kept the first drawing with him.Back then, he'd wished he could show you. However, he doubted he could recreate the portrait anywhere on his body without skipping some of the details. That, and skin really wasn't the easiest thing to work on.He sighed, scratching the back of his head as he studied the piece. The wind blew a little harder, ruffling his hair and the paper. Gently, he straightens it, tucking it close to protect it from the gale. The vibrant grass on the deck swayed, rippling like water.He'd made his identity known after receiving his first bounty, unsure of the reaction he wanted from you. Usopp wrote tidbits of his adventures on his arm, highlighting the battles he'd fought and won. Back then, the burgeoning weight known as anxiety and self-doubt plagued him daily. It caused him to lie, and while it was something he'd done all his life, it hurt. He didn't like lying to you. And he didn't like the lack of a response, either, thoughts running wild in his brain.Of course, he knew this world was far from kind to many. That last message of yours proved that you were in a tough situation.
Please, find me soon.
Usopp hoped he would.To his right, Sanji craned his neck, staring at the drawing as well.“We'll be fine,” The blond said to him after taking in his friend's expression. His attention torn from the drawing, Usopp looked at Sanji, who grinned knowingly, “You only look at it when you're really worried about something.”Even so, there was a gleam in his eye. The crew knew about his current dilemma with you, though there was little he and any of them could do. They'd comfort Usopp, tell him that it would all be okay, yet... he wasn't the one that needed comforting.Sputtering, Usopp pocketed the drawing carefully, waving him off. Just in time, too. Luffy had lunged at the transponder snail the moment Doflamingo (he fought a shudder at the name) answered.Smacking his captain on the back of the head, he scolded Luffy, attempting to yank him away from the snail.On his left arm, faded and smudged, your last message sat above his pulse.There was nothing else you could do.Though you fought the idea for years, there was no avoiding it anymore.The crowd erupted into cheers as the warriors stepped into the battlefield, weapons drawn. You clung to your daggers with all your might, eying the terrifying individuals spread throughout the arena. Above you, the sun beat down on your backs. Sweat bead on your temple as you prepare yourself, bracing for the moment you can leave.Years of thieving taught you a lot, but you were no fighter. Far from it, actually.When the fight begins, you brave your fears and remain defensive, avoiding the larger contenders. Water laps at the sides of the ring, little fighting fish swimming in schools.It doesn't take long before the weaker fighters are disqualified, toppling headfirst into the water. Splashes resound in your mind and spark fear in your soul, shaking you to your core. A burly man lumbers towards you, twirling his flail menacingly. Bending at the knees, you stare him down as his face contorts and he bares his teeth, eyes flashing.When his arm makes a wide arch above his head, you roll to the side, slashing him with the dagger. He grunts in pain, ignoring the blood spilling from his wound as he swings again. You dodge, hearing another fighter heading your way, and wait.Your second attacker charges at you and, at the last moment, you roll again. Both men crash, struggling to maintain their balance as the edge of the ring crumbles. Pebbles fall into the water and, with a kick at the smaller of the two, they too join the fish.Blankly, you watch, your throat tight as the announcer comments on your efforts. There's a mixture of cheers and booing, the audience torn as they judge the display.Ignoring them, you jump back into the fray, grip tightening around your weapons.
Remember why you're doing this.
You kick your third enemy into the water, lip bloodied and gashes on your sides.Remember why you're doing this.You stumble, scraping your knees on the dirt, yet manage to escape a fighter's onslaught. Using your left dagger, you block his attack, your second weapon forgotten as your hand latches onto his wrist. Pulling with all your might, you release a cry as you throw him out of the arena.
I'm almost in Dressrosa, now.
The message roots you to your spot, breath hitching as ice surges through your veins. Your heart pounds in your ears, drowning out the crowd and the clanging of weaponry.Daggers slipping from your grasp, you slowly trace the words with your finger, bottom lip caught between your teeth. Your vision blurs as you re-read it over and over until you're mouthing the words like a prayer.The announcer urges the crowd to focus on you, leading to the several warriors attacking you.You fend them off for a few minutes, memories assaulting your senses left and right until you keel over. You laugh quietly as you're disqualified and dumped into a chute under the colosseum, knowing that your soulmate and his crew were going to wreck this entire place.And that's exactly what it needed.That's exactly what everyone needed.The chaos is dizzying.Stuck in the chute with other warriors, you sit back as the new contest begins. You know there's a new contest because people begin falling here with you after a long while. It might have been a few days since you were disqualified, but you're not sure. That doesn't matter anymore, though, because now there's a devil-fruit in play.You itch for a pen or a marker, wanting to ask your soulmate a million things. The only thing you can really use is, well, your blood but... would that work? You don't think so... and you don't want him to worry himself to death, not when he's so persistent on checking on you.Sighing in defeat, you lean back, toys and other trash digging into your skin. You can hear the other warriors arguing, but you don't care.If he was anything like his stories, Usopp and his crew would pull the city of Dressrosa from Doflamingo's grubby hands.You keep this thought close to your heart, throat tight with fear, dread, and hope.It's a hideous battle.The birdcage steadily prowls towards the centre, carving smooth lines into the soil and cutting buildings as if they were of butter. You and many others have been freed from the chute. The sight of the straw-hats and the old king – your king - had nearly brought you to tears, but you pulled yourself together.You help people as much as you. Those that can't stand you carry. When people that seemed okay run past you, you order them to help as well. They do so while you search for anyone that might be stuck, heart pounding in your ears.After what feels like an eternity, you feel the earth beneath your feet tremble once more. The strings gain speed and you almost panic when you see people rushing towards it. They scream about pushing the cage back to buy more time.While you weren't the strongest, you help push with the rest, running towards the destroyed factory. There is arguing, yelling, and above all, overwhelming desperation that drowns out everything. You pull any that fall to their feet, urging them to keep pushing, even if they say they can't. Your entire body burns as if you'd torn your muscles to pieces, but you refuse to cave.After everything you'd endured, there was no way you could.Buying time for Luffy is the worst of it.You hadn't seen Doflamingo since he usurped the throne, but the mere fact that he is in the vicinity injects icy fear in your veins. Memories of the king attacking his subjects resurface. The screams of horror and the scent of blood assault you. Someone yanks your arm and you force yourself to focus on the present.When Luffy enters the fight once more and defeats Doflamingo, you collapse, shedding tears with the dwarves. You're so exhausted and so in shock, you don't even question their existence.Then, suddenly, realization crashes over you. You gently place the dwarves in your arms down, eyes wide.“Wait,” You cry, “Does- does anyone have a pen?! Anyone?!”“Why would you- a pen?”“Yes, a pen!!” You yell, breathing picking up. You need- you need to contact Usopp. You need to thank him and you need to find him and-A pen is thrust into your hands and you get to work, ignoring people's questions. Someone wonders how anyone could have a pen at hand, but you don't care. You have one now and that's all you want.In all capital letters, you write on your arm:
THANK YOU, USOPP, THANK YOU
The writing that greets your leaking eyes is shaky.
Where are you?
Your joy is immeasurable. You feel as if you might burst, holding your arm to your chest and crying from relief. People ask if you're okay and step back when you jump to your feet.
I'll find you, Usopp! Tell me where you are!
Those that know what's happening make a path for you. There are mixed reactions – there always are when it comes to soulmates – but you don't care.Usopp tells you where he is and you run.“You're awfully quiet,” He comments as you draw on his arm, brown eyes only on you. You're not as skilled as Usopp, not after scraping by for years, so your 'canvas' is smaller. You've ordered him to keep his prying eyes away from what you're doing and, well, now he's staring. A lot.You'd be nervous if you weren't so serious about your painting.“I'm remembering things...” You glance up at him to ensure he's not peeking, your expression woeful. “And, you know, doing this. But... mostly thinking.”“Anything you want to talk about?” He asks, using his free hand to push your hair away from your face.“Just thinking about home,” You explain, dipping your paintbrush in the bottle with yellow. “About what happened.”“Before, or... after?”There's mirth in your answer. “After. Always after.” You add a dab of paint to the yellow form on his arm, fixing a mistake. “About how we met, actually... God Usopp.”“Hah,” He shakes his head and then shrugs. “Yeah.”“I couldn't believe you were so injured, though.” You shudder at the thought of him, bandages all over his body and yet so... elated to see you. It had been fun trying to explain to his crew through tears that you were his soulmate. You were welcomed into their group soon after, though you weren't good at the whole piracy stuff. You did what you could to provide for the crew and, if the time called for it, for others that might need. Then again, that's what they all did.You were an odd bunch of pirates.“It was actually terrifying.”“Sorry about that.” His apology is met with a blank look as you poke his nose.“That's not something to be sorry about.” You scold him, grabbing the green paint and shaking the bottle a little. Cleaning the paintbrush, you set to work, adjusting your grip on his wrist so that you can do so better.“I know,” He whispers....“Okay, I'm almost done.” You announce after the silence becomes too heavy for you.“I can see that.”“I told you not to-!” His words demand your attention, but when you look up, you freeze, seeing his cheeky look and the way his eyes are purposefully on the ceiling. When you smack his arm gently, he focuses on you again. “Ha-ha, very funny.”“I had to.” He snickers, tucking more of your hair behind your ear and cradling your face.“Yeah, yeah,” Your dismissal only causes his grin to grow, a sight you ignore in favour of adding your final touches. “Okay, we're done.” Immediately, he checks his arm, jaw a little slack.“I told you yellow would look good on you.” You comment, eyes flitting from his face to the drawing. “Do you like it?”“I love it.”You both share a laugh at the fact you'd now exchanged words. In his version of your voice, he adds, “It's beautiful!”“Good!” You exclaim, sitting back and stretching until your back popped. Satisfied, you breathe a sigh, collecting paintbrushes and other things from the floor. “We've been at this for too long. My back is killing me.“Wait, wait,” Usopp calls your name, gently bringing you back to the floor. You whine, throwing your head back. When you bring it back down, he taps your jaw, “No, stay like that, hang on.”“What are you doing?” You reach for him blindly, delighting in his half-assed complaints. He holds your hand so you stop swinging your arm aimlessly. The familiar scent of paint reaches you, soon followed by the wet sensation. This time, it's on your sternum.Usopp uses the paintbrush with yellow on it to create a circle, fills it in, and then he grabs the orange. He draws lines around it, letting you look at it when your curiosity wins over. When you see the sun on his chest, you snort, warmth blooming in your chest.“Now we match!” He says brightly.“We always match,” You point out, gesturing to your back and his.At that, he laughs, blowing on the paint on your chest so that it dries faster. You fan it with your hands and, when he's close enough, wrap your arms around him. His surprised yelp extends into a squeal as you fall back.“It's not smudged, is it?” He reaches for you, but you shush him, showing him the sunflower on your left arm. Usopp gets the idea, doing the same with his. You examine the art on your skin, tracing it with your fingers.“I follow the sun,” You comment breathily, feeling the warmth radiate off him and chase away the chill. Outside, the sky is dark, stars glittering and twinkling. You are a tangle of limbs on the floor. After a bit of shuffling, you rest your head on his chest, his erratic heartbeat in your ears. “Always.”Usopp's hold tightens around you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, bottom lip wobbling as he chuckles quietly.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
This is not how today should have gone.“Turn left!” You scream at the man, your voice rising above the cacophony caused by angry pirates behind you. A quick glance over his shoulder reveals an enraged mob, all swinging their weapons above their heads. Somewhere in your mind, a voice cheekily whispers to wave, an idea you gladly entertain.You raise your arm, ensuring that the other is secured around his shoulders, when-That was not your left.“Will you please just listen to me, you daft idiot?!”Your insult is met with a bitter expression – almost like he'd eaten a bug – and a grumbled response. You're about to ask what the hell his problem is when suddenly, your vision is reduced to a mess of colours. You jolt, your upper body arching upwards as a boot grazes your cheek. And then, speedily, you fall, his deltoid ramming into your stomach.Now dangling upside down, you blink, processing what the fuck he'd done to you. Limbs wrap around your thighs, snapping you out of your daze. Your rage bubbles over.“Are you insane?!”Yelling insults and cursing his very existence, you kick your legs, pained and very much pissed. When that bears no results, you hit his back, hoping for a reaction. His grip on your legs merely tightens.The bastard had tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes!You direct your venomous glower towards the back of his head, but it has no effect. You wonder why.And, to add insult to injury, the items you'd pickpocketed are tumbling out of your pockets. In any other situation, you would have enjoyed being showered in money. Now, all you can do is watch with a definitive pout as your haul escapes your grabby hands.Sighing in defeat, you let your arms hang limply, jaw clenching.A sapphire bounces off your nose....This is not how today should have gone. At all.How do you find yourself in these sorts of situations, anyway?Storing that question in the back of your mind, you opt to just... try and survive this intact. If you could just make it with all your limbs, life would be fi–You wheeze when his shoulder digs into your stomach again. A noise like thunder resonates in your mind, and you realized he'd jumped on top of a stack of crates. A stack that was no more, obviously. The shop owner is trampled by the pirates soon after. Poor guy. Did one of your ribs just move? You grimace, rubbing your side and your stomach to soothe the throbbing.You were hoping to get out of this... semi-intact. There were going to be bruises dotting your skin later on, that much you know. Was he made of rock or some shit?Another sigh ghosts past your lips when he makes the same mistake as before.“Are you even listening to me?” You wonder out loud, uncaring if he replies or not. He seemed to have endless energy regardless, so... yeah, you suppose you could deal with this for another eternity. Totally. Yep.“I am!”“No, you're not! I literally just told you to turn left!” You thrust an arm in said direction, bracing a hand on his back. The blood rushing to your head is making you dizzy and you need to see what's happening. Clearly.There's an awkward pause as you slip a total number of three times, muttering under your breath when he-“You just turned to the fucking right AGAIN!” You howl at the green-haired, directionally challenged, katana-wielding nut-job. How many times was he going to ignore you?! Didn't he know you were practically running in circles? The two of you were never going to get away, at this rate! “How have you even survived this long?!”“Should I just throw you over my shoulder, then?!” He barks between sharp gasps, brown eyes glancing up at you. You glare at him, resisting the urge to punch him in the face.“You already did that, you-”Your insult is promptly cut off when you notice it.Hope. Salvation. An actual, honest to God, exit to this madness.“There! There!” You physically turn his head so that he sees where you're pointing. It's taxing, especially when he looks like he's considering resistance, but you manage. The brute grunts, allowing you to do as you please, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Go that way! And, please, for the love of everything that is holy to you, do as I say!”He – rather eloquently, you think – grunts a second time and hurries to the alleyway. You're not sure if the tears are from the wind or the sheer fucking relief that floods your system.“Good lord, finally,” You pull on his shirt as he skids to a halt, wordlessly demanding that he puts you down. He tosses you on the ground, twisting in all directions. If you weren't running for your life, you would've smacked him. Alas, duty calls. Ignoring him, you dust yourself off and swiftly wander deeper into the alley.“This is a dead-end!” He yells, whirling around with a scowl. When all he sees is sand and a scared cat, he stops, blinking stupidly.“Hey, dumbass!” You drop an arm, offering him your hand from the top of the wall. How you'd scaled the building in the ten seconds he'd looked away, he'd never know.“Come on! Climb!” You urge, wide eyes flitting between the pirates struggling to push past each other to him. Alleyways were always your only hope whenever you were being chased. The marines would, without fail, bottleneck at the narrow openings. It provided you time... and a good show, to boot.The man releases a weary sigh and sprints, launching himself off the wall. His large palm closes around your forearm and you pull, groaning.“You're so damn heavy...” You complain, your muscles burning from the exertion. The green-haired man scoffs and, when he's within reach, uses his free hand to do the rest of the work.You tug at him anyway, determined to at least help him a little.When you're a fair distance from the ledge, you send the pirates a smile and urge your companion to follow. Your breathing is heavy and adrenaline is coursing your veins, leaving no room for conversation. Not like he minds.“They're not gonna give up for a while,” You say, mostly to yourself. Even from so far, you could hear the pirates. “What'd you even do to them to piss them off that bad?”Craning your neck, you frown at the man, who shrugs with an air of indifference. He's not even looking at you.“I stole their booze.”...He tears his contemplative gaze from the blue sky to find you deadpanning.“Don't give me that look!”Shaking your head, you jog ahead, jumping to the next house. You hear him complain about the pirates and your attitude as you do.Furtively, you check that he's not paying attention, revealing the skin of your wrist.00:00:00:00.A jarring number.Tremulously, you exhale, covering your wrist as you debate what to do about this new development. There're no answers written anywhere for you. Not on the ground, not on the sky. Not even on your skin.If only the soulmate nonsense came with a manual. A few easy steps to follow would have been perfect.“Must've been some good booze,” You pause as you vault over another gap, “if they're chasing you this far.”“Hm.” What poetry. You'd never heard anything like it before.Your shoulders slump, “Let me guess, you stole their booze... and you killed their captain... or something?”“Hm.”“Okay.”You let the conversation fade, squinting at the sun bearing down on you mercilessly. Whining about that won't change a thing so... With one smooth movement, you pull your hood over your head. At least there is a breeze, even if it is threatening to blow sand in your eyes.For a while, the only noise is that of the streets and your footsteps.“Where are we going?” The man asks at one point, forcing you to turn.Now that you weren't running for your lives and you weren't upside down, you could look at him properly. And, while you didn't hate what you saw, you also didn't know what to feel about it. About him.He is a tall, muscular man. His shaggy green hair is slicked back, courtesy of the hand running through it. A long, green coat is held at the waist by a red sash, where his three katanas reside. Beneath all that, across his stomach, is a green and striped haramaki.You didn't keep up with pirates and whatnot, but you'd seen him before. He and his crew were a hot topic at taverns and bars.Which is just... great.“The docks.” You answer, noticing how wariness had bled into his strong features. His dark eyes narrowed at you, while yours lingered on the scar marring his face. Not once you'd seen that left eye, which meant it could be permanently damaged. Or not. You didn't know.“Why are you taking me there?”You slow down so that you can walk in tandem, keeping your gaze from straying. Seagulls squawked and shrieked above you, diving with the wind.“I've seen you around.” You chuckle as you remember this morning. Back then, he'd been just another pirate milling about. Now, here you are. “You're so fucking lost.”“Hey!” Offended, he stops, apparently expecting you to do the same. Your lips stretch into a smug smile as you keep walking.“But hey, it's fine.” You stop before the edge of the roof, the docks in sight and teeming with their usual activity. “You've run into the best tour guide you could ever find... literally.”At that, he snorts. He tries stifling it with a cough, even though you both know you won't buy it.And, you know, he'd done that and instead of dropping you like a normal person would... he'd just... carried you around.Ah, but you weren't going to grill him for that. Not now.Maybe later.“And,” You continue, inhaling the fresh smell of salt and tossing your head back. With your hood now removed, you root him to his spot with a serious look. He arches an eyebrow at you when you suddenly peel your sleeve back.The atmosphere shifts as he reads the numbers printed on your body, instinctively reaching for his own. You swallow thickly, preparing for an outburst.You can't see it from here, but judging by how he squares his shoulders and his spine straightens...“It seems you've also ran into your soulmate.” You find your voice and grin, though it's shaky and unsure.His unreadable expression morphs into something warmer when he sees your uncertainty. It was obvious that, while not opposed, you are not jumping into this thoughtlessly. In a way, he's grateful for that.“Zoro,” His voice is softer now. You nod, introducing yourself as well.“Now,” You spread your arms as if you're showing off a grandiose mansion. It's an invitation, one he accepts with a smirk and another scoff. Gaining confidence, you mirror his expression.“Shall we begin the tour?”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1. kitten (inspired by AbyssCronica)
Unceremoniously, he drops a towel on your head, blocking the sight of Kid storming off to his workshop. He cusses at anyone that doesn't move from his path, head bowed low and fists tight.When he disappears, you sneak a glance at your saviour.Killer's mask thwarts any efforts to gauge his overall mood, but you can tell he's not impressed. His long hair sticks to his body, twisting and curling as if it's trying to eat his entire back. The buttons of his black shirt with white polka-dots are undone, likely from the impact as he dived underwater. His strange jeans don't look much better. You reach for the cloth he'd provided, drying your face and getting the saltwater out of your eyes.It's quiet... but only because Killer knows that the silence is more effective than any lecture he could dish out. He wants you to feel shame.When he suddenly grabs the towel and rather violently begins drying your hair, you know he's really not impressed. The temptation to kick him where it really hurts is overwhelming, but you let him have his fun for a minute or two.When you know he's just doing it to be annoying, you bat his hands away, curse words falling from your mouth like rain from the sky.
Ugh.
You did not want to think about water.Muffling a wheezy cough, you duck your head, hiding the shame colouring your cheeks.“You look like a wet kitten,” He comments casually, gripping your forearm and forcing you to stand. Your boots squeak as they touch the floor, and you grimace, escaping his hold with ease.“You say that like you've seen it before,”“I have,” You peel back the towel to arch an eyebrow at him, frowning. Killer grips a chunk of his hair and wrings it, droplets hitting the deck. Around you, the crews moves about, minding their own business. They'd been somewhat concerned when you fell, but, knowing that Killer wouldn't be far behind, hadn't bothered to check up on you.With him around, it wasn't necessary.And yet...“Kid was a strange... kid.”You snort. Killer's head swivels and you can practically feel his gaze travel from your feet to the top of your head. If he thinks you are a pathetic, funny, or downright ridiculous sight, he doesn't show it. He merely crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head. The weight of his stare falls away and you feel your constricted throat relax slightly.Though you probably can't say the same for Kid, Killer isn't mad.“Go get changed, kitty.”“Oh, fuck off.”
2. secrets
The hidden clasps click audibly in the silent room.When his large hands wrap around the helmet itself, you grip his forearms gently.“Are you sure about this?”Killer stops. You've known him long enough to know what each type of silence means. It's heavy, almost like a presence of its own, and your heart races at the thought. What if you're not alone?You resist the urge to check. Again.It's unlike the moments before a battle, though. He's not trying to shy away from the idea, but you can tell he is still somewhat hesitant. You can't have that.When there is no reply, you release him, hands poised in the air. “I don't want you to do this for me. I want you to do this because you want to.” Carefully, you gesture to the mask you'd discarded.Killer's fingers brush your cheek, once, twice, and then they trail down your neck. They're slow, methodical, as if he'd forgotten he was capable of a gentle, loving act. You gently stop him, keeping your expression honest and your body language open.He leans back, removing his hand and returning it to its place on his mask.…The bed creaks as you shift, and you fear the sound will ruin the atmosphere and he'll bolt. You're curious, yes, but...“You said no more secrets,” He says, voice steady, and without even pausing to take a deep breath, he pulls his mask off. Blond hair obscures your sight momentarily, hair he pushes out of the way so you can get a good look at his face.You're breathless.He smiles, the caress of his fingers returning to your skin. You lean into his touch, fondness in your eyes.No more secrets.
3. freedom
It's not every day that Killer is speechless.Barefoot and injured, you limp onto the stage, the men handling your chains sending you dirty looks. Your clothes hang from your body, loose and shredded from fighting your captors every step of the way. A foreign substance descends upon your left eye, and when you feel it dribble to the corner of your mouth, you taste iron.You glare at the nobles and the people looking to buy slaves once you reach the centre of the platform. The lights above you blind you momentarily, and you squint, searching for a target. Ever the defiant one, you spit the blood that had gathered in your mouth at the nearest noble, delighting in their affronted reaction. Grumbling, one of the men with you strikes you on the back with their weapon. Your knees buckle, and you grit your teeth, forcing them to still.You've yet to see him.The announcer makes grand gestures towards you, putting on a winning smile... as if he's selling baubles and not people.It's disgusting.And yet, when you look to the sea of faces, you find that nobody mirrors your expression. Nobody shares the sentiment. Some don masks, others cover their faces with fans, but nothing hides their curiosity. The ones in the gaudiest outfits lose interest quickly, watching merely for the hell of it.You grip your chains, feeling the rusted metal dig into your calloused hands.You don't see them. You don't see him.Hidden in the crowd are two people you knew once upon a time, grown and infamous in their own right. Those that dare glance at them regret it with a shudder crawling up their spines.Killer, having nudged Kid upon recognizing you, turns to his captain. It's a wordless question, one that Kid ignores, strong arms crossed over his chest.“Now, this one here is a special one-”Killer's heart is pounding, something that rarely occurs outside of battle. Memories flit about in his mind, all of them urging him to get down there and save you from an undoubtedly hellish fate.“Kid.” He hates the urgency that bleeds into his voice, even though he can't help it.“We are not here to buy,” Kid growls back, eyes fixed on your figure. The bastard with the microphone declares your price. It's above the average, which piques the interest of quite a few nobles.Killer notices how some of them straighten in their seat. Grabbing Kid's arm, he hisses, “That's-”“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Your voice, having interrupted Killer, carries throughout the room, each word laced with rage. Tugging at your chains, your lip curls when the room erupts in hushed whispers and murmurs. Bravely, you march forward, heedless to the men trying to rein you in.“Do any of you really believe I will let you buy me?!” You spit the words with such venom, such fury, that the crowd falls quiet.“I am not your slave!” You roar, using your body to push one of your 'handlers'. The man teeters and, unable to recover his balance in time, tumbles off the stage. He lands on his face with a sharp thwack. Nobles scramble away from him. “I will never be your property! I would rather die here than let any of you take my freedom!”The announcer, previously stunned by your display of disobedience, brings the microphone to his mouth again. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. This sort of behaviour is typical with these-”“I am a Kid Pirate!” You drown his voice with your own, throwing your head back and staring into the stage light, throat tight. The tears in your eyes roll down your cheeks, mixing with the blood and grime dirtying your skin.
What does the sun feel like?
“I am a goddamn Kid Pirate!” You bellow again, shaking off any hands that attempt to latch onto you. Heaving in a breath, you throw one of your chains around your attacker's neck, pulling him against you. “I will always be a Kid Pirate! That will never change!”“You're going to regret letting me out of my cage, you ugly bitch!” You scream at the announcer, jabbing a finger in his direction. You throw the fool you were holding aside, charging at the cowering man.“Kill them all,” Kid orders to his men, his eyes not moving from you. Time seems to slow as Killer takes in the sight of you fighting for your life. Automatically, he jerks both arms and his blades snap into place, just as ready as he is to free you.
I'll get you out.
4. recovery
Killer calls your name from the doorway, a plate of food in his hands. You keep your gaze on the sky, inhaling deeply. Stepping into the room, he places the plate on the table beside the bed, studying you carefully. He pointedly ignores the untouched apples and bread they'd provided for you this morning.“How do you feel?” He asks, kneeling and staring up at you.Your head rolls, eyes – your lifeless eyes – settling on his mask.“Like shit,” You answer, rubbing your face.Killer hums. Then, he pats your left leg, wordlessly demanding you move it. You scooch over with a grumble, sighing sharply when he grabs the plate and holds up a bite.“Seriously?”“Seriously.” He replies, ever so serious.…“I can feed myself...” You grouse, reaching for the fork and clicking your tongue when he pulls away.“You've been doing a horrible job at that, actually.” He looks at your breakfast. You don't follow his gaze, scowl still firmly on your face. “Now,” he focuses on you again, “we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Which do you prefer?”Your eye twitches.After a minute, tension begins to radiate from him. The muscles of his arms jump and he sits up, tilting his head to the side as he regards you with his stupid mask.You open your mouth.Killer brings the fork to your lips, “Thank you,” He states, much too amused for your own liking.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
1. Eustass Kid
“It's fucking freezing,”That's the only warning you receive before utter hell descends upon your skin. You twist and writhe, cussing him out for disturbing you by literally shoving his hands under your shirt. In any other context, this would have been fine. Not ideal, but fine.Icy fingers dig into your waist, leaving goosebumps in their wake. A shudder slithers up your spine and you groan.“You bitch!” You hiss venomously, scrambling to escape his hold. Your nails dig into the skin of his wrists. Unfortunately, he does not yield, hugging you to his chest, which is also ice to the touch. “If you're cold, put on a damn coat like the rest of us!”Kid cackles at your futile attempts to wrench yourself free, tightening his hold even as you kick your legs.You're forced to settle on his knee, arms crossed to preserve whatever warmth he hadn't stolen from you. The bed sinks beneath you both as he sits with a heavy sigh, grip on your limbs like a vice.“Not so awful now, eh?” He asks when you stop shaking.“Whatever...”
2. Sabo
A snowball to the face is as pleasant as you thought it would be.Your nose, twitching visibly, is red and burning from the melting particles on your cheeks. You can hardly see, and when you do manage to peel your eyes open, you have to close them again.“Ugh,” Despite this predicament, you don't feel an ounce of anger towards him. Your gloved hands wipe at your eyes, the wool doing little to improve your vision.“Are you... are you okay?” Sabo asks, pulling his gloves off and tossing them aside. He gently directs your hands to your lap then cups your cheeks. You're going to pretend that that is the reason your face suddenly feels a few degrees warmer.“I'm fine, Sabo.” You laugh, blinking to see his worried gaze scanning for... what? A bruise? “I've dealt with worse, hun.”“I know, I know.” His shoulders slump as he sends you a smile. You pull him into a hug, one he returns eagerly.
So innocent...
Cheekily, you grab a handful of snow and press it against his neck. He recoils violently with a surprised shout, shoving you backwards. You land on the snow with a cackle, arms wide.
3. Portgas D. Ace
“That bad, huh?” He asks as he walks into the room, blankets in his arms.“Ace, for the love of God, put on a shirt.” You admonish loudly, rummaging for any clothing he can use to cover up his bare chest. “I feel worse every time I look at you!” Balling what turns out to be a pair of pants, you chuck them at his head.Ace drops what he is carrying and catches the item before it lands on the floor, examining it. “Yeah, sure.”“Thank you.” You breathe out in relief, then promptly sputter when he shoves his arms through the legs of the pants. “Ace, what-”“Doesn't seem to fit,” He comments casually, stretching the fabric. You wince, apologizing to the article of clothing for the sudden attack.“Ace, what the actual hell are you doing?” You can't help the laughter that bubbles up your throat. Kicking the blankets off you, you stagger to your feet, reaching for him. “Wait, no, stop! Those are-”When he tries to pull them down to his head, you hear them rip.“...oops.”You facepalm, biting your lip and laughing harder. “Well, they were my favourite pair.” Fixing him with a stern look, you point to the blanket pile on his bed, “Now, you owe me.”“Aye aye, captain.” He gives a mock salute. “Sorry about your pants, though. I'll get you new ones.”
4. Fushichou Marco
So.You got caught in a snowstorm.The weight of Marco's stare combined with your immeasurable guilt make for nice, toasty feelings, though. You could heat up an entire house with how much of it is radiating from your entire face.“Okay, just say it,” Defeated, you slouch near the fireplace housing the weak, flickering flames. Thankfully, you'd come across an abandoned shack that, while in a state of disrepair, made for decent shelter. You hold your hands over the fire, the chill rendering your fingers almost useless. It hurts to move them. “'I told you so'.”“I told you so.” Marco parrots without missing a beat, sauntering over to you and sitting beside you. The snowflakes melting on his skin give it a dewy appearance. You kind of want to smack him for being perfect, even in this horrendous weather.Sniffling, you rub your face, nodding solemnly. He did. He did tell you so.Wordlessly, his hands envelop yours, dwarfing them easily. Blue flames spark to life under his fingertips. Though they do not chase away the frostbite, they heal the pain.“We'll be okay. I promise.” He assures you softly, lips quirking into a gentle smile. You nod again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The sound of bare feet on wood is familiar to you by now.She descends the stairs leisurely, heels dangling from two of her fingers. Whatever noise she makes is muted by the blades of grass on the deck as she steps closer to you.It was an odd sight at first. If there is something you knew about Nami right away, is that she liked dressing up. To see her with her shoes off and, more than once, messy hair... yeah, it was weird. You didn't dare question the woman, though. She'd threatened you with increasing your debt on numerous occasions and you didn't fancy the idea of owing her more money.…Still.You glance up, taking in the sight of her. She's wearing a white, loose dress that ends mid-thigh, revealing her long legs. Sure, you could say that that was an elegant outfit... but she'd worn that yesterday. Nami did not wear the same thing unless she was really tired.Your eyes travel up to her face. Today, her red hair is in a loose braid she'd draped over her left shoulder, her bangs swept to the side.Even when she doesn't try, she's beautiful.When she notices your attention on her, she smiles radiantly and waves.Robin is the definition of graceful on this ship. She carries herself with a straight spine and a steady gait, eyes sharp yet welcoming. The very air surrounding her is soothing when she is in a good mood, making it impossible to feel anything but calm. You've always found yourself gravitating towards her when you needed a comforting presence.Nami... well, you wouldn't exactly say she's the most soothing presence on the ship. She's quick to anger and snaps at anything when provoked. Her voice is strong, even when she's not yelling, confidence practically dripping from her words.She's there, though. Nami is always there. And when the time calls for it, she shines brighter than anything you've seen.“Hey, you!” She greets when she's within earshot, plopping down beside you. You nod your head, collecting your papers and your books and setting them aside. She cranes her neck, overly curious as usual, and you show her what you were working on.Satisfied, she hums, and you forget the paperwork. Now that you think about it, perhaps keeping track of the ship's supplies was a bit of a waste... You were usually writing about the same thing, after all.Oh, well. Sanji appreciates the effort, so you might as well.“How are you today, Nami?” You ask, giggling when all she does is flop backwards with a dramatic groan. She shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowing as she frowns.“I was doing fine until...” She points in the direction of the kitchen. That could mean the cause of her headache could be Sanji, Luffy, or... anyone, really. Excluding Luffy, who can be and is a disaster every day, you're all a bit chaotic when in the right mood.“Needed to get away from the noise?”She inhales deeply, thinking about her answer. In the end, she settles on releasing a deep sigh. Her brown eyes follow a pair of gulls gliding above you. “Don't get me wrong, though. I love them all, but...”“But we can all be a bit much.” You finish for her, patting her on the leg closest to you. “I get it.”You choose to remain ignorant to the yelling emanating from the kitchen.“I know you do,” She breathes, shifting with a wince as she moves her feet slowly. Nami stops with a hiss, throwing her head back, “Not only that, my feet have been killing me for days.”“Hm.” You don't point out the shoes.The redhead seems to read your mind, anyway.“Yeah, yeah, I've been wearing heels and that's not helping at all.” She waves dismissively, sending you a mock glare. “But look! I took them off.” To emphasize her point, she grabs the heels and shows you. There's a proud gleam in her eye that you can't help but smile at, fondness blooming in your chest.“I'm glad that you did.” You respond, acting on the idea that sprouts in your mind. Carefully, you shift so that you can pull the pained appendages into your lap. She appears confused, lifting her head to arch a brow at you. Her expression evens out when you begin massaging her feet.“Thank you,” She breathes gratefully, her head returning to its previous spot on the grass. You pull the right side of her foot and push on the left, chuckling to yourself.“It's a good thing your feet don't stink,” You murmur your words loud enough for her to hear. Her entire leg jerks in her attempts to kick you lightly, futile as they are with her foot in your hands. Realizing that her attacks aren't reaching her target, she relents. You pat her on the leg again.“You owe me another hundred berries,” She grumbles but doesn't budge or comment on it further. Nami lets out a grunt when you rub the arches, shaking your head.“I owe you so much that amount hardly makes a difference...” You bend her toes and squeeze her heels, looking up when she makes a noise in the back of her throat.“Make it a thousand more, then.” She carries on, her lips stretching into the smirk she's known for.Scoffing, you add more pressure in retaliation. It doesn't have the desired effect, because all she does is exhale happily... or, does it? Technically, your goal is to alleviate her pain...It doesn't matter. You're not about to make something out of nothing.“You're a cruel woman.”“So I've been told.”Rolling your eyes, you move on to her other foot, repeating the same process in silence. The sails above you flutter with the breeze, the jolly roger beaming down at you both. It's a hot summer day. Blue skies and clear weather, Nami had reported this morning. And it was clear... maybe a little too much. The sun is edging closer to insufferable, but you're quite used to it. A few clouds here and there wouldn't hurt, would they?Her Achilles' heel seems to be suffering the most. You're not surprised. You stretch the tendon as much as it will allow, frowning slightly.“You shouldn't wear heels so often, Nami.” You chide gently, still working on easing the throbbing. Chopper, despite his hooves, is better than you are at this, but it appears to be working.Nami's voice is airy when she speaks, which amuses you. She looks like she's two seconds from falling asleep. “I know, I know...” The foot that isn't being massaged falls off your lap as she moves it around experimentally. “I like heels.”“You're pouting.” You comment idly, examining her legs. There are a few bruises here and there, but she's fine. Nami's stronger than she looks.Just not when it comes to her feet, you suppose.“Am not!” She argues, huffing as she removes her feet from your lap. When they reach the grass again, Nami's irritation fades away.“Thanks,” The redhead whispers your name as she presses a kiss to your cheek.The heat is unbearable, now.“Any time, Nami,” She hasn't leaned back yet. In fact, she's so close that her eyelashes tickle your skin. So close you can smell the citrus that lingers on her whenever she tends to her beloved tangerines.You feel... giddy.Much to your surprise, she rests her head on your shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around your waist. You tense, unsure how to proceed, before hesitantly returning the gesture. The navigator leans on you some more, and you take the hint, lying down on the grass. Immediately, she entangles her legs in yours, essentially trapping you in her hold.You weren't expecting today to go like this, but you can't say you mind. Still, there is one thought nagging you.“We're going to wake up with some nasty sunburns.”Nami mumbles something incoherent, burying her face in your shoulder. You expect nothing else, and yet...“Always the voice of reason,” She hugs you tighter. After a minute or two, she adds, “We'll deal with that, later...”“Of course, Nami.”(x)It's easy to lose track of Nami.The redhead is boisterous when she really wants to be, but when she wishes to disappear? Heels or no heels, she slips away with practiced ease, her footsteps soundless. She'd caught you off guard more than once, a fact she continues to find hilarious.“Boo.”Again, she'd snuck up on her blissfully unaware crewmate – that being you. Your book flies out of your hands as you jolt violently, withholding a scream that would have sent birds into the skies. The sand digs uncomfortably into your legs as you twist to face her, scowling.“Nami...” Your voice is stern, though you can't conceal the defeated edge it takes, “Really? This is the second time today.”“I didn't mean to scare you the first time!” She exclaims, surprising you again when, instead of sitting down, she skips ahead of you. She's wearing shorts and her usual bikini top, today, her log pose strapped to her wrist. You tilt your head to the side, watching the giggling woman go. While she kicks at the sand, you try to discern the cause of this shift in your normal routine.Nami kneels on the sand and takes your book into her hands, dusting it off. She smiles brightly as she returns to you, her normally rounded eyes oddly sharp.She really lives up to her epithet, sometimes.When she offers you the discarded novel, you accept it with an eye-roll, tossing it with the rest of your stuff.“I see you're not in pain, anymore,” You joke as you stand up, eyebrow arched as you gaze at her feet. She buries them in the sand in response, sticking her tongue out at you.“Yeah, yeah.” Nami waves her hand, ignoring your attempts to reveal her feet again. She loops an arm around yours, dragging you along as she says, “Take a walk with me!” You stumble over your own feet, struggling to recover your balance as she laughs, helping you.Though you have no say in the matter, you can't say no to her.The foamy ocean water laps at your feet, cool and refreshing under this blistering heat. You miss the shade, but this is nice. The weather tends to be unpredictable on the seas, so being able to enjoy the sunlight – and just the sunlight – is wonderful.You watch the waves retreat back to their home, seashells and other pretty rocks sparkling like stars.Nami sighs, pausing to look at her feet with what you can only describe is glee.“Why the sudden affinity to being barefoot, miss?” Your voice disturbs the silence, though the tranquillity remains. Nami sends you a glare as she keeps walking, tugging at your arm a little too roughly. You laugh at this despite the pain.“It's just... it's nice, you know?” You listen to her, humming as you match her pace. “Don't get me wrong, I love heels. But this? I wouldn't be able to do this if I was wearing heels. I mean, I totally would, but it wouldn't be as fun.” Nami gestures to your current environment, and you scan it. Palm trees sway in the gentle breeze and thanks to Luffy's ministrations. Before you can get too distracted by his shenanigans with Usopp and whoever else, you focus on her.“I've seen you run in heels,” You comment, grinning proudly, “You'd be fine here.”Nami huffs, tightening her hold on you and pressing her body closer to yours. “I know, right? Anyway, you get what I'm saying?”“Yes, I do.” You reply, nodding. “Being able to walk is fun.”“It really is.” Nami hums, tapping her bottom lip with her index finger thoughtfully. “I'll miss the free massage, though.”“I'm going to take that as a compliment.” You pinch her side with the arm that isn't in a chokehold, delighting in her surprised squirming. She aims to shove you into the water, realizing that if she does that, you're both going down. With a huff, she abandons the idea, blinking as she remembers something else.“That's because it is, silly. I made up for it by treating your burnt face, too!” Nami cackles at the memory of what you both dubbed your 'Buggy Nose', keeling over. You support her as she does so, fighting the need to join in on the laughter.You urge her to stand upright, silencing her with a kiss.It's very easy to lose track of time with Nami.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Luffy, Ace, and Sabo rise from their kneeling positions on the floor, admiring their handiwork. They wipe the sweat from their foreheads, beaming at each other. Giddily, Luffy starts giggling and bouncing in his spot, sandals slapping the wooden floors at a volume that would no doubt give them away. The elder brothers shush him, trying and failing to be stern. They couldn't be. Not when their plans were coming together so flawlessly for once.“Ready?” Ace asks the other two, glancing at them with determination burning an inferno in his eyes. In each of their hands is a cup. Sabo and Luffy nod.They pour the liquids onto the summoning circle, bracing themselves against the white light that bursts through the floor.The floorboards tremble under their feet, the glow from the summoning circle blinding them. They shield their eyes, their excitement dwindling when the entire library seems to groan. Books fly from their homes on your shelves, smacking walls and gathering above their heads. They spin in one large circle, each loop at increasing speeds, pages tearing and raining down on them. From within the summoning circle, voices begin hissing intelligible words, discordant and chaotic. Something cracks, and they shout, expecting a shelf to fall on top of them. When it doesn't, they step back, scared. Your name sits on the tip of Luffy's tongue.In another room, just as you're about to enjoy it, you spill your steaming, scathing cup of tea down the front of your robes. Your skin burns. Your heart stops.
Shit.
When magic begins to build up in the air, the teacup slips from your fingers and breaks into innumerable shards.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
You tear off in the direction of your study, that one word on a loop inside your mind.(x)“Think we should do something?”“No.”The demons watch as you whack a small child upside the head with a thick book... lightly. Too lightly. Your actions do not match the way your features twist in rage.“What even is this place?”“...”The red-headed man glances at his companion, who glowers at the sight in front of him. You're yelling at the children, waving your makeshift weapon and gesturing to it wildly. Shanks blinks, his lips stretching into a small grin. For once, Mihawk can't tell if he's amused or just uncomfortable.“Think they have any booze?”Mihawk ignores him again.When one of the kids throws a scroll at your head, prompting a quiet curse out of you, Shanks decides to approach, his yet-to-be-transformed talons clicking audibly on the mahogany floor. He avoids all papers, not fond of the idea of skewering one of them and bringing your anger down on him.He scans the area as he walks towards you.“What in God's name were you three thinking?!”Shelves taller than any he's ever seen line the walls, filled with books of varying thickness and sizes. His eyes follow the shelves up to the arching ceilings above him, where two dark chandeliers hang. High on the walls are large windows with numerous panels, delicately carved metal separating each one, allowing sunlight to spill into the room. Shanks sees a bird's nest in one of them, empty save for a few tiny eggs. Ahead of him, behind you and the kids, is a sitting area with a few leather couches placed around a circular table, also made of the same dark wood as the floors. Scattered on its surface are papers detailing different spells and wards, as well as studies of the human body and its primitive magical reservoirs. Though, judging by the mess everywhere, that doesn't say much about you. Only that you need to do a better job of organizing them.When he's out of the danger zone, he raises a hand, trying to be heard over the ruckus.“Heeey there!”Nobody listens to him.Shanks glances back at the other demon, who merely arches an eyebrow and crosses his arms. Mihawk's wings twitch and his tail sways in annoyance, the magic coursing his veins glowing brighter before dulling again. Okay, so he's really unimpressed. Message received, Shanks focuses on the humans.You'd grabbed one of them by the cheek, which stretched far beyond what he expected. When you release it, it snaps back into place with a whine from the kid.It's an interesting ability, but that's not what interests him. He knows Mihawk has sensed it, too. This, he thinks, is going to be a long day.(x)“I leave for ten minutes and you decide to summon not one, but two demons?!” You scream at the trio nursing the injuries on their heads with dejected expressions. A voice in the deepest recesses of your mind urges you to go easy on them. You almost smack yourself with the damn summoning tome for thinking such a thing. The guilt for yelling at them could try again later. Right now, you've got to scare them into never pulling anything this absurd again.“I tried stopping them!” Luffy complains, glaring at the other two. Judging by the way Ace and Sabo launch themselves at him, you're going to assume that's false. You pry them off the youngest brother, pinning them to their spots with a venomous glower.“I don't care who started it.” You growl, pointing at the tome in your hands. It wasn't rare... or expensive, for that matter, as it was for curious youngsters. But these kids... these kids were too curious. You'd yet to assess their magical abilities, but what little you'd seen was promising. They all varied from each other, and you doubt Luffy would learn anything that wasn't inherently kinesthetic, but their potential was there. If only you had the time and restraint to teach them what you knew. They'd make unstoppable mages. “What did I say about touching anything without my permission?”“A lot,” Ace, the sassy little spitfire, remarks.“A lot...” Your voice is taking on a deeper, unhinged tone.They falter at the sudden shift, sensing the power beginning to flake off you yet unable to pinpoint it.There's an itch under your skin demanding your attention. Your jaw clenches painfully tight as it spreads to every limb.
Get a grip.
You would have allowed them to toy with the spells if they'd asked. You're not that boring. And, when they weren't destroying your home, these three could be so much fun. Garp had some great grandsons.If only they didn't pull these sorts of things off. It would make your life a lot easier.“What I want to know,” You begin, magic sparking in your palms. Whatever damage the book receives is unimportant. It's beyond repair, at this point. Chucking it aside, you place your hands on your hips, struggling to withhold your power.The kids' eyes flit between you and the stranger behind you. The man presses a finger to his lips and winks.“What I want to know is how you three cretins managed to-”A book falls on your head spine first, cutting you off and blocking your vision. Silence reigns for a solid ten seconds as you try to process this turn of events.“Finally,” A man heaves from somewhere in the room, vexed.Oh, shit. The demons!You whirl around, chucking the offending item at the man's face. He tilts his head to the side and grins at you amicably. In response, you put up a shield between the kids and the other beings. Not like it made a difference. Your actual magic is nothing compared to what they are capable of.“Hello, there.” The man greets, bowing his head in a manner you assume is meant to be polite. Too bad you're not buying any of his crap.You try not to pay attention to the ruby-red colour of his irises. Or to the horns poking out of his head. Or the paper-thin yet strong wings sweeping the floor. Or the tail. Okay, there's a lot to take in, here.You push more energy into your shield. It illuminates the room in a muted blue. The kids retreat a few steps.“They didn't know what they were doing.” You forgo pleasantries in favour of convincing this creature to spare you all. How does this even work, anyway? You'd never tried your hand at demon summoning – not yet. What was the procedure? Did you have to give up your soul, now? “I don't even know how they did it. That book- it doesn't even have anything about demons.”“Really?” He asks, impressed.You look around for the other one and find him lounging on one of your couches, a scroll in his hands. It's a fire spell. Great.“Yes,” You reply, focusing on the red-head again.“And they pulled it off, anyway?”“...yes.”The shield fizzles out without warning.You gasp as he becomes a blur before your very eyes, desperately trying to figure out what you could do. What could you do before he reached them? Your heart lurches in your chest as you think about Luffy, Ace, and Sabo. They haven't even lived, yet. Garp can claim that these kids are growing up just fine, but-You spin around, flames flaring to life in your palms. You're pouring a lot of energy into this magic, so you better make this attack count.Or, well, you would've, if he wasn't offering the kids high-fives.Come again?“Only very powerful summoners can do what you did, you know!” He exclaims enthusiastically, his long tail wagging. Fear forgotten, Luffy vibrates in place from the excitement, staring at Shanks with that child-like innocence that could get anyone killed. It's an excitement you used to feel a long time ago and one that digs deep into your nerves, tearing at them. It's not just Luffy, either. Even Grumpy McMoody, otherwise known as Ace, and Sabo have joined in on the fun. They ask Shanks questions that border on invasive, loud and happy and all the things they should be, just not with them. Never with demons. “You should have made the spells inaccessible,” You bite back a screech as Demon Number Two materializes beside you, your research notes in his enormous hands. No hello, no warning, just another snarky bastard to add to the growing pile. Nice.“Try dealing with them for more than an hour and then get back to me.” You gripe unintentionally, then bite your tongue. What are you thinking?!“Is that a challenge, mortal?” His voice is monotone, his face is blank, and yet the dread that seeps into your being is unparalleled. You shrink, recoiling from the magical energy that radiates from his body. It feels like needles are just shy from piercing your skin. Were it not for your protective robes, you fear he may have been able to hurt you.“No,” You reply quickly, deciding to deal with this problem right here, right now.You can't let this go on. Ace, Sabo, and Luffy have no idea who and what they've meddled with, and you're not letting these two demons school them.“Kids!” You clap your hands once, the sharp noise echoing in your study. When you spread your shaking arms, a swirling portal to Dadan's home opens in front of you. You hear a whistle and glance at the red-eyed demon, who gives you a delighted thumbs up and a wink.Yep.Garp was going to kill you.Ignoring him, you announce a little too loudly, “Time to go home, kiddos!”You send the portal flying towards the kids when they try to run away. Shanks sidesteps it, eyes fixed on the window to another part of your world.The portal cuts off their complaints as it sends them back home, dissipating with a crackle that seems to mark your doom....You're alone with two demons. Demons that should not be in your home, and yet they are, and you don't know what to do about it. You feel very, very cold.“So, what now?” The red-head asks.You're wondering the same thing.(x)“Only powerful summoners can do that, you know!” You mumble to yourself as you rummage your cupboards for your secret stash, mocking the guy's tone of voice.Wait....What if they have supernatural hearing?...Ugh, okay, no more talking to yourself while these two are here.The demon wasn't wrong, though. You doubt these two agreed to being summoned by the kids, so the magic must've pulled them through by force. You think. You don't know what the hell is going on.When you find your most potent alcohol, you hop off the counter and march back into the study, where you've called for a meeting. For some reason, the demons listened to you, one more . You didn't question it too much, desperate to send them back before Garp heard all about the kids' adventures.Unfortunately, there's no telling how much time you have. If Garp happened to be at Dadan's home, then you had a few hours before he showed up to wring your neck.Which is why you're catering to the demons' needs. You needed them to cooperate with you on this.“Here,” You place the bottle on the table, falling back onto the vacant couch with a resounding sigh. With the two creatures in front of you and side by side, you can see how they contrast.“Ah, cheers!” Shanks, who congratulated the kids for their disaster, grabs the bottle with his tail, the pointed tip glinting in the light. You wouldn't have glanced twice at him if it weren't for his otherworldly features, such as his piercing eyes and horns. But these features are unlike anything you've seen before and, no matter how hard you try, your eyes refuse to meet his for long. Instead, they wander, up and down and back up again as your brain works to make sense of them.His scales are a deep crimson. They cover much of his body, though some patches of his tan skin remain bare. Most notably, his chest and abdominal area. His pants, which are decorated with simple flowers, stop just below his knee. On his calves and forearm are smaller scales the size of your thumbnail. They're sparse, though they form larger clusters on more delicate areas, like the ligaments. Sprouting from his back and spilling over the back of the couch are wings similar to those of a bat, the sharp, elongated digits tipped with red. They're enormous, yet thin - almost flimsy, even - but you know better than to believe that to be the case. One poke from one of his extremities could kill you. That you know for sure.What an ominous thought.The man himself? Not so much. He introduced himself happily, offering his only hand and taking no offense when you gawked at him longer than socially acceptable. When you gathered the courage to shake it, his grip was sturdy and the claws that grazed the pulse point there sent a hideous chill through you.Still, he seems... fine. He's jovial, with a self-prescribed overwhelming need for booze, and all-around nice.You glance at the summoning circle on the floor nearby.…They'd poured hot sauce and whiskey. Those were the offerings. If you squint, you think you can spot some leaves from one of the ancient trees in your backyard. The stubborn one that almost died threeNow, you kind of understand how Shanks could've been summoned, what with his clear love for alcohol.But... Mihawk?Brooding and stoic are two words that fit him perfectly. Physically, they're similar, though his scales are pitch black and sparser around his torso. He's also wearing more clothes, though his black coat is undone, making the crimson lining inside it visible. He's not wearing shoes, either. Mihawk's wings are smaller and more rounded, though the tips of their digits still end in sharp points. Above his collar sits a golden cross hanging from a thin gold chain. His eyes are a piercing amber and, though you're uncertain, there seems to be a black ring around his pupils.Yeah. Honestly? Not scary at all. Shanks, after downing half the bottle, throws his back with a pleased sigh. When he meets your eye again, you lean back a little. Are his irises... brighter?You know what, sure! Fine! You've got things to deal with, here. If his eyes sparkle, then let them sparkle. Why should you care?“Okay, so...” You don't even know where you want this conversation to go. To ensure that you're all on the same page, you list the events that have transpired in the last... hour. You purposefully ignore the fact that you were gone for twenty minutes before any of this happened. “The kids got their hands on a summoning tome that has nothing to do with demons, grabbed whatever they could as an offering, and somehow dragged you here.”“Yup,” Shanks confirms, laughter in his voice.You sink into the cushions you're sitting on, the gears in your mind spinning. “How? How did they pull you through? How could their magic be so strong?”“It wasn't.” Mihawk pipes up, drawing your attention. “Shanks wanted to see why children were trying to summon him.” He sounds like a disappointed father introducing his rebellious son. You clear your rapidly drying throat, “And you?”“He dragged me with him.”“Don't pout, Mihawk.” Shanks has a bit of a death wish, you think. What a thing to say to someone that looks like they're one bad joke from levelling an island. “This is fun! How long has it been since we left our realms?”“Not long enough.” Mihawk grouses.…
They're like a married couple.
Shanks glances at you, one eyebrow twitching.You want to laugh at your joke, but you can't. Unfortunately, you have a mystery to solve.
Did he lie to the kids?
No, you don't think so. He might have allowed the magic to drag him into this realm, but the kids still reached him. They reached him and Mihawk, and they're not lesser demons. They have their own realms. Mihawk can hurt you with his mere presence. No lesser demon is capable of that.And those offerings? They were horrible! Where did they even get the hot sauce from, anyway?Shanks wanted to see what the fuss was about, that part you've got clear, but the offerings were lacking. The kids should not have been able to reach him in the first place...How in the world did they do it?Was it the summoning circle itself? Maybe one of the symbols they drew? Luffy is bad at drawing. Maybe he drew a symbol so poorly he confused the universe into allowing them to contact Shanks.Well. At least he didn't reach a god. That would have been even worse.Would Sabo have allowed Luffy to do that, though? Would Ace? After the few rules you'd drilled into their heads?Ugh. Your head is pounding. “Can't you... can't you just go back?” You ask, trying to soothe the pain by rubbing your temple. What a mess. Mihawk seems to share the sentiment.“Oh, yeah, we can.” Shanks crosses his right leg over the other, leaning back on the couch. The bottle dangles from three of his clawed fingers, the contents swaying back and forth. You feel a little sick. “But the thing about demon summoning is...”"There's a price.” You whisper, trepidation bleeding into your voice. Your heart sinks, the itch from earlier making itself known again. It weaves through your veins and settles on your sternum, insistent. Demanding. Angry.
Amused.
"One that must be paid." You finish....Goddamn it all.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
There's a boy in your dreams.Shivering and scared, he stands beneath a beacon of pale light that, no thanks to his hat, obscures his face.When you sleep, you wade through the murky waters of your memory. He is there, visible on the horizon, shaking under a blanket that dwarfs his frame. The boy – you're sure you know his name – stumbles through the void that is your mind, sobbing into the material clinging to his body. Tears pour from his eyes as he screams two names: one you recognize and your own.His voice, ragged with desperation and unimaginable agony, urges you to move faster. Each syllable that he forces out of his lungs is rife with grief. It's a sound that tears into your soul and squeezes your heart, which pounds an unsteady rhythm against your ribcage.As you approach, the water level rises. It swallows your feet and continues from there with each step. When it reaches your hips, you walk as if you're restrained by ball shackles, clawing at the depths. You breathe heavily as your legs tire, knees threatening to give out underneath you.Snow falls from the sky. Distantly, you hear the rumble of thunder.Fear pushes past your defences when the waves lap at your chest. The anguish sends the child to his already bruised knees. He strikes the ground with his fist once, twice, three times, covering his eyes with his other arm.“L-”You want to reassure him. To hold him and tell him you're there. When your feet won't touch the ground floor, you swim. How long until you reached him? Were you any closer to begin with?Your strength is fading fast. Faster than you ever expected it to. All that training, all those hours you'd spent fortifying your body and mind, and you can't make it?What would he think?When your left hand breaks the surface again, realization dawns on you.It is far too tiny and weak. The callouses that had gathered on your palms over the years are gone. The skin is as smooth as it was when you were a child.“Law!”Your voice is higher in pitch and shrill with panic. You spit out the water that pools in your mouth, coughing up the rest. Blinking clears your blurry vision for a fraction of a second. It is enough to see that your voice has reached him.He crawls towards you, scurrying to his feet and running, the blanket flapping behind him like an oversized cape.You can hardly see him, anymore. The depths have yet to claim you completely, but it is a battle you know you are going to lose. The air in your lungs escapes in a flurry of bubbles that disorient you.Your hand, outstretched in the hope you might be saved, latches onto something.You pull yourself up, startling when an enormous hand wraps around your forearm. It wrenches you free from death's grasp with an ease that surprises you.Now, dangling in the air and an endless void below, you try to recover. Your throat and eyes burn. Your body aches from the exertion. You shiver from the cold, wishing you could curl up with Law and huddle for warmth like you used to do.You are a pitiful sight.He laughs at you.It starts as an airy chuckle that very slowly crescendos, drowning out Law's screams. When you lift your heavy head, his cackles grow even louder and profoundly maniacal.His smile and red eyes fill your vision. Pink feathers cascade down his back and shoulders. In your eyes, unshed tears linger, frozen like the rest of you. The man adds pressure to his vice-like hold on you, waiting for your pained grimace, then releases you.With Law's name in your throat, you plunge into oblivion.By that time, someone comes by your room, further terrifying you when they bang their fist on your door.With a strangled gasp, your eyelids part and you sit up in your bed, sheets tangled around your feet. Beams of sunlight spill into your room through the window, the white curtains doing little to block them out.Shakily, you glance around, swallowing past the knot in your throat and breathing hard. You wouldn't be too shocked to see Doflamingo in the corner, watching you dream of the past, but find that there is no one else. The room remains unchanged, as well. Your bed rests on the wall farthest from the door, right under the window. To your left are a chest with your belongings and a wooden desk, scattered newspapers and reports on top. To your right is the closet containing your clothing. There isn't much in it aside from a few spare changes of clothes. There is another door leading to your bathroom in the corner of the room.The person bangs on the door once more. When you do not respond, his voice breaks the silence, “Time for breakfast,”He waits for a reply and, when you don't provide one, he leaves, footsteps echoing menacingly in the hallways.You listen for others as you climb out of bed on uncomfortably sweaty legs, expecting one of the officers to come nag you. Rubbing a hand along your neck, you wipe the sweat off your skin and remove your nightclothes, going to the bathroom to wash. When that's done, you throw on your uniform, fingers struggling with the little things. Something as easy as buttoning your shirt becomes tedious, and you look up at the ceiling, ready to sigh before catching sight of yourself in the mirror. Despite your efforts, you look no better. Ignoring the dark circles under your eyes and the ever-growing frown, you finish with your appearance, splashing some water on your face. It doesn't make you any livelier, but at least you feel more awake.A slow knock on your door interrupts your usual routine.Only one person in this awful place knocks like that, and that is Violet.You open the door to the sight of the officer, already dressed in her dancing attire. You'd caught her in the midst of pinning her dark, curly hair with her red rose.“Good morning,” She says, flipping her hair over her shoulder once the flower is in place. Stepping outside and closing the door behind you, you nod, eyes on the floor. Accustomed to your silence, Violet steps back, her heels clicking against the polished floor.“How are you today?” She asks as you begin the trek to the dining room. You shrug, pointing to your under-eye area. Violet hums and, like a concerned mother, strokes your cheek with her pointer finger, pushing some hair out of your face and behind your ear. As respectfully as you can, you brush her off, a warning in your gaze. After all, such kindness invites ridicule from the other officers, and you are not in the mood for it right now. She too remembers this fact, letting her hand fall to her side. Your walk is silent from there on, but it's not uncomfortable. Despite your differences, you understood each other. If there was anyone here you considered an ally – or even a friend – it was her. This has been the case since you'd first tried comforting her after her family had been overthrown.Your eyes immediately find Doflamingo as you enter the dining room with Violet in tow. He sits at the head of the table, a newspaper covering the lower half of his face. Trebol occupies the seat to his left.The one across from the obnoxious officer is empty.One of your fingers touches Violet's wrist as you go your separate ways. She takes the chair on the opposing end of the table with Sugar and Giolla.You sit across Trebol, fighting a scowl when his snot drips onto the table. He was probably the most unpleasant out of all the officers. Even Pica's voice doesn't grate on your ears as much as Trebol's ridiculous laugh and disgusting tendencies.Without a word, you pile the bare minimum of food onto your plate and dig in. You didn't care much for the delicacies the other officers seemed to indulge in every day.The weight of Doflamingo's stare settles on the top of your head as you eat, persistent. Raising your fork to your lips, you glance up at him, trying to see past the red shades.He wordlessly drops the newspaper he was reading in front of you, which remains untouched until one of his eyebrows arches.Another challenge, then.Hesitantly, you drag it closer to you but keep it on the table and at a safe distance. Skimming the headline, you raise your own eyebrow at the blurb detailing his resignation from the Seven Warlords. Your loyalty to Doflamingo these long, long years meant you got to see into his operation, and if one thing is clear, is that he is not stepping down. This position is too privileged. Too advantageous. However, nobody around you mentioned just who had made such a bold demand. Sure, you'd heard he'd 'left', but every time you entered the vicinity, the family either stopped talking or changed the subject. Doflamingo made sure nobody revealed the identity of this mysterious person.You were loyal, yes, but he knew of the feelings that still festered in your mind. He knew of your hatred of him. He knew of it, so he attempted to mold it into something it was not. The man wanted you to work for him and only him.No amount of 'education' could change the disdain you held for the man into an emotion he could weaponize, though. You'd clashed the first day he gave you a chance to express yourself, and continued to do so to this day. As such, he fed you tiny pieces of information about the only person that you cared about. Anything to keep you sated and, more importantly, to keep you chained to him. Thus, you weren't allowed to touch wanted posters or newspapers, not unless they were given to you, hence your trepidation when he offered you one. Such information threatened to undo Doflamingo's presumed work on you and he didn't want that. He didn't want you to stop fearing for Law's life.And who's on the front page, right under the tidbit about Doflamingo?Not a boy. Not anymore. He's grown up, too. His eyes are sharper than they've ever been, and though the image is in black and white, they pierce your soul. His gaze locks with yours, and you nearly tremble, memorizing what you can before you can't. The cocky smirk, the crease in his eye, the tanned skin... all of it.
Law.
You begin reading, trying not to show emotion as you file away the information. He'd allied with a pirate you'd heard many, many rumors about. Violet had told you all she knew about Straw Hat Luffy in between tasks too, but she could only do so much. Like you, Doflamingo restricted her access to information.You should keep reading. You really should. But Law, though. Was that really him?Your finger traces the curve of his sharp jawline, wondering how the boy you'd befriended ages ago had managed to grow facial hair.The corners of your lips twitch – they twitch – at the sight of his hat. You remember that hat. The sickly boy from your past may be nowhere on this man's face, but you knew that hat. There was no separating him from it. That hat was his.Apparently, that minor display of fondness is enough. Doflamingo confiscates the newspaper, ruffling the pages with his speed. You blink, anger twisting your features.He holds the newspaper above you, staring down his nose with a wicked grin. The pages swing side to side tauntingly.“He demanded I leave the Seven Warlords,” He begins, tapping Law's face three times with his pointer finger. Tap. Tap. Tap. “I wonder what else he has planned.”The conversation hasn't stopped, but you know that everyone's listening in as best they can. They usually do when Doflamingo talks to you, waiting for anything that might give them an excuse to pounce. Anything that might give them another reason to pick on you.There is a perk to butting heads with Doflamingo for more than ten years, however, and that is this: You know when he's acting.He's not as nonplussed as he's pretending to be.Of course, you feign otherwise.“You don't know, do you?” Doflamingo leans closer to you, filling your vision so that you see him. “Aorta?”There it is.Your name.Or, at least, what he chose for you. You don't know why he would pick such a name, but you've stopped trying to understand this sick man. What he called you didn't matter to you. Never has and never will.You grip the tablecloth and, dropping your gaze to your food, shake your head.You don't know. Of course, you don't.He knows that. They all do.You can sort of see where this all comes from, though. Doflamingo didn't particularly like liars after what happened with Law and...Law and...…The atmosphere, ripe with tension, settles back into something more tolerable when Doflamingo lets you off the hook. With a loud smack that echoes throughout the room, he drops the paper to the floor.He lets you eat in peace, after that.……Life carries on.(x)Doflamingo made a big mistake. He should have kept that newspaper to himself.Thanks to Violet, you know they've arrived at Dressrosa. You've also learned that marines and the Donquxote family are working together to eliminate the allied pirates. That explained why Doflamingo had left. He was to meet Law for an exchange, and while you were terrified for him, your belief in him was stronger.If Law could keep fighting, even after all this time, so could you. Especially now.Violet disappears after relaying that bit of news to you. You feel bad for the woman. When her skills are not needed around the castle, she is among the people, dancing. It must be painful for her. If only the citizens knew.You suppose that today, they would hear the truth.“You're to stay in the palace,” Doflamingo ordered before his departure. This room was similar to the Hall of Suits, though much smaller and for more private meetings.You expected him to keep you in the dark about, well, everything regarding Law, but here you are. None of the other executive officers are present, leaving you and him to chat without interruptions. “I'll come get you when I need you.”That one sentence reminds you why, sometimes, being alone with Doflamingo acted as a small mercy.It was obvious to everyone that you weren't like the rest of the officers.Doflamingo kept you close. Much closer than he kept anyone else. The more childish family members often whined about favoritism, and sometimes, you wished you were as stupid so you could believe that, too. Alas, you both knew better. But you couldn't just sit pretty at his side. Your job, according to him, is to keep people from crossing too many lines. It is to protect him and, if the situation calls for it, the more important officers. If anyone bared their teeth at the Donquixote family, you were there to deliver the consequences. You're grateful that those instances are rare, but your hands are forever stained, now. “Disobey me and I will kill him.”You remain blank-faced under his scrutiny, breathing deeply. Lips forming a thin line, you give a firm nod. It's not enough for him.“Am I clear?” He asks, his smile growing despite the vein protruding from his forehead. Doflamingo tilts his head, lowering himself slightly. His hands curl into tight fists on the table.Your heart skips a beat. "Yes."“Good.”Your captor rises to his full height, his chair scraping the floor noisily. You flinch without meaning to, jaw clenching as you try to pass it off as an annoying itch. Scratching your cheek, you watch as he departs the scene, his feather coat trailing behind him.When the door slams shut, the noise booms inside the enormous chamber. A painting clatters to the floor, the corner of its frame chipping upon impact. Like a flower wilting in winter, your posture caves into itself. Quivering, you tuck your knees close to your chest, ignoring the discomfort this new position brings. You bury your face in your arms and close your eyes, digging your nails into your skin.Nauseatingly, your world sways, your chest aching and sweat beading your forehead. A single drop rolls down the length of your spine, leaving chills that branch out to every inch of your body.(x)You want to scream.So badly, in fact, that you grip your collar and give it a sharp yank.Defeated by Doflamingo, he'd been captured, which meant that Law was here.Was he was hurt? Bleeding? Beaten? Missing a limb? Alive? You don't know. But the fact that he is here and the Straw Hats, dispersed as they are, are scrambling is not a good sign.He shouldn't be here.Doflamingo won't let you step closer to the thrones. The ones inspired by a deck of cards. When you entered, he was already there with a marine admiral. He blocked the sight of Law and pointed to the wall opposite to the visual of the coliseum. Rage coursed your veins, bleeding into your expression like ink on parchment. Crescent-shaped marks litter your palms as you dig your nails into them repeatedly. You widen your stance, dragging your boots along the floor. Gravel and dirt from outside crunches under your weight. Neither of you budge.Distantly, a voice in your brain berates you for this. What would Law gain from you confronting Doflamingo?
Disobey me and I will kill him.
You should never take your eyes off your enemy, but you do. Craning your neck, you try to peek around Doflamingo. All you see are his feet, clad in a pair of black boots.“Aorta.” Doflamingo barks sharply, his sunglasses gleaming in the bright light. He jerks the arm pointing at the wall.The leash around your neck is shortening, it seems.Bristling, you do as he tells you to. You try to catch another glimpse of Law but, Doflamingo, as if he were your reflection, prevents you from doing so.You remember how he terrorized you when you were younger. He'd employ this same tactic when you stepped out of line. Like a tower, he'd loom over you – they all would – shoving you into submission. The fact that something they did to you as a child still works is maddening.The admiral, Doflamingo, and an old man chained to a pillar have a conversation. You hadn't noticed him until now, and now that you have, your stomach roils with unease. His wounds and shackles are like kindling to the inferno trapped inside you. It's King Riku.What were the Straw Hats doing? Where was their captain? Wasn't he part of the worst generation? Where was he?You may not be bound, but you're just as trapped as every other hostage here. There's no other explanation for your presence, here. If all else failed, and if Law refused to surrender, he still had you.As you stare at the throne where he rests, you hope that Law has forgotten you. You pray that when Doflamingo does use you, that he won't stray from his path. You cannot risk being recognized. If the man's tyranny is to end at last, then there must be no hesitation.And, on the off chance that he does know who you are, you hope that it doesn't make a difference in the end.…When the admiral leaves, Baby-5 and Gladios appear to observe the events occurring in the coliseum. You ignore them both when they glance between you and Law, gaze trained ahead of you. The fighting fish has made its entrance. Straw Hat Luffy, still in the coliseum, goes after the fruit without a second thought. The crowd cheers. You scowl venomously.When a transponder snail goes off, you don't react, letting Baby-5 tend to the call. She hasn't even uttered a word when a subordinate on the other end yells, “Report from the rampart tower front entrance! Intruders! It's- It's Straw Hat Luffy!”The fighter on the screen gets closer to the chest strapped to the fish's back. Focus shattered, your eyes find the snail, astonished.Doflamingo mutters to himself.Baby-5 recovers from her shock with remarkable speed. “You must be mistaken! Straw Hat is currently fighting in the coliseum as Lucy!”Not true, apparently. The soldier continues with his report, voice tremulous as he identifies the three: Luffy, pirate hunter Roronoa Zoro, and Violet.Violet?Doflamingo stomps towards Baby-5, ripping the snail out of her hands and shouting, “Then who's the little shit running around the coliseum?! What the fuck is going on?!” The man is too terrified to explain, stuttering helplessly. Doflamingo ends the call with a growl that is nothing short of demonic.You place your arms behind your back, wringing your hands to calm your nerves.
They're actually doing it.
“Gladios...” Doflamingo seethes, shoving the snail back into Baby-5's hands and turning his back on it.“Of course, Young Master,” The man responds, marching out of the room with purpose. Your legs ache from standing for so long, but you're so scared of making another mistake you can't even wiggle a toe.Everything is this close to ending. The pain and suffering Doflamingo has caused. His tyranny. The nightmares.Everything.You look to where Law is.
You're almost there.
(x)When he finally cracks his eyes open, Law's head is throbbing miserably. His wrists burn from the shackles weighing him down. Blood drips from injuries on his head onto his lap.The sight that greets him is much more unpleasant than any pain, though.Doflamingo sits in front of him, elbow propped up as he bites his nail. As usual, he's wearing his pink feather coat, pink striped pants, and an open shirt. He can practically feel his gaze and the hatred he regards him with despite the red sunglasses. Buffalo is at his right, donning a lumpy orange coat and two heavy chains wrapped around his torso.Around those two are more of Doflamingo's associates. He doesn't bother with them.Once awake, he was subjected to a series of questions regarding his alliance with Straw Hat. That, and the dwarves of Green Bit.Baby-5 tries to get him to answer, which he does, but only because her voice is only making his headache worse.Doflamingo, however, is having none of it.“Your target is the SMILE factory alone, isn't it? Why are the Straw Hats connected to the dwarves?” He doesn't respond.“How did they infiltrate the underground?! Why are they targeting Sugar?!” The blond man chews through his nail. It makes a loud pop as it comes off.When Law doesn't answer, Baby-5 smacks him on the head. His jaw clenches. It feels like his skull is trying to squeeze his brain.“Didn't you hear the Young Master ask you a question?! Give us some answers!” Silence. “Law!”He raises his head, blinking as blood almost finds its home in his eye, and sends her a glower. She yelps, runs to Buffalo, and cries.“I told you already...” He begins, voice low as he enunciates slowly, “That crew has nothing to do with me anymore. Our alliance is over.” Tiredly, he breathes in, focusing on the man he's wanted to destroy for more than a decade. His blood boils whenever he lays his eyes upon him. “I can barely understand a damn thing you're saying.”At that, Doflamingo scoffs. “If only Violet were here. We could have the truth out of you in no time.” Doflamingo addresses the other captive in the room. “I hope you don't have anything to do with all this, King Riku!”The old man doesn't talk back. His face remains how it's been since he woke up: blank, but with untamable hatred for the tyrant.Law sinks into the uncomfortable chair, resigning to what he knows is going to be a long interrogation.(x)Though you fight to bottle the emotions and keep them concealed, your eyes fill with tears when you hear his voice.They don't fall, but they're there. When everyone is distracted, you forcefully wipe them away with your sleeve. It's frustrating. A natural reaction, but frustrating, nonetheless. For years, you did as you were told without giving it a second thought. The Donquixote family were capable of many horrors, ones that give even the bravest nightmares. And yet, you looked on as people suffered, mask neatly in place. You weren't exactly living, but you managed.Now, with memories resurfacing and old wounds reopening, it was hard. The grief never left your body, but you built the person you are now on top of it. You buried it under a sturdy foundation that has been your pedestal all this time. When pitted against time though, it is nature that tends to win against any man-made structure. Emotions pile on top of each other as the interrogation carries on. You try so hard, but you just can't fight them all off. Seeing this, Doflamingo raises a hand and sends you on your way with a flick of the wrist. The fact that Law, likely thinking that you're just some other pawn, doesn't even try to figure out who Doflamingo had just bossed around breaks your heart.You bite your fist to muffle your already quiet sobs as you leave.You have no destination, though that does not matter. The halls are a labyrinth that you happily lose yourself in.When someone calls your name, you keep walking, prompting them to raise their voice.“The Young Master says you are to go to the top floor and wait for him there."Evening your breathing, you stop.
This has to end today.
One way or another, it has to end.
(x)As it turns out, the King's Plateau has been... transported to a different location. Now, it rested on the top of Flower Hill.You think. You never really bothered learning too much about Dressrosa.Below you are the sunflower fields. You missed being able to sit among them, alone and forgotten. The family never kept track of your whereabouts and that was okay with you.Well, most of them didn't. Hiding from Doflamingo was futile with Violet at his side. Not that you blamed the woman.Diamante is there.“He'll be here soon, Aorta.” Doflamingo's voice slithers into your ear as he sidles up to your side. His proximity is unnerving. You count the clouds in the sky, split in half by his infamous Bird Cage.You've seen a fair number of people die because of it.A shiver crawls up your spine.He claps you on the shoulder with one of his enormous hands, his fingers digging into the tender spot underneath your collarbone. The muscle protests at the pressure. “Are you ready?”No.You nod once.“Good.”…Time ticks by. You witness the series of events that would eventually reach their conclusion. Both Law and Straw Hat bypass Diamante thanks to the former's powers, of which you know little about.You hope that, when all this is over, he can show-
No.
No, no, no.You cannot be hopeful. You simply can't.When he plops down on his stupid chair again, Doflamingo crosses one leg over the other smoothly. Trebol is at his side, smirking and tittering to himself as you all wait for your fate. Bellamy the Hyena confronted Doflamingo earlier about Dellinger's attempts to end his life, which...Well, it hadn't ended well for him.You still don't know how you fit into Doflamingo's plans. At best, you're a distraction and another barrier he can put up between him and Law.If Trebol wasn't here, you would have used this opportunity to deal as much damage as you could. You could never kill Doflamingo, but you definitely could've weakened him before the big showdown....maybe.Like Trebol, he smiles to himself. The murderous aura radiating off him is easy to sense, though. He'd been wrestling with unbridled rage for a while, now, and he was ready to unleash it.“Aorta,” Doflamingo calls from his seat. Trebol sneers at you when you dutifully take your place beside Dressrosa's tyrant. Bellamy, another pirate you'd never really liked, lies unconscious at his feet.Perhaps seeing the tempestuous storm inside your eyes would appease him. After all, Doflamingo is nothing if not a sadist.His only acknowledgement comes in the form of a black scarf.“You know what to do.”Sick.This man is sick.Even now, he toys with you.Taking the garment, you grip it like it's a dead animal and regard it with as much disgust. With a tremulous sigh through your nose, you wrap it around your neck and cover the lower half of your face with it. It smells of blood, which only aggravates your nausea.You spend a moment ensuring that the wind won't displace the fabric, finishing just as Doflamingo's adversaries arrive. The two pirates are littered with scratches and bruises.Nevertheless, they do not waver, weapons at the ready.You lower your head, the tension in the air so dense it makes it impossible to breathe properly.The only noise you can hear is that of the wind as it ghosts past you.Then, lowly, Doflamingo talks.“Just to be sure, let me ask you one last thing...” He drums his fingers on the armrest. “What exactly did you come here for?”Their replies are bold and unafraid.“I came to kick your ass!”“Same here.”Like a stone, your heart sinks.“You disappoint me.”At that moment, the two pirates take note of the man on the ground. Luffy shouts his name, shocked.You hadn't known much about Bellamy, but his current state was nothing short of appalling.Your tormentor goads Straw Hat by burying his heel into his ex-subordinate's back and by spewing sly words. The man yanks at Bellamy's head and lifts it from the ground, his face bloody. Tears mix with the dirt and grime caked on his face as he begs Straw Hat for death.There is bickering and arguing, and more and more words exchanged. You can hardly hear them above your own panicked thoughts.When Doflamingo launches the fake version of himself at Law, you widen your stance, preparing for what was to come. Your heart races and your palms are clammy.Straw Hat attempts to attack you three and is stopped by Bellamy, now under Doflamingo's control.Like Bellamy, you wait for his next command.Your ability to shut down long enough to carry out your missions had been your saving grace these thirteen years. There was no need to think when you could just do as you were told.This allowed you to function during the day.If Doflamingo wanted you to serve him, you would. If he wanted you to fight for him, you would. And if he wanted you to die for him...Law's voice blends with the white noise clouding your thoughts....You would.Anything to end the nightmares that plagued you when you hid under the covers.“What's this?” Doflamingo waves his hand, gesturing to you. Buffalo and Baby-5 had reported to him that you wouldn't share your name. Or talk, for that matter. These people could take what they wanted and do whatever they wanted to you... but your name belonged to you only. It was yours. You wouldn't let them tarnish it like they did every other corner of the world. “The entire trip home, screaming at the top of your lungs, and now you won't say a word?”
You count the floorboards under your feet.
1, 2, 3.
“You remind me of Corazon, you know. My stupid little brother... I hear he saved you, too.”
4, 5, 6.
“But that can't be your name. That title is only reserved for elite officers, after all.”
7, 8, 9.
“Well, since you won't talk, I suppose I have no other choice but to choose one for you.” His bait eventually became the truth when you didn't fall for that trick. You never did.
10.
“Aorta.” Doflamingo breathes, amusement dripping from every syllable as he reels you in. Your brow furrows and your eyes narrow dangerously as you bend at the knees, losing yourself in the fog.
I could never beat them.
You tug at the scarf until it sits right below your lower lashes, launching yourself at Straw Hat. He uses his arms to protect his head from the punch you aimed at it. Now distracted, you knock him down with a well-placed kick at his legs. He rolls away before you can bury your fist in his midriff. The concrete splinters from the force of your haki.“I told you this before, Law!” Doflamingo yells over the pandemonium, “The weak don't have a choice, even in death!”Straw Hat practically tosses you over his shoulder when you pounce on him.“Tra-guy! I'm going to take him down!”“I told you not to get angry!”“I'mma beat him now!!”The youngest pirate runs towards Law, raising his arm. Was he going to hit him?!“ROOM.”“Red Hawk!!” Like some cheap magic trick, Law swaps places with Doflamingo. “Shambles!”It's too late. The seconds you'd wasted fearing for Law's wellbeing, they used to catch you all off guard.Straw Hat's attack finds its home as you watch, powerless and frozen with shock. A fierce gust of wind decides to add to the chaos, tousling your hair. The scarf slides down the bridge of your nose a little.Time slows as Law materializes and occupies your captain's seat with a smirk that looks too good. The skin that his black coat doesn't cover is decorated in jet black tattoos. On his chest is what you assume is his jolly roger framed by a heart.
Corazon?
Cheekily, he tilts his head back and stares up at Trebol.You're breathless.He's nothing like the boy you knew and yet strikingly similar in so many ways.With an ease that unnerves you, he takes down Trebol, who forms a disgusting puddle on the floor, arms flailing wildly.Quickly, your old friend's attention snaps to you, his yellow eyes sharper than the sword he wields. With a foot on one of the armrests, he swings at you. It lacks the conviction he'd portrayed this entire time. You narrowly dodge the tip of the blade.
Likely saving his energy.
Doflamingo's counterattack is brutal.“Do you know what you're going to do, Aorta?” Trebol asks three days after you received your name. You stare at him. “You're going to serve the Young Master and you're going to do it until you die.”Were you?Were you capable of doing so, even after four of Doflamingo's strings pierce Law's torso and he spits out blood? Even as Straw Hat struggles to hold his ground and Bellamy sobs?Trebol cackles at his enemy's predicament, head bouncing.“A grown man like me doesn't have the time to play your kiddy games.”Both the clone and Bellamy give the newly bound Straw Hat no reprieve. He is forced to withdraw as they gang up on him, disappearing when another blow lands. He hits the ground with a deafening boom, one that shakes the earth. You grimace, dreading the pain the younger pirate is enduring.With Straw Hat out of the picture, Doflamingo swiftly returns his sadistic self.“Let's begin the execution, shall we?”(x)A stray dog learns to trust the hand that feeds it. It takes time, and effort, and a lot of patience, but it can be achieved.Doflamingo didn't expend as many resources on you. Wracked with grief and self-destructive tendencies, you were easy. He couldn't convince you to hate Law for what he'd done or to see him as your saviour. All he had to do was give a reason to keep on living and you did. It was twisted, the blackmail, but it breathed life into you nonetheless.Even so, no amount of indoctrination on his part could make you believe in his ideals. You didn't believe he was a king or a god or what have you. When you first met him after Corazon's death, you wrinkled your nose as if you'd smelled something vile.Still, he and his crew could provide what you needed.Food. Shelter. Protection.A means for survival.And, if it meant finding your way back to Law one day, you'd endure it.Law, the boy who helped you even with the knowledge that he couldn't help himself haunting him. He was no saint back then, but if you hurt yourself, he'd show you how to treat the injury. The boy also taught you how to take care of Corazon's many accidents.You learned a vast majority of your vocabulary with Corazon. He took note of your mannerisms and your growing frustration when you couldn't communicate your thoughts. One fine morning, he announced he was going to teach you.First, he'd present you with a certain item, enunciating its name until you said it correctly.Ocean. Water. Bright. Blue. Wave. Book. Page. Spine. Boat. Paddle. Wood.Sail. Wind. Freedom.Stupid. Law taught you that one. He called Corazon stupid whenever he tripped and fell.When you could finally form semi-coherent sentences, you explained to them how you snuck aboard their boat. In your quest for a meal, you'd stolen a piece of bread from a merchant and ran. You hid in their vessel to avoid the marines and merchants hunting you down. Law was the one to find you. Your nose still hurt from his kick.While sailing to Rubeck Island, he held you, his coat protecting you and Law from the harsh weather.You would learn two more words from him, that day.Heart.That one he yelled when you poked his chest, curious about the thunderous beating of the organ. You knew what the frantic beating meant. He was scared, much like you.Finally, he taught you about Love.Though it was part of a sentence, it was the word that stuck with you.Corazon could have saved both of you, but the chest only had space for one. You'd have to empty it for both of you to fit, and that would arouse suspicion.Your saviour spent a long time deliberating, gaze bouncing between you and your sickly companion. His mood soured every time he looked at you.You were always a smart kid, though. Thanks to your upbringing, every single one of your senses were finely attuned to any changes in the atmosphere.You gripped Corazon's hand, your lips stretching into the biggest smile he'd seen so Law remained ignorant. Your wide, round eyes urgently implored Corazon to accept your fate. If Doflamingo found you and him, then so be it, but he could not have Law.It would all be for naught, otherwise.…Emotions flashed across his face, battling for dominance. A part of him was struggling to hold the happy act together. The other showed his inner conflict. After all, his mission, among other things, was to prevent children from falling into Doflamingo's hands. He'd already failed with Baby-5 and Buffalo.Was he ready to fail you, too?It took a solid fifteen seconds before he granted you your wish, his shoulders sagging in defeat.Every fibre of his being screamed at him to shove you inside the chest, but there was no way he could.In the end, you and Corazon cheerfully bid Law farewell.“Hey, Law...” From your periphery, you saw Corazon make a peace sign, eyes scrunched up from his overly joyful expression. “I love you!”Law, shocked, stares back, Corazon's powers cancelling his ability to voice his surprise. With a giggle, you copied Corazon's actions as the lid of the chest fell shut.When that was done, Corazon settled on the snow-covered ground, watching you. There was anguish in his eyes.Concerned, you ripped part of your clothing and balled it up. You shivered in the frigid cold, but that didn't matter. Carefully, you kneeled beside him and wiped the blood under his nose. He let you do as you pleased for a minute or two, knowing that your time with him now was very much limited.“That's not necessary, kiddo.” He said wearily, expelling smoke with each syllable. Gently, he patted you on the knee with his enormous hand, leaving a bloody imprint on it.Huffing, you'd frowned at him, tossing the fabric aside.For a while, you quietly sit with the man who had saved you, wiping snow from your eyes. You diligently removed the snow that fell on his hood, even if it was pointless. The tension in the air had been palpable and too much for you, so you busied yourself with whatever interests you.In those moments spent on the frigid winter island, you took care of him. It was the least you could do.However, even that couldn't keep your troubled thoughts at bay for long.You would have let him ruminate if it weren't for that word running circles around your mind. Grabbing part of his coat, you gave it a firm tug, dragging his attention back to you.“Love?” You asked, jerking your head towards the chest.“Yes,” He murmured. Though his smile was much smaller, it was still present. “People say that when they care about someone a lot.”Your mouth formed a small “O” as you nod vigorously. You were always excited to learn new ways to express yourself around them. Corazon's heart lurched painfully.Doflamingo was bound to reach your location soon.“I love Law!” You chirped resolutely, your child-like features rosy from the chill, eyes sparkling.“Good,” Corazon stroked your knee, fighting a grimace when he shifts, nestling further into his black coat. “Look out for him, okay?”Lips pursed, you hummed in confirmation, still lost in thought. You would always look out for Law.When was the last time someone had told Corazon they loved him?Too long, you decided. He needed to hear it now. Confidently, you parroted what he'd said to Law back to him, “I love you, Corazon.”The hand on your knee tightened its hold.Corazon's bottom lip trembled, his eyes shining with unshed tears. He opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, reminding you of one of the fish you caught together. Ultimately, he settled for patting you on the head, letting out a watery laugh.“I love you, too."Footsteps alluded to his arrival.“Corazon!”(x)With a harsh shove, Trebol tosses you into the fray once more, where you are forced to defend Doflamingo. As he and Law clash, the latter summons another room, his voice reverberating through you and burrowing into your bones.The young pirate is exhausted, his ability taking its toll on his body. His feet drag from time to time.Meanwhile, you make the trajectory of each of your attacks obvious so that Law can parry them. You stay close to him, trying to block Doflamingo's path as best you can without giving yourself away. Your strategy gives Law a few seconds to rest.Doflamingo is not as kind. He moves like a beast, his feet barely touching the cobblestones. His hands, poised to tear Law's heart out, claw at the air as he uses his strings, which whistle with each lethal swipe.Law's room expands, extending beyond the castle's perimeter.Both fighters exchange several blows. You linger on the sidelines after being on the receiving end of one of Law's Injection Shots. Your shoulder exploded in pain when his sword bore into it with deadly precision. Keeping your agonized scream to yourself was a herculean task.“Law!”For a split second, his eyes widen and his jaw goes slack. You mirror his expression, horrified.Forgetting Law for a brief moment, you glance at Doflamingo, who seems unaware of what's happened.Your adversary recovers much faster from his blunder than you. The younger pirate swings horizontally at your head. This time, the scarf isn't so lucky. You shield your face before Law can deduce who you are, aiming a kick at his side that he blocks with his weapon. It cuts through your clothing and bites into your flesh, blood oozing out.Limping, you wonder what the hell Trebol is doing.
He's being more useless than I am.
Then again, you're on quite the tightrope – one with no end in sight – struggling to stay balanced. A malicious wind comes at you from all angles, threatening to topple you like you would a chess piece. The rope creaks and bends with your weight, fraying at the edges. You were running out of time.The act has to end.“So what if you're a D.?! Do you think you can stop me?!”Law aims an Injection Shot at Doflamingo's abdomen.What is the point of resisting?
It would all be for naught, otherwise.
The wind settles, fading now that you hardly require convincing.
Falling doesn't mean it's over.
You just have to dust yourself off, get up, and-“I've come to do what Cora-san couldn't do!”The tightrope ensnares your ankle.Growling, Doflamingo wrenches you towards him, fist clenched around numerous strings. The scarf barely hangs on. Your attempts to untie yourself are fruitless, air and dust whipping at your face. Though he's noticed your predicament, it is too late for Law to back off, the energy building in his arm ready to burst free.You screw your eyes shut, hiding in the void that usually haunts your dreams.
No distractions.
Ignoring the pain tearing through you, you twist your entire frame so that you face Doflamingo, going limp. It would hurt, a lot – Law knows where each vital organ is, after all – but that's okay.Finally, when you're level with Law's original target, you breathe in. The seconds crawl by too slowly for your liking. You aren't as prepared as you thought you were when it finally happens.You do feel his sword cleave the muscles in your lower back inch by inch. It rips the scream lodged in your throat out of you, the sound rattling inside your head.But you're not letting Doflamingo escape. Grasping his own strings, you expend the remnants of your strength and loop them around his body. He's too shocked to resist when you haul him forward and lock your arms around his waist, hugging him.You grit your teeth as the length of the blade continues its quest, tasting iron. Your perception blurs.The tip only grazes Doflamingo, even when you nudge him closer repeatedly, but it's enough.Law draws back, the final sequence of the attack initiating. Doflamingo gasps as the air plows through him and forces him to kneel. The force sends you careening towards him. You're only mildly surprised when he catches you and presses you against him, too far gone to understand.You feel disgusted when a stained palm settles on your head and back, staunching the flow of the sanguine fluid seeping into your clothes. A whimper ghosts pasts your lips when he adds pressure.Is the man really trying to save you?You wish you could laugh at him.Chin propped on his shoulder, you opt for a cruel smile for both of these two fools, staring at the sky. You feel anger at such a pretty view. Everything about this should be as ugly as the man cradling you to his chest. The clouds shouldn't be rolling overhead so languidly. There should be a storm raging and thunder loud enough to rattle window panes.Darkness bears down on you, obscuring the edges of your vision.Weakly, you grip his shoulder, ripping feathers from his stupid pink coat and tossing them aside. Your tongue tastes like lead and your lips are so dry they bleed.“Die.” You hiss right into his ear, uttering the only word you've ever directed to Doflamingo like a curse. You'll howl it at the top of your lungs if it'll twist fate and grant you your wish.You succumb to the void, then, into the welcoming arms of your dreams and of that young boy.(x)“It's tragic, isn't it?” Doflamingo rakes his fingers through your hair, letting your head hang. The angle lets him see just who his third enemy was, ice filling his veins.“Aorta...” Doflamingo, relishing in Law's astonished gaze, speaks to his subordinate. “Such a waste, no, Trebol?” Said man cackles in response.“Aorta.” Law echoes. “You mean...” Your name sits on the tip of his tongue, yet to be given a voice. It's one he'd only ever been able to whisper, and that had been years ago, when he first met Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi. Surrounded by the mechanical whirring of his submarine and his newfound friends, he'd talked about you, his time with the family, Corazon.It was hard to feel nothing but anger when he figured out what you and Corazon had done for him. He'd been too distracted, too naive, to truly grasp the meaning behind your smile. To put a stop to the silent conversation between you two.He believed Corazon when he said you would all be together again.Sure, Corazon's sacrifice he understood. But yours?What would compel you to sacrifice yourself like that? And why do that for him?Law glowered at Doflamingo, burying those thoughts.This could be another one of the man's ploys. For all he knew, you were dead. Dead and buried on that island.“Yes.” Doflamingo cards his finger through your hair. Law stamps on the urge to shudder. “A good little soldier, this one.”After seeing you punch the ground and leave cracks in it, he could believe it.…Why didn't you...?Then, unceremoniously, Doflamingo discards you like a broken doll, rising to his feet and stepping over your recumbent form. Your head lolls to the side. Law's eyes flicker from your face – a face he recognizes – and the man he promised to enact his revenge upon.He's thankful that your eyes are closed. The fact that you're unconscious isn't ideal, but at least you aren't staring back at him lifelessly.“More than a decade serving me, and I could never turn Aorta against you.” He speaks, stalking forward much like a predator, his shoes clicking. “So much faith, so much hope... and look where that's gotten us, now.”Law runs through what's left of his plan again, jaw clenching when another memory of you crawls to the forefront of his mind. The more the cogs spin, the more pieces he puts together, and the more everything threatens to overwhelm him.It really is you.
I love Law!
“Don't you feel the least bit guilty?” Doflamingo goads, smiling wickedly. “Aorta's dead now. All because of you.”He prepares his next attack.(x)You slip in and out of consciousness for what feels like an eternity, catching glimpses of the world as you do. Each time, it feels like each event is playing in fragments. A pair of golden eyes bore into yours more than once, an image you cling to whenever you go under again.Voices cry out, muffled by the thick, impenetrable fog clouding your brain. They sound far, far away, almost as if you're underwater.When you do manage to stay awake for more than a minute, you regret it, slowly becoming aware of a multitude of injuries. Your fingers and toes burn. The throbbing of your head pulses in tandem with your heart. Lights are blinding and sear your retinas.You're so far removed from everything you don't know where you are or if you're even alive. Existence is burdensome, painful, and just too much whenever the universe tears you away from your dreams.When you gain enough strength to lift your arms, you fight. You thrash and you scratch whatever dares to move, mouth struggling to form words. A cacophony of voices, both high-pitched and deep, echoes in your mind, urging you to stay still, stop, your wounds will only worsen, but you ignore them.You don't care, anymore.You don't care.Nothing they say could ever convince you to come back. You won't let them take you, again.It all ends with a sharp prick on your arm....The sweet aroma of flowers, thousands of them, is the first thing that greets you.At first, you believe you're on Flower Hill, enjoying a few moments of peace. You want to touch the sunflowers, to feel their leaves, but drowsiness had wrapped itself around you like a comforting blanket.Happily, you drift, hoping that none of the officers bother you.The illusion crumbles when you hear the clinking of dishes, footfalls, and snoring. Your freeze, comfort giving way to distress.Where were you?Why were you so hurt?What... what had happened?You're so puzzled that you don't even register your name.“...Aorta.”Violently, you recoil from him, blankets fluttering and twisting as you slam your back into the wall. Your gaze immediately snaps to the right, meeting a pair of amber eyes that gives you pause. Law watches your chest as you try to control your breathing, a hair's breadth from hyperventilating.Gaping, you take in the sight of your old friend. Bandages cover almost every inch of him, with smaller strips of adhesive covering superficial scratches. The only reason you didn't kick him in the face is because of his hat. His sword sits propped on the floor, resting on his shoulder.The floor. Whose floor?When you scan the area, you realize that you are in a very small house. A table sits in the middle, where the one pirate you recognize, Luffy, sits among others. Food covers the expanse of the table, most of it clustered around Straw Hat. Behind him, two men chew on their food, staring at you. Sitting by the door is Bellamy, strong arms crossed over his chest and expression sour. To his left is a cupboard with a fruit basket on it. On the opposite side is another door, which presumably leads to a bedroom.A gas lamp illuminates the room, the window making up for what the lamp cannot illuminate. The walls are made of stone and wood. Daintily, a woman puts a log into a small fireplace, then occupies the seat by the window. She smiles when she catches you staring.You wouldn't have noticed its size if it weren't for the ten residents, with you being the eleventh.But then, if you're all here... where was the Donquixote family?Had... Had Straw Hat and Law won?“How... do you feel?” Law drags your attention back to him with his oddly hesitant question. You blink, thumbing the blanket on your lap, and nod. Slowly, you gesture to the room, where the conversation is flowing again thanks to the black-haired woman.“...you?” You whisper, leaning closer to him so that he can hear you.Law sends his bandages a pointed look. “Fine.”...This... is not the reunion you had envisioned.Is he even happy to see you after so long?Frowning, you lower your head, staring at the floor. You sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to Kyros tell the story of how the rumour about Rebecca's father started. Straw Hat sleeps and yells and eats at the same time, his sentences a garbled mess. A man with green hair yells at him to take one thing at a time.One thing at a time.You take a steadying breath, determined to overcome whatever obstacles are making this awkward between you both.“...is it really you?”Your composure frays.You're almost offended by the question, raising your head so quickly your neck pops. When you examine his face, you realize that he is not joking, that he truly is troubled. He's not the cocky man you saw in the newspaper. If anything, he's acting like the boy he once was, masking his discomfort with a veil of surety.Incredulous, you furrow your eyebrows at him, boldly leaning towards him and shooting right back, “Stupid.”Taken aback, he distances himself from you, taking his sword with him.Inhaling audibly, you continue, not quite done, “You,” Your voice trembles. Whatever frustration his inquiry had summoned is crushed under the deep sadness you've felt every day. “You... are being so stupid, Law. Of course, it's me.”When he doesn't reply, you repeat yourself more firmly, “It's me.”Silence descends between you two, forming a wall that grows taller with each second that ticks by. You don't want to say anything with so many strangers nearby.Now that you're not seeing double, you scoot to the side, where there is more room. You plant your hands on the wooden floor and push yourself up, ignoring Law when he reaches for you. He hesitates when his tattooed fingers are inches from your arm. His hand falls to his side when you limp past the breakfast table.Kyros questions you, trying to cajole you into resting some more, but you don't want to be in this house anymore. You need fresh air.Bellamy wordlessly lets you pass when you make it to the door, exiting the house and walking into the flower field. It seems just as endless as the flower field back at the palace.Treading further into it, you marvel at the sight, appreciating the beauty before you. It is a sea of pink, sparkling under the afternoon sun. The sky is clear, blue, and bright. Best of all, there is no birdcage trapping you all inside.Freedom.You spend a few minutes outside, sitting on a patch of land that the flowers haven't conquered.They really had won, then....What would you do now?All you've known for the past thirteen years is the Donquixote way of life. Could you really go back to what you were before any of them? Before Doflamingo?Thinking of him brings about memories, his laughter ringing in your ears, and you shake your head.They were no more. Whatever power they held, it'd been passed on to the rightful king.You wonder if Violet's made it out safely. If she's found her family.You sincerely hope she has.A disturbance behind you alerts you of someone's presence. Alarmed, you turn around, only to pause when the intruder is none other than Law. Your shoulders sag in his presence, and you frown, your head swivelling to face the world ahead of you again.Biting your lip, you pat the spot beside you gently, inviting him to join you.You want to do this right. If there's anything for you in this life, it's Law. There was a bond that neither of you could deny, created by your late caretaker and friend, Corazon.You promised him.Neither of you is very good at talking about these hitches, though. When Law accepts your invitation, sitting on your left, his sigh is very telling.“...you shouldn't be moving around so much,” He admonishes, in the way he used to do on the boat. There's no real bite to his words. It takes some of the tension out of the air.“Says you,” You retort, enjoying the breeze that caresses your skin. The flowers dance around you, swaying back and forth, as if greeting you, and the grass tickles the strip of skin your pant legs don't cover.“I stabbed you through your back.” He says.“You fought Doflamingo.” Then, cocking your head to the side and thinking, you add, “Corazon would have killed you if he were there.”“He was the reason I did it, so he'd have no say in this matter,” Law mutters, cracking a small smile that, when you glance at him, melts your heart a little.“Corazon speaks through me,” You press two fingers to your temple, visage scrunching up in concentration as you pretend to think, “He says you're pretty stupid for doing that.”“Is that you or him talking?” Law asks, arching an eyebrow at you. You grin, shrugging.“He also says thank you.” You're a bit sombre now, much like he is when he processes what you said, obscuring your view of his expression with his hat. It gives you the perfect angle to spot a small hole on the side. “Thank you, Law.”This time, the lack of words is not due to discomfort. Palm open, he holds his hand out for you to take, which you do with a speed that surprises you. You squeeze it, closing the space still separating you from each other, and rest your head on his shoulder.Well, you would have, if he hadn't hissed and pulled back immediately.“What?” You startle, “What is it? Did I hurt you?”“It's nothing,” He dismisses your concern with a wave.“Clearly not,” You argue, gaze moving to the limb. “What happened? What did I do?”“It wasn't you,” He breathes, tending to the sore spot with a grimace that also doesn't answer your first question. Urgently, you motion for him to elaborate, something that has him grumbling under his breath. “...Doflamingo cut off my arm.” Ripped or torn apply better when reflecting on that event, but he doesn't want you to- ......You've gone pale.“It's healing, now.” Law scurries to keep you from fainting, keeping his tone level so as to not add to your evident anxiety. The last thing he needs is for you to split your skull. “Don't worry about it.”He doesn't expect you to drop the subject, but he also doesn't anticipate your response, which you grit out while massaging your temples. “...Corazon would kill you.”Law deflates, nodding solemnly as he thinks of the man and the disasters he caused when other people tried hurting him. “He would.”“But... but it's fine, now, right?” You prod his deltoid with the same strength you knock down a row of domino. “You attached it?”“Yes,” He smiles at your trepidation. “It's fine, now.”“Okay,” Slowly, you mirror his expression, inhaling deeply to calm your nerves. He got his arm cut off! And he's treating it like... like this?! If this were your arm you were talking about, you'd never hear the end of it from him! The first thing he did when he got here was scold you!Whatever. He's the doctor.He knows what's best, right?(His crew would disagree.)“Your hat has a hole,” You point out, lifting your free hand and-Right, you're still holding hands. Cough.Moving on.You ask permission with a pointed glance at it, to which he nods. Removing it from him, you lay it out on your lap, figuring that you could, in fact, mend this. It wasn't too big, and you'd done your fair share of sewing, so this shouldn't be a challenge.“Your verdict?” Law mumbles, craning his neck to study the damage, as well.“I can fix it before you leave,” You announce, admiring the softness of the hat. The fur on the rim had a tiny stain on it, too.“Hm...”Smiling, you turn back to him, unaware of just how close to you he really was. Your noses nearly brush, eyes widening at the same time. While your breath hitches, the surgeon swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. You probably resemble some of the statues you'd seen around Dressrosa, most of them of two lovers practically gravitating towards each other....is that what you want?Finally, after a solid ten seconds of staring at each other like two dolts, he reveals his true intentions, “Come with me.”Emotions stir in your gut.“And join your crew?” You warble, sniffling.“Yes,”Overwhelmed, you press your forehead against his cheek, shaking your head. His jaw clenches, his right arm snaking around your waist.You eye the bandages around his chest, wishing you could see the jolly roger he proudly showed off. Maybe, somehow, you could change the jolly roger you'd been forced to display on your own chest into his. Even now, the ink under your skin feels like a foreign body, poisoning you. It was Doflamingo's greatest crime against you and your soul. A violation so foul, so wrong, you'd sobbed into your pillow for weeks. You were fifteen. You were fifteen and you were hopeless.You wish you could give your teenage self the love they didn't provide....All the more incentive to leave that family, this island, and every nightmare in the dust.“...you're sure?”His protective grip becomes more secure. “Yes.”...(x)Zou is... strangely beautiful.Its inhabitants are odd, for sure, but they were also very welcoming once they moved past their “kill all humans” phase. You'd even traded a bracelet with one of them!Law doesn't stop to smell the roses, not at all, but you're doing the sight-seeing for the both of you. He smirks to himself when you zoom from one tree to a flower, to a bush, back to another tree. You touch, smell, and mention whatever flower you locate, awed. Droplets glimmer as the light shines on them, breathing life into the lush forest.The injuries you'd sustained are all but healed, much like his. They'd been a hindrance in the time you spent escaping the marines and other perils, but all was well, thanks to his abilities.The only trace of the battle at Dressrosa was a pink scar along your stomach, but that was irrelevant.In his palm is a vivre card. It twitches as it guides you towards his crew.
His crew.
You wonder what they're all like, excited to meet them. Law had mentioned one of his crewmembers originated from this very island. Apparently, he and a few others had been together for almost as long as you'd been separated. That had been surprising. You want to see just who it was that made it past his solid defences. You want to thank them for keeping him safe.Law stops walking when you arrive at a clearing. You do the same, waiting patiently for his crew.When they do show themselves they seem to sprout from the bushes, all wearing the same uniforms, shouting for their captain. You wring your hands, chuckling when a mink in the only orange suit rushes to hug Law. The man grunts, bending at the waist to support his friend, who nuzzles him while sobbing. The mink's fur pokes out awkwardly from the bandages wrapped around its head.“I missed youuuu...!” The mink cries, claws burrowing into Law's shirt. You fear they might tear right through it, but refrain from commenting. “All the members of the Heart Pirates are here!”“Bepo, do you wanna squash him?” A man scolds, standing a few feet from the crying mink. You narrow your eyes at his hat, trying to remember which of the two Law had mentioned he was. The other one is wearing a hat that says penguin, topped with a pom-pom, so you assume this is Shachi.“Sorry, sorry!” The mink hops off his perch on Law, who straightens with his smile still in place.The biggest man in the crew seems to notice you. He has long, unruly hair and an even wilder beard. Below his lip are a few bandages. You nod your head politely, waiting for Law to do the introductions. He doesn't point out the stranger amongst them, but he does scan you from your head to your toes. You smile to put him slightly at ease.How long did it take to make a suit specifically for him?“Captain, I'm so amazed to know that you beat Doflamingo!” The mink, Bepo, exclaims, awestruck.“No, that was Straw Hat-ya's...”Penguin interrupts him, likely knowing where the conversation was headed. You already like him. “We have a lot to catch up on! Let's go deeper into the forest.”“Yeah, you can tell us all about it, then.” Shachi jerks a thumb in your direction, catching you off guard. “And why you've got someone following you around.”Law turns to you, smile growing and eyes filling with fondness, and your face heats up as the crew's attention finds its way to you. Some of them murmur to each other, sizing you up. You note that a majority of them wear hats, which would make names a lot easier to remember, later. If they accepted you, that is.Regardless, you've got your... well, your training to thank for the unflappable facade you've perfected.“This is...” Surprisingly, Law hesitates, unsure of which name to use. You sidle up to him, bowing to his crew respectfully. Staring into each person's eyes, you loudly give them your name – your real name – and bow again.“Wait-” Penguin starts, raising his hands and waving them, “Wait, wait, wait. You're-!”“Really?!” Shachi cuts in.“It is so good to finally meet you!” Bepo finishes it all off, running up to you and shaking your hand vigorously. Holy crap. Minks were really strong. The guy almost dislocated your shoulder.“And you, too.” You reply sincerely, delighted to at least have one of them admit you into their merry band. “Law's told me all about you, guys.”“Oh?” One of the other members pipes up, scratching the nape of his neck. This one has a mustache and a black fedora. “Only good things, I hope.”“Of course,” Law rolls his eyes, urging you to walk with him by resting a hand on the small of your back. The crew quickly follows suit. Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi remain close by, curious about the mysterious person from Law's past.You answer their questions eagerly, practically glued to Law's side. He delivers snarky remarks when the conversation inevitably drifts to your childhood and you coo about the young boy he once was.The crew as a whole breaks out in uproarious laughter when he mentions that you fell out of the boat, once. You elbow him in the ribs, yet do nothing else. Beating him at his own game would involve bringing up Corazon, and you don't want to do that. Law knows, too, letting that particular topic drop without a single question.Grateful, you rub his shoulder, letting go before it arouses suspicion.Much of the crew tell you about themselves. Shachi and Penguin lead most of the story-telling, finishing each other's sentences. It makes for quite an entertaining show. Sitting underneath a large tree, Law tending to Kikoku wordlessly, you laugh more than you have in an entire decade.The man beside you is also much more relaxed than he was when he was around the Straw Hats.Tucked away in your little corner of the island, you finally feel at home.The hours roll by much like the clouds in the sky. Crewmembers fall asleep, squished together like sardines, some snoring obnoxiously. When only you, Law, Shachi, and Penguin remain awake, the two friends take off. They drag Bepo off of Law, waving cheerfully when you tell them to stay safe.Alone but not alone.Law sets his sword on his right, leaning his head against the bark of the tree and closing his eyes with a weary sigh. Without much thought, he traces the stitches that had replaced the small hole on his hat, courtesy of the stalker he has. He peeks one of them open when he senses your stare, raising an eyebrow.“What is it?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. You shake your head, smiling even though your cheeks were in extreme pain. When they ganged up on Law on certain topics, the crew was absolutely hilarious. Seeing Law rack his brain to come up with comebacks was the best part.“I'm happy.” You slip one of his hands into both of yours, holding it in your lap. “Thank you for letting me join you.”“Hm...” Law hums. The warmth radiating off him envelops you completely when he wraps his other arm around your waist, close enough that no one can really tell. His next words are said with a spark of anger. The hand on your hip squeezes, then loosens, returning to its previous state. “We'll do something about that tattoo, soon. I promise.”“When we do,” You grin, your tone airy, “Can I make it look like yours?”You were only kidding. Considering the meaning and value his tattoos carry, it would be wrong to just... slap it on your chest and call it a day.The moon provides enough light for you to see his face properly, but those two amber irises seem to gleam in the dark. He reminds you of a panther.His eyes drop to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to yours.A panther poised to strike.“You could if you wanted to.” He whispers, catching you off guard.Though, you suppose that, with your shared history, it makes sense. Still, it doesn't feel right to just... take that from him. That was Corazon's legacy etched into the skin closest to one of the most fragile organs in the human body.“No,” You chuckle breathlessly, shaking your head. Your smile is sad. “I'll... I'll figure it out. Don't worry.”Law nods.“Besides, I don't think Corazon would be happy with it.” You begin, then hook a finger around his goatee. You rub his chin as you did back with the stray cats in Dressrosa, much to his chagrin. “Or with this beard. So messy!”Law bats your hand away with a scoff, tilting his head back to escape your ministrations. Even with the minimal lighting, you can spot the red colouring his cheeks. You giggle, relenting when he a grumble erupts from his throat.“Sorry,” You're not, but you had to move past that, somehow.“Yeah, yeah.”With another laugh, you rest your head on his shoulder, sighing. You don't really want to sleep, but you're more than exhausted after today's events.It'd been a recurring feeling. Instead of nightmares, you dream of what is to come, things that may come to pass, and wake up with way too much energy. You want to do so much. There are so many things you want to see this crew achieve. Law and you had so much to catch up on together.“I'm... gonna sleep,” You mumble, yawning moments later.“Okay,” If there was any distance between you, it is now gone, every inch of your body in contact with his. You're practically sprawled out on his lap.The sounds of crickets and snoring make for great white noise. You cling to him, inhaling his scent, calm washing over you like a gentle wave. Above him, the moon shines brighter, blanketing him in a soft, gray glow.On the cusp of sleep, you smile when you feel him kiss your temple, lingering there to breathe four words into your ear.“I love you, too.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Why did this have to happen to you?“I, wait, please listen to me-” BOOM. There goes your table, flying through the air and splintering when it crashes to the floor. You wince, struggling to keep your eyes on the menace. The hands you'd raised in an attempt to appease the man fall back to your sides helplessly.You wish the ground would open the maw you know it keeps hidden and swallow you whole.“Where?!”You don't bother answering, knowing that it was a rhetorical question and that nothing would dissuade him.The old man stomps right up to your shelves, poking his nose between tomes like a bloodhound. Any other time, any other day, any other era, you might have laughed at his antics. All you can muster at this point is an exasperated eye roll, and even that feels like too much for you.“Why would I open my doors to a demon?!” You yell, hoping to be heard even with all the racket. There's a shrill screech as the shelves slide against the floor suddenly. Garp sticks his head behind it, glancing up and down with a speed that makes your neck twinge in sympathy.“Demons,” He corrects, nostrils flaring. Garp directs his disdain for any magical creature at you, eyes narrowing dangerously. “There are demons here.”“No? There are not?” You throw your arms out, turning slowly as you search the room. “Do you see them anywhere? Because I-”-I'm going to die.Yep! You're done for!Up on the ceiling, you spot one of the troublemakers, Shanks, because of course. What did you expect from a man who congratulated children for destroying a library?The sight itself is extremely disturbing. He's not holding onto the ceiling as a cat clings to the wall. Instead, the front of his body is facing the floor, his one arm and legs bent at odd angles to keep him from falling.The hand that isn't leaving claw marks along your ceiling is holding a book.Wait.Another hand? Did you hallucinate a missing limb when you sat down with them, earlier?No. You couldn't have. He must've played a trick on you to appear less threatening. That has to be it. Where'd he get the other arm?!The book dangles from two of his clawed fingers dangerously. Whatever air you have left leaves your lungs in a meek gust. You're almost thankful for it, too. If it hadn't, you might've screamed at him.He grins at you as he holds it above Garp's head.Is this how he normally greets people? Because that seems to be the only reasonable explanation. Or, at least one of them. The other? He's a jerk with no understanding of what danger is.“Because you what?” Shanks graciously saves you from night terrors, flipping over soundlessly. With the book on his abdomen, he crawls to another hiding spot. You watch, part of your face twitching.He moves like a lizard.Your gaze traces the demon's trajectory, disbelief loosening your tight jaw and forcing it to go slack. You're vaguely surprised when you don't hear it hit the floor.Even so, you can't stifle the strangled noise that escapes you, which is a mistake. When Garp spots the dumbfounded look on your face, his attention snaps to the ceiling. He finds nothing, but he does wait for you to explain, jutting his chin out.“I saw a spider.” You wheeze, your throat so dry that sand would probably help hydrate it.Groaning, Garp stomps over to you, his beast hunter coat flapping behind him like an incensed pair of wings. He remains ignorant of the concept of personal space, hissing in your face, “How did they do it? What did they use?”“Garp, I told you,” Hell yeah, you stood your ground. Your knees are on the verge of buckling, but you did it. “Hot sauce. Whiskey. They used charcoal to draw the circle. I was making tea.”“You were making tea.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the wrinkles etched into his forehead deepening.“I know.” You're going to pretend that you don't see two demons gliding around your ceiling. They disappear into another nook, tucked away behind one of the beams supporting the structure. Shanks uses his tail to wave at you.Meeting Garp's gaze – rather bravely, you might add – you relay what you've been screaming at yourself to him, “I should have known better.”“But they were here? The demons?” He clasps your shoulders and lowers himself to your level, speaking even as he glances around frantically. You inhale, reaching for his wrists, then think better than to try and pry them off. His Fist of Love was not as loving as he made it out to be.“I-I...” What do you do? What do you tell him? That two weirdos were frolicking about your ceiling like two possessed squirrels?“Yes, Garp. They were here.”He's a hair's breadth from exploding, his mouth opening to berate you as he straightens to his full height. You beat him to it, raising your hands and grimacing. The headache you'd tried nursing earlier while he ransacked your home is returning with a vengeance. “But I banished them.”That gives him pause, because hah! There's no way you accomplished such a thing and he is not going to believe-“You?” Garp is not convinced yet, but he hasn't punted you to the nearest town, so you are absolutely rolling with it.“Yes, Garp, I did.” You double down, daring to take a few steps back and rubbing your eyes. “I don't know how, but I did.”“And you're sure they're gone?” He's far quieter now, which is another victory.“I think so,” You sigh, wondering where he'd chucked your couches. One of them sits against the wall, still upright, and you head towards it. Flopping down on the cushions, you grunt, gesturing to your wrecked abode. “Why do you think the place was such a mess when you got here?”“And you're alright?” He walks over to the couch, joining you carefully. You feel guilty for tricking him like this, considering everything he'd done for you, but you kind of have to. For the children and yourself.“I've still got all my limbs,” You joke meekly, removing your hands from your face and blinking several times. The room is too bright. “So... I'd say yes. Just tired.”“...”When you focus on him – more specifically, on his frown – you internally plead with him to leave. To believe you and go. You love him, you really do, but-“I can't believe it.” Garp shakes his head, studying the mess of papers, books, and furniture. Your heart sinks to your stomach, but you don't let up on the act. Groaning, you slide down the backrest of your couch.“Garp, please, I'm telling you the truth. What more can you-”“You banished two demons?!” Like the weather in the Grand Line, his mood switches suddenly. You yelp loudly when he grabs you and stands, holding you up like some grumpy cat. “You did something like that?!”No.Thankfully, he saves you from having to lie further by swinging you around.“We've got to make you a hunter!” He exclaims with an exuberance that you hate to see, ignoring your protests.“I'on wanna...” You complain, letting your head loll. You've had this conversation so many times that you're not sure if you're still acting when you sigh. “We've gone over this already, Garp. I'm here to help if you need me, but I won't join your ranks.”“Bahhh!” He waves dismissively, almost releasing you. Your hopes of touching the ground again are dashed when he spins around and drops you on the couch. It squeaks pitifully. You do, too. “You don't know that, sprout.”“Mhm.”“If you got rid of the demons, then I've got nothing to worry about.”“'Kay.”Smiling at the enthusiastic man, you use whatever energy you can scrounge and open up a portal to his headquarters. Through it, you see that other Important Hunters are in a meeting. In addition, judging by the grim expressions, it appears serious. You don't give a shit. Neither does Garp.“See you soon, brat!” He calls as he steps through the gate, laughing.You lift a hand. It's not quite a wave, but the effort is there.And, finally, you're at peace.Though it was never meant to last, you appreciate the three seconds that you got. The reedy voice in your brain barks out a laugh when two distinct thumps cause you to flinch.Lifting your head is an ordeal you begrudgingly overcome, scowling at the demons standing amongst the wreckage.“Now, what?” You ask, letting your head hit the couch again and sighing. Whatever they hoped to get out of you, it wasn't happening. Not now.“That's what we're wondering,” Mihawk replies as Shanks walks up to you, occupying the space Garp had. His boundaries must also differ from your own because he is uncomfortably close. The scales of his thigh brush against your clothing, biting into the fabric of your robes. You scoot over with a grimace, giving him more room.Well, you try to do that, anyway. He's so big he takes up half the space available.“Well,” You release a short, sarcastic laugh, “My house is a mess, so I'm probably going to pull an all-nighter cleaning it. That is if nothing else falls apart. I'm also a mess, so I might deal with that when I can stand.”Mihawk raises an eyebrow at you.“Listen,” You're not fond of this attitude. Not after what happened. “I don't know what you guys want. I don't know what I can do to- to satisfy the contract. The fact that you were ominous as hell before- before,” You made a vague gesture, giving up on explaining the natural disaster that is Garp, “...before that didn't exactly help.”You meet Shanks's eyes. “What do you want from me, anyway? There's only so much I can offer, and it's not as much as you probably think.”You only add that last bit because you don't want to mislead them. Sure, you'd do whatever so that they finally leave you the hell alone, but you weren't that desperate. Not when you've eliminated Garp from the list of calamities these two have the potential to cause.Mihawk's nose scrunches slightly as he catches on. He looks away with a scoff, rolling his eyes. Shanks only laughs, shoving you playfully.“Well,” The demon stretches, resting his arm on the backrest of the couch. His claws tap the rhythm of a song only he hears. Rock-solid, you wait for him to continue, keenly aware of the limb brushing your right shoulder. “I guess we should think of something...”“Yeah,” You inch forward and out of reach of his claws, even if running from them is useless. Them hanging from your ceiling was not only as ridiculous as it sounds, but it was also disconcerting. No human-like creature should be able to move like that.“How about you show us what's up with your magic?”
What?
“Come again?” You snap, standing on weak legs and facing him. Are you acting like a petulant child? Maybe. Have you had it with everyone, though? Yes, yes you have.“You struggle to control it, even when casting spells that a novice could conjure with no issue.” The less talkative of the pair pipes up, sauntering over to your shelves. He drags a finger along your books, tilting his head to read the titles.“Not only that but-” You recoil violently as Shanks raps his knuckles on your temple, heart in your throat. He is way too close. God. Why does he insist on ignoring the obvious barrier you've set up? His lips stretch into a wide grin when you distance yourself from him, a threat in your gaze. “...that demon in your head is loud.”…...There's a reason you keep comparing them to animals.It's difficult to feel like nothing but prey when two demons have invaded your home. Whatever you are, whether that is human, an elf, or a dwarf... it amounts to nothing when beings like these are in front of you. Unlike you, they're more than flesh and bone and a few spells. They're predators. They feed on the weaknesses all mortals share, whether that be greed, lust, or envy. And it's not just those particular traits that draw them to you, either. Ambition, courage, and kindness tend to be favorites of theirs, as well.Not even a blank slate is safe from their influence. Whatever drives or haunts you attract them like a dragon to gold.It's terrifying.Every nerve in your body tingles with fear of the unknown as you stare at Shanks, frozen and waiting for him to pounce. You're conscious of the rise and fall of your chest. Of how your lungs expand and deflate to keep you from panicking. To keep you alive. It's dizzying. Sweat collects at the nape of your neck. When a bead rolls down your spine, it leaves goosebumps in its wake. “He is,” You state, realizing that you'd let the silence stretch on. Mihawk pulls a tome from the shelves and flips it open. You hear the pages rustle, then a huff. “You know him?”Shanks gestures to the scars marring his brow and eyelid. “We're old friends, him and I.”Got it.“Why is Marshall D. Teach sealed in your body?” The other demon joins the conversation, eying you suspiciously. You're still not sure if you like him, to be honest. Or Shanks, for that matter, but at least he made for a decent conversationalist.“That...” You start, shaking your head in disbelief. No wonder Shanks looked at you weird, earlier. You thought it was because of the married couple joke you made to yourself. Turns out Teach had made himself known without you noticing.Perfect.“That's none of your business, actually.” You decide that you're not in the mood for that ordeal. Not now.Neither of them agrees, that much you know, because yeah, it really is their business. Shanks made it clear when he mentioned the scar.If you were magically gifted and not just your run-of-the-mill dumbass, you'd be able to hear the questions running through their minds. Why is one of their own trapped inside a human? How did humanity pull that one off? Should they be concerned?Well, you'd love to tell them – you would – but you're pooped.The weight of Mihawk's dead stare presses into your temple. You face him and frown, hoping that your exhaustion is written on your face well enough.“Later.” You declare, walking towards the exit. A few of the easier spells help you move furniture out of the way and put books on their shelves. “I know you're both dying to know, but I'm really not in the mood, right now.” Garp is gone and he's not going to come back. The danger has passed for now, and your bones are feeling it.“Gotcha!” Shanks, ever the chipper guy, bids you farewell with an easy-going grin.Were you going to leave the two lizards alone to roam freely? Yeah, you were. Was that a good idea? No. Did you care?A little, but not a whole lot.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was a slow night when you whispered your oath to him, dutifully at his side as he snored, recovering from a particularly gruesome fight. Your heart, having been caught in your throat for days, burst at the seams when you saw him. Emotions you'd kept from him oozed out, your love, anger, and begrudging fondness spearheading the tidal wave.Unconscious and unaware, you cupped his cheek, thumb tracing the scar that had sealed his left eye. Even so, the words flitted past your lips. At this point, whether he heard you or not didn't matter to you. Words weren't what led to your relationship or what continued to drive it forward.“I'll follow you wherever you go, Zoro. Even if your dumbass somehow, by the grace of God, ends up in Laugh Tale and we don't even realize it until we've left.” Not what you'd expect in a romance novel after flipping the page to the predestined an amorous confession, but that's fine. It's fitting. Complicated declarations of love remain unmarked territory for the geographically challenged swordsman, after all. And with you trailing after him to keep him on course, there's not much time to practice your own speeches.That's fine, you think, pressing a kiss to his temple. Your nose scrunches up when you inhale his scent, remembering his aversion to showers. A heavy sigh leaves you, one that rouses Zoro for a total of two seconds. Rather lovingly, he yanks on your collar and forces you into the bed with him, rolling on top of you. The moment he settles, arms locking you in place, he's asleep again.You didn't complain, then, but you sure are going to, now.“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You grumble to yourself, blocking another blow from Gyukimaru. The weapons at his back click together, glinting menacingly, and you wonder why Zoro can't steal one from him. Surely one of them would make for a fine replacement for the missing katana, right?Considering he'd led you all the way to Ringo... no. It wouldn't do.The bandit's imposing figure and brute strength make for a challenging foe, one you and Zoro are struggling to overcome. Unwillingly, you sink further into the ground, arms and legs trembling as you bear the bisento's weight. With a mighty shove, you create some distance between you two, rolling to the side when he strikes again.Zoro swoops in from his perch on the bridge's railings, the shock the guardian's tale had instilled in him forgotten. His body easily cuts through the snow, sending it flying in every direction, including yours.“That was my third cigarette!” Your voice crescendos as you throw your head back and groan, lamenting yet another loss. “How many times have you done that?!”“Since his death, Ryuma has been made a national treasure! He was laid to rest with his katana, Shusui, in a temple, and consecrated as the god of the blade!” Gyukimaru yells as he focuses on the smaller swordsman. You don't pay much attention to the story behind Zoro's missing sword, thoughts derailing from the battle. Patting down your waist, you search for the pack of cigarettes Sanji had given you.Zoro blows in from behind you in a flurry of green and white, lax and smirking as he replies, “All right, cool. I get it, now.” Confidently, he carries on, as heedless to your half-assed scolding as he's ever been. “I'm gonna take Shusui back! Just doesn't feel right without all three, you see.”“Why couldn't we just-” Oh. Gyukimaru's not impressed. He berates Zoro much louder than before, his steps booming as he stalks closer. You leap into action again, flanking the guardian to create an opening for Zoro. Said lovable weirdo reaches for you, but you don't stop.Your enemy holds you at bay, uninterrupted as he delves into details you, in your humble opinion, believe to be irrelevant. Why the colour of the sword matters is beyond you, but it intrigues Zoro so it's important so-The wooden end of the bisento finds its home in your gut, knocking the air out of your lungs. Merciless in his quest to defeat you, Gyukimaru throws a punch at your side. Normally, you'd duck under such a swing, but the size of his first easily matches your torso. Though you use your katanas to protect yourself, the impact sends you flying regardless.In the distance, as you barrel towards the ground, you hear a woman scream.With a resounding crack, one that reverberates inside your skull, you land on a rock.Did you see it? Of course, not. You can't see anything but white, here.It's what you love most about this weather: the fact that you don't know if you're stepping on grass, ice, snow, dog shit or a combination of all four. A thrilling experience, really.That, and the snow in your eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. It's an onslaught on every single one of your senses. Why snow tastes and smells of iron is a mystery you solve when you touch your forehead, disoriented. Your fingertips come away red.Blood is nothing new to you, so you move on, collecting your discarded weapons. When you look for Zoro, you see that he is fighting both Gyukimaru and another man.“Damn it!” You hiss, stabbing the ground with a katana. Leaning on it, you rise to your feet, wrenching it free when you're sure you won't fall. “Why couldn't we just sneak in and get the damn sword that way, Zoro?!”You run towards them, the power behind each of their strikes splitting the earth. Anyone that can keep up with your swordsman spells trouble in capital letters for you. Urging your legs to carry you faster, you test the weight of your katana, the handle rubbing against your palm.Under regular circumstances, Zoro would probably berate you for you're what you're about to do.Gyukimaru sneaks up behind Zoro, his blade mere inches from slicing the flesh of his shoulder. You decide that the annoying bastard needs to go, preparing for the katana-throw of the century. Rearing your arm back, you launch the sword like a torpedo, the muscles of your arm screaming at the effort.Unfortunately, though it distracts him, it zips past your target's head. You ready the next round, faltering when a scythe pierces Zoro's shoulder.The rest is a blur.Zoro, like the dumb beast he is, steals and bites into the scythe. It reminds you of a dog trying to get through a door with a branch in its mouth. Sure, you admire its efforts, but you can't help but ask why. Why that goddamn branch, when a katana-shaped stick is literally two feet away from him.You know what he's planning, though. Why else would he bite into the scythe?You just wish he'd given you a warning.If your swords were torpedos, Zoro's one of Dr. Vegapunk's missiles when he unleashes the final blow. You're so close you can almost taste the ominous aura that surrounds him. It draws you in and impedes your approach at the same time, awakening your most basic instincts:
Run.
While this feat usually amazes you, right now, it's your downfall.Because when Zoro says screw the landscape, he means fuck your landscape and then some. To top it all off, the shock wave from his attack puts you in a box, slaps some tape on the lid, and express mails you to the other side of the world. Oh, and that oath about following him and Laugh Tale?Well, you might not even need the Road Poneglyphs to get there.“GODDAMN IT, ZOROOOOO!” is a cry that follows you into the sky.(x)When you come to, submerged in snow and half numb from the freezing temperatures, it's no less tactful.“Fuck.”A muffled grunt sneaks past your gritted teeth, agonizing pain lancing your weary muscles. Your spine pops as you sit up, sweating, bleeding, and panting. When you check for serious injuries, you locate the gash on your forehead from your first fall. You feel the nasty bump and wince, lowering your hand to your wet – wet? – lap.More red stains on your already dark kimono. It's worth noting because it tricks you. The worst of your injuries is another surface-deep gash on your side. You're soaked because the snow melted. Neat.A strong gale sweeps through what appears to be an abandoned town, and you cover your face. There's no way you could ever smoke, here.Trembling, you wrap your arms around your middle, realizing that you'd lost your cloak. The chill, embedded in your very bones, has sapped your energy and your body heat.You think this might be hell. That, instead of unbearable heat and flames awaiting you, it's an icy, inescapable realm. It doesn't terrify you, not many things do after everything you've been through with your crew, but it's unnerving.You pinch your fingers, dread roiling in your stomach when you notice that you're suffering from frostbite. It's not- It's not bad, not yet, which means you haven't been out for long. There's that to be happy about. At least, you won't miss the big battle between Kaido and the samurais.The crunching of snow has you snapping to attention and scrambling to your feet.Yep. This might just be hell.One with zombies with arrows in their heads and that knew your name, apparently.“Brook, were it not for your afro, I would have slaughtered you.” You wheeze when your mind figures out just who is talking to you. Your friend reaches for you, steadying you with careful skeletal hands. Sometimes you wished he had muscles and blood and anything to warm you up, especially in situations like these. However, he does not, and you won't blame him for that.“I'm sorry, my friend. I did not mean to frighten you.” He says, patting down your back and your shoulders gently. Sloughing snow off you, you shake your head, taking his hand. The snow doesn't bother him much, but here, it reaches your thigh.“That's okay, Brook,” You assure him, coughing into your sleeve. “I'd like to get out of this cold, though.”“Of course,” He says, looking down at you with what you presume is worry. It's hard to tell what emotion he's expressing when he doesn't even have eyebrows to wiggle. Plus, you're exhausted.“I may not have eyes, but even I can see that you are not doing well.” You snort at that one, letting him pick you up as he chortles heartily. He tucks you close to his bones, and though he can't warm you up, he's saved you. You don't think you could've made it down from this particular snow bank on your own. Not without breaking your nose.“What are you doing up here, anyway?” You mumble, voice muffled by his clothing.“Ah,” He says, long legs overcoming debris and other obstacles with no trouble. You spot a few graves and frown, clinging to Brook with weak hands. A graveyard, then? “Well, Nami, Robin, and Shinobu left for a bathhouse yesterday. I went to find them, but...”“But, somehow, you ended up in Ringo, even though the bathhouse was probably in the capital, and now we're both here.” You finish for him, smiling to yourself when Brook begins stammering. “It's okay, Brook. You're the reason I'm going to make it out of this damn place.”“What has happened?” He asks, tightening his grip on you when you shiver violently, walking towards a house. It's old, much like the rest of this place, but looks like a good place to recuperate. Maybe you can get a fire started. That'd be splendid.“A lot,” You rub your face, dried blood coming off in flakes. “But mostly Zoro. You know how it is.”The skeleton chuckles again, humming, “That I do.”All the Strawhats do, really. You don't do subtle when you're dating a man like Zoro. You could write “I LOVE YOU, MOSSHEAD” on your forehead and he still wouldn't get it.Once underneath the awning of the worn-down structure, you sigh, relieved to have found some shelter. Brook sets you down on the ground but keeps a hand on your shoulder, pushing on the sliding door until he can peer inside.You lean on the wall, closing your eyes. “Is it safe, Brook?”“I-I, uh,” A series of strangled sounds is your only response. When you push off the wall, Brook grips your shoulders, keeping you still. He speaks to whatever is in there, exclaiming, “I didn't realize this house was occupied!! Why, I'm so sorry to interrupt!”“Brook?” You blink, more alert now that you hear the panic in his voice. “It's not safe, then.” You may be unarmed but that doesn't make you less dangerous. If something poses a threat, you're down to fight.“No, no, definitely not safe for you, my friend!”“Well, if that's the case, then it's the same for you, Brook.” You argue, motioning to him.“I'm afraid it is too dangerous for you, dear!” He stoops down to your level, staring into your eyes, “You must escape now before you are hurt further!”“What's in there?” You demand, baffled by his behaviour.“An abomination! The ugliest creature you've ever seen.” He sidesteps left and right like a crab, mirroring you in your attempts to make it past him. “A six-legged beast made of moss and what appeared to be a pretty lady-”Patience thinning, you struggle, trying to pry him off you. “Whatever's in there already knows we're here! Come on, Brook, out of the way! Let me see what's going on!”“But-”Your anger spurs you into action. Firmly, you shove him aside, marching inside and-He's right.It is unsightly.Zoro, likely startled by Brook's entrance, stares at you like you've floated down from the heavens to smite him.Not completely inaccurate, but you're not exactly magical. Decking him in the face would have to do.“Hello, Zorojuro.” You blankly greet the man glancing between you and the woman sleeping on top of him. Brook pokes his head in, sweating nervously.Zoro puts up a hand to greet you just as the woman cracks an eye open, roused by the noise. When, in her lethargic state, she slides the hand on his bare torso down to his abdomen, you slowly peel back your sleeves. The atmosphere is far colder here than it is outside.“Hey,” Zoro waves, gently shoving the woman off him. When he sees the inferno in your eyes, ready to burst free, the swordsman gulps audibly. You raise an eyebrow. “Sorry about earlier, by the way. I...” The rest is white noise....And that's that.Whatever forbearance you'd had before burns to a crisp. Adrenaline washes away the pain from your injuries. The muscles in your arms tense.You're jealous.Are you going to admit to something like that, though?No, you're not.“I'm going to kick your ass.” You snarl instead, interrupting him, before releasing a cry nothing short of guttural as you lunge at him. All Zoro can manage is a strangled yelp, crawling backwards.His feet slide against the floorboards, hindering his escape. He yells your name. “Wh-what are you-?!” A series of shrieking ensues as the two girls scramble for cover, the youngest of the two laughing as she goes.It's then that he learns he can bend his legs, doing so at the very last moment. Limbs splayed like a starfish, you hit the floor face first with a sharp thwack. All is silent for a total of two seconds before you bristle again, flouncing towards him on your hands and knees.He takes off like a bullet, running laps with you hot on his heels. “Are you trying to kill me?!”“YES!” You screech.“Why?!”In a courageous effort to tame the loose hellhound, Brook joins in for the first three rounds. He swiftly retreats into a corner when you threaten to use his ribs as toothpicks.You trip over the blankets and the cackling child several times as you hurl insults at Zoro. After the seventh lap around the house, you kick the linen into his path. Zoro doesn't trip, but he does step on it and he does slide several feet before pitching.This you use to your advantage, hopping over the pink-haired munchkin to choke the life out of him.“Would you please calm down?!” He rolls onto his back, grabbing your wrists as your nails graze his skin and pushing you away.“First, you send me flying to the middle of nowehere, and now-” Zoro's legs ensnare your waist, crossing at the ankles to trap you. With a grunt, he twists his lower body, using his weight to force you to the ground. “NOW, you're sleeping with another woman?! How dare you?!”Zoro says your name, exasperated, “What are you talking about?!”“None of this would have happened if we'd just snuck in like I told you!” You smack a hand over his face, blinding him. Momentarily stunned, he waves his arms, falling onto his back with a grunt. “You'd have your Shusui, you wouldn't have gotten stabbed with a bloody scythe, and you wouldn't be here! With another woman!”In the background, Hiyori hugs a giggling Otoko close to her, puzzled.It goes on for a while.When a violent coughing fit brings you to your knees, the squabbling ends abruptly. Zoro apologizes several times as Hiyori helps you into the bedding you'd tossed throughout the room. You grumble as you pat your kimono for your cigarettes and your matches.“So... you are a couple, then?” Hiyori asks as she treats your wounds, innocent as a flower.She has turquoise hair.You picture them together. You see children. You imagine literal moss balls giggling and jumping on you as you cry, cursing Zoro's fickle ways.Your glare makes Zoro and Brook sweat, the two glancing at you like you're going to gnaw on their bones.Smoke billows from the cigarette you'd lit to destress, one you're chewing on mindlessly. It was either this or freezing your butt off outside, and you're far too weak for the latter.When her tender, doe eyes rise, confused by your lack of a response, you relent. “...yes, we are.”Hiyori smiles, Otoko tittering in the background as she goes over the experience. When she says something inappropriate for kids her age, Hiyori orders her to never say anything like that. A blush paints your face.You'll admit, acting like a wild oppossum in front of royalty wasn't your best moment.“If you're here, travelling together despite the danger, you must love him dearly.” She continues, wrapping a few bandages around your wrist.“Define love...” Zoro quips. You ignore him in favor of acting slightly more civilized in front of Kozuki Oden's daughter.“Yes, I do.” Now, that seems to silence him.“You and my late mother are quite alike,” The woman comments, sighing wistfully, her smile a bit less radiant. “I hope to marry someone that loves me the same way.”That a twenty-six-year-old woman would make such a comment amuses you. Hiyori is rather adorable, you think.Gently, you place a hand on her shoulder, saying as earnestly as you can, “Try to find someone who won't cut off his ankles to get out of a trap, please.”“I said I was sorry for that, too!” Zoro points an accusing finger at you. You frown at him.“A-ah,” She begins, blinking her bright blue eyes and recovering from her surprise. “Yes, I'll try! Thank you!”Nodding sagely, you remove your hand, urging Brook – the poor man – to explain just why he is present. Hiyori and Otoko listen attentively as Zoro sidles beside you. You arch an eyebrow, but say nothing, blowing smoke towards the closest opening. No need to poison anyone here.He's not as surreptitious as he likes to believe.“I'm not bleeding, anymore.” You assure the man, gaze fixed on Brook's afro. Why hadn't he removed the arrow?“Hmph.”This time, it's you who glances out of the corner of their eye.…He looks like he needs a hug.That's not something you'd ever voice, not in front of others, but... well, you're not going to leave him hanging, either.Palm up, you rest your hand on your left knee, making sure the offer is clear. He seems to consider it for a while, watching you warily. It goes on long enough for you to huff.“I'm not going to bite you, Zoro.”“Are you sure?”For the love of God.“Yes, Zoro. I'm sure.”You observe as Hiyori, Otoko, and Brook talk amongst themselves, feeling that familiar sense of foreboding creeping up your spine.Fingers brush your bruised wrist, gentle and slow. They trace a thin scar you'd earned in your youth, like they always do, then slide further up. His calloused palm slots into place with no resistance.You envelop it with your own as best you can, raising it to your lips.Despite his earlier watchfulness, he doesn't recoil, taking in your every move.You kiss a knuckle, trying to conceal your smile and failing miserably.What a day it's been.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Sighing, you slam the door on the driver's side of the car shut, feet aching fiercely. With a grunt, you kick your shoes off and pluck them off the sidewalk, stretching your toes. Pain shoots through your calves as you do, prompting a hiss and a half-assed complaint as you massage them.Heedless to the neighbour watering her plants and peering at you through her bushes, you drag your feet to your front door. Hopefully, this time, there's no broken... anything scattered on the stairs leading up to it. Knowing Rocinante though, it's quite likely.The pathway is rather clean, so while you do stab yourself with a few pebbles, it's not bad. Tossing your shoes in front of you, you toe them back on, climbing the steps. You fish out your keys, listening for shattering glass or the deafening sounds of your boyfriend falling on his ass.When you swing the door open, you hurry inside, desperate to escape the old woman's stare. You almost expect her to skitter up to it and spy on you through the peephole. Thankfully, she doesn't... but you do check.“Hellooo?” You call, making your arrival known to the other two residents as you wipe your feet. There's no response, and while you do appreciate the silence, this can only mean three things:One, the kid finally succeeded in killing Rocinante. Two, something bad happened. Three, they formed a truce and had decided to target you instead of each other. What that entailed, you'd never had the chance to find out, and you didn't want to.Though you want nothing more than to sink into the couch, the first two options worried you. Rubbing your eyes, you drop your bag by your shoes. Wandering deeper into your home, you examine each room, trying to be as stealthy as possible.Number three doesn't bother you as much because, if it's true and they are working together, that means there's been progress.“Rocinante? Law? Where are you?” You ask the empty hallway, checking the guest bedroom. Seeing that it remains vacant, much like the bathroom, you decide to head upstairs.Maybe... maybe they fell asleep?The thought conjures a nice image in your mind, one you can't help smile at. You're one hundred percent sure Rocinante would do anything for that to happen.Carefully, you avoid the steps that tend to creak, craning your neck to look through the veranda. Nothing. No signs of life except for a pale light at the end of the hall. The only room over there is the other bathroom. Ominous, but you'd built up a tolerance to these sort of things recently. If anyone's good at sneaking, it's Law.“It won't come off!” Law complains loudly, his voice echoing through the hall. You arch an eyebrow as you approach, bare feet padding against the carpet. Surprisingly, it's more of a whine than his typical growl.“Just- okay, hold on. Maybe this will-”“What is it?”“I, uh, I dunno. I don't use this stuff.” Rocinante replies, likely flipping the item every which way to scrutinize it. Is it shampoo? Conditioner? Cologne? Nair? What it is doesn't matter when there's a disaster eagerly waiting to unfold. It gets you moving, footfalls louder now that you've turned on the Mother Hen Mode.Reaching your destination, you push on the bathroom door, cursing the barrier when you almost run into it. You don't bother with greeting or niceties. “Okay, okay, what's happening in here?” Your voice rises in volume as you speak, walking into the room. Your actions disturb the steam in the air and send a gust of cold air towards them.“Hey, no!” Rocinante calls from his seat in the bathtub, waving his hand frantically. In the other is your only bottle of Nair, taunting you. “Don't open the door. It'll get cold in here!” In front of him, a dishevelled Law shivers, wrapping his arms around his torso and glaring at you. Typically, that sort of behaviour is frowned upon. With him, it's a gift. He actually acknowledged your measly existence, today.You wish you could gush over that. Alas, someone in this house has to parent, and today, it's you.“...what... have you done?” You enunciate slowly, staring at them blankly.You fear that, should you look at anything but them, you'll lose it.And, yes, Rocinante is messy. It's a trait that came with being unable to sit down without missing the chair. You've cleaned more spills and stains in the three years you've been together than in your entire life. The only pro to that is you're positive you could become a certified nurse with how good you are at first aid, now. There's no scratch or cut that you can't heal. The bandaid on Rocinante's forehead is proof of that.A bandaid that is also covered in white paint.Paint that has, somehow, found its home in every crevice. In the sink, on the toilet, on the blue walls, on the blue ceiling. Your brand new loofah, too.“Uh...” Rocinante begins, eyes darting to Law, the paint in his hair, and then to you again. “We, uh...”“Do I-” You interrupt, feeling the familiar burn of anger under your skin. With a deep inhale, you pinch the bridge of your nose, whispering, “Do I even want to know, Roci?”“They called you Roci...” Law murmurs, gazing up at the man towering over him. “That means they're not that angry.” Rocinante blinks at the child, eyebrows pinched.“I'm still here,” You quip with no real bite, the exhaustion you'd forgotten earlier gnawing at your remaining energy. Meeting their eyes, you jerk your head, “That's Nair, Roci. Put it down.”“What even is that?” The blond asks, scratching the back of his head. You let him figure it out on his own as he reads the label, approaching the bathtub. Kneeling, you gently cup Law's chin, tilting his head as Rocinante lets out a hiss. “Oh.”“Yeah,” You take the bottle, showing Law the words printed on it. When his mind registers what was about to happen to his lovely hair, he elbows Rocinante in the gut. Said man wheezes, protecting himself from the oncoming attacks. It takes a minute to catch Law by the wrist without staining your clothes, the porcelain edge smeared with paint.“Are you crazy?” The child exclaims, attempting to turn around. You keep him still. “You almost made me go bald?!”“Not my fault they keep so many things in here!”“Can't you read?!”“Guys,” Glancing at the ceiling, you pray to whatever deity is messing with you right now to bestow upon you a crumb of patience. Just enough to endure this ordeal and emerge victorious. “Let's just- let's just focus on cleaning up, okay?”“Whatever,” Law settles down once more, scowling at the rubber duck that kept you company while bathing. You spare Rocinante a glance, one he returns with a mouthed apology, brown eyes sad. They always are whenever he angers Law.“I'm gonna go get changed,” You announce, reaching for Rocinante and caressing his cheek with a small grin. “I'll be back to help in a sec. Stay here, would you?”“Alright,” Rocinante answers for the two of them, relieved.When you leave, you hear them whispering amongst themselves, shaking your head. You enter the bedroom you share with Rocinante, snatching one of his oldest shirts and a pair of shorts. Banishing your work attire to the farthest corner of the room, you change, returning to the bathroom minutes later.“Alright, misters.” You start, shutting the door at their requests. “Let's get this done.”It seems the talk they had while you were gone calmed Law. He hands you the shampoo without a peep, sitting still as you pop the lid open. With product in your palm, you scrub at his scalp, massaging the ends to remove the paint. You do this with the utmost care, squinting at each tuft to ensure that its clean.“Go on, Roci,” You give the peanut gallery the bottle.“You're not gonna help me?” He pouts. You don't even need to look to know.“Nope,” You mutter, grabbing a cup and filling it with water. Law snickers as Rocinante grouches, lathering his hair. Resting the rim of the cup on Law's head, you add, “Cover your eyes, kiddo.”“Not a kid,” He says, following your instructions, anyway. You empty the cup, repeating the process until there are no suds. You stand, cringing when your legs hurt. Helping Rocinante involved holding the showerhead and running your fingers through his hair. You didn't trust him to not get water everywhere without the curtain to protect you.It's an arduous process. Whatever paint they'd used clung to their skin like the most stubborn leeches. Already ruined, you rub their bodies clean with your loofah, mindful of Law's sensitive skin. You tell him a few work stories as you do so, letting Rocinante butt in with a joke or two whenever he wants. It lightens the mood and lifts your spirits, something you didn't know you needed until your cheeks hurt from laughing.Law wasn't as boisterous as you, though he did let a few chuckles past his steel defences. It amused you whenever he caught himself, wide-eyed as if it was an unknown symptom of his disease.A disease that was well on its way to being cured, thankfully. Maybe it was the sun, maybe it wasn't, but he looked much tanner. He wasn't deathly pale, anymore.Did that make some of the white patches more apparent? Yes. And though it sucked, he seems unbothered. You suppose that, as long as he lives, he doesn't really care. Good.“Okay, tough guy,” You helped Law out the shower, wrapping a fluffy towel around him. With a cheeky grin, you pull the hood over his head, much to his chagrin.“Why does it even have a hood?” He mumbles, squinting his striking amber eyes at you. You dry his onyx hair, shrugging.“I liked it. And you look cute in it, which makes it even better. Don't you agree?” You ask, a teasing lilt to your voice, patting down his arms and legs. Law turns to Roci, who yawns as he rinses his body, nodding.“Tch!” Facing forward again, he ducks his head, hiding the red tinting his cheeks. “No.”“Hmmm...” You hum, straightening with a pat to his head. “Gotta disagree with you there, bud.”“Yeah, yeah.” He takes that as an invitation to leave, and you let him go, watching him fondly. The towel flutters as he marches outside, likely to his room to study before dinner. Rocinante grabs the spare and throws it over his head, climbing out, as well.You guide him to the toilet, where he sits, arms wrapping around your waist as you do the drying for him. At least the paint isn't wet anymore, even if that in of itself isn't a good thing. It's also been a really long day. Bottom line: who the hell cares. “You were mad, earlier, weren't you?” His words slur as he buries his face in your middle, eyes closed.“...”You were. You are. Everything's a mess and no doubt there's a path leading to where the paint can fell. Or exploded. Or maybe they had a paint fight. You like to think that you've figured him out, but Rocinante is and will continue to be unpredictable. One day, he'll fall while climbing the stairs. The next, he'll place his foot too close to the edge of the step and tumble. Another day, he'll drop something, try to catch it, and almost break his nose.It's... it's a lot.“I'll help you clean it,” He states, getting to his feet.“Later,” You say, hanging the towel. “First, food.”“It might not come out later, though.” He argues, concerned.“That's fine.” You scan the room, staring at the splotches of paint. If you tried hard enough, you could probably turn it into a pretty design. “We'll improvise. What do you think? Maybe some clouds over here?”At this, Rocinante laughs, broad shoulders bouncing. He wraps an arm around your waist, “I think so, yeah. And there, too.”“No, no,” You grasp his hand, essentially trapping yourself in his embrace. Not the worst place you've ever been in. “I think that has to be all white. How do you make a cloud out of that?”“An igloo, then?” He offers, tracing the shape and adding a few details. You can see that.“An igloo it is. Maybe a polar bear or two. Who knows?” You begin to lead him out of the bathroom as he hums in agreement, checking on Law. He's in his room, and if you were to poke your head inside, you'd probably find him reading. The ajar door does not go unnoticed by you. It brings a smile to your lips.Steering Rocinante towards your own bedroom, you decide to change the subject to pressing matters, “How did he do, today?” You ask, lowering your voice as you let go of him.At the mere mention of Law, Rocinante gives you a radiant smile, brown eyes soft. “Better. Much better. He wanted to help with the deck.” He rummages through a few drawers, extracting a pair of socks, shorts, and another shirt.“So that's what happened.” You muse, sitting on the bed. “I told you I was going to take care of that, Roci.”“I know, I know,” Swiftly, he settles beside you, his weight dipping the mattress. Your side presses against his. “But listen, he offered to do it. Said you'd be too tired.”“And you didn't want him to do it alone.” You continue for him, warmth blooming in the centre of your chest. Giddy, you bite your lip, unsure what to do with this new information. It'd be for the best if you didn't mention this to Law. “Which is why we're here.”“...yeaah.” He sighs, sheepish. “Sorry. We did manage to paint most of it, though.”Considering his clumsiness, you'll accept this as a win. Maybe Law's not the only one improving around here.“It's okay.” You pat him on the knee. “The fact that he wanted to- I don't know, do something around here gives me hope.”“I know, right?” Leaning down so that he's all you can see, he all but squeals, “I think he likes us!"Usually, you'd tell him to control his volume. This time, though... This time, you're doing the same thing. You two jump off the bed to hug each other, overjoyed.“He left his door open,” You whisper, rubbing his strong back. The ground rules you'd both set for yourselves while Law was at school seemed to be working. “So don't go barging in there. Remember: knock-”“Knock and wait for his permission. I know.” Rocinante interrupts without missing a beat, grinning at the memory of you drilling the rules into his brain.“If we're going to do this,” You'd stated firmly, both of you seated at the dinner table. It was late in the evening and Law had already scurried off to his room, words clipped. Rocinante had been thinking of following him, to ask how his day was. You'd prevented that from happening. “We're going to do this right. And for that, we have to be patient, Roci. Give him some space. I'm sure he'll come around.”And, though he could hear the pain in your words, you were correct.Law was coming around. Slowly, he'd been loosening up.It was all about respecting him.That had been a hard concept to grasp. His brother and his 'family' were the exact opposite of that when they were younger. He hadn't realized he'd been intruding and crossing boundaries until you reeled him in.“He didn't snap at me for calling him something that wasn't his name.” This time, it's your voice that goes up in pitch enthusiastically. You snap back to reality fairly quickly, though, pointing at yourself. “We gotta watch it, though. Well, I gotta watch it. I don't know where the nicknames come from.”“Yeah,” Rocinante finally puts on his shirt. “He doesn't seem to mind, though?”“I dunno,” Pensively, you press a finger to your lips. “I guess it'll be a matter of reading his mood.”“Yeah.” He replies.“...Yeah.”“I think we're doing pretty good so far, though.” Oh, Rocinante. Never one to let the mood sour too much. His comment earns him a laugh, one he appreciates by staring at you with the most lovestruck face you've ever seen. You almost cover it up with the nearest pillow, face flushing.“I think so, too.” You agree, moving towards the door. “Anyway, I should get started on that dinner. How does... pasta... sound?”Too busy fixing the mess that was his hair, he doesn't see your expression change. However, he does note the shift in your tone, halting everything to check up on you.What he doesn't expect, though, is for you to frantically wave your hand and wordlessly urge him to continue, eyes wide.“Sounds... Yeah, that sounds good.” He blinks, puzzled by your behaviour, a feeling that doubles when you raise a finger. Rocinante bites back a question, waiting for you to explain. It takes what feels like an eternity before you relax slightly, slowly facing him.“I heard him.” Your whisper is hardly audible.Your meaning flies over his head for a bit, orbiting his skull until it penetrates the dense bone, clicks, and... There he goes, spine straight as a rod and the size of his eyes matching yours.“He... He was...?” You shush him, shaking your head as you peek outside, noticing no changes.…You wonder if Law was there the whole time. If he'd been anticipating something else when his guardians hid inside their room.“What- what do we do?” Rocinante asks, joining you at the doorway. You breathe in, pursing your lips as you mull over what just happened.You would call him out on that if it didn't mean burning the rickety bridge you'd both toiled away at for months. The foster care system is rather unkind to children, and with Law's history, its impact had only compounded paranoid tendencies with the fear of forming real connections.And, besides, it's not a big deal. You can let it go.“Nothing.” You grab his hand. “We do nothing.”Understanding bleeds into your boyfriend's features and, with a single nod, his whole demeanour changes again. You'd be suffering from whiplash if you hadn't done the same thing about five hundred times around Law, now. “Well! I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Hey, Law!”“What!” Comes the sharp bark from the boy's bedroom.“Come on, let's go eat!”...Neither of you push for a reply, giggling to yourselves and heading downstairs hand in hand.Down the hall, the boy peers around the doorframe, his hat back in its rightful place. Slowly, he leaves the security of his room, smiling to himself.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was difficult to approach Pedro after he surrendered his left eye to that emperor.Not because you were put off by the injury, or because you were ashamed of your friend – no one could blame him for the death of Zepo and the others – but because of the effect the partial loss of vision had on him.Minks learn to navigate Zou's environment the moment an unsteady crawl gives way to an even unsteadier walk. It's how your tribe continues to thrive. You're taught how to move, how to act, how to react, and how to blend in with your surroundings.A mink's strength is a force to be reckoned with, yes, but knowing how and when to use it is imperative, as well. Had you forgone this training, you wouldn't know how to defend your home or, and this tended to be more common, yourself.So, when a hunched-over jaguar mink suddenly whirls around and sloppily lunges at you, it's no surprise. Really, you should have predicted it. After all, you hadn't really announced who you were.He'd taken off early in the morning, again, and today, it was you who had to go fetch him. Thinking back, you're grateful you'd volunteered. One-eyed or not, Pedro was still a formidable foe. He was tenacious when it came to surviving, and this tenacity had only grown tenfold upon his return from piracy.“I'm sorry,” He'd breathed, staring down at you as his tail swayed behind him. His fingers, an inch from your windpipe, twitched as he pulled back his hand. Whether the horror in his eye was from the scare or something else, you didn't know.“It's fine,” You told him, waiting patiently for him to move off you. Though you'd have no trouble doing that yourself, you didn't want him to bolt. Foxes weren't as fond of trees as felines, and your friend was particularly good at climbing them.Feeling daring, you peeled his cape back, letting it fall down his back. His eyebrows furrowed. The tension sloughed off him.When he moved, blinking the haunted traces from his gaze, you sat up, watching him carefully. Pedro sat at your side, staring at his still-twitching hands. With a subtle jerk of his head, the hair he covered his empty socket with moved back into place.Losing an eye changed Pedro in more ways than one.At least I've got another eye, he'd commented once when he wasn't lost in his own thoughts.Don't worry, Pedro, you'd replied, knowing what he meant, you won't miss It.The jaguar mink's lips lifted slightly at that. Quietly, but with more determination than you'd heard from him in weeks, he added:
Every night leads to a new dawn.
Honestly? You sincerely hoped it did.Because, lately, your nights are eternal.Not much light pierces the simple blindfold covering your eyes. Though almost weightless, it keeps you pinned to the floor of the orlop deck, desperately searching for a single ray. That it was so frayed drove you on, testing the sturdiness of your chains with a sharp tug. Your legs, arms, and neck ached as you did so, but you paid it no mind.The rattling attracts the attention of your guards. One of them barks at you to cease your struggling, a wobble to his voice. When his companion pokes fun at him for it, he blames the tempestuous tides.It hadn't stormed in days.
Weak.
Before, you could merely nod and try to comfort Pedro the best you could. No matter how many times you covered your left eye, you never understood his pain. Naively, you'd wonder why it bothered him so much.Pedro could still see.
He could see.
Not many can say the same after an encounter with Big Mom. That is if they can say anything at all. If the people she killed could comment on their own condition, they'd say just that: I'm fucking dead.You might as well be, too.Trapped in perpetual darkness, strapped to the floor like- like one of those rugs you'd seen, your once powerful frame has become brittle. Your range of motion is limited to prostrating yourself if you want to do more than just... lay there. You doubt it's a coincidence.The thought of begging for freedom, for your life, enters your mind and you almost growl.Down here, every sound is distant. An echo. Like they'd stuffed your ears full of cotton. The stench of blood and other bodily fluids permeates the air, slowly poisoning your already fragile psyche. You hadn't been here long enough for it to become this disgusting, which can only mean one thing. They'd done this before. There were others before you.“I've heard about minks,” One of the guards posted outside your cell begins. The weight of their gazes settles on you, scrutinizing your battered body. Your lip curls in distaste as you shift, your matted, dirtied fur scraping against the floorboards. The sensation makes you cringe. “Not so scary after all, are you?”Something sticky brushes your chin when you move and you jerk violently, pulling on the chains until they tauten. Wood creaks and strains. You cut into the rotten planks with your nails. The guards startle.“You heard that, too, right?”“Outside, you mean? Hah, yeah. The captain must have woken up.”“...Yeah. Yeah.”They don't mock you again.After a lengthy pause, the second guard revives the conversation.“...Why the blindfold?” The one that barked at you earlier asks, his reedy voice urging you to press your ears against your skull.“I dunno.” A rather smart reply, you think. Why, indeed. “I'd rather not have to look at his face, though, so I'm not gonna complain.”“Ditto.” You mumble, voice gruff from lack of use. Being blindfolded for more than two weeks only has one benefit, and it's that one.You didn't know when you were to arrive at your... Was it your sixth auction house? You're not really keeping track. Regardless, the journey isn't as speedy, this time.Knowing that you wouldn't be fed for another three hours, you decide to rest. No amount of backtalk or defiance would hasten the cooks. Or the ship, for that matter.And, while your sleep may be riddled with nightmares, at least there's a change of scenery.(x)After another week of travelling, you reach the island.The pirates don't bother with subtlety at the docks. They haul you from the deepest part of the ship, flaunting their catch to anyone that looks. Proudly, the captain describes the riches they'll all bathe in once they drop you off.It's the same song and dance, so you don't bother paying much attention.The docks stink of fish and sweat, which is nothing new to you. Thankfully, though, there's a breeze, one you take a moment to appreciate. It's not strong enough to free you of the blindfold, but that's okay.You'd have your moment.Two grunts drag you off the ship as the captain of the Squid Pirates cackles in the background. You stumble several times as they lower the bridge and force you to walk. More scathing laughter comes from the crew.When your bury your toes in the sandy ground, you bite back a sigh of relief.No more sailing for a few days, at least.The feeling is short-lived. A forceful shove sets you in motion, feet scraping the sand.You could barely make out the workers at the docks. Most of them ignored you, likely used to the sight, but some hurried to make room for your little group.The commotion your appearance had stirred died down as you walked past the humans. Instead, they turned to each other, some whispering, others talking loud enough for you to hear. Faceless beings, with much less fur and much smaller than you, blurred past.“Is that... is that a mink? From the mink tribe?”“What's it doing here?”“It looks awful.”“Ma, what's wrong with it?”It. It. It.Your shoulders slump as the chatter carries on, following you as you ascend a hill. You just hope you don't step on any glass.“What do you think we'll get for 'im?” The pirate at your left asks, his excitement leaving a foul taste in your mouth. How they could do this to other people, to other humans, is a mystery you don't wish to solve. You understand selling minks and fishmen - kind of - but humans?You had nothing against them as a whole. Their feelings are your own. What you think of them, they mirror. You eat, sleep, breathe, love, fight. Physical traits are the only aspect that really set you apart.You'd like to think that most humans can see that. You're hoping they do, because if this what humanity has to offer, you're scaling Zunesha's body like there's no tomorrow.“You heard the captain,” Avarice bleeds into the man's words, just as rotten as his teeth. Seriously, he needs to do something about that. “Minks are worth a lot. And this one? This one is no different.”You scoff.Do they not see that, instead of a fox mink, they could be in the same position?Humans are not that stupid. You're certain they've realized.What is it, then? Is it fear of their captain that has led to their complacency? Does the same greed plague their hearts?Your glance at one of them as best you can.Faceless, like the rest of them, but with a distinct smell of smoke and gunpowder. The faint scent of curry clings to his clothing. It's strange. Unique.You face forward again, rage simmering under your skin. Electro courses your veins and gathers at your fingertips, but you clench your hands, glaring at the building looming over you. Your body, a vessel, reigns in the storm igniting every one of your nerves. Though you're bone and muscle, you're strong. You won't outlast it, but, for now, you'll tame it.
Not yet. Bide your time.
A beam of light splits the two doors down the middle. You hear screaming.Whatever your price, it's nothing compared to what they'll pay.(x)The others don't bother greeting another victim and you don't bother introducing yourself to anybody.The pirates handed you off to the people working in the auction house. Both parties poked and circled you, the leaders discussing prices. You remained still, hands clasped and tail stiff, as you awaited their verdict.“Those scars are ugly.” The captain of the Squid Pirates – what an awful name - bristled at the idle comment. If you had known that they'd lose money for damaging you, you would've done more to ruin your appearance. It would've hurt, though. Your pride as a mink-Just then, a hand latched onto your face, tilting it down until you crouched to their level. They examined your face, not straying too close.You'd bared your teeth at them, twisting in an attempt to free yourself, and it only prompted laughter. It rings in your ears. “Might need a muzzle for him, too.”“What about the electricity?” Electro. You can't help correcting the humans in your mind, no matter how absurd it might be. One day, they'll learn their lesson.“Too weak for that,” What was the captain's name? Squid? You might as well call him that. Squid handed off the chains he was holding. You could practically hear him grin at the sound of coins clinking.You hide in the confines of your mind, tired of this repetitive cycle. The walk to where they kept the other slaves was short, far shorter than you would have liked, but...Well.Here you are. With a brand new bomb collar, to boot.The blindfold is still on, but no eyes are needed to paint a general picture of an area when your sense of smell is so powerful.It reeks of fear, anguish, rage, and every other negative noun you can think of. Children cry to whoever will comfort them, sobbing into their little palms.“Welcome to your new home,” A guard drawls, before promptly kicking you inside. You stumble, cursing quietly as you recover.Off in the farthest corner is a seething mass of bodies. Those who still know how to cooperate huddle together for warmth and security, limbs entangled. Not many hold conversations, choosing to preserve whatever energy they can before their fate.You don't need the warmth and you certainly don't want to be close to humans right now. Judging by the smell, you're the only mink here, a fact you are grateful for. Though you missed your friends and family, the last thing you wanted was for one of them to end up in a place like this.
Do they know what's happened to me?
It's a reasonable question, if not bitter.No, they probably don't. And that's fine. You'd rather escape this on your own before dragging anyone down with you.You're a mink. You are capable.You repeat this mantra as you settle down on the concrete floor, back already aching. Whether you'll be here for days, weeks, or months, you don't know. Inhaling deeply, you let your eyes slip shut, steeling yourself for what's to come.Breathing is all you do for ten very long minutes. The shuffling and crying to your left never ceases, but you don't let it shake your focus.
I'm going to make it. I'm going to get through this. I'll escape again.
The familiar sound of fur-less feet padding closer to you rings alarm bells in your mind. They're light, unsure, and small. Very small. Whoever it is, they are terrified of you.You frown, making sure that, when your head swivels in their direction, it doesn't frighten them. Some humans were so delicate, after all.“Hello,” A high-pitched voice mumbles.Your soul trembles.Mouthing a prayer, you stiffly bow your head in greeting.“Are you... are you what they call a mink?” The child – it has to be a child – asks shyly.…Shuffling.…Connections born from kindness, especially in an auction house, always lead to unimaginable pain. You would know. You've made that mistake.And, apparently, it's one you'll readily commit until you die.“I'm a mink, yes.” You confirm after a solid minute of silence. The fact that the child hadn't scampered off into a corner in that time is admirable. Your tail brushes the ground as it sways once, twice. “You... are human?”“Yeah,” The boy, you think, replies. He seems almost delighted that you're talking to him. “My name is Bo.”“Hello, Bo.” Remembering the people in the corner, you listen carefully for shivering or chattering teeth. The child inches forward and you straighten, arching an eyebrow. Tiny hands pluck leaves and other sticks from your fur, and you blink in surprise.“I like your fur, Mr. Fox.”Without meaning to, you grumble, “It's dirty.”Bo halts his ministrations, likely staring up at you like you've gone mad. Nobody worries about being dirty in an auction house. It's not like death is around the corner.A giggle breaks loose.“Can I help?” Bo asks, hopeful, and you huff to yourself. Two different trains of thought wage war against each other. One urges you to banish the child, to keep his hands to himself before you bite his fingers off. The other thinks about how cold he must be with such little hair to protect him from the elements. Humans were so odd, sometimes.Sliding down the wall, you point out, “You already are.”He takes that as a yes.Bo removes whatever he can, apologizing when he accidentally yanks on matted clumps. You'll admit, it's nice not having sticks digging into your flesh. You'd remove them if it weren't for your wounds. They're on the cusp of infection and opening them up again would only worse that.“How old are you, Bo?” You ask when he announces that he's finished, tossing the last twig aside. He sits down beside you, wrapping his arms around his knees and propping his chin on his forearms.“Seven.” He answers, far too calm for your liking. He must find you interesting since he keeps fiddling with your tail. Bo presses down on the fur, watching it rise back up. You keep still. “How old are you?”“Old.”“How old?”“Really old.”“Like... like twenty-five?”You let a hint of a smile cross your features. “Maybe. Maybe not.”“Wow. You're old.” He lays your tail across his lap. You don't miss how he covers his bare legs with it, feeling the damaged skin.It's probably why he decided to talk to you in the first place. If the humans are all packed into one corner, it must be rather cold in here. You wonder why he's not with them.“Yeah.”“Do you need dentures?”
Wha-
“Do these look like dentures to you?” You point a clawed finger at your teeth, chains clinking together, showing him the neat array of pearly whites. He hums his disagreement and you nod proudly, crossing your arms over your chest. Maybe you should tell him your real age. And your name, for that matter. You hadn't even introduced yourself.“Are you blind, Mr. Fox?” Then again, Mr. Fox isn't as bad as other names you've received. From your peripheral, you take note of movement, realizing that he's reaching for the blindfold.
No.
Heart hammering against your ribcage, you lean away from the grabby limb, shaking your head.“No, Bo, I'm not blind.” You answer, alarmed, peering through the tiny gap. A pair of round, brown eyes stare back, creasing in the corners as he smiles at you. Absentmindedly, he brushes back too-long tresses of the same colour. He's missing a tooth.“Then...?”“Just... a precaution,” That wasn't a lie. “Don't touch it or you'll be in trouble.”“...okay, Mr. Fox.”With nothing else to say, he falls silent, staring ahead. You lower your chin, tucking it close to your collarbone. Back home, you'd be snoozing by now, even though it's not even eight in the evening. You miss those days.And, now that you'd boarded that particular train of thought... You miss the gentleness and cheerfulness of your tribe. With them and the occasional visitor, there was no room for a sour mood. And, if you happened to suffer from such an affliction, it never lasted long.Shrieks of joy and pure – just pure – laughter reverberates in your mind as you sink into memories of happier days. Mink children hide behind you as they play hide and seek. A pair playing tag run between your legs, glancing back at you to apologize for the intrusion. You paid it no attention, brushing it off as another meaningless encounter.It wasn't.They never were.“Bo,” You call softly. “Are you cold?”…Guilt begins to radiate off him in waves. You resist the urge to fan the air around you, nose scrunching up.“Are you mad?”Usually, you'd make a snarky comment. Maybe something along the lines of that's not what I asked.But he sounds so scared. So miserable. And, worst of all, so defeated. He's probably endured countless remarks like those, especially when asking for nothing but necessities.It's heartbreaking.“No, Bo.”“...”“Are you cold, Bo?” You reiterate, trying your best to sound kind.“...Yes, Mr. Fox. I am.”“Then stop touching my tail and come here, already.”When you open your arms, it's uneventful. You tilt your head to the side to catch a glimpse of the child, wondering what's taking him so long. Before you can deduce the problem, he climbs into your lap, clinging to you with weak fingers. He sniffles.Hugging him close, you rub his back, hiding a grimace when you feel vertebrae under the coarse material of his shirt.Bo pulls on your clothing and the fur on your arm, whimpering. Shit.“Sorry,” You whisper, remembering your own branding. You brush his hair back, instead.Conflicting emotions stir in your stomach, roiling uncomfortably as you mull over your decision.You may never interact with this child again. Why you decided to help when no one, no one, had chosen to assist you was-A broken, raspy sob reaches your ears, which point to the sky in surprise....“It's okay,” You soothe, throat tightening again. “I'll keep you warm, kid.”It's not much - it's certainly not freedom - but a hug is a gesture that you took for granted when you were young, before your enslavement.The least you can do is make sure he survives the night.(x)It happens sooner than you expected.Just three days after meeting the child, you are to be sold once more. In that time, Bo asked you many things about you. He asked about your home, your family, your friends, what you saw before you were blind. You didn't correct him, that time, muffling a chuckle.“I've seen many things,” You'd shifted, a hand on his lower back so that he wouldn't fall from your lap as you both ate. His size and his frailty unsettled you, especially when he poked and prodded you curiously. You weren't uptight when it came to personal space – no mink really is – but after everything that's happened... Your mind seemed to register anything that wasn't furry as a threat.Still, you reminded yourself that you were holding a kid. A kid who'd suffered too much and was more bone than anything else. One wrong move and you'd snap one of his wrists like a twig.“Like what?” He'd asked around a bite of your food.“Sea Kings.” You'd answered after humming pensively, internally relishing in his awed exclamation. When he demanded that you describe the creatures, you only pushed a piece of bread closer to him. The guards had been nearby and, apparently, joy was forbidden.Still. You were glad they hadn't robbed him of his curiosity.Not yet. A voice in your brain had whispered. You'd ignored it.Now, with your chains and bomb collar tightened, you wait with bated breath, listening to the presenter babble on and on. Not because you're scared. However, the smell of blood is overwhelming, here. Perhaps undetected by humans for the most part, but certainly not by you.Nausea on an empty stomach, you've realized, is a terrible thing. You can't even puke all over their shiny boots. You can only heave and gag and hunch over, waiting for the pain to end.Vaguely, you wonder where Bo is, listening for his voice. They'd ripped him away from you as you dozed and you hadn't seen him since. Fighting the sellers only angered them and led to a beating that left you semi-conscious. It took all your concentration not to stumble while you queued up.“Now, ladies and gentlemen, this specimen right here is one from the Longarm Tribe! That's right! Two elbows. Who would've thought it possible?!”Known for its impeccable timing, your stomach grumbles noisily, attracting the attention of the men watching you. You shuffle away from their judgmental stares, rolling your eyes at their tough guy acts. Noting your attitude, one of them takes their club and hits you on the head with it.Nice.You almost regret giving Bo your share of the food.“My tummy hasn't looked like this in so long!” Almost.Disoriented, you keel over, coughing quietly. The guards hiss at you to stay silent, waving their weapons in your face even if you can't see them.See.If only you could see. You'd have figured a way out of here, already.The line lurches forward, the staff dragging the slave on the grandiose stage away to their new master. You feel like one of those cheap products the humans produce in their strange factories. One step, stop, another step, another stop. A purposefully maddening experience meant to rattle anyone unfortunate enough to be stuck here.The next... the next sales take place. After the Longarm slave came another human, followed by a woman. She cried as a man announced a price that remained unrivalled.“Coming up, we have a creature we haven't sold in a while!” Apparently, that's your cue, your guards grabbing you by the elbows. They push you from the safety of the shadows out into the wide platform. Even with the blindfold, it's too bright for your eyes. Dizzy and still in pain, you look around, noticing a pale light overhead.Is that the moon?More importantly, is that the full moon?It's a pointless endeavour, but you squint. The announcer introduces your species, marvelling at your build and blah blah blah. The comments might have been flattering if you weren't being treated like a bauble.“That white fur sure is nice, huh?” At the mention of your fur, you straighten, rising to your full height. You try not to wobble, knowing that if you fall and pass out, you're never getting out alive.“Why are its eyes covered?” A member of the audience interrupts the announcer as he explains the importance of your fur. He's got that all wrong, too. Judging by the way he freezes and gulps audibly, whoever asked is likely a Celestial Dragon.Not so nice.“Ah, well, you see, the Mink Tribe is a mysterious one.” And so it starts, again. “Legend has it that, should they gaze up at the full moon, they abandon all reason. They become animals through and through! Fascinating, eh?”If only. It might have saved you from this mindless drivel.“Tonight's a full moon!”I know. You think, staring at it. It's right there.The moon is right there.“Sure, but its eyes are covered up, though.”Not a single auctioning house gets their facts about minks straight, it seems. By the end of his speech, the announcer has painted you as a cuddly, subservient killing machine with pretty eyes and prettier fur. An atrocious depiction of any self-respecting mink.It piqued people's interests, though, and that's all that mattered to them.Murmurs fill the silence as people converse amongst themselves. Much of it is intrigued chatter, people wondering what it would mean for them if you were to rip this stupid fucking cloth off your eyes and-“Starting price: one million berries!”An extra three hundred thousand to the average price for a mink. All because of your rebellious history and your fur.In that moment, you remember one of the slaves in the last auctioning house. An old man who, to protect his daughter, convinced the slave traders to capture him instead of her. He spoke little during your time together, providing words of wisdom whenever something bad happened to you. His advice would've been nice before you decided to fight a human that had pestered you until you snapped.It's been months since he pulled you aside, rooting you to your spot with a stare so intense, you could still picture it when you went to sleep.“Whatever you do, don't give them a reason to raise your price.” He flinched at the sudden orders the guards barked, gripping your forearm tightly. “The more money you're worth, the more pain you'll have to endure. You hear me, mink?”You heard him, alright.And while you weren't worth as much as a mermaid, it was a noticeable change to your usual price. Those who weren't impressed before might come forward with the money. Why? Who knew with humans. Pride, greed, a combination of both. Does it matter when nobody can rebel and live to see the sunrise?The moon! Your mind screams at you desperately, and your eyes find her again. It's getting harder to breathe.“One million!” A man shouts from the crowd, prompting a flinch from you. He sounds like he's choking on snot.“One million one hundred!” A woman, this time. Your ears pick up on her giggles as the previous bidder grumbles. “Actually, make that one million one hundred thousand!”“Oh-ho!” You can practically hear the auctioneer grinning deviously like the gremlin he is. “One million one hundred thousand! Am I hearing that right? One million one hundred thousand, folks!”
Stop it.
The nausea you'd managed to contain bursts free again, spreading through your torso. It is a debilitating sensation. Your knees tremble as you hunch over, eyes scrunching shut.This wasn't supposed to happen.“One million one hundred and fifty thousand!” You recoil, your chains clattering with each movement. Fear pools in your empty stomach, filling it will dread for what is to come.Why are they making it a competition?“Alright, folks, it's now up to one million one-”“One million two hundred thousand!” The woman's voice rises above the surprised chatter, dripping with confidence.You almost howl at her to quit it, resentment pulling at your composure. What was once a murmur crescendo into excited hollering as bidders cheer for the two parties. How they could talk about a person's life like it was something to be bought is beyond you. An atrocity. A tragedy.You think of Bo. Of the old man. Of the countless others being subjected to this torture.You're not strong enough to summon any electro. Fighting your fate is impossible. They'd shoot you before you could even claw the face of the nearest Celestial Dragon to ribbons.Your fur stands on end, cold sweat beading under the thick coat. It sticks to your skin like your last master's horrid hands, relentless in its quest to subdue you.The air in your lungs escapes you in quick pants, your heart beating against its cage. Every one of your limbs tingles and shakes.It's too much.
The moon. I need the moon.
The metal of the chains is harder to lift, now. You sink into a cesspool of agony and panic. Some morbid part of your mind still tunes into your ever-increasing price, though. Funnily enough, it keeps you from succumbing to hysteria.“One million three hundred thousand!”You don't want to, but you listen.“One million three hundred and fifty thousand!”.“One million three hundred thousand and seventy-five berries!”You didn't want to, and now you're here, again.“Two million!”The stage trembles. You think it's due to the hammer price. Your hammer price. You expect a gavel and await the daggers that pierce your eardrums every time the auctioneer hits the sound block.But the crowd isn't cheering. No one is lugging you off the stage. The world is as still as you are, struggling to untangle the frayed mess your thoughts had become.You don't care if your breathing is loud. Whatever has happened has delayed your impending doom, and you're going to bask in this twisted form of freedom while you can.In the distance, an explosive goes off, reminding you of the ticking bomb around your neck. Audience members gasp and you hear jewelry clink, people turning to and fro to figure out the source of the disruption. Thanks to your lack of footwear, you feel the vibrations as the waves traverse the ground.It wasn't a bomb collar. It couldn't have been.And then, with no warning, something crashes through the wall to the east. Screams erupt from the audience, who scramble to cover their heads, debris raining down on them. You immediately take this as an opportunity to try to remove the blindfold, ignoring your burgeoning anxiety. Vigorously, you rub your face against your shoulder, growling when the collar and the humans get in the way.More of the lesser minks enter through the gaping hole in the wall, the smell of gunpowder and oil making their presence known.Your handlers give you no time to determine their origin, tugging at your chains desperately. “We're not losing this one! We can't!” The announcer, having climbed down from his platform, assists his underlings.You've had enough of this nonsense.You swing at his head, knocking the man on his ass. Someone strikes you on the back of your knee, forcing you to the ground. Whoever it is leaps, wrapping his arms around your neck to choke you, and you wrestle with him.“It's the Revolutionaries! RUN!” Someone cries, horrified. You don't know who they are or what they represent and you don't want to. Reaching behind you, you bury your clawed fingers into your attackers back, releasing a roar that shakes the room.Bending at the waist, you toss him over your head, then grab his leg before he can go too far. His grunts morph into shocked screams as you swing him around aimlessly, warding off your enemies. When you've created enough space, you throw him aside. He barrels into another man and they both fall, disoriented.“Is that the best you can do, mink?!”You whirl around and, now that you've freed yourself from their grasp, tear the fucking blindfold off, injuries be damned.Lights immediately blind you, rendering your vision almost useless. Heedless to the tears filling them, you shield your eyes with your arm, locating the source of the voice.It's a woman with violet hair dressed in all red. Her cropped jacket, undone, reveals that she is wearing no other clothing underneath. A tie dangles from her neck, stopping below her ribcage. When she shifts, her strange, frilly skirt sways. She slides her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, staring at you. Apparently, what she sees doesn't please her, because her nose scrunches in, presumably, disgust.You ignore her question, tearing off towards her at lightning speed. Briefly, you see her eyes widen, her stance widening in preparation. Not rolling your eyes is more of a challenge than this lady.With ease, your hand encloses the pole of her flag. “You little-” She starts, the rage pulling at her features disappearing the instant you pull down. Expecting something else, she has no time to rectify her mistake. She freezes when your leg arches over her head, the heel of your foot cracking against a handler's cheekbone.You did all of that without letting go of the pole, which throws her off balance, hip hitting the floor.“Is that the best you can do, human?” You lug her to her feet, amber eyes ablaze. Heels click as she steps back. With the frames back in place, you can't decipher her expression.Huffing, you move on, easily blocking another attack. Adrenaline is one hell of a force.She snaps out of her reverie and starts waving the flag, encouraging other slaves to fight. They must've taken advantage of the chaos to escape. At first, they're thunderstruck by her presence. Then, as if she's flipped a switch in them, they release mighty cries, leaping into the fray.Why they would do that when they're so weak, so malnourished, is a mystery you decide to decipher later.“Bo...” You mumble, searching the battlefield. You'd use your sense of smell to locate him, but there are too many people. Too many scents clashing. Fortunately, the one thing all the slaves had in common were their unfortunate lack of hygiene. Not ideal, but you follow that trail.Briefly, you glance behind you, wondering why you couldn't feel the moon calling to you.Above, hidden in the rafters, sits the largest spotlight in the room. The pale light you'd prayed to turns out to be nothing more than a gleaming beam of white. It's so powerful that, when you focus on something else, an afterimage floats in front of you.Perhaps the Revolutionary Army's intervention wasn't unnecessary, in the end.Bitterly, you scowl, abandoning the scene in search of Bo. The task distracts you from the disconcerted and peturbed thoughts reverberating in your skull.Had your previous plans succeeded...Ever the sadist, your mind provides a sequence of images detailing the downfall the Revolutionary Army unintentionally thwarted. Blood – your blood – stains your hands at the very end. The last thing you see are the humans' faces sneering at you.“Look! Marines!” A noble screams, his robes dirty and torn.“Uh oh!” A large entity zips by your head, the wind whistling as they do. You flinch, finding a mink with jetpacks flying through the air. Despite the danger, his grin is sharp. Leaning forward, he scans the horizon through the hole they created, confirming their presence. “Bad news, guys! Incoming! Pretty sure it's that vice admiral, Smoker!”
Where is this kid?!
A screech draws your attention.And whatever relief might have flooded you at the sight of the child is gone in a flash .Everything stutters to a halt as you zero in on the blood. On the tears. The fear.“Oi, Betty! We gotta go!” The mink from earlier shouts at the woman, who's leading slaves towards the exit. “Go and fetch Morley!”“Do it yourself! Can't you see I'm busy?!” She shoves an older man through the opening.With brute strength, you push aside debris, clearing a path that will allow you to join Bo in his last moments. You wish you didn't have to jump to such a conclusion, but- but-“Bo,” You breathe, falling to your knees beside him. Something scrapes your knee. Without a moment of hesitation, you rip your shirt at the seams, pressing the cloth to the gaping wound on his stomach. He wails.“I-I-” His round features twist into a grimace as you wrap an arm around his tiny body, lifting him. Tears form rivulets down his cheeks. You tremble.“Quiet,” You order, swallowing past the knot in your throat and the dust in your mouth. “Quiet, Bo. Save your strength.”You don't have much time. With newfound urgency, you rise, hacking as a cloud of smoke is blown towards you. Tucking him close to your chest, you hurry to the woman that had taunted you earlier, her hat askew.“Hey!” You howl, and when she faces you, gaze dropping to the boy, she scowls. Hopping down from a small boulder, you extend your arms, showing her the damage. Like a child showing their mother a broken toy. “He's dying. You've got to help him!"Off to the side, the mink with jetpacks touches down, running up to you. “Morley's on the move. We gotta go, Betty.”“Help him,” You bark desperately, limping – when had you injured your leg? – towards her. “That's what you're doing, right? Freeing them? So do your job and help him!”“Woah, hey,” Angrily, you shove the mink as he tries to calm you down, prowling closer to the woman.“Why are the slaves fighting?” You hiss at her, hurrying to get the words out. “Why would you need a child to fight?!”“...” Suddenly, she removes the boy from your arms. She checks his condition. “My ability has bought him a few minutes. Lindbergh, get him out of here.” Then, ignoring your protests, passes Bo off to the mink, who takes off again.“So it's your fault.” You jab a finger at her. “You rally the slaves – people with no fighting experience – and use them to... what, exactly? Kill a few nobles?”“It's obvious you know absolutely nothing about us, mink. Or me, for that matter.” She grips the offending limb and removes it from her person. You don't budge as she invades your personal space, craning her neck to meet your eye. She's taller than the average human, but still no match to your height. People slip past you, the flow splitting in half to avoid the two obstacles. “I gave them a choice: fight or die. They chose to fight.”Your frown deepens. Your glare is venomous.Chest to chest, you wordlessly oppose the Revolutionary, the blood of a child staining both of you.In the end, she's the one to back off. The cat mink, Lindbergh, shouts for her to hurry.“You can stay or you can come with us.” Realizing that her display isn't going to convince you, she embraces a placating tone. You scoff. “Hey.” She waits for your gaze to find hers. “We'll do everything in our power to save the kid.”Is this what humans did?You wonder how many children had enlisted in their army. Did they do so willingly? Were they tricked? Or did these people weaponize their innocence?She's right. You truly know nothing about humans.Overwhelmed and far too exhausted to process this information, you shake your head.“Betty!” Lindbergh, firing at what you can assume are the marines, hollers. It seems the situation beyond these four battered walls is grave. Though she's aware, she stays, biting her painted lips.“Go.” You growl at her. “I'll distract them.”Her jaw clenches. She flees just as the doors to the establishment burst open, sending you one last look as the rays of the setting sun frame her body.“Fight on, mink.” She says, then promptly slopes off. Your remaining energy goes with her.Still, you stand, almost laughing loudly when you suddenly hear the ticking of your bomb collar.They must've disabled the other slaves' collars. There's no way they could've left without them exploding.Betty didn't seem to realize that yours was functional when she offered you your freedom. And, had you accepted the offer, you would've died due to her mistake.It's tragic, really. To have someone entice you with salvation when, in reality, it would only have damned your soul. Now, a mere crawl from freedom, from your long-forgotten independence, you remain, trapped in limbo.Glass crunches underfoot, and your ears twitch as your register the sound, but you make no move to acknowledge it. Rays of sunlight warm you and wind – not the gale caused by explosions – combs through your fur.Too distracted, you allow whoever the hell it is to come close. Something grabs you. Again.This time, however, the fight lasts but a second. Actually, to call it anything other than an embarrassment to your entire tribe would be inaccurate.With an animalistic growl, your fist bursts through pure white smoke, so thick you might have mistaken it for snow. The lack of an impact means that you can't compensate for your carelessness, leaving you completely open and, therefore, defenceless.The man uses this window to ram the butt of his weapon into your gut. Pathetically, you wheeze, grinding your teeth to snuff out the noise before they can hear it.“You done?” His voice, a deep, gravelly baritone, pierces the fog in your mind easily.Unable to dislodge your arm, you meet his level gaze, sluggish despite the threat he poses. Brown irises glow amber as the light pools inside them. Another reminder of what you couldn't have. Of what you could have had if you'd just found a way to get rid of this stupid collar.First the blindfold, now this. Life didn't want to give you a break, huh?His pristine hair puts your fur to shame. The observation, as silly as it is, fuels your wrath towards humanity.
You wouldn't be here if it weren't for them.
You wouldn't have bounced from one auction house to another if it weren't for them.When he exhales around the two cigars clamped between his teeth, the smoke hits you square in the face. You lower your chin to avoid breathing it in, fuming silently.Turns out, your fist is embedded in his chest. Like Belo Betty's, it's bare but much more sculpted.Another reminder of how strange and different humans are compared to your kind. It's enough to make your head spin, the values your elders had instilled wavering as vitriol fills your heart.Why should your kind treat them as equal when they'll debase their own with a snap of their fingers?In response to your stubborn silence, his eyes narrow at you, tugging at the scar marring his forehead, brow, and cheek.“Ey, Smoker!”“It's vice admiral Smoker, to you.” He loses the tense staring contest to admonish another man, who sweats and starts anew with the appropriate title.“We're done searching. No stragglers, anywhere.” The man has a symbol tattooed on his chest, one you manage to recognize after a few seconds.Right. The Marines.“Good. Go and fetch Tashigi.” He orders. You wonder what his soldiers think of the display. You get a vague idea when one of them points out where your arm is to his friend, chortling.
You're an embarrassment.
Regardless, the men leave, swooning and running off to find this Tashigi.You turn to each other at the same time, arching the same eyebrow and making the same damn sour face. It'd be funny if you weren't at your wit's end.“Let go,” You order gruffly, throat raw from your earlier screaming. If it weren't for his ability, you would've propped yourself on him to pry yourself loose. However, you're not in the mood to be five inches from his face.“You gonna try to hit me again?” He asks, insouciant. Your choler does not faze him in the slightest.…Unlike most humans, he doesn't regard you with admiration, fear, or disgust. He speaks as if this were a normal day and these circumstances, your circumstances, were normal.Inhaling deeply, you renew your attempts to escape.With a sigh, he moves, smoke enveloping his body until your arm is stuck in his shoulder blade. With that, he begins walking, dragging you along.Screw it! You punch the back of his head, failing to hit your target.“So you were planning on hitting me again.” He says, as carefree as can be, half his skull transforming into smoke. You blanch, jaw going slack. Following him without tripping over your own feet deems escape impossible. You can only arch your back, yanking at your arms and glowering at him. His men laugh.“Where's Tashigi?” He questions.“She's gone to apprehend the pirates we spotted at the docks, sir. Half of us went with her!”“Bring her to the ship. We've got other things to do.”“Sir?” The marine – he's not dressed like a marine, though – nervously checks on you. You show your teeth, deciding that, if you can't hurt Smoker, you might as well aim for someone else.Apparently, the vice admiral can read your mind, casually pushing the man out of range when you lurch forward to bite him. He reaches above and behind to wrap his arm around your neck, tugging until his deltoid can clamp your jaw shut. Your teeth grind painfully.Well.Now you've gone and done it.“Find someone that knows how to remove this thing,” Smoker keeps talking, pointing at the bomb collar. “We're taking him with us.”Fear grips your soul.Earlier, despite your chains, you'd had full control of your body. You were bound, not incompetent. Now, you're glued to this man's back and unable to defend yourself. And, what's worse, nothing about him betrayed any trepidation at hauling a mink through town like a sack.At least with the slave traders, you were allowed to walk on your own feet. Smoker's forced you to lean on him, to rely on him to leave the auction house.And what does he do that tops everything he's done up to this point?He rams his jitte into your temple, rendering you unconscious.Bastard.(x)Once, as a youngster, you mentioned you weren't capable of dreaming.Whether you said it to sound special or to impress your peers, you don't remember. It was a passing comment, one that caused a bit of a stir among your friends, because everyone experiences dreams. There's no way you don't. That's crazy.You'd laughed, and you'd dismissed their concerns, and you'd lied. Because you did dream. Of eating your favourite food, spending time with your friends, exploring. Of wacky worlds with quirky inhabitants. Of your future.Now, though, many years later, dreams truly are a thing of the past.And you missed it. You really did. In fact, you'd take the dream where you acted like a fool in front of your childhood crush over the nightmares any day. At least when you wake up from the former, you can brush it off. And then, you can put on a brave face and use a throwaway line that might get you somewhere.It's much more difficult to be suave when the screams – it doesn't matter whose – hound you, clawing up your throat. Sometimes, you're fast enough, awaking before you can release their sounds of agony. Other times, you're not.Today, you're neither lucky nor unlucky.You don't scream as you shoot out of bed, scrambling for protection, your owners' slimy hands reaching for you. It's dark, and you don't know where you are, stumbling through a room with several beds. There are no other slaves, and if there are, they're quiet. Trained to swallow their agony just like you. To let out a peep is to summon the guards.Your lungs burn, the air you breathe fuelling the flames when it's supposed to do the exact opposite. Steel strikes the floor with a deafening boom and you recoil, expecting a lackey to beat you for misbehaving.Accustomed to dark places, you don't hesitate when you find an empty corner, rushing towards it. Stars dot the edges of your vision as you throw yourself to the floor, tail literally tucked between your legs.You drag your claws up and down your limbs, shaking your head to put an end to the cacophony between your eardrums. They catch on different spots several times, and you think of your fur. The fur that drew greedy second-glances your way.You wouldn't give it to them.It hurts – everything hurts, but you can move and that means you can fight and-Suddenly, lights flick on.(x)Smoker observes the figure scurrying through the obscure room, the hand he'd rested on the doorframe going slack. No one else is in here, he notes, which means that the loose tornado in the infirmary can only be you. The mink he'd taken in for questioning and, hopefully, some answers.You're on a rampage, hurling aside anything in your way with a speed and force that surprises him. Whatever injuries you'd sustained had no effect on you or your ability to throw furniture several feet.When you bump into a curtain – one that falls – and you hug the wall, muffling a grunt, he takes action.Lights on, he takes in the sight of you, crouched and ripping off bandages.Not wanting you to aggravate your wounds, he steps forward. “That's enough of that, now. Stop it.” His order and his footsteps echo in the room, and he frowns. If anyone in the crew realizes what's afoot, they'll rush here and overwhelm you.As injured as you are, they're probably no match for a mink, especially a panicking one.Perhaps it's wrong, but he approaches you like he would a scared animal, hands raised. The urge to murmur and shush you soothingly is present, growing stronger when you tense.He accidentally kicks a pill bottle and your round, yellow eyes snap towards him. He's glad he chose to remain silent instead of patronizing you.“Calm down,” Smoker continues, stopping at a reasonable distance. “You... you're safe.” Admittedly, he didn't think he was suited for this. Sure, he'd lost his cool as a cadet, but he'd never suffered from a panic attack. He had no clue how to talk someone into a calmer state. Tashigi could. She was nicer. Less intimidating.You eye him as he lowers himself to your level, which isn't hard considering your ridiculous height. At least you weren't hurting yourself anymore. “Where. Am I.” You demand gruffly, shaking, teeth chattering audibly.He thinks it's good that you're talking to him. It means he hasn't lost you, yet.“You're aboard my ship.” He replies steadily, his forearms braced on his knees.That doesn't soothe your rattled nerves. Smoker chews on an unlit cigar, deliberating. Instead of elaborating and possibly worsening the situation, he taps into his power. Extending his hand, he lets it dissolve, smoke falling to the floor. You watch, eyes forming two suspicious slits. “Ring a bell?”Judging by your glaring, you recognize him. He keeps going, “We got you out of that auction house. Remember that?”“I remember you.” Anger replaces your contempt, your focus narrowing on him, and he almost smirks. “You, your smoke, and your stupid jitte.”“That's me.” It really was. Give it some thought and Smoker was merely him, his smoke, and his definitely-not-stupid jitte.You scoff, rubbing your temple and wincing. Part of him marvels at the fact that he'd actually managed to calm you.Silence hangs over you two as you size each other up. Rising to his full height, he runs a hand through his hair, sighing deeply. After a moment, you do the same, leaning on the wall for support.“Where are you taking me?” You meet his eye, and he stares back, crossing his arms.“Depends.” You don't like that answer. You'll probably like his question even less. “You a pirate?”“No.” You say, a little too quick, and he arches an eyebrow at you. “Don't look at me like that. I'm not a pirate.”“Right.” You certainly did not show on his radar, so he's inclined to believe you. He might have to do some digging, though.With nothing else to say, you scan the place you'd torn up, wilting at the mess you'd created. There's no apology, but Smoker doesn't need one, shaking his head as he jerks his thumb toward your bed. “Get back in bed before you hurt yourself, somehow.”His order sparks a challenging gleam in your gaze, and you straighten, ready to tell him off. Too bad the gash on your side reminds you of its presence. Fighting a pained groan, you scowl at him as you lay back down, careful with the bandages you hadn't ripped to pieces.Now that you weren't too big a threat, he relaxes, the fatigue he'd forgotten returning. Be that as it may, he's thankful he worked late into the night. Who knows what would've happened if he'd gone to bed at a reasonable hour. Moving furniture back into place is a nice distraction from the paperwork, too.Smoker does this without another word, chancing a few glances in your direction. You're staring at the ceiling, your thoughts elsewhere, gaze far away.He turns back to a bed, the legs sliding against the wood noisily. Whoever is on watch is probably asleep. It's the only explanation for the lack of commotion outside. Had anyone been awake, the rest of the crew would have stirred, by now. He files that away for later, intent on scolding whoever it was. “What's your name?”“Does it matter?” You quip.Okay. He thinks. He's one of those guys.“I could call you Snowy,” He suggests pointedly. “Or Snowball. Or, I don't know-”“If you say Marshmallow, I will hurt you.” Your threat gives him pause. He briefly abandons his current, rivetting task to stare at you.“I was going to say Snowflake, actually.” With that, he gives the bed one last push, drowning out the insult you hiss at him.You don't answer his question and he doesn't ask a second time, minding his own business.“Is that all you're going to ask?”Smoker picks up the curtain you'd toppled, righting it, “It's too late for a more formal interrogation.”Minutes tick by. He collects the pill bottles rolling around and, not knowing what most of the labels mean, puts them down on the nearest table. Their doctor would sort them out later on.As he admires his handiwork, he hears you mumble something.He glances at you over his shoulder, blinking.“My name.” You explain, repeating it.Smoker inclines his head, acknowledging your words. “Well, then,” He parrots your name, testing it out, “Go to sleep, already. I'll come by again in the morning.”And then he's gone.(x)You're awake and counting backwards from a thousand when the doctor waltzes in. Confused, he goes to the stack of pill bottles and adjusts a few beds, muttering questions to himself. Then, noticing the torn dressing and new scratches on you, he sets to work.He's much rougher than any doctor you'd ever met, scolding you for your carelessness as he tends to you. You, just as grumpy, ignore his snide comments and let him do as he pleases. You're on the road to recovery, after all, which is a better alternative to what could have been.You try not to, but you do think about it.You're somewhat relieved to see Smoker when he enters the infirmary, a woman in tow. She finishes tying her thin, black hair into a ponytail, sliding a pair of red glasses on. Under her light pink marines' coat, she wears a floral shirt, the pink petals embroidered into the purple cloth adding a dash of colour. The rest of her outfit is simple: blue capris and dark pink boots.Smoker is no different: sicked back hair, white marine coat, navy blue pants, and brown boots. Except he's back to being shirtless and his cigarettes are lit. Was he wearing a tank top, yesterday? You think so.“How is he?” He begins, getting straight to the point. Beside him, the woman analyzes you, starting at your feet and ending at your face. Her gaze lingers on the scars on your muzzle, and you tilt your head, obstructing her view of them. Rude.“Alive,” The doctor grouches, using a clip to hold the gauze on your arm in place. “The fur doesn't help, though. Might have to shave-”You tear your arm from his grip, much to his chagrin. Helpless, the doctor sends Smoker a look.“Thank you for your work, Doctor Taiki,” The woman smiles appeasingly, placing a hand on his back. Dismissed, the doctor nods, much more at ease, and heads out.Smoker grabs a chair and practically falls on it, extracting a stack of papers from his coat. “How'd you sleep?”“Fine,” You lie, refusing to show weakness in front of him again. Truthfully, you couldn't catch a wink after your exchange with the vice admiral. Something about him, about what happened and what he did, dashed whatever chances you had of resting.“Good,” He gestures to the woman, “This is Captain Tashigi. Tashigi, this is...” Trailing off, his brown eyes leave the papers to search yours, easily reading your mood. No, you're not willing to put up with a mind-numbing conversation. Smoker finishes introducing you.“A pleasure,” She states. Someone must've told her about your temper because she doesn't offer to shake your hand. Which is fine. You don't care for human formalities.“Why are you here?”“We want to ask you some questions.” Smoker answers vaguely, rifling through his stack. You think you see a few wanted posters.You'd rather eat before this interrogation, but don't voice the complaint. They saved your life and, though you're beyond tired of humans, you will try to be civil. The more you cooperate, the sooner this ends, and the sooner they can drop you off at some island. Meaning: you can go home.“Fine.” You breathe.Smoker exhales. A wave of nausea hits you as the smell of the cigars enters your lungs. Great.“So, not a pirate.” A weight settles in your stomach at the way he spits the last word. It's hard to pick up if you're not listening, but his tone holds disdain that you hadn't heard before. “Who are you, exactly?”Was he expecting your life story? “You already know my name.” You reply.Unflappable, he carries on. “What's a mink doing so far from home?”“Exploring.”Brown eyes, rich as the earth itself, settle on you. “Something must've happened to attract the attention of slave traders.” Right. Because screw whatever you're feeling. Let's talk about that, of all things.You glower.Tashigi, unsure, turns to Smoker, who regards you as he normally does: serious, face devoid of any emotion, teeth crushing two cigars.“Okay.” Resigned, Smoker hands Tashigi the papers, who tucks them close to her chest. Scratching the nape of his neck, he tilts his head side to side, bones popping and eyebrows furrowing, “Do you know who we are?”A sudden change in topic with little to no effort put into a transition. What it entails, you've no clue. “...Marines.”“Right.” He stops, sniffling. Lazily, he points at his subordinate and himself, inquiring, “Do you know what Marines do?”...Met with silence, he nods again, “I take it that you don't.”“There are more human factions than there are stars in the sky,” You retort petulantly, wondering why his observation bothered you. Maybe it's because Tashigi is obviously rather amused. “...I know the gist of what you do.”“Then you know that our jobs, as Marines, is to hunt down pirates and put them behind bars.”“...yes.”Pleased with your answer, he continues. Your name ghosts past his lips and what you swear is unease slithers up your spine, “...I take my job very seriously. Have been taking it seriously my entire life. This is why I'm asking you: do you know if any of these pirates were present at the auction house?”At that moment, Tashigi, who had been listening attentively, shows you the papers. Most of them are wanted posters of people you'd heard of but had never seen.“I didn't see anyone's face while I was there,” You confess stiffly after skimming the images. Most of them depict some form of destruction in the background. They unearth unwanted memories; memories of pain and heavy shackles. Sick, you bite your tongue, stomach fluttering.“That's fine,” Tashigi assures you. “Do you recognize any of the names?”A malicious comeback lingers on the tip of your tongue. Tashigi doesn't deserve your ire, though. Clearing your throat, you read the names under the pictures, spotting one that you'd heard far too many times.“Squid...” You whisper.His real name matters not. What's important is the ridiculous title printed neatly underneath. The one he took immeasurable pride in. Tashigi and Smoker share a curious look, one that becomes more triumphant when you point to the pirate resolutely.“Him.” Hatred oozes from the word, toxic in its very nature.“He captured you?” Smoker prompts, leaning forward to examine the picture.“...Don't think so.” You hope he understands that, when you're beaten to a pulp, memories are hazy. Still, you give it your best shot, gathering the details you do recall. “He... he took me there after my last owner.”The Vide Admiral hums, expression grim as your meaning becomes clear. “Right.”Slave owners don't demand refunds. If a slave doesn't meet their twisted expectations, they dispose of them. And you weren't the cuddly, shy creature they insisted you were.Unconsciously, you swipe your tongue across your teeth, tasting iron and wishing they'd brought some water with them.At least you're alive.“Right.” Smoker reiterates with certitude. “Tashigi, call Hina. Fill her in.”“But, Smoker-san, you know they won't be happy about us changing course.” She argues, standing strong as her superior gets to his feet and faces her.“It's barely been a day since we left, which means we've still got a chance to find them. Contact nearby bases and ask if they've spotted any pirates in the last sixteen hours. Preferably the Squid Pirates.” Her jaw goes slack. He doesn't stop. “If it's true and those other Marines did their jobs properly, they're in dire need of repairs. We'll use that to our advantage.”“Smoker-” Tashigi's protests are cut short as Smoker takes the papers from her, leaving her stunned. He leaves in a flurry of white soon after.The doctor walks in.Tashigi lets loose a long-suffering sigh, throwing her head back in mild frustation. “Very well.” Unable to do anything other than comply, she smooths out any wrinkles on her shirt and fixes you with a serious look. “I'll have someone bring you food and water. Smoker and I will return with news later. There is still one more thing to discuss.”“...sure.”(x)True to her word, Tashigi and Smoker arrive with information on the Squid Pirates' whereabouts.That, and a proposition.“Simply put, I'm giving you the opportunity to stick it to those pirates.” He says as you scarf down a meal, only pausing to make short remarks. Smoker makes no attempt at getting you to use the utensils they'd provided.You're not going to eat the rice grain by grain though, and you'd be damned if you'll let it go to waste, so you do use a spoon when you get to it.“Why?” You chew on some fish, which had come at a later time than the rest of the food. Your hunger might have been gnawing at your bones at this point, but you weren't about to eat beef. That, as uncomfortable as it may have been to witness, you left to Smoker. Just as you are unaware of their culture, these humans are uneducated when it comes to yours. You weren't about to school them on the finer points of it all, though.“You don't want to?” He seems surprised. Well, you think. You also think the muscles in his face are stuck since they hardly move.“...”You do. Putting them behind bars, as Smoker said, would end and prevent the suffering of many.That's what you tell yourself, even as the idea of vengeance lights a fire in you.Smoker waits for you to mull it over, flipping through the newspaper in his lap. Aside from the doctor and Tashigi, he's the only other person you've interacted with. And... it was fine. Tense and a bit awkward on occasion, but fine. Tense because of you, and mildly awkward because of him. He's rather careful around you. Wary, for sure, and... lost. Somewhat.At first, you'd chalked it up to his personality. Maybe he's not one to socialize. Or maybe he doesn't like minks. Then, after seeing him talk to Tashigi, you realized that he interacts with you as he would any other.However, when you move your tail, or your ears twitch, it's as if you've reestablished your differences. Reminded him of the fact that, to the average human, you're an oversized, talking fox capable of abstract thinking.“And your... organization?” You push some rice on your plate with your spoon, thinking. “Your superiors? Don't I need to be a Marine to work with you?”“No.” He says lowly. Emotions you can't decipher cloud his irises, and he flips to the paper's next page. “You don't. I've worked with many people that weren't and aren't marines.”“Pirates, too.”His gaze snaps upwards. When it finds yours – steady, unwavering, very much unafraid – he scoffs, cocking his head to the side.“You minks know how to handle yourselves.” He ignores your statement in favour of convincing you. “It'd be good to have you on our side.”So you aren't the first mink he's ever met. He probably doesn't talk to many, though, not when all his men are human. Diversity doesn't matter when all you want to do is jail pirates, it seems.“Very well,” You agree, sitting back on the bed. He's right. Why shouldn't you fight those pirates?Bo's round face joins the sea of memories you don't want to wade through. Your mouth goes dry. The rice is tasteless, all of a sudden.“Good.” Smoker stays put for a few more minutes, reading the newspaper as you eat the rest of your food. You study him, trying to figure out if you should thank him for getting you out of the auction house. In a way, he was your saviour.“Do the Marines know about the auction houses?”Smoker doesn't look up. He gets to the last page.Most notably, he grants you no response.
It's obvious you know absolutely nothing about us, mink.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Try as you might not to judge, the revelation dents your relationship with the humans aboard this ship, too.The way you see it, the Navy's overall intentions are a multi-layered conundrum. If their goal is to protect – or, at the very least, stop criminals and their activity – why not target places like auction houses? You'd hoped to find the answers, glowering at Smoker whenever he was in the vicinity. Unfortunately, nothing ever came of it. Nothing good, at least. He did snap at you for your incessant staring after an hour, wondering why you were so interested in him.That was a good question. On one hand, you're baffled by these lesser minks. On the other, you want to learn more, to understand, to stop those pirates.The only one that could give you the truth, however, is Smoker. And Tashigi.Smoker seemed to have things figured out, though. Tashigi... you could still see the conflict in her eyes whenever she talked to you.Based on previous interactions between him and Tashigi, he defies his superiors. He's changed course to defeat the Squid Pirates, which wasn't in their schedule. You suspect the only reason they showed up in the first place was to banish the Revolutionaries, nothing else. Now, they've got a mink and a new target, one that Smoker was hellbent on erasing.“We'll be arriving at Angelonia Island, soon.” Tashigi informed you one day. “That's where those pirates were last seen.” You nodded, thanking her wordlessly for notifying you.You turned to the sea once more, relishing in the breeze tousling your fur and in the sun warming your skin. Earlier in the morning, the heat was sweltering, and you'd vehemently disobeyed the doctor's orders to leave the infirmary. At that point, you'd been camping in there for a week. You'd argued that you were only setting foot out there if he gave the all clear to bathe.He did, demanding that you keep the bandages dry and didn't do anything outrageous. After a few minutes of waiting, he handed you some spare clothing, showing you the way to the baths. The doctor dismissed you when you showed interest in the loaner's identity, much to your dismay.And so, you hit the showers, scrubbing at your fur until it was pristine. You did what you could with the matted clumps on your chest, eventually asking for scissors and cutting them off. Fixing your appearance was an arduous task, one that you toiled at for a long time, bundles of sullied fur hit the floor. It was dinner time when you finished preening, taming the stubborn strands on the top of your head.You didn't stop to examine your work until you cleaned up, knowing that they'd yell at you if you didn't.Needless to say, you were a whole new mink.You left the bathroom with an obvious spring in your step, shoulders drawn back proudly.Smiling to yourself, you rested your ears against your skull as you faced the wind, closing your eyes and breathing in deeply.“Are you sure you about this?”Oh. She's still there.Tashigi, quietly admiring the sunset, sets her arms on the railing of the ship. Her coat flutters in the wind. Delicately, she tucks some of her hair behind her ear. You focus on the sky. On the blend of reds, oranges, and violets that you'd missed out on. Panic threatens to spark in your gut as you remember the time you spent deep in that ship, bound and robbed of your sight. You ignore it, though, narrowing your gaze. Stars are beginning to make their appearance, not yet twinkling but visible through the overarching stream of clouds.Your first instinct is to sneer at her, offended. Is she doubting your abilities? Ridiculous. You could fight this ship's entire crew in your sleep, even with your injuries.But she wasn't challenging you. No. The derision others have regarded you with is nowhere to be found.She's concerned. About you? About the mission? You don't know.“You see me as a burden?” It's your only response.“No,” She shakes her head firmly. “I haven't encountered many minks, but I know that you are strong. Tremendously strong.” Tashigi sighs, an air of frustration surrounding her. She composes herself, though, clearing her throat. “However, a week ago, you were a slave.”“And now, I'm free.”“Won't facing these pirates...” She trails off thoughtfully, watching the waves lapping at the hull of the ship. “Will you be alright?”You're pretty sure you understand what she means.“Yes.” You straighten your spine, looking at the much smaller woman. Compared to Smoker, she seemed rather tiny, her frame strong yet so fragile. She radiated a strength not many crewmembers did, though. A testament to her skill and, unquestionably, her dedication to her career.Your amber eyes glue her to her spot, and she blinks up at you, wide eyed and mouth slightly agape. Again, she recovers, leaving her post by the railing and facing you fully.She extends a hand, and you slowly meet her halfway, dwarfing the limb and shaking it.“Good. Then let's do this.”(x)Angelonia Island is a hellhole. A beautiful, dream-like, too-hot hellhole.“What's wrong, huh?” A G-5 member shouts from the back of your group, amusement in his voice. “Can't handle a bit of sun, mink?” No. You can't. But you told Tashigi and Smoker that you'd help them and that you wouldn't be a burden, so you can't really whine.Still, you don't fall for the obvious trap, rolling your eyes with a huff. The crew had taken a liking to you, for whatever reason, and had made it their mission to involve you in their activities. Whether that be drinking, or a game of cards, or an ongoing prank war Smoker had yet to snuff out. It was hectic, and though you were wary, you appreciated their efforts to include you despite you attempts at biting one of them.That didn't mean you actively participated. Sure, you'd sit with them, listening to them go on about Tashigi, or their adventures, or how mean Smoker could be. You didn't drink and you definitely strayed from their prank war.If Smoker learned of any of these activities – and he often did – you didn't want to be in the line of fire. He was merciless when annoyed, relegating the most mundane or repulsive tasks to those unfortunate enough to suffer his ire.Maybe it was your status as an unofficial member of G-5, but he didn't bother you. He'd had you sit with him in the galley, going over information about the Squid Pirates. Tashigi was at his side, smiling softly at you when you had to ask her to explain whatever details Smoker glossed over. Not because he deemed you unworthy of them, but because everyone else knew the jargon. You didn't, a fact Tashigi has attempted to drill into his brain.Now, whenever a complicated word comes up in a report about the pirates, Smoker simply stops and lets Tashigi elaborate. She's more than happy to, an excited gleam in her eye as she teaches you. When that happens, Smoker has to remind her to finish her food.“I'm fine,” You grumble, limbs like lead. Despite your weakening body, you appreciate the flora and plants you pass, following Smoker through town. “What are we doing here, again?”“Reconnaissance.” Smoker, sunglasses protecting his eyes, cranes his neck to glance at you.You deadpan, which is the only cue Tashigi needs to chirp, “Scouting. Gathering information. That storm slowed us down and, as you saw, the pirates are gone.”“That's why we're headed to the tavern.” You tack on. “And that's why the others stayed at the docks. To ask around, as well.”“Exactly.” She grins, her lively eyes wrinkling in the corners. “We'll make a marine out of you, yet.”“Hm.” You don't think so.You do appreciate the praise, though. That can't be helped.“Can we stop there, too?” Another G-5 member, Pike, points at an establishment. You squint, discerning the letters printed on a sign above the door, and tilt your head. Tashigi raises her glasses, mirroring you. Her reaction is on the opposite end of the spectrum, however.Sputtering, cheeks ablaze, and rather embarrassed, she cries indignantly, “No! Absolutely not!”Some of the men snicker, others whine, waving at the human women at the door, who wink and coo. They're not wearing much clothing.Vaguely, you wonder if humans also exchange clothes as a sign of friendship. They might. If so, does that mean that the person who gave you their clothes is shy? They had yet to come forward, and you felt odd not reciprocating their kind gesture.Scruitinizing your shirt, you frown, women fawning over you. You dodge one of them without missing a beat, tail swaying behind you.The white dress shirt is big. Not in length. In width. You hold your arms out at your sides, humming when it hangs off your frame awkwardly. The pants fit rather well despite not covering your legs completely. Being unable to tuck them into your boots meant a sliver of fur could be seen as you walked.Whoever this person was, they were shorter and wider than you. You scan your group, eyebrows furrowed. Who could it be?Ahead, Smoker ignores the women latching onto him, puffing smoke. He motions for you to keep up, and you do, ignoring Tashigi's tirade about their duties. The men in your group listen with dopey faces.Buildings line both sides of the gravelly street, the odd plank of wood poking out from beneath the sand. Decorating each building are many colourful banners and flowers, petals gliding through the air. Smoker exhales loudly, smoke spilling past his lips. After hours of paperwork, he had no patience for his crew's antics.Furtively, he glances at the resident mink, arching an eyebrow.Your head swivels to and fro as you feast your eyes on every store. You quietly read the signs, peering through windows to examine goods. A petal lands on your round nose and you huff, sending it flying.“Have you seen him, lately?” Tashigi asked, pen scratching the papers as she signed this, made a note of that, and calculated their spendings. “No.” Smoker replied from his chair, feet propped up on his desk and hands on his abdomen.“He's cleaned up.” A paper slides towards him. It sits with the others requiring a signature.“And?” “I think he looks cute.”“You could try to pet him.” He jokes.“I didn't mean it like that.” She gasps, her pen hitting the desk. He knew what she meant.“Is that the place?” You sidle up to him, gesturing ahead. Smoker grunts an affirmative.The rest of the walk is silent, save for the men requesting to visit certain places that wind up Tashigi and set her off. You watch the lesser minks mill about, minding their own business, and meet the eyes of a few when you cross paths. Some gawk, others move on with their lives. A child waves his arms frantically to catch your attention, beaming when you bow your head, feeling tremendously out of place. Oh well.Inside the bar, the temperature is unbearable. The grumpiness you'd abandoned in favor of sightseeing hangs over you like a stormcloud. Smoker walks inside, heedless to the other patrons even though some of them look like criminals. Scattered throughout the room are several tables, all of them overflowing with drinks and people, who cheer and sing and dump entire mugs of alcohol in their mouths.Surprisingly, you don't see Tashigi and the others. They must've hung back when they saw the number of people inside the bar. You wish you had also stayed behind.“'ello, sir,” The man behind the counter greets, cleaning a mug with a white rag. His eyes roll to you, appraising you wordlessly. You must not be very interesting, which is relieving, because he turns to Smoker when he slides the wanted poster of your target towards him. “Can I get you anything?”“No, thanks,” Smoker raises his voice to be heard. “Seen this guy 'round here recently?”The barkeep peers down at the image, glancing back at Smoker with a face that gives nothing away. In the background, some of the ruckus settles, and you let your eyes explore the room, curious about this.There are men in the corner glaring at Smoker.You lean around Smoker to glower pointedly at them, a snarl in the back of your throat. No, you don't want attention, and no, you don't want to cause trouble, but you're not letting this continue, either.If anyone wants to make a dumb decision, they'll have to go through you.“No, sir. Haven't seen 'em.” Smoker stares at him, aware of your darkening mood and sighing internally.“You sure?” The marine tries again, pointing at the pirate's face. “Word has it they stopped here for a bit. You didn't see him or his crew?”“Hard to say. Lots of people come and go 'round here, sir.”You're listening in now, watching the conversation unfold with a pronounced frown. Unfazed, Smoker nods, pausing to think. He's not in the mood for this needless beating around the bush, but he doesn't want to aggravate the guy and have him clam up. Parting with the money he'd brought with him is also on the table, but he'd rather not give the barkeep the satisfaction, either.What to do?Gently, you rest a clawed hand on the counter top, lowering yourself to the man's level wordlessly. The bartender puts a little more effort into scrubbing, eying you suspiciously. Mild panic fuels each fervent motion. It's something that Smoker doesn't miss, pulling out another picture of the crew and adding it to the pile. He tries not to appear too smug.“Look again. None of these jogging your memory?”Swallowing, the man focuses on the photos. Smoker takes this as a chance to send the peanut gallery an unimpressed look. He'd gotten real good at sensing people's glares after being on the other end of your muted ire. They return to their game of cards soon enough.You rise to your full height when, again, the man denies seeing the pirates, tail stilling and curling. Your back hunches slightly as you loom over the human, ears flat against your skull.Smoker is nonchalant as he gathers his papers, bowing his head. “Very well. Thank you for your time.”“A-although,” Smoker pauses, eyebrow raised. “There might be something that could, y'know, as you say, jog my memory.” So, the man is still brave enough to go after the money. You tilt your head, quiet.“And that is?” The marine asks.“Well, I'm sure you know, already-” The scrubbing stops, but not because the man is finished cleaning the damn mug.With a loud yelp that attracts the attention of more patrons, you grasp the man by his collar, dragging him closer to you. His stomach hits the countertop and he winces, gripping your wrist. You're undeterred, however.“Did you see the pirate. Yes or no.” You say lowly, nails digging into the wood, leaving visible marks. The barkeep's attempts to loosen your grip are fruitless. The difference in power dawns on him when his feet aren't touching the floor, anymore, and he relents.“Ye-yes, yes, I did. They came in, had a couple o' drinks, then left.”“When did they leave.” Your eyes gleam ominously, the light from the lanterns pooling in their depths.“Yesterday. Said they were headed to- to Gunman Island.”Smoker steps forward, large palm circling your wrist. He tugs, expression darkening when he's met with resistance from you, “That's enough. Let him go.”Your head swivels towards him and you search his face for anything you can exploit – a sign of weakness, fear, nervousness – but there is none. He's steely, with not even a crack in his composure, unlike the lesser mink dangling from your palm. Smoker's lips tug his cigarettes down as he frowns at you, the wrinkle in his brow deepening.You got what you wanted. A voice comments in the back of your mind. The reasonable part of your brain. Don't be dumb.The chatter has died down fully, pirates and civillians alike awaiting your next move.Without breaking eye contact, you release the man. He lands on his feet with a thud, teetering to one side as he recovers his balance, gaping at you. Your exhale causes some of Smoker's white hair to fall out of place.“Very well.” You concede, retreating from the counter and out of the bar without waiting for him.Once outside, you look around for Tashigi and the others. They're in the distance, back at the place where the human women flocked around you. Tashigi's face is flushed. She's scolding them again.You don't want to deal with that. Not in your current state. Maybe you can find some shade and cool off before Smoker comes and decides to berate you, too.Shaking your head, you're about to set off when the kid from earlier runs up to you, starry eyed.“What are you?!” She demands without so much as a 'hello', stopping you dead in your tracks. Though you're still moody from the heat and the encounter from two minutes ago, you try to be cordial.“A mink.” You reply, unaware of the people looking on, tense.“That's so cool! I'm a human!” The young girl points out, holding out her arms and grinning at you. She's wearing a tattered and very much stained dress, boots caked in mud. Bandages cover her tiny, tiny fingers.You think of Bo, the memories chipping away at your anger, and kneel before her. She squeals quietly, bouncing in her spot.“Hey, do you like fruit? I have some berries with me.”That piques your interest. “What kind of berries?”Proudly, she reaches into the pockets of her dress, showing you all the fruit she had stored inside them. There numerous kinds, ranging from blackberries, to blueberries, and raspberries. No wonder she's so dirty.You pluck a raspberry from her hand and eat it, prompting a surprised yell from the girl. “So you do like fruit!”“Yes, I do.” You smile slightly.“Cool!” She giggles, giving you more of the berries. You don't understand why she laughs every time you eat one, thankful that they're somewhat cold, still.You spend some time with the girl, explaining to her that just because she saw a fox eat a worm once that it doesn't mean that you do, too. The mere thought is a bit gross, but to each their own, you suppose. You'd rather eat fish or, as the girl discovers, the berries.“Woah,” She flexes her emptied hand. “You ate them all!”“Sorry.” You've also just realized that.The little girl giggles again, shoving it in her pocket and pulling out more fruit. Now it's your turn to show your surprise.Before you can keep eating them though, Smoker stomps down the stairs to the bar and approaches you. Your ears twitch as you glance over your shoulder at him, the girl reach for your head.“Alright, kid, go on. Scram.” Smoker says, stopping beside your crouched form to wave the girl off. She pouts, hand suspended above your head, and you hunch when you notice. When she opens her mouth to complain, you move towards her, hearing Smoker tell you to stop.“Garchu.”Smoker, the child, Tashigi, and the G-5 marines freeze, rooted to their spots.“Eh?” Smoker utters quietly.When you pull back from rubbing your cheek against the child's, you smile, tail unfurled and swaying behind you.Oh, right. “Thank you for the berries, lesser mink. They were good.”The girl is unresponsive for a few seconds, then she beams at you, wrapping her arms around your neck and mimicking your actions. She laughs and laughs. “Garchu! Garchu! I don't know what that means, but I like the sound of it!”“It means 'thank you' in my home. It is also used to greet others.” You explain, tolerating the child's excited cries of 'garchu'. She lets you go eventually, ignoring you as you try to explain that it's only for greetings and to show one's gratitude.“Alright, that's enough,” Smoker pipes up, bewildered. He has no idea what just happened and isn't sure he wants to ask, but you do need to go. And what's with this lesser mink stuff, anyway?“I'm gonna show my friends! See you, Mink-Man! Garchu!” The girl scampers off. You watch her go with your arms resting on your knee, gaze warm....Smoker is speechless as you get to your feet, much calmer than you were when you followed him into the bar. He snaps out of his daze when Tashigi and the rest join you two, placing a hand on his forehead with a loud sigh. Vaguely, he registers what sounds like an amused huff. A breathy chuckle that is barely audible.He decides to ignore it.As he ferries your group towards the ship, he listens to his men demand answers about the whole lesser mink thing, puffing away. You're leading, this time. Tashigi and Smoker linger in the back to keep stragglers in line, passing that one specific building again.“What the hell's that supposed to mean, eh?! Do you think we're weak, mink?!” One of them asks. “Lesser minks. I'll show you!”“What are you even on about...” You mutter, rubbing the back of your head. You seem just as confused as Smoker is, which is even more befuddling.“You called us lesser!”“You have less hair.”Smoker almost snorts. That's supposed to be an answer?“What?!”“...You're monkey minks with fewer hairs. I don't know why you're so angry about it. It's not a bad thing, you know.”“We're NOT minks!” The entire group, barring Tashigi and Smoker, cry as one.And on and on they went, with frustration building in both parties as you failed to elaborate and his men failed to grasp the concept. Tashigi picks up on the problem easily enough, musing aloud to herself and inadvertently answering Smoker's questions. A clashing of cultures, then. No big deal.Smoker watches you interact with his crew, noting how open you are. Your guard is remains, sure, but he expected you to forgo explaining the concept in favor of peace. Instead, you're trying to drill into his men's heads that there's nothing wrong with having less hair than you. That it doesn't change anything.He glances down at himself, eyebrows pinched.If this is what it's going to be like having you on board, he might be in for a few more headaches, today.(x)Back on the ship, you assist with whatever tasks you can, heedless to the doctor's narrowed gaze. Your wounds are healing well, so you're not sure why he feels the need to monitor you. Regardless, you take it easy, carrying lighter cargo and assisting with the rigging. Kind of. You haven't mastered those strange knots the others taught you, much to their amusement.“Look, I'll show you again.” The man with black, unruly hair grins. His name is Bomba and he has a round face, a rounded body, and very strange eyebrows. Laugh lines border his lips, curving upwards, etching the ghost of a permanent smile in his cheeks.He unravels the knot before you, then ties the rope again, his hands a complete blur. They move so quickly you feel your eyes crossing. When he's done, he shoves the rope towards you, almost hitting you on the nose. You lean back. “Get it, mink?”Your ears droop.“No.” You huff. Your disappointment and vexation pulls on your lips and the scar on your muzzle.“What?! But I did it so slowly, that time! How did you even manage to make it this far if you don't even know how to do this?” He cackles cruelly. You roll your eyes, looking down at the rope in your hands. You've got the first part down, just not... whatever he does afterwards.“I... wasn't alone.” You explain. “I set sail by myself, yes, but not on a ship like this. Then I travelled with whoever would accept me into their crew.”That had been fine for the first month or two into your adventuring. Some humans could not wrap their mind around your existence, screaming in shock when you spoke. Others welcomed you, happy to have an extra pair of hands, no matter whose, on board. Naivety is what led to your capture, eventually.You'd heard the rumours, the stories about slaves and the Celestial Dragons, but never thought it would be your fate.You don't tell him that, though.“Oh, man.” Bomba breathes, shaking his head in disbelief as he laughs. “How the hell did you even survive?”Mentally, you sigh. Outwardly, you tilt your head, waiting for him to show you again. Heavy footfalls grow louder as Smoker approaches, tossing orders to his men, who grumble and groan. After sending a curt nod to the men unfurling the sails, his dark eyes rove the deck, spotting you and your companion easily. They drop to the rope hanging limply from your hands.“Bomba,” Smoker calls, “Finish up and stop fooling around.”“Aye aye, captain...” The man responds, taking the rope from you and doing that ridiculously complicated knot once more. When Bomba leaves, you examine it closely in an attempt to figure out the process. When you inhale, you realize that Smoker is only coming closer, the smell of his cigars lingering in the back of your mouth. Eugh.“Wasn't expecting you to help,” He comments idly, examining Bomba's work and nodding approvingly.“It's the least I can do,” You argue, put off by his words. Did he think you'd sit around and do nothing all day?“The help is appreciated.” He tugs on the rigging to test its condition and tension. “Just be mindful of your wounds.”It seems he's on a mission to ensure the ship is functional, because he too takes off after finishing that statement. You watch him go, his coat fluttering behind him, the concerns and questions for his organization you'd put aside returning.You scan the deck, taking in the sight of the G-5 crew working together, thinking back on how they'd treated you up to now. They were... rougher than a lot of the crews you'd set sail with. Tougher. They teased and mocked you relentlessly sometimes, tugging at your fur and poking you. You remember when you cleaned yourself up, they made fun of you for putting so much effort into the task.Even then, they were... okay. Good, almost. Not as kind, not as respectful, but you suppose that's why Smoker is in charge of them all. He knew how to handle them. Tashigi, too. She was polite. Sweet, even.Your gaze drifts towards Smoker.Personally, you think he embodies his devil fruit powers a little too much. You've never come across anyone so elusive. The moment you think you've come to understand him, he slips in between the cracks of your fingers and moves out of your reach.Well, it's a good thing you've always excelled at hunting.You'll get him, someday.(x)Unfortunately, when you reach Gunman Island, it is too late. On top of that, the arrival of a Marine ship seems to aggravate the townsfolk. You understand why, though.Those pirates had stormed through the town, wreaking havoc and causing severe damage to the houses and stores. The island seemed self-reliant for the most part, and with it in ruin, people were suffering.Your group's presence incurred the wrath of many. They demanded to know why Marine's never came to help them. Why they never were around when they were actually needed. It was then you first witnessed the sadistic nature of the G-5 crew, aghast when the men dismissed and even threatened the people.Thankfully, Smoker reeled them in with a sharp bark. You'd been shocked when you heard the vicious bite in his words. His crew went quiet, then, with Tashigi scowling at them to keep them in line.With the townsfolk and the G-5 crew silenced, Smoker takes charge, apologizing for the damages and explaining your current mission. The crowd listens, rapt as he promises the mayor that the Squid Pirates would be stopped. Tashigi swoops in, then, her gentler nature and appearance assuring the townsfolk into providing whatever information they have. You had to admit, their teamwork was on another level. The trust and respect they had for each other became apparent whenever they worked together like this.You survey the crowd, dread pooling in your stomach when you take in the wounds many of the adults sport. Had they fought back? You hope so. If some pirate were to invade your home, you'd do just that.“Does anyone know or saw where they went?” Smoker asks the mayor as you locate three men repairing a building. A pile of lumber sits by a building, too large for just one set of repairs, which means it needs to be distributed. Furtively, you check behind you, ensuring that no one in the crew notices you as you slink away. Smoker will probably fill you in on the details later, so you're not too worried about missing out.Right now, the least you can do is help them as best you can.“You need to move these, right?” Since their backs were to you, they don't notice you until you speak, which startles them. One of them brandishes a hammer, whirling around to face you. He wilts when he notices how you tower over him and, more importantly, how you raise your hands.“Y... yeah.” The one carrying a few boards of wood replies slowly. You hold out your hands, much to his confusion.“I'll help.” You state plainly, motioning to the wood in his arms and silently urging him to hand it over.“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thanks?” The man says after a few seconds of stunned silence, doing as you ask. You grab six more pieces and tuck them under your arm, nodding to them. “Here, I'll- I'll show you where to leave them.”“Thank you.” You reply, hefting the wood higher and trailing after him, ignoring your stinging side. Your injuries aren't in critical condition, unlike many people here, so you don't care if certain movements ache a little. This is the least you can do for them.And so, you help them, depositing wood wherever they want or need. The shock of receiving help from who they likely believe is a Marine passes, eventually. Though somewhat tense, the workers joke with you here and there. You don't attempt making any yourself, knowing that they'd probably fall flat.Your responses seem to amuse them, though, so there's that. At least they aren't swinging their tools at you.“-they didn't stay for long after they ransacked our home, though.” The mayor of the town – a small, frail-looking old man – says. Smoker nods as Tashigi writes that down, eyebrows creased in concentration. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots you helping the townsfolk, and he almost orders you to come back. Then he sees impact your assistance is having on the men you're with and those witnessing your actions and reconsiders it.You are unpredictable, the Marine decides. He nudges Tashigi and nods in your direction, ordering to be mindful of you.“I see injured. I'm assuming you fought back.” Smoker states, scanning the crowd, all wearing different expressions. Some of mistrust, others of sorrow. Others have their gazes cast to the ground, a cloud of anguish hanging over their heads.Civilian casualties are probably one of the worst parts of this job, he thinks.The old man pushes his round glasses further up his nose, reaching behind him. Smoker arches an eyebrow when he sees the flintlock he's waving. “It's called Gunman Island for a reason, mister. We don't go down without a fight.”“I see that.” Smoker replies, exhaling loudly as he rests all his weight on one foot.“Does that mean the pirates sustained heavy damage?” Tashigi pipes up, hope in her tone. The old man nods eagerly and Tashigi jots it down. “Perfect. That will surely speed this up. Thank you. Your effort will not be in vain.”“I should hope not, young one.”Tashigi flips to the next page in her notebook as the mayor continues relaying information. Smoker lets Tashigi take over, glancing back at his men.Usually, he'd move right along after having his questions answered, but...“This goes here, then?” You ask, carefully resting the logs you'd acquired on the ground when you receive an affirmative response. Straightening, you go right back to work, glad you aren't as useless here as you are on the ship.“Yeah. Thanks. We'll take it from here. You should probably head back.”With an inclination of your head, you do as he says. You're far enough that you can't see what is going on until you've walked a few blocks.You stop.You're not sure why the G-5 men are helping the people of this town after their threats, but... well, there they are. Doing just that.Away from the clamor are Tashigi and Smoker, discussing what they'd gathered among themselves. Perhaps Tashigi suggested they could help to make up for what the Marines in this area didn't do. You have a feeling it wasn't her, though.You walk up to them, ducking under a beam that two of your crewmembers are carrying, grumbling about their current job.“Oi, oi!” You look to the source of the voice and find that it is Pike yelling and pointing an accusing finger at you. “This is your damn fault, mink! If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be stuck doing this!”You stare at him, blinking slowly. Be that as it may, you didn't exactly demand anyone's assistance, so... Maybe, since they can't take their rage out on Smoker, they're targetting you. If that's the case, you don't really care. Even if they are picking on the wrong person.Pike continues scolding you, even as you yawn and cross your arms, eyebrow arched.From behind him, the mayor waddles up to Pike, a long stick in his hand. Pike doesn't notice him until the mayor hops onto several crates and whacks him over the head with his makeshift weapon. Pike drops what he's carrying with a high-pitched yelp, earning the laughter of his crew and townsfolk. You shake your head as you leave him to it, smirking to yourself.When you raise your head, Smoker is watching you as Tashigi speaks, sifting through her notes. You almost pause mid-step, unsure what to make of it as you hold his rather intense gaze carefully. Willing your body to relax, you act as if you're completely unbothered by him, sidling up to Tashigi.“Why all this?” You ask the shorter woman, peering down at her and her papers. She cranes her neck to address you directly, smiling slightly. You have to resist the urge to do the same.“You'll have to ask the captain,” Her voice has a joking lilt to it as she answers.You do, reiterating your question.Smoker tilts his head down, staring at you over the frames of his sunglasses. “Gives them something to do while we figure things out over here.” Right.“And you're sure it's not because you want to help?” You challenge. Much to your disappointment, Smoker's expression remains stony.“Well, those lot are making up for their nonsense.”Not what you asked, but you don't mind, not when he shifts and shoves his hands in his pocket. He clears his throat quietly, keeping his body turned away from you, inhaling and exhaling smoke.So. Stony, but with a few cracks.Satisfied, you let the conversation end, eventually joining the crew and the townsfolk in the repairs. Smoker and Tashigi stay behind.The man watches you saunter towards people transporting tools and other items, wordlessly shaking his head and staring at the ground.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Eyes cast downwards and a frown on your face, you etch a line into the sand with one sweep of your arm. The end of the stick punctures the space between your feet. Anxiously, your toes wriggle and your heels rise, sand clinging to the flesh like barnacles on a ship's hull. Behind you, the sun warms your back and sets your dewy skin aflame. It settles on the unprotected curve of your bare shoulder, pooling in your collarbone.Marco's grin is toothy and wide. Slowly, he drags one sandalled foot forward, the ground giving under his weight. Your expression sours considerably as he draws near, glowering at him.“I mean it, Marco. Do not cross that line.” You bury your impromptu weapon further into the sand, accidentally snapping it in half when you move to hit him with it. His laugh is a sharp bark, cheeks red and eyes squinting as he shields his face from the beams of light. A breeze pushes warm air into his face and tousles his curly blond hair. “What would happen if I did?” There's a challenge buried in his words, one you meet head-on like always. No matter how obvious the bait, you sought out his traps, unwilling to cave. Your eyes, shining with indignation, flash.“Just don't do it.” Warnings never deterred him, not when youth and the stupid kind of reckless coursed his veins. When Marco looks at you, he sees someone to annoy, to prod, to poke. He toes the line, literally and figuratively, waiting for you to lunge.He sends you another boyish grin and, when he taps the side beyond the line with the ball of his foot, you snap.When he flies out of your reach, he ensures his feathers smack your head. You skid to a halt just behind the stroke in the sand. He's yet to cross it, which means you see it as your only protection from his antics.It's too bad, then, that you lose your balance.Hands grasp at the air as you struggle to right your upper body, teetering forward. Just a few feet away, Marco lands, chuckling quietly.Gently, he taps your chin with a finger, his other arm snaking around your waist. Your arm rears back, hand curling into a fist, but he grabs your wrist before you can attack. An erratic pulse beats against his calloused palm, whispering to him the things you refused to admit.The fingers on your chin tilt your head back. For the first time in these very long, very exhausting twenty minutes, you see him and he sees you. You see his mirth and his gaze linger on your heaving chest, as blue and as mysterious as the sea.You don't want to know more. You don't. You'd already ventured too far. Hidden in the darkest corner you could find, you'd blindly mapped his features one night. Specks of light dotted his skin in those moments, bursting to life when you tried putting them out. He didn't let you go then no matter how much you insisted and he doesn't let you go now.“Marco,” You heave, feet scraping the sand. You can feel it, now. The heat and electricity that rushes through you whenever he's this close.How can he stand it? How? No one can endure this for long.“What happens when I cross the line?” He asks, words ghosting past the shell of your ear as he briefly presses his cheek to yours. His fingers skim your jawline and his thumb brushes your lower lip. Your other hand – the useless thing – clutches his collar, tugging weakly. Somehow, you find yourself erasing whatever distance there was between you, head on his chest.“I- I don't-”You hear it. Then, you listen, the drumming of his heartbeat luring you in. Like always.“Draw as many as you want,” He says lowly, “I won't stop you.”“You say that because I won't be able to stop you, don't you?” You scoff, fighting to keep your voice from wavering.“I have wings for a reason.” His lips, curved upwards, are on the crown of your head but go no further. Not this time. “I'm just waiting for you to fly away with me.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“This is all of them, then?” One of the marines, the one lounging with his feet propped on his desk, asks. His half-lidded gaze bounces from one bound pirate to the next, uninterested even as they struggle to free themselves, cussing you out.Your nod is curt and almost imperceptible. Nothing about you – not your partially hidden face, not your body, nothing – hints of feelings of triumph. You'd simply hauled two people inside, dropped them at their feet, then left to fetch the rest.Very much unlike the other bounty hunters he'd met, who recounted their epic fight with their targets or yelled at them to pay them or die.The marine glances at his comrades, allowing his feet to touch the ground. He stands, watching the writhing pirates littered in wounds, reaching inside a drawer.“You piece of shit!” The ringleader of the group sways, tied hands wriggling in a futile attempt to loosen the ropes. “We almost got away, too! I'll kill you when I get out of here!”You slowly shift your weight from one foot to the other.With a subtle jerk of his head, the marine captain orders his men to drag the known slavers inside their temporary cells. They kick and scream, hurling insults at you that you simply ignore, waiting patiently for your money. When the captain is done counting coins, he dumps them in a brown sack, tossing it on his desk.You wait, back straight and haki-imbued hands clenched at your sides. After a few rather tense seconds, you march forward and accept your payment. Coins clink eerily as you shove the little bag inside a hidden pocket.You leave without uttering a single word, your dark, heavy robes billowing behind you like a pair of demonic wings. Every footfall is calculated and silent, and as you leave the room, the captain wonders if they'd all hallucinated this encounter. If you were merely a ghost.He glances at the scattered posters on his desk, remembering the thunderstorm raging inside your eyes as you prowled closer to him. The less distance separating you two, the darker the room seemed to become, shadows scaling the walls and coalescing on the ceiling.With a shudder, he gets back to work.(x)There's a certain level of inactivity in this island that you wholly appreciate. Though those pirates never stood a chance against you, their yelling and noisy attacks as they fought grated on your nerves. You're thankful for the quieter atmosphere, here.The streets are crowded, yes, but the people are sluggish, likely due to the unforgiving sun. Most linger beneath awnings, fanning themselves or wiping the sweat from their brow, waiting for the temperatures to fall.After years of sailing, it doesn't bother you, leaving you plenty of room to walk. No need to dodge rowdy children or slow passerbys. It also leaves you open to many stares, most of which you remain ignorant to.“Look. Isn't that the bounty hunter that got real famous, recently?”“Maybe. Who knows?”“What are they doing here?”Getting paid. Not that it's anyone's business.Your mission now is to reach the docks and board whatever ship will accept you. It would leave a noticeable dent in your funds, but that's okay. You should have enough to buy a room at a tavern or hotel.At the docks, workers hurry to unload their cargo and spoils, yelling and gesturing wildly. You keep to the sidelines, observing the ships as they bob merrily, dancing to the same tune as the ocean waves. Many of them belong to merchants, and while that's not ideal in cases of emergency, it's currently better than a pirate ship. You're not sure how friendly they'd be once they realized who you were. With a crew of merchants, you'd be able to lie low for a few days before setting off once again.With this in mind, you scan the docks, searching for whoever appears in charge to offer them what you can: money and skill. Mostly money, though. Not many sailors are keen on doing people favours – no matter how strong they are – without some form of payment.Eventually, you locate a short, podgy man waving his arms violently and yelling at a worker. He's wearing clothes that are far too fitted, fancy, and expensive to be any old sailor, suggesting his affluent status.He looks greedy enough to take anyone's money regardless of the amount, which is enoughfor you. He'd have to do.With your hard-earned money handy, you march up to him, avoiding a sailor with an enormous crate blocking his view. He does a double take as you duck underneath his box, blinking rapidly. Then, seeing as you hadn't knocked yourself out, he moves on, shrugging.“And don't forget about those, too, you bumbling fool!” His voice is shrill with anger. The person on the receiving end scoffs and shuffles towards another load of cargo, mumbling under his breath.Stopping a few feet from him, you wait for him to notice you, wiping the sweat from your brow. He barks a couple more orders and, when the area is clear of his crew, his round eyes land on you.“What.” He crosses his arms, examining you from head to toe. Whatever he sees clearly doesn't brighten his mood or impress him much.You hold the pouch out for him to take, pointing a thumb at his vessel. It takes him a few moments to understand what you're implying. He glances between you and the ship, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening as his eyebrows rise. Finally, they pause and so does he, scowling dramatically.“Uh-uh, chump. I don't take stowaways.” You're... not one. You wouldn't even be talking to him if that was your intention. Do you relay any of this to him, though? No.“I wouldn't stay long.” You state. The pouch continues to dangle from your hand. “Only until you reach the next island.”He stares like you've just asked him what the sum of two and two is. You heave a quiet sigh.“I have my own supplies. You don't need to worry about feeding me or treating my injuries.”No luck.“I have more money, if that's what it'll take.” Your voice drops in volume the longer you talk, annoyed. Looks like you were wrong about him, in the end. You're about to store said money in your coat when he snatches it right out of your hand, shaking his head in disbelief. As if you're the one that needed convincing and not the one likely getting scammed.“Fine. Welcome aboard... yadda yadda.” He waves his hand dismissively towards his ship, turning away from you to count what you'd paid him. You don't wait for him to demand more, slipping past him and onto his poor excuse of a vessel. Could you even call it a ship?You rest a calloused hand on the railing as you hop off the ramp leading to the deck. Splinters and bits of wood poke your skin. When you examine the masts from afar, you see the same problem. The white sails are stained and dirty. One of them has a hole, too.Crewmen steal glances at you, wary as they murmur and discuss this sudden turn of events amongst themselves. You nod your greetings, firm but polite. They don't need another pompous weirdo strutting around, after all.It's not as pristine or as polished as you would've expected, considering its captain and the stick up his arse. That doesn't matter as long as it doesn't sink and you arrive at your destination, though.Soon enough, the captain boards the ship, as well, barking orders at his men. He pays you no mind as he bosses his crew around, who are clearly displeased with their jobs. You decide to help them before someone tries to kill him. You're not sure how it hasn't happened, yet. Constant belitting, arduous labour, and harsh sunlight can all push a person to commit atrocities. You would know. You've seen it happen.Personally, you're not in the mood to appease tensions between both parties before a mutiny inevitably takes place. That'll have to happen after you've bid these people farewell.Still, you're sure that your presence is distracting enough for them to put aside their anger, even for a minute or two.It works a little too well.“Oi. What do you think you're doing?” One of the more burly fellows asks, sidestepping directly into your path. Craning your neck to meet his unimpressed gaze, you motion to a mop and its accompanying bucket. He poses for an additional three seconds, broad chest puffed and arms crossed. You inch a foot backward, trying to make it obvious that you're not going to stab him in the back if he takes his eyes off you.Apparently, he takes this as submission, glancing in the direction you pointed. Your meaning dawns on him pretty quickly, after that.“...Huh.” He focuses on you once more, tilting his head to the side as he takes in your appearance and your gear. As if he's finally seeing a potential equal and not what he saw earlier – someone to bend to his will. Arguing, in this case, wouldn't be beneficial for him, which is exactly why he shrugs and leaves you to it.As you get to work, lifting the heavy pail and grabbing the mop, their puzzled, distrusting expressions crack slightly. Some laugh derisively at your fate, others appear slightly more appreciative. Whatever crosses their minds isn't your concern as long as you can all set sail in peace.Eventually, when you've made your way over to the quarterdeck, they lift the anchor. The captain announces to his men to set sail, and you stop to watch, mop pressed against the floor. You watch and you listen.It's a sight you never miss, no matter what.The sails unfurl, catching the gusts swooping through the deck. They bow under the force with noises you've always struggled to describe. If you had to put it in words, you'd say it's akin to a flag flapping in the wind, but that's never invoked the same onslaught of feelings in you.Spellbound, you stare as the ship's keel begins cutting through the water. You close your eyes, welcoming the memories of the men that saved you once again. The wind blows harder, lifting your spirits higher and soothing the pain of remembering. That combined with the rocking of the ship launch in you into the past, where you can finally look up and up at his face once more.What you wouldn't give to be able to do more than just look. You didn't care if he secretly hated you or if he could never push past his anguish and treat you with the same respect he did others. You'd do anything to have the chance to shake his hand. To show him that humans weren't all bloodthirsty fiends.
A tiny limb weakly latches onto one of his fingers. Resisting the urge to rip his hand from your grip, he lowered his gaze to meet your widened eyes. Despite the anxiety his stern expression instills in you, you raise your chin and ask why you felt like you were floating. What you, so young and so clueless, were hearing as they set course for your home.
He pauses, mulling over your strangely innocent question. With a profound sigh, he kneels behind you, resting his enormous palms on your shoulders.
“Look up.”
You do as he says, noticing a vast expanse of black and crimson. You're so frightened, so scared of being consumed by this void, you cower with a whimper.
He holds you still. You cringe when he digs his webbed fingers into your skin, your weak muscles doing little to protect the bone underneath. “Don't. Just stop. Stop and listen.”
Your breathing is shallow and so loud, you have to smack a hand over your mouth to follow his command. When your frenzied thoughts settle and your sight isn't as blurry, you realize that the giant red blotch is a sun like the one on his chest and on your back. You bask underneath it, awed into stillness. He releases you and proudly rises to his full height.
“That,” He begins, frowning when you flinch and hunch your shoulders slightly, “is the sound of freedom. Don't forget it.”
You never did. You never would.
What you wouldn't give to show Fisher Tiger what you'd become. You like to think he's still somewhere out there, though, rising with you every morning and setting at dusk. He's there, palms weighing heavily on your shoulders on the hottest of days. But the searing heat on your back doesn't feel like the sun. Not completely. It's him, with his branding iron, reminding you of who you are and what you are meant to do.If he were to see you now... maybe then – maybe then – he would feel differently about you.With a solemn sigh, you dip the mop in the bucket and continue with your task until it's time for lunch. Funnily enough, you must've made an impression on the crew. The man that attempted to intimidate you calls for you to join them, and you do. Inside, in the galley, no one bats an eye when you sit among them, fetching your food from your pack. Some of it draws envious stares, however.With a shake of your head, you distribute a few portions of your dried meat along the table, saving the rest for yourself.“So, where are you headed?” Someone asks while you're eating. Everyone is notably relaxed now that the captain isn't breathing down their necks. You shrug, tearing into a loaf of bread they'd given you in exchange for your food.“Anywhere.” Comes your quiet reply. There's not much to tell. You'd yet to figure out where exactly your next quest would lead you.“Really? That's your plan?” The same individual, baffled, exclaims. He's much smaller than some of the others, with scraggly hair and a bit of fuzz above his lip.“It is.” Your confirmation doesn't convince him, but he lets the subject drop, moving onto the next one.“I hear you're a bounty hunter. Is that true? I'm Lukas, by the way.”“I suppose I am.” Titles don't matter to you, but being a bounty hunter has opened a few doors for you, though, even if just a tiny bit. Like the government's. More than once, information you never would have gathered from other sources slips through that crack and into your hands. It's something you take advantage on.Lately, it's been quiet, which... well, which is why you're here and not out “hunting.”Impressed, Lukas whistles, nodding. “That sure is something. And you, what, you do all of that by yourself? No crew, no nothing?”…You don't know how much you want to reveal to him. Just sharing bits and pieces is enough to upset you. Still... you suppose it can't hurt. Conversations, even if they are tiresome, could always lead somewhere.“By myself, yes. I was captain of my own crew many years ago.”“Wow. You must be super strong, then, if you can take down pirates with bounties in the hundred millions.”“I see you've heard of me.” This revelation tugs the corners of your lips down disapprovingly. Your reputation must have taken off after that last fight. Damn. Further along the table, a few seats away from you, someone starts to cough. It's the guy from earlier in the day, again. Guess he wasn't in tune with what's been happening, lately. He stares at you like you've grown a second head.“Who hasn't at this point?” This time, it's someone else that pipes up, chuckling into their drink. “Why do you think we let you stay?”“I paid your captain.” You argue, arching an eyebrow.“Bah.” Lukas scoffs, cutting his food. “He's not our captain. Just a pain in the ass.”Shocker.Still, that was quite the sum you paid. Maybe, if you used your title just once, you could get him to return it. For the crew or... something. To repair their ship and all.“Why not get rid of him, then?” You ask, trying not to feel too put-off by their stares. What had happened to the grouchy men from this morning? Even the cook was listening in.“He's a noble. Real important guy, I guess. And we don't have the strength to fight back if he runs to mama for help.” Lukas murmurs the last part into his drink, the liquid in his mug sloshing to and fro. He tilts his head back and downs half of it, trying to smile at you through his very obvious grimace. Youngster.“Why don't we just kill him, then? No one needs to know.” The cook adds from his corner. You blink, not expecting that.His comment sparks a new discussion. From your spot at the head of the table, you can see frustration bleeding into their features as they think, yeah, why don't we kill our captain who happens to be a famous noble? You decide to rein them all in before the volume can spiral out of control. That noble could send them all to hell – literal hell – if they weren't careful and he overheard. “Why not wait until it's night time before talking about murdering someone?”“I know!” Lukas suddenly yells. You click your tongue. “Why not be our captain, bounty hunter?”“I'm alone for a reason,” You argue, voice stern. It has no effect on him and, in turn, on the rest of your new friends. Lukas's excitement is infectious, apparently.“Okay, no, listen: if I tell you about this big catch I heard some weirdos bragging about, you have to be our captain.” Lukas proposes, looking to the rest for their approval. Some nod, others aren't as convinced, but they're clearly not against it. Unlike you.Still. This is the information you need. “Tell me.” Eyebrows pinched, you frown at Lukas, wondering what it could be about. He inhales deeply, opening his mouth, but before he can utter a word, you add, “Tell me and I'll think about your offer. Let me repeat that, I'll think about it. Okay?”“Yeah!” Lukas agrees easily. “Okay, so, uh, I don't remember everything, but... they were talking about catching mermaids, I think.”Mermaids.Your heart thumps against your ribcage, the flames of rage flickering to life inside your body. You maintain a steady grip on your emotions though, probing for more, “Mermaids, you say?”“That is a big catch.” Someone whispers, amazed.“Yes, yes, and apparently the auction is tomorrow. They were real excited for that one. Apparently, they managed to catch at least five of 'em!” He doesn't look too disappointed by the news. You try not to let it get to you, because not everyone on this planet shared your opinion, but it does.“You fight criminals, right? You could go get 'em and then be one of us!” Lukas says, elbowing the person seated beside him and urging the rest to join in on the act of convincing you. You steel your features into a face of neutrality, mentally calculating the price of five unsplit mermaids.It's only when he sits and his head swivels towards you that he sees your dead stare, words dying on the tip of his tongue.Your expression robs everyone of their enthusiasm. A hush spreads through the area.“Well, then.” You say, breaking the tense silence. “I suppose I should go check it out. Tell me, how much money would it take to convince your captain?”“A million berries, at least. Why?” Lukas jokes awkwardly, chuckling. Somehow, you're under the impression that the exaggeration is not far from the truth.Nodding pensively, you reach for your arms and tug on one of your gloves, clenching your hand.Standing up, you sigh, “Let's get started on that mutiny.”Cheers break loose, men slamming their hands on tables. The commotion seems to shake the room and, lucky for you, summons the captain from his quarters.“What is with all this NOISE?!” He howls, just before you clap him on the shoulder, spin him around, and deck him in the face.(x)Surprisingly, the auction will not occur at Sabaody Archipelago, which is odd, considering its popularity. Instead, the mermaids are to be sold at a less popular location, one only the richest of people would know about. It's.... fair, in a twisted sort of way. You'll never be able to wrap your head around the price system – lives shouldn't be treated like that – but mermaids are... expensive, if you will.Nobles want the mermaids and the auctioneers want the money. What better way to ensure they receive it than to make a whole club for the rich kids?“Untie me, you mongrel! Untie me this instant!” The ex-captain of your temporary crew screams when you swing the door open. Lukas peers inside, obviously satisfied with the sight, and you wordlessly shoo everyone out the room.Being alone with you is not a deterrent for this man. Not even after what happened, which is still evident on his swollen and purple face. Devoid of emotion, you grab the only vacant chair in the storage room, setting it down across from him. Hand on the backrest, you sit, hands clasped and elbows braced on your knees. You're noisy on purpose, shifting to make the wood supporting your weight creak and squeak.Then, you're still, allowing the silence to grow until he's suffocating under its weight. You don't need to try very hard to see him struggling with the decision to speak or remain silent, bound hands fidgeting.“What do you know about this auction?” You ask, gaze trained on his stained shoes. If he were out in, say, much harsher conditions – like a blizzard – he wouldn't survive for long.“I'm not telling you anything.” He spits, voice hoarse after making his displeasure known to all of you the entire night. You click your tongue quietly, straightening in your seat and reaching for your hip. The noble's round eyes dart from your own to your hand, conflicted.You pull your canteen loose, undoing the clasp attaching it to your body, and open it. His jaw goes slack, brain unable to process what's happening when you scoot closer and offer it to him. He doesn't move.“It's water.” You assure him blankly. “I'll put it away if you say no to it.”The noble leans forward, scrunching his eyes shut and drinking from the canteen. Some of it trickles down his chin, landing in his lap. You frown at the waste. Thirst quenched, he leans back, and you quickly right the bottle to not waste any.“I'm not falling for any of your tricks.” His words, laced with venom, are backed by a growl from deep within his chest. You almost roll your eyes.“A trick, you say.” Returning the canteen to its rightful place, you regard him with crossed arms and an unimpressed glare. “Nothing about a simple kindness is a trick. I would have started my own circus, already, if that was the case.”Scoffing, you shake your head, “The fact that you would think otherwise doesn't surprise me, though. Tell me, were you thinking of going to this auction?”No answer.You inhale, feeling your chest swell angrily.“It's awfully close to what you said was your destination, don't you think?”Again, no answer. His glare matches your own.“Okay.” You say, “Okay.”Unfortunately, you don't have the time to drag this out. The auction is today, and even then, nothing is set in stone. The buyers might demand to enter sooner than was scheduled. If their patience fails them, the auctioneers may open their doors at an earlier hour to rake in the money.You don't have time. Those mermaids are in real trouble.“Whether you decide to tell me what I want to know or not doesn't matter, sir.” Slowly, you pinch the tip of your right index finger, tugging at your glove. Hand freed, you wriggle your fingers, tapping into your haki. It spreads through the limb, coating your skin in the pitch black armor that has become second nature to you.The noble gulps audibly.“I don't need a thought-out plan to storm the place and take those mermaids.” You despise talking about them like- like... well, like them. But you've made the mistake of revealing your real intentions through your language before. That was never a good idea. Not with people like him, who knew what to say and what to do to get a confession.In such a corrupt system, coaxing an individual to admit to their weakness is an innate ability. It has to be. Their status and survival depends on their guile, and this noble is likely no different from the rest. And, just like the rest of his kind, if he figures it all out, he'll double down and refuse to talk to you.And so, you have to stoop to their level.He may not fall for simple tricks like nice gestures, but he'll dive headfirst into this one. You'll shove his face in it, if you have to.“You'd never get out.” He rasps, trembling lips stretching into a grin. “You think you're so strong. Truth is, not a single one of you would survive.”“Really?” Feigning shock, you rest your haki-coated hand on your chest. Like vines, it branches out towards your neck, black tendrils crawling towards your face. You cock your head to the side, dropping your chin towards your collar. Conviction faltering, he watches you closely as you seemingly let your anger take over, frowning.Your knee bounces.As expected, the distraction draws his attention for a brief moment, which is enough time for you to lurch towards him and snatch his collar. Like a vice, your armored fingers dig into the fabric, ripping it.The chair grazes the floor as you bring him closer, his legs kicking aimlessly.“How many people do you think would recognize you if I beat you senseless and told them you were nothing but a pirate?” You hiss, shaking him. A meek yelp slips past his gritted teeth. “I don't even know your name. That's how unimportant you are. That's how little you matter in the real world.”With a jerk, you hiss, “Would you like it if I knocked all your teeth out right now? Would you?”The nameless, unimportant noble shakes his head vigorously.“Then tell me what I want to know.” You loosen your hold, dropping him on the floor. He teeters, dangerously close to falling backwards. Stomping on the space between his legs, you root the chair to the floor. “Tell me, and do it now.”The noble wilts.And, finally, a few hours later, you march out of the room, patting down your outfit with an exhausted yet relieved sigh.Onward.(x)“Hey! There's the island!” Lukas yells from his post in the crow's nest. You're behind the wheel, steering the ship with the help of the navigator. Squinting, you scan the horizon, locating a large mass that can only mean one thing: land.The crew cheers despite their exhaustion. You'd all worked overtime to direct the ship towards the island at higher speeds. Fortunately, the wind remained in your favour, so while the journey seemed far longer than you would've liked, you made it.It may be late in the afternoon, but you made it and that's what matters. That's what counts.From what you can see through a spyglass, there aren't many ships docked. That will likely change soon. Ships from many of the surrounding islands will flock to this one in the evening hours. According to the noble still demanding you release him, the auction is to start at around 6:00 p.m.The hour may not be too problematic, but you would've preferred to make your move at night, when there's less activity. Still, you'll make do.You drag the black bandana around your neck towards your face, mulling over your current plan. The auction starts at six, but they may put off the sale of the mermaids to sell whoever they've also captured. If this auction is for the rich, that means that those slaves are likely quite powerful, devil-fruit or not. They'd make good allies if a fight turned out to be an inevitability.The security is going to be solid, too. Not just inside the auction house, where marines will be, but outside. First, there's a wall surrounding the building, one with a single gate. There, guards check for invitations and weapons. You just need to steal an invitation and pretend you're a guest.Then, there's the matter of freeing the mermaids. If all of their tails' are unsplit, transporting them is going to be a challenge. You'd have to group them together in a- in a tank or something.You inhale deeply, tasting salt and uncertainty on your tongue, examining your calloused palm. Scars and other marks litter your fingers from years of training.Training.You tug your leather glove back on.You're strong. You could remove those collars using your haki if locating the key is too much of a hassle. Probably.
It'd definitely be a gamble. The mermaids could die.
You return your hand to the wheel, gripping it so hard the wood gives slightly, threatening to split in half.You'd succeed.(x)Infiltrating the island is easier than you expected it to be. The ship is so small and unassuming compared to others that, when you dock, people immediately assume you're workers.When you touch down, stepping confidently onto the cobblestone pathway from the bridge to your ship, you are stopped. The guards – tired and bored, from what you can see – don't bat an eye when you tell them you're here with a shipment.After all, it's not a complete lie. The nameless noble had a lot of cargo and items. To convince them, you order your new friends to bring up some of the crates, raising your eyebrows at the guards. Inspection finished and doubts swept aside, they lazily wave you off when you offer to show them more.They leave thereafter, oblivious to your unhappy expression as you smooth out your, er, new clothes and scratch your neck furiously. Lukas and the others laugh at you as you walk back on deck. The figurative dark cloud floating above your head grows.How that noble could handle wearing these ridiculous outfits is beyond you. If anything, he should be happy you took them from him and gave him regular clothing. You feel like a bloated cherry. And the tights are actually interfering with your circulation.You waddle off to change, rolling your eyes as your friends toss teasing jabs your way. Now that you're not under the guard's scrutiny, you go to switch outfits. Once you're in your own clothes, you ball up the frumpy deathtrap and throw it away, disgusted.A disguise is definitely a requirement for this mission, but you're sure as hell not wearing that. Anything else would suffice.Two minutes later, you address your group.Lukas and the others aren't too happy when you relay your plan to them. They make their disapproval known with grumbles and loud complaints. The youngster comes up with plans that you know would fail. In the end, you have to tell them that they play a key role, as well. Without a ship, you've got no way off the island, which is why they're here. Thankfully, that puts an end to their attempts to keep you from leaving.Their attachment is baffling.Regardless, you grab your gear and leave to complete the other tasks before the heist. Your friends see you off with mock salutes and broad smiles. You nod your farewell.When you locate a store selling what you need, you walk into an alleyway and stuff your 'peasant' clothing into your bag and leave it among a few boxes. Many of the people here are nobles, so you doubt it'll be found. None of them would risk dirtying their clothes in an alley like this one.Gear tucked away, you straighten your spine and strut with your hands behind your back towards the shop.“Did you know that they're selling nine mermaids today?” The shopkeep whispers to a noblewoman buying herself a frumpy dress. Browsing abruptly disturbed by this set of news, you almost rip a blouse in two. Your heart lurches, panic beginning to rear its ugly head. You bite your lip to refrain from swearing out loud.How in the world are you going to save nine mermaids?Ugh. That auction house is going to be a fortress.Dejected, you hang the only normal and functional ensemble you'd found. Ugly and frilly, it is. It's sad, but it's the only way to infiltrate it without rousing suspicion.Surveying the store, you move closer to the counter, where the woman and the shopkeep are still whispering happily.“Yes, I do! Rather thrilling, isn't it? I'm thinking of buying one for myself.” She coos, plucking a fan from some void in the folds of her dress. With a crisp snap, it opens and the woman fans herself delicately, her twisted smile growing exponentially.Creep.Clearing your throat, you grab a white blouse with cuffed sleeves and golden buttons and a pair of black pants that are going to hug your legs real tightly. Rather than waste any more time, you throw them over your left forearm and go to the counter to pay.The noblewoman is gone, thankfully. You wonder how she managed to walk out the door with that mountain for hair.Without a word, you chuck the items on the counter, jaw clenched so hard it aches.“Headed to the auction, as well?” The man asks as he takes the clothing and examines it. After determining the price, he utters the number and you cringe at how inflated it is. You pay with no small amount of regret.“Yes.” You make your voice as light and airy as possible, forcing your facial muscles to relax. Smiling is a bit too much of a chore, but you remain polite. “Sounds... fun.”“Yes, yes, definitely.” Speedily, he folds the clothes and slides the pile towards you. “I wouldn't linger, though. Seats are hard to find, even this early!”“Thanks.” You take your clothing and hurry back to the alleyway to change.Grudgingly, you shove your original outfit in the hiding spot with your gear, eyebrows pinched in annoyance. You might not be able to retrieve it if the plan goes south.That realization gives you pause. Hands poised, you bite your lip. What is something you couldn't bear to part with?Lightly, you pat your collarbone, feeling for the sea shell that hangs from it. That's what matters. The rest? Emergency weapons, a bit of food, clothing...You pocket the rest of your money.That's it, really. One of the perks of constantly travelling, you suppose.Again, you adopt the gait of every stuck up noble you've ever seen, heading towards the auction house. In a way, you can see why they walk like this. It's easy to hide your clamy palms.All you need now is an invitation. That shouldn't be too difficult.The woman from the store is still around the area, frollicking about with several other men. There's one bloke that pats his pocket and himself on the back when he feels the invitation inside it. Approaching steadily from behind the group, you brush against one of the men vying for her approval. He gives you a look, and you turn and give him a sacarine smile in lieu of an apology. Pausing, you rest a hand on your chest, bowing slightly.He scoffs, rolling his eyes and waving you off. You depart, slipping the envelope inside your shirt through one of the gaps between the buttons.(x)Three hours before the auction, you're queued up and prepared to tear this entire shithole to the ground. You'd taken an hour to map the town in your mind, avoiding celestial dragons and swallowing down your unease. The town wasn't big – you can't even call it a town – so it was a rather simple task. You came up with a few escape routes, thankfully.“Invitation, please.” The guard requests, fingers fiddling with his sword. Blankly, you show him the envelope, which he opens, reading the name printed on its contents.“Welcome... Rexin Cara De Pollo Saravino...” If it weren't for the mission, you woul've made the exact same face as him. Who came up with that bloody mess?“A pleasure.” No. Definitely not a pleasure. When he holds out the invitation for you to take, you snatch it from him and move on. The guards at the entrance bow their heads as you enter, banners swaying lazily above you. You dig your nails into your palms forcefully, composure wavering when you see what's embroidered on them.The Hoof of the Flying Dragon.Bile crawls up your esophagus, burning your throat. It's dark in here. Too dark. The only part of the room that is well-lit is the pristine stage. You wonder how it smells underneath it. How much blood the people here had spilled. How much of it had soaked into the wood, acting as a gruesome reminder to those trapped here.Tenderly, you rub your lips, lowering your gaze to fight the oncoming panic.This is the worst part of this type of rescue. The memories that come with freeing other slaves are wounds that never healed. You rip the scab off every single time you walk into one of these places.You can see it, now. Your bare feet padding against harsh terrain, dirt and blood caked under your nails, and the threads hanging from your clothes.Often, you cursed your inability to fight back. Not just because it would mean dying in agony, but because of your age. You were so small and frail. Throwing a mere punch would've broken your wrist.You find solace where you can, however. Your youth allowed you to adapt once Fisher Tiger saved you. You'd heard of adults who weren't so lucky. Who didn't have the strength to return to their old lives once the shackles came off.You never became the person you wanted to be, but that was okay. You had time.Inhaling shakily, you raise your chin and grab a seat as far from the stage as possible. You'd entertained the idea of sitting at the front, but you know it would only give you more to worry about later. There may be no obstacles, but you've got to find the key to the bomb collars. You're not sure you'll have time or the ability to focus on the task when the chaos starts.Sitting down at the edge of the long bench, you relax slightly, pinching your gloved fingertips. You keep your gaze settled on the stage for the time being, breathing slowly. The decor is just as hideous and dangerous to your psyche in here as it is at the door, unfortunately. However, you absolutely refused to fail because of a stupid symbol.It's a long wait, but heists tend to involve a lot of that, so you remain patient. Other guests file into the room, occupying the free space to your right. You don't want to upset any celestial dragons – fucking hell, wouldn't that make things interesting – so you stand up whenever someone wants to sit in your row, giving them space.Their ridiculous hairstyles makes counting them simple, and the alarming number is not reassuring.Eventually, when the murmurs reach an obnoxious level and the clock strikes six, the lights on the stage dim. A curtain parts and, from within, an auctioneer confidently walks to the center.He raises a microphone and introduces himself, smirking slyly at the crowd. When's he's made his identity known and you've taken note of it, you quietly stand. The room's lack of proper lighting makes it easy, but when you reach the doors, you pause.The auctioneer mentions the mermaids, prompting awed reactions from the crowd and a round of applause. You take advantage of the noise and crack the door open, escaping swiftly. If anyone notices you, they don't make a move to question you.Moving on, you turn right and march down the hall, hoping that this building's layout is similar to others you've been to. Usually, these long hallways are for people to wander while they wait, The ends are closed off, however. If you were correct, they'd lead you down to the backstage area and, consequently, to the slaves.It really is a long hall, though. Long and empty. No matter how mindful you are, every step you take always sounds a little too loud.Eventually, you arrive at a set of stairs guarded by two men. They notice you quickly, spines straightening as alarm crosses their features. You rear an arm back just as they share a look, hitting one of them in the face and launching him at his friend. Their weapons clatter noisily as they fall to the ground, limbs splayed and heads thrown back. They don't get up.
Good.
But they don't have the key. That's not as good.You keep your thoughts as neutral as you can, refusing to drown in the pool of fear and dread growing in your stomach. There's a time and place for doubt, and this isn't it.Eyebrows knit together, you sneak downstairs, gluing your side to the wall. Down here, there are many more guards, all of them distracted by the auctioneer's speech. When you reach the bottom, you locate a wooden pillar and hide behind it. You peer around it in search of the keyholder, gaze narrowed in concentration and hatred for these people.The holding cells shouldn't be too far from here. When you've got the key, you'll make sure to free the strongest first and convince them to help you. Hopefully, no pirates try to abduct the mermaids. That'd spell trouble for them and you really don't want to fight slaves.“Did you see them?” A guard whispers excitedly as his comrade joins him and his group.“Yeah. They really are something else.”“Wish I could snatch one up for myself.” Someone else laments, “Instead, these stuck-up snobs get to have 'em all....” Right. Well, isn't that just... so sad. Almost as sad as that moustache. You don't hear anyone talking about that, though. Boo.You roll your eyes as a cluster of guards marches towards the cells, biting your lip in concentration and focusing on your current task once more. If they're going to the cells, that means the auctioneer has finished introducing himself and the establishment.The guard with the unfortunate facial hair twists to look in that direction, too. There's longing in his eyes, as if his crush had just walked past him. What's more important, however, is the key dangling from his hip. The moment your eyes zero in on it, you step out from behind the pillar.Though you're noticed almost immediately, you remain calm and make quick work of knocking them all out. You dodge sword slashes with ease, scowling when they yell for assistance. You punch a guard unconscious before he can cry out, prowling closer to the one with the key.He cowers against a wall, cradling his gun to his chest as he trembles, wide eyes meeting yours. “Please, don't kill me. I-I-I don't-”“Where are they.” You growl impatiently, slamming a hand on the wall. He flinches, eyes scrunched shut as he whimpers in fear. Those other guards were going to come back, soon. If you take any longer, the audience and the people on stage will investigate.The man stumbles over his words repeatedly, fumbling with his weapon. You take it from him, snapping it in half. It has the opposite effect. You think he might faint if you don't get his attention.Tired of this nonsense, you grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him along, marching towards the cells. It's another set of stairs down, and you frown, mind automatically supplying an explanation for it all.When you... well, when you were a slave, stairs were your worst enemy and one of your keeper's source of entertainment.They were always waiting for one of you to stumble so that they could laugh and hit you for your stupidity. And, if anyone brazen enough would dare to escape, they had to climb the stairs, which sealed their fate rather quickly.You go quiet, tightening your hold on the man so that he does the same. The deeper down you go, the worse the memories are, but you're used to it. You've got to get through this for everyone unable to help themselves, right now. You must give them the chance to live again. It's your duty.At the bottom, you poke your head around the corner, shoving the guard against the wall. Here, you take the key, stuffing it in your pocket.“You're coming with me.” You hiss, pushing him out of your hiding spot and urging him to walk ahead.With him as your guide, you take a moment to examine your surroundings. The holding cells are crowded despite how enormous they are. From what you can see, they'd captured humans, a few minks and giants, and a number of fishmen. Most of them hugged the walls, defeat radiating from them. You didn't announce your presence – not yet – but you wished you could that moment.The ones that spot you watch you closely, confusion written all over their faces. You don't blame them. You're still dressed like a pompous idiot, after all. They're probably wondering what a noble is doing down here.One dog mink in particular is quicker to catch on, though, jaw going slack for a few seconds. “Are you- you're here to free us?” The words that tumble out of her mouth are hushed. Tentatively, she clings to the bars separating you from her, trembling. “You are, aren't you? You're here to save us?”Bringing a finger to your lips, you gently shush the prisoners. The guard you'd taken hostage stops and points down another hall, where you can hear chatter.Ordering him to stay put, you glance at the mink that'd spoken. “You'll see the sun again, soon. Be strong for a while longer.”Emotion rushes through her, her nose twitching and ears rising. Her eyes shine with unshed tears as she nods firmly, determined despite her obvious anguish,With that said, you grab the guard by the neck.“I'm not sorry.” You mumble to him. While he struggles to voice his confusion, you narrow your eyes, aim, and chuck him at another guard. The poor guy's only warning is a high-pitched yelp, and even then, it comes too late. They crash to the floor loudly, attracting the attention of the rest.You beckon them with two fingers. When they don't budge, still processing what just happened, you shrug and do them the favour of beating them quickly.A minute or two later, you loom over your last enemy's body, sneering at the guard. You don't mean to, you really don't, but you freeze, falling into that hole with the unpleasant memories. It's not even just your childhood. It's the many auction houses you'd invaded. The people you couldn't save. The parents who'd lost their children and the children who'd lost their parents.How many times would you have to do this?
Knock knock knock.
The noise is dull and echoes a little too long. You blink as you're harshly brought back to reality, eyebrows pinched. Fist closed, you whirl around, ready to launch another attack.And then, you see them.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Ace, what the hell were you thinking?”“I've told you a hundred times, already, it was-!”“I don't care!”A vein on your forehead pops.You want to destroy this ship. You want to grab those two twerps by the ear and chew them out. You want to drop to your knees and rip your hair out. You- you want-Hands at your sides, you straighten, beginning the usual count to ten so that people in your vicinity can move to safety. Some try to warn the bickering commanders – commanders, not crewmates – to no avail. When their efforts are met with more yelling, they also make room, staring at you warily.“Shhh,” Suddenly, two enormous palms gently close around your shoulders. They guide you away from the disaster the two self-proclaimed goblins had caused on deck. Exasperated, you sigh loudly, relenting only because you know exactly who it is. Only one person on this ship has the ability to bypass your observation haki, after all.One glance over your shoulder at those twinkling eyes framed by crow's feet and your rigid posture gives.With a chortle, Edward leads you back to your chair, giving you a slight shove when you're within its range. You roll your eyes and glare weakly, dropping your whole body onto the seat and propping your elbow on one of the armrests. With a low grumble, you nestle your chin into your palm.You'd been hoping for a quieter day. Not for yourself, but for the man beside you, who, unbeknownst to most, has been going through the ringer lately. It would've taken your minds off of everything. Morale was high, the sun was out, the sky was clear, and Edward felt well enough to be outside after a week in his bed. What better way to spend it than outside, where he can relax in his too-comfortable armchair, surrounded by people he loves and who love him?Both of you are silent as you observe the scene unfolding in front of you, wearing expressions that are like night and day. The wrinkles around your mouth deepen as you frown, eyebrows knitted in frustration. Why, of all days, did an argument have to occur the one time Whitebeard is out here? They couldn't have had this fight when you were in charge?“You'll wear yourself out before noon if you keep that up,” Whitebeard comments casually, sneakily taking a swig from a bottle of sake you, his doting partner, had given him.“Ha ha,” You look down at the tiny papers in your hands. “So, we're calling each other old now. Perfect.” Without a word, Marco swoops in and joins you, sitting down on your left shoulder. Carefully, you adjust your body so that it's more comfortable for you and him. Lifting your hand, you let him see the reports you're reading. He nods, thanking you with a smile.It's good to see him this relaxed. The work is hard for all the commanders, but Marco's the unofficial leader in that department, so a lot of paperwork goes to him. You'd ordered him to hand over at least half of his work so that you could help him out and, lo and behold, he's actually seeing the sun.“Ace, you know you're not supposed to go near the gunpowder! You could fall asleep and blow us all up, man!”“I know, I know, but listen, it was an accident! I swear I didn't mean-”You tap your foot on the deck impatiently.“Want me to take care of it?” Marco offers from his perch, failing to hide his amusement, as well. You lean away from him as much as you can, giving him a suspicious once over. He almost cracks, lips twitching.“You cheeky little shits.” You mumble, gathering your reports and handing them to him.“I was only asking.” Marco and Whitebeard share a chuckle, shrugging in the other's direction as if to say: what can you do? You ignore how happy and warm and fuzzy that whole interaction makes you feel, plastering your most convincing scowl, instead. Marco tucks the stack of papers under his arm, his laugh as soft as the breeze brushing past you. He looks on, his grin lingering as his gaze surveys the area.“You're pouting, m'dear.” Whitebeard hums, patting your right hand. “Doesn't really suit an Emperor of the Sea, if you ask me.”“I never did.” You quip with no bite. “And besides, it's not like you care about any of that, anymore.”“It'll be fine,” Not one to tease you for long, Marco reassures you easily. Flames come to life in his hands as he thinks, bouncing from one finger to the next. “They won't keep going for much longer.”“I know.” You breathe, inhaling to steady yourself. He's right, of course. He's basically the third parent, around here. “I know.”“Yeah.” Marco nods. Standing, he hops off you, landing gracefully a few feet away. Turning around, he says, “I'm going to leave these in my quarters. They'll be done screaming by the time I come back. You'll see.”“You better hurry up, then.” You mirror his expression, reaching down to pat him on the head. “And don't work on anything else. Today's your day off and I won't have you spending it at a desk.”“I know.” Marco sends you a thumbs up as he leaves, adding with a hint of sarcasm to his voice, “Thanks, mom.”“You're welcome, son.” You shoot back, waving him off with a scoff. Finally, with no eyes on you two, you scoot your chair closer to Edward's and link an arm with his. “How are you feeling?”“I'm alive.” He replies, linking a hand with yours and caressing your knuckles with a thumb. “Is that a good enough answer?”“It is.” You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief when he downs half the contents of his bottle, nurses and crew be damned. He really only ever follows his own rules. “Shouldn't have snuck that in your room.”“Yeah, well, you did.” Edward shrugs, nonchalant as ever.“I always do.” You press your upper body against his and bury your face in his coat, smelling sea-salt and booze. The material tickles your cheek and nose. “Never been able to deny you, that's for sure.”“Oh? Not many here would agree.”“Okay, yeah, I'm a bit of a hardass, I get it.” You groan, refusing to let him ruin the moment any further. You'd think forty plus years of being together would teach him something, but Edward still sucks at romance most of the time.Well, that's not really true. If he did, you definitely wouldn't have stuck around for forty years. He just loves spoiling the mood, if only to get another laugh out of it.“Don't you dare say 'only a bit?', Newgate.” You warn when he remains oddly silent, likely debating whether he should keep pushing or not. Usually, he does, just to see if he can. You're not letting that happen today.“It's happened too many times already, dude! Why do you even go in that room?!”You're not letting this happen today, either.“Boys!” You shout. The sails tremble slightly. “Enough of that, already. Ace, please try to go somewhere else when you feel you're about to fall asleep. I know you can't help it, and I understand. Should anything blow up, though, it'd be bad. We're too far from land and we've got too many devil-fruit users on board. Rakuyo, breathe.”The two commanders stare at you, clearly fighting the urge to keep hurling insults at each other. You arch an eyebrow pointedly, expecting a rebuttal. “Are we understanding each other, here? Or do I need to explain again?”“Nope!” Rakuyo is the first to step back. “We're good, now!”“Great!” You chirp, glancing at the recently promoted commander and blinking at him. He nods, not quite cowed into silence but smart enough not to argue with you. Sighing softly, you also wave them off, settling into your seat.Maybe you are getting old.Back from his quarters, Marco walks up to you, commenting, “I told you it would end by the time I got back.”Somehow, you get the feeling he knew you'd snap before he could return, but don't point it out. Grinning at his words, you rest your head back on Newgate's shoulder, closing your eyes. “How right you were, son.”Whitebeard and Marco share another glance, speaking to each other without uttering a single word. They quiet down, Marco sitting on Whitebeard's shoulder, instead, letting you rest. You can already hear the jokes about your age coming your way, but oh well.You'll tolerate them if it means staying like this for a while longer.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The mermaids, huddled together, hug each other for support and protection. They eye you with expressions that range from suspicion to awe and to distress. Even underwater, their tangled tails sparkle beautifully.Unsurprisingly, the slavers dumped them in a tank far too small for all of them to exist comfortably. Even so, it's an enormous round bowl with wheels attached to the bottom. Definitely not something you'd be able to carry for long if at all. Inside, there is nothing but water, and you can only hope it's the right kind for them.Overall, it's a sad excuse of a home and a stark contrast to what you know to be their home.Dropping your defensive stance, you reach for the key and inch closer, presenting it to them. The peace offering is met with badly-hidden shock, then relieved expressions and excited smiles. Hesitantly, the blue-haired mermaid with a tail akin to a whiting rests a webbed hand on the glass. She's wearing a purple bikini top decorated with patterns similar to her eye colour, which is also blue.Her fingertips graze the bowl, and you have to resist the urge to meet her halfway, her eyes brimming with gratefulness. She begins speaking, her voice almost inaudible. You catch the dulcet and silvery tones, but none of her words are decipherable. With a frown and a shake of your head, you toss the key into the tank, waving your hands to convey your urgency. Nodding timidly, she follows your instructions.Passing along the key, the mermaids remove their collars, rubbing their necks and grinning. Once done, the whiting mermaid surprises you by grasping the brim of the tank and pulling herself up.Propping herself on the edge, she leans down as far as she can to give you the key, “Thank you. Thank you so much. We were- we are so grateful to you.”Honestly, as ashamed as you are to admit it, you can see why mermaids are so easy to fall in love with. This one has gentle, almond-shaped eyes and a smile that could disarm anybody. Her hair is long and cascades down her back and, even though she's underwater 90% of the time, it's shiny and beautiful.Fighting abbout of nervousness at her closeness, you merely nod, distracting yourself by listening for noise.Those are definitely footsteps on top of you.“We're not out of the woods just yet.” You say, taking the key and tucking it in your pocket. “And I still need to free the other slaves.”She wilts slightly. Somehow, you feel so guilty at that moment that you take her hand before she's out of your reach. You're not too good at this whole reassuring thing, but... “I'll get you all out of here. Don't worry.”She searches your face. You're not sure what she's looking for, but she must see your earnestness because her hand closes around yours. It's really soft. “What's your name?”You tell her, letting her go and allowing her to slip back inside the water. You can only assume that she relays it to them, fingertips on her bottom lip. They stare at you some more. One of them links arms with the one you'd just talked to, securing her to her side....Well. Proper introductions could come later.Running back out to tend to the other slaves, you approach the nearest cell and coat your arms in haki. Gripping a bar, you bend it as quickly as you can, muscles on overdrive now that danger is at your door again. Slaves pile out, and you hand them the key, focusing on the other three rooms. “Get those collars off, quickly. They're coming.”When you reach the cell with the dog mink and grab the bar, she places her hands on one of yours. Puzzled, you pause, but realize she's pulling, too. A mix of emotions you can't place floods your heart, and you renew your efforts, both of you grunting.Pulling on the bars hurts her wrists, apparently, because she gives up at one point, apologizing to you. It breaks your heart to see an extremely powerful individual be reduced to this. Channelling your anger, you bend three bars and offer your arm when she walks out, stepping over an unconscious guard.Once all of the slaves are out, you count heads and address the giants you'd spotted earlier, “There's a tank with some mermaids over there. Think you could help me and carry it?”The two giants agree, clapping each other on the back as they get right to it. With the transportation of the mermaids figured out and your faith stronger than ever, you focus on everyone else. Your stomach twists when you realize that some are children, seeing a younger version of yourself in their round faces and rounder eyes. You push your discomfort aside for their sake.“Right. Any children or elders go with the giants. Anyone that can hold their ground, please be ready. I'll go on ahead and clear a path for us.”Your straight-to-the-point attitude doesn't garner much applause or cheer. You don't know how else to rally them though, which is what poses the real problem. Public speaking really wasn't your thing.However, before you can re-use one of Fisher Tiger's inspirational speeches, the mink from earlier steps forward. She takes the hands of two children, squeezing them. “We'll do as you ask. Please, protect us.”You lower your head respectfully, appreciative. She leads anyone incapable of fighting to the giants. They shuffle into the hall with the tank. Inside, the mermaids are packed like sardines, and they must have decided they like you because they visibly brighten when they see you. Two of them clap and cheer.And no, you're not embarrassed when you take off, rubbing the side of your face anxiously. Above you, you hear a stampede. Biting the inside of your cheek, you focus, your haki aiding you in pinpointing your enemies' positions. Most of them crowd at the top of the stairs – your only exit – but some have come down to intercept you.Brave, but futile.You meet them head-on, rushing them like a bull before they even have time to express their surprise. Clearly underlings sent to scout ahead, you neutralize them quickly, knocking them out and stealing another rifle.At the bottom of the stairs, you fire the gun, startling the ones waiting for you. You reload and shoot several times, using their confusion, heated yelling, and the boom of the gunfire to mask your advance.That plan of attack falls apart when you reach the second landing and two guards finally spot you. That's fine, though.Without stopping, you wrench your hand into the wall, wood splintering as you swing wide. Debris, planks, and dust fly toward the guards, obscuring their visions. A cacophony of screams reaches your ears. In the distance, a shrill, feminine voice rises above the rest.Seems like the audience is catching on. It'd be a little funny if there weren't so many Celestial Dragons.Now at the same level as the guards, you kick and punch at anything that moves, dodging stray bullets. You leap from one guard to the next, terrifying the poor fools still shedding tears because of the dust. Landing heavily on a large man that will cause trouble for the slaves, you bury your fist in his face. He stumbles backwards with you clinging to him like a deranged raccoon, arms flailing.It seems you're not as proficient at Observation Haki as you are with Armament, though. While beating him unconscious, you don't pick up on the man preparing to fire at you.The projectile pierces your shoulder just as you hop off your target. You twist in mid-air, ominous glare petrifying the perpetrator. Slack-jawed, he can only stare dumbly as your toes touch the ground. Faster than he can blink, you appear in front of him, uppercutting his chin.You wait for him to collide with a wall and slide to the floor, eyebrows furrowed angrily. He doesn't move. You've successfully overcome another obstacle.Great. You think sarcastically, rolling the wounded shoulder and hissing when white-hot pain lances through you. Lightly, you grip your shoulder and feel around, inhaling and exhaling rhythmically. There's only one entry wound.“Are you alright?” The voice makes you flinch hard. To your left, three pairs of eyes blink at you. It's the mink and the kids again.You immediately dismiss her concern by marching up to her, finding the rest of them on the stairs. A cloud of fear and trepidation hangs over their heads, which you count once again. They're all here.That done, you draw up an outline of the building and your current situation.So, if the audience knows that their safety is at risk, they must've gone outside. That either means you'd defeated the majority of the guards, or the stronger warriors were waiting for you out there.“Do the mermaids still have the bomb collars?” You ask the giants, gaze bouncing between them and the tank. The mermaids shift and move. One of them draws the attention of their carriers.“They do,” A giant confirms, balancing the tank on his knee and holding out his hand. The collars land in his shaky palm. You slip through the gaps in the crowd, ordering him to give them to you. He does with a patient frown. Everyone waits with bated breath while you inspect them, cogs whirring in your brain.The timer should start up again if you do the clasp, which should set off the bomb, eventually. You have no way of knowing how long that'll take, though. If anything, you're going to have to blow them up yourself. You just have to find a way to break the chain and still be far enough.Right. Okay. Pause. Breathe.You should be able to break down a wall in the auditorium with just your strength, but the bombs are a good backup, if not. You just need to get them all there, ensure the blast doesn't kill anyone and distract the marines waiting for you all.No big deal.“With me,” You grip the collars tightly and take charge, leading the slaves down the long hall to the auditorium. The giants follow quickly despite their size and the weight they bear, though they do spill some of the water in the tank. The mermaids curl up to protect themselves.Pain flares up occasionally as you jog, blood dribbling down your arm and staining your once pristine clothing. The adrenaline keeps the agony at bay for the most part, though.You arrive at the auditorium swiftly, halting at the entrance to scan for danger. When you find none, you lead the slaves inside, pointing to discarded paper fans and other hazards that could hurt their bare feet. Once at the bottom, you hop onto the stage and drag a hand along the wall. It's thick. Sturdy.With a brief glance at the slaves, you reel your arm back, summon your haki and all your remaining strength, and throw the first punch.An almighty boom echoes through the lifeless auditorium. Wood splinters and creaks under the force of your blow, but you're still not through. Now, you have to break through the stone. You ignore your body's complaints and try again, and again until light breaks through a gap and you feel a small breeze. Fingers aching, you push through, smiling to yourself when you hear murmurs of excitement behind you.A shadow draws your attention to the giants, who had apparently dropped the tank to help you with this last barrier.Soon enough, there's a hole big enough for everyone to step outside. Sunlight spills into the auditorium, bathing you all in gold as the wind ruffles your hair and clothes. You welcome it, just as you welcome the sight of a forest. You seem to be incredibly lucky today.“Get to the docks.” You order, helping them through the exit.“And the collars?” The giant that had given them to you asks as he waddles through the hole with his companion. Nine pairs of eyes stare at you from within the tank of water. You avoid them all in favour of figuring out what the hell you were going to do now.“I'll think of something. You just go.” You hurry back inside the auditorium as the slaves depart, trotting up to the forest. With no more questions to ask, the giants trail after them. The weight of nine pairs of eyes gives you pause, and you spare the mermaids one last glance.Now facing them, you send them a small smile. You don't wait for their reactions, the ticking of the bomb collars setting off the strategist inside your brain.What can you do with these?You look at the doors you just passed through, noticing that they swing open towards the hall.An idea sprouts in your mind.The handles on the doors let you lock the collars around them. If you do the clasp, hold the chains until they're taut, and wait for them to yank on the doors...No, no. That doesn't give you the time you need to escape.You set up as you think, wondering what you can use to tie all the chains together. There are the curtains from the stage, but those are too far, now.Heart in your throat, you tear off the bloodied sleeve of your shirt, cringing when it pulls on the skin around your wound. Twisting it, you loop it through the chain links, sidestepping towards a bench. You crouch beside it, tying the sleeve around the closest leg.When they open the doors, they'll blow up. At least, based on your rather limited knowledge of these mechanisms, that's what they should do.Great.What now?Searching the auditorium, you sigh shakily, bouncing from one foot to another.You've got a trap set up, but what if it's a waste of time? Did they hear you when you broke the wall? Had they gone after the slaves while you rigged this mess?No, you think, taking a deep breath and honing in on their locations. There are still some here. They're strong, too.Well, you might as well make their surprise worth it before you leave. Punching pillars and walls, you ensure that the establishment is as unstable as possible for when the bombs go off.
He wouldn't approve.
What choice do you have, though?Leaving the scene, you hurry out of the building, heading in the direction of the slaves and praying that they're safe.Behind you, an explosion goes off.(x)You catch up to them easily enough. They stopped at the edge of the forest, unsure how to proceed once they saw the town's state of panic. Guards, townsfolk, and Celestial Dragons run amok, shouting at each other.Leaning on a tree, you scan the horizon, trying to spot one of the alleyways you'd taken note of, earlier. When one of the giants shifts noisily, rustling leaves, your eyes snap to him. The irritation that surged through you at that moment evaporates when you see why he struggles.His leg is injured.“Banged up his knee while running.” The other one explains.“I'm sorry,” You reply. Guess you really don't have time to dawdle, then. “Think you can make it to the docks?”“I sure as hell ain't going back there.” He hisses in pain, hugging the tank of water closer to his chest. “I'll make it. We all will.”“For sure, bro.” His friend mirrors his determined frown.“Then I suppose there's no point in waiting,” You announce to them all, pointing east. “That area looks less populated right now, so we'll go through there. The docks aren't too far, I promise.”There's a chorus of replies and murmurs as everyone prepares to set off once more. You rip off your right sleeve and wrap it around your wounded arm, the pain grounding you. With another deep breath, you guide the group further along the edge of the forest, sticking to the spots with more greenery.When you arrive at your destination, you say, “I'm going on ahead. We run on the count of three, okay?”“Yes,” The mink replies steadily. You nod, mostly to yourself, and squeeze her shoulder gratefully.Bending your knees, you put up a finger, beginning the count.1.2.3.You all take off, stampeding towards the wide entrance of the alleyway. Lingering in the back, you ensure the giants make it, encouraging the injured one with a small smile. When everyone is out of sight again, you leap onto the nearest rooftop, rolling upon landing to smoothly transition to a crouch.Keeping low to the rooftops, you gesture for them to head straight, guarding the group from above. From here, you can keep track of your enemies' movements and adapt accordingly should they try to intercept you, which they will.You can also see your ship and, you were right, the easiest path to it is mostly straight. It's still bobbing on the ocean, the crew laying low now that shit has clearly gone south. They're so unassuming, no one really pays them any attention. That's good.Still, judging by how heavily guarded the docks now appear, they're waiting for you.You jump over a gap between buildings, locating the children and older slaves. Without a distraction, they'll definitely be killed before they can make it on board.Grunting, you tighten the knot holding your makeshift bandage, hopping onto awnings and random crates on your way back down. Once on the same level as the slaves, you turn to the mink, annoyed that you hadn't even asked her or anyone's names.“Hey,” You pant, keeping pace with her and the children. Her brown eyes find yours. “Tell me your name.”“Maria.” She replies, a bit puzzled by your sudden question.“Maria, I have to take care of the guards at the docks. Think you can get everyone to the ship?”“I-I... I can try.” She stammers in a weak voice, fear flashing in her eyes for the briefest of moments. Maria grips the hands of the children tightly, staring ahead as she runs. A single tear rolls down her cheek, but you don't acknowledge it, giving her as long as she needs. Still, you eye her, not wanting her to spiral. Not now.After a few moments, she shakes her head, managing to utter, “I'll do it.”Admiration for this woman blooms in your heart. If she is this strong and brave in what will forever be the lowest point in her life, she'll definitely find it in her to heal. You're sure of it.“I'm with you until the end.” You promise, speeding up and leaving the others to her. They're in good hands. As a mink, her people's teachings and ways are definitely engraved in her bones. She'll know what to do when the time comes.Your approach is noisy and obvious. You make a show of jumping from rooftop to rooftop, kicking up tiles and making gestures at anyone that looks at you. Enemies point and howl at you, making their intentions to kill you known. At one point, you land in the middle of a street, hardening your legs with haki.The impact makes anything not bound tremble, stone cracking under your feet. You keep running, putting as much distance between you and your ship as you can. Anyone that somehow catches up to you receives a warm greeting in the form of a fist.When you feel you've led them far enough, you face the wave of soldiers. They form a wide circle around you, weapons aimed at your head. Silence hangs over you as you pant, lips and throat dry.After a minute, one of them – a burly officer flanked by two others – starts yelling at you.“I will only say this one, you worm! Stand. DOWN!” He's so furious, his whole body is shaking. You glower at him, shoulders squared in preparation and defiance. “You are surrounded! Surrender now or die! Your pick!”“How kind,” You murmur, unleashing hell on them a second later.Bullets rain down, the echo of the gunshots striking your eardrums like thunder. Lead grazes your adrenaline-fuelled limbs, but nothing actually pierces your body. You vanish from one point to the next, snapping rifles and spines in two. Fighters brandish their weapons and rush you as units from all sides. They come in hordes, their numbers multiplying the longer you fight on.One of the officers, clutching a spear, jabs you in the lower back. The blade penetrates the skin and muscle, much too close to your spine for comfort.Releasing a short cry, you evade his next assault, grabbing the spear and swinging it in a circle. Anyone in the vicinity is forced to retreat, and you use that split second to take them all down.They keep coming.They just keep coming.Distracted, you fail to avoid a stray projectile. This one finds its home in your right thigh, ricocheting off the stone as it perforates your leg. Rolling to the side, the officer's spear comes down, striking the place you once stood like a hammer on an anvil. Flitting between soldiers, you decide to take the fight elsewhere, hoping to lose some of them in the process.You're hurrying towards the docks when you hear them, loud and clear. Their words rise above the cacophony of enraged screaming hounding you to the ends of this town.“-Come on! Come on, already!” It's Lukas, this time, waving his arms frantically from his perch on the crow's nest. “Let's go, Captain! Let's go! The slaves – they're all here! You can come back, now!”Befuddled by this development, your jaw goes slack, eyebrows arching.The taste of iron is as disgusting as it is strong.“You can come back, now.”
The clacking of sandals announced his arrival long before he spoke. When he sits, you get a whiff of something comforting. It's a scent that always makes you feel present. It's funny, really. You'd never expect anyone to smell so distinctly of rain, not when you're constantly surrounded by seawater. Then again, this crew – fishmen, they called themselves – they weren't your average person.
Not like you would really know, anymore. You can barely remember who or what was in your life before slavery. “He's still mad, though.” Dejected, you mumble into the back of your hand, rubbing your lips anxiously. You were supposed to scrub the floors before going to bed, but after an outburst from Fisher, you were petrified. It didn't help that Arlong cackled at you as you hid your tears. Or that he dragged a finger across his neck when you met his eye.“He is.” Jinbe concedes. You chance a look at him out of the corner of your eye. He stares at the horizon, lost in the stars twinkling overhead. His hair – blond at the ends and black at the roots – moves with the wind urging the ship onwards. With a hefty sigh, he crosses his arms over his chest. The green kimono with accents in a lighter shade he wears fails to hide the bold, red sun on his chest. Like always, draped over his shoulders is the black cape he usually wears.
You cringe, feeling a pang of phantom pain as you recall the process of receiving your own mark. Fisher Tiger had dragged you into a room and, like the Celestial Dragons, branded you. But his mark, he said, was not a shackle. It was the key.
Quietly, you sniffle, bringing your knees to your chest and loosely wrapping your arms around them.
“Do you hate me?” You ask as you turn towards him, throat going dry. You're not usually this brave with the other fishmen, no matter how friendly or mean they are. Jinbe just has... an aura around him, you suppose. Like the others, he's a tough man, but he's not... bad. It's him you go to when you need support. And though he's never been too smiley, he's never pushed you away, either.
Said Fishman lets his gaze fall on you, blue skin almost glowing under the pale moon. With pinched brows, he tilts his head just so, as if you're a puzzle he can't figure out.
Slowly, he opens his mouth, but his voice gets caught in his throat.
“Because I don't hate you, or- or him, or any of you.” You continue, vaguely aware of the dried tear tracks on your cheeks. They make your skin itch. “And I know that... I know that some humans aren't... nice to fishmen. But I'm not like them.”“I know,” Jinbe says softly. The question is, are you still talking to him? Or are your words meant for someone else? Subtly, he checks behind him. Not too far from here, his brother, Fisher, is downing several bottles of alcohol. Again.“- and I won't stop trying to show you all that I'm a- that I'm a good human.”
A deep sadness lingers in your big, round eyes. Jinbe, shocked, stares back at you. Inhaling, you finish off your speech:
“I'm a good person.” You whisper to yourself, grinning despite the bittersweet memory and the fact that you're not sure you believe it. Did you ever? Did they see it in you when you went your own way, fully grown and ready to take on the world?The sails on the ship unfurl.This was a really stupid idea, you think, a storm of gunfire pelting down on the cobblestones at your feet. This whole plan was a really stupid idea. What would- what would Fisher even think of you, now?Willing your legs to carry you faster, you wave the arm that's still relatively unscathed, shaking your head furiously. Lukas, spyglass once level with his eye, keeps demanding you come back.You ignore him, staring right through him. You'd made your wishes clear. The rest was up to them.Besides, who's to say you'll even have time to sail away before they catch up? No one. And you're not taking them down with you.Some of them must have realized what you meant, because you can see Lukas screaming at the others, now. Panic crosses his features when he notices that the ship is moving. Half of the crew runs up to the railings, doing their best to cajole you like you're a wounded animal, but they haven't even made it 10 feet from the pier.It's ridiculous, how heartbroken some of them look. It's so silly.You appreciate it, nonetheless. There weren't many people in your life after your time as a Sun Pirate, so while it is confusing, you're grateful for their concern.Eventually, you stop running at the docks, chest heaving as you witness their first few steps towards freedom. The crew won't have to deal with that noble, the slaves will be able to live their lives how they want, and the mermaids won't be kept as entertainment.So... yeah. This plan? Not your best, but at least it worked.Amused, you grin to yourself. You hadn't felt so conflicted since you left the crew.Swallowing hard, you check your injuries, peeling your clothes from sticky skin. The pain feels like its engraved in your bones, at this point. Breathing hurts your lungs, standing hurts your legs and back, the cuts and scrapes still bleed, and the bullet wounds still throb. No amount of adrenaline can make all of that tolerable.It's fine, though.Again, the soldiers reach you.The officers yell and yell, but all you can do is deadpan, lids heavy. You sway in your spot, catching yourself at the last moment. Sliding a foot back, you send a loose pebble into the ocean.“And the bombs! Do you know what you've done? How many of my men are stuck in there?!” The shortest one angrily screeches, and his shrill voice prompts a rare reaction from you: a titter. Rage deepens the wrinkles in his brow and, indignant, he tells you the obvious, “You are an enemy of the World Government, and so you will die here, right now!”You shrug. As long as they're not dead, you suppose. They all gape as you send them the most scornful look you can muster, jabbing a shaking finger in their direction.Then, without any more fanfare, you throw your head back and close your eyes.Because anything is better than being a slave.And when you give yourself to the ocean, falling into its deathly embrace, you repeat this in your mind. Blood mingles with the water, partly clouding your vision of the surface as you sink into the abyss.Rays of light seem to burrow into the water in their attempts to reach you, and you blink at the singular bright spot in the sky. It's funny how, though you can barely see the sun anymore, the stubborn thing is still there. After all these years, he's still here.It's funny.It's really funny.You miss him. You're losing him.You never found your home because you forgot where it was. The few details you could recall were irrelevant to their quest, but that never stopped them. They'd free whoever they could, saving them from a life of strife despite their obvious differences, and you'd tag along. For years, you were there, watching as kids and other slaves came and went, surprised by just who was delivering them.You'd witness the tears, the hugs, the pats on the head. You'd see all of this and, inevitably, your mind would wander.And when Fisher Tiger would return, passing you on the deck and hardly acknowledging you, you'd think.Could he... Would he accept you as...Could he be your new...?Your eyes drift shut eventually, the saltwater causing them to burn. Despite the pain and your exhaustion, you force them open, bubbles ghosting past your lips. They sparkle brilliantly, hurrying to the surface and leaving you to sink. And you do, the pressure on your head and in your ears increases.Helpless, you reach for the sky, not quite ready to enter the abyss at your back.Dying would be much easier if you could picture his face with ease, but the details are blurry, now. Sure, you've carved his memory in your heart, but you wouldn't be able to draw him if asked. You wouldn't capture him. It'd be an impostor.Just then, a figure blocks out the sun, their face cast in shadow. They come closer at an alarming speed, but you're far too weak to fight them off. What you think are human limbs snake around your waist, their hold tight as they pull. You can't tell in which direction, just that you can't see the sun, and that hurts you more than any salt in bullet wounds could.Pushing on their shoulders, you shut your eyes again, another torrent of bubbles spilling out of your mouth. Your body trembles as inexplicable grief grips your soul. It is so overwhelming that you stop struggling, giving in to your fate.The figure croons gently, words you can't make out reaching your ears. You try so hard to understand what they're saying, feeling the weight of their hand on your neck, but you can't.You're reaching your breaking point. The need to breathe outweighs logical thinking, urging you closer and closer to a very unfortunate, very painful demise. Your lungs ache profusely. You want to tear them out of your chest.Using your remaining time, you yank on whatever you can, darkness consuming your vision.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Smoke clogs your airway, the sharp pebbles digging into your palm and knees like needles on your skin. It's pain that drags you back to your current reality, grounding you and the rest of the world. After slamming into the ground more than seven times, you'd all but forgotten what you were doing.It's funny, how you once again become aware of what's happening. The screams had gone silent, and the chorus of explosions had ceased long ago. The quiet is much more discordant than the chaos.With great effort, you lift your head, vision swimming. You blink several times, slowly, capturing snapshots of your surroundings. They're unlike anything you – a recruit with little experience in the field – have ever seen. That didn't matter then, though, and it doesn't matter now. He's coming closer, but you can dredge up no more energy or fear. Instead, you shift, your left hand sinking into the ground.Your hand grips cloth. Another blink. It's someone. Someone you knew.His eyes are wide and unblinking as he stares at something behind you, expression frozen in time. Death itself could be at your back, scythe poised and ready to deliver your end, and you still wouldn't budge.He's, oh, ten feet away, now?No, if you could, you'd chase Death. Cling to it if it threatened to depart. It'd already taken your entire unit – your friends. How fair would it be if it decided to leave you to face this demon alone?Then again, you're the one that keeps getting up.You're the one that keeps picking up your rifle and the one that keeps aiming.He doesn't have his captain's devil fruit, so you'd yet to lose all your weapons. That didn't make this battle any easier, though. You're low in ammunition and injured. Blood stains the earth and your once pristine uniform, making the terrain slippery. Your boots slide wetly against the grass, the ground squelching underfoot.When the air finally clears, you see him. He prowls towards you, his gait lion-like. Parts of the mane that cascades down his back are dyed red. His striped helmet also suffered from the same fate.Suffered.You almost laugh.Sure, these pirates suffered. It definitely pained them to skewer every marine and villager here. Nothing hurt them more than ending the lives of people that had never wronged them.Swaying, you wait for him to take three more steps, your hold on your weapon trembling. You don't know how you're still alive. Perhaps their captain decided to draw this out when you lasted more than ten seconds. Or maybe he's pissed that you've managed to kill three of his crewmembers.It was nothing special, really. They were thugs. Nobodies. You'd put a few of them in prison.You fire, the recoil knocking against your bruised shoulder. The bullet ricochets off the soil and disappears. He keeps walking.Six bullets. You take five agonizing steps backwards, ignoring how sometimes, the terrain gives a little too much.The captain expressed no anguish when you killed them, either, so you don't understand why this is taking so long.Instinct drives you to reach into one of the pouches strapped to your body. The Kidd Pirates' second-in-command leaps into action. Literally. He bends at the knee and leans forward, blades grazing the grass. With a grunt, he uses a foot to push forward, rushing you.You aim at his stomach, making a show of raising the scope to your eye. When he makes the move to block the bullet, you release the air in your lungs and press the trigger. The bullet pierces his right forearm, tearing through the muscle and the sleeve covered in polka dots.Bracing yourself, you adopt a defensive stance, adjusting your grip on your rifle. With the push of a button, the butt of the weapon spits out a knife. You hold both instruments in each hand, awaiting him.The reinforced barrel of your gun screeches as he finally strikes, sparks raining down on your heads. You duck under his other arm, narrowly avoiding decapitation, and ram him on the head with your rifle. It gives you the space you need to stab him in the neck, and you rear your arm back, ready to do just that.Vaguely, you hear a click and the grinding of metal. After hearing it so many times, you know what he's doing, and yet you're still caught by surprise.He'd disengaged the sickle on his right arm. His hand, free from its confines, latches onto your head, pulling on your hair. Ignoring the pain, you jump, gritting your teeth, and kick him square in the chest with both legs.You're not strong enough. He tenses, and you swear you feel his breath on your face. Taking advantage of the fact that you're airborne, he punches you in the gut, knocking you down again.Your back screams in agony and your head rings. He stomps on your dominant arm, the bones in your forearm creaking. You're surprised they don't snap like twigs.The wind that had rendered your smoke bombs useless picks up. You stare up at the man, wondering if, behind each hole in his mask, an eye glares back. He pants, blood pouring from the wound you'd inflicted. Among the many, you add in your head, gaze falling to the scratches. Most of them are from shots that just barely reached their mark.Considering how outclassed and outmatched you were when they attacked, you'll take every scratch and bruise on him as a win. Nothing would take that satisfaction from you. That was yours to take to your grave. The scar that will succeed the hole in his arm right now? It was your doing. Yours.As if reading your mind, he grinds his foot, watching your face contort into a grimace.Unlike his captain, this pirate is quiet. Sure, he makes noise, but it's not the deranged screaming that accompanied the other devil. He was always creating chaos, regardless of the method he used.But the man above you? The one you've vehemently refused to name since a scout announced their presence?If his captain is the earthquake, he's the aftershocks, finishing off what – screw it, it's getting so repetitive – what Eustass “Bitch-Face McGee” Kid starts. Again, you wonder. Does he feel like a babysitter?“Are you sure you should be asking me that right now?” You will your eyes to find his helmet again, tasting iron in the back of your mouth. The fact that you said that out loud is as preposterous as half of the wardrobe on that ship. The weight on your body increases considerably.You're sure you didn't say that one out loud, but maybe you should lower the veil of professionalism over your face. Just in case you decide to be snarky without meaning to.It's sad. You'd been doing so well. In your brain, they were nameless, albeit terrifying, people. Targets. Nothing but big, round, deadly targets.“You answered me this time.” You rasp, writhing beneath him. The man, Killer, encompasses your vision. It's not a sight you'd welcome any day, but at least it's better than the corpse-riddled view of the battlefield.Correction: slaughter.That red-headed pirate – you remind yourself to keep insults out of your vocabulary – had been merciless. He really does live up to his reputation.“And you've lasted longer than all the other marine lackeys.” He points out. The tip of his sword touches your jugular. You bite your tongue at that, eyes narrowing as fury clutches your heart and sharpens your focus. The blurriness remains, dancing in the edges of your vision, but now you can see how tired he actually is.His chest heaves with each loud inhale and exhale. The buttons of his black, long-sleeved shirt barely hold the thing together. There's a tear on one of the legs of his pants.You relax, lifting your chin, completely defenceless.He wasn't just saying that to be cruel. You'd actually been a competent foe.You don't bother acknowledging him or his backhanded compliment. Instead, you breathe, taking in your last breaths before he decides that you don't deserve to, anymore. He remains as unbothered by your existence or refusal to reply as ever.Still. What compelled him to speak after, what, twenty minutes of fighting is beyond you.Briefly, you pause.Twenty minutes.That had to be a record.“You should kill me.” You murmur after a few seconds of contemplation.He should. You'd much rather have your neck sliced open than endure whatever his captain has in mind for you. Unless Killer is just as sadistic and is merely buying the guy time to get here.But he should also kill you because you're just going to keep getting up. And that's no fun for anyone. Especially not you. Whatever lit the inferno raging in your eyes has no intention of letting it die, and you're not going down without a fight, either.Killer deems the conversation over after that. He's motionless for approximately one minute before he lifts the sword. You wait for it to stop, then clench your hand, grabbing whatever you can. Your new aid is a rock, sharp enough to cut your palm. You roll onto your left side, burying the stone in his thigh before he can react.The weight falls away, and you roll, putting distance between you and him. You snatch your sniper rifle from the ground, almost tripping over your feet, and run.He doesn't follow. He doesn't need to.Why would he, when the other bastard is right there? With the rest of his crew?The oxygen you'd treasured moments before is frigid in your lungs. Your shoulders visibly rise, terror deepening the furrow in your brow. Whatever pain lingering in your body fades as another surge of adrenaline sweeps through you.Your heart thumps against your ribcage furiously. You wish the rest of you could feel the same vigor, but you're frozen.Trapped.
Trapped.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Robin is used to all sorts of antics.The obvious explanation is her captain, of course, but the strangeness of the crew more than makes up for the times that he is absent. Those, thankfully, are not common occurrences.…which makes her current circumstances even more jarring when she comes, dizzy and disoriented.Quietly, she looks around, inspecting her surroundings and finding nothing familiar. At first, she expected to find herself in the infirmary, under Chopper’s care, but this is not the Thousand Sunny. She keeps calm, refusing to succumb to panic like some of her crewmembers are inclined to.Her crewmembers. Her friends.Robin doesn’t remember much. The fight with that devil fruit user had been odd from the beginning. He’d been yelling at them all about how powerful he was. How he could make people disappear with just one poke on the nose. Luffy had been intrigued from the very beginning, even if the man had said numerous times that he was there to ‘get rid of them.’Of course, Luffy had wanted to test out his powers for himself, but Nami and Usopp had kept him at bay. With the more proficient haki users away, it gave the strange man the opportunity he needed to attack. Nami was wringing Luffy by the neck, and Usopp had tried calming everyone down. When he saw that the man was coming after her, he’d been too slow.And now, she was here.The question now is: where is she?It’s a dark and damp place, not unlike the ones she’d seen in her youth while fleeing from the Marines. She looks up, taking in two massive walls. Nearby, there is a huge container overflowing with trash and a man sitting beside it. What’s odd is how… big he seems compared to her.Padding closer, she observes him, noticing a bottle in his hand. She bumps into more trash, the strange, colourful bags crinkling under her-Her paws.Robin pauses, retreating a few steps, and blinks at the limbs that aren’t hers but are hers. The sight of two furry paws is… disconcerting, to say the least. Yes, she’s used to the shenanigans of her crew, but this…? This was something else. What had happened to her?Ignoring the man, she hurries past him, glancing up and down the street. The stone underneath her is smoother than in most islands she’d seen. Buildings loom over her, taller than she’d ever seen, and huge vehicles speed past her. There were lights everywhere. They were in the middle of the road, changing to green, yellow, and red. Inside and outside of every store, neon colours flashed as people flitted about.People around her were heedless of her existence. Heart skipping a beat, she turns when she hears water, noticing a large puddle close by. Dodging the foot of a stranger, she trots towards it, leaning over the sidewalk to stare at her reflection.As she’d suspected.She’s a cat.Still, she glances down, sitting on her hind legs. Her coat is all black and sleek, and the tail that curls around her is long and thin. The fur around her face reminded her of Saul’s beard and hair, and she sunk lower to the ground, pensive. If she wasn’t the cat, she’d had stopped and admired how cute she looked.Robin snapped out of her daze when she heard a horn blare loudly and two people arguing. She hopped off the sidewalk and, carefully, crossed the road, running towards a more secluded place. Hopefully, one with a roof. It looked like it was going to rain, soon.(x)Today’s been a long day.You roll your aching shoulder, wincing when another stab of pain runs down your arm. You’re not sure what that guy’s problem was, but he damn near broke it when he bumped into you. With a frown, you crane your neck and find him in a crowd of people, laughing as if nothing had happened.Huffing, you kick a pebble out of your path, thankful that you got to go home after such a long day at work. The office was a dreadful place to be, with its constant noise and hustle, and even worse when you’re functioning on three and a half hours of sleep.The only saving grace, you think, is the new One Piece chapter that had come out.You grip your work bag, fighting back a smile as you recall the last chapter. It had delved into Nico Robin’s life before losing her home, and it was as bittersweet as you’d remembered it to be.Your grin takes on a more forlorn edge as you remember Olvia’s and Robin’s brief reunion. And the tears. And the tissues that steadily piled up beside you as you lounged on your bed, your laptop on your thighs.Oda did not mess around.Regardless, that had been a while ago, and you’re more than ready to dive into the story after such a long day. You'd been re-reading while waiting for the most recent chapter, and though it was intense, things were much better for Nico Robin.You reach for the keychain dangling from your bag, staring fondly at the little doll of Luffy. Maybe you could buy one of Robin when one came out in this same style. Nothing eye-catching, but still big enough for you to notice it throughout the day. It was, as embarrassing as it is to admit, a calming sight.There’s a shuffle behind you, and then the sound of glass hitting concrete. Glancing in the direction of the noise, you blink, expecting to see somebody. There is no one. To add to the mystery, or perhaps to make its grand debut, a bottle rolls towards the road.Well, then. That’s not what a bottle normally does, so that was… fun. Cool. Great.With that, you keep moving, gait somewhat faster than before. Better to focus on the walk home than on your obsession right now. You strain to listen for any more disturbances, keeping your breathing even. If it’s what you think it is, it’s better to avoid panicking.And while it might be nothing, it might also be something, so you decide to take a right turn away from your home. There’s not much trash around here, but there is long grass and other plants. It makes your footsteps louder, but it's a sacrifice you'll make if it happens to... whatever is following you, as well. There’s also a park up ahead, so if you need to take another detour, you’ll head through that.It’ll be impossible for them to sneak around and it'll most likely be busy.
That works.
Just in case, you make a left turn, checking behind you as you do. All movement and noise cease to be, and you almost stop, wondering if you’re going crazy. Since that’s what gets quite a few horror movie victims killed, you banish the thought and trudge onwards, purposefully holding your breath.A twig snaps.So! It’s confirmed. You’re being followed. By whom, you don’t want to know.Gripping your bag tightly, you make one more right, then hurry to the next corner. Another right turn and you’ll be back on the path towards the park. When you reach the corner, you scan your surroundings again. Once more, there is no one, so you pretend to shrug nonchalantly.When you’re out of sight, you tear off towards the park, cursing quietly when your bag swings around wildly. It's slowing you down. Holding onto its straps with both hands, you steady it and cross the street. Unable to confirm if you’re still being tailed, you run as fast as you can.Your shoes slap the concrete rhythmically, and you lose yourself in each thump, determined to make it. If your mind happens to wonder who it could be or what they want, you ignore it, forcing it back into focus.This goes on for at least twenty more steps. The park is now in sight. You spot a family in the distance, spending time together despite the cloudy skies. Part of you is grateful that it’s not raining anymore.And then you hear a meow.Oh, great. You think, panting heavily. They’re using cats, now. As if playing recordings of babies wasn’t good enough.The recording of the cat plays again, though the sound is much more… urgent.Oh my God, I’m actually going to look behind me, aren’t I?No way. The park is so close! Why in the world would you even-You spare the briefest of glances, expecting to see some lunatic sprinting towards you with a radio above their head.Your eyes roll down, just in case, and then you-“Oh, SHIT!” You exclaim as you reach the entrance of the park, slipping on an ungodly amount of mud. Flailing your arms, you try to regain your balance, teetering front and backward. The interpretive dance ends with you smashing your face into the ground. Not in mud, though! That would have been too nice!No, instead you eat a mouthful of gravel. Yum.Danger forgotten in favour of addressing the searing pain and goddamn dirt in your eyes, you spit out pebbles and curses, missing how the family relocates with wary glances your way.The meowing is growing louder, too.You’d say goodbye to this relatively decent world, but you’re not ready for that just yet. Instead, you sit on your butt and squint at the incoming black blob of death and meows and…Cuteness?Flabbergasted and rubbing your watering eyes carefully, you wait for the cat to reach you, dropping your hands to your sides. It comes to a stop a few feet away, round, blue eyes staring into your own. Urgently, it creeps towards your bag, which you’d taken off in preparation to fight.You watch, still dumbfounded, your brain struggling to accept the fact that you’d fled from this tiny creature. Had been fleeing for the last few minutes.Wow. Maybe you’re the nutjob.It noses at your belonging. More specifically, the little Luffy doll, its head tilting when it remains immobile.Face stinging fiercely, you search for people, finally noticing that the family had up and left. There was no one else around, which would have been reassuring if you were being chased by a murderer. Thankfully, it’s just this cat. Did it destroy you in this game of tag? Yes, but at least you’re still alive.You’ll take breathing and rocks embedded in your skin over dying with a playlist of cat noises as the soundtrack.Even so, you’re not happy with your current situation, giving the cat a deep frown. “Did you seriously follow me around for this long to look at a keychain?” Your voice comes out low, the fear of having the cops called on you keeping your anger in check.It paws at the doll, ears angled towards you as its eyes find yours again. The minor distance lets you examine it further. Its fur is filthy, likely from running through mud and from being out in the rain. Even though its coat is pure onyx, you can see the mud clinging to it.The cat rests a paw on the Luffy doll, staring. You lose the contest soon enough, sighing deeply as you card your fingers through your hair. Your dirty, dishevelled hair, is full of mud and gravel. Then, with your scraped hands, you unlatch the thing from the zipper.“This, my furry friend,” You begin, holding the grinning keychain up, “is Monkey D. Luffy.”It keeps watching you.“He is one of the main characters in a series called One Piece.” You’re freezing. You’re freezing and talking to a cat. Are those sirens you hear? Blankly, and with a flat voice, you add, “I’m not sure why a cat would take an interest in manga, but I’ve got every volume at home if you’re that intrigued.”At this, it makes a trilling noise in the back of its throat, pointy ears twitching.You give the cat the doll, putting it between its front paws, and get to your feet with a loud groan. Your left ankle throbs when you rest your weight on it. Brushing off the dirt on your clothing, you release another sigh and, after a moment of consideration, crouch in front of the seated animal, grunting.“You don’t look that bad for a stray…” You mumble to yourself, swaying slightly, “Where’d you come from, huh?” You lift a hand, letting it hover in the space between you two. The cat doesn’t even acknowledge it.“Fair enough.” Slowly, you take the doll back and shove it in your pocket, rising to your full height. “My hands are kinda bloody, anyway. I wouldn’t want someone touching me, either.”Far more exhausted than before, you drag yourself back the way you came, an imprint of your face forever etched into the ground. And the cat?You send it another look. It pads with you along the sidewalk at a respectable distance, hopping over obstacles you’re able to ignore.Well, if it wants to stick with you, that’s fine with you. A bit of company never hurt anybody too much, right?(x)The cat was uncomfortable when you picked her – you think it’s a girl– up, squirming in your grasp with fervour. Still, you hold onto her, refusing to let her recreate an episode of Blue’s Clues in your living room.“I know, I know, I’m terrible,” With one hand, you set up a space for the cat, grabbing some old towels and laying them out. Claws dig into your palm, leaving tiny scratches to go with the ones from the fall. Nice. “Okay, I get it, but you have to understand that I don’t want to clean myself, you, and my living room after today, so please cooperate with me.”Setting her down on her designated fluffy area and crouching in front of her, you raise your hands, “Listen, I’ve had a long day, and I didn’t think I was going to end it by falling in mud, so… if you could please, please not make a mess, I’d be super grateful.” Why you’re still speaking to the cat like it’s going to understand you is beyond you.She doesn’t respond to much else, though. She hadn’t bitten you or hurt you terribly, but the few times you’ve tried to pet her did not please her. She writhed and, oddly enough, smacked your arm lightly. It was such a strange sight, you stopped trying, respecting the boundary she’d set.Sneaking her into your apartment, which was not pet friendly, had been a whole ‘another game, too. She was not too happy with being hidden in your jacket. Even so, she stayed quiet the entire time, making her displeasure clear on her face. Clearly, she understood the need for secrecy despite her chagrin.The cat settles down on the towels, still observing you. Maybe it’s your sleep-deprived brain, but, you’ll admit, her… humanity is a bit unnerving.“Thank you.” You heave, milling about your humble abode. You'd left your shoes by the door, but they definitely needed a wash. Hurrying to the entrance, you shuck the outer layers of your outfit. Your jacket comes off, and so does your sweater. Your other clothing stays when you think about the cat.Peeking around the corner, you check on it. She's still on the towels, paws neatly placed in front of her. Her inspection of your furniture and other items helps you make up your mind.You're definitely changing in your room.There is something about that cat. You just don't know what it is.Jogging to your bedroom, you close the door and finish changing, hissing when your wounds sting. Still, you ignore them, walking out into the living room with your outfit bundled in your arms.She's still there.A normal cat would have tried hiding or exploring or even... well, you don't know, but it would have done something. She, on the other hand, had not moved at all.
Oh my god.
What did you bring into your apartment?Chucking the clothes into the nearby laundry basket, you approach her once more.“Hi,” You greet the feline, kneeling on the floor. There's mud in your hair, but that can wait. “Thanks for, uh, for waiting. I appreciate it.” She blinks at you. “Anyway... I'm sure all that dirt doesn't feel great, so how about we wash it off?”Extending your arms, you send her a small, unsure smile. It melts right off when she walks into your embrace, shock hitting you right in the face. You're sure if you were to look in a mirror right now, you'd see stars in your eyes.Okay, so, you're really not sure what to make of her knowledge of the English language, but... damn it, she's so cute. It almost puts your mind at ease. Almost.Rising to your full height, you bring the cat to the bathroom, resisting the urge to bury your nose in her fur. Flicking on the light, you pause by the mirror, taking in your reflection. You're definitely going to shower after washing her off.Meanwhile, she's glancing up and down her body, tail flicking and ears twitching. She raises a paw, the pink pads on the bottoms poking out from beneath her fur.“That's you.” You say, moving on and gently depositing her in the bathtub. Before you can twist the knobs above the faucet, you recall a YouTube video. One about bathing cats and how nervous the noise makes them.Gaze falling to the cat, who's still looking at you, you ask, “Do you want me to fill up the bathtub and then bring you in?”She answers your question by pawing at the faucet.“Sure.” You say like it's completely normal to have a conversation with an animal. In a way, it is. You've talked to dogs and stuff. It's not weird unless someone makes it weird. This cat understands too well, though.Now, the question is... do you make it weirder by addressing this, or do you live with it?You decide to live with it for now.Water splashes you and the cat as you twist the knobs. Keeping your fingers under the stream, you ensure the water stays far from scalding. The next issue is washing this cat. You don't have anything solely for cats, and you doubt your shampoos are good for her.Closing the faucet, you think, resting your elbows on the porcelain rim.“I don't have anything that's safe for you, friend.” You admit to her when she prods your elbow questioningly. “We're gonna have to stick to water. The last thing I want is for you to get sick.”You stick two fingers in the water, which barely reaches above her paws. Grabbing a cup, you show it to her. “Just... let me know if I'm doing something wrong?”She stares, first at the cup, then at you, and meows.(x)“...so, you know, it was a fun job, but you'd be surprised by how many people ask you if there's an electronics section in a tiny grocery store.”The bath had gone well, you think. The cat did not fuss too much as you carefully scrubbed her fur. At some point, you'd looked up relaxing music for cats and began playing it softly. Whether it had any effect on her remains a mystery.Now, you're drying her with a towel with her help.“...One time, I fell into a huge bin full of bagged beets. My manager had asked me to move them, and I was doing really well until the cardboard folded under me.” Oh, and you'd also taken to telling her stories about your life to calm yourself.When she lifts her right paw again, you dutifully switch to it, rubbing the water out of her fur. “Didn't hurt. Not really. But there was a camera right there and, well, all I could do was wave. Then I hit my head on a shelf.”If her fur wasn't so dark, you might have been able to confirm if that was a smile on her face. Alas.Your new roommate raises her left leg, and you follow her silent order. “I still really liked that job, to be honest. Even with all the weird drama in that store. It definitely gave me some much-needed life experience.”“Does that life experience explain why I'm so okay with talking to a cat like this?” You stop, staring at her. It seems to surprise her a bit. Shaking your head, you resume your task, “No, it does not. I think I hit my head a little too hard that day, to be honest.”The cat exhales sharply.At first, you think she might be sneezing. However, she's still staring at you....“Cats don't laugh.” You whisper to yourself, pulling back. “Cats do not laugh. Don't apply human expressions to animals. Do nooot.”You don't bother acknowledging the second exhale, putting the towel on a hook to dry off.“You're free to roam, now.” You say to her, “I'm going to clean up quickly and then sleep, I think.” Opening the door, you wave your free arm in a flourish. “Have fun! And please don't knock anything over...?”The cat pads past you, looking up at you and meowing again. When it's out of the bathroom, you let the door swing shut and hop in the shower.(x)Though her situation is far stranger than she could have imagined, Robin is grateful to you.When she spotted that... doll of her captain on your bag, she thought that devil-fruit user also got to him. Of course, she rushed after you, somehow scaring you into fleeing. After wandering for hours, she was less than excited to give chase, but did so, anyway.And then you fell, and she could finally talk to her captain, only to realize that it really was an inanimate object.Which, after walking into your bedroom, confirmed her suspicions.Robin sits in front of a dresser, eyes narrowed at a host of posters, pictures, and other dolls above and on top of it.Somehow, she'd ended up in a world where their world is a fantasy.Her heart hammered in her chest, but she remained calm. That devil-fruit user had foolishly revealed that the effects did not last forever. All she had to do was wait. She could do that.“Oh,” She hears your voice, and, finding your gaze, she tilts her head. “You found my... uh.” You clear your throat. “To call it anything other than a shrine would be a lie, actually.” Robin agrees in her mind. To see herself on a wall, stylized in such a way, was... strange.“I'll probably add more to it as the manga keeps going.” You mumble. “I still have to catch up, too... Gosh. I don't know if I'm going to sleep a whole lot, today.”Robin doesn't know how to respond to any of that. What she does know is that, in this form, she's helpless. No matter how hard she tried to tap into her own powers, nothing worked.As you tiredly drag your feet to your bed, she begins to swat at your ankles. You yelp and jump, the exhaustion you'd displayed disappearing.“Hello?!” You call as she continues attacking you, chasing you around the room, “Can I help you?!”Robin meows, trying to get actual words to come out.You do an entire circle around her, looking like a tap dancer dishing out the best performance in their life. Jumping onto your bed, you squawk when she follows you. Putting a pillow between you two, you hop off the bed, the mattress squeaking under your weight.She keeps doing this for a solid five minutes, her much smaller and agile body able to keep up with your floundering. At some point, she's on your desk, smacking you in the face before you manage to get away.When you do, you turn around, hands up like you're about to catch a football. Instead, you find Robin on the desk.“What the heck was that?!” You demand at the top of your lungs.Robin pointedly smacks a picture of her you have on your desk. It hits the ground, and the way your expression crumbles almost makes her feel guilty. Slowly, you inch towards the image, frowning. You leap backwards when she reaches the picture first, back hitting your dresser with a boom.“Okay, okay! You can keep it!” You relent immediately, breathing heavily.Robin pats the picture several times, meowing again.“I-I...” Your hands fumble aimlessly as you search your brain for the right thing to say. “I don't- what? What is it?”She repeats her action, much to your disappointment.“Yes, yes, I see it! It's- God, it's Nico Robin! From One Piece! I bought that last year at a convention after-”Robin doesn't let you finish, pushing it towards you. Teeth clicking audibly as you close your mouth, you eye her suspiciously. Robin sighs inwardly.“...don't hurt me again.” You plead. “I'll give you whatever you want. Seriously.”Robin didn't think it possible, but her shoulders droop.She grabs the picture of herself with her mouth, dropping it at your feet. You curl up further, but at least your attention is on her. Slowly, as if doing a magic trick for a baby, she pats the drawing and then her chest. The lack of hands makes her movements difficult.“...Nah.” You say, even as she does it again. “No? No way???”Yes way, she thinks.Robin waits for you to process it.“.......Nico Robin. You.” No. What? When? How? You don't- are you on drugs? Are you dreaming? Did you actually never get up from that gravel? Were you hospitalized? Is this all a dream??Robin nods.“No, no. Stop doing that. Stop understanding me. What is wrong with you?” You point at Robin. “Where'd you learn to do that? Who taught you? What is wrong with them?”You keep going.“That's impossible. No way. This is not happening. Not to me.” Again, she sits, ever so patient.“You're a cat. You're not- you're not Nico Robin. I did not just bathe a fictional character in the body of a cat. What kind of illusion is this? Have I gone crazy?” Pressing your palms to your eyes, you laugh, disbelief hanging from every sound. “No. I refuse to believe it. You're a cat and I'm an idiot. That's how this is supposed to work.”Robin, feeling somewhat sorry for you, sidles up to you, her paw on your knee.Your breath hitches and you lift your hands to stare at her. The skin under your eyes is red from you grinding your palms into your cheeks. Gaping at her, you release the air trapped in your lungs, raking your fingers through your hair.“This is happening? You're Nico Robin?” Once more, she nods. “You- how the hell did you...”Peeling yourself from your dresser, you address her as coherently as you can, blinking rapidly. “How are you here? And why are you a cat, of all things?”“I don't know.”You scream.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It starts with a weight on your chest. Nothing heavy; just a light pressure that rouses you from your slumber. At first, you're confused, wondering what it could be, but then you recall how you drowned.Ah. You infiltrated an auction. And then... then you freed the people inside and... drowned. Normally, you wouldn't think twice about a day like that. You'd freed many from such an agonizing fate. But drowning? Since when was that part of the plan?Slowly, you crack your eyes open, rays of sunlight blinding you instantly. It doesn't hurt, but it does render you visionless for a solid ten seconds. Squinting, you look around, finding yourself alone on an island.Well, island is too kind a term for this... this pile of sand. There are no trees, no bushes, nothing. It's completely devoid of life.Life.Are you alive?You check your body but find that you can't no matter how far down you look. At one point, you feel as if you've done a front flip. It's disorienting. Enough to plant the smallest seed of panic in your heart, which begins to thump noisily in your ears. Where are you?What's happening?The sea is calm and the weight on your chest grows, pressing down again and again. You have no idea what's happening, but it's starting to burn. You want to clutch and tear at the cavity to see what is hurting you, but you can't. The limbs your brain orders into motion aren't limbs and your feet, which aren't feet, sink into the sand.You're going under again.Why?“Is this- is this even working?!”“Just do as I say! I read this in a book once!”They're two separate voices. When you scan your barren surroundings, you find no one.Tentatively, you call out a name, “Lukas?”“I swear to God, it works. I've seen it!”“You just said you read it in a book!”“I've seen it, too!”So, maybe not Lukas. You don't really know who else it could be. The sand laps at your knees, swirling around you dizzyingly. When you look up at the sky, it's almost as if a hole has opened above you. The mass of dark, angry clouds revolving around it is enormous. It extends far beyond your little island. They dance under the force of intense winds that, oddly enough, don't affect you.After a few moments of more contemplation, you figure out what exactly it is you're looking at.It's a hurricane.You're in its eye.Your jaw goes slack, but not out of shock. The overwhelming taste of salt crawls up your esophagus, bringing tears to your eyes. When you squeeze them shut, water spurts from your mouth, and you cough, your entire body convulsing. You're on the ground.“There! There! Look!” Someone touches your back, sending a ripple of unease through you. Not much you can do about it while puking up so much liquid, but you try to bat them away, anyway. With a low groan, you roll to your side, expelling the remaining saltwater, then stop to breathe.“Wow. You actually did it.”“I told you it would work!”There's a lot of chatter going on, but you're so exhausted that you can't even tell them to be quiet. You can't do much of anything. Your eyelids droop even if you try warding off the need to sleep. Though the floor is hard and uncomfortable, it's also warm, which was enough for you back when you were a slave. Still is now, apparently.“We should move them somewhere more comfortable. I'm assuming there's a med bay on this ship?” It's a woman speaking gently now. Again, a fuzzy limb is on you, but this time it's on your face. “Yeah. Just over there.”“Are there any doctors here?”“...no?”Whoever is petting your head stops, sighs, and tells you to rest. You don't need to be told twice, letting the void swoop you into its embrace.(x)“Why don't you kill humans?”The question was simple enough, Fisher Tiger thought. Unfortunately, the answer to it was far more complicated.
Part of him would always justify the death of a human, whether by his hands or another fishman's. There was no denying that, after the suffering he endured because of them, to see the light fade from their eyes was satisfying. He'd never put anyone through what he had to endure, but it's in those last moments of their lives where those demons within him smile.
'There.' His mind spits at them, 'Now, now you know what it's like to live and die with fear in your heart.'
For every human life lost, he avenges one of his fallen brothers and sisters. But he couldn't do the killing himself. Not directly. How could he? It would mean debasing himself. After all, the difference between him and the next human is that he doesn't enslave those different from him. He has no need or desire to do so.
To kill humans is to become a human, and that, among other things, is the very last thing he wants.“Are you scared of them?” You asked, now thirteen and far too bold for his liking.“No.” Fisher Tiger replied gruffly, sending you a disapproving frown. Fearless, you stare right back, having grown used to his demeanour. There's something else in your eyes, too, something that he sees for a fraction of a second. A deep sadness that you conceal well under the constant moodiness and bickering.
Then, whatever you'd peeled back to show him your inner turmoil is back in its place. You glare, then drop your gaze to your bandaged hands, eyebrows pinched.
“...You want me gone, don't you?”The questions.
Who had taught you to be so- so nosy? It hadn’t been him.
“I'll leave if you want.” You carry on, undeterred even as the emotion you'd tried keeping out of your voice betrays you. “I know how to take care of myself. Jimbei and the others have taught me how to. I won't bother-”“Get out of here, already.” Fisher Tiger cuts you off, scowling at you over his shoulder.
You pause, almost gaping at him, blinking incredulously.
Then, your expression hardens. You grind your teeth and narrow your eyes, cradling the hand you'd injured earlier. It was a rookie mistake that had cost you. The burns you'd accumulated as a result would keep you from doing the rougher, more demanding work. At least for the time being. You'll be back at it in no time.
“Fine.”
The door slams behind you.
(x)Waking up is easier when your chest doesn't feel like it's going to cave in, you've noticed.Still, you could barely call your return to consciousness 'waking up.' It was more of a slow drag to it as you opened one eye, then the other, and immediately regretted it. With a muffled groan, you attempt to roll over, limbs like dead weights. Your right arm flops helplessly, and your legs hardly bend, so you give up on that endeavour, accepting your fate as a starfish.Though your eyes are scrunched, you can tell the room is bright. You're not outside, though. It's too cool for it to be the sun beating down on you. Not to mention the surface you're resting on. Despite the aches in your body, it's comfortable and plush.No. You're in a room.Where? That's what you should probably find out....Somehow, you find the strength to sit up, holding your still-tender shoulder. The memory of that one bullet burrowing into your flesh returns, and you check it. It's wrapped in bandages. For the sake of staying calm, you ignore the fact that someone undressed you while you were out like a light.With your good arm, you lift the velvety covers of the bed – seriously, where are you? - and examine the rest of your body. Your right leg was also bandaged tightly. You don't recall hurting it, but then again, you hadn't looked too hard before diving into the ocean. Maybe you'd been shot and you hadn't noticed.The scrapes you'd sustained had also been treated, but not to that extent. Gauze had been taped onto the more serious ones, but, for example, the bruises were left alone. Your knuckles are still red and bruised from fighting, too.Moving on from that, you scan your new surroundings, immediately noticing the pots with colourful coral in the corners.Coral.Not flowers.Your heart skips a beat. The rest of the room is within the range of completely normal, which is why you hadn’t noticed as quickly as you should’ve. Barring the treasure chest by one of the pots, the decor is rather simplistic. However, instead of doors, each room is separated by pink curtains hanging from rounded doorways. Looking down, you see that the floor is a light blue with circular patterns in a darker shade.Okay. Back to the coral.The only place that could house such plants in a setting like this is Fish Man Island. Or so you think, which can only mean one thing. The suggestion filled you with a strange mix of dread and child-like excitement.You'd never been to the Sun Pirates' former home. While you had thought about visiting, a nagging fear had always intervened. You could have told the residents that you were once a Sun Pirate – even shown them the tattoo on your back to prove it – but...You clench your hands.You were a human. Fisher Tiger hated humans.Who's to say the people here would welcome you?“Well, now, that's a face we don't see very often around here...” A smooth, feminine voice calls ahead of you. Your gaze swiftly finds the intruder, back straightening as you tense. You'd jump out of bed, but you don't want to risk moving. You're not sure if you can even support your own weight and falling to the floor right now would be disadvantageous.It seems the woman had poked her head through the curtains to see if you were awake. Steadily, she holds your gaze, a small smile playing about her painted lips. From what you can see, she's wearing a dark blue, hooded shirt with a collar that dips very low. Her hair is jet black and cut short, the ends falling just above her shoulders, and her eyes are an electrifying blue.Your angry expression melts, giving way to wariness. Her placid smile grows.Then, carefully, she enters, and your jaw almost hits your lap.You really were-“Cat got your tongue, dear?” She asks, floating towards your bed on a huge bubble. Now that she's closer, you can see just how enormous she is. The mermaid is easily four times your height if you include her long, shark-like tail. Beads click together as she lets her tail sweep the floor. Slowly, she rests her elbows on the foot of the bed, the mattress dipping. Your mouth is dry.“No.” You rasp, staring at her. “Where am I?”“I think you know.” The mermaid replies, tilting her head to the side. “But, more specifically, you’re in my establishment, the Mermaid Cafe.” She makes a slow arch with her arm, gesturing to the room you found yourself in, before focusing on you again.You search your memory for the name, trying to recall a moment where the Sun Pirates mentioned the mermaids or their apparent café. Your eyes narrow slightly as you think, but you can’t seem to remember.“And who are you?” You ask, reminding yourself to keep your breathing steady.Your question or your tone doesn’t amuse her as much. Her tail swings behind her, her brow twitching. “Not exactly fair to ask so many questions and not answer one of my own, hm?”At the sight of her sharp teeth, you seal your lips, resisting the urge to point out that she hadn’t, in fact, asked you anything about you. You wait for her to do so, even welcome her to do so with a nod of your head.Her anger fades just as quickly as it came, her voice becoming lighter. “What’s your name, dear?”You enunciate it slowly, watching as she tests out each syllable out loud. She nods sagely.“I’m Madam Shyarly, the owner of the Mermaid Café. I look after the girls, many of which you saved from slavery.” She points out, and you nearly shrink. You’re not sure why. You suppose it’s because you’re used to freeing people and then disappearing swiftly to carry on with your bounty hunter work. Can’t really do that if you’re a wanted person.When your response only consists of another look, she sighs, glancing over her shoulder towards the entrance. You follow her gaze, seeing nothing, but sensing the presence of several people. Oh.“I merely wanted to say thanks before they found out you were awake.” Madam Shyarly comments with a grin. Sitting back, she says, “Come on in, girls.”The curtains part at Shyarly’s command, and in float all of the mermaids you’d saved. They’re all on bubbles, much like Madam Shyarly, but they might as well be in the water with how quickly they advance.Leading the group is the one that had leaned out of the bowl to speak. Her whole face lights up when she sees that you’re awake. Rushing to your bedside, she clasps her hands and places them against her chest, beaming at you. “You finally woke up!” Then, pressing her fingertips to her lips, she says more softly, “Sorry.”“We were so worried when you fell in the water.” One with black hair in pigtails and a striped bikini top adds, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Well, I wasn’t. Mero was stressed out enough for all of us.”“Liar.” Another mermaid, one with pink hair in a half up half down hairstyle and a purple blouse comments. She gets a jab to her side from the one that had spoken to you moments before, her black and white tail brushing the bed.“Oh, shush, Hiramera.” A few of the others giggle at the exchange.“You’re Mero?” Leaning towards the mermaid closest to you, you speak quietly. Mero nods, her smile returning. Suddenly, you remember her kind gaze and grace at the auction house and put some space between you two. Heat crawls up your neck as someone else joins the conversation.“Hi, I’m Lulis!” This mermaid is louder than the rest, her round, brown eyes shining with glee. She grasps your hand and shakes it firmly, invading your personal space. It would bother you if she her joy wasn’t infectious. “You’ve been unconscious for a while. Are you hungry? We can bring you some food!” Her top is red and bordered with yellow, and her hair is light brown, close to orange, with round curls at the end. The tail that wraps around her bubble is also orange with brighter stripes along the length.“Oh! Yeah!” You’re surprised you’re not dizzy yet as one more head pops out of the crowd. “That’s a good idea, actually! The food is delicious here. You’ll totally love it.”“Anyone else still surprised Camie wasn’t kidnapped this time?”
This time?
“Absolutely.”“Is… is the kidnapping a weekly thing?” You can’t help but voice this thought, finding Madam Shyarly once more.She shakes her head. “Only with Camie, it seems.”At that, the green-haired mermaid with a pink tail pouts.“Right.” You breathe. “Food sounds good.”“Great!” The mermaids all cheer. Most of them rush out of the room as quickly as they can on their bubbles, laughing amongst themselves. Mero stays behind when you scoot closer to the edge of the bed, intent on getting up. Madam Shyarly whistles lowly and sends her away with her friends with a jerk of her head. Mero obeys quickly. Madam Shyarly must be the boss around here, after all.“We put together an outfit for you. You’ll find it inside the chest.” She says as she also leaves, stopping at the doorway. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, dear. Otherwise, enjoy your stay.”With that, she too disappears behind the curtains.After a beat, your entire body caves in on itself, and you drag your nails through your hair. It felt too soft. Too clean.…You hide under the covers.(x)When you feel like you can face the world with your usual poker face, you change into the clothes they’d provided you. Thankfully, unlike your disguise, this dark crimson blouse is not uncomfortable. The gold detailing along the body, sleeves, and collar adds a nice touch of colour. The black pants themselves are stylish but still practical. Stars dot some parts of your ensemble, oddly familiar. Still, you can’t place their brand.You push the curtains aside carefully, finding yourself in a long hallway. Following the noise, you part another set of curtains, jaw almost dropping in utter shock.Around you, fishmen and mermaids milled about. Some of the mermaids you recognized, but the fishmen were all completely unknown to you. The Sun Pirates had been a diverse group, for sure, but you’d never… you never thought you’d see this.Multi-coloured lights lit up the whole room, some changing hue. Above you, bubbles apparently strong enough to hold tables, chairs, and people inside them float sluggishly. On the checkered floor, there was more furniture. People sat on large, comfortable seashells as if they were couches, and every corner was decorated with elaborate growths of coral. In the very centre of the room there was a bar. Instead of a straight counter, however, like many of the human establishments you’d seen, this bar was built to be a full circle. Stools with patrons surrounded it, and mermaids behind the bar poured drinks, smiling and laughing. A fish-man with a moustache and a goatee smoking from a pipe was also there.Thanks to all the windows and the random fish, you still felt like you were underwater.You are… totally awestruck.“Hey! You made it!” Lulis floats up to you, looping an arm through your right one. She makes a wide arch with her free hand, grinning brightly. “Welcome to the Mermaid Café! As a token of our gratitude, let us entertain you for a while!”Unable to escape her hold, you nod dumbly, following her as she drags you towards an empty booth. Sitting on one of the available seats, you make yourself as comfortable as you can. With so much assaulting every one of your senses, and with the revelation that you are, in fact, in Fish-Man island still sinking in… it’s a lot easier than you thought.These seats are… wow, they’re nice.Not five minutes later, all the mermaids you’d saved arrive at your table, each serving you a hefty plate of food. They’re all dishes you don’t recognize, not even from your time as a Sun Pirate, but they all look delicious.With jobs to do, they can’t stay for long, which you don’t mind one bit. You’d noticed how some people were staring at you. You suppose that, despite the foot traffic, humans were always a bit of an odd, if not suspicious, sight.All you want to do is go to a less crowded place, but after Lulis’s words, you can’t. Instead, you sit up, mask your trepidation with stoicism, and begin eating. The first dish you finish with ease. However, you hadn’t worked up an appetite just yet.Not wanting to be rude, you still grab a forkful of all that you can. The mermaids that weren’t busy serving danced in another enormous bubble. Some of them waved your way. You return their friendliness with polite nods, tense.To keep calm, you busied your brain by wondering which of the Sun Pirates might have gone to the Mermaid Café. Probably Hatchan or Pisaro, if you think about it. They were the more fun-loving members of the crew.You hadn’t seen any of them in years. Or heard of them. What was Hatchan up to, now?A shadow partly blocks the lights. Looking up, you see Madam Shyarly, her hands on the backrest of your seat yet still at a respectable distance. “Having fun?” She asks, slipping into the couch across from yours. Her tail brushes your foot.“It’s… a lot.” You admit, drumming your fingers on the table. “I never thought I’d…”“I know. I can see it.” She smiles gently. Amicable silence falls, and you grab a couple more bites, taste buds delighted by this array. Shyarly watches you, something you don’t mind too much since you kind of know her. Kind of.“Have you ever given the thought of settling down consideration?” She brings your attention back to her.“'Settling down.’” Wiping the corners of your mouth with a napkin, you stare at her over the rim of your glass.“Yes. You’re a wanderer, aren’t you? Ever since you left them?” Well aware of who she’s talking about, you shrug and, after a bit, nod.“It was the only life I knew after my enslavement.” Somehow, you find that period of your life easier to discuss than Fisher Tiger or what happened with the Sun Pirates.“I see.” She rubs her chin thoughtfully, brilliant blue eyes shimmering. “Well, I’ll be honest with you, I could really use someone like you around here.”“Someone like me?” You inquire, eyebrows pinching.“Protection.” She clarifies. “Someone to keep an eye on the girls when I’m not around or when I can’t. As you can see, this establishment is very popular. With that popularity comes danger. As you’ve also seen.”“I have.” You agree, your blood beginning to boil at the mere thought of those slavers. To avoid any more attention, though, you must stay calm. Breathing in deeply, you place your napkin on the table and sigh, “I have, indeed.”“So… You see why I ask.” She props her elbow on the table, her placid expression never betraying what she’s thinking. Nestling her chin in her palm, she regards you with a small smile. “I’d be happy to pay you whatever you wish.”“That’s not necessary.” You tack on, feeling tenser. To act as a bouncer of sorts would mean staying. Could you do that? Why did it feel so wrong?Would… would Fisher approve?“I’ll give you some time to think about it.” Likely noticing your change in attitude, Madam Shyarly rises, one of her hands still on the table. “For now, take it easy. You’re in no danger, here.”With that, she departs once again, leaving you to your own thoughts. Your stomach is suddenly too full.(x)The days pass considerably faster once you’re able to move around without pain. You’re not sure if it’s the pirate life or your bounty hunter work, but your body healed quickly. What would have left you bedridden for a few days barely affected you after a good night’s rest. You’re ever so thankful for this boon because you’d be going stir crazy if you were stuck inside for very long. Still, you don't want to push it, knowing that you can undo your body's work just as easily.The mermaids eventually asked if you wanted to see their dorm up at the cove. With not much else to do, you went along, listening to them happily chat. Sometimes, they’d ask you questions about you, your life, your likes and dislikes… and you never went into too much detail. Some found this appealing, calling you ‘mysterious,’ while others not so much.Really, you just didn’t think about those things that much. When resources are low and life is full of danger, you don’t stop to think about what food you want. You take what you can get. And favourite places…? Well, you’d seen a lot of pretty places, but never stayed long enough for them to become favourites.They were very curious about the rest of the world. Camie seemed to be the explorer of the bunch, what with her getting kidnapped, so she chimed in when she felt like it. You appreciated it because she could go on and on. She was also very keen on hearing what you have to say, though, so that ended after a while.“That sounds so pretty!” Kairen, a mermaid you’d just met today, exclaims, twirling as she floated beside you. You’ve been describing an island covered in flowers, many of which you can’t name. It had been a rather magical place. And also where you located one of your first targets, though that part didn’t need to be in the story.“Bah. Who needs to see that when we’ve got this?” Hiramera sighs, always the tether. While many of her friends seemed delighted to fantasize, she was the one pointing out the danger. Still, it was clear that she found what you said interesting, as well.And she’s right. The Mermaid Cove, the place where all mermaids come and socialize, is a sight. Strange, tree-like structures reached upwards. If you were to compare them to anything on the surface, it would be huge mushrooms. Fountains sprayed water in long arches, and coral growths and other plants decorated the place.Sitting on a rock with your legs in the water, you listen to the mermaids talk and play. Some, like Hiramera, Mero, and Kairen, stick close to you. The rest are off doing their own thing, and you observe, quiet and pensive.You’ll admit, Madam Shyarly’s offer to stay and protect these mermaids was tempting. You’d always wanted someplace to just… live. It didn’t matter if it was amongst people, animals, or all by yourself. Moving around so much and all the violence that came with your lifestyle was tiresome.But how could you settle? If there was one thing that slavery taught you, is that you never stop. Could you really allow yourself to stop when so much could go wrong? Someone could take you right back to that hellhole Fisher found you in. Someone could take the freedom you’d fought tooth and nail to keep away.But then, they could also do that to these mermaids. And you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if one of them ended up in some tank, chained or chased by something much bigger.Mero shows you a pretty seashell.“Seashell for your thoughts?” She asks sweetly, her smile as soothing now as the day you met her.With a tiny quirk of your lips, you accept the offering, flipping it around in your palm. The body is pale blue with pink edges, its underside porcelain white. Very nice. “I’m thinking of… possibly staying. Here.”“Really, now?” Kairen and Hiramera both say at the same time, turning to you.“Madam Shyarly would appreciate the protection.” You explain quickly, not wanting them to make assumptions.“Huh. And here I thought it was because you liked us.” Hiramera huffs, rolling her eyes with a smirk.You don’t say anything to that, still staring at the seashell. Mero pushes another one towards you, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.With a barely audible chuckle, you take it, grabbing a bit of seaweed glued to the rock you’re on. You make a rope out of it, and, with a knife you’d managed to hold onto, begin drilling small holes into the shells.“I do.” You murmur, hearing jubilant laughter. Glancing up, you see Lulis, Camie, and Ishilly splashing each other. “I like it, here. It’s peaceful.”“So, you’ll stay?” Kairen, twirling a blond curl around her finger, leans against your rock, eyebrow raised.“Perhaps.” You answer honestly.“Might be hard. It’s not often we see humans, and when we do, they don’t stay very long.” Hiramera adds, tail breaking the surface of the water.“I don’t mind that.” You grew up surrounded by Fishmen. A lack of humans doesn’t bother you at all. “Still. I need to think about it.”“That’s fair,” Mero comments idly, adding another seashell to a pile she’d made beside you. Kairen is helping her. You scoop them up, pushing your handmade rope through the holes you make until you’ve got a necklace. To separate each one, you make a knot every time you slide a seashell on.When you can’t add any more, you put it in your lap, not sure what to do with it.Suddenly, Hiramera steals it from you, lifting it to her neck cheekily. “How’s it look, eh?”“Good. I think we’ve got ourselves a new jeweller.”“Ooo… Pappag’s new competition, maybe?”“What’s that about Pappag?!” Camie shouts from the other end of the pool, swimming over to your group.“Look at my new necklace!” Hiramera says proudly, having tied it so that it sits on top of her collarbone. Camie makes a curious noise, leaning towards her as Hiramera lifts her chin.“It’s nice! Who made it?”Kairen, Hiramera, and Mero point at you. Camie’s smile is broad as she points to herself, brown eyes sparkling excitedly, “Can you make me one, too? Please?”You almost shrink under their gazes, listening to a chorus of requests for more necklaces, maybe even a bracelet or two, while Hiramera, Kairen, and Seira laugh at your expense. Soon enough, with all the mermaids gathered around you, everyone is showing off their new jewellery. You remake Hiramera’s necklace after a while, seeing the flaws in your first creation. She smirks when you give her the new one, tying the first one around her wrist a few times.Really, you have Mero to thank for your success. Without her eye for pretty shells, the necklaces wouldn’t have turned out as good. She deflects the praise you give her with a shake of her head, giggling.You spend a good while making accessories for everyone, when, collectively, they insist to make something for you. All of them form a circle, whispering amongst themselves as you sit back, baffled by this turn of events. Eventually, they split up, telling you to stay where you are. They don’t leave your sight, but you can’t hear what they’re saying from where you are.
Oh… well?
Not like you’ve got much else to do.Lounging, you fiddle with some spare shells, taking in the calloused skin of your fingers. Compared to them, you’re so… rough. Weathered. The sun had definitely taken its toll on your complexion, and some of the scars on your body were… ugly.It’s not something you’d paid any mind to until you were here, where so many people lived without so much hardship. Especially these mermaids.Who knows? Maybe you really should stay.Your neck tingles, the sensation rushing down your spine like lightning. Skin dotted with goosebumps, you sit up, face hardening as you take note of the intruder’s location. Placing a hand on the rock, you move to push yourself off the ground, but find... mud?A quick glance confirms that, yes, you're touching mud and it is everywhere.Quickly, you sort through your mental list of pirates you’d become aware of recently, coming up empty. With more urgency, you look behind you, spotting the perpetrator not too far off. Some of the mermaids gasp or shriek, apparently recognizing the pirate.Wrenching your limbs free, you rise to your full height, gathering the pirate’s attention.“Who are you?” You call, ignoring how your feet are fully submerged.Mero shouts your name, “Please, be careful!”“He’s that god-awful pirate, Wet-Haired Caribou!” Lulis, eyes wide with fear, hides her body in the water, shuddering.You're lost.“…who?”Mero opens her mouth to answer you, but the pirate cuts her off.“I’m the one that’s going to be selling those mermaids!” He screams back. Despite how much force clearly went into that yell, due to how far he is, he’s not too loud. You cup your ear, motioning for him to repeat his statement. You’re up to your knees in mud, now.“I said, I’m GOING to be SELLING those mermaids!” He repeats for your sake, adding a cackle that grates on your nerves. The sight of his tongue just... wiggling like that was atrocious, too.“Right. That’s what I thought you said.” You sigh, stepping out of the mud with little trouble. Shaking off the excess, you jump and begin the trek towards this pirate, expression blank. Behind it, you hide the fury that always threatens to cloud your judgment when someone – no matter who – makes light of enslavement.He seems put off by how easily you escaped his trap. Nonetheless, he recovers swiftly, extracting a scythe from the chasm he creates in his abdomen. He swings horizontally when you're within reach, aiming for your head. You coat your arms in haki and block, ducking underneath the next wide arch.With a well-placed roundhouse kick to the side, you send the intruder careening towards the water. Before he reaches it and drowns, however, he shoots mud from his arms, cushioning his landing.You follow him, intent on finishing this quickly. You'd have herded the mermaids somewhere safer, but, were he to catch you off guard, his powers would make it a harder fight. Not to mention that your injuries are still somewhat weighing you down. You won't be able to go on for as long as you normally do.Still, you'll give this fight whatever you have.Caribou dodges your next punch, which makes the mud under you ripple. The terrain sways, the ocean water pushing and shoving it in all directions. It's thick enough that you hardly sink through it, though moving is still arduous.Not for him, of course. Turning his legs into the substance allows him to flank you. Using the opportunity, he attacks once more. With a scowl, you block, trying to use his own momentum to sink him. His goal is to do just that to you, as well. Caribou hammers your hardened arms with his scythe, controlling his mud until you're waist-deep.One particular blow tears the stiches still in your side. You grimace, sweat beading your brow as blood begins to seep into your clothing.Still, you refuse to give up. When he descends upon you again, you lean to your right, grabbing him by his neck. He chokes, jaw dropping in shock, as you force him under the mud. You have half a mind to drown him, everything else be damned, but he's struggling like a fish out of the water.Alas, you wrestle in the dirt like a pair of toddlers, hitting and kicking untill one of you drops dead. It's not the fight you'd envisioned, but it's one you're going to win, anyway.“Will you-” You ram Caribou face-first into something harder than the mud. He shakes himself loose, the dirt pouring from him as he tries to finish his sentence, “Will you just die, already?!”You respond by burying your foot in his stomach.He leaps backwards, putting some distance between you. You try to chase him, stumbling over your own two feet and falling to your knees. Your injury is really not doing you any favours, here, burning fiercely under the bandages. Coughing to expel the mud from your lungs, you crawl to the shore, gritting your teeth.You're not moving fast enough. Caribou rears an arm back, preparing an attack, and you press your body to the floor, glowering.Your thoughts on how to escape this predicament are drowned out by a sudden onslaught of water. It barrels towards Caribou, cutting off whatever nonsense he was spewing for the nth time.You look up just in time, your eyes landing on another figure. Colourful robes flap in the wind as the new fighter joins the fray, and you squint. Hands clenching, you let them focus on each other, craning your neck to find the mermaids. They're all gone.“Ah, we can talk about this, you know? Surely, we can, Jin-”“I thought I'd made it clear last time, Caribou,” A familiar deep voice replies, and your attention snaps back to them, heart skipping a beat. “You're not welcome here.”“You did! You made that very clear! And, you know what, I was about to leave!”The terrain shifts and you fall through. You almost inhale a bucket's worth of water because of the shock, and you cough, bubbles spilling from your lips. Swimming to the surface, you sweep your hair back.Like the day you freed the slaves, arms wrap around you. You don't lash out, knowing that it's Lulis because of your observation haki. Ducking underwater, you let her guide you. When you're at the shore, you squeeze her shoulder in lieu of thanks. You lift your body out, seeing that the stranger and Caribou are still at it.Not for much longer, it seems. With a well-placed jab, Caribou is defeated. Before you or the stranger can restrain him, though, he slithers away, cursing to himself.Panting, you drop your head, pressing a hand to your side. It comes away red, much to your frustration. Behind you, the mermaids pop out, all of them rushing to your aid. You want to tell them to get back in the water, to go home, to leave you alone.You can't bring yourself to. Seira lays you down on your back, fussing more when you sit up to tell them that you're fine. They're all talking over each other, wondering if they should carry you to Madam Shyarly or bring a medic here.“Oh, Jimbei!” Sora, another mermaid you'd met today, calls a name you haven't heard or uttered in years. Your ears ring as you stare blankly at your hands, sand particles wedged under your nails. “What do we do? The wounds have opened up again!”“That's alright,” He- You- You don't waste another second, forcing your legs to bear your weight even as you sway. The mermaids flinch and try coaxing you to sit down, but you won't hear any of it, facing him.Much like you, he freezes, hands in the air as if he was also planning on calming you down. Your bewildered eyes search his face, traces of the man he used to be, the man in your memories, all over. He's older now, obviously, faint wrinkles etched into his skin. His style clearly hadn't changed in all these years, for he still wore a kimono, tied under his belly, and a hooded cape. Only this time, the kimono was a light mint colour with orange details. Spread out on the cloth are dark leaf patterns. Finally, peeking at you from under his outfit is his Sun Pirates tattoo.One thing that is different, aside form his hair, is the lightning-shaped scar on his face.The air leaves your lungs in one disbelieving exhale, your whole frame trembling. Water drips from your eyelashes, leaving your cheeks tingling.Just as surprised, Jimbei utters your name, taking a step towards you.A voice screams at you to run. You're so close to- to cracking, to falling apart, it's terrifying. All these years fighting and moving and fleeing and here he is, in the flesh. He still has the same underbite, the same two tusks, the same patch of hair on his chin, and the same yellow sideburns and highlights. He's changed so much and yet so little.He's also a door to your past that you'd nailed shut almost a decade ago. To have it in front of you after all this time is...It's painful.It's so painful.If there was someone you truly missed from the Sun Pirates crew, aside from Fisher Tiger and a few others, it was Jimbei. He was the glue that held what frail pieces made you who you are together.You bite the inside of your cheek.“Is it really you?” He asks, oblivious to your turmoil. There's a hint of a smile on his face.“Yes.” You force your mouth to form the word, nodding stiffly. “Yes, it's me.”Then, with a tremor to your voice, you whisper, “It's... it's me, Sir Jimbei.”Your words break the spell that held him in a daze. Without another word, his legs carry him towards you. He still has his hands up as he looks you up and down, eyebrows furrowing. You meet him halfway but keep your gaze fixed on his face, feeling like the child seeking comfort from one of the few that tolerated your existence.“I-I... I didn't know you were here. If I had, I would have come to you immediately.” He starts, shaking his head. “Truly. Please, forgive me for not seeing you sooner, I was-”Like a little doll, you plop your head on his chest, interrupting him. Then, slowly, you bury your hands in his robes, eyes stinging from the saltwater.“I... I missed you, Sir Jimbei.”Jimbei places his enormous hands on your shoulders, promptly hugging you closer as he chortles. “Just Jimbei, Little Urchin. Just Jimbei.”(x)“Urchin.” Your flat affect makes them all laugh, much to your dismay.“Yeah, yeah!” One member of the crew insists, poking you on the cheek repeatedly. “You're so small and angry all the time! It's what we call kids like you back home.”
You roll your eyes, glaring as they chuckle at your expense. If they'd called you that a year ago – hell, maybe even a month ago, Jimbei suspects there'd have been blood. But today is a special day, and even you're not in the mood to lash out in fear of ruining it, it seems.
“Anyway,” Hatchan says after he'd sobered up, pulling out a small box and presenting it to you. “Happy birthday, Urchin.”
Warily, you accept the offering, glancing between the box and the fishmen. Hatchan urges you to open it, smiling at you reassuringly. With a sigh, you do so, checking its contents. Blinking, you lift what you think is going to be a joke, but turns out to be a necklace.
“We saw it at that last island we stopped at. Thought you'd like it.” Macro explained, drawing your attention.
...
It's a seashell necklace. Nothing elegant, and terribly simple, but also terribly... them.
In a rare display of vulnerability, you clutch their gift – including the box – close to your chest, bottom lip quivering.
“Thank you very much.” You mumble quietly, bowing at the waist. Jimbei smiles to himself when he hears a sniffle and watches you wipe at your eyes. Spine straightening, you direct to no one specifically, “Can... can you help me put it on?”
Hatchan is the first to volunteer, hopping off his seat with a grin and holding out one of his numerous hands. Once you give him the necklace, he makes quick work of the clasp, brushing stray hairs aside.
“There we go,” He says when it's secured, walking around you to examine his work. You stare at them, waiting for their verdict. Jimbei observes as they all give you approving smiles, some of the men cheering, others relieved you even tried it on. Hatchan lifts you over his head with a whoop, and, finally, after so long, you smile and giggle. The curtain over your eyes parts, and you let loose, hugging them gratefully.
Even so, he still catches you staring longingly in the direction of the Captain's cabin.
Jimbei sighs.
If only he could tell you.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Luffy is being… weird.Which, you know, if you’d thought that to yourself or if someone pointed that out to you any other day, you wouldn’t have reacted. After all, this is the Straw Hat Pirates captain they’d be talking about. Nothing, and you mean nothing, about him is ‘normal.’ From his appetite to his abilities to his personality down to his habits.Luffy is weird.And that’s why you love him.His unpredictability is what makes the captain… him.But something very strange must happen for any of the Straw Hats Pirates to pause and scratch your heads. Like today.Today, Luffy’s taken to showing more affection than usual. Since you’re together and all, you don’t mind, per se. However, the way he’s going about it is what makes it unusual.“What are we doing, exactly?”He’s so focused on his food that you doubt he’s even heard you. Luffy, somehow resisting the temptation clearly gnawing at him, looks up. You arch an eyebrow, curious.Your captain seems to remember what he was trying to do, spaghetti dangling from his lips. Slurping them into his mouth, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, turning back to his plate. He ponders, humming loudly. Steadily, you lift another forkful to your mouth, making a note to thank Sanji for this wonderful meal later.“Hang on, hang on, hang on!” Luffy says, reaching for your wrist and lowering your hand. You make a small noise in the back of your throat, lamenting the loss, and sigh.“Okay, okay,” You breathe, placing the cutlery back on the plate. “What?”When you meet his eye, it’s for the briefest of moments, noticing the single noodle hanging from his index finger. Again, you stare, befuddled by this display.With a grin that only he can pull, he takes one end of the noodle and wraps his lips around it. You watch, still confused, as he offers the other end of the pasta.“Heat it!” He says excitedly. Obviously, he meant for you to do the same, not set it on fire, so you do that. Happy to indulge him, even at the most inopportune times, you feign mild exasperation and do as he asked. Leaning closer to him, you bite down and-
Slurp.
The noodle disappears in the black hole that is his mouth.“No! Dang it!” Without even an explanation, he starts digging into his food for another one, tongue poking out. You sit and wait despite your own hunger, accustomed to his antics. A part of you wants to ask, but then you might distract him and make him forget what he’s trying to accomplish… again. If you want this to be done and over with any time soon, you have to be patient.“That one looks good,” You comment, pointing at his food. He agrees with another titter, plucking it and doing what he did before. Now that you know what to do, you assume your previous position and-
Slurp.
You bite back another sigh.You gently rest your hand on his shoulder before he can complain and go fishing for a third noodle. He stops, attention drawn to you. His eyes find your face. The kind and gentle smile he’s known for more than two years now greets him. He pokes your cheek distractedly, mirroring your expression.“What are we doing, exactly?” You ask. Luffy recalls his goal once more.“Ugh,” He groans, “I wanted to do a thing I saw two weirdos do at that one island because it looked fun, but I keep eating them.”“Right.” You nod, not knowing which island or thing he’s referencing. You’re pretty sure you’re catching on, though. “Why don’t I give it a try?”“Sure!” He chirps, grabbing the bottom of his chair and hopping around until he’s facing you. While he’s doing that, you take a noodle and hold it up. Before he can eat it though, you press a finger to his lips and repeat the same process. He sits, round, brown eyes following the food like a patient follows a hypnotist’s pendulum.“Ready?” You ask around the spaghetti. Luffy nods eagerly.With far more concentration than is probably meant for a situation like this, you both hold the food between your teeth. You’re close enough to bump noses, something that earns you a laugh from him. Grinning, you pull his hat away from his face, close the gap, and kiss him softly.Unfortunately, the moment ends quickly.You yelp when he chomps down on the flesh of your bottom lip, recoiling from him with furrowed eyebrows. Pressing a fingertip to the injured area, you stare at the drop of your blood.“Sorry, sorry!” Luffy waves his hands frantically, rolled up sleeves becoming stained with tomato sauce. You laugh, shaking your head as you take the flailing limbs into your hold.“It’s okay,” You scoot closer to the edge of your seat, ignoring the mild sting of his not-so-gentle bite. “I’ve had worse,”“Yeah, I know.” He fidgets with your sleeves. Still, he doesn’t look happy, eyes on the cut. “I’m sorry.”“Bah,” You dismiss his concern, caressing his scarred cheek with the back of your hand. Brushing some of his jet-black hair aside, you smile and raise a forkful of food. “Can we eat, now?”Immediately, he cheers up, and he nods again, accepting your offering greedily. You can’t help but chuckle when he starts eating like nothing happened.And then you see him stealing food out of your plate.Sigh.(x)“You want to match outfits?”That’s the only question you’re able to voice before he takes off like a whirlwind, sweeping you up and whisking you away. You don’t bother fighting, curling into a ball so he doesn’t slam any body parts into anything again. The ship’s hallways aren’t as wide as you think when Luffy’s carrying you around. You’d learned that lesson the hard way.Eventually, you find yourself in the boys’ quarters, finding Usopp and Zoro relaxing in there. Usopp tinkers away at a contraption in his hands, goggles pulled down, while Zoro pretends to snooze. You and Luffy greet them both at the same time. His voice overpowers yours but you don’t mind.What worries you is this. The sight of Luffy’s drawers, filled with clothes that you’re not sure fit you correctly.So. Here you are. Standing beside Luffy, who’s humming thoughtfully as he stares at his clothes. You wonder how long it’s going to take him to realize that he likely does not have two sets of the same outfits. Maybe something similar, which might satisfy him, but who knows.“This one!” He chucks something at you before you can react. It hits you square in the face and lands in your hands. It’s a white, short-sleeved shirt with blue stripes. Nothing crazy. Okay.He pulls another garment for himself, putting it aside for now as he searches for pants, probably. Or maybe even a skirt. Who knows what’s in there at this point?On it goes. Luffy picks out things for himself, and you tell him that you don’t match, but he’s so busy he doesn’t hear you. With his devil fruit powers, he forces the clothes he’d picked out for you over the ones you’re already wearing.“Wait a minute!” Oh, there it is. It’s finally dawned on him- “We need hats!”
Okay.
“Luffy, wait a second,” You try again, reaching for him. Your body already feels stiff with two layers on, likely due to the weather, and you’d rather not- “Ow! That was my hair, Luffy!”“Sorry, sorry,” he says, tugging your third shirt down until you can see. The sleeves of the t-shirt underneath poke out awkwardly like two tiny wings from this purple tank top. “We still don’t match!”Glancing up at him, you see that he has his famous red shirt on and, over that, his “Lucy” disguise. Helmet and beard included. Usopp and Zoro giggle in the background. You ignore them.“How…?”“Hang on, I can fix this! We just need-” You grasp the offending hand reaching for a frilly contraption you didn’t even know he owned. Luffy stops to give you a curious look.Raising your free hand, you motion for him to slow down a lot, “Why don’t you pick out something to wear, and I’ll look in my closet for something that’s similar?”That gives him pause. Then, beaming at you, he takes your hands and nods vigorously.In the end, you both step out of wearing simple shorts and white shirts. When he said that the white shirts were kind of boring, you suggested painting something that would brighten them up. They’d be your official matching couple shirts. He liked that idea.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
He haunts your dreams at night.That fact is not much of a surprise at this point. He’s put you through a lot this last decade, excluding the insults and the constant taunting. Sometimes, when the seal’s grip on him trembles, he slips into your memories, turning each one into gruesome sights. Other times, like tonight, he dips his disgusting hands into your subconscious, altering your dreams.But you’re used to all of that. Nightmares and the odd hallucination are now part of your daily routine.What’s not, however, is this.“Fancy meeting you here.” Your voice echoes in this dark chasm. A vast sea of nothing surrounds you, endless and devoid of any life. Here, not even he can unearth your deepest fears or doubts. In this place inside your brain, you are both each other’s only company.“Really?” Marshall D. Teach, a demon that had taken to terrorizing whoever he could dig his claws into, sneers at you. You’d both mellowed out rather dramatically since all this began, so his tone or anger hardly affects you. Likewise, your own rare attempts at being kind or compassionate are met with scalding hatred and cruelty. A stark contrast from the screaming matches you’d have with him when he became too much to handle.“You’re right. I’ve used that one before.” You kneel on the invisible ground and brush a fingertip along an equally invisible line. Half a second later, there’s a thrum that roars through you and the seal flares. The magic crackles and bursts to life, revealing the slew of chains keeping Teach from lunging at you. “So, how are you? Made the life-changing decision to stop eating children, yet? Or maybe you’ve come up with a way to repay me for keeping Garp from killing you.”“Break these chains and I’ll show you how grateful I am.” He threatens and, for the first time since you’ve arrived, you raise your gaze. Teach is still as terrifying as the day you met, wide-eyed and still very new to magic. He’s even bigger than Shanks and Mihawk, and those two easily towered over you. If those two are almost seven feet tall, this demon is likely close to thirteen. Despite his thinner arms and legs, his wide body is enough to intimidate anybody, regal clothing only adding to that effect. Most of it is black with soot, but there are sections that are still dripping red from his crimes.That’s right. You’d brought him down at the peak of his, ah, career.His dark skin and hair shimmer under the seal’s glow. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple and you arch a knowing eyebrow. His round eyes, which are framed by pronounced crow's feet, glow menacingly, flashing a striking amber. On his bare, hairy chest, the same spell that had been etched into yours comes to life. You await his next move, anxious.Suddenly, he smiles, his crooked nose wrinkling. His missing teeth only fuel the unease in your gut. The rest are sharp and pointed, tips tinged with blood. Another reminder of that fated day, where two entities became trapped in one, forever cursed to share every experience.It was a pain in the ass. Not even Luffy’s antics could top this guy’s nonsense.“Why don’t you let me have a chat with Shanks? It’s been a long time since I last saw my friend. I’m sure he misses me.”You’re not all-knowing about demon culture and customs, but you’re pretty sure exchanging friendship scars is not a thing. Huffing a quiet laugh, you trace a symbol into the seal. Though it doesn't accomplish anything, Teach growls, pulling on his chains until they’re taut. Again, the magic holding him back reels him in, though it is weaker than you remember.Internally, you sigh.Maintenance on the seal is done while you’re conscious. Both of you know this very well, as it’s a debilitating thing. Not only physically, but emotionally and psychologically, as well. Your blood is what keeps those chains from rusting, and your life is what keeps him at bay. Alas, that means that, when Garp or yourself deem it necessary…You glance down at the scars on your arms.…well, it's not a fun experience.“I’m sure he does.” You reply, removing your hand. Wisps of magic reach for you, dissipating upon contact. “But that’s not what I’m here for.”“As if you’ve ever had a say in the matter,” He rumbles lowly, shoulders bouncing in amusement when you frown at him. Teach’s expression is one of mirth now, round face scrunching up. Ignoring his comment, you keep talking.“You saw what happened today, so I’ll save us both time. How do I send them back?”“They didn’t teach you that in your stupid magic school?” He shoots back. Then, with a flourish of his enormous hands, he starts, “Well, when you summon a demon, you discuss the terms and conditions of your agreement, and once that’s done, you have to pay up-”“Stop it,” You order, rubbing your temples impatiently. Exasperated, you sigh, glancing towards the rest of the seal. There are parts where the lines are thinning, which probably clarifies how he’d made his presence known to the other two. How exciting. “I don’t have the energy for this, today.”“-and, unfortunately, those kids don’t have much to give.” He speaks over you, very much entertained by your displeasure.Your glower worsens as you meet his eye once more.“What? They summoned those idiots, didn’t they? They’re the ones that gotta pay up now. It’s the way things are done.” He says, raising his massive hands in mock defeat.“They can’t.” You stress the last word, wearily getting to your feet. “A lesser demon, maybe, but they have nothing that Shanks and Mihawk haven’t gotten from a thousand other souls, already. It won’t be enough.”“Then they die.” He states as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like they’re not children fooling around with things they don’t understand. Like he’s never made a mistake in his life. As if deciding to face you and fall for a ridiculous trap wasn’t his last. “Problem solved.”Stupid demon.You really should have known better than to try to gain anything from him. The conversations you two tend to have never stemmed from anything other than hatred. Other times, when he feels generous and you ask very nicely, he’ll enlighten you on whatever is puzzling you. Rarely. You could count how many times he’d ‘helped’ you on one hand.You suppose you could add another tally today.“Guess I’ll have to try having a conversation about those terms with actual adults.” You retort, waving just as he raises a hand and plunges you into another nightmare.(x)Blearily, you open your eyes, staring into the wooden ceiling of your room. The agonized screams of the people in your life subside, leaving behind a headache that pounds with each erratic heartbeat. Still, you don’t move, unflinching even as sunlight blinds you momentarily. Birds sing outside and leaves whisper as a breeze brushes past them.You focus on your breathing, gripping the fur of your blanket, and count to fifty. Soon enough, the panic and tremors that follow you into wakefulness fade and you’re yourself again.With little fanfare, you sit up, brushing stray hairs out of your face. Throwing your legs over the bedframe, you bend until your head touches your knees, inhaling deeply. After holding the air in your lungs for a few seconds, you release it loudly and stand on wobbly legs.You hadn’t planned on consulting Teach when you left Shanks and Mihawk to their own devices. The ordeal with Garp had drained you of whatever energy you had left, and you’d been hoping sleeping would help. Of course, he noticed how weak you’d become and saw an opportunity to push his luck. Again, you should have known better.Oh well.Straightening your appearance with a spell, you square your shoulders and pretend like you’re ready to face the world.The only good thing about having Teach in your body is the boost to your magic. No matter how little sleep you get, you’re still able to stand your own. So, with a few whispers, you cast a spell that lets you see the auras of living things.And though that blessing came with many downsides, you still took advantage of it where you could, when you could, and if you could. So… not often. Usually, you tapped into it to look nice and boil some pretty fantastic tea. Go figure.Thankfully, neither Shanks nor Mihawk is right on top of you when you scan your environment. They’re still in the library, which means you hadn’t been out for that long.Descending the wooden stairs, you arrive at their location, finding the demons lounging inside. When the redhead notices you, he brightens visibly.“Welcome back!” Shanks greets you first. Mihawk barely addresses you, attention on you for maybe a second before he goes back to the book in his hand. It looks ridiculously small in his hold.“Thanks,” You ignore how disturbed you are by their presence. No matter where you are in this house, nowhere is safe from them, so you don’t understand your trepidation. Must be some base instinct you hadn’t been aware of until now, one you are heedless to as you approach them, avoiding papers and the rest of the mess you still had to clean.“Sleep well?” Shanks asks as you sit down on one of the couches, which they put back in their rightful places. Huh.Shaking your head when he offers you a drink of his alcohol, you answer, “Well enough, thank you. You?” Blinking, you resist the urge to smack yourself in the face when he smiles, catching onto your mistake. Who wouldn’t?“Never mind,” you add before he can comment on it, “I’m... ready to talk if you are.”“Sure are,” Shanks plucks the book from Mihawk, chucking it over his head without missing a beat or breaking eye contact with you. The other demon stares at his now empty lap for a second, likely going through a list of ways to dismember his friend, before looking up as well. Books must offend Shanks in some form, because the one other person you've known to abuse books like this is Luffy, and he didn't do it on purpose. Most of the time.“I had a chat with a friend,” You begin, placing your hands in your lap as your friend details how he’ll kill you in your slumber, “And he kindly told to me that the terms of a deal need to be discussed before anything else can happen.”Shanks’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “Indeed.”“Right." You nod, wetting your lips. It feels... stupid to talk about the terms after they made it clear there was a price to pay. A price you had been aware of. Honestly, if it weren't for Teach, you'd have given them your life if it meant they'd let the kids live. Your soul or your afterlife be damned. You wouldn't lose them. Not them. "Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we’ve talked about that at all.” “Whatever you have to say doesn’t concern us,” Mihawk jumps in, crossing his arms. It’s now that you realize that his wings are nowhere to be found. Or Shanks’s, for that matter. You suppose that, if they want to get away with posing as humans, being able to hide them is a must. Which also explains Shanks's brand-new arm. You wonder what their limitations are. They don't seem to have any. “Those children summoned us, not you.”“That’s right. They did.” You agree, acknowledging him with a nod. Be polite. You can do this. “The thing is, they don’t have much to offer a pair of high-ranking demons.”“And you do?” He does not mess around, does he? You gaze steadily at Mihawk, feeling anger stir in your heart.“That depends on what you want.” You say flatly, fingers itching.“We haven’t actually thought of anything yet, to be honest with you,” Shanks explains, tail sweeping the floor. You press your feet closer to the couch out of reflex.“That’s too bad.” Your voice is soft as you watch him carefully, trying to keep your nervousness hidden.“But, hey, I’ll make it easy for you,” He’s quick to assuage you, “You tell me what Teach is doing sealed away in your body, and I’ll tell you what I want. How’s that?” “So, you’re… not being honest with me, then.” You point out. He winks. Demons and their games, you swear.“Just testing you,” Shanks says, still grinning.“Ignore him.” Surprisingly, Mihawk speaks, ensuring that your attention is on him when he states, “Tell us.” Immediately, you feel inclined to- to tell them everything, down to the most minute detail, and-He sits back with a dark expression, displeased with your silence. That, or- oh. He was trying to charm you into talking. Teach must’ve thwarted his efforts. Damn it.“Don’t do that.” You dig your nails into your palms. “That’s not how this is going to work.” Mihawk does not look apologetic in the slightest.After a minute of tense silence, you will your body to relax, exhaling air through your nose. Here it goes.“You’ve heard of the Immolation of the Four Blues?”Shanks nods, tilting his head to the side as he, rather abruptly, becomes serious. “That was him?”“Yes, it was Teach.” You hate having to describe what happened. It only dredges up memories you wish would stay buried. “He wasn’t burning down the towns, though. Those were his minions.” Minion was a harsh word for the people he’d tricked into following his orders. You wipe the venom off your words, fighting to stay calm. “He was not only looking to destroy humanity, but to increase his power while doing so.”Your lips stretch into a wry smile, “Harder to do when you’re not as powerful as, say, Whitebeard, and you can’t feed on the energy of other demons. So, what do you turn to? Humans. And that’s what Teach did.”“Still doesn’t explain why they sealed him inside you,” Mihawk points out.“We didn’t have other options,” Garp would be incredibly angry if he found out you were telling demons what happened, but… well, maybe it’s time for the truth to reach someone who isn't in that organization of his. “He’d grown far stronger than The Hunters anticipated. After tons of research, some of the hunters came up with a spell.”“And that spell required a vessel?” Shanks is the one to pipe up this time. “Yes.” Gently, you drag a hand over your chest, where the seal had been tattooed. The magic tingled as it met your fingertips. “I volunteered.”“But you’re not one of them.” Looks like Mihawk had done more listening than Shanks when Garp went on a rampage. “How did you hear of their plans?”“Garp and I have been friends for a while, now.” You say, keeping it vague. How you two met or decided to collaborate was not important. “He thought I could be the successful vessel. I agreed. Simple as that.”“He seems to think otherwise.” Mihawk gestures to your head.“Teach likes to poke fun at me.” You joke blandly. No need to tell them that you need to do a sacrifice to renew the seal and-“You need to do a sacrifice to renew the seal, then?”You freeze, eyebrows furrowing in shock as you gape at Shanks, who looks as cool as the snow that traps you in your house in winter. With a chortle, he raises his drink to his mouth and takes a swig.So. He can hear Teach and read your mind. Wonderful. You love this turn of events. And here you thought you’d gotten away with that married couple remark.“What sort of sacrifice, if you don’t mind me asking?” He taps his fingers on his knee. Nothing in his body language suggests he’s unnerved by your story. Mihawk is unaffected, too. Odd, considering the spell was and is the only time humanity has succeeded in sealing away a demon for good. Maybe they think they’re strong enough to fight back or, worst-case scenario, best the spell.“Blood sacrifice.” You might as well tell them. Then, realizing how that must sound, you continue, “With my own blood.” Not like the idea of you murdering an innocent person should faze them. God knows what they’ve done in their lifetime.“Makes sense.” Mihawk muses as Shanks swirls the contents of his bottle, pensive. He looks worried, and you want to think that his concern is aimed at you, but you could never know with a demon. “By yourself, or with the help of Garp?” Shanks scoots closer to the edge of his seat, propping his elbows on his knees.“Sometimes with help, other times by myself.” Which was never ideal. You’d pass out from the blood loss sometimes. They didn’t need to know that, either-Shanks’s frown grows.Oh God, you’re terrible at this.“I’m still alive, and Teach is still stuck here,” You pat your chest with zero pride. Still, you signed up for this, so you’d do your duty until the bitter end. “So clearly, I’m doing something right.”“Right, but-” Before the redhead can finish his sentence, you interrupt him, clapping your hands once.“So! I’ve told you everything there is to know about my unfortunate arrangement. Now tell me what you want so you can go home and I can go back to my boring life.” When Mihawk merely blinks in your direction, you pout sarcastically, “Please?”With that, Shanks and Mihawk turn to each other, communicating voicelessly. You have no idea what goes on between them or what they both say to each other... if they say anything at all. That doesn’t seem to matter much though, because, with one more grin, Shanks grants your request.“Let us help you fix the seal.”“What?” You rear back as if he’d dropped an animal carcass at your feet, hands coming up. “You want to what?”“Fix the seal. And teach you how to control your magic.”You struggle to keep your jaw from hitting the floor. Fix the seal? The thing doesn't need fixing. It needs maintenance. What is he implying?Clearing your throat after a second, you try to argue, “I don’t see how that benefits you.”“That spell only sealed him away, right? It didn’t strip him of his power?” Shanks is getting excited for some reason. Why is he smiling again? What is this?“No,” Your response comes with a hefty amount of caution, “No, they never made it that far into the research before he burned the whole place down. But I don’t see why-”“He’d spell trouble for us too if he got out.” Boy, you’re all doing a lot of cutting each other off. Though, unlike yours, Mihawk's face is devoid of any emotion. Like a deer surrounded by wolves, your head snaps back to Shanks when he makes his announcement, eyes wide.“So! It’s decided! We’re helping you and we’re not leaving until we’re sure Teach is sealed for good, and…” Suddenly, he’s a blur again, and you throw your hands up to create a shield, eyes screwing shut. A hand gently closes around your wrist, gliding upwards until it grips yours. Claws harmlessly brush your tender skin, sending a chill skittering along your arm.At this, you peer at the higher demon, whose form blocks out all light from the windows. Eyes sparkling a bright red, he lowers your hand until it’s in your lap again and kneels before you, “…we’re sure you’ll be safe, as well.”Despite his current position, he’s still massive, and you’re stunned into silence as he once again ignores all rules regarding personal space. As smoothly as you can, you reclaim your hand, your pulse in your ears.“I didn’t know that was going to be a big concern,” Swallowing harshly, you exhale through your mouth when Shanks’s sharp gaze tracks the movement of your throat, then meets yours again. You can't move but, somehow, your mouth manages to function. “Normally, even I’m not too worried about what happens to me.”Shanks smiles, “Well, contrary to what you may believe, your well-being concerns all of us. Including those kiddos." You want to snap at him for bringing them up, grief coiling in your stomach when you think of the kids' short lives ending because of you. Because you failed to protect them. All while staring into the blood-red irises of one of the most mighty demons you've ever met. One who is privy to the war you are waging with yourself and to your anguish. "You’re the only thing keeping a very powerful demon from killing all of humanity. I’d say this Garp isn’t really doing a great job repaying you if this is how you live.”“My house isn’t that ugly,” Your remark is stupid under these circumstances, but he’s so close and showing emotions that demons are not known for.“You know what I mean,” Shanks’s voice drops lower as his tail once again brushes the floor languidly. No. You don't and you don't want to know. Because knowing means thinking, and if you think about how Garp has left you, you, to deal with a harbinger of destruction by yourself, you'll regret it. You can't think. You volunteered. No one made you get on that slab of stone, as well dressed as the day you were born, to seal Teach into your body. You had owed Garp that much. The man had saved you. You'd owed him.Regaining control of the storm in your mind, you scoot away from Shanks and plant your feet on the ground. With the grace of a newborn, you get off the couch, glancing between him and Mihawk.“So! We all agree on the terms. How do you guys want to do this?” You sound peppier than you feel.Shanks rises to his full height. He's a whole head taller than you - if not more. With his hands on his hips, he beams at you again, scales gleaming under the sun.“Fight him!”Sorry?“Pardon?” You must’ve misheard.“You did not.” Mihawk is the one to speak this time.“…no?” You reply incredulously, “I’d rather get stabbed? Which… I kind of do, on a regular basis? We can go from there if you’d like. I could show you how I-”When Mihawk stands up, you squeak and take 10 steps backwards. Shanks laughs boisterously. You don’t even bother going around the couch, hopping off the backrest with an accusing finger pointed at the more mature demon. “You don’t really think that fighting is going to help, do you?”“I do.” Mihawk walks around the couch, following you wherever you go. You hide behind shelves, startling when you realize he’s doing that thing Shanks does where he phases out of existence. Again, where do their abilities end?!“Care to – ohmygoodlordstopdoingthat – care to explain how at least?! Before you kill me?!” Your words come out in a shrill shriek, hands conjuring shields to block possible entries. Mihawk overcomes every single one. “Believe it or not, you’ve got a very powerful demon protecting your mind!” Shanks calls from some corner of the library, “We’ve got to drain your magic and his before we can even think of helping you!”“That’s not very reassuring, you know!” You chuck your single cooking recipe book at Mihawk, who catches it in one hand. What he does not expect is the smoke to explode in his face. He stops, and you tear off in the direction of the exit, where Shanks is waiting for you. You slide a good three feet before you screech to a halt, summoning another shield.“You! Are crazy!” You scream at them between gulps for air. Mihawk appears behind you as Shanks switches from being on his tippy toes to bouncing from one foot to the other. He’s still smiling like some- some maniac, waving dismissively.“Bah, come on,” He’s as encouraging as the barmaid, Makino, who tended to Luffy that one time you were in town. If it weren’t for your current game of chase, you might have smiled with him, maybe even rolled your eyes playfully. Alas, you are going to die. “We won’t hurt you!”“You’re already doing what you’re supposed to,” Mihawk adds.“Besides, you have to make sure you can actually banish demons by the time Garp comes around next! He might ask for a demonstration!” The redhead, still intent on cajoling you into dying, makes a decent point. You know Garp. He’s probably still chuckling to himself at the idea of making you his apprentice or something. That almost makes you shudder.Still, you don’t say that out loud. One, it’s not like you need to, and two-Flames erupt from your hands, scorching the doorway until it’s completely black. When you clench your fists, the stream ends, and Shanks emerges once more, completely unharmed. Not even a hair out of place.Okay. That didn’t work.Breathing in deeply, you mutter a few words and cast another spell. This one cost more energy, but it lifts him off the ground and pushes him into the hallway. You book it, rushing past him and into the foyer of your house. There, you use the same spell to slam the door open, running outside. Since the shields didn’t work, you coat your body in protection magic, checking behind you for your pursuers.Shanks has taken to strolling after you, but Mihawk… Mihawk has taken to flying.“No! No, no, no!” You scream as he swoops towards you. He moves like something out of your nightmares, wings hugging his body as he dives. Panicked, you call for aid from the earth, creating a wall. He breaks through it with ease, narrowly missing your head, but only because you dive to the side.Why, oh why, did Luffy, Sabo, and Ace summon these two?! Why couldn’t they have stuck to a hellhound or something?!Mihawk lands on the ground with a resounding boom, clawed feet that did not exist moments ago dragging along the earth. They create deep grooves, shredding blades of grass and other plants with no trouble. His wings spread out behind him, the sound akin to a flag dancing in the wind. Each one is longer than your entire body.When he charges again, you repeat your previous incantation, awaiting the inevitable crash, before turning the wall into mud. It traps him long enough for him to cast you an unreadable look and for you to drop your hands with a grunt. He plummets to the ground wordlessly, and the mud envelopes him, creating a shapeless cage.“Not bad,” Shanks says behind you, ever so close. You bring up another mural millimetres behind you, scratching his chin. He doesn’t even flinch, just waits for you to bring it down before sidestepping another attack.Putting his hand up, he blocks your next move with his palm, the heated water from a nearby pond bouncing off him.“You’re holding back,” Mihawk comments idly, wiping dirt from his coat.“So what if I am?” You retort, panting slightly. “You want me to use his magic to attack you, which, last I checked with The Hunters, is strictly forbidden. Besides, I have a hard time controlling it as it is. I’m not risking it. I can't.”“You think we won’t be able to handle it?” He asks, inhuman feet stepping over to solid ground.“Oh, I know you’d be fine,” You laugh breathlessly, fingers clenching painfully. Inside, you tighten the chains on Teach, grimacing. “I just don’t know if I’d be.”There's just no way. His bindings are too loose. If you were to relinquish all control, he'd tear through every obstacle and escape. You cannot afford it. You can't. You can't.But then...“You will be.” Shanks inches closer, voice doing that- that thing, again. You want to believe him. You do. “I promise.”You snort cynically as he lunges at you, aware that Mihawk has done the same, and hopelessly fall to your knees.If they want to fight Teach, then so be it. If they think they can handle him, then sure, why not? They'd shown you what they're capable of. Not one of your spells has had its desired impact on them.You're a complete disaster. Have been since you received the seal.So... why not let them have at it?Let me out. He hisses, and you can easily picture his grin, dripping blood and venom and all things vile. Let me out.When you lift your head, your eyes are the purest white they’ve ever seen. There is hardly any distinction between the iris and the sclera, and even your pupils are tiny, like two dots on a piece of paper.“Forgive me if I don’t believe you,” You whisper, feeling the world quake under you as Teach laughs triumphantly in your mind.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“So, it’s your dream to become the world’s best doctor?”The mink-that’s-not-a-mink, Doctor Chopper, nods resolutely, puffing out his small chest proudly. “One that can cure anything, yes!” He spins around in what he’d called his favourite chair, tittering to himself as you watch him, round eyes blinking.“That’s possible?” You question, hopping down from your perch on the blackboard you found in the room. He’d freaked out when you immediately hopped onto it upon entering, papers rustling from the gust of wind you created. Still, when you proved yourself to be almost weightless and, on top it all, extremely careful, he relaxed.Your white, fluffy ears twitch in interest as he chirps an even more determined ‘yes!’, still spinning and still giggling. Tilting your head to the side, you smile slightly, hearing Carrot and Pedro chatting outside with the other Straw Hats.Your presence here had been a surprise, one that everyone has recovered from – well, all except Pedro. He wasn’t too happy that you had snuck on board. But you weren’t going to let that stubborn old mink go on this mission by himself. Yeah, you were smaller than a lot of minks, and yeah, you probably weren’t as strong as him, but did that matter? Carrot was tagging along, too. Not to mention she’s a year younger than you.“That’s nice,” you say, now on the floor and at the same level as him. Chopper had been shocked to see how short you were as well, even though you’re a few inches taller. When you told him you’re a red panda mink and that your family is usually small, he seemed to understand. Happy, even. “I’ve heard you’re already very good at your job, though.”Suddenly, Chopper stops, chair included, and stares at you with wide eyes. Then, slowly, he smiles and closes his eyes, waving you off. While he calls you a jerk for thinking you could flatter him, you wander around, standing on your tippy toes to look at all the stuff on his desk.“What’s this?” You prod at a jar with leaves inside, watching it teeter dangerously. At this, Chopper almost falls off his chair in his hurry to steady it, gasping.“They’re leaves for a balm! I use them to- wait, don’t do that!” You leap onto the desk, rubbing your furry chin as you survey the shelf above his desk. Calling your name, Chopper yells, “Please, get down from there! They’re delicate!”“Okay,” And, just like that, you focus your attention elsewhere, still scratching your chin. Chopper, alert and ready to protect his salves and medications, trails after you. You stop before his cut-out of Doctor Kureha and other newspaper clippings, narrowing your eyes. He settles once again when he realizes that you’re not going to be like Luffy and wreck everything. In fact, though you’re overly curious and blunt, you follow his orders to the letter. It's refreshing, if not a little strange, considering how social Minks are with each other. He was not expecting to meet someone from the tribe so serious.After a while of you going through all the newspaper snippets, he finds himself asking you, “Do you have a dream?”“I’m not sure. Not yet.” You say simply, turning away from the images of Doctor Kureha. “I wasn’t sure before that hairless mink, Jack, attacked us, and I’m not sure, now.” Pausing, you consider your next words, your nose twitching as you look to the ceiling, “I guess I just want to stop Kaido from hurting my people.”Chopper thinks back to what Wanda mentioned about you and your family. How you’d lost a few relatives to the poison gas a mere day before they’d all arrived. She'd said that, due to their speed and smaller size, the red pandas moved and fought as a single unit, which made them formidable foes. They were their own backup if anything ever went wrong.The fighting had taken a lot out of your family, though. Chopper thinks back to the grief in Wanda's eyes as she recalled what happened to your fellow minks. Already weakened by the fight, many of your brothers, sisters, and elders, when caught in a gust of poison gas, succumbed to the chemical. Chopper found you tending to their bodies shortly after, face devoid of emotion.It broke his heart to see it.Still, he tries to remain cheery. You'd already expressed your dislike for pity, and he didn't want to put you off. It feels... wrong, though. He'd seen the weight pressing your shoulders down when you thought no one was looking. Were you really doing as well as you claimed you were? When Pedro found you on their ship, he'd yelled at you for a while, and, though quieter, you'd argued back just as fiercely, eyes bright and angry. The anger receded the moment Pedro relented. Something fell over your eyes seconds later, hiding your pain. Internally, Chopper sighs sadly, worried about you.It's one of the reasons he'd been overjoyed to show you his office when you'd wandered in here. The reindeer pats you on the back with a hoof, putting on an encouraging smile for your sake, “You’ll figure it out! I’m sure of it!”You give a small nod, “I will.” Suddenly, you meet his eye again, and Chopper blinks, a little unsure. “Will you teach me about medicine?”At the prospect of having his very own apprentice, Chopper brightens dramatically, almost vibrating in his spot. He ushers you towards the centre of the room, grabbing books and diagrams. The doctor deposits them on the floor, where you sit, cross-legged with your tail wrapped around you, and starts teaching you.You’re an attentive student, nodding along and asking questions that Chopper is delighted to answer. He laughs at some of your comments, much to your confusion. What you think are honest observations about humans are hilarious jokes to him. It’s not your fault hairless minks are weird.“I’m sure you’ve had it happen, too!” Chopper says to your opinion on hairless minks and their shaving. Why get rid of the little fur they could grow? Don’t they get cold? How do they regulate their temperatures? “It’s easier to tend to an injury without hair in the way.”Your ears droop slightly. That is true. For trickier injuries, the fur definitely needs to go.If he wasn’t looking straight at you, Chopper might have missed what he can confidently claim is a pout. However, as Wanda also said the red panda Minks tended to do, you bounce back quickly, a comeback on your tongue.“We grow it back, though. You said that they do it for non-medical reasons.”Chopper giggles again, thoroughly amused by your confusion.The lessons go on for a while. Your questions become more and more intricate as time passes, and you even delve into textbook passages. None of the information in them is like what minks learn, but it’s interesting. Humans and minks truly aren’t that different.“Mum would’ve liked these.” Chopper glances up from his own book. Your attention remains on your reading, but you do send him a small smile, pausing briefly. “She was good with this stuff. Would’ve liked you, too.”With nothing to really say, Chopper mirrors your expression. Though you hide it well, he can see the deep sadness you carry in the smaller gestures. Your eyes droop, your shoulders sag, and your tail is a tight curl around your legs. He wishes he could say something to help, but sometimes, the only way to heal a wound is to let it be.Instead, he places a hoof on the page your eyes are digging holes into and asks, “Do you like cotton candy?”(x)When Sanji walks into the kitchen to make lunch, he finds a mess.Were it not for the pink clouds absolutely everywhere, he would’ve assumed it was Luffy ransacking his domain again, but no. Instead, he finds Chopper and you, his newest friend, chomping on cotton candy. Well, that was until he walked in, and you both paused with handfuls of the sweet centimetres from your mouths.Chopper grins sheepishly as your eyes dart from him to the ship’s doctor, looking a little put-off.Thankfully, after a lengthy conversation with Pedro, he knows about your situation. Sanji sighs through his nose, pulls out another cigarette and his lighter, and puffs away.The small reindeer, reassured by the cook’s lack of anger, urges you to eat again as Sanji gets to work. He grabs some more candy for you to share and sparks a conversation with you, surprised when you and Chopper say the same thing at the same time on occasion. Your mannerisms when eating are also eerily similar.“This is the only time I’m letting this go.” He warns Chopper half-heartedly, pointing a finger at him. His smile betrays he true feelings.You and Chopper beam at each other.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You and Jinbei check on the frightened mermaids, who urge you both to secure Camie despite their own distress. Camie, having been nowhere near the attack or even the following battle, is somewhat outraged by this. Still, she’s quick to forgive when the other mermaids show their relief, and they all come together to support each other.It’s quite the sight to you, considering your many years of travelling alone, and you edge away from the affectionate circle. Jimbei appears at your side just as you take your fourth step back, smiling down at them. His eyes find yours the moment you’re still, and you the need to drop your gaze out of embarrassment is overwhelming. You’re still not sure how to even… behave around him right now.You’re too shy to try hugging him again, too. The moments after the display had been quiet, but then the mermaids had started squealing, and you’d jumped three feet away from Jimbei.Not your smoothest moment, you’ll admit.But now? Now it’s all over. The mermaids are as chipper as they were before Caribou showed up, and they’re chatting away, tails flicking water and joy in their hearts. You sit with Jimbei in the sidelines, still observing the scene and quietly reflecting.“You haven’t changed, Urchin.” He says suddenly, breaking the silence that hung over you. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The Fish-man is smiling widely as he faces forward. His actions bring back memories of days spent sitting together after long, difficult conversations. Your hands burrow into your pockets, much like they did when you were young, and you bow your head.“You might have changed a little bit.” You murmur, taking advantage of your reflections to absorb everything new about this version of Jimbei. Something in your heart is telling you to commit this day to memory. You’re not sure why.Jimbei cackles loudly at that, hand finding his belly. “Time will do that to you, Urchin.” He scratches at the skin there, looking thoughtful, “Now that we’re on that topic… what took you so long to come here?”It’s your turn to grin, though yours is rueful, and falls quickly. “I don’t know.”When you finish speaking, his reflection’s eyes snap to yours. He raises a suspicious eyebrow, much like when you used to lie to him in the past, only this time he doesn’t probe further. Probably knows not to. Even now, he knows when to wait for you to spill.And you want to. You really do. You just don’t want to take away the only family you’ve ever had. Family you’ve just found, too.“Well, you sure looked busy.” He adds, serious now.You finally raise your chin, wondering what he could be talking about. Jimbei reaches into his kimono and, shaking his head, pulls out a newspaper. Slapped on the front page is your face, or what anyone could see of it, and a bold headline.‘Bounty Hunter Gone Rouge,’ it reads, with another sentence etched in bold beneath it. ‘Attacks Peaceful Gathering of Nobles.’Ten seconds later and it dawns on you that they’re talking about your antics at the slave auction. Wow. They really took whatever story they could and ran with it, didn’t they? Of course, without even needing to read it, you already know that there’s no mention of the mermaids, the slaves, or anything illegal these nobles were there to do.“I’m not usually that careless, you know.” You argue before he can scold you further, knowing where this conversation is headed. “If it’s taken you this long to hear about me in the news, it’s for a reason.”“I know,” Your companion says, staring down at the newspaper pensively, “But this… this could’ve been the end for you, Urchin. Madam Shyarly told me what happened.” Of course, she did. You’re not mad at her for it. Or at her for telling him you were here. You should’ve expected the news of a former Sun Pirate to reach any of the remaining members. From what you gathered, most of them either returned to Fish-man Island, or became pirates themselves.Briefly, you recall Arlong’s face appearing on the paper, and it was not pretty. Whatever was keeping him from attacking humans, whether that be Fisher or his own qualms, was all gone, now. You’d have done something about him – tried to, actually – but some crew beat you to it.“Will you continue your journey, wherever that may be leading you?” He asks after you pause for too long, and you feel your shoulders droop at the thought. You’d only been here a few days, and you were still mighty anxious about the idea of staying, but… it’s been soothing. Fisher would disapprove of you staying, though. How could you, a human, stay in such a place? You don’t belong here.“I was… giving the idea of staying some thought.” You admit regardless, ignoring how your heart rate continues to spike. “Madam Shyarly offered me a job of sorts.”“To protect them, I presume?” Jimbei guesses, motioning to the mermaids, and you nod. “It’d suit you. You’re a tough fighter. Stubborn, too.” That makes you chortle a little, and you shake your head, gathering the courage to finally stop speaking to his reflection. It’s getting harder to see him with how much the mermaids are moving, anyway.When you turn to him, you falter for only a moment, “I think- I think I’d like to stay.”At this, Jimbei hums, and you feel like he’s taking you apart. You wonder if your fears and doubts are that obvious to everyone or if you’re just being paranoid.“You’d be more than welcome here, Urchin.” He says to you, a big smile on his face.You wish you were so easy to convince.Still, you mirror his expression as best you can, even though he’ll probably see right through your act. It’s not easy to fool a man like Jimbei.“We should head back,” You announce, burying your qualms under whatever you can. This time, it happens to be the mermaids’ safety. This you could handle. Talking about your feelings? That would have to wait a little bit longer. Maybe when you’re alone, you’ll sit down with Jimbei and have a drink or two.Maybe.(x)Upon your return to the more civilized parts of the island, the mermaids all return to the dormitories in Mermaid Cove. They invite you along, and you agree, reasoning that you might as well learn where they live in case of an emergency. It’s funny how quickly your mind has accepted Madam Shyarly’s offer. And yet, you’re still troubled. “You could probably find a room here, too!” Camie says as you make it past the gate to the dorm. “Though, they’d have to make some changes since the rooms are for mermaids.”“It’s a good idea,” Hiramera adds, “Since Camie seems to get in trouble so often.”“Hey!”Strange how often they brought it up. Then again… they did say her kidnappings happen weekly…Jimbei chuckles at their antics. He said he wanted to talk to you some more before he left, so you hopped on his back and let him transport you to Mermaid Cove. Having him do this is still as embarrassing as letting a mermaid help you, but you don’t voice that.“I think there’s a spare room at the end of our hallway…” Mero comments softly, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Her head swivels towards you as she smiles cutely, “You could stay there! You’d be my neighbour!”“Aw, but that room doesn’t have a cool view like ours!” Lulis protests, catching up to Jimbei and pointing at you, “You’d be missing out!”“Yeah, but how would that work? No air, remember?”“Oh yeah… You’d have to wear those bubbles…”“The café might be the best option, in the end,” Jimbei says with an amused smile, and the mermaids, though disappointed, agree. No one might have asked for your opinion, but you think that’d be for the better, too. These bubbles aren’t all that fun to wear. They make you feel weird after a while.Ah, well.After dropping off the mermaids, you bid them farewell, and they excitedly wave you and Jimbei off. The jewelry you made for them twinkles in the light, seashells shining brightly.Finally, it’s just you and Jimbei.“How is everyone?” You ask quietly as he swims, your voice barely above a whisper.“Most of us are still Sun Pirates,” Your friend replies, wistful. “Aladine is the captain, now.”“Aladine?” You’re shocked to hear this. The doctor didn’t seem too interested in being anything other than the ship’s doctor back then. “Good for him. I’m sure they’re doing well for themselves if that’s the case.”“Indeed,” Jimbei finds a raised portion of land and dives towards it, touching down shortly after. You hop off his back, wondering why he chose this place. It’s far from, well, everything, which… reminds of you of the times you needed to vent when you were younger. He’d cajole you into the corners furthest from the crew, gruff and stern, and tell you to spill your guts then and there. Whether you wanted to or not didn’t matter.He really hasn’t changed that much, has he? Always making you say what was on your mind before it could fester and cause you too much grief. Even so, you keep up the charade, refusing to give that easily even after all these years. “And what exactly are we doing here?”In that moment, you see where you’ve made your error. Because Jimbei has changed. He’s much more honest about what he’s feeling now, unlike back then. With the Sun Pirates, he’d had his reservations about showing too much emotion. Perhaps he’d sworn to support Fisher Tiger in any way possible, keeping his feelings under check to ensure he’d accomplish his mission.Now? Now, you see the way his demeanour shifts much more clearly. There’s no angry frown. No gruff orders. Just a small, sad smile that makes your brow furrow in confusion. Jimbei sits down, clouds of dust rising from where he’d disturbed the earth.Off to the side, you watch him, awkward and unsure. After a few minutes of silence, you brave a few steps towards him and settle down at his side. He stares ahead, like before, into the horizon and far beyond your eyes can see. You don’t know this terrain or land. Your eyes are not adjusted. But you also can never quite figure out what kinds of things he sees when he contemplates his words like this.“Urchin, do you remember when you fell asleep on the deck that one night?”And so, the same song and dance pick up from where it left off all that time ago.“No, not really,” You answer truthfully. Like much of the crew, your nights were plagued with nightmares and a restlessness that unsettled you to your core. You’d watch the corners of the room, listening to the noise that came with sharing a space with so many people. Snoring, sighing, heavy breathing, the odd mumble...“I fell asleep in a lot of places.” You add, earning a quiet chuckle from Jimbei. That part was also true. You had taken naps in places where sleeping was a bit of a risk. On the odd day, when you catch a whiff of gunpowder, you’re transported back to your nap in the room where the crew kept explosives. The lecture you received from the crew had been brutal. Fisher simply scowled, letting his men do the talk for him, but he’d said enough.“It was a few days after your fourteenth birthday.”Oh. That one.“Yes, that one.”You raise an eyebrow at him, loosely crossing your arms over your chest as you harrumphed. “That one.”Jimbei is undeterred by your grumpiness. “I know, Urchin. You were the one who wanted to drink, though.”“I was a teenager pretending to be a stuck-up know-it-all,” You sighed, shaking your head. You do not recall most of the event, which says more than enough about that night. “I still want to know who thought to give me that whiskey.”“And what if I said Fisher Tiger was the one to suggest the idea?” He counters, almost cheeky. You blink several times, slowly, for a good ten seconds. Jimbei’s broad smile merely grows.“Then I’d say you’re full of shit.” Tucking your feet under your legs, you shake your head in disbelief. Fisher Tiger letting you drink? Letting you make a decision for yourself without vetoing it? You can see it happening, but only because you had been whiny about not consuming alcohol. He’d fight you for a while, but then relent when it would inevitably go nowhere. Then he’d say something like, ‘You want to drink? Fine. See what happens.’It’d be another lesson. Another lecture. Another disappointment.Once again, Jimbei releases a bark of laughter, throwing his head back. However, instead of a joke or another silly comment, he replies with something else entirely, “You know I wouldn’t lie to you, Urchin.” It puts an end to the train of thought about Fisher and his reign over your every move. When you weren’t doing work, he was there, telling you to get back to it. It didn’t matter if you’d been at it for more than three hours.Any other fool might have compared it to your years as a slave, but nothing would ever beat that torture. No fight, no peril, nothing. What Fisher Tiger did… he did for his own reasons, you suppose. He wasn’t soft or gentle like Jimbei, not with you or with anyone, but there was a bite to his speech when he talked to you that he reserved for no one else.“So, I’m supposed to believe that Fisher let me drink?” You demand, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Did… are we talking about the same person, here? Did Fisher have a twin that I just always happened to run into? One with a stick up his ass?”“No,” There’s another entertained rumble in his chest. Jimbei raises his hands, placating you, “No, no twin.”“Then…?”Jimbei shrugs. “He never told me why. Only told me to let you do what you wanted.”More mystery.You scoff, feeling a pang of grief stab your chest. It’s always the same. Someone will say something about Fisher, you’ll ask why, and they won’t have an answer. Not even Jimbei, who was one of the people that Fisher truly trusted with his life.“And then I fell asleep on the deck.”“Well,” The old fish-man rubs his chin thoughtfully. “More like you whacked your head on a mast. Then you hit the floor and fell asleep.”“Fuck,” You murmur, covering your eyes with a hand and lowering your head. “Are you kidding me, right now…” That last part was meant for your ears only, but it still reached your companion.“Hatchan and Koala thought you died.” Oh. Koala. You hadn’t thought about her in a decade. If you recall correctly, she left a few weeks after that birthday. She and-At your sudden silence, Jimbei tentatively rests a comforting hand on your knee, providing his support. You both know what happened those few weeks.“I still don’t believe you.” Your voice is gruff when you say this, eyes moist with unshed tears that will and must remain unshed. Internally, you berate yourself for- for everything. Everything and nothing and whatever will come next because you… you just… “Fisher… he wouldn’t…”“He picked out that necklace around your neck, too.” Jimbei carries on when you falter, and once again, you’re speechless.This time, you recover much more quickly, gaze finding his at the speed of light. Instead of expressing more disbelief, you take a defensive stance, glaring at him.“Why are you telling me these things?” You whisper, facing him fully. “And why tell me now? Why- why couldn’t you do this sooner?” There’s a shakiness in your voice that becomes more apparent with each word that leaves your mouth. Your hands, which you clench into two tight fists, tremble. “Why now, Sir Jimbei?”Your anger sobers him up. Jimbei’s joy simmers down, and you take in the sight of his tremulous sigh and remorseful stare. “Call it whatever you want, Urchin. Cowardice or blind loyalty.” A coward? Jimbei? “He didn’t want me to tell you. And I, perhaps foolishly, thought that, eventually he could look past everything and see you for who you are. Not for what you are.”“What I am.”The day Fisher died was a truly devastating one.You were there when the people of Koala’s hometown turned their backs on Fisher Tiger’s kindness. When they betrayed the little trust he could’ve had in them. When the crew lugged him back onto that Marine battleship and took off, you’d all gathered around him.And, there, in his last moments and with his dying breath, he denied salvation.There, he revealed his past, and what should’ve brought you a deeper sense of connection brought you immeasurable pain.“He didn’t want me there.” You whisper, inhaling and exhaling shakily. “You remember that. He was on that table, bleeding to death, and he didn’t want me there.”“But you stayed. I hope you remember that.” Jimbei says carefully. Your emotions begin to pile up, one on top of the other, and, making one last attempt at staying composed, you screw your eyes shut.“I just wanted him to… accept me.” To merely acknowledge your existence. He broke your chains and showed you freedom, yes, but was a simple glance – one not corrupted by his hatred – too much to ask for? Was a chance to repay him for this debt too much?“You were and you are a Sun Pirate, Urchin.” Sensing your distress, Jimbei brings you closer to him, his arm enveloping your frame. He can see that younger version of you now, so small and frail, with only a few needs: comfort, care, and a home. “And you always will be. You became one of us the moment Fisher gave you our mark.” You rest your weight against his body, dejected and hurting. Jimbei, unsure of what else to say, rubs your arm soothingly, staring up into the island’s version of the sky. You both sit in silence for a long time, mulling over this last hour of conversation. Eventually, you let out a drained sigh and straighten, letting Jimbei’s hand rest on your deltoid.“I followed in his footsteps, you know.” Jimbei hums, feeling pride swell in his chest. Yes, he knew what’d you'd been up to. You were subtle, and knew how to stay on the down low, but news of your endeavours reached the world and Fish Man Island. No one could see the tattoo on your back or speak of your past, but most fish-men had noticed the resemblance between you and Fisher.The resolve and determination in the few messages you did leave behind made it clear. He himself hadn’t known who it was attacking the auction houses, until he caught a glimpse of you in a picture. Whichever marine had snapped the photo failed to capture your face, but he knew. Deep in his heart, he knew who it was.This last mission of yours had unfortunately blown your cover, though. Even if you were to leave and keep freeing slaves, you’d be much more limited. He knew that the government – or, at least, some Marine bases, provided bounty hunters with resources. Now, without that support, he wonders how you’d pull it all off.“I could never do it like him, though,” That makes you smile. It’s a bittersweet thing that Jimbei hasn’t seen in a long time. “He was… he was so much more. So bold. So brave. I could only hope to mimic him, I think.” That first time you set slaves free, with the fire? You couldn’t have been more on the nose if you tried.Jimbei lets you talk, listening intently.“But… I think that’s okay.” You place a hand over your sternum, where Fisher Tiger’s gift rests. “I think… I’m okay.” For now, at least. There was much to think about, but… if what Jimbei has told you is true, then… somewhere in his soul, Fisher found it in him to… love you in his own way.With renewed confidence, you separate yourself from Jimbei and stare into his eyes. The fish-man gazes back, a bit surprised by the spark in your eye.“I’m staying.”(x)“You can’t do this to me! I’m a paying customer!”You roll your eyes, listening to the drunken chatter of the man as you haul him outside. He complains and whines, reaching for furniture and gripping doorways, but finally, you remove him from the premises. Some of the mermaids that see this giggle and, Mero, who the man had been harassing, blows you a kiss.You hide the lower half of your face under your collar after that one, which leads to a chorus of cheers from the girls. They prod Mero and point at you, brainstorming yet another way to make your face turn forty shades of red.“I wonder why you let them do that…” Madam Shyarly comments idly as you re-enter her establishment. You almost flush again under her teasing stare, shaking your head.“It makes them happy, I guess.” You mumble, the mermaids getting back to work at the sight of their boss. They smile and wave as you pass, much to your embarrassment. You’re probably redder than the crabs you’ve seen around here. “Keeps morale up.”“Morale,” Madam Shyarly chuckles at your use of the word. “So sweet. Keep it up, Little Urchin.”Resigned to the constant teasing, you only nod firmly and turn away from her, shy. It’s now that Mero comes up to you, and you freeze, on guard.“Don’t worry,” She begins, giggling happily, “I’m not up to anything, I promise. I just wanted to thank you for helping me.”“Just doing my job, Mero.” You say your usual reply, one that disheartened some of the mermaids in the beginning. Now, used to your knack for silence, they merely smile and double down on their efforts to get you to loosen up. Mero, being no different, floats closer to you and gives you a big hug. She squeezes you briefly, waiting for you to reciprocate before releasing you. “Just keep sending them my way. I’ll make sure you all stay safe.”“We know.” Her gentleness returns, and she tidies up your hair, her delicate hands landing on your shoulders right after. “You always do.”You stay there, waiting for her to leave as she normally does, but she doesn’t. The longer she smiles at you, the hotter your face becomes, and you duck your head. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you nod, stepping away from her. Your desperate efforts to come off as polite and not offend causes her to laugh some more, and soon, she takes off.“Yo, Urchin!”That nickname had found its way to everyone, hadn’t it?Rubbing your face, you turn to the speaker, who turns out to be Pappag. Even though you’d just met him today, he’d caught on to the nickname people had for you and taken a liking to it, as well. Camie’s friend waves at you, yelling, “Camie says you’ve got mail!”Camie? Shouldn’t she be working at her other job today?Eyebrows rising, you think about who might be sending you of all people letters, making your way to the back. Mermaids float past you, all greeting you in their own way, and you return each gesture with a respectful bow of the head. Eventually, you make it to the break room, where Camie and Lulis are sorting through envelopes and other papers.“Hey, you!” Camie greets you first, grabbing a letter and presenting it to you. When you take it and search for a name, she grins, clarifying for you, “It’s from Jimbei!”“How do you know?” You ask, far more curious now.“Madam Shyarly told us to keep an eye out for a letter from him. Said that it’d be for you.” She explains, grabbing a stack of said papers and putting them aside. Fan mail was no joke in this town, that’s for sure. You wonder how the mermaids keep up with it all.Sitting down at the long table, you cut the envelope open with one of your knives. Camie and Lulis chat about customers and their plans for later. From what you can hear, the mermaids are thinking of having a little party. You were invited shortly after the idea came to be and, despite your reservations and general dislike towards such big events, you accepted.Anything to see them smile, really. You’d become very fond of the mermaids in the time you’ve known them.When you unfold the paper inside the envelope, your eyes immediately find a picture. In the corner of your eye, you think you see Camie go to the fridge. You don’t pay much attention to your surroundings, though, because in front of you are the Sun Pirates.Or, well, the new and old crew all together. Including Jimbei, Aladine, and the other fish-men that travelled with you during your youth. Your finger brushes each familiar face, eyebrows pinched and jaw slack. In the corner of the picture, you read: Let’s meet again soon, Little Urchin!So. That's what happened to them, huh?Jimbei had written the letter, that much you could tell. His familiar scrawl is one you can recognize even now. Hour after hour of teaching you how to read and write had etched his penmanship into your brain. It brings you comfort, much like one of his bear hugs would, and you barely manage to bite back a delighted smile.
Urchin,
I hope this letter finds you. Again, please forgive me for leaving you so soon. I have some urgent business to attend to.
Guess who I ran into along the way?
Our friends were overjoyed to hear about you. They’ve missed you, Urchin. Aladine says he wants to see you again as soon as possible.
I’m not with the crew anymore, as you know, but that’s never kept me from them, and it should not discourage you, either.
When you’re out there, Urchin, keep your eyes and ears open. Listen for the wind, and don’t be afraid to welcome the sun.
Your friend,
Jimbei
You’re stunned, eyes wider than platters as you re-read the letter over and over. The paper trembles, and soon, it all becomes a blurry mess. Your mind works overtime, desperate to associate every face you know with a memory. You didn’t realize you’d begun to forget what they looked like until now. Even Aladine, who tended to your wounds whenever you tripped up. You’d spent many days in his infirmary, recovering and listening to him go on and on about your recklessness. How did you ever manage to forget?“And this… is from Hatchan.” You look up, surprised to find that Camie and Lulis stuck around, then realize that the rest of the mermaids and Madam Shyarly are all here. Looking at Camie, your eyes trail down her arms until they land on a plate with Takoyaki on it. Her words take a second to register, but when they do, you release a watery chuckle.“Hatchan?” You ask. Now that you think about it, he hadn’t been in the picture with the others, so that can only mean one thing. “He finally achieved his dream?” Maybe you should’ve seen this one coming. Takoyaki? That has Hatchan smeared all over it.“You betcha!” She grins, bobbing her head in confirmation. She lowers herself until her elbows are on the table, her long, pink tail swaying behind her. “He’s got his own stand, too, and he’s waiting for you to come visit him!”The thought of seeing him again almost breaks the dam, but you hold fast, refusing to break.“Right,” You breathe. The mermaids come closer when you wipe your eyes, cooing at you softly. Hands smooth back your hair and brush away your tears, warm and gentle. At some point, Lulis bulldozes past everyone and hugs you tightly, shushing you while telling you to let it all out, but shushing you again when you try to speak. You can’t help but snicker, even though her friends are less enthused by her methods. “We’ll go see him soon, don’t worry!” Camie assures you over Lulis’s head, giving her a look when she starts batting people away. So as to avoid a bickering match, you pry Lulis off you, accepting the affection from the other mermaids. Hiramera flicks your nose after making it look like she’s going to hug you. Before she can pull away, though, you do what she didn’t and embrace her. She freezes up, arms sticking out by her sides. The reactions of those around you are a chorus of “awww’s” and other adoring noises.“Thank you for this.” You direct this to Madam Shyarly, who also strokes your head with her much bigger hand. Her painted lips stretch into a smile that you can simply describe as motherly, her thumb stroking your cheek.“It was the least I could do after what you’ve done for us,” She says, waiting until you nod your understanding to pull away. Satisfied, she speaks to the mermaids, “A few more minutes and then we all get back to work, girls. We can throw an actual party when we’re done for the day.”All of the mermaids cheer, surrounding you once more. Camie shoves the Takoyaki in your face, yelling above the noise for you to eat it. You do, savouring the rich flavour, and, for once in the time you’ve been in the island, freely tell them about your past.Always happy to do as Madam Shyarly says, though, they return to work soon enough, leaving you with the letter and what remains of Hatchan’s gift. While you wait for the upcoming party, you stare out a nearby window, watching the sunset paint the sky a flurry of beautiful colours.
Don’t be afraid to welcome the sun.
“Because no matter how much time passes between now and the next time you see it, just remember that it will always be there. It will never disappear. And to see it ascend once more is reason enough to fight. Remember that.”
Your fingers find your necklace. They grip the seashell with renewed strength.“Let the sun rise.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
"It’s nice, isn’t it?"You startle, your heart skipping in your chest. Tightly, you grip the wooden railing beneath you, neck craning to find the owner of the voice. It’s one you’ve heard before—not often, not with how you’ve kept to yourself the last few weeks—but it still takes a second to identify the man when you do locate him. The scar running along the length of his cheek and temple jogs your memory, and you bow your head."Hello, Thatch." You greet him politely, looking up to watch him closely. A breeze tousles your hair, and you glance at the furled sails, wondering when they’d resume their journey. The navigators on this ship have been making peculiar decisions lately. What’s more interesting, however, is how Thatch’s strange updo doesn’t budge at all. Not even the hair sticking out on the back of his neck moves. You suppose the tidbits you’d heard about his hairstyling are true. "What can I do for you?"The man lifts himself onto the tall structure you’re on, settling beside you at a respectable distance. Unlike you, though, he doesn’t face the ocean. Thatch smooths out invisible flaws on the white wood before eying you with that grin of his. You've noticed that it never disappears for long. The crow's feet framing his eyes are a testament to that. There are some lines around his lips, too, but those are only visible up close. At your continued staring, his eyebrows rise, and your gaze flicks to the three wrinkles on his forehead, then to his goatee. He’s not ugly.He doesn’t draw as much attention, especially when he’s around the other commanders, but he makes up for that with his charm. Other than that, he’s almost like any other regular man, even though you’re sure he’d tell you he is anything but that.Your eyes find the horizon once again, determined to stay there.Meanwhile, Thatch sighs contentedly. "Nothing, really. Just wondering what one of my newest recruits is up to." He responds, crossing his legs at the ankle. Something you’ve noticed about him is how powerful his voice is. Even when he talks at a normal volume, it cuts right through the fog in your brain. The noise in between your ears fades, and the thing that howls at you every day drowns under a wave of calm.Like many things, though, it’s never enough. Like many days, you sit and contemplate your next move and, more urgently, whether it’s worth the effort."I’m thinking," You answer his unspoken question as the water shifts under your eyes. The ocean is silent tonight—silent and soothing—and you wish it brought you the peace others rave about. For half the crew, all land is dangerous and, strangely, unpredictable. There is nothing there for them."And what, dare I ask, is running through that mind of yours?" He edges closer to you, trying to catch your eye with a grin that screams devilry. Underneath, however, you sense his genuine concern. You may not have been here long, but what you have seen of Thatch is undeniably true. He’s as open and free as the sea, and in him, you’ve found a well of kindness that seems to have no bottom.But the sea has its secrets. And in a world like yours, where there is more water than land, there are a lot of secrets to exhume.You have yet to answer him, and part of you doesn’t want to. The moment has passed. Stubbornly, you continue to stare down the sea, the mother of all sailors, and feel your sorrow stir. Prickles of pain begin to eat at the flesh of your palms. There’s a spark of anger in your chest when the wood refuses to bend, just like everything else. Just like your mind. Your breathing changes almost imperceptibly. "Nothing worth discussing." You answer stiffly, surprising him by looking at him without an ounce of hesitation. He blinks at you, his upper body still tilted towards you. It is now that you notice his hand, which is a few inches from your thigh, and you give it a lingering, meaningful glance.He takes his hand away. Despite it all, neither your tone nor your pointed look dampened his mood. Sitting up, he sighs quietly before hopping off. You watch him from the corner of your eye, curious to see what he’s up to.And up he comes a second time, this time facing the same direction as you.Your shoulders slump."I’ve got time." Mildly annoyed, you gaze off to the side, working your jaw. Why he might be doing this—and why he’s talking to you of all people—is something you don’t care to figure out. You don’t have the energy for it.
Do it.
You don’t speak for a long time, waiting for him to grow tired of you and leave, like so many are wont to do. The longer he lingers, though, the more your resolve cracks, and the more inclined you are to tell him.But you can’t. You never can. This sort of thing follows the same path. You’ll get off to a good start, and then you’ll lose your train of thought. After that, you wave goodbye to the ability to speak properly, which means you’ll confuse him, and yourself, and you’ll have embarrassed yourself for the nth time.And then, after all is said and done and you've successfully assured him that you’re fine, you’ll have nothing. You’ll feel stupid for even trying, and the moment you’re alone again, you’ll cry.
Do it.
You watch the water."I’m thinking…" Weakly, you start, enunciating each word as your brain scrambles to form coherent sentences. Words pile on top of each other, floundering about like fish out of water. Every time you move to grab one, it slips from your grasp, and you can never catch it no matter how hard you try. Alas, the fish finds its home in that endless pit in your head, where everything goes when you have to open up about this sort of thing, and never comes back. At that point, all you can do is stand still, look into the hole, and pose the question everyone always, always has: What?"...that the ocean looks like an abyss." You finish your sentence, struggling to sound like an adult. Correction, the adult you are supposed to be. Thatch hums, lips pursed in thought as he nods not just with his head but with his body. It’s a funny sight that brings you a modicum of ease. Humming a shorter note, he responds, "That’s true, yeah. Especially at this time of day." Gesturing to the topic of the conversation, he inquires, "And what about this abyss has you thinking so hard? I could see your frown from the other side of the deck, you know!"The joke goes over your head, not because you didn’t understand it, but because you don’t want to lose momentum. "I’m…" Here it goes. You’re going to say it, and he’s going to give you a look. You know he will. "I’m thinking of… going into it." Thatch sits with that for a bit. He’d been eying you closely, but now that you've dropped that on him, he turns to the water to mull it over. "This abyss." He says it plainly, losing some of his cheer. Ashamed, you bite the inside of your cheek. "Yes." "I see," he remarks, not one ounce of anger or shock. Chancing a glance in his direction, you find his brow creased and his smile gone. Like your stare just a few minutes ago, his is distant and contemplative. After another beat, he asks, "You know what would happen if you did jump into this abyss?"Deflating at his use of that word, you exhale shakily. Your eyes fill with tears. "...Yes."To your confusion, Thatch’s smile returns slowly: "Do you, really? Be honest with me."Puzzled, you lift your hands to gesture to the ocean in frustration. "If I were to jump into the abyss, Thatch, I’d d- ""Ah!" The man cuts you off loudly, pointing a finger at you. Agape, your eyebrows furrow, and you lean away from him and the digit. There’s a pause, one where you and Thatch simply assess the other person, before he lowers his hand and tilts his head at you. "You really don’t know what would happen?"What is he on about? "Thatch, if I were to jump in the water-""If you were to jump in the water, you know what would happen?" Once more, he interrupts confidently, before jabbing his thumb at his chest, "I’d jump in after you.""What?" You heave, incredulous, as you stare at him with wide eyes. "I -""I’d jump in after you, I’d bring you onboard, and I’d drag you to the kitchen and cook you your favourite food." Firmly, he brings his hand down on the railing, clearly awaiting an argument and having none of it. His brown eyes bore into yours, eyebrows arched high. "Actually, you don’t even need to jump in the water for me to do that. Just tell me what it is, and we’ll go make it right now."The tears in your eyes almost spill as you turn your body towards him, bringing your left leg up to do so. "Thatch, I can’t.""Because you don’t think it’s worth the effort, right?" He gets to the point lightning-fast, going after arguments you hadn’t even thought of yet. "Because you know you’ll have fun and forget, and then the day will end and everything will come back. And then, what do you do?"You stutter, composure crumbling. At long last, the tears roll down your cheeks, but you ignore them. "I-I-"He reaches for you, prompting a flinch from you. His hand gently closes around your shoulder, warm and firm and reassuring. Thatch carries on, using his free hand to pat himself on the chest, "Then, you come to me. You come to me, not as your commander, but as your friend." Speechless, you stay still, becoming statuesque in your utter bewilderment. Your tears make the skin of your cheeks sting as they dry. Jaw slack, you gawk at the man, breathing coming out in short puffs as you become increasingly aware of his hand on you. He squeezes your shoulder, a bittersweet grin on his face."One more thing," He comes closer until all you can really see is him, and your breath hitches. Still completely frozen, you listen to him as he hammers it all home, "I don’t know what’s going through your mind, but you are on this ship for a reason. The world may have turned its back on you countless times, but we never will. If you’re with us, we’re with you. Okay?"You’re thankful he gave you something incredibly simple to respond to because you can’t even begin to unpack what he’s said right now. "Okay, Thatch." "Great." He pats your shoulder carefully, before putting some distance between you two. Your eyes stay glued to him as he vaults off the ship’s railing, amazed. Then, with that broad smirk that he normally sports, he says, "Now let’s go cook your favourite food, newbie."
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It’s easy to hate your job, sometimes. Normally, you can handle what the world throws at you. You’ve grown thick skin this last decade, and with your coworkers, it sometimes feels like nothing can stop you. Nurses, security, and even the volunteers that would come in once in a while; they’re what keep the hospital running, not you, and without them, you’d be a sore loser.But today? Today, not even your team can keep your mood from turning sour. Today, your job kind of stinks.One of your patients, who has been here for the better part of six months now, is the kindest soul you have ever met, and you had the joy of seeing him again. He was more lucid than he has been in a long time, and to see recognition at the sight of you light up his face almost brought you to tears. His family? His family is not so great. "His condition is worsening," you said to his wife, who looked at you like you were a stain on her kitchen floor. It’s a look you’ve received many a time, and one that hardly affects you anymore, but... "I highly recommend that he stays here so that we can continue to monitor him and, hopefully, help him heal.""He doesn’t need to. You saw him today." The woman sneered at you, her delicately manicured hand waving you off. You’re this close to smacking it out of your face, yet hold back for your patient’s sake. He’s in poor condition, and a screaming match between you and his partner would only upset him more. "He’s fine. He even said so himself." "Ma’am, he hasn’t been truly conscious in a long time. I’d rather we watch over him for a few more days before we make such decisions." In the end, it was her own husband who convinced her that he should remain at the hospital. It was a sad thing to watch. Barely a glance in his direction, while the other relatives sat there, refusing to take his side.Ninety-nine percent of cases you can deal with. This case falls under that one percent, where it becomes increasingly harder to remain professional and to keep your head high. And not because it looks like it is heading towards a bleak path, but because of the people that surround your patient. It makes you think of things that bring you down, like… how someone can treat another human being like this. Their own husband, no less.It’s maddening, but at least the man remains in your care. That’s all you wanted since his family showed up. "You’re too good to me," The old man says now that his family has left for the day. "I’m not sure I deserve this kindness.""Mr. Grotto," You begin gently, offering him your hand. He can only lift his so far before it trembles, and you cradle it in both of yours. Staring deep into his eyes, you say as earnestly as possible, "You absolutely are deserving of not just my care, but the care of every member of staff in this hospital. You are here to heal, sir. You are not a burden."The old man sends you a grin, one that washes away your anger for his family, and then looks over your shoulder. Following his gaze, you find another doctor looming over you. He too regards your patient with a soft, albeit much smaller, smile. At the sight of another person, your heart skips a beat, but you conceal your fright well. If it hadn’t been for Mr. Grotto, you’d have jumped ten feet in the air once you turned around."Dr. Trafalgar," you greet him, squeezing Mr. Grotto’s hand as you turn back to him, "Rest now, Mr. Grotto. I’ll be back in no time.""I will. Thank you, Doctor, and see you soon." Nodding, you brush your patient’s hair out of his face, frowning at how cold he feels. On your way out, you ask a nurse to bring him another blanket. Your companion is quiet as he guides you toward the break room."Didn’t think you’d be the one fetching me to take a break any time soon." You sigh as you sit down on one of the chairs, resting your elbows on the table in front of you. Law glances at you over his shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly. He says nothing as he places your usual drink in front of you, taking his own seat across yours."Can’t have one of the best doctors I know neglecting themselves," He shoots back, sipping his coffee and cringing when he realizes there’s not enough creamer in it. Huffing a quiet laugh, you watch as he pours a hefty amount into his mug, shaking your head. "That’s my line," You say just before downing half of your drink, eager to feel energized as soon as possible. Secretly, you preen at the praise, your spine straightening proudly. You’re not one for compliments—not really—but to have your work acknowledged by a professional as skilled as Law is a win. Sometimes, you wonder what you did to make someone like him want to sit with someone like you. "I don’t care." He replies, prompting a short laugh out of you. His gaze lingers on you briefly, and you raise your eyebrows, tilting your head. "How’s your day been so far?"You frown at the question, remembering Mr. Grotto’s family. "You saw what I’ve been dealing with, really." Law hums in understanding, letting you continue, "I mean, Mr. Grotto, he's—I don’t know. He improves and then worsens, and he is still declining even if he is lucid. I don’t know what else we can do for him. If his condition does plummet again, I’m not sure we’ll be able to save him."Knowing better than to interrupt, Law listens attentively. You recall those first few times you’d talk to him about work and feel your mood improving. It’d been so strange to have someone simply listen without giving any sort of confirmation that they’d heard you. Not only that, but it was frustrating too. but then you’d ask him for his opinion, and he’d give it to you, proving that he had been paying attention the whole time. It doesn’t bother you much anymore. Not now, anyway. And not when you’re too busy rambling to stop and quiz him on your anecdote."And his family. His family, Law. They’re… God, I’ve never seen a group of people so hungry for money. They’re like vultures waiting for something to die." And in his state, you’re not sure he’d make it if something did happen. It broke your heart."But he’s staying?" Your friend asks. "Yes, he’s staying. He somehow convinced his wife to give us a few more days." You heave a sigh that makes your shoulders heavy. "I don’t think he has long, Law." And you think he’s aware of that. You don’t say that part out loud, though. You’re sure Law knows, especially after seeing Mr. Grotto. What you just can’t shake is the effect his parting words had on you. See you soon. It was as though he knew. What could you do, though? He’s already on a series of medications, and any more would have adverse effects. If that is his fate, even after so much fighting against it, and he knows it, then the least you could do is make it painless when the time comes.If it happens. Maybe something else will. Who knows.After a few minutes of contemplative silence between you, you snap out of your musings and ask, "And how about you? What's your day been like today?""Better than yesterday," He replies, placing his empty mug on the table and clearing his throat, "Patient got to go home, today." Knowing the kinds of illnesses you both help people battle daily, discharging a patient is a huge accomplishment. You tell him as such. "That’s fucking amazing, Law." The language makes the corners of his lips rise. He nods, deep in thought as he stares at the table. Then, quietly, he murmurs, "It was the little boy."At your lack of a reply, he directs his gaze towards you, where he finds you staring at him in disbelief, jaw slack. His eyebrows twitch in the briefest display of confusion. It spurs you into action, and you reach for him, clasping his arm tightly."The one with Amber Lead Syndrome? That little boy?" Your whisper comes out hoarse, and he can see the shine in your eyes, which tells him you’re about to cry. He doesn’t slip his arm from your hold, needing the contact just as much as he needed to share the news. It’s why he found you in the first place. "Yes." Still, he keeps up the facade, refusing to crack at work. Maybe later, if he works up the courage to tell you what he’s been feeling. You’ve chipped away at every single one of his walls, after all. He might as well let you deal with the consequences of your actions.You use your free hand to cover your mouth, though it fails to hide your shock and overwhelming glee. Keeping your voice at a reasonable volume has never been so difficult. "Law. You sent him home." "I did." It feels strange to say it out loud, still. Law has had the thought running circles through his mind for the last hour."Your father was right?" Law pauses, finding it hard to swallow around the lump in his throat.Without his father’s tutelage and his undying belief that the disease could be cured, even on his deathbed, Law wouldn’t have been able to pull off what he has today. The idea that the majority of the lead could be flushed from the body was not his. Not by a long shot. If it hadn’t been for his father’s work, he’d have never healed the boy. He’d have never healed himself."Does, uh, Corazon know?" You ask, finally letting go of your face. "Not yet," he admits, unflinching as you nearly smack his forearm, prepared to admonish him for such a thing, "I wanted to tell you first." That gives you pause, his words smoothing the crease in your brow. For a moment, you watch him, trying to wrap your head around that. He maintains eye contact with ease, waiting for your brain to finish computing before responding. "Me. You wanted to tell me?" There you are. You tuck your arms closer to you. Law glances down, staring somewhat wistfully at the spot on his arm that is now cooling down. "Why?" He lifts his amber gaze, but not his head. You take it as his usual deadpan — the one that forces you to answer your own inquiries — and, as a result, keep talking. "Makes sense." Nodding, you let out an understanding breath, chuckling softly. "Makes sense." You'd been through the wringer together. If you had any good news to give, he'd be the first to receive them."Yeah." He says as he pulls out his phone. He thinks about texting Corazon the news, but knowing that the moment he does, he’ll receive a call, he skips that step entirely. You grin broadly when he lifts the device to his ear, miming the gesture of zipping your lips shut. Honestly, you don’t know whether to leave or not. You’re far enough that you won’t hear Corazon, a man who you’d never seen in real life, but maybe this is something Law would like to do privately.He hasn’t pointed at the door, though. Or told you to leave, as he so often does in emergencies. Many people are shocked when he bosses you around, especially since you’ve been here a whole three years longer than him, but you don’t mind. Sometimes you just can’t beat around the bush, and Law knows that. Seniority doesn’t mean anything to you, anyway, not when your priority is to help people. If you got mad every time someone undermined your expertise, you’d be yelling every week."Hey," He starts the call smoothly, meeting your eye once more. Though he says nothing, you can see that, one, he knows what you were considering, and two, the wordless request to stay.You do. Law’s mask of neutrality cracks, and shining through the gaps is an age-old annoyance that has you stifling a laugh. "Why do you sound muffled? Did you fall again, old man?" It’s now time for Law’s shoulders to droop hopelessly, and he rolls his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "Are you hurt?" After some mumbling from the other end, Law shakes his head, "I’ll take a look at it after work." There’s a very pointed "NO!" as Law carries on, undeterred, "I have to tell you something, Cora-san." That ramps up your excitement to a hundred again, and you fight to sit still, hands clenching into fists on the table.After a brief pause, Law opens his mouth again but is interrupted.
"Oh, I knew you could do it!"
You don’t mean to overhear, you really don’t, but this Corazon is yelling into the phone now. Confused, Law tries to reel him back in. "I haven’t even told you-"
"That’s because I already know! It’s that other doctor, isn’t it? The one you were talking about a few days ago? Again?"
That other doctor?Oh, forget that. Is Law panicking, or are your eyes malfunctioning? What is going on here?"Corazon, stop. Yelling. " Law snaps, covering his device with his other hand. He turns his body so that you can’t see it or his face anymore. Unfortunately for him, it does nothing to keep Corazon’s words from reaching you."Ah, wait, I can’t remember the name! You know, you’ve barely told me anything about them. You only ever talk about their work. It’s sad, Law. What happened to developing an actual personality? Anyway, uhh… Doctor… Doctor uhhh… Oh! I remember now! Doctor-" "Corazon!" This time, Law raises his voice and stands, his shout and the clatter of his chair hitting the floor echoing in the small room. All is quiet as the undeniable settles inside you all. That was your name. "They’re there right now, aren’t they?" Law takes a deep breath, trying to abate his anger as he looks at you so slowly that it looks painful. Lips rolling inward towards your teeth, you stare up at him, eyebrows arched high. "Yes, Corazon." "Ohh…" There’s a hiss as if the man had burned himself on the stove, "I messed up." "You think?" Okay, you can’t take this anymore. You’re two seconds away from pissing yourself laughing. "Tell him, Law."Remembering the purpose of his call, Law releases a sigh that makes you feel pity for him, and you tilt your head with a cautious smile. The anger leaves his body with it, and as he sits down again, he explains what’s actually happened: "I sent the boy home today." His enthusiasm is a little dulled but shines nonetheless. You hear a gasp on the other end, and Law preemptively distances himself from his device as Corazon yells. There are no words. Not many, anyway. He starts with a ‘yes’ that he never finishes, drawing out the one syllable until Law can’t help but chuckle. After a solid 10 seconds, Corazon starts showering Law with praise, all genuine and all watery as emotion takes hold. "I KNEW you could do it, Law! I knew it! I KNEW it!" It goes on and on. It was clear that both of them had been deeply invested in this case. And you know for a fact that Law has forgone sleep more than once for this child, which makes you wonder what exactly Corazon is feeling.If you were to ask Law, he’d probably say something like "too much enthusiasm," because a few moments after his initial exclamation, there’s an alarmed shout and rumbling."He fell," Law explains, not even waiting for you to ask.
"No, no, I didn’t fall! I’m okay!"
"I see," you reply.
"I DIDN’T fall!"
Ignoring him, Law adds, "I have to let you go, Cora-san. Ice whatever you have to ice. I’ll look at it later." "...fine." Corazon grumbles and, clearly determined to get the last laugh, adds, "Bring your date over while you’re at it, too." "They’re not-"
Beep.
Law grumbles as the call ends, cutting him and his protests off. It seems Corazon won this round, because Law places his phone down and, straight-faced, meets your eyes once more."So." You begin, the corners of your lips quirking. It brings you great joy when Law makes a face, shaking his head as he mumbles under his breath and drums his fingers on the table. Then, seeing his chair on the floor, he picks it up and sits down again. You don’t often see him at a loss. Not wanting to lose this opportunity, you wiggle your eyebrows and do a little shimmy. "Your date, huh…?""Ignore him," Law rushes to respond, doing so with the same surety he uses to speak to his patients. Despite this, and despite how convincing he can be, you can see the conflict in his eyes. "He’s senile." A laugh erupts from your chest, and you lean forward to grin widely at him. "Don’t be mean, you." You manage around the chuckles still escaping you. Then, much more subdued, you try to ease his worries, tilting your head to the side, "I’d love to meet him."Law scoffs. Your grin broadens. "There’s no need. He was just-" He stops, his body stiff as he stares at you. "I really would, Law." You murmur gently, hoping you haven’t read the situation wrong and that he does want to bring a date. "If you want me to?""Yes." He whispers. You pause, realizing just how intimate this feels and likely looks to an outsider, but find yourself disregarding that. If someone walks in… you’re not sure you’ll pull away. You’re not sure you’ll want to think of an excuse and smooth things over before any rumors find their way around. Well. Any more rumors.You’d heard of a few, and though some are a little much, they all held a bit of truth. "I’d call it a date, but I’m not sure meeting Corazon is something you want to call a date." You muse, then ask, "Wait, am I meeting your, uh, your father? Or...""Adoptive one, yes." He says, "And meeting him can wait."This time, it’s he that grabs your hand, squeezing it slowly. Meeting your eye, he says, "Let’s go out on our own, first." Your grin is the most radiant one he’s ever seen.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Marriage is a difficult thing. Being married to someone like your husband, who is rather unique, is even more complicated. Especially when you have children to worry about. He has a unique side hustle - one he makes a point to keep you out of, unique friends, and the most powerful smile you’ve ever seen in your life. You make it work, though. It all boils down to a demanding balancing act, but you manage. You’d always known it would come with a man who you’ve only ever known as Killer, who you’d lovingly nicknamed Kay out of necessity. The name Killer was fine and dandy when you were in college and he was doing his own thing. It became an issue when people outside of your circle began asking questions. How exactly do you explain Killer’s name to a stranger without scaring them off? For a while, you’d honestly tried, much to Killer’s amusement. He trusted you not to tell people what they didn’t need to know, which is why he let you struggle. One night, when you’d had a little too much to drink, you’d claimed that he was a beast on the dance floor. He didn’t let you go further than that. But, of course, Killer was not a dancer. Not by any means. He was graceful, that much you’d give him, but trying to get those limbs of his to groove was like trying to fit a turtle into a summer dress. Sure, you might succeed eventually, but you’d be torturing the poor animal. Oh, and the helmet. That striped thing had been a conversation starter back in the day. Now, with his past only popping up occasionally in the form of Eustass Kid and the other two musketeers, he didn’t wear it much. Which, if anyone were to ask you, is perfectly splendid. No one asks questions, you can admire your husband’s face all you want, and you can actually gauge his mood. And, on days like today, it’s truly one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. Out on the deck, you lean against the wooden railing as Kay and your boys approach their home. Having made it early from work, you fixed lunch and stuck it in the oven for an hour so you could enjoy this moment. Ahead of their father, the twins trotted towards you, already telling you about their day at school. Trailing behind, Killer lugs his and their backpacks with him effortlessly, his long blond hair cascading down his back. The sight of it brings a smile to your face. “Okay, okay,” You say to the two tiny menaces vying for your attention, “Inside. You can tell me all about your day when you’ve cleaned yourselves up.” Ruffling the hair on their heads – equally as golden as your husband’s - you usher them inside. They do as you say, tumbling over their own shoes in their attempts to make it to the bathroom first. “What a pair,” Shoulders sagging, you sigh, sending Killer a small smile. Upon setting eyes on his face, you spot a smear of oil on his cheek, and you scrunch your nose. Standing in front of you, he leans forward when you reach for him, trying to wipe it off. When that doesn’t work, you chuckle, following the line of his jaw with the tips of your fingers. Killer closes his eyes, setting one bag on the floor. With his now free hand, he presses his cheek into your palm. “Long day today,” He murmurs, feeling your inquisitive stare. You hum in understanding, reaching for the school bag he’d put on the floor. “You should also get inside, then.” You give his cheek a gentle pat, which urges him to move with a grunt, still holding onto your hand. Shuffling into the tight space that makes up your foyer, you relieve him of hanger duty and take the bags, leaving him to untie his work boots. He squeezes your calf as you walk past him, conveying his gratitude wordlessly. You reciprocate by setting your hand on his head as you ascend the few steps leading to the hallway. Up here, you can hear the twins joking and poking fun at each other. “DJ, Apollo,” You call just as they both run out of their rooms and into the hallway. They slide to a halt right in front of you, sporting identical smiles that still melt your heart to this day. Now that they’re still, you can see that DJ tried styling his hair in a way you’ve seen Killer pull off many times: the half-up half-down hairstyle, all topped with a bun. Maybe Killer helped him with it today because it doesn’t look as unruly as it did a few days ago. Apollo’s hair is much shorter, but he has the same bangs his father did in the past. They even fall in front of his eyes in the same manner. Chortling, you brush them back. He blinks his bright blue eyes several times before focusing on you again, cheeks rosy. They really are mirror images of Killer. You didn’t think your genes were weak, but man. It’s hard to find any traces of you in them. Not that you cared, really. They were both so handsome. Today, unlike their usual routine, they’re still wearing their school clothing. Normally, they’d already be wearing their pajamas, but... “You guys ready to go to that birthday party?” You ask them, cupping their faces. “We need to grab some more things, but we’re almost done!” DJ replies. Apollo nods vigorously. They’re both so excited you can practically see them vibrating in place. “Okay, nice.” You straighten, inhaling deeply to ward off an incoming yawn. “Let me know when you’re ready so we can go as quickly as possible. I’ll make you guys lunch in the meantime. Sound good?” “Yes!” They chorus. You dismiss them with a few kisses and a bear hug, making them giggle and squirm. And, with that, you head back downstairs to check on Killer again, trying to figure out what else you could make to accompany the roast. Away from the ruckus, you make a beeline for the living room, where you know that Killer will have settled down for now. Indeed, you find him sprawled out on the couch, head resting on the backrest. He’d tossed his hair behind him, letting it hang from the couch like a waterfall. You chuckle, dragging your weary feet towards him. Without opening his eyes, Killer lifts his right arm, welcoming you into a secure embrace against his chest. With his heartbeat in your ear, you rest your eyes, humming when he caresses your arm. His weathered palm rubs warmth into your skin, and you snuggle closer to him, hand on his stomach. You really hope the twins take as long as they normally do to get ready because you don’t want to move at all. The fatigue from a long day of work is weighing you down, and as you relax, you feel Killer succumbing to his own. His hand stops, resting on your hip, and his breathing deepens. The movement of his chest rocks you gently, like a tiny boat flowing down a stream. You loathe to do this, but you open your eyes again. How he knows what you’re thinking is beyond you, but Killer tightens his grip on you, mumbling ‘ stay.’ You almost do. “Someone’s gotta get them to that birthday party.” You murmur, lifting your head. He groans lowly, eyebrows furrowing. “And I still need to finish making lunch.” “Thought you already did...” He cracks one eye open to gaze at you.Grabbing onto the tuft of hair on his chin, you give it a light tug, bringing his face closer to yours. “Gotta make something to go with the roast.” Your breath ghosts over his lips. Killer takes hold of your jaw, thumb digging into your skin as he kisses you. It’s a barely there thing that you both know will make your resolve quiver, but you remain strong, indulging him for a few more moments before pulling away. He heaves a small sigh when you stand up, watching you stretch languidly before trailing after you. “I’ll make pasta.” He offers as he catches up to you. Gaze snapping to his, you frown, halting in the hallway. “You’re tired, Kay.” You argue, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “You’ve been working at the shop the last six days.” “Like you’re not tired, either.” He retorts with no bite, trying to etch your disapproving look into his brain. No matter how much time passes, the sight of it always lights a mischievous spark in him. He knows you can see it in his eyes and challenge him by pointedly arching an eyebrow. He responds by hugging you close, swaying in place until you laugh. “You should try doing this to Kid whenever he’s being a stubborn asshole.” You joke, yelping when he pinches your behind. Recoiling, you retreat into the kitchen, trying to beat him to it. He lets you get there first, waiting patiently for the victory he knew was coming. It arrives in the form of your children when they tromp downstairs with their bags for... oh. That’s right. The party is also a sleepover. They’re sheepish, which can only mean... “Dariel said his mom would make us lunch today...” DJ begins, fiddling with one of the straps of his bag. “Sorry... we forgot to tell you.” Your shoulders drop slightly. An air of triumph surrounds Killer. “That’s fine,” You assure the kids, stepping closer to them. “That’s perfectly fine. Just make sure you thank her for the food.” They nod firmly, grinning. “And if there are vegetables, make sure you eat those, too.” “ Okaaay...” “Good.” You clap your hands, rubbing them together idly. “Ready to go?” They cheer, which is all the confirmation you need. With your hands on your hips, you turn to Killer, who shrugs smugly as he waves a hand in the direction of the front door. Rolling your eyes, you walk away, listening to your children chatter about the party. If anything, with Killer cooking and the kids gone, you can get a break from most things. (x) Kid and the other two are there by the time you get home. You hear them before you see them, all thanks to the leader of the group. As you lock the front door, you thank your kids’ classmate for having his party today.They must’ve brought food and drink with them. There’s a delicious smell in the air. Despite that, and the fact that you like Killer’s friends, you still hesitate to walk past the living room. You’ve known the group almost as long as you’ve known Killer, but there’s something about Kid that still makes you nervous. All of them are distracted by the television, though. Maybe you can sneak past them. Removing your shoes, you place them on the rack, speed-walking past the living room.“Hey,” A deep voice greets you, your name somewhat slurred. It’s not exactly a conversation starter, which you have to thank Heat for, but you stop anyway. Of the three, you think you trust Heat the most. Turning towards him, you smile at the blue-haired man and place a hand on the doorway. Kid and Wire don’t acknowledge you just yet, transfixed by the screen. They’re sitting on your other couch. Seated beside Heat, Killer stands and walks over to you.“Hi, Heat. How are you?” Killer’s arm slips around your waist. You mirror his actions.Heat is about to reply when Kid and Wire scream again, throwing their arms in the air. Glancing at them, you spot the boxes of pizza, plates of pasta, and your roast. At least they enjoyed it. When they quiet down again, Heat speaks, “I’m okay. You?”“Better now that I’m home,” You admit, before addressing Killer in a soft voice. “How are things here?”“All good. The boys were thinking of staying late.”“Fine by me. I’ll be around doing… whatever if anyone needs anything,” You smile at them all, even if Wire and Kid have yet to glance at you. The game must be intense for Kid to be so entranced. Intense and violent. “Thank you,” Heat responds while Killer gives you a grateful squeeze. Leaving his side, you head off to find something to do. It’s not that you don’t like spending time with the gang. You just don’t have the energy to deal with the yelling, today. You’re glad Killer sensed that the moment you came in and didn’t ask you to-“ YO! ” Nevermind. It seems someone else wants to talk to you. The yell reverberates off the walls, and you wince, returning to the living room. Staring at you is Kid, game momentarily forgotten. He waves you over, and you walk past Killer and Heat to stand by the couch the other two occupy. Beside Kid you see two big boxes. Even from here, you can smell the booze they’d had.“I got these for the two twerps.” Kid knows how you feel about him calling your kids little shits. The fact that he censored himself even drunk means you must’ve gotten through to him. It’s as endearing as this man will ever be towards anything not his size. You appreciate the effort. Kid passes one box to Wire, who then gives it to you. Holding it at arm’s length, you appraise his offering. A sports commentator hollers excitedly in the background. They’re remote control planes. Putting the one box down to accept the other one, you stare at them. At the bottom, you spot a sticker with their price. “Holy shit, Kid, these are expensive!” “You forgot to take the price tag off?” Heat asks as Killer and Wire grin at Kid’s blunder.“Oh, who fucking cares about that!” Kid yells, bottle in hand as he turns back to the game. “They didn’t even cost that much.”“They’re two hundred dollars!” Panicked, you glance at Killer, who shrugs. He’s definitely not going to tell Kid to take them back. Feeling extremely guilty, you stare at the picture of the plane printed on the cardboard. “I… I don’t think they’re going to last very long, Kid.”“It’ll be fine,” Killer assures you from his seat. “I’ll buy them new ones if they break ‘em.”“Not if I fuckin’ do it first…” Kid mumbles, focus returning to the screen. “Kid, thank you.” Though he’s barely listening anymore, you make sure your gratitude is known. “I can’t tell you how much they’ll like these. You probably just made their week.” “Hn.” Grinning, you ask the other men, “Did you all pitch in or…”Wire is the one to speak this time, the lip of his own drink pressed to his mouth. “All his idea. We didn’t know about it until he showed up with ‘em…”“Hn,” Kid makes another noise in the back of his throat. As if his eyes are also drunk, he blinks one at a time, nodding slowly. Moments later, his brow furrows and his head swivels to glare at Wire. Said man is too busy pressing his lips to his bottle, shoulders shaking. At the mere sound of a snort, Kid’s mood changes again, and he sits up straight, “ HEY! ” Kid punches Wire on the shoulder. “I told you fucks to say we all paid for the fucking things!” “Alcohol must’ve loosened my tongue,” Wire, unfazed by the hit, lies. You huff, shaking your head in disbelief. “Oh, yeah? Watch me fucking yank it out your mouth and make you taste your own ba-” You cough out a laugh, baffled by the group’s shenanigans. “ The fuck you laughing at, huh?!”“Nothing, nothing,” You try and placate him before he lashes out at you, too. “Killer, can you help me put these in their rooms?” You ask, looking over to where he was sitting. The only person there is Heat, though.You’d been too distracted to notice that Killer had gone through the kitchen to end up on your side of the living room. “Already on it,” With a small ‘oh’, you step aside and let him take the two planes, grinning broadly. His smile is full of warmth when he walks away.You stick around for another twenty minutes, sitting down at their behest. In those twenty minutes, you become invested in the game, as well. You’re glad to have taken the spot to Wire’s right, even if you’re jostled once or twice. It beats having Kid swing at your face, which is what would have happened if you weren’t protected by Wire.Despite how tired he was earlier, Killer is lively. It’s clear that having what was basically his second family around gave him life. Eventually, the game ends, and Heat is charged with picking out a movie to watch. You grab dishes and empty bottles in the meantime, happy to free up space. When Killer moves to help, you snap a finger and point at the couch. “Six. days.” You remind him - and the group, too - of the time they’d spent working. Killer concedes with his hands raised, sitting back down. Heat sends you a small, albeit appreciative grin.You pat him on the shoulder as you amble past him and into the kitchen, dumping the dirty dishes in the sink. Faced with the idea of cleaning, you feel the tension in your shoulders return, but you force yourself to relax. It’s the end of the week, which means that nobody has to wake up early… which means no more cooking for you. If things get too busy tomorrow, you’ll just order something.The group agrees on a movie, but Kid and Heat step out onto your porch to have a quick smoke. Wire stays back, still nursing a drink, while Killer judged the movie’s preview. With the spot next to him now vacant, you sit down to cuddle before Heat comes back. “Thanks for the food, by the way.” Wire pipes up. “It was good.”“No problem, Wire. I’m just glad you guys liked it.” You reply sincerely. “I think Kid could learn a thing or two from you,” He tacks on, and you scoff at the mere thought of it. Kid and cooking are things that shouldn’t mix, yet they do from time to dreadful time. He could do a decent job if he really tried, though, even with one good arm. “His cooking’s shit.”All of you chortle quietly at that. Killer passes you his drink, and you take a swig, closing your eyes as you swallow. Whatever it is, it’s good. “Don’t let him hear you say that,” You say to Wire. The man rubs his facial hair, shrugging off the warning with a casualness that comes from putting up with more shit than one probably should. After a bit, the smokers return and the movie plays. Kids is too rambunctious to stay silent throughout it, so you chat, catch up, drink some more, and make fun of the film. It brings you all back to an era long past, when regrettable decisions, parties, and their aftermath were all you knew. Though you didn’t miss it - you’d never trade what you have now for what you had, then - you appreciated the trip down memory lane. They do, too. Life and responsibilities may have robbed you of many things, but you were still a gang. Deep down, you were still the same trouble-makers, and if you had to grab the bull by the horns to do something as simple as meet up…You absolutely would. (x)You and Kay pick up the kids the next morning, and it’s clear their night was eventful, as well. The twins are groggy and grumpy as they pile into your car. You take their bags and throw them in the trunk, laughing to yourself. They groan and whine as Killer tells them to buckle up, doing as they’re told with zero enthusiasm. In the meantime, you go thank Dariel’s mother for taking care of your children. She happily dispels any concerns you have about their behaviour, promising you that they were angels on Earth. Hard to believe, but you know this woman is very patient. Four kids toughen you up, that much you know. You give her a hug and promise to make it up to her as you leave. She waves as Kay pulls out of her driveway. Your husband turns on the radio, disturbing the already irritable twins, and you shake your head at him, amused. He turns down the volume and changes the station to something quieter with a grin. “Boys,” You murmur, getting two grunts that are very similar to Kid’s. “When we get home, I want you to freshen up while I make breakfast. Take the time you need, but come down when you’re done.”“ Okay… ”The rest of the drive is quiet for their sake. When you make it home, you hand each twin their bag and send them upstairs. As they do, you stand by the stairwell with Killer, eagerly awaiting their reactions to Kid’s gifts.It’s a few minutes until they do. The first one to react is Apollo, who lets out a scream. You hear rapid footsteps. “DJ, DJ! Look! Come look at this!” More silence, then more yelling and running as DJ goes to his room. “ Yoooo! No way!”Now energized, the boys run down the hall to the stairs, where they find you and Killer. You really can’t help your smile as they point down the hall, blue eyes big as they shout at you, “Are those real?!”“Yes,” You manage to get out, raising your hands. “Yes, they’re real,” More screaming, “ And! They’re from Uncle Kid, so you have to be careful with them!”“ They’re from Uncle Kid?!” They yell, and you bob your head, walking up a few steps. Leaning against the wall, Killer observes the scene as it unfolds, arms crossed. Apollo bounces in his spot, and though he’s no less overjoyed, he does add more quietly, “We got gifts from Uncle Kid!” “Yes, you did.” You conclude for them. Expensive ones, but gifts that they’ll enjoy until they can’t. Reaching for Killer’s hand, you grin, thankful that he had removed the stickers before coming back downstairs yesterday. “Dad, can we try them out after eating?” DJ asks, looking at his father. Killer pushes off the wall and gives them both a thumbs up, “Of course, champ.” You’d never be jealous of Killer, but the way the twins light up at the thought of spending time with him is nothing short of amazing. Killer's entire demeanour softens at that, even though he tries to hide it. It’s not a subtle thing when you’ve been married for more than a decade.The best part of it all? The kids see it, too. Something changes in them when it happens. You wonder if Killer knows that they know. If he does, he once again shocks you by not closing off immediately. That was something he’d do in the past when you showed ‘too much’ affection. If he doesn’t, you won’t be the one to tell. Either way, it’s a win-win.“After breakfast, though,” You butt in, chest alight with more emotions than you can name. “Okay,” The twins say, taking off toward their rooms.You watch them go, wiping a stray tear from your eye, and swallow hard as you turn to Killer. He chuckles at your quivering bottom lip, lifting his arms. Biting back a sob, you walk into his embrace and melt, burying your face in his shirt. Killer holds you as you put yourself back together again, chuckling at your mumbling. “They’re so cute,” You whisper when you pull away, still getting rid of tears. “So, so cute. They love you so much. I don’t want them to get any bigger.” “They’re gonna,” Killer cups your cheeks, and you let him dry your face. “Oh, absolutely,” This time, it’s you who chortles. “And they’re gonna be just like you. I know it.” Killer doesn’t respond to that. He fusses over you for a while longer, calloused palms smoothing your hair. He ushers you into the kitchen, where you both cook breakfast and joke around a bit. He’s quieter now, though why that is, you’re not sure. Maybe you’re not the only parent reeling from what’s just transpired, after all. Or maybe it’s what you said earlier, about them loving him so dearly.That, you think, is what’s going on. Killer never explicitly said he didn’t want to be a father, but… well, you know what his childhood was like. It wouldn’t have surprised you if he told you he didn’t want children. It would’ve hurt, because then you wouldn’t have such an incredible pair of twins, but you’d have understood.“They love you,” You tell him as you add the last pancake to your tower. Killer keeps his back turned to you, cutting fruit and other things to put into bowls. “...I know.”The boys rush into the kitchen, then, dressed in new clothes and ready to chow down. Killer goes to the dining table with the kids in tow, bowls of fruit balanced along his arms. He sets them down as the kids sit, staring at him like two puppies. He gives them both hefty pats on their heads, making them giggle. You, on the other hand, place the plate full of pancakes on the table with a flourish. You keep up the act as you divide the treats. When you realize you made an uneven number, leaving you with three and they with four, you hope Killer doesn’t notice. He’d throw one of his at you even if you refused it until your last breath. You all eat together as a family that morning, the atmosphere ripe with happiness. It does wonders for your mood, which is somewhere on cloud nine with your heart. The twins tell you about the funny things that happened at school. They take turns speaking as if only one person is talking, which makes for an interesting retelling. After a while, it’s your turn, and you tell everyone about a crappy coworker your family knows as “Cranky McPoopy Pants”. In the privacy of your bedroom, she’s known as ‘that one fucking bitch with the raccoon’s ass for a hairdo’, but you’ll never use that kind of language around your kids.Once breakfast is gone, Killer speaks, “Alright… Go and help out with the dishes. I’ll be outside setting things up.”“No,” You place a hand on each of the boys’ shoulders. “No, you go on outside. I’ll deal with the dishes.”“Really?!”“Really.” This you state as you stare deep into Killer’s eyes. While you appreciate all the help you receive from your family, you’ll gladly take on the work this time. You try to convey this to Killer. “Kay, go have fun with the kids. You’ve earned it. You all have. I’ll join you as soon as I’m done.”“Sure,” He sighs. His displeasure doesn’t last long, because seconds later, he lightly smacks the kid’s backs. “You’re it. The first one to catch me gets their plane readied first.”The kids squawk in offense as their father escapes the kitchen, running to the backyard. With encouraging words, you unleash the two devils. They chase their dad outside, and you rush to the window above the kitchen sink to see what happens.As they run around, you clean the dishes, enjoying the show. Killer is still as fast as ever, expertly dodging the little hands trying to grab him. DJ and Apollo eventually decide to work together, which is their last resort, and they corner Killer against the fence bordering the perimeter of the yard. Despite this, your husband eludes them, as competitive and as stubborn as ever. With a placid smile, you engrave the memory into your brain, trying to keep your emotions under wraps. The last thing you want is for them to see you crying. Neither of you may have asked the universe for children, but now that you’ve got them, you’d happily give your life for them. And you will. For them, you’ll live. You’ll keep fighting the world until they find a place in it, and you know Killer will, too.You’ll keep fighting for them and your husband. Even when you’re on your back and life’s got its boot to your neck, and even when a plane comes flying at you through the window.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Do you know what it’s like?!”
Your voice echoes in the dark chamber, the abyss swallowing your grief and strife with a greed that rivals his own.
The demon at your feet stares at you, eyes big and round in his shock. He freezes when you march towards him, watching you as you pant, hands curled into tight fists at your sides. Only when the ambient magic revolving around your person begins to spark does his gaze leave you. Like a storm cloud, it crackles a brilliant blue hue, its lightning tearing through the air in search of a conduit. When it finds you, it passes through you like a bolt, gathering in your chest before taking off again.
The seal around him flares, as if pressuring him to answer, as well.
“Do you?!” Teach’s eyebrows hiked into his hairline. He wonders what you’ll do after this outburst. You can’t hurt him, not here, but once you’re awake, it’s all fair game. Will you make an excuse to ‘renew the seal’? Or will you stop it with the sugarcoating and call it what it actually is?
Will you punish yourself for losing your grip on the reins? For letting him?
At his silence, your volume doubles, “Answer me!”
The abyss stills as your demands slice through the tense atmosphere. When they’re too far to return, dots of magic flutter to the ground, then beyond, like shooting stars. Teach remains silent, mouth slightly agape. This is the first time in six years that he’s seen you snap like this. He hadn’t even pushed that hard, today. Mind you, it’s hard for you to reach this place as it is. The few times you have, you’d done so accidentally, having slipped through a crack in one of his nightmares.
However, instead of feeling the grip the seal had on him weaken, like he’d thought it would, it’d only grown tighter. Not by much, though, and it trembled with the effort, much like your body. Your tiny, tiny limbs shook with restraint, eyes ablaze.
“I had to give up my life for this.” You hissed venomously, punching yourself in the sternum at the end of your sentence. Disgust for him and yourself twists your expression into something ugly, your nails clawing at your robes. “Whatever life I might have had I had to throw away because of you. I’m never going to get it back. Do you know what that feels like?”
Your voice wobbles as your eyes fill with tears, emotions choking the words out of you. It takes a few seconds for you to gather yourself, muffling a sob with your sleeve. You turn your back on the demon, your legs almost giving out on you.
“You should,” You whispered hoarsely. “Gods damn you, you should.”
A scoff leaves your lungs as you wipe your cheeks.
“You lost everything when you decided to burn the world to the ground.” You spit, shaking your head. Your composure threatens to crumble again, your breathing uneven, and you have to bite your lip to stop yourself from whimpering. “And the worst part is, you don’t even realize it. You can’t. You demons can’t see beyond your desires. It’s sickening.”
Teach sits up at that, his own anger beginning to cloud his thinking. Something in his chest hurts, but he chalks it up to the effects of your mockery. No one had spoken to him like that since he’d gained his power. It’s not often you bring up his conquest, too hurt by the memories to even think about them in passing. To no one’s surprise, he’d capitalized on that trauma to bring out the worst in you. To tear into your heart in the hopes of freeing himself.
He’s thinking of picking up where he left off when, in that moment, you face him again, clutching your chest. Your actions reveal a sliver of skin, and he sees the blood dripping from a cluster of open wounds, your robes torn. Though he hates himself for it, it gives him pause.
“I might be stuck with you the rest of my life, Teach,” you say his name like it’s an obscenity, “But you and I are one, for now.”
Recovering from his surprise, he raises his hand, and you stop, awaiting another round of torture. His smirk widens at your obvious trepidation, and he chuckles. “You and I are not one.” His voice booms. Your lips purse at his words. “I’ll be free the instant your pathetic heart stops. Have you forgotten that?”
“The Hunters will have found a solution to that by the time I go,” You shoot back. At least, you hope they do. “Whatever the case, my pain is yours, demon.” The nails still embedded in your flesh dig deeper. You both grimace, but you’re the only one shaking.
The sight of it makes him speak, pain setting his nerves on fire. “Is that so, mage?” The light of the seal is almost blinding.
As if he’d said nothing at all, you carry on, your gaze murderous, “If you try to make me hurt those children, again, Teach, I won’t hold back. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep our fates intertwined for eternity. You’ll never be rid of me. And I’ll make sure - and you better listen to me when I say this, demon - I’ll make sure that you suffer.”
He laughed at the idea, dropping the hand he’d raised. Those promises of yours were childish.
Part of him expected the usual resistance to his torment. Then, he realized how easy it was to shove you back into your nightmares. He would understand why in a flash.
Determined to prove a point, you jumped back into your dreams and endured the worst nightmares he could conjure. At the end of it all, amongst a sea of corpses and rot, you - bleeding and crying - found him. You found him and, ignoring his backhanded praise for surviving another night, you showed him the sharp, angular symbols you’d drawn on your torso, clothes discarded.
Bottom lip quaking, you ensured his attention was on you when you drew one last crimson line down your throat, skin slick with sweat.
“On this Day, on this Hour,” You whispered, letting your hand rest at your side, “No longer will Death have to scour. Willingly do I relinquish my three blessings for Him to take, whether it be my Body, my Mind, or my Soul.”
Teach recognized the words. Those he mortally wounded for his entertainment had chanted them countless times. He had never seen the symbols, though, so he always thought of it as a plea for deliverance. A way to ensure they wound up in whatever eternal paradise they believed in.
Death got them one way or another, though. Either by his hand or someone else’s. They never had to wait long.
Their time came soon enough.
Suspended off the ground, your weak body twitches in his hold. The markings on his arm snake around his wrist just as they do yours as you try to free yourself. Teach screams at you to shut your mouth, clearly afraid. This isn’t a spell that can affect him, but this is still your mind. He may rule your subconscious, but you can still manipulate what happens to a degree.
Your pain is his. You’d told him that and still he belittled you for it.
Not today. Not after what he did.
If he didn’t torture you the way he did, you’d have made a corner for yourself, where nothing could reach you.
Since you can’t, you’ll have to stick with this.
“Willingly do I breathe my last breath as I wait, forever Marked for Death.”
(x)
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”
Your words echo loudly in his mind as he pins you down, ruby red eyes narrowing when a tremor shakes the earth. Adrenaline and power course his veins, his tail wrapping around the leg you use to kick at his side. He’d been the first to reach you when he and Mihawk lunged at the same time. To avoid hurting you too badly, Mihawk veered right, letting Shanks attack.Your snow white eyes bore into his. Whatever it is you’re seeing, it’s definitely not him, lips parting as if to talk. All that comes out is a pained grunt.“Come on,” he presses your wrists into the grass, clawed thumbs feeling for the war drum that is your pulse. It’s too fast. If it goes on like this for much longer, the organ will give out. Briefly, your eyes widen, and you eke out another distressed noise. “I know. I know. It’s scary. But you can do this. I’ve got you.” You wrench one of your hands loose. It tangles itself in his red hair, pulling mercilessly until it burns. You’re made to release him when he rams his horns into your arm, but nevertheless keep struggling. With a humorless grin, he realizes he’s not going to be able to hold you down soon.“That you, Teach?” He asks breathlessly, dodging a stream of flames. The ends of his hair smoke. He doesn’t like having to do it, but he grabs your face to address the demon properly. Anything to get Teach to take over completely. You raise your hips in an attempt to buck him off, hyperventilating. “Quite the predicament you’ve found yourself in, eh? Getting yourself sealed away. Into a human, no less.” Mihawk witnesses the exchange from afar, feeling an itch crawl up his arm. Your magic had more than doubled in strength. No doubt Shanks could sense it, too. It was uncomfortable, but also a testament to the force the humans had locked away in one of their own. How you’d survived this long with a demon like that inside you is astounding. Shanks says your name, wincing when you bite the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, “You’re halfway there, you know? Let him out. We’ll do the rest. I promise everything will be okay. The kids will be alright.”Your startlingly pale gaze snaps to Mihawk, all colour draining from your face as your jaw drops. Black veins begin protruding from your skin, and you scream, face devoid of horror. Your spine arches off the ground. It’s an incredibly unnerving display. One that makes something in Shanks’s heart twist. It looks like you’re still in the fight, though, groaning as you screw your eyes shut. He raises his palm, intending to smooth your hair back when you recoil. “Don’t,” you plead, “Don’t.” You continue writhing. Shanks is about to reassure you again when he realizes you weren’t talking to him at all. Unsure, Shanks lifts himself off you, crouching a few feet away. “What now?” Mihawk asks, eying you. Shanks allows himself a moment to think. It’s not every day he finds an age-old enemy trapped inside a delicate human, after all. And it’s not every day a human tells him the story of how one of their own had been defeated. Most demons had assumed Teach was taken down by that Garp fellow you mentioned before he became such a huge threat. Now that he’s dealing with this, he’s angry at himself for not even bothering to look into it. Whitebeard’s flippant attitude towards the whole ordeal hadn’t helped, either.His kind really needed to be knocked down a few pegs, huh?“We wait,” Shanks says, listening to your shouting, “It’s all we can do, for now.”“Don’t, Teach, don’t! I’ll- I’ll fucking-” You’re cut off by another surge of pain, feet grinding into the grass helplessly as you let out another yell. Your chest feels like it’s going to explode. Gods, do you regret trusting these demons. You never should have lied to Garp. You should have asked him for help. He’d have known what to do about the demons and the seal. He’d know what to do now. “Please, please, I don’t want to hurt anyone- Please- ” “We’ll run out of time,” Mihawk steps closer to you, head cocked to the side. Shanks regards his friend cautiously, brows pinched. He knows Mihawk is not the most… tactful when handling anyone he considers weaker than himself. “Disaster is bound to follow if the human dies. We need to act now.”A voice in your head barks at them to be quiet. Their mumbling grates on your ears, though that’s not their fault. You’re hypersensitive to every little thing right now, and the pain is not helping. Something vile scratches at the back of your throat. Black dust pours out of your mouth, and you roll onto your hands and knees, letting it drip. Your vision blurs, darkness closing in from the edges, but you force yourself to remain conscious. “You have to kill me,” you gasp, then pause. All Teach had done since you broke his chains was cackle at you. He’d sprinkled some insults here and there, but nothing you hadn’t heard before. Had you- had you meant to say that? It doesn't make sense. Garp had made it clear that you had to stay alive for Teach to remain imprisoned.But what if that's not true? What if you dying killed Teach?
It would all end.
“It’s very possible that- that he’ll die with me after so long,” you grit your teeth at the end of the sentence. As tempting as it all sounds, it can't be right. You promised. You promised you'd keep Garp's grandchildren safe. Why are you saying these things?Despite your best efforts to correct yourself before these two demons get the wrong idea, you can't. “I think. I hope. At the very least, he’ll still be weakened for- for some-”You’re unable to finish, swaying unsteadily. You startle awake to find Mihawk kneeling before you. Confused, you try to see where Shanks is, but are stopped by Mihawk. “You’re going to die if you keep this up,” He states plainly. Beads of sweat roll down your temples, your eyes bloodshot. It aches to look in any direction that isn’t straight ahead, which, coincidentally, is exactly where Mihawk has situated himself. His frown deepens at your awful wheezing.“I know,” Holding your head up is a herculean task, but at least your thoughts feel like they belong to you now. “They told me this would happen.”Mihawk suspects that you’re referring to Garp’s organization. He lowers his upper body so you’re at eye level, his gaze as intense as the moment you first met. Oh. He does have a black ring around his pupil.“Then you understand that resisting is futile.” A soft laugh ghosts past your split lips at that, one that peters out into a sniffle. Defeated, you shake your head slowly, tearing into the grass. “It will be on- on me if this doesn’t work. You told me to let him out so that you could ensure the- the seal doesn’t break. But how-”“‘...how can I trust your kind when you’re the reason I’m in this mess in the first place.’” Mihawk’s monotone voice drones what you were planning on saying. Another chuckle shakes your frame at his mind reading. That’s the only time I’m going to appreciate that ability. Whether he hears that one or not is unknown to you, because he gets right back to the topic at hand. “Your reasons for resisting are sound.” Though your body wants nothing more than to rest, you order your neck to do its damn job, raising your skull once more.As you do, you see his amber eyes begin to glow, the black rings in his irises thinning. Mihawk reaches out, dragging two of his fingers down your forehead, then across. The touch starts at one temple, then ends on the other, light as a feather yet comforting. You almost lose consciousness then and there again.“That’s a shoddy healing spell if I’ve ever seen one…” You murmur, the black dust covering every one of your limbs, now.“That was not a healing spell,” Mihawk retorts quietly, watching your body disappear under Teach’s dreadful magic. They’ve got less than a minute to convince you to let them help. “That was a promise.”“Right,” You smile crookedly, disbelieving. “To kill me?”“To defeat Teach,” He corrects you, unimpressed with your stupid joke. “To get you out of this alive.”“Too late for that last one, I - hah - I think,” Done with this conversation, you resign yourself to your fate, knowing that your plea would be heard. Even if the characters you painted on your body that night were utter nonsense, your words - your conviction - weren’t. You’d given up your right to a life when you accepted Teach into your body, and you’d willingly given up your right to live four years ago. Your days have been numbered, since. I don’t believe in miracles. You think. You shouldn’t either. Mihawk presses his two fingers on your forehead again. The mere notion of miracles is funny to him, but then again, those that have benefited from his abilities tend to chalk them up to that.A miracle.“We’ll see what happens.”At long last, you relent.(x)“Would you look at that!” He sings triumphantly, “You’re back!” You hate him.“Remember your threat? You swore you’d make me suffer, yet here you are. At my feet, like all your other friends back then.” Teach shoves you hard enough to make you fall on your back. You catch yourself with your hands, a twinge of pain running up your arms. “I was starting to think this day wouldn’t come, but I guess I really am that lucky.” “It won’t last,” Brushing yourself off, you get off the ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you in such a position even after everything. “Those two seem awfully confident in their abilities. You think you can take them on?” Teach gives you a look that makes what blood is still in you boil. The condescending, pitying way he stares at you, eyebrows lowered and lips downturned… Gods, it makes you want to rip his face to shreds. Knowing that a reaction is what he wants, you bite the inside of your cheek, scoffing.He forgets you the instant you hear a rhythm that sounds too much like your heart. It stutters every other second, some beats weaker, some stronger. “I’ve never heard that sound so clearly,” Teach says it like he’s seeing the sky for the first time in his life. “It’s quite nice, don’t you think?”“What, the sound of me dying?” You smile despite your predicament, baffled by his sadism. It sounded more angsty than Ace when he had a stick up his butt. If you weren’t desperate to distract Teach, you’d kick yourself for tying the sweet child to this creature. “Give me a break, Teach. You’re not convincing anyone.”He seems to have selective hearing, the idiot, because he disregards your comment entirely. Instead, he keeps admiring the noise, closing his eyes as he smiles, arms spreading. The shackles that had once held him inside the seal are nowhere to be found. In fact, the magic is burning up fast. The circle had all but disappeared. “Are you absolutely sure you’ll be able to fight after so long?” You try again, dread collecting in your gut. “That power you stole from other demons; how are you so sure you’ll know what to do with it once you’re out?”Teach does not bite. Your heart literally thunders in your ears. White cracks begin to form in the abyss. “Teach!” You brave a few, small steps towards him, “You won’t win! I won’t let you!”“That’s the thing, human,” his words inject ice into your system. Feet glued to your spot, you gape at him, horrified, “You already did.”
No.
No, no, no.
You keel over when your heart spasms, slowing dramatically. The cracks are all around you, now, silent but deadly. If only they’d make some sort of noise. It would help you prepare for the inevitable. “Have fun watching your life flash before your eyes.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Huffing, you watch the ship’s cook fawn over the two women in the crew, blowing air out of your mouth. Nestling your chin into your palm, you rest your elbow on the barrel beside you, leaning heavily on it. Somewhere to your left, you can hear Zoro snoring away peacefully, sleeping for once instead of pretending. Not far from him, Chopper, Usopp, and Luffy giggle like children as they plan their next prank on the poor swordsman. Brook and Franky are nowhere to be seen, but you can still hear Brook’s beautiful music, and you can still hear Franky cheering and tinkering away.“Here you are, Nami-swan!” Practically swooning, Sanji bows as he places a fruity, colourful drink in front of her. He adds a striped straw with a grin that screams lovesick. At the sound of her name, Nami tears her gaze away from her maps, pencil pressed against her bottom lip. Her face lights up when she notices the beverage, leaning forward in her chair to admire it. You’ll admit, Sanji had somehow made the thing look beautiful. If you didn’t know better, you’d say it was sparkling.“Thanks, Sanji!” She grabs the glass, taking a delicate sip. Sanji preens at her words, humming and making his way to Robin.“And something for you too, Robin-chawn,” He’s somewhat quieter when presenting Robin her drink but no less passionate. His one visible blue eye twinkles as he takes a step back, also giving her a quick bow with a hand to his chest. Robin’s thin lips stretched into that calm, soothing smile of hers, “Thank you, Sanji. It looks fantastic.”Mockingly, you mouth his reply before he can even say it out loud, staring wistfully at the man, “Not as fantastic as you, my darling Robin-chwan!” Her response is soft laughter, and you rake your fingers through your hair, feeling put out. In that moment, her gaze snaps to you, and you make the mistake of meeting her eye before you can conceal your irritation.Ever the smart woman, she blinks at you, her expression changing to a knowing one. She raises her book to her chin, amused by your suffering, and you frown at her. If there’s anyone who knows about your feelings towards the cook, it’s her, and it’s been a source of entertainment for her. That, and light-hearted teasing that more often than not morphs into encouragement to confess. You love Robin, you really do, but she just couldn’t see what you saw whenever you and Sanji interacted. Ignoring the anxiety roiling in your stomach, you cup your mouth as you call out, “Gonna make me a drink too, lovebird?” Sanji stops for the briefest of seconds, standing stock still. Then, as if nothing had happened, he recovers, twirling the tray he’d brought with him to serve the drinks. He tucks it under his arm, glancing at you over his shoulder. Embarrassingly, your heart skips a beat when he does, and you have to resist the urge to smile sweetly at him like you want to do. Instead, your grin is sharp, shoulders bouncing as you chuckle when his lips pucker at your question. His brow furrows at you as he flattens the wrinkles in his pristine suit, and you almost melt at how cute he looks. God. You’ve watched this dummy lay it on thick with who knows how many gorgeous women, and yet he doesn’t seem to realize that he outshines all of them. Nobody, and you mean nobody, compares to this man. It’d be nice to tell him that. “Go get your own drink,” Sanji retorts, huffing and strutting towards the kitchen. He spares you one last unamused glance. You don’t let your hurt show on your features, smirk still in place.“You know what, I think I will.” You rise to your full height, trailing after the cook, who gapes like a fish at you, eyebrows knitted. Robin stops reading to see you go, the lower half of her face hidden behind her book. You ignore her again. It pains you to do that to your friend, but you’ll just have to apologize later when she’s forced to listen to you vent. “Do it later, idiot! I don’t need you dirtying my kitchen!” He argues, yet makes no move to stop you or even fight you like he normally does with Zoro. You kind of wish he would. It would not be under the best circumstances, but at least you’d forget to be nervous and just… talk to him like you want to do. “So, lovebird, what do we have in the kitchen?” You don’t bother acknowledging his insult. “Made any more drinks for anyone else?”“No! Not for idiots like you!” He shouts, throwing the door to his personal haven open. You half-expect him to slam it shut behind him, maybe hit you on the nose with it, but no such thing happens. As such, you’re allowed to stroll inside, gaze lingering on Sanji for far too long. With bunched-up sleeves, Sanji marches up to the sink, where he immediately starts scrubbing at some dishes, pointedly ignoring you.“That’s too bad,” You don’t let up, glancing around. He’s going to start making lunch soon, but the ingredients laid out on the counter don’t tell you what. Knowing him, however, it’ll be delicious. Your comment sets him off again, and he starts rambling about how you should make your own shitty drinks if you want one. As he talks, you quietly sidle up to him to observe what he’s doing, hands in your pockets. Unsurprisingly, he makes quick work of the dirty dishes. Your head tracks his hand whenever he puts a plate off to the side, lips pursed as you wait. When he’s down to the last plate and he still hasn’t realized that you’re behind him, you inch a little closer. Your chest nearly touches his back at this point.“-and don’t even get me started on your shitty habits, idiot. How many times do we have to trip over your clothes before you pick them up, huh?!”You guess that question wasn’t a rhetorical one, because he trails off at your silence, hands pausing. Slowly, his head turns, and you make a show of lifting your gaze from the dirty dish to his face, blinking innocently at him. Frozen, he simply stares at you as you tilt your head. Your smile broadens as his eye grows impossibly wide, terror pulling at his features. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, idiot?!” You laugh boisterously when he spins around and tries to hit you. Before the plate can make contact with your head though, you catch his wrist, still laughing. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so wide, but you’re so amused by his reaction that you don’t care. Like many times before, Sanji freezes, nostrils flaring at your actions. “Sorry, sorry.” You apologize before he can explode again, your hold on his wrist firm. There’s no pain, however. “Just wanted to see what you were doing, that’s all. You’re good.” With that and a cheeky wink, you open your palm. He jerks his arm away from you, and you step away, bowing your head. Sanji stares at you for a few more moments, jaw muscles working.“What’s that even supposed to mean?” He shakes his head incredulously, his cheeks somewhat red as he focuses on his work once more. Inhaling deeply, he finishes off the dish he almost used to hit you, clicking his tongue. What was he thinking?“It’s a bit of praise, Sanji. Nothing more.” Your amused chuckle forces a sigh out of him, and he shakes his head again. “Whatever, idiot.” He grumbles to himself, drying everything he’d cleaned. If you heard him, you don’t show it, offering a hand. Sanji eyes you suspiciously.“Let me help for once, Cook.” Your smile is genuine this time around. Sanji feels the need to bristle at the nickname, but, unlike Zoro, you say it with no bite. At his silence, you arch an eyebrow. “I promise I won’t drop any of them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”This time, he makes sure he’s heard, handing you the plate. “Whatever, idiot.”(x)He wants to kill you.Sanji dumps the vegetables he’d just chopped up into the boiling pot of water, teeth digging into a cigarette. He’d never smoke in the kitchen, but he’s so wound up after… after whatever the hell that was earlier, that he can’t help bring one out. He probably won’t be able to smoke this one, either, with it so bent out of shape.He wants to kill you, but he also wants you to do that again. Sanji dices some tomatoes at a speed that surprises even him. He doesn’t know what it is. He doesn’t know what makes him feel so breathless when you’re near him. Or what makes him want you to talk to him the way you do. But that’s a lie. Because he does know. He knows exactly what has him feeling this way, and he understands why he feels so conflicted about it. At the end of the day, it’s just another reason to hate that monster he used to call a father.After all, if the relationship had no chance of bearing offspring, then what was the point of it?Sanji grinds his teeth as he puts together a salad, adding the diced tomatoes. With a salad server, he mixes all the ingredients in the large bowl, trying not to let his anger turn into aggression. The last thing he wants to do is ruin a dish because of… this. Maybe he should purposefully pick a fight with Zoro. It’d help blow some of this steam. Zoro would definitely notice something off about him, though, and the last thing he needs is anyone asking questions. Especially you. You wouldn’t frame it the way Zoro would. He can just picture how the interaction would go. Your whole demeanour would change from sly to caring in an instant. Then, depending on what you saw, you might pull him aside and ask if he’s okay. And if that happens… Sanji doesn’t know what he’d do. He’d probably kill you.Yes.Yeah.(x)“I think he’s mad at me,” You sigh into your palms, dragging them down your face until they rest on your neck. It’s late now, and almost everyone has gone to bed, but not you and Robin. You’d once again dragged the poor woman into your downward spiral, and now, she sits in the kitchen, listening to you ramble again. “I mean, did you see the way he was looking at me earlier?” Pacing the room, you think back to the glower that Sanji sent your way every time you happened to glance at him. You didn't think an eyebrow could furrow so much. It was shocking, to say the least. Yeah, you like to annoy him, and maybe you let your real feelings dictate your words sometimes, but you’re usually just… joking. Did you go too far, earlier? Did you make him uncomfortable? Or… did he catch on? Is that what this is? Were you too transparent when he was cleaning those dishes?Your heart sinks into your stomach at the thought. “I think I fucked up, Robin.” The woman peers at you, book propped up on the table. With an extra hand on her forearm, she flips the page, taking a sip from some tea you brewed. You had to compensate the woman for the time, somehow. “I think he hates me.”“You think so?” She asks.“ Yes, I think so.” Your voice rises in pitch in your exasperation, and you whirl around to face Robin, who has gone back to reading. “Why else would he glare at me like that?”“Why not ask him and find out?” She offers, and though the question is anything but, her tone makes it sound incredibly cryptic. You stare at her, eyebrows pinched. The corners of your lips drop even more, and you rub your forehead again, letting your glare settle on the floor. “I’m…” You start, trailing off with an exhale that makes your shoulders sag. “I’m just going to talk to him. Apologize for making him uncomfortable.”“And after?”Robin doesn’t always push your buttons, but when she does, you know you’ve got to take a step back. She’s the definition of unflappable. Your anger has zero impact on her. “I don’t know, Robin.” You grouse as you make your way to the exit. “I’ll jump into the ocean and let a fucking sea king eat me.”(x)You slept in the crow’s nest. Usopp was mighty surprised to see you up there after your talk with Robin, limbs flailing when you plopped down beside him. Thankfully, his shriek died in his mouth when he saw it was you, sketchbook falling off his lap. You handed it back to him and sent him on his way, telling him you’d take tonight’s watch because you couldn’t sleep.He was skeptical at first, but eventually left you alone. And alone you stayed, a slew of emotions simmering under your skin. Though you did stay alert for several hours, you eventually succumbed to your exhaustion, chin tucked into your chest.The best part of sleeping on the tallest point on the ship is waking up late in the afternoon with the sun melting your face. You really do love sailing in the New World sometimes.Getting down is a painful experience. You have yet to see the damage, but you know part of it looks as bad as your hands, which are an angry red. It hurts to move your fingers even a little bit, and it’s all so itchy you want to dig your teeth into the flesh and gnaw on it for relief. You think about how the others are going to react as your feet touch the grassy floor of the Thousand Sunny. Luffy will be calling you a lizard for days when the burn somewhat heals and the dead skin begins to come off. Robin might chuckle to herself at your obvious misery. Chopper will probably gasp at the sight. And the others? Who knows, who cares. These are all things you feel ill-equipped to deal with, right now. Though you know Chopper would have a remedy made for you in minutes, you just can’t bring yourself to seek him out. All you want to do is grab something to eat and go to bed again. Tenderly, you touch your forehead, wincing in pain. Without even thinking about it, you drag your feet to the kitchen, keeping an ear out for any activity. Thankfully, it’s quiet, so you slip inside. You don’t know what the sun did to you today, but you’re exhausted. So much so, that it’s hard to even keep your head up.Groaning softly, you close the door and make your way to the faucet, bumping a leg on a chair and your hip on the table. You pat your hand on whatever surfaces you can find to guide yourself. Your fingertips skim the counter as you turn into the actual kitchen, searching for the sink. When they meet metal, you check for any dirty dishes. Seeing none, you immediately stick your head under the faucet and put it on full blast, cold water spraying your hair and skin. “God…” You sigh as the icy water cools off the burn, hands gripping the edge of the counter. After a minute, you move the faucet and straighten your spine, slicking your hair back. Droplets cascade down your face in rivulets, and you blink them away. Defeated still, you watch as the water goes down the drain, your brain still fixed on hating yourself.When you can’t tolerate the slew of insults it’s generating, you lift your head and shake the water out of your hair.Only to come face-to-face with Sanj.He didn’t pull off the move you pulled on him the day before – although you really wish he did – but he was right fucking there. Heart jumping into your throat, you stare into his befuddled eye, trying not to let your pain show.“...Have you been here the whole time...?” Your question comes out mumbled, and you squint at him. Sanji, uncharacteristically silent, bobs his head in the affirmative. You mirror him slowly, pursing your lips in thought. You’re in a bit of a conundrum, here. Honestly, he’s the first and last person you would have liked to see today. Without really thinking about it, you inhale a drop of water and have to remind yourself not to react. It burns as it goes down your throat, and you shut your eyes, the pain nowhere close to how mortified you are right now.At this point, the only way to avoid more embarrassment is to act cool. Like you hadn’t opened your mouth in the first place. And cool you were going to be, sticking your head under the faucet again to fucking drown.“That will only do so much, you know,” Sanji remarks like he’s talking to a lunatic. His words come out slowly, and you can just hear him blinking rapidly as he takes in what’s happening in front of him. Moments later, you hear him get up, and can’t help but hiss when the cool water runs over a particularly sensitive spot.You don’t acknowledge him when he walks into the kitchen, but you do blindly reach for the plug in the sink, filling it up. Maybe submerging your entire face would be better. And maybe Sanji can do you a favor and hold it underwater. That’d be great. And useful, too. You could serve as a snack for when Luffy got too hungry and too impatient to wait for a full meal.The sink fills up enough to reveal your reflection, and you wait no longer. Because of your dumbass skull, the water level rises even higher, and suddenly your ears are plugged. “Hey, idiot,” Sanji calls, a clean washcloth in his hand. When you don’t respond, he turns around-A vein in his forehead pops.“What the hell do you think you’re doing to my sink?!” He screams.Said sink is just this shy from overflowing, water beginning to gather at the edges of the metal. Sanji rushes to you, turning off the faucet and yanking you out of the water in one motion. You open your mouth the second you surface, filling your lungs with air.“I’m not done–” You start, frustrated. Lifting both arms, you paw at whatever you can reach, nails dragging against his sleeve. You can’t tell if your heart is in your throat or if it’s just him choking the life out of you. Either way, the organ begins to race, its rhythm stuttering more and more the longer he’s here. “Sanji–” “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever had to deal with,” He curses under his breath when water splashes him. Then, with a pop, the plug comes off. Sanji throws it across the counter, still holding you like a cat that had gotten a bag wrapped around its tail. You feel a shiver skitter across the nape of your neck, where his fingers continue to brush your skin. “My face fucking hurts, man–” You groan. “Will you just stop and listen to me?!” His volume gets your attention, and you finally crack one eye open. Water clings to your lashes, making the sight of him blurry until they fall onto the floor. Face red and not just because of the sunburn, you stare at each other. Sanji waits for you to defy him, eyebrow furrowed angrily. You have half a mind to reach for him and smooth the wrinkles there with your thumb, but you don’t. God fucking damn it all.“Listening,” You sigh impatiently when he stays quiet. A knuckle touches your neck as he lets go of your scruff, and this time, you do react, shoulders rising. “...Right.” The cook lifts the towel, and you catch a whiff of the tea that Robin likes. Nose scrunching, you slip from his hold, “Nuh-uh.” Tea? On a sunburn? God, what if it’s still warm? “What do you mean, ‘nuh-uh’?!” He gawks at you. Then, without warning, he grabs you again. Sanji tugs you towards him by the collar, smacking you with the towel. You hiss at the feeling, gripping his wrist firmly. “You really think I’m going to let this tea go to waste?!”“What the fuck is tea going to do? ” You demand. It hurts, but not nearly as much as the water. Then again, you’re refusing to hold still, so it’s not like Sanji can do what he wants to do properly. “Hold still and I’ll fucking explain!” He hollers at you after a harsh yank. Your struggling ceases then, and Saji thanks God, patting your face with the washcloth with more force than is strictly necessary. His touch loses its aggression when you wince. Sanji pauses, watching as your pinched brows twitch, awaiting his next assault. Sanji’s shoulders slump in defeat, the irritation that drove his actions dissipating.You look like a kicked puppy. From this distance – which he reduces to examine you better– he can see that the burn is quite awful.“Why would you even come here to deal with this?” He mumbles, gently pressing the washcloth on your face. “I craved your impeccable bedside manner,” You respond just as quietly, eyes still closed. When you realize that he’s not going to cave your skull in with the towel, you visibly relax. Your eyelashes flutter with the need to look at him, but you can’t bring yourself to. Only one thing would go through your mind if you do, and you can’t let that happen. Not after almost fucking things up between you two. Palms clammy, you rest one hand on the counter to ground yourself, heart thundering in your ears. Sanji scowls at that, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got a boo-boo, Sanji,” Carefully, your humor rears its stupid little head. Before he can tell you to shut up, you keep going, “Please, help me. I’m dying.”“Good.” Sanji grouses. He’s yet to put the towel on your cheeks or forehead. Panic claws up his throat at the mere thought, thoughts that are not his own raining down on him. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t. It’s wrong. It’s not- You blow air towards your forehead, trying to move the wet strands of hair tickling you. A single drop of water rolls down your skin, down and down until it arrives at your chin. He keeps track of it, mouth dry, and Sanji-Sanji caves.Hesitantly, he brushes that hair back, and the air suddenly feels charged. His mouth falls open, questions, insults, and what have you on the tip of his tongue, but all he does is look. He looks at your lips, your nose, your hair. He pushes the towel onto your forehead, covering half your visage, and he breathes, listening to your complaints.“You’re going to poke one of my eyes out.”“Deal with it.”You huff a short laugh, leaning on the counter. Part of him thinks he should’ve dragged you to the table so you’d both be more comfortable. Mentally, he kicks himself for not doing that, but then another voice pipes up in his mind.
When are you going to get another chance to be this close?
Knowing you, probably soon. Then again, you’d almost ignored him this morning, and you certainly didn’t have the usual gleam in your eye.What happened to you yesterday?Was it him? Was he the reason?
The glaring.
Fuck.He removes the towel and almost startles when he makes eye contact with you. You blink a few times, readjusting to the light of the kitchen. With the cloth gone, you grin freely at him, tilting your head.Sanji fumbles for something to say. Again, ever the confident one, you beat him to it.“Thanks, Sanji.” Your voice is stronger, now. “That helped a lot, actually.” There’s a rock caught in his chest. He can barely breathe. The hand that was still holding your collar unfurls, and your bowed spine straightens. Sanji hates it. He hates that you’re not as close anymore. The emotion chooses this moment to betray him, and that hatred aims at his heart. His treacherous, childish heart. It hurts. “You should see Chopper.” “He’s busy,” Your reply sounds so strange to his ears that it brings his attention back to you. “Zoro tripped down the stairs, earlier. Broke his ass. The usual.” “What the hell are you talking about?” Sanji is incredulous when steps back, even if his body cries for him to stay where he was. “What?”“Chopper said it’s bad,” You carry on, voice wavering as you try not to laugh at your own fucking joke. God. You’re always doing this. Your façade almost drops when you think of what to add to it, “One of his swords, hah, it- it’s preetty far up in the-”“Oh, for the love of-” Sanji cuts you off, and you finally break, cackling into your hands. It ends with a sharp hiss when the sweat on your palms makes your skin sting.“Fuck,” You grumble.“Go and see Chopper, dumbass,” Sanji smacks you on the shoulder, and you whine some more. “You’re only going to make it worse if you don’t.”“No,” You retort petulantly, rubbing the sore limb. “Why not? ” Sanji barks, short on patience.“I don’t–” The moment he hears the don’t, Sanji interrupts you, waving his hands.“It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, you idiot! Your face is melting! Go get it checked out!”You give it another shot. “I don’t –”Sanji bristles, shouting at you, “If you tell me you don’t want to go one more time, I swear I’m going to–”“I don’t want to leave your side!” You scream at the top of your lungs, and, in that moment, the door to the kitchen opens and you almost throw yourself at whoever barged in like a rabid raccoon.You don’t, though, because It’s Nami and you’re already knee-deep in debt.When your head swivels in her direction, she freezes at the intensity of your stare, her bright orange hair pinned back. There’s ink on her hands, which hold a few papers and an empty glass. The crew’s navigator glances between you and Sanji, eyebrows hiking higher and higher the more dots she connects.Nodding in what you unhappily assume is understanding, she gives you both an indecipherable look – one that lasts for an uncomfortable ten seconds – then leaves. When the door clicks and her footsteps recede, you break the silence.“What the fuck was that…” You whisper, rubbing your forehead.“That’s what I want to know,” Sanji’s gaze lingers on the spot where Nami last stood. You may not have heard her wordless message, but he certainly had.
Figure this the fuck out, already.
You keep grumbling about their timing and how difficult it is to get a moment alone on this ship, which he can sympathize with. He gets suspicious if he goes unbothered for more than an hour, especially when he’s making the crew food. Still pissed, you seek out the rag that he’d soaked in the tea, and, realizing that he’s still holding it, banish the thought. It doesn’t matter that the sunburn is reaching dangerously irritating levels of itchy and painful, the stupid cook can keep it.God. Maybe you should’ve gone to Chopper after all.The only problem is Sanji’s remedy soothed more than your dumb mug, and Chopper, even with his talents, would not compare.“Here,” Awkwardly, Sanji offers you the cloth. With a deep frown, you accept it, patting your neck with it before moving up. When you stay silent, he keeps his mouth closed. In the meantime, he howls internally, alarms blaring in his brain. Sanji sneaks a glimpse at you, his lips mirroring yours when he sees how upset you are. You’ve hidden what you can behind a stony expression, but not everything. The way you move your jaw side to side gives you away.“I came here to-” You bite your tongue, screwing your eyes shut. You open them with a hefty exhale. “I came here to apologize. About yesterday.”Sanji’s face goes blank. “I feel as though I crossed a line,” You say, rattling off the words like you’re giving a speech. Like you’d rehearsed for this. “And for that, I’m really sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t… well, I didn’t think…” I didn’t think the idea of a man pursuing you would offend you so badly. He knows what you’re talking about. He knows because it’s the one thing he’s been thinking about the last sixteen hours. Suddenly, his suit and tie begin to suffocate him, and his hands curl into tight, shaking fists. Words he’s tried burying under who knows how many things ring in his ears, rousing the deep-rooted insecurity he feels when he’s forced to acknowledge this situation.“I was- well, I wasn’t kidding, but I was,” That makes no sense. “You should’ve made me a drink.”Sanji realizes what you’re doing.“I mean, even just- even some water would’ve been fine.” Your smile is strained. Silence. Sanji doesn’t say anything, letting his frown speak for him.“I’m sorry,” Whether you are tired of the jokes or decided they were inappropriate, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. You look at him, wearing a tiny, sheepish grin, looking as sorry as the day you broke a plate after Luffy pushed you, and Sanji’s anger threatens to boil over. This isn’t you. This shouldn’t be you.And if he could just get over himself, this wouldn’t be happening. Nami’s right. He’s got to figure this out.“You want water?” Your trepidation morphs into confusion. “What?”As it turns out, the seconds it took you to reply were your only forewarning. Sanji’s hand closes around the back of your neck. Stupidly, you gape at him, too frazzled to catch on to what he’s planning.Taking advantage of that, he drags you like he would a dog by the collar, ignoring your outburst. “Sanji, what the fuck-” Sanji shoves your head under the faucet and opens it. With a shout, your arms thrash wildly, elbow aiming for his gut. You choke on frigid water and several insults, refusing to call him names even when he’s actively trying to murder you.It ends all too quickly for your liking. Not that you’re okay with him killing you, but you’re starting to get dizzy from being forced to move this and that way. Coughing and sputtering, you wrench yourself away from him, anger clouding your vision. “ Why?! ”“Listen to me,” Sanji doesn’t answer your demand. At a loss, you do what he tells you to, regarding him with a mix of frustration, suspicion, and shock that almost makes him smile. “Whatever you’re thinking about… about this is wrong. Whatever you think I’m thinking about you isn’t true, either.”Hearing him reveal one of your greatest fears like that has blood rushing through your ears, your anxiety spiking. You cling to his words to stay calm, refusing to let your composure crumble. “You know, then.” You state, and Sanji rolls his eyes so intensely, you’re shocked when they don’t fly into another dimension.“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re not exactly subtle. At all.” Sanji points out, arching his eyebrow at you.“Neither are you!” You yell, bewildered. “What are you talking about now?” Nothing in particular. You’re talking out of your ass and you both know it. But it’s not like you can resort to fighting him; you’re not Zoro. If you knew for sure that fighting would fix your current problem, you’d have started throwing punches ages ago. But that’s not how you want things to go with Sanji. God.“I don’t know.” And you really don’t. You have no memory of Sanji ever showing the same care he’s shown Nami and Robin. He’s saved your life just like you’ve saved his, but he’s always done it with a jab and a swift kick to your back. This is probably the first time he’s touched you like this, and all it took was melting your fucking face off after royally screwing things up with him.“What do you feel, then?” You decide to get to the crux of the issue once and for all. “If I’m so wrong about you, what do you feel towards me, huh? What do you want out of this, now that you know?”Sanji’s jaw clenches. He stares at you, once again becoming keenly aware of the water clinging to your hair even after sweeping it back. Part of him regrets shoving you under the faucet as he takes you in again, mulling over your words. You’re still breathing hard from having to fight him off you, chest heaving. His gaze wanders down to your shoulders, to the scars he can spot, to every blemish and every spot on you. Though you don’t care for your appearance to his extent, you understand the need to be clean, unlike a certain Moss-Head. You know what looks good on you and what doesn’t. You must know, then. What you look like, now. How good you look.He blinks, meeting your eye. “I want to kiss you.”
Fuck.
“You don’t want to kill me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Sanji forces his eyes to stay glued to yours. “I want to do both.” He growls, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He feels light-headed for too many reasons. Sanji swallows, body tense and alarm bells rattling inside his skull. Voices not his own shout at him for confessing to what has felt like a… like a crime all his life. Normally, he’s able to fend them off, but today, today they only keep getting louder. He closes his eyes, letting his head hang, searching through the misery always present in his brain for the memory of a gentle hand on his head and a weak heartbeat in his ears. For the memory of the woman who held him through a stormy childhood until she no longer could. For the kind of embrace he’s longed for since he lost her.“Sanji.”He doesn’t realize he’s shaking until you call his name. Until you wrap him in your arms, trying to shelter him from a storm you don’t even feel.“As happy as I am to hear you say that,” You murmur, your voice too close and not close enough, “I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to or feel ready to do.”Sanji doesn’t return the gesture for a long time. He simply rests his forehead on your shoulder, breathing in your scent, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m fine,” He says after a while, expecting you to let go.“Hm.” You hum, not budging. “I said, I’m fine.” Sanji tries again, feeling a blush creeping up his neck.“I heard you.””Then let me go, idiot,” He says more forcefully, wriggling in your hold. The muscles of your arms flex, keeping him trapped against you, and Sanji starts to push. “Seriously?!”You groan, burying your face in his neck, and Sanji shouts. He goes ignored. Instead, you reply with, “Just let me have this one moment, man!”“I’ve already given you that moment!” His face has to be so red. Sanji doesn’t even know why he’s trying to escape you. There’s a 99% chance you’ll see the blush and start messing with him again. Sanji grips your sides, pushing and pulling to no avail.Eventually, once he’s slammed you into the fridge and you haven’t let go, he realizes that he’s stuck, that he doesn’t want to leave, and that there’s no more screaming in his head. The hold he has on your back loosens, his own pressed against the wall. Still, he doesn’t let go, fingers clinging to your shirt. He doesn’t know how long you both stay there. He doesn’t care. And, though he still needs to figure out what he’s feeling, he doesn’t let go.He doesn’t want to.He doesn't want to.Sanji feels you smile into his hair when he hugs you back.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hello! I'll keep this short for everyone's sake.So, first of all, I wanted to apologize for taking so long to complete all requests. I unfortunately haven't had much time or energy for writing lately and life has been a bit hard.With that being the case, I wanted to make an announcement:If you would still like me to write anything for you, please let me know here. Additionally, if you have a pending request and still want me to write it, feel free to copy and paste your original comment here, as well. And if you've thought of something else you want to see in it, let me know. I'm happy to include it.I think about all of the requests I have to do quite often and feel a mix of guilt and sadness when I realize how long it's been since some of you made them. It's a little crazy to me just how much time has passed since some of them, and it makes me wonder if it's even worth trying to write them, anymore. Even so, I don't want to just... ignore this whole thing and move on with my life. So... yeah! Here's your chance to give me a nudge and to get your story written if I haven't gotten to it, yet. With that said, I most likely won't complete the ones that don't end up here, and those that are posted here, I will prioritize from now on.New requests can also be placed here for now, as well.That's all, really.Thank you for understanding. You've all been very kind to me in the comments all these years and I appreciate it a lot.Take care, everyone. And try to make your 2024 a good one. I will try, too. - allswellinthiswell
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You’re not used to this anymore. Adjusting your jacket again, you shift your weight from one foot to another, waiting in front of the shop you and Law had agreed to meet at. Your hands drift from one end of your coat to another, fiddling with the collar, the sleeves, and the hood. It’s chilly today, but not enough to warrant all this movement. If anything, it’s nicer than it’s been in weeks.You can’t help it, though. It’s been so long since you went out with anyone like this. So long you’re not sure how you’re supposed to behave or if you’re supposed to change how you act. A part of you rejects the idea. Another part turns it around on itself, then flips it until you realize how ridiculous that would be.Because you’re going out with Law . A coworker and friend who’s seen you at your best and your worst on the same day . He’d probably ask you if you hit your head on the way here if you tried flirting with him now.Cars trundle by, slow and steady as drivers avoid veering where they shouldn’t. The winter months had been unkind to you all, and the brown and gross snow seems determined to get the last laugh as spring rolls around. Your feet would be soaked if you had decided to wear weak sneakers today. You watch the vehicles as they pass, rubbing the chill out of the tip of your nose. A car with a cute polar bear dangling from the rearview mirror makes you smile, even if the people in it burn holes through you with their eyes. The man in the passenger seat turns his body to keep you in his sights even as they make a turn. Weird.“There you are,” Your confusion dissipates the instant you hear his voice. Looking right, you find Law approaching you with a small smile. You chuckle as you walk up to him, grinning. “I’ve been here fifteen minutes,” You tap your wrist where a watch would sit. “While you… hey, you’re not late. Nice.”This you check by looking at Law’s arm. Unlike you, wearing a watch doesn’t annoy him to hell and back at the hospital, scrubs and gowns be damned. Law, who’s also wearing a light, dark hooded jacket, a white sweater, and black pants, gives you a blank look. Even so, you can see mirth in his eyes. The only thing you’re not used to seeing is his hat. It’s white, fluffy, and dotted with patches of black near the base. The thick bill casts shadows across his handsome face, making his sharp eyes stand out even more. Elbowing him gently, you lead him towards the coffee shop you’d mentioned. You doubt a walk in the park is a good idea with the patches of ice still left, but it might be worth a shot after a drink.You hope you’ll be able to go to the park. It’ll be good for you both to get away from people and bask in nature. You’re usually okay with socializing, but after the month you’ve had, you need a break. …Poor Mr. Grotto. After a sigh to yourself, you chat about the days ahead with Law. He mentions Corazon wanting to drag him out to see this band he likes. He tries to act annoyed by the idea, but you think you know what band he’s talking about. You saw that tacky band shirt of his when he was last called to the hospital unexpectedly.Regardless, you make it to the coffee shop. Law pays for both of your drinks and makes it a point to ignore you when you protest, tapping his card on the card reader the second you’re distracted. He takes the drinks from the entertained barista with a polite nod, then struts out of the shop. Honestly, if there’s one thing you’ve found about him, it’s that Law could be a bit of a shit, sometimes. Not only does he not check to see if you’re behind him, he holds your drink out to the side, waiting for you to take it. Knowing the battle is already lost, you relent, catching up to him. “Thank you for paying for my drink,” You say, accepting the cup almost swaying back and forth teasingly. Huffing, you take a sip. It helps chase away the chill seeping through your coat and into your skin. “You’re welcome,” He replies, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. And speaking of corners.“Huh,” You blink at the three pairs of eyes undeniably fixed on you two. When they realize they’ve been spotted, they quickly duck behind the wall they’d all poked their heads around. Law’s eyebrows twitch when he hears you react, and this time he turns his head, regarding you curiously. “What?” He asks, seeing nothing. “I saw three men staring at us,” You explain, lips pursing as you think. Were they the same people as the ones in the car? They did gawk at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. “From that place there. By the clothes shop.” Pointing, you direct Law’s gaze to the right spot. You’d be more scared if you were by yourself. Law is here though, and he’s pretty terrifying when he wants to be. Unless you somehow manage to sneak up on him, which you’ve only ever managed to do once.The memory of him floundering away like a cat with tape stuck to its front paws makes you proud even now.Shrugging, you smile up at him, somewhat unsure. Maybe you should stay away from the park. Just in case you’d somehow attracted three of the silliest criminals ever. “Here,” Suddenly, Law’s hand brushes your lower back and you straighten considerably, letting out a small ‘oh’ . Smoothly, he switches places with you so that you’re now on the inside of the sidewalk. His tattooed hand lingers on your back, then falls away. You inhale deeply.“Thank you,” Great! You almost lost your train of thought because of how nice that felt. How neat.“We can head somewhere else if you’d like?”“No,” His sharp eyes scan the streets. You’d expected to see caution clouding his expression, but all you see is annoyance, instead. An annoyance similar to the one he expressed when he called Corazon in front of you. “I have a feeling I know who’s watching us.” Then, to reassure you, he adds, “The only danger they pose is to themselves.” Finally, he takes his first sip of coffee, glaring ahead.“Oh,” You reply. “Friends of yours, then?”“More like three headaches I can’t seem to get rid of,” He sighs, lowering his drink. You grin.“Maybe they’re just trying to make sure you make it home today.” Thankfully, Law relaxes at your joke. You are a bit more at ease. If those three people are just his friends being nosy and protective, then that’s fine by you. It may have been a while since your last date, but you’re not rusty enough to get him killed . And, hey, if you do manage to injure your fellow doctor, then at least you’ll both know how to deal with it.You arrive at the park, where you throw your empty cups into a trashcan. It’s not as bad as you assumed it’d be. The paths are mostly free of slushy snow and it is far less crowded than the city streets. Breathing the cold into your lungs, you let out a loud, relieved breath. Off in the distance, through another entrance to the park, three people skitter across a path into a bush. The biggest of them all, who you think has white hair, stumbles and falls into the brush head first. His lower half, which has yet to retreat into shadow, is yanked into the hiding spot by four other hands. You bite your lip when Law mutters a disbelieving “why?” ’, your shoulders bouncing.“Who are they?” You ask, laughter bubbling up your throat and underlying your words. “They’re your friends, sure, but what are their names?”“The tallest one is Bepo,” Law answers, refusing to look in their direction again. The sooner you both lose these three, the better. “The other two are Penguin and Shachi.” “I see,” You nod, jogging a little to walk by his side again. “Did you tell them you were, ah, going out?” The ‘with me’ remains unsaid, but you know he hears it loud and clear. “Unfortunately,” He laments, scowling. “I shouldn’t have said anything at all.”All he’d said in their group chat was that he’d be out in town today. That’s it. Yet, somehow, like bloodhounds, that crumb of information had led them here. How? Why? All of them had to work today, for God’s sake. Maybe he shouldn’t have doubted Shachi and Penguin. After all, they’ve been trying to find him a partner for years. They started when he was sixteen and they found out he’d never been in a serious relationship. Even now, more than a decade later, they still wiggle their eyebrows at him if he stares at someone too long. They still prod him and make kissy faces at him, and they still shake him by the shoulders when he ‘ lets an opportunity pass him by ’. What a mess. It’s a fun game of “spot the three weirdos”, after that. You and Law amble through a more wooded area of the park, trying to keep to your promise of talking about everything but work. It’s a little difficult, especially with Mr. Grotto on your mind, but the stories he tells of Corazon help. Who’d have thought the man who raised such a poised individual was so chaotic? “He has set himself on fire? ” You parroted incredulously, followed by a whispered five when you spotted Bepo again, eyes wide. Law nods, shrugging like he hadn’t had to learn how to use a fire extinguisher at twelve.“More times than I can count.” You rub your forehead. Corazon sounds nice, but he also sounds like thirty of your worst patients combined. “I’m surprised you don’t have a full head of white hair,” You comment. The stress from hearing these stories is getting to you, so you can’t imagine living them. “That’s a bit crazy.”“You get used to it,” He says.“I suppose I’ll have to…” You mutter to yourself, missing the way Law smiles inconspicuously at that. There’s a rustling to your right. “Oh. Six.” “Damn it, Bepo!” One of the other two whisper-yells, “Stop letting them see you!” They’re a funny bunch, these three. You’d like to get to know them, but they refuse to admit defeat.“Maybe you should call them,” You suggest quietly, “See who forgot to put their phone on silent.”“I might if they keep this up,” Law agrees. Eventually, you find a dry, vacant bench, and you both decide to rest your soggy feet. Law’s mood has soured, so now it’s your turn to fill the air with anecdotes. You don’t think you’re half as interesting as Law, but he listens with the same quiet intensity he always listens with. Only, this time, when you check to see if he’s paying attention, he’s all small grins and creased eyes. It’s a gaze unlike anything you’ve seen from him in the hospital.You wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t tend to be as cold as the ice still coating every inch of your town. And he was cold when you first met him. You hadn’t known at the time, but he’d just dealt with a man who had spent the hours before his operation hurling insults at everyone. Then you’d waltzed in, tried introducing yourself to the new addition to the team, and he hadn’t looked all that impressed.Little did he know that you put up with just as much shit in that place. And, while you don’t care much for seniority, you do value kindness. So, on your break, you bought him a coffee, delivered it to him with a pep in your step, and strongly recommended he try to be nicer for everyone’s sake. Mostly his. He got the idea eventually. A few code blues together helped speed him along.Out here, though… Out here, you find none of that. “They left the idiot in the car! Drunk, alone, and in just the worst snowstorm you could ever imagine.” Your voice carries as you speak. The world around you is quiet save for the odd shuffling here and there. “I mean, it was bad .”“Which is why you went out to get him.” He finishes for you, eyebrow raised knowingly.“...Well, yeah ,” You say, “He was going to die. I may have hated his guts, but I couldn’t just sit there and let that happen. Can’t exactly save lives if I get arrested for letting someone die , now can I?” “Hm,” Law hums with a smirk, leaning back. “I guess not.” Then, after a bit, he says, “You were meant to be a doctor.”The declaration catches you off guard. Law says nothing else when you stare at him wordlessly.A laugh leaves your mouth after a few more beats, and you put your hand on your cheek, waving the other one dismissively, “Oh, you.” As always, his rare compliments make your heart swell with pride and gratitude. Talking about the cold reminds you of your peanut gallery. “You know, I think your friends are gonna freeze. We haven’t moved in a while.” Scanning your surroundings, you try to find them again, but can’t.“They grew up in worse.” He sounds dismissive, if a bit uncaring, so their shenanigans really must be bothering him. Tilting your head, you smile empathically, raising your hand to pat him on the back. “It’s what they get for being stupid.”“Not sure I should comment on that.” You say, tucking your hand under your arm, partly to warm it up and partly to hide how… clumsy you feel. Law hums. The conversation lags, and the silence emerging from that pause extends beyond you and Law. There’s no rustling of leaves, no snapping of twigs, and no birds, just the wind whispering in your ear.“Then comment on Mr. Grotto,” Law responds, ignoring the need to phone Penguin and tell him off. You may not see him, but he sure can. The city’s cold, sure, but he’s not sure it’s cold enough for actual penguins to migrate here. The pom-pom of Penguin’s hat sinks into a bush at his death stare. Law narrows his eyes, then focuses on you again. He’d yet to say anything, but he’d noticed the grief weighing you down. Your lips part, and you blink, but all that ekes out is a tiny sound. With it comes a short, humourless laugh, and you drop your eyes.“I didn’t want to bring it up,” You don’t want to dissuade him - you don’t think you’re capable of it - but you also don’t want to bring the mood down. “We said we wouldn’t.” “...I know we did,” Law rubs his jaw, his tattooed fingers scratching at his sideburns. Death. What a word to permanently wear on your body. It’s never bothered you, but today, like a bell tolling in the distance, it’s a reminder. “But I also know that look.”“Yeah…” He does. Of course, he does. Every good doctor sees it in the mirror more times than many of them like to admit. Yours must’ve been obvious today if Law is the one to initiate this conversation. “Well, I mean…” You start, trailing off moments later. Mr. Grotto’s kind words echo in the darkest recesses of your mind. “You know– well, you know what happened. He died.” A huff leaves your lungs. Law appears a bit shocked at your conciseness, but now that that’s out in the air, you can’t stop, “He died even though he looked like he was getting better. And the worst part is that I knew it was going to happen. I knew and yet…” You stare ahead as you unwrap the pain you’d tried concealing from him. It’s no secret to anyone that you become easily invested in people’s cases. Since it’s no secret, many have taken it upon themselves to warn you of the consequences of connecting with patients like you did. But how could you not? Hospitals are no carnival, and you work with people riddled with illnesses who are already terrified. You’ve seen sick children flinch at the slightest touch after being poked with needle after needle. There have been times when a family member is in so much denial, that they ask you about the deceased loved one moments after you’ve told them they’ve passed. You’ve witnessed those same people crumble completely when their brains finally let the news sink in, their eyes welling with tears and their knees wobbling. Mr. Grotto’s gaze hadn’t left you since he started declining. He watched you as you tried to save him, eyes closing then groggily blinking open. At one point, when nothing more could be done, you rushed to his side and held onto the same hand you’d grasped just a few days earlier. You can’t even remember what you said to him. All you can recall is the feel of his skin, and how he seemed to use the last of his strength to squeeze your hand once, twice, and then… He was gone a minute later. …You never want to know how long it took for his family to show. “And I– I know about the distance we’re supposed to maintain for our own sanity. I know.” You continue, the words that had long since replaced your tears spilling out of you, “But he was alone . And that scared him, Law. I saw it.” Rubbing your face with too much vigour, you bite your lip, then raise your hands to argue with a higher-up that isn’t here. That’s how many times you’ve had to make your case. “I couldn’t let him go like that. He needed someone to help him along and I just couldn’t ignore that.”You’ve always regretted not connecting with a patient and then watching them go. It makes you feel… undeserving. Like you should have let someone else take the reigns in that person’s final moments. Law himself had argued against forming such a deep bond with patients. Part of you expects him to try to explain why you shouldn’t, again , but he doesn’t. Not this time. He stays silent for a long while, clearly struggling with what to say. And maybe it’s your growing feelings for him warping reality, but the sight is endearing to you. He doesn’t need to speak to bring you peace.Eventually, he settles on something simple, saying, “You did your best.” Then, with more surety, he adds, “I’m sure he appreciated you being there for him until the end.” Until the end… “I don’t know.” You breathe, slouching. The wooden bench digs uncomfortably into your spine. “I tried. I just hope he’s at peace now.”“I’m sure.” Law agrees softly, thinking back to the patients he’d lost. The things he remembers about them – their voices, their laughs, their faces – would come back to him at random times. He can’t count how many times he’ll be going about his day when, suddenly, he’ll catch a whiff of something and recall a patient’s favourite drink. It’s tragic, knowing that they’re gone, but he holds onto the belief that you’re both doing your best. And, sometimes, that means letting someone pass. With nothing else to say, you mull over the conversation, drifting from one memory to another. Though the hole in your heart is still there, it’s not the gaping maw it’s been these last few days. The idea of going out with Law has helped with that.“Have you heard anything about the little boy?” You inquire tentatively. Law meets your eye, searching your face for traces of grief. When he realizes you’re feeling better, he nods, “He sent me a letter recently.” Your expression changes to one of adoration. You click your tongue, lips stretching into a wobbly smile.“Yeah. He thanked me again for helping him. Told me he wanted to ‘be like me’ when he’s older.”At that, you let out a drawn-out ‘aw…’ , lightly bumping him on the arm. “That’s beautiful, Law.”“If you say so.”You’re amused by his awkward response, shaking your head. If you see hints of red dusting his cheeks, you don’t comment on it.Unsurprisingly, the boy’s recovery had made international news, and thousands of people had applauded Law for healing him. The weeks after were busy ones for Law, with people coming in and out for interviews and more. Law avoided many of the interviews, undeterred from his work, but he did subject himself to a few. You’d been allowed to sit in on a few, sending him a thumbs up every time his eyes strayed towards you. “I’m glad we have you around,” You say earnestly.Half a second after you say that, someone in the peanut gallery sneezes.You laugh heartily, saying ‘bless you’ to the bush that let out the noise, then harder when Law gets up and scares his friends away.Feeling much better, you and Law leave the park, wandering the nearby streets. It’s aimless, but it’s relaxing, and you spend the entire evening enjoying each other’s presence. Sometimes you talk, other times you mosey about in silence, and sometimes, you get closer to him than you should, seeking more of, well, him. It gets to a point where you can barely remember why you were nervous in the first place. That is until you look up at Law and notice how the setting sun illuminates the curve of his cheek. How it sets his piercing eyes alight, and how it cradles his face in the ways you want to.The night ends soon after that. Law walks you home, once again ignoring your protests regarding trivialities like his safety and security , and then doesn’t leave. A few weeks later, you’re out again when he receives a phone call from Corazon. Law doesn’t get many words out before Corazon says something that silences him for a solid minute. At Corazon’s persistent nagging , which you overhear, he turns to you.“He wants to meet you,” He states. “...when?” You ask quietly. “Now,” Law says, eyebrows heavy with annoyance. “ Oh ,” Damn. Okay. You were not expecting this at all . With a slight frown, you peer down at your current outfit. “Aren’t I underdressed for this?”“You’re fine,” Law assures you, fingers trailing down your arm pensively. When they reach your forearm, he speaks to Corazon, next, “We’ll be there in an hour.”“ An hour?! ” Law ends the call. They must really like to one-up each other , you think.Call now finished, Law starts leading the way back to his car. You follow without a word, wondering if you should go home to change or if you should go at all. Surprises are part of your job, but this… this is far more daunting, for some reason. When was the last time you met someone’s parents?“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Law suddenly says, unlocking his car from afar. The lights flick on, then the vehicle itself, the doors unlocking. He stops a few feet away from it, gazing at you. “I can say you didn’t feel well.”“Well, I mean,” You begin lightly, your grin small. “I’d like to meet him! But shouldn’t I, I dunno, bring something?” Both of you go around the car to the passenger side. You’re two seconds from cracking a joke about a ghost driving you there for shits and giggles, but he speaks again.“I think he’s cooking something,” Law explains, opening the door for you. “Which is why I said we’d be there in an hour. I wasn’t kidding about the fires.” The fires. Implying more than one in a single day.“Right! Okay, yep, off we go then.” Law huffs at your newfound urgency. Getting inside, you buckle up and close the door before he can, pointing at the steering wheel adamantly. Rolling his eyes, he too gets ins the car, and soon enough, you’re off. (x)Thankfully, you get to the house before the flames can pour out of the windows.Law sends you a furtive glance, ensuring you’re alright and that the door is locked before marching into the kitchen. Corazon’s happy yell at Law’s appearance morphs into a panicked one as smoke fills the halls. “What did you do? ” Law hisses. When Corazon tries defending himself, Law interrupts him with a long lecture.You take your shoes off while that’s happening, waiting for Law to return. Aside from a massive pair of boots, there’s nothing too interesting about the entranceway. A few minutes pass, the smoke clearing out, and you decide to be brave and climb the steps leading further into the house.Hand on the wall, you round the corner and find a large living room. Despite the pricey-looking couches and the large painting of a landscape above one of them, the place feels homey. There’s a glass of water on the coffee table, colourful yet worn throw pillows, and a striped blanket off to the side. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Law! You gave me an hour!” Corazon laments loudly, “Besides, I wanted to try making something exciting for your paramour -”“Don’t say that.” Law cuts him off, exasperated. “It’s not like that.”“Okay, fine. Sorry.” You hear Corazon sigh. It makes you feel a bit bad for him, to be honest. “Thanks for saving my house again. The neighbours will appreciate it.”Law grunts. “You said you’d make something simple, Cora-san.” “I did, didn’t I?” Corazon snorts ruefully and, shortly after, you hear an oven door closing. Should you announce yourself? Should you hang out by the living room until Law returns? What if they need help in the kitchen?“Where’s your date, anyway?” Corazon asks. There’s no reply.Moments later, a series of rapid footsteps make their way towards you. You stay where you are, putting on a smile that belies your nervousness. Law rounds the corner, almost bumping into you in his hurry. With a quiet curse, he catches himself, his hands landing on your shoulders.“Hi,” You whisper, feeling like you’d been caught vandalizing Corazon’s home. “I uh… you were taking a while, and I felt weird just standing there, so I came here and… I feel weird, anyway?” “Sorry,” Law replies with a hefty sigh. “Don’t be,” Quickly, you caress his face, grinning. The touch is there and gone in an instant, but it has its desired effect. Law’s eyes soften almost imperceptibly. “Is he okay?”“Yes.” Shoulders straightening, he guides you further into the house. “Almost burnt his house down, but he’s alright.”“Ah,” You laugh quietly, drawing from that well of tranquillity you always turn to in stressful situations. This is fine. You’re fine. At last, you make it to the kitchen, where Corazon, a man more than a head taller than you and of sturdy build, fusses over a burnt… chicken? At the sound of footsteps, his head turns. The first thing you take note of is his dirty blond hair, which is swept to the side, his brown eyes, and his neatly trimmed beard. Eyebrows raised, he wipes his hands on an apron he’s put on, his beaming mouth agape. He’s wearing a button-up shirt with navy blue stars on it, white slacks, and socks with squiggles on them. The tension lining your shoulders suddenly disappears, and you mirror his joyful smile, staying close to Law.“Hi there!” You greet.“Oh my God, he really did bring you!” Corazon cries, closing the gap between you in two strides. He offers a hand for you to shake, which you do, chuckling at his infectious excitement. “I thought this day would never come! Hi, hello! How do you do? I’m Corazon, but you can call me Rosinante.”“Cora-san…” Law grumbles. Corazon ignores him.“It’s good to finally meet you, Corazon!” Should you use his other name? Law only ever used Corazon at work because of his nickname for him, but what if he prefers Rosinante? Maybe you’ll figure it out as you go. “I’m doing fine. You?”“Well, I’m certainly doing better than that chicken.” He checks behind him as if the meal he tried cooking will become edible if he glares long enough. When it doesn’t, he meets your eye again with a sheepish grin. “But that’s alright. We’ll improvise. Erm.. Law, why don’t you order us some food with that, uh, Skippy app you use?”“Sure,” Law, who’d been overlooking the exchange like a hawk, pulls out his phone. Corazon waves his hands in the direction of the living room, and you walk back towards it. “You have a beautiful home,” You say earnestly, sitting on one of the couches. Corazon occupies the one across from you. He looks around with creased brows at your compliment, nodding to himself. “Thank you,” He leans back, getting comfortable. “Law’s got a good eye for furniture, that’s for sure.”“Oh?” You glance down at the leather couch. It’s really cushy. “Expensive, too!” “They’re better for his back,” Law calls distractedly from the hall. He must be trying to figure out what to order. You hope he doesn’t ask what you want because you have no clue. “Yeah, yeah,” Corazon waves his hands dismissively at the air. Though he’s obviously trying to simmer down, his enthusiasm is still visible. “So! Tell me… How’s doctoring lately?”“Oh, well, you know,” You get comfortable as well, crossing one leg over the other. Perhaps Law hasn’t told him about Mr. Grotto. If so, you’re not going to bring it up. The last thing you want is to bring the mood down a second time. “It’s good! Very rewarding. I love chasing old, stubborn patients that refuse to stay still around the hospital.”A laugh erupts from Corazon’s chest at your last comment. It’s the kind you can’t help even if you tried. Maybe this won’t go as badly as you feared.“Sounds like Law if he was fifty years older,” Corazon jokes back. Before you can agree, Law pokes his head around the corner and glowers. Corazon’s response is to let out another exuberant laugh.“I can’t blame them, to be honest,” You carry on, “I’ll probably do the same when my time comes.” “Better drag him back to bed when you do,” Corazon adds quietly. You give him a thumbs up. “Other than that,” Acting like you didn’t just swear to babysit Law in his old age, you keep talking, “It’s wonderful.”Law walks into the living room. You pretend not to notice the stern gleam in his eye as he sits down beside you, leaving a respectful gap. “Food’s on its way,” He announces as he settles, phone in his hand. “Great. Thanks, kiddo,” Corazon replies gratefully. “Anyway, that sounds fantastic. Law’s told me about all the people you’ve helped. I’m sure they appreciate having you around.”You’ve only known Corazon for a short three minutes, but you like him a lot. “That’s kind of you,” You say, then remember the person that brought you here. “Though I have had to get better at my job since this guy showed up.”“Ah, yes,” Corazon nods solemnly, “Always the prodigy, that one.” That’s… pretty accurate, actually. Law did mention he’d been interested in medicine since he could read, which was a bit of a shock. You wouldn’t be surprised if Corazon told you he used textbooks as pillows when he was younger. Law sighs but doesn’t say anything. “Well,” You glance at Law, who watches you coolly. Your grin is full of cheek, “He’s pretty good, but not that good.” “Wow. Thanks.” Law’s face is devoid of emotion. Corazon wheezes.“My pleasure.” Though you and Corazon do most of the talking, you manage to coax Law into joining in once in a while. When Corazon asks you to share work stories, you make sure to tell the ones Law was part of, pretending to forget details so he’d inevitably jump in. It helped him relax, you think.You also think Law is more nervous than he lets on, but you can’t figure out why. Not once has he fidgeted since you met him, and you’re not sure you can say he is now , but he’s been staring at his phone for a while. Is he scrolling through apps? Is he checking work emails? Is he avoiding eye contact with Corazon because of his eyebrow wiggles?You can’t say for sure.Eventually, after the older man looks at his watch, he asks, “When does the food arrive?”Law finds the app, eyebrows furrowing. His hat sits on his lap. “Should be here soon…”“Hopefully,” Corazon murmurs, “I’m starving. Are you hungry?” He asks you, his brown eyes full of worry. “A little bit,” You’re truthful, but not completely. The last thing you want is for the poor man to feel bad after he tried to cook you dinner. “But I can wait. Don’t worry.” “Fifteen minutes,” Law says, putting his phone back down. That clarified, you decide to learn more about Corazon, asking him about his life. He tells you about his job, about some of his family, like his father and how he’d brought them all here from a faraway place, and Law’s childhood. Though he gets dangerously close to whipping out the baby pictures, he can’t. After a few minutes of searching for them, Corazon gives Law the stink eye, and Law admits to hiding them days ago. You and Corazon whine at this, but Law stubbornly refuses to reveal their location.“Guess I’ll have to get my phone, too,” Corazon sings, and you and Law yell for different reasons. Not one to waste a second, Law gets up and tries to pry Corazon’s phone from his hands, but the older man is relentless. They wrestle each other for the device, which somehow ends up between the cushions of the couch Corazon had sat on. Corazon dives for it and holds it up for you to see when he fishes it out, only for Law to snatch it away. You half expect him to stuff it into Corazon’s ruined food, but he doesn’t.By the time Law’s phone dings to let him know about your food, you can’t breathe, tears running down your cheeks.“Food’s here!” Corazon calls with a broad smile. Law forgets about the baby pictures, helping him get to his feet. You dab at your face with your sleeve, a stray chuckle or two ghosting past your lips. “You could’ve helped, you know,” Law grumbles, tossing Corazon’s phone on the couch. “A guest doesn’t have to do anything.” Corazon chastises him, before sliding his slippers on.“I’ll be back in a moment!” Unfortunately, glancing at you costs him dearly. Corazon rams his big toe into the coffee table, and with a loud shout, topples over. You’re on your feet faster than you can blink, reaching for the man, but it’s too late. Corazon’s nose slams into the floor with a mighty boom.“Cora-san!!” Alarmed, Law rushes to his side. You get there first, kneeling beside Corazon as he groans, rolling onto his back. Red begins to stain his hand. “Oh, crap,” You say, wincing at the blood. “Hey, Corazon? C’mon, sit up for me?” “Man…” Corazon groans again, pushing himself into a sitting position. He pinches his nose, blinking watery eyes at you before chuckling ruefully. “The food… Law, go get the food, will you?” “Are you serious, right now?” Law asks incredulously. “We can’t make the delivery driver wait out there forever, Law.” Corazon makes a face, letting go of his nose. Blood drips down his fingers onto the floor. “That’s not how it-” Law sighs, but before he can argue further, you rest a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “Go,” You say, “I’ll look after him. The nosebleed’s anterior, anyway. Nothing crazy.” Law searches your eyes, gaze flitting from one to the other. Whatever he finds must convince him, because he gets up, clicking his tongue. Rubbing his forehead, he mumbles something about “clumsy old men”, then walks away. “Don’t move, old man.” He orders before leaving. Corazon watches him go, then sticks his tongue out at him.You bite back a joke, shaking your head. “Can I take a look? I want to make sure it’s nothing we need to go to the hospital for.”“Bah. I’m fine,” Corazon assures you, lifting a bloodied hand. “Right. Anterior.” Now confirmed, you say, “Lean forward for me and keep pinching your nostrils.”“Aye aye,” Corazon does as he’s told, which is nice of him. He’s probably heard the same instructions a few hundred times if he’s as clumsy as Law says. Staying on the floor won’t help him much, though, so you disobey the doctor’s orders and help the man into the kitchen. Grabbing the nearest clean towel, you wet it under the faucet, trying not to stare too hard at the burnt chicken.“This is not going how I wanted this to go, you know.” Corazon sounds sadder than he appears with his nose pinched. Gently, you press the wet towel to the injured area, careful not to push down too much. “My cooking’s not that horrible most of the time.”His weak attempt at a joke tugs at your heart, eyes drifting to his face. His brown eyes are downturned, and although he’s smiling, it’s not as bright anymore. “I look forward to trying it,” You reply, removing the towel to check on the injury. Corazon’s gaze finds yours, eyes wrinkling in the corners. When he nods, you rest the towel on his nose again, sympathizing when he hisses in pain.“Wonder where Mr. Grumpy went…” He breathes, squinting at the front entrance. “Unless he’s personally delivering the other orders, I don’t understand why he’s taking so long.”That’s true. Where did Law go?“I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” You say with a shrug, “Probably got hungry along the way.” “Oh, man,” Corazon scoffs nasally, “That twerp’s dead if he eats my food.” You and Corazon spend a minute or two speculating about Law’s disappearance, spiralling into more ridiculous theories as you go. The quiet laughter you both share lifts Corazon’s spirits again, but there are hints of guilt here and there that refuse to leave.Seeing an opportunity, you decide to put an end to that, “Please don’t feel bad about anything, Corazon.” You say, dampening the towel again. Corazon lets go of his nose, blowing air out of his mouth when it keeps bleeding. He pinches it once more. “Not all doctors have a stick up their butt. I’m very happy to sit and talk.”Corazon hums. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time…” After another minute, he lets go of his nose. “Looks like it’s done.”“Perfect,” You give him the towel, which he uses to dab at the blood on his face. “Should heal in a day or two, I think.”“Thank you,” Corazon says quietly. Then, without prompting, he adds, “I can see why he opened up to you.” Perhaps it’s the wording that catches you off guard, or maybe it’s how he says it, but you’re speechless. Before you can ask about it, Law walks through the front door, closing it with a hard shove.You both focus on Law, bags hanging off his arms as he locks the front door. With a wink in your direction, Corazon demands, “What happened to you?! We’ve been making bets!”“Oh, yeah?” Law deposits the bags on the top step, taking his shoes off again. “Can’t wait to hear about those.”“I bet you ran off to a different planet entirely,” Corazon picks up the bags, going to the living room to put them on the coffee table. You approach Law, grinning as he walks up the steps and joins your side. “And you?” Law asks, standing close enough for you to smell his very mild cologne. “I bet you saw your friends out there and went to chase them away again.” “You mean Penguin and Shachi have been following you two?!” Corazon yells, shocked. He’d been laying out the food, crumpling paper bags and tucking them under his arm. “And Bepo,” Law tacks on.Corazon blinks at Law. “Kids these days are weird. Not you, though. You’re doing a great job.” What you thought he’d aimed at Law he actually says to you, chuckling when Law rolls his eyes and strolls into the living room.Dinner is an assortment of bento boxes and other healthy dishes, much to Corazon’s disappointment. Still, you all dig in, trading parts of your meals like you’ve known each other for decades. As you do, you learn that the delivery driver dropped it off at the wrong house, which is why Law took so long to return. Ouch. Law is not inclined to share his onigiri and grilled fish, however, which you take as a challenge. Somehow, after a long game of trying and failing to steal one of the fish, you snag one without him noticing. Corazon’s face is comical at that point, cheeks puffed and fingers on his mouth, body shaking.Minutes later, to your dismay, Law steals one of your bites of tamagoyaki as revenge. Guess you weren’t as sneaky as you thought.When you’re finished, you help Corazon clean up as much as he allows. You’re only able to gather the dirty dishes, but oh, well. Another half hour of chatting later, the night comes to an end.“Thank you so much for having me,” You say after putting on your jacket. Corazon is at the top of the steps, hand on the railing as Law gets ready to go, as well. “Thank you for coming!” Corazon returns, holding out his hand. Not wanting him to tumble, you step closer and shake it firmly, feeling much more confident. “Ready to go?” Law asks. Corazon leans backwards, peering into the living room. He perks up seconds later.“Oh, wait, you forgot something!” He says, “C’mere, I’ll give it to you.”Slightly puzzled, you do as he says, frowning at the dirt your shoes leave on one of the steps. When you enter the living room again, Corazon is holding out a piece of paper, grinning. Patting down your pockets, you realize you’d forgotten nothing at all. You accept the piece of paper anyway, tucking it into your jacket. “Thank you, Corazon!” You say, heading towards the front door once more. Corazon crosses his arms and leans against the wall, bowing his head. “Okay, now I’m ready.”“I’ll be back to check on your face soon.” Law declares, opening the door for you. “I already had it checked by one doctor! I don’t need a meaner one to scold me!” Corazon shoots back. “Thanks for helping me with that, by the way. Again.”“It was my pleasure.” You reply happily. “Have a wonderful night, Corazon. Thank you for having me!”Unable to help himself, Corazon makes his way down to you, grinning from one ear to another. “It was no trouble. Just make sure to come back soon! I need to show you those pictures!”“Good luck finding them, old man!” Law shouts from outside, tugging gently at your arm as you and Corazon laugh. You feel light when he finally disappears inside his house, cheeks aching from all the smiling you’d done.You hadn’t even noticed the time go by. It definitely had, though. The sky is completely black, and old street lamps are your only light source. Crickets and other creatures chirp and sing, and when you take a deep breath, you catch a whiff of smoke in the air. Somebody must have a fire pit around here. Checking the time on your phone, you realize you’ve been at Corazon’s house for over three hours. “That was fun,” You say to Law as you walk to his car, remembering the paper Corazon had given you. “And Corazon is so nice! I can’t believe I was so worried.”“Yeah,” He agrees breathily. If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would have assumed he was being somewhat dismissive. You hear the sigh of relief behind the word, though. Looking down at the ground, you adjust your jacket, heart at ease and stomach full of good food.Law unlocks the vehicle and, as usual, holds the door open for you. You don’t get in though, teeth worrying your bottom lip. You’ve never been so inclined to stay in one place before. “What’s wrong?” He inquires, his hand still on the handle. Slowly, you inch toward him, a coy smile pulling at your lips. Law watches you closely, puzzled. “Nothing,” You reply, then raise your hand. His eyes flick to the fingers that draw a smooth line from his cheek to his jaw. Stepping even closer, you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, drawing back with a twinkle in your eye. Before he can coax a proper kiss out of you, you take his hand, tilting your head at him. “Thank you for today. Truly.” Law glances back at Corazon’s house. “...He’s never been so insistent about meeting anyone I know before, that’s for sure.”“Well,” You murmur, stroking his cheek, “I’m glad he didn’t give up.” You’ve met many people, but not many have a heart like Corazon’s. You suppose that’s why you were so nervous. Patients have called you a hero before, but you’ve never believed them. How could you consider yourself a hero when all you’re doing is your job? No, that title goes to people like Corazon. You don’t know the whole story yet, but based on what Law has told you, Corazon saved him from a really shitty situation. He was one of the first people to come into contact with Law after he lost his family and probably the only one to never give up on him. And now, here he is. Law pulls you closer, gazing into your eyes, jaw clenching with the need to voice his thoughts. Knowing him, he probably won’t do it now, but that’s okay. He’ll find the words later on.“Honestly, I think you might have been more anxious about this whole thing than me.” You poke his cheek smugly, offering him an out before his brain can malfunction. He takes it, scoffing at your accusation. “Didn’t know you hit your head while I was away, as well.” Law retorts as you get in the car at last. “You’re just mad because I’m right and you know it,” You keep ribbing him, putting on your seatbelt. Law shuts the door.On the drive back home, you and Law listen to the radio. The paper from Corazon whispers for your attention, and though you wanted to wait until you got home, you pull it out, too curious to wait. Law doesn’t ask even as you unfold it right in front of him, eyes dutifully on the road.It’s a picture of him and Law.Bringing it closer to your face, you stare at it, shocked by the sight.It’s dark, so you can’t pinpoint where they are, but it looks like a theme park. Corazon is wearing a ridiculous hat with feathers sticking out of it. Someone had painted a big smiley face on his right cheek. He’s kneeling on the ground, one arm wrapped around a very moody young boy as he smiles at the camera. In the image, the tinier, skinnier Law looks like he’d rather be dead than near the man. His hat is the same one he wore today, but Corazon had thrown a pink feather scarf over his shoulders. There are patches of white on his skin, similar to those on the young boy he saved. In the bottom right corner, you see the date and the park’s name and nearly melt into a puddle.They had to have taken this picture two years after Corazon adopted Law.“I almost pushed him off a roller coaster that day,” Law pipes up suddenly, dragging your attention back to him, “Maybe I should have.”“You’re so cute in this!” You nearly squeal, laughing through the knot forming in your throat. “I think I might frame it, to be honest.”“If you say so.” Law grouses goodnaturedly. Glancing back at the paper, you spot a message written underneath.
Come back to see more! He doesn’t know about the other copies!
Man. They really do make it a point to one-up each other.You can’t wait to join in.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I don’t think we should be here.”
You also don’t think you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a more scalding glare. Hoping to appease the angry knight, you give him your winning smile, even if it means squinting your eyes for it to have its desired effect.
Zoro’s eyes keep you glued to your spot for a very long, very tense thirty seconds. If it weren’t for his family’s oath to serve yours, you think he’d wring your neck. Crickets chirp in the background, filling the silence that follows Zoro’s wordless lecture.
“You were the one that begged me to come here,” the teenager hisses at you, hand on the hilt of one of his swords. It seems he thought the silent treatment wasn't going to cut it. Pft. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re regretting it now.”
“No, of course not,” you reply with an earnest shake of your head, holding your palms out. Zoro’s eyes narrow more, which should be an impossible feat given how he’s glowering. One of his thin eyebrows arches, challenging you to continue. “You misunderstand. See, in this lovely land we call our home, when someone says ‘I don’t think we should be here’, what they mean is that they should totally keep exploring the decrepit, abandoned remains of an old fortress.”
Honestly, you hadn’t expected Zoro to let you finish speaking. It’s the purest display of restraint you’ve ever seen, even if his face is considerably more scarlet than it was a minute ago.
“We’re going in there.” He points a finger at you, earning an exaggerated eye roll, then whirls around once more. Zoro vaults over a fallen log with practiced ease, shaking his head when you pointedly walk around it. Behind him, you mutter curses and lament the disease called curiousity that plagues your bones.
You never should have asked your cousin’s grandfather about the Lunarian Knights. Prince Luffy, mouth full of food, had garbled part of the story at you. Usually, you’d feel disgust at the food flying out of his mouth, but not that time. That dinner, you happily relinquished half your meal so the thirteen-year-old would keep talking.
Zoro had been just as if not more unamused when you tried sneaking out on your own an hour after all the guests left. He and Prince Luffy got along well, and that boy won’t keep a secret unless he really has to, so you got caught.
Days later, after bickering back and forth, Zoro agreed to let you go under one condition: he babysit you.
Is that how he explained it? No.
And, to be honest, you’re not terribly angry about having a babysitter now. The forest is a beautiful, peaceful sight in broad daylight, but a bit of a nightmare at night. The light from your lanterns can barely penetrate the dark. That, combined with the odd noise from what you pray are animals, makes for a terrifying journey. Whenever you hear a twig snap or the rustling of a bush, your mind conjures some of the worst creatures you can imagine.
This portion of the woods is more than a nightmare. You noticed the moment flat, even ground became a scarred, hill-ridden trap.
Huffing, you evade another pitfall, scowling at it like it’ll close itself up. Zoro marches on without a glance behind him, eyes locked on the pitiful pile of rocks that once housed the Knights. You want to yell at him for walking so far ahead, but you fear waking whatever has made the forest feel so oppressive. Bugs are chirping, sure, and there are some pretty fireflies floating about, but that doesn’t ease your anxiety.
“Tell me the story,” you say to Zoro, who has decided to show mercy and has stopped for you. He watches as you make your way to him, the anger that had wrinkled his brow somewhat abated. Zoro’s hand closes around your arm when you finally trip, tipping forwards with a yelp. Righting yourself, you clear your throat, recovering gracefully like you’d been taught all your life.
“So you get so scared you run away? Again?” Zoro grouses, letting go of your arm. You click your tongue, inhaling deeply.
“P… Luffy is not the best storyteller and you know that,” you have to curb the urge to call Prince Luffy by his title. Neither he nor Zoro care for titles around friends, and you really want to be part of that. Titles around people like them feel like barriers, and you don’t want that with Zoro. Not when you’ve known him all your life.
Old habits die hard, you suppose.
“I still think he spat some of his food in my mouth on accident…” You mumble, wiping your lips for the hundredth time since then. The laugh the boy let out when you recoiled from him, screaming about manners, still makes you mad.
“Pft,” Zoro’s laugh is short-lived – they usually are, nowadays – but audible.
“Don’t laugh at me,” you shove the knight, who bats your hand away with a grunt, “just tell me the the damn story..”
Zoro blinks his brown eyes at you. They survey the land around you again as he brushes his green hair back, dark green robes catching the light of the moon. When he looks at you again, you visibly straighten, shoulders a taut line.
“A lot of it is…” Zoro searches for the right word, lips pursed, “...played up, I think.”
“All good stories are,” you say, feeling a bit more at ease now that he’s not so far. Zoro’s face goes blank at your interruption. In response, you mime sealing your lips and throwing away the key, gesturing for him to keep walking.
Sighing, he guides you towards the fortress, which isn’t really a fortress anymore. There’s no roof, and the walls stop at your waist. Shrubs and other plants have invaded the defeated structure, showing no sign of stopping any time soon. Despite this, the black stones shine as if they’ve been polished recently.
“Long ago, a war between three kingdoms tore these lands apart.” Zoro begins, voice low like he’s telling a bedtime story, “The Lunarian Knights were not from any of the kingdoms, and their involvement is doubted, but it’s believed they were there to ensure the war didn’t reach their home.”
Prince Luffy hadn’t mentioned that. He’d told you they “were these SUPER cool WARRIORS from the SKY that controlled fire like his brother”, then he’d ranted about Prince Ace for ten minutes. Not the exposition you’d find in your typical history book, to be frank. And, for some reason, Luffy refused to explain why he used the word ‘cool’ to describe the knights. If they used fire, why would they be cold, of all things?
Both of you walk through what you believe used to be the entrance, before you have to stop again, practically glued to Zoro’s backside. He pretends not to notice, but you know it bothers him. He always alluded to some sort of lesson on knighthood whenever you did this.
“Caught in the middle of it all was a prince called Joy Boy.” Zoro examines the remaining architecture around you, looking for the markings his teacher had described. He can’t see any tace of the beings with flames on their backs.
“I doubt he was a happy lad if he had to ward off three kingdoms,” you mumble to yourself, also looking around. Your eyes don’t seek the things Zoro’s do, untrained as they are, but you appreciate the sight nonetheless.
Though you’re two seconds from tearing off in the direction of your castle, you are conscious of the historical importance of the fortress. It would be a shame if you didn’t at least admire it.
“...No one knows where the prince came from, only that he held power never seen before. He stopped the war, but died shortly after,” Zoro, the foolish, ill-prepared protector, leaves your side to look at a fire pit. The metal basin is rusted and, more importantly, warped.
It’s not a comforting sight. That metal is almost as thick as your wrist.
“God, I wish that were me,” you joke, thinking of all the lessons that await you tomorrow.
Zoro’s gaze snaps back to you, his voice taking on a dangerous edge, “Do you want it to be?”
You deadpan, throwing your hands out again, “I was kidding. Will you, like, relax, Knight Zoro?”
Somehow, Zoro seems to grow taller, his large frame closing the distance between you again. You shrink under his reproachful expression, his eyes never leaving yours. His breath tickles your cheek as he stops, his face a scant four inches from yours. If you feel warmer under the collar at his proximity, you ignore it.
“No one knows what happened to Prince Joy Boy,” he talks as if he’s been reminded of this several times, and, knowing his teacher, he probably has, “What we do know is that it was not pretty. For your sake, I suggest you don’t say things like that so carelessly, my prince.” Barriers. That’s all titles are.It hurts to think about it, and yet it’s all you seem to be able to dwell on these days. From the minute you wake to the moment you lay your head on your pillow, it’s all that runs through your mind. Trailing after the thought, as dutiful as your own shadow, is an immeasurable tide of guilt. Being a prince is what has given you your life, after all. The worries of a lower class citizen are foreign to you. You don’t think about money, or food, or shelter, or what work to do to support yourself. Unlike an artisan, you haven’t dedicated your entire life to one craft in the hopes it will be enough to survive. You don’t know struggle, and you know that. Even now, after your father’s endless attempts at negotiation with a warlord and with war on the horizon, you don’t get it. With yet another weight settling on your chest, you stare up at your ceiling, splayed out on your bed. After a night of tossing and turning, it’s become a mess. The extra pillows have all found homes in different corners of your bedroom. The sheets, silky and soft and white as a lamb’s wool, are a tangled lump by your feet. A sigh sits in the back of your throat. You’d have let it out if you hadn’t sighed a hundred times today. But you don’t know what else to do. Aside from drive yourself mad in the dark, that is.The memory of you and Zoro in that fortress had been a nice reprieve. You remember the fear that had gripped your heart in that forest. How lonesome your first attempt had felt before Zoro finally agreed to accompany you. How he, a beacon of light in that forest, remained steadfast in his duty to keep you safe, even at his angriest. You wonder what life would have been like if you and Zoro had met under different circumstances. If he wasn’t just a knight, as some of your cousins claimed, and you weren’t a prince. If both of you were merely… people.If Zoro was here, he’d argue that you are, in fact, people. You were just people with different duties.Yours, he’d yell at you when you were particularly bratty, was your land. The place so many of your subjects knew as their home. Is it too late for him to switch places with me? You think sarcastically, rolling off your bed. As it turns out, standing is too ambitious an endeavour for your legs. The crumble under your weight, and you sit on the edge of the bed, hands resting on the mattress. After a few minutes, you manage to stand. Walking towards one of the windows in your room, you pull the curtains aside. It’s the same window you peered through after Luffy told you about the Lunarian Knights. You stood by it for twenty minutes, gathering what little courage you have to go out and find the fortress.You wonder if it’s still there. Scoffing to yourself, you make your way towards the glass door leading to your balcony. Cracking it open, you slip outside, bare feet padding against flawless marble. Breathing in the crisp air and the smell of roses, you lean on the banister once you reach it, tracing its intricate patterns. Like that night in the woods, the forest surrounding your home breathes with you. A breeze makes the leaves of the trees whisper, and an owl hoots in the distance. Above you, the pitch black sky is littered with twinkling stars, ever so watchful. Part of you wants to shy away from them, in case they somehow relay your location to your guard, but you don’t. Despite his atrocious sense of direction, when it comes to you, that man doesn’t need something as otherworldly as a star to find you. He should be sleeping, though. You hope he is, anyway.You’d already learned not to check. The three times you had, he lunged at you at lightning speed and dragged you by your scruff back to wherever you needed to go. Usually with directions. And, to top it off, you’ve found him sleeping outside your bedroom a few times. The first time, after he woke up and herded you back to bed, he claimed he’d been ordered by your father to do so. Your father, who had been absent since the first attempt at negotiation with the warlord Kaido. Zoro stopped giving out reasons when you pointed that out. “Whatever,” you whisper, hand gliding along the banister as you traipse closer to a cluster of climbing vines. The cold marble is a small comfort that keeps you grounded. For a reason unknown to you, your heart begins to race as you reach for the vines. Which is odd. Most of your family, immediate and extended, know you as a troublesome prince. You mastered the art of sneaking out long ago, so for unease to roil in your stomach is strange.Must be the impending conflict. Or the previous assassination attempts. Who knows.Whatever the case, you don’t let it stop you. With a hefty grunt, you grab onto the vines, breathing out when they don’t snap under your weight. Your arms tremble as you begin the slow descent to the garden, feet sliding uselessly against the wall more than once. You’re sure you look like a fool, but who’s going to judge you? Not the birds on the roof ogling you.Anyway. You make it to the ground safely, which means your princely behind is safe from a severe fracture. All is well.You probably should have brought a pair of slippers, though. Grumbling, you pick at the leaves between your toes as you hop towards the garden. The mixed perfume of roses and other flowers enters your lungs, and you instantly relax, fingers fiddling with the closest bush.After stopping to admire the new growths, you drift towards the part of the garden with the most trees and bushes. They provide a sense of security being out in the open can’t. At one point, you make it to the hundred-year-old oak tree in the garden. It’s the tallest, and seemingly the proudest, tree in this entire place, and rivals some of the ones in the woods.“What are you doing out here?”There he is.“Sorry, but I’m actually dead,” you call without turning around, “Assassin got me in the back. Lots of blood. You know how it goes.”“No, I don’t,” Zoro stresses the last word, crossing his arms over his chest. You take your time walking around the tree, squinting at the sky through the branches. When you do a full circle around it, you come to a stop.“No, you don’t,” You agree, lowering your gaze so that it meets his. He’d changed a lot since your adventure, you realize. He’s dressed in similar clothing, but he fills everything out much more. Zoro had never liked the ornate style of some of the knights, preferring to wear a plain, sleeveless green tunic with a belt around the waist. As sworn protector of the prince, however, it’s necessary he stands out, so they sewed your family’s crest above his heart and embroidered the body.The muscles in his arms ripple as he uncrosses his arms, which then rest on his swords. He’s bigger than you. He always has been. But not in terms of height or strength, but as an individual. You feel so small beside him, so insignificant. So… useless. Where would you be without him?Putting on a large smile, you stare back, the weight of your guilt settling on your shoulders like a mantle. It may be the only mantle you wear well in your lifetime. “I’m… reminiscing,” you answer his earlier question, shrugging. Your nails dig into bark. “You gotta do that in a garden?” He returns dispassionately, brow pinched.You’re not sure you have the patience for an argument right now. “...I wanted to do it here.”“What you want and what you should be doing are two different things,” Zoro points out sternly, lips stretching into a frown. He takes a step closer, boots digging into the earth. You don’t move, trying to appear impassive even as your breathing quite obviously picks up. “I’m within the walls,” you argue, “Last I checked, I haven’t disobeyed anyone by being here. Not to mention the last three assassination attempts have been inside the castle. If anything, I’m safer outside.” Zoro growls your name, exasperated, “You can’t seriously–”“ And,” you cut him off, holding up a finger. Anger clouds Zoro’s expression. He tenses. “ You’re here, too. Why should I be worried when nothing gets past you? I knew you weren’t asleep.” “Why’d you sneak out, then?” Zoro prompts, well aware of your small lie. Unfortunately, it only fuels him, and he renews his efforts to capture you. You elude him by skirting around the oak tree, then down the small hill leading to it, still facing him. Annoyed, Zoro rests an arm on its trunk, your positions now switched. “Maybe, just maybe,” you enunciate slowly, shit-eating grin and all, “I wanted to be alone. Maybe I think better when I’m not being hounded constantly.”“Or maybe,” Zoro prowls closer again, and you try not to shudder, feeling a spark of something you refuse to name in your chest. “You’re never alone because people need to do your thinking for you.”“Is that what you do?” You don’t move even as he gets closer, refusing to cave.“Not what I signed up to do, but yeah, it looks like it,” he quips back, stopping in front of you. You take him in as best you can under such muted light, wondering when the young boy you met all those years ago became the unwavering swordsman he is today. His sharp jaw clenches as he towers over you thanks to the hill.The charged silence that hangs over you both lingers until, slowly, like a cup filling up, you confess, words spilling out.“I was thinking about the fortress,” you admit quietly, gazing into his eyes. Zoro’s face remains stony. “I’ve been wondering if I’ll ever see it again.”“Is that why you can’t sleep?” Zoro asks.You hum, swallowing hard, “I fear its destruction.” Then, with a wry quirk to your lips, “I probably shouldn’t. Whatever the Lunarian Knights did in that neck of the woods changed everything about it for the worse.”You pause, lost in thought. A savage battle ravaged the lands around the fortress and, even now, centuries later, it hasn’t fully recovered. It can’t.Yet it’s such a beautiful place. “I’d like to go there,” you mutter, “If only to see it one last time.”“...” When Zoro doesn’t say anything, you’re brought back to reality, blinking rapidly. He’s studying you closely with his one eye. You’d have described his stare as grim if it weren’t for the absolutely and undeniably flabbergasted look on his face.“ What? ” you bark, hackles rising at the blatant judgment radiating off his frame. “The last time we went, and I mean that time,” Zoro starts, stupefied, “you screamed so loud the entirety of the kingdom thought you died.” Sputtering, you gape at him. “That is not tr–”“And then, when I came home without you after you ran off again, I was accused of murder!” Zoro whisper-yells, gesticulating wildly. “What do you mean you want to go there again?”“We were children!” you hiss back, affronted. “Excuse me for being scared, but I was barely allowed to go anywhere unsupervised. The most frightening thing I’d ever been exposed to was one of Luffy’s drawings! In my favourite book, too!”Zoro bites back a groan, “And now you want to go to the fortress.”What the-? “Were you not listening to me when I oh, so casually mentioned the assassination attempts?” you almost knock on his forehead – you raise your hand to do so – but Zoro backs off, shaking his head. You must be getting predictable in your old age. “I’m not a child anymore, Zoro.”“Yet look where we are,” he retorts, “In the garden. After you snuck out. As if you’re twelve and not fully grown.”He did not.“Well, maybe I snuck out because I didn’t want to see your dumb moss head,” comes your indignant response. You turn, clomping away before you submit to the terrible urge to kick his ass, something you haven’t felt in years.“I’m right – where are you going?” He follows after you. Keeping an eye on his shadow, you wait until he inevitably reaches for you, then quickly sidestep. “No,” Zoro says, swords swaying as he tries catching you, “We’re not doing this. Come on, prince, time for bedtime.” Your head snaps towards him so fast that you feel a twinge of pain in your neck. Furious, you take advantage of his lowered guard and deliver a swift kick to him in the side. Zoro lets out a shocked wheeze, resting a hand on his ribs. When he looks up again, you’re halfway across the garden, sprinting like your life depends on it. In a way, it does. You’ve exhausted all other options, and Zoro is not one for placidly discussing things after getting hit. He might let you walk back to your bedroom if you relent now, but you’ve never been one to give up easily. Hearing his heavy footsteps behind you, you speed up, cringing when you accidentally step on small pebbles. “ Get back here! ” He fights to keep his volume in check, pushing flowers and branches out of his way. Petals rain down on you as you flee, leaving a path for him to follow. Not ideal, but knowing him, he’ll go the wrong way anyway. It’s good that the garden was built with hiding in mind. When you were young and tried hiding here, you’d never understood how, when Zoro failed to catch you, other guards found you so easily. Now that you know its layout, the garden is your sanctuary. You’d had the gardeners divide it into smaller sections this summer, and now that the everything is in full bloom, it must be even more dizzying to outsiders. And Zoro, but he’s special that way.“Damn it!” His exclamation earns him a melodic laugh, one he follows through the seemingly endless maze.“You can’t keep doing this!” Now that you’re both a fair distance from the castle, he takes a risk and speaks louder. You say nothing.Zoro sighs his frustration, looking up and down each path, hedges on either side. They’re tall, but, with some effort, he can see over them. Slowing his breathing, he listens for any movement. How he wishes he could tear through each bush; it would put an end to this hunt in no time. He doesn’t want the gardeners to skewer him with their tools, though. Or to be the one to fix it.“You think this is what’s going to convince me to take you to the fortress?” Carefully, he keeps searching for you, peeking through whatever gaps he can. He hears more noise ahead of him, but when he arrives at your previous spot, he’s lost you again. Zoro says your name, “Stop running, already. We’ve got serious problems to worry about. We need you present.”“You don’t think I know that?” Your voice emanates from the other side of the garden. Burying his face in his hands, the swordsman laments ever agreeing to protect you. Your family should have had him swear to put you in your place regularly. Then you wouldn’t even dream of sneaking out.Sensing a presence behind him, Zoro cranes his neck to glance over his shoulder, put off by your silence. He catches a glimpse of your white blouse and relaxes considerably. After so many attempts on your life, he feels restless when he’s forced to leave your side. The feeling merely mounts when you run from him.At least this time you’ve deigned to show some mercy. Shoulders sagging, he walks towards you. However, when he rounds the corner, all he finds is your blouse hanging from one of the hedges.Something heavy slams into his back, skin stinging where fingers dig into his chest, and he falls face-first into a bush. “You-” He begins, grappling with you. You laugh, rolling off of him. His nails dig into your bare shoulder blade before he can stop himself, and he lets go of you. “You’re not the only one with training, Zoro,” you pant, smiling widely. You chuckle when he aims for your leg, tucking it under your butt as he sits up. Zoro shakes the petals off his head then lunges for you. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you use his momentum to flip you both over.“I’m going to kill you,” Zoro spits out a rose petal, then throws you off him as you keep chortling. You land back first on a number of blue roses, breathing hard. Again, he sits up, the lecture he’d come up with in the seconds it took to subdue you dying on the tip of his tongue.“You won’t be the last to try,” you say breathlessly, arms out by your sides. It’s not the fact that you’re shirtless that gets to him. It’s how you gaze up at him, your eyes a bottomless well of sadness and pain, both of which have plagued you since the warlord first attacked. He tries not to focus on the movement of your chest, or how each dark rose makes it look like pieces of you are missing. He shakes his head at you.“How is it that you’re so confident now,” Zoro roughly prods you between a few of your ribs, “yet so afraid the rest of the time?”Hissing in pain, you rub the area he’d attacked, clicking your tongue. “I’m not afraid.”“Yeah, and I’m a princess,” Zoro replies with a scoff“A pretty one, for sure.” You mumble, gaze unwavering, chest still rising and falling in a horribly distracting way. “You can’t run from it,” Zoro ignores you, “It’s your duty.”“Do you see me running from it?” You fiddle with one of the roses under your collarbone, face unreadable.“ Yes, I do,” Zoro doesn’t bother hiding his anger, “You’re running from it right now.”Knowing he’s right, you finally break the steady, almost warm eye contact. “You need to get over that fear.” Your loyal guard keeps talking, trying to get through your thick skull, “Your father is out there negotiating. The least you can do is your duty.” He gets the feeling you’ve heard this all before. In some way, you probably have. Zoro’s always kept you in check. It didn’t matter if your family scolded you, once they were out of sight, he too was hammering the lesson into your head. Lately, you spend a lot of time in the war room, going over the messages from your father’s envoy. When he’s allowed inside, Zoro watches as discussions unfold from the shadows. Most of your advisors lean into their trepidation, letting it dictate what they say. More than once, there is chaos. Sometimes, you put an end to it. Other times, you absently watch as well. “I don’t know how.”That’s what gets Zoro to falter. Still gazing at you, he mulls over your admission, somewhat troubled by it. He’s well aware of how different your situations are. High standing aside, he’s not royalty. Should your father fall, the one leading your kingdom’s army into battle would be you. “‘No one does,’” Surprisingly, you keep talking, tossing your hands in the air and deepening your voice. “‘But you must rise to the occasion anyway’.” You chuckle dryly, then grab one of the roses, throwing it in his lap. “Is that what you were going to say?”Zoro remains silent, understanding beginning to dawn on him. Gingerly, he plucks the rose off his lap and holds it.“Anyway,” you throw another one at him. It bounces off his left shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, so you might as well get sleep for the both of us.” A third rose hits his temple. After dodging the fourth, Zoro grabs your wrist, putting an end to the onslaught. You let the rose in your hand fall, still grinning as the mischievous gleam in your eye returns. “I tricked you once, Zoro,” you rest your wrist, still being held by Zoro, on your chest, “You think I can’t do it again?”“You should think about the other things you can do,” is Zoro’s rebuttal, “The things you know you can do.”Sitting up as well, you arch an eyebrow at him. Petals glide down your body. Zoro tracks one of them as it makes its way to the ground, then quickly lifts his gaze, heart thumping harder. You look like you’re entertaining the thought of fleeing. Zoro doesn’t tighten his hold.Gently, you rest your other hand on top of his. Though your palm is far smoother than his, your training has had its impact on it. It’s sturdy, warm, and your hold is firm. “The things I know I can do,” You repeat faintly, tilting your head at him. He can’t tell if you’re leaning towards him. When your breath fans his lips, he knows you’re closing in. “Well, I know I want to kiss you,” you whisper, and if he wasn’t listening so attentively, he’d have missed the way your voice shakes. Zoro waits, his reddening cheeks the only crack in his cool façade.“But my duty says I shouldn’t. My duty says I need to focus on my kingdom, and not the man I…” You stop, smile brittle, “My duty says I will likely head into war without having told him how I feel, and my duty says it doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m a prince, and he’s a mere knight, and it wouldn’t have mattered in the end.”You take a deep breath, inch closer to him with your eyes closed, then stop. Zoro’s grip on your wrist tightens. If he were to turn his head now, your lips would brush.Cold air washes over his face as you pull away, removing your hand from his. Despite his shock and his loose hold, Zoro doesn’t let go of your wrist. You don’t know why you confessed to him. You’re oddly at peace with your decision, and with his clear rejection, but even then, perhaps you should have kept quiet. Your thoughts drift to the future. To your guilt. To war. …You shouldn’t have confessed.But, if there’s anything your etiquette lessons have taught you, it’s to panic after an event, not during it. Carefully, you pick at Zoro’s fingers, trying to get him to release you. When that doesn’t work, you click your tongue, annoyed. You manage to lift one of his fingers, but it joins the rest not even a second later, “Zoro, let me go.” So much for a cool exit. Like a leech, Zoro’s hand clings to your clammy skin, unrelenting. You wriggle, pushing against him, your agitation mounting. “Let go of my arm right no-”Suddenly, Zoro grabs you by the back of the neck and, with one last steely look at you, kisses you like it’s your last day alive.Your shocked exclamation comes out muffled, the hand holding your neck loosening its hold. There’s nothing stopping you from pulling away. Exhaling a shuddering breath, you wrap an arm around his shoulders and kiss him back fervently. After the longest minute of your life, both of you stop, panting hard. You rest your forehead against his, afraid to look him in the eye. “Now what?” you whisper, sounding far too wrecked after something so incredibly tame, “This wasn’t in your training.” Zoro silences you with another kiss, putting an end to that train of thought for now. You suppose it’s something you’ll have to figure out when the time calls for it. “You know what happens next,” Zoro murmurs, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. If you’d opened your eyes, you might have seen his next move coming, but even then, you’d have failed. He’s too distracting, and after a kiss like that, your brain has stopped functioning properly. Hands clasp your arm. Zoro painlessly twists you around, heedless to the way you gasp and fight him the entire time, and throws you over his shoulder. “I’m going to fuc-” Before you can finish cussing him out, Zoro squeezes your middle, the rock he calls his shoulder burrowing into your stomach. Choking on your own spit, you bang your fists on his back, cursing him in your head. “You distracted me!” You yell after your coughing fit, squirming furiously. “You’ll complain about how tired you are in the morning if you don’t get your beauty sleep,” Zoro replies, “And who will have to hear you whine? Me. Not sure about you, but I don’t want that.”“I can’t breathe, you cretin!”“You’ll manage.” And on you went, your voices carrying throughout the castle until Zoro shoved your face under your pillows, who promptly fell asleep on top of you. If it weren’t for Zoro and his corpulent behind, your screams would have woken up the whole kingdom.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“We should arrive at the island soon, Captain.” You announce as you walk up a set of stairs, a stack of papers in your hands. She hears your whispering before she sees you, her half-lidded gaze wandering up and down your approaching figure. Humming, she takes off her hat, dabbing at the sweat that had gathered under the headwear. Maybe she should’ve made Whitebeard come to her and not the other way around. The weather was getting to her.“...this one… who was this one again?” You mumble to yourself, staring at a picture of someone White Bay could name in her sleep.Whitey’s placid smile grows as you stop at her side, resisting the urge to yank on your ear teasingly in front of the crew. With a sigh, she bumps you on the side with her hip, chuckling quietly.“You’re too tense,” she says, amused by your exasperated huff.“And you were supposed to be resting today,” comes your very serious, very unusual reply. Whitey rolls her eyes, the hand she’d rested on her hip drifting closer to her stomach. It doesn’t stay there for very long. One of her men yells out, pointing at the island slowly becoming more visible on the horizon. “Things weren’t as bad this morning,” Whitey assures you. Then, without missing a beat, she adds, “Jozu.”“Jozu,” you echo, smacking your forehead lightly. You uncover the name at the bottom of the wanted poster, clicking your tongue at your forgetfulness. “Goddamn Jozu. Thanks, Captain.”“You’re welcome, First Mate.” At long last, her constant chipping away at your austere demeanour pays off. You crack a smile as you sift through the pages again, shaking your head at her reply. Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back, committing the name to memory, “Jozu. Jozu, Jozu, Jozu. Big man. Weird hair.”“He’s a kid. And he’ll kill you if you say that.”“...wonderful hair.” You correct yourself with a pointed ruffling of the pages. Whitey patiently listens to you go through your list, nudging you in the right direction when you get stuck on a few. Thankfully, after a second round, you tuck the stack of papers under your arm with a finality that tells Whitey she can speak freely. “I thought you were excited to meet Whitebeard,” she nods to the navigator, who barks a few commands. The ship lurches as it crests an enormous wave, and even though she remains unaffected, you lift your free arm. Had it been anyone else, she might have been offended by the gesture. She straightens her spine, arching a thin eyebrow at you. You lower the limb only when you’re sure nothing will happen. “Yeah. Whitebeard.” You wave the bounty posters, hopeless. “His crew? Not so much.”“Not something I thought I’d hear in all my years, if I’m honest.” Whitey crosses her arms, feeling her cape tug at her shoulders as a gust of wind sweeps through the deck. “Maybe I could ask him to give you an autograph. Might get you out of this funk you’ve been in the last three days.”“Whitey…” You start, then opt against arguing with her. It’s your fault for reacting the way you did when she mentioned meeting up with Whitebeard after years of not seeing the man. Maybe you shouldn’t have told her about the year you dressed up as the guy. Not the day. The year.“You’re going to be fine.” Suddenly, her hand closes around your shoulder. You turn to her, lips set into a frown. “The boys can be a bit much, but it’s nothing you can’t handle and you know that. Besides, you’re not the first.” “What?” Ignoring the encouraging whistle from one particularly brave crewmate, you take a step closer to her. Your relationship with the Ice Witch is no secret on your ship, which makes your insistence to remain professional – a funny word, that one – all the more confounding. That’s alright, though. She’s as steadfast as her ship when it comes to breaking through any and all barriers. She’ll get you to stop, eventually. “What does that mean?”“...”“ Whitey.”Smiling sweetly, she pats you on the cheek, then continues ignoring your demands for her to elaborate. (x)Honestly, getting greeted by a bird of legend was pretty awesome. Marco may have landed on one of the masts and laughed after throwing you off course, but he seemed pretty cool. He took off the moment Whitey yelled at him, guiding the ship through calmer waters until, finally, you docked by the Moby Dick.Something in your stomach flutters at the sight. The behemoth of a ship dwarfs your own, which is both thrilling and terrifying at the same time. The crew files off the ship with screams of excitement, screams that are met with even more hollering when the Whitebeard Pirates see you all. It’s now that you remember that, amongst a few others, you’re one of the members of the Icey Pirates that they haven’t met. Many of your crewmates left the Whitebeard Pirates with her when she branched out, so this reunion isn’t as daunting for them as it is for you.Fun. Even more fun when you take the nature of you and Whitey’s relationship into consideration.Oh, and your baby.“Marco! Do that to my ship again, and I’ll throw you in the ocean myself!” Whitey scolds Marco as she walks down the ship’s ramp, a crate in her arms. “You were taking too long, Whitey. You and your navigator need to work on that.” The young man crows from above, landing nearby with a dull thump. You’re in awe as his wings and talons disappear, human limbs replacing them.Your crew takes offense to his comment, though. “Not out fault we can’t fly, you chicken! ” There are drinks flowing already, you realize. Men pass around tankards before they’ve even made it off the ship. You decline the offer when one makes its way to you, giving it away. Whitey stands off to the side, watching as supplies for the party steadily make it to the beach. Not one to stray far, you stand at her side, shouting orders.“Not sure how I feel about almost all our food going into this party, to be honest.” You comment, nodding at the men staring at you curiously. You’d hoped to remain unnoticed for a while longer, but oh, well. Some attention isn’t going to keep you from doing your job as first mate.Whitey shakes her head, smoothing down her dark blue dress and fixing some of the laces. “Quit your worrying, already. It’s not like you.”“This isn’t about me, Whitey.” You remind her somewhat desperately.You don’t want to argue, you really don’t, and you’d trust this woman with anything, but she’s pregnant. She’s pregnant and you’re all pirates. What little you know about the process is enough to scare you. “Oh, look, there’s Whitebeard.” Again, she turns to you, her confident smile hiding her earnest desire to soothe your fear, “I’m fine. Everything is fine. I’m going to talk to Whitebeard and you’re going to stop worrying yourself to an early grave. Got it?”Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t disagree with her. Not when she’s gazing at you like that with her beautiful brown eyes.Your eyebrows twitch as you make it a point to speak louder than before, smirking, “Yes, Captain. Shouldn’t take us too long to get this party going!”“It takes two to make one and it’s going to take two to raise ‘em.” Whitey carries on, grateful when you laugh boisterously, waving her off like she’d just told you the funniest joke. “Do it for me. I know you can.”“Of course, Captain!” You send her a mock salute. Whitey takes her leave, strolling towards Whitebeard with a pep in her step. The man himself. He raises his arms and laughs thunderously, long blond hair cascading down his back. The sleeves of his captain’s coat flutter as Whitey briefly hugs his leg and he returns the gesture.He’s basically her father.The pirate you’ve respected your entire life is your partner’s father. Or at least the closest thing to it.Your expression sours. Both crews set up tables of food and drink. Slowly, the murmur of voices becomes deafening, the constant flow of alcohol loosening already loose tongues. Depending on where you’re standing, you can hear three different songs being sung to the same tune. Your navigator is, after almost an hour, still yelling at Marco for his earlier insult. Marco is egging him on. It’s not a bad party. Whitey and Whitebeard are both deep in a discussion, which is good. Means you don’t have to face him just yet. After saying no to yet another tankard, you finally cave, the men around you cheering. You might as well drink. Adding alcohol to your system may make the strange mix of jubilation and dread in your stomach tolerable.Leaning against a crate, you chat and drink, naming those you recognize in your head. There aren’t many. Either Whitebeard’s crew is growing exponentially, or you’re seeing double. This stuff is pretty strong.What doesn’t quell your anxiety is the jolt of an arm wrapping around your shoulders. “To high winds and mermaids, friend!” A man around your age with dark dreadlocks and a bandana around his forehead hollers in your ear. If it weren’t for the hundreds of people around you, you probably would have noticed him before he latched onto you. The stench of alcohol rolls off him in waves. “To high winds and mermaids!” You reply with as much enthusiasm, trying to pry him off. His nails dig into your shoulder as he loses his balance. You’re forced to sacrifice your pint to save him from splitting his skull open. Thankfully, there wasn’t much drink left in it.His eyes, which are dark thanks to the smudged charcoal around them, blink up at you blearily.“May you…” He hiccups, bottle of whatever showering you both. Waving it around lazily, he slurs, “May our wives and girlfriends never meet. Never ever.” Oh, shit. You know this one. Rakuyo laughs at your stupefied face, prodding at your cheeks with a finger. It’s then you realize that you’re still holding him, arms around his back. Forcing a chuckle, you let him go. He doesn’t.“Who even are you, eh?” He asks, leaning heavily on you. “Never seen you ‘round here before. You’re not one of us, are you?” You dodge the hand getting dangerously close to your face, looking for an escape route. “He’s one of Whitey’s, dumbass! Stop that!” Another guy, this one with a watermelon-patterned bucket hat over his head, chucks a shoe at Rakuyo. You believe his name to be Curiel. His boot nicks your nose and hits someone else, knocking them to the ground. They don’t get up.“One of Whitey’s?!” As if it’s the news of the century, Rakuyo gawks at you, tanned skin flushed. Expecting him to continue, you merely nod wordlessly. Rakuyo keeps staring… and staring… and staring, his eyes round with shock. “Right. Yep. First mate, if you can believe it.” You hurry to get out.“First mate?!” Rakuyo finally releases you. His shock morphs into suspicion, and you grab the nearest bottle, praying you seem nonchalant. “Whitey doesn’t need a first mate. I don’t believe you, actually. If you can believe that.” You can. Whitey has never needed a first mate. That didn’t change when you joined the crew. She had her advisors and her most trusted friends, sure, but no one ever took that title. She’s always been too proud and too capable for that.It began to change when you carried her all the way to your ship after an arduous battle two years ago. They Icey Pirates had won, of course, but after taking on the brunt of the rivalling crew, Whitey was weak. You didn’t stop to rest until you’d deposited her in front of your crew’s doctor, and even then you stayed by her side. You only left to fetch stragglers and to ensure the ship set sail.The title started making sense to you when she grabbed your hand and pressed it against her midsection. “Why would she need a first mate?” He asks warily, squinting at you. “We’re good friends.” You state and, when he doesn’t let up, try another avenue, “She is my captain. She made me first mate for her own reasons.”“...riiight. ” Rakuyo smacks you in the chest twice, nodding solemnly. You try not to frown. “Captain’s orders. Yes.” It seems the mention of the title convinces him. Still holding his now empty bottle, he gives you your space back and throws you a pair of finger guns, grinning broadly, “I’ll remember that, Whitey’s first mate.” “Sure,” you respond, raising your drink over your head. Rakuyo waddles off towards Curiel, who, now that you look again, is wearing both his shoes still. Huh. Hopelessly drunk, Rakuyo flops down on the crate closest to his friend, resting his head on his shoulder. “Man, you are so fucked.” Oh, good. Another one. Head swivelling to the left, your eyes land on another pirate your mind thankfully provides the name for. The green, noble-looking robes and white tights are hard to forget. That impish grin paired with the short, brown hair gives him away, too.Haruta chuckles too darkly for your liking, clearly seeing something amusing in you. You might’ve laughed if he was polite enough to enlighten you. Instead, he continues to stare. “And who are you, exactly?” You ask, smiling blithely. There is no limit to your respect for Whitey, and she did warn you about the boys, but you’re not in the mood for this. What did Whitey say to them over the den den mushi to make them like this? Though subtle, there is a change in his demeanour. Still, the young man laughs, eyes wrinkling in the corners. It’s a smile meant to deceive anyone stupid enough to think he’s harmless. Cheekily, Haruta points in Whitebeard’s direction without breaking eye contact. He waits until you chance a glance that way before speaking again, his voice low. “You’re fucked.”Again, before you can probe further, Haruta walks away. Feeling thoroughly rattled, you inhale deeply, ready to pack your bags and leave. Maybe you’re not meant to have in-laws. It wouldn’t be too unusual. Some people just don’t get along. However, if you can’t win them over, visiting the Whitebeard Pirates in the future may prove… detrimental to your health.
Oh, Whitey.
Off to your right, where Rakuyo and Curiel are, you hear an obnoxiously affronted gasp.Whitebeard speaks a second later, voice cutting through the chaos. “My sons!” Those who can still lift their heads immediately pay attention, and those that can’t are aided by their brothers. Whitey, beautiful despite the long journey, stands by Whitebeard, searching the crowd. Men holler and whoop, applauding their captain. You clap with them, feeling your awe slowly seep into your bones again. Despite the size of some of his crew members, Whitebeard outshines them all, standing taller than anything you’ve ever seen before. Perhaps it’s the late hour, or the lanterns lighting up the beach, or maybe it’s the drink making you stupid, but you’re sure those are stars glittering around him. God. If only you could go back home right now. You’d grab those snivelling elders by the collar and say what you’ve longed to say since you could walk-“Whitey here has an announcement to make!”Well, that’s– it’s not what you had in mind, but– Wait. “Pops,” You hear Whitey mumble through the haze of your admiration and the sudden rocket of oh, shit up your ass. Spine straightening, you stare, horrified, as she pats him on the leg and shakes her head. “There’s no need. This is supposed to be about you.” Uh, oh. A part of you – the one responsible for fear, it seems – points out the people already glaring daggers at you. All easily recognizable for their feats and strength, which would have been useful information about five minutes before this. Now, they all sound like the names of those who will joyfully drag you down to hell.Namely, Rakuyo, Curiel, Haruta, Vista, Izou, Marco, Jozu– “Whitey’s with child!” Despite her insistence, Whitebeard finishes reading your death sentence to his sea of very close-knit band of vagrants.Most of which don’t seem too happy to hear this.And, as if his target hadn’t been clear enough, Whitebeard looks directly at you and toasts.
Uh, oh.
The music dies. People freeze. You gulp audibly.“Whitey’s WHAT, Pops?!” Haruta shouts, hands cupped around his mouth.Whitebeard, evidently very drunk, opens his mouth to repeat what had just toppled out of it. He gets halfway through the word pregnant before the tension underlying your last few seconds alive leads to an explosion.Like a pack of angry wolves, the entirety of the old man’s crew is lunging at you. In the background, you hear Whitey arguing with the few that saw it fit to demand answers from her. Dodging the human-shaped missiles, you tear off in her direction, hoping that, together, you can explain before someone punts you across the globe.“I’m older than you, you dumbass! Why would I need permission from you to have a child?!” Despite her obvious anger, Whitey cackles in disbelief, her grin menacing. The drunkard that made the comment cowers, though all it does is fuel her ire.Whitebeard roars with laughter, smacking his knee. You’re faced with a difficult decision: either let the emperor’s crew kill you or let Whitey kill them all. You’re not sure you can let that happen to them, not after witnessing her pregnancy induced fits of rage first-hand. Even if a few of them were pretty rude.Whitey’s patient, yes, but her fuse shortens with each day. Hands over your head, you duck, cringing when two idiots slam into each other face first. Your quest to stop Whitey before her composure crumbles is short-lived. If you could even say that. A hand larger than your head snags your shirt, and, before you know it, your feet are off the ground. The air in your lungs comes out as a wheeze as your shirt digs into your esophagus. “You?” Jozu scowls. “You’re with Whitey?”“ Yes, me!” You grab at his wrist, kicking at those grabbing your ankles. “Why? ”“Seriously, and I mean this as respectfully as I can,” you slam your foot into someone’s nose, “What kind of person asks that fucking question right now?” Jozu’s glower darkens considerably. “The right kind of person!” Oh, there you go. Instead of choking you to death, they’re going to break your neck. Letting out a pained grunt, you identify your newest kidnapper.Vista shoves a finger in your face. “You! Do you even know what the last guy did to Whitey?! Why should we trust you?!”A mug soars through the air. Instead of hitting you as expected, it nails Vista right in the forehead. Lamenting his hair and a possible bump, Vista releases you. You roll as you hit the ground, ready to wrestle the next guy.Clearly, flying mugs were not part of the plan, because most people have stopped to look at the person who threw it. “Whitey’s grown enough to know who she wants in her life, idiots!” Surprisingly, it’s Marco who’s the voice of reason. “What, you saying you like this dumbass, Marco?!” Vista throws back.“Uh, no.” Marco snorts derisively, because who needs an ally when you’re being assaulted by your partner’s entire family? “I’m telling you to let Whitey deal with her own problems! It’s not our business what she does!”Wow. Did he have to say it like that?Well, you appreciate the effort.The crowd is losing momentum, though, so maybe his words carry some weight. You haven’t been tackled in at least thirty seconds.“You’re damn right about that, Marco!” You feel the blood drain from your face as Haruta pipes up again, “But we’re family! And family helps family with their problems, do they not?”“Haruta, shut the hell up, already!” Whitey howls, parting the crowd with only some trouble.You pick yourself up. There’s nowhere for you to go, surrounded as you are. Breathing hard, you raise your hands in surrender, dizzy after being tossed around with a belly full of rum. Dizzy and nauseous. Is the world supposed to tilt that way?“Could we please relax?" A smooth, deep voice calls from behind you, completely unaffected by the chaos. “There’s other ways to do this.”No, it wasn’t. You rub your face as someone, hopefully from your crew, helps you stay upright. Honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if every inanimate object around you had a you-shaped dent, now. The Whitebeard Pirates are too good at this whole tackling thing. If only your head weren’t throbbing. There’d be a few jokes to be made there. “That’d be nice, yes,” you heave, holding your stomach. As much as you appreciate the guy’s help, you really need to have your own space, now. You turn your head to tell him as much, a bead of sweat rolling down your temple. “Thank-”
Click.
“Izou! Are you serious?! ” Your navigator shouts. It would’ve been nice if your friends helped you escape the tidal wave of angry drunks, but… well, you wouldn’t have helped you if you had to face the Whitebeard Pirates. “Is that a fucking gun, my man?” You whisper incredulously, voice jumping up a pitch as a suspiciously barrel-shaped object pushes into your side.“Okay, that’s enough!” Finally making it through the rest of the family, Whitey waves Izou away like a bug. Though he’s no more amused by it than you are, he relents, finger coming off the trigger as he tucks his gun back into his kimono. When he’s given you enough space, Whitey wraps an arm around your shoulders protectively. If her face didn’t make her ire obvious enough, her next words did, “Any of you try hurting my First Mate again and you’ll take a first-class trip around the bloody Grand Line on the bow of my ship.”You bite back an anguished groan at the thought. A stomach full of drink and seawater? What a nightmare. “Haruta! You’re going first if you start any more shit, you rascal!” “Yeah, yeah. ”Well. At least you’ve got a few more hours before you die.Like ice melting in the summer sun, the party returns to life. People gather the belongings they’d lost while chasing you, grumbling. Curiel’s steady supply of shoes becomes nonexistent. Foreheads are once again safe from the odd mug. You breathe a sigh of relief, mirroring Whitey and holding her close. With a huff, she leads you back to Whitebeard, who has been watching the exchange with an entertained gleam in his eye. They almost twinkle when he looks at you, crow’s feet deepening as he laughs at Whitey’s frustration.“A bit unnecessary, wouldn’t you agree, Pops?” She asks, helping you sit on a barrel. Whitey looks shocked as a young man with a scar on his cheek offers her a plate of food with a nod in your direction. “ No, Thatch. Get another one.”“What? You think I poisoned it?” “I’m not going to dignify that with a proper answer.” She shakes her head, bumping her shoulder against Thatch’s to keep him away from you. “Fine, fine. I’ll go and get another one.” He sings with a smirk.Her eyebrows lift as he walks away, then pinch again as she weighs the pros and cons of letting someone else fetch you food. “I’ll be back.”“You be safe,” you call after her, trying to keep your legs from carrying you to the other end of the island. You’re alone with Whitebeard. You’re alone with a legend and he’s staring at you.“Uh,” you start hesitantly, clearing your throat. “Thank you for the, uh, the blessing. Sir.”“Hrm.” The grumbling hum comes from deep within his chest. Whitebeard lifts his mug and takes a swig from it, some of it dripping down his chin. With a satisfied sigh, he finishes drinking, tossing the mug over his shoulder. “You know, Whitey makes it a point to tell me where she is at all times.” “I… yes, that she does.” You reply cheerfully. Whitebeard hums again, grabbing a mug that’s clearly much too small for him. When he holds it out to you, you accept it without thinking, both hands clasping the tankard. The last thing you want to do is act a fool in front of this man by dropping it on him. Or on yourself. Or in general. He waits until you take a sip, looking away. The second you’re not under his scrutiny, you cringe, your stomach protesting the lack of food in it. “Yeah.” He murmurs pensively, rubbing his chin. Whitey is making her way back with two plates, Marco in tow.There’s silence for a few minutes. It’s… peaceful. As peaceful as it can be when you’re two feet from the strongest man in the world.“It’s really too bad about the headstart, though, hey?” Whitebeard asks out of the blue, grinning at Whitey.“What?” Whitebeard’s grin widens. The air around you crackles.He looks at you again.Toasting to the man, you down the rest of your drink and purposefully lean all the way back, praying you hit your head hard enough to knock yourself out.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You don’t know where you are. The poor horse bearing your weight tugs on its reins, tossing its head as it nickers uneasily again. Hooves beat on the earth as it paces, eyes bulging and muscles tensing. Smoothing a hand along its neck, you mutter soothing words to the animal, faltering slightly when it recoils from your touch. Garp glances at you over his shoulder, having had to calm his own horse a few minutes ago. Still, he presses on without a word. Staring at Garp’s back, you keep soothing the horse, encouraging it to keep moving. It does so with a number of complaints, snorts loud and powerful. You convey your gratitude with more pets, though, judging by its refusal to acknowledge you, it’s still rather upset.The journey continues in silence.Soon enough, a great mountain looms over you, casting a shadow that greedily devours the light of your dying sun. Despite this, the world around you remains red, towers of smoke reaching beyond the thick, black clouds. Looking up, you frown at the reddening sky, longing for the small glimpses of blue you’d been able to see just a few hours prior.Even that hadn’t been a terribly reassuring sight. The screams had been louder in the prairies. The fires fiercer. Now, all you hear is the whisper of the wind passing through trees. What was likely a forest teeming with wildlife is completely silent. The last rabbit you’d seen had been dead on the ground, eyes open in permanent terror.“It’s just up here, sprout.” Garp calls to you, voice missing its usual cheer. You don’t know where you are.“What’s here, Garp?” You ask, tightening your grip on the reins. Your horse raises its head and blows air through its mouth. Inhaling deeply, you shift again, wincing as pain skitters up your spine. Your back aches from riding for so long, and the swaying of the horse had grown dizzying after – how long had it been, now? Six days of travel? You’re not sure.Garp hasn’t answered.“Garp? What’s here?” You repeat yourself, louder this time. Garp ignores you. Steadily, the mountains get closer. You look around, peering into the treeline when, out of the corner of your eye, you spot a light. Panic threatens to overtake you when you see fire, but you stay calm for the horse’s sake. Swallowing hard, you realize it’s a group of Hunters carrying torches. Something in your body tells you to turn your head to the left. When you do, you see more Hunters with more torches. Like Garp, they carry themselves purposefully, expressions grim. Some wear hoods that hide their faces, though you wouldn’t be too surprised if they didn’t have a face. But why wear hoods at all? The ritual, your brain suddenly provides. Ritual? What ritual?
Red and black and blue.
Anxiety settles in your stomach like a stone in a lake. It pushes on your organs, making your already shortness of breath feel even worse. You take your eyes off the Hunters, shaking your head. The air, a golden resource when so high up in the mountains, grows colder. It bites at your lungs and throat with each inhale. After tasting smoke for so long, the sudden change shocks you.Your heart thunders in your ears.Like a lost child, you look to the man that had guided you here in the first place. He hadn’t checked on you in a while. Was he missing his face, as well? “Garp?” “It’s just up here.” Again? What was he talking about? What ritual could you be thinking of?You don’t know where you are.“What’s here, Garp?!” Your voice is shrill. Out of nowhere, your horse screams, lifting its front legs. Up and up and up until you’re upside down and scrabbling for purchase, the cape of the uniform he’d made you wear blinding you. Mouth falling open, you cry out, the sound distant.You fall backwards in slow motion, expecting to hit the ground hard. The terrain had been nothing but unkind since you began the trek. But you don’t. You fall and fall until you do a complete rotation, then another one until, somehow, you’re upright again. As if nothing had happened.Fast as lightning, the chill in your lungs invades the underside of your feet. Startling, you look down.You’re barefoot. The floor is cold because it’s stone.You’re inside the mountain.Confused, you blink several times. A hand touches your shoulder from behind, the familiar contact easing your nerves. “Garp,” you breathe, your relief and hurt almost palpable as you find the old man’s face. Why had he ignored you, earlier? It seems his reasons must remain a mystery. His blue eyes gaze into yours imploringly, the scar framing his left moving as his brows pinch. With a tenderness you’d ever only seen in your youth, he squeezes your shoulder, his words a low rumble. “Go on, sprout.” Before you can reply, his hand drifts towards your back. What drives you forward isn’t a push. It’s a pleading nudge. It’s the dancing of his fingertips along your scalp after another Hunter helped you with your hair as a child. You shiver as you keep walking, rubbing your arms. You’d replaced the uniform with a pair of white cotton pants and a cotton shirt. Both hang loosely from your frame. “I’m going, Garp.” You say, slipping from his grasp.
What is happening?
No more words are exchanged. His footsteps drown yours out, and yet the soft tapping of your feet forcefully strikes your eardrums all the same. Your lips stretch into a thin smile when he has to duck to fit through the hallway. The laugh you both share at that is barely a murmur. A secret.There’s a light at the end of the hall, though it’s more of a tunnel. Symbols mar the smooth stone under your feet. The low ceiling instantly disappears as you step out of the darkness. You hear Garp grumble about his neck, but are too awed by the sight before you to respond like you usually would. The cavern the Hunters had carved out deep within the rock is enormous. It stretches above you for what looks like miles. They’d smoothed out the walls as much as possible, but you could still see the odd glint of minerals and ores. They’re the kind of blemish that adds to an object’s appeal. Unlike yours.Through a large opening at the very top comes the light that had directed you here. Though tinged with red, it’s almost pure. Normal. Exactly what you and many others yearned to bring back to the world. Directly underneath is a circle of eight pillars made of smooth stone that curve inward like the riser of a bow. At their tops, they converge to form a circle made of more stone.Determination and trepidation flood your system. Before you can proceed, like you said you would, Garp stops you. “Sprout,” Garp is unusually quiet. You hear him loud and clear anyway, thanks to the mountain. Somehow, it goes around the room then circles back to you, pushing you backwards instead of onwards. You face him, eyebrows raised curiously. “You know what awaits you, right?” No. “I know,” the words tumble out of your mouth without your saying so. The muscles in your face move involuntarily as you smile. You want to cheer him up. “You’ve told me.”
The ritual.
You know where you are. Again? Part of you thinks quietly. Again? Why? I’ve already done this before. It worked. It worked. Why would I need to do it again? Garp nods solemnly, mouth a stern line. It tugs at your heart. Retracing your steps, you walk up to him, arms open. He bends down slightly, raising one hand to return your hug, his shoulders tense.
Don’t make me do this again.
“Thank you, Garp.” You mutter into his coat, closing your eyes. His breathing hitches audibly. “For everything you’ve done for me.”“Between you and I, sprout,” he says, his hold on you becoming more secure. “I wish there’d been another way.”
Then take me home. Please.
Your chuckle is watery, weak, but genuine all the same. “You said it yourself: I might be the only one that can do this.” Garp’s mood darkens when you throw his words back at him, clicking his tongue. He’d never succeeded in training that sassy side of you into something better. Neither of you address the sheen to his eyes. “There’s no time. Not after his last attack. Why lose more of your men to this when I’m ready?” Why lose those three little boys you’ve come to love so much? Why risk letting them grow without the real sun?You pull back. Garp says nothing for a long moment, even though he clearly wants to argue, staring at you. You let him. When you manage another smile, he zeroes in on your squinting eyes and your raised brows, as if committing it all to memory.Then, after clearing his throat, he states, “I’ll be here.”
Take me home.
“I know.” You say, inching away from the only father you’ve ever known. “I’ll see you soon.”
Don’t make me do this again.
You blink.You’re cold all over. Your next breath comes out through your mouth, shaky and slow. The light is so bright you can barely open your eyes. At least they made sure to make the slab of stone as even as possible. You hear one of the hooded figures ask Garp to step out. You hear him argue about the restraints. Somebody draws the seal on your sternum, etching the runes into your flesh with a needle. The rest are done with a brush. They’re blue. It doesn’t hurt. Not yet. Don’t make me do this again. The hooded figures – there must’ve been at least fifty of them – start chanting, arms raised. When the chill starts to fade and heat begins to spread through your limbs, your breathing picks up. You keep your eyes closed, listening to the Hunters drone on. There’s no real melody to it. It’s about as melodious as one of those enormous bells tolling right in your ear. Under the flat tones, however, you hear their desperation. Their fear. Their hands tremble. You do, too.The cavern amplifies their voices. Together, they appeal to the universe, their voices ear-splitting. Thunder shakes the earth as darkness swallows the sun. The sky splits in two and a scornful laugh descends upon you all.The magic coursing your veins is like molten lava, burning you from the inside.
Red and black and blue.
With a shriek that is almost animalistic, you pull and struggle with all your might. You don’t escape. Fingers tighten the ropes.The cackling fades as the incantation drags the demon’s soul down from his castle. The two of you collide in the abyss behind your eyelids, shocked by each other’s presence. He’s everything you expected and worse. Red and black and, now, in this chasm of your own making, a brilliant shade of blue. In your mind, you defy the force pinning you down and dig your nails into his bloodstained coat. You dig and dig until you can wrench him closer, binding him to you.With one final clap of thunder, your world goes dark. (x)With his two fingers pressed against your forehead, Mihawk keeps you from slamming your head into the ground. Though he’s mildly impressed by the resistance you’d shown, he’s glad you’ve finally lost consciousness. The corners of his mouth drop when he accidentally scratches your forehead with his claws. Tail twitching, he gets to his feet, inspecting you closely. Anyone without a clue of what’s going on would assume you’re sleeping. You’re curled up, on your side with your lips parted, tucked away in a grassy field. The most peaceful slumber you’ve experienced in a decade. They may also assume you’re dead. It doesn’t sound like you’re breathing. Shanks walks up to you again, gait slow. “Finally out, then?” He asks casually, wings folded close to his back. The worry in his ruby eyes reveals what his mouth won’t. Mihawk doesn’t bother answering the question, stepping aside to let Shanks see for himself. Shanks kneels besides you, feelings he hadn’t felt in centuries trying to coax him to brush your hair out of your face. He tilts his head to the side, his smile sorrowful. “Put up a good fight, that’s for sure.”“I suppose,” Mihawk replies lowly, refusing to look away from you for a second. He knows what’s coming. He just doesn’t understand why it’s taking so long. “Don’t let your guard down.” Shanks gives him a look, a retort sitting on the tip of his tongue. Before he can consider uttering it, however, he hears a soft groan. Faster than he can blink, he focuses on you again, using his magic to delve into your mind. He’d only caught snippets of your thoughts after you undid the seal on Teach, and none of them had been too reassuring. You’d been arguing with Teach, which was admirable, to say the least. Shanks couldn’t hear the demon, though. Judging by the mounting dread in your thoughts, nothing good must’ve come from the spat.Now, there’s only silence. The kind that sets one’s nerves on fire. Warily, Shanks says your name as he gets to his feet once more. Mihawk stands back, ready to fend off any attack you might throw their way. Your eyelids part. Limbs shaking, you use your arms to lift your head. When your elbows lock, you sigh. Immediately, the itch Mihawk had felt earlier bites at his skin again. Shanks feels it too. Frowning, he waits for Teach to come to. “Must be disorienting to be back here after so long,” he begins, anger pooling in Shanks’s gut. The scars on his face throb in time with his pulse. Outwardly, he remains calm. “Right, Teach?”Your body huffs out a laugh Shanks has heard in his dreams too many times. It’s jarring coming from you, frame bouncing as if Shanks had told the funniest joke in all three worlds. At long last, you lift your head, yellow eyes blinking open. A tear rolls down your cheek, its path interrupted by the hand that wipes it away. “The human’s gone.” Mihawk transmits to his mind, ringed irises trained on the threat in front of them. “Not gone, Mihawk.” Shanks replies firmly, jaw clenching, “Just lost.” Smiling wide, Teach lets out another titter, moving your body like a newborn that’s just become aware of their limbs. Shanks strains his hearing to hear any traces of you in Teach’s voice. There’s none.Teach tilts to the side as he gets on his knees, laughing all the while. Shanks frowns, body tensing. Had it been any other foe as formidable as Teach, Shanks would have forgone the pleasantries and attacked without hesitation by now. However, that a demon of his caliber had been sealed away still troubles him. Those Hunter friends of yours may have died before furthering the spell, but they still managed to capture one of his own. Humans had never wielded that kind of power before. Sure, they had the means to fight demons – quite successfully, too – but this? What more could they accomplish with this sort of magic if given the time? Which one of them is next? Shanks’s tail pierces the soil under his feet, his eyebrows furrowing. “Disorienting?” After a few attempts, Teach can finally stand. The smile on your – or should he say his ? Shanks struggles to keep it straight – face falls when Teach fails to dwarf Shanks and Mihawk. What he finds upsets him, his low, rumbling hum a mixture of disappointment and contempt. Nothing like the sight a sigil he carved into the matter of his brain when he was dragged into your pitiful life to welcome him back. Still, he’s undeterred, his vicious grin splitting his face in half. “Try thrilling, Red Hair. Try incredible. ” A chill crawls up Shanks’s spine, memories of a previous battle resurfacing with a vengeance. Mihawk removes the pendant around his neck, keeping it in his hand.“Never really liked the colour blue, though,” Teach comments idly, attention split between his adversaries and his outfit. He stops, blinking at the symbol embroidered right above your heart. Shanks wonders if it’s still beating at all. “Garp. So, that’s his name. ”As if it’s merely paper, Teach rips the cape on your robes, tossing the fabric aside. “Don’t worry, little mage. I’ll save him for last. I won’t make your end a quick one.”Well, then. Shanks knew Teach had never been sound of mind, but he hadn’t foreseen this. “Lost, indeed.” Mihawk voices the conclusion for the both of them.There’s still time.Mihawk unsheathes his kogatana, pointing it at Teach. It glints menacingly in the sunlight. “Forget that. What did the humans do to seal you away, coward? Speak now before you’re unable to.”Teach casts a glare at Mihawk, his amusement disappearing. They may not have known you for long, but even Mihawk can see how unused your features are to his scornful expression. Before long, the black sand they’d seen earlier begins to pour off him. “Hah, there’s only one use this pathetic mage is going to have,” Teach replies, hands forming two fists at his sides, “And that’s to get that information out of this Garp. ”Then, without another word, Teach raises his hands. A black vortex takes root in his palm and, with a mighty shout, Teach casts a spell. Immediately, his magic sweeps Shanks off his feet and tugs him closer to his assailant. Before Teach can bury his fist in Shanks’s stomach, Shanks uses his tail to twist his body, ducking under the arm. Mihawk takes off not a moment later, the ground splintering under the force of his leap. Teach lets go of Shanks, who loops up to Mihawk’s kogatana about to pierce your body’s shoulder.“Wait, Mihawk!” Alarmed, Shanks yells, raising his only hand to stop him. Amber eyes narrowing, Mihawk slows down just enough to adjust the blow’s trajectory, clawed feet digging into the grass with the effort required to do so.Teach howls in pain as Mihawk cuts his upper arm, the slash leaking blood instantly. He doesn’t bother retaliating. Without a tail, wings, or even horns, he can’t employ the tactics all demons usually do in close-quarters battles. Growling, Teach creates a wall with his black sand to shield himself from Mihawk’s incoming curse. “You know, I agree with our mage,” Shanks heaves, eying the blood seeping into your robes. Frustration gnaws at Teach’s composure as he wipes at his arm, aghast by the sight.His magic may be stronger than ever before, but that body is still not his. Your skin may be thick after having to put up with Teach’s insults, but it’s not that thick. “Your promise is shoddy. What happened to getting the poor thing out of this alive, hey?” “All that talk of peering into the future to win against me, and now you choose ignorance? Against him? ” Mihawk argues coolly, black coat covered in dust. Teach stares at them with wide eyes, confidence wavering in the face of his current predicament. “There’s got to be a way to defeat him without killing the human.” Shanks stresses, scrambling for ideas. Then, with a breathless chuckle, he adds out loud, “Don’t tell me you lied when you made your promise. I thought you were a man of your word.”Though he’d never doubt him, Mihawk’s deadpan reassures Shanks. He knows Mihawk; knows he picks his words with the same consideration he picks his moves. That promise he’d made had been real.But he’s right. Getting physical with Teach is the only way they’re going to defeat him. The only real challenge is that black magic of his. Shanks has never encountered anything like it before, and Mihawk had saved him from the vortex before it could affect him too much. Even so, he’d felt a chasm open in him under Teach’s mercy, his soul quivering. Shanks recalls your explanation of the Immolation of the Four Blues. The minions you’d mentioned. Had they actually been tricked? Or had Teach held more than just their bodies ransom? Something must click in Teach’s twisted mind when witnessing their reluctance to attack. Despite his sweat slicked forehead and the panic swirling in his eyes, he bares his teeth triumphantly. “What’s the matter, Red Hair? Hawk Eyes? ” Teach crows, voice malicious, “I’d expect a pitiful wretch like him to have a bleeding heart, but you? ” Mihawk raises his chin, looking down his nose at Teach. “Don’t pretend to know me.”Another laugh topples out of Teach’s mouth, loud and unbidden. “So, you want the human alive, is that it?” Shanks sighs into his palm, coming to terms with the fact that he needs to hurt you to win. The risk is indescribable, but what choice do they have? Mihawk has his curses, and he has his own tricks up his sleeve, but those are all physical. And Mihawk probably can’t charm Teach into giving up, either. That hadn’t worked even when you were still around. Before he can distract Teach with a taunt, the demon raises his arm over his head. The foul magic shifts, gathering in his hand and stretching beyond it until–Shanks lunges towards him, red lightning crackling between his fingers, but it’s too late.The makeshift blade punctures your chest, your eyes widening. The gasp that leaves your body is your own.(x)“So, what’s the deal with your magic?” A small hand covered in dirt and cuts steals the book resting on your lap. Frowning, you roll your eyes, focusing on the two children. You know the third one isn’t far behind because where Ace and Sabo go, Luffy is sure to follow. Honestly, you’re just glad the one to steal the book had been Sabo and not the youngest. You’d have been subjected to a massacre.Clicking your tongue, you tilt your head at them, letting your silence communicate what you think of their thievery. Sabo grins from under the shadow of his enormous top hat and his adorable blond curls, displaying his missing tooth. Much less entertained, Ace crosses his arms, eyebrows low over his eyes, which are unlike any other child’s. Any hope you’ve ever had of thwarting their efforts to poke their noses where they should trembles before his keen eye. Trembles and dies, apparently.Rubbing your face, you lean back until your back collides with the tree behind you. You’re glad you’d picked a simple novel and not a spellbook this time.“Whatever do you mean, my dear Ace?” You ask, hands clasped as you address him directly. Ace’s expression sours, his freckled cheeks reddening, and you pause, mildly surprised by the anger your words spark. Maybe you hadn’t made as much progress with him as you thought.“Sorry,” you add, praying he won’t throw the book at your face, “Explain, though. What do you mean?”“You’re shit at some of the most basic spells.” Ace points out. Ruthless jerk. “Ace!” Sabo is appalled by his language, but he doesn’t bother correcting his brother, you notice. Damn.“So are you, mister.” You remind him with a bright smile, laughing. The snort that Sabo stifles with his sleeve ends with a yelp when Ace elbows him in the ribs. Before Ace can walk up and kick you, Sabo grabs him by the collar and yanks him back.“What he means is,” Sabo butts in, grinning broadly, “you… you seem to control more advanced spells better than, I don’t know, that one fire spell you use to heat up the kettle.”You inhale deeply, listening to the boy. Both of them are sharper than any knife you’ve ever wielded, but Sabo is the best at using his wit to his advantage in social situations. That and his big, blue eyes. You’re not getting away with another excuse. Not that you ever have. All they’ve done is postpone the inevitable. Not only that, your secrecy has only spurned them on.“You’re smart, I’ll give you both that,” you adjust the sleeves of your robes, making sure your latest… maintenance work remains hidden. “But I’m not ‘fessing up that easily. Why do you think I ‘struggle’ so much?”“Because you suck?” Ace offers in the same tone you’d asked your question, feigning innocence by making his brown eyes round. Sabo shoves him and shake shis head in apology, grin strained.Off to your left, there’s the distinct thud of a body hitting the forest floor. “ OW! ”“Go get your brother,” is what you say in lieu of sticking out your tongue at the ten-year-old boy. The two groan in dismay, but before they can fuss too much, you continue, “Get him, and I’ll tell you some of my secrets.”At that, Ace and Sabo straighten, excitement glittering in their eyes. “Luffy, get over here!” Ace shouts, taking off in his direction, Sabo trailing after him. He stops to carefully toss you your book, waving at you.You wave back, relaxing against the tree and closing your eyes. It takes less than a minute for the boys to pick up the argument they’d had that morning. Luffy, who you know is crying after falling, shouts at Ace that he is, in fact, not doing just that. You’ll have to heal the bump when they remember what they’d chased you down for. ...For now, you’re happy with just steeling your nerves. “I’ll kill them, too.” Your open your eyes. Ahead of the pack, Luffy waves at you with both of his rubber arms, Ace and Sabo behind him. They’re already so big for their age. So vibrant. Whatever they choose to do in life, you just know they’ll excel. It hurts you to shut them out. They scream in protest when you, grinning cheekily, open a portal to your couch and disappear through it.A hearty dinner should sate more than just their appetites. Your blood shall sate Teach’s. I’m sorry. You are. “I’m sorry!” You cover your face with your arms, putting the sight of the boys – dead and mangled boys – behind you. Teach told you you’d be watching your life flash before your eyes. When the fuck is that supposed to happen? Because all you’d seen so far in this bloody abyss is every one of your fears come to fruition. Where’s your childhood? Your life before the Hunters? Before anything of importance?You could handle the torture in your dreams. The seal ensured that dreams were all that Teach could taint. That and every moment of every day, but that’s it. But now that’s gone and you’re stuck in this miserable wasteland of black, memories that you know deep in your heart aren’t yours haunting you.
Why did you trust those demons?
You knew better than to do it– or, well, you thought you did, and look where thinking got you. You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot. Your eyes sting. Breathing hard, you sink to your knees, wiping at your cheeks furiously. Nothing staunches the decade’s worth of tears, however.Sobbing, you claw at your scarred sternum, the magic that had set it aflame long since extinguished.
How can you fix this?
You should have listened to Garp. To yourself. What did Shanks say they were going to do? Drain your magic? For what? Magic is what had imprisoned Teach, and magic is what it took to keep him where he belongs. What in the world did they have planned? Why didn’t you pry? Why– how could you just trust them like that?
–red eyes peer into yours as he – a demon, the definition of greed and egotism – points out what you’d tried and failed to voice to Garp for years. Garp, who all but abandoned you shortly after the ritual.
You’d never needed much. He’d built you a house an isolated stretch of land, with a lush forest, a lake, and a view of the mountains. Called it a small paradise. Just for you.
Only for you.
And then… then he’d brought you his grandsons. Tasked you with teaching them about magic, of all things.
You’d argued that they’d be safer with that bandit Garp had mentioned once or twice, but she could only do so much, and he wanted more for them. Wanted them to be just like their grandfather.
It was fine for a time. They saw things in the woods and the lake and the air that you couldn’t after two years there. Not anymore. Saw the fun in catching frogs and hunting hogs. In counting the stars they’d reach when they hit seventeen. What a number, that one. So close yet so far. The beginning of a journey.
But they were so small. They could only do so much.
And, whether they’d have wanted to help or not, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you burdened them with the truth.
There in the morning, gone in the evening, those kids.
The nights were his.
Your sobs are joined by watery laughs that taper off into painful hiccups. The seal hurts. Everything hurts. So much so you wish you could drink the shame of failing the entire world in the hopes it would end your existence.If demon summoning wasn’t such a strict and binding practice, you’d have sent Shanks and Mihawk on their way when they told what they wanted out of the deal. But that’s not how it works. Demons may have an inherent advantage, but they too had an obligation to uphold their side of things. Shanks had told you they’d help, Mihawk had agreed, and you knew they’d meant it.
–an earnest, lopsided grin. Yellow eyes that could unravel you at the seams if they so wanted to. Scales that gleamed in the sun and wings that could show you the real night sky.
They were beautiful. Otherworldly.
And you were just one human.
All around you, blue flecks of magic you’d seen when Teach was still trapped here begin to fall, slow and aimless. They’re not at all aimless, though. The little dots of magic float towards you, touching down on your body and staying there. They remind you of the fireflies that Luffy would trap in jars then bring to you. Of the glint in Ace’s eyes when a particularly mischievous idea crossed his mind. Of the buttons on Sabo’s vest you’ve had to sew back on a thousand times.They remind you of their laughter as Luffy tackled you to the ground, demanding another magic trick. Of the tears you’d shed after the first blood sacrifice, the moon your only witness. Of the tears you shed now.
Are you going to give up now?
–red eyes the colour of the sky on the day of the ritual, but softer. Kinder. Irises with black rings around each pupil, strong and steadfast. The specks settle on your body, calm like the lake.
Red and black and blue.
Your forehead is warm. Pleasantly so. There’s no magma in your veins.
–two fingers dragging across the skin. He could end your suffering now, but instead, he promises to save you.
A promise.
“Let us help you.”
A price that must be paid.“You had better keep your promise.” You whisper, sniffling as you guide the magic towards the carving on your sternum. Much to your shock, they burrow into the skin painlessly, as if they’d never left at all. As if they belonged. One more sacrifice. You think. The thought echoes all around you.
One more try.
And then, the abyss shatters.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Weather-wise, it really has been a miserable few weeks. The sigh that leaves your lungs fogs the window pane as you gaze outside, watching people dressed in elaborate costumes amble past your home. They head east towards the town square, where they’ll welcome a new year with their loved ones, both living and dead. You won’t be there. Golden lights trail after the hooded festival-goers, lanterns dancing from the hands and hooks from which they hang. Laughter rings out, clear as the bells you hear every other week signaling the return of your kingdom’s nobles, knights, monsters, and worse. You don’t know how anyone could find it in themselves to celebrate anything after so much snow, but that might be the warmth of your stone hearth wheedling you into staying inside. The howling of wind – frigid and biting, you’re sure – joins the hearty sounds of merriment, and you quiver slightly. The image of the townspeople blurs at the edges, and you wipe the glass, bringing it back into focus. More laughter. Pulling away from the window, you release the thin curtain separating you from the rest of the world, and sigh again. Small, melted candles drip wax as you drift towards the fireplace, the dying flames eating at the little wood left. Grabbing a few more logs, you kneel and feed the fire, helping it reach a livelier stage. In the silent home, the crackling and popping it emits is deafening. When you’re sure it won’t dwindle, you sit on one of the armchairs, palms rubbing the wood. You’re standing again before long, adjusting the glasses you’d laid out on a table by the fireplace. You do the same to the bottle of wine accompanying them, the glass cool in your hands, until your restlessness takes hold once more. If it weren’t such a strong drink, you might have been brave enough to indulge. A song you’d heard before breaches the walls of your homes, the voices of the townsfolk blending together into one. The festival must be starting if people are singing. You hadn’t realized the hour had grown so late. It’s a shame your clock ceased working ages ago. That gala Marco mentioned must be reaching its end though. Sooner rather than later, too. If there is one thing the king and queen will never miss, it’s the festival. Such a joyous occasion, that one. You’ve heard rumors of the two royals finding each other through the festivities many years ago. “It’s more of a masquerade, to be fair.” He’d smiled, teeth gleaming like recently polished silver. Whatever its name, you pray it ends soon. Too many times you’ve heard the tolling of the bells, only to spend the rest of the night in silence and solitude. You don’t know what burned hotter those nights; the fire or your burgeoning frustration. Your palms sting. Glancing down, you release the arms of your seat, rubbing them together. As you do, you find the delicate necklace he’d gifted you recently. The chain is thin but strong, and the bird – he’d called it a phoenix, you believe – spreads its metallic wings against your sternum. You don’t know what possessed him to gift it to you, or if it even meant something, but you haven’t taken it off since. Knowing him, it’s a joke only he and his… folks would understand. Thumbing the pendant, you rise, smoothing out the wrinkles in your outfit. Just another thing he’ll find amusing once he shows, you suppose. If he does. Suddenly, all throughout your living space, the candles flicker. Turning towards the fireplace, you watch as the flames shrink to nonexistence, then burst back to life with a hefty puff of smoke. It lasts but a second, an yet it’s all the confirmation you need. You smile, the bird in your ribcage fluttering nervously. The flames flash a second time, then dance languidly as you chuckle, heading towards the front door. Your boots thump against the wooden floors in your excitement. You can still hear the laughter and the singing, growing louder as you lean against the door with bated breath. With your ear against the wood, you listen for any aberrations, wondering if you’ll sense him like you know he senses you. There’s laughter, singing, and a round of cheers, but nothing else. And then, he speaks. “Didn’t know I’d be made to wait upon my arrival, yoi,” he drawls, his low, smooth voice tinged with amusement, “but I suppose I deserve it, don’t I?” It takes less than a moment for you to open the door, clinging to the handle as you stay behind the threshold. The cold waits even less time to invade your home, eagerly nipping at your nose and cheeks. Amber light spills into the outside world, where all surfaces are coated in white. Before you, at the foot of the stairs leading inside, is Marco. Just Marco. His placid smile widens considerably upon the sight of you, blue eyes creasing at the corners. He chortles at your very apparent joy, his frosty breath barely there as it ghosts past his full, pale lips. “You might be spending too much of your time around the nobility, Marco,” you reply, tilting your head as you appraise him. He’s dressed in clothes you’ve only ever read about in books. You’d half expected him to exude an air of pretension, even vaingloriousness, but he remains as charming and sure as ever. His black dress shirt is decorated with golden, intricate buttons, a familiar crest etched into the top one. They glint with each breath he takes, the soft, velvety material hugging his frame closely. Over that he wears a deep, navy-blue coat made of thicker cloth, the collar framing and concealing his neck. It tapers in slightly at the waist, flaring out as it reaches his knees. The golden embroidery cascading down the front draws your eye, leading it to the long sleeves, which are similar to the bodice, and then further down. His pants, though a simple white, do not detract from his attire or its extravagance. Finally, when you look at his boots, you see they are fashionable and a rich brown. Unfit for this cold, and yet he remains unbothered. Staring is as easy as breathing. Speaking, not so much. “Since when, exactly, do you use the words ‘suppose’ or ‘arrival’ ?” He lifts an eyebrow, the edges of his smile becoming sharper. “It’s your royalty that insists upon such, ah, language, unfortunately.” “Hm,” you hum, tapping your fingers on the door. “I’m sure they appreciated the effort.” He ducks his head with a soft huff, broad shoulders sinking. Hearkening back to the masquerade, no doubt. Trying to grasp his hatred for such an event would be like trying to catch a snowflake. Then again, you’ve never stepped foot inside the castle. “Like you wouldn’t believe, yoi.” With that, he ascends the stairs, stepping towards you with confidence. You watch closely as he halts at the top step, hands resting at his sides. Marco looms over you, waiting and expectant. The light from your home, which had once stopped just shy of his feet, illuminates what you couldn’t gaze upon before. The sight almost makes you laugh out loud. Despite the gaudy apparel, he’d done very little to tame the blond tufts of hair atop his head. His blue eyes shine brighter than the buttons of his coat. But that’s not all. “I see you enjoyed your drink,” you gesture in tiny circles to your right cheekbone. Mildly surprised, Marco dabs at the area with two fingers, keeping them there when he locates the crimson stain. Still as a statue, he searches your eyes, irises flickering rapidly, and finds nothing but restrained joy. His smile is warmer than he’ll ever be. Lowering his hand, he rubs his thumb over the flakes glued to his fingertips, destroying the evidence. Clearing his throat, he lets his lips part, his gaze gentler than before. Yours drops to his mouth, anticipation bleeding into your bones. What he asks next is almost lost to that blasted wind. You hear him well enough, however. “Can I come in?” The words wrap themselves around your heart, squeezing the organ mercilessly. Whatever air you’d inhaled is trapped in your lungs as you blink at him. Your grin is genuine, but it trembles at the corners, belying your boundless joy. Swallowing, you scoff good-naturedly, releasing your hold on the door handle. Slowly, you step further into your abode, your breathing deepening. Marco’s eyes flick downwards, taking note of the rising and falling of your chest, but does not move. Only when you stop again do his legs soundlessly carry him inside. Your skin tingles. Nothing happens to him. “Guess I’m not the only one dressed for the occasion, yoi,” he comments, closing and locking the door behind him without looking away from you. “No… No, you are not,” you say, abashed. “I… I suppose I wanted to surprise you after so long.” Marco nods, his eyes glittering in the candlelight and rooting you to the hardwood floors. You have never seen any living creature with eyes like his, human or otherwise. When you first met Marco, you believed their luster to be a trick – not of the light, but of his own doing. Part of you still thinks this to be true, even if he continues to deny it. There’s just no other explanation for how they pull you in and refuse to let go. “What?” He’d laughed at the accusation, the sound fond. Wistful, even. He’d then placed his drink on the table, those teeth biting into the plump flesh of his lip. “You know, I think that, if I really wanted to put you under a spell, I’d pick a different one... Oh, you want to know which one, huh?” His eyebrows float upwards at your inquisitive look. Hands loosely clasped before him, he adds, “You should probably swallow that bite of food before I tell you, yoi. Wouldn’t want you to choke, yoi. ” “It suits you,” Marco concludes after a few seconds. A lackluster remark, but you don’t let it wound you. Instead, you guide him inside, then flit around your living space, reviving burnt out candles. Really, you don’t need flowery remarks on your outfit. Not when he’s watching you like you’re enchanting. That’s all you’ve ever needed from him. Still, you’re not one to forget easily, and the months have been lonesome in his absence. “My face?” You ask as you finish bathing the room in a comfortable glow, facing him. He stands on the other side of the room, though you wish he wouldn’t. Not one to forgo your manners, you prepare the both of you a drink, glasses clinking. “Yes, I agree. Although, I’m surprised you recognize me. And remember where I live. I hope you didn’t borrow that memory from someone I know.” Marco rolls his eyes at the remark. Pointedly, he sits on one of your armchairs, hands spread before him. “Not my fault you continue to elude me, yoi.” That gives you pause, which you know does not go unnoticed. The lip of the bottle of wine slips off the rim of one of the glasses. You lift it before you can spill any of its contents, setting it on the table. Scratching your forehead, you look him up and down, glasses in hand. The wind howls. Laughter penetrates the walls. Marco’s expression, as usual, remains open but unreadable. It reminds you of the lake in the forest just south of your kingdom. A beautiful sight, but quite still. A noble’s son drowned in it while trying to fetch an errant ball, you recall. His statement, odd as it is, does not sway you. You keep your questions to yourself. “Then I hope you’ll also remember that I excel at returning favours,” you respond mildly, sitting down as well. Before he can consider reaching for you, you extend one arm, gazing at the dark liquid swirling within the glass. Carefully, Marco accepts the offering, fingertips brushing your skin. It’s quiet from then on as you scrutinize each other. Nearby, the fire crackles, filling in the gap in the conversation. Gap is not the correct word for what’s happening between you, though. You doubt there is a word for what happens when you’re apart for so long, or what exactly tends to fill it when he finally returns. Marco swirls the contents of his glass, smiling secretly. Does he know what you’re thinking? It wouldn’t be the first time. Sipping at your wine, you exhale, tugging at the white handkerchief you keep in your pocket. It flutters audibly as you pull it free, the noise more reproachful than the crease in your brow. It’s then you notice the brown stain on it. You stare at it briefly, wondering if you should just let him sit with that stain on his face, but decide against it. Heedless to his deep chuckling, you offer it to him so that he may clean his face, shaking your head. At what, you do not know. He accepts the offering, wiping at the cheekbone none too gently. When he turns his face to show you his cleaned skin, it’s still pale. The redness that tends to dust a person’s skin after such treatment is completely absent. Marco gives you the handkerchief. You fold it carefully, avoiding the newest reddish-brown stain, before tucking it away. “It must have been quite spellbinding to see the palace.” Delicately, you take another sip from your glass. When you chance a glance in his direction, his half-lidded gaze is fixed on your throat. He blinks and then once again meets your eye, unabashed. The drumming in your chest reminds you of a runaway horse, hooves beating the ground with enough power to make the earth shake. “Ace was,” he replies fondly, still resting his glass on his knee. “I was not as charmed, yoi.” You hum, unsurprised by his neutrality towards the event. Not much can impress a being that’s watched empires fall. Still, you feel it right to ask why. “How come?” “Shocking as this may be, herding my brothers while trying to make sure we don’t upset your king thoroughly enough to start a war is not easy work.” Marco laments, his nails tapping on his drink. “Ace nearly ate a table, yoi.” Your confusion is palpable. “Nearly ate wh–” Marco lifts his free hand, interrupting you. “He–” his laugh is a mixture of strained and hysterical as he rubs his forehead, “No, he didn’t– let me rephrase that: his charm stopped working as he was eating–” “...but isn’t he a–” “Yes, he is,” Marco leans back, his chair creaking loudly. He smacks the arm of the chair, his grin lively and youthful. Like a snake shedding its old skin, his age and mannerisms fit for a palace slough off of him. You grapple with the urge to mirror his expression, hiding your smile behind a few of your fingers. You’re meant to be angry. “You’d think he’d remember the one rule we’ve been hammering into his thick skull since he joined us, but no.” “ Stay human, ” you recite said rule in a low voice, and Marco gestures approvingly with his full drink. Yours is almost finished. “...I’m assuming he broke the rule when he, ah, ate the aforementioned table?” “Cocked things up as soon as we sat down to eat,” he confirms, “then pretended it was part of its engravings. I could have stuck two fingers in one of the dents.” You choose not to comment on his wording. “‘We’,” you quote jokingly, depositing your now empty glass on the floor beside you. It’s now that you take into consideration how the alcohol has affected you. Despite your slow consumption, your head feels heavier, as if the drink had filled your skull and not your stomach. Your skin is considerably warmer, as well. Uncomfortably so. How long have you been sitting by the fire? Was Marco always this close to you? And why, after so long, is he still so far away? Marco shrugs a shoulder. The movement is too smooth. Too slow. “I enjoyed other things.” “Such as?” Marco samples the wine. He swallows with only some difficulty. “I enjoy other things, yoi,” he repeats, leaving his glass on the floor as well. “I enjoy this.” Huffing, you lean away from the hearth and fan your face with a hand. Refusing to allow your addled state to control the conversation, you mull over his words. Your boots dig into the plush rug beneath your feet, body beginning to tense in preparation. “It must be rather satisfying – quite filling, even – if it takes you months to come back for more.” Before he can counter you, you add, “Are negotiations that... demanding?” “No,” Marco’s answer is quick. Short. His face is unreadable. “They’re not.” And then, you hear the song from earlier again. Had the festival ended? Why had the townsfolk returned? When you look at Marco, he’s but a few inches away, upper body tilted towards you. Suddenly, your world becomes his angled cheekbones, his full lips, his slightly crooked nose, and those long eyelashes. His breath is a cool balm on your fervid skin, so soothing your head cocks to the side on instinct. Then you see red. Red in his eyes, on his teeth, pooling just above your sternum – Eyes round in shock, you tear yourself away, hip bumping the armrest of your chair. The pain sobers you quickly as you create the distance you need to– to... what? The song. The festival. Breathing hard, you gawk at Marco, his chair back in its rightful place and his glass back on his knee. As if he’d never moved at all. He stares back with his habitual smile, unfazed by your abrupt change in attitude or your desperation to get away from him. “I– you–” Every attempt at a coherent sentence ends in failure. You take a deep breath, hoping to slow your racing heart and lose the odd tension burrowing deeper and deeper into your bones. Finally, you manage to get your mouth to form an appropriate number of words, which topple out as soon as they come to you, “The festival. I did not think it would end so soon. I– they're singing.” Then, quietly, you ask softly, “Why are they singing?” You go to investigate, peeling back the curtain. The light filtering through the window attracts the attention of some of your neighbours. Those that know you wave enthusiastically, stopping to raise their lanterns above their heads. The familiar gesture brings you back to yourself, and you wave back. They keep walking, and that’s when you realize they’re heading east. “It... it hasn’t started yet.” You voice this startling realization, gripping the window sill, fingers chilled. He... he should not be here. He should be with his brothers at the palace, with the king and the queen, strengthening the bonds between your people and his. Your palms sting. “Why– why have you come if the festival hasn’t even–” What remains of that phrase dies in the back of your throat when you turn around and find Marco closer than ever before. So close that you have to raise your chin to keep him in your sights, so that he doesn’t do what you and thousand others fear he will. What he’s already done on a night of festivity and joy. You still don’t understand what brought him to your door so long ago, or what draws you to him when he sweeps through your town like a whisper. You’d have never known of his existence if he hadn’t convinced you to listen. You know what he is – have known since he first breathed his funny little request in your ear, and still you welcome him with open arms decked with silver cufflinks. When you breathe in to ask him what he’s doing, you catch a whiff of lilies, and you are rendered voiceless again. Fingers gently urge to release the window sill, your nails catching on the wood. They slip under your sleeves, bearing the skin of your wrists to the frigid air that follows him everywhere he goes. Hairs stand on end when he brings your hands together, palm to palm, and tenderly kisses the tips of your ring fingers. The seams of your white blouse burrow into the tender flesh of your shoulder in this position. “You tricked me,” you sound weaker than you’ve ever wanted to, the pain of this betrayal making itself known without your consent. “After all this time?” Not an appropriate question to ask, not now, but it’s the one you dredge up, for reasons unknown to you. “You know I didn’t want to,” Marco murmurs. You watch his lips, where the real danger remains hidden. “Liar,” you can’t help your sardonic smile, “You’re a liar.” “That’s not all you think of me,” is his reply, the fingers loosely clasped around your wrists falling away. They linger uncertainly, but you don’t pay them any mind, slowly lowering your arms. “You’re right,” your smile widens, teeth blunt and harmless and useless. “I also think you’re fickle.” The flames in the hearth die. Candles fill the room with smoke. Darkness floods the room, barely held at bay by the light of the moon. A trick, you remind yourself, blinking as your eyes adjust to this new obscurity, it’s a trick. He’s no mirage, however. At your words, Marco bears down on you, his body pushing yours against the window. He moves with the same surety an anchor sinks into the ocean, using one leg to create more room between yours. You know you can’t push him away, and yet you try anyway, muscles straining with the effort. Your hands shove at his chest, knees knocking against sturdy muscle as you kick, completely blind. In your quest to protect what he no doubt seeks, your forehead bumps his clavicle, and then your nose, until, finally, when there’s no more room, your lips brush his neck and you’re well and truly trapped. Your lower back throbs, wood digging into the base of your spine pushed. The only solution to this pain is letting him lift you onto the window sill, and you are not allowing that to happen. Not when the thought makes your pulse thunder for all the wrong reasons. Sitting on the sill would provide more than reprieve from your pain, though. It would give you the room you need to just be, which you don’t have. Not anymore. Not here, with your feet barely touching the floor and your spine arched too far, where your front brushes his with every unsteady inhale. He’s so close you can feel the fabric of your blouse catching on the embroidery of his coat. Then, just as you prepare yourself for the pain, you hear metal rake down the glass behind you, the noise akin to an animal tearing into its prey. With your cheek pressed to his clenched jaw, you cannot see what he’s doing, but you certainly feel it. The glass cracks. Your blood freezes. His arms glide down and down, the window screeching. “Marco,” you try, sweat beading your brow. You know you need to say more, dry lips parted in preparation, but for what? Your mind is blank. Empty save for a miasma of fear and panic, so pungent you can hardly string words together. If you want to beg for your life, you need to bid for time, “Marco.” He ignores your quiet pleading, extracting his claws from the glass. His arms don’t budge, caging you against it. Something deep in your spine gives, and you squeeze your eyes shut, a foot sliding up the back of his calf. “Is that really all you think, yoi?” You close your mouth, teeth clicking together audibly. It falls open in shock when he shifts, hoisting you up until you’re finally seated, legs on either side of his. Your nails burrow into his shoulders – to fight him off or to keep him where he is, you don’t know, but it doesn’t matter. He could move in any direction and you’d follow. “Is it what you feel right now?” His stubble scratches your skin as he speaks, his rich voice reaching through his ribs into your chest. Marco takes a small step back, dragging you a scant few inches away from the window despite your struggling, then rests his hands on your upper arms. They’re not the daggers he’d used to damage your home, which is somehow worse. He’d revealed part of himself earlier, so why won’t he abandon the mask? Why won’t he show you what he is? “Why won’t you kill me?” You ask. You have to. Any closer and he’d– he’d– You shake the thought out of your head, frustrated by your shameful delusions. Marco murmurs your name, and the shiver that skitters up your spine is almost violent, skin stinging in its wake. “What do you feel, yoi?” "Anger,” you hiss, hoping the word worms its way into his frigid skin and takes root painfully. “I– I feel–” Nothing. Nothing he should be aware of. “–answer me, Marco. Why won’t you–” “I won’t kill you. Not when I’ve finally found you again.” He raises his head slightly, lips nestled by your temple now. His voice is dark. Devoid of the rage simmering currently simmering in you, but accusatory. “Is that why you’re scared? Because you think I want to kill you, yoi?” His hold tightens. “After all this time?” “Then–” You wet your lips with your tongue, pointless as it may be, “Then what do you want? ” “You know what I want.” He rasps. Your blood? Your soul? There are many things you can give. Most of which you will not part with. “I cannot give it to you,” you argue, hushed, “I can’t, Marco.” Marco doesn’t respond. The air around you both shifts, however. Your body tenses, bracing for the inevitable. It comes in the form of a creeping embrace, his arms encircling your torso carefully. Where you end and he begins becomes indeterminable, bodies so close you fear and hope you’ll become one. “‘It’,” He echoes softly, just as you had before. “You’re not an ‘it’.” “What -” “You’re so much more than that, yoi,” he continues, and if you weren’t so close, you would’ve missed the tremor in his voice. “Gods, I– how could I have gone to that ridiculous event, knowing you were waiting here, all alone, after months?” The longer he speaks, the more obvious his wretchedness. For a second, you forget what he’s asking of you as his touch drifts down your back, settling on your hips. “When that guard tried to stop me from leaving...” Marco’s thumbs brush your hipbones, drift inwards towards suppler flesh, and dig in. You jolt involuntarily, heart leaping into your throat and legs squeezing his waist for a fraction of a second. Were it not for his grip, you’d have lost your balance. You’re this close to losing your mind. “I couldn’t help myself, yoi.” “They’re- hah, Pops will be so annoyed with me,” he cants his head, bringing his smiling mouth closer to yours. You blink once, twice, three times, head tilting under his weight. Annoyed, he said. As if- as if murder is a mere inconvenience. What else could it be? You knew how he spent his nights. What kinds of pleasures he sought from a passerby’s flesh – and how – were one of the first things he’d let you in on. He exposed more of himself to you when you kept opening your door, fearful at first, then shy, then... well, he saw how you acted today. Who were you to be afraid of him after overlooking and undermining his actions? What he’s never made clear – and what you’ve never been brave enough to truly delve into – were his intentions. Why is he here? The curiosity has lapped at you for weeks, carving at that animal fear that warned you against asking. Too much information could put you in more danger, after all. Marco is more than a predator. In his world, however, you are merely prey. What more do you need to know to survive his advances? The mystery behind some of his statements? “Not my fault you continue to elude me.” How in the world could you have done such a thing? You’ve always been here. “But it’s alright, yoi,” your thoughts grind to a halt when he lifts your chin, tilting your head back for the first time since he cornered you. The movement is disorienting. His eyes are blue. “He knows about you. He knows what you mean to me.” There. A new mystery. You still don’t have the words you need. Even if you did have them, they would not have served you, as Marco isn’t finished. “You don’t remember, yoi,” Marco pulls back, his touch insistent. He brushes your hair back, then cradles your face, eyebrows pinched like he’s hurting. As if you’re the sun and he’s about to give himself up to you after centuries of isolating himself. “You don’t remember your promise, and that’s alright, but I need– I need you to at least understand, yoi. Before it’s too late. Again.” “Understand what?” You ask, breathless. Marco chuckles, strained, and drops his head. He mutters in a language you’ve only ever heard in dreams, always too fast for you to grasp before the memory of it fades away in the morning. Less than a minute later, he lifts his gaze, eyes capturing every flaw and scar fit together to create your face. You’d spoken as if you were fond of it earlier, but no jest of yours could have compared to how he looks upon you now: bottom lip caught between his teeth, rigid shoulders, and his irises reduced to thin rings around two black chasms. “Marco...?” You venture. He lunges at you, the hands cupping your jaw keeping you from flinching too badly, and slots his lips against yours. With a surprised hum, you grab his wrists, nails no doubt leaving their mark. His fingers curl into your hair in response, securing him in place. Don’t make me let go, his grip says, scratching harmlessly at the base of your skull. It’s a bruising kiss. Your lips tingle, and you can hardly keep up with him. He tilts one way, and when you do the exact opposite to deepen the kiss, he chases you. Drowns you, really. Marco is cold, always is, and earlier he was naught but stone. Kissing you remedies that. He becomes pliant, letting you sit tall and drape your arms around him. There is so much you want to happen. So much you need after he’s made you wait. But Marco is in control of his faculties, clearly, because he won’t give it to you. Not now. Aware of your body’s demand for air, he pulls away, murmuring soothingly when you seek him out for more. More, before he leaves you in this sorry state, panting and pawing at him with an aching heart. “I want you to stay with me, yoi,” he smooths his hands down your sides, “I’ve watched you leave me so many times, and I– I can’t anymore. Not this time.” Your breath hitches when he lowers his head to kiss the soft dip between your clavicles, smiling wistfully at the erratic pulse that greets him. “You change, yoi. When I can finally tear myself away from everything and I return to you, you’re different.” “I still don’t understand,” you say, face warming at how... winded you sound. “A– what promise? ” “It’s you, yoi,” he says your name, reverently, brushing his lips against the chain of your necklace, “That’s what you promised me once I found you in this life.” “This... this life...?” You’re burning. Heat floods your body, coalescing in that dark, nameless pit behind your heart where you’ve thrown every one of your desires. You want nothing more than to lay back and let it consume you, but... “I... I have no memory of that, Marco. I’ve made no promises to you.” He leans back with one last firm peck, breath shuddering at your seemingly innocent statement. “...I know,” he says under his breath, gaze half-lidded as he touches the thin metal wings of your phoenix. “I know, yoi. I... I’m sorry.” You’re grateful when the moon illuminates his face and you see your own passion reflected back to you. It is usually so difficult to read. While genuine, every one of his smiles is well-placed. Practiced. He only ever grins openly in your home, and even then, you feel as though you understand him on a surface-level. The veil he often wears is of steel, you think, and piercing it is impossible. Impossible until now, that is. Now, he’s much like you. “I... I wanted to–” When you notice the distance between you increasing, you hastily reel him back in, shaking your head minutely. He stops to let out a wheezy laugh, lowering his hand to your waist once more. It remains motionless from then on, its weight soothing. Your smile is bashful. “–to explain everything before this happened, but then you asked why I won’t kill you and I just... lost it, to be honest with you.” Marco’s eyebrows furrow. You open your mouth, prepared to explain, but he carries on before you can. “Don’t ask me that again, yoi. You and I... we’re...” He trails off, distant for a few moments before he breathes in and snaps back to reality. “Well, let’s just say I’d kill myself first before even considering that.” “That’s... comforting.” You break the vice-like hold you have on his shoulders to even out his blond hair. The task helps you collect yourself. “I’d much rather you didn’t.” “...yeah.” Marco sighs, letting you neaten his appearance. He watches you in return, keenly aware of your heart’s slowing pace. He heard it pick up earlier, when he dug his thumbs into your hips, and it nearly drove him mad to know he was the cause of it. Every time, he thinks. It works every time. “It wouldn’t be pretty.” “ Marco,” you chastise, then embrace him. He returns the gesture with no hesitation, breathing in your scent. You stay as you are for some time, clinging to each other. At one point, you start running your hand up and down his broad back, thinking. A promise. Not yours, not at all, and yet you’re meant to keep it. Marco’s roundabout explanation had made little sense in the moment, but now that you’re not at risk of abandoning all critical thought, you think you understand. You change. “...I need time.” You whisper, knowing he’ll hear you. Mindful of his strength, Marco crushes you against his chest, dragging you away from the window, and plunging you in the darkness. He nods, though the seconds it takes him to do so unnerve you. The silence stirs the blend of unease and longing rooted in your soul, so dizzying you bury your nose in his neck, seeking reprieve. “I... I’ve said that before, haven’t I?” “Yes,” he says, like you’ve ripped his heart out his chest and asked him: is this it? “You have.” And there it is. “The– the rules, Marco,” you contend, the fight leaving you with every syllable, “do they apply here, too?” He knows. He must know you’re crumbling. Falling apart only to come back together again. Marco nips at your neck without breaking skin. “Should they?” Gods. It fits so nicely in your palm. What to do with it now?