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Chapter Text

The sixth floor of Impel Down. A secret to anyone outside a choice few pirates and those with no less than a post of Vice-Admiral in the marines. The final hell to find in a prison comprised of hells.

Isolation, utter and absolute, from all contact and news of the outside world. The quarters for those the Navy deemed best to disappear altogether.

“What the fuck?!”

Also, currently experiencing a bit of chaos. Usopp staggered to his feet, swaying with each explosion that shook the floor from the other side of the massive double doors.

“A riot?”

One of the fresh faces, the most recent addition, proposed as a guess.

“Don’t be stupid.”

He immediately got shot down, even when the hinges rattled.

“One of the new prisoners probably ticked off Magellan. It’ll quell once he’s sprayed his gunk. You better hope those doors hold, cause if his poison gets in here, we’re corpses.”

At that precise moment, the doors came crashing inward.

“AH! WE’RE GONNA DIE!”

A din kicked up from all the cells, panic the primary reaction, laden with fear, one of the few things (aside from a visit from Domino or Sadi-chan) that could get any of the prisoners agitated.

One exception, insane and with a deep cackle to match, stood out to Usopp, who took in the proceedings almost vacantly.

“And exactly,” Doflamingo, the former Shichibukai, wondered aloud. “When has old Maggie’s gas ever been white?”

Usopp looked up at the hole where the doors used to be, and found not gas seeping in, but smoke. Buzzing confusion spread and the Joker’s laughter only grew louder.

“A mutiny! Chaos! Dissension! The world will come crashing down around our ears, and we get to have a taste!”

“Get your asses moving, runts!” A gruff, throaty voice barked, one the former sniper hadn’t heard in years. Two more figures rushed down from within the smoke. “This ain’t gonna hold off a bastard like Magellan more than a couple minutes!”

Any other day, for any other riot, Usopp would have rolled over and shut his eyes with wishes for a dreamless, permanent sleep.

“Usopp-san!”

Except the voices of these people, the inciting individuals–they resounded hope. In equal parts desperate, afraid and angry, but hope made them distinct from any previous rioters.

“Step back, Coby-san!”

Tashigi. With only one arm and a familiar, nostalgic white sheath. She must’ve noticed Usopp staring.

“I guess I thought it’d be poetic,” she said. “Lend me his strength or something.”

Wado flashed across the steel bars of his cell, and they came apart in evenly sliced chunks.

“Usopp-san!”

“Coby.” Usopp said, voice flat and throat hoarse from disuse. The marksman couldn’t dredge up the effort for anything beyond wryly conversational. “What brings you here?”

“We’re going to get you out of here,” the pink haired corporal (Captain? Commodore? Last time Usopp saw him he’d been a tenant under Magellan for the prison. He couldn’t remember his rank) declared. He circled around Usopp and his hand turned black. “Give me a second with these.”

“Heh.”

Usopp didn’t know if the sound that tumbled from his mouth counted as a laugh or a sob.  Escape? Where to? He had nowhere left to go.

‘Oh well,’ he thought. ‘Might as well play along.’

“Where’re we going?” He asked, his shoulders tugged back as Coby shattered his handcuffs with one, precise strike.

“Not ‘we’, Usopp-san,” Coby corrected him. “You.”

“Coby-san.” Tashigi’s voice spoke the young marine’s name like both a warning and an urgent plea. A rock dropped in Usopp’s gut at the sight of familiar gas pressing through the white smoke.

“You’ll pay for this, Smoker!” Magellan’s deep voice bellowed from beyond the vaporous barrier. A string of defiant, choice expletives spoke to the mutinous marine’s resistance.

“Then I sentence myself,” his gruff voice shot back, and another tremor shook the walls. “To kicking your ass for pissing me off, and pissing on the grave of Absolute Justice when I’m through!”

Tashigi clenched Wado, back rigid.

“Go, Tashigi-san! I only need a minute more!”

Coby hadn’t even finished saying her name before she dove into the doubtless fatally poisoned smoke without reservation.

“Hey!” Usopp called. “That’s dangerous, no one’s ever–”

“One man did.” Coby said.

Usopp froze, shuddering with the weight of a thousand memories and regrets he’d tried to bury beneath apathy.

“Why are you here?” He asked again, tone tired and terse.

“To set things right.” Coby stressed. He tore open Usopp’s prison garb and pressed a hand to the sniper’s chest.

“Getting weird now…” Usopp muttered, squirming and trying to slide away, though he was pressed against the cell wall.

“It wasn’t supposed to end that way,” Coby murmured, teeth clenched and his brow deeply furrowed. “I know I’m no Kami, I may not have the right to be so selfish, but of all the ways it could have gone, THAT WASN’T IT!”

Usopp stilled. The other prisoners were caught between cheering for the mutiny to succeed, lamenting impending doom and, in Doflamingo’s case, cackling.

“I hate it,” Coby said, a glow surrounding his hand. “I hate that can’t do more, but you’re one of his nakama. If there’s anyone to do the job, it’s you.”

Usopp’s long held apathy cracked a bit further, frightened by the sheer desperation in the other man’s tone. He’d heard it before, many times, too many, damn near enough to turn him into a hyena like his former Shichibukai cellmate.

“What are you–”

“KID!” Smoker’s shout rasped, hacking and breathless. “IF YOU AIN’T DONE IT, DO IT NOW!”

“All of you are hereby condemned criminals and shall be dealt with accordingly!”

Magellan’s poison burst through the white smoke on his last word. Pandemonium took hold. Usopp yelled, yet Coby still held the same focused, clinging expression.

“Take this with you,” he said, and, impossibly, he planted a tattered, singed, worn straw hat on the sniper’s head. “It’ll help you remember.”

Usopp’s brain and mouth stalled over questions and a plea of ‘how?’, ‘where?’ and ‘please stop looking at me like you’re about to die.’

“What are you asking me to do?”

Coby smiled, the dark gas rolling in plumes like the devil’s own dust storm toward his back.

“Save them.”

Toki Toki no Shoukan

—————

Usopp woke up at home. On his island, in Syrup village, in his bed.

He blinked. Where else would he be?

He stared up at the ceiling. The wood had a stain that looked like an insect colony might find inviting.

“Not super.” He muttered.

The phrase, that word, fell off his tongue before he realized he didn’t talk that way. He didn’t know anyone who did.

Usopp rubbed his eyes. A sense of urgency to do something (he didn’t know what) was fading rapidly, and his heart hurt.

“I should go visit Mom.” He said, rolling out of bed.

The sound of a soft crunch and a rustle had him leaping backward. His bed didn’t make those sounds.

A hat. A worn out, tattered straw hat slowly buoyed back into its natural shape. Usopp must have rolled over it.

He stared.

‘Where’d that come from?’

A vision flashed in his mind’s eye. A wide, face-splitting grin that shone like a tiny sun on a face with a scar.

Usopp bolted for the door, and didn’t stop sprinting until he’d put a full kilometer between him and the house.

That smile, all open trust, acceptance and confidence, scared him more than anything he could remember.

—————

“Hi Mama,” Usopp said, sitting in front of Banchina’s grave. “I got you a new bouquet.”

He’d picked them from a neighbor’s garden, same as he did every time he came. Ms. Root had chased him off screaming the first time, so he’d gotten stealthier.

Except…

“Something weird happened today, Mama,” he said after laying the random assortment of flowers at the cross. “I snuck past all the guards and beat all the traps like I usually do. But while I was choosing them from the garden, I felt something. And I looked at the front window and Ms. Root was watching me. Except I knew she was, even before I looked.”

The young boy shook his head. Everything about the day had been weird, and not in an exciting way.

“Oh yeah,” he said, raising his voice over his own thoughts. “Dad’s coming home soon! He sent a rare amphibious dolphin to bring me the message. Actually, the messenger was a superhero named Pandaman!”

Usopp wove tale after tale about his Dad’s adventures and how Usopp would get to go with him on the next one. He talked for hours.

That straw hat haunted every thought he had of going home.

—————

When he did cave and return, he did so armed. He rounded the front door’s threshold with his slingshot at the ready.

‘Whoever left the hat could still be around,’ he reasoned, fear prompting several terrifying possibilities to take form in his mind. Knees knocking, he swung his sights all around the house interior, anywhere except where he’d left the hat. ‘B-but they’ll be sorry for breaking and entering the great captain Usopp’s home!’

He checked every conceivable hiding place in the house (he’d made use of just about all of them) for… what, he didn’t know. Ninjas, maybe? Anywhere he could look that wasn’t the bed. He hoped, with the logic children sometimes apply, that if he put off seeing it for as long as he could, the hat would be gone when he finally checked for it. That it would vanish along with all the emptiness and cold, all the life and confounding sense of belonging it conjured.

After finally checking the oven for the fifth time, Usopp forced his gaze to the mattress.

No such luck. The hat, straw and worn, haunting and mesmerizing, tattered and regal, remained.

“Usopp!”

The boy shook his head. An echo of something urgent rang in his ears, accompanied by that face-splitting grin.

“It’s only a hat.” He whispered, inching his way closer, one foot always behind him for a tactical retreat.

“Just a hat.”

His mantra served as background to the fractured pieces that grew in volume as he reached out.

“Just… no.”

The denial, the change at the critical moment–where a decision to pull back or press on determined all–came out as an exhalation just before his fingertips brushed the weave.

“It’s not just a hat.”

Memories came. Too fast, in and out of order, screaming and laughing, bleeding and hoping. He didn’t retreat, instead hugging the straw hat to him, crushing it out of its shape, using it as an anchor while his knees buckled and he forgot which way was up. His lungs contracted, burned for air but he’d been lost to a vacuum of weight and space where time held no sway and his only sanity born of his emotions.

And with a desperation he’d never known (except that was a lie–he had, only once, in a previous life), he wailed to fill the void.

Usopp, seven years old, the proud sniper of the Straw Hat pirates, grieved for his nakama.

Chapter Text

Hours, days, minutes, a week. Usopp could only guess how long he sat on the floor of his childhood home, clinging to the crown his captain had worn.

Orientation returned as quick as it had left him. The shock of it almost drove him to nausea.

He lay on the floor for several minutes longer, adjusting to the deafening silence left behind by all the memories.

‘I’m hungry.’

Less conscious thought and more instinct, he nonetheless acted on it. Slowly, he rolled over and sat on his knees. Vacantly, he checked the vegetable garden out back.

“Oh,” he said mildly, noting the sorry state of his home grown produce. “No good.”

He wandered outside in a semi-conscious state.

How far back had he gone?

“-Opp! Usopp!”

“Huh?”

Usopp came back to the moment in the middle of Mr. Root’s little market, about the only place for produce in his tiny village. The owner himself stood over him with a bemused, disapproving frown.

“Did you hear a word I said?” He asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“Um.” Usopp answered dumbly. He was preoccupied with figuring out when he’d collected the carrots, onions and peppers in his hands.

“I assume you can pay for those?” Mr. Root asked, tapping his foot.

“Oh.” Usopp shifted the vegetables to one arm and patted his pockets. “Uh.” He replied after failing to find his purse.

“Look, I get it’s been tough for you,” Mr. Root said with a shake of his head. “But even if your Mom passed, I can’t abide by you being a thief.”

A flash of fiery orange and a blue pinwheel stuck in his mind’s eye. Usopp sniffled.

“Hey, no,” Mr. Root said, suddenly flustered, hands hovering uncertainly.

“Aw hell, kid, I’m not gonna let you starve or anything! Don’t go water works on me!”

Usopp blinked.

‘Oh,’ he realized. ‘He thinks I’m crying over the food.’

Or maybe his Mom. Being displaced so far in time was profoundly weird.

The boy sniper almost laughed.

“Look, I’ll give you this one freebie,” Mr. Root said with a sigh. “But only because you haven’t been spouting your nonsense about pirates for a few days.”

Usopp nodded absently in silent thanks. He plodded back to his house.

“They aren’t coming today,” he murmured, almost like a prayer. “But one day, they will.”

He lifted a pot out of the cupboard and boiled his vegetables into a stew, feeling too empty for anything more substantive. After just one serving, he crawled into bed and hugged his knees to his chest.

He lay on his side, eyes wide and staring into the night through his window.

No snoring.

No sleepwalking midnight kitchen raids.

No wayward limbs invading his hammock–his bed.

Usopp lay there, awake and scared out of his mind.

“I-I am Captain Uso–”

His voice died out in the middle of his attempted bravado. It had been just another one of his lies before, but it felt blasphemous with the breeze outside silently judging him.

He brushed his fingertips against the straw hat- he’d never parted with it for a moment.

The sniper gingerly placed it over his head.

“I’m the Captain!”

He emulated the man he followed.

“Shishishishi!”

The forced laughter shook his shoulders.

“Shishishi…”

The shaking turned to trembling.

Alone, Usopp cried himself to sleep.

—————

He ran when he woke up. Not from anything or to anywhere, just movement for movement’s sake.

If he stayed in bed, if he sat still for another second, he would suffocate.

He sprinted off the beaten paths, beyond the woods and bugs and spiders he knew so well, until he reached the north shore.

The boy sniper panted, untrained body exhausted by the exertion.

‘What am I going to do?’

Usopp had suffered through plenty in prison when his nakama were dead. A single day of being back, back, and knowing they were alive again, threatened to crush him, feeling too much all at once.

He stared at the waves lapping up the beach.

“How far can I swim?” He wondered aloud.

He tried piecing together where they’d all be–he’d figured out, from context and a cursory glimpse at a paper the previous day, after he remembered, that he went back fifteen years. A full decade before Luffy landed on his shore.

The sniper didn’t even want to imagine Robin or Brook’s circumstances. Franky might not have gotten as far as being an underworld figure yet, and Usopp doubted Chopper had eaten his devil fruit. He could only hazard the roughest guess as to where Jinbe would be. Was the helmsman a Shichibukai already?

The Grand Line was out of the question anyway–even if he could swim to Reverse Mountain and survive the entry, that ocean was too vast, and without Nami, he’d be helplessly lost inside of an hour.

Not quite as lost as Zoro at any given moment (he had a theory that the swordsman just appeared out of thin air one day and had wandered ever since), but still high on the list of ‘legendarily boned seven-year-olds’.

“Oh Kami,” he murmured. “Nami.”

The crew’s navigator was eight, and Arlong would arrive in Cocoyashi in two years to destroy life as she knew it.

Usopp shot to his feet, pacing back and forth. Where would Nami’s island be relative to him? He skimmed over his memories to figure how many days they were at sea after they left the Gecko islands.

He stopped and his nervous energy paused. What could he even do if he managed to get there? He paced again, twice as agitated.

Sanji! He knew where Sanji was, and if he could make it to Baratie, surely the boy cook would know something and want to help a girl in trouble! His mentor was a former pirate, and a formidable one at that!

“Yes!” Usopp muttered, excited and wringing his hands.

They could go to Nami’s island, warn her about the fishmen, maybe call the marines before Arlong showed up! If things went south, Sanji and Usopp would help Nami and her family escape, and she’d never have to slave away under that bastard shark! They could look for Luffy and–

Swish!

A stiff breeze rolled over his head and carried the straw hat out over the water.

“Captain!”

Usopp bolted down to the beach, wading in until the water reached his chin. He dove down and swam, kicking for all he was worth. When he finally reached the hat, he could barely keep his head above water. He buoyed up his stomach and let the current carry him back to the island.

He hadn’t made it out very far.

‘Even with a boat, I couldn’t reach Sanji alone.’ He thought. The boy washed up on a different beach.

Did Baratie even exist yet? How would he convince Sanji to leave? And what could he say to the people on Nami’s island?

Usopp flopped his thin arms at his side and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.

“What can I do?”

“I’d get out of those soaked clothes, for starters.”

Usopp’s eyes shot open at the sudden presence. A high-pitched, small voice spoke again from behind him. He’d been so emotionally strung out he didn’t sense its owner.

“You’ll catch a cold lying there like that. It’s not sunny enough to dry out.”

He craned his neck to look upside down at his visitor.

A girl about his age regarded him curiously from an arm’s reach. Her pale complexion and blond hair told him she probably didn’t venture outside much.

She seemed familiar.

“What are you doing, anyway?” She asked.

“Um,” Usopp said intelligently. He rolled upright and turned to face her. “Thinking.”

“Does dunking your head in the ocean help?” She asked with a twinkle of humor.

Usopp huffed, crossing his arms and wracking his brain trying to place the girl.

“Of course,” he said. “Haven’t you ever been to the beach?”

“Yes,” she replied, folding her little arms. “But my parents never let me swim, since they don’t think my constitution can handle it.”

She spoke with a diction that denoted education and probably money. She pouted and her name sat on the tip of his tongue.

“Miss Kaya! Where did you run off to?”

‘That’s it!’ Usopp perked up. He face-faulted. ‘Wait, WHAT?!’

“Coming, Merry!” The young heiress called back. She waved with a small smile at the stunned sniper and skipped away.

Usopp spent two minutes reconciling the outgoing girl he’d just met with the sickly, scared young woman he remembered.

She must have learned timidity somewhere along the way.

“Kuro.” He hissed, the fake shit-butler’s name leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

Usopp curled his hand into a fist and pounded the sand. He jumped up and sprinted back to his house.

He couldn’t save Nami, but he’d found something he could change.

‘I’ve gotta get stronger.’

—————

Kaya turned another page in her book, seated comfortably in the library of the family manor. Her cough after the other day’s outing was tame, so she was allowed to wander on the condition she stayed indoors.

As much as she tried concentrating, her thoughts kept deviating back to the olive-skinned boy she’d met on the beach. She couldn't imagine what had possessed her to leave Merry’s side, let alone speak to the boy! Her parents and tutors always encouraged her to be kind and courteous, but she was typically shy around new people.

To be fair, she didn’t often encounter new people washing up onto the shore, soaked and spread-eagle. Besides, he hadn’t been unpleasant with her, and it wasn’t as though she had a thriving social life. Her tutors were strict but fair, and Merry was a sweetheart, but there weren’t really any children on the island, at least none that she’d seen. She wished she was allowed outside more often.

A knock at the front door drew her out of her musings. As a rule, she didn’t answer the door, on the rare occasion visitors came, because the house staff (which, really, meant Merry, the only member on staff who wasn’t a cook) were paid to do so.

Seized again by an unbidden urge, however, Kaya slipped out of the library and padded down the hall. She came to the end and peeked around the corner.

She was on the second floor, and from her position she could see the whole foyer. The tile floor on the ground level meant Merry’s footsteps were louder than hers, so she crept closer to the banister at the top of the stairs. The young butler cracked open the tall double doors before stepping back, and Kaya’s eyes widened.

The boy from the beach was there, in her doorway.

She lowered herself to keep out of sight and listened.

“Hi,” the boy said. “I’m Usopp!”

‘Usopp,’ Kaya repeated in her mind. ‘It suits him.’

“How did you get past the gate?” Merry asked, more curious than accusatory.

Kaya frowned. She didn’t want Merry chasing off what might be the only potential friend her age on the island. She could tell the boy had a decent heart from his slightly surprised and embarrassed laugh.

“I, uh, I climbed over it,” Usopp said. “I wasn’t sure how to tell someone I was here.”

Kaya’s eyebrows rose. To her, scaling the fence around the manor was a daring feat.

“Should I not have?”

Kaya heard Merry sigh.

“No harm done, I suppose. What can I do for you, Usopp?”

Kaya also wondered why Usopp was at her doorstep.

“Well, I remembered meeting Kaya the other day and I was wondering if she wanted to come outside?”

Kaya hummed an affirmative sound and made a firm decision to herself–she was going to be Usopp’s friend.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”

She pouted.

‘Boo!’

“Miss Kaya has been worn out from her excursion earlier. She cannot leave the house right now.”

Usopp folded his arms and looked thoughtfully at the floor. Kaya hoped he didn’t turn away.

“What if we stayed inside the gate?”

Kaya nodded. It sounded reasonable to her.

‘Please say yes.’

—————

Merry regarded the young lad–Usopp, he knew–that stood in the doorway.

The butler knew that pirate blood ran in him. His father had been absent for the death of his wife because he was at sea. It would be prudent, in the interest of her upbringing, to keep Miss Kaya from associating with him.

That is, if Merry cared, or suspected his employers cared, quite so much about elite standing and such. He was not heartless. He knew the boy had to be grieving, and to his knowledge, essentially alone.

“Young man,” Merry said, leveling his gaze on the olive-skinned boy. “Can you promise me that you will not allow Miss Kaya to tax herself?”

Usopp’s posture straightened, and something flashed across his face in an expression that, frankly, startled Merry.

“I won’t let her get hurt.”

Merry witnessed something extraordinary. The lad, who couldn’t have been older than eight, looked like a grown man for a moment. Merry didn’t think Usopp could have given his word with more gravitas if he’d been told the fate of the world rested on his shoulders. Extremely unexpected, and, in the same instance, unnerving to see in one so young.

Merry immediately deemed him trustworthy.

“Miss Kaya!” He called, smiling at the young girl who came running down the stairs, face bright and shining.

Perhaps she would benefit from a friend her age.

Merry took a deep breath and stepped back inside.

“Now, how to tell the master and mistress.”

—————

Procuring the master and mistress’ approval that young Kaya have a friend proved wonderfully easy.

Their reactions to the topics the heiress came home discussing, however, were, ah, lukewarm.

“Fishmen?” The lady of the house repeated Kaya’s outburst.

“Yes!” Kaya nodded emphatically. She almost leaned over the table in her enthusiasm. Her mother tutted, and she remembered her etiquette, though it did nothing to curb her excitement. “Usopp’s been telling me about them! Did you know that they’re born on an island leagues under the ocean surface on the Grand Line?”

“Yes, dear.”

The master of the manor slid Merry a glance, and the butler shifted sheepishly.

“Perhaps you ought to invite this Usopp for lunch next time.” Her father said with a cautious smile.

Kaya positively beamed at the suggestion, unaware of the looks her parents exchanged. Merry couldn’t fault them. They were careful to avoid smothering their daughter, but as they were both often occupied with work and left day-to-day care with Merry, it only stood to reason they would vet the people who associated with her a bit.

The suggested gathering didn’t take place for several weeks, but Merry noted young Kaya had a bounce in her step that hadn’t been present before.

“You seem rather charmed by this Usopp lad, Miss Kaya.” He commented offhand after serving her tea in the library.

Too young to be embarrassed over fondness for a boy, she tittered.

“He’s great, Merry! He tells the best stories, and he paints such vivid pictures with his words! I know mother and father will adore him!”

Merry smiled.

Indeed, on the assigned day, young Usopp, while quite clearly aware of the subtle scrutiny (“I wore my, uh, best pair of overalls.”) carried himself well.

“Oh no, sir,” he said in answer to one of the master’s questions. “They’re born naturally stronger than humans, but that’s primarily because they have to withstand intense water pressure changes.”

“Fascinating,” the head of the manor murmured, obviously enthralled. “I feel so ignorant. I was raised under the belief they were little more than brutes.”

Merry noticed a scowl flash across Usopp’s face. It vanished so quickly he almost doubted he’d even seen it.

“Well, there are a few bad ones, like there are bad people,” he said, only barely catching himself from placing his elbows on the table. “But most of them are just as likely to be goofy as the rest of us.”

“You’re quite knowledgeable,” the lady remarked. “And especially for your age. Where did you pick this up from?”

Usopp scratched his nose and affected embarrassment.

“My father left the island when I was young, but he sends back letters every so often about what he sees.”

Merry watched the master’s expression closely- it was the first time Usopp’s heritage had been mentioned, even tangentially.

The master smiled, however, unconcerned.

“Personal experience is the best teacher,” he said. “Kaya, your friend is welcome to visit again any time.”

“Really?” Kaya asked, elated.

“So long as he doesn’t sell you on any flights of fancy.”

Merry saw Kaya’s face fall, just a little. She snuck her hand over to Usopp’s beneath the table and crossed his fingers, even as the boy gave his word.

Kaya cast a pleading eye at Merry. The butler pursed his lips. Once he saw the master and mistress take up their own conversation, he winked at her.

Merry very likely erred on the side of spoiling his charge, but the precocious child never exploited him.

And who was he to deny a child the joy of dreams and imagination?

Chapter Text

Usopp mulled over his dilemma, flipping a pencil in the air. He’d come to a hitch in his training.

His coordination and eyesight had not, thankfully, regressed a mite, and his observation Haki remained intact. There were several crucial components for weapons, both his and Nami’s, that required Grand Line technology, but his imagination hadn’t suffered. He had a stack of sketches and notes for improving on his initial designs.

No, his problem lay in his physique.

The boy sniper stood up from his workbench and threw on a coat. Light snowfall had visited the island. Nothing as cold as what he’d endured before, obviously, but Kaya scolded him when he showed up without an extra layer. She had a budding interest in medicine, and she loved applying her tidbits of knowledge from reading to Usopp whenever he showed symptoms of… well, anything. Which happened often enough as to be indicative that his habits were probably not healthy for an eight-year-old kid, but Usopp was of a mind that health, at least, his health, was overrated.

Anyway, his physique–Usopp knew his hard earned muscle from the first time could be won back. Cardio and pushups weren’t going to cut it, though, let alone elevate him to a higher level.

On an island as tranquil as his, threats were limited to the wholly hypothetical scenario of a pirate attack. Nothing local, not even the natural predators (Usopp thought he’d seen one wolf, singular, and he’d been looking), could pose a challenge to him, and Kaya was the only kid his age, so he couldn’t even conceivably wrestle with anybody.

‘I wish I had some of Zoro’s weights.’

Usopp stomped bootprints in the snow, wracking his brain to figure something out.

“Usopp!”

The future pirate temporarily shelved his musings as he came upon Kaya’s house. She had extended an open, indefinite invitation to join her for hot chocolate during the winter.

Merry stood outside the gate to meet him, and Usopp cast a perplexed look at the axe the butler held.

“What’s that for?”

“Ah,” Merry said. “There was a hiccup in the shipment of wood for the fireplace. I’m about to collect some lumber for the house.”

Usopp digested that, gears turning in his tired brain.

‘Chopping and hauling lumber.’ He thought. ‘That could actually work.’

“Got another axe?”

—————

One week after helping Merry collect wood, Usopp had his workout put together.

One thousand squats and one thousand shoulder presses, both in ten alternating sets of one hundred, using firewood as free weights, and fifteen laps around the island with the weight of one tree lashed to him.

… All right, he’d work his way up from one wood burning log tied to his waist until he could sprint with the weight of a tree attached.

No breaks, and by the time he finished, he could pass out for a couple hours before he set to his workshop. By that time, he was too exhausted to even have nightmares. A regimen so borderline suicidal, it was brilliant.

‘Perfect.’

—————

A spring storm passed over the Gecko islands, and Kaya hadn’t seen Usopp for two days since. The heiress came down with a fever, though, dashing her plans to sneak off the property and investigate his absence. Laid up, she was miserable, and without her tutoring sessions during her illness, her only distraction was her books.

They didn’t hold a candle to her friend’s stories. Usopp had spoiled her with his thrilling narratives. She pleaded with Merry to ask around the village, to find some news about him.

“I cannot leave you unattended, Miss Kaya,” Merry said gently, ever diplomatic, for he had never talked down to her. “I will make the appropriate inquiries in town after your fever breaks and your temperature comes down.”

Kaya pinched her brow. Merry smiled at her and smoothed the creases on her forehead, replacing a cool, damp cloth.

“I’m certain he’s fine, Miss Kaya,” Merry assured her. “He’ll drop by in another day or two, chipper as ever, and make you feel silly for worrying.”

Kaya bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue, that Usopp always visited on stormy days. It was the only time she saw her friend genuinely nervous, and she remembered the first time so well because it struck her that she didn’t know him as well as she thought.

Instead, she begged off of being called for dinner and requested rest. She waited a few minutes after Merry left to extract herself from her blankets and quilt. Crawling on top of them, she tugged until the hospital corners fold came free. She pulled them to the edge of the bed, and, leaving them hanging, she pulled her desk chair near the frame. As Usopp showed her, she tossed her pillows between the bed frame and her chair, lay the quilt over those, and situated her sheets so they draped over the whole arrangement.

“This is how you construct a fort!” Usopp told her. “Impenetrable and unassailable from all points! Nothing bad can happen inside the fort!”

That being the case, Kaya crawled inside, curled up and tried to ignore the fact that her friend was missing.

—————

A barely waxing, almost new moon, clouds obscuring the sunlight as one day bled into the next, and intermittent rainfall–reduced visibility to hone his eyesight and Haki, softened ground and mud to test his stamina.

Perfect conditions for Usopp to train. Nonstop, because training was equally a perfect distraction.

Usopp needed to not think about the fact he’d turned nine. Because that meant Nami would be ten in a couple months, and then–

The boy sniper couldn’t dwell on that, and therefore he couldn’t stop. If he did, he’d despair.

The government was corrupt, the distance too wide to traverse, his combat skills prodigal for his age, but inadequate. Asking for help amounted to sending more people to slaughter, and there were only two marines he could think of that could contend with the imminent threat to East Blue. Not even the legendary Straw Hat luck could bring him any means to communicate, though, let alone a way to prevent his messages being intercepted, and so instead, Usopp ran himself ragged until he was incapable of thought.

Because there was nothing he could do.

—————

As he promised, on the morning after Kaya’s fever broke, Merry inquired after Usopp. He found, to his surprise and slight irritation, that the boy hadn’t been seen in the village for several days. Surprise, because what was the boy doing all that time? Irritation, because why hadn’t anyone checked on him? Self-sufficient as he’d proven to be over two years of acquaintance, he was still a child. One that Merry had begun to see as his charge in equal measure to Kaya.

Thus, when Merry arrived outside Usopp’s home and found the front door ajar, the butler ignored decorum and barged in.

The house interior was, mildly put, in a state of disarray. Pots and pans seemed to occupy any space that wasn’t the stove, papers littered every visible flat surface, and a damp spot near the entrance suggested Usopp didn’t lock up properly during the storm. The only clean furnishing, the mattress, appeared so only by virtue of all sheets and blankets having been stripped from it, which suggested Usopp slept elsewhere.

As for the boy himself–

“Usopp!”

Merry found him lying face down on the floor beside a workbench, the aforementioned sheets and blankets wrapped around one leg. It seemed more like the boy had gotten tangled in them by accident during a fall than by design. The remainder of the sheets only covered half his torso, and one arm lay stretched out, loosely gripping a pen. That it looked like a scene from one of the mistress’ beloved mystery novels brought Merry only greater unease.

“Usopp!”

Merry knelt beside the still unresponsive child, his face obscured by a straw hat. Merry moved to remove it–

Whap!

Only to find his wrist caught in a grip with surprising strength. Usopp slowly raised his head, and Merry found himself on the receiving end of an impressive glower.

One made all the more eerie once Merry realized the boy was still unconscious, his eyes glazed over.

“Usopp?” Merry prompted once more.

Usopp blinked. Twice. Recognition flickered over his features and his grip immediately slackened.

“Merry,” Usopp said, eyes half-lidded, voice thick with the dregs of deep sleep. “Good morning… it is morning, right?”

The boy sat upright, craning his neck to see out his window and confirm the time of day.

“Are you well, Usopp?” Merry asked, absently massaging his briefly abused wrist.

“Hm?” Usopp murmured. “Yeah, I’m all right. Do you, um…" The boy paused, smacking his lips with a bleary blink. “Tea. Would you like some tea?”

“No, that’s all right,” Merry assured him. The butler shook his head, steering the conversation back to the reason he’d come. “Rather, if you don’t mind my asking, Usopp, where have you been?”

“Training.”

Usopp perked up and stiffened as soon as the word tumbled from his mouth. Merry might have puzzled over that reaction if the boy’s answer weren’t so confounding (and mildly alarming) by itself. He’d been training for five days, and no one had seen him?

“I mean,” Usopp said before Merry could question him further. “Practicing with my slingshot.”

Merry raised an eyebrow at that, glancing when the boy pointed toward his bench where, indeed, there was a slingshot handy.

Still.

“And this occupied your time and attention for five days?” Merry asked, more than a bit incredulously.

Usopp’s eyebrows shot up, apparently surprised that he’d been absent that long, but he nodded.

Merry sighed.

“That’s pretty concerning behavior, Usopp,” he said, looking back at the wet spot by the door. “To say nothing of leaving your front door unlocked, let alone open.”

Merry swept his hand out, indicating the whole house as if to say ‘I won’t even mention all this’.

Usopp had the sense to look abashed, looking down at the floor.

“You had a few people worried about you,” Merry said, taking care to be delicate. The butler may have been frustrated by Usopp’s actions and by his own uncertainty as to what steps to take, but he doubted raising his voice would help. “Miss Kaya most of all. I suspect if she hadn’t been bedridden until today, she’d have come to seek you out herself.”

Usopp’s head snapped back up, eyes wide.

“Kaya tried to…?” He whispered, disbelief all too evident.

Merry couldn’t imagine why the boy was so shocked. It was obvious to him that the young heiress considered her friend truly precious. He nodded.

“Well, she would have if I hadn’t been keeping an eye on her,” he said. “She was rather concerned.”

Usopp looked away, fidgeting with his fingers.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ll try not to lose track of time again.”

Merry pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

“That will do for a start, but if it is truly unavoidable, at least let someone know in advance. Someone in the village, Miss Kaya, or myself, ideally.”

“Sorry.” Usopp said again, dipping his head. The boy stood and stretched. With a care Merry did not fail to notice, he placed the straw hat on his mattress and walked toward the door. He paused midway and smiled wanly at Merry. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be willing to explain things to Kaya for me?”

Merry closed his eyes and smiled back at the boy.

“Absolutely not.”

—————

Usopp spared no effort in apologizing to Kaya. She was relatively quick to forgive after he told her all about the exploration he’d undertaken in the woods, and told her half a dozen new stories.

He also sacrificed a day and a half of training to spend time with her, even sitting in (silently) on her tutoring sessions. He suspected her teachers spent every minute looking for a reason to kick him out for being a distraction, but he never gave them one. Instead, he worked on one of his tame projects (those that didn’t carry any risk of exploding.)

Finally, he promised to visit at least once every other day, and to tell her if he’d be busy with one of his projects ahead of time. (“Those are secrets of the highest order! I can’t tell you here!”)

Kaya clearly didn’t quite buy his explanation. For good reason, since his ‘exploration’ (training) found him out of his house for five consecutive days. The puddle Merry mistook for rainwater at his doorstep was the result of Usopp wringing out his soaked clothes before he passed out. But–

“You think a little rain could bring down Usopp-sama?!”

She rolled her eyes, giggled, and didn’t pursue the subject.

He got lucky. He knew that. His wits returned to him before he said too much to Merry, and while the butler asked about his health a little more often, Usopp more or less retained the leeway of an adult who lived alone.

Being a child again meant he had to avoid drawing too much attention, or else one of the ‘real’ adults might try to ‘take care of him.’ He needed the agency he had, he didn’t have time to circumnavigate well-meaning people telling him his projects and training were too dangerous.

He resolved to be more careful.

—————

Kaya paid closer attention to her friend after his short disappearance. His more frequent visits aided in her observation (she felt more comfortable calling it observation than study, though she wasn’t sure why.) She also endeavored to do more with him than listen to his stories. For as much as she loved them, the feeling of helplessness when her friend vanished had severely vexed her. She was sick of being limited by her constitution, and she wanted to make sure she could help Usopp should he ever need her.

“Hey, Usopp,” she said one day while they were lazing in the library. “Wanna play hide and seek?”

In small increments, she introduced more regular physical activity into her daily life. She became proactive in suggesting games of tag and others that Usopp helped her make up.

Slowly, steadily…

“Hey, Usopp,” she asked in the yard, glancing around. She leaned in and whispered. “Will you help me sneak outside the gate?”

A little determined coaxing on her part, and her friend showed her a hole in the fence, large enough for a young adult.

Her attention during tutoring sessions was more prone to wander, and her weekly hours in the library diminished, but Kaya found she didn’t mind at all. She still mastered her subjects, and, to her surprise, she didn’t feel tired quite as often.

Their games of hide and seek expanded to cover more and more ground. Every few weeks, she pushed further out of her comfort zone.

“Show me how to climb a fence.”

“Show me the beetles you told me about.”

“Show me where you live.”

‘Show me who my friend is, Usopp.’

Kaya enjoyed a small thrill over the course of the year, sneaking away with her friend and broadening her scope of what was possible. Something shared just between the two of them. Not quite a rebellion against her parents, but a token expression of independence.

—————

Merry noticed. Of course he did, he had to wash grass stains off Kaya’s dress for the first time. And every time after that.

He almost put a stop to the whole thing within the first month, after the heiress came home with a bruise on her right arm. (Kaya was outraged when Merry asked, as tactfully and indirectly as he knew, if Usopp had any role in the injury. She was… quite frightening when angry. Merry apologized profusely for the slight.)

But how could he tell them to stop, when he saw a pinch of color in her cheeks that had nothing to do with illness? The butler couldn’t bring himself to intervene, despite how deep his protective instincts ran.

So, instead, Merry advised caution in the future, treated her bruise to the best of his ability, and counted himself lucky the lord and lady of the house weren’t due back from their latest business venture for several weeks.

The months that followed were ones of firsts–first time Kaya re-entered the house barefoot, first dirt under her fingernails, leaves in her hair, first–

“Merry, did you know our island is home to a unique species of Hercules beetle?”

Merry very nearly deposited the heiress’ lunch onto the floor.

Thus, by the time the master and mistress asked their daughter if she wanted to join them when they left home for a traders conference, the butler almost wasn’t surprised.

Kaya looked across the table pensively, lips quirked upward, and asked a few things about where they’d stay, where they’d go, and what they could see, then–

“May I invite Usopp?”

(At this, Merry truly wasn’t surprised.)

“I don’t see why not,” her father replied with a stately shrug. “His company will certainly help keep you entertained while we attend to all our stuffy business.”

The mistress rolled her eyes in a show of exasperation, one betrayed by her own small smile.

After the meal concluded and Kaya excused herself, her mother commented.

“She’s looked much healthier this past year.”

Her voice held no small amount of joy.

“I thought so, too,” the master concurred. “Merry, whatever you’ve been feeding her, see to it you keep doing so.”

Merry smiled and nodded, privately marveling at the blessing that he’d met years ago in the guise of a young boy.

—————

Usopp scanned Ms. Root’s garden with his keen eyes, and crouched to pull another batch of weeds. As far as odd jobs he could do for cash, it didn’t pay too well. He’d need to press for some labor work soon, help stock at the restaurant or the market or something. His thoughts turned to Kaya while he performed the mindless task.

He could barely believe how different Kaya was turning out to be from the Kaya he remembered. He didn’t know how much of his memory from ‘before’ was accurate, but the old Kaya never had a developed, playful, sometimes sarcastic sense of humor, and definitely never left the manor on her own regularly. The boy sniper grinned, recalling the game of hide and seek they’d played last time he visited.

While not quite athletic, Kaya was healthy and hardy enough that she could cover almost a quarter of the island by the time Usopp counted to one hundred. His Haki would have made the game child’s play even if she could choose any part of the island, but he preferred tracking her with his eyes and ears and wits. He felt gratified knowing that the parts of his brain that weren’t connected to lifting heavy objects, shooting, making various flavors of bomb (and worrying) hadn’t shriveled up entirely.

“Hey, you!”

Usopp looked up from his fistfuls of weeds. He blinked. Twice. Rubbed his eyes and blinked again, struck by a wave of deja vu.

“You’re Usopp, right?”

Three kids (his kids, his ‘crew’, holy crap) stared intently at him as one unit.

‘So tiny.’

Usopp, indecisive and caught off balance, both nodded and shrugged.

“Who wants to know?” He asked, as if he didn’t know them already. (If it was this tricky with people he hadn’t seen in years, how would he manage with his nakama?)

“The pretty lady” Piiman began.

“Kaya-nee!” Ninjin interrupted.

“Kaya-nee told us about you!” Tamanegi finished.

Yet another drastic change–Kaya ventured into the village regularly, even without Usopp. Often enough, in fact, that the villagers knew her by face as much as reputation.

“Are you really a master marksman?” They demanded, Piiman regarding him skeptically. Ninjin held his hands behind his head in a familiar pose, and Tamanegi scrutinized him.

“Well yeah.” Usopp answered casually. He didn’t have to boast–it was the truth, and just about the only skill he had steadfast confidence in.

The three kids huddled and exchanged heated whispers. Usopp folded his arms and waited, smirking.

“Prove it!” Tamanegi said, pivoting back to face him.

Usopp raised one eyebrow. They had to confer for that?

“Okay.” He agreed. “Name your terms.”

“I’ll put this tin can on that stump,” Piiman said, holding up the target and pointing out about fifty paces. “You can do at least that much, right?”

“Of course.” Usopp said.

“Show us!” Ninjin insisted.

“Nope.”

“Huh?!”

“That’s too easy,” Usopp said before they could start protesting. “I mean, a stationary target at that distance? I’ll tell you what, one of you kids go running with your can.”

Usopp pointed at the stump with his thumb, pulling out his slingshot with his other hand.

“Hold it up over your head. Once you’re past that stump, keep running, and I’ll sink this pachinko ball into the can.”

The kids conferred again, throwing wide-eyed looks back at him amid their whispering. Tamanegi was entrusted with the task and started running.

Usopp tracked the kid’s speed, factored in wind resistance, liable drop off–all without really thinking about it. Once Tamanegi was past the stump, he loaded his slingshot.

“I see you’ve met my boys.” Kaya said in a deliberately loud voice.

Instead of flinching, (Usopp had sensed her ‘voice’ a while ago) he slowly turned his head to face her, slingshot still loaded, and fired without looking.

“Hm?” He asked nonchalantly, inwardly laughing at the floored expression on her face when Tamanegi let out a huge exclamation of amazement and confirmed that Usopp hit his mark.

“Oh, hello Kaya.” Usopp said with a poorly suppressed grin.

She shook her head, huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Showoff.” She muttered.

“Try not to fall in love.” Usopp said, posing as he pretended to buff his fingernails against his overalls.

“Oh Usopp,” Kaya swooned. “You should have warned me sooner.”

They held eye contact for all of five seconds before Usopp broke down in laughter, followed by Kaya’s giggles soon after.

“What’s up?” Usopp asked after he calmed down. “Aren’t you usually in your tutoring sessions around now?”

Kaya shrugged.

“I got bored, so I finished early and decided to look for you.” She narrowed her eyes at him and wrinkled her nose. “I still say you cheated last time we played hide and seek.”

Usopp sputtered and pulled his best indignant face. “I did no such thing!”

It wasn’t his fault he could hear her ‘voice’ a mile away. Or that he had twice the experience she did with hiding spots on the island.

“Pro~ve it.” Kaya challenged with a smile.

Compared to the kids, Usopp didn’t feel quite as confident taking on whatever Kaya had in mind.

But, it was Kaya, so–

“Name your terms!”

—————

‘Usopp has a lot of quirks.’ Kaya mused on her way to her friend’s house. She’d turned twelve a while ago, and her parents were finally letting her leave the house unescorted.

More specifically, they’d finally given her permission to leave the house unescorted. She’d been sneaking out under her own power for years. Of course, then her parents started trading looks when they asked what she did on weekends and afternoons after her tutoring sessions.

“I visit Usopp at his house. He usually has something interesting to show me.”

Kaya rolled her eyes. If her parents were being weird about Usopp’s ‘common’ birth or something, she could just yell at them and storm out. It’d almost be preferable to them making her feel awkward about her best friend of six years just because he was a boy.

It wasn’t as if someone could change Usopp’s sex.

.

.

.

Which brought her thoughts around again to the boy in question. Usopp had ample eccentricities, enough for several characters by Kaya’s estimation.

During the trip off the island with her parents a couple years ago, he’d taken the few thousand beri she’d been allowed for shopping, pulled her into a clothing store, and bargained the owner out of seven dresses for her for the full retail price of three.

When she commented on it, he waved his hand dismissively.

(“That was actually a pretty amateur job.”)

On the rare days she still got sick, they’d hole up in the library. Kaya usually fell asleep, but each time she woke up, without fail, Usopp would be reading (and re-reading) volume one of Rainbow Mist with a profoundly sad look on his face. She had to call his name multiple times before he heard her. Despite how deeply she wanted to, and how much his apparently random instances of turning cagey bothered her, she didn’t ask.

Kaya wrinkled her nose at the memory. She continued down her mental list, absently noting something spicy on the breeze, which made her squint in distaste. The cook had fallen sick a couple weeks ago, and Usopp volunteered to fix lunch for the two of them. Curious, she persuaded Merry to allow it. That, unfortunately, was how she found out her friend was fond of very spicy food.

(“Whoops, sorry, that one’s mine.”)

Speaking of food, Usopp also had an adamant belief against wasting anything that could be eaten. He had yet to call out her parents on the rare occasions all four were present for a meal, thankfully, even if he almost visibly strained with the effort. (Although, honestly, Kaya imagined their reactions might be pretty funny.) When just the two of them ate, however, Usopp refused to let Kaya’s plate return to the kitchen until it was clear of food, even if he had to wolf it down himself.

As Usopp’s house came into view, Kaya waved to one of the villagers she passed and pondered what they would do for the day. She smiled, recalling Usopp’s occasionally hilarious attempts at ‘peeking out’ from hiding places. Instead of poking his head around a corner, he’d put his whole body out in the open, leaving just half his face obscured.

(“You’re doing it again!”

“Ah! No way! I got mixed up!”)

Kaya snickered at the memory as she came to Usopp’s doorstep. She lifted one hand to knock, the other reaching preemptively for the handle.

Bom!

Only to jump back when a small explosion rattled the door. Half a second later, Usopp burst out from inside, sporting a clothespin on his nose and a wide grin.

“SUPER!” He shouted, his own variation of ‘eureka’.

“Hi, Kaya!” He said, voice a bit nasally with his nose pinched.

Kaya gagged and threw her hands up to cover her nose and mouth.

“What in Kami’s name is that smell?” She asked, eyes watering at the foul odor now wafting out of Usopp’s home.

“Homemade stink bombs!” He declared proudly, hands on his hips. “I tested them personally!”

“You don’t say,” Kaya deadpanned. She fanned a hand in front of her face, still covering her nose. “Didn’t you tell me you perfected those last week?”

“I improved on my designs,” Usopp said. “I can’t just settle when I get as far as ‘good enough’, Kaya. I’m going to be a pirate, after all.”

Kaya paused and looked askance at him, stench momentarily forgotten.

“That’s news to me.” She said neutrally.

Usopp cocked his head, eyebrows pinched together.

“I didn’t tell you?”

Kaya shook her head. She knew about his father, of course. Usopp was always willing to talk openly about his Dad, the pirate on Shanks’ crew, a warrior of the sea. She hadn’t thought Usopp planned to do the same, though. She thought–

Actually, she didn’t think anything. She’d never considered the future that far out all too seriously before. She couldn’t rightly be upset at Usopp for thinking ahead when she hadn’t, even if the idea of him eventually leaving hurt and did odd things to her stomach.

Kaya took a deep breath.

And immediately and violently coughed, the offensive odor crashing into her senses again.

“You can tell me about it now, then,” she said, snatching Usopp’s wrist and dragging him away from his front stoop. “But first, we are going to the shore and you are going to soak in sea water until you smell like salt, instead of… whatever’s in that cloud following you around.”

Usopp stumbled after her for a few seconds before he fell into step.

“I get to keep my head above water, right?” He asked after a pause.

Kaya threw a smirk back at him.

“Depends on my mood when we get there.”

Her friend might be weird in a lot of different ways, but Kaya still wouldn’t trade him for anything. And pirate or not, she knew she would always trust him.

—————

The day was another unassuming one. Usopp had been dragged away from his workshop by Kaya before lunch. The heiress’ tutoring sessions had been short, and her parents were home, so the cook put out something a little special for the meal, even spicing Usopp’s plate specifically to his tastes.

Afterward, Kaya wanted to take a walk on the beach while their food settled. Her parents, after exchanging a look that made Kaya’s cheeks turn a little pink, decided they’d join them.

‘They’re so obvious.’ Kaya mouth-whispered to him.

Usopp could only smile sympathetically. Her parents didn’t explicitly state they were chaperoning, but, yes, they absolutely were. They put on some pretense to the contrary by walking ahead of Usopp and Kaya, but, well, he didn’t need his sniper’s eyesight to notice the regular backward glances.

“Just ignore them,” Kaya sighed, tracing a line in the sand with her toe. “Hey, tell me the adventure of your crew going to Fishman Island again.”

“Marksman, Kaya, they weren’t my crew,” Usopp gently corrected her. He’d been careful to omit the names of his nakama from his narratives, but unlike last time, they were no longer the adventures of ‘The Great Captain Usopp-sama’. “And do you really wanna risk your Dad overhearing me ‘sell you on flights of fancy’?”

Kaya swatted at his arm, rolling her eyes.

“Whatever! It’s not as though he can do anything about it anymore, I’m not a child. Besides, you live literally fifteen minutes away. Unless I get shipped off the island, I can see you whenever I want.”

Usopp made a show of raising his eyebrows.

“Why, Kaya, I had no idea you were so willful!”

Before the heiress could do more than cheekily poke her tongue out at him, Kaya’s mother gave a startled cry up ahead of them. Usopp and Kaya jogged to catch up.

Usopp barely bit back a growl at the prone, pale form of Kuro on the sand. The pirate captain was soaked and shivering, but his ‘voice’ remained appropriately cold-blooded.

The sniper had to make a physical effort to school his features into an expression of concern, or at the least, something neutral, rather than the scowl he internalized.

Reluctantly, he helped Kaya’s father lift Kuro onto his feet. He scoffed at the cat pirate’s acting.

‘Klahadore.’ Kuro said. Hah!

And was this really his best impression of a poor, wounded soul in dire straits? His form sucked! Usopp INVENTED the damn technique of playing possum!

If he had his way in the world, Usopp would have found Kuro alone, with no witnesses to interfere with the thrashing the bastard deserved. Instead, he silently bore Kuro’s weight as they all headed back to the manor.

One way or another, Usopp’s litmus test for how much stronger he’d become was imminent.

Chapter Text

Kuro sneered openly at his reflection, gaze disdainful as he took in the suit he’d been given.

Had every plebeian involved in the production process truly been so idiotic that no one noticed the emblems on the jacket resembled excrement?

He pushed his glasses up his nose, dismissing the grievance as petty. Especially given the returns awaiting him upon his plan’s fruition. The manor, equipped with servants quarters, which he’d share for the immediate future, was comfortable without being ostentatious or grossly extravagant. He could easily fade into obscurity and never again concern himself with the tedium his piracy career had brought him.

He ran through the steps he needed to take in his mind, more as a mental exercise than any sort of necessity.

He would establish himself as a fixture of the manor–already done, as he’d procured room and board as a servant. With a few tactically timed comments about his skills (secretarial, perhaps), he’d pique the interest of the lord and lady. Once he proved his capacity by, say, improving the efficiency of household and personal care (a trivial matter, given his intellect), he’d rise to a position of leadership.

From there, the task of personal care for the family would, gradually, fall exclusively to him. A foundation of trust and respect thus established, he’d compound on it with interest over time. After he’d ingratiated himself adequately, he’d whittle away at his target with surgical precision.

“Klahadore?”

Kuro instantly schooled his features into a perfect mask- a little startled, slightly embarrassed yet composed, and a pinch of meekness to sell his story that he was still recovering.

The very picture of deference met Kaya’s eyes when she appeared.

“Are you all settled?” She asked, her countenance open and exuding kindness.

“Quite comfortably, Miss Kaya,” Kuro said, dipping his head low. “I must thank you and your parents again for your generosity towards me.”

She smiled brightly and waved a hand.

“Oh, don’t worry about that!” She said dismissively. “We were happy to help. I’m glad you seem to be feeling better.”

Kuro smiled graciously at her.

The heiress would, naturally, have to lose her parents by way of unfortunate circumstances. He’d iron out the details of methods later, but she first must inherit the family fortune before she could pass it onto him. And why wouldn’t she, once she became reliant on him in her grief? Who more fitting a beneficiary than the one responsible for protecting her from those who might take advantage of her vulnerable, emotional state?

“Kaya! Where’d you go?”

The girl turned from the door and called back.

“Here, Usopp! Just a second, I’m coming!”

Kaya left with a final smile cast over her shoulder at Kuro. He straightened and adjusted his glasses again.

The boy, Usopp, was an X factor in Kuro’s plan. He was obviously of common birth, yet he and the heiress were so mutually familiar with one another that one could be forgiven for mistaking him for an adopted sibling. They were together often, and attached at the hip.

Kuro sniffed. The child could be removed from the equation, first by a fabricated series of betrayals against the heiress. Kuro would come around to eliminate Usopp once he inherited Kaya’s fortunes. The boy would doubtless harbor too much suspicion for life to be peaceful. An accident could easily be arranged.

Still, he was getting ahead of himself. Resolved to bide his time, Kuro adopted his persona of Klahadore and stepped out to find Merry, that he would be shown around the manor and instructed on his new responsibilities.

—————

“Congratulations on your promotion, Klahadore,” Merry said with a smile, adding with a hint of humor. “Please treat me well!”

For all his modesty regarding his abilities, Merry’s new colleague had proven an exceptionally quick study. Klahadore never needed to be told anything more than once, and within one week of his official employment, he worked with a competence and efficiency at least on par with Merry’s.

Which had, actually, indirectly brought about the meeting with the master and mistress minutes ago. After years of tackling all household tasks essentially on his own, Merry found that there was an awkwardness to suddenly sharing his work. Over the past month, a lack of communication resulted in a few missteps, such as when the cook pulled Merry aside and asked why the kitchen had double the ingredients he’d requested.

Minor things, but as Klahadore pointed out, small things added up in the long run. Hence, his suggestion–

(“If one of us were assigned a managerial role, a division of labor might be established, and thus, more organized, we’d be more expedient and better equipped to prevent future mishaps.”)

Merry had been impressed at the initiative, and the master and mistress agreed. Klahadore was appointed head butler on the spot.

“I do hope you don’t feel overlooked, Merry,” Klahadore said. “You are in a position of seniority.”

Merry tutted. He didn’t harbor any resentment over it. Besides, he’d begun warming to Klahadore. He could be more expressive, perhaps, but his diligence in his work made clear that he was truly grateful to the family.

The new arrangement would also provide Merry with a bit of free time, so he couldn’t complain. Maybe he’d dip his toes back into carpentry. He’d been meaning to dedicate some time to a pet project, a charming little caravel, for a long while. He considered taking the idea off the back burner.

“You are better suited to the position,” Merry said. He chuckled. “Pride is rather unsightly on a butler anyway, don’t you think?”

Klahadore gave a small, cordial smile. He adjusted his glasses with the heel of his palm.

“Quite.”

—————

Kuro patiently gathered information on Usopp as the months passed. Discreetly, and from outside sources, of course. He intended to sow doubt in the minds of his employers without calling attention to himself, after all. Gossip, and the dissemination and manipulation thereof, was the best means of doing so.

Casual prompts for small talk during errands in the village sufficed for a start.

(“It seems a shame Miss Kaya does not have more young people her age to socialize with.”

“Yes, she’s plenty popular with the three local rascals. Then there’s that Usopp, you know…”)

Idolized by the village children, a reported prodigy with a slingshot, hardworking and a frequent taker of odd jobs.

None of these facts suited Kuro’s purpose, and he found the scarcity of proverbial dirt on the child odd. Had he not lived in this village all his life?

He required an angle he could strike from. He required the means for arousing suspicion in the minds of Kaya and her family. They first needed to believe that a betrayal on the boy’s part was feasible before mistrust could be exploited.

Hence, he approached the owner of the village produce market, one Mr. Root, during a shopping run.

“Pardon me,” Kuro said once his purchases were in order. “But I wondered if you could clear something up for me.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mr. Root replied.

“Are you familiar with that local boy, Usopp?” Kuro asked.

Mr. Root nodded, sorting out displays and glancing back at Kuro, clearly curious about the choice of subject.

“Yeah, he helps out here occasionally, carries in stock and some other odd labor bits–my back ain’t what it used to be–good kid.” Mr. Root said, curiosity giving way to something else. The shop owner narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “What about him?”

Kuro made a show of shuffling his feet, glancing away.

“It’s a bit embarrassing that I even have to ask,” he said. “But to ask the lord and lady would be mortifying. Especially when it’s coming up on six months since they helped me.”

Kuro coughed, confirmed that Mr. Root had relaxed again, and asked.

“Is Usopp Miss Kaya’s adopted brother, by chance?”

Mr. Root’s eyebrows shot up, then the corners of his eyes wrinkled in mirth as he laughed.

“Nah, those two are just really close friends. Met when they were a couple of tykes and hit it off.” He scratched one side of his face, looking thoughtful. “I reckon that was a major bit of good luck for the kid.”

Kuro adjusted his glasses, sensing something potentially useful.

“How do you mean?”

“Well,” Mr. Root said, rubbing the back of his neck. He folded his arms, suddenly uncomfortable. “Might not be my business to say, but Usopp’s always been a real quiet kid, keeping himself to himself. Can’t blame him, his Dad left him and his Mom when he was real little, off to be a pirate of all things.”

Kuro filed that nugget away for later.

“And Banchina died a couple years after,” Mr. Root shook his head. “Before the little lady showed up, seems like he only showed up in the village once every few weeks. Even now, he only really shows up if Kaya’s walking around or to help me out once a week.”

Kuro nodded, snatching the relevant pieces of Mr. Root’s divulgence. The former pirate politely made his excuses and departed, already aware of how to initiate the next phase of his plan.

—————

Implementation of his plan was simplicity itself.

A handful of days after the lord and lady returned to the manor, Kuro answered a summons for tea in their mutual study.

As he served them, he asked a question, despite knowing the answer.

“Begging pardon, but do you know where Miss Kaya might be?”

“Her tutoring ended a bit ago,” the lady replied, while the lord perused a document pertaining to their business. “If she’s not in the manor, she’s as like to be out with Usopp.”

“Ah,” Kuro said. “Usopp.”

A hum–ponderous, sharp enough for his employers to notice yet not quite obtrusive.

“Was there something else, Klahadore?” The lord asked, still focused on reading while he lifted his cup of tea.

“Oh,” Kuro said, dipping his head. “Nothing important, just idle thoughts. I find myself curious as to how young Usopp occupies his time.”

“Mmm.”

The lord agreed it seemed unimportant. The lady nodded, only being courteous, Kuro could tell. He’d discarded the idea of attacking Usopp’s heritage–such an outright remark against the boy, on his social standing, blood or otherwise, would be more detrimental to ‘Klahadore’ than Usopp. Instead, he chose to pick at a different thread.

“In all my trips into town,” Kuro said, his tone level, to project the image of thinking out loud. “I have not run into him myself. Were it not for secondhand accounts, I should be inclined to say he only ever spends time in his home or Miss Kaya’s quarters.”

A careful lilt and enunciation on the last word was critical.

A word like ‘bedroom’ might have been too suggestive, after all.

The lord’s tea cup stilled halfway to his lips, and Kuro knew he’d succeeded.

He pushed his glasses up his nose, face turned to hide a satisfied smirk.

—————

Having a scheming, murdering bastard skulk around his island, hidden in plain sight, could not be doing Usopp’s health any favors. And he needed all the health he could get, since his mental state on good days was questionable with his anxiety alone.

After waiting six months for Kuro to make a move, Usopp’s nerves were frayed to the point of cruel and unusual. His trigger hand was developing a twitch whenever Kuro so much as blinked.

In some ways, Usopp brought that on himself by choosing to wait. With his Haki, and the advantage of surprise on his side, Usopp’s odds of success were almost certain if he attacked first. It would sour his relationship with Kaya and her family, since he didn’t have proof of what he knew outside of a shadow in an old bounty poster. Technically, he didn’t need Kaya’s friendship for the remaining years until Luffy arrived. It’d just be really nice to have.

His only practical (if questionable) excuses were that, one, he didn’t have any surefire way to make sure Kuro stayed off the island once he got evicted. Two, and the weaker, was that Merry would be less amiable about Going Merry if Usopp’s relationship with him took a dive. The ship could still be bought.

No, Usopp’s only reason for continuing to wait, despite how much doing so flirted with masochism, was much more personal and less rooted in logic.

He had to have a confrontation with Kuro. A real one.

Thus, Usopp pushed for another day in the library with Kaya instead of running around the island. The same he’d been doing at least once a week. He knew that Kaya knew his behavior had changed, he noticed the way she narrowed her eyes by a millimeter before acquiescing to his request.

He couldn’t exactly tell her it was so he could stem some of his very rational fear that Kuro would do something when Usopp was on the opposite shore of the island. He still remembered Kuro’s insistence that he didn’t kill Kaya’s parents. The liar.

Instead of the truth, Usopp placated her curiosity by claiming he wanted to study chemistry for new bombs and weapons. And then he actually started studying a little chemistry for bombs and weapons. Because Kaya was scary perceptive when it came to Usopp. Probably inevitable after knowing him for seven years.

“Excuse me, Usopp?”

Which was how Merry found them in the manor’s library. Usopp looked up from where he sat on the floor, hunched over a book on the coffee table. Kaya, who had spread out over the cushioned couch behind him, peeked over the top of her own book.

(“I don’t think ladies usually sprawl out like that if they’re not in bed, Kaya.”

“I would never judge you, Usopp, you know that.”)

“Yeah, Merry?” Usopp said slowly, blinking away the fatigue that followed him now.

“The, ah,” Merry said, pausing as though unsure. He cleared his throat. “The master would speak to you in his study.”

Usopp took a few seconds longer to shrug at that information than he usually would. He heard Kaya move to get up with him, and Merry cut in.

“Alone, actually.”

The sniper didn’t have to look to know his friend narrowed her eyes and wrinkled her nose. He patted her hand, a silent ‘I’ll be back’ and left with Merry.

Outside the door to the study, Merry murmured a quick ‘Good luck’ and departed.

The twenty minutes that followed were, in a word, excruciating.

Most of that time didn’t even involve any dialogue. Kaya’s father ushered him in, made him wait for two minutes while he sat at his desk and scrutinized him, then dropped a cannonball on the marksman’s unprepared skull.

“How often are you in my daughter’s bedroom?”

Even in Usopp’s sleep-deprived mind, alarm bells sounded, and he chose his words very carefully.

“Not often,” he said, allowing the rest of his answer to spill out all at once with the urgency of an avalanche. “Only when she invites me in, with the door as wide open as possible, in the broadest of daylight as possible, and as far from her bed as possible.” He breathed. “Sir.”

Usopp’s interrogator sat for another full minute before he nodded, then began reading through a stack of forms with unnerving nonchalance. After fidgeting for a bit, Usopp rose to leave.

“Sit.”

The man hadn’t even looked up, and Usopp had just made it halfway out of his chair.

Only after a scream–

“DEAR KAMI, MOTHER, I BEG YOU, STOP TALKING!”

breached several walls did Kaya’s father glance at him.

“You are excused.”

Usopp may not have been the smartest, but even he could read the subtext.

‘See to it this never needs to happen again.’

Which, Usopp thought as he tried to walk, not run, from the room, suited him just fine. He’d suffered through beatings that weren’t as unpleasant.

‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Usopp wondered, putting his face in his hands.

He scoured over what he’d done with Kaya in the past few weeks, trying to pinpoint what triggered… whatever he’d just been through.

Neither of their birthdays had passed recently, it wasn’t some rite of passage or milestone. Usopp groaned. The talk came entirely out of left field, and he’d been so preoccupied with Kuro that–

Click.

Went Usopp’s brain.

“Rat cat bastard.” He hissed into his hand.

‘He’s playing the long game.’

Usopp could have smacked himself. Of course Kuro was playing the long game. The crooked ex-captain played a bit part for three years.

‘I’ve been going at this all wrong.’

Usopp tapped a finger on his face as he walked back to the library, so entrenched in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Merry’s sympathetic look.

A reactive strategy wouldn’t cut it–the more time Kuro had, the more damage he could do, and the harder it could get for Usopp to intervene. The marksman needed to get proactive and make Kuro focus all of his attention on him. Force him to see Usopp as a threat, not just a hindrance.

He found Kaya on the couch again, albeit with her knees curled under her and trying to fit in as small a space as possible. When she heard him, she turned red, almost squeaked and hid her face behind a book.

She’d probably feel an awkward tension between them for a while, no doubt exactly what Kuro wanted.

Usopp clenched his fist, walked around the coffee table, and sat down on the floor near the opposite end of the couch to give her space. On the sheets he’d been taking notes on, he scribbled an outline for a plan.

Before Kuro made his next move, Usopp would be ready.

—————

“Begging your pardon, Miss Kaya,” Kuro said as he refilled the lord’s coffee at breakfast. “I noticed during my rounds this morning that your desk drawer had been disturbed. I only ask out of concern, but did you leave it open?”

The heiress’ stilled hand on her cup of tea and slight paling of her features answered him. She made not-quite-hasty excuses and left the table. Understandable given the contents of the drawer Kuro specified, the only locked furnishing in Kaya’s room. And the one containing her diary.

The lord’s gaze flickered, if only a moment, toward Usopp. The boy had fallen asleep on the couch in the library the previous evening, and owing to the rain, Kaya personally requested he not be sent home.

Kuro could hardly believe such an opportunity had fallen into his lap. With Usopp present, Kaya’s parents would subconsciously make their circumstantial judgements all the more readily.

“Everything okay, Kaya?”

Kuro paused in the middle of collecting silverware as the heiress returned to her seat. He had thought, for an instant, that Usopp was glaring at him.

“Yes,” Kaya replied, the color in her face normal again. “I was worried I may have misplaced something, but everything is where it belongs.”

Kuro froze with tray in hand, grip tightening on the platter’s rim. He’d planted Kaya’s diary in Usopp’s satchel! He planned things out so he could ‘apprehend’ the boy later that day!

“Thank you for letting me know, Klahadore,” Kaya said, pouting a bit. “Though you did scare me for a moment.”

Pushing down his confusion and annoyance, Kuro bowed his head and apologized.

“Now, now,” Usopp said. “We all make mistakes, Kaya. Not even the marines are infallible.”

Kuro’s eyes flashed up. He was sure the brat emphasized his enunciation around ‘marines’. The posing butler opened his mouth.

“Isn’t that right, Klahadore?”

And he clicked it shut.

Because he did not imagine the lilt Usopp put on his assumed name.

‘Irritating.’

—————

Usopp crept his way into the servants quarters, checking again that Kuro’s ‘voice’ was still in the village. He stole his way down the hall toward Kuro’s room. He had to check each room he came across the first time, so he had the layout memorized.

Hop over the creaky floor board under the rug, mind the errant protruding nail head, turn right after the second (huge) storage closet, and so on.

He quietly entered the fake butler’s quarters.

As dictated by his simple yet effective counter-strategy, Usopp had made aggravating Kuro his personal mission. He’d been successful, too, if his count of Kuro’s new, throbbing forehead veins were any indication. The bogus butler had, after Usopp’s previous excursions into his room (all of which were deniable, obviously) made a suggestion to Kaya’s parents that they install locks. He did so within earshot of Usopp, flashing a glare at him.

Trolling a downright bastard was incredibly satisfying.

For all Usopp knew, Kuro’s errand in town was about getting locks.

Not that it mattered–before the next day dawned, they’d have their confrontation.

Usopp didn’t have to look for long to find a black duffel bag. He took two seconds to confirm its contents and then pinned a note to Kuro’s pillow.

“Usopp?”

The sniper froze.

Kaya.

Kaya, who had tutoring in politics and history at this hour, whose room was on the opposite end of the house on the second floor, who Usopp hadn’t checked for.

Kaya was calling his name.

The marksman hissed and loosed a tirade comprised solely of choice four-letter words in his head.

He grabbed the duffel bag and ran out, shutting the door as quietly and quickly as he dared.

He just had to get out, it’d be fine if he could leave unseen–

“Usopp!”

‘Shit.’

She was already at the other end of the hallway when he turned. There weren’t any exits he could reach without passing her.

Body moving faster than his brain, Usopp snatched Kaya’s wrist, ripped open the door to one of the storage rooms and threw her in. He not-quite-slammed the door shut behind him, his back pressed against the room’s only exit.

Kaya stared at him for several seconds like he was a stranger. Her brow pinched in concern, and she opened her mouth–

“Why aren’t you in your room with your tutor?”

Usopp asked, his anxiety sharpening his tone into something like accusation.

Kaya frowned and folded her arms, settling in for a longer talk than Usopp wanted.

“I told him I had to use the bathroom,” she said plainly, not following up with any dry humor like she usually would. “Why are you skulking around the servant’s quarters? And what were you doing in Klahadore’s room?”

Usopp saw her eyes flicker down to the duffel bag–clearly not his, since he was carrying his own satchel.

“Why do you think I was in Klahadore’s room?” He deflected.

Kaya scowled, and wrinkled her nose like she’d set off one of his stink bombs.

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Usopp. There’s nothing else down that way, and I’d have to be blind to miss the weird tension between you two.”

She let out a deep breath, expression a little softer, though no less determined.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

Usopp chewed his lip.

Ping.

He snapped his head to one side, towards the village.

Kuro was on his way back.

‘Damn, damn.’

“Kaya,” Usopp said. “I will tell you whatever you want real soon, I promise, but right now I”

“Screw that!” Kaya almost yelled. Fighting off a heart attack, Usopp hissed between his teeth and waved his hands, silently begging her to be quieter. “You’ve been acting strange for months and now you’re stealing and you won’t even say anything to me! I’ve had it, Usopp! Tell me what’s going on, now!”

Usopp tugged at his bandana, one hand clenching and unclenching. Of all times for Kaya to call him out on being cagey.

After a minute passed, she glared and stormed up to him with clear intent to move him aside.

“Fine. I’ll just get Klahadore’s side of the story, maybe”

“NO!”

Usopp yelped, grabbing Kaya’s shoulders hard enough that she flinched. He let go immediately, realizing his mistake, but he didn’t let her past him. She stepped back, bewildered, eyes wide, but thankfully not hurt.

He planned on telling her anyway, after things were resolved. A difference of twenty four hours wasn’t that big a deal, and far preferable to her going to a still agitated Kuro for answers.

“Okay,” Usopp said, hoping his quick rationalization didn’t get anyone hurt. “Okay, just–sit down and promise not to scream, all right?”

Kaya nodded, her mouth a thin line. She folded her skirt behind her and sat on a stack of lumber. (Usopp noted absently that they must have been for Merry’s use.)

Usopp pulled out a rolled up poster and opened it.

“Klahadore isn’t who he says,” he said, and he handed over Kuro’s bounty poster. “He’s a pirate, a captain, actually, and he’s dangerous.” He plowed ahead, refusing to watch Kaya’s reaction. “He’s killed, led raids and pillaged, and taken down platoons of marines single-handed. They called him Kuro of a Hundred Plans.”

“No…” Kaya whispered, faintly shaking her head. “No, no, that can’t be right.”

Usopp ignored the pang in his gut at having his friend doubt him again.

“Kaya,” he said, voice even, though he felt hurt. “I’ve told you stories, but would I ever lie out of malice?”

Kaya looked up from the poster. Her face had gone pale, but she mustered the strength to halfway scold him.

“I believe you, stupid,” she said, still quiet. “It just doesn’t seem real.”

She stared back at the photo. Her grip tightened, crinkling the paper.

“Why is he here?” She asked in a frightened murmur. Her eyes flew back up to Usopp.

“Why is he here?”

‘To kill you,’ Usopp thought, features darkening. ‘To kill you, your family, Merry–to loose his crew on the village to do whatever they want, and then to kill all of them. All for some fucking money and an easy life.’

“Usopp!” Kaya pleaded. Her breathing grew shallow and harried. The poster fell out of her hands and she trembled.

Usopp cursed himself–he was scaring her, took too long to answer and she was letting worst case scenarios fill in the gaps. He squatted in front of her and took her hands in his.

“I don’t know for sure,” he said. He made himself breathe slowly, trying to calm her down. “I’m gonna find out.”

“Call the marines,” Kaya said between gasps, slowly coming back to herself. “I’ll tell my parents and Merry–We’ll…” she tapered off.

“Telling is too risky,” Usopp said gently. “No way of knowing how he’ll react. And, well, the marines won’t help us.”

“Why not?!”

“Officially, about a year ago, Kuro of the Black Cat pirates was captured by a marine officer,” Usopp said. “The government won’t want to own up to their mistakes unless they have to.”

Kaya looked like she wanted to argue. She didn’t, but her face stayed mulish a good while.

After another minute, she sighed. She stood up and rubbed her eyes.

“I don’t like this,” she said. She narrowed her eyes at him. “But you’ve got a plan and I can’t stop you, can I?”

Once again, Usopp found himself amazed at how much tougher Kaya was. Sheltered all her life, and she was taking it all like a pro.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to be a pirate, guys like him will see me as competition. If things go south, I can handle him.” He stooped down and rolled up the bounty poster again. “I just need you to act normal for the rest of the day. This will be figured out by tomorrow.”

“Normal,” Kaya parroted. “Yeah, okay, I can do that.”

Usopp smiled a little for her and checked on Kuro again. It’d be a small window, but if he made tracks, they’d miss each other.

“Usopp?”

The marksman's feet were rooted to the floor, though, by the sound of Kaya’s meek voice. Eerily similar to Kaya of the first time on her bad days.

“Can you remind me how normal goes?” She asked, hands fisted in her dress. “I’m scared.”

Usopp tugged her into a hug.

“Normal is outpacing your tutors,” he said. “It’s wandering around outside because you want to whether or not anyone said you could. It’s being kind to the local kids and the people in the village.”

He held her a little tighter.

“Normal is knowing it’s okay to be scared.”

Kaya took several deep breaths. She nodded against his shoulder and he pulled back.

Just as Kuro stepped into the manor.

—————

“Miss Kaya?”

Kaya hadn’t noticed before, but given the context she’d just learned, Klahadore loomed over her even when he acted deferential.

“What were you doing in the servants quarters?” Klah–Kuro asked.

Before she left him, Usopp had given her one last bit of advice.

(“Don’t overthink things–think before you speak, but if you worry about everything you do, none of it will come across as natural.”)

“I was looking for you,” she said, not giving herself a chance to pause and lock up or be afraid. “I had a sudden craving for some of those cakes we had last week, and the call bell wasn’t working.”

Kuro pressed his glasses up his nose with his wrist.

“I assure you the system is fine,” he said. Kaya tried to focus on anything other than his non-emotive face, how his lack of expression inspired fear instead of endearment. “I was out until a moment ago. I’ll submit your request to the chef, but you should still be in your lessons, Miss Kaya.”

‘You should be on a ship, or in prison,’ she retorted in her mind. ‘You should be anywhere else, far away from my parents, or Merry, or Usopp.’

“Thank you,” she said, her smile one of etiquette and not gratitude. “I’ll head back now.”

She walked up the stairs, surreptitiously making sure Kuro didn’t move toward the servants quarters.

As a child, when Kaya resolved to be a better friend to Usopp, she had imagined sharing her home as a haven, or staving off loneliness, or lending a willing ear to his troubles.

Co-conspiring with him to evict a pirate, one with blood on his hands, from their island had never crossed her mind.

Despite that, despite the fear that nearly overwhelmed her, Kaya would persevere. She’d do whatever she could, however little, to help Usopp.

‘Just one day.’ She thought, recalling Usopp’s promise. As ever, she trusted him, so she didn’t allow herself to worry about anything beyond midnight that night.

—————

Two months had seen Kuro’s patience tested to his breaking point. Several times.

Since his botched frame job, the brat took every opportunity to send him a knowing, unbearably smug grin. He never got caught doing it, either, as if he could sense every moment he held Kuro’s attention.

Highly vexing, but Kuro took it as just that–an annoyance, if in the extreme. The brat couldn’t possibly have known Kuro’s identity. The comment about marines and such could only have been a coincidence.

Then the little long-nose pest began leaving things in his room. No way to prove it, else Kuro would have rightfully complained to the lord about violations of his privacy.

But he didn’t need evidence to know–no one else could have penned the list titled ‘One Hundred Plans to Make a Fortune’ that was on his bed. Kuro tore it into pieces on the spot.

The last straw came when Kuro retired at the end of the day to find a hand drawn Jolly Roger in his quarters.

A Jolly Roger tied to the back of a kitten.

A black kitten.

Kuro exercised an inordinate degree of restraint to keep from hurling the mewling thing out of the nearest window.

“The brat,” Kuro hissed. “Needs to die.”

He amended his original plan. He could justify a few alterations–the only ones who would mourn and potentially harbor suspicion, Kaya’s family and Merry, would ultimately die at a later date.

Still, Kuro took preventative measures against potential future annoyances. He met with Jango the previous afternoon and instructed that he stay away for the remaining two years and four months. Kuro would handle any issues in the interim personally.

The poison Jango procured for him would expedite that. A trace amount in the next meal the brat shared with Kaya would incapacitate him, leaving ample opportunity to engineer his end.

Except the brat didn’t make any appearances at the manor that day. Kuro had specifically granted Merry the day off so there’d be no chance of anyone interfering in his alterations to Usopp’s food.

When questioned, Kaya sighed.

“He’s probably caught up in his latest project.”

Kuro cursed. Once again, Usopp made himself an annoyance. Kuro put it out of his mind, however, knowing there would be other opportunities.

The handwritten note he found on his pillow that night, however, prompted a tangible rise in blood pressure.

You may notice something of yours has gone missing. You want it back, I’m sure, before curious, nosy people notice what you keep around and start asking questions. Meet at the north beach, midnight tonight.

-U

Kuro snarled. After several minutes, he tempered his features, failing placid and just barely managing mechanically neutral.

‘This changes nothing.’

The brat’s death would be messier, that was all. Kuro no longer cared about discretion–he would address that detail after the fact.

Detached and cold, he made his final sweep of the manor. He paused in the kitchen and pushed up his glasses as he inspected the available cutlery.

—————

Usopp walked, almost leisurely, along the cliff face on the north shore. Kuro’s duffel hung from his hand, his satchel over his shoulder. His curly hair bound up tight, goggles around his neck, slingshot secure in his sash.

The sniper was possessed by a calm he didn’t truly feel. His anxieties were curbed by his focus on the imminent confrontation. There were only two ways it could go, really, and with the absence of excessive ‘maybes’, he didn’t worry as much over it.

The half hour he stood waiting, Kuro’s duffel bag sitting between his feet, arms behind his head, was the closest to a peaceful waking moment he’d experienced since he came back.

He relinquished it with a reluctant sigh when he heard Kuro approaching.

“Nice night, isn’t it, Kuro?” He asked without turning around. There was a pause, then another step. “That’s close enough, I think.”

Usopp still didn’t turn to face him, only looking over his shoulder. The marksman doubted the phony butler’s eyes were as good as his own, let alone in the dark, but just from his ‘voice’, Kuro was real close to snapping.

Exactly where Usopp wanted him.

“I know you prefer Klahadore these days,” Usopp continued. He heaved a put-upon sigh. “But just because I’m good at making things up doesn’t mean I enjoy the smell of bullshit.”

Usopp faced him fully and pointed at him.

“And you, along with your whole act, have reeked of it since day one.”

Kuro glowered, and Usopp noted the pulsing vein on his forehead with grim amusement.

“Your vulgar vernacular betrays your common birth,” Kuro sneered, upper lip curled. “And your thievery indicates your heritage. It honestly baffles me that Miss Kaya voluntarily wastes her time with the bastard of a pirate.”

Usopp came dangerously close to rolling his eyes. As far as a late entry into their goading game, it was laughable.

Trash talking his father wasn’t the surefire ‘temper trigger' it was the first time.

After living through the loneliest part of his childhood a second time, with the grand bonus of traumatizing memories and immense longing for his nakama, Usopp’s feelings toward his Dad were decidedly more nebulous.

His resentment still took a back seat to his admiration. If someone asked, though, whether he wanted to hug or punch his Dad, Usopp would answer ‘Yes’.

“You’re really gonna keep up with the whole butler bit?” Usopp asked. “I just called you out by name. What else do I have to do? And please, spare me the ‘Captain Kuro was captured and executed’ routine. Your first mate and acting captain is a hypnotist.”

One of Kuro’s eyes twitched. He nudged his glasses up his nose with his left wrist.

“Ooh,” Usopp said, mimicking the motion. “There it is, your tell! Everybody here thinks it’s just a quirky way to fix your glasses, but it’s actually a trained habit so you don’t skewer your face. The mark of a killer, sca~ry!”

Kuro froze, hand still obscuring half his face. Usopp let his hand fall, and flexed his fingers near his slingshot.

“Anyway,” he said, channeling authority. “I called you out here to tell you that your business with Kaya and her family? You’re done. And whether it’s on a ship, a canoe, a raft–hell, you can swim for all I care–you’re gonna leave this island and never come back.”

“You,” Kuro growled. “Haven’t the slightest idea who you’re dealing with. You’re a brat, one whose only anomalous quality is persistently aggravating those superior to you in every aspect.”

Usopp matched Kuro’s glare.

“I don’t care about the opinion of a small fish in East Blue.”

Kuro chuckled darkly, right arm bent and poised behind him.

“What, exactly, does that make you?”

Usopp shrugged.

“I’m nobody, but even a nobody can deal with the likes of you.”

Kuro’s right arm snapped out straight, blade falling from his sleeve. A flash of metal from a kitchen knife.

Twang!

The ex-pirate didn’t even get to move before the tool was shot out of his hand.

Kuro, face apoplectic, snarled.

“For the last time,” Usopp said, picking up Kuro’s duffel bag. “Take your shit and leave.”

Usopp threw the bag Kuro’s way.

He knew it was stupid, giving the bastard a chance–not to run, but to fight. He was gambling with Kaya’s life, the lives of everyone in his village as well as his own.

He needed to know, though, that he’d made progress, that he could change something.

As much as he ached to see them, Usopp wasn’t strong enough to lose his nakama again.

Kuro flickered forward. He retrieved and equipped his cat claws before the duffel even hit the ground.

Usopp, slingshot already in hand, loaded his ammo.

‘Feint left,’ he thought, Haki tracking Kuro. ‘Circle around right, strike from behind!’

Usopp pivoted on his heel.

Exploding Star!

His modified explosive round erupted in Kuro’s face. He rocked back. Usopp pursued, kicking up sand to dash for him.

Even disoriented, Kuro slashed one clawed hand at him. The sniper swerved outside, fist cocked back.

He felt cartilage break on impact with Kuro’s nose. Heard the tinkling of his broken glasses.

Decisive, ruthless, Usopp pivoted again while Kuro’s back was to him. He pulled out his hammer from his satchel and brought it down hard on his skull.

Kuro swayed drunkenly, staggering forward several paces before he managed to turn around. He stood, legs shaking, back bent, glaring with hooded, unfocused eyes.

Whump.

And he fell.

Usopp loomed over his prone form. He lifted his hammer above his head–and dropped it into the sand.

“You can spend whatever’s left of your life,” he spat. “Knowing you were outdone in every way by a dumb fifteen-year-old coward.”

A couple breaths. The rush faded and it sank in.

‘I did it.’

Usopp sank to his knees. A wet, trembling chuckle passed his lips.

In the grand scheme of things, it was damn near meaningless. There were people, real pirates, who could wipe out islands whole, their ambitions so macroscopic that Kuro couldn’t even be compared.

Usopp only won a scrap.

But it was a scrap of hope.

And he’d protect it with everything he had.

Chapter Text

Kaya couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed, listening through her open window to the night sounds of the island.

She heard Kuro leave some time earlier. She didn’t know if hours or minutes had passed since then. When she heard the telltale crunch of footfalls on the grounds again, she threw off her blankets and retrieved her thickest, heaviest textbook.

She crept out of her room, down the hall to the stairs in the foyer. She tiptoed on bare feet, toward the entrance and flattened her back to the wall. Chest palpitating, she raised her textbook over her head. She waited, straining to hear approaching footsteps.

She bit her lip to keep from screaming at the sound of something dragging along the dirt path.

The door swung inward and open. She tensed, poised to jump and strike, or–

“Kaya?”

She dropped the textbook to the floor, pages spilling open loudly as the hardback fell with a thud. She yanked the door open fully. Usopp held an unconscious and bound Kuro over one shoulder. The pirate’s face was bloody and burnt, his slick hair unruly.

By contrast, Usopp looked untouched.

Kaya almost cried out in relief.

“You’re okay,” she breathed, smiling faintly. She stepped back to let him inside. “I couldn’t sleep after I heard him leave the house.”

Kaya looked at Kuro again, at a loss of what to say. The initial shock from Usopp’s revelation had mostly worn off, but the image before her–her friend carrying a pirate of deadly repute with a tired, vaguely triumphant look–she found difficult to reconcile with what she believed she knew about him.

“What in the world is going on?!”

Merry’s exclamation distracted her. The butler, missing his suit jacket and the belt for his trousers, shirt tails untucked, had clearly come from his room in a hurry. Kaya was distantly aware of Merry stammering, floundering for where to begin asking questions.

Usopp glanced at her, and he smiled, just a bit.

“There’s a lot to go over–do you mind if we move to the dining room?” Usopp jostled Kuro on his shoulder. “He’s kind of heavy and I wouldn’t mind sitting down.”

—————

Usopp yawned. He’d more or less relayed the whole mess to Merry, and filled in Kaya on what pieces she hadn’t known about Kuro’s plans.

(“We had a long chat before we fought.”)

The sniper kept one hand in his satchel, gripping his hammer. He’d be ready to knock Kuro out again if the bastard came around and tried anything. Usopp suspected he’d probably try to twist everything around so he came out the bad guy.

He gave about even odds that Kuro woke up still in a violent mood. Obviously, he took away his cat claws after he bound him. The former captain lay on the floor, face up, ostensibly so he didn’t get blood on the carpet. Usopp’s idea, not Merry’s.

The butler, overwhelmed, sat at the table across from him. He stared at the same bounty poster Kaya had already seen.

Usopp cast a concerned eye toward the heiress sitting beside him. She listened intently the whole time, but seemed kind of distant otherwise. She hadn’t let go of the hand he punched Kuro with since she found out he’d been injured.

(“Yeah, I must have split my knuckle when I slugged him. I’m not really a fist fighter.”

“You’re okay, though, right?”

“Oh yeah. Could have been much worse–bastard tried to stab me.”

“He tried to stab you?”

“Eh, I’m fine.”

“Stab you.”

“Hm, I forgot that kitchen knife he stole. I’ll bring it back later.”

“Stab you?”

“… Are you okay, Kaya?”)

She walked away to get bandages without giving him an answer. She’d barely spoken six words since.

“This is a lot to take in,” Merry said, calling Usopp’s attention back to him. “It’s quite lucky that you found him out before he had a chance to do any harm.

The butler gestured to the vial of poison Usopp found in Kuro’s jacket pocket. The sniper scratched his nose, a little sheepish.

“I guess,” he said. “I kept an eye on him when I could once I realized who he was. I did get lucky that I saw him meet with his acting captain a couple days ago.”

Usopp knew luck had very little to do with it. He’d tracked Kuro’s movements day in and day out with Haki. He almost jumped out and attacked when he finally caught him meeting with Jango, he was so ecstatic that it had all paid off. The whole situation came packaged with an entirely different breed of stress than Usopp was used to–as a pirate, adventures began and ended essentially as soon as he left a given island behind. With the journey moving consistently at a much more breakneck pace, he’d learned to compartmentalize pretty efficiently every couple of weeks.

Usopp would not miss tiptoeing around the chronic stressor of ‘will he or won’t he murder everyone I care about today’ once life came back around to the chaos he knew.

Merry looked up, mildly alarmed.

“Do we need to be concerned about that?” He asked, eyes darting to Kuro. “His crew?”

Usopp shrugged.

“I overheard orders for them to come back in a couple years. I plan to be around at least that much longer, so it should be fine.”

Usopp had casually mentioned his plans to become a pirate during his story, and Merry, like Kaya, didn’t bat an eye.

The butler reclined in his seat, exhaling a loud sigh.

“What should we do now, then?” He asked.

Usopp rubbed at his eyes.

“Call the marines.” He said simply.

Kaya shifted in her seat.

“I thought you said they wouldn’t help.”

Usopp smiled at her.

“They won’t believe us if we tell them it’s Kuro, but they’re obligated to send someone if we say there’s a generic pirate problem.”

Kaya blinked and narrowed her eyes a little. She closed her fingers a bit tighter around his bandaged hand.

“And we didn’t do that from the beginning because why?” She asked.

Usopp’s smile faltered somewhat under her scrutiny, but he pointed out Kuro’s cat claws.

“Proof,” he said. “They might still deny he’s Kuro even after they see him, but they’ll have to take him either way.”

Merry immediately left the dining room to arrange communications. Kaya hummed thoughtfully. Usopp tried not to think about the fact that his friend looked like she didn’t quite buy his reasoning.

—————

“I trust we can rely on your discretion?”

Usopp regarded the marine officer with a half-lidded, quite unimpressed gaze. They’d already carted Kuro off to their ship, though Usopp had half a mind to check for himself that the bastard was secured properly. The collective attitude of the men sent to help only soured his already lackluster view of the marines. None of them said anything, but they’d all been giving Usopp passive-aggressive, condescending looks since they landed. It only got worse with their commander, who none-too-subtly muttered about ‘opportunities to move up in the world’ after he recognized Kuro.

Not that their resentment for a fifteen-year-old kid who’d done their jobs for them meant a damn thing to Usopp. The whole squad would have been slaughtered by Kuro.

The sniper couldn’t figure out why they all seemed to be glaring at him, though. He wasn’t being (overtly) disrespectful. Hell, after a few seconds of taking vague offense at their dismissal of him, the marksman couldn’t even be bothered with more than blatant indifference.

He hadn’t shoved his pinky up his nose or anything.

He was rooting around in his ear instead.

He only kept up the pretense of tact for Merry and Kaya’s sake–they were both standing on either side of him on the shore. Having assumed, correctly, that the marines would just leave unless they had something as obvious as a pirate flag or screaming villagers to go on, Usopp met them on the beach.

“Discretion?” Merry repeated, indignant and incredulous. He stepped forward, almost raised his voice.

“Sure.” Usopp agreed.

Merry frowned, wearing the look of a man that clearly had more to say, but Usopp waved a hand at him. Like the first time, he didn’t see any reason to panic the village or disrupt their boring, peaceful lives. He didn’t need recognition for his efforts, and he wasn’t going to kick up a fuss.

That would come much later, when it mattered on a larger scale.

“Oh,” Usopp said, pulling his pinky out of his ear as a thought occurred to him. “Do I have a claim on any of his bounty?”

Okay, so, he wasn’t practicing a lot of tact. Just enough to avoid an altercation.

“Care to repeat that?”

… Probably.

The marine officer, whose voice had been grossly familiar like a salesperson, grew terse and short. Usopp shrugged one shoulder, ready to let go of the whole thing.

“No, I think you heard him just fine.” Kaya said calmly, speaking for the first time.

Usopp glanced over his shoulder at her and almost laughed. She wore a sweet, pretty smile which belied some serious authority. If the sniper didn't know better, he’d think she might have been exercising a type of Haki. As it stood, even the marine officer’s posture went straight and stiff as a board.

Usopp halfway smiled at her in thanks before he turned back.

“I just figured some spending money would be nice,” he said with a straight face. “Since I’m handing him off to you guys and all.”

The officer held his gaze for fifteen awkward seconds. Then, he flashed a creepy smile, reached into his coat and held out a bill for ten thousand beri.

“Here’s a little something,” he said. “A nice supplement for your allowance, my young friend.”

Usopp haltingly took the money. He stared at it, eyes moving back and forth between the bill and the officer.

‘Are you serious right now?’

He cast a glance at Merry and Kaya behind him. The butler’s mouth had fallen open, jaw working as though to form words he couldn’t decide on, and Usopp could almost imagine the man swearing. Kaya, familiarly, wrinkled her nose and frowned. As he contemplated what kind of marine carried rolls of beri around in his pockets, the officer and his men took their leave.

Once they were out of earshot, Usopp pocketed the money and sighed, smiling ruefully.

“That went about as well as I could expect.”

—————

Usopp had dedicated his waking life in his second round to preparation–for marines, the ocean, opponents powerful and proportionally insane, and all manner of other things.

He failed entirely, however, to anticipate the sheer weight of relief once Kuro had been bagged.

The marksman slept for the better part of a week once he got home.

Bleary-eyed and groggy as he came out of his hibernation, one of his first coherent thoughts was

‘Kaya hasn’t been by. Weird.’

Previously, after her health took a marked turn for the better, Kaya had never shown any qualms about bodily removing Usopp from his house for any number of reasons–fresh air, relief from her own boredom, sunlight, freshly cooked food. He suspected she’d find a way inside even if he didn’t habitually leave his door unlocked.

He made a mental note to visit later in the day and sat at his table, taking up a new train of thought.

The marksman had no intention of slacking just because he trounced Kuro. If anything, he’d intensify his work on all fronts, bolstered by the knowledge that it did make a difference. It also helped that, at fifteen and close enough to fully grown, he could do away with a lot of discretion. No more worrying about grown-ups getting silly ideas like griping at him about–

“You clearly can’t be trusted to take care of yourself, sane people don’t set off bombs in their homes and call it a test run, why in Kami’s holy name did you leave the mold in your pans unchecked I think it winked at me.”

Usopp blinked.

‘Mental note: Look into weaponizing sentient mold.’

No, the adults would leave him alone. His local ‘crew’ might- scratch that, definitely would–be curious, but so long as none of them went around trying to lift trees for free weights, what right did the villagers have to complain?

“First thing’s first,” he murmured, clearing the sleepy rasp from his throat. “New workout regimen.”

He set about clearing the table–aforementioned pans, pots containing something either chemical or edible, papers in loose piles, that one stack of beri and accompanying note with…

‘Pause,’ he thought. ‘Back up.’

He took a second look, mind a little more awake at the sight. He’d been setting aside some funds for materials he’d need for later projects, stuff that wasn’t available locally. The bills neatly arranged and crisp like brand new, which he estimated to be around half a million beri? Only one family on the island had that kind of cash.

That in mind, Kaya’s familiar scrawl on the note next to the money didn’t surprise him too much.

The money’s a gift from my father. They’re taking me off the island for a while. See you when I get back.

-Kaya

Usopp stared at the note. Re-read it several times, slowly, quickly, one word at a time, out loud–he tried force some sense out of it.

Terse, brief, almost detached in tone, and very much not-Kaya.

He frowned, whispering.

“What the fuck.”

—————

Merry knew Usopp would stop by the manor. However, given how oddly distant Kaya seemed, and the all-too-plain fatigue radiating off the young man when he left, the butler thought a little time and space prudent.

When Usopp stormed up to the front door, and, upon admittance, shoved a handwritten note at him, Merry found himself questioning his decision.

After reading the brief missive, he felt slightly disappointed in his charge. He looked up to find a considerable sum of beri being flapped in his face.

“What is this?” Usopp demanded. “A gift, or a payoff?”

Merry sighed. A less patient man than he would have snatched the bills from his hand and swatted him with them. Even if his agitation and mild bitterness were warranted.

“Even if the master and mistress intended it as such,” Merry said. “And I assure you, they did not, I’m certain Miss Kaya would disabuse them of such a notion’s feasibility.”

He smiled, recalling her rarely roused yet fierce temper.

“Swiftly and with extreme prejudice.”

At the natural, if tense, lull in conversation, Merry invited Usopp inside.

“I’m good thanks,” he replied in a clipped tone. “How long are they gone?”

Merry recognized, then, exactly how affected Usopp had been by Kaya’s sudden departure. He obliged him and instead stepped outside.

“Conservatively, I’d say about a month,” he said. “You must understand, finding out about Kuro, even secondhand, was quite a shock for the master and mistress.”

An understatement if ever there was one. The mistress had been rendered mute for a full five minutes, while the master had emitted a noise not dissimilar to a whistling tea kettle. (Merry still hadn’t determined how the master made such a sound.)

Their strong reactions may have been partially his own fault.

(“Anything to report in our absence, Merry?”

“Ah, well, it turns out Khaladore’s a pirate and a murderer after your fortunes. He’s better known as Kuro.”)

Merry should have opened with

“He’s been apprehended and dealt with.”

Hindsight, and all that.

“Sure.” Usopp said, still terse, posture expectant.

“I believe they simply need time to digest the news,” Merry said. “And, for peace of mind, keep Kaya close by.”

After a beat, Usopp sighed, less rankled and more resigned. An improvement, though only a marginal one. Merry remembered, even after several years, how prone the young man was to overwork and isolation. He worried over what state he might reduce himself to in a month. Much as he cared, Merry was not the sort to remove an almost grown man from his own home.

“Say,” he said, struck by an idea. “Could I enlist your help with a personal project of mine?”

Usopp looked at him, faintly curious.

“With the house to myself, I’ve had more time to focus on my side business,” Merry elaborated. “An extra set of hands and a sounding board would be most appreciated. I can pay you for your time, of course.”

Merry added the last part sternly. Usopp was helpful by nature, but the pay was a matter of principle.

“What kind of project?” Usopp asked.

Merry smiled and extended another invitation into the manor.

“I’ve been thinking about a caravel.”

—————

Kaya slipped out the front entrance, gently easing the door back into place as quietly as possible. She knelt to slip on her shoes, paused, then thought better of it. She skirted her toes over the tended lawn, immediately wishing for the natural grass beyond the grounds. By moonlight, she made her way to the hole in the fence, still large enough to fit through. She didn’t trust the hinges on the gate.

She needed to speak with Usopp.

She loved her parents, but their constant hovering, tracking her every move, making her recite their own itinerary got old quickly. Six weeks of assuring them

(“No, mother, I’m certain I don’t need a bodyguard.”)

came to a head when they floated the truly ridiculous idea of relocating permanently. She respectfully, but firmly, told them to bring her home.

Kaya sighed as blades of faintly moist grass tickled the soles of her feet. She curled her toes a few times, and began walking the familiar route.

Five days home, and the heiress hadn’t seen her closest friend once. To her great shame, it didn’t occur to her that he might be angry until Merry tactfully pointed out how abrupt her departure had been.

She was horrified when she heard that Usopp even considered that her father had been trying to buy him out of her life.

All her efforts thus far to catch him, in the village or at his home, had come up short. Angry or not, he clearly knew how to avoid her. Hence, her plan to wait him out.

Just as she came to a point when his house was visible on the horizon, she heard singing, a voice cutting softly across the night.

“… gold and silver seas, a salty spray puts us at ease,

Day and night, to our delight, the voyage never ends!”

She looked around for the source, and noticed a shadow strutting out of the woods, heading for the same place as her. She quickened her pace a little, yet couldn’t bring herself to call out and interrupt the song.

“Gather up all of the crew, it’s time to ship out Binks’ brew.

Pirates, we eternally are challenging the sea!

With the waves to rest our heads, ship beneath us as our beds,

Hoisted high, upon the mast, our Jolly Roger flies!”

Kaya came up on Usopp’s house after he did. She could make out his unique nose, and a pile of lumber beside his doorstep. Her friend had a sturdy wooden staff hanging over one shoulder, one made odd by what looked like two rings of logs tied to one end.

She wondered about its purpose right up until she realized the song had ended.

“It’s pretty late to be out alone.” Usopp said.

He didn’t look her way. He just walked past, settled his weighted staff against the house, and circled around to the eastern side.

…

Or, to the gaping hole in what used to be the east wall of his home.

“What happened here?” She asked, distracted from her original goal despite herself.

“The usual.” He muttered.

Kaya waited expectantly for several seconds before she chose to let it go.

“No injuries?” She asked, out of concern if nothing else.

He shrugged one shoulder, stooping next to a pile of lumber.

“The usual.”

Kaya sighed. She tamped down on the impulse to swat him and deliver some sort of barb for snubbing her.

“I’m sorry.”

Usopp paused, and finally looked at her.

“I shouldn’t have disappeared the way I did. Even if I didn’t have a choice about leaving, I should have explained things to you. I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”

She bit her lip, unusually nervous about his reaction. She really didn’t want him to continue being upset with her, and she wasn’t sure how well she’d cope with dismissal.

He glanced away.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Honestly?” She said quietly. “I was kind of intimidated by you.”

The silence on his end, previously tense, sharpened into something more like a prompt than judgement. He looked at her incredulously.

“I knew–I know, you want to be a pirate,” she said, building up momentum. “And, in the abstract, I understood what that meant, or I thought I did. You’d leave one day, go on a bunch of real adventures, face a ton of dangerous obstacles and make a name for yourself. But then,” she paused, too frustrated to consider more precise language. “Then all of a sudden it’s real and happening right in my face- people like Kuro are out there actively planning to kill people, to kill you, and then it turns out the government’s talk about justice doesn’t even mean half of what it should, and”

She took a steadying breath.

“And you just seemed unfazed by it all. Like you already knew how screwed up it all is, and you’re going for it anyway. Then you actually went out and fought a murderer and won, and you’re just so certain about everything and I’m… not.”

Kaya’s voice, rising into a crescendoed pitch, dropped off to a whisper at the end of her deluge. She hung her head, catching her breath.

“Oh, is that all?”

Kaya snapped her head up, ready to chew him out because how dare he respond with such a blasé attitude after she left herself vulnerable.

She drew up short at his teasing grin.

“You ass.” She muttered, swatting his arm.

He chuckled.

“Hard to believe you’d ever be intimidated by me.”

“It’s more likely than you think,” she murmured. She wiped at her eyes. “I wasn’t sure how to talk to you, and it took me a while to realize you hadn’t actually changed.”

“Hey,” Usopp said gently. “I forgive you. You don’t need to explain yourself.”

“Okay.” She said, smiling softly. She took a second look at the hole that his wall once occupied. “Do you want a hand with that?”

“Um,” he said, glancing at the lumber pile, then at the moon. “You sure? It really is pretty late, and this could take a while.”

“So?” She challenged. She tucked her hair behind her ear and knelt down by his satchel. “My parents aren’t home, I don’t have tutoring tomorrow, and even if Merry does get worried,” she found and held out his hammer. “Where else would I be?”

Kaya watched Usopp’s already meager resistance fall away. He took the hammer from her and hoisted a board.

“It might get boring.” He warned.

“I doubt it,” she said, taking the other end of the plank and holding it level. “I was planning to get you to sing again.”

—————

Usopp stared, longing, out toward the sea. Without the looming threat of Kuro occupying his mind, the past two years had almost felt like a vacation.

He came dangerously closer to resenting the tranquility with each passing day.

Oh, he kept busy. He adjusted his training regimen every few months. His kids came to him every so often for entertainment, and he made sure they grew up rambunctious so they could spice up life in the village after he left. Kaya was welcome company, and after she rediscovered her interest in medicine, she began practicing on his more-than-occasional injuries. He consulted with Merry about the Going Merry (he almost wept just from looking at the blueprints) and he pitched a few ideas for strengthening the ships structure.

All of it felt like little more than a distraction, though. His dreams (and nightmares) kept his nakama at the forefront of his thoughts. He’d even briefly considered leaving the island to gather materials for Nami’s Climatact, but decided against it.

“Hey, I just met you twenty minutes ago, to solidify our friendship, here’s a staff built with your specific build and knowledge of weather patterns in mind.”

Not plausible, and a little bit creepy.

Though he did ask Merry about ordering some of the materials.

Aside from that, Kuro’s crew remained at large, and could show up early if they heard about his capture.

Usopp sent out another pulse of his Haki. Again, he found nothing.

‘Soon,’ he thought, slumping to the ground. ‘Pirates are coming.’

—————

If asked, Kaya wouldn’t have been able to say why she followed Usopp on the day she did. Since his seventeenth birthday, he’d been even more prone to spacing out and distraction than usual. That, and he couldn’t sit still for any length of time. He always seemed to be tapping his feet, or drumming his fingers, or otherwise fidgeting. Like with the rest of his quirks, he didn’t give a straight answer when she asked about it.

He’d been taking time to, from what she could tell, stare out at the sea for at least an hour each day. She’d accompanied him a couple times, but he was outright unresponsive to her until he arbitrarily decided he’d had enough.

So, why did she trail after him? The heiress could only cite her own curiosity.

She shadowed him as quietly as she knew to the northern bluffs. She watched his back from the tree line. He stood, arms folded, just staring out at the ocean, posture tense and expectant.

Kaya almost caved and approached when something changed–it took a moment to notice, but Usopp began trembling, just slightly. Minutes later, she heard voices.

“All right! We made it to…”

A loud, boisterous voice petered off. Kaya crept closer to the edge of the cliffs, peering down onto the beach.

A boy in a red vest and blue shorts, wearing a very familiar straw hat, cast a quizzical gaze at his surroundings. He turned back to a young woman with fiery orange hair. In her heels, she stood maybe an inch taller than the boy.

“Where are we again, Nami?”

Nami sighed and stood, expression equally exasperated and irritated. She had the sort of pretty face that featured in romance novels, yet seemed the farthest thing from demure.

“One of the Gecko Islands, Luffy,” she said. She pulled a map out of her blouse and glanced over it. Kaya assumed she was comparing the map against the shore. “Could you at least try to remember why we’re here?”

Luffy, apparently oblivious to Nami’s annoyance, laughed.

“New ship! New nakama! Shishishi!”

A deep yawn and a series of grunts called Kaya’s attention to the last of the trio, a man with green hair and a forest green haramaki on his waist. A black bandana adorned his bicep and three sheathed swords sat on his left hip. Out of the three, he was by far the most physically imposing.

In contrast to Luffy’s wide-eyed face, trying to absorb everything with infectious eagerness, the swordsman had a more methodical, almost predatory gaze, punctuated by the lazy way he stretched like he’d just woken up.

They all struck a chord in Kaya’s memory. They fit her mental image of Usopp’s crew mates in her mind, the characters featured in his stories.

She couldn’t bring herself to pass it off as coincidental.

Before the heiress could explore that particular train of thought any further, the swordsman spoke.

“So,” he drawled, voice shaking off the husk of sleep. “What do you think his deal is?”

—————

“Huh? Who? Where?”

Usopp almost lost it. He wanted nothing more than to bawl his eyes out and crush his nakama in a hug because

‘Alive. They’re alive.’

It took all his mental fortitude to keep his knees from buckling.

“Pirates,” he said, posing with hands on his hips. “Turn back now or face my crew of eight thousand men!”

He knew his claims were stupid, but he couldn’t manage anything else without weeping.

“That is,” Nami said flatly. “So clearly false.”

“Ah!” Usopp exclaimed. He threw his head back theatrically and slapped his hands to his face, covering up the fact that he was preemptively wiping away tears. “You saw through it!”

“And you just outed yourself.”

Usopp collected something resembling composure and shrugged.

“You’d be surprised how often that works,” he said. “A lot of pirates are pretty dumb.”

Nami blinked.

“Fair point.” She said, with a glance at Luffy and Zoro that Usopp didn’t miss.

“Regardless,” Usopp said, tone sharp. “I’m not gonna let Buggy muscle in on my island.”

“Who’d do anything for that stupid big-nose?” Luffy shouted. “We just used one of his boats!”

Usopp slid down the embankment to the sand. Nami cast a glance behind her. The sniper inwardly cackled, realizing he was making her nervous.

“Pirates and thieves, then.” He said, scrutinizing them.

Nami opened her mouth, doubtless ready with a denial.

“She is, at least.”

She glowered and clocked Zoro instead.

Usopp crossed his arms.

“You here to make trouble?”

Nami shook her head and waved her hands.

“No, not at all! We’re just on the market for a real ship!”

“And a new crew member!” Luffy added.

Usopp hummed. He let Nami sweat for a few seconds.

“Great!” He said, clapping his hands with a grin. “I think I can help!”

Nami face faulted.

“That’s a major tonal shift.” Zoro muttered.

“Really?” Luffy said. “Hey, thanks!”

“Don’t mention it,” Usopp said. “My Dad’s a pirate, after all!”

Recognition lit up Luffy’s eyes.

“I knew you looked familiar,” he said, pointing. His grin grew impossibly wider. “You’re Yasopp’s kid, right? Usopp!”

“Yeah, that’s right! You’ve met my Dad?”

“Back when I was a kid, you were all he talked about,” Luffy said, laughing. “He never missed a shot he made.”

Skff.

The sound of another small craft interrupted Usopp’s reunion. As one, he and his imminent crew mates looked to find a man wearing a trench coat and matching hat, heart-shaped glasses and-

Jango. They watched Jango step onto the shore.

Usopp blinked.

‘That’s… convenient.’

“Hey! What’re you staring at?” Jango asked. “I’m just a simple traveling hypnotist. Nothing to see here.”

He then started moonwalking up the shore.

“He drew attention to himself.” Nami muttered, bemused.

“Excuse me, sir,” Usopp called after him. “May I ask what brings you to my humble home? Weariness? An errand? Perhaps an order from your former captain?”

Jango went stock still. Usopp heard Nami advising Luffy to leave things alone, but the rubber captain didn’t budge.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Jango insisted.

“And this captain,” Usopp continued, ignoring him. “Would he happen to be a tall, pasty sort, slicked back hair, glasses and a habit of dicing things with swords-as-cat-claws?”

Jango sweated a little.

“Are you looking for Kuro, mister acting captain Jango of the Black Cat Pirates?”

Usopp felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced back to find a disappointed looking Zoro with his face in his other hand.

“Could you repeat that,” he asked slowly. “About swords used as cat claws?”

“It’s about as silly looking as you think,” Usopp said. “He did all right with them, I guess.”

“You’ve run into him?” Nami asked. Zoro lamented the lack of East Blue swordsmen on the sidelines.

“Yeah, he was out to hurt a good friend of mine,” Usopp replied. He spoke loud enough for Jango to overhear. “I clobbered him and handed him off to a few sketchy marines.”

Nami hummed, looking impressed.

“Hey,” Luffy said, pointing. “What’s he doing now?”

“On the count of ‘Jango’, you’ll all forget about Captain Kuro and his plans!”

Usopp mulled that over. He vaguely recalled Jango’s tendency to hypnotize himself.

‘Where’s the fun in that?’

“One, two”

Twang!

“OW!”

“Excuse me a second.” Usopp said. He pulled a boomerang out of his bag and brained Jango into unconsciousness.

“Not bad.” Zoro commented.

“Cool!” Luffy yelled, marveling at Usopp’s new weapon.

“He’s not a very hard hitter,” Usopp said dismissively, struggling not to preen under Luffy’s praise. “Now, what to do. His crew’s probably anchored their ship nearby, waiting for a call to attack.”

The sniper pretended to think while Luffy poked at his boomerang.

“Guess I’ll have to ask them to leave,” he said. He turned to the others. “You guys want in on this? Could be a little dangerous, but any treasure on their ship is all yours.”

Two key phrases ensured cooperation.

Zoro: ‘Dangerous’ implied challenge. Interest acquired.

Nami: Treasure. Yours. Done and done.

As for Luffy–

“Sounds fun!”

The boy captain was constitutionally incapable of saying ‘no’ to any adventure.

Usopp grinned and snatched Jango’s hat.

“I’ll pretend to be the weirdo, you guys pretend to be captives until we get to the ship,” he said, adding quickly. “You won’t be tied up or anything. If they see us they might shoot their cannons.”

Zoro shrugged and plopped into Jango’s boat. He assumed his familiar napping posture.

Usopp stripped Jango of his trench coat and called back to the tree line.

“We’ll be back in a couple hours! Expect extra guests–hungry ones–for lunch today!”

With Kaya forewarned, they shoved off.

—————

Take fifty debatably B-grade pirates, put them all on a ship with home field advantage, and pit them against two thirds of the Monster Trio and a New World-class sniper.

‘Definitely overstated the dangerous part.’ Usopp thought.

The so-called battle didn’t warrant mention. Usopp and Luffy came away without taking a single hit, and Zoro only got a few scratches courtesy of the Nyaban Brothers. Nami cleaned them out entirely and Luffy made sure those few still conscious knew he’d become Pirate King. With the fear of Kami in them (or in their words, fear of a rubber demon), they were all too happy to run away, even leaving Jango behind.

Usopp kicked the hypnotist’s boat back out to sea, the acting captain tied to it.

“Hey, hey, Usopp,” Luffy chirped, slinging an arm over his shoulder. “Join my crew!”

Caught flatfooted, Usopp cursed himself for almost crying again. He took two seconds to make sure his voice wouldn’t break.

“If you can handle a world class marksman,” he said with a shining smile. “Count me in, King of the Pirates.”

Luffy whooped loud enough for the whole village to hear.

—————

The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Merry set to putting a few finishing touches on the ship, Usopp said goodbye to his local crew, his nakama were fed (far and away the most daunting task.)

The only thing Usopp didn’t do was pack. He’d been ready for weeks.

Too excited to sleep, he sat up in Kaya’s library, thumb tracing the well worn weave of his straw hat.

Soft footfalls startled him, and he hastily hid it behind the couch as Kaya walked in.

“Figures you’d be awake,” she said with a small smile. She sat next to him. “Ready to start your career in piracy?”

Usopp chuckled.

“More than you know.”

Kaya sighed, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I wish you could take me with you,” she said, shaking her head. “I know I’m not ready. Not yet. Maybe after I see a little more, get a sense of what’s beyond the domestic setting,” she put a certain lilt on those words, wrinkling her nose. “You can take me on your second voyage.”

“Maybe.” He said. He wouldn’t concede to anything more than that.

Kaya huffed and made a show of pouting.

Several beats passed in silence before the heiress leaned back, looking behind the couch.

Usopp froze, staring as she gingerly plucked his captain’s straw hat into her hands. She pinched the brim between her fingers.

“They’re more than stories, aren’t they?”

Usopp knew she couldn’t know how. Yet her question wasn’t really a question, just a prompt for confirmation. He could lie, but if he did, she’d watch him leave thinking he didn’t trust her.

“They’re memories,” he murmured. He swallowed thickly. “Of another life I lived.”

Kaya looked at him and nodded. Mercifully, she lay her head on his shoulder and didn’t ask anything else.

Given a whole lifetime, Usopp knew he couldn’t express his gratitude for that.

—————

Kaya laughed as Luffy bounced around his new ship, shouting with joy at everything he saw. Zoro climbed aboard more quietly, but his grin was broad. Nami ate up all the finer details Merry had for her about the caravel.

Whump!

Usopp heaved a huge backpack up and tossed it to the swordsman. Her friend looked at the figurehead wistfully.

“I expect even more exciting stories when you come back.” She said.

“I’ll have seen stuff you won’t believe.” Usopp answered matter-of-factly.

Kaya bit her lip and lowered her voice.

“And you’ll tell me everything?” She asked with a certain emphasis.

Usopp’s grin shrank, yet lost none of its sincerity.

“Everything.” He promised.

All too soon, they sailed away. Kaya waved until she couldn’t make out his shape on the stern anymore.

“He’ll be a pirate when he returns,” Merry said, mildly teasing. “Your parents may not want you associating with him.”

Kaya shot him a mock glare. She broke into a cunning smile.

“Then he’ll just have to kidnap me.”

Merry choked on nothing, then laughed.

—————

On the Going Merry, a celebration ten years due took place. Usopp cheered and drank, finally reunited and on the sea with his nakama.

‘This time,’ he vowed again. ‘We’ll make it!’

Chapter Text

Usopp knew he’d changed since he last saw his nakama. An inevitable consequence, and indeed the whole point, of his extensive training and preparation.

Still, he hadn’t expected such a strong sense of displacement after just one day at sea with them again. One, he realized, owed to the fact that they were a little more than two years removed from how he last remembered them.

Nami had, in his view, regressed, actively avoiding any and all participation in a fight that she could, not yet inspired to the sort of loyalty being a Straw Hat engendered. Her expressions still held lingering suspicion behind them, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Some small, cynical part of her still expected that the men aboard would reveal themselves as no better than the pirates she despised.

Zoro’s scowl hadn’t yet become omnipresent, and he possessed a certain degree of playfulness in his personality that Usopp had honestly forgotten. His ferocity, while still present and ready to call upon (always ready, always there, always Zoro) didn’t reside just below the surface like a shark the way the sniper remembered. There was a greater degree of separation between the dormant predator and the wakened hunter.

And Luffy, his captain, was still a mostly happy-go-lucky kid with ridiculous natural strength and a dream. His determination was wild and untamed, not tempered by the painful process of piecing himself back together after a having a fundamental fixture of his world violently ripped away. (Usopp wouldn’t let that happen twice, if he could help it, but he was getting ahead of himself.)

He likened the feeling to buying a pair of gloves that were gradually tailored to fit his hands, until they were practically a second skin. Coming back for a second round, those gloves had been destroyed, and Usopp had to return to the ‘factory setting’, the standard he’d started with.

The sniper was too fucking happy to be bothered by the singular dissonance, though. His nakama were alive, and he was with them. He still had the same niche to fill, and so falling back into place proved reassuringly easy. His nakama would settle into their roles soon.

Nami had already begun, at odd moments, expressing the joy she felt with the crew, still a taskmaster even if she didn’t plan to stay. Zoro would soon begin his growth into the man constantly sharpening his every edge, motivation stoked by an unfettered perspective of just how enormous the world was. As for Luffy…

“How do I put this.” Usopp murmured, staring at the abomination his captain made out of paint and black fabric, claiming that the atrocity he’d made would be their skull and crossbones.

… Luffy could only ever be Luffy.

“Your painting skills suck, Captain.”

Zoro agreed that the bastardization passed muster on the grounds of being scary, if only in all the wrong ways. Somehow, Nami proposed, without any hint of sarcasm that Usopp could detect, that Luffy had deliberately made it abstract.

'N–No.’ Went a deadpan voice in his head.

Usopp flexed his fingers and stepped up to take the brush.

“Let me show you how it’s done.”

Minutes later, the Straw Hat Jolly Roger was reborn–a bit less rounded, a little more defined, and a bit more daunting than the original. A steadfast reminder and a ward against complacency, though only Usopp would ever appreciate that aspect.

Luffy and the others loved it immediately.

“Put it up on the sails and flags, too!”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.”

Another hour and a bit found Usopp slumped against the guard railing on deck with paint spatter across his overalls and face. Nami lay spread eagle on the deck, and Zoro mirrored Usopp’s posture against the main mast.

Well deserved tranquility.

BOOM!

For all of about thirty seconds.

‘He’s only gonna get worse, too.’ Usopp glumly remembered.

Kami, he’d missed Luffy so damn much.

“What the hell was that, Luffy?!” Name shouted. One hand pressed over her chest, probably to confirm she still had a pulse.

“Cannon practice,” Luffy said flatly. He pointed out to sea with a frown. “I’m trying to hit that rock, but this thing doesn’t shoot right.”

Something tickled the back of Usopp’s mind, pertaining to ‘that rock’. He squinted, trying to place, or rather, jar loose, whatever had been buried.

‘Some reason we… shouldn’t shoot the cannon?’

Ding!

‘Aha!’

Usopp pounded his fist in his palm.

“Speaking as someone who helped install those cannons,” Usopp said, standing up and walking up to stand by Luffy. “I guarantee that it’s working just fine, but there’s no need to use munitions if you want to break a boulder.”

Acting on a stroke of inspiration, Usopp pulled out his slingshot, sweeping his hand out theatrically and raising his voice. He’d been stewing over how to push his crew mates along in their development since they left his island. He didn’t have to sell himself to Luffy, he knew that, but a demonstration would fare far better than words with his captain and Zoro.

“Observe, if you will.”

Zoro cracked an eye open, and Nami, with the look of one who decided she had nothing better to do, pulled herself up to her feet. Luffy, of course, had never looked away. With their attention, Usopp pulled the band taut, loaded with a ball bearing.

Though no one knew, a black sheen coated his ammo at the last second before he released.

Enhancement: Lead Star!

His shot sailed for the dead center of the boulder.

And, on impact, said boulder shattered into no fewer than fifteen fragments.

Three jaws hit the deck at the same time that four pairs of eyes popped out wide. Usopp hadn’t actually expected quite such a spectacular result.

Armament Haki had been the one facet of strength he hadn’t actively trained, partially because he had little idea how to go about it, and mostly due to his own paranoia. His Armament manifested for the first time shortly before he was captured during his ‘first round’, and after that he didn’t have much reason for experimenting with it, imprisoned and all.

Usopp didn’t use it against Kuro or his crew, since it would have been overkill to the nth degree. The second and more relevant reason was that Armament Haki stood out like a sunbathing Sea King even in Paradise.

In East Blue?

The sniper may as well have attached a wailing siren to his head.

While he streaked through a Marine base.

With all of his bodily hair on fire.

Taking time to press his bare ass against every window pane he came across.

East Blue locals thought Devil Fruits were a myth. Introducing Haki liberally to such people would leave him with a bounty bigger than Luffy’s first before they even reached the Grand Line.

Usopp knew he couldn’t hide it indefinitely, and he understood that he’d get a price on his head again. His nakama simply weren’t ready for Vice-Admirals and more that would come after them if word of his Haki got out. Not yet.

Turned out to be a prudent decision, not practicing on his island, or else the woods would have been significantly less populated with trees.

‘Wow.’ He thought, appraising the results.

His crew mates’ reactions were a bit more pronounced.

“How the hell’d you do that?” -Zoro

“So damn cool!” -Luffy

“WHAT THE FLYING FUCK?!” -Understandably, the only one on board without monstrous strength or Haki mastery.

Usopp spun on his heel, capitalizing on the interest he’d gained. A calculated risk, and it paid off. He addressed each of his nakama in turn.

“Haki, thank you Captain, and, well, Haki.”

Nami rubbed at her eyes, incredulous even after staring at the decimated rock. Zoro had opened both his eyes, regarding Usopp with his fullest attention. Luffy still had a blinding grin that told all present he was ecstatic over his new marksman’s abilities.

“Haki?” Zoro parroted the word after a beat.

“So,” Nami said, warily skeptical. “It’s not just an explosive round?”

“Well, that was one of three basic types, at least,” Usopp said. He held up another lead pellet, the same ammo he just fired, applying Haki to it again. “This is what I used,” he said in answer to Nami. “Normally, a shot with this would hurt about as much as you’d expect. It stings, hurts like a bastard in the eye like anything else, but it’s a ball bearing.”

The sniper pointed out toward the stump of rock still protruding above the surface with his thumb. (Something kept bugging him about it.)

“When I apply Armament Haki to my ammunition, the difference is… well.” He waved a hand in gesture, indicating what he’d just accomplished.

‘Though I didn’t expect it to work quite that well.’

“And it’s not a Devil Fruit?” Nami asked, still trying to wrap her head around it all.

Zoro inclined his head in the cartographer’s direction, then Usopp’s, seconding the question.

“Nope. In theory, anyone can learn to use at least two types.”

Zoro turned back to the sea, thoughts clearly churning in his head.

“The other type that I can use is Observation Haki, which”

Usopp paused with his mouth open. On a hunch, he reached out with his Haki. He got a ping on a pretty puny but nonetheless angry ‘voice’ approaching the Merry.

“Which can, among other things, tell me that we’re about to have a ticked off guest in about ten seconds.”

Only after Johnny clambered aboard, soaked and fuming, did Usopp actually remember the small time pair of bounty hunters. The preemptive guilt he’d felt for shooting that rock suddenly made sense.

‘Ah… whoops.’

Chapter Text

Following a formal and practical introduction to scurvy, its effects and consequently the treatment for it, things calmed down. With their ‘Zoro-aniki’ present (and no bounties on board) neither Johnny nor Yosaku seemed inclined to start anything.

The incident convinced Luffy and the others of their need for a cook, and with one suggestion from Johnny, they were on their way toward Baratie. Sitting at his workbench in the galley, half to distract himself from drooling over the memory of Sanji’s food, Usopp had a thought. He glanced toward the table where Nami was filling out the crew’s log book.

“Hey,” he said, getting her attention. Given a moment to think, he’d realized that he’d made his first irreversible change as a Straw Hat. Beyond even that, after ten years of hiding it, others knew that he possessed Haki. Nakama or not, it was a shift.

Despite his best efforts, the sniper hadn’t been able to kill off his cowardice entirely. He’d been given a second chance, not reborn, and the memories of his ‘first round’ came attached with all the emotions he’d felt at the time and all those that colored them now. So, of course, a part of his brain had taken ‘Haki not a secret anymore’ and extrapolated the mildly hysterical conclusion

‘I’VE KILLED US ALL!’

… There were, presumably, a few intermediate steps involved in the evolution of that thought process. Panic drastically increased symptoms like Jumping To Conclusions, however, so Usopp remained unaware of what those intermediate steps were.

Outwardly, he managed a much more nonchalant

“Just a heads up, we should probably keep the Haki thing to ourselves. Crew-members-only basis.”

“Uh, okay,” Nami said, a little curiously. “Why, though? You aren’t going to use it?”

Usopp stalled. That was two more questions than he’d anticipated on the subject, at least for the conversation. Not that he expected Nami to jump on his command (the inverse, if anything.) He and Nami had shared, if not the same, then intersecting wavelengths, and something like ‘keep a low profile, don’t invite trouble’ was something the cartographer could parse out from his suggestions without explanation. Had that not always been the case before? Did he do something that had changed that, or would it come with time?

The sniper digressed from those tangential thoughts and hummed, buying himself a few seconds to piece together an answer.

“You remember how all those pirates freaked out when Luffy stretched for the first time?” He asked. “Imagine a similar scenario with marines instead of pirates. Beyond that, picture if I also started casually throwing Haki around, and they start talking…”

“Then we get a lot of attention from people who want to shut us down,” Nami said, comprehension quickly dawning on her face. “Yeah, okay, that makes sense.”

“I’ll use it when it becomes necessary,” Usopp added. “And I suspect it will sooner or later, sailing with the future Pirate King.”

Nami halfway smiled, chin in her hand.

“You sound like you actually believe that.”

“You don’t?” Usopp asked innocently.

Nami let out a huff, and the sniper looked back to his workbench, hiding a smirk. Dismissive, sure, but it had not been an outright no. Even the biggest skeptics could be converted into believers by Luffy.

“I have,” Nami said after a stretch of silence. “No confidence that those two idiots can keep a secret.”

“I dunno,” Usopp said. “I don’t think we need to worry too much about that.”

It was true–despite his habit of broadcasting his status as a rubber man, Luffy only did so after a practical demonstration had made that obvious. And with regard to his crew, the boy captain’s default (when he wasn’t whining at them) was, well, bragging that they were the best at their respective specialty. He didn’t give away specifics, and even if he did, any listener invested in details would have to decipher his unique running babble to glean anything useful.

As for Zoro, well…

“Zoro doesn’t really talk to people,” Usopp said in response to a questioning eyebrow from Nami. “And Luffy’s best at keeping a secret when he doesn’t know it’s a secret.”

Technically Luffy could be trusted to take a secret to his grave–his captain just couldn’t be discreet about having a secret.

“Two days and you’ve figured all that out, have you?” Nami asked with a teasing lilt, one tempered by an undertone of caution.

Usopp played back the past few seconds in his head and barely restrained a cringe.

‘Shit.’

Yeah, the confidence in his assessment probably did come off as disproportionate to the length of time he’d known them, Luffy in particular. That Zoro wasn’t the most approachable of creatures was readily apparent.

“That’s the impression I get,” he said, shrugging to affect a casual air. “Luffy does seem to have the discretion and attention span of a five-year-old, doesn’t he?”

Nami actually laughed a little at that, and it was music to the sniper’s ears. The happy banter of his crew mates didn’t feature in his nightmares, only the absence of.

“Regardless, I trust you,” he said as the cartographer’s mirth settled. “I trust Luffy and Zoro–you’ll all do what I can’t do, and I’ll do what you all can’t do.”

The sniper felt a poignant sting of fondness for Sanji, and couldn’t keep down the smile on his face even if he wanted to.

“We’re nakama now.” He said simply.

Nami’s own smile caught on that note, frustration and something else peeking out before she buried it under her self-sure, vaguely haughty mask.

“I’ve done just fine on my own up to now,” she said briskly, leaning back in her seat and pinning Usopp with a challenging stare. “Without me, you’d all just be drifting without a clue.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Usopp said earnestly, failing to take any offense to her comment, even smiling in good humor. It was the unvarnished truth, after all. He hadn’t expected the strength of her reaction, though, and he wondered at it. He knew Nami was lonely, trying to save her village all on her own, though she quashed outward signs admirably, hence her aversion to overt friendliness. He didn’t remember it being such a marked point, however, and wondered if the insecurities she’d confided to him during his ‘first round’ had anything to do with it.

For the navigator’s part, his easy-going reply took the wind out of her sails, and her expression turned thoughtful.

“Oi! Usopp!”

Luffy’s call broke through the sniper’s musings, and he shelved them for the moment. On his way out (no doubt to indulge some game or a ‘super cool’ discovery his captain had made), Usopp paused at the door, his hand on the knob. He wrestled with indecision for only a moment before he glanced back.

“Nami, I’m the first to admit that I’m scared of a lot of things,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think anyone should ever be afraid to ask for help.”

He walked out, not giving her a chance to answer.

—————

Nami stared at the door to the galley for several seconds, processing the implications of what she’d just heard. With a silent groan, she pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead. She’d been with this ragtag ‘crew’ for weeks–literally weeks–and already they’d shaken a core world view she’d held since she was ten years old.

Luffy, who stood an inch taller than her when she wasn’t wearing heels, went up against a ten-foot lion on behalf of a dog he’d just met.

Zoro, practically bleeding out an intestine, risked his life that same day to save a boy made of rubber.

Such were not the actions of scumbags and low lives.

Yet they sailed under the same black flags that inspired more hatred in Nami than almost anything else.

Now Usopp, who she’d figured for a homegrown small-village boy with a keen eye and a proficiency for shooting, dropped a bombshell on her with his ‘Haki’. Was Luffy ever going to recruit anyone remotely normal for his crew?

(Nami ruthlessly bit down the small voice that included her in that count. She didn't count. She’d never counted, and wouldn’t ever. She ignored the faint ache behind her eyes.)

Then, of course, because another freakishly powerful teenager wasn’t enough, Usopp left her with that clear, if oblique, offer. For a boy, the sniper was certainly more observant than the rest of the morons on board. Nami didn’t waste the energy to figure out how, though he did gain some estimation in her mind for that.

It didn’t matter one iota anyway. Usopp couldn’t possibly have known. Even if he was in Luffy and Zoro’s league, he at least came off as far more sane than the other two–he’d retract the offer and bolt the second she dropped Arlong’s name. He’d probably celebrate the occasion once she ditched them.

… So why was she still thinking about it?

Nami sat back with a sigh, her hand unconsciously reaching to her shoulder, where Arlong’s mark was carefully hidden out of sight.

She conceded that she couldn’t just dismiss someone, kid or not, who could blow up boulders with a pachinko ball. She knew Arlong could take on cannon fire without an issue, but, as she often did, she indulged in a morbid fantasy. That sort of firepower, unexpected and aimed for his eyes. Could even he see that coming, or survive if he didn’t?

Nami groaned again. There’d been so many attempts over the past eight years that she couldn’t bring herself to believe Arlong was vulnerable to anything short of the sun being brought down on him.

(Could she even bring herself to put those three at risk for her sake?)

Nami let her head fall to the table, caught in a unique dilemma–either she did care about them and stole all they had, or–

Or else, they were just pirates, and what did she care if they were willing to fight a hopeless battle.

She listened to the boys shouting in the middle of some inane argument (it could only be inane if it weren’t a cause for alarm, and she’d learned to hear the difference.) She tuned out the actual words traded, reflecting on the days she’d spent with Luffy and Zoro. A fond smile broke out–despite their annoyances, they were genuinely fun to be around, if only to laugh at.

Her smile slipped a little.

‘Fond, huh.’

She straightened in her seat, a bit sad and washed over with a familiar resignation.

At least she’d resolved the issue of her dilemma quickly.

—————

“I’ve never seen your flag before.”

Usopp tilted his head slowly one way, then the other. He squinted hard enough as to be in danger of straining something. The sniper had an inkling that he might want to revisit and reassess everything he remembered from his first round.

“Who’s your captain? Identify yourselves!”

Because this bright-haired Iron Fist Fullbody character didn’t ring any bells for him. Usopp did recall, in general terms, the events leading up to Luffy becoming the most inept chore boy in Baratie’s history. That particular gem fell into the subcategory of ‘stupid things Luffy did’ labeled ‘hilarious’ rather than ‘piss-pants terrifying’.

The lieutenant’s face? Zilch.

“I’m the Captain.” Luffy said, bold as brass with his arms folded. “We just put up our flag!”

Usopp chuckled at his captain’s disarming honesty. He’d missed it sorely.

In the time Usopp had that thought, Fullbody mocked the bounty hunting pair. An instant later, said pair had leapt up to fight in response to the slander, only to get thrashed.

“Wow.” Usopp commented.

“You guys suck.” He said in tune with Luffy.

“N–no.” Johnny protested.

“He’s just a hair’s breadth better than we thought.” Yosaku claimed.

Nami noticed the bounty posters that fell from Johnny’s coat and scattered across the deck. Usopp saw her expression darken briefly at one photo in particular.

“Recognize someone?” He asked, feigning mild interest at the sight of a too-familiar fishman mug. “Looks pretty nasty.”

Nami schooled her features remarkably and, save an odd glance at the sniper, didn’t give anything else away.

Meanwhile, the goodly lieutenant’s attention was pulled away by a pretty young woman. He raised his fist–

‘Oh, iron knuckles, is that all it takes?’

And dismissed the crew at large with a cocky smirk.

“You’re lucky I’m off duty,” he said. “I’ve a guest to entertain.”

‘I give you five minutes with Sanji in the building before you end up stag.’ Usopp quipped privately.

“I’ll let you go for today.”

Usopp sighed and lazily murmured a countdown.

“Three, two, one…”

A silent signal–a thumbs down–once the marine and his date had stepped onto the restaurant’s deck sent his men working.

“A~nd they’re firing on us anyway,” Usopp said dryly. “Pretty banal, Filbert-san.”

Zoro looked at the sniper incredulously.

“He just gave his name two minutes ago, how’d you forget already?”

“Did he?” Usopp asked, side-eyeing the swordsman. “Okay, remind me.”

The silence that followed, along with the way Zoro broke eye contact, proved telling.

“Thought so.” Usopp muttered, paying no attention to the approaching whistle of a ballistic cannonball nor the shouting bounty hunters.

“Zoro-aniki! Usopp-aniki!” Yosaku yelled. “We’re taking fire! Why are you just standing there?”

In unison, they both wordlessly pointed at Luffy. Their captain stepped up to the bow railing and braced one foot against it, rolling his left shoulder. 

The cannonball smacked into Luffy’s waiting palm, and his arm stretched until the momentum petered out.

Usopp watched horror wash over the marines with a face-splitting grin.

“Check it out,” he laughed, nudging Zoro. “They understand physics!”

The swordsman was laughing too hard to reply. Luffy grinned, chortling.

“Don’t want it,” he said, his tone deliberately petulant. “You can have it back!”

Gomu Gomu no Buumeran!

Two seconds later, Filbert’s ship lacked a main mast, a mizen mast, and a fair number of personnel.

“Nice shot, Captain!”

“Shishishishi!”

Luffy threw up his fist.

“Okay! Let’s go eat and find a cook!”

Zoro followed all too readily while Johnny and Yosaku split off to secure their own boat. Usopp paused, glancing back at Nami. The cartographer stood with a speculative look, regarding the ship Luffy had essentially reduced to a large canoe.

“Something on your mind, Nami?” He asked.

The navigator blinked, broken from her reverie. She huffed and walked past him.

“I just hope this place isn’t too expensive is all.” She said.

Usopp smiled after her tentatively. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he’d seen something like consideration. He made a mental note to work overtime the next few days and hurried to catch up.

—————

The Baratie–in a word, Usopp thought on walking through the doors, versatile.

Tables were arranged organically rather than in an easily discernible pattern, such that smaller seating arrangements for couples and single customers were afforded a bit more space. An illusion of real privacy, perhaps, though no less impressive for it. The sniper's keen eye noticed a few old, round marks in the floor, not enough to draw attention, but enough to remind him that Sanji's mentor wore a peg leg. Nevertheless, everything spoke of being well cared for, if in a sort of hands-on, slightly gruff way. Table cloths hung softly, none of them stiff, and the decor was such that none would be turned away, nor those with money to burn put off.

Fortunately, nothing about the restaurant was ostentatious or tacky enough to warrant the notice of... 'people' like the Celestial Dragons (Usopp would hate to leave a bad first impression by smiting one of Sanji's customers.)

Nothing in the restaurant sacrificed function for form–nor, as a cursory glance and a whiff of the food confirmed, did anyone allow flavor to suffer for style. Fitting for a place Sanji called home.

And speaking of, a familiar figure, distinct for his gold mop of hair and ever-present cigarette, traipsed into view from the kitchen. Sanji, balancing a steaming bowl in each hand and one on his head, moved with all the casual grace Usopp remembered. Such a display of finesse invariably drew attention, and indeed, even as lieutenant Phyllis boasted his knowledge on the origins of whatever wine he was drinking, more than a few ladies had an eye on the blonde cook.

‘Ca~lled it.’

Phyllis’ reaction upon seeing the crew was highly entertaining. He caught motion in his periphery in the middle of his speech, and promptly did a double take. His hand jerked with the shocked reaction and wine spilled over his hand before he shouted.

“What are you doing here?! I just gave the order for you to be sunk!”

“Oh,” Usopp said in a drawl. “Well, you see Phyllis, there was a minor mishap with that cannonball you tried to give us.”

“Our Captain didn’t want it,” Zoro said. “So he returned it.”

“He’s a great guy like that.” Usopp commented.

“Cheer up,” Nami said sweetly as Phyllis’ face shaded red. “It’s not the same as sailing, but I hear rowing is a great workout!”

Luffy hadn’t even paused on his way to a table during the exchange, and with a wink from Nami and a lazy wave from Usopp, they left Phyllis to his meal.

—————

Sanji couldn’t fully repress a smirk at the quartet that seated themselves. As a rule, he didn’t show favor when pirates or marines came in as customers–both were equally prone to being shit heads. He’d been raised by a pirate himself, after all.

The dressing down the lieutenant had just gotten was pretty funny, though, and for three bums and an angel, they’d been courteous and didn’t start trouble. Really, they did the guy a favor, he was spouting off facts on a completely different wine to what he’d been served, and if not for the interruption, Sanji would’ve had to correct him when he asked for affirmation.

Sanji was doing him a favor too by changing out the wine–reservations were one thing, and Zeff mentioned he asked for something specific, but Fullbody’s choice didn’t pair up at all with the meal he ordered. A chef’s duty was to cater to the tastes of the diner, but wine had to be paired properly to get the most out of the meal. That, and the blend Sanji served was more appealing to the lady. (He’d developed at least a rudimentary sense of such things.)

“I’ll arrest you all now, then!”

Sanji frowned–the man had a lady he should be entertaining, never mind that they were in a restaurant. The blonde sous chef swiftly served his soup to clear his hands.

“Sir,” he cut in, stepping between the lieutenant and the ragtag crew. “If you’ve got grievances, you can settle them outside.”

Sanji usually didn’t get to issue warnings before he tossed undesirables out by their ears–if he had the chance to prevent undue damage to the shitty geezer’s restaurant, though, he’d take it.

“You said you wouldn’t bully them,” the lovely lady noted coyly. “Can’t we at least eat first?”

Fullbody’s nostrils flared, once, and he eased back into his seat.

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” he said. “There’s no rush.”

The shitty lieutenant had the nerve to glare at Sanji after that when his date wasn’t looking. As if it was his fault that Fullbody was an ignorant poser, who couldn’t keep his ship intact, let alone entertain a lady properly.

‘Shitty putz.’

—————

As a Straw Hat pirate, Usopp had not only been accomplice to, but also perpetrated, several reckless and criminal acts.

He voluntarily ventured into the Grand Line, a sea of such insanity that it was simultaneously known as ‘Pirate’s Graveyard’ and ‘Paradise’.

He had opposed no fewer than four Shichibukai, though he’d only fought one directly.

His shining moment was when he personally set fire to the international flag of the World Government in full view of every marine stationed to guard the front door to the Navy’s World-Fucking-Headquarters.

“Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?!”

Six minutes after he and his nakama found seats, Usopp bore witness to the goodly lieutenant committing insanity which made all of his prior transgressions look rational and quaint.

“You’re a simple cook! How dare you serve this substandard garbage to a paying customer?!”

The scene was almost impressive to watch, as if the moment were tailor made to showcase all that made Sanji who he was.

Strike one: Insulting Sanji’s cooking, and cooks as a whole.

Felony two: Smashing a table one shared with an attractive lady; thus insulting her via lack of dignity (by Sanji’s standards) and potentially introducing her to harm, even indirectly.

And the cardinal sin: Wasting food, Sanji’s food, within a ten mile radius of said chef, let alone in full view of he who could leave his shoe print in iron.

‘Farewell,’ Usopp thought, bowing his head slightly. He paid his respects to the lieutenant’s final moments. ‘You shall not be forgotten… Phillip.’

“Can money fill your stomach?” Sanji asked.

Phillip got as far as consternation before the well-dressed chef doled out appropriate punishment, the details of which did not bear repeating.

“Two things.” Sanji said, holding Phillip up by the collar and blowing cigarette smoke into his face.

“Only empty-headed shit stains insult a cook at sea.”

The blonde fixed an impressive one-eyed glower on the bloodied lieutenant.

“And food must never be wasted.”

Usopp cast a glance at his crew mates. Nami watched, wide-eyed with a hand over her mouth. Zoro’s eyebrow hung the slightest bit higher, and his gaze was keen despite his passively disinterested expression. As for their captain–

“Hm.”

Usopp took a sip of water to hide his smile. Luffy looked on with one of his rare contemplative faces.

The scene only got more colorful when another cook, hairy and bearing forearms a third as big as Franky’s, joined in.

“What’re you doing to our precious customers, Sanji?!”

The blonde cast a flat, disdainful look at his colleague.

“Oh look, it’s the shit-chef,” he said. “Don’t yell out my name like we’re friends.”

The lieutenant’s ultimate fate hung in the balance while Sanji and ‘Shit-chef’ squabbled. (Usopp was a little annoyed that he'd forgotten as many names as he had. Equal parts amused, though annoyed nonetheless.)

“Patty!”

‘Ah-ha!’

“Sanji! What’s the damn ruckus?” A gruff voice shouted from the kitchen. An older man, equipped with a chef’s hat almost four feet high, stepped into the dining area. His appearance, bordering on silly with his long braided mustache and wooden peg leg, did nothing to detract from the air of rough authority he possessed.

Zeff, Sanji’s mentor and inspiration for the cook’s black-leg style, did not look amused.

“If you have time to wrack up expenses by attacking clients, use it to get back to work, brat!”

Zeff punctuated his order with a sharp kick to Sanji’s face.

Phillip let out a small sigh of relief (which could just as easily have been a coughed up blood clot, hard to tell with his face in such a state), before Zeff rounded on him in the same motion.

“If you gotta complaint to lodge, do it without busting my tables! Now scram!”

Phillip lay sprawled out on the floor, aghast at the treatment he’d received.

“The customer is king!” Shit-chef… er, Patty, exclaimed.

“Only if they share your shit taste.” Sanji bit back.

“Did I stutter or something? Do your squabbling in the kitchen!” Zeff barked.

At that moment, the doors burst open, revealing a terrified marine soldier. The patrons all turned to take in this newest development, food almost forgotten in the drama.

Usopp lounged in his chair, thoughts idle.

‘I wonder if they’ve got any biscuits or bread they can bring out while we wait for them to clean up.’

“Lieutenant Fullbody, sir!” He yelled.

Usopp blinked, looking around the room.

‘Who–wait… does he mean Phillip?’

“Forgive me, sir! Krieg’s Commander, he’s escaped!”

“Never a dull moment, is there?” Usopp muttered.

“I definitely hope this isn’t an average day for this place.” Nami sighed.

Given the way Zoro watched things unfold, the swordsman didn’t mind one bit.

“That’s impossible!” The lieutenant-formerly-known-as-Phillip shouted. He sat up on the floor.

“He was half-dead of starvation when we found him and he’s not had a crumb since!”

Sanji glared at Fullbody a little harder at that comment.

“I’m sorry”

Bang.

A gunshot cut the soldier’s apology short. He slumped to the floor, and behind him, framed in the doorway, stood a gaunt, nearly emaciated man. His face, with dark lines under his eyes and days of untended scruff, was almost grey. That same color dominated his outfit, from his headband to his jacket and pants, a black undershirt completing the mostly monochrome image.

The restaurant had gone quiet and watched him trudge to an empty table.

“Bring me food,” he said, voice coarse, rasping and yet demanding. “Anything you’ve got.”

Patty sidled up with a fake ‘friendly service’ smile that would frighten children, small or not.

“Welcome, asshole!” He greeted brightly, eliciting a jolt of gasping apprehension from the other patrons. “How will you be paying for your meal of stale rice and frog legs?”

“Doesn’t matter what it is.”

The pirate pulled up his pistol and clicked the safety off, pressing the barrel to Patty’s forehead.

“You want payment… Do you take lead?”

Patty’s terrifying smile slid right off his face in favor of his marginally more pleasant resting face.

“No money?”

In the next second, Patty’s huge hands were crashing down over the pirate’s head, smashing the chair in the process.

Usopp’s mouth took a downward turn while the other customers cheered for Patty. Cheered for tossing out a starving man.

“Full respect where it’s due, Captain,” Usopp said, still giving Patty a disapproving frown. “But if that one ends up your choice for a cook, I’m going to veto that vote, hard.”

“Seconded.” Nami said.

Silence.

“He’s not here.” Zoro noted, in the tone of voice that indicated he didn’t really care.

“Idiot,” Nami said with a put-upon sigh. She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Did he get impatient and storm the kitchen?”

Usopp cast a second look around–Fullbody had bolted when his former prisoner walked in, Zeff clopped back to the kitchen.

In addition to their captain, their future cook was also absent.

A brief, very minor pulse of Haki confirmed that Luffy was on a path to intercept Sanji.

The sniper smirked and shrugged.

For the moment, things were on course.

Chapter Text

Zoro lay awake, staring at the ceiling from his hammock. Luffy mumbled in his sleep a few feet away.

He’d been waking up a few minutes earlier the past few mornings, on their way to the floating restaurant. He didn’t have any concrete reason for his anticipatory mood, just a rumor.

Johnny said that he, Hawk-Eye, frequented the restaurant. Whether or not they encountered him was up to fate.

Rolling out of his hammock, Zoro noted the absence of the crew’s sniper. He cast more than a casual glance at the empty space. He might not have spent much thought on it, except he didn’t remember Usopp’s hammock ever being occupied the previous night.

He shrugged and pulled on his boots. Katana at his waist, he trudged out onto the deck. Dawn was slowly peeking over the horizon, the sky still caught in the wispy grey-silver of twilight.

Zoro considered starting the day with meditation, but the light burning in the galley changed his mind.

Usopp greeted him before he’d even fully opened the door.

“Hey Zoro.”

The sniper had his back to him, working at his bench, so how the hell–

“Haki.” Zoro said aloud, recalling the demonstration from days earlier, and specifically how Usopp predicted Johnny showing up before he actually appeared.

“Hm?” Usopp asked. He only gave the swordsman half of his attention, focused on whatever project occupied his space.

“That’s how you knew it was me,” Zoro said, walking in and taking a seat at the table. “You never did finish going over how it works. It seems incredibly useful.”

“It is,” Usopp said, pulling his goggles up. He squinted, twisting some mechanism into place. “And on the Grand Line, it’ll become incredibly necessary after a while for us to survive.”

Zoro leaned forward.

“You’ve been there before?”

Usopp didn’t answer right away, hands hesitating in their work.

“My Dad wrote a couple letters home,” he said after a minute. “I’ve learned a few things.”

Assuming the subject was personal, Zoro didn’t think much of the sniper’s vaguely guarded body language. He didn’t need to know, and he had other things on his mind anyway.

Zoro had seen destructive power before. Luffy came by it naturally. Zoro had worked himself into the ground for his own strength. Yet until Usopp, he’d never seen it wielded so efficiently. Apparently, there were others who possessed that same force.

And Zoro honestly couldn’t say how he stacked up in comparison.

“Without at least a decent mastery of it,” Usopp said, as though interpreting the direction of Zoro’s thoughts. “There’s about a snowball’s chance in Hell of leaving a lasting mark on history.”

Zoro winced. Usopp hadn’t been explicit, but he may as well have looked the swordsman dead in the eye for all the difference that made. The sniper obviously meant Luffy and his dream to become the Pirate King.

‘Let alone the World’s Greatest Swordsman.’

Zoro let his head fall back and he stared at the ceiling.

The world seemed a bit bigger than just a few days earlier.

“You said anyone can learn it?” He asked after several silent beats.

“I did.”

Zoro shot to his feet, gaze hard and piercing on his newest crew mate.

“Teach me.”

For the first time since he walked in, Usopp looked at him fully. The sniper gestured toward the window, still staring at him with a bemused expression.

“Now?” He asked, incredulous. “It’s the middle of the”

Usopp glanced out the window and his protest trailed off at the faint traces of light filtering through. He let his arm fall as his point fell moot. Zoro noted, then, the red tinge in his eyes and the dark, sunken circles beneath them.

“Huh.” Usopp said dumbly.

Zoro briefly wondered what sort of mental state left Usopp staring at the approaching dawn like it was a grand revelation. He didn’t get time to dwell over it as the marksman clapped his hands and stood.

“Right! We can work in a bit before the restaurant opens,” he said. “Now I just need a suitable blindfold.”

Zoro blinked. Twice.

“What?”

—————

There existed a school a thought which said one’s interests tended to coincide with one’s aptitudes. In other words, people usually enjoyed, and therefore pursued, things they were good at.

As a consequence of events during his ‘first round’, (and perhaps some innate talent) Usopp was quite skilled at freaking out.

For all that, he did not enjoy it!

His mind raced while he searched the kitchen for a cloth, studiously avoiding the drawer he knew they were kept in. He answered Zoro’s confusion with a cryptic

“I’ll explain in a second.”

As was becoming habit, he reviewed the conversation he’d gone through thus far. He’d prepared more than a few basic responses for when Zoro came to him about Haki. Guidelines, obviously, not set-in-stone scripts, since the ability to improvise was essential in his overall scheme to subtly… manipulate (Kami, he hated that word) things (events, not his crew mates) so his nakama would be stronger and better prepared.

His practice of economy with the truth had, thus far, withstood field testing.

(My Dad wrote a couple letters home… I’ve learned a few things.)

Taken separately, neither statement was false. His Dad did send a couple letters home–exactly two. One for a birthday Usopp had before he could read, and another for an anniversary with his Mom.

Obviously the ‘I’ve learned things’ bit referred to other avenues of information and learning. The sniper was getting pretty good at skirting around deceit on technicalities.

He hadn’t anticipated the swordsman showing interest in learning so quickly. It had been Usopp’s aim, naturally, when he gave his performance, yet he’d expected a longer interval between–at least as long as it took them to reach the Grand Line. It threw his plans, rudimentary as they were, off kilter. Usopp wasn’t Robin, he couldn’t calculate the implications and potential consequences of these little shifts in the time it took for a natural pause in conversation to turn awkward.

‘Quit whining about it.’ A voice in Usopp’s mind told him off, one that sounded suspiciously like the fiercely loyal swordsman the marksman remembered. ‘Get your shit together.’

Usopp breathed.

‘Okay,’ he thought. ‘Quick rundown, what’re the risks of going through with this?’

His inner coward reared his head and made to scream. He got as far as graphic images superimposed in his mind’s eye–blood, fire and cloying, maddening darkness–before Usopp shut it down with much effort and extreme prejudice.

‘Immediate risks.’ He amended.

Someone recognized that an East Blue pirate on a rookie crew (for Usopp, despite appearances, no longer qualified) could utilize Haki. Word spread, the marines developed an acute interest in Usopp and, by proxy, his crew mates. Life got a lot more difficult and stressful really early on, and they possibly earned the attention of the Yonko–

‘Right! Far enough. And the benefits…’

Usopp looked up at Zoro, cloth secured.

“I’ll tell you now,” he said. “You aren’t going to master this overnight. It’ll be weeks, probably months before we see real results.”

“Okay.” Zoro replied immediately, tone and expression clearly indicating he was not at all put off.

‘Benefit–Zoro gets an early start on Haki training and maybe, possibly, just-a-chance, he awakens Observation in Paradise.’

That really was the best anyone could hope for. Awakening, not mastery, not by a long shot. Full awakening came under extreme duress, of the exceedingly fatal variety, and mastery from a combination of training the mind, the senses and continued exposure to sources of stress.

Or at least, that was the most concise theory Usopp had cobbled together from pieces of hearsay, experience and his own inferences.

‘Constant risk versus incremental progress toward a potential huge payoff.’

Usopp cast an assessing look at Zoro. He called to mind an older man, one covered in scars and characterized by the strength of his word. A man who regularly disregarded orders for bedrest and fought relentlessly despite coming out the other side of so many fights looking like he’d been tossed into a thresher.

He checked with his Haki–only a few cooks were beginning to stir, and the Baratie didn’t officially open for another hour.

He chucked the cloth at Zoro.

“We’ll do a bit before breakfast,” he said. He pulled his slingshot from his sash. “This should be an addition to your usual training, not a replacement for any of it.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow and his mouth twisted a little into a scowl, like the idea that he would slack off offended him.

(It probably did.)

“Look,” Usopp said firmly. “Even if you don’t need me to warn you against getting complacent–and you probably don’t–I will not do things by half. Not with my nakama.”

That mollified the swordsman. His brow smoothed out and he inclined his head with something like respect.

“Right.”

“Besides, I’ve got things to do today that don’t involve shooting ball bearings at a blindfolded man.”

Zoro, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. His expression merely shifted into one of muted befuddlement.

“It’s a legitimate method,” Usopp assured him, taking great pains to keep his voice as even as possible. “I picked it up from someone a lot stronger than me.”

(“Ooh! You got your Observation? That’s so cool, Usopp! Rayleigh hit me with a club a bunch to help me get good at it.”)

Zoro, in his way that he had, parsed out enough meaning from that, and he shrugged.

“Fair enough.”

Not for the first time, Usopp was grateful that Zoro didn’t ask a lot of questions.

—————

Nami, one hand tucked under her chin, stood on deck, trying to puzzle out the sight in front of her.

“Not that I’m fundamentally opposed to a few knocks in the head,” she said slowly. “But is there any particular reason why you’re pelting Zoro with pebbles and ball bearings?”

The more pertinent and burning question was why Zoro didn’t make any move to stop Usopp or otherwise end the abuse. He and Luffy had a penchant for getting hurt, sure, but they weren’t typically passive about it. Though the swordsman twitched occasionally, he otherwise stood in place, blind and empty-handed.

Zoro took another hit to the dome, and he grumbled. Nami glanced over his welts and cuts for anything she might need to bandage–none of the idiots on board could be trusted with first aid, especially when they’d all been surprised when she explained scurvy to them.

Before Usopp could answer her, Tweedledee and Tweedledum announced their presence the only way they knew how–by shouting.

“Zoro-aniki!” Yosaku cried.

“What is the meaning of this, Usopp-aniki?” Johnny demanded.

The sniper, unfazed by the violation of a briefly semi-tranquil morning, fired another round before he glanced at Nami.

“Training,” he said, loud enough for the bounty hunting duo to hear. The remainder of his answer was admittedly sparse. “Working to develop his Observation.”

Nami heard the capitalized emphasis that Zoro’s sword buddies clearly didn’t. She hummed, thoughtful. Though the method didn’t suit her, even with the short demonstration Usopp gave them, the ability would be an incredible asset. She had a ton of other questions about it, of course, but Usopp told her Haki was a crew-only topic. Johnny and Yosaku didn’t count. (She didn’t either–for whatever reason, Usopp had trusted her with it though. Just because she planned to rob them all blind didn’t mean she didn’t have standards.)

Usopp sighed and turned on Johnny and Yosaku, who still regarded the sniper with not-a-little incredulity and suspicion.

“If you’re thinking of attacking me,” he said, tone a bit clipped and irritable. “Keep in mind that you’re on this ship as guests and Zoro’s friends right now. You breach that courtesy, you go back to being bounty hunters, got it?”

Nami raised an eyebrow and watched the scene play out. Zoro lifted his blindfold, eyes a bit narrowed. He seemed more annoyed with the interruption than anything. The swordsman found his friends watching him expectantly, and he returned the attention with an odd look.

“Don’t look at me,” he said. “He’s not wrong.” After a moment, as an afterthought, he added. “I asked him to teach me anyway.”

Nami snickered at the gobsmacked look on their faces. They got over it soon enough, but it clearly shocked them to have Zoro’s priorities so blatantly laid out for them, and so contrary to what they’d previously known. Nami had been surprised herself on first meeting the former-bounty-hunter-turned-pirate, though she’d been much better at internalizing her reaction.

“Ah, no,” Johnny said, stammering a little. “Of course, Zoro-aniki–we just thought”

“It was a very strange scene to see first thing in the morning!” Yosaku finished in a rush.

Nami strangled a sigh before it could escape. That double speak, finishing-each-other’s-sentences would get annoying inside of an hour and she could feel the phantom of a future headache already.

“Whatever.” Usopp muttered under his breath.

‘Somebody’s in a mood.’ Nami thought.

She took one look at the marksman and almost flinched.

‘Oh… No wonder.’

Because Usopp looked dead on his feet. His curled black hair seemed flatter, his eyes bloodshot, and his shooting hand, now that he wasn’t using it, shuddered without apparent input.

“Usopp,” she said. “When was the last time you slept?”

The sniper blinked. Twice. He slowly turned his head toward her, and blinked several more times before his features pinched together in thought. (Because apparently the answer warranted actual fucking thought.)

“Um,” Usopp finally said. “I might have had a nap… yesterday? This morning? Yesterday morning? I was in the middle of something at the time.”

Nami frowned. She glanced at Zoro, who’d surrendered his scowl for an expression of mild curiosity in the question. He didn’t know either. With neither avenue yielding any results, she changed tactics.

“Did something keep you up?” She asked.

Usopp’s focus went far away, his expression turned listless, vaguely haunted. It was only for a second, but Nami knew enough from even that much.

“I,” Usopp said haltingly, pulling himself back from wherever he’d gone. “I got really invested in one of my projects.”

The sniper had nightmares. Same as she did.

Nami didn’t pry further, though she didn’t know how to segue from that. Of all things, Luffy came to the rescue and shattered the tension without trying.

“Yosh! I’ll get Sanji to join us as our cook today!” He declared, pumping his fist in the air. He blinked when he noticed them all on deck, his eyes honing in on Zoro’s welts and small cuts.

“What are you guys doing?” He asked, tilting his head.

Zoro gave a put-upon sigh and discarded the makeshift blindfold.

“Training.” He grunted.

And, in that aggravating monosyllabic way of communicating those two had, Luffy just nodded like he understood.

“Breakfast!” He shouted. His face lit up again at the promise of food. Zoro and his groupies followed him into the restaurant.

“I’ll catch up later,” Usopp said with a wave. “I’m gonna keep working on this project.”

Nami didn’t worry about Usopp.

When she sat at the table with Luffy and Zoro, she didn’t miss having another person to commiserate and roll their eyes when Luffy booger-ed Zoro’s water. She didn’t miss the extra laughter when Zoro forced it on the rubber moron instead.

She did not feel the absence of a long-nose kid from a tiny village, sitting across from her and holding his own plates, bemused by their table destroyed when the proprietor hurled Sanji in their direction.

Nor did Nami use her feminine wiles to coax ‘Sanji-kun’ into preparing a dish for a certain sniper. She did not pout until he agreed to take it out to the Merry personally.

She certainly did not give Zoro a grateful smile when he swatted Luffy’s wandering hands away from that specific plate. (He hadn’t even looked in Sanji’s direction, which meant he did it subconsciously. Insane.)

Nope. Not a chance. No way had she grown that attached to two morons in a couple months, let alone a kid she met a week ago.

—————

“Merry-chan, Merry-chan. Ah, it really is a lamb.”

Sanji murmured aloud until he found the caravel Nami specified. Even though he was on the clock, he paused to appreciate the newly painted flag. The Jolly Roger suited the hyperactive kid who’d been trying to recruit him since they met yesterday. (Sanji wasn’t sure, but he doubted that recruitment worked that way.)

He hesitated at the gangplank before stepping aboard. As adamant and steadfast as he’d been in his refusal, Luffy had sparked dangerous hope within the recesses of his soul.

Hope gave way to expectation, and expectation would bring disappointment that he couldn’t (wouldn’t, dammit) sail for his dream. Resentment would follow–for the freedom he’d scraped together, for the debt he was paying off with that freedom, and for the old man at the center of it all.

Aggravating as Zeff could be, Sanji would not spite him like that.

Instead, he locked it away and stepped on deck of the caravel. He made a point to ignore the faint rush of whimsy he felt.

“Oi!” He called. He trotted up to the galley. “I’ve got an order of beef stir fry with shiitake over fried rice!”

Sanji found the long nose–Luffy had enthusiastically introduced him as his sniper–curled on a workbench, sawing logs.

‘Does the hat count as a uniform?’ He wondered absently, noting the weathered replica of Luffy’s hat in Long-nose’s hand.

The cook shrugged, set on kicking him awake. Luffy yelling for him, for more food and to join his crew in turn, shot that idea down. If the idiot caught Sanji on his ship, he’d be insufferable in his insistence.

He left the plate and utensils on the table with a hastily scrawled note.

The wonderful and lovely Nami-san commissioned this meal on your behalf. Eat every bite or I’ll kick your ass.

Then he bolted, hoping Luffy didn’t catch sight of him.

—————

Usopp rolled in his sleep, long nose twitching at a delicious scent. He blinked blearily, confused for several seconds. He’d slept so hard that he’d misplaced himself, and he rubbed the side of his face that matched the grain of his workbench. He shook his head to dispel the fugue of his midday nap, almost reflexively ‘listening’ for his nakama’s voices.

‘Right,’ he thought, anchoring himself with the fragment of Nami’s reborn, if unfinished, Climatact in one hand. ‘On the Merry. Recruiting Sanji.’

Without thinking, he hugged the worn straw hat, the one from the first time, once before quickly slipping it into his satchel.

"Eh?"

He mumbled at the sound of crinkling paper under his hand. He found a note bearing Sanji's handwriting, and he could hear the chef's voice through the familiar informality he directed towards anyone of the male sex.

"Shiitake, huh?"

The sniper stabbed the chopped mushroom and a chunk of beef, digging up a forkful of rice with it. Usopp bit his lip with a shaking smile, a couple faraway memories tinted by nostalgia playing in his mind.

"I ate a poisonous mushroom when I was a kid that made me sick!"

"Well there's no poison in that mushroom, so eat it, shitty long-nose!"

Usopp shoved the whole morsel into his mouth, chewing slowly.

"Nami-swan~ bon appetit! Hey you bums, lunch is served!"

Luffy vaulted into the galley, displaying only enough agility and finesse to snap his rubber body to a halt on the bench in front of the dining table.

“At least you’re better at cooking than flirting," Zoro grunted, following more sedately behind Usopp, who'd charged in just behind Luffy. “Hopefully the sauce is decent enough so I can drown the meat.”

“That ‘sauce’ is called a puree, you uncultured swine,” Sanji bit back. “A mushroom puree that is, frankly, too good for your shit palate to appreciate.”

Usopp's stomach flipped, and he glanced up at the cook as he set out everyone's plates. A curled eyebrow quirked.

"What?" Sanji asked shortly. He rolled his eye. "What kinda hack do you take me for? Yours is tomato-based."

"It's good,” Usopp whispered between fond sniffles. He picked out another mouthful. “The very best.”

His gagging aversion–still intact, apparently, despite a second youth gone without ingesting any form of fungi–revolted. He quashed it with a valiant effort. The sniper had faced far worse things, and his respect for Sanji far outweighed an old, if formative, fear of getting sick.

Usopp cleaned his plate.

—————

As both the proprietor and the head chef of his own restaurant, Zeff knew well how to multitask by necessity. On any given day; he had to manage (corral) the bums and crooks who staffed the place; keep his ears open for potential waiters who weren’t lily-livered; make at least one appearance in the dining area; bodily eject anywhere from one to fifteen customers (the record would have been thirty, but Sanji had been outside on his smoke break, and it didn’t count if they never crossed the entrance threshold.) To say nothing of his own duties in the kitchen.

On top of all those responsibilities, he had the thankless task of raising and mentoring the foul mouthed eggplant he had for his sous chef. An eggplant who couldn’t take a damn hint to save his life.

Master of multitasking that he was, Zeff knew that a customer stepped into the kitchen before anyone else. Unfamiliar footfalls were a stark contrast against the typical bustle and shit-shooting that comprised the kitchen’s background noise.

“What the hell are you doing back here?”

His sous chef noticed second and stepped in before the wayward diner got too far. Save a quick glance–yep, the Pinocchio sniper kid–Zeff kept his attention on the four burners he had going simultaneously and barked at the idiots to keep working.

“I just wanted to return these,” Usopp said. (Zeff knew all the small crew’s names. No introductions necessary, not when the straw hat brat’s voice carried the way it did.) “And, for future reference, I don’t eat mushrooms.”

Zeff transferred finely grilled salmon and a filet onto separate plates.

‘Interesting comment.’

“‘Future reference’?”

Apparently the eggplant agreed.

“I said what I said.” Usopp replied, a little cheekily.

Zeff’s mustache twitched, hiding a smirk. He pictured Sanji’s frustrated, confused scowl.

“You obviously ate those mushrooms.” Sanji said, deviating from his initial question.

“Didn’t have a choice this time,” Usopp said as though it was obvious. “I know better than to offend a chef at sea. And it’s a sin to waste food.”

‘Chef, not cook, huh?’

Zeff’s smirk grew wider. The long nose just scored himself and his crew mates serious favor. His eggplant had to go with them. Zeff could hear real appreciation for good food when he heard it.

“Far as I know,” Usopp continued blithely when Sanji gave no retort. “There aren’t any fish that are partial to fungi either.”

Zeff flipped a fluffy omelet onto another plate, followed by a hot curry over steam rice. He flicked the burners off and ran a damp towel over the stove, cleaning it before the next orders came in.

Sanji sighed, almost wearily.

“Future reference?” He asked again.

Usopp didn’t deflect a second time. With his hands momentarily free, Zeff caught the sniper shrugging with a small grin.

“Figured our new cook would wanna know that kind of detail.”

Zeff could hear Sanji’s hackles rising, and he cut in before the barked denials started again.

“Sanji! Get your thumbs out of your ass and get these out to table eight!”

His sous chef glowered, spun on his heel and muttered a couple choice curses under his breath. He loaded the meals Zeff put together on a cart.

“While you’re out there, take that kid’s offer and ship off!”

“Screw you, shitty geezer!” Sanji shouted back without stopping.

Zeff huffed. Still stubborn and thick headed.

‘How am I supposed to be any clearer?’

He turned on Usopp.

“I’m not paying you,” he said gruffly. “If you don’t have business in here, buzz off.”

The kid, who carried himself very unlike a kid, gave a mock salute and didn’t balk a bit at Zeff’s rough manner and dismissal.

“We’ll take care of him.” He said on his way out.

Zeff blinked at the swinging door. He snorted.

Most of his cooks, Patty and Carne especially, had a pool going for when and whether Sanji would succeed in taking over the restaurant or have his ‘ungrateful ass thrown overboard.’

Trust a stranger who met them both yesterday to see things more clearly than his own staff.

‘Idiots.’

Still, Zeff could tell Usopp wasn’t quite the same as his companions. The former captain had seen enough in his year-long search, and got enough business from the odd veteran of Paradise, to know the difference.

Zeff may not have been qualified to bring up a brat, but he knew about mettle. On the Grand Line, with insanity and shitty luck for fucking neighbors, a backbone counted for a hell of a lot more than anything else.

That said, a smart girl like that redhead navigator would only be a major boon to the lot of them. And while the swordsman, Zoro, clearly thought as much of Sanji’s flirtatious antics as Zeff himself, his keen senses and awareness did him credit. Sanji might need someone to butt heads with anyway. Plus, Zoro seemed well-suited for the position as the straw hat brat’s right hand. The brat himself, rubber or not, had an iron in him that wouldn’t crack. His crew weren’t wanting in it either.

(So Zeff surreptitiously vetted those who wanted his eggplant. As a pirate captain on the Grand Line, you either had an innate intuition or you picked up the skill to judge impressions quickly. Those with neither weren’t worth a whole lot. It was just practical to use that intuition. He had a vested interest in Sanji. He wasn’t about to send him off with a bunch of losers without any spine. Zeff wasn’t a sap.)

Usopp, though. The sniper’s shoulders had a certain set to them. By comparison, Zoro’s posture spoke of easy confidence, something strong that had been built, if not yet truly tested. Usopp’s denoted experience–That unique blend of ‘at-ease’ and ‘fully ready for any possible encounter.’ Zeff had seen it many times in those who visited East Blue to take a break from Paradise.

The head chef shook his head, grumbling over his lapse in action. He couldn’t stand around gathering dust and cobwebs while he was on shift.

Sanji, his obnoxious and rude little eggplant, who could still taste subtle flavors after smoking for years, who emulated his fighting style, who shared his dream–Zeff would see him off with that ragtag bunch of brats if it cost him his other leg.

—————

Nami stared at the three-piece, collapsible baton Usopp had offered her.

“What did you say you called this?” She asked, fiddling with a couple configurations of the sky blue parts.

“The Climate Baton, or Climatact,” Usopp said, adding a sheet of instructions to the offering. “It’s a weapon that I’ve been working on.”

Nami cast a skeptical glance at the sniper. He’s spent six days working on a collapsible staff?

“Spend some time experimenting. Get comfortable with it before going into actual combat,” Usopp said, oblivious to her uncertain look as he pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes. “Oh, and uh, make sure you do it outside.”

Piece evidently said, he turned toward the stairs leading out of her room.

“Why would I have to fight?” She asked. She didn’t even bother adding a sweet inflection or a flirtatious lilt to her voice–not as confused as she was.

And she was confused. Even when she’d infiltrated other pirate crews, she’d only ever gained temporary ‘trust’ (read: interest of the unsavory kind) from a few, and then only so that she could exploit it. Zoro followed Luffy’s lead, and Usopp was apparently as bad as Luffy with handing out overt, staggering trust and faith.

‘Why do you care enough, why put enough stock in my staying, to make me a better weapon?’ She wanted to ask.

She didn’t.

“Because we’re going to the Grand Line,” he said. “And that means the ‘human beings’,” he gestured to the both of them. “You and me? We need every edge we can get to keep up with Luffy and Zoro.”

Nami, eyes half-lidded, tilted her head into one hand, expression vaguely amused.

“I wouldn’t exactly call you normal.” She said.

Usopp’s mouth opened, almost mechanically, but no sound came out.

“I’m… not sure how I feel about that.” He said, bemused.

A sudden commotion from the restaurant cut any other dialogue short. Nami took her time following Usopp onto the deck. They watched a half-eaten galleon, looking eerily empty, come to a groaning halt near the Baratie.

She didn’t follow Usopp down the gangplank.

‘It’s time.’ She thought, again quashing another pang of disquiet that their time together would be–was over.

She shook her head, turning her attention to getting the idiot bounty hunter pair off the ship.

Chapter Text

The scene at Baratie took another turn for the dramatic. After an outcry from inside, more than half a dozen diners ran out, paled with their lips flapping, and then bolted from the restaurant like they had a live fire under their ass.

Among them was Luffy, though of course the boy captain had a decidedly different kind of appreciation for the sight than those evacuating.

Usopp slipped through the wave of panicking customers almost absently.

“You see Luffy?” Zoro asked when he saw him. The swordsman remained seated, though his posture spoke of readiness to act if called upon.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Usopp said, sidling up to the table. “Should be back in a minute.”

Zoro grunted.

“What’s going on outside? I got that there’s a pirate ship, but everybody’s just yelling over each other.”

The sniper shrugged and took a seat.

“A galleon that looks half-dead showed up. Apparently belongs to some horrible pirate captain. Don Kringle,” he said, pulling a plate toward him and digging into leftover rice. “I guess.”

The doors swung inward again, and a hulking figure was halfway dragged inside. Supported under one arm by Gin, a large man sporting a gauze-wrapped head of short hair barely shuffled past the threshold. Though he bore the likeness of a man with money, complete with a gold chain around his neck, the air around him spoke of a particularly hard fall from times as a high roller.

Luffy shadowed the two inside, uncharacteristically playing the observer rather than an active participant.

“That’s him!” Someone yelled, a chair upturned and tossed back in alarm. “That’s Don Krieg!”

Zoro looked at Usopp as if to say ‘Really?’

Usopp shrugged again.

Okay, he might have butchered that one on purpose. He had to get his kicks somewhere.

And he’d needed a little entertainment the past few days. Nightmares and projects hadn’t been the only things that kept him up at night.

Krieg, all self-made amusement aside, concerned him a little as a variable. Apart from his name and his face, Krieg was basically an unknown for the sniper.

Between Sanji’s introduction to their lives, Zoro’s duel and the crew’s first fucking Shichibukai, Krieg was sort of overshadowed in his memory. It didn’t help that Usopp left Baratie to pursue Nami before Luffy had his throw down with him.

Obviously his captain won, but the details of the event got lost. Somehow, overthrowing the fishmen crew occupying Nami’s island had seemed a bit more important. After that, there hadn’t been much time before they were on their way to the Grand Line, where things just got too crazy on a daily basis for a casual review of events. None of his nakama had really been the type for such things anyway, unless previous adventures were relevant to the shit-show of the week. Besides, Nami, the crew’s acting chronicler, ditched before any of it and–

Well. Suffice to say, Usopp didn’t know what to do about Krieg. Warn someone? How? Saying what?

(“There’s a hundred starving men headed this way! They can barely move right now but their captain is real mean when he’s not begging on his knees!”)

That sentiment didn’t exactly move Sanji to action the first round. Usopp might have a few new skills, but not even Nami in a bikini could persuade the chef to not feed a starving man. And the sniper wasn’t suicidal enough to propose such a method anyway. Honestly, Usopp didn’t harbor the sort of personal animosity toward Krieg or his crew to attack them while they were hungry, either.

Honestly, the most he could hope for by telling someone was a call to the marines. Because they’d done such a stellar job with him.

Thus, much as it chafed a bit, Usopp resolved to play things by ear.

Krieg himself didn’t warrant much concern. The ulcer Usopp’s anxiety likely nurtured came from knowing, in the abstract, that there were more gaps–not lapses in memory, actual gaps–in his foreknowledge that he’d have to contend with.

Usopp snapped out of his musings. Gin demanded that they be served, though desperation tinged his voice. The sniper didn’t feel quite the same sympathy for the cold reception they, or specifically Krieg, received. Given the spots in his memory, he’d skimmed over details of Krieg’s exploits in the papers when he looked for Kuro’s wanted poster. The bastard was a two-faced, posturing fraud.

Krieg shuddered, then collapsed to his knees, prostrated himself and begged. Despite his distaste for the pirate, Usopp felt vindicated in his stance on Patty when the cook kicked Krieg and yelled for a call to the marines.

“One side, shit-chef.”

One well placed kick to the temple removed Patty from the scene. Path cleared, Sanji presented a basic plate of rice, chicken and beans to the famished pirate. Of course, once it passed through Sanji’s hands, food no longer qualified as ‘basic’.

“Thank you!” Krieg cried between heaping handfuls.

The other cooks tore into Sanji for his mercy, though no one made a move to take Krieg’s food away. Usopp narrowed his eyes. Which turned into a long, slow blink.

A bit distantly, Usopp noted that Krieg’s thanks lacked a certain tinge of sincerity.

“Do you have any idea who he is?!” Carne (Yes, Usopp knew the shorter cook’s name after a week) demanded. He listed Krieg’s notorious exploits as the pirate captain slowly rose to his feet. No longer slumping or shuffling, he loomed.

Then, Krieg caught Sanji in a one-armed clothesline. The chef flew backward and crashed into the floor. Usopp’s instincts and fight-or-flight blared, exhaustion and the tightrope walk of meted truths nearly shoving him over an edge he couldn’t come back from.

‘Sanji’s hurt shoot him take him down!’

“Oi.”

Zoro’s smooth baritone and a sharp jab of his scabbard brought Usopp teetering back toward awareness. Tense and on his feet, he blinked.

‘When did I move?’

“Our cook.” Usopp hissed out, somehow managing brief coherency.

“Not yet,” Zoro corrected him, firm and steady. “And it isn’t our business until Luffy says it is.”

Usopp breathed. His nerves slowly cooled and relaxed.

Zoro wouldn’t lie. Zoro was the expert of whose business was whose. If he said…

Usopp glanced at Luffy, who hadn’t broken out into fisticuffs or interrupted any of the action. His captain hadn’t given the order.

By some miracle, no one else noticed his outburst. The adrenaline wore off, and under Zoro’s watch, Usopp resumed his seat. Three parts fatigue to two parts relief

‘I haven’t screwed this up yet.’

And

‘Zoro’s here, Zoro knows, he understands, he wouldn’t lie.’

Usopp sank in his chair and lay his head heavily on the tablecloth with only minimal awareness or resistance. Flagging, his brain didn’t quite manage to reach the self-reprimand for his near-loss of control that would’ve brought him back to a state of readiness.

“Hey.” Zoro said quietly.

“Not sleeping,” Usopp slurred, almost petulant, his mouth on autopilot as much as his drooping eyelids. “Jus–just resting my eyes.”

“Sure,” Zoro said. “I’ll kick you if something important”

.

.

.

.

.

Surprise Meatball Special!

“Stop yelling.” Usopp murmured into his arm. Blearily, he roused himself. He’d pillowed his head with his arms at some point. One of them was pressed over his eyes. He blinked a bit of haziness away in time to see Krieg–huh, that armor couldn’t have been cheap–return fire on the cooks.

Thankfully, he remained lucid of his reactions. No impulsive heroics.

“If you’re gonna pass out, do it on the ship.” Zoro chided him flatly, without any real sting.

“Why?” Usopp rejoined. His voice rasped a little. “Is the blowhard doing anything more than sucking wind?”

The swordsman looked at him oddly.

“You know,” Usopp said, waving a hand in a vague gesture. “The typical pirate crap.”

Zoro snorted.

“Then I reserve the right to tune out when and where I please, thank you.” Usopp said, feigning haughtiness. He ended on a cough, his throat sore and dry.

Zoro filled a glass from a water pitcher at their table and slid the beverage across to him.

“Listening to your voice hurts,” he said, eyes back on the standoff. “Drink something.”

Usopp nodded his thanks. He swept his gaze across the room, taking stock.

Zeff had shown up, and he reacted to the threats on his restaurant and staff the way one might regard bird shit on a pair of pants. Unpleasant and a pain to wash out, but ultimately of no consequence.

“That’s two things I’ll take,” Krieg said, grinning. Because apparently he wasn’t done yet. “This ship, and the log book of Red-Leg Zeff!”

‘A~nd,’ Usopp prompted in his head. ‘Zeff’s next line is “Fuck you!”’

“That log is the result of my crew’s sweat and blood. I may have retired from piracy, but I’m not just gonna give it away. Not to some upstart who came limping back to East Blue with his tail between his legs.”

Usopp nodded, taking a sip from his glass.

‘That works too.’

“I had the power! I had the ordinance, the ships and the men! I only lacked knowledge!” Krieg insisted. “With this ship and Zeff’s log, I’ll rebuild my armada! Nothing will be stop me from claiming the One Piece and conquering the Grand Line as Pirate King!”

Usopp went very still. He maintained a very serious expression while he absorbed the very serious pirate captain’s very serious claim that he would rule the seas. Seriously.

The declaration replayed in the sniper’s head.

He couldn’t do it.

Usopp surrendered to the inevitable spit take and snorted. Because he’d have had an easier time making a list of pirates who wouldn’t shit all over Krieg. Hell, all things considered, Usopp stood a better chance than him!

The sniper wheezed into his hand, trying to muffle coughing and snickering. Zoro reached over and gave him a hard clap on the back.

“Thanks.” Usopp said softly. Thankfully, Luffy stomped up just in time to keep attention away from their table. His captain matched Krieg’s claim with his own.

“This isn’t a game.” Krieg growled, trying and failing to stare down the smaller pirate.

“Obviously,” Luffy rejoined, confident grin unwavering. “Only an idiot would go for the top half-cocked.”

Krieg’s face sprouted a new pulsing vein.

“Are we fighting, Luffy?” Zoro asked. The crowd’s attention turned to their table, where the swordsman sat with Wado’s sheath over his shoulder. “You can count me in.”

Usopp waved.

“On your order, Cap’n.”

Luffy blinked a couple times.

“Oh, hey guys,” he said, as if he’d forgotten they were in the restaurant. “Nah, I got this.”

Krieg guffawed with laughter, just shy of pointing at them in derision.

“That’s all you’ve got in your crew? Two twigs?”

“No!” Luffy retorted. “I’ve got two more!”

“For the umpteenth shitty time, I’m not your cook!”

‘Actually,’ Usopp corrected silently. ‘He’s got seven more–nine, including honorary members. They just don’t know it yet.’

“This isn’t a playground, brat!” Krieg shouted. “I had five thousand men going into the Grand Line! Inside of a week, all but a hundred of them were wiped out!”

‘Ah, yes. The tried-and-true “I got spanked this hard” intimidation tactic,’ Usopp thought, nodding sagely. ‘A classic.’

Gasps and etc. ensued, Krieg dropped some brand of ultimatum a~nd Usopp sorta stopped listening.

(His senses stirred, just a tangential rustling against the outermost circumference of his awareness. Taking it for his distinct brand of perpetual nerves, he shelved it toward the rear of his conscious thoughts.)

“Sanji,” Gin said, slumped on the floor where Krieg had dropped him. “I’m so sorry. I swear, I didn’t know he’d do this.”

“Ah, quit moping,” Zeff said gruffly. “You aren’t responsible for his choices or ours. Can only make decisions for yourself, kid–so make sure you can live with them.” The head chef shrugged. “Not the first time we’ve dealt with noisy punks.”

The other cooks provided staunch opposition and vehemently questioned Zeff’s choice to feed Krieg’s men. Somehow, they turned the blame onto Sanji, as if it was his fault Krieg was an asshole.

“Shaddup, all of you!” Zeff shouted. “Do any of you know the agony of real hunger? The sort that saps away everything and leaves you too weak to even be angry? Sanji knows the truth of it, and I don’t wanna hear a damn peep outta the rest of you on that!”

‘He wouldn’t be Sanji otherwise.’

Murmured confusion met Zeff’s loud reprimand. He jerked his thumb toward the back door.

“Any and all whiners oughta feel free to jump ship anytime they want.”

Not a single cook took the offered out. Instead, they armed themselves with oversized utensils and grit their teeth.

“Are you all mad?!” Gin exclaimed, more afraid for them than they seemed to be. Usopp wondered how such a decent guy fell in with a vile grandstander like Krieg. “Didn’t you see what he can do? You have to run, you’ll”

“Gin.” Sanji’s smooth voice cut Krieg’s commander short. The well-dressed sous chef perched on a table and rolled his cigarette between his fingers. “I feed the hungry who come to me–that’s my job. An empty stomach is an empty stomach.” He took a drag and glared. “But your friends outside? Once they’ve eaten, my job’s done. And if they come in here asking for a hard kick in the teeth, that’s what they’ll get. Even you.”

Patty huffed.

“Fix ‘em their final meal and stand as their executioner, eh, Sanji?”

“Drop dead, shit-chef.”

Luffy grinned, bounding over to Usopp and Zoro.

“He’s tough, right?” He asked, leaning into Zoro’s space. “He’s our cook for sure!”

Zoro grunted, all noncommittal like a bastard.

“I’m all for it, Captain.” Usopp said, giving Sanji his vote of confidence.

“Shishishishi!”

Luffy turned to Gin, who remained the slumped image of dejection and twisted guilt on the floor.

“Hey, Gin! I thought you said you didn’t know anything about the Grand Line! How can that be if you’ve been there?”

The older pirate shuddered, barely keeping his head raised as his voice went quiet.

“It’s all a blur,” he said, eyes haunted and distant. “We were in that ocean for a week, but I couldn’t explain anything we saw. It defied all reason!”

Gin’s hands shook, and his shoulders hunched. Usopp felt a little bad for him. Gin’s experience had obviously shaken him through and through.

“One man,” though he whispered, everyone heard him clearly. “How could one man take apart fifty ships?!”

Usopp felt a tingling thrill course up his spine as shock and horror overcame most of the staff. (That rustling came again, more insistent, a tease of his awareness that grew gradually more pronounced.)

“Sounds interesting.” Zoro said, smirking, though even he seemed a little thrown.

‘Sounds scary.’ Usopp thought. ‘And about par for the course.’

“Can’t wait to get there.” He murmured with a smile. To his surprise, he found he meant it–that sea called to him, promises of adventure, terror and thrill in equal measure too immense, too alluring to keep him away.

Luffy couldn’t decide whether to gasp in awed respect for the perils ahead or grin in excitement, so he did both.

“I don’t wanna see his face,” Gin murmured, still talking as though no one had reacted. Usopp grimaced. Krieg’s commander needed to do some serious soul-searching before he braved Paradise again. “I don’t wanna remember that man with the hawk eyes!”

Zoro’s back went rigid in his seat, all pretenses falling back.

“What’d you say?”

“Can only be Dracule Mihawk,” Zeff said. “Otherwise known as ‘Hawk-Eyes’.”

“Mihawk.” Zoro muttered, all anticipation and attention.

“You know that guy, Zoro?” Luffy asked.

“He’s the reason I went out to sea,” Zoro said with a little grin. “His title is what I’m after.” His voice dropped. “Johnny said he could be found here.”

Usopp froze. The presence he’d sensed fell into place. The sniper forced himself to maintain an outward calm. He sat up straighter, eyes unconsciously drawn toward the wall between him and the voice which towered even from a distance.

It only grew as it drew closer.

One of the cooks chuckled, and Usopp ripped his gaze back around.

“Hawk eyes? Dunno about that, but old Red Eyes sure makes a regular appearance!”

Another cook laughed.

“He’s a riot! Can never figure how he manages to get here, drunk as a skunk!”

Zoro clenched his teeth.

“I could strangle him.” He hissed darkly.

Meanwhile, Luffy apparently hadn’t followed the frustration toward Johnny. Usopp’s captain, who often needed multiple explanations for anything beyond the three fundamental F’s (food, fighting and fun), cottoned on quite quickly, a glint in his eye.

“I see,” he said, grinning. “He’s the one Zoro needs to find.”

Zoro sat back, eyes closed. When he opened them, he sported a matching grin.

“Now I finally know where to look,” he said, hand on Wado’s hilt. “The Grand Line!”

Sanji, who’d been eying them while they talked, scoffed.

“Fools, the lot of you,” he said, puffing his cigarette with slight agitation. “You’re headed straight for death.”

Usopp narrowed his eyes by a millimeter.

“Maybe,” Zoro conceded without a fight. “But don’t mock us. I’ve lived for my ambition to be the greatest. If I die on the way, that’s that, and I won’t have any complaints.”

“Me too, me too!” Luffy chimed.

Usopp bit his tongue on his knee-jerk response, even as internally he screamed

‘Well I fucking will!’

“Besides,” he said instead, adding his piece. “No pirate ever accomplished anything by treading water.”

Zeff’s mustache twitched in an approving smile.

Sanji… Usopp would’ve missed it had he not been looking, and the cook quickly masked it with disdain–

Envy.

Battle cries floated in from outside. The first of Krieg’s men stepped onto the ship.

“Prepare to be b”

An instant before the threat, Usopp had gone stock still, hand hovering over his slingshot on instinct.

“He’s here.” He murmured.

Outside, Krieg’s battered galleon listed and spilt apart without warning. The force responsible upset the ocean itself. The Baratie and the ships docked nearby groaned, rocking dangerously.

“Weigh anchor!” Zeff barked sharply, every inch the old hand and former pirate captain.

“The Going Merry is out there!” Luffy cried. He vaulted himself out through the exit. “The others are still on board!”

Zoro cursed and followed. Usopp, distracted, trotted after them both. He listened with his Haki, confirming what he already knew.

‘She’s gone.’

He remembered, from his ‘first round’, that getting Merry back had superseded all other concerns.

Now, a part of him felt relieved that Nami and the caravel were well beyond the scope of potential collateral damage.

—————

Merry may have been young and naive to the ways of the world, yet she already knew profound joy and aching sadness; burning anger and refreshing relief. Simple emotions painted the world in broad strokes of primary colors, each defined by crisp and distinct lines. Intermediates–annoyance and exasperation, mortification and mirth–more complicated, soon followed day by day, filling in the picture of her companions with new pigments, hues, tints and shades. The lines did not remain clear. Some colors bled into each other and the horizon stretched out, daunting and endless. Yet Merry absorbed it all with an eagerness and thirst for life that refused to be slaked.

Because before all that, before she even knew the sound of the ocean waves, she had been loved.

(“We’re going to meet a bunch of nakama out there, Merry. They’ll be the best anyone could ask for.”)

Usopp had spent hours talking to her before she was ready to face the sea.

And he was right. Their nakama were wonderful.

Merry did all she could to reciprocate the fondness of her passengers. She held steady when her captain took to his special seat. She rocked gently and sighed at the end of the day, soothing and encouraging sleep. When Sanji, her captain’s much-sought-after cook, visited, she tried inspiring him with the same excitement that her nakama had affected in her.

In all, she did her level best to be more than just a ship. She strove to become their home.

(“I know it didn’t last long. But I really did have a great time!”)

Merry also didn’t sleep–she didn’t need it. And, though Usopp didn’t speak quite as openly or often with her anymore, she learned to be a very good listener.

She heard the misery behind Nami’s coy farewell to the bounty hunters. Merry sensed her regret for betraying their nakama. The young caravel didn’t know the full story, nor quite understand the young woman’s reasons, but she didn’t blame her navigator.

And if Merry happened to take her time, if her sails didn’t quite catch all the wind they could–if she dallied, just a little, to give her captain and her nakama time to find her, well.

Merry didn’t think Nami would blame her, either.

—————

Usopp frowned, tracking Nami’s ‘voice’ while Johnny and Yosaku yelled over each other to explain what happened to Luffy and Zoro.

“Damn.” Zoro swore. “I knew she couldn’t be trusted!”

“I can still see her,” Usopp said. He could, actually, and so didn’t need to out his Haki to the bounty hunters. “She’s headed North, I think.”

Luffy put a hand over his eyes and leaned over the railing. Usopp’s hand came up and hovered just shy of Luffy’s vest, ready to yank back should his captain teeter too far. Some learned reflexes transcended lifetimes, apparently.

“He’s right! I can see the Merry!” Luffy exclaimed.

“What do you wanna do, Cap’n?” Usopp asked, knowing full well his answer.

“You guys,” Luffy said, turning to the bounty hunter pair. “Where’s your ship?”

Luffy’s playful air had disappeared, and left only his Captain, all business. Even Johnny and Yosaku, who weren’t crew members, recognized the shift.

“Anchored not far from here.” They replied in unison.

“Zoro, Usopp,” Luffy said. “Go with them on their ship and get her back!”

“Why?” Zoro asked, shrugging. “What’s the point of wasting time on someone who stabbed us in the back?”

Usopp’s eyebrows almost rose right off his face. Intellectually, the sniper knew they hadn’t been together very long, but… Well, a Zoro who questioned any of Luffy’s orders was weird.

“I won’t accept anyone else as our navigator!”

Coming from someone else, and to anyone who didn’t know him, Luffy’s declaration would have sounded childish.

“All right, all right.”

Zoro was among those fortunate few who did. He sighed.

“I chose a high maintenance captain. Usopp, help those two get ready.”

The sniper, still mindful of exactly who had arrived and shaken the sea a minute ago, lingered while the bounty hunters ran to retrieve their ship.

“You staying behind?” Zoro asked Luffy, more to confirm a suspicion than anything.

“Yeah,” he said. “I wanna help out. Besides, if Krieg’s for real about the Grand Line, I’ll have to fight him sometime.”

Zoro inclined his head.

“Right. Watch yourself.”

Luffy nodded.

“OH SWEET MERCIFUL KAMI, HE FOLLOWED US!”

One of Krieg’s men sobbed and screamed. Everyone’s attention shifted to a small, strange vessel approaching the wreck of the galleon.

A tall, thin, muscular man sat regally on board, face hidden by the brim of a cavalier hat. One of the largest swords Usopp had ever seen adorned his back.

Usopp watched his approach, wiping sweaty palms on his overalls.

Mihawk’s ‘voice’ could only be compared to that of an apex predator. A beast magnitudes beyond any tiger, any wild animal, with such sharp claws and fangs that he could not only afford laziness, it would be expected.

“It’s really true?” Zoro murmured, unfiltered awe in his voice. “He’s here?”

“That’s him, all right,” Zeff affirmed. “That’s ‘Hawk-Eyes’ Mihawk, the World’s Greatest Swordsman!”

Driven more by numbing terror than courage, one of Krieg’s men shouted. The poor guy’s voice pitched high.

“You bastard! Why’d you come after us this far?!”

Mihawk, who hadn’t yet stirred, lifted his gaze. Though he remained seated, he peered down his nose at the noisy pirate.

“For sport.” He said. His tone suited a casual discussion of the weather on a cloudless day.

Outraged and near hysterical, Krieg’s man whipped out two pistols and fired both at once. The shots were decent, despite his obvious fear. Yet, with merely a negligent motion, Mihawk pulled the huge black sword out and, without a sound of contact between bullet and blade, redirected both shots.

Only a few present actually witnessed his finesse. Krieg’s man fell on his ass, sputtering in horrified shock.

“He deflected them.” Zoro said. With all the focus on Mihawk, the swordsman had jumped to the fairly intact and level portion of the galleon.

Usopp swallowed. As a marksman, Mihawk’s ability to effortlessly influence a shot’s trajectory would be a nightmare to deal with. He followed Luffy to join the bounty hunters on their ship, closer to their crew mate.

“I’ve never seen a sword used so subtly.” Zoro said.

“A sword without subtlety is not a sword.” Mihawk returned.

“You cut this galleon with that blade?”

“I did.”

“I see,” Zoro said, grin eager and anticipating. “You really are the greatest.” He slipped his bandana off his arm. “I set out to sea just to find you.”

“Why?” Mihawk asked, tone still closer to bored than neutral.

A buzz passed through the crowd. With proper attention on him, people had recognized Zoro.

“To surpass the greatest.” Zoro answered. He tied the black bandana tight over his head. There wasn’t to be any foreplay. “You said you were looking for sport, right? Fight me.”

Usopp forced both his hands open and gripped the lip of the boat, physically anchoring himself. He wanted to call out, say any number of things–

‘This is not the time to test any training!’

‘You’re not ready for this yet!’

‘I’ll kill you myself before I let you die, you bastard!’

Usopp also had an impulse to describe, in vivid detail, the creative torments he’d perform against the Shichibukai if he killed Zoro.

A completely suicidal and entirely unrealistic impulse, he realized, but Usopp had never been wanting for imagination.

“Weak.” Mihawk said dismissively. Nonetheless, he rose to his feet in answer to the challenge. “If you had any skill at all, you’d recognize the vast difference between us. Is it confidence that gives you courage, or ignorance?”

“Neither.” Zoro rejoined evenly. He secured Wado’s hilt in his mouth, and took one sword in each hand. “It comes from ambition and a promise.”

Usopp’s nerves sat on edge, beyond combat-ready at the sight of his nakama facing off with a Shichibukai alone. The sniper bit his lip and glanced back. Johnny and Yosaku were clearly conflicted, worry warring with the need to support their Zoro-aniki. Usopp turned to Luffy.

“Captain?”

Luffy stood unusually still, silent and attentive.

Usopp hadn’t been counting on him to interfere. Really, could he have brought himself to do different?

‘No.’

He shook his head. Trying to stop the fight would be disrespectful to all that Zoro stood for. The sniper turned back to the imminent dueling arena.

He blinked, startled by what he saw. Mihawk leapt across to the flat stretch of flotsam.

Usopp shuddered, passing it off as coincidence.

‘Why would Mihawk have been looking at me?’

—————

Nami watched the Baratie shrink in the distance from Going Merry’s stern.

“Once everything’s settled,” she murmured. “If we saw each other afterward, would they let me sail with them again? Be their navigator?”

Luffy, with that grin that took up half his face and his stupidly infectious laughter, popped into her head. She smiled a watery smile–it was hard to reconcile his image with a word like ‘unforgiving’.

Not that she really deserved anything less.

She sighed wistfully.

“It’s nice to dream, I guess.”

Out of sight and alone, she let herself cry. She closed her eyes, calling to mind the scent of tangerines and cigarette smoke. A bittersweet comfort, one that came packaged with complicated and emotional memories, but she had little else.

Clink.

Nami sniffled and looked down. She’d gotten used to carrying her collapsible staff in her blouse. Usopp’s Climatact was a bit heavier though, and it didn’t sit quite the same.

Wiping her face, she pulled out all three components. She held two in one hand, absently twirling the third in the other. After a moment, she retrieved the instruction sheet and brought it back up to the deck. Mostly it encouraged her to feel things out and trust her intuition, though it did offer a few concrete directions for combat use.

Nami checked the sky–heading was fine. She had a couple days.

“Okay,” she said, snapping the pieces together into a whole. “Let’s try this out.”

—————

Zoro pared his focus down until he couldn’t hear the crowd. The pirates, the cooks, even his crew–all their voices became white noise, and he sharpened his senses further until that too faded away. Their presence still reached him, if only tangentially. He’d know if someone interrupted before he settled things. One way or the other.

He’d kill them himself if they did.

His eyes, ears and instincts–they were for Mihawk.

The master swordsman touched the cross around his neck. He pulled out a hidden blade, barely a step up from a butter knife.

“What’s that for?”

“Only a fool brings a battleship to hunt a frog,” Mihawk said, almost in a drawl. “Your reputation merely makes you a large fish in a small pond. As the weakest of the four seas, East Blue is more of a puddle.”

He waved the tiny knife in his hand with a pitying expression.

“Even this will be excessive, but it’s the smallest I have.”

Zoro’s temper flared, and he clenched his teeth around Wado, growling. He forced out a hissing breath. His perspective had been broadened recently, so he didn’t explode as he might have otherwise.

Still, he wasn’t the type to stand idle and weather insults.

“Mock me all you want,” he said, crouching. “Just don’t complain when I kill you!”

He charged.

Mihawk heaved a put-upon sigh.

Onigiri!

Zoro slashed with all three blades in one, unified motion. His most perfected technique, one that had ended over a hundred battles before, drove toward his opponent.

And, when the intersecting midpoint of his three swords met the tip of Mihawk’s dagger, Zoro came to a screeching halt.

“Ugh.”

Zoro grunted. His muscles strained, veins throbbing in his neck and arms as he applied more pressure. His swords shivered.

Mihawk’s knife didn’t so much as twitch. The man himself gave no sign of being put out.

‘I don’t believe it.’

A sort of desperation leaked into Zoro’s determined anger, a catalyst in a compound that turned volatile.

‘The scales can’t be this different,’ he thought, pulling his blades back sharply for another attack. ‘The world can’t be that enormous!’

He tore his way forward, slashing and cutting with a thinly reined fervor.

Mihawk parried every strike with no visible effort. His expression never changed.

“Such ferocity.” He commented mildly.

Zoro lunged again. He overstepped. Mihawk sidestepped the charge and tripped the younger swordsman with his foot. He struck the back of Zoro’s neck with a swift chop of his hand.

Zoro gasped, equilibrium lost for an instant. Wado almost fell from his mouth. He breathed harshly, clamped his teeth again and threw his back leg forward. He pivoted for another assault.

“What drives you, little frog?” Mihawk asked, with only idle curiosity. As though casual conversation was normal during a high-stakes duel. The fact that he didn’t even bother to add condescension to his tone made it worse. “Why fight so strenuously when you cannot win?”

‘Am I really just a little frog?’

Zoro’s concentration lapsed–he forgot to control and measure his breathing.

He drove on, off balance.

Kuina’s eternally young face flashed across his mind’s eye.

“It’s a promise!”

Johnny and Yosaku, earnest despite meager skills.

“We’ve been inspired by your strength!”

“We’d like to travel with you!”

A man in a straw hat who didn’t laugh at his ambition.

“That’s perfect! The Pirate King can’t settle for less than the World’s Greatest Swordsman as a crew mate!”

Tora…

Zoro glowered, kicking off his toes in a wild rush.

‘I will not disappoint them!’

Gari!

Shnk.

—————

“ANIKI!”

Johnny and Yosaku cried out like they’d taken the knife themselves. A diametrical counterpoint to Zoro’s stoicism.

Usopp only heard them in the barest sense of the word, their concern at the dead end of his peripheral awareness. His hands tightened on the boat’s rim like the sole tether grounding his sanity. The wood whined in protest under his grip. His fingers dug grooves into the woodwork, pieces splintering off.

The sniper had been racing through rationalization like a mantra since the duel began.

‘It’s a duel, there are rules, he’s Zoro, he’s alive, he’s fine, it’s a duel…’

Usopp knew the rules. He knew the code of honor, because they were pirates, and the consequences for interfering were lethal. The worst would be that Zoro would personally insist on meting out punishment. His mantra, on some level, did hold water, and part of him accepted that.

Except that rationalization, that voice, sounded very quiet at the moment, and he questioned it a little more with each repetition. Another voice, warring in his head, grew almost overwhelming, urging

‘Run. Getaway getaway GET AWAY from him! Shoot with intent, aim for the eyes, distract hide run!’

Because Usopp saw details now that he didn’t the first time. His eyes had only gotten sharper, and he knew what to look for. He could follow the arc of Zoro’s blades. He could see the minimal movement in Mihawk’s form, all while deflecting every strike with a fucking toothpick.

The Shichibukai dismantled Zoro’s fierce attacks casually.

He understood the scales that his nakama didn’t yet. Zoro had challenged a real life monster, one that could look down his nose at actual giants from the ground.

“Usopp.”

Luffy’s voice broke straight through the mess in Usopp’s mind. The rubber man didn’t take his eyes off the fight. His shaking fists, rigid posture and intense air gave away his own agitation.

Yet Luffy hadn’t shouted. He didn’t hiss through clenched teeth, or move to physically restrain the marksman the way he had the bounty hunters minutes ago. For all that he had to be worried, had to be furious that his swordsman got hurt, Luffy maintained control.

Usopp’s Captain gave him an order, delivered it with cool neutrality.

“Do not interfere.”

Usopp swallowed, cowed and awed anew by the man he followed.

“Aye,” he said tightly. “Captain.”

—————

“Unrgh…”

Zoro’s arms hung at his side. He’d left an opening, swung too wide. His opponent took the opportunity, as he ought, and buried the knife in his chest.

Or maybe he didn’t make a mistake in his form. Maybe Mihawk was just that skilled.

‘Probably the latter.’ Zoro conceded.

“Why do you not retreat?”

Breathing more through his nose than his mouth

(The familiar taste of iron seeped out, warmth dripping from his chin)

Zoro used Mihawk’s voice to ground himself. He focused on his opponent’s face.

His expression had changed–not a marked difference, yet Zoro saw confusion.

“I could pierce your heart with a simple flick of my wrist,” Mihawk said. “Why don’t you step back?”

“Who knows.”

Zoro’s answer spilled into the charged air without much thought. He took a measured breath.

“I couldn’t tell you. I just have a feeling that the gap will grow wider and deeper. And if I let that happen, I’ll have failed–myself and the people who matter.”

Zoro narrowed his eyes, grip tightening on his swords.

“Because my promises–my word–will be worthless.”

Mihawk inclined his head.

“Yes,” he agreed. “That is defeat.”

Zoro chuckled with a rasp.

“I can’t back down. Not one step.”

“And should you die?”

Zoro grinned.

“I prefer death to defeat.”

Mihawk’s expression changed again. A subtle thing, but as he withdrew the knife from Zoro’s chest, the World’s Greatest Swordsman no longer looked down his nose at him.

“Boy,” he said, sheathing the knife. “Give me your name.”

Zoro released a heavy breath. His swords clanked as he brought them together in a windmill formation.

“Roronoa Zoro.”

“Roronoa Zoro,” Mihawk repeated quietly. He drew out the huge black blade on his back. “I shall engrave it in my memory. I misjudged the strength and quality of your character. In recognition of your resolve, I shall cut you down with Yoru, the finest and strongest sword in the world.”

Zoro nodded to acknowledge the honor.

“I appreciate that.”

The swords in each of his hands spun, rotation gaining speed until they were indiscernible from a blur to the average onlooker. Zoro bent his knees, steeling himself for his final attempt.

Santoryuu Ougi: Sanzen Sekai!

One moment. One charge. One clash.

Silence.

Crack.

Two of Zoro’s swords shattered at the same time that a cut split open on his chest.

‘It’s over.’

Zoro sighed and returned Kuina’s katana to its white sheath.

‘The strongest swordsman with the strongest blade.’

He swiveled around on his feet, arms spread out wide.

“What”

Zoro grinned again, grim and accepting.

“Wounds on the back are a swordsman’s shame!”

For the first time, Mihawk smiled.

“Outstanding.”

With one stroke, he slashed a deep wound from shoulder to hip.

—————

“ZORO!”

Luffy roared. The rubber captain released his iron self-control as the duel concluded. Zoro fell backward, unconscious, into the ocean. Usopp wrenched his hands from the boat’s lip, tearing away slivers and chunks with them. He barreled over Johnny and Yosaku in his rush, barely biting out “get-the-fucking-gauze” before he shoved them back.

The sniper had one foot on the rim, ready to leap from it and swim for his nakama like a mad bastard, when Sanji’s voice rang out.

“Dumbass,” the cook spat, voice rising to a shout. “Is your stupid dream worth it? Just give up already!”

Usopp went dangerously still. He snarled, mind thrown back into a prior lifetime.

Focused as he was on retrieving Zoro, the flash of black rage only lasted an instant. He dove into the water, unaware of the slip in his emotional control or the impact he’d made.

—————

“Everyone, meet your new bunkmate. Natan D. Raki. Treat him well.”

Usopp couldn’t muster the energy to look up from his corner when Magellan introduced a fresh face.

He was beyond caring.

“Oi, oi, Warden.”

The newcomer liked to talk, apparently.

“Where’s the administrative suite and complimentary concubines you promised me?”

Cocksure and smug. He wouldn’t last long.

“Wow, a real life celebrity! God Usopp, former sniper of the Straw Hats!”

Great. The newbie was going to share Usopp’s cell. The marksman barely twitched at his moniker.

“Funny thing, to find God in Hell! Guess that makes you the last of your crew, huh?”

“You’re too damn chatty,” someone said. Annoyance, not kindness, made him speak up. “Shut the hell up.”

“Hey, I’m just having a good time,” Natan argued. “Gotta make our own fun down here, don’t we? Besides, it’s not like the Straw Hats were really hot shit anyway. What’s he doing in such an exclusive spot?”

The implied insult to Usopp’s nakama earned Natan a tired glare. He even raised his head to do it.

“He lives!” Natan gasped theatrically. “Say, I got some cheery news for you, my friend,” he said with a shit-eating grin completely unworthy of any trust. “The government edits out certain details from the papers, you know? Bullshit, most of what they print nowadays.”

Usopp narrowed his eyes by a millimeter.

“That santoryuu guy, Zoro- word from the underworld is that Mihawk showed up when your guy had his big last stand. Went against Akainu’s orders and everything, just for a fight. They both got toasted, and guess what? Your man outlived Mihawk by a few minutes!”

Usopp let his head fall back to the floor. Hearsay didn’t interest him anymore, and after so long, new ‘facts’ were liable to be exaggerations. He’d grown too jaded, and he knew in his bones that none of his nakama were left anyway. What else mattered?

“I guess Zoro actually got to be the World’s Greatest Swordsman for a few glorious moments before he croaked!”

That got Usopp’s attention.

Despite the restraints that kept his hands locked behind his back, Usopp pushed to his feet.

Natan, bored with the unresponsive sniper, had turned his grating grin away to find a new target.

The newbie didn’t see Usopp until the sniper bit into his neck.

“AGH! Get off, get OFF! He’s fucking biting me!”

Natan writhed and thrashed and eventually threw the smaller marksman off him. The others, driven by primal instincts at the sight of blood, kicked up a din. Magellan yelled for order. Usopp ignored all of it in favor of pinning Natan with a glower.

“Don’t ever mock Zoro like that again,” he growled. “He would never accept such a cheap victory. He’s too honest.”

The larger, bulkier criminal balked at the hostility radiating from Usopp. The crimson in his mouth from where he’d drawn blood only made his visage more terrifying.

“If you ever mock my nakama’s ambition again,” he said lowly. “I don’t care if you’re bigger than me, or stronger than me, or what’s put in my way–I’ll kill you.”

For the first time since he arrived, Natan was silent.

—————

Zeff rubbed his chin, rapidly reassessing his estimation of Sanji’s new crew mates. (The matter was, in the head chef’s mind, a foregone conclusion.)

Going up against Mihawk and coming out the other side of a duel with his respect was unprecedented for an East Blue rookie. And it took another breed of willpower entirely to watch your swordsman face down certain death without interfering, bound by the code of honor or not. The straw hat brat didn’t hesitate to literally throw himself at Mihawk once the duel ended, either.

Once again, however, the Pinocchio sniper kid took the damn prize for surprises. Zeff could tell he had experience the other rookies didn’t. The old hand even suspected he’d seen the Grand Line before.

Now?

Now he had confirmation.

Because, regardless of what provoked it, the fact remained that Usopp had leaked out almost tangible Intent. Un-targeted, maybe, or at least not directed toward anyone Zeff could see. Though, really, that only made the feat more impressive. The level of focus required to dole out Intent that others could feel (Zeff checked–no unconscious staff or pirates, so he didn’t need to worry about that) didn’t come naturally.

It was the sort of focus necessary for Haki.

Zeff considered himself a credible old man who’d seen incredible things. He might be persuaded to believe a lot of things. A rookie with Haki mastery of any kind, coming from East Blue?

‘That kid,’ he thought, watching the sniper resurface with the swordsman. ‘Has been places.’

—————

“C’mon, c’mon, keeping breathing, you bastard.” Usopp muttered hotly. He snatched a knife out of his satchel and tugged Zoro’s shirt away from the wound. Without time to be mindful of causing more pain, he yanked it upward and tore it apart. Where the hell was the alcohol?

“HEY!” He shouted at Yosaku, well aware that his tone could cut through bone and not caring. The bounty hunter, teary-eyed, moved far too slow for the sniper’s liking. Johnny slid in beside them with a spool of thread and bandages. “Move already! No, don’t–just hand it over, now!”

“Usopp!” Luffy called from the makeshift battlefield where Mihawk still stood. “Is he okay?”

“No!” He barked, scowling at Zoro’s exposed chest. He ripped his bandana off his head and soaked it in alcohol, pouring a healthy dose over the whole wound before he applied proper cleaning. “He’s not okay! But he’s alive, and he’s gonna damn well stay that way!”

“My name is Dracule Mihawk,” Mihawk said, voice raised to be heard through the shocked atmosphere. Zoro had made a name for himself in East Blue–seeing him cut down understandably left a lot of people feeling just how out of their depth they were. “Listen well. It’s far too soon for you to die, young warrior. Live, survive, and experience the world! I have provided you with a glimpse of how vast it is–do not be satisfied!”

Mihawk lifted his chin and projected his voice.

“Grow, and become strong!”

Usopp shivered, though he kept his hands steady. The first time, he hadn’t appreciated the weight of Mihawk’s gesture–a Shichibukai giving his crew mate an endorsement, outright approval to challenge him again.

“Surpass this blade! Surpass me! I shall wait at the end for you, Roronoa Zoro!”

At his name, said swordsman coughed violently. He shuddered into consciousness.

“L–Luffy…”

Usopp hissed when he raised his katana skyward. The bounty hunter pair blubbered and begged him to keep quiet and avoid aggravating his injuries. The sniper stared hard down at his nakama.

“Can you hear me?”

“I can!” Luffy answered immediately.

“Sorry I worried you,” Zoro rasped. His chest heaved, and it was a wonder his body didn’t wrack with agony with every breath. “I’d disappoint you, if I can’t surpass him, right?”

Gaping, stunned silence met the swordsman’s question.

“I swear,” Zoro choked out. “I promise,” tears streamed from his eyes. “I will never lose again!”

“Aniki!”

“Until the day I beat him to become the World’s Greatest Swordsman, I will not be cut down again!”

Zoro inhaled deeply and belted out the loudest shout he could muster.

“Got any complaints, King of the Pirates?!”

Luffy’s face broke out into a grin. He laughed.

“Shishishishi! Nope!”

Usopp sniffed, unable to maintain his scowl.

“Dumbass,” he murmured. “Always acting cool and shit.”

Krieg, like an asshole with an actual death wish, chose to spoil the moment by challenging the man who’d destroyed his galleon while half-asleep.

‘How fucking stupid can a man be?’

Mihawk claimed he’d already lost interest. Usopp suspected following up Zoro with Krieg would’ve left a bad taste in the Shichibukai’s mouth. The master swordsman vanished with a flash of his black blade, leaving behind a new wave that rocked the restaurant and flotsam.

“Usopp!” Luffy yelled from his new perch hanging from Baratie’s railing. “Get going!”

The sniper wanted to stay behind. He hated parting ways, even if he more or less knew that Luffy would be fine.

Yet he couldn’t disobey a Captain’s order.

“Okay!” He called back. He hurled the rubber boy’s straw hat back to him. “We’ll chase after Nami and Going Merry! You kick Krieg’s ass, recruit our cook, and then we’ll head for the Grand Line!”

“Yeah!”

—————

Mihawk drifted the calm Blue waters. The brim of his hat sat low over his face. He reflected on his recent discoveries–yes, plural–unprecedented as they may have been.

Roronoa had not been the only subject of interest present.

(“I’m gonna–!”

“Do not worry. I left him alive.”

“?!”

“Tell me, lad, what is your goal?”)

A natural question. For one who sought Mihawk’s title to follow anyone–well, they must be quite remarkable. The boy had answered immediately, as though to hesitate, even at the shift in conversation, would be a sign of weakness.

(“To be Pirate King.”

“Hm. You walk a perilous path. One even more treacherous than surpassing me.”

“So what?”)

The child reacted so similarly to Mihawk’s fiery-haired rival, one of the few who had once staved off his boredom. The connection could not have been missed.

Although, there was yet a third who’d drawn the swordsman’s attention. He’d made note of him practically on arrival based on his presence. His countenance, while measured, spoke of experience and skill–a sort outside of Mihawk’s own expertise, though no less potent for it–that Roronoa lacked.

Mihawk did, of course, notice his brief outburst. And, despite the situation, the boy retained the presence of mind to place himself between Mihawk and Roronoa. He positioned himself at an angle, too, not quite giving the Shichibukai his back and keeping him within his peripheral vision.

Such learned instincts spoke of many harsh battles fought. To say nothing of his Haki.

(“And your other companion.”

“?”

“The boy with the long nose. Who?”

“Usopp? He’s my sniper.”)

A marksman. And with his curled black locks exposed, another known face came to mind.

Mihawk let his eyelids drift downward with a slight smile.

‘The future promises to be quite interesting.’

Chapter Text

Zoro cradled the paper in his hands, choosing each fold as precisely as he did every arc of his sword. Art, crafts, neither had been a strong point of his, but he knew subtlety and finesse in swordplay, and thus he knew form. He bent the sheet gently before making each crease.

If he weren't utterly absorbed and dedicated to his task, the night might have triggered a wave of nostalgia. Alone on an open, uncaring ocean, where even the moon couldn't be relied upon because of the clouds, in the hands of fate.

Adrift, though not aimless.

His vessel was just a step above dinghy, not suitable for a trip of any duration in the New World. His only companions were Wado, Sandai Kitetsu and Shusui at his hip. A lesser man would have been terrified, even more so with the anomaly of the night- things were quiet.

Zoro had never been a superstitious man. Things either were, or weren’t. He paid the atmosphere of the evening no mind.

A droplet in the water caught his ear.

"Shit."

The wound on his shoulder began bleeding again. No surprise. The overbearing little monster that treated him wasn't around anymore.

Zoro had already folded Chopper's lantern.

The blood didn't bother him. What had congealed over the injury had cracked and a new black streak trickled down his arm, though. He couldn't start over if the paper got bloody–he didn't have any spares.

He craned his neck back and held the paper over his head. The slight discomfort of the position paid off, because the blood ran back up to his shoulder and dripped into the ocean, and he could work unhampered.

The wind shifted, and brought the smell of battle with it. Zoro refused to rush through anything. He saw no need, since the others had escaped. (At his insistence, to the shock of the crew, or those that were nearby. The witch had screamed the whole time getting off the island, cussing him out with every variation of the word 'coward' that existed, and a few that probably didn't. The dartbrow, for once, had made himself useful and helped coax Nami away.) He'd taken the small craft off the ship, though not the Sunny. Franky wouldn't have been caught dea…

Franky wouldn't have settled for such simple design, or sacrificed form for function, let alone allowed anything that could feasibly be seaworthy to exist without some sort of artillery.

The candles and paper were just gifts of fate.

Zoro practiced self-discipline to a fault. His emotions did not dictate his actions, and certainly didn’t influence his concentration in a fight. His grief, when it came, was a private matter. He shouldered its weight quietly.

Now, for his nakama, he didn’t even have time for that streamlined a process. Hence, the lanterns. He didn’t have all the materials for a formal, textbook Toro Nagashi, not even the bamboo that would let them float.

That didn’t matter. Zoro didn’t plan on staying in the boat for too long.

His keen senses picked up movement in the dark, still a distance off. He traced a finger along the final fold. Satisfied after one last, scrutinizing glance of his eye, he rifled through his pocket for the lighter he’d stolen from Sanji. The cook probably lay passed out with a blue streak of curses falling out of his mouth.

That thought still didn’t make Zoro’s task any less weighty.

He knelt in the small boat. He lit one candle before setting it square in the center of the first lantern.

The faint buzz of a shout, probably someone reporting the sight of light on the dark ocean, reached his ears. He ignored it.

A dirge would have been perfect for the moment. Had Brook ever played them a single melancholy melody? Zoro could only remember uplifting, vigorous songs tinged with romance, even when Brook took it upon himself to wake the ship in the mornings. In those moments, they came off as more obnoxious than anything. An odd thing to remember, he thought, given how his fellow swordsman had fallen. Fitting, though, that Brook’s ‘voice’ had been musical to his last breath.

He lit the musician’s wick after Franky’s.

“Roronoa Zoro!” Someone’s voice, projected through a Den Den Mushi, called out. “We have our cannons trained on your vessel! You have sixty seconds to make your intentions known, after which time we will open fire!”

The marine said something else. Their terms for surrender, the fate of the Thousand Sunny (he knew already, even if he didn’t witness it), things that didn’t matter anymore. The swordsman observed the currents for the first time. The ocean, treacherous and deadly as it could be, seemed mercifully gentle. Provided they weren’t disturbed, the lights would illuminate the night for a while.

He drew his gaze back to the three glowing lanterns, each of them flickering in turn.

As in life, they were waiting for their captain.

One sharp, green eye focused intensely on the candle for Luffy. Zoro didn’t have any calligraphy tools on hand for any symbols or parting message.

Zoro didn’t have anything to say. His Captain knew. They all did.

He flicked the lighter one last time.

“Fire!”

Zoro stood still, standing vigil over the four soft flames, wordlessly paying his respects before they set out on their final voyage.

Wado flew from its sheath and the first volley of cannon fire met with a flying blade that tore through them and sliced into the offending warship’s hull. Waves rocked and metal groaned and shrieked as metric tons of water rushed upward to fill the vacuum, inciting outcries of panic.

Zoro closed his eye, grimacing and fighting to hold steady.

Even that much, such a minor retort, had reopened his wounds.

He could sense the other ships in the fleet coming–when they’d fled, he knew they hadn’t really escaped. Only bought time with a few tricks.

Luffy never named Zoro his First Mate. Then again, it had never been necessary. And a First Mate’s duty was to preserve the Captain’s will.

Luffy’s will, unspoken, yet true, was that their nakama live to see their dreams fulfilled.

So, he’d waited after they survived long enough, got far enough for the other two to accept rest before he set out alone for his ultimate mission. Zoro didn’t have much to offer up. He had trained relentlessly, driven first by a promise, then two, and yet again renewed his drive when two somehow, somewhere during the journey, merged into one purpose. He carved and shaped his every part into an edge, sharpened even his smile into a weapon fit for cutting things down. He guarded and preserved a small, blunt sort of softness only for his nakama.

For them, Zoro would discard that softness.

The swordsman let his arm fall, struggling to meet Wado’s blade with his eye. A lump formed in his throat, parched from the fighting and fresh blood leaking into his sleeves.

“Kuina.”

A shudder of flustered, indignation-fueled rage and disappointment ran up his arm. The clouds parted just so, and Wado gleamed in the moonlight.

“Right.”

He’d almost apologized. Almost permitted doubt. He should, she told him, be remembering his promises.

“The world may not think much of me now, but my name is gonna shake the world!”

He slid Wado back into its white sheath, assured it would fly as beautifully as it ever had.

Zoro touched each hilt in turn. Kitetsu, resonating with the swordsman’s own soul, sang for blood, for retribution and vengeance, things Zoro would never be consumed by, yet which he… respected.

And Shusui, his heaviest blade, sat on his hip with all the same warrior spirit Zoro had felt when he first crossed paths with it. Nonetheless, its weight somehow felt more comforting than he could recall it ever being, despite the severity of his wounds.

Even if he didn’t get to fight for the title he coveted again, he would carve a mark that left no room for doubt. People would speak the names Mihawk and Zoro in the same breath. More than that, he’d protect and do right by his proudest, most significant title- the unofficial First Mate of the Straw Hat pirates.

Zoro turned a steely glare onto the approaching fleet. He took his black bandana off his arm and tied it tight over his head.

‘No one will ever look down on my Captain, or my nakama, for any failing in me.’

He dove into the ocean, slicing through the water and submerging.

Zoro was no stranger to being adrift.

But he had never been aimless.

Chapter Text

Usopp hated stitches. He hated getting them, having them, looking at them, and, he discovered, he hated applying them most of all. By necessity–he still remembered those weeks before they found Chopper–he got Kaya to coach him through a few things. At the end, he still wouldn’t be mistaken for the ‘acting doctor’, though he knew how to clean, suture and bandage a wound at least passably.

If Usopp ever mixed anything, it’d be for a new weapon, not something to relieve a fever.

The first time, Usopp had been too much of a coward, and too squeamish, to help Zoro or do any stitching. He could hardly stand to watch Yosaku do it. Really, given how stressed the three of them were at the time, Zoro’s insane constitution and luck did more for his survival than they did.

Neither Johnny nor Yosaku had begrudged him for not doing more. If anything, they’d seemed glad to be useful for the santoryuu practitioner.

Usopp insisted on stitching Zoro’s wound this round. His hands were the most steady of the three of them. Years of compartmentalizing insanity and seeing his nakama repeatedly hanging by a thread had its advantages. The massive, gaping wound didn’t render him insensate or useless. It helped that the danger (Mihawk) had passed.

Not to say the procedure was easy for him. Zoro had never been a cooperative patient, and being mostly unconscious didn’t seem to mitigate that tendency one mite. The swordsman twitched every time the needle punctured his skin, grimaced each time Usopp pulled the thread tight to close the wound. The marksman, constantly reminded that he was sewing his nakama shut so he wouldn’t bleed out, barely kept his sparse breakfast down through to the end.

Usopp ran out to douse his hands in the water once he finished. He shakily washed the dried blood from his fingers and shuffled back into the boat’s small cabin. He chuckled, a dry, self-deprecating sound without any humor as he slumped against the wall. Johnny and Yosaku diligently wrapped the wound tightly in bandages.

“You two,” Usopp said. Six days of near non-stop work on Nami’s Climatact caught up to him, to say nothing of the adrenaline rush which had mostly been leftover steam in an empty engine. Slowly, he slid down until he sat. “Keep an eye on him, ’n if he gets up, don’t let him steer, ‘kay? I… am going to pass out now.”

And lo, was it so.

—————

Zoro grimaced, pulled out of his carefully constructed meditation. A simple shift of his shoulder brought fresh waves of pain and nausea radiating from his scar. The negligible grog Johnny and Yosaku kept aboard only dulled the pain for a few minutes. Once the shock from the initial injury passed, it turned out that being almost bisected impeded his ability to take a nap quite a bit.

Speaking of…

Zoro cracked an eye open. The novelty of seeing Usopp actually asleep still hadn’t worn off.

Zoro tipped his head back against the cabin wall. Rest wasn’t an option, and even after Yosaku had jumped ship (something about getting Luffy. Zoro had only been listening with one ear) there wasn’t enough floor space for proper katas.

Hence, meditation, which the swordsman might have chosen anyway after his duel. On waking fully, Zoro’s first inclination had been to resume training immediately, and he would have woken the sniper for further work on his Haki development.

A moment’s thought had him reconsider.

Zoro’s goal of attaining Haki mastery hadn’t changed by any means. Rather, he realized that simply supplementing his own training methods with Usopp’s instruction wasn’t nearly adequate. Just stacking more hours on top of those he already put in, believing that to be enough to close the gap, would be the height of arrogance. Zoro needed to rework his entire regimen from the ground up, tear down everything he’d been doing and rebuild from the very basics.

Excelling didn’t cut it. He had to demand mastery from himself, if not more than that.

Zoro closed his eyes again, found his center and measured his breathing. He fell back into a meditative state, distancing himself from the pain without forgetting it. He cast aside all unnecessary ‘noise’ in his mind and conjured an image of himself, Wado in hand.

‘Breathe. Advance and strike. Breathe. Regroup and react.’

—————

Zeff watched the craft carrying his eggplant shrink on the horizon. The brat couldn’t even take his leave without raising a ruckus.

“Can’t believe that punk went and grew up on us.” Patty said. The cheap cook shrugged off his injuries from Sanji’s parting blows as readily as usual.

Zeff couldn’t be fooled. Patty and Carne’s claims of pent-up resentment were a poor disguise for what amounted to a final ‘field test’. As if Sanji had been anything other than ready for broader horizons for years.

“He’s gonna be okay ri–I mean, that twerp better not get himself done in.” Carne huffed and amended, like he hadn’t just swiped at his eyes under his shades.

For crooks and crap-cooks, Zeff had a lot of damn saps on staff.

“You saw what that kid did to Krieg!” Somebody else said. “Sanji’ll be fine! Right, chef?”

Zeff didn’t answer right away. He reflected on the last conversation he had with Sanji’s new captain.

(“Hey, Straw Hat brat.”

“Oh, mustache chef! What’s up?”)

Zeff put years into raising and teaching his eggplant. He’d provide him every advantage he could give, assuming the thickheaded brat would let him.

(“Krieg didn’t have the right stuff. If the day for nostalgia comes when I’m an old man, though, I’ve got memories. My log book is yours if you want it.”

“Mm. No thanks! That’d feel like cheating. I’m gonna have my own adventure!”)

Zeff hadn’t really expected any different. He’d gotten a good laugh out of it, anyway.

(“Good answer, brat. That the same thing you tell your Pinocchio sniper?”

“Huh? Usopp? What do you mean?”)

Zeff couldn’t say whether he made his decision based on the brat’s conviction to make his voyage his own or on a passing whim.

(“Never mind. Now scram. I gotta restaurant to fix. And your friend’s still looking a bit peaky. Shouldn’t be prancing around like that after almost getting eaten.”

“Hm? Oh, Yosaku! Yeah, okay, thanks mustache chef!”)

Pirate crews were as numerous and varied as the oceans were vast, each with their own set of rules, ideas and personalities. Despite that, a couple things held more or less consistent throughout. No pirate captain wanted to be told their business by anybody. Hell, any pirate worth their salt set out on the oceans precisely because they hated being told their business. And a captain’s crew defined ‘their business’ pretty damn well.

Thus, even though the brat had asked, Zeff justified his choice with the rationalization that a captain shouldn’t need outside sources for something like that. A captain ought to be able to learn whatever he needed about his crew on his own merit.

‘Bah,’ he scoffed, turning his back on the fading boat. ‘What’s done is done, and I’m not old enough to space out and reminisce yet.’

“Chef Zeff?” The same cook prompted him again.

Instead of an answer, Zeff barked at his sentimental staff to quit gawking and get back to work. He’d already taken his first and only break in more than ten years to say his goodbyes.

Thirty minutes was long enough. He had a restaurant to run.

—————

“I’m home.”

Nami’s tone came off as wry, almost cynical to Merry’s ears, leaving the young caravel yet more puzzled by her navigator’s mood. Only an hour ago, Nami had been simply radiant, exhibiting as close to untempered, almost childlike excitement Merry had seen from her. Small wonder, given that her navigator had been throwing the elements around with Usopp’s new weapon. On a very small scale, perhaps, though no less wondrous or amazing for that.

She’d summoned lightning for Kami’s sake.

Indeed, as Nami undertook vigorous study of her Climatact’s applications, her joy had been so potent that Merry found herself caught up in it simply by proxy. The caravel had actually forgotten her initial mission to provide Usopp and her captain the chance to catch up to them.

Hence Merry’s confusion over the drastic shift. From a giddiness that actually caused Nami to lose track of time and even sleep to a somber, thicker sort of weariness as they dropped anchor slightly East of a small village. The cartographer sighed and banished all visible traces of her conflicting feelings with a cool countenance, even though she had no one around to fool. Merry still felt her navigator’s turmoil regardless, and she worried over it.

‘Please find us soon.’

—————

“Z–Zoro-aniki! Usopp-aniki!” Johnny called in a hushed yell. “Th–there it is! That’s Arlong’s mark!”

“So,” Zoro drawled. He drew himself up, standard scowl on his face as he scrutinized the structure. “The woman’s in there?”

Usopp frowned at the black flag that flapped high at the peak of Arlong Park. The red symbol emblazoned across it represented the source of eight years anguish for Nami. Everything from the shark nose roof decoration to the stone archway over the channel of water leading in looked the same as the first time.

Usopp couldn’t wait to watch Luffy tear it all down.

‘First things first,’ he thought, curbing his desire to rain fire down over the fortress and pick apart whatever remained. ‘No skipping to the final boss.’

The sniper loosed a pulse of Haki and clocked Nami in a fair distance away from the mansion.

“I doubt it,” he said, pointing up the coastline to the East. “The Going Merry’s over there.”

Johnny pulled out a telescope to confirm his claim while Zoro simply nodded.

“All right,” he said, thumbing Wado’s guard. “We’ll just hack our way inside and wait her out.”

Johnny sputtered and almost dropped the telescope into the water in his frantic protests.

“Aniki! Wh–why is that our first strategy?!”

“Nah,” Usopp replied casually, shifting their course toward Cocoyashi and away from Arlong Park. “We’ll retrieve the Merry first. We can track her down later.”

“Forget that.”

Usopp glanced back to find himself on the business end of a glaring Zoro. He’d have to act quick, or else the swordsman might escalate to looming.

“Zoro,” Usopp said, tone neutral, though he didn’t move away from the rudder or give the swordsman any opening to change their heading. “We don’t have the full story here yet.”

“Never mind all that tedious crap.” Zoro countered, unyielding.

Usopp pursed his lips. At least Zoro was still replying and conversing rather than barreling forward. In the ‘first round’, he and Johnny had panicked because they knew they couldn’t really sway him from his decision unless they took him by surprise. Simply by virtue of being a little stronger, the odds weren’t quite as skewed in Zoro’s favor, though it’d get messy if things devolved to a fight.

“Luffy told me to bring Nami back,” Zoro said firmly with an air of finality. “That’s what I’m gonna do. Doesn’t matter if the bastard in the way’s a fishman or a monster.”

Usopp sighed inwardly. So much for not shutting down. Thankfully, he had a counterargument prepared.

Unfortunately, he hated using it.

“Well, that’s a problem, Zoro,” Usopp said, matching the swordsman tone for tone. “Because I made a promise to get you proper medical attention first chance we got.”

Not entirely untrue–the sniper had fully intended for his nakama to at least be seen before they went to battle for Nami. That was the easy part of his plan, or at least, the bit that didn’t leave a stone in his gut.

Zoro scoffed, and just rolled his shoulders like he meant to dive into the water and swim for Arlong’s fortress if Usopp refused to turn them around.

“You never made any”

“Oh,” Usopp interrupted sharply, injecting every ounce of bite he could into his tone. “So it’s not equivalent? Why not, Zoro? Because I didn’t say it out loud? Or is my word just worth less than yours?”

Zoro’s jaw snapped shut so hard and so fast that his teeth clacked. He went still, and his scowl turned thunderous.

Off to the side, Usopp heard Johnny gulp.

The sniper held his ground. He’d attacked a sensitive point, he knew, and it made him nauseas, twisting Zoro’s unique code of honor and the weight the swordsman assigned to his promises. The manipulation left him feeling dirty, and yet he couldn’t relent. Zoro only ever responded to force, and if Usopp hedged before he’d been persuaded, he’d forfeit any progress he made.

For Nami’s sake, the sniper couldn’t let that happen.

Finally, Zoro broke the tense silence.

“You already patched me up,” he said, hackles mercifully falling, if only a little. “I don’t need”

“Proper means an actual doctor, Zoro.” Usopp rejoined, just shy of rolling his eyes.

“Doctors don’t just help out pirates.”

“Yeah, and pirates don’t just retire and open restaurants.”

Usopp raised an eyebrow, prompting his crew mate to give up whatever other protests he had. Zoro huffed and crossed his arms, though his gaze didn’t hold the same steel it had a minute ago.

“Look,” Usopp said after a beat. “I’m not hesitating because you’re injured and down two swords, or even because of the fishmen.”

The sniper ignored Johnny’s incredulous look at that last point.

“Then why are we hesitating at all?” Zoro asked. “You really need to know all the details about that woman being here before we do anything?”

‘I’m being cautious because I know the full story.’

“I don’t doubt your instincts, Zoro,” Usopp said, allowing the concession since the swordsman had stopped talking as though he intended to act on his own. “In fact, I think you’re probably right. We’re two pirate crews on the same island, after all, chances are we’re going to fight.”

“Then what’s the point of putting it off?” Zoro asked, more pointedly.

“What’s your plan if we go in there to take names,” Usopp said. “And, assuming we come out victorious, Nami’s not happy to see us?”

“She stole the damn ship,” Zoro muttered. “It’d be weird if she was happy we chased after her.” The swordsman shrugged. “Doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll just kidnap her if it comes down to it.”

Johnny gasped.

“Aniki!”

At that, Usopp did roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure Luffy would be stoked to hear that story.”

Zoro grunted. With a harsh exhale, he stepped off the lip of the boat and propped himself against the wall of the cabin.

“Fine.”

Usopp let out a breath of his own.

“Thank you.”

Zoro didn’t respond. Usopp readjusted their heading, electing to pull up beside the Merry rather than bother with the docks near the village.

As last time, three Arlong pirates spotted them as they passed.

“Usopp-aniki!” Johnny gave a hushed yell, shaking the sniper’s arm in a frenzy. “They’ve seen us!”

“Leggo.” Usopp groused. He snatched his arm back from the bounty hunter, no more than miffed even as three fins came speeding after their boat.

“Hey!” A voice called out of the water.

“They’re coming to greet us.” Zoro noted dryly.

“If by ‘greet’ you mean ‘sink’,” Usopp said. He tapped a finger to his chin, as if in thought. “Or demand a toll, I guess. Anyway, you wanna get that?”

…

No response forthcoming, the sniper glanced toward his crew mate, and almost snorted.

“Are–are you sulking?”

“No, I am not!” Zoro snapped.

The three pirates clambered aboard–Johnny, who’d found himself unheard between Usopp and Zoro, sequestered himself in the cabin with impressive swiftness.

“Hey, I can do it,” Usopp said, still smirking. “I just figured you’d wanna cut loose a bit.”

“Don’t recognize you people,” one fishman said. “Means you”

“Doctor?” Zoro grunted, somehow injecting sarcasm into a single word.

“Hey, you”

“There are three of them,” Usopp deadpanned. “Go nuts.”

“You humans gotta”

The world would never know what the nameless pirate would have demanded from them. Zoro rendered all three unconscious and heavily bruised with just his scabbard before they could even manage one line of dialogue.

“Better?” Usopp asked, only half-joking.

Zoro, a mite calmer, shrugged.

“Eh.”

“I’m sure you’ll get a more thorough workout soon.” Usopp said earnestly.

Zoro made to toss the intruding pirates overboard, but the sniper stopped him.

“Let’s just move them over to the Going Merry,” he said as they drew up beside the caravel. “Don’t want ‘em making problems for us.”

Usopp wasn’t about to leave such an obvious loose end that might come back to bite him. Arlong didn’t need to know they were on the island just yet. Zoro didn’t argue, though he gave Usopp an odd look.

“What kind of pirate are you?” Johnny asked, poking his head out of the cabin.

“The sneaky kind.”

—————

“Shahahaha!”

Chabo took a choking gasp, fingers clutching at his stomach. He could barely see through his furious tears. All four fishmen were laughing at him, and he couldn’t stand it! He’d charged into the compound for Arlong and someone tripped him, then he got kicked across the pavement. He hadn’t even gotten close to the shark!

“Knives aren’t toys, you know. Chu!”

The one with lips held Chabo’s weapon under his foot. He couldn’t even stand up to get it back.

“Nyu, why’s he so upset?”

‘Like you care, you damn octopus!’

Chabo tried to yell at them, but his sucking, gasping sobs took up all his air.

“Shahaha! What a spiteful face!”

“Shut up!” Chabo managed, sitting up. “You killed my father! You killed all the men in my village!”

“Hmph. So you’re one of the whelps from Gosa. Of course the humans can’t control their own spawn.”

“Such a sad story! But you see, little human, they didn’t have to die! They couldn’t pay tribute, after all, taking your village was just a business transaction!”

“Liar!” Chabo spat. He struggled to his feet, legs shaking.

“Arlong-sama doesn’t have time for your prattle, brat. Chu!”

Chabo glared at them. The ray fish sneered at him, Arlong wouldn’t stop laughing, and the octopus watched him with a weird look.

“Shahahaha! Let’s keep him a while for some entertainment!”

“I’ll–! I’ll kill y”

A blur of brown flashed across Chabo’s vision.

SWAK!

Chapter Text

SWAK!

Nami knew the pains of life intimately. She knew burdens, loneliness and sorrow.

Whok!

Contrary to her apparent vanity, she knew pretty things weren’t everlasting. Clothes, beauty, even cash vanished eventually.

Thwack!

She could also tell the difference between someone who took on suicidal odds out of ambition and deep-seated desire, and someone who just wanted an easy, permanent cessation of the pain life invariably brought on.

She’d never succumbed to such an impulse herself, never permitted herself to even consider it, despite her history. She didn’t expect to change her circumstances by whining.

“Don’t hate the era you were born into!”

She’d been raised to know better than that.

Pow!

Hence why a brat from Gosa charging into Arlong Park for some kind of assisted suicide by fishman royally pissed her off.

Still, her cold-hearted attack on him also served the purpose of saving his life, whether he wanted it or not. Infinitely better that he was unconscious rather than able to dig his grave deeper with his own idiocy. Plus, Arlong always appreciated ruthlessness. Striking the way she had would go just as far toward resolving the situation bloodlessly as any actual discussion.

She clicked her tongue at the boy who lay crumpled on the concrete.

“My my, such a fiery entrance,” Arlong mused aloud, toothy shark smile ever-present. Nami had learned to repress and internalize the shudder his face inspired years ago. Though an echo of the reflex remained. “Did you have a bad time while you were away, my precious cartographer?”

“Hmph.” She scoffed, turning back toward Arlong’s throne. She shifted her old staff to rest against her shoulder. Usopp’s Climatact remained secure on her person and, more importantly, hidden out of sight. She loved the weapon, thoroughly and without reservation, for it suited her perfectly. And simply because she loved it, they could never know of it. Arlong never let her keep nice things. Nothing sentimental, certainly, let alone anything that could actually empower her. Usopp’s–her–Climatact was both.

‘They’re not part of my life anymore,’ she thought, already at work severing whatever connection she had with them, feelings and all. ‘I can keep this, at least.’

“I just came back to find the mansion unguarded, as ever,” she said briskly, the persona she’d built for herself firmly in place. Breaking character at all could spoil her efforts, particularly now. “And then there was a mouthy twerp standing in my way. What was he doing here anyway?”

“He had some grievances to air about how we run things,” Arlong said, tone darkly amused. “I was about to suggest we have him stick around for an education regarding the natural order of the world. Of course,” he waved a webbed hand. “If I’d known he’d offend you so deeply, I would have just removed him.”

Nami huffed.

“I’m not that delicate,” she said, her tone affronted. “His presence didn’t set me off, his inability to accept reality did. I have no patience for fools.”

“Shahahaha! And yet your specialty is betraying those very same fools!”

Nami smirked, a practiced mirror of Arlong’s type of grim amusement.

“I suppose I can’t argue that,” she said. She frowned. “There’s a point when even foolishness stops being funny though.”

“Too true, too true,” Arlong agreed, grinning. He leaned his face into his fist, eyes glinting. “So, what should we do with the brat?”

Nami cast a disdainful glance backward, and made a bit of a show tightening her grip on her staff.

“Put him away for now. I’ll deal with him.”

Arlong laughed, loud and pleased.

“As you say, my precious map maker! The kid did interrupt your homecoming. This is the least I can do. Hachi, tie him up and toss him in the back!” Arlong raised his voice. “Brothers! One of our own has returned! Prepare a feast!”

Raucous cheers went up as Nami’s crew mates erupted from the courtyard pool. She played the part of the returning comrade, smile neither too wan nor too eager.

‘No more complications,’ she thought, a silent plea. ‘Not when I’m this close.’

—————

Usopp waltzed into Cocoyashi village, hands in his pockets and on a mission for all that he carried himself casually. No other fishmen had shown up at the docks after they dealt with and detained the first three, and he didn’t see any hanging around town either.

He’d left Zoro on guard duty, much to the swordsman’s chagrin.

(“Why the hell should I wait here? Going to the doctor is faster.”

“Sure, but do you really wanna leave Johnny alone with responsibility for three fishmen?”

“…”

“…”

“Be quick about it.”)

The sniper cast an appraising look around the village. The general air of the place didn’t sit well with him. Maybe knowing the relevant context made certain details more obvious, or perhaps growing up in a small village himself let him compare things directly. 

Regardless of the reason, Usopp noticed things. The fairly conspicuous absence of idle conversation, like there was some deterrent in place against too much talking. The people didn’t go around actively frowning, yet there weren’t many smiles to be seen either, and those that he caught didn’t reach anybody’s eyes. Nobody ran around breaking their backs to get work done, yet none of them could be described as really relaxed, either.

Usopp couldn’t quite call the atmosphere oppressive, since he’d seen that before. It was more a general feeling of color being washed out, an overall mood of simmering frustration, weariness and

‘Chronic stress.’

That gave him pause. Circumstances were clearly quite different, yet once the idea materialized in his head, Usopp couldn’t dismiss it out of hand.

Nami’s village, to say nothing of the navigator herself, were under the same duress he’d been through in his second round with Kuro. And she’d taken on responsibility for saving all these people unto herself, yet while he only put up with eight months, she’d persisted for eight years.

Meanwhile, he’d been–

Usopp fisted his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath.

‘We’re here now,’ he thought, pre-empting any guilt-induced downward spirals. ‘We’ll stop this. Just needs to be done right.’

Usopp focused back on his surroundings, and noticed an older man sitting on a shaded, circular bench off to one side of the dirt road. He wore a brown short-sleeved police uniform, with a pinwheel of all things attached to a matching hat. Scars ran at various angles across his face and exposed arms. Coupled with his hook nose, he had a somewhat severe looking face. At first glance, he seemed to be resting. His eyes moved up and down the street, though, too assessing to be idle observation.

His gaze lingered a little longer on Usopp than anyone else.

“Good morning!” The sniper called, waving a greeting as he walked over.

“Hello.” The pinwheel man greeted fairly formally, though he did not rise, wave back or smile. He kept his questioning gaze on Usopp.

‘He’s wondering why I’m here.’

In a small village, everybody knew everybody. And the sniper clearly hadn’t brought anything to trade that would interest a village that, presumably, largely functioned off fish and produce.

“Ah,” the sniper said, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry, bad form–I’m Usopp. I was wondering if you could help me out?”

“Genzo,” he said, and the name struck a chord in Usopp’s memory. They hadn’t interacted much during his first round, yet the sniper remembered ‘saving’ him from Arlong, and that Nami and her sister considered him the nearest they had to a father. “Sheriff. What business do you have in Cocoyashi, Usopp?”

‘Direct and no-nonsense,’ Usopp noted to himself. ‘Child Nami must’ve driven him mad.’

“Well, see,” Usopp said. “We didn’t originally plan to stop on this island, but some of our crew”

“Leave.”

The marksman paused. Genzo’s tone didn’t come off as hostile, more sharply cautionary. Certainly without any perceived room for argument.

“Sorry?”

“Whatever brought you here,” Genzo said, never breaking eye contact. “It’s not worth the risk. The best advice I can give you is to take your friends and leave the island, as soon as you can.”

Usopp’s pocketed hand clenched again.

‘Nami is completely worth it.’

“Look,” Usopp said, more insistent and with much less meandering. “One of my nakama is severely hurt, and I need a doctor to take a look at him.”

“If your friend’s condition was truly critical,” Genzo returned, as urgent as before. “You’d have brought him here. Take him somewhere else. As sick or injured as he may be, I guarantee you’re more likely to survive going to another island.”

‘Ossan,’ Usopp thought, frowning. ‘As considerate as the warning may be, it’s just annoying right now.’

The sniper recalled the tribute Arlong exacted on the villagers under his rule. He sighed and folded his arms.

“I’ll pay 20,000 beri for a doctor to come to our ship.”

Genzo’s eyes went wide, and after a moment, Usopp realized the street had gone quiet. The sheriff snapped his gaze from Usopp and barked out an order to retrieve one Dr. Nako. No fewer than a dozen people broke into a dead sprint in response.

Given the context, it made Usopp kind of sad.

—————

“There’s some commotion going on around Cocoyashi village, Arlong-sama.”

“Is that right? I just happen to have business there.”

Nami watched Arlong rise leisurely from his throne out of the corner of her eye. She’d been lounging in the courtyard, under the pretense of catching up. She held absolutely no interest in actually doing so, obviously.

“Worried about your village?”

Nami turned her head slowly to face Kuroobi. Short of Arlong himself, he posed the biggest potential threat to her plans, more out of his sheer persistence in suspecting her than any real cleverness.

She shrugged one shoulder.

“Hardly. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Kuroobi frowned, scrutinizing her even after she looked away.

“Kuroobi! Let’s go. Chu!”

Nami waited a full minute after Arlong left with several of his men before she made her way into the mansion. The sound of a trumpet meant Hachi was probably feeding Moomoo, leaving the courtyard practically vacant. A perfect opportunity to spring the kid free.

Nami ‘accidentally’ spilled Hachi’s blades across the floor of the storage room where he’d put the boy. On the slim chance any of Arlong’s men chose to investigate how he got out, there’d be at least a thread of deniability more credible than her word against theirs.

‘The brat probably won’t even be grateful.’ She thought a bit sourly as she cut his bonds loose. She tossed the ropes over toward the exposed blades. The kid stirred, yet still didn’t come around.

Nami kicked him awake.

—————

“He’d be significantly more cooperative if you gave him some sake.”

Nako spared nothing more than a halfway heated glare toward the young man–Usopp, he called himself–before returning his full attention to his squirming patient. He grumbled at the stitch work, which while not entirely shoddy, didn’t come close to adequate for such a wound.

“How long have you been walking around with this patchwork?” He asked. He might have injected more heat into his tone to scold his patient’s recklessness, if not for the fact that he was in the galley of a pirate ship.

He was suturing a wound for Roronoa Zoro, debatably the East Blue bounty hunter, on a pirate ship!

Needless to say, he didn’t know what to make of the situation, let alone the crew. Usopp hadn’t been much help.

(“You never said you were a pirate!”

“You never asked. And would you have come along with me if I had?”)

Nako hadn’t had any argument for that point.

Genzo had been on alert the past few days. Several of their neighbors had volunteered to accompany Nako, since none of them knew Usopp and were justifiably wary around strangers, particularly those from off the island. Genzo had shot them all down, as he didn’t want to give the fishmen any hints of anything out of the ordinary. He’d given Nako an apologetic glance, though the doctor waved it off. He agreed with the sheriff’s reasoning–the sooner these strangers got off the island, and the quieter they could be about it, the better for everyone. He didn’t want to think about how Arlong might react if he caught wind that he or any of his neighbors were associating with another pirate crew.

The doctor couldn’t say why he’d wasted time questioning Usopp. If pressed, he’d cite temporary insanity brought on by sheer incredulity.

(“Who’s your captain? What does he want?”

“Monkey D. Luffy. And right this second? Meat. No question. In the near future? To explore the Grand Line.”)

Nako couldn’t tell if Usopp had been screwing with him. The plain, direct response had disarmed him such that his impromptu interrogation petered out, which was probably best. He’d come as far as the ship, and he doubted a refusal at that point would be well-received.

That, and he really couldn’t afford to turn down 20,000 beri. He’d already planned out ways to slip some to Genzo, since the stubborn old fool had a habit of only just scraping by each month after helping everyone else make the cut.

“Hmm.” Usopp hummed. “Hard for me to say, though I’d guess a day and a half, two days tops?”

It took Nako a second to register that Usopp was responding to his mostly rhetorical question.

“Two days?!” He blurted in the middle of pulling a thread line taut, eliciting a hiss and a swear from the swordsman. “What were you even doing when this happened?”

“A duel,” Zoro ground out through his teeth. His hands, already fisted, clenched until his knuckles were white. “I lost.”

A beat passed in relative silence before Usopp slapped his hands on his knees and rose.

“Well, I got things to do,” he said, waving toward Zoro. “Let the doctor do what he needs to do, all right? I’ll be back.”

Zoro huffed through his nose, teeth still clenched.

Nako frowned, pulse running a little quicker with anxiety.

“Where are you going?” He asked, his nerves lending his tone sharpness.

“We need supplies.” Usopp said simply without looking back.

“Why not just send your other mate to get them?” Nako asked. The doctor felt uneasy with Usopp roaming the island unchecked.

The olive-skinned young man glanced back. He blinked. Twice. Comprehension dawned in his eyes and he chuckled.

“Johnny’s a bounty hunter, not a crew member,” he said. “He’s just traveling with us for a bit since he’s friends with Zoro. You know how it is.”

Nako stared as Usopp left the galley.

‘No,’ Nako thought flatly. ‘I really don’t.’

—————

“Whoa.”

Nojiko paused in the middle of the dirt road. One of her neighbors, another produce farmer, had mentioned Arlong headed toward Cocoyashi. Since they lived further out from the village proper and a bit closer to Arlong Park, they typically acted as a sort of lookout for the rest of their neighbors. It wasn’t much, just a few minutes warning whenever he chose to make an appearance or sent one of his officers. A visit outside the monthly tribute collection never failed to set people on edge.

Regardless, those few minutes provided at least some opportunity for mental preparation on their part and, if need be, retreat into their homes. Even if they had made a collective promise, after eight years tensions hadn’t receded and tempers had grown shorter.

Nojiko had been on her way into the village herself–solidarity was about all that the people of Cocoyashi could still claim as their own.

“What happened to you?”

She drew up short when she met a young boy barely ambling up the road, though. He had swelling bruises on both sides of his face, favored one leg with a slight limp, and seemed to be nursing his ribs somewhat.

Nothing life-threatening that she could see, though certainly more than the result of a fight between children. She had plenty of personal experience with those.

The boy didn’t answer, instead just frowning and shuffling onward down the road. Nojiko sighed. She tugged at one of his ears, eliciting a short yelp.

“Now’s not the time to wander around,” she said, pushing at the back of his head to steer him toward her house. “Let’s get you patched up a bit. Got a name?”

“… Chabo.”

“You gonna answer my question, Chabo?” She asked as they walked past the mikan groves.

“Fishmen.” He spat with familiar bitterness and spite.

His initial cagey attitude aside, the kid proved fairly forthcoming with his story. By the time Nojiko slapped a little ice on his face and poured tea, Chabo was just finishing his description of the awful witch woman who attacked him and threw him out of Arlong Park.

“I hate her too.” He said, tone still heated.

‘The fact that nothing’s broken means you got off easy, kid,’ Nojiko thought, sighing inwardly. ‘Never mind that you’re alive at all.’

“You shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” she scolded, seated across from him. “No human can stand up to the fishmen.”

Chabo grimaced and bit into his bottom lip.

“I know,” he said. “I know, it just–they destroyed our whole village, and it makes me so mad it hurts–I just wanna make them pay!”

Nojiko regarded him coolly for a moment.

“Did you actually set out to kill fishmen,” she asked neutrally. “Or were you hoping for someone to stop you and save your neck? Did you expect someone to come along and tell you how to make things better?”

The boy went still. Nojiko narrowed her eyes at him, mouth twisting into a frown.

“Fine,” she said in an icily dismissive tone. “You wanna die that badly? Arlong’s in Cocoyashi right now. You can catch him if you run.”

Chabo flinched, though as Nojiko expected, he stayed put. He trembled, eyes downcast. Nojiko found she didn’t have any sympathy to spare for him. Not with the image of her baby sister swearing off tears at ten years old burned into her memory.

“If you’re that determined to die, if your life means that little to you, why should I care?” She asked, raising her voice to a shout as she stood up. “Anyone so determined to die because they can’t handle the pain of being alive, who am I to stop them? I say good fucking luck to you!”

“I’ll”

Chabo sobbed, sniffling and sucking air.

“I’ll endure it,” he said wetly. “I’ll keep living.”

“Got anybody looking for you?” Nojiko asked after a beat passed. She cooled down after hearing a little conviction in the kid’s promise. Shaky, yet present, a pushback against her harsh words.

“My mom.”

Nojiko smiled a little.

“Then go home.” She said softly.

—————

“Weapons only give rise to violent, rebellious thoughts,” Arlong said, laying out his own version of the law even as he loomed over the still-seated Genzo. “And that endangers the delicate peace we’ve provided to the villages under our protection.”

Usopp groaned in his head, camped out on a rooftop in Cocoyashi. He kept himself crouched to avoid drawing attention, exercising inordinate willpower to restrain himself from striking out at Arlong. Yet.

‘Only thing you’re protecting are your own delusions.’ Usopp thought hotly, fingers clenching and unclenching around his slingshot.

Much as he wanted to strike, he figured the people of Cocoyashi might be less inclined to come after him and Zoro with fear-fueled anger if he attacked in defensive retaliation rather than instigating the fight. Stressful as overthinking was, it proved helpful sometimes.

“One of the villagers in Gosa failed to pay tribute,” Arlong said. “And I destroyed their village. Because failing to pay equates to rebellion.” The sawtooth shark leaned over Genzo, teeth bared in a cruel grin. “Are you following me?”

To his credit, the village sheriff didn’t so much as flinch in the face of Arlong and his henchmen surrounding him. Setting aside his own anger toward the scene, Usopp could only be impressed.

“The tribute you all pay will give rise to the foundation,” Arlong said, grin widening predatorily. He raised one hand, arm pulled back with clear intention of attacking. “Of an Arlong Empire which will rule East Blue!”

‘Sweet merciful Kami, strike me down if I have to hear another word about the superiority of fishmen!’

Usopp leapt to his feet, and, in a practiced, fluid motion, loaded and fired.

Exploding Star!

Chapter Text

Exploding Star!

An explosive round, standard issue rather than Usopp’s modified version, struck Arlong’s face. Hardly enough to really hurt the bastard shark, merely capture his attention. Genzo, resigned to the fishman’s abuse but unprepared for Usopp’s attack, recoiled from the small blast.

For all that a vindictive little voice in Usopp’s head chimed

‘Just throw in a li~ttle Haki and put a hole in his head. No one will know.’

he resisted. Because, yes, Arlong and his crew would know about Haki. He and Jinbe had come from Fishman Island and were once equals. Anyone who (miraculously) made it that far on the Grand Line without at least an awareness of Haki didn’t live too long. Shichibukai weren’t offered their ‘conditional freedom’ from pursuit and arrest without the sort of strength to contend with Haki, either. Arlong wasn’t worth the risk of Usopp’s ability being outed. It only took one semi-knowledgeable witness for the Marines to make trouble, after all.

And, more importantly, the potential consequences of a showdown in Cocoyashi were too severe. Any collateral damage to the village, or, Kami forbid, loss of life would defeat the whole purpose of all Nami’s efforts. Usopp would not be responsible, however indirectly, for bringing that about.

Thus, instead of appeasing his anger, Usopp appealed to his inner prankster and burgeoning ‘troll’ sense of humor. As doors up and down the street flew open in answer to the explosion and fishmen pointed out his figure on the roof, the sniper gave an exaggerated, lazy wave.

“Yo,” he called. “Big, blue and scaly! That’s a gnarly-looking nose,” he said, and a shit-eating grin grew on his face. “Does it compensate for something?”

The collective reaction, while not loud, proved spectacular. Save for Arlong and his two officers, human and fishman alike were united, brought together by muted horror. Even Chew and the manta ray looked stunned, sending their captain nervous glances. Were Usopp a little more audacious, he would have held up his hands as though to frame the scene.

‘I think I’ll call it… Apoplectic Rage in a Sea of Internal Screams.’

Usopp’s repressed snickering cut short as his foothold shuddered and the world tilted slightly. A livid Arlong had already moved to upend the house he stood on.

“Arlong-sama,” one of the braver fishmen stammered, raising a hand toward his captain. “Please don’t destroy another village–it ain’t profitable.”

“You dare,” Arlong seethed, deaf to the protests of his crew. “To insult, and attack me, a FISHMAN!”

The sawtooth shark roared, and the whole building came off the ground, torn up from the foundations. Rather than cling for dear life while Arlong threw buildings around, Usopp bailed from the whole arrangement. Too furious to notice, the blue sawtooth shark smashed the uprooted house into another like a battering ram. Only rubble remained in the wake of his tantrum. Thankfully most, if not all, of the villagers were in the street, so the sniper didn’t have to worry about casualties.

“Arlong-sama, there he is!”

“Get him! Bring me his hide for wallpaper and his skull as a wine goblet!”

Not particularly interested in listening to graphic descriptions of plans for his own mutilation, the sniper took off at a mad sprint. He headed out of the village, through a few small crop plots and into the woods, his second natural habitat after the ocean.

—————

Chabo, face down and huddled in the tallest grass and thickest undergrowth he could find, cursed his luck. He’d taken a less traveled route toward home after he left Nojiko’s house. She’d told him Arlong would still be in Cocoyashi, and he knew he’d be dead if the shark or his fishmen recognized him.

Not twenty minutes into his trek through the woods passed before he heard something crashing through the brush and branches, immediately followed by a shout of

“You’re dead, human!”

Chabo froze and went pale, mouth agape in a frightened face-fault. It was like they’d been summoned simply by his new promise to live.

‘How did they find me?!’

Thankfully, he managed to avoid screaming, and he broke off from the beaten path to hide. He clamped a hand over his mouth, scooting backward deeper into the thin cover he’d found. Fishmen ran past him, two or three pausing at a time to cast angry eyes about the woods. As quietly as he could manage, Chabo crawled away from the noise through the undergrowth.

Tmp.

A choked cry nearly escaped him as a blue, sandaled foot stomped just inches from his nose. Slowly, he looked up, all the while breathing as little as possible, though not through conscious effort. More accurately, he momentarily forgot to breathe. The long lipped fishman from Arlong Park towered over the prone Gosa child. His face and eyes were hidden from Chabo’s view by his unusual mouth.

Chabo hoped that meant the fishman couldn’t see him either.

“The rest of you keep heading East! I’ll double back around in case he’s being sneaky. Chu!” His voice lowered, tone dark. “Bring him in alive. Arlong-sama will want to handle the brat personally.”

Chabo broke into a cold sweat. If he’d had any hope that they were looking for someone else, it had just died. He bit into his hand–his body remembered how to breathe, and it was loud. If that didn’t give him away, his pulse pounding in his throat definitely would. The sound of footfalls faded somewhere behind him, yet the lipped fishman lingered.

Finally, his sandaled feet turned away and plodded off into the woods. Chabo waited until he couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore, then lay prone another minute afterward.

He shot up to his feet and bolted without a real plan, only running away from any sound of angry fishmen.

—————

“Human scum!”

Usopp paused in the middle of removing one of his pursuers from a window at the hateful exclamation. He’d made tracks for Gosa the second he invoked Arlong’s wrath. The thought of getting caught and having his death elaborately staged by Nami again didn’t appeal to him. He could have avoided the fishmen sent after him long enough to ditch them. When it came to keeping his crew’s business quiet (if only temporarily) though, ‘unconscious’ beat out ‘searching and frustrated.’ It hadn’t exactly been difficult to fight them either. They were only five in total.

Hence, Gosa village. Abandoned after Arlong left all the houses overturned and the road torn up by his pet sea monster, it made an ideal location for his purposes. Usopp didn’t have to worry about anybody, human or fishman, passing through in the near future and muddling things. It also served as an identifiable pickup point for the marines once Luffy showed up and they took down Arlong’s crew. As a concerned citizen (and an anxious young man who really didn’t like leaving things to chance), he’d gone the extra mile and laid out four of his five pursuers in a pile. He even marked the spot with his brush and an Ink Star applied to the nearest house, aptly labeling it ‘Garbage Collection Site’.

Crack!

Chew, who had yet to notice Usopp after finding his crew mates, apparently didn’t appreciate the sniper’s responsible nature. Or, given that the fishman officer just sank his fist into the painted wall, he didn’t appreciate the layered humor of the label. Usopp had been making more of a comment on the marines, who only did their jobs after the Straw Hats came through.

“Brothers,” Chew said, kneeling beside the beaten fishmen. “Who did this? Is that brat a bounty hunter? Chu!”

Usopp briefly entertained the idea of his crew getting paid for defeating false kings, insane tyrants and assassins. The Straw Hats had a history of edging on broke for most of their journey. Nami, whose tight-fisted budgeting of their funds typically kept them out of poverty, would fight in a snake pit…

She would throw the boys into a snake pit if it meant they could redeem their victories for cash. Alas, there was the trivial detail of being wanted by the marines and bounty hunters themselves.

“Nah,” Usopp said, projecting his voice a bit to be heard from further down the street. He tossed the last of his former pursuers onto the ground to keep his hands free. “I’m no one that important. I’m just a pirate looking to retrieve our crew’s navigator per Captain’s orders.”

Chew, who had been pushing off the dirt to charge the sniper, went still, his glower twisting into something incredulous.

“Navigator? Chu! You mean Nami?”

Usopp had no reason to confirm or deny his suspicions. He could’ve just bailed before Chew even appeared. The big-lipped fishman couldn’t catch him if he didn’t want to be caught. Maybe the sniper was in a weird mood. Maybe he intended to kill some time before Luffy arrived.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

Maybe he wanted to personally shatter the fishman officer’s racist sense of superiority and make him choke on it.

And maybe Usopp felt a little vindictive after waiting ten years to help Nami.

Chew’s face contorted into an odd, scowling grin. He chortled.

“Arlong-sama will love this! A bunch of poor fools fell so hard for Nami’s act that they came crawling here after her,” Chew threw a derisive finger toward Usopp. “You don’t have the slightest clue who she really is, do you? Chu!”

“A world-class cartographer, peerless navigator and a practiced hand at betrayal?” Usopp said. His lips twitched into a smirk at Chew’s furrowed brow, the fishman clearly thrown off by the sniper’s flat tone. “Maybe you should ask yourself if you know who she really is.”

Chew shrugged, unbothered.

“Even if she were to double-cross us, it wouldn’t matter,” he said, mouth split into a cruel grin. “That woman knows better than anyone that we can make people disappear.”

Usopp froze, hand hovering at his waist.

Chew, exploiting the hesitation, charged toward the sniper, fist cocked.

Twang!

He didn’t get far.

“FUCK,” he shouted, clutching his face. “My eye! Chu!”

Caltrop Choker!

In a rare fury, Usopp closed the distance between them and threw a handful of the hooked spines into the fishman’s open mouth. Next second, his opponent started choking.

Even in severe pain, Chew still took a swing at the sniper, tears in his eyes and one side of his face swollen around his eye where a ball bearing had struck. Usopp ducked under the wild hook, one hand digging into his satchel.

Instant Hangover!

The marksman shattered a bottle of rum over Chew’s head. The big-lipped fishman stumbled, finally hocking up the spines that had scratched his throat. He puckered his lips, preparing to fire a high-pressure water bullet.

Water G-

Usopp jumped back, his last shot already loaded.

Certain Kill: Flame Star!

On impact, the combusting projectile set the grog aflame.

“Gah!”

Desperate, Chew ran screaming for the coast, blind to all else except the closest source of water. Usopp stood in his way, unsympathetic. On his shoulder he held a two hundred pound hammer like one that only weighed ten.

“Water!” Chew shouted, almost pleading.

“Don’t.”

Usopp tightened his grip.

“Ever.”

He raised the hammer over his head.

“Threaten my nakama!”

He heaved the huge weapon, and struck.

—————

Chabo hadn’t planned on running to Gosa village–his feet had directed him more than his brain, scared as he’d been. Unconsciously, he moved toward the last place he had associated with safety, even if he didn’t really feel too safe anywhere on the island the past few weeks.

Once he recognized his surroundings, Chabo managed to calm down a little, at least enough to think.

“Human scum!”

Only to almost immediately lose his recently regained cognitive abilities at the sound of the commanding voice he’d heard in the woods. He dove for a hiding spot, which really only consisted of putting himself behind one of the upturned houses. He peeked back down the ruined street.

He couldn’t say for certain why he didn’t book it–maybe he figured that, like in the forest, staying hidden and quiet would net him the same result of staying alive.

WHAM!

He did not expect to watch one of Arlong’s officers get effortlessly picked apart.

The long nose pirate sent the big-lipped fishman, still burning, smashing into one of the houses, and straight through to the other side. Chabo ran back around his cover just in time to see the fishman crash bodily, headfirst, into a rice paddy, spinning ass over teakettle several times before he finally stopped. Smoke trailed into the air from the impact site.

He didn’t get up.

Mutely, the Gosa child returned to the street. The olive-skinned pirate, still holding that huge hammer in his hand, huffed through his nose and turned toward the coast.

“You beat him…”

The stranger paused. Chabo was only marginally aware that he’d spoken loud enough to be heard, but he couldn’t help expressing his awe. He noted, distantly, that there were also four fishmen piled together in the street. Had he beaten them, too?

“You actually beat him.”

The pirate started walking again, turning toward the woods.

“Wait,” Chabo called. The stranger didn’t slow down or turn around. “Who–who are you?”

“Usopp.” Came the short answer.

Usopp, the pirate, left. Chabo stared down the street where he’d vanished.

‘A human won against a fishman.’

Against fishmen, who were said to be ten times as strong as a person.

“A human won against a fishman.” He murmured.

The boy had to tell someone–he couldn’t keep what he’d seen a secret even if he wanted to. For the second time that day, he ran, his heart pounding for a decidedly different reason.

—————

In the deepest recesses of Impel Down, the absence of information was just another form of starvation for prisoners. Another method the Marines used to tell them that they were forgotten. Those who were relegated to those depths were too hardy, too accustomed to surviving to wither away, yet tolls were inevitably taken on their minds. With no sense of time passing, no knowledge of events outside, and only the prescribed minimum requirement of food and water, Magellan’s prisoners did not live. Only survived.

For the first several months of his detainment, Usopp strained his ears for any scrap of news about his nakama. New inmates sometimes whispered about scars and three swords, or smoke and fierce kicks. Occasionally the marines who staffed the prison would bring in one of their superiors with scraps of a paper, taunting the desperate sniper.

And yet, of fiery orange tresses and weather witches, not even a murmur came his way.

“Robin,” he said, a whisper that came out nearer a whine. They’d been in Impel Down almost a year, as close as he could figure. Nami was their strategist, the one who came up with the plans. She literally directed them, in seeing Luffy’s whims fulfilled and on the seas. “Where is she?”

Usopp’s cell mate, the one nakama he knew he had left, regarded him sadly. The sniper’s throat tightened–he saw an apology in her brown eyes. Not for Nami’s fate, but that she could only confirm what Usopp feared. With Zoro and Sanji, he at least knew that they’d been recognized as Straw Hats even in death.

Nami…

“They erased her.”

Nami didn’t even get that.

—————

Usopp stormed parallel to the coast, heedless of his surroundings and anything in his path. Having recognized his state as somewhat unstable, he forced his feet toward Zoro’s ‘voice’.

All the while a deep-seated anger shouted at him to rampage through Arlong Park. Chew’s commentary had roused the sniper’s more reckless side, and he wanted to hurt those who made his nakama suffer.

‘Stick to the plan.’ His rational voice counseled like a mantra, though much quieter than it had been.

It took considerable effort to stay his course.

‘Luffy will get here soon,’ he argued. ‘Just a bit longer and he’ll be calling the shots.’

Much as he hated essentially surrendering to indecisiveness, that particular strain of reasoning quelled the tempest in his mind. Usopp resented himself for pushing the burden of choice onto his Captain, even if ultimately the result would be the same.

‘This is for Nami.’

He held onto that reminder. His temper cooled a bit, his feet no longer pounding abuse into the dirt. He’d gone over Nami’s situation countless times since his second round began. Regardless of his own selfish desire for cathartic retribution, Usopp knew that Luffy had done things right the first time.

Focusing back on Zoro’s ‘voice’, he couldn’t help drawing a connection.

In at least one sense, Arlong was Nami's Mihawk.

Someone she had to face in order to grow.

—————

‘They followed me. They actually followed me here.’

Such were Nami’s first thoughts when, upon returning from a visit to Belle-mére’s grave, she heard that a ‘long-nose brat’ had attacked Arlong in Cocoyashi. For just a split second, she didn’t know what to make of the realization that Usopp had been sincere.

Her second, third and fourth thoughts were identical–a single word, repeated with various levels of alarm and frustration.

‘Shit!’

Needless to say, the incident left Arlong angry. And people had died before for simply irritating him.

She lingered outside the circle of fishmen attempting to ease their captain’s volatile temper, lest the mansion’s architecture suffer for it. Her mind raced to formulate a plan to remove the idiots (well-intentioned idiots, though idiots nonetheless) from the island before her efforts were spoiled. All the while, she maintained a neutral poker face.

“Something on your mind?” Kuroobi asked, the question none-too-subtly laced with suspicion and accusation. “Something that maybe you haven’t told us?”

Nami bit back a curse. Apparently something had betrayed her nerves.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” she said briskly. “Although yes, I was thinking. You should try it some time, particularly since it seems there’s a strain of contagious stupidity going around.”

The ray fishman glared.

“Yes,” he said. “So it would seem. Speaking of, I noticed that our prisoner is no longer in holding.” He loomed over her. “Of course you’ll say you didn’t know anything about that either, won’t you?”

Nami affected both surprise and offense. She turned her head to find Hachi.

“Hachi,” she said, mildly exasperated. “Where exactly did you place the Gosa brat?”

“Nyu? Oh, in the storage room,” he replied. He hesitated a moment, then continued. “I figured it was just as good as the holding cell. Plus, Arlong-sama had that errand in Cocoyashi, so I thought we should keep the hold free for other prisoners.”

He smiled, if a bit wanly for whatever reason.

Internally, Nami laughed. She didn’t even need to frame the question or direct the conversation to serve her purpose. She almost felt bad for using him to deflect blame. Outwardly, she sighed.

“Is that the same room you keep your swords in?” She asked, voice flat as paper.

Hachi nodded, looking a little confused by the question. Beside her, Kuroobi pinched the bridge of his nose and scowled.

“Hachi…” He growled.

Understanding flitted across the octopus fishman’s face a second later. He sputtered, all six of his hands flailing. The accusation dealt with, Nami made her way to the gate.

“And now where are you going?” Kuroobi asked, persistent as ever.

Nami clicked her tongue.

“Being around Arlong right now is a health hazard,” she said, giving only a non-answer. “If I see either of today’s morons, I’ll handle it for you.”

Ignoring the way Kuroobi narrowed his eyes, Nami left. She had no intention of doing anything about the Gosa kid.

Usopp, though–she knew he was clever enough to evade capture if he wanted. And among Luffy’s band, she considered him the most sane. If she could just find him alone, she might be able to convince him to leave things be. He didn’t really deserve her ‘traitorous bitch’ persona. Not that any of them did, though Usopp might at least be reasonable, and definitely less pigheaded than Zoro or Luffy. She could give him just enough of the truth to understand her reasons for working with Arlong, and he could get the others off the island.

Then again, sane or not, Usopp had chosen to follow Luffy.

Nami groaned.

—————

Zoro cast a lazy eye around the tangerine grove. Usopp had found him shortly after the swordsman got fed up waiting on the ship. Which had been only a few minutes after the doctor finished with him.

(“You’re looking better.”

“Yeah, I guess. What’s with the hammer?”

“Errands got interrupted. Anyway, we better make a quick stop by the Merry.”

“I agreed to the doctor, and he looked me over. Now we”

“I’m just gonna check on Johnny. It won’t even take a minute, I promise, then we’ll start looking.”)

Grudgingly, Zoro had gone along. However reluctant he may have been to heed Usopp’s request again, the swordsman had to admit the marksman made good on his word.

He left the ship within thirty seconds of stepping on board.

(“Usopp-aniki!”

“Hey Johnny. You brought those three up on deck?”

“Ah, I, um, I wanted to make it easier to throw them overboard if they came to.”

“Fair enough.”

“Usopp-aniki, what’s with the ham”

THWAM!

“Okay, you can toss ‘em.”

“E-eh?!”

“Well if they weren’t concussed before, they definitely are now. They won’t drown, so just throw them overboard and take it easy for a bit. Later.”)

Zoro glanced at his crew mate. He briefly wondered where the hell he kept a two hundred pound hammer.

“What makes you think we’ll find anything here?” Zoro asked, a bit agitated they hadn’t gone straight for Arlong Park.

“Just a hunch, something I remember Nami saying,” Usopp answered. Before Zoro could press further, the sniper raised his voice and waved a hand over his head. “Excuse me!”

Zoro looked past the marksman. A young woman with blue hair and tattoos snaking up her right arm from her collarbone stood outside a small house at the grove’s end.

“Can I help you?” She asked evenly. Zoro found himself mildly impressed. The Going Merry, pirate flag and all, would be visible from her porch. She kept remarkably calm, considering she had to know that both of them had just come from there.

“I hope so,” Usopp said amiably. “We’re looking for a woman.”

“Well, you found one.”

Zoro raised an eyebrow at the woman’s snarky comment.

Usopp chuckled.

“I guess I should specify,” he said. “She’s got orange hair, short like yours. Her name’s Nami.”

Zoro, well-practiced at reading subtle cues in a fight, noticed how the woman’s posture changed, turning slightly guarded. Half-lidded eyes widened a fraction, and her feet shifted to face them fully.

“What led you here?” She asked.

“Well,” Usopp said slowly. “She was friendly with us, at least while I’ve been aboard. We only really know a couple things about her though–she loves money and tangerines.”

Zoro blinked. Nami’s love for money was no secret. He couldn’t remember the bit about tangerines, though. Maybe she just hadn’t shared that with him. He glanced around at the grove again. Usopp’s thinking made more sense, knowing that.

“She was friendly?”

The woman’s faintly defensive posture faded, and an odd smile broke out on her face.

“Our local witch woman told you that much?”

“Witch woman?” Zoro asked.

“Oh, don’t you know? She”

“If you don’t know where she is, that’s fine,” Usopp said, cutting her off. “If you see her, let her know that Usopp and Zoro came looking for her, please.”

With that, the sniper turned and made to leave. After a second, Zoro shrugged and followed.

“Zoro?” He heard her ask. “As in Pirate Hunter Zoro?”

“Never agreed to that title.” He said without looking back. On their way out, he caught a glimpse of a kid in a cap sprinting perpendicular to them, cutting through the trees. He didn’t notice either Straw Hat in his mad dash.

“Nojiko-san!” He yelled. “Nojiko-san, you won’t believe what I just saw!”

Zoro didn’t hear the rest.

—————

Kuroobi took stock as he walked into Nami’s room. Maps were stacked in piles nearly as tall as him, and dozens of others were hanging from lines of string, clipped and out to dry. He paid them no mind, save that he took care around them. The woman could draw them again, but Arlong would be livid were they damaged.

In any case, he hadn’t come for them.

He’d been suspicious of Nami ever since the girl first got her mark as one of theirs. He hadn’t thought much of it initially–humans were greedy, corrupt creatures, and even a girl who’d seen her mother killed, even a girl Arlong took exception to, could be bought.

No, Kuroobi’s suspicion came from her actions. Immediately after betraying her own village, the place where she’d been raised, she had turned around and made a deal with Arlong to buy it back from him. And Kuroobi could not fathom why.

Why work so hard to claim something that she’d turned her back on? It didn’t align with the love for money that Arlong had exploited to win her over.

The ray fishman scowled, placing one of the woman’s cartography books back into place. With another glance around, he closed in on her desk. Careful with the contents spread out, he paged through the drafts and sketches that littered its surface.

Finding nothing, he huffed and slammed the pages down in mild irritation.

Clunk.

He heard something rattle in response. Eyes narrowed, he tapped the desk again. Same result. Kneeling down, he placed his hand along its underside and inspected it by touch. His fingers caught on something, and he pulled, revealing a small compartment.

Finally assured he’d found something, he reached in and pulled out a single paper. He recognized the island immediately. A small X marked one particular location.

At last, he understood.

—————

“Holy shit.”

Nojiko couldn’t express her reaction any other way. She’d listened, indulgently, she thought, to Chabo’s account of avoiding fishmen and witnessing the impossible–one of Arlong’s officers actually losing. She had weighed the likely exaggeration, if not outright lie, against the stress the kid had already been through and chose not to admonish him.

She’d only come to Gosa afterward to make sure the brat didn’t get involved in anything else. She had never suspected she’d actually find four fishmen piled together, one further up the broken road exactly as Chabo described.

Even then, nothing could have prepared her adequately for how she found Chew, whose rank matched Nami’s for his strength next to her talent. The big-lipped fishman lay splayed out on the ground, skin dark with burns, head bleeding and his face swollen almost beyond recognition.

Nojiko stared, dazed. Her toes and her fingertips tingled with something she barely recognized, something she still didn’t dare to embrace, despite the evidence in front of her.

And yet…

“Am I dreaming?”

—————

Across the island, edging the outskirts of Cocoyashi, Nami’s thoughts came to a halt at the distant sound of something massive impacting the shoreline, accompanied by a rapidly fading yell of exhilaration.

As her neighbors ran to investigate, Nami bit her lip and frowned. She may not have heard the voice clearly enough to identify it, though only one person could possibly make an entrance like that.

“Luffy.”

Chapter Text

Careening through the air, clinging to one of Baratie’s loaned supply boats, Sanji found himself in a reflective mood.

He’d been on his way to meet up with the rest of his new crew mates. Lunch got interrupted by a modest sea monster of all things (Sanji maintained his assertion that it was a hippo, no matter how many times Luffy insisted ‘cow’.) There’d been a minor miscommunication–the hippo mistook Sanji for food.

The cook cleared things right up. With a swift application of his heel to the neck.

Following a peaceful meal, Sanji’s new captain got it into his head to hitch the boat up to the damn beast. Through some bizarre twist of luck, it actually worked.

On the plus side, they got going pretty shitty fast, and the island came into view hours ahead of schedule.

Conversely, Sanji may have kicked the shitty hippo a bit too hard. He veered off course at the last second and, apparently, forgot how to brake. The hippo, by way of crashing into the shoreline, eventually stopped.

The boat, and consequently its three occupants, did not. They went flying, and their tether to the hippo did not survive to ground them.

At least Luffy enjoyed himself. Yosaku looked decidedly less enthused. For his part, Sanji resigned himself to the loss of yet another supply boat, though at least he wouldn’t be held accountable for that anymore.

The flight ended as quickly as it started, though the ride didn’t end when the boat landed. Gravity simply handed them over to momentum for a while. They plowed through at least one crop field, smashed past several trees, then

“Oi, Zoro!”

“What the F”

Crash!

The denouement came as they collided with Luffy’s swordsman, evidently sturdier than all trees they’d passed.

“What the hell are you idiots doing?!”

Sanji ignored Zoro’s shouting. He glanced at Yosaku, sticking ass up out of the wreckage which had once been the borrowed boat.

“You alive?” Sanji asked.

“Damn, is my timing on point or what?” He heard Usopp murmur. He assumed he meant that he’d avoided the collision that Zoro had suffered.

“What do you mean, Zoro?” Luffy asked, patting dust off his vest and shorts. “We came to get you guys. Haven’t you found Nami yet?”

“The situation’s a bit more complicated than we thought, Captain.” Usopp said. Sanji, who remembered the odd chill he’d felt with just a stare from the sniper, eyed him warily. The cook wouldn’t admit it, but the kid had actually been frightening.

“Hey, you got a cook!”

Sanji tensed as Usopp clapped him across the back.

“Welcome aboard, Sanji!”

The blonde cook sighed. He glanced around. His new crew mates consisted of a moody tengu, an uncouth marimo, and a hyperactive battleship disguised as a rubber man.

‘Why did I sign onto this crew again?’

“You came to get who, Luffy?”

Sanji swooned at Nami’s glorious visage, the brown-eyed beauty regarding them from up the road.

“Mellorine~!”

—————

Nami adopted her persona with the form of someone who possessed years of practice. Arms crossed, weapon held in one hand, posture closed off, expression cold and detached to the point of exasperated boredom–an unrepentant, icy demeanor, the antithesis of the warm, easily familiar straw hatted boy across from her.

Putting on her ‘backstabber’ act hurt. Of course, necessity often did.

“What exactly are you doing here?” She asked, having gotten their attention.

“Whaddaya mean?” Luffy asked, righting his hat on his head. “We came to get you, Nami! You’re our nakama!”

She scoffed.

“How sad.”

“Nami-san~!” Sanji crooned, waving his arms. “Don’t you remember me? I’ve come for you~!”

“Be quiet, you lovesick mutt,” Zoro grunted. “Things are tedious enough. You’ll just make them more complicated.”

“So what?” Sanji shot back. “Love and passion improve any story!”

Nami ignored their bickering, turning to Usopp.

“You’ve only been here a few hours, and you’ve already made trouble,” she said, grip tight on her staff. “Word’s already spread about a long-nose stranger attacking Arlong. One of his officers is scouring the island for you right now.” She huffed. “You’re lucky he hasn’t found you yet.”

“Is that right?” Usopp asked with an odd little grin. He rubbed the back of his head. “Heh, yeah, I guess I must be lucky.”

Nami narrowed her eyes at him. Did he think she was kidding?

“Do you not understand the consequences here?” She asked, pressing a little harder with her tone. “You may be strong, but you can’t match up against a real monster. Arlong won’t just sit idly after an attack on his person.”

“Hey,” Luffy said, turning to the sniper. “Usopp, was there a fight? Why’d you attack that guy?”

“‘Errands got interrupted’ he said.” Zoro grumbled, scowling at the marksman.

“He was going to kill Genzo-san,” Usopp said, defending himself. “He helped us get a doctor for Zoro. What was I supposed to do?”

Nami could, begrudgingly, be thankful for that.

“Huh?” Luffy said, tilting his head in confusion. “Doctor? Why did Zoro need a doctor? Is he sick?”

“… You’re joking, right?” Sanji asked. The cook broke off his doe-eyed gaze at Nami to level an incredulous look at Luffy.

Nami clenched her jaw. None of them were taking the situation seriously. She had to get them to leave, before they clashed with Arlong’s crew.

She resented them for forcing her hand.

‘I’m so close to being free,’ she lamented. ‘Just a little longer, and I could have even greeted them happily.’

She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the what-ifs.

“Whatever,” she said, raising her voice and taking on a dismissive tone. “I told you when we met that our partnership was a means to an end. I’ve gotten what I needed from you, so our association is done! Arlong will kill you if you stay, so take your ship, find a new navigator and chase your foolish dreams!”

“Why?”

Nami almost broke character. Luffy’s simple, earnest personality had that infuriating effect on her.

“Why would we leave? You’re our navigator, Nami.”

He spoke matter-of-factly, as though he couldn’t be disputed.

“Nami,” Usopp said. “If something’s keeping you here, why not let us help?”

All of them, with their damn kindness–spitting in the face of all she’d known about pirates.

“It’s got something to do with the fishmen, doesn’t it?” Zoro asked in his unique way, where a question was not a question.

Intuitive when she wanted them to just keep being idiots and take what she said at face value.

“I’ll admit I don’t understand the situation,” Sanji said. For once, his voice held no extra lilt or flirtation. “But I’d gladly stake my life in a duel for a lady’s sake.”

They didn’t even know her.

Steeling her resolve, Nami let out a put-upon sigh.

“I. Am. Not. Your nakama.” She said slowly, each word deliberate. “Goodbye.”

Luffy stared at her for a moment, his face blank.

Without warning, he fell backward to the dirt.

“Luffy?” Zoro prompted, a little surprised.

“G’night.”

Nami went stiff. The bounty hunter pair, who she honestly hadn’t noticed before, threw themselves into the air, yelling.

“What? ‘Good night’? Here? Now?!”

“The fishmen don’t scare me,” Luffy said. He laced his arms behind his head. “I don’t feel like leaving, so I’m gonna get a bit of shuteye now.”

“Fine!” Nami screamed. She hit her limit. She didn’t know how to be any clearer, and her patience had run dry. Nothing could get through his thick rubber skull. “Die if you want!”

She pivoted on her heel and stormed off.

—————

Arlong leapt out of the courtyard pool back onto dry land. He stretched as he stood at his full height, letting the ocean water run down his skin.

“As expected of Arlong-sama!”

The fishman captain grinned. He’d been angry, prowling the courtyard since the upstart human attacked him in Cocoyashi. Chew still hadn’t returned, and Arlong had no way of venting his fury.

Until a strange marine vessel entered his waters. One that wasn’t in on a cut of his monthly tributes. Under normal circumstances, he’d offer the marine captain a parlay and unmolested passage, for the right price. He had not felt quite so charitable to a breach of his territory at the time.

Personally taking apart the marine ship and leaving its crew to sink or swim had been incredibly cathartic. The natural order of the world had been reasserted, with fishmen over humans. Thus, until Chew got back, the sawtooth shark would have been satisfied making preparations for the feast that evening.

“Arlong-sama.”

As he lounged on his throne, though, Kuroobi called his attention to something.

“I’ve found something that explains the woman’s bid to buy Cocoyashi.”

Arlong inclined his head with a low hum. He’d known of his officer’s suspicions about Nami. The shark himself didn’t share Kuroobi’s qualms- he had no reason to fear betrayal or any backstabbing from the mapmaker. He owned the village she held dear, after all, along with the lives of everyone in it.

“A treasure map,” Kuroobi said, indicating on one of Nami’s charts. “It marks a spot in the village.”

Had Arlong still been seething as he had an hour prior, he might have dealt with the situation himself.

He smiled.

“Send out a call to Captain Nezumi of Marine Base 16.”

—————

Nojiko watched Nami sleep across from her at the table. Her sister pillowed her head on one arm, and Nojiko had given her a blanket after she dozed off.

She idly peeled a tangerine, thoughts occupied as she wondered what to do.

After seeing the scene in Gosa, she’d wandered back to the house. The initial shock had worn off, though the impact of what she’d seen hadn’t diminished much, if at all. Calling to mind Chew’s battered form still gave her a chill. She didn’t have any sympathy for the fishman officer, yet she couldn’t figure out what the consequences would be.

More than that, she didn’t quite know how to react.

She went back over what Chabo told her. Usopp–the young man who’d come with Roronoa Zoro looking for her sister, and a pirate of all things–had beaten Chew easily, the boy had said. Nojiko hadn’t noticed any injuries on his person during their brief exchange, either.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Nami’s return to the house. Her sister made her presence known by smashing one of the window panes and generally tossing around furniture.

(“… I’m just resting.”

“Did the definition of ‘rest’ change to mean ‘tantrum’ recently?”)

Honestly, Nojiko had been glad Nami came to the house. On the list of people to consult, she ranked first. Before all else, Nojiko was an older sister, though. Nami believed she had no one else to talk to, since she thought the villagers still hadn’t forgiven her for her ‘betrayal’ after Belle-mére’s death.

(“A couple guys came here looking for you earlier.”

“…?”

“Is this about them?”)

Nojiko prompted her gently, and before long Nami spilled it all out. She still didn’t name her obvious internal conflict, not that Nojiko expected any different. She understood pretty well regardless.

“Nakama, huh?”

Nami loathed that word. Arlong called her his ‘nakama’, and Nami only had him for reference. Nojiko didn’t blame her for feeling confused by these apparently genuine, kind people who did the same.

“What to do?” Nojiko murmured.

Ultimately, she didn’t share the news of Chew’s defeat with Nami. Her little sister had been stressed enough, and Nojiko wasn’t sure it would have changed her desire for ‘those idiots’ to leave. Were circumstances different, Nojiko would have backed her up in a second to make that happen.

“What to do?” She asked again.

Except she found herself in turmoil. The older sister in her–the one who gave Nami all the support she could–tangled with another aspect of that same older sister. That aspect spoke with a small voice, one that coincided with a woman who, perhaps selfishly, also wanted to be free, and asked

‘Hasn’t she done enough?’

Nojiko stood from the table, irritated by the indecision. She quickly rinsed off her hands and left the house, still uncertain of her choice.

—————

“So,” Sanji drawled. “Is this normal?”

Usopp glanced the cook’s way. Sanji held a hand out in gesture toward Luffy, still sprawled out in the road. The sniper sat under a tree beside the chef, while Zoro lounged nearby in the grass.

“Which part?” Usopp asked. “Doing what he wants, the stubbornness, or the baseless confidence?”

“Any of it,” Sanji said. “All of it.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty typical,” Usopp replied. “Why? You having second thoughts?”

“Eh,” Sanji said with a crooked smile. “He sure as shit isn’t boring.”

Usopp let out a bark of laughter. Even Zoro smirked.

“YOU’RE TOO LAX!” Yosaku shouted.

“Usopp-aniki and Zoro-aniki are strong,” Johnny conceded. Usopp wasn’t quite sure when the other bounty hunter showed up–maybe he’d heard Luffy’s arrival? “And Luffy-aniki’s formidable, but Arlong is in a different class! He’s a real Grand Line pirate, not a pretender like Krieg!”

“Meh.” Usopp shrugged.

Sanji blew out a slow stream of smoke.

Zoro yawned.

“How can you all be so calm?!” The bounty hunters demanded in unison.

Simultaneously, the three Straw Hats lazily pointed at their dozing captain. Luffy snored.

“If you don’t wanna be here, nothing’s keeping you,” Zoro said, blunt though not judgmental. “This is our business.”

Despite all their obvious reservations, the two swordsmen waffled about actually leaving.

“Hey.”

Usopp looked up as conversation stalled. Nojiko, a bit short of breath, glanced between them all before settling her gaze on him.

“Ah, young maiden,” Sanji snapped to his feet in a second, already fawning over her. “Might you allow me your name?”

“Oh,” she said, too focused to be put off by the obvious flirt. “I’m Nojiko, Nami’s step sister.”

“Oh, yes, naturally. No wonder you’re gorgeous.”

“Did something happen?” Usopp asked, standing. Zoro watched from his spot on the ground. The sniper noted, a bit smugly, that Luffy had stopped snoring.

He’d suspected his captain hadn’t really fallen into a deep sleep.

“You’re Usopp,” she said, staring at him. “Are you the one who beat Chew?”

“Oh,” he said, a bit sheepishly. “You saw that?”

“The aftermath, at least,” she replied, her gaze somewhat disbelieving. “I got a pretty vivid account of the fight, though.”

“Errands my ass,” Zoro grumbled. The swordsman rose. He held his scabbard as though to jab Usopp’s head with it. “Ran off to have fun while I got my damn stitches redone.”

“What?” Luffy asked, sitting upright. He blinked a couple times. “Usopp did what now?”

“I wasn’t playing,” Usopp said sharply, his glower more than a match for Zoro’s. “He threatened nakama. I couldn’t let that stand.”

A beat passed. Zoro huffed, backing off.

“Could’ve explained the circumstances.”

“Oh,” Luffy said, nodding. “I see.”

“Can’t argue you there.” Sanji agreed.

“No wonder she didn’t know what to make of you.” Nojiko muttered, looking between the four of them.

“Hm?” Usopp asked.

“Never mind,” she said, shaking her head a little. “Look, my sister has her reasons for staying here. I know you all came here for her.”

“I’d be happy with you~!” Sanji said.

“Not now.” Usopp admonished, laying a hand on the cook’s shoulder, keeping him grounded.

Nojiko bit her lip, looking indecisive a moment before she took a deep breath.

“If I asked, though,” she said, pausing to lick her lips. “Could you all actually fight them–the fishmen?”

Usopp blinked. Twice. In all the hypotheticals he’d concocted in his head, being outright asked by one of the residents of Cocoyashi, let alone Nami’s sister, hadn’t crossed his mind.

Nojiko looked just a mite hopeful, and somewhat conflicted over asking at all.

Usopp nodded, since none of his crew mates jumped at the chance to answer.

Nojiko’s eyes sparked and she took a step forward, smiling a little.

“Will you?”

Sanji spun right out of Usopp’s grip with a giddy grin.

“For you, anything!”

“No.” Usopp said flatly.

The sniper ducked under a roundhouse kick that, even without Haki, was entirely predictable.

“How dare you refuse such a lovely lady’s request?!” Sanji shouted.

“Does your brain function normally?!” Zoro yelled back.

“Why not?” Nojiko asked, frowning. “You could win, couldn’t you?”

Usopp shrugged.

“If I can do that to one of Arlong’s officers, then yeah, we could win,” he said. The sniper missed the odd look Sanji gave him, and the way Zoro narrowed his eyes. “That’s not the point, though. It’s not that we won’t fight”

“Right now, we wouldn’t be helping her if we did.” Luffy said matter-of-factly.

Usopp smiled. Even without context that others would deem necessary, Luffy had a special talent for cutting to the root of any issue. Sanji cooled down, tracking their captain’s thinking, though he didn’t look entirely pleased. Zoro lowered his scabbard.

The sniper elaborated for Nojiko, who wore a face of bemusement.

“Whether or not we know all the details,” he said, careful with his phrasing to skirt around the truth again. “Nami’s clearly fighting a battle she considers entirely her own.” He looked Nojiko square in the eye. “She’s your sister–you tell me, would she resent us for getting involved against her wishes?”

In all honesty, it killed Usopp to wait, knowing that each second Nami served Arlong hurt her. He would’ve loved to storm the gates and tear apart the monsters who haunted her nightmares, who made her slave away, slowly murdering her dream.

If they did that, though, they’d be little better than a parent dismissing creatures under the mattress, robbing her of the agency to seek help herself. Usopp knew intimately the dangers of resentment and self-loathing. He’d nearly cut his ties with his nakama irreparably, all because his feelings of inadequacy next to his prodigious crew mates went left unchecked.

“I’m leaving this crew!”

Usopp shivered. He would’ve done all he could, of course, to banish such feelings from Nami’s mind, but just imagining the potential consequences of her going through anything like he did terrified him. Her resentment wouldn’t manifest quite the same way, though if she ever tried to tackle too much on her own, if she didn’t trust them implicitly…

He couldn’t risk that. It’d be the same as condemning Nami to death himself.

Nojiko looked between them slowly. She sighed with a small, gracious smile.

“You know her well,” she said quietly. “You really are her friends, aren’t you?”

“She’s nakama.” Usopp said plainly.

“All right,” she said, hands on her hips. “If you’re sticking around anyway, at least let me explain things to you. I doubt she’s going to offer up her history.”

“Nah,” Luffy said, standing up. “I don’t care about her past. I’ll take a walk instead.”

In contrast to his ‘first round’, Nojiko wasn’t all that surprised or put off by Luffy’s refusal to hear Nami’s history from someone else. The sniper himself plopped down on the ground beside Zoro, who lounged again, swiftly dozing.

He’d heard it all before–a young girl witnessed her adoptive mother’s murder, all because she could only afford ‘tribute’ for her two daughters and not herself. For eight years after that, the same girl sold her talent in cartography to her mother’s killers, and made a deal to buy back the village where she’d been raised, at the price of one hundred million beri.

Regardless, listening a second time was the least he could do.

—————

Nami smiled wanly at the map on the table. A brief nap had helped her cool off after dealing with the rubber idiot’s stupid (lovable) crew.

She lay down the first map she’d drawn for Belle-mére’s inspection all those years ago, little more than a rough sketch by her current standards. She stood and stretched, taking in the sky as she walked out of the house.

She would cast off one more time, and when she got back…

“One more,” she whispered, scarcely believing that the end was in sight. “Just one last job!”

The sound of several heavy footsteps caught her attention. Genzo approached the house, leading a group of marines. Their captain, a man with whiskers like a rat and a face like a weasel, smiled at her and stepped forward.

“I take it,” he said. “You’re Nami, the infamous thief?”

Nami retained her cool, unflappable persona. They’d set foot on Arlong’s turf, after all.

“I didn’t know I’d achieved infamy.”

She had nothing to worry about.

Except then, Nezumi (so named was the bastard rat) ordered his men to search the house and take apart her property.

They’d come after her treasure. ‘Requisition’, he called it, he actually had the nerve. All the loot she’d taken off pirates over the years, with nothing but her own sweat and blood. The money she needed to save her village.

“Back off!” She yelled. She clocked one soldier who made the mistake of stepping into her range. She sent another to the ground with a blow to his back.

On instinct, she’d pulled out her Climatact instead of her staff. Knowing its capabilities, she felt more comfortable with it in hand.

“Hyik hyik hyik!”

The bastard rat just laughed, and his men kept searching.

“You can’t!” She protested, grasping for any argument she could make.

“That girl is going to save Cocoyashi village with that money! You keep your hands off it, you corrupt rodent!”

Genzo–he knew. The whole village had known the whole time. They had only pretended–acted like her betrayal still stung, like they didn’t know her reasons.

They didn’t want to pressure her with their hope.

Nami felt dizzy.

One of the rat’s men dared to enter Belle-mére’s tangerine grove.

“Do not,” Nami screamed, with a hard strike to the windpipe. “Put your filthy hands on her tangerines!”

“Is this what’s become of the Marines?!”

Nojiko, appearing like the vengeful older sister she was, fixed Nezumi with a glower fit for a Sea King.

“You’re a thrice-damned disgrace! Our mother would be sick at you, going after a thief when a tyrannical pirate has our entire island in a chokehold! If you don’t want to die, get the hell out of here!”

“Hyik hyik hyik! Who’s going to stop me? Arlong? Unlikely.”

Nami froze.

‘No…’

“What’s the hold up? It’s one hundred million beri! It can’t possibly be hard to find!”

Her blood ran cold.

“He sent you.” She murmured. The realization chilled her, and fury soon followed, smoldering behind her breast.

Nami’s world spun. Nojiko and Genzo cussed out Nezumi. The rat ordered his men to open fire on them. Six cocked their rifles.

Nami clutched her weapon, the hours she’d spent practicing flashing through her mind. She changed the configuration, one piece crosswise to the ‘cool ball’ section, took aim, and threw.

Cyclone Tempo!

Both components released their respective air bubbles–one hot, one cool–as they spun, resulting in an explosive wind. The two perpendicular pieces struck every soldier across the face and knocked them off their feet.

Nezumi choked, no longer laughing.

“Wha”

“Get.” Nami ground out through clenched teeth. She punctuated each word with a hard blow of her Climatact to Nezumi’s legs, hands and face. “Off. Of. My. PROPERTY!”

The weasel, sufficiently cowed, scrambled to his feet and fled. With a venomous glower from Nami, his men soon followed.

The cartographer slumped, still brittle with sudden, suffocating rage.

“Nami,” Nojiko said, sidling close to her. “Are you all right?”

“He was never going to honor his word,” Genzo spat bitterly. “They’ll just come back when it’s unguarded.”

‘Arlong!’

Nami broke into a dead sprint, deaf to either of them calling for her. She beat her abuse into the dirt path until she reached Arlong Park.

“You want me to free your village? Well, all right! I’ll make you a deal. Bring me one hundred million beri, and I’ll set your village and all the villagers free. No matter how long it takes, I’ll keep my promise!”

“Arlong!” She roared, advancing on the fishman captain’s throne.

“Hm? My precious cartographer, what has you so upset?”

He was mocking her.

She grabbed his tropical shirt, fisting the material and yanking at his bulky frame. He barely leaned forward.

“You lied to me! You swore you’d sooner die than go back on your word!”

“Lied? Now when did I do that?”

“Don’t bullshit me!” She yelled. “You”

Arlong clapped a huge, webbed hand over her mouth, smiling at her maliciously.

“Tell me,” he said. “How and when exactly did I break my promise?”

Nami’s eyes burned. He called it ‘unfortunate’, what had happened to her. His crew laughed.

She tore herself away, swiping at her face. She ran desperately for Cocoyashi.

‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Don’t throw your lives away!’

“We endured because we knew Nami was fighting for our sake! But if this is all that comes of it, I’m not gonna spend my life under that monster’s rule, afraid for the lives of my neighbors and friends!” Genzo shouted, sword in hand. “Not for one more second!”

Her neighbors had riled themselves up into a mob. They planned to storm Arlong Park.

A suicide mission.

“Everyone, wait!”

Nami cried out, panting. She forced herself to stand straight. She put on her best, most assuring façade.

“It’s not hopeless,” she said, trying to change her harried breathing into wry laughter. “I can figure out a way to keep the money safe! I’m only one job short! Just wait a little longer and”

“Nami.”

Genzo hugged her. He held her head against his shoulder.

She saw the others, watching her with sadness, and gratitude, and forgiveness. She saw everything she thought she’d been denied for eight years.

“You’ve been through enough,” Genzo said softly into her ear. “We can’t sit idly and watch you suffer any more. The best thing you can do now is leave. Set sail, Nami, and escape this place. You’ve got dreams to fulfill.”

“No!”

Nami pushed out of his gentle grasp, hoisting a dagger between her and the villagers.

“You can’t beat them,” she said. “You’ll be killed!”

Genzo stepped forward. He took the dagger into his hand by the blade. Even as it cut into his palm and fingers, his face maintained a resigned determination.

“We know.”

Nami shivered. She didn’t know what else to do.

“Now stand aside, Nami!”

They left her, alone in the middle of the road. The knife fell to the ground, forgotten.

Nami stared, gaze horrified and vacant.

How did it all fall apart?

She’d been so close–to saving the village, saving her neighbors–how?

Only minutes prior she’d been preparing for the last con. She could’ve been free.

Why?

Instead, everyone she loved left, marching off to die.

Eight years… for nothing.

Nami dropped to her knees.

‘Shahahahaha!’

His laughter echoed in her mind–permeating, grating, infesting her mind. She clenched her jaw, her breathing drew short, hissing through her teeth. She craned her neck, clutching at his mark on her left shoulder. She clawed at it, nails digging into her skin.

“Arlong…!” She growled.

With an angry, wet, frenzied gasp, she snatched up the dagger.

“Arlong!”

She stabbed into the hated mark.

Shik.

“Arlong!”

She plunged the knife in again.

Shik.

“Arlong!”

And again.

Shik.

“ARLONG!”

She cursed his name, his stranglehold on her, his very existence.

Shik.

“AR–!”

Whap.

Nami took a moment before she even realized someone had caught her wrist. She peeked over her uninjured shoulder, sniffling.

Her gaze met a blank expression shadowed by a straw hat.

“Luffy…” She whispered.

She surrendered her grasp on the knife. Luffy’s grip slackened and released her. She hung her head.

“What do you want?”

‘Why are you still here?’

“You don’t know anything about what’s been happening here for the past eight years.”

‘Why do you care so much?’

“Nope,” he conceded, in a tone as blank as his face. “I don’t know anything.”

“I told you to leave, didn’t I?!”

She dug her fingers into the dirt.

“Yeah,” he said. “You did.”

She screamed at him.

“Go away!”

She flung dust back at him.

“Go on, leave!”

‘Please.’

“Go away!”

‘I don’t want you anywhere near him!’

“Go away!”

‘Get as far away from here as you can!’

“Go away…”

‘Please, let something go right!’

“Go away!”

Her voice cracked, and she shuddered.

‘Anything…’

“Go… away.”

The dam broke. Nami pressed a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the sobs that wracked her chest. Each breath came in short, hissing stutters. She cried, and for the first time in eight years, someone witnessed her tears.

“Luffy,” she said on a damp exhale. She looked back up at the boy’s expression, set in stone. “Help me.”

He didn’t say a word. She couldn’t see his eyes under the brim of his hat.

Slowly, he reached up and palmed his precious treasure. He lifted it off his head.

A gentle, reassuring weight settled on her head, and straw filled her vision. She blinked reflexively, tilting her head back to look up.

Luffy paced back up the road. He stopped, threw his arms out, and drew in a deep breath.

“DAMN RIGHT!”

His declaration resounded across the coast. Nami’s lip trembled. She pinched his straw hat between her fingers.

“Luffy…”

He set off again in earnest. She noticed three other figures in the road. One sat cross legged on the ground, arms folded, head bowed. Another held a white sheath against his shoulder, seated on a round bench. And one in a black suit stood smoking a cigarette between them.

“We’re going.” Luffy announced shortly.

As one, a pair of goggles snapped into place, a sword shifted in its scabbard, and a cigarette smoldered.

“Roger.”

—————

“Why are you in the way, Nojiko?!”

Nojiko met Genzo’s glare evenly. She blocked the gate to Arlong Park to the best of her ability, given her fairly small stature. On either side of her, one of the two other swordsmen she’d seen with Luffy’s crew stood, weapons out. They hadn’t said anything, and seemed reluctant to meet her eyes, though she was grateful to them nonetheless.

“Listen,” she said, projecting her voice. “I know exactly what you’re all feeling. I’m just as angry as you are.”

“Then let us through!”

“There’s no reason to throw away your lives, though!” Nojiko pressed on, refusing to be cowed.

“We all know we can’t win,” Genzo shot back. “But what would you have us do? Continue living in misery and fear?”

“No,” she retorted. “I’m asking you, all of you, to make one last gamble with me.”

Genzo scoffed.

“With what? What’s left for us to stake?!”

Nojiko didn’t answer right away. She’d watched Genzo leave the house in a rage. She’d run off like her sister, with much the same goal in mind.

She made an appeal to the Straw Hats to take action.

(“Did Nami ask for us?”

“You know how she is! She’s already doing everything she can! She doesn’t have anything left except you!”

“She has a choice.”

“Why?! What kind of choice is this?!”

“Hers.”

“But”

“Nami’s strong enough to fight battles herself. She needs to be brave enough to trust us to fight with her.”

“…”

“Just leave your sister to Luffy. He’ll get through to her. It’s a talent of his. Besides, someone’s going to have to stop your neighbors.”)

“Oi.”

A voice cut through the mob’s angry buzzing, and a curious quiet settled over the crowd. Something in the tone commanded attention, and they all turned to look down the road.

“Move.”

Four men walked in formation toward the gate beyond the mob. They marched, every pace deliberate and made with clear intent and purpose. Though they were young men, none of the villagers could deny the fierce visage they cut. Whether consciously or not, the crowd parted.

Nojiko smiled, relieved.

“Nami’s crew.”

—————

“Aniki.”

Usopp glanced sidelong at Johnny and Yosaku. The two bounty hunters approached Zoro from their post at the gate.

“This is not our fight,” Johnny said. “We were moved by Nami-aneki’s story.”

“But against Arlong, there’s not much we can do,” Yosaku said. “Please let us show our support this way.”

They each held out their blades to Zoro, hilt-first. The santoryuu practitioner nodded, and accepted the offering.

“Thanks.”

Ahead of them, Nojiko stepped aside. Usopp stood with his two crew mates as Luffy continued toward the stone gate.

BAM!

One fist-shaped crater bore into the stone.

WHAM!

A twin joined the first.

Luffy reared his arm back and snapped it forward.

The stone gate went flying over the courtyard in pieces.

Hot damn Usopp’s captain was awesome.

“What the hell?”

Luffy, fist clenched, stood at his full height, gaze piercing.

“Which one is Arlong?”

Said fishman remained in his reclined throne, though he’d sat up a bit at the commotion.

“That’d be me.”

“I’m Luffy.”

Usopp’s captain plodded into the stronghold, outwardly calm and unruffled.

“That a fact?” Arlong snarked. “And Luffy is…?”

“A pirate.”

Two unlucky bastards made the grave mistake of obstructing Luffy’s warpath.

“Outta my way.”

Crack!

They didn’t stay there for long.

Arlong sat up a little straighter, actively frowning.

“And,” he said, showing his teeth. “What business brings you here, pirate?”

In lieu of an answer, Luffy shot forward and smashed his fist into Arlong’s face. The shark fishman, nearly twice Luffy’s size, went tumbling and crashed into the opposite wall of the courtyard.

“You,” Luffy growled. “Made our navigator cry!”

Usopp stepped into Luffy’s wake with Sanji and Zoro. The cronies let out a battle cry and made to charge.

“WAIT.”

Arlong’s voice made them freeze.

Usopp noticed a strong, malicious pressure aimed his way. He looked to find the shark’s almost feral eye boring into him.

“You,” Arlong said, tone low and filled with menace. “I sent Chew after you. Gone this long, you should be a corpse. Where”

“Oh, that lips guy?” Usopp asked idly. “I set him on fire and smashed him through a building.” The sniper tapped a finger on his chin. “I’d wager the fire’s gone out by now, not that I was in the mood to check at the time.”

A weighted silence followed for a solid three seconds.

“What?” Usopp asked.

“You’re scary when you wanna be.” Zoro said. His expression didn’t match up with his words at all. He grinned, and if anything, looked approving.

“I really don’t wanna hear that from you.” Usopp retorted.

“Nyu!” Hachi cried, putting his hand around his elongated lips. “You’ll pay for attacking us, damn humans! Moomoo!”

He belted out a sound like a trumpet from his mouth.

Usopp glanced at Luffy. His captain steamed with fury. He needed a way to keep Luffy from sticking himself in concrete and getting tossed into the ocean this round.

‘Aha!’

Struck by a stroke of inspiration, Usopp adopted a curious, intrigued expression. He rubbed his chin, eyeing the swell of water in the pool.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “There was a lot of damage in Gosa village that looked like a sea monster’s work.”

The water surface erupted, and gave way to a huge sea cow that towered almost as high as Arlong’s mansion.

“Hey, Zoro,” Usopp said, tapping the swordsman’s shoulder. “What say we make this a little contest? We’ll compare who had the most takedowns once we ship off again.”

Zoro’s ever-present scowl softened in thought, and he gave the sniper a crooked grin.

“I’m game.”

“Do you morons have any sense of atmosphere?” Sanji asked.

In the background, Hachi gave a confused ‘Nyu?’ at the throbbing lump on Moomoo’s head. The sea cow shivered once he caught sight of Luffy, who looked entirely unimpressed.

“I guess that means we won’t include you.” Usopp said, sighing sadly.

“I get it,” Zoro said calmly. “You don’t think you can keep up with us. That’s fine. It’s good to know your limits.”

“The hell did you just say to me?” Sanji shot back, upper lip curling in a snarl.

Moomoo sank back into the pool, seeking retreat from Luffy. Arlong’s voice froze the modest sea monster, and with the fear of Kami in him, Moomoo turned back with a roar to attack.

“All right,” Usopp said cheerily, even as the small fry pirates rushed to coordinate with their pet monster’s attack. “I’ll kick things off!”

The sniper pulled out his slingshot.

“Hey!” His crew mates protested. Luffy, oblivious to Usopp’s plan, blew steam out his nostrils and pounded his fists together.

Certain Kill: Habanero Pepper Star!

Usopp fired, effectively distracting Luffy from his hare-brained scheme. The ballistic spice, shot in triplicate for maximum potency, flew into Moomoo’s mouth. The sea cow’s body seized, and he wept. A pillar of fire blasted out of his maw, dangerously close to the mansion.

Sanji dashed forward, kicking off the concrete to launch himself into the air. Zoro matched the cook’s stride, his katana in his mouth and a borrowed blade in each hand.

Collier-

Tora-

Moomoo’s tongue lolled out of his mouth as a devastating heel-kick struck his neck. On his stomach, dual, deep lacerations sliced open.

Shoot!

Gari!

Cut, beaten and abused, the sea cow heaved a loud groan, then fell backwards. He crashed down onto the archways leading into the pool from the channel and lay floating among the resulting debris.

“Che,” Sanji huffed, taking a drag off his cigarette. “That’s one for each of us.”

“You can’t share takedowns,” Zoro said slowly, as though speaking to a child. “Otherwise it’d be the same as ending the contest at zero for everyone.”

“Huh?” Sanji asked testily, encroaching into Zoro’s space. “What kind of math does that addled brain of yours use, marimo?”

“Being tied is the same as having a score of zero,” Zoro said simply. “Dumbass. You can take credit for that cow if you want–you probably need a handicap.”

Usopp snickered. His plan worked better than he’d expected. He remembered, of course, the dysfunctional, almost grossly competitive relationship his two nakama had shared. He couldn’t have been certain it would manifest quite the same way, or quite as early.

‘Lucky~!’

He decided to throw one more comment to stoke the fire before they got down to business.

“Technically, you’re both behind me,” Usopp said. “I took down one of their officers and five of their small fish.”

“What?!”

The cronies, evidently over the shock of seeing their hidden weapon so readily dispatched, resumed their charge.

“Dirty humans!”

Thwack!

Slash!

Bonk!

A sword, a leg and a boomerang returned to rest, leaving a slew of unconscious pirates behind.

—————

“Luffy.”

Zoro traded a significant glance with his captain as he cut down another insignificant guppy. The rubber man understood.

“Okay!” Luffy said. He rushed forward without a care for the crowd lunging at him. “I’ll let you guys handle this!”

“Nyu!”

An octopus fishman with spiny coral-looking hair brandished a sword in each of his six hands. He jumped into Luffy’s path toward Arlong.

“I’ll chop you to pieces!”

Clang.

Zoro caught two of the six with each of his three swords.

“Sorry,” he said, grinning around Wado. “You guys aren’t setting the terms around here anymore.”

Zoro flexed, and pushed the octopus back. Luffy plowed ahead, his arm stretching backward.

Gomu Gomu no-

“We are!”

Bullet!

—————

“You!”

Sanji curb-stomped another one of the loudmouth shrimps and looked around. A bulky ray fishman, clad in some kind of martial arts gi, had set his sights on Usopp. The sniper was occupied, firing off shots in a blur of motion, swapping out his slingshot with his boomerang, and

‘Where the shitty hell does he keep that hammer?’

“How dare you raise your hand against Chew,” the kung-fu ray raised a fist. Like most of his comrades, he stood several feet taller than any of Luffy’s crew. “I’ll send you to Davy Jones personally!”

Wham!

Sanji’s flying kick met one of the fins that adorned the ray fishman’s forearms.

“Kuroobi!”

“I apologize for my friend,” Sanji said dryly. He tapped the hot ash off his cigarette and sized up his opponent. Compared to the small fry, he’d at least be somewhat entertaining. “He made the rookie mistake of letting the fish sit in the fryer for too long.”

Sanji scuffed the concrete with the toe of his shoe.

“Don’t you worry,” he said, smirking. “I’m a professional chef. I know how to prepare and serve up some shitty good seafood.”

—————

Usopp paused at a break in the action, taking stock of the battle. Sanji had Kuroobi handled. Neither of them looked to have an obvious advantage yet, though Sanji should come out ahead, barring any distractions–

“Usopp!”

… Like, hypothetically, a certain cartographer arriving to watch the fight with some unfortunate timing.

“Nami-san~!”

Pow!

Usopp winced as the cook went sailing into one of the pillars supporting the mansion’s canopy.

‘Eh,’ he thought. ‘We’ll work on that.’

“Usopp!” Nami cried again.

“Hm?”

“Die, long-nose brat!”

‘Oh.’

Before Usopp could follow through with dispatching the lunging fishman, Nami charged into the fray, Climatact in hand. The navigator cracked the sky blue staff across the fishman’s face, pivoted and drove it into his gut, then twisted one component into a cross configuration.

Cyclone Tempo!

CRANG!

The eruptive blow of a metallic boomerang to the head, at short range no less, sent Usopp’s would-be assailant tumbling backward. He flipped ass over teakettle before he flopped face down on the concrete.

Nami stood at his back, panting, her injured arm shaking a little. A glance toward her neighbors revealed several dozen slack jaws and incredulous faces. Nojiko looked torn between disbelief and belting out a slightly vindictive cheer.

“Thanks, Nami!” Usopp said. He gave her a thumbs up.

The cartographer looked more than a little surprised at her actions, too, though she returned a shaky smile. She bit down a hiss at a shift in her shoulder.

“Hey, easy,” Usopp said. “We’ve got this. Let’s”

“Nami, you backstabbing–!”

“Sit.”

Usopp swatted another angry small fry pirate into the ground with his hammer. He touched Nami’s uninjured shoulder and gestured toward the destroyed gate.

“We can take things from here.”

“Sanji-kun”

“Don’t worry about him,” he said, ignoring the way people gaped at them for essentially strolling off the battlefield. “He’s gonna bounce back ri~ght about…”

“You call that punch karate?” Sanji asked. He blew out a smoke ring as he tossed off his jacket. Even with blood caking his bangs, his eyes remained strong and unruffled. “The shitty geezer who raised me kicked me harder than that when I was nine.”

Usopp chortled.

“Now.”

Across the way, Zoro fared better than the ‘first round’, too. Neither had Luffy to worry about, and the swordsman had gotten proper treatment beforehand. Usopp caught him breathing a little harder, though nothing crippling or dangerous.

The sniper propped himself against the wall. Only the major players remained.

—————

“I knew that woman was a conniving little wench.”

Sanji loosened his tie.

“Oi,” he said in a warning tone, glaring. “Watch your mouth. I hate wasting ingredients, but I’ll make an exception on Nami-san’s behalf.”

Kuroobi laughed mirthlessly.

“You underestimate the gap in our strength,” he said. “Chivalry in a pirate? Ridiculous! It won’t help you save anything.”

Sanji took a long, slow drag of his cigarette. Kuroobi adopted an offensive stance and advanced.

“You can’t save yourself, your crew, the villagers, or that traitorous little b”

Fwoo.

Sanji spat his cigarette at the fishman’s face. Kuroobi’s eyes naturally tracked it and he wove his head to the side.

The next instant, Sanji ruthlessly exploited that brief opening.

Collier!

Neck: Windpipe collapsed.

Épaule!

Shoulder: Dislocated, bruised.

Côtelette!

Ribs: Cracked.

Selle!

Lower back: Forced hyperextension and disc herniation.

Poitrine!

Chest: Organ damage.

Gigot!

Legs: Busted kneecaps.

Kuroobi stumbled, smashed into the ground and tried several times to counterattack. Sanji’s flexibility and agility never gave him the opportunity.

“ARGH! Filthy human! Thousand Brick Fist!”

Out of rage, Kuroobi thrust out his fist at blinding speed.

He only hit air.

Sanji flew, left leg raised for the finale.

Mouton Shot!

One second. Seventeen kicks.

Kuroobi’s body whistled as he sailed through the courtyard, into the wall of Arlong’s mansion, and out the other side.

“Now,” Sanji said, flicking a match to light a fresh cigarette. “Tell me again, what exactly can’t I protect? Shitty side dish.”

“Sanji-kun!”

“Ah,” the chef swept across the pavement to his angel’s side. “Nami-san. Please tell me,” he took her hand gently into both of his. “What would you like me to prepare for our victory feast?”

—————

Zoro grunted. His opponent had used some fool tactic to break his guard and disperse his blades so he could head-butt Zoro’s bandaged chest. Zoro’s feet left the ground. The santoryuu practitioner was getting real sick of swordsmen who didn’t fight with actual swordplay. Were his wounds less professionally sewn and bound, Zoro might have struggled to stay conscious.

‘This fever’s a pain in the ass, though.’ Zoro griped in silence, each exhale coming out heavy and hot.

The doctor had told him he had a mild temperature. He’d recommended bed rest, or at least no strenuous activity, for a couple days.

Zoro had said

“Okay.”

Which he said, obviously, to convey understanding, not compliance.

“Now,” Hachi declared, rushing Zoro again. “I’ll turn you into mincemeat! You won’t touch down alive!”

“Without subtlety, a sword is not a sword.”

Zoro evened out his breathing. Six blades in six arms spun in a uniform, predictable circular pattern as he fell. Zoro didn’t concentrate on outright force. Instead, he merely stayed the six slashing blades’ path, and he sliced in the gaps between.

Toro Nagashi!

He spun right between the blades and came out the other side of Hachi’s onslaught on his feet, unscathed. The octopus cried out, blood spurting from lacerations on his hands.

“Nyu! You made a fool of me!”

Hachi took up his swords again, blowing steam and hopping mad.

“You can’t win, Roronoa Zoro! It’s simple math!”

He hoisted his blades, as if presenting them for judgement.

“You’ve only got half the swords I do!” Hachi said, as though explaining some verified fact that assured his victory. All this despite the fact that he’d failed to cut Zoro even once.

“Quantity doesn’t matter,” Zoro said, brandishing his own swords. “You can’t handle the weight I carry.”

Hachi charged, his six swords held with their apexes together in formation. He was aiming for another head-butt.

“What drives you to fight when you cannot win?”

Onigiri!

One stroke shattered Hachi’s swords, leaving the octopus gaping at the hilts in his hands.

“That,” Zoro said. “Is the difference in weight.”

“Ragh!”

Hachi abandoned his weapons. His arms dissolved into a flurry of punches.

Tatsumaki!

Zoro twisted his body and pivoted on his feet, launching the octopus fishman into the air with a triple maelstrom slash.

“The promises I’ve made,” Zoro said, sheathing Wado. “Trump your stupid circus-style swordplay.”

—————

Gomu Gomu no Bullet!

Luffy ran toward Arlong. He let his right arm hang back, then snap forward. The sawtooth shark fishman shifted to one side and caught the rubber man’s wrist.

“Typical stupid human,” Arlong sneered. “You eat a dumb devil fruit, get it into your head that you have real power and”

“SHUT UP!” Luffy shouted. He let his body retract toward his immobile arm, and he crashed headfirst into Arlong. “I don’t give a crap about any of that!”

Arlong took a step back under the force that slammed into his gut. He lurched forward, head down and fangs bared to bite.

“I came here,” Luffy said, stretching out the fingers on his right hand to wrap around Arlong’s arm. He planted his feet squarely and twisted his body. His arm coiled around him. “To clobber you!”

The tension in Luffy’s limb reached a peak and his arm snapped back, flinging Arlong into the wall of his multi-story fortress.

“Shahahaha!”

Arlong dashed out of the rubble without a scratch on him, teeth chomping ferociously. He pursued while Luffy jumped and ducked beyond the reach of his jaws.

“You’re under the same delusion as all other humans! You think you’re actually able to stand on equal terms with us, the superior species!”

Arlong’s hand swept out and snatched Luffy by his hair. He yanked and hoisted the smaller captain up.

“Ow! Leggo!”

“You can’t even survive in the ocean,” Arlong laughed, hurling Luffy out over the pool that fed from the sea. “You aren’t fit to be a pirate, let alone a match for fishmen!”

Luffy grunted and threw his arms back to land. He wrapped them around a pillar and pulled himself back to the pavement.

“So what?!”

He flexed and tore the pillar out from the ground. He spun around and broke it against Arlong’s face, bowling the bigger fishman over.

“I can’t do a lot of things, dumbass!”

—————

‘Luffy?’

“I can’t do anything with a sword!”

Nami stared at Luffy’s back, at the man she’d reached out to, uncomprehending of his intentions.

“I can’t navigate or read a map either!”

The rubber man gesticulated with his fists.

“I’m a garbage cook, too! I can’t even aim a cannon or shoot a gun!”

Nami spent eight years resisting and fighting ‘can’t’ at every turn. She’d buried ‘can’t’ under all the emotions she’d never allowed others to see.

Admitting to ‘can’t’ would have broken her long before Luffy appeared in her life.

And yet, he stood tall, his voice unwavering, all confidence even as he openly confessed his weaknesses.

How? What gave him that courage?

“I know damn well I can’t survive without help from other people!” Luffy shouted. “I have nakama who can do the things that I can’t!”

“Ah.”

Something clicked in her mind.

“I was wrong,” Arlong chuckled darkly. He sat up, rising to his full height. “You’re a very self-aware boy, admitting all your faults. Lacking in both dignity and ability! Tell me, what can you do?”

Luffy cracked his knuckles, undaunted.

“I can kick the crap outta you.”

“Ha.” Nami laughed and smiled.

‘I think I finally understand, Luffy.’

—————

“Try it, then!” Arlong said, arms out in challenge.

Luffy bull rushed his opponent, fist cocked. The shark fishman let moisture coalesce on his left arm and threw it at the smaller captain.

BAM!

Luffy’s body came to a halt and his body stretched backward at each point of impact like he’d been struck by buckshot rather than water droplets.

“Doesn’t work,” Luffy said, half-grinning. “I’m a rubber man!”

Twist Gum!

Arlong used the momentary distraction to pull his full set of teeth out of his mouth. As a shark, they regrew instantaneously. He clapped the detached fangs into Luffy’s left side, the teeth clamping together through his flesh.

“I’ll eat you, little human!”

Luffy clenched his jaw and huffed through his nose. He reared his leg back and drove his knee into Arlong’s stomach. The impact shook his larger opponent enough to loosen the grip he had on the fangs in Luffy’s side. The rubber boy stretched both of his fists out behind him and snapped them forward, rapidly and repeatedly like a coiled spring.

Gomu Gomu no Gatling!

Arlong stumbled back under the force of a dozen blows a second. The sawtooth shark grimaced and plunged his head down to catch Luffy’s fist in his teeth. The flurry ceased at that exact moment. Luffy ducked under the taller pirate, both his arms stretched out far behind him.

Gomu Gomu no Bazooka!

Both Luffy’s palms smashed upward into Arlong’s jaw. The force of the impact lifted the fishman off his feet and he flew upward, teeth cracking in his mouth.

“Hup!”

Luffy leapt onto the canopy over the ground floor of the mansion. He sprang up after Arlong, one leg stretching out.

Gomu Gomu no Muchi!

Luffy snapped his leg down into Arlong like the end of a whip and sent him spiraling into the courtyard pool.

Finally, the rubber man paused his onslaught, panting in midair. He tugged at the teeth still jammed in his side as he fell.

“Captain!” Usopp yelled from the sidelines. “Watch out!”

“Huh?”

Luffy twisted his neck to look at his sniper. He winced, finally ripping the teeth free of his side.

Shark on Darts!

Arlong shot out of the water like a torpedo, arcing upward. His sawtoothed nose sliced Luffy’s hip, and the ballistic fishman knocked the rubber man out of the air.

“Gah!”

Blood leaked out from the fang marks on Luffy’s side–the fresh cut on his hip bubbled hot red. He pulled up off his back, crouched and hissing with a hand over the wound.

“You rubber bastard,” Arlong snarled from where he stood on the second floor balcony. He’d destroyed the guard rail with his first attack. “You come here, strike down my beloved comrades and you do this,” he angrily swiped at the blood dripping from his mouth. “To me, A FISHMAN!”

Arlong hurled himself down, nose poised to pierce Luffy through and through. The Straw Hat captain rolled and scrambled out of the way. Arlong’s nose went straight into the concrete, the stone fracturing to bits on impact.

“Whoa,” Luffy exclaimed. “He’s mad!”

“I’ve never seen Arlong’s eyes like that.” Nami whispered, face pale.

The shark fishman glowered through slitted pupils, dilated and black, evoking the look of an enraged Sea King. With a guttural roar, Arlong leapt for Luffy again. Backed into a corner, the rubber man slammed his head against the first floor wall of the mansion and dove inside.

—————

Usopp stood with his arms crossed, tracking the progress of the fight as it moved inside via Haki. He’d almost interfered when he sensed Arlong’s attack from the water, but held back.

Luffy would have been angry.

“I wish I knew what was happening!” One of the bounty hunters said, fidgeting nervously.

A wall on one of the upper levels gave way, revealing a glimpse of a sword fashioned after a saw, with teeth the size of the marksman’s face.

“What the shitty hell’s that?!” Sanji shouted.

“Kiribachi!” Nami gasped.

A door flew outside after crashing through a window on the top floor. The din from inside ceased. A long stretch of silence thickened the already tense atmosphere. No one spoke above a dull murmur for fear of missing some crucial part of the battle.

Suddenly, Usopp shuddered.

Luffy’s ‘voice’ was fucking burning with rage.

—————

“Do you honestly think you can use her as well as I can?!”

Luffy went still. He’d run away from the angry shark until they broke into a room full of books and maps. Arlong had gloated about Nami’s part in his plan to rule East Blue. He wanted to build some kind of empire. It had sort of gone over Luffy’s head.

Then he’d noticed the pen that fell from the desk.

The bloody pen.

Nami’s.

“Use?”

Luffy shattered the tooth of the blade Arlong held to his neck. He fixed the bastard shark with a glare intense enough to shoot lightning.

“Just what,” he growled. “Is she to you?”

Sharky cackled. Luffy didn’t listen. He rose to his feet.

Pirates didn’t use people. Pirates were the freest people ever.

Whoever had been locked up in this room, forced to draw maps with bloody pens, wasn’t free.

Nami wasn’t free.

“She’ll forever be my tool.”

Arlong grinned, all teeth and madness.

“No… My nakama.”

“SHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Wham!

Luffy slammed his foot into the desk and sent it flying out through the hole in the wall.

Fuck. That.

“Why, you-!”

Smash!

He put his fist through a bookshelf.

No more.

“Stop it!”

Shrrrip!

He dodged a swipe of Arlong’s sword. The shark sliced through a stack of maps instead.

Not for one more second.

“My charts!”

Crash!

He hurled the maps and another table out.

‘No nakama will suffer alone again!’

“You’re ruining eight years of her hard work!”

HERS?

Arlong dropped the sword and grabbed Luffy by the throat.

“RAH!”

Crkack!

He added another hole in the wall for good measure.

Arlong bit into Luffy’s neck.

Luffy gasped, sharp, hot pain stabbing at him. He set his jaw, clenched his teeth and grabbed the shark’s saw nose in both of his fists.

“I don’t care about how great fishmen are, or about your stupid empire! I don’t get any of that stuff. But I do know how to help her now.”

Luffy grunted and pulled.

Snap.

“ARGH!”

Arlong fell back, his nose bent at an unnatural angle.

“It’s this room, this prison you put her in, where she doesn’t wanna be.”

Luffy glowered.

“I’LL DESTROY ALL OF IT.”

Gomu Gomu no-

Luffy swung his foot and leg up through the ceiling, high up over the building.

Arlong yanked his nose back into place and launched himself at Luffy again, spinning on an axis like a drill.

Shark on Haguruma!

Luffy brought his foot down just as Arlong struck and his fangs sank into him again.

ONO!

—————

Luffy’s leg burst through the roof, stretching high above the mansion.

It snapped down.

The whole building shook as Luffy smashed his foot down through each floor. A fracture line broke out vertically down the center of the looming structure.

That ugly flag and shark peak Usopp saw on their way in fell and broke apart against the concrete.

Zoro dragged the dumbstruck (possibly catatonic) bounty hunters away. Usopp helped Sanji pull Nami away from the collapsing building against her protests, even as the ground shook and debris came crashing down.

A full minute passed before the dust settled. Only the breeze against the trees made any sound, the onlookers afraid to break the silence.

Usopp’s crew mates looked about ready to start digging when the apex of the massive rubble pile shifted and a short, dark-haired figure burst forth.

“Luffy!” Nami cheered.

“A-ni-ki!” The duo blubbered.

He didn’t respond right away, clearly steadying himself and breathing heavily.

At last, he took a long, deep gulp of air and shouted.

“NAMI!”

The entire gathered crowd waited with bated breath, none more so than the navigator herself.