Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello! This is an Ao3 side account of "Falmefa" where I take One Piece Ship Requests and One Piece x Reader Requests. Headcanons, Au's, Drabbles, Mini-fics, Prompts, you name it! This fic is specifically for Reader inserts, but still feel free to request character x character ships, which I will most likely publish as a seperate fic.

I will write for pretty much any OP character, and I love writing especially for those more rare pairings. I will do Platonic, Romantic, Enemies/Rivals, and occasional NSFW, but only those I'm comfortable with - feel free to ask, I will let you know, and it's nothing personal!

I do any kind of reader character - gender identity, romantic/sexual orientation, body type, race (real-life or fictional races), age (no nsfw for minors), disabilities, occupation, etc.

And here's another general list of things I may have not mentioned that I will a will not write:

Things I will do: 

• NSFW 
• Horror 
• Gore/Injury/Wump scenarios 
• Character with past traumas 
• Multi-Ships/Polyamory 
• Comedy and/or utter senseless-ness

Things I will not do: 

• R*pe/Non-Con - Exception would be roleplay, or a character having a previous mentioned experience but nothing graphic.
• Underage nsfw - platonic stuff only 
• Incest 
• Infidelity 
• Anything to do with ... I'll call it bodily excrement.
• Permanent Death - my heart just can't handle it 😢. Temporary or near death experiences.
• Animal Abuse
• Drugs or Drug Addiction
• Fetishization of people's race, disabilities, etc - essentially creepy fetishes.
• Certain Kinks: Master/Pet, teacher/student, feeding/stuffing king
• Descriptive things about Pregnancy - idk what it is, I'm a grown ass adult and I still think that shit is weird I'm sorry. Kids and babies I have no problem with, but it's the BEFORE part.
• Modern Au's: I am NOT COMPLETELY OPPOSED to writing modern Au's, but I will be fully honest I have major writers block if it doesn't involve some kind of fantasy or imaginary stuff. The real world just kinda ... A bit boring to me

Once again, feel free to ask if you're unsure ☺️

I will also often post my own fics, drabbles, headcanons, etc.

I will warn that currently, my life is very busy, but that will be clearing up in at least two months from now. My replies may be slow, so my apologies for that ahead of time.

And even when I read something three times, I still miss spelling mistakes so sorry about that too 🤣

Link to Characters List: https://at. /tot-musica/how-many-characters-do-you-write-for/5hf4am8l68ir

Chapter Text

• Ch. 1 Info
• Ch. 2 You are here
• Ch. 3 NSFW Law x Fem!Reader
• Ch. 4 SFW CP9 x Reader Headcanons
• Ch. 5 NSFW Cracker x Enemy/Rival Reader
• Ch. 6 NSFW/Fade to Black Law x Fem!Strawhat!Reader
• Ch. 7 Azure Bluets Pt. 1 SFW Blueno x Reader, She/Her Pronouns
• Ch. 8 SFW Nami, Uta, Kiku x GN!reader Romantic Headcanons
• Ch. 9 SFW Marco x NB!Reader S/O with pain flares
• Ch. 10 SFW Shaka (Punk 01) x Male!Reader
• Ch. 11 SFW NB Reader, Sabo, and Ace take a hike
• Ch. 12 Smoker x Male Marine S/O with BPD headcanons
• Ch.13 (SFW) Lucci + CP9 & Reader (Part 1)

UPCOMING:

• Rob Lucci + CP9 with enemy reader part 2

Chapter Text

Implicit trust was something difficult to give over in this world.

"Are you alright?"

You nodded vehemently.

"You haven't breathed in a full minute."

Gasp. "Oh you're right." You couldn't tell by the pounding in your ears or the adrenaline spiking your blood with a potent "terror", but it was not fear. A thousand what-ifs, questions, hopes and desires all leading to this moment And yet you were not sure whether to stay, flee - pass out? Are thoughts real?

Even more irritating was the fact that he looked perfectly calm about the situation. It could've even been mistaken for annoyance, if you didn't know him and his resting bitch face better.

You'd both stripped down to regular clothes, sitting on the edge of his bed - your legs crossed awkwardly. His hand brushed over your nape, "There's no rush. Breathe. I'm your doctor, remember?"

You stifled a laugh, breathing deeply, letting it out slowly. He took your hand from where it wrung around with the other in your lap. Though despite the lack of tense muscles, you could feel his pulse was thrumming just as hard as yours. That put you a bit more at ease.

"We can just lay here until you feel comfortable." Gently, he shifted you both to lay on your side, pulling your back flush with his chest.

Fingers rubbed against the back of your hand, trailing up each tendon and knuckle, like he was memorizing it - or more likely naming all the parts and how to surgically remove them in his head. The thought of that nearly made you snort.

Bold enough, you turned over, taking a deep breath as you met his eyes. That ever penetrating gaze was much more relaxed, a bit easier to look into.

"Here." He took your hands and placed them on his chest. Warm and beating. With mounting courage you let them disperse out, hand pressed flat against his heart. Then, thumbs followed the sweep of the inked swirls and curves of the tattoo.

"They're pretty… they've always been pretty." You mumbled, and you swear he almost chuckled. Silently he slipped a hand up the back of your shirt, tickling your spine and going to unhook your undergarments - or he tried.

"Damn hell contraptions."

You snorted, flushing an even more impossible shade of red. "Hold on." You removed the thing and your top, before realizing you were on full display. You struggled just to not cover your torso with your arms, looking at anything but Law.

"Perfect." His hands explored everywhere - again with the eyes of a surgeon, like he could map every spot, every millimeter, every cell in his mind and pick it apart. This time it did make you laugh, relaxing you a bit.

"What? Ticklish?"

"You're looking at me like a science project."

"Mmm… I wouldn't call it that but…" He scooped you closer and whispered into the soft skin in front of your ear, "Perhaps I am."

You left gentle indentations on his pecs, feeling them over, and he followed suit. You sighed contently into his neck as he gently massaged your chest. "Does that feel nice?"

"Mm-hmm." You nod.

It was much less awkward than before, those slow ministrations pulled you from your shell little by little. But you could tell his patience grew thinner with every nip he left on your body, slowly shifting himself over you.

"Y-you can do what you want now…."

And perhaps you'd made a mistake saying that, because moments later the devil was staring down upon you gleefully.

"Too many choices you've given me, Y/n." He gripped your hips suddenly and ground his hard-on against you, the friction of rough denim against one another bringing that small glow from before to a blaze as you tried to rut back.

"Ugh, fuck that's good-" Heat creeped to your face. You hadn't expected him to be so vocal. No complaints - every word he spoke is a treasure to withhold. You hid your face in his shoulder, squeaking out whenever the friction became particularly pleasurable.

A growl signified he'd had enough, backing off monetarily, and with a swift motion he dragged down both his pants and boxers, unabashed. He gave you a brief look before you nodded, and he removed your clothes as well.

You almost immediately crossed your legs, and he snickered, "You can't hide with the slick on your thighs." You choked and he coaxed your legs open. He stole a leg over his shoulder, rubbing his hands down your inner thigh. Even if you tried, you couldn't hide now. He bit the soft skin there, not too harsh, but enough to roll between his teeth. He did this all the way up, licking, kissing and biting a path to your inner ankle. He then repeated the process on your other leg, and any embarrassment faded into annoyance.

He was both toying with you, but waiting, and if his dick was any indication, it was killing him too.

Your vulva began to throb almost painfully from the blood rush.

"Just… come on…"

"What did you say?"

"Just do it…"

"Just do what?"

You mumble into your shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"I said just fuck me!"

There was no preamble. He immediately jammed his thumb against your clit, making you shout. His finger gathered a bit of your slick and gave a few pushes of warning before he penetrated inside you, a strange feeling before he found that spot that made you arch off the bed, but his other hand kept your hips stuck to the bed as he worked you over with little regard for speed or sensitivity, sending rattles through your body, legs trying to clench close, loud whines of desperation - both to escape the onslaught, and begging for more, your nerves could simply not decide.

"You should've been more specific if you wanted something else."

"L-law -"

"Be a good girl and come for me." It was much too soon, but he demanded everything with his eyes and his hands. And suddenly you were breathing quickly as your body tensed up and broke apart in choked silence. You mouthed his name over and over in silent sobs. You were going to go insane, one strong arm keeping you from squirming away, thumb dancing over your exposed clit, even as you sobbed. Too much, but oh so good, refusing to let your orgasm end, spilling into one after the other.

With your pleading whine, he finally, finally let you up for air, only to strangle you again when he licked his fingers clean.

"I think you're ready. Are you?" It took a good few seconds to process words into coherent thoughts, and respond.

"Yeah." You said hoarsely.

"Good." He held the head of his cock against your entrance, before breaching the tight ring into velvety heat, slowly, letting you adjust to the much bigger intrusion. He rubbed your clit to relax you as he sank to the hilt, looking as if he was about to fall apart, " Fuck - Y/n, I'm not going to last long, you're driving me crazy."

You coaxed him to lean over in a kiss, this time being the one to calm him down. He was clearly desperate for it now, licking into your mouth with fervor, which was a bit of an ego boost. "Y/n-ya…" he rested his forehead against yours as he began to move. The room filled with sighs and moans, legs curling behind his back. He was honestly louder than you, even while attempting to hold back his words.

"Law, let me hear you."

He laughed, haughty, "I might scare you off."

"If dismembering and rebuilding people like human puzzles didn't scare me off, I don't think anything can."

"Fuck-" He snarled, "I want - want to fill you up, br-breed you full and good, l-like a bitch." 

'He's just as shy as me,' you thought. You moaned your loud approval, and whined into his ear, "Be a good boy and do that."

Something short-circuited in his mind, you could see it in his eyes, nails digging half moons into your skin. With an almost frustrated grunt, he angled himself deeper, ramming against your cervix, "That's it - just like that-" he panted deliriously, "I'm going to fill your belly, make you so full."

You moaned loudly as the angle pushed against your g-spot, bringing tears to your eyes. 

A shiver started in his abdomen and spread throughout his body, to the tips of his extremities, mouth giving in to the few barely coherent thoughts his brain attempted to form. "Fuck - hold still for me, take it all. Take it all for me, please baby."

A harsh growl startled you as he snapped to a stop, eyes rolling into the back of his head as warm seed filled you. He held onto your hips like his life depended on it, even as he began to soften. 

"I'm not done with you yet."

He ground the palm of his hand into your mound, trapping your clit between it and your pubic bone, with just a slight amount of stimulation from his calloused skin sneaking between your folds. You cried out - impossible for you to take, another orgasm burned with painful bliss, squeezing him deliciously for everything he had.

Once he had his breathing under control, he turned you both to the side, still deep inside you, burning in the afterglow. You could barely even lift your arm, but you brushed some sweaty hairs from his forehead to make sure he was actually still alive, receiving a quiet chuckle.

Some time later, though you were sure that he was brain dead, he managed to get up and clean you both with a warm cloth, particularly reverent with you, but you didn't really have the strength to even feel shy about it. It's probably the strangest rush of wind when he rooms away the sheets in exchange for others like it was just that way before. Groggily you murmured, "You can still use your powers?"

"What, are you insinuating I'm out of shape?"

"Of course not, I just thought you came your brains out," you chuckled.

He smiles, returning with a glass of water and an ice pack. "That sounds more like the Y/n I know."

Chapter Text

Lucci:

• Will probably try to kill you, but you've bribed Hattori in the past with food.
• You can lay in the crook of his arm and that's it. Don't keep squirming around.
• If you fall asleep he will begin contemplating your death but also refuse to move or wake you up. Besides, Hattori is also snuggled up between you.
• "Inevitably I will kill you. At some point. Eventually."

Kaku:

• "Sure!"
• Actually prefers being the little spoon. Wants to be held.
• Can be chatty, but also enjoys the quiet warmth of your company.
• "Being with you feels the same as flying through the city 😊." 

Jabra:

• *Dies*
• Will hold you very close, blinded by bubbliness.
• Will go from angry at subordinates to *tail wag* in half a second when you hug him back.
• *Literally a day later* "I don't need Gatherine, you are the love of my life!" 

Kalifa:

• Acts cool and collected. Inside she's dying.
• You're not even touching her yet and she says, "This is clearly sexual harassment."
• But after the initial hesitation, you both lay on your sides facing each other, lazily discussing existential questions about life and the universe. 
• "You make me wonder what I could've been in another life...."

Blueno:

• Sure. Doesn't care.
• Big chest makes for perfect pillow.
• Likes to lay with you on peaceful summer afternoons, quietly snoozing.
• "All doors must close, but I hope this one stays open the longest." 

Fukurou:

• "Me? Really!?"
• Tiny bit nervous, he's quite bigger than you.
• You both indulge in silly gossip, giggling away at even the most absurd of things.
• "Thank you for listening to me cha-pa-pa-pa." 

Kumadori: 

• So stunned and happy he tries to commit Seppuku again.
• Will probably go into dramatic prose quite often, but appreciates that you're not annoyed by that.
• Hair will subconsciously cuddle you too. Will gently rest his head on your lap to let you brush his hair.
• "My mother in heaven, thank you for this wonderful blessing!"  

EXTRAS

Nero:

• Probably at the bottom of the sea rip.

Spandam:

• You just stab him, that's it.  

Chapter Text

It started out more as a strange accident. In one place or another you'd clash with the Big Mom Pirate's Commander, Cracker, for reasons ranging from, "fuck off this is our territory" to "you piss me off" to "I'm bored. I'm going to kill you" and so on, and so on. 

Then one day he made an innuendo - which he didn't actually realize was an innuendo - but at the time the joke had angered you. You punched him. He punched you. And then you were in the grass wrestling around for who could get into the other's pants first. (And his pants are just cheating, what kind of hellish contraption-)

And that leads you here, for the ? time, "fighting" with a suspicious amount of non-fighting supplies, on an island somewhere, somewhere in the woods, somewhere near a village, on your hands and knees getting railed from behind by a chuckling idiot taunting you for moaning his name.

Now while that would usually excite you further, you are really not a voyeur. Quite the opposite really. There's a village at least 300 meters from here and who knows if anyone could be walking around, and the buffoon is making this way, way too loud.

The sound of your hips colliding echo dangerously off the trees from all the lube you'd used.

"Cr-Cracker! Someone's going to hear us!"

He cackles, "What, does that bother you? Don't want to let anyone know you're on your hands and knees for the enemy?"

Yeah, no. You don't. What if you traumatize someone?

You push off the ground and twist your torso around, seizing him just under the jaw, "I'm serious!" You seethe.

His eyes go wide, and then he just… stops. His hands drop from your hips to his size, and his shoulders slump inward.

"Cracker? Are you alright?" Seeing that he's still frozen there you pull off of him and turn around. "Cracker? Did I go too far? Please speak to me, Cracker."

"P-please do that again. Please."

"Huh?"

"Please."

His eyes are barely slivers -"H-here - why don't you lie down first?" Slowly, you help him down, laying him on his back onto the mat you'd haphazardly thrown on the grown for your ''fight.''

"Please do that again."

"Hey - Cracker - I need you to be conscious here. You with me?" You lightly pat his cheek.

"Huh-yeah-I'm here."

"You asked me to do that again, what exactly do you mean?"

He turns his head to the side, a tint of red on his cheeks.

"Don't go all shy on me now. Do you like it when I grab your neck?"

Immediately, his eyes dilate again, "Y-yeah."

"How much? Do you just want the pressure? Or do you want me to go further?"

"... Just pressure. For now."

"So you like that hmm?"

"I - didn't know. I guess…"

"Do you want me to take control?"

He grumbles, crossing his arms, "I thought we were fighting… hmph."

"Look if you really want to, we can fight to the death later - but I'm not going to take advantage of you like this. Stupid."

He sits up, rallying, "Oy! I'm not stupid, you're stupid!"

"There, that sounds about right." You slide a hand up his chest, and over his neck, and just the touch has him slumping back like a sack of potatoes. Then you close your fingers, just a light pressure, curving under his jaw. For once, a non-shit eating grin grows on his face. "Yes - like that. Please."

"Please what , Cracky?"

"Please touch me." You wrap your other hand around his member - he's very hard again, perhaps painfully, so you don't dilly-dally with your ministrations. The air sings with a warbly whine as his back arches off the ground.

"I didn't know you could be such a good boy."

It's as if he's been electrocuted - his feet dig in and he cants his hips up.

There's something bordering affection in your eyes as you tighten your grip just a pinch, and he responds encouragingly. 

"You feel good, Cracker?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I need a yes or no."

"Yes. Good. Please don't stop. "

You're not that cruel, continuing to pump his length and tease him just under his glans. Fingers daring, you push more, your palm pressing into it, and you can feel the moan the rumbles out of his chest into his airway.

"Look at me." Your command is difficult to comply with, but his eyes roll over to look at you under drooping lids. "You're so pretty and handsome like this." You lean closer, more weight into your arm. You lick the lobe of his ear and bite -

His mouth opens wide, body taut and arched like a bow, as his eyes slip back. He makes not a sound, not even a breath, instead he trembles violently and spurts almost violently over his abs and chest. Though it caught you off guard you milk him through it and release his neck, and his eyes slip close. 

You'd mostly forgotten yourself in favor of such an excellent and unique display, "You alright?" He only leans into the hand you stroke his cheek with. A peculiar state you've never seen him in. He's completely left earth for now. You rest his head on your thighs and brush away the hairs that had escaped his elaborate buns. Right about now he would be trying to chop your head off for this, and you expected that to be true once he recovered.

Emphasis on expected.

Your next few meetings, he would jump out from behind a tree and attempt to stab you, only to be clinging to you a minute later like a teddy bear, looking for more praise and "experiments." 

You now quite literally have a sweet commander who has the sweets for you.

Chapter Text

You'd been part of the crew that stayed in Dressrosa - and most of those that went to Zou early were the ones to go to Whole Cake - so why did you go to Whole Cake too? Wouldn't it make more sense to rest after Dressrosa on the way to Wano?

Tch.

In his opinion they're hogging you - a valuable asset - from the alliance….

But then again you're still Strawhat’s crewmate….

Whatever. It's not as complicated as he's making it out to be.

Despite the isolation of Wano, he managed to acquire a copy of the news, and a new bounty on your head is a sigh of relief. And then he reads that Mugiwara-ya completely fucked up a Yonkou's territory, beat her best commanders, and god knows where Big Mom is heading next-

Fuck. Luffy's probably bringing her directly to Wano….

"SON OF A-"

—

He's perusing the market for fish that hopefully won't kill Bepo this time - but nothing's safe in this hell land. When the noise of a crowd has the basket head turning. Their sounds give him the impression that the situation is safe, and that it is a positive one. He approaches from a distance, but decides it’s better to join the crowd if he wants to blend in. On a makeshift wooden stage, musicians pluck their strings and beat their drums at an increasing rate, as a set of dancers work in perfect sync with vibrant colors of kimonos and fans, hand-painted masks, and the jingle of jewelry in their hair. The mid dancer sticks out with feathers attached to the ends of their fan, gauze ribbons floating around their shoulders, aloft like magic with the erratic movement of the dance. Such a thing must cost a lot of stamina, dipping up and down constantly on their knees.

Actually - that is the strange thing - while hidden by the drapes of the flashy drapes of the kimono, they’re bending and spreading their legs apart to compensate for what must be a significant stature, in order not to tower over the other other dancers, or the musicians. The fans move so fast their mask is obscured half the time, but it resembles a half moon, and half sun. The dance is elegant, but also, like a fight with invisible assailants. And their moves are not half bad…. something is much too familiar about this dancer, but he can't draw conclusions yet -

And just as he thinks that, gold shimmers, as sun piece of the mask is thrown high into the air, the dancer twirls on one leg, as as the half-sun falls, the second leg shoots out at 90 degrees, balancing the piece on the tip of a cloth, point-like shoe. The fans flash open and close, revealing a painted face, and on the right half, a mischievous eye glinting at him through the crescent moon.

'Y/n….'

The fans come up and flutter down, matching the sound of sparklers going off. It's reminiscent of a colorful bird performing a courting ritual. And then you throw them back as if you've been struck, dramatically shaking and moving them as you dance to the ground like a fallen beauty. And then, a shot of smoke covers the stage, and you disappear into thin air. Then, with a heavy gust, it's all dispersed to reveal you, except your mask is that of a bird, and your outfit has exploded with white and red colors, and wielding large feather fans of the same colors, raising them into the air like wings, and the music comes to a stop with a drum beat. You motion like you're blowing one last kiss, and the crowd cheers and claps as the cast and the musicians bow, throwing coins and other items onto the stage as they disperse.

Some - many - of the crowd members hoot and holler and whistle, calling the name "Taiyo Tsuki". His bros furrows more than usual.

He pointedly turns on a heel and walks away.

"I noticed you didn't leave a tip sir."

Even with his haki, you always manage to startle him. But to be fair, no one usually expects an 8 foot woman who might as well be dressed like a goddess. There are very few people in the world that can make him feel so small, and you're one of them.

'Maybe I should've left a tip…’

—

You'd really meant to be funny, but perhaps you scared him a bit. You take a step back … you know you can be a bit intimidating … at this size.”

"I didn't know the story…" Is his apparent excuse, and you can't help but laugh.

"The fall of Nuwa, of course, and the rebirth of Jing Wei, have you not studied your history, basket head?" You walk alongside him through the back streets. “Seriously, you're trying to disguise yourself as a monk? Like the tattoos on your hands and the sword aren’t a dead give away? You're just more suspicious, hee~hee~hee.”

He grumbles, "Well… you're wearing a scarf that doesn't even nearly match your kimono."

Fair point, but your disguise is much better with a scarf. "I like scarves."

"Since when have you liked scarves?"

"Since recently. When did you start liking baskets?"

"... Shut up…"

You pat the basket, "Straw-hat Monk."

"At least I'm not in jail."

Giggling, you add, "He'll be ready, don't worry."

"I'm not. He's cursed by some impossible luck to make things work. It's the other fools I'm concerned about."

"Heeheehee. I should tell O-Nami you said that."

"Tch - not ALL of you are incompetent."

"Am I incompetent?" You stick your tongue out.

Law refuses to answer.

"I'll take that as a yes then."

He falters, spitting out,"YOU KNOW THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!" 

You snicker, "It's so easy to get a rise out of you, Law-dono."

You can hear the sound of his teeth grinding, and with the way he's seething, smoke should be filtering out of the basket. He's been far more easy to tease since Dressrosa.

"I didn't think you'd disguise as a dancer."

"Exactly - and it keeps me training for the big fight!"

You lead him round a corner to a more private alleyway, where Nami, Robin, and Brook agreed to meet you today.

"Y/n! You look beautiful! As always!" Nami cheers. 

"Yes yes Nami, I have plenty of money to give you."

"You're the best!"

You pull a large sac out of your robe, filled with gold tablets and other trinkets worthy enough for a trade. "Now remember - this is for everyone." Robin laughs, "Thank you, Y/n. I see you've run into Law-dono."

"Robin, did you know about his outfit? He thinks he's a monk!"

"I do not think -"

"I might have known. Maybe I didn't."

"Heeheehee - you're so cruel to Basket-head."

"When are you going to stop making fun of my outfit!?"

"Never!" You clutch him to your side laughing, then abruptly letting go. "Ah, sorry, sorry."

You're not sure if the fact he doesn't respond is a good or a bad thing. "Come on, I'll go get cleaned up and then we can get some snacks!" You grab his hand and (accidentally) pull him back around the corner.

“Don’t go spending it all in one place!" You shout over your shoulder.

Meanwhile,

Robin chuckles, "They're completely oblivious, aren't they?" 

"Ah, young love,” Brook sighs, “Should we tell them?"

"No," Nami grins, "It's more fun this way. Wanna place bets $w$?"

–

In your excitement to see Law again, you forgot that you're basically dragging him, and slow your pace.

"I need to take off this makeup before who knows what chemicals start giving me cancer."

After a bit of walking, he hasn't made a single peep - which isn't that uncommon for Law - but still….

"Did I offend you with basket stuff? I'm sorry… I say that because I think it suits you…"

"Hmm? Oh - no. I'm just - lost in thought. What do you mean it suits me?"

"Well, the monks who wear such baskets are supposed to represent "nothingness" or "emptiness" - I thought that went well with you."

"... That I'm nothingness…"

"No no! That's not what I meant - I mean your whole aesthetic - surgeon of death? Your tattoos? It's really cool!"

"..."

"Don't be pouty under there, I can't see your face."

Somewhat near the outskirts of the capital is your current stayings, a comfy one-room apartment. It's only then do you realize you've been holding his hand the whole time when you remove it to slide the screen open. You have to duck a bit to enter the doorway, but once inside, you kick off the dreaded shoes and relish in the feeling of the tatami floor sprawling out on your back.

"You're like a child."

"Same to you." You stretch and make your way over to the kettle, lighting it to heat up some water, then you settle in front of a mirror. Removing the more decorational hair pieces.

"Ah! Sorry - forgot to say - make yourself at home! I'll make you some tea." As you shuck off the outer robes of your costume, you see in the mirror as he slumps against the sidewall and removes the basket and his hat. By any indication, he's had a long day too. He runs a hand through his hair. It's so … different to see him without his hat. 

You jump back to wiping your face when you're caught staring.

—

‘Do I make her nervous?’ He’d thought when your eyes kept shifting in the mirror. ‘Is there a reason to be wary? Maybe I really did put her off … was I being rude? Or is it something else? Perhaps because I’m behind her… but that didn’t seem to bother her before … Did something happen in Whole Cake?’ His fingers are tapping against Kikoku’s sheath at a climbing pace.

‘Say literally anything’

"Would be easier if you took off the rest of the mask."

"It's not necessary."

You’re trying to clean makeup from your face… and you won’t remove the mask?

“Aren’t you going to take it off eventually?”

“It’s a part of my new look!” You flaunt the crescent moon, “I can’t take it off just yet.”

“Not even to clean your face?

“Nope!” You smile.

But something else caught his eye as you showed off the mask.. Your right hand is still gloved. 

“You wore it during the performance.”

“Correct.”

“And you wore a bird mask.”

“At least you were paying attention.”

“Did you wear two masks at the same time? Why’d you leave off the sun half? Why not wear the other half if you’re going to where one-”

“Are we playing twenty questions? I just like how it looks on me.”

“You know … I think we are playing 20 questions, y/n-ya. What are you hiding?”

You roll your eyes at him through the mirror, “Do you go around asking everyone that?”

“If you know something that could jeopardize the mission-”

“HAH!?” Now you were full on looking at him, “I’m not hiding anything you paranoiac!”

“You're hiding your face!”

“How is that suppose to ‘JeAPorDizE’ the mission!?”

“....” He sighs, rubbing his face, “You were acting nervous. I thought you might know something you were keeping from the alliance. I’m sorry.”

You blink a few times, “My word - an apology from you? You really are paranoid about this whole thing.” You sigh, crawling over to sit in front of him. “Look, I’m nervous about many things, but it’s not like I’m keeping some kind of important information a secret.” You rest your head on your knee, and it’s difficult for Law to AND not to look you in the eyes. “Have you slept lately?”

There.

When you stare into his eyes - he stares back. Something is different with your right eye … almost, cloudy.

He snaps his fingers right in front of your face, causing you to flinch back.

"What the hell?"

"Something is wrong -"

"Nothing's wrong!"

"You didn't see my hand until the last second. What happened during the retrieval?"

"You really want to know? Ok - well a lot of shit happened, it's Luffy, what do you expect - first we-" Gently, he grabs your hands out of the air.

"You're stalling. What happened to you?" His thumbs rub circles into the fabric of your glove, rippling the fabric.

You breathe out a certain amount of darkness, reclaiming your hand to pinch the fingers -  "It wasn't exactly a smooth in and out operation..." - The long glove peels off. You let your hand hang slack.

He looks you in the eye first, before taking the hand. Upon first glance, it could be missed, but your knuckles aren’t just hardened over by callouses.

“That tickles you know…” You mumble.

“Why hide your scars?”

“To blend in duh - tall lady with a bunch of scars looks weird.”

You can practically see the long sigh in his stare, “Who gave you that excuse? Nico-ya?”

“Sh-shut up! … Ok fine it’s an excuse… I don’t like how they look. Sheesh, you really like to pry…”

“Because you’re more stubborn than Mugiwara-ya. Why do you care? No one here is scarless or hiding it. I don’t care about mine.”

"Well you just look hot with them! It's different for me!"

"What?"

"N-nothing!"

Despite your face turning a darker shade, he ignores it for the crippling fear growing up his spine. The rough tissue extends further into the shadow of your sleeve. What if it hasn't healed completely? Or correctly? Could you be infected? Does it hurt?

"Y/n-ya, let me see the rest of your scar…"

“You’re not going to let me go, aren’t you?”

“...”

“Fine.” You shrug off your robes slowly down to your Yukata, slipping your right arm out, then exposing enough of your breast to reveal the rest of the leathery scar. You loosen your scarf, slipping it away to reveal even more tissue climbing up your neck, and eventually under the mask.

You don’t move when he leans forwards to pluck the porcelain crescent from your face.

He can’t decide whether he feels relieved or enraged, and you refuse to meet his gaze. The tissue is all healed over at least, still a bit pink, sensitive. There’s a slight glaze over your right eye - no, not blindness, but definitely some retinal damage from…

From….

A hand-shaped brand encircles your forearm.

Heat Exposure.

“Tch - Who the hell left this on you?”

“Not sure, some big guy who could turn himself into a literal branding iron. That ass even boiled the sea, so annoying.”

“And he grabbed you?”

“He was going for Chiffon so - You don’t know who Chiffon is but I had to step in! He was going for my head, I'd gone to block it with my arm, but the proximity was still too close, and well… I think you know how radiation works.”

Every part of him is tense, down to his toes, lips barely containing the sound of his teeth grinding. The hand print is giant, even for her, and he’s about ready to-

"I'm actually… not as mad as I thought I'd be.” You say, rubbing the back of your neck with your left arm, “The Charlotte family didn't seem to exactly be living the happiest lives…"

He catches himself before the pot can simmer over.

"Who is in this world?"

Your nature is much too forgiving, which had annoyed him in the beginning. But now … he just feels … guilty. No, not for the people he's fought, but just how he's … behaved.

You're kind to everyone. You're probably just tolerating his presence for the alliance.

"We got Sanji back but … not without sacrifice. Pedro gave his life for us…"

Just one of Big Mom’s lackeys did this to you, and the fight you’re about to engage in… If you stupidly jumped in to save someone this time he might not be there to -

“Umm … Law, please say something…”

“Ah - I - uh … mmm…”

“Looks bad right?”

“No! No - no just … thinking about the wound…”

You snort, “Doctor brain.”

"Tony-ya did a good job treating it…"

"But?"

He'd never admit it, but he pouts a bit, "I could've done better…"

You laugh with a smile just as wide as Luffy's, "Of course - just don't tell him I ever said that."

And maybe, just maybe he lets a small smile crack.

“You really don’t mind … this?”

“No - you could be a living blob of flesh and meat and I’d still think you’re beaut- I mean fine - I mean great.”

“Awe. That’s the sweetest and creepiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” And any of the shadows collected are blown away by your silly laughter, and an excited glimmer in your eye.

“Did you hear that Luffy beat Charlotte Katakuri? Single-handed! It was amazing - we didn’t get to see it though - but you should’ve seen their faces when they heard their invincible brother was beaten by ‘a shrimp,’ it was amazing! … Ok and a bit sad too … They clearly love their brother and stuff.”

“They tried to kill you.”

“Ehhh - kill schmill-”

A creepy grin crosses his face, “I think you may have brain damage from the fight - I may need to cut open your head.” 

“No! Don’t do that!” You laugh, mockingly covering your head.

And that is another precious thing about you … understanding his humor.

“I can tell alot’s on your mind.”

He huffs, “Wow, really?”

You snicker, pulling the shoulder of your yukata back on, sitting next to him against the wall.

“I’m saying you can talk to me about it - I am the Strawhat ‘listener’ of sorts. Is it about the fire festival?”

“Yeah.” No. Not particularly. Sure it’s a worry, but one he’s had no choice but to compartmentalize. No matter what happens now, the gears are in motion. The raid will happen, with or without him, just the same as any member of the alliance. It’s no use to ruminate over and over again about outcomes. They succeed or fail - and survival doesn’t mean success, just as death doesn’t mean loss. No, the real concern is the tickling, clawed worm in his heart, insisting on worry for others. Shit - working alone is easy. Making friends is awful. People are going to die. It could be one of the Strawhats. One of his own crew - even if they’re far from the battle. He can’t stand the thought of the Tang sinking in those dark waters, even with as much faith as he has in his crew. But he can’t think about that - none of that - not when he’s facing a Yonkou. The people on the sidelines do not matter - they do not - they do not. And yet, caring about the people on the sidelines is directly how Mugiwara took down Doflamingo completely. He’s not doing this to help people, he’s doing this to take down the emperors of the sea. He’s a pirate. Nothing else will matter in that fateful battle-

“Trust in Luffy.” Your hand on his knee breaks him out of thought. “The only way Luffy will fail is if he chooses too. He won’t.”

“He’s failed before - I watched it directly - He would’ve completely failed if I hadn’t decided to save him.”

You're silent for a long time, “He didn’t fail, because he had you. And you have us. There’s no such thing as impossible when it comes to the future pirate king!”

He huffs, “Who says he’s going to be the pirate king - like I’m going to let that rubber brain beat me! Imagine the chaos he’ll cause - an absolute natural disaster upon the world.”

You break into an uproar of laughter, “That’s the spirit!”

And he swears he doesn’t say it out loud, doesn’t even mean to think it, and yet he mumbles, “You’re too happy. It’s only a matter before this world crushes you.”

“Law.”

“Huh-”

“I’m happy because the world has already crushed me. And yet, I’m still here. I refuse to spend my life in misery.” Your eyes bear into him, glinting with a different light, but are in no way cold, and yet, he’s swallowing a lump.

“I didn’t mean that … okIjustdidn’tmeantosayit-”

A gentle smile crosses your face, “I love making you lose that Mr. Serious attitude.”

“I -” Suddenly you lean in very close to his face, snickering. Just before he can decide what in the literal Onigashima he should do, you stand up to retrieve the now boiling water, pouring it into wooden cups mashed with tea leaves, handing one to him. All he can do is watch the ripple in the cup.

“Y/n-ya.”

“Hmm?”

"D-don't do anything too risky … in the raid… I will be busy with Kaidou."

"You say that like there's no one else around to help me - it's a team effort, remember?" Your voice is calm and warm with the tea soothing your throat.

He sets his cup aside.

Screw it. He most likely has less than a week to live anyway. Thumb and index finger on the end of your chin, he turns your face - “Y/n.”

Before his brain can catch up, he presses his lips against yours. Nothing happens. But you don’t move away. He pulls back, staring at the floor.

“Law.”

That compels him to look into your eyes.It almost makes him gulp when he sees how dark your face turns, and eyes dilating, but your expression speaks of something edging on danger and plain wantonness.

In the next second he’s attacked by lips, hands gripping the collar of his robe almost hard enough to tear, dragged into your lap.You don’t separate until he’s nearly suffocated (not that he would mind). This is dangerous. You’re part of another crew- but your arms linking over his shoulders is  a compelling distraction, your eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

You push your forehead against his, “Law. You have ten seconds to back out of this.”

He smirks, “And what is this exactly?”

“Use your head, Doctor. Or don’t.”

“I want you.”

“Then take it, pirate.”

He snaps his teeth behind the shell of your ear before licking it, then nibbling at the junction of your jaw. You smile and expose your neck to him, as he trails down to your scars with hot licks and gentle bites. In some areas, there’s nothing but pressure, and in others, it tickles with over-sensitivity. He slips the robe from your shoulder and chomps down on the line of muscle there. A jolt runs through your spine, and the next thing you register is your teeth have sunk into his shoulder in turn, a flicker of metal hitting your tongue. 

You pull back quickly, “Sorry! I didn’t realize-”
“Fuck-” he pants out, canting his hips in your lap, and you can feel the heat in his face where he hides it in the crook of your neck. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“I want to touch you.”

“Then show me your face, silly.”

He leans back enough, face contorted in a manner like he’s trying to solve a math equation. He peels back the rest of your robe, exposing your chest.

He’s seen all sorts of naked people - he’s a surgeon - but under this context? He’s a bit lost.

You gasp when his fingers gently pinch your nipple, causing a full-body flinch.

"Sorry-"

"Enough." You swipe at the rouge staining his lips while cupping his face. "Enough thinking."

He had imagined this moment in reverse - but he's definitely not complaining.

“You best be careful, I’m a biter.”

“I know.”

You lean forward until his back hits the floor, untying his robe and licking your lips, “Finally,” a feast laid before you. You trace his tattoos with rapt attention, running down the dips in his abdomen, rubbing your thumbs over the bullet scars that have him biting his lip. It doesn’t take much to get you both riled up apparently.

“Look at me.” His eyes are near all black, and as you sink your hips around him, he's gone to heaven.

-

The crowd only grows larger, you're making quite a profit working with the band of performers. You can dance all day with only little breaks - moves fluid and swift. It’s the perfect training. Past the crowd, you can see the top of a straw-bucket hat, a man leaning against a building. Now, as you flash a fan over the lower portion of your face, he knows your eyes are only on him.

…

That is … until the word of your performances reach Onigashima.

And you're given an invitation that cannot be refused.

But is it not all the better? To have a spy placed right in the heart of the enemy?

That's what he repeats over and over and over, waiting for that fateful day.

When the fight for a new age will begin.

No longer will he go with the flow of things. Defeat is not an option. He will see you again.

------------

(Not pictured: Y/n absolutely killing it at Queen’s rave - while simultaneously dying inside wondering when the fuck shit is going to go down.)

Chapter Text

After essentially being fired (marked as fugitives) and Lucci's recovery, there's not much to do besides … live. They successfully terrified the only town that had accepted them when Lucci killed that pirate. Oh well. As they depart, a child hands Kalifa a flower. And when they stop at their old home, the flower is planted - and they part ways.

Lucci and Kaku are rehired by the government. Jabra and Fukurou set out for "an adventure". He, Kalifa, and Kumadori travel to a coastal town. Kumadori enjoyed his time as a street performer, and keeps doing so, even becoming a state actor. Kalifa develops soaps, perfumes, and other bath and beauty products. And he. He returns to bartending.

Bartending is something he's already been doing for the last five years. He is good at it, so it is monotonous, and that's what he prefers. He does not think about his situation. He simply works, eats, and sleeps when necessary. Kalifa occasionally comes into the bar he works at. They don't always talk, but they don't really need to. They prefer the silence of each other's company. 

He does not miss St. Poplar. He does not miss anything. He does not care, he simply goes with the flow.

And yet. 

He pins a fresh flower to his clothes everyday.

The town is small, not a village, but nothing as big as water 7. The roads and buildings all resemble a Florentine style, overgrown with wandering vines and vibrant flowers, canals running down to the sea. Going inland, cobblestone roads eventually turn to paths leading to a high plateau of blue and white meadow flowers. And every morning, 11 am, a young woman hikes up the road, and every sunset, she returns, with baskets filled to the brim with flowers. This is an everyday occurrence, rain or shine - he even memorizes the clothes she wears - she wears the same color for the same day, down to even socks, shoes, and gloves. There's almost no need for a calendar or watch anymore.

Saturday's she is always delayed by an hour, noon, but still inevitably passes the windows of the cafe/bar he works in. These days she wears a sun hat with curtains and a billowy green dress, and she only takes two baskets up to the plateaus, and at sunset she returns again, one open, round basket laid out with more exotic looking flowers, and a closed rectangular basket.

One day she does not pass by. A Thursday. Blue dress day. Perhaps it's a delay, like Saturday. But an hour later, she does not show.

In St. Poplar, when one thing was off, it meant pirates. He would sigh - but he does not feel. 

With a lack of customers, he steps outside. All the civilians seem to be going about their day normally. But he spots Kalifa outside her own shop down the way.

"You've noticed it too?" She asks.

He nods.

"That girl drops off my order of flowers each morning, and she did not show up. Tch. Clearly a case of sexual harassment." Though giving the air of being annoyed, Kalifa doesn't seem ticked at all - more concerned, really.

"Where does she come from?" He asks.

"Down by the harbor."

And wordlessly, they make their way.

On the last street before the boardwalks, there is a flower shop - and it might as well be made of flowers with how many decorate it. The town is already floral enough.

Down one of the peers, stands a familiar figure in a blue dress and wide-brimmed hat, back turned to them, staring off into the distant sea.

This would usually be nothing for concern. But CP9 was raised to be nosy.

"Miss y/n. I noticed you did not deliver the tulip poplars to my shop this morning."

".... Mm-hmm…." The girl mumbles, and even as he approaches close enough to see her (e/c) eyes staring vaguely over the water, she doesn't respond.

"Miss Y/n." Kalifa repeats.

"Uh huh… be right with you…."

"Y/n!"

"Huh!?" She jumps, nearly falling as she twists on one heel. "Oh! My apologies, Miss Kalifa, I wasn't paying attention."

"Obviously."

"You must be here about the flowers! I'm sorry - I will deliver them soon, it's just …" She turns back to the sea, "Can you feel that too?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"What is it that you feel?" Kalifa asks.

"... I think … something is on the way."

It's a clear, sunny day, but of course, that could always change in the calm belt.

"Well, whatever it is, please do have my flowers delivered promptly."

"Yes mam."

She briefly makes eye contact with him. There is no fear, nor judgment, just curiosity. She smiles and nods a farewell.

—

A couple hours later, she ascends the hill, back on routine. Kalifa has her flowers. He is back serving patrons. Everything is perfectly boring and normal.

"Did you see Y/n down at the docks today? Miss had that look on her face."

"Yeah, I hope it's nothing tho'." He overhears two customers.

"Never been wrong though."

It is marked as a post-it note in the back of his head.

That night, a tick before closing time, the bell rings as the door opens and the same girl totters in with a basket that easily dwarfs her entire upper body, blocking her view. He plainly watches as she foots her way around tables and chairs, and drops the basket on the counter.

“Hi!” She’s completely muffled by the flowers, but his height allows him to see over the bundle, “I noticed you were a friend of Miss Kalifa! I would like to interest you in some products, and this is a free sample!” Without an answer, she begins unloading stuff from the basket. “This is fresh, raw honey from my bee hives! I believe it would go deliciously along with many of your drinks!”

“A bundle of lavender! It goes great with many lemony drinks - I mean I sure you know that … heh - but this is as fresh as it gets! No need to wait for imports from other islands!” She sifts around again, shoving forth a cluster of yellow, “Dandelions! For Dandelion wine! And other things! I also have mint and hibiscus and roses and mint and a great assortment of edible wildflowers and -” This goes on for exactly 23 minutes and 19 seconds.

“Anyways, I’ll get out of your hair, enjoy! My shop is at the base of the docks if you would like more! Have a good evening! Stay indoors!” She smiles and waves enthusiastically exiting the bar.

Not once did he even speak….

That night, a thunderstorm howls its way through the town, lashing water at his windows. Every so often, a vase of flowers is illuminated by lightning.

—

The shop he steps into is an adjunct of a one room house. It might as well be its own jungle, he ducks below several hanging baskets and wandering vines illuminated by string lights. It’s decorated with statues of mossy jade frogs. 

“Good morning! How may I help you?” Infiltration is one of his main skills - and yet he’s caught first.

“You’re Y/n.”

“Yes!” Her smile edges on an eerie border of Strawhat’s.

“Do you have pink peonies?”

“Ah! Yes I do, how many would you like?”

“Just one.”

“Coming right up.”

She disappears into the flora and what sounds like a buster call takes place somewhere in the back of the store, but inevitably returns with a fresh peony.

“Here you go!”

He pulls out a wallet.

“Oh, no need! It’s just one flower, it’s fine!” She hands it to him without hesitation, “Take care!”

Chapter Text

Nami

• Will both charge you interest, and then immediately turn around and spoil you with gifts.
• Even if you're not a fashionista - well now you are.
• She found you sleeping under the Mikan trees one day, and sat staring at you fondly until you woke up.
• Sunbathing
• Her kisses are firm and mischievous, often taking you by surprise and running away before you can react.
• You like to make things she might like out of Mikan's - perfume, soap, candles - whether they turn out good or bad, it always turns her cheeks red.
• Perhaps you'd think Sanji would be jealous of you - but quite the contrary! If Nami-swan likes you, then you must be perfect, and that is what he wants for his pretty ladies.
• Though she might be jealous of how much Zeus likes you. You can't help it, snuggling with a literal cloud is a dream.
• Perhaps … one day you might present a ring? It would be a beautifully crafted thing with the help of Usopp and Franky, gold in color and carved with intricate designs of leaves and Mikan blossoms, with little citrines at the center.

Uta

• She sings. You dance. The same way her voice travels and traverses dimensions, your soul leaves the husk of your body, flying, dancing, gracing the skies as high as her singing.
• Laying side by side, you enter your shared world. A place no one else can enter. This place is warm, always sunny, with a breeze, lying under a single tree in a meadow. The grass is as soft as plush fabric m 
• On lonely nights, she'll sit on the window nook, gazing out the panes. It doesn't matter what time it is. You're always there, sitting behind her in a warm embrace with your head on her shoulder.
• Her kisses are soft and chaste, but emotional and loving. She leans her forehead against yours and smiles.
• With effortless ease, you can do each other's hair day by day.
• You often link pinkies, and so one day, you both tie a ribbon around each other's fingers, so you'll never forget your promise, and no matter what may separate you, you’ll always find your way back to one another.
• "You and me - we can change this world. I really think we can pull it off." Both of you share twin acts of godly power. All those who can hear her sing will fall peacefully to her dreams. Anyone who can see you dance will succumb as well.
• She is the princess of this land, and you'll always be her knight.
• You'll make sure that this concert goes off without a hitch. A New Genesis will be born. 

Kiku

• With Wano finally free again, you both open a tea house in the Flower Capital, close enough to the palace, and near enough to be within the hustle and bustle of the crowds. 
• No matter how hard you try, you just can't get makeup right - no need to worry though. One of her favorite pastimes is applying makeup to your face.
• You can't help but drool when she practices with her katana. Someone is elbowing you to stop simping.
• The simping is worse when she dons her Mengu armor.
• Her kisses are soft and loving - but she always must fix your lipstick afterwards to your amusement.
• The first fire festival free of Kaidou’s rule - all are making merry in the name of the Kozuki clan, and the raid on Onigashima the year prior. Lantern’s light with wishes of joy rather than anguish and disparity - fireworks shoot off and silhouette Kiku’s face as you both sit on one of the palace rooftops, eating all manners of snacks and goodies you splurged on in the lively market, but it’s nice to get away from the thick of the crowds and party on your own.
• How does she make everything she wears look perfect? How does she always look perfect?
• She pulls you close, resting your heads on one another as the sky shines as bright as the day in rainbow light.

Chapter Text

What was that tune, "Have you seen the ghost of John? Pale white bones with the skin all gone? Ooooo-oooo-ooo-ooo - wouldn't it be chilly with no skin on?"

Chilly's an understatement - and you might as well be John right now…. 

You might as well be a ghost on the bow of the deck in an ever-growing wave of fog. But the gnawing of that pain within is a hard anchor to reality. Neither real, but unable to escape physicality.

It's so hard to focus on anything but - but you have to keep moving. Work is a distraction, even if it ends up coming back to kick your ass.

They're somewhere in the frosty, yet humid seas of the North Blue, and while the fog drifts in and out, a giant scape of snow-capped peaks dwarfs the ship.

This is a once yearly trip (for obvious reasons) to acquire some supplies that you could simply not buy. Something about "magical pretzel sticks" that "grow out of the ground," but only in this region, at the highest peaks. Kind of odd for pretzels to grow out of the ground, but really, should anything be surprising?

But it's for Pops. Whatever Thatch whips up with those pretzels keeps Oyaji's health from deteriorating any further - begging the question if the pretzels are magical or if Thatch is.

Everyone's a bit miserable, well except Ace and Marco, who seem perpetually unaffected by temperature, hot or cold.

You can see him scouting up in the sky … sigh. What you'd give right now to wrap around him and leech off that warmth.

Thatch sees through your stubborn resolve like the bit of a mother-hen that he is, though he knows no amount of convincing will get you to simply ask - you have to feel it's your own choice. For now, all he can do is make sure the kitchen's meals are always hot.

Well, at least they’re not sending YOU up the mountain. You might draw the line there - or they'd have to drag you like a cranky child.

It's been at least three days now - "they're like finding needles in a haystack" they said. And that's three nights of turning over in bed - because nothing's comfortable. Nothing stops gnawing at your sanity, with a pain that can't be alone be ignored by sleepy thoughts - it always returns to the pain. And when the first vestiges of light begin to poke into the inside of the ship, you give up and rise. Tediously putting on boots and gloves for whatever the day brings.

And today, the pain is soaring in your left arm, not just the joints, but through everything. No amount of flexing or stretching or massaging will relieve that nerve-pinching pain. Sometimes you'd wish you were a puppet so you could just take the arm off and put it on a dresser or something until it stopped hurting.

But everyone's got their aches and pains… work through it … just keep going. Because staying still is even worse. Staying still means thinking about it.

Some of the crew are already outside in the early, bitter light, and god this is such a bad idea at least wait for the sun to reach the zenith- they're moving crates now of pretzels and rock candy - no, literal rock candy - into the hold. Seems they found a hefty supply overnight. You can't imagine how he does it, coasting all the way up there in the mountain currents day and night, then again, he's probably used to this.

Ace doesn't need explanation. He's Ace. He'll fall asleep momentarily but besides that, his energy is endless.

Teal blue and yellow. A second sun. High high high in the sky. How exhilarating is it to fly? Does he love it? Does one get used to it, or is forever a rush of freedom? Or maybe fear - being so high up with nothing to support you but whatever flight skill you have, wherever the wind blows, curling and twisting it to stay aloft. It must come naturally to him. And then you'll watch that distant speck take a spiraling dive down to earth and disappear behind the slopes.

Almost. Almost. You almost forgot about the pain, and it comes back threefold, punishing you for trying to ignore its flare, its fire. You carry two crates in your arms.

And then it happens -

It slips.

Rather, your left arm gives out, and everything comes crashing down.

—

Moments before he hits the snow, he spreads his wings and let's the gust of air sweep it away in a large area, revealing more of the materials they need.

"It's flourishing over here yoi ~"

Jozu raises a boulder in his hand, "Chocolate rocks."

"Wow, this close to the surfa- Ace stop eating everything!"

"What!? It's just a few snacks!"

"A few snacks to you is a meal for four."

"You can't expect a man to come across a giant candy rock crystal the size of a tree and not expect him to try and take a bite out of it."

Pero pero pero ~

He answers the snail with his talons, "Yoi?"

"Hey commander, we need you back at the ship, we've got an injury-" faintly in the background he catches, "IT'S NOT AN INJURY!" 

"I'll be there in a few." Click. "Ace! Keep blasting away at snow, I'm needed elsewhere yoi~"

"No problem!" He yells as what might as well be a bomb goes off in the snow.

"No avalanches!"

—

"I'm literally fine - I slipped and fell. That's it."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"Y/n, how many patients do you think I've treated in my lifetime?"

"....... a lot?"

"Thousands. And how many lies do you think I've encountered?"

You pout and grumble.

He smiles cheekily, rubbing a small scratch on your face, "You know you can ask me for anything right?"

It's quiet in the cabin, a single oil lamp casting shadows that morph into odd figures on the walls. You refused to sit in the infirmary - maybe out of spite? Embarrassment? Some sort of fear? Perhaps a fear of being an annoyance? Really, you're not sure. And ruminating on the thoughts is just worse, you know how stupid they are but - knowing is different than believing.

Marco moves from his desk to the edge of the bed.

"May I see your hands?"

A shred of hesitation - and then no more. You just want to feel his touch.

Warm flames trickle over your fingers, deep into bones. Just the relief from your hand brings a tear to your eye.

"Oh y/n," He smiles as gently as the thumb brushing under your eye, "You should've told me sooner that it hurts so much."

"I … just … I don't know. Others have pins and pains, right? They work through it."

"Not always like this, yoi," He carefully rubs his fingers around each joint in your hand, flames working even moreso, freeing them, chasing away cold and pain, "Not to this extent."

You slump forward, head resting on his shoulder, "Thank you," you murmur into his collarbone.

"Your heart-rates fast. Have you been sleeping?"

"... Not … exactly."

He hums, "We should remedy that."

"It's really ok - I know your busy-"

"No, it's not. I have time. Besides, I think Oyaji would throw a fit if I didn't see to you first, Y/n. You know he loves you too, just like us all." He places a peck on your forehead. 

"But the supply run-"

"This is a yearly thing. We know the drill. Tell me, if I or one of the other commanders were to drop dead tomorrow, do you think everything would fall apart? No - this crew has run for years and years. We fill in when others can't. We survive. Besides, it's a commander's job to make sure all their crew is healthy, yoi~"

"..... Please don't plan on dropping dead anytime soon."

He laughs, "No, of course not - don't tell them this, but they'd probably drag me from the underworld just to kick my ass if I died, 'If you die, I'll kill you,' as someone put it."

You cannot help a small chuckle from escaping. "Alright, alright…"

You're coaxed into lying down with him on the bed, "Just - rest." Liquid relief pours through your bones, alive and thrumming, connected with each point of contact, and it's quite hard then to resist such a request when just about every cell in your body has been rallying for sleep the past few days.

Consciously, or unconsciously, you make one more move, one more noise to say, "I'm fine," but it dies before it can really emerge. The urge to stop thinking, to give way to the void of dreams, safely wrapped in his arms - that is overpowering.

"Sleep dear, sleep."

Sleep.

Chapter Text

??? years ago

"Just a bit longer - change is coming soon. I can feel it. Then you can finally bring all these wonderful creations to the world."

"I hope so."

You remembered that conversation as yet another government order for bigger, better weapons came in. Would they even be necessary if you just fixed the problems that started the violence?

Sighing, you set aside the clipboard and moved onto something a bit more interesting for the moment. You call it, “selective procrastination.” Today an experiment long awaited for should be reaching its next phase, and you can hardly wait for the new arrival, making time all the more slow.

Ding ding ding!

“Ah! Doctor-” But the older man was already scrambling into the room.

"The first has finished?"

"Yes sir, all indicators have reached their prime. #01 should be rea-"

"Brilliant!!!" He shouts, running down the hall at a speed which no one should be capable of. Your lab coat billows at your feet as you make haste.

—

Good has no face. That was the first belief instilled within him. And so, he covered every inch of flesh, any trace of physical detail. His brethren-counterparts-vegapunks did not even see his face before it was covered. Actually, even he does not recall his complexion. He is synonymous with the helmet, and thus, believed to be a robot by many - and himself.

It's only you that reminds him that there is skin under those gloves, even if it's lab-made.

"I'll make you whatever you want to wear!"

It wasn't something ever forced upon him though. It is just … him, recalling the smile he'd seen since he awakened, and until now.

"A helmet."

While primarily still Vegapunk’s assistant, your secondary talent was fashion - or particularly, fitting Egghead's fashion. And a marvelous helmet it was. Stylish, with all the necessary equipment and tools, radios, etc, that he would need built right in. The first, so to speak, “personalized” object he received.

He already knew moments after he awoke how the lab, how the island, how everything worked. He was given part of Vegapunk's mind after all. But he said nothing as you showed him around, excitedly rambling about the various projects - past, present, and future - conducted, how to operate various machines and doors and knick-knacks and all sorts. And he let you. Because it seemed to make you happy, and good is his nature.

The primary objective of his existence.

But even though he "knew" how everything worked, it had still been a learning experience - on people. Your descriptions, your body language, your thought perception - it varied from the Stella's, and that was crucial education. Learning how others perceive, not just how Vegapunk does.

"Do you know what you want to be called?"

He already knew that. Vegapunk already, subconsciously, gave him a name - but the way you said it, it felt … like a choice.

"Shaka."

"Sha-ka- I like that."

—

For a little while, it was just you and him, as the Doctor worked on the next satellite, while the two of you worked on projects for the good of others. 

"You might be a satellite of Dr. Vegapunk, but you're still human. Don't forget it." You'd winked at him.

Eventually it turned to the point where you became his assistant, as he settled into a routine of operations while the doctor worked on the next satellite, “Evil.”

But, to your credit, even as Lilith arrived and the others, one by one, you still gave him the same amount of attention as you had priorly. But work was filling that time. Friendship turned more towards professionalism. Casual conversations replaced by the constant floods of information passed between one another.

Each satellite had their designated tasks from the beginning, but they all helped with the lab work - usually. Projects and requests piled up, Egghead's population grew as it became an open island, things were exuberant and colorful and so … so …

Surmounting.

And even though the physical signs started to show a long while ago, your mentality never wavered. Not a single crack ever giving. Because the satellites were based on primary emotions and personality traits, it was easy for some to fall off task or grow frustrated, or the opposite - overworking and stressing.

Even to this day, when each Vegapunk is their own boss. And you are the helper. Never ending kindness and support and such a sweet nature that even Lilith behaves - mostly. And thus, she might as well be your lingering second shadow. It's no secret they like you, but Lilith is constantly grabbing your attention, because you indulge her pranks and shenanigans. The flow of conversation between you two like that of what you and him used to have….

Then comes an odd thought. No - a feeling. A bit … jealous? No, jealous is too harsh a term - envious. Yes, envious. He has no ill will towards Lilith, but her "Evil" nature gives her a sort of freedom when it comes to social interactions - she doesn't have to be polite. She doesn't have to have restraint. She can be herself. Because …

Because …

Being good? Is that not himself?

When did he start thinking this way?

Envious.

That is typically not a trait associated with good. Rather, a trait of … all intelligent life.

"Humans, fishmen, many races and species, can be selfish - and it's sort of … sort of like coffee! Or rather addiction - but say you have a cup of coffee, maybe a few, but you have control of yourself right? That is a healthy amount of selfishness. Because it's ok to be "selfish" from time to time. Then there's people who drink barrels of coffee - hypothetically speaking. If a giant drank a barrel of coffee that would be a normal size - but anyway what I'm trying to say is there's many in this world that are addicted to selfishness … or rather, another interesting theory."

"And what is that?"

"Selfishness is fluid - what is considered selfish varies from culture to culture, kingdom to kingdom, person to person - some of what we consider to be the most selfish in the world? Well, they don't see it that way. They have a different standard. But there are also those who know they are selfish, and simply don't care."

You'd yawned back then, leaning back in your chair, "And I guess the same applies to evil. What is evil? What is good? That can only be defined from person to person. Like - Lilith doesn't seem evil to me. She's just the 'evil' of Doctor Vegapunk."

Maybe then, he believes it was then, that he asked his first "real" question. A question he came up with, born of curiosity.

"And what do you think of Doctor Vegapunk?"

You had blinked, almost shocked, but closed your eyes for a long period of time, then, finally, forming speech.

"I think he wants to do good. I think he's a good person. But he's flawed like all of us. He, and I, admittedly, get so caught up in creating things, we're oblivious to what is actually going on with them. When we knew nothing about the unethical treatment of Alber, the Lunarian. When we took so long to see what Caesar was up to. I think that's why he created you, but still - you're all human too. You can't be expected to do and know everything. But I think Vegapunk can ultimately bring the best to this world, if the barriers created can be knocked down. That's why I'm still here." You'd beamed at him, "And he created you, so he's obviously doing something right."

That was the first sensation of what he calls "pang." A skip of his heart, which concerned him at first, believing a defect may have come into play.

"Still. We knowingly make weapons for the government in order to keep receiving their funds. Working for evil, to try and make good. Are we making progress? Or are we just more pawns for the government. I don't know."

Another "pang," a different sort. One that took him a long while to rationalize - he did not want you to feel that way about yourself. Evil? Such as the government? Not in his eyes. You are far too humane for such things. Just watching you breathe, walk, think reminds him of that. You are tangible - the subject of "evil" is more of a broad web of collected objects. And yet he's seen just how much abhorrent evil can be contained in just a single body, that Lilith would never even come close too by any amount.

"If you're ever scared though, remember that even the evil sleep." You once said.

He doesn't need to sleep. York had that covered - more time to think. But you do. Evident, by the way a puddle of drool is forming on the desk.

He believes you meant, "Even the evil have to show their vulnerability."

Though your messy hair and scribbly handwriting suggests otherwise, you are calm and content in this environment. Safe enough to fall asleep in the middle of the lab when he's there.

Dare he not disturb you … but dare he not let you wake up with pain in your neck and back.

He'll stay a little longer, then figure out what to do with you.

—

It can't be too long past midnight, when the only glow in his lab is his desk lamp, that a shadow on the wall makes a sudden movement. And another. He turns to find your hand twitching around something imperceptible, your eyes running laps under your lids.

His head tilts, straightening from his chair to carefully stride over to your hunched form. Reaching out his gloves hand, he-

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" 

He goes to rest his hand on your shoulder when the worst, shrill scream wrings throughout each and every metal corridor in the lab, a clamp now around his wrist. You glare at him - but not at him - at something else, a million stars away. Then they laser in on his hand, squeezing his wrist again.

"Shaka!" Breath rushes in and out of your lungs as you learn to breathe again. 

"Y/n, I believe you have had some sort of nightmare -"

"Not a nightmare - no, more like night terror - too bad to be a bad dream - too bad to be a dream - get it out of my head!"

Pang. He's not exactly equipped for handling … emotional situations …  or 

… Has he just not witnessed one? Either or - you are not you, and that is terrifying, and a remedy must be found.

"Do you want to speak it out of your head?"

"... Oh god … I don't … remember anything. But it was awful. Why is it so dark? Isn't it morning yet? What time is it? What year?"

"Lights!" At his word, the room floods with white light, causing you to blink many times, until your eyes start to return to a normal shape.

"Ah .. thank you." Your heart rate has gone down considerably, and he sees the glaze of sleep returning to you.

"We should get you to your proper bed."

"No - no - I'd rather sleep here - no windows in that room."

There are windows in your room. Plenty. Filled with trickling waterfalls of green, spiky, soft, colorful, assorted appendages tangling across the sill, in the direct light of both the sun and moon. You even have a favorite, Hector, a "Zebra Fasciata Haworthia," or rather, a striped aloe vera plant, small enough to fit in one's hand, which hangs in a pot off the wall.

Just one of many details he's stored away.

He takes both your hands gently, "I promise there are windows, and light. You will not be in a box. Come, y/n, I'll take you there."

"... Okay…"

Though each step provides some relief, you're still so tense, so beyond unusual. Arriving at the room, you both cross the threshold. A small, humble space, filled with papers and knick-knacks, books and trinkets, but clean nonetheless, as if it says, "I am a well-loved home."

You only shrugged your coat and shoes off before plopping down on the bed, but you haven't let go of his wrist, staring at him.

"Please don't leave." It's just a plea, and yet … something else hides within it … something … ominous. 

How could he say no?

That's how he ends up, awkwardly squeezed in a twin sized bed, boots hanging off the end, helmet still on as you cling to him, a lifeline attached this time, before taking the plunge into the dream world.

Tilting his head, he analyzes your face. There's a furrow in your brow, which he quickly corrects with a smudge of a thumb. Puffy bags - have you not been sleeping? Has he not noticed? How would he not notice? How strange….

While he doesn't possess fatigue… he's feeling a bit… sleepy… perhaps shutting down… isn't … such … isn't can … be taknvcggg. 

—

"You actually slept!?"

"Yes, I just felt like doing so."

"Who are you and what have you done to Shaka? You never do anything you wanna do." Lilith points, then laughs.

"Oh my satan- you're keeping secrets!"

"I'm not keeping secrets."

"You tottalllly are."

"It's not a secret if it is known. It may be that you just have not tuned in on that fact."

"Hey! Don't call me stupid!"

"I didn't call you anything."

The woman keeps following him around the lab, giggling, “We all know you’ve known Y/N the longest - you miss the attention right!? I know you’re jelly.”

"I'm not jealous, promise me."

"Ah! Then - you're smitten! Hee hee hee!!! I can totally use this for blackmail!"

"Blackmail?"

"Yep! You don't let me try out the mechs, and I'll tell everyone on the island that you, a Vegapunk, are distracted from your work because of a secret crush!"

"............ But I am not?"

"Doesn't matter whether you admit it or not - rumors are rumors."

"………. You're evil."

She smiles ear to ear.

-

Well, that’s something new. Smitten. In context, it might be considered unprofessional. 

"You might be a satellite of Dr. Vegapunk, but you're still human.”

Still human huh?

The click of boots draws him from thought.

“Good morning, Shaka.” Your voice is quieter but still as kind as ever, hunched over, hair sticking out at odd points, holding two cups of coffee in each hand, with a bunch of clipboards jammed under your arms. You look about as dreary as the weather outside. “My apologies for last night … I wasn’t quite myself … I hope it didn’t disturb you…”

“No,” he accepts the coffee from you, “I do not mind in the slightest. Does that happen often?”

“Eh, well nightmares are nothing unusual, but I guess that one particularly got to me - don’t even remember what happened.” You lean against the edge of his desk, sipping at your coffee, nodding up, “Climatizer broken I assume?”

“Yes. Lilith and Edison are up there trying to fix it-” A yelp is heard, then cursing, and soon the sight of Lilith sliding down the island’s dome. “Emphasis on trying.”

You hide a small smile behind your hand, “Could be something like … ‘gravity boots’ would be a good invention.”

“Hmm … yes - yes! I’m sure Pythagoras will love that!” 

“Well, I’ll get to work now.” You wink, going to your desk to organize the clipboards.

Tick. Tick. Tick. His mind easily backtracks to the previous conversations like dots connected by threads. Nightmares? Hmm. It would be nice to build something that could prevent nightmares - but would that be ethical? Would you even accept it? 

Problem is … he’s asked himself this about twenty times in the last twelve hours. And nothing else. Lilith might be right - he has a problem. Loud taps mix with the noise around him. Papers shifting, printing, numbers and keys being pressed, the dull roar outside the laboratory. He finds that it is caused by his own finger, when two of yours link with his.

“You okay? You’ve been staring off for quite awhile. How about we take a walk?” You flash him your usual smile.

“Yes, perhaps that would be nice.”

You walk side by side, a unison of footsteps on metal slats (two fingers still curled around his). Down a hall you lead, towards a high glass dome, “There should be a new shipment of plant species growing in the greenhouse.”

The greenhouse is more of a village than a house, ten large domes, connected to one another, house plants from various climates, to the dry and hot, cold yet humid, aquatic, tropical, and more. The plants provide both a means of genetic testing, and discovering new medicines. (Anything could be cured here - if the government actually allowed it). The tropical dome has a high ceiling with stairs meandering along the sides of an artificial waterfall. The balcony at the top allows one to look out over the entire treeline.

“Look,” You reach your hand out, hovering just a broad banana tree leaf, “I remember the first leaf of this thing being the size of my pinky, now just one of these things dwarfs us.”

Drip. Drip.

“Eh?” You look up as droplets become a sprinkle - “Aggh! It’s not supposed to rain right now!” You laugh as you both run down the stairs for cover, taking refuge in the roots of a Banyan.

“Guess everyone’s getting rained on today!” You smile.

“A bit embarrassing that things are breaking all over today.”

“Well, everything needs their downtime.” Arms folding, you lean against the tree, looking up at the dense vermillion, sparked with flecks of orange, splashes of red, a few pink and purples, and dusty yellow light leaking through the dripping thicket.

You look as calm as ever. Anyone would believe so, that is, except for him, staring off like you could melt into the bark and become one with it forever, in that moment.

Say something. Literally anything.

“We must look quite out of place in a jungle.”

You snort, “Yeah I guess.”

If nothing appears wrong, why does the tension feel as thick as the humidity? What exactly is it for? As if he’s … waiting for something … something that wants to happen, but cannot be put into words -

Actually your face is turning as red as some of the flowers in the room, “Umm … Shaka - EEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!”

What can only be described as a, “big ass fucking spider,” with a vengeance, plummets from the tree tops. Then you barrel into him, half running into his arms, half pro-wrestler tackling. The silver thing is gone as soon as it came, leaving -

Leaving you wrapped in his arms.

When did I close my arms when did I close my arms when did I close my arms when did I close my arms-

More surprising, you haven’t even tried to move, trapped in some equal state of shock, staring a hole through his chest. “What were you-

“Hbgbgbbggsummm-Idon’twanttobeweirdorunprofessionaloranythingbutIlikeyouwouldyoumaybewanttogooutwithmeyoudon’thavetosorry.”

“. . . . . . . . That is what was clogging your mind? I almost believed you were going to tell me that you were dying or something else dire-”

“It is dire! I mean - to me - uh - kinda…”

“You … like me?”

“Maybe … okay yes - god - I’m a grown ass adult, this is so embarrassing…”

“Ah…” he clears his throat, “I am not opposed to the idea … quite … contrary…” It’s his turn to avoid your brightening gaze.

“Heh … I … kinda thought that but …”
“Oh …” He knew he had feelings beyond camaraderie for you, but the fact that his internal struggle was more than obvious to everyone, including you … oof. That’s a bit of a blow to his pride. “But wait, y/n, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m saying things now.”

He chuffs, “Yes, yes I suppose - don’t avoid the question.”

“It felt … almost … forbidden? The positions we work in - I thought you believed the same, and it would be better left unsaid….”

“Now, I recall, you were the one who said, ‘ You might be a satellite of Dr. Vegapunk, but you're still human. Don't forget it.’ Are you implying you’re wrong?”

“No! No - just - you must know right? Why it might be … frowned upon?"

Gentle rain fills the silence of gathering thoughts. Science, math, those are things that you can both solve easily. But … 'this' is another game. Instead, he just holds you closer against the vinyl of his jacket as the humid air fills your lungs with the scent of wet earth.

Who cares? Why should they care? Why should you two care about what they care? He certainly does not care when you look up to smile at him.

—

After you've parted ways, with a sweet wink and a giddy blush, Lilith appears as he rounds the corridor.

"You're welcome."

What?

She flashes a silvery object in her hand … a mechanical spider. 

"D- YOU SET OFF THE SPRINKLERS!?"

She runs away faster than he can keep up, cackling and waving the spider around.

-

The aroma of a swamp is both refreshing and … well, a tad moldy. “Earthy.” The bench he sits on is more lichen than wood, the cobble brick below held together with spurts of moss. A few old street lamps light the pavilion in the greenhouse room, home to thick species of hanging trees and gnarled roots, wreathed in massive clumps of Tillandsia usneoides, “No York, they’re not a form of pasta, you can’t eat them.”

Crickets and frogs sing their symphony throughout the marsh; despite the fact that they only housed plants here, the animals found their way in inevitably. 

And yet, this is exactly as it should be. No one cleans the bricks, no one fixes the bench, no one trims the moss - because it was here to begin with, and will stay that way. 

Finally, you appear from the red brick road into the central hub of the dome, “Sorry, am I late?”

“No, I am early.” 

It’s not that fancy of a meeting, but your hair was more kept than usual, lacking your signature lab coat for a more casual wear. And he - well he’d changed his coat … well the same coat, just a different color. 

Settling next to him, you placed a little wicker basket, holding various kinds and colors of snacks, “I set the applesauce on fire, but it’s still good.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

The two of you sat in relative silence, letting it all sink into your bones. Though he did not really eat, he nudged his helmet up just enough to nibble on the treats. Yes, you’d definitely set the applesauce on fire, but it was still very tasty.

You chuckle, cracking a wide smile, “I have something to show you. Hold on.” Disappearing into the foliage, he hears a few clicks, a muffled curse, then a soft bang . The lamps go out.

Darkness bursts into stars. 

Green flecks of light swim across the walls, the bricks, the trees, everything. He stands and is surrounded in it, no longer on the ground, but floating in a void of firelights. Fingers curl around his own gloved digits. 

“When on earth did you set this up?”

“Long ago, actually. I come here at night sometimes.”

“‘Sometimes.’ This is an awful lot of work.”

“Worth it.”

You plant a kiss on the side of his helmet, taking his other hand, as he wraps an arm around your waist, and you both begin stepping to a silent song.

Attempt. Attempt dancing that is. It lasts about twenty seconds before someone's shoe gets caught under another's and you both go fumbling to the floor, filling the greenhouse with echoes of laughter.

Chapter Text

“I cannot go further, leave me here to die.”

“I thought you did this all the time as a kid?”

“Yes - emphasis on ‘kid’. With limitless energy.”

“This is just plain sad. I said you should wear something more hiking appropriate…”

“Just drag me up the mountain.”

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Get Ace to do it.”

“I think Ace is at least a hundred yards ahead…”

“Bastard.”

“Hee hee~ Well if it makes you feel better, he’s probably going to get a few ticks from wearing nothing but shorts…”

“It doesn’t - that idiot!”

“Well then we better catch up.”

—

The stone here is slick with the moss thriving off the waterfall's mist, paired with an iron fence so rusted it looks ready to burst into dust with just the slightest touch.

Sabo lets out a loud sigh, breathing in the cool air from under the fall, wiping his face with his scrunched up cravat.

"We're not too far off, the forest will 'ventually give way to a clearing." 

The winter snows hadn't melted too long ago, requiring you two to maneuver off the beaten path every ten meters or so when it became a mudfest. Some wooden planks laid down by hikers' pasts were helpful, but half broken and essentially a wildcard to step on. The trails split apart as they meander up the hill, but all eventually converge at the same spot.

The last bit of this trail is steep - you offer a hand, "Flat ground awaits 'yee." With a chuckle he takes the extended help and walks the rest of the way into a clear field, a bare spot on the side of the mountain. The grass is still a tad yellow, but the wind smells of spring. And around the enormous field are various creatures, big and small, human and inhuman.

Sculptures, that is.

"Wow. Any idea who made these?"

"No clue. They've been here as long as the locals can remember."

Boots crunch together as you round a pond - the statues here are upside down, but reflected on the still water, they portray a bunch of dancing nereids, dwarfing the two of you in size.

"YO!"

Further up the gentle slope, Ace has laid claim to a giant sandcastle sculpture, sitting between the battlements. "Finally made it! Gee, I didn't think you were that much slower than me."

"For the fourth time, we were not racing, and I'm wearing a suit!"

"Excuses, excuses. We've still got further to go!"

"Oh…." He grimaces. "And … we have … to walk … back?"

You clap a hand on his shoulder, "Don't fear too much, it's all downhill, at least."

He grabs a ladder rung, climbing the sculpture and joining Ace at the top, “Wow, some tall trees, I still can’t quite see over them.” 

You quickly scale the legs of a much larger sculpture - a metal crab.

“I am the ruler of the crabs. Fear me.”

“I can beat you!”

“Wait Ace - get down from there, those sculptures aren’t meant for climbing!”

“You’re just a loser Sabo.”

“Hey guys, you know the sooner we get to the top, we can have lunch!”

—

The prospect of food sent Ace catapulting up the mountain trail. Meanwhile, you entangle your hand with Sabo’s to help him up the much steeper slope. With nice things like unstable dirt and thick mud and lichen-carpeted boulders. Even if it’s second nature to you, it’s best never to get cocky. As pretty as it is, mother nature’s just waiting for you to make one wrong move. Sabo turns out to be very good at making these judgments - well, he has to be - it’s just the distance. And the heat.

“The forest breaks just up ahead. Then there’s a real path.” 

The wind blasts you in the face first. You pass the threshold, stepping on to a stone walkway. About ten meters from you, the earth descends at nearly a 90 degree angle, 100 meters into the ground. The gusts of a three-tier waterfall sing mist into the air, moreso as you ascend the stairs towards the bridge across the gorge.

“You think Ace stopped before the drop?”

“No. In fact, I bet he thought he could make the leap and is now a floating corpse down stream.” Sabo says this without even the slightest change in expression. Yeesh - creepy.

You cross the bridge - what used to be for trains - and enter a more temperate part of the forest, walking along the source of the falls.

Not too far in, beautiful Glass nymphs, their glossy, pristine sheen a testament against the work of time, prancing along the river bank, some already swimming in the drift, more ahead gallantly jumping and twirling down the path. Truly, works of art, almost too perfect, too life-like, but frozen still as sculptures, warping the forest with their transparency. Sabo studies each one with a hand on his chin, smiling.

You both come to rest near a smaller set of falls. He sets his hat on his knees and leans against you, simply soaking in the quiet babbling of nature.

Which is … really not quiet at all - especially on the account that Ace is now running around somewhere, chasing something, and that something is big enough to scare half the forest.

Still, perfect. You wouldn't have it any other way … okay maybe a little less fire.

“We’re close. Less of an incline from here.” There’s a surprise ahead you can’t wait to show them.

“I want a nap first.”

“Taking random naps is Ace’s job.” You giggle.

“Hey, stop slacking you two! I want to reach the top.”

“We’re taking in the scenery Ace, maybe you should join us.”

“But you said we can have LUNCH at the TOP!”

Sabo sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Alright, alright, fine. One final stretch.”

And finally, you reach your, “Destination.” Up here, the grass is long and golden, slicked over by the soaring winds riding just above the treeline, letting the three of you see out miles across the forest, many ablaze with fresh green, while some still cling to their red and orange leaves all the way from last fall.

“Echo!” Ace yells, laughing when he gets a reply.

“Follow me, I’ll show you where we can sit for lunch.”

Further back from the slope, grass turns to pebbles, then rock, then boulders, which you finally come to a rest on. “Look closely.”

Ace takes that very literally, pressing his nose to the rocks, “Hey, there’s a lot of carvings here. Wait-”

“They’re fossils!” Sabo smiles with glee, turning over a chunk in his hand, etched with spirals and shiny deposits of where trilobites and worms died millions of years ago.

"The truth is, this whole place used to be underwater. Trillions of little creatures formed the sediment at the bottom of the warm sea."

“Incredible…”

“Think there might be any dinosaurs?” Ace says.

“Mmmmm probably not, but you can try looking for one.” And by some miracle of nature, lunch is completely forgotten in his search for the biggest fossils he can find, while Sabo studies each one closely.

-

"Ace you can only take so many rocks…"

"But I've got to get presents for everyone!"

"You're going to carry 1600+ rocks with you?"

"................."

Oh no. You and Sabo both know that look. He's using a braincell.

The freckled man smirks, before taking off, Sabo hot on his trail.

"DON'T YOU EVEN DO WHATEVER YOU'RE GOING TO DO!!!"

-

After stopping Ace from breaking off a whole side of the mountain for fossils they finally sit down for a picnic on the windy bluff, the force enough to keep bugs from flying in for a bite to eat - but also required hunkering down everything that might want to go for a joyride in the sky.

“I don’t envy the trip back, but I will admit, it was worth it.”

You smirked, “Told you so. And you survived.”

“Ha-ha!”

Sabo turns, “Ace I said no more boulders.”

“You said you didn’t want to walk all the way back down right? I found a faster way down!"

“Wait please-” But Ace already has the hold of the two of you under each arm.

“HERE WE GO!”

And then you’re all skidding down the mountain on a slab of rock at the speed of light.

"ACE I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!"

Chapter Text

• Smoker is not one to express emotions verbally … at least he thinks, but despite having a near permanent scowl, each feeling shows on him like an open book ….. An open book where you feel you have to keep re-reading the pages like you missed something.
• There’s the nigh moments of fear, not full-blown paranoia, but definitely disconcerting feelings that you are unwanted in his presence - after all he is a complainer - you know that’s a facade of his caring nature - but do you feel it? 
• There’s no better moment of acquiescence than feeling a tight grip around your hand, immaterial fingers squeezing your own in relief that feels like cool water on a hot day, or a firm boulder attaching you to reality once more.
• An impassive Smoker is either better or worse, given the time, but he’s much more aware than he looks. He doesn’t chain your emotions on a leash, but when the impulses are too strong to rationalize on your own, he’s there, regardless of circumstance, and without judgment. And if he can’t express it verbally, he always can physically. Three squeezes means, “I love you.”
• When the matter of “Mugiwara” came into play, you watched how easily the kid could strike Smoker’s nerves, causing an abundance of thoughts such as, “Oh god do I look like that when I’m angry?”, to repressing giggles as what seems to be a rather contradictory pirate pisses him off so much he’s living up to his name of chaser. After learning the truth of Strawhat’s personality, it’s near impossible trying to hold back the hilarity and near joy of watching the kid being such a thorn in Smoker’s side like no other - “Stop laughing!” “I’m sorry - you’re just too cute when you’re flustered.” And you become the one doing the reigning in.
• Your struggles are a never-ending process, something that must be kept in check but not restricted so unhealthily as to cause more harm, and it’s truly exhausting. And if you do lose yourself to fire or flame, sadness or despair, he’s there, over and over, reassuring that you’re in no way burdening him, that you do not annoy him, that he wants you by his side, as many times as you need to hear it. If you’re in public, it’s almost like he has a sixth sense for these things, and rubs the back of your palm with his thumb to say these things in silence.
• Then that day. There is no hell like the paramount war, where the full spectrum of humanities raw emotions comes out on full display - and it’s nothing but pure rage, fear, adrenaline, despair in your nerves and veins and arteries, to the point you don’t even know who or what side you should fight for, who you should be punching. As marines die around you because they’re following duty. Of pirates dying around you all to retrieve a man that they hold dear. And you’re alone. You have to be alone. Because who knows where the hell Smoker is or if he’s even alive - no don’t think about that - or how he’s even processing this - how the hell are you processing this? How the hell can you process anything fighting for your life?
• If Alabasta didn’t fully knock Smoker’s trust of the government and the marine higher-ups out of the park, the war did. Things “change” between you, but not in a negative light. If anything, you’re closer. Now there’s a solid determination behind his gaze, and so there is with you. Sailing into the cold side of Punk Hazard, you hold his hands in your mitts.

Chapter Text

"What is your prime motivation applying for this job?"

"Money."

The man didn't say a thing, just scribbled something down while a blond in a top hat oversaw the, "interview."

"I will be straightforward with you. This is no easy task, and one that must be done with utmost discretion, and something that will be covered up if necessary. The reason we need an outside agent is-"

"You don't want to put your own men at risk?"

"No - we are stretched thin on resources currently-"

"Because you're incredibly likely to die." The blond man smiled.

"See, this guy's honest! Be more like him."

He sighed, "Fine. Sabo, can you brief them on the … 'mission.'"

"Woohoo! So I'm hired?" You kicked back in the chair so that it teetered on the very edge of balance. The dark-haired man folded his arms as the blond stepped forward.

"It's a single document hidden in a decrepit castle. Nothing else beyond that."

"Sounds like bait."

"Precisely. But the rumors come from a reputable source. Even if it is a trap, the information contained may be the reason why they're hiding it alone in such an undesirable location. Somewhere no one would really care for, as the place would've already been picked apart by scavengers and wandering travelers."

"Mmm …" You tapped a spot on the schematics, "But I'm assuming … breaking into this room is what they'd expect you guys to do, not some rando."

"In the case that you are captured, they would no doubt expect that we sent you, but they'd fail to possess a person with any key information about the revolutionary army when they torture you to death." The man didn't even break his gentle smile. "Are you certain then, knowing these risks, that you want the job?"

Face cracking in a grin, you mused, "You just made it sound all the more appealing!"

—

Presently~

An alert comes out. Someone has invaded a castle's archives. Just so happens that Aegis happens to be near said castle.

"Wow, how unfortunate for them." Kaku smiles in such a manner that is nothing but friendly, and nothing but murder.

"I call dibs!" No way in hell is Jabra letting them have this after months and months of inaction and princess security details.

"You can't just call dibs before we even arrive."

"Relax," Kalifa adjusts her glasses, "Clearly whoever sees them first gets the kill."

"Who gives a shit anyway about that place?"

"Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter," Blueno says, "They are an enemy of the government, and if they are willing to risk their life for it, they are just that more potent of a target that needs to be disposed of."

If you were to listen close enough, you could swear upon hearing cogs turning in Jabra's brain. "... Don't know what the hell you just said but I agree!"

Blueno goes back to playing cards with Kumadori and Fukurou. 

Hattori coos, landing on a certain man's shoulder with a watch in beak.

"We should have arrived five minutes ago. Tell the marines to stop slouching."

—

Seems there’s something no one thought to mention - or something know one knew to begin with.

The castle is alive. Or, sentient, atleast. You wouldn’t have believed it if you didn’t actively watch a staircase spiral into the air like a snake, all made of thick, yellow granite. And yes, pressing your ear to the wall, you can just make out a dull thrum. Well, you’ve seen weirder -  hardly a deterrent.

Shoes barely skim the floor as you glide forward in silent strides. Fast - but not running, the #1 way of hitting a trap blind. Your hood cape floats just around your ankles with not a sound. A picture of elegance - if not for the pinkie finger you’ve shoved in your ear.

Sigh. You’d love to do more sightseeing - the castle with its high, vaulted ceilings, three story windows, and dusty, torn canvas portraits is an explorer’s dream. But you’ve got something to get, and somewhere to go.

You place your hand to the wall.

“Feel-feel, know-know.”

You are the castle, spreading through stone and lumber like thick, yet fluid honey, tickling up your spine as if you're melting with the brick itself. Bingo.

Straight, left, right, and down a few stairs into a rounded cellar. Nothing lies ahead but some rubble and debris. You make haste on the soles of your shoes, barely a tap echoing in the stone corridor.

—

A quick scout of the island reveals all potential exits, a general sense of the layout - and the sheer abandonment the place emits. Any average folk would assume nothing, but they can feel it on the border of their observation haki - there is indeed life, and it's not a small animal.

"Find the intruder. Take them alive." The main man says.

"Eh- can't kill them?"

Kaku slaps Jabra on the back of the head, "Of course we can't - not yet. We've got to figure out why they're here in the first place!"

"Yeah yeah, alright."

—

Trap? You're starting to consider it.

“See-see, tell-tell.”

There's a marine marked ship docked along the rocky shore, a sizable squadron of soldiers awaiting outside - and the castle feels several pairs of footsteps.

"Geez Louise! A single document - you'd think I was stealing from a Celestial Dragon!"

Your "prize" is a rolled up parchment containing … a stew recipe. Mouth-watering, yes, but a recipe!?  

It's not for you to question. Delivering the cargo is the priority. Perhaps it has some secret message to be deciphered?

Out a window would be a very loud option, and despite the sheer size of the place, the rooms are scarce, and many are already blocked by the collapse of the center walls. Surely you could weasel your way into those nooks and crannies, but these people don't seem to be the type to miss such a thing.

They know me. I know them. Scents do mingle, and scents do lead.

Outrunning a bunch of assassins is easier than one. Lead them together in a group, fill the air with a yarn ball of trails - tangle them up and leave them to the wind.

With swift bursts, you speed down the hallway, feet only touching the ground every ten meters or so, light as paper. You can feel it more now, the agitation of the castle, the fresh steps splitting, competing, for a game of hide n' seek.

And if they think of it as a game, that's all the more beneficial to you. You don't have to play by the rules.

You circle through corridors you know you've already been through, dashing against walls and floors. Now for any zoan user, your scent stains the entirety of the place. Only an expert can nail down exactly where you are at this moment.

An expert whose tap of polished shoes echo your heartbeat, along with the flutter of wings in the granite hall.

There he is. The reaper in white. Unimpressed by the looks of it.

"CP0, what a pleasure."

"You will surrender yourself to the world government immediately."

"Fat chance."

You let your knees give just as a flash of white skewers the wall behind you, rolling between his legs and a fair enough distance, letting a knife you have slip down your sleeve. 

No matter how much distance you put between you two, it won't really matter. One foot, ten feet, a hundred feet - he could travel that all in a hair fracture of a second.

You're more of the flight not fight type of rodent, but it doesn't mean you're a mouse. You've still got some nasty claws. Got to uphold a reputation somehow. But letting a bunch of Cipher Pol agents know you have a devil fruit isn’t advisory either. Information is blood.

Though the arrival of some "friends" is a bit too above your pay grade.

"Hmph - of course you found it first." A man with a long braid sneers.

"I expected at least somewhat more of a hunt." A woman says, adjusting her glasses.

To them, you're just a simple standing figure in a cloak. But also an unknown figure in a cloak. What powers may you hide? Haki? Weapons? Who knows?

Hopefully they know little enough that you can bullshit your way through an escape.

The best bet of that escape would be down. And good thing the man just displayed a great feat of destruction.

Now … how to get what you want…

The wolf zoan growls, "Dammit Lucci! I called dibs!" Starting a spark of the two bickering and hissing at one another in "animal".

The white suit is much too pretty. It must cost a fortune. A sizable amount of bodies. How many times has he torn it on missions? Scuffed? Stained? Do they replace it each time, or do they repair it?

Sewn or replaced, it's about to be one of those things.

"Relax, there's plenty of me to go around." You sway and saunter like a drunken fool - boom - you fly at the man with the braid, aiming your sleeve knife at his face. He dodges. And the other swings his arm out jet fast to finger pistol you - your gleaming eyes meet his. Too late. Smiling, you grab that arm by the wrist, pulling yourself into him with the real weapon. A curved, ragged dagger, It's tip which you carve up his chest until you're sure fabric will turn strawberry red.

You skid to a stop behind him.

"Ha ha!! Look at you kitty - losing your edge huh!? That was nothing!" The others just seem simply annoyed.

"Kitty?"

"Your reputation precedes you, death leopard."

The fuse has been struck, now, for the explosion. 

But what you were hoping for would be down, he instead backhands you into a pillar far across the hall, only to be on you again to savagely drag your body through and across the wall like a personal sledge hammer.

"Lucci!"

"Forget it Jabra. It's already over." The woman says.

The zoan is fully using his form to demolish the hallway with your body, relentlessly, waiting for your armament haki to give.

Ow - fuck.

At this rate he's going to kill you. Or … maybe you can get them to take you alive. Eh, no that's a lot worse.

This time, he holds you in the air by your throat, his expression shrinking to that of boredom. Disappointment.

This time, when you slam into the wall, you let the strings go limp, propped up like a doll in the outline you leave.

Slow your breathing. Slow your heart. Crumble to the floor. Fighting will not work - so time to see what exactly they're going to do with an "unconscious" victim.

—

Playing half dead is frustrating beyond belief. You felt them pluck that paper off your body, your weapons. Mentally, you had counted the steps to where you are now, tied to a chair in the room off the main wing. Are they going to do your interrogation here? Fascinating…. They must want less witnesses.

Or they really just don't give a fuck.

Deeming yourself well-rested enough, you "wake up" finally to face the 7 pairs of footsteps in the room.

You know one of them's got your prize on them. Tch. Your eye twitches before giving your attention to the agents directly staring down at you.

God they look like they all have a stick up their ass … so boring.

"Didn't even wear the masquerade masks for me? Insulting."

"What is your name?"

"Really? That's how you're going to start? My name is confidential information, sorry."

"Confidential by who?"

"By me." You smirk.

"Perhaps then, what are you called?" Asks the blonde woman, adjusting her glasses.

"Whatever you wanna call me."

"That's sexual harassment."

"Huh? No it wasn't-"

"Clearly you were making an innuendo-"

"Was not!"

"Be quiet." A pigeon says. Huh. Neat.

"Who are you working for?"

Not to brag - but you're the world's best liar … well, more like "half-truther", because what you say isn't really a lie 99% of the time. "Hell if I know - you slip a piece of paper and some cash into a black box, I carry out the job. Completely anonymous. Want a business card - oh, and it doesn't have my name on it by the way, just in case you we-"

"Yet you knew exactly where to go for this object. How?"

"Interrupting me? Rude."

"Answer the question."

I'm good at my job - collecting. Whether that be information, or physical objects."

"Really?" A man with a fluffy collar and long nose turns to you with a smile, "What kind of objects do you have?"

"Looking to buy? I do have a few swords in stock."

"Oh? And why do you think I'd want swords?"

"The ones under your coat are a bit worse for wear."

Rob Lucci stands from his place on a dusty couch. Even under such neatly painted façades, You can tell their frustration is growing.

"What is the document for?" He asks, to a few startled looks.

"Lucci we're not supposed to learn about the information, just retrieve it!" 

"I'll ask again, what is the document for?"

"Honestly? It's a chicken soup recipe! Seriously! Check it!" You huff, "I knew this would be a set-up, but I didn't think they'd send Cipher Pol of all things."

That earns a raised brow, "If you've been set-up, it's not by the world government."

"How do you know? You're just the hound dogs, right?"

"You could've easily been tricked by a client, a competitor perhaps?"

"Wow. I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. I'd prefer to think I wouldn't fall for some dumb, 'competitor.'"

"Still, you did."

"Did not. Telling you, government totallllyyyy did this."

"But as you said, you still took the job."

"Hey - good sum of money they were offering."

His eyes pin you once more, "If all you say is true, you're no more than a common thief. No one would have a problem with your death."

"Well see now I would have a problem with that."

"Then cough up the truth."

"I did, I don't get hairballs like you."

Crack!

Did he just slap you? Of all things-

"You might be able to sell yourself short to a bunch of marine whelps, but not to the top agents of the world government."

"Wow, braggart."

"Fine then." He shoves a claw to your throat. "I think you'll still be able to talk with one lung."

"No, I'd think I'd be busy trying to breathe."

Canines show as his face cracks with a sadistic smile. You're not really privy to torture. It's about time to make your escape-

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

DRRRINNNNGGGGGGGGG!

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

—

The sounds of several alarms and an airhorn grabs their attention.

"The fuck is that?"

Jabra sneers, “I don't give a shit, just turn it off!? We were just getting to the good part!!!” 

“Someone pulled it.”

“There’s more criminals in the castle.”

“Hey - I came here alone, I'll be damned if anyone’s taking this job from me! And why would they pull an alarm- Ahhhhh. I see.”

Their captive slouches in the chair.

"You don't seem worried."

"Because I already know what's going to happen."

"Oh?" He lowers his face right in front of yours, "Ready to drop the act?"

"Eh, sure, no harm in it now." Finally, their face solidifies into something more serious - yet still infuriatingly with the look of a smart ass.

"CP9, Enies Lobby - you all got your asses beat on your own turf. But don't feel too bad about that - after all, it turned out rubber boy was destined to become a yonkou."

"No one needs a history lesson."

"Fine fine I'll get to the point - Think about it - why on earth would the government hire back a bunch of people they'd deemed fugitives, and had been hunting the last two years, all of the sudden? Your power perhaps? Maybe they finally realized it was a waste of all those years of training? Or maybe they just wanted you to take the blame for the buster call and wait for the heat to die down before putting you back on the leash?"

"Well," Kumadori starts, "It's not like it wasn't completely unsuspicious…"

He turns and growls at the Kabuki man, "Don't buy into this crap."

"And cat boy," he whips back around to you, "Didn't you just come back from Egghead, you know - the literal center of all the commotion with Vegapunk and who whatnot? Oh and a traitor was revealed - who'd made their way up to the highest ranks of Cipher Pol? That sounds like a lot happened. And I'm willing to bet you saw much more than your ... job entails."

"You don't need a jaw to be kept alive."

"I need one to blabber, don't I?"

"How do you even know these things?" Kaku asks.

"Uh - work? Information is blood.”

Information is blood.

He had a hunch you were lying - but he severely underestimated such a weak looking intruder.

You're dangerous. 

You must be eliminated as soon as possible.

"Oh and the revelry! A princess went missing? I don't suppose you know anything about that~"

"Be silent."

"Oh you do?"

"HEY IT WASN'T OUR FAULT THAT CRAZY GUY CAME RUNNING THROUGH A WA-" Kaku jumps on Jabra.

"Cut it out!"

"So just - think about it. Here we are. All alone. Convenient?"

Kalifa frowns, "So, you're saying…"

"They want you to blame the alarm on me. Then woosh, we're all dead before we know it."

Don't say it.

"This is our execution."

Chapter Text

You can feel the stone breathing, groaning, a sudden desire it needs to fill each nook and cranny with blood, to satiate the parched earth, craving iron and sodium and every mineral it could possibly extract from your flesh.

You're not getting eaten by a fricken building.

They hadn't bothered with seastone cuffs, and you'd worked yourself out of the rope binds long ago. You slip through the loose knots and stand up rubbing your wrists, and it seems the agents hardly care at this moment.

"If the government wishes us dead, than we should follow the government's orde-"

"Oh shut up Lucci! You're not really going to stick around because of that shit are you?"

"Besides, if we are dead to the government, we no longer work for them. We can do what we like. So you can stay here and die if you want to."

"What about know-it-all over here?"

"Leave them."

"Ahem-" You wave your hands around, "I'm not really planning on being 'left' here."

“What the hell!?”

“Don’t tell me you’re really surprised. Anyways, lovely meeting, I’m going to get going.”

“Ah - hey wait! You can’t just - you’re still under arrest! Right?”

“And who exactly would you turn me into?”

You don't really care all to much about what they say when you can feel the radiation of murder that is Rob Lucci, about to finger whats-it your heart again. You give him the side-eye.

Try it. Try it. Entertain me you leopard bastard. FIGHT ME BIT-

Any of that would have to wait, as the most abhorrent, blood curdling screech resonates from everywhere, a cacophony of animals roaring their hunger.

"Oh - that sounds bad- that's bad right?”

“Yes - I think it's about time we leave - Blueno-”

“Can't.” He's right. The little door he opens in reality is weirdly warped and inconsistent, almost like a glitch in reality.

"We might be inside some other strange kind of Devil Fruit." You say... or…

We're somewhere else.

And if that's true … well, you've seen it before.

“Hey, those animal noises are getting louder.”

“I doubt they're your regular animals.”

“They aren't. And they're not ‘anywhere’ to say, but everywhere.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.” The woman, Kalifa, questions.

“That's classified information. Anyways-” You grin ear to ear, “Looks like we're going to have to team up.”

“What!?"

"No."

"Good luck getting out without me. You should know by now this castle has a mind of its own.”

“Teaming up with the enemy-”

“Oh for the love of - Please. Just shove a sock in it will ya?” Kaku laments. “If this old place is trying to punch our tickets, I'm not going to sit around idly.”

“Kaku is right.” Lucci's pigeon coos in agreement.

“Yeah, I'd rather not die today, thank you.” Says Fukurou.

You poke a mushy wall, “Rooms starting to dissolve you know…”

“Move out.”

In a flash, the Cipher Pol agents Soru out of the room, you just barely behind.

“Hey! You want a tour guide or what!?

“Split up.”

“Split up? That’s like the worst deci- oh fuck it.”

Rob Lucci and Blueno go one way, and the long-nosed man, Kaku, smiles at you - genuine? Murderous? Can't tell - and  grabs your hand as if to shake it.

“Well alrighty then - lead the way!”

—

“The staircase is the only thing central about this place!” You shout, “Everything else rotates around it!

“Got it!”

It's terribly chilling. This building. It's like it … needs you. Specifically you. To devour you, as if it were whispering, “Stay with me. Stay. Be a part of me. I will treasure you.” But unless you truly want it, you're a hard person to persuade. You'll never go willingly.

Screw the Marines, they pretty much don't have to do anything with how target hungry the shifting, falling rubble is.

You sense it at the same time they do. No choice but to stop, or get sent to hell by a total roof collapse, separating you, Kalifa, and Jabra from the others. You don't waste a heartbeat.

“Tch! Keep going for the staircase! We'll catch up!”

“Right.”

You three look around.

“Now what?”

“There's another hallway if we double back. As long as the route hasn't shifted yet, we should still have time.” 

Branches grow in the concrete, and you tug the woman's hand.

She seems almost … surprised?

“That's sexual harassment.”

“Oh sue me later, let's go!”

Some quick footwork and you've returned to an intersection, where thankfully, the part is still laid bare.

Ping.

Something's happening-

The wall clicks and in the middle of a rain of rubble, several flashes of light dart through the haze.

The sound of flesh being pierced, and a thud follows.

“Kalifa!”

A small trickle of blood starts from a scuff on her head, a telltale rock next to her fallen form, and a large projectile sticking from her leg.

Both of you circle her, back to back. “They're dead serious about … well making us seriously dead!”

“Take it as flattery I guess? They're not underestimating you.”

“Heh.” The wolfman grins.

“You really shouldn't be happy about that though…”

“What now weirdo?”

“If anyone's the weirdo-! Ugh nevermind - you can sniff something out, right red riding hood?”

“Gotcha!”

Kneeling down, you shake the woman's shoulder, “Hey, you still with us?” She groans and looks at you at least, but her glasses are broken, and her thigh is pierced by what has to be six inches of a seastone needle. “I'd pull that out but … it's probably the only thing keeping the blood where it's supposed to be.” You maneuver her over your shoulder, taking care to avoid the needle.

“Hey! This way!” Jabra calls out, kicking a crack in the wall until it caves in, air whistles in from outside.

Even though she's thin, a body is still a body, and a body is heavy as … well a body. And even someone experienced like you is feeling winded jumping down endless passageways of rubble and booby traps.

“They’re going to expect us at all entrances.” You pant.

“Then we'll make a new one!” Just as the words leave his mouth, a massive colonnade gives in to the crushing weight of a warping building. In seconds, he’s stretching and cracking into a hybrid wolf form, catch the falling pillar.

“You can’t hold that forever!”

“Hey! What are you saying about my strength huh!?”

Another pillar falls, knocking him out.

“For the love of…”

Great. Let’s add a heavier body to the mix. 

You’ve got to be kidding me!  

“Stupid morality! Damnit!”

—

They'd found the stairwell - a winding stairwell delving into oblivion it would appear - and elected to wait a minute (if there would even be a minute.)

Two of your colleagues forcibly split up with the enemy is already suspicious. 

Then watching said enemy running towards you with those, now unconscious, colleagues doesn't look … good.

And then the fact that you're not slowing down at all.

“HEY! What are you doing!?”

"UH - HULLING ASS! DUH!"

“Bu-”

“ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” You shout, the last one to go hurdling over the edge after the hallway completely gives.

Descending ten floors - skipping the staircase - would usually end in suicide - if you were an average person, though you've established that you're very much not that.

Buttttttttttttt ten floors is still ten floors and the ground is granite. And it'd be mighty unfortunate if a certain trap was about to go off that would impact your powers.

"So do like, any of you not have a devil fruit?"

"I don't!"

"Don't tell them that!" The long-nosed man gripes.

"Yeah we're about to meet sea-prism in three …. Thrreeeee … threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee …. Two-one-ZERO!!!"

The pink-haired man whips his staff around, blowing away a bunch of seastone needles, and blocking the others with his hair.

"Wow, that's neat!"

He blinks, then smiles a bit, before shaking it off as you make contact with the floor, weightless as a feather. The other two stop their fall with a kick to the air - and one guy just bouncing around like a ball. Well, whatever works.

"Would you be so kind and take your partners off my back?"

“Yes. Got it.”

At least your charm is working on someone today.

“Ding! Ground floor!” Says Kaku.

“Turrets coming down on top of us.”

“Right!” With one spinning kick, he blasts through the wall and you all jump through.

You meet blessed sunlight and tall grass. You sigh, plopping on the ground, “Ah! Sweet sweet earth, I love you so much!”

“Sorry to be a spoil-sport but we need to figure out what's going on before they do.”

“Right - right- shit - I don't see the Navy…”

“That's either a really good thing or a really bad thing.”

“Yeah yeah - oh uh - anyway - yes - your wolf friend got knocked out by a pillar-”

“Was he trying to lift it?”

“Yes, actually, he was.”

Kaku rolls his eyes.

“And your friend with the glasses - she got hit with-”

“These things…” The Kabuki man unfurls a strand of hair to show a collection of metal needles.

“Yeah those - I think they're made of seastone - when the hell did the government start deploying this kind of shit!?”

Kaku furrows his brow, studying the needle in Kalifa's leg, “... I don't know. Never seen them before.”

“What a shitty party present.”

“We're still down two members. Any idea where they went?”

“No not really - a bit busy running for our lives, don't you think?”

You let the three agents talk amongst each other, thinking. You could locate them, easily, but once again - information is blood. They don't need to know anything more about you… it's also about time you skip town.

"Lucci and Blueno should be together. Even so, they'll be fine."

Fine is an understatement, because one second you're having a dainty old thought picnic on the grass, and a second later you're flying towards another wall of the building, having barely enough time to stick the landing, and promptly dodge the fist of a giant leopard. Slippery as you are, he's determined to paint the place with your blood.

“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?”

“Oh hey Lucci's back.”

You jump to another window ledge just as claw marks are permanently etched into the masonry next to you.

"If you think-" Bam "I'll let you go after this stunt-" Bam "You're a fool."

"Still obeying orders from a master that's trying to take you out to the back of the shed?" But his cold smirk is about something else…

He's going to kill you. He and only he, pushing you farther and farther away from his group members.

“We just got out of the building - heh - you want to put us back in?” As if to answer yes, he finally snags you and hurls you through some rather unforgiving glass panes.

Whatever room it may be, you go tumbling over a couch and slam against the door.

One hand leaning on the window frame, he stands etched in a falling sun, smashing shards of glass in his palm, dragging a bloody handprint as he steps down.

“Every bite of information in that puny archive of yours is going to end here.” He draws his claws, “Information is blood you say? Then I'll bleed it from you dry.”

You cough up a pound of dust, hand slipping behind you.

“That's sad… I garnered you the type to want to know all the knowledge this world has to offer. Guess I was wrong.”

Your fingers close around the doorknob.

His eyes drift to your side, noting the way your chest shudders with each breath.

His lips curl at the sides, "Hmph. It only takes a nick I see…"

"Yeah? You should be thanking me."

"Saviorism is a weakness, and your weakness will be your end."

You twist the knob just as he lunges forward. Predictably, the door shatters, but not before you slip out and away from the path of destruction. It'll save you a few seconds, but you're not going to outrun this man. Not here.

The cut you gave him earlier has created a bouquet of roses in his jacket. Perhaps if he kills you here, he'll say it's yours.

There are monsters and murderers and assassins and puppets. There's awful, and truly awful.

This world would be a better place if you just let the building have him.

“And what's your weakness, huh?” You walk towards him. “I think I know.”

“Oh?”

“I think I know more than you do.”

“The dead don't know anything.” He raises death’s scythe, aimed for your throat.

Damn you morality.

"Trust me … I hate people like you the most…." At that second, you tackle him back through the door, back through the room, and sending you both through the window just before the structure's integrity completely fails.

You clutch tight to him. 'Sorry, but I'm using you as a cushion. It's only fair.'

Oddly enough, arms reach around you as well. Maybe to stab you through the back with those claws, or roll you over and bludgeon you against the ground. Not much you can do at this point. But they do neither of those, simply grasping firm and tight. The impact still knocks the air out of your lungs.

“YOU-!”

“Lucci! Leave them! We're out of time!”

“We have to find a means of escaping the island.”

Already having slipped away - “Yeah, I'll leave y'all to that!” - you pull the strings tight on your hood, and wave your super top secret soup recipe at them.

"Au revoir le chat!"

—

Mission failed … or obsolete. Was it really a mission after all? Whatever it may be, he and the other six had escaped their attempted execution, and once again, it was back at square one, just like two years ago. They're on their own.

An unassuming cave on a coastal cliffside will serve as a shelter for the night. Unless you consider Jabra and Kumadori having a melodramatic breakdown as entertainment, there's nothing but his head. He hates thinking when there's no goal involved.

“Trust me … I hate people like you the most….” Yet you saved him.

“I think I know more than you do.”

Know what exactly?

He thinks back to the last words he heard before a traitor stuck a set of fangs in his neck: “Oh? So your first instinct when you don't understand something, is to destroy it?”

I don't understand it.

Should I have destroyed it while I still could?